"Lost in a world that doesn't exist."

Lo || Motherland Fort Salem | Marvel | ✨Women✨ || she/they | 29

[thelittleliars]

Hiii y'all! My name is Lo and I only write marvel stuff. My main focus is on writing Natasha Romanoff stories, at some point there will be some with Yelena Belova x reader and Wanda Maximoff x reader.

I try to write gender neutral but some stories definitely will be with she/her pronouns. I won't write smut but it could get more explicit/nfsw so this is gonna count as a 18+ blog.

Natasha Romanoff

• New Year • Super Bowl • Hoodie • Concert • Peace • Divorce Party • Would it kill you to smile? At least once in a while? • Bodyguard • Eventful Concert • Darkness • Not safe anymore? • Valentine's day getaway

Silent Series Part 1: Silence Part 2: Second Chance Part 3: Surprise Part 4: Survive

Love Forever? Series Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 P.S. I Want You Series (On Going) | (On Hold) Masterlist Farmer Natasha Romanoff Universe Masterlist

Wanda Maximoff

• Peace • Would it kill you to smile? At least once in a while?

[thelittleliars]

Wildest Stream

Natasha Romanoff x Streamer!Reader (ex Avenger) [kinda platonic]

Words: 1,7K

Summary: Natasha disturbs you when you live stream playing video games.

A/N: Ohh look who's back after 2 years hehe.. I can't believe that it took me this long to finish writing anything! I started so many stories over the years but never had the motivation or energy to finish any of them.

Injuries happened more often than we like to admit. And sometimes we can't do anything but face the truth, even if that's annoying. 

It wasn't the pain in your body nor the forced break that was bothering you. It was the transition from being able to do everything to be able to do a whole lot less. It was the fact that you could no longer be an Avenger anymore. That you lost your purpose and are a lost soul now. 

It did help that some days were lighter than others. But the heaviness of the aftermath of your accident still lingered deep in your body. There was nothing that helped getting rid of it completely, just small things that lifted your spirit through the weeks after it all happened. 

Months after the headlines calmed down, you found yourself live streaming the video games you played on a daily basis. You started faceless, not wanting anyone to see your face that was still healing from all the burns and scars from the accident, the fans loved to tune in anyways. 

You didn't tweet out your stream at first, testing out a few streams, getting a feeling how stuff worked and how it felt having a couple of strangers watching you play the game. As you felt more comfortable you tweeted the link on your twitter account, the one only true fans of your and the Avengers follow. It was weird to see the messages float it, wishing you all the best and sending nothing but love, you weren't used to see the love from fans since you basically ignore social media in general and especially the second after posting random thoughts. 

Now it had been nearly half a year that of you streaming and you loved that non of the Avengers suggested to play with them on stream. They usually pushed you to stop streaming and come play with them in the general room, having a quiet intimate team bonding day. Lately, Natasha was the one constantly asking you to hang out off stream. The two of you were super close, best friends even, but the accident changed a lot and you retreated in your room, the distant you created make her miss you deeply. The redhead wasn't angry at you for it, she was very understanding of why you did it and knew you needed the time to yourself but she still was never truly gone, always there for you - in the background, doing tiny things for you that you appreciated a lot. 

You were in the middle of a game and talking to your chat when Natasha bursted into your room unannounced. She came up to you and removed your right earphone. "You have to help me out." She said whispering. You only realized your microphone picked it up after seeing how wild your chat went. 

IS THAT BLACK WIDOW?? HI QUEEN NATASHA ROMANOFF??? OMFG WELCOME BLACK WIDOW THAT VOICE OMFG KILL ME PLS MY SHAYLAS

"I'm gaming."

"So what? I need your opinion on what clothes make me beautiful." You paused your game to look at her in disbelieve. "Y/N I have a date! C'mon help me out just this once! See even your chat says to help me out." She pointed towards your second monitor where your entire chat was on and flooding with messages. 

"I don't care what chat currently says. I can't just end stream right here, it's been only 20 minutes and I know for sure that helping you out will takes approximately an hour." Natasha moved her face closer to yours, a stern look on her face that was scaring you a little, she watched you squirm for a second before she basically commands you to come with her.

"You're moving your pretty ass over to my room and help me figure out what I should wear." You gulped. "Take your camera with you. Stream doesn't have to end just yet."

You wanted to scream in frustration. All you wanted to do was play a little game but in the end you could never say no to Natasha. "I don't do face cams!" You told her in an irritating tone. Natasha of course didn't mind your mood. She had a teasing glint in her eyes. "Then do potato cam! Your fans love it!" And with that she was out of the door. 

"Guess we're pausing with Little Nightmares and help out the Widow for her date." You sighed and rubbed your eyebrows before setting everything up to stream from her room. 

------------------------------------

"I'm currently wearing a gorgeous red dress if anyone is curious." Natasha told your chat. There was no camera, just a microphone to communicate and the Avenger took fully advantage of it. 

You shook your head before rolling your eyes. "If you already know it's gorgeous then why am I still here helping you out?"

"That's what I'm wondering too." Said a deep voice from the direction of her room door. Natasha looked in the direction and when her eyes met Bucky's, her whole face lit up in excitement. "Bucks be nice! Y/N is helping me archiving the potential of looking the most beautiful for our date!"

"And that contains her looking at you walking around in your underwear?" He said it coldly and mixed with jealousy. You quickly  mentioned that you were live streaming and gripped your phone to read chat. They were having a feast. Some pointing out the jealousy, others screaming in all capital letters how 'hot' the winter soldier is, another group of chatters spamming the emote omegalul while you just wanted to disappear. "Bucks, Y/N is my best friend. You know that." Natasha turned towards her clothed again. "Besides, it's not like she's hasn't seen me with even less clothes on."

"It was platonic!" You defended yourself. "You really need to learn how to speak with more context Nat." 

"Not my fault if your brain is dirty by default." She mused then turned towards Bucky. "Will you leave us ladies alone to get ready? Come pick me up in one hour, I'll be finished."

You snorted. "Yeah sure because you'll definitely be ready by then." The glare that Natasha gave you would have sent you to your grave if you weren't already so used by it. The rest of that hour was used to pick out dresses that send her into a spiral because nothing fit with what she had in mind. She ended up with a suit even though she felt weird wearing it around the winter soldier. 

------------------------------------

Natasha came home from the date early. It wasn't a disaster but she was fed up by Bucky and his jealously over you seeing her half naked. When she entered your room, she saw you still playing video games so she quietly sat on the second gaming chair you had and watched you game. After a while she pulled up your stream on her phone and started to write in your chat.

ItsBlackWidowBitch: Go faster!!

"Nat what are you doing in my chat? Go enjoy your date!" You frowned while reading her message. 

ItsBlackWidowBitch: I enjoy watching you play more. 

ItsBlackWidowBitch: The date ended. I'm already home.

"Well then come watch me play in my room and not on a screen." 

ItsBlackWidowBitch: Turn around. 

You turned around and saw her sitting in your other gaming chair, smirking and raising one of her eyebrows - teasing you.

"When did you come in here?? How come I haven't heard you?" 

Her smirk turned into a genuine smile. "Like 10 minutes ago? And they don't call me they greatest spy of all time for nothing." 

THE GREATEST SPY IS BACK!!! FACE CAM PLEASEEEE NAT IS BACK dinodance IM BEGGING PLS TURN ON THE CAM! i LOVE their dynamic y/nCry WE NEED TO SEE HER PRETTY FACE, PLEASE WE HAVEN'T SEEN IT IN SO LONG Her voice is so hot y/nMelt You don't even have to show your face, we just crave to see Black Widow's face live! I LOVE YOU

"Wanna stay back there or come closer and read chat? They might even behave for once." Natasha immediately rolled with her chair towards you as if that was the easiest decision she ever made. "Wanna talk about your date?"

"Do I look like you and yap about my private life 24/7?" Before you could even be offended by what she said, she was pointing to your chat already. "Ohh look, they love me. Love you guys too.

"Yeah she's a certified yapper. And an awkward gay mess." Natasha risked taking a look at your reaction and instantly bursted out in laughter. "Oh my god guys you should see her face right now. That woman is too stunned to speak."

"Well yeah obviously!" You stated. "This is a whole new side of you that I haven't seen."

"There are sides of me you have yet to explore." Her words made you freeze, the ability to breathe was a struggle and what made it worse were her intense eyes that you weren't sure if they had a teasing glint in them or if it was simply the light glimmering in her serious expression. You turned away from her in attempt to get your shit together but instead your eye caught the masses of messages getting spammed in the chat. One even said 'FRIENDS TO LOVERS?? I'M HERE FOR IT.' "This twitch thing is actually fun. Maybe I should start too." 

"Guys, I don't think I'll be able to finish the game with her by my side." 

Disappointed but not surprised. I don't mind if that means we get more Black Widow time. She's so far gone guys lmao More Natty time for us y/nParty

"You know, if your camera was on I'd have kissed your cheek right now."

"Alright let's wrap it up guys. I think it was enough for today. Gotta go touch some grass! See you tomorrow!" In all your hurry to end stream you accidentally clicked on raiding someone, so you didn't know that chat still heard everything that came afterwards. "So about that date of yours?"

"It was boring. I've set my eyes on someone new now." She said before she gave you a smooch on your cheek. "Same time tomorrow right? I'll be here." And with that she vanished out of your room, leaving you there all alone with your thoughts.

[screaminglygay]

Wait

pairing: natasha romanoff x reader

summary: natasha lost you to the snap. when you return, she feels like there’s no time left, but you remind her that now she has all the time in the world

word count: 1.4k

warnings: none

an: my baby natasha:( to this day im still very upset she died

☀️ Summer with A masterlist ☀️

You don’t remember what it felt like to disappear.

One second, you were reading a book, maybe you were just in the kitchen, preparing some coffee for her and the next, there was nothing. No time. No space. Just a blink.

And then you were back.

You stumbled into a world that had aged five years without you, a world still piecing itself back together, too quiet and too loud all at once. Buildings crumbled, grass grew through pavement, and people… people were changed. You were one of the lucky ones, they said. You came back.

But the luckiest part? She was still here.

Natasha Romanoff, who never believed she deserved peace, never expected to survive the war she fought every day, somehow had. Somehow, she stayed.

And she waited for you.

She found you within hours of your return, of course she did, like the world itself bent to make that reunion happen. You barely had time to breathe before you were wrapped in her arms, the scent of her hair still the same, her hold somehow steadier, stronger.

You didn’t know how much you missed her until she said your name like a prayer. But it was weird, you missed her this deeply, even though for you it was just a minute. But for her? It was too long.

It’s been weeks now. Maybe a month. The world is still healing, still groaning under the weight of all that was lost and found. But Natasha… she’s different.

Calmer. Softer, in the quiet moments. Still sharp as a knife when she needs to be, still watching everyone’s six, but when her eyes land on you, they’re full of something else.

Hope.

She keeps a notebook on the nightstand. You caught a glimpse once, pages folded, corners smudged, some scribbles that look like dates, some like movie titles. You asked what it was and she flushed, actually flushed and muttered something about "just ideas."

But you know better. She spent five years thinking you were gone forever. And now you’re back and she’s got a list with things she missed with you.

She finds you in the living room with a mug of tea. There’s a certain tension to her steps, not danger, not panic, just urgency. Her hair’s tied back in a messy braid, a loose t-shirt clinging to her frame, soft cotton and faded black. It’s strange seeing her like this, not armored up, not preparing for the end of the world. Just… Natasha.

But even now, her mind’s spinning, "I was thinking," she says, sitting beside you without waiting, "we could start the list today. There’s the rooftop picnic thing and I found a little place by the lake that’s still open- oh, and we didn’t get to do the drive-in movie before, remember? We should-"

"Nat."

She doesn’t hear you. Not really. Her hands are already twitching with invisible plans, "-and that street food festival in Queens? I know it’s coming back soon. We could get those weird dumplings you liked and then maybe drive upstate, I know a trail that’s open again-"

You reach out and gently place your hand on her knee. She finally looks at you. "Nat," you repeat, softer now, "hey."

Her mouth parts, just slightly, like she’s about to apologize or argue or plan again. So you lean in and kiss her before she can. Not rushed. Not dramatic. Just... soft. She melts. It’s the kind of kiss that reminds her, you’re real. That she doesn’t have to run toward every good thing before it disappears again.

When you pull back, your forehead rests lightly against hers. Your voice is almost a whisper, "no need to rush. I’m here."

She closes her eyes, exhales slowly. You feel her body relax under your touch like she hasn’t truly let herself breathe in five years. Like she’s been holding up the weight of the whole world and only now is allowed to put it down.

"I just…" her voice cracks slightly. "I kept thinking- what if you came back and I’d wasted time? What if I didn’t get to show you everything I wanted to? I couldn’t lose you again. I can’t."

You cup her cheek, brushing your thumb over the faint shadow under her eye, "you didn’t waste a second. You saved your friends. You saved the whole world. You waited for me. That means everything."

Natasha swallows hard. Her eyes are glossy, but she’s not crying, not yet. She's too used to being the strong one. The one who holds the line. But not today. Today, you guide her gently to lean back against the couchand, curling into her side, tucking your fingers into hers.

"You've been taking care of everyone," you murmur, lips brushing the edge of her jaw, "let me take care of you now."

She doesn’t argue. Doesn’t deflect. She just nods, slowly, and leans her head on your shoulder, like her bones have finally gone heavy. You feel the tension slowly drain out of her with every breath, like she’s been wired tight for so long she forgot what it’s like to rest.

You stroke her arm in slow, calming circles. She doesn’t need words. Not right now. The world can wait. And so can the list. Right now, she just needs to be held. And you’re not going anywhere, ever again.

Natasha fell asleep wrapped around you like she’d finally let go of every single burden she’d been carrying for years. You didn’t move. Not even an inch. Not when your arm went numb. Not when the room went dark around you. Not when her grip twitched like she was fighting in her sleep.

You just held her. Because she deserved to rest. And because, for once, you got to be the one keeping her safe.

When she finally stirred, it was with the softest of groans, her face scrunching, nose wrinkling as she shifted against your shoulder. "…mmh. What time is it?" she murmured, voice thick with sleep.

You smiled, brushing your fingers through her hair, "late enough. Early enough. Does it matter?"

She blinked slowly, eyes still half-lidded, and looked up at you like she wasn’t sure if she was awake, "am I dreaming?"

You snorted, gently poking her cheek, "you sappy little girl."

She groaned and buried her face in your neck, "don’t call me that."

"Oh no, it's too late," you teased. "You fell asleep in my arms like a baby koala. I’m never letting you live this down."

"You’re mean," she mumbled, still clinging to you like you’d vanish if she let go.

"And you’re adorable when you’re grumpy."

She made a noise, something between a protest and a purr, but didn’t move. Her arms tightened around your waist, anchoring herself there.

You kissed the top of her head and whispered, "c’mon. Let me run you a bath before."

Natasha lifted her head just enough to squint at you, "you’re serious?"

"Dead serious."

You gently uncurled her limbs and coaxed her upright and though she groaned the entire way to the bathroom, you could see the quiet gratitude in her eyes. You turned the lights low, ran the water warm, added a few drops of something that smelled like eucalyptus and came back with one of her oversized hoodies and a towel over your shoulder.

She sat on the edge of the tub, blinking at the steam like it was some kind of miracle, "I don´t need all of that-" she said softly.

"You’re exhausted," you replied, helping her out of her shirt and kissing her shoulder. “Let me help."

She slipped into the water with a sigh that made your chest. You knelt beside the tub, rolling up your sleeves and massaged her shoulders with gentle, practiced pressure. She didn’t speak, didn’t joke. Just melted.

After a while, when the water had cooled and she was dry and warm again in your hoodie, you both ended up on the couch, curled under a blanket.

"Well," you murmured, settling beside her, "it’s pretty late. How about we order in and watch something? I heard some new movies came out while I was… gone."

Natasha scoffed, "they all suck."

You smirked, "then let’s watch-"

"Ratatouille," you both said at the same time.

You blinked at each other, then burst out laughing.

"Oh my god," you wheezed, "we are so lame."

"You’re lame," you muttered, trying to hide a grin as she tugged you against her again. "I’m incredibly cool. I just like rats who cook."

She kissed your forehead and whispered, "of course, detka," she looked at you, really looked, like she was memorizing your face all over again.

And there, with takeout on the way, a rat chef on the screen and Natasha tucked into your side like you were home - the world felt okay again.

Thank you for reading:P

[just-aake]

In Your Arms

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x fem!reader

Summary: You have always been a touchy-feely person. Natasha on the other hand is not. But that doesn’t mean she doesn’t want your attention.

Warnings: fluff

Words: 1981

Natasha has always known you to be a touchy-feely person.

The first time she met you, you wrapped your arms around her before she even had the chance to blink. Her instincts flared immediately with her hand flying halfway to her weapon before her brain caught up to the fact that you weren’t a threat. 

Her grip on the concealed weapon relaxed, but her arms had remained stiff at her sides, unsure where to put them, uncertain what to do with affection offered so freely.

It had startled her more than any ambush ever had. That feeling of not being feared. Of being a person worthy of the affection of another, despite everything.

But you never held back with giving yours. 

Not then, and not after.

Over time, it became part of the rhythm between you. Your hand or arm slipped naturally into hers whenever you walked beside her. The lazy weight of your head leaning on her shoulder during briefings. The way you always pulled her into a hug when either of you returned from a mission, arms around her waist or shoulders, grounding her in something real.

She’d gotten used to that. Maybe even come to expect it. 

So when the elevator doors slide open and she sees you standing there, her first instinct is to pause—her heart giving a quiet little stutter she doesn’t acknowledge. 

Natasha steps out of the elevator, ready for that familiar warmth, that brief but steadying moment of contact she hadn’t let herself admit she was looking forward to.

You spot her a moment later.

“Hey, Natasha,” you say casually, offering her a quick wave.

No arms reaching out for her. Just a passing greeting as you walk by her without so much as the brush of your sleeve against hers, slipping into the elevator she just stepped out of.

Natasha turns, confused, mouth parting like she might call after you, but the elevator doors are already sliding shut, cutting off her view of you. She stares at the closed metal panels for a few lingering seconds, the silence pressing in.

That was…different.

Her brows knit faintly, but after a moment, she exhales through her nose and shakes her head. 

You probably had somewhere to be. That had to be it.

Still, the absence of your usual warmth settles heavy in her chest. She folds her arms loosely across her torso and forces the tension out of her shoulders with a quiet sigh.

Then she turns on her heel and heads toward the debriefing room, pushing the disappointment down before it has the chance to root too deeply.

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

Now Natasha is even more confused.

Earlier, she’d told herself you were just in a rush—that missing the hug in the hallway wasn’t personal—just bad timing. But now, sitting beside you in the common room with the other Avengers, that excuse feels thinner by the second.

It’s one of those rare nights when everyone’s actually home. Laughter ripples through the group, drinks are passed around, and stories are shared freely. Typically, nights like this meant you’d be curled up next to her, shoulder pressed to hers, fingers idly toying with the hem of her sleeve or resting on her thigh without thinking.

Tonight, though, you’re still right beside her on the couch. And yet you might as well be a mile away.

It’s not that you’re ignoring her. You speak when spoken to. You laugh at the group’s jokes. You even chime in when Natasha makes a dry comment that earns a snort from Sam. 

But there’s no contact. Not even the accidental kind.

Your posture is pulled in just enough to create a subtle space between your body and hers. And the longer it lingers, the more Natasha begins to feel it as a form of avoidance.

She tests it.

Casually, she stretches her arm along the back of the couch behind you, a gesture she’s done countless times before that usually ends with you unconsciously shifting closer into her side.

But this time, you lean forward, seeming suddenly interested in one of Thor’s increasingly embellished battle stories, your shoulders moving just out of reach.

Natasha’s gaze sharpens. She shifts again, this time subtly sliding closer, just enough that your thighs would brush if you moved towards her even if just by a little.

You don’t. Instead, you cross your legs in the opposite direction, slightly angling yourself away without a glance.

Her lips press into a thin line.

But what finally makes her frown is the way your body betrays your exhaustion. 

Natasha knows your rhythms too well. At this hour, you always start to fade, no matter how hard you try to stay engaged. And usually, when that happened, your head would gradually drift until it came to rest on her shoulder.

Tonight, it tilts in the other direction. You rest your cheek against your hand, elbow on the armrest, turning completely away from her.

Like clockwork, your eyes begin to flutter closed. 

Natasha catches the subtle slump of your posture and the way your breathing slows, soft and steady.

Her fingers twitch against her leg.

If you were leaning on her like usual, it would be easy, just a quiet nudge, a soft murmur of your name to guide you up to bed. 

But now, there’s nothing—no point of contact. 

Not unless she reaches for it herself.

But Natasha hesitates.

And someone else beats her to it.

Wanda leans forward from her spot in the other chair next to the two of you, her voice low and gentle. 

“Hey,” she says, her hand resting lightly on your shoulder, giving it a soft shake. “I’m gonna turn in. Want to head up too?”

Your eyes blink open slowly. You nod, sleepy and half out of it, then reach up and take Wanda’s offered hand without hesitation.

You turn back toward Natasha, offering her a small, tired smile.

“Goodnight, Natasha,” you murmur.

Your hand lifts slightly as if you’re about to pat her leg like you’ve done a dozen times before.

But at the last second, it shifts direction and lands instead on the cushion beside her, fingers pressing gently into fabric before retreating.

Natasha’s jaw tightens almost imperceptibly.

“Goodnight,” she replies.

She watches as you stand, still holding onto Wanda’s hand. The two of you walk out together, your head tilted toward her in quiet laughter as you lean slightly into her side.

And Natasha is left sitting on the couch, surrounded by voices and laughter, and yet with a space beside her that feels colder than it should.

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

Natasha stands at the counter, fingers wrapped around a warm mug, steam curling up into her face as she takes a slow sip of coffee.

She’s been up for a while now, trying to clear her head. Sleep hadn’t come easily. Not with questions buzzing around her thoughts.

You hadn’t touched her.

Not once.

And it was driving her insane.

Natasha exhales slowly, grounding herself in the weight of the mug and the quiet hum of the Compound just beginning to stir. Then she hears your footsteps approaching.

Her heart reacts before her mind does.

You enter the kitchen, still rubbing sleep from your eyes, dressed in the kind of clothes that suggest you only half pulled yourself together before wandering in search of caffeine. You spot her immediately, offering a small, friendly smile—not the sleepy, instinctive shoulder nudge or greeting she used to get. 

Just a smile.

You head toward the cabinet, clearly aiming for a mug. 

The only problem is she’s in the way.

“Hey, can I squeeze past?” you ask, voice gentle.

Natasha straightens instinctively, stepping just slightly to the side. Enough to let you through, but only barely, with the space between her and the counter still being narrow. 

But it’s also close enough that brushing shoulders would be unavoidable.

Except it doesn’t happen.

Natasha watches in disbelief as you deliberately maneuver your body in the smallest ways, turning sideways, angling your arm, even lifting your hand to avoid grazing hers. It’s done with care, but it’s unmistakable.

You didn’t want to touch her.

Natasha’s patience snaps.

Before you can reach the mug, her arms suddenly come down on either side of you, palms flat against the counter. You’re trapped, caged in by her arms and presence.

You yelp, startled, immediately turning toward her with wide eyes. Your hands rise automatically as if to rest on her arms, but then hover awkwardly mid-air, uncertain, before you lean back into the counter in a clear effort to maintain distance.

Natasha frowns, eyes flicking to your hovering hands, then back to your face.

“Did I do something wrong?” she asks bluntly.

You blink, caught off guard. 

“What? No. Why would you think that?”

Natasha’s jaw clenches before sighing in frustration.

“Because ever since I got back, you haven’t touched me.”

Her words hang in the air, too raw and direct to mistake. 

You part your lips in surprise, but before you can say anything, footsteps sound in the hall before you can get a word out.

Steve appears in the doorway. He pauses mid-step, clearly having heard just enough to register the tension in the air and the compromising proximity of Natasha’s arms caging you in.

A beat passes. Then Steve clears his throat, awkwardly.

“I’ll, uh…circle back.” He turns and disappears almost immediately.

Both of you stare at the space he left behind for a second before Natasha turns back to you, one brow raised. Her gaze drops meaningfully to your still-hovering hands.

You fidget, realizing you’ve been caught. Your fingers curl slightly in the air, unsure of where to go.

“I…uh..I read your file,” you admit quietly. “From your time in the Red Room. What they did to you…”

Natasha’s expression eases immediately in understanding.

But you still look away, ashamed. 

“It just—after that, I realized how much I’ve always just…touched you without asking. And it’s your body, Natasha. You probably put up with it every time. And I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable, so I thought I should give you some space for once.”

For a moment, Natasha just looks at you, stunned. Then she laughs. A quiet, surprised huff that escapes from her chest like she’s been holding it in for days.

“You’ve been driving me crazy,” she says, voice fond with disbelief.

Your eyes widen in confusion. “What?”

Natasha doesn’t answer right away. Instead, she lowers her head until her forehead rests gently against your shoulder. 

Your hands hover again at her arms, but they don’t land.

“I like when you touch me,” Natasha murmurs. “It makes me feel safe. Like I’m supposed to be here.” 

You blink, slightly dumbfounded. Still registering her words. 

“…Oh.”

Natasha lets out a soft, amused sound at your tone of stunned surprise.

“And I’m still waiting,” she adds quietly, “for my welcome back hug.”

That startles you out of your daze. You let out a breath—half laugh, half sigh—as your arms finally rise and wrap tightly around her waist, pulling her in until there’s no space between you.

“Welcome home, Natasha,” you whisper into her hair like you’ve done many times before.

The effect is instant. Her body melts into yours, all the tension draining from her shoulders.

Natasha sinks into the embrace like she’s been craving it for days. Then slowly her arms slide around you, steady and secure.

She closes her eyes, breathing you in, confirming what she already knew.

This is where she feels safest. Warmth from your arms and hands on her back. Your heartbeat against her body. 

And that flutter in her chest? From just your touch?

Natasha decides, just for now, she’ll let it be.

That can be a different problem to confront for another day.

Right now, she’s content to be in your arms once again.

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

a/n: thank you for reading!

[amethystarachnid]

hi!! natasha romanoff x fem!reader 13 trope pls? thank you!💗

SWAPPED

⤷ NATASHA A. ROMANOFF

ᯓ★ Pairing: Natasha A. Romanoff x fem!reader

ᯓ★ Genre: fluff, romance

ᯓ★ From: MARVEL Love is in the air - Valentine's Day special game

ᯓ★ Word count: 7.1k

ᯓ★ Summary: during a mission you and Natasha get body swapped by an artifact so, until Bruce and Tony find a way to get you back in your own body, you two are blocked. The already disastrous situation only worsens if you think that you are inside the body of the woman you have a crush on

ᯓ★MARVEL Love is in the air - Valentine's Day special game

ᯓ★ TW(s): some innuendos and tony's jokes

ᯓ★ My Masterlist

ᯓ★ MARVEL Multiverse - choose an AU, pair it with your favorite character and make a request!

ᯓ★ Songs & Superheroes tales - The Game (to make a request, follow the rules on the link!)

ᯓ★ MARVEL Bingo

ᯓ★ English isn’t my first language

The rhythmic hum of the Quinjet fills the space between you and Natasha. It’s one of those comfortable silences, the kind that only comes from spending years side by side in life-or-death situations. You sit across from her, legs slightly spread, fingers playing with the frayed edges of your gloves. She's leaned back, arms crossed, her head tilted against the wall, the soft overhead light catching the reddish strands of her hair.

You shouldn’t be staring. But you are.

Her eyes are closed, lashes dark against her pale skin, and for a moment you let yourself have this—watching her like this, peaceful, completely unaware of the way your heart hammers against your ribs just from being near her. You tell yourself it’s harmless. She doesn’t know. She’ll never know.

It’s been like this for a while now. Years, actually. You’re friends—good friends—and that’s all it’s supposed to be. That’s what you keep telling yourself. But there are nights, in the quiet of your own room, when you replay moments between you two, when the air feels heavier, charged, and wonder if maybe she ever thought about you the way you think about her.

But then you remember every sly smirk she’s thrown at a cute waiter, every flirtatious comment she’s batted toward some attractive guy during missions, and you push it all back down. Natasha Romanoff doesn’t like women, and she definitely doesn’t like you. At least, not like that.

“Earth to Y/N,” Natasha’s voice cuts through your thoughts, and your heart stutters painfully.

You blink, realizing too late that her eyes are open now, green and sharp, staring right at you. Caught.

“Zoned out there for a second,” you say, forcing a small smile, hoping your face isn’t betraying you.

Natasha quirks a brow, the corner of her mouth lifting. “Thinking about the mission?”

You nod too quickly. “Yeah. Of course.”

She hums, clearly not buying it but letting you off the hook. “You’re cute when you lie.”

The words hit you square in the chest, even though you know they’re nothing more than a tease. She always does this—throws out little comments that make your head spin, but never with any real weight behind them. Still, your stomach flutters embarrassingly.

You scoff, trying to play it cool. “You’d know. You’re the queen of lies.”

She grins, sharp and amused. “Touché.”

The comms crackle, and you’re grateful for the distraction. “Approaching the target,” comes Sam’s voice through the speakers. “We’re two minutes out.”

You pull yourself together, focusing on the mission. It’s supposed to be simple: in and out, retrieve some weird artifact that SHIELD flagged as dangerous. But nothing ever really goes according to plan.

The Quinjet dips lower, and you and Natasha both rise, moving in sync like you always do. Her presence is grounding, even when your heart is a mess. She gives you a look, the one that says we’ve got this, and you nod.

The building is dark, abandoned, with only the occasional flicker of a broken light illuminating the dust-filled air. You and Natasha slip through the corridors with ease, your footsteps nearly silent. It’s like this every time—the two of you moving together like a well-rehearsed dance. But still, you feel the tension in the pit of your stomach. Maybe it’s the mission. Maybe it’s just her.

You find the artifact in a room that looks more like an ancient temple than part of a crumbling office building. It sits on a pedestal, glowing faintly—a sphere of dark glass with strange runes etched along its surface.

“Looks easy enough,” you whisper, inching closer.

“Famous last words,” Natasha murmurs beside you.

You shoot her a look. “You jinxed it.”

She smirks, but there’s caution in her eyes now. “Let me take a look first.”

You step aside as she approaches the pedestal, fingers hovering over the orb but not touching it. There’s a beat of silence, and then—because of course—something shifts in the air. A pulse radiates out from the sphere, like a ripple through water, and you barely have time to react before it hits both of you.

You feel it deep in your chest, like your whole body is being stretched and compressed all at once. There’s a sharp, blinding light, and your vision blacks out.

When you come to, everything feels... off.

You’re lying on the cold floor, but your body feels strange—heavier in places, lighter in others. There’s a weird disconnect, like your brain isn’t entirely synced with your limbs. You groan, pushing yourself up, but even your voice sounds different.

And then you see yourself.

Or rather, your body. Across the room, sitting up just like you, wearing that same expression of confusion and dawning horror.

“Y/N?” Natasha’s voice comes out of your mouth. Her eyes—your eyes—are wide.

You look down at yourself—except it’s not yourself. It’s Natasha’s body. Her black tactical suit, her gloves, her—

“Oh my god,” you breathe, hands flying to your chest where, yes, you can feel everything that makes Natasha Natasha. “This can’t be happening.”

Natasha scrambles to her feet—well, your feet. “We swapped,” she says flatly, already more composed than you feel.

“No shit,” you snap, but your voice—her voice—makes it sound more seductive than pissed.

There’s a beat of silence before Natasha quirks an eyebrow, still in your body. “I sound hot.”

You glare at her, but it’s hard to focus when your body is standing there, hands on hips, looking at you with your face. It’s beyond weird. And then there’s the fact that you’re inside Natasha’s body right now, every inch of it hyper-aware.

You try not to think about it. About how many times you’ve imagined touching her, being close to her, and now—now you are her.

“This is bad,” you mutter.

Natasha crosses her arms—your arms. “Could be worse.”

You blink at her. “How?”

She smirks. “At least I don’t have to do my own makeup tomorrow.”

Despite yourself, you snort, but the sound that comes out is so soft and melodic that it makes you self-conscious all over again.

“Okay,” you say, trying to focus. “We need to fix this. Get back to the Quinjet, call for backup—something.”

But as you move, you realize that walking in her body feels different—more balanced, stronger. Your limbs respond, but there’s an elegance to it that you never noticed before, at least not from the inside. You can’t help but glance down, and immediately regret it.

Natasha catches you staring.

“Enjoying the view?” she teases, a wicked glint in your—her—eyes.

You flush, but it’s hidden behind her perfect features. “Shut up.”

“Hey, if I were you—” she gestures to herself, “—I’d take advantage of the situation.”

You want to die.

But the thing is, she has no idea. No idea that inside your head, the thoughts are spiraling. Being in her body is like standing too close to the sun—intense, blinding, dangerous. Your brain is a mess of don’t think about it and holy shit, I’m her right now.

“Let’s just get out of here,” you say, voice tight.

You make your way back through the building, trying your best to focus on walking normally, not gawking at the way her body moves, how natural it feels, how strong. But you can’t help the intrusive thoughts—the ones that creep in despite your best efforts.

I wonder what it feels like to fight like her. To stretch, to—

You shake your head, forcing your mind away from the edge.

Natasha, meanwhile, seems to be having a great time. She whistles at one point, and you glare at her.

“Really?”

“What? I’ve never had your legs before. They’re nice.”

You want to scream. Or melt into the floor.

When you finally get back to the Quinjet, you both sit down hard, exhausted and overwhelmed. The artifact is in a containment box now, but there’s no telling how to reverse whatever the hell it did.

“We’ll figure it out,” Natasha says, running a hand through your hair.

You nod, but your mind is still racing. This body swap—being in her skin—it’s like every buried feeling you’ve ever had is now screaming at you. And the worst part is, you’re terrified that you’ll slip. That you’ll say something, or do something, that gives it all away.

Because if there’s one thing you know, it’s that you can’t let Natasha find out how you really feel.

But sitting here, in her body, with her teasing you like it’s all just a game—it’s going to be harder than you ever thought.

The Quinjet touches down at the compound just as the sun dips below the horizon, casting long shadows across the tarmac. You’re gripping the edge of the seat so hard that your knuckles—Natasha’s knuckles—turn white. Beside you, Natasha flexes your hands, examining them with curiosity, like she’s still amused by the whole body swap disaster.

“This is so weird,” you mutter under your breath, adjusting your posture. Every tiny movement feels strange, foreign. The suit that usually fits Natasha like a second skin now molds to you, and the weight of her body, the strength in her muscles, is something you’re still not used to. Every step feels like you’re walking in a too-real dream.

Natasha glances at you with your face and shrugs. “I think I’m handling it pretty well.”

You shoot her a glare but it doesn’t have the same impact when it’s coming from her eyes.

Sam’s waiting at the hangar, leaning against a crate, his arms crossed, but the moment he spots the two of you descending the ramp, he frowns. “Everything go okay? You guys look… off.”

You try to open your mouth to explain, but Natasha beats you to it, stepping forward in your body with her usual swagger. “Define okay,” she says, your voice sounding way too confident.

Sam blinks, glancing between the two of you. “Wait—what?”

“Yeah,” you say, gesturing to yourself. “We, uh, swapped.”

“Swapped,” Sam repeats slowly, like he’s trying to process whether you’re joking.

Natasha gives him a grin. Your grin. “Body swapped.”

Sam’s jaw drops open, and then he bursts out laughing, his voice echoing through the hangar. “No. No way.”

You groan. “It’s not funny!”

“Oh, it’s hilarious,” Sam counters, wiping a tear from his eye. “I mean, look at you two.”

“Can we just get inside?” you snap, not really in the mood for jokes—not when you’re wearing Natasha’s body like some awkward cosplay.

“Yeah, yeah.” Sam waves you through, still chuckling. “This is gonna be good.”

The three of you head into the compound, and you can already feel the tension building in your chest—or, well, Natasha’s chest—as you try to figure out how the hell you’re going to explain this to the rest of the team.

Of course, you don’t have to wait long.

The moment you step into the common area, Tony Stark is there, lounging on the couch with a drink in hand. Bruce is at the table, reading through something on his tablet, but both of them glance up as you and Natasha enter.

“Hey, Red, Y/N,” Tony greets, lifting his glass. “You’re back early. What’d you do, set off a self-destruct sequence to save time?”

You sigh, rubbing your temples, which feels even weirder when it’s not your head. “Tony—”

Natasha cuts in, crossing your arms over her chest. “We had a bit of an incident.”

Tony narrows his eyes, noticing the odd dynamic, the way you’re both standing, the uncomfortable distance between you. “What kind of incident?”

“Body swap,” you blurt out.

Tony stares. “Body swap? Like Freaky Friday body swap?”

You nod grimly.

There’s a beat of silence, and then Tony starts laughing so hard he nearly spills his drink. “This is perfect. Oh my god, I wish I had cameras on that mission.”

Bruce lowers his tablet, blinking in mild confusion but already looking concerned. “Wait, seriously? You two swapped bodies?”

You and Natasha both nod.

Tony, still cackling, leans back further on the couch. “This is like the greatest sitcom episode I never knew I needed. Please tell me you at least tried to do each other’s voices.”

Natasha, still in your body, smirks. “I think I nailed hers. Don’t you think?” she asks, and it’s unsettling hearing your voice laced with her sarcastic edge.

Tony snaps his fingers. “Spot on. Ten out of ten.”

“Can you just help us?” you interject, crossing Natasha’s arms tightly, feeling the tension coil in your muscles. Her muscles. “This isn’t exactly fun for me.”

Tony waves his hand dismissively, though there’s still a grin on his face. “Fine, fine. We’ll fix you. Right, Brucie?”

Bruce sighs, already getting up and walking towards his lab. “I’ll start running some tests. Come on.”

You and Natasha follow him through the compound, Tony trailing behind, still muttering about the comedy gold of this entire situation.

In the lab, Bruce starts scanning you both, asking all kinds of questions about the artifact, while Tony pokes at the readings, throwing out occasional jokes that you’re trying really hard to ignore.

“So, Y/N,” Tony says, tapping on a screen, “how does it feel to be the Black Widow for a day? Got that spy mojo flowing yet? Maybe try one of her signature flips?”

You shoot him a glare. “Not the time, Tony.”

He holds up his hands in mock defense. “Hey, I’m just saying—if I were you, I’d make the most of it. Stretch a little. Test out the flexibility.”

Natasha snorts, still in your body, clearly enjoying this more than she should.

Bruce, thankfully, clears his throat, cutting through the banter. “This isn’t going to be an easy fix,” he says, his brows furrowing as he studies the readings. “Whatever that artifact was, it didn’t just swap your consciousness—it rewrote certain biological signals. I’m going to need time to figure out how to reverse it.”

You feel your stomach sink—or Natasha’s stomach, whatever. “How long are we talking?”

Bruce hesitates. “Could be a day. Could be a week.”

You groan, leaning against the counter. “Great.”

Tony claps his hands together. “Well, in the meantime, you two get to live each other’s lives. This is going to be so entertaining.”

Natasha crosses your arms and smirks. “I think I’ll enjoy this.”

You glare at her. “Glad one of us will.”

After Bruce gives you both a few more instructions, you and Natasha head out of the lab, the weight of the situation sinking in. It hits you harder when you realize you can’t just sit around in her body without taking care of… basic things.

“So,” Natasha says casually, as you both walk towards the living quarters, “I guess we should talk about the elephant in the room.”

You glance at her. “Which one? The fact that I’m stuck in your body or the fact that Tony thinks this is hilarious?”

“No,” she says, stopping in front of her room—your room, for now. “The fact that we’re going to have to deal with… hygiene.”

Your brain short-circuits for a second. “Hygiene?”

She gives you a pointed look. “We’re going to have to shower at some point.”

The realization hits you like a ton of bricks. Showering. In her body.

You can already feel the heat rising to your face, and you scramble to find words. “I—I can just, you know… avoid looking.”

Natasha chuckles, leaning against the doorframe. “Good luck with that.”

You glare at her, trying to seem unbothered, but your heart is racing. “You’re way too chill about this.”

She shrugs, still wearing your body with an ease that’s almost infuriating. “I’ve been through worse.”

You groan, running your hand through her red hair. “This is going to be a nightmare.”

“Or an adventure,” she says, smirking.

You try to ignore the way that makes your stomach flutter.

Hours pass, and after a painfully awkward attempt at dinner—where Tony made more jokes about the swap and Sam nearly choked laughing—you find yourself back in Natasha’s room. It’s neat, sparse, just like you expected. Her gear is lined up meticulously, and there’s a faint trace of her perfume in the air.

You’re standing in front of her mirror, still wearing her tactical suit, trying to muster the courage to actually take it off. You need to wash up. You can’t exactly avoid it forever. But the idea of seeing… everything… it’s almost too much.

“This is fine,” you mutter to yourself, tugging at the zipper.

The suit peels away, and you force yourself to keep your eyes on the wall, on the ceiling—anywhere but the mirror. But your curiosity gets the better of you, and you glance.

It’s surreal. You’ve seen Natasha in her suit a million times, in training, on missions, but seeing her body like this—knowing it’s you in there—it makes something twist painfully in your chest. You try to ignore the intrusive thoughts, the ones that creep in despite your best efforts.

Don’t look. Don’t think about it.

But you can’t help it.

You take the quickest shower of your life, eyes squeezed shut most of the time, and when you’re finally done, you throw on a set of Natasha’s pajamas, which are soft and simple but still somehow make you feel like an imposter.

You flop down on her bed, groaning into the pillow. “This is hell.”

A knock sounds at the door.

You sit up quickly. “Yeah?”

Natasha steps in—in your body—wearing one of your old T-shirts and sweatpants, looking way too comfortable. She grins. “So. How was the shower?”

You scowl. “Don’t.”

She raises her hands. “Hey, just checking.”

“You’re enjoying this way too much.”

She shrugs, then flops onto the bed next to you, stretching out her arms—your arms—and sighs. “It could be worse.”

You turn your head to look at her, feeling the heaviness in your chest again. “Yeah? How?”

She grins. “We could’ve swapped with Tony.”

You both burst out laughing, the tension breaking, at least for a moment. But as the laughter dies down, you realize that being stuck like this, stuck with her, is going to be harder than you thought. Because every second in her body, every teasing joke, every lingering glance—it’s pushing you closer to a line you’ve been avoiding for years.

And you’re not sure how much longer you can keep pretending.

You lie there on Natasha’s bed, still in her body, staring up at the ceiling while Natasha lounges beside you in your body like it’s the most natural thing in the world. She’s got your legs crossed at the ankles, one arm draped over her stomach, and she looks almost too comfortable. You wonder if it’s that easy for her, adapting to being someone else.

But it’s not.

What you don’t realize is that behind her smirks and sarcastic comments, she’s struggling just as much as you are—maybe even more.

She glances over at you, watching herself—well, you—stare at the ceiling, your jaw tight, eyes heavy with everything you’re trying not to say. From where she’s lying, seeing her own face from the outside, it’s strange. Surreal. But what throws her off the most isn’t the swap—it’s you.

You’ve always been the reason she’s held back.

Natasha has spent years convincing herself that it’s fine—more than fine—that the friendship you two share is enough. She never let it go further, never allowed herself to say anything, because she was sure you didn’t feel the same. Every time you talked about past relationships—guys—it reinforced the wall she built around her feelings. You’d talk about dates that didn’t work out, about exes who weren’t worth the time, and even when you were clearly frustrated with how they treated you, you never mentioned anything about girls. Never once hinted.

So she buried it.

She became your closest friend, your mission partner, the person you trusted when things went to hell. She told herself that was enough. That it had to be.

But being in your body now? It’s like standing too close to a window she was never supposed to look through. She feels everything—your heartbeat, the way your chest rises and falls with every breath, the way your hands fidget when you’re anxious. It’s intimate in a way she hadn’t prepared for.

And it’s killing her.

You shift beside her, still oblivious to what’s running through her head, and groan into the pillow. “This is the worst.”

Natasha props herself up on her elbow—your elbow—and studies you. “It’s not that bad,” she teases, though her chest feels tight.

You turn your head to look at her, your—her—red hair spilling across the pillow. “You’re handling this way too well. I’m over here having an identity crisis, and you’re… what? Just chilling?”

She forces a smirk. “I’m adaptable.”

But inside, she’s far from chill.

Being in your body, it’s different from anything she’s experienced. She thought it’d be awkward, and yeah, it is, but there’s more to it. She can feel your strength in the way your muscles shift under the surface, the subtle scars from past missions that she traces absentmindedly while sitting in front of the mirror. She knows every inch of you now—every part of you that she never thought she’d be allowed to see.

And it terrifies her.

She didn’t expect this—didn’t expect that being you, even temporarily, would make her feelings harder to ignore.

Earlier, after you both left Bruce and Tony’s lab, she’d gone straight to your room. It felt weird, standing there in the doorway, in your skin, staring at your bed, your shelves, the mess of clothes in the corner. It was so you. She’d hesitated before going in, feeling like she was intruding on something personal.

But curiosity got the better of her.

She walked around the room, running her—your—fingers over your books, photos, little trinkets you’d collected. Things she recognized, things she didn’t. She sat on your bed for a moment, bouncing lightly on the mattress, wondering if you ever thought about her here, in this space, when no one was around.

The thought made her stomach twist.

And then came the harder part—the shower.

It wasn’t until she stood in front of your bathroom mirror, the water running in the background, that she realized how complicated this was. She pulled your shirt over your head, carefully, like if she rushed it would be wrong. She avoided looking too closely at first, focusing on the tiles behind her, but her eyes eventually drifted to her reflection—your reflection.

It was strange, but also… beautiful.

She knew you were gorgeous—she wasn’t blind—but seeing you this way, with nothing to hide behind, made her heart race. It wasn’t about attraction in a superficial way. It was deeper than that. It was seeing the person she cared about, vulnerable, open, even if you didn’t know it.

She felt like she was breaking some unspoken rule.

The shower itself was quick. She kept her eyes closed most of the time, focusing on the mechanics, but even that was a challenge. Feeling your body move, the way your hands—her hands—ran through your hair, it was too much. Every second in there felt like she was toeing a dangerous line.

And now, lying next to you on her bed, still in your body, it’s all she can think about.

You sigh beside her, breaking the silence. “Do you think Bruce will actually fix this?”

She shrugs. “Eventually.”

You roll onto your side to face her, propping yourself up on one elbow. It’s a surreal sight—her own face looking at her like that, soft and tired. “This is so weird,” you say. “Like… I’m talking to myself, but I’m not.”

She smiles, but there’s a tightness to it that you don’t notice.

“You’re really good at this,” you add. “The whole… hiding how weirded out you are.”

She hesitates, then says, “I’m used to pretending.”

The words come out softer than she intended, and for a second, something shifts in your expression, like you’re about to ask her what she means. But then you stop yourself, and the moment passes.

Another beat of silence stretches between you, heavy and thick.

You break it with a nervous laugh. “God, I can’t believe we’re in this mess.”

Natasha chuckles, though her mind is racing. She wants to say something—anything—to bridge the gap that’s been growing between what she feels and what she shows. But she can’t. Not when she’s convinced that if she does, she’ll lose you.

So she stays quiet, even though every part of her is screaming.

But then you say something that catches her off guard.

“You know,” you start, your voice hesitant, “when we first swapped, I was… kinda panicking. I thought you’d be pissed. I didn’t think you’d take it so well.”

Natasha raises an eyebrow. “Why would I be pissed?”

You shrug, looking at the bedspread. “I don’t know. I guess I just thought… I don’t know. That you’d hate being stuck in my body.”

There’s something vulnerable in your voice that tugs at her chest.

She sits up slightly, looking at you more seriously. “Why would I hate it?”

You hesitate, chewing on your bottom lip. “Because… I’m not you. I’m not the Black Widow. I don’t have your skills, your… confidence.”

Her heart aches. She never realized you felt that way.

“Y/N,” she says gently, “you’re one of the strongest people I know.”

You scoff. “Yeah, sure.”

“I’m serious.” She shifts so she’s fully facing you, her legs crossed beneath her. “You think I don’t notice how much you do? How hard you train, how much you care about everyone on this team?”

You look at her—at yourself—with wide eyes, surprised by the intensity in her voice.

“I’m not in your body right now just wearing it like a suit,” she continues. “I feel it. I feel your strength. Your resilience. It’s all there.”

For a moment, there’s nothing but the sound of your breathing, the tension between you almost palpable.

Then you smile, shy but genuine. “Thanks, Nat.”

She swallows hard, her throat tight. “Anytime.”

You lie back down, staring up at the ceiling again, but Natasha remains sitting, watching you. She wants to say it—the thing that’s been burning in her chest for years. But she doesn’t. Not yet.

Instead, she whispers, almost too softly for you to hear, “You have no idea.”

And maybe that’s the problem.

Because while you lie there, in her body, wondering if this swap is going to break you, Natasha sits in yours, wondering if it’s the only chance she’ll ever get to be this close to you.

The next few days in each other’s bodies are, unsurprisingly, absolute chaos. The compound, usually buzzing with energy and the hum of advanced technology, now feels like a stage for the most awkward reality show ever made, starring you and Natasha as the unwilling leads.

Tony, of course, is having the time of his life.

“Alright, Y/N—” he grins one morning, leaning against the kitchen counter with a coffee in hand, “—or should I say, Natasha? How’s the super-spy life treating you? Mastered the seductive stare yet?”

You narrow Natasha’s green eyes at him, but the effect is ruined when you accidentally bump the edge of the counter with her hip. Natasha’s body is a powerhouse—every movement feels amplified, and you’re still adjusting to the strength in her limbs.

Tony smirks. “Careful, Widow. You’ll dent my kitchen before you dent my heart.”

“Tony,” you say through gritted teeth, crossing Natasha’s arms over her chest. “This is already hard enough without your commentary.”

“Hard enough?” He raises an eyebrow. “Was that an innuendo? Damn, Y/N, didn’t know you had it in you.”

You groan and glance at Natasha—who’s leaning casually against the fridge in your body, sipping coffee like none of this bothers her. She catches your look and raises your eyebrow in amusement.

“Tell him to shut up,” you mutter.

Natasha takes another sip of coffee, licking your lips—her lips?—before responding. “Why? He’s right. You’re terrible at hiding your thoughts. I can practically feel the awkwardness radiating off you.”

Tony cackles. “Oh, this is golden.”

Bruce walks into the kitchen, yawning and rubbing his eyes. He freezes when he sees the three of you—Tony grinning like a maniac, Natasha lounging in your body, and you trying not to break the counter with Natasha’s super strength.

“Are we still like this?” he sighs, pouring himself coffee.

“Yup,” you and Natasha answer in unison.

“I’m working on it,” Bruce mumbles, taking his mug and retreating to the lab before Tony can rope him into more banter.

But of course, Tony isn’t done.

He spends most of the day following you and Natasha around, making jokes and taking mental notes for what he calls his “future blockbuster screenplay” about two spies who swap bodies and fall in love.

“You know,” he says at lunch, spinning a fork between his fingers, “this situation would make a killer rom-com. Two partners, forced into each other’s bodies, learning deep secrets—maybe even… forbidden feelings?”

You almost choke on your food. Natasha, meanwhile, chews calmly, though you notice the slight twitch at the corner of your mouth—her tell when something gets to her.

“I’m serious,” Tony continues, pointing between you two. “You know you’re gonna come out of this with some kind of emotional breakthrough. It’s, like, body-swap 101.”

“Tony,” Natasha says dryly—your voice coming out smooth and unimpressed, “you’ve been watching too many movies.”

“And yet, I’m still right,” he replies, grinning.

You glare at him. “Just let Bruce fix this already.”

But Bruce is struggling. Despite his genius, the body swap isn’t something easily reversed. Every time he calls you into the lab for scans or bloodwork, he looks more stressed, muttering about neurological pathways and “molecular consciousness displacement” like the world’s worst bedtime story.

“We’re talking about reprogramming the body’s natural biological signals,” he explains one afternoon, running a scanner over Natasha’s body—you in Natasha’s body—again. “It’s not just swapping your consciousness. Your physical forms are literally rejecting each other.”

“Cool,” Tony says, lounging on a lab stool, “so we’re one step away from Y/N growing red hair and Nat turning into a Starbucks-loving civilian?”

Bruce gives him a withering look.

You shift uncomfortably on the exam table. “How long, Bruce? Seriously.”

He sighs. “I don’t know. Maybe a few more days? Maybe a week? I don’t want to rush this and make it worse.”

The idea of being stuck in Natasha’s body that long sends your thoughts spiraling. Not because you hate it—but because you’re terrified of slipping up. Of showing too much. You already catch yourself staring at Natasha—your own body—when she’s not looking. She wears your skin like it’s nothing, moving through the compound with her usual confidence. And it drives you insane.

But the worst part? She seems completely unaffected. Like this is just another mission to get through.

Except… it’s not.

What you don’t see is how hard Natasha’s working to hide her own cracks.

Being in your body isn’t as simple as she makes it look. The first few days, she plays it cool—leaning into the teasing, pretending she’s fine—but inside, it’s chaos. She feels everything—your racing heartbeat when she stands too close, the way your stomach flips when Tony makes an offhand comment about the two of you being too comfortable.

The worst part is your scent.

She didn’t expect it to affect her, but it does. Being in your body means being surrounded by your warmth, your softness, the little details she’s tried to ignore for years. When she lies in your bed at night, staring at the ceiling, she wonders if this is what it would feel like—if things were different.

If you wanted her.

But she doesn’t let it show.

Instead, she focuses on small things—testing your strength at the gym, running drills with Sam, even sneaking in sparring sessions with Clint. It’s weird using your body in combat—your movements are less refined than hers, but there’s a power in you she’s always noticed.

“You hit harder than you think,” Clint comments one afternoon after she knocks him to the mat in the gym.

“Thanks,” she says, wiping sweat from your brow, though it feels strange to take credit for your strength.

“You’re adjusting fast.”

She shrugs, grabbing a towel. “I adapt.”

Clint watches her for a beat, then smirks. “You know, Y/N’s been asking about extra combat training for weeks now. Maybe when this is all over, you should be the one to help her out.”

The idea makes something twist in her chest.

“Yeah,” she mutters, “maybe.”

But adapting gets harder at night.

The quiet moments, when she’s alone in your room, lying in your bed, wearing your oversized T-shirts—those are the ones that crack her armor. She’ll catch herself staring at the ceiling, running your hands over your arms, wondering how you’d react if you knew. If you felt what she was feeling now.

And there are moments—small ones—when she thinks maybe you do know.

Like when you catch her reflection in a window, watching you when you think no one’s looking. Or when your gaze lingers too long on her—your own body—during training.

It builds, slowly, over the days.

The tension. The unspoken.

And Tony doesn’t help.

One evening, after another failed attempt at reversing the swap, he corners you both in the kitchen with two glasses of wine.

“Alright,” he says, sliding the glasses across the counter. “We’re officially past the ‘this is hilarious’ stage. Now we’re in the ‘let’s get deep and vulnerable’ stage.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Tony—”

“Nope,” he cuts you off, raising a finger. “You’ve both been weirdly quiet about this, and I know—” he points between you—“that there’s more going on than just a body swap.”

Natasha, in your body, leans against the counter and sips her wine. “Like what?”

He grins. “Like, say, hidden feelings? Deep-seated emotional repression? Classic spy stuff.”

You almost spit out your drink. “Tony!”

He laughs. “I’m serious! You two have been dancing around each other for years. Now you’re literally in each other’s skin, and you’re telling me there’s nothing happening? Come on.”

You glare at him. “You’re reading into this way too much.”

But Natasha stays quiet.

Tony notices and smirks. “Or maybe I’m right.”

She finally speaks, her voice low. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

But even you can hear the edge in her tone.

Tony backs off—barely—but his words linger.

That night, after everyone’s gone to bed, you find yourself wandering to the balcony, staring out at the stars. It’s quiet, peaceful, and for once, your thoughts settle.

Until you hear footsteps behind you.

Natasha.

In your body, wearing one of your hoodies, her hands stuffed into the pockets. She stands next to you, leaning on the railing.

“Can’t sleep?” she asks.

You shake your head. “Not really.”

The silence stretches, thick with unspoken words.

“Y/N,” she starts, her voice softer than usual, “do you ever wonder… if things could be different?”

You glance at her, surprised. “Different how?”

She hesitates, then sighs. “If we weren’t always on missions. If we didn’t have to… hide things.”

The question makes your heart race. Because yes. You’ve wondered. More times than you can count.

“Yeah,” you whisper. “I do.”

The words hang between you, fragile and heavy.

And for the first time since the swap, you see it—the crack in her armor. The way she looks at you, like she’s been holding something back for years.

“Y/N,” she says again, her voice barely audible, “if we never get this fixed… I need you to know—”

But before she can finish, there’s a loud bang from the lab, followed by Bruce shouting, “I think I found something!”

You both jump, the tension snapping instantly.

But even as you rush toward the lab, Natasha’s unfinished words echo in your mind.

I need you to know…

And suddenly, the thought of going back to normal doesn’t feel so simple anymore.

The lab is a mess of wires, glowing monitors, and a haze of smoke from whatever Bruce just accidentally exploded. You and Natasha rush inside—her still in your body, you in hers—hearts pounding, the echo of her almost-confession still lingering between you.

Tony’s leaning against the wall, grinning like the proud inventor he is. Bruce, flustered but hopeful, gestures wildly at a console that’s beeping erratically.

“I did it,” Bruce says breathlessly. “I think I actually did it.”

“You’re sure?” you ask, trying to keep your voice steady, even as your hands—Natasha’s hands—tremble slightly.

Bruce adjusts his glasses. “Ninety-five percent sure. That’s pretty good, right?”

Tony claps him on the back. “Close enough. I mean, what’s the worst that could happen? You swap with a dog? Or each other’s subconscious fears? That would be fun.”

You glare at him, but Natasha—still in your body—smirks. “If we end up in Tony’s body, I’m quitting.”

Tony gasps, clutching his chest. “You wound me, Romanoff. Truly.”

But you barely register the banter. Your mind is spinning with the weight of what Natasha almost said out on the balcony. The thought that she was going to confess something—and that you might never have known if Bruce hadn’t found a solution—sits heavy in your chest.

“Alright,” Bruce says, flipping a few switches. “This should reverse the swap. You’ll stand here—” he points to two glowing platforms, side by side, “—and when I activate the sequence, it’ll realign your consciousness with your original body.”

You glance at Natasha. She’s watching you, expression unreadable in your face, which makes it even harder to guess what she’s thinking.

You swallow hard. “Ready?”

She holds your gaze for a beat longer than necessary, then nods. “Yeah. Let’s do it.”

You step onto the platforms, heart racing. There’s a low hum as the machine powers up, energy swirling around you both.

Tony’s voice cuts through the noise. “Alright, lovebirds. If you swap brains with a toaster or something, I call dibs on the patent.”

You roll your—Natasha’s—eyes, but then everything blurs.

There’s a blinding flash, like lightning in your veins, and suddenly, everything feels… right.

You stumble forward, catching yourself with your own hands. Your own hands.

You blink, the world spinning for a second, then look up to see Natasha standing across from you—in her own body—rubbing her temples.

“Nat?” you ask, your voice—your real voice—cracking slightly.

She lifts her head, and when her green eyes meet yours, there’s a beat of silence that stretches and expands, until the buzzing in your ears fades completely.

“Yeah,” she says softly. “I’m me again.”

The sheer relief makes you laugh, breathless and shaky, and Natasha’s lips twitch upward.

“We did it!” Bruce exclaims, but his voice is distant, muffled against the roaring in your head.

Because all you can focus on is Natasha.

Tony is still yammering, probably making jokes about you two now being able to “safely kiss without existential dread,” but his words blur as the lab becomes a peripheral hum.

Natasha steps closer.

The tension is palpable—electric.

She hesitates, then grabs your wrist gently, fingers curling around your skin like she’s grounding herself.

“Y/N,” she starts, her voice low, almost trembling. “We need to talk.”

Your heart skips. “Yeah. Okay.”

Without waiting, she pulls you out of the lab, past Bruce’s triumphant cheers and Tony’s relentless teasing. Neither of you say anything as you navigate through the compound, weaving past empty hallways until you find yourself standing outside your room.

She pauses at your door, biting her lip. “Can we—?”

You nod, opening it.

The room is exactly as you left it, but it feels different now—charged with an energy you can’t ignore.

Natasha walks in first, stopping in the middle of the room, her arms crossed tightly over her chest. Her usual calm is gone—replaced by something raw, vulnerable.

You close the door behind you, heart pounding. “Natasha, what—”

She cuts you off. “I found your diary.”

The words hit you like a freight train.

Your face heats up instantly. “What?”

She swallows, her hands flexing at her sides. “When I was in your body. In your room. I—I wasn’t trying to snoop, I swear. But I couldn’t sleep, and I was looking around, and I saw it on your nightstand.”

You cover your face with your hands. “Oh my God.”

“Y/N,” she says quickly, stepping closer, “I didn’t mean to read it. But when I opened it… I saw what you wrote. About me.”

Your heart is now definitely trying to claw its way out of your chest.

“I—” You struggle to form words. “Natasha, I—”

She takes your hands, pulling them away from your face so you’re forced to meet her eyes. They’re soft, filled with something you can’t quite name—hope, fear, longing.

“You like me,” she says, her voice almost a whisper.

You nod, defeated. “Yeah. I do.”

The admission hangs heavy in the air, but instead of tension, there’s relief.

“I didn’t want to say anything,” you rush on, “because I thought—you know—I thought you only liked guys. And I didn’t want to ruin what we had.”

Natasha lets out a shaky breath, then laughs—soft, incredulous. “You’re an idiot.”

You blink. “What?”

She smiles now, full and real. “I like you, too. I have for a long time.”

You stare at her, stunned. “You do?”

She nods, her hand brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “I didn’t say anything because I thought you weren’t into girls. You’ve only ever talked about guys, and I didn’t want to cross a line.”

Your head is spinning. “So all this time…?”

“All this time,” she confirms.

There’s a beat of silence, then you both laugh—nervous, breathless, but filled with something else now.

Natasha’s eyes darken slightly as she steps even closer, her hand now cupping your cheek. “I didn’t want to tell you while I was still in your body,” she admits. “It didn’t feel right. I wanted this—” she leans in, her breath ghosting over your lips, “—to happen with us. The real us.”

Your breath catches. “So… what happens now?”

Her lips curl into a smirk. “I think this.”

And then she kisses you.

It’s soft at first—tentative, as if both of you are testing the waters. But then you melt into it, your hands tangling in her hair, her fingers digging into your waist, pulling you closer. The kiss deepens, and everything else—the awkwardness, the fear, the weeks of body-swapped chaos—fades away.

When you finally pull apart, breathless and grinning like idiots, Natasha leans her forehead against yours.

“That was worth waiting for,” she murmurs.

You laugh, your heart so full it hurts. “Definitely.”

But then there’s a loud knock at your door, followed by Tony’s unmistakable voice.

“Hey! I’m gonna assume the awkward confessions are done and the kissing has commenced?”

You and Natasha groan in unison, but neither of you can stop smiling.

Because for once, Tony’s actually right.

okay so, writing this was actually more confusing than I thought lol

[thelittleliars]

Valentine

Y/N: Will you be my Valentine?

Natasha: Y/N, we're married.

Y/N: Okay.. Will you be my Valentine now?

Natasha: I'm your wife.

Y/N: And yet you haven't answered!

Natasha: Y/N-

Y/N: IT'S A SIMPLE YES OR NO QUESTION NATASHA!!

Natasha: YES Y/N, I will be your Valentine!

[notanactressyayy]

·˚ ₊· ͟͟͞͞꒰➳ 𝐮𝐧𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐠𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐞 𝐫𝐢𝐝𝐞 | natasha romanoff

. ݁₊ 𝑠𝑢𝑚𝑚𝑎𝑟𝑦 . it was a new era of her life. she no longer had missions or a team to rely on — only endless free time, and a bunch of thoughts that weren't really helpful. Natasha for once, had time to pick up her phone — something trivial. through the dating app Tony had dared her to install months ago, she meets somebody. finally, her heart was at peace.

. ݁₊ 𝑤𝑎𝑟𝑛𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑠 . smut! i am not responsible for your content consumption! — a TW for the photo editing thing. this may be a sensitive topic for some. lonely Nat, insecure Nat — she edits a picture of her body, swearing, oral (N receiving). lots of fluffy stuff, too. set after Civil War.

. ݁₊ 𝑛𝑜𝑡𝑒𝑠 . english is not my first language (🇧🇷) so i apologize for any spelling errors. this ended up SO MUCH longer than i initially planned. i put a lot of dedication into this so, yeah 🥹

thanks to my lovely @sunswish who helped me with the plot and the proofreading! ♡

The trailer was quiet, except for the faint rustle of the wind through the trees outside. Natasha sat at the small wooden table by the window, her knees pulled up to her chest, a steaming mug of tea resting untouched beside her. The Norwegian countryside was beautiful, vast and unassuming, but the stillness pressed down on her.

Her phone laid on the table, the screen dark. She stared at it for a moment, the faintest flicker of hesitation crossing her face. She’d never been good at this — being still, alone with her thoughts. For years, her life had been one constant motion: missions, battles, briefings, always moving forward because stopping meant thinking, having time to ponder about her life.

Her jaw tightened, and she looked out the window instead. What was she even doing?

She’d fought tooth and nail to become an Avenger, to carve out some sliver of redemption for herself, some sense of belonging in a world she’d spent so long working against. She’d believed in their cause, in their family, even when it meant trusting people with pieces of herself she hadn’t known she was capable of sharing.

And now? The Avengers were gone. Torn apart, like everything else she’d tried to build. She was a fugitive, hunted by the very government she’d once fought to protect. Her friends — her family — were scattered, some in hiding, some in prison. She was left with nothing but her name and a handful of private contractors who worked in the shadows. People she barely trusted, people who barely trusted her. Yet she still needed them for supplies, false documents, and a roof above her head. Funny, she thought.

She reached for her mug, her fingers curling around the warmth of the ceramic, though she didn’t take a sip. She had no mission now, no team to fall back on. No one to call when the silence became too much. She wasn’t sure if she missed the fights or the people more.

A faint vibration against the table snapped her from her thoughts. Her phone. She glanced down, the screen lighting up with a notification — some random email, one of these ‘no reply’ ones, nothing important. She hesitated, then picked it up anyway, her thumb hovering over the screen.

Scrolling through her phone felt… strange. Almost trivial. She opened Instagram, an app she barely used but kept around for the rare moments she wanted to feel tethered to something normal. The feed was full of snapshots of a life she didn’t recognize—vacations, dinners, smiling faces, people celebrating milestones she wouldn't ever have.

And right then, the name ‘Avengers’ didn’t make sense for her anymore. She was supposed to have this. This life where she would have a fun moment and think ‘oh, yes! i should absolutely shoot a pic and add to my stories’. After all, Natasha was just an unavenged girl, woman, human. A picture of a mother celebrating her daughter's birthday wasn't just one more picture showing on her feed. It was her dream.

She scrolled absently, her mind only half-engaged as her thumb flicked upward. Part of her wanted to throw the phone across the room and forget she’d ever picked it up. But another part—the quieter, lonelier part—held onto it like a lifeline.

She then receives another automatic notification. How has your love life been going? It took her a moment to remember what it was, and when she did, she let out a dry, humorless laugh.

The dating app.

She’d installed it months ago as a joke, because Tony had bet her she wouldn’t. She could still hear his voice in her head, teasing her. “Come on, Nat. You might actually meet someone who doesn’t want to kill you for once.” At the time, it was funny. She’d downloaded it, filled out the bare minimum of the profile, like: cat lover, captivating green eyes & martial arts enjoyer and promptly forgotten about it.

Her finger hovered over the icon now, her heart giving a strange, uncomfortable twirl in her chest. The idea of opening it felt absurd. What would she even say to someone? What would they see in her, beyond the scars and the lies and the mess she’d made of her life? That was made of her life? Could she even try and have a relationship? When throughout her life, she didn’t ever have a conversation about feelings? Clint was the closest attempt to that — he knew her past, more than the others, at least. So she spoke to him about things like that before. But he had a wife, kids, a home.

Natasha damned her heart every single day — for wanting a connection with somebody — for wanting to be somebody's, and for not being content with what she already has.

What does she even have?

She sighs deeply as she gathers a little bit of courage (that usually wasn't necessary when one was to open a simple app in their phone) and presses her thumb against the icon. Her eyebrows show a little frown as she realizes the app wasn’t open — she had held the icon for too long, making the options add to home and uninstall pop up on her screen.

“Goddammit,” she mutters to herself. Maybe she had done it on purpose. She considers choosing the second option. But her thumb, once again, hovers over the uninstall word for too long.

She was just confused. In conflict, with something so small. Although, she was braver than that.

“Let's just get over with this.” She mutters to herself as she finally opens the app — SparkMatch, she reads the name, for the first time. She lets out a scoff. Though the feeling of unease didn't take long before coming back to her. The about me section was completely empty, in exception for-

“Captivating green eyes. Cat lover.” she reads the words she had typed, aloud, cursing herself. It was what she had written in order to simply make the Iron Man laugh and leave her alone. “Great job, Romanoff. Truly irresistible.”

Scrolling down her profile, which was named only @Natasha1203— having in mind that her surname wasn't one to be openly shared — she finds the photos she had chosen, months ago, without really thinking much. Her gallery didn't have much cheering stuff. They were as nondescript as possible: a picture of a skyline she had taken while on the run. Her in sunglasses, her most common accessory. And.. a single closeup of her face, that felt too honest for comfort. She doesn’t know why she left that one there, for the world to stare at. Maybe it was the one moment where she caught herself looking like.. well, herself. If somebody squinted their eyes, they could see a small scar on her shoulder. She hoped people wouldn’t do that.

Summing up: the profile was a mess. And that was a perfect reflection of the person behind it. She doesn't make a move to edit any information — before remembering an important detail. It would be nice to change her profile's name, in case anybody (especially Tony, that was aware of this) tried to look for her.

@Fanny_Longbottom1203 was the new username.

Perfect. She does a little ‘tsk’ with her tongue, a little habit she developed when finishing a task.

Flirting was easy. She had been trained for it — trained in the art of seduction, molded into a woman that could slip into any persona, say the right words, touch in the right way, just to get what she needed. But this wasn't one of the spy programs she had access to in SHIELD. This wasn't about manipulation or information extracting. This was trivial. Normal.

Natasha browses through the app for a while. She stops in profiles of strangers that smiled back at her through their pictures — men, women, who were teachers, doctors, engineers. People with families and hobbies. Who had the chance to live a life without looking over their shoulders every second. Yet something about this.. gave her a warm, fuzzy feeling. It was faint, but it was there. Knowing all these little details about random folks, she could find small pieces of herself in each one: some did ballet when they were little. Some had a scar due a kitchen accident. Some did karate simply for liking the sport. Some liked peanut butter sandwiches. She quietly giggles, her previous nervousness replaced by a silly feeling.

Maybe it wasn't that bad. It is not like a random person was gonna crawl out of her phone screen and have a date right then, anyway. And there was another ‘problem’. This app was still american, while she was in a whole new timezone.

What a relief.

She shifts on the small couch of her trailer, now laying down on it, allowing herself to get entertained with SparkMatch. She even found some profiles that were probably deactivated by now, seeing that they were created, like, a decade ago. She purposefully clicked on the small heart on them, meaning Match. She softly laughs.

But the sound is interrupted by herself as she finds a specific user.

It was a minimalist profile — elegant, even. It didn't say much about the person's personality: it said enough. It wasn't extravagant or absurd like some she had found. And it certainly wasn't a mess, like hers.

Y/n. 34. Not good at small talk, but I'm a good listener. A photographer, currently traveling around. Just someone who thinks the world is too big of a place to stay idle for too long. Currently: Norway

It was truly something else, compared to the live, laugh, love bios or the gym rats flashing their abs.

Her curiosity picks up, and soon enough, she sees a picture of them in Oslo.

And it was posted just three days ago.

So they were active in this app. But this wasn't what her mind grasped. Traveling in Norway. International trips usually didn’t last just three days, right? So that meant they were still there. There with her.

Out of all countries in the world, they were there?

She reads the bio again. Currently: Norway.

A strange shiver runs down her spine the more she thinks about the situation she found herself into. She bites on her lip, her stomach twirling almost painfully, like a school girl texting her crush. She was the Black Widow, for God's sake. She didn't get to go on silly dates and receive flowers.

No. This was too much. Without closing the app, she locks the screen of her phone again and drops it to the couch, quickly standing up and running her fingers through her hair. There were many reasons why this wouldn't work, especially when she was a fugitive and could get recognized, even in a small cafe.

Heading to the tiny kitchen, she opens a drawer on the countertop and grabs a bottle opener, opening the fridge and taking a beer out. She removes the cap and downs the bottle with no second thought, the bitter liquid ripping down her throat. Deeply breathing, shakily. Amidst the vast emptiness, not only of the place she was currently settled, but of her heart too, she fought back tears. The glass of the bottle clicks against the marble countertop as she places it down, her hands tightly gripping onto the edge of the furniture, holding herself up. It was a hard decision to make, whether to take this opportunity and keep it safe in her heart, or to let it go and pretend it never happened in the first place.

But she wouldn't be able to rest tonight knowing she simply did nothing about that special person the app charitably put into her hands. So, on this night, the unshatterable Natasha Romanoff did something she never thought she would. Before heading to bed, she picked up her phone again. Gladly, she didn't have to look for the profile once more. She simply had to press onto the small heart next to their picture. And she did.

The screen flashed: It's a match!

Natasha blinked in surprise, almost dumbfounded by this message. But this was meant to happen, right? Now, she could only hope that she would receive something in return by the morning.

It felt.. good. She had something to expect, a little flicker of hope that followed her even in her dreams, that made her feel better than she could ever imagine.

And this was just the start.

♡₊˚ 📱・₊✧

When the next day came, all of Natasha’s thoughts regarding the whirlwind of recent events were replaced by a single thing: that person. That New Yorker who was currently in Norway to take photos for a personal album. She initially wondered if she could really lower her guard like this and not think too much about Secretary Ross — who was still after her — but it was not like she would leave this trailer anytime soon. Thus, she needed a distraction, something to keep her brain entertained until this whole mess was over.

Talking to them was a relief — a solace she had been needing and didn't even know until now.

Talking to you.

Right away you had seen the match notification of SparkMatch, even if it was already one in the morning when it arrived. You sent this woman- Fanny? a message, and waited, but no response came until the next day. You wondered if she had impulsively pressed the match button and ran away from her phone out of nervousness. You actually imagined it, seeing the one picture of herself she published on her feed. Her profile was.. vague, to say at least, but she was incredibly beautiful, and indeed had captivating green eyes, like she boldly described herself. It made you smirk to your phone’s screen. No, genuinely smile.

It was pretty much clear that she wasn't a dating app person. And neither were you! You just had a better sense of organization than her, that's for sure. What if you two could really be a match?

As the day went on, you two engaged into a conversation that was surprisingly enjoyable for both sides. Opening the inbox chat, that could be found:

@Y/n: Good night. Is your real name Fanny Longbottom?

— eight hours later —

@Fanny_Longbottom1203: Good morning! The first thing you ask a woman is if her name is real?

@Y/n: It just doesn't suit a beautiful redhead with captivating green eyes.

Natasha groaned to herself at this, laughing. The humor in the text was evident, and she loved that.

@Fanny_Longbottom1203: Right. It was a joke. You can call me.. Nat.

It was a glimpse of her name. It could be Natasha, Natalia, Natalie.. or all of these.

@Y/n: Nat.. that is better. Yet still very vague. Like your whole profile.

@Fanny_Longbottom1203: Perhaps my whole account here is a joke.

@Y/n: And we still matched. And sincerely, I'm intrigued. Intrigued and curious.

@Fanny_Longbottom1203: That’s a dangerous thing to tell someone you just met.

@Y/n: Personally, I wouldn’t call a cat lover dangerous.

@Fanny_Longbottom1203: Will you stop mocking me for my irresistible biography or what?

It was an easy playful banter. It felt light. Not like these conversations where you had to directly ask the other person to be nice to you.

@Y/n: You just don’t strike me as someone who spends much time on dating apps. What brings you here?

With that, she debated whether to mention Tony’s dare or not. She could talk about it, but not for now. If she’s sincere, about how much she needed not to be alone anymore, this could lead to something good, more profound.

@Fanny_Longbottom1203: I’m just trying something new. What about you? Norway seems kinda away from the rest of the world.

@Y/n: It is. But sometimes you have to go far to find what you’re looking for.

Natasha leaned back, the faintest smile tugging at the corner of her lips. She didn’t know who you were, or why your words seemed to settle something in her chest, but for the first time in what seemed like an eternity, she felt.. excited.

@Fanny_Longbottom1203: Have you found it?

@Y/n: Not yet. But I have a feeling I might be in the right place.

She stared at the message, her mind turning over the possibilities. She was already glad that this hadn’t started with “hey, you’re cute” or “what’s up?”, and now? It felt like she was in a dream — to find someone that shared her ideals, or that at least, thankfully, sounded like a mature adult.

@Fanny_Longbottom1203: Maybe Norway isn’t so bad after all.

@Y/n: So you’re also here!

@Fanny_Longbottom1203: That seems like an excited message to me.

Gladly, her phone’s camera wasn’t capturing anything. Because she swore her eyes were sparkling right now.

@Y/n: Of course I’m excited, Nat. Now I have something else to think about other than shooting pictures.

Natasha stared at the reply, her fingers lightly brushing against the edge of her phone. There was something disarming about your words — direct, yet not forceful. And the way you used her name so casually made her blush.

She hesitated, before typing back.

@Fanny_Longbottom1203: What do you shoot? Other than clever replies, apparently.

@Y/n: Street photography. Portraits, mostly. But I’ve been known to dabble in the occasional cat picture. You know, for balance.

@Fanny_Longbottom1203: Balance is important. What would the world do with no cat pictures?

@Y/n: I shudder to imagine it. Speaking of balance.. would you let me buy you coffee sometime? Or would that be too much?

Her breath caught. You really didn’t waste time, did you? she thought. For a moment, her walls threatened to go up again — she could almost hear that little voice in the back of her mind telling her that this was not a good idea, that it wasn’t smart, safe.

But she silenced it. It was too soon, for sure — but she couldn’t knock it till she tried it.

@Fanny_Longbottom1203: That depends. Are you going back to New York in the next few days?

@Y/n: I don’t have a specific date to go back. So I guess it depends on how things go.

Yeah. Now she felt a little pressured. It was a dilemma, she could be the reason you stayed or left. Adrenaline coursed through her veins — that was determination.

@Fanny_Longbottom1203: It’s not like I am going anywhere anytime soon, either. But.. I like to play hard to get sometimes. How about we wait and see how things go?

@Y/n: Hard to get, huh? Well, patience is a virtue. Let me know when you feel like stopping the chase.

And you two went on like that — talking about your favorite portraits, sending her some — receiving her compliments, which sounded way too genuine for your liking. It was casual, like talking to a friend. Natasha didn't take long to start feeling comfortable with texting you. If she weren't a spy without a private number, she would've asked for your WhatsApp. Or maybe she was just exaggerating. The thing was: she didn't have to wonder about how to answer you. Your way of having conversations was so nice that she didn't feel forced to text back.

And with these new discoveries, Natasha felt like she could be in this new country without feeling too out of place. She feared that in the end this would be just one momentary experience, one of the many personas she played.

But shockingly, for once, she didn’t feel like paying attention to her overthinking.

♡₊˚ 📱・₊✧

Weeks had passed, and the nightly silence Natasha once dreaded was now filled with something else. Her phone screen, once cold and impersonal, had become an opening to something warmer. A new phase of her life. She never thought she would be so close to a mobile device before. Supersecret agents couldn’t have personal ones other than burner phones, it was risky — they could get hacked, tracked, recognized. She didn’t have a number, or an email with her name, bank accounts, or any sort of thing that could link her to the authorities. She only had TikTok, Instagram, some games like Candy Crush Saga and her newest best friend, SparkMatch.

Everyday, without fail, your conversations flowed effortlessly. You spoke about everything: Norway’s quiet beauty, silly anecdotes, and even the mundane things that somehow became meaningful when shared. She made herself get used to the habit of not thinking much. This wasn’t part of the plan — or rather, there was no plan. This constant connection grounded her in a way she didn’t fully understand.

Having someone willingly care about her, without having to ask, beg for it — she couldn’t understand.

This evening, after eating her exquisite caviar and drinking champagne, she settled onto her couch with a blanket draped over her shoulders. Her phone buzzed, and her mind involuntarily anticipated your witty reply, or question about her day.

Instead, a picture greeted her.

It wasn’t posed or staged — just you. mid-laugh, with a goofy expression that instantly betrayed your attempt to be serious. Your hair was a bit disheveled, and the lighting was off, but the image carried a kind of authenticity Natasha couldn’t let pass. The caption reads:

@Y/n: I don’t usually do selfies, but I figured you deserved to see what you’ve been stuck talking to all this time.

It was caring. You thought about her often enough to send a picture of yourself, doing absolutely nothing important.

Natasha softly blinked at the picture, completely still as her brain worked to process what she was looking at. It wasn’t just a picture. There was trust behind it, a hidden message. She couldn’t tell where you were getting at with this action — actually, she could. She just tried to convince herself of the contrary, afraid of putting her hopes up and screwing up afterwards.

@Fanny_Longbottom1203: Hi. I wasn’t expecting that.

@Y/n: Hi! How are you right now?

She bites her lip, incredulously chuckling. She was almost certain that this question was supposed to come before the picture.

@Fanny_Longbottom1203: Better.

She was feeling better, but not just that — she was feeling.. something. Something like.. seen. Like she was remembered by someone, like she existed, for once.

And those feelings stirred something even deeper within her.

The connection was becoming deeper — it was just now that she realized that the flirting which occurred every now and then wasn’t meaningless. It had a deep impact on her, in her soul — as a friend, as a person, and mostly.. as a woman. She needed it. She needed someone to like her, to pay attention to her, to see her — intimately, closely. Even better when this someone wasn’t a superficial person, and actually one who she related to and felt like she could share this dormant part of herself.

So she decides to share a picture, too.

She sits upright on the couch, the blanket falling and pooling around her hips as she opens the camera. She switches from the back camera to the frontal one, and takes a selfie. She was wearing a simple grey tank top, so her shoulders, collarbone and neck were on display. She wasn’t smiling smiling, just briefly, just enough to make a friendly expression. It was soft, tender. Unlike the deadly Black Widow.

Thankfully, for you, she didn’t have to be that.

So she presses send, laying back again and staring at the screen in anticipation — her eyes closely watching as the send mark changed into seen, that then turned into open. It stayed like that for a long while — like you were examining the picture and weren’t ashamed of it.

It gave her goosebumps.

The typing bubble appeared again after what felt like an eternity.

@Y/n: You’re beautiful, Nat.

It was a compliment you had already used on her. But this situation? Oh, it felt so, so different. You were talking about the simplicity, the domesticity of her in this closeup, the softness.

Fueling the fire that started to burn within her on this specific day.

@Fanny_Longbottom1203: Just a selfie.. don't get carried away. I'm hardly camera ready.

@Y/n: It's more than a selfie for me. It made my day. If that's not camera ready, I wonder how it'll be like when you try.

@Fanny_Longbottom1203: Would you like to see?

Oops. She didn't think before sending this one.

@Y/n: Hell, yes.

Her mind was immersed, totally consumed by the attention you were giving her — no jokes, no hints, just shameless flirting. Standing from the couch, she walks to her small bedroom, which was already dark, gladly — she closes her door, and slumps on her bed. Seduction was her nature, she couldn't control it. Though it wasn't necessarily a bad thing right now. Reaching her hand out, she turned on her yellow dim lamp, a gentle, warm glow casting her skin, making a better environment for the incoming picture.

She reopened the camera and adjusted herself in a comfortable position — knees pulled up, her left hand resting above her stomach as she held her phone with her right one above herself — taking the photo. There was auburn red hair all over the pillows, some strands framing her face perfectly. There was skin showing — a bit of her thighs, her arms, waist.. the curves of her body leaving room for imagination.

And something that she forgot about for the longest time.

The bullet scar above her left hip.

She stared at the photo on her screen, finger hovering over the "Send" button instinctively. The lighting was perfect, the pose effortless yet captivating. Her expression was soft, relaxed — but her pupils were darkened, a hint of the sinful emotions coursing through her body. But her eyes fell to the scar.

It was unavoidable, cutting through the smooth expanse of her pale skin like a brutal reminder. The bullet scar left by the Winter Soldier, a relic of her past life, stood out glaringly in the image. Her jaw clenched as a familiar wave of self-consciousness surged through her, a feeling she thought she had buried already.

She sighed, leaning her head back against the headboard as her thumb swiped to open the editing tools. It took her less than a minute to brush the scar away, leaving her skin unmarked, untouched. Natasha tilted her head, scrutinizing the result. The photo looked… perfect. Too perfect, perhaps, but she didn’t allow herself to dwell on that.

With a deep breath, she pressed send.

Unlike your other conversations, she felt.. heavy. Like the instinct of having to show her perfect body in order to be liked was speaking louder than her rational side.

The message was delivered almost immediately, but the seconds felt drawn out, agonizingly long. When the "seen" indicator appeared, her heart raced. She bit the inside of her cheek, anticipating your response.

The reply came swiftly:

@Y/n: Wow. I’m speechless.

She smirked (bittersweetly), her thumb hesitating for only a moment before typing back.

@Fanny_Longbottom1203: That’s a first. Usually, you always have something to say.

The typing bubble reappeared, and she waited, her heart thudding in her chest.

@Y/n: You make it hard to think, Nat.

Natasha felt warmth flood her cheeks, her fingers trembling slightly as she typed.

@Fanny_Longbottom1203: Don’t let it go to your head.

@Y/n: I think it's too late for that.

For a moment, she wondered what you would have said if you’d seen the unedited version. Would you have found it ugly? Would you have pitied her? Or would you have admired her for wearing it like the badge of survival it was?

In her dreams, you would have worshiped it.

Before she could send anything else, you decided to take a shot on meeting her in person once again.

@Y/n: I'm sorry, I'll have to suggest. How about this: I'll find the best café within a 10-mile radius, and you can tell me if my photography is as good as my coffee recommendations.

Time passed, and the accusations against Natasha had toned down a bit. Maybe, just maybe, if she's careful enough, she can do this. The first date she'd have in what, a decade?

It was refreshing. And scary. But overall refreshing.

@Fanny_Longbottom1203: Deal. But I will be the judge in both.

The day and place was decided — it would be in Oslo, downtown — a café, where tons of people would be present. Natasha, growing up, became a master in blending in.

If fate decided to be on her side, this would be one of the best days of her life.

She tossed her phone onto the pillow beside her and laid back, staring at the ceiling. Her fingers brushed the scar again, tracing its jagged edges as if trying to understand its place in this new chapter of her life.

“Not everyone gets to see this side of me,” she murmured to herself.

And for the first time, she wasn’t sure if that was a warning or a promise.

♡₊˚ 📱・₊✧

The café buzzed with the warmth of chatter, the soft clinking of ceramic mugs, and the occasional burst of laughter. It was tucked into a quiet corner of downtown Oslo, a place where the world felt comfortably distant yet close enough for her to disappear if necessary. Hours before, Natasha had dressed herself up — a burgundy dress, black tights, her usual black boots — and her jacket, of course. Her hair was naturally wavy, falling down her shoulders and back — and the makeup was simple. She wasn't a woman for makeup. But this time, she wore red lipstick and the faintest glitter eyeshadow.

She felt like a doll. It was stupid, a thing she liked to imagine how it would feel like back then — in the Red Room, where the girls wore black uniforms — grey sometimes, but always robotic, always calculated. It was a comforting feeling, which made her want to go back in time and tell little Natalia: yes! we are older now, and we are all dolled up for the date of our dreams.

Natasha arrived early — of course she did. She always did. She chose a seat by the window, her back to the wall, a vantage point where she could see everyone coming and going. Her heart wasn’t racing, but there was a slight tension in her chest. She sipped her coffee slowly, the warm bitterness grounding her as she kept an eye on the door. Then, you walked in.

Her doubting thoughts flew away the moment the green eyes landed on you.

She recognized you instantly. Your smile was smaller in person but somewhat warmer, more genuine. You scanned the room briefly before your eyes landed on her, and for a moment, Natasha thought she saw your breath catch. She softly smirks, gaze involuntarily daring.

Come and get me. This? Is all for you.

She shaked that thought away as she watched you approach her table — your clothes, your style, your body language — she scanned it all. The Black Widow wasn't an easy woman to conquer, which made her dump most of the people that tried to hit on her in the past. You were a rare exception, someone who didn't even have to try to make her heart race. It happened in it’s own.

“You made it,” Natasha said, standing to greet you, to give you a quick hug — the subtle press of your body against hers making her skin tingle. Damn it. She adjusted her dress before sitting back down. You did the same, sitting in front of her.

“Of course I did. This date was all I could think about,” you reply, eyes drinking her in, like she was the prettiest woman to exist. She truly was. “No. Let me rephrase. Seeing you was all I could think about.”

Natasha lets out a soft laugh, shifting her gaze towards the floor. She was so pale that the fact that she was blushing was, unfortunately, evident.

“Feels good to finally hear your voice,” she says, resting her chin on her hand as she stares at you. “In person. Not in audio messages or calls.”

After ordering pastries and more coffee for the both of you, the conversation flowed easily, from the usual mundane topics to little jokes that made Natasha chuckle softly. She found herself studying you more and more, the way you gestured when you spoke, the way your eyes lit up when you laughed.

Eventually, the question came.

“So, what’s it like?” you asked, your voice gentle but curious. “Being an Avenger?”

Natasha paused, her fingers brushing the edge of her coffee cup. She had expected this, of course. She knew it would come up. She couldn't simply hide, not when her face had shown up on TV so many times. But if necessary, she would say that this wasn't what she wanted to be anymore. Not with you. She simply wanted to be herself around you, and not the superhero.

She wasn't Natasha who assaulted T'challa. Wasn’t the Sokovia Accords breaker. She hoped you knew by now.

“It’s… complicated,” she said after a moment, her tone measured. “Not as glamorous as it looks on TV, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

You smiled. “I’m sure. But it’s still something, isn’t it? Saving the world, fighting alongside legends.”

A faint, nostalgic smile tugged at her lips. “It was something, yeah. But it wasn’t always about saving the world.” Her gaze softened as she thought back. “There was this time when Tony installed this AI in the kitchen — Friday’s cousin or something — to help us cook. It ended up burning everything it touched. Clint started calling it ‘Flamebot,’ and Steve…” She chuckled, shaking her head. “Steve tried to fix it, of course. Said it was ‘worth saving.’”

You laughed, and Natasha found herself smiling more openly. She was rambling.

“And Thor,” she continued, “he once mistook a microwave for some kind of… magical contraption. He tried to ‘summon its power’ with Mjolnir.”

“Did it work?” you teased.

Natasha smirked. “No, but we had to get a new microwave.”

The nostalgia warmed her, but it also left her feeling melancholic. She missed them. Not the missions or the battles, but the team — the messy, dysfunctional family they had become. You seemed to notice the shift in her mood and didn’t push further. Instead, you leaned in slightly, your voice soft.

“I can tell you miss them,” you said.

Natasha nodded, her walls lowering just a fraction. “Yeah. I do.”

You bit the inside of your cheek, realizing she needed some cheering up. This was supposed to be a happy day, not one to bring up sad memories. So you opened your bag, pulling out of it your camera — which made Natasha's eyes brighten up.

“You brought it!” she exclaims. “I almost forgot that you're a photographer,”

“I thought of the possibility of having to register this moment. And I was absolutely right. You look.. beautiful isn't enough to describe it,” you deeply sigh, as if surrendering to her, to this feeling of being completely in love. “Can I please take a picture of you?”

Natasha raised an eyebrow, her lips curving into a sly smile. “A picture of me?” she asked, her tone teasing. “You know that’s dangerous, right? What if you decide to sell it to the tabloids?”

You laughed softly, looking at her like a lovesick puppy, shaking your head. “I’m not interested in fame, Nat. Just in you.”

That made her pause, her smirk faltering for just a second. It wasn’t often she heard something so direct, so sincere. She tilted her head, studying you with those piercing green eyes, as if trying to gauge if you meant it.

“Alright,” she said finally, leaning back in her chair. “But only if it’s a good angle. No pressure.”

You grinned, lifting the camera and adjusting the settings with practiced ease. “No such thing as a bad angle with you.”

Natasha rolled her eyes, but the blush dusting her cheeks just got worse. She straightened up, her posture relaxed yet commanding, exuding that natural grace and power.

“Like this?” she asked, tilting her head slightly, a hint of amusement in her voice.

You brought your chair closer, lowering the camera for a moment. “No. Don’t pose,” you said quietly. “Just be yourself.”

That caught her off guard. Her brow furrowed slightly, and she shifted in her seat, unsure of what to do with herself for once.

“Be myself, huh?” she murmured.

You nodded, lifting the camera again. “Exactly. I don’t need the Black Widow. I want Nat.”

Her lips parted slightly at your words, and for a fleeting moment, the mask she wore every day seemed to slip. Her shoulders relaxed, her head tilted to the side, and a genuine, very shy smile spread across her face. “I-”

Before she could protest, the shutter clicked, capturing her in that rare, unguarded moment. “Perfect,” you murmured, lowering the camera and meeting her gaze.

Natasha shook her head, a soft chuckle escaping her lips. “You’re trouble, you know that?”

“Only the good kind,” you replied with a grin, setting the camera down.

She leaned forward slightly, resting her chin on her hand again as she studied you. “So, do I get to see it? Or are you keeping me in suspense?”

You turned the camera around, showing her the photo on the screen. Her expression softened as she took it in — the warmth in her eyes, the slight tilt of her head, the way the light framed her face, her rosy cheeks. It wasn’t just a picture. It was a glimpse of who she really was, beyond the layers of secrecy and survival. It was simply her, away from espionage, having coffee with her date.

Her unforgettable trip to Norway.

“It’s… good,” she said quietly, her voice almost hesitant.

“Good?” you ask. “It’s stunning. Just like my model.”

Oh, that…

The way you emphasized the word ‘my’.. the way you were making her feel.. actually precious. She was trapped.

“Alright,” she said, sitting back. “You’ve had your fun. Now tell me, do I at least get a copy?”

You laughed, nodding. “Of course. But only if you promise to go easy on me when I take more later.”

She smirks, her confidence returning. “We’ll see about that.”

As the evening wore, the sky showed a beautiful indigo, stars twinkling just like the sparkles in both of your sets of eyes. Natasha allowed herself to relax. To bask in this kind of normalcy that she never had the chance to experience. She had seen a lot, lived a lot. She knew what people could do in response to fear. She saw war and hatred, she saw coldness and cruelty. But from now on, she could live in a lighter way — like her heart was finally at peace.

“Should we get going?” you asked as the people also started to leave, standing and offering her a hand.

Natasha hesitated for half a second before taking it. Your touch was warm, steady, grounding, and promising. As you stepped outside, the cool air of Oslo wrapped around you. The city lights flickered like stars. Natasha felt a strange sense of calm. When she felt your arm enveloping her shoulders, her breath hitched, but she didn’t let it show — leaning into you gently.

“Where to now?” she asked, glancing at you.

“Well, the hotel, if you’re up for it,” you replied, your tone playful but not pushing.

That playfulness was a disguise for more surprises that awaited her back into the hotel room you were hosted in.

♡₊˚ 📱・₊✧

When you unlocked the door to the hotel you're staying in, Natasha followed you inside, her steps hesitant, as if she wasn’t quite sure what to expect. The space was warm and inviting, even if it wasn't a fixed place — especially after knowing you for a good while now — tons of polaroids laying across the bed, portraits, some funko pops that you bought recently. But what caught her attention almost immediately was the bouquet of flowers resting on the counter, tied together with a simple ribbon.

Her brows furrowed slightly as she turned to you, her lips parting in surprise. She didn't even have time to look around the place. “What’s this?” she asked softly, her voice carrying a mix of curiosity and vulnerability.

You stepped past her, picking up the bouquet and holding it out to her with a smile. “These are for you,” you said.

Natasha blinked, momentarily stunned. Her fingers brushed against yours as she took the bouquet, her touch delicate, as though the flowers were something precious. She examined them quietly — deep purple irises mingled with soft yellow sunflowers and a few sprigs of white heather.

“So you’re a hopeless romantic.. you didn’t take them to the café. What made you so sure I would come back to your place?”

You shrugged, leaning casually against the counter. “I wasn’t sure,” you admitted, meeting her gaze with an honesty that made her pause. “But I hoped you would. And, well, I wanted them to be a surprise. It felt more personal this way.”

Natasha glanced down at the flowers again, her fingers gently brushing over the petals. “You really thought this through, didn’t you?”

“I thought you were worth the effort,” you said simply, the sincerity in your voice making her blink rapidly, as though she was trying to process it.

Natasha smiled as she shook her head lightly, trying to dismiss the overwhelming feeling creeping up on her. “You’re really something, you know that?”

You chuckled, stepping closer. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

She tilted her head, her green eyes studying you with a mixture of curiosity and warmth. “It is,” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. “You didn’t have to-”

“I wanted to,” you interrupted softly, stepping closer. “You deserve something beautiful. Something that shows how incredible you are, even if you can’t always see it yourself.”

Her lips parted, but no sound came out. The Avenger, the unshakable spy, was speechless.

Natasha turned to face you fully, the bouquet forgotten for a moment as she searched your face. It was almost desperate, how she tried to find reassurance, anything that told her that her past wasn't a problem. “You… you don’t even know the half of it,” she murmured.

“Maybe not,” you admitted. “But I want to. Every part of it, Nat. I want to know you.”

For a long moment, she just stared at you, as if trying to decide whether she could let her walls down one more time. Talking through an app was easier. In person felt way too serious. And then, with a deep, trembling breath, she set the bouquet back on the table and closed the distance between you.

She walked with determination, her chest lightly touching yours as her hands found their way to the back of your neck. Her fingernails softly scratched in between the hair strands. She didn't know what to say — she didn't want to say anything. In this very second, she simply wanted to feel. Feel what she never had the privilege to feel as the years passed, because yes, this felt like a privilege. She stood on her tiptoes to press herself closer, doe green eyes pleading.

They told you everything, and you didn't need to be passed the message twice. Your right hand cupped her cheek as the left one wrapped around her waist, bringing her even closer.

She was an angel. Not a deadly spy. A sweet angel to be taken care of. To have her needs satisfied and tears wiped away.

As Natasha felt you responding, she allowed her eyes to close.. basking in the darkness, wanting to be enveloped by this only one sensation. This soft, intense sensation of your lips against hers, moving in a way that wasn't rushed, but wasn't too deliberate either — your hands gripping her waist and bunching the fabric of her jacket, maneuvering her back against the counter. Holding onto your shoulders, she sat on the countertop, welcoming your body between her legs. The kiss lasted. She softly whimpered as she felt your tongue brushing against her bottom lip, asking for entrance, for more of her. And she allowed it. Her head tilted to the side, moving in sync with you — as your tongues danced, a dance she hadn’t discovered before.

Needing air, you pull away, foreheads resting against one another as you deeply inhale, messily. It was torture to stop kissing her, she was good. But air was necessary. Calming down, your arms circle her waist. A smile makes its way to your lips as you see the state she was in. Flushed. And…

“I think your lipstick is a little smudged,”

Natasha felt that — every nerve of her skin was burning, including the parts with the messy makeup. She lets out a huff of air and clears her throat, trying to find her voice so she could respond.

“That was…” she whispers, her hands cradling your jaw. “Wow,”

“You are ‘wow’,” you whisper, using your thumb to wipe away the red lipstick from the corners of her lips, fixing it. “You are perfect,”

“I'm not that- I'm not,” she nervously giggled, humming as you finished fixing her up. She shifted on the countertop, her legs pressing around your hips, as if afraid of you leaving.

“I wish I could give you my set of eyes,” your hands travel down to her thighs, feeling the slightly rough fabric of her tights, but that didn't make her skin any less smoother to the touch.

Her dress was basically all the way up her hips at this point, something she hadn't paid the necessary attention to, due being too busy making out with you — and in the pit of her stomach, a small flicker of panic started rising. This was reckless, so reckless. It is not like she didn’t think of the possibility of things escalating while coming back to the hotel with you, but in her head, she would have more control over the situation — and with that, manage to keep her secrets uncovered.

But she didn’t. Her body was reacting in its own and her mind was cloudy. She had zero control.

Before you could even touch the zipper of her dress, Natasha froze. Her breathing hitched — barely noticeable if you weren’t paying attention, but you were. Her hands, which had been so confident just moments ago, trembled as they pressed gently against your chest.

“Wait,” she whispered, her voice barely audible, as if it might shatter if spoken any louder. “Just.. give me a second,” she muttered, avoiding your gaze as she detangled from your grasp, getting off the counter and hurrying to the bathroom.

The sound of the door clicking shut echoed through the quiet room. Natasha leaned against the sink, gripping its edges so tightly her knuckles turned white. Her reflection stared back at her — flushed cheeks, wide eyes, red marks staining the corners of her lips.

Why did she have to choose a matte lipstick?

Her fingers brushed against her side, over the spot where the bullet scar lay. She had hidden it from you before, in that photo. It had seemed harmless at the time — a small deception to preserve the image of herself she wanted you to see. But now, in the raw intimacy of this moment, it felt like a betrayal.

She turned on the faucet, splashing cold water onto her face in an attempt to calm the storm raging inside her. She couldn’t lose this moment — not to her own fears, not to a scar that was just one more piece of her long and painful past. But how could she explain it? How could she show you this part of her without ruining everything?

Natasha pressed her hands to her face, inhaling deeply. It’s just a scar, she told herself. It doesn’t define me. It doesn’t change who I am.

Except that it does. And a small tear rolls down her cheek.

You’re not in the Red Room anymore, she reminded herself, gripping the sink harder. And this person… they’re different. They don’t expect you to be perfect. They just want you.

The doubt, the fears that you managed to keep away from her in the past month, came back to her — only a thousand times more painful.

Regardless, Natasha didn't have any more time to think, before she heard the doorknob turning, the damn door she didn't lock opening. She kept her head low, her body stiff as she continued to hold onto the sink. You could see her reflection in the mirror clearly. The fact that she was silently shedding tears.

“You're crying,” you state quietly, taking baby steps towards her.

“And you're bold,” she chuckles, the sound a mixture of tears and sarcasm. She sniffles, using her arm to wipe her nose. “Entering like that.”

“You're crying.” you shake your head, once again standing face to face with her. You reach out your hands and cup her tear stained cheeks. “What's wrong?”

“I…” she debated what to tell you. That she was afraid of physical intimacy since she was young? Or that she hid a crucial thing about her body all this time? “I don't know-”

“You’re hiding something from me and are afraid I’m gonna hate you?” you inquire, voice serious — not mocking, not pressuring.

What?

Her eyes go wide instantly, the tears stopping. You wipe them away from her cheeks, expression softening again as you prepared to explain yourself. “You’re part of a New Yorker superheroes team. There was absolutely nothing that spoke about your personality in SparkMatch, which is expected, Nat. I’m aware that there’s a lot that I don’t know about you. I know where I’m getting myself into.”

“For the longest time, all I wanted was company. Someone to talk to, to listen to me, and that I could listen to them. Someone to see me,” she quietly confesses, leaning her cheeks into your palms. “You did just that. You’re that person.. you filled a huge void in me. You saved me in more ways that you could ever know.”

“I’m so grateful for that.” you lean closer, pressing a lingering kiss against her forehead. She shyly wrapped her arms around your waist, her eyes searching yours once more.

“It’s not just that…” she adds, her breath hitching. She was now determined to continue from where you left off on the entrance counter. “I longed- I long for.. touches, and..”

“And closeness,” you complete, head dipping down and tucking itself into the crook of her neck. “Geez, you smell delicious,”

“It’s… Twilly D’Hermès,” breathless, Natasha speaks, a small hint of pride in her tone as she spoke about her moisturizing cream. “My body lotion,”

It wasn’t cheap, but she liked to spoil herself sometimes. It was also great to deal with the constant bruises and cuts on her skin. Your brows raise in surprise, an incredulous laugh escaping your lips. Natasha could feel the warmth of your breath on her neck, a surge of happiness and ecstasy washing over her.

“That’s.. pretty luxurious, one can say.”

“Can’t a woman spoil herself sometimes?” she retorts — interrupted by a gasp that left her as your lips pressed against her neck. Her eyes flutter shut, her hands holding onto your arms as she did her best to keep talking. “B-Besides, years of bruises and burns require good skincare.”

“I see,” you hum, nuzzling into her, into the spot behind her ear. She felt soft today. Now you knew the reason. After staying like that for a while, you pull back, looking into her eyes with a gaze that showed admiration, respect and concern towards her comfort. “Can I?”

She deeply inhales, feeling you reach for her dress again — only more mindfully now. Shrugging her jacket off her shoulders, she places it next to her on the sink and nods.

She was prepared for the question.

“Okay, hold on.” you kneel down, beginning to untie her boots, catching her by surprise. You remove them and place them aside, before slowly pulling down her tights. “Damn. Why did you have to wear something so complicated?”

“I wanted to feel beautiful,” she quietly chuckles, allowing you to get rid of the excessive fabric on her body.

So, it's time for the dress. You got up to your feet and slid your palm up her spine, holding onto the zipper and then pulling it down. Natasha was expectant, self aware, but mainly, consumed by her desire — finally awake again.

“I'll make you feel beautiful,” you nod, pushing the dress straps off her shoulders and sliding them down her arms.

“You already do.” She breathes.

She doesn't stop you from getting her off the dress. But when it stops below her hips, she tenses up. That's because she sees you freezing. To look at her. It's strange, to have someone look at her body with no apparent emotion. You didn't look at her as if she were a prize to win — an object, or a weapon. Helping her step off the dress, you toss it aside on the floor. Now nothing was disturbing you from taking her in. Her black underwear. Her toned muscles — which you assumed were from years of workout. And her scars. Cuts, a few small keloids, and the bullet scar.

“You didn’t have to hide this from me.” you breathe, dropping to your knees once more as you held her by the hips. She found herself leaning against the sink’s counter, breathing ragged, every nerve of her body buzzing in anticipation. “Makes you even more gorgeous.”

“I—”

“You're fucking gorgeous.” you hiss, kissing above the place that once had a bullet in.

Yup. Her dreams came true.

“Please,” she murmurs, not knowing how to vocalize what she wanted. But the heat pooling between her thighs told you everything.

Your lips make a path from her hip down to her pelvic bone, right hand grabbing her thigh and putting it on your shoulder — coaxing a gasp out of her. Your palm covers her scar, as though it were something precious about herself — making her feel safe, above everything. Natasha, for a moment, almost lost her balance — having to hold her weight with one foot — as your pointer finger hooked around the soaked fabric of her panties, pulling it to the side. You gave her one look. One look before diving in.

You are no longer alone.

She took the message. And her world exploded.

Your tongue working on her — licking past her folds, tasting her — as if committing to memory, and not just using her — her slender fingers tangling into your hair, pulling your head closer to her core, soft moans leaving her mouth as if there was no tomorrow.

“Yes,” She gasps, her hips bucking, seeking more of the kitten licks you showered her clitoris with. “Don't stop.”

None of her sexual experiences had been good in the past — not in the slightest. So having something so good, so pleasuring — it was truly her first.

In the Norwegian hotel, Natasha was more Avenged than she ever was with the Avengers. In the end of the night, she ended up with you on the bed — your clothes making each other company on the floor, as she lost herself — in your body, your scent, your hands on her,

and your love for her.

♡₊˚ 📱・₊✧

You were tucked under the covers when the bathroom's door opened — the hot steam of her recent shower now dispersing and mingling with the air. You sat up, leaning against the headboard as you watched her with a smile.

Natasha walked towards you, the white hotel's towel in her hands, drying her damp hair. She was wearing a t-shirt you lent her, which was probably three times her size. She was smiling. Happily.

Before climbing back onto the bed, she absentmindedly placed the wet towel on an armchair. She gently settled onto your lap, straddling your hips, her head instantly nesting on your shoulder.

“Hi, baby.” you embrace her.

“If I have to leave the country, for any reasons,” she says, her hands tracing random patterns on your back. “Will you come with me?”

“I'll go anywhere with you.” you reply, voice unwavering.

She released the air she didn't know she was holding, and allows herself to relax her sore body. She nuzzled closer as you played with her still damp hair.

Maybe dating apps weren't so bad, after all. If she ever saw her team or Tony again, she would thank him for making her install it.

“Oh, and by the way,”

Natasha whispers, finally. Probably, you were aware. But it was one more thing about her true self she wanted you to know.

“My name is Natalia.”

[thelittleliars]

This is a masterpiece!! 🥹

[hiiraya]

loml

pairing: natasha romanoff  x reader 

words: ~3.3k

warnings: angst, happy ending (?), literally just self-indulgent writing, messy writing, listen to loml by taylor swift to get in the sad mood

a/n: merry christmas everyone! the last thing I posted was january of 2022 and it's literally about to be 2025 - I've been in a reminiscing mood lately and this was something I've had in the drafts for months, I figured I should just release it to get it out of my system. your girl has been missing someone bad bro and the urge to tag them in this is insane ♡ anyways, hope they see this lmao

“Have a safe flight and text me when you land, yeah?”

“I will, I will. Get home safe and update me as well, okay?”

You release your cousin from your hold, giving their shoulder a quick squeeze as they pull away. You do a last minute check with them to make sure they hadn’t forgotten anything important - something you were always prone to do when travelling by yourself. The memory of you almost missing your international flight because you had rushed home and back to the airport within record speed, all because you had forgotten your passport of all things. 

“I’ll fly out to see you next time, so you can show me around.” You smile.

“Are you guys serious? I told you to leave early so that this exact thing wouldn’t happen!”

Your eyebrows immediately furrow at the familiar voice, catching one last glance of your cousin as they enter the security screening area, waving to them while you mouth one last ‘text me when you land!’ as they leave your sight, before turning around to find the source of the voice.

No way it’s her, you thought. What’s she doing here?

As you get closer to the arrivals board, your questions are answered. Standing there in all her glory, is the one woman you never thought you’d lay your eyes on again.

“Natasha?”

You see the puzzled look on her face as she registers your voice before she even lays her eyes on you. Watching as the confusion turns to irritation - whether it was towards you or whoever was on the other side of the phone, you couldn’t tell (most likely both) - you watch as a deep sigh she releases as she glances at the board in front of her once again.

“-that’s another 10 hours before you guys even land.” She sighs, exasperation lacing her voice.

“Hey, listen if you need help-”

She holds a finger up to silence you, eyes meeting yours in a piercing glance. “I don’t need help, and especially not from you Y/N L/N.”

At her words, you look down, the sight of your shoes a welcome one as you take a second to recover. Honestly, you thought to yourself, I deserved that. 

“Yes, it’s Y/N- no I did not! I swear I didn’t know that they were here.” You hear her mutter from beside you. Deciding to save the both of you from further embarrassment, you turn your attention elsewhere, wondering what your cousin would say once you eventually tell them about who you ran into immediately after they left.

You lift your head back up when you hear Natasha mumble "you guys pick the day before Christmas of all days to be late for your flight” followed by a quick goodbye before hanging up the phone, watching her scope the airport for her next step. 

You could just leave and pretend this ever happened.

“Come on, Nat, I promise I just want to help.” You find yourself saying instead. “I can take you to your hotel when they get here.”

Well, there's no going back from that now.

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Are you seriously asking me that right now?”

You really needed to stop opening your mouth.

“Okay, you know what, I deserve that.” You pause. “Listen, I’m not going to force you to come with me, but the offer is still there if you want it. You’ll get a free ride, plus you can use my apartment to rest and freshen up while you wait.”

 -x-

"I can't believe you talked me into this."

You spare a glance to Natasha, who was currently sitting in your passenger seat.

"You're the one that followed me to the car?"

She rolls her eyes at your confused tone, choosing to ignore what you said and instead checking her phone - most likely waiting for an update from whoever she was speaking to on the phone before. "I can't believe they missed their flight."

"Who's they?"

"Yelena, Maria, Wanda," she answers. "Oh, and Yelena's friend Kate too. I don't think you've met her."

You bit the inside of your cheek, because you already know that you didn't get to meet anyone named Kate while you were still together. You honestly didn't get to meet many of Natasha's friends whenever visited her - it was something you always fought over. It felt like she was ashamed of you, always wanting to keep you hidden, a secret she never planned on sharing with the world.

You refrain from asking any follow up questions - if Natasha wanted you to know more she would tell you.

Instead, you ask: "Did they manage to catch the next flight out?"

She nods. "I'm honestly surprised they did, considering how expensive it probably would've been. But knowing Maria, she probably would've pulled some strings to make it work."

Natasha finally looks up from her phone as you come to a stop, looking at the building you had just parked in front of.

"Where are we?"

"My apartment, I figured we could drop off your bags and you can freshen up before I show you around." You open the door for Natasha before moving to grab her bags from the trunk.

You lead her inside, setting her bags down in the living room before turning around to face Natasha - holding your arms out as you gesture to your living space. It's the first time she's ever stepped foot into this place, having only seen it through a phone screen since you were the one who would fly out to visit her when you were still together.

"I'll grab you some towels so you can freshen up, but make yourself at home." You say, gesturing for her to follow you down a hallway. "The bathroom is the first door to your left, there should be a spare toothbrush under the sink- wait did I give to my cousin? Well, we can grab you one while we're out but everything you need should be here."

You know you're rambling but you don't stop in fear of saying something stupid (which knowing you, is highly likely).

"If you want to take a nap, the guest room is just a little further down the hall on the right - I just changed the sheets so everything should be fresh."

It's not the way you wanted to be showing Natasha around your home for the first time, but you'll take what you can get. It'd be so easy to waltz back to the way things were, before everything fell apart but you didn't have the right to that anymore. You weren't a part of her life anymore.

You didn't know if she already had someone new in her life, maybe you were overstepping in so many ways and that it was best to just keep your distance. After all, you did promise that you just wanted to help. You were here to keep her company until the girls arrived and take her to the hotel when they finally did get here.

You know it's for the better to just move on, that after today she'll be gone and it'll be like she never made a reappearance in your life. But how could you when you know deep down that you still haven't fully moved on and that she'll always hold your heart in her hands?

Natasha's voice cuts off your reverie, bringing you back to the present as you hand her the towels.

"Give me an hour to shower and rest my feet for a bit, I wanna go out and explore while we wait."

 -x-

"Do you see that one over there? That's a hammerhead shark! They're one of the most powerful sharks in the ocean."

Natasha hears the little girl gasp, watching their eyes going wide with wonder. She can't help the small laugh that escapes when she sees the young girl lean closer towards the glass before loudly whispering, "is it going to eat us?"

You laugh softly, and Natasha can't help but think that she's missed hearing the sound of your laugh, something she thought she wouldn’t hear again. It comforts her slightly to know that it hasn't changed after all these years, and that  she can still easily recognise the sound as being yours only.

"It won't eat us! Sharks don't eat humans," she hears you explain. "They're more interested in fish and seals, than they are humans. But they are really strong swimmers, and they can smell things from miles away - even in water!"

She'd been watching you answer questions about sharks for the past 5 minutes, after a curious little girl ran up to while you were looking at the shark tank and asked if you knew what type of shark was swimming in front of the glass.

"Do sharks talk to each other?"

"They don't talk like we do, but they do communicate by using their bodies and how they move through the water. Some sharks even make sounds by rubbing their teeth together, kind of like a secret language that only they can hear."

It doesn't take long for the girl's mother to find the three of you, sighing in relief as she sees her daughter, looking up at you apologetically.

"Sorry, she's probably been asking you a million questions."

You give the woman a friendly smile and shake your head. "It was nothing, I loved answering all of her questions." You tell her. "It looks like you might have a future marine biologist on your hands."

"Let's leave the lovely ladies to enjoy the rest of their date, bubba."

"Oh- it's not-"

"We're not-"

The mother and daughter are already walking off before either of you could finish your sentences, leaving you and Natasha standing in front of the shark exhibit with red cheeks and thundering heartbeats. 

Natasha catches your eyes as you glance at her in a shy glance, and she knows it's too late. The warmth that passes through her as you smile, the same warm and knowing smile that you used to give her when everything was still okay was almost enough to bring her down to her knees.

You interrupt before her thoughts can spiral any further, clearing your throat before gesturing with your head the direction of the next exhibit.

"Shall we keep going?"

 -x-

Natasha sits across from you at a small café by the beach. You mention to her that it was your secret place, one that you go to when you wanted time to slow down and just have a moment to catch your breath. After the little incident at the aquarium, you guys decided it was best to just sit and people watch for the time being to avoid any more awkward interactions.

The warmth emanating from the cup of coffee did little to chase away the little chills that ran down her spine every time Natasha caught you gaze lingering on her for longer than you must've realised.

She told you about the plans that she and the girls had made for their vacation while you filled her in on your own life, telling her about your cousin that had just recently come to visit you just before Christmas.

"I'm glad you chose to come with me." You admit after a pause in conversation, voice soft. She turns to look at you, your eyes meeting hers with such an intensity it made her breath get caught in her throat. "I missed getting to talk to you like this."

She can tell that you spoke without thinking, the widening of your eyes giving you away. You look away, muttering a quiet "sorry" before lifting your drink to your lips in an attempt to hide the flush of your cheeks.

She was supposed to be over you. She'd told herself time and time again that she had moved on, but seeing you again, and being here with you, she couldn't deny that she was still in love with you. Having you so close yet so unreachable leaves an ache in her chest.

Throughout the time you two had been sat at the café, she watched you with fondness at the way your eyes lit up while you spoke with excitement in your voice about the things you and your cousin had gotten up to in the week they were with you; Natasha realises that she missed you too - and the comfort that you brought her just by simply being near.

"Nat? You okay?" The worry in your voice only deepens the ache in her heart.

"Yeah, no, sorry - I'm okay." She answers with a shaky nod, breathing deeply. She allows herself to feel her emotions, knowing that it would only do harm if she tried to deny herself this moment with you.

"I missed you too."

The sadness settles deep within her chest, the way you looked so shocked at her words - and she wonders if you were expecting her dismiss your words.

Her phone pings loudly from where it was placed on the table, the text tone sounding off four times in a row as her screen lights up between the two of you.

Natasha!! We've landed :D - Wanda

Sestra, we're on our way to the hotel now, tell lover girl to drop you off now - Yelena

Hi Nat, sorry again - we'll be there in 30 minutes! - Kate

I'll check us in if we make it to the hotel first, Nat, just let us know when you're there - Maria

You both watch as each text pops up on her phone, knowing that your time together was coming to an end.

Natasha watches as you ponder for a moment - wondering if you were going to add on to your words from before now that she's admitted that she missed you too. For a second it does seem like you're about to say something, but instead you just shake your head slightly to yourself, clearing your throat and as you look away, flagging down a waiter to pay for the meal you shared.

"We should probably get going if we want to get to the hotel at the same time as them."

She allows herself a moment to watch as you gather everything, absentmindedly listening to you talk about leaving now so we don't hit traffic - though I guess it's fair to make them wait, considering they made you wait like 10 hours, that's a practically a whole day wasted where you guys could've been sightseeing!

Natasha knows your putting on a brave front - she can see it in your eyes as you gather your wallet and keys, but she begrudgingly gets up after you pay for the bill, walking back with you to your car.

Already dreading the moment she has to say goodbye.

-x-

"Well, I guess this is where I leave you."

Pulling up at the front of the hotel, you catch a glance of Yelena, Kate and Wanda through the window. Even though you couldn't see her, you knew Maria wouldn't be too far away. Probably checking everyone in, you assumed as you parked your car near the entrance.

You do your best to avoid looking at Natasha, taking your time in getting out and grabbing her bags from the trunk, knowing this could very well be the last time you see her again. The thought alone breaks your heart all over again - you can recall all the times you've begged the universe to let your paths cross once more. Now that your wish has been granted and you're preparing to say goodbye to her once again, you deeply feel the loss of her from your life before it's even happened.

She's already watching you as you close the trunk. You hope that she can't see the tears that have been slowly building up since you started the drive to the hotel. You refuse to let yourself hope that the look in her eyes could mean anything order than gratitude.

"Thank you, Y/N, for today." She tells you softly.

"It's was nothing, Nat," you say with a smile, before softly adding, "you're welcome and I hope you guys have a Merry Christmas."

Getting lost in the silence that falls between you; you miss the way she's looking at you as you stare down at your shoes, waiting for her to grab her things and go so you can drive back to your apartment and sulk for the rest of the week. You wonder if she can see the way your hands are shaking as you wait for the inevitable goodbye.

"Y/N?"

You hum in response, not trusting your voice to stay steady if you decided to use actual words.

"I had a really good time today."

You tilt your head in curiosity. You've had a hard time all day trying to gauge if Natasha was having enjoying herself or not. There's no doubt in your mind that she would've said something if she wasn't.

"And it got me thinking," she continues. "I don't know- maybe I'm reading into everything wrong, and you can absolutely say no. You'll probably say no, because this is crazy, but I had to say something before I lose my mind-"

"Nat." You interrupt. As endearing as it was to hear her ramble on, to see her getting more and more flustered as she kept talking, you knew she'd work herself up before she every got to what she actually wanted to say.

"Breathe, love."

You nod encouragingly after she takes a deep breath, giving her time to gather her thoughts.

"Maybe it doesn't have to be so wrong, you know?" She starts. "To try again."

You try to hide the shock that you feel, but can't stop the way your eyes widen ever so slightly at her words. Never in a million years did you expect her to even say yes to spending the day with you, let alone suggest giving your relationship another go.

Does she mean just a friendship or an actual relationship?

Is she just saying that because of today?

What if she realises she doesn't actually mean that later on?

What if this was just a joke and she was just waiting for you to say yes so she can go "aha! I was just kidding as if I'd be serious."?

What if-

"We're different people now, don't you think?"

Confused but curious to know what else you had to say, she nods. "I'd say we are."

"We're older than we were before." You add. "We know a lot more about ourselves now, I'm not the scared kid I used to be."

You're scared of making the same mistakes you did all those years ago. But you also know that you're more than willing to learn from those mistakes; to stay and communicate to make things work instead of running away at the first sign of trouble. Because if there's anything you want more in the world, it's to make this work with her.

But just as much as you are scared, you can't help but be excited. Excited and honoured to learn more about this new Natasha, and fall in love with her all over again. You can't wait to find out what stayed the same, and what changed about her. Whatever she was willing to share with you, you'd gladly take.

"I could love you properly this time."

She gasps softly, and your heart pounds at the prospect of already scaring her away.

The thought of her friends seeing this happening through the window of the hotel briefly crosses your mind - you wonder if they'd approve of you making a return to Natasha's life or if they'll make you work for it after the way things ended between you two.

But she smiles, stepping into your personal space to wrap her arms around your neck and all thoughts leave your mind. The only thing you can focus on is Natasha pulling you closer so her words are only for your ears and your ears only to hear.

"I could love you properly this time too."

-----

@sadonism

[keepingitformyself]

and my waves meet your shore

A/N: this one has been in the drafts for two years…. synopsis: natasha seems to have found silence in all the noise.

MASTERLIST

pairings: natasha romanoff x reader

genre: angst, fluff.

warnings: sad natasha :(

please do not repost my work anywhere for any reason at all. if you do see this happen to any of my stories, please let me know. thank you x.

Keep reading

[silhouetteonpaper]

Hopeless

Summary: After an injury leaves you benched for nearly six months, you’re left questioning what your future will hold—including if it involves the person who’s stayed at your side through it all. Natasha Romanoff x Reader WC: 1,178 Warnings: Mention of injuries, LOTS of angst, ends with fluff (kinda?) A/N: in honor of autumn beginning i wanted to make this very fall-y. unfortunately (and fortunately) that means the angst is reaaaal. enjoy! ;)

The leaves outside flourished in all different shades of red and orange, the wind full of that certain chill blowing them off their branches one by one. You sat cozied up on the couch inside the compound, taking in the changing of the seasons outside the window. In the silence, your mind was easily able to slip into the unraveling thoughts plaguing what was otherwise a nice day.

You were supposed to go on a mission, your first one back after recovering from an injury. To you, it wasn’t just an injury. It was a roadblock that stood between you and your entire livelihood, forcing you to spend nearly six months away from the thing you loved most.

Although, there was one thing you loved more than work; Natasha.

She was the reason you were able to survive those six months of isolation and heartbreak. She was the one who stood at your side and forced you to persist with recovery—there was no way Nat would let you sit around and do nothing.

But when you received a clean bill of health and your first assignment back out on the field, something in you just couldn’t do it. Maybe it was the progress you’d lost overtime, now feeling sore after each training session instead of accomplished. Or, maybe it was the fear of no longer being a true Avenger. What if you weren’t able to live up to the title anymore?

Natasha tried to push you past your comfort zone, challenging you to at least put on your suit and sit on the jet for a minute. But as the doors swung shut, you panicked—running back out into the compound halls with tears streaming down your face. The entire team was understanding, but that didn’t make it any less embarrassing.

After your dramatic exit, you couldn’t help but sulk. Luckily, Natasha hung back to stay right at your side where she’s always been. At first you were mad she’d skip a mission just to coddle you, but deep down you were grateful. If there was one thing you hated most, it was being alone.

Seated in the comfort of the compound with the lingering turmoil from your episode, you tried to swallow the disappointment swelling inside your chest. The mission was supposed to be your big return, the broken Avenger’s shot at a recovered lifestyle. But you couldn’t live up to those hopes.

“I know that look.” Natasha’s voice made your head turn. She nursed a steaming mug of tea, eager to hand it over to you. You smiled, trying to cover your previous expression while accepting the mug. You didn’t respond, and instead let her get comfortable at your side on the couch. She placed a hand on your leg, looking out the window to watch the same tree that caught your attention.

Various shades of orange, yellow, and red doused each leaf with bright color. But as the wind picked up its speed, each vibrant canvas was left twirling to the ground. Something once beautiful, turned bare—uninspiring, even. “You’re still thinking about it.” Nat stated, peeling her eyes from the tree to look at you.

You couldn’t stop looking at its bare branches, though. It reminded you of your reality; a once capable and confident Avenger, caught up in the wind of life’s tribulations, now left with nothing. There was nothing colorful left.

“How can I not?” You voiced lowly. Nat didn’t answer right away, but you heard her taking a deep breath. A part of you felt bad, making her run over the same self-conscious thoughts over and over. Surely the entire team had to be getting tired of it, but Natasha still stood at your side regardless.

“It’ll take time to get back to where you were before,” Natasha moved her thumb up and down in a comforting motion, yet somehow her statement felt far from comforting. “We can train everyday, if that’s what you want. You don’t have to go on missions, I’ll stay back here with you.”

You closed your eyes, wishing the darkness wouldn’t disappear when you opened them. But it did, and you were stuck in the silence left by Natasha’s vow. “I don’t want to hold you back,” You relayed, still refusing to meet her gaze. “All these months, you’ve missed out on so many opportunities because of me. Just because I can’t do them doesn’t mean you shouldn’t.”

Natasha sighed sadly, looking back out of the window. It was your turn to take a deep breath, leaving you to look down at the mug; it was left cold, untouched. You discarded it on the nearby coffee table, finally turning to look at Nat beside you.

“I don’t think this is sustainable.” The words fell out of you, your heart had begun to race. Maybe it was out of fear for the future, but it was the truth.

Nat’s expression didn’t fall like you expected it to. “Staying here forever isn’t sustainable, but you’ll gain back the confidence and-“

“No,” you cut. She wasn’t understanding, likely because it was so sudden. You were insinuating that you and Nat together wasn’t a good idea. Not because you didn’t love her—you truly wanted to spend your life with her. It was because you couldn’t bear the thought of her missing out on her passion for even one more day. “I think we need to break up.”

Natasha went silent. Her eyes fell to the floor, her mind trying to process it all. Your eyes went wide waiting as she tried to form a coherent thought.

“No.” She asserted, leaving you with a furrowed expression. “I’m not letting you ruin us just because your life feels pointless.” Her harsh words had hit you hard, making your eyes water as you couldn’t seem to utter anything else. She grabbed both of your hands in hers, holding them tighter than ever.

“I’m not leaving you, not like this. I’ve never let you struggle on your own, and I don’t plan on starting now. Okay? I’m here, I’ll always be here.” She spoke with confidence, yet such a soft, warm tone you couldn’t help but cry. Tears flowing down your cheeks as you nod, falling into her embrace. She held you, a hand on the back of your head as you let the cascade of hopelessness finally exit your body.

You were wrong. After the tree’s beautiful leaves fell to the ground, forcing naked branches to go without any color, all hope wasn’t lost. In the Spring, new blossoms would form—flourishing colors would bestow each bud with new life. And you didn’t realize that the same applied to you.

Even when you were left without your purpose, stripped of the one thing you felt kept your life full of hope and color, something else stepped up in it’s place. Natasha Romanoff, there to fill your soul like blooming flowers on a branch. In the depths of your Fall, she was your Spring. And though the seasons change as years unfold, Natasha’s love for you wouldn’t.

[natswife-marvelicious]

Embracing the Unknown

Plot: You and Natasha finally acknowledge your feelings for each other. She confesses her desire to be your girlfriend, and together you embark on a new, slow-paced romantic relationship, full of warmth and mutual affection.

Warnings: none

Word count: 1,4K

Masterlist

The hum of the bustling New York City streets filled the air as you made your way through the vibrant crowds. The sun was setting, casting a warm golden glow across the skyscrapers and giving the city an almost magical quality. It was one of those rare evenings when the city felt alive with possibility, and you couldn't help but smile at the thought of what the night might hold.

You had been part of the Avengers for a while now, a member of a team that was equal parts family and chaos. And among all the extraordinary people you worked with, one stood out: Natasha Romanoff. The Black Widow herself. She was strong, fiercely intelligent, and had an air of mystery that always intrigued you. Over time, the friendship you shared had blossomed into something deeper, but neither of you had dared to acknowledge it, until now.

As you approached the tower where the Avengers often gathered, you felt a flutter of nerves in your stomach. Natasha had asked you to meet her tonight, and the excitement mixed with a hint of apprehension. You were about to step into something that could change everything.

You entered the common area of the Avengers Tower and were greeted by the familiar sight of Tony Stark tinkering with one of his gadgets, and Steve Rogers discussing tactics with Sam Wilson. But your focus was solely on Natasha, who was standing by the large window, looking out over the city skyline.

“Hey, you made it,” she said, turning to you with a soft smile that lit up her face.

“Wouldn't miss it,” you replied, trying to keep your voice steady despite the butterflies in your stomach.

Natasha gestured for you to join her at the window. As you stood side by side, you took in the view, the twinkling lights of the city below, the gentle hum of life that continued even as day turned to night.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

“It is,” you agreed, glancing at her. The way her eyes reflected the city lights made your heart race. “But it’s even more beautiful with you here.”

A faint blush crept up her cheeks, and you could hardly believe you made the legendary Black Widow blush. She turned slightly, her gaze intense as she studied you. “There’s something I need to talk to you about,” she said, her tone serious.

Your heart skipped a beat. “What’s on your mind?”

Natasha took a deep breath, a sign that whatever she was about to say was significant. “You know we’ve been through a lot together, right?”

You nodded, remembering the countless missions, the late-night talks, and the moments of vulnerability you had shared. “Yeah, I do.”

“I never thought I’d let anyone in like this again,” she continued, her voice trembling slightly. “But you… You’ve changed that for me.”

You felt a warmth spreading through your chest at her words. “Natasha, I-”

“I’m not finished,” she interrupted, a hint of urgency in her voice. “I’ve spent so long pushing people away, convincing myself that I didn’t need anyone. But being with you feels different. It feels right.”

Your heart raced, and you could feel the tension in the air as you took a step closer. “What are you saying?”

Her emerald green eyes locked onto yours, and for a moment, it felt like the rest of the world faded away. “I’m saying that I want to be with you. I want to be your girlfriend, if you’ll have me.”

A surge of happiness washed over you, mingling with disbelief. “You want to be my girlfriend?” you asked, needing to hear the words again.

“Yes,” she said, a small smile breaking through her serious demeanor. “I want to be yours. I want to explore this… whatever this is between us.”

In that moment, everything felt surreal. Natasha Romanoff, the infamous spy, wanted to be with you. You couldn’t help but smile, a mix of joy and relief flooding through you. “I’d love that. I really would.”

A grin spread across her face, and in a flash, she closed the distance between you, wrapping her arms around your waist. You instinctively pulled her closer, feeling the warmth radiating from her body. It was a sweet embrace, full of unspoken promises and newfound affection.

“I’ve been thinking about this for a while,” she admitted, pulling back just enough to look into your eyes. “And it scares me, but it also excites me.”

“Scared is good,” you said softly, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “It means we’re stepping into something real.”

Natasha nodded, her expression serious yet filled with a glimmer of hope. “I want to take this slow. I don’t want to rush anything. I just want to enjoy being with you.”

“Me too,” you said, feeling a weight lift off your shoulders. “We’ll take it at our own pace."

As you stood there, wrapped in each other’s arms, the world outside the window faded even further away. All that mattered was this moment, this connection you had forged, despite the chaos that often surrounded your lives.

“Let’s celebrate,” Natasha suggested, her eyes sparkling mischievously. “How about a movie night? Just the two of us?”

“I’m all in for that,” you replied, grinning at her enthusiasm. “But I get to pick the movie this time.”

“Deal,” she laughed, pulling away reluctantly but still holding your hand. “But if it’s something ridiculous, I reserve the right to mock you.”

“Fair enough,” you said, leading her toward the media room. The light-hearted banter between you felt natural, a testament to the bond you had built over the years.

As you settled on the couch, you grabbed a bowl of popcorn, your heart still racing from the revelation of your relationship. Natasha settled in beside you, her body close to yours, the warmth radiating from her making it hard to focus on the screen.

As the opening credits rolled, you found yourself sneaking glances at her. She seemed so relaxed, her guard down in a way you hadn’t seen before. It was a side of Natasha that felt intimate, and it made your heart swell with affection.

Halfway through the movie, you felt her head leaning against your shoulder. The moment was perfect, quiet, cozy, and filled with a sense of belonging that you had longed for. You smiled to yourself, grateful for the turn your relationship had taken.

“Hey,” Natasha said softly, breaking the comfortable silence. “What if I told you that I’m a terrible romantic?”

You chuckled softly, looking down at her. “I doubt that. You’re a spy. You probably know all the classic romantic gestures.”

“Sure, but I’m more accustomed to running away than running toward,” she said, her voice serious but with a hint of playfulness. “I’m not exactly the candlelit dinner type.”

“Maybe we can change that,” you suggested, leaning down to press a gentle kiss to her forehead. “It could be fun to explore it together.”

Natasha looked up at you, her expression softening. “I’d like that. I’d like to try.”

As the credits rolled, you turned off the TV and faced her fully. “So, what’s next on our agenda, girlfriend?”

“Hmm…” she pondered, tapping her chin playfully. “How about we make some plans? I want to take you on a proper date.”

Your heart raced at the thought. “I’d love that. Where do you want to go?”

“Somewhere that’s not filled with superheroes and chaos,” she said with a smirk. “Maybe a quiet little Italian restaurant? I hear they have the best tiramisu.”

You grinned at the idea. “Perfect. And I’ll hold you to that dessert.”

“Good,” she said, her eyes sparkling with excitement. “It’s a date, then.”

In that moment, you couldn’t shake the feeling that this was just the beginning of something beautiful. You leaned in closer, capturing her lips in a soft kiss. Natasha responded immediately, her fingers tangling in your hair as she deepened the kiss.

Time seemed to stand still as you lost yourselves in each other, the world outside the tower forgotten. The kiss was sweet and soft, a promise of the many moments to come.

As you pulled away, breathless and smiling, you could see the joy reflected in Natasha’s eyes. “I think I could get used to this,” she said, a playful grin tugging at her lips.

“Me too,” you replied, your heart soaring.

And in that moment, you both knew that you had found something special in each other, something worth cherishing, something that would only grow stronger with each passing day.

The city continued to pulse with life outside, but inside the tower, you had carved out a little haven of your own, filled with love, laughter, and the promise of new beginnings.

The night stretched ahead of you like a canvas waiting to be filled with colors, adventures, and memories, together.

Again a pretty short one, but it's all fluffy and lovelyyyy

[traveler-at-heart]

Babysitter Club

Summary: Natasha is taking care of the Barton children and has unexpect help.

Natasha Romanoff x Super Soldier F!R

--

Being an aunt was fun. Natasha got the cool moments and could spoil Clint’s kids. They adored her.

But, being on babysitting duty after a grueling mission was definitely not fun.

Natasha had barely managed to get out of bed when Cooper and Lila came out of nowhere, straight to her.

“Children, no running” Clint said, chasing after them, Nathaniel in his arms.

“Auntie Nat, can we go to the zoo?”

“No, to the movies. Or bowling!” Cooper suggested, both children fighting to get Natasha’s attention.

“I…” she blinked several times, trying to wake up. Did she say she’d take care of them?

What day was it anyway?

“Ok, you two go and sit over there” Clint asked, pointing at the couch. He approached Natasha, and the baby smiled when he saw her.

“Hey, little one” she greeted, taking him in her arms. “Boy, you’re growing too fast”

“Are you sure you can take care of them? You look like you could use some sleep” Clint said.

“Yeah, no. It’s fine” Natasha nodded, swaying gently to appease Nathaniel. Though the movement was making her sleepy as well. “Go”

“I’ll be back later today” he promised, saying goodbye to his children.

As soon as he left, Cooper and Lila turned to Natasha, expectantly. It took her a minute to understand.

“What do you want for breakfast?”

“Pancakes!”

“Ok, coming right up”

It was hard to balance a toddler in her arms while she found all the ingredients for the food, so it took her a good five minutes to have everything ready. Cooper and Lila were clearly getting restless, making Nathaniel upset too.

“Hey”

Natasha turned around. You were looking between her and the two kids.

“Y/N, hey. These are Clint’s children. Sorry about the noise, we’ll keep quiet, right?” she rushed to say, figuring you came to the kitchen to complain about the disturbance.

“Need a hand?” you offered instead, surprising her. 

Truth be told, even after a few months with the team, they knew very little about you, other than you were a super soldier and had worked as a double agent reporting for Fury for most of your career.

“Sure” she said and you took Nathaniel, balancing him expertly while you got the pancake mix ready with your other hand. He took a liking to you instantly and you chatted with him, talking about what you were doing while preparing the food.

Natasha looked at you, amazed. You, the person who would only nod to confirm instructions and stayed in your room for most of the time, looked soft and welcoming and charming with a baby in your arms.

Oh, no.

Natasha liked it.

Liked you.

“We have a problem” you turned to her and she snapped out of it.

“Huh?”

“Diaper emergency. Can you…?”

“Yeah, sure” she nodded, taking the baby to the living room. Lila took the opportunity to get closer to you.

“How you doing? Lila, right?”

“Yeah. What’s your name?”

“I’m Y/N” you said, flipping the pancake expertly.

“Wow! That was so cool, can you teach me?”

“Sure. You’ll do the next one, how about that?”

By the time Natasha finished changing Nathaniel, Lila and Cooper were standing next to you, and taking turns flipping the pancakes while you cheered them on. Once breakfast was ready, Lila took your hand and led you to the table.

“Do you work with Dad?”

“Mhm” you nodded.

“And what’s your power?” Cooper said, excited at the idea of watching something new.

“Nothing you haven’t seen before, kiddo. I’m a little bit stronger than most people”

“Can you carry us both in your back?”

You grimaced, pretending to think about it.

“Yeah, maybe. We’ll see about that later. Wanna go to the lake? We can feed the ducks, throw some stones”

“Can we, aunt Nat?” Lila turned to her, excited at the idea of feeding ducks.

“Well, auntie Nat could stay and take care of Nathaniel for his nap” you offered, noticing the woman was struggling to stay up. “We’ll bring her the coolest rock we can find so she’s not sad for missing our little trip”

The kids cheered on, eating the rest of their breakfast in record time. Natasha approached you while you picked up the plates.

“You sure about this? I really appreciate it but you don’t have to…”

“It’s fine. I know yesterday’s mission was exhausting” you said, placing your hand on Natasha’s back to reassure her. She was standing between you and the kitchen counter, enjoying the proximity a little too much. “Take a nap with Nathaniel and I’ll take care of Lila and Cooper. How about that?”

“I owe you one” she smiled, taking Nathaniel back to her room.

A few hours later, she woke up to a message on her phone. The kids were enjoying the day out, so you came back to prepare some sandwiches and were now eating by the lake. You had also left some extra food for her in case she got hungry.

Natasha’s heart fluttered at your thoughtfulness and hurried to meet you and enjoy the rest of the day.

“There’s aunt Nat” you greeted as she approached you, smiling. Lila was sitting on your shoulders while Cooper threw rocks at the lake.

“Check it out, Y/N taught me how to skip stones!”

Natasha stood by the lake, while Cooper showed her. You walked to stand next to the redhead.

“Forest fairy, do you have it ready?” you reached for something. Lila gave you a small bouquet of wildflowers that you both had gathered on your walk and handed it over to Natasha.

“Thank you” she said, hoping you wouldn’t notice her cheeks turning pink.

“Yeah, uh… pretty girls deserve pretty flowers”

You set Lila down, and she ran to play with her brother. Nathaniel reached torwards you, and you took him in your arms, raising him way too high to pretend he was flying.

“What an interesting talent you have hidden, Y/N” Natasha commented with a smile and for the first time since you’d known her, you laughed.

“Oh, there are plenty more that you have yet to know, Miss Romanoff” you teased.

Once the heat got a bit too intense, you decided to come back to the Compound. It was Cooper’s turn to sit on your shoulders as you walked, playing a game of I spy.

“Oh, am I interrupting?” Maria said, looking at you curiously. All she knew were the few things Fury had shared, but Hill definitely didn’t think good with kids was among them.

“What’s up?” Natasha asked as you balanced Lila and Cooper, one in each arm.

“I need to go over some mission stuff with you. It won’t take long” Maria promised. You nodded, already leading the kids back to the living room. Natasha followed you with her eyes as you let the kids run around, while putting Nathaniel in the crib the team kept around for him. “Huh”

“What?” Natasha snapped back.

“Nothing. I didn’t think you’d be one to fall for girls that are good with kids”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Hill”

“Uh-hu. Come on, don’t want to take away from your family time”

Natasha rolled her eyes, and took one last look at you.

You were handing Lila and Cooper Nerf guns, whispering to each other.

“Don’t get in trouble” she warned.

“Mmkay” you gave her a thumbs up, and waited until she left to kneel and speak to both kids. “Ok, so we’re gonna hide behind the couch, and whoever hits more people that come here will decide what movie we watch, got it?”

Both kids nodded and you gave them a high five.

It didn’t take long for the first victim to show up. Sam came in, whistling a tune. You nudged Cooper and he looked over the couch. His shot hit the shelf above Sam’s face.

“My turn now” you said, aiming for his arm. Sensing something, he moved at the last second, turning quickly.

“Hello?” he said. “Who’s there?”

Moving your head, you encourage Lila to go next. She waited for Sam to approach the couch, and then jumped forward, hitting him between the eyes.

“Boom!” you clapped, lifting Lila in the air. “Someone has her father’s aim”

“That’s not fair” Sam complained. “I wasn’t ready”

“A spy is always ready” Cooper pointed out and Lila and you nodded in agreement.

“I’m a pilot, not a spy”

“Don’t be a sore loser. If you get Bucky to come here and get shot we’ll share some pizza with you” you offered.

“Fine” he glared, going back to his room. Minutes later, you heard footsteps.

Oh, damn, it was Banner.

“Ok, maybe sit this one out, kids” you said, leaning against the couch. It would be a nightmare to have him turn green in the middle of the kitchen.

Later, Bucky was targeted as planned and even Wanda got to play with the kids. She helped with Nathaniel as you stood up to get the pizza.

By the time Natasha was back, you were setting a fort of blankets and pillows.

“We were waiting for you to start the movie” Lila said, rushing to her side and taking her hand. “Sit next to me”

“Hey, everything good?” you said, leaning casually against the couch. Natasha nodded and you gave her a plate. “Here, we got your favorite pizza. Lila picked The Incredibles, as if we don’t have enough superheros in our lives”

“Do you have someone like Edna Mode make your suits?” she asked excitedly.

“No one as cool as her. But at least we don’t wear capes” you said. Natasha laughed at your extensive knowledge of children movies and you blushed, trying to hide your own smile.

Natasha stole glances here and there, and finally decided to lean forward as the movie continued.

“I’m sorry about leaving you with them for so long”

“I had the best time. Whenever you need help, let me know”

“It was nice seeing you happy. I was beginning to think you didn’t like being here”

“It’s not that” you shook your head, taking a breath. “I have done a lot of things I’m not proud of and seen many things I wish I hadn’t… I guess I feel like the Avengers are about hope, and I can’t see myself in that equation”

“The Avengers are also about second chances, and doing good. Trust me, if there’s anyone that understands, it’s me” she said, waiting until you looked at her. You smiled, relaxing against the couch.

The kids wanted to see Despicable Me next. Again, you commented there were enough real life villains but you enjoyed the movie, sitting on the floor with them, repeating some of the lines.

By the time Natasha came back with more popcorn, the three of you were fast asleep. Her heart fluttered at the image and she was almost tempted to take a picture. Instead, she turned off the tv and let you sleep. She sat on the couch, scrolling through her phone.

“Sorry I’m late” Clint walked in, and Natasha turned, shushing him with a murderous glare. “Is that Y/N?”

“Yeah, she’s great with kids”

“Oh, someone’s smitten. I knew you had a thing for her since she threw that mobster out a window”

Natasha rolled her eyes, moving to wake up the kids. You were yawning as they gathered their things, and waved goodbye as Clint took them out.

“Daddy, can we go with Aunt Nat and Y/N to the zoo next week?” Lila asked.

“Yeah, let’s see, kiddo” he chuckled.

The girl handed over a drawing to Natasha, like she always did when they spent the day together.

It had you in it, carrying her baby brother. Natasha was looking at you and smiling, pink circles on her cheeks.

Well, apparently even Lila could see Natasha liked you.

“Thanks for all your help today” Natasha said, walking with you. You stopped outside her room.

“Thank you for what you said to me… it’s nice to know I can do better now” you smiled, and walked to your room.

Today you had felt less alone, and for that you could thank Natasha.

“We could…” she spoke, reaching for you. You turned back, squeezing her hand to encourage her to talk. “Go out next week?”

“With the kids or…?”

“Just you and me” Natasha said, suddenly shy. “Only if you want to of course…”

“I’d love that” you were quick to agree.

Natasha smiled, standing on the tip of her toes to kiss your cheek.

“Night, Y/N”

“Night, Nat”

[thelittleliars]

This is so freaking cute 😭

[milady-666]

Old scars aching | Black Widow

[hellokittyyyysblog]

𝓟𝓻𝓸𝓶𝓲𝓼𝓮 𝓂𝑒 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝓁𝑜𝓋𝑒 𝓂𝑒

Pairing: natasha romanoff x reader

Summary: A slow morning with Natasha ends with a surpising twist.

Warnings: smut

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌𓆩♡𓆪﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

The early morning light streamed softly through the gauzy curtains, casting a warm, golden glow over the room. You stirred slightly, the faint weight of sleep still lingering as you slowly opened your eyes—your head nestled on Natasha's chest. The rhythm of her breathing—steady and hypnotic, lulled you into a deeper sense of calm. Her arm was draped around you, soft yet firm, keeping you in place—not like you were planning to move anytime soon, anyway.

As you lay there, the world outside began its slow awakening, but within the room, time seemed suspended. The soft rustling of the curtains in the faint morning breeze mingled with the gentle hum of Natasha's breath, bringing goosebumps on your bare skin.

Your mind wandered through the delicate intricacies of the moment, savoring every detail—you wanted it to last forever.

Natasha, the woman who faces the world with unyielding resilience, who stands tall in the face of adversity, now lies here beside you, her guard lowered, her essence laid bare. It’s a sight that humbles you, fills you with an overwhelming sense of gratitude and wonder.

You cherished these rare moments when the weight of Natasha's usual obligations and responsibilities melted away, allowing you both to simply lie in bed together. She was often engrossed in training new recruits or whisked away on clandestine missions across the globe, while your own demanding work kept you occupied.

Over the past seven years of your relationship, this routine had become familiar, even though it wasn't without its challenges initially. Yet now, as you lay enveloped in her embrace, nothing mattered anymore, nothing but her.

The light played upon her features, casting soft shadows that accentuated the peacefulness of her expression.

The graceful curve of her collarbone emerges from the delicate neckline of the sheets, a gentle slope that leads your eyes to the subtle hollow at the base of her throat. You trace the line of her jaw with your eyes, noting the elegant precision of its angle, the way it frames her face with an understated strength.

Every detail of her is etched into your mind, an intricate tapestry of impressions that you find yourself constantly unraveling. You can't get enough of her—the way her hair falls in loose tendrils across the pillow, the gentle flutter of her eyelids as she dreams, the almost imperceptible curve of her lips that hints at contentment. She looks so peaceful, so soft, so utterly yours in this moment—that it almost feels like a dream.

There’s a profound intimacy in watching her like this, an almost sacred act of witnessing her in her most unguarded state. It’s as if the universe has conspired to give you this moment, this perfect slice of time where everything else fades away, leaving only the two of you in the quiet aftermath of night.

Every fiber of your being yearned for her. The desire to kiss her overwhelmed you, ached within you, begging for release. She was right there, so close—and your longing felt like a physical ache, a visceral need. You wanted her to feel how deeply you adored everything about her.

"I can feel you staring" Natasha's voice broke the silence, low and teasing—her voice warm and husky with sleep; whilst her lips curved into a small smile even with her eyes still closed.

Caught, you smile back, your fingers absently tracing circles on her skin. "How could I not? You're breathtaking, even when you’re just waking up"

Her eyes open, a glint of amusement and something deeper shining through the green. "Flattery will get you nowhere" she murmurs, her fingers playing with a strand of your hair.

You chuckle softly, the sound vibrating through the tranquil morning air. "Good, because I intend to stay right here."

"Well, aren't you sweet this morning?"

You lean in and press a gentle kiss to her lips. "I can't help it" you say, your voice filled with affection. "You make me feel this way."

She laughs softly, her fingers brushing a strand of your hair behind your ear. "I guess I'm doing something right then"

"You're doing everything right" you assure her, your voice sincere, filled with love and admiration for the woman lying in front of you.

Natasha raises an eyebrow, her lips quirking into a smirk. "And here I thought you were just using me for my bed"

You laugh, the sound mingling with the quiet morning. "Well, your bed is quite comfortable. But I think I prefer the company and….the orgasms" you said as a soft grin appeared on your face.

"Smooth" she says, her hand slipping down to your back, tracing patterns on your bare skin.

Her smile softens, a hint of something more serious in her eyes. "Morning" you murmur as you move to lie on top of her.

“Morning detka” she says kissing your forehead.

"Hmm, how about we spend the day in bed?" you say placing small kisses on her neck.

She rolls her eyes, but the smile on her lips betrays her amusement. "As tempting as that sounds, im not spending New Year’s Eve in bed”

You nuzzle into her neck, pressing a kiss to her collarbone. "Fine, fine. But you can't blame a woman for trying."

"I suppose not"

You shift slightly, your fingers playing with the edge of the sheet. "You know, I think I might just stay in bed all day. I have everything I need right here."

Natasha arches an eyebrow, her smirk widening. "Oh? And what exactly do you need?"

"Well, there's the bed, of course. And the pillows. And this incredibly attractive woman lying under me."

Natasha laughs, her eyes sparkling. "You're such a flirt"

You lean in, brushing your lips against hers. "Can you blame me?"

As you pull back, you notice Natasha's gaze lingering on you, her expression growing more intense. Her eyes trace the contours of your face with an unreadable emotion, and you feel a shiver run down your spine.

"Stop looking at me like that"

Natasha's lips curl into a slow smile, her gaze never wavering. "Oh, so you're allowed to watch me sleep like a creep, but I can't?"

You feel a blush creeping up your cheeks, but you laugh it off. “Touché” you said before pulling her closer, your lips finding hers in a soft, lingering kiss.

Her hands, which had been at your sides, impatiently find their way back to your hair, pulling you further into the kiss—Your lips entwined in such a frenzy that escalated with each passing moment, harder with each kiss, as if time itself was slipping away.

It was the kind of kiss that stirs up a desire to go a little crazy—one that tells you to let go of control, of cold reason, and succumb to the moment. She was warm and soft against you—yet demanding, and her hunger matched yours with an eager tongue, a flame that set your core ablaze and made your head dizzy, that twisted your stomach into a messy tangle of butterflies.

She pulls back, resting her forehead against yours, her hand finding yours and intertwining your fingers.

"You okay?" you ask—your brow furrowing with concern.

She hesitates, then nods. "Yeah, I'm fine. Just... thinking."

"About what?" you press gently, sensing there's more she wants to say.

She takes a deep breath, her gaze shifting away from you. "About us"

Your heart races, wondering where this conversation is headed. "Yeah? what about us?"

"It's just...sometimes I worry."

You lift your head to look at her more closely. "Worry about what?"

She looks back at you, her eyes filled with a mix of love and uncertainty. "I've spent so much of my life on the run, always looking over my shoulder, always fighting. With you, I've found something I never thought I'd have—a sense of peace, of home. And that scares me."

You feel a lump forming in your throat, the gravity of her words sinking in. "You're everything to me" you whisper, your voice filled with sincerity. "And I'll always fight for us. No matter what."

She takes a deep breath, her eyes meeting yours with an intensity that makes your pulse quicken. "I need to know that you're as committed to this—to us, as I am."

“I am” you say with a loving smile “I’ve been for the past seven years.”

Your heart pounds as she reaches over to the nightstand—she retrieves a small object, keeping it hidden in her hand, a small almost shy smile painting her lips.

"What is it, Natty?"

She bites her lip, a rare sign of vulnerability. "I... I've been thinking a lot lately about what I want for my future. About what we want."

You nod—confused, encouraging her to continue. "And what do you want?"

She takes another deep breath, her eyes searching yours with a mixture of fear and hope. Your eyes widen as she holds out her hand, revealing a simple, elegant ring. The sight of it takes your breath away, and you can see the raw emotion in her gaze.

"Marry me" she says, her voice cracking with emotion. "I need to know that you’ll be with me, always"

For a moment, time seems to stand still.

The world around you fades away, and all you can see is Natasha, her eyes filled with love and vulnerability. You feel a rush of emotions, your heart swelling with an overwhelming sense of joy.

Tears well up in your eyes, and you nod, unable to speak for a moment.

“Is that supposed to be a yes?”

"Yes, Natasha,yes, yes a hundred times” you say as you pull her into a tight embrace, both of you laughing and crying at the same time. In that moment, everything feels perfect. The past doesn't matter, and the future is full of promise.

A radiant smile spreads across her face, and you can see the relief and happiness in her eyes. She slips the ring onto your finger with shaky hands, and you both laugh softly at the shared nerves and excitement.

“Romanoff, huh?” she murmurs, her fingers tracing circles on your hips.

You blink, your mind still a little hazy from the intensity of the momen. “What do you mean?” you ask, genuinely puzzled.

Natasha's smile widens, and she gives a soft, teasing laugh. “Oh, you didn’t catch that, did you?” she says, her voice dripping with amusement. “We did just get engaged, after all. Or did you forget already?”

Your heart skips a beat as realization dawns on you. The ring on your finger glints in the morning light, a tangible reminder of the life-changing question she asked you just moments ago. You’re engaged to Natasha Romanoff.

“I… well, I guess I’m still processing” you stammer, feeling a mix of excitement and disbelief. “You just asked me to marry you”

Natasha chuckles, her hands sliding up to rest on your waist. “And you said yes,” she points out, her eyes twinkling. “So, technically, that makes you the future Mrs. Romanoff.”

You laugh, the sound bubbling up from deep within you. “I kind of like the sound of that” you admit, feeling a blush spread across your cheeks.

“Good” Natasha says, her voice dropping to a low, intimate whisper. “Because I love the sound of it.”

You roll your eyes playfully, but you can’t help the smile that tugs at your lips.

You grin, leaning in to press a kiss to her neck.

Natasha's fingers trace lazy patterns on your skin, a mischievous glint in her eyes. "And…" she begins, her voice filled with playful affection, "I'm going to have to start calling you Mrs. Romanoff now."

You chuckle, feeling a blush creep up your cheeks. "I suppose you will" you reply, your voice teasing.

Natasha smirks, her eyes sparkling with amusement. "I think I'll enjoy that" she says, her fingers brushing against your lips. "Especially since it means you're all mine."

"Oh, is that how it works?" you tease back. "You put a ring on my finger and suddenly you own me?"

"Absolutely" she says with a mocking grin, leaning in to press a kiss to your neck.

"You belong to me now."

You laugh, the sound filled with joy. "Is that so? And what if I have some ideas of my own about who belongs to whom?"

Natasha raises an eyebrow, her smile widening. "Oh really? Do tell detka"

You lean in, your voice dropping to a seductive whisper. "Maybe I want to hear you call me by your last name again. Maybe I want to remind you exactly who you're marrying."

Natasha's eyes darken with desire, a wicked smile playing on her lips. "Well, Mrs. Romanoff, you have my full attention"

Your heart skips a beat at the sound of your new name on her lips, and you can't help but grin. "Good" you say, your voice filled with satisfaction—"Because I plan to keep it."

Natasha laughs softly, her breath hot against your skin. "I wouldn't have it any other way" she murmurs, her lips trailing down your neck.

“So, Mrs. Romanoff” she begins, her eyes glinting with mischief, “what’s on the agenda for our first day as an engaged couple?”

You laugh, shaking your head at her playful tone. “Well, I suppose we could start with breakfast” you suggest, your fingers tracing idle patterns on her soft bare skin.

Natasha grins, her hands slipping down to rest on your hips. “Breakfast sounds good” she agrees. “But I have a better idea.”

“Oh? what’s that?”

She leans in, her lips brushing against your ear as she whispers, “How about we stay in bed a little longer? I think we have some celebrating to do.”

You shiver at her words, a thrill running through you. “Celebrating, huh?” you murmur, your voice filled with anticipation.

Natasha's smirk widens, her fingers trailing up your arm with a featherlight touch as she nods.

You feel a shiver run down your spine at her words, your breath catching slightly. "I think I like the sound of that."

"I thought you might"

You can't help but laugh softly, your heart pounding with anticipation. "You know, I think you enjoy teasing me a little too much."

Natasha pulls back slightly, her eyes gleaming with playful intent. "Oh, you have no idea" she murmurs, her fingers dancing along your collarbone, sending shivers through your body.

You bite your lip, trying to maintain some semblance of composure. "Well, two can play at that game."

Natasha arches an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. "Oh, really?"

You lean in closer, your lips hovering just inches from hers. "Maybe I have a few tricks of my own that you still haven’t seen"

Her eyes darken with desire, her breath hitching slightly. "I'd like to see you try" she challenges, her voice a husky whisper.

You close the distance between you, capturing her lips in a slow, lingering kiss. Natasha responds eagerly, her hands roaming your back, pulling you closer.

Gentle kisses become more irresistible as she makes her way further up your neck. Your fingers lace through her hair as she flips your positions— your back making contact with the soft sheets.

You feel your breath hitch as her lips trail down your neck, leaving a path of fire in their wake. "Natasha" you breathe, your hands threading through her hair.

She looks up at you, her eyes filled with desire. "Yes, Mrs. Romanoff?" she teases, her voice a seductive purr.

"I love you"

"I love you—so much" she murmurs as her lips capture yours in a deep, passionate kiss.

Her touch is so light, it's as if she's barely doing anything, but the fire that ignites inside you as her skin touches yours begs her to continue. She leaves soft kisses all over your chest, slowly moving downward.

As she makes her way lower, the anticipation builds, every kiss sending waves of electricity through your body.

When her lips finally reach your inner thigh, she pauses, looking up at you with a mischievous glint in her eye.

"Natasha" you moan, your hands gripping at her hair—"Please" you whisper, your voice filled with need.

Natasha looks up at you, her eyes dark with desire. "Please what?" she teases, her fingers trailing lightly over your skin.

"Please, don't stop" you beg, your voice barely audible.

She smiles, her lips brushing against your skin. "I’m not planning to, love"

As she begins to tease and torment you, your mind goes blank, consumed by the sensations she's creating. Every touch, every kiss drives you closer to the edge, and you can feel yourself spiraling out of control.

"You look so beautiful like this" she whispers, her breath hot against your skin.

You bite your lip, your fingers tangling in the sheets. "Nat..."

Her smile is both wicked and tender as she places a soft kiss over your clit, so lightly it's as if she's barely touching you. The fire that ignites inside as her skin meets yours is overwhelming, every nerve ending crying out for more.

"Be patient" she murmurs, her hand pressing down on your stomach until your back is flat against the bed.

"Natty” you whisper, your voice trembling with need.

She chuckles softly, a low, sultry sound that only heightens your desire. "So eager” she teases, her tongue running back and forth over your clit, working up a rhythm that sends sparks shooting through ur body.

Her hands grip your thighs, holding you firmly in place as she increases the pressure, each stroke over you sending you closer and closer to the edge. Your hands clutch the sheets, your mind spinning with the sensations she's drawing out of you.

"Oh god" you gasp, your hips bucking against her mouth.

Natasha's grip tightens, keeping you anchored as she continues to give you pleasure—her tongue and lips moving with an expertise that leaves you breathless. The rhythm she sets is unrelenting, each flick of her tongue pushing you higher and higher, sending your mind into orbit.

"Natasha" you moan, your voice breaking with the intensity of your need.

She hums against you, the vibration sending shockwaves through your body.

Her eyes lock onto yours, a silent command to hold on just a little longer.

You can feel the tension building, the pressure mounting until it feels like you might shatter.

With a final, deft flick of her tongue, you're pushed over the edge, a cry of ecstasy tearing from your throat as you come undone beneath her. The world dissolves into a haze of pleasure, every muscle in your body tensing and then releasing in a wave of bliss.

Natasha continues to kiss you gently, guiding you through the aftershocks with a tenderness that makes your heart swell. When you finally come back down, she moves back up your body, pressing soft kisses to your skin.

"Perfect" she murmurs, pressing a kiss to your temple. "You're perfect."

You smile up at her, feeling your heart swell with love. "You always know what to say to make me melt" you tease, running your fingers through her hair.

"Well, it’s true. You are perfect."

You laugh softly, feeling a warm blush spread across your cheeks. "You’re not too bad yourself, Romanoff."

She raises an eyebrow, a playful challenge in her eyes. "Not too bad? I think I deserve better than that."

You smirk, your fingers tracing patterns on her skin. "Oh, you definitely do."

With a sudden burst of energy, you switch positions again, straddling her waist. "My turn" you say with a teasing smile, your hands resting on her shoulders as you lean in to capture her lips in a loving kiss.

As the kiss deepens, you feel a sense of contentment wash over you. This is where you’re meant to be – with Natasha, by your side, as long as your heartbeat ceased to exist.

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌𓆩♡𓆪﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

Note:

hello dears!

I stumbled upon this piece in my drafts and loved it so much that I just had to share it with you all! It's a bit different from my usual work because it's my first time writing smut. I hope you enjoy it, because I wasn’t that sure about publishing it…

On another note, I've been hard at work on the next chapter of "Love on the Brain." I know you've been eagerly waiting for it, and I aim to have it ready by next week. However, I also have to study for my last exam, so I appreciate your patience and understanding. ♡

xx

[hellokittyyyysblog]

𝓛𝓸𝓿𝓮 𝓸𝓷 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓫𝓻𝓪𝓲𝓷

Pairing: vampire!𝚗𝚊𝚝𝚊𝚜𝚑𝚊 𝚛𝚘𝚖𝚊𝚗𝚘𝚏𝚏 𝚡 fem! 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛

Summary: You work as an intern at a prestigious law firm, dedicating countless afterhours to your tasks. One seemingly ordinary late night, you encounter a mysterious individual who reveals a discovery that shatters your perception of reality and everything you once believed in. This fateful meeting sets off a chain of events that will forever alter the course of your life.

Warnings: violence/murder/death/blood/smut/abuse (not SA); manipulation/emotional distress/ Natasha’s cuteness.

- - -- -- - ┈┈∘┈˃̶༒˂̶┈∘┈┈ - -- -- - -

Love on the brain : The phrase "love on the brain" suggests that love occupies the mind fully, influencing thoughts and actions in profound ways.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

[thelittleliars]

I'm so hooked already omg

[engens-archive]

Emotional support bunny

Pairing: Nat x you

Words: 1362

Warnings: none

Summary: you gift a stuffed bunny to Natasha on your one year anniversary. She adores it, names it, and promptly sleeps with it every single night. Well, that was until disaster strikes and bunny goes missing.

Notes: It’s been months. I have no explanation other than I’ve had some major writers block. I am, so sorry. And I hope this makes up for it.

It was on your one year anniversary that you’d gifted it to her. A small, grey bunny adorned in a cute black t-shirt with the phrase, this is my emotional support bear written on the front. It was meant as a joke. At least, that’s how you intended it to be at first. She was Natasha Romanoff. The black widow. Why would the black widow want anything to do it’s something so childish?

But surprisingly, she’d been delighted, and she’d quickly given it a name. Tiny. Tiny the bunny. For the first few days, tiny had sat on her dresser next to a photograph of you and her together. Natasha would give it soft smile and fond touch as she passes, and that was that.

But then, tiny would appear in your bed. Just during that day at first, propped up against the pillows when neither of you were there. But then one night, after returning home from a mission with Yelena and Clint, you noticed tiny was neither on her dresser or propped up against the pillows.

Upon closer inspection, as you’d crawled into the bed next to her, you realised that the reason tiny wasn’t in either of his usual spaces was because he was held clutched to Natasha’s chest. Your heart immediately melts at the sight, and after pressing a soft kiss to her forehead, you’d laid down and pulled her close to your chest before too drifting off to sleep.

From that moment forward -with the occasional exception of course ;) - tiny was in your bed every single night. Sometimes Natasha cuddled him, and sometimes you would because Natasha liked him to smell of you. Natasha had never been too settled when it came to sleep. Insomnia, nightmares. You helped of course, but there was something about tiny that would settle her immediately. You guessed it had something to do with healing her inner child.

Tiny would soon start coming on missions too. Of course he remained safely hidden in her bag, out of sight and out of mind from everyone else, but knowing he was there often helped. A reminder of sorts that she always had a piece of you with her no matter where she went.

Everything was great. Until it wasn’t.

You see, Natasha had misplaced tiny before. Whether it be he’d slipped out of bed during one of her restless nights of sleep or he’d fallen to the bottom of her bag after forgetting he was there and unpacking everything but him. But she’d never completely lost him before. Or well, she hadn’t until now. And her reaction to losing him wasn’t anything like you expected.

You’d walked into the bedroom to see her clad in nothing but a shirt and underwear determinedly ripping the blankets off of your shared bed. The rest of the room was a mess too, and you furrow your eyebrows in confusion as you pocket your phone and make your way over to her.

“Nat?” You question, reaching out to touch her arm.

She startles at the touch as she whips herself round to face you, and you hold up your arms to show her you meant no harm as you take a small step backwards. “Baby, what’s going on?” You slowly lower your arms as you sit on the now bare mattress and give the shirt burying her small frame a gentle tug, coaxing her closer.

She steps in between your open legs, and you wrap one of your arms just beneath her rear end as the other one comes up to brush a messy strand of hair out of her face. Her eyes, you realise now, are bloodshot, bottom lip quivering as if she was doing everything possible to stop herself from crying.

You frown in concern as you give her thigh a gentle tug, coaxing it over your lap and against your hip. She complies, and you wrap an arm around her waist to keep her supported as she brings the other leg up so she was effectively straddling your lap.

She burrows her face into your neck, and your heart breaks when you feel hot tears beginning to stain your neck. “What’s going on my love?” You murmur, bringing one hand up to settle on the back of her neck.

Natasha shakes her head with a soft sniffle, and you frown as you give her a soft squeeze, not really understanding why she didn’t want to confide to you but happy to sit here and hold her for as long as she needed. It takes a while, but she does eventually sit herself up in your arms. Your arms move from resting against her shoulder blades to just above her behind, fingers slipping beneath her oversized shirt and grazing across soft skin.

“I can’t find tiny.” She whispers, one of her hands rising to cling to the front of your shirt as her face scrunches up and another soft sob escapes her lips. Your heart breaks, your hand rising up the bare skin of her her back and coaxing her back to your chest. She seems to allow herself to cry freely now, her body trembling as she clutches fiercely to the back of your shirt.

Some may think this was an overreaction to losing a measly stuffed animal, and maybe they were right. But this wasn’t just any stuffed animal. It was her comfort. Her safe place. And whilst that may seem childish to some, for Natasha, someone who had denied herself the most simplest of comforts because she was under the impression she didn’t deserve them; someone who didn’t have any ounce of a childhood, tiny was her everything and you thanked god she trusted you enough to let down her walls and allow you to comfort her.

“Is he in your bag?” You question as you begin the motion of gently rocking her back and forth in your arms.

Natasha shakes her head. “N-no. I looked there.” She manages to choke out, and you nod in understanding as you look around the room to see if there were any spaces tiny could have hidden himself in. When you come up empty, you attempt to wrack your mind for any more ideas.

“You looked under the bed?”

Natasha nods again as she sits herself up in your arms, hands rising to roughly wipe away the tears. You shake your head slightly as you gently knock her hands away, replacing them with your own and tenderly wiping off her cheeks.

You’re about to suggest looking elsewhere in the house for the beloved bunny until a familiar fluffy hand appears in your peripheral vision. You gently pat Natasha’s back to get her attention, waiting for her teary eyes to meet your own before pointing to the corner the room where a pile of clean laundry sat in its basket.

“Did you by chance change our bedding today?” You ask, rising to your feet before easing her down onto her own. Natasha doesn’t acknowledge your question as she all but sprints to the corner of the room, knocking that large pile of laundry to the floor in her haste to grab tiny from here he was hidden at the bottom of it before clutching him to her chest.

She lets out a quiet breath of relief, and you realise, as you make your way over to her and tug her into a hug, that she must have tossed him out of the way whilst changing your sheets this morning and had forgotten to put him back. Natasha’s arms rise to settle around your neck, tiny clutched in her hand, and you immediately bend to lift her up into your arms. Her legs loop tightly around your waist, and you place a single arm beneath her behind whilst your hand rises to rest against her back.

“He was hiding from you.” You laugh slightly, and you feel the way Natasha smiles against the skin of your neck as she moves tiny to settle against her chest.

As you stand there, holding your favourite girl in your arms, you thank your lucky stars that you’d found him before disaster totally struck.

**

@goldenempyrean - finally got something written 😭 @alotofpockets @natashasnoodle @widowsistersandfriends @widowbitessting

[silhouetteonpaper]

Vengeance

Summary: You decide to take matters into your own hands and get revenge on the person you despise most. But what happens when you keep it a secret from the entire team?

Natasha Romanoff x Reader

WC: 1,585

Warnings: Mentions of killing, running away

VENGEANCE

The entire team is on edge, each Avenger crowding around whatever device they have on hand in Tony’s lab. Frantically typing, tapping, calling, or watching—you’ve been missing for the past hour and no one has any clue where you could be.

It’s unlike you to step foot out of the compound without letting anyone know, whether it’s a quick text in advance or by word of mouth. But this time Natasha knows something is up, there’s a reason you didn’t let anyone know you were leaving.

The only evidence that led the team to worry is the singular missing quinjet from the landing pad. Tony attempted to track it earlier, but all communication with the vessel had been cut. Now, desperate for answers, they venture to use whatever resources possible to figure out where you could have gone.

“It’s a blank trail. Wherever she’s going, she made sure no one would know.” Tony voices, scrolling through maps of different flight radar. A part of him feels guilty for even teaching you how use stealth mode on the jet. Natasha’s expression furrows as she scans security camera footage for any other signs, inhaling sharply each time the grainy deleted footage appears.

“C’mon Nat. We’ll keep an eye out, but until then I think we all need to get some rest.” Steve states as he places a comforting hand on Natasha’s shoulder. She’s reluctant to listen, but eventually complies as the entire team heads to settle down for the night.

The last thing Natasha’s able to do is sleep, she lies in bed trying to shake her worries about you. You seemed fine just the other day, maybe slightly quieter, but on the outside no one could have suspected you were planning anything.

Usually, you’re someone who is eager to please others in work and in life. Always a smiling face as you complete a mission or hang out with the team. Natasha feels lucky to have you around, but now she worries that something she did caused this.

In the past, you had shared your grief over the live you lived before coming to the compound. In an attempt to console you, she helped you look on the bright side as you began training. But now, replaying all those interactions again, she wonders if it was enough.

Her thoughts begin to spiral, the blame she places on herself growing as the redhead concludes she caused you to leave. These flowing thoughts are suddenly interrupted by the sound of a ringing phone.

Natasha sits up, seeing a call appear on her phone from an unknown number. At this hour, she was confused why anyone would be calling, let alone a contactless ID. Hesitantly picking up the phone, she hits the answer button.

“Hello?” She says into the dead air. Silence. Natasha’s brows cave inward in confusion.

“I thought I was doing the right thing, but now I’m not so sure.” Your familiar voice fills Natasha’s ears, making her sigh with relief. You’re alive, and hopefully safe. She clearly wants nothing more than to bring you back to the compound.

“Where are you? I can come pick you up right now.” The redhead asks, hoping her urgency doesn’t scare you away.

“No, Nat. I…” You trail off. You can’t reveal what you’re doing at the risk of the Avengers trying to stop you. For months you’ve been planning this mission, and you knew no one on the team would support this endeavor. So, during the time spent planning you were careful not to reveal what you were up to.

But why risk your safety over a mission? The answer is simple, a crystal clear priority in your mind. For years, an agent who killed your mother has roamed free. Leaving you with nothing but a desperate search of support, the Avengers took you under their wing. But the anger building inside you had not subsided regardless of time passing.

It’s unfair to even consider the idea her killer gets to live on, with no consequences for his actions. Sure, the team had promised to take care of him when the right time arrived, but those empty words were starting to make you even more impatient. Everyone had thought you were over the idea of getting vengeance, multiple years passing without a word.

But today, you hide away in a secret bunker waiting for the man to show his face, a slight unsettling feeling finding its way into your chest. You had hoped calling Natasha would help chase away the unusual feeling inside, so far just hearing her voice calms your nerves. You take a deep breath, the phone staying silent on the other end as Natasha prays you’ll give her any details on your whereabouts.

“I need to do this,” You state, shaking away the doubts inside. Justice has to be served, even if it’s morally wrong. But what would mother say? The thoughts circulate your mind, the simple task now seeming more difficult than before.

“Do what. I need you to tell me what you’re doing.” Natasha breathes, the tension rising between her concerned state and your spared details. You know she’s worried about you, that the entire team probably is. But you also value executing this mission a lot more than their feelings. Is that harsh? Possibly, but everyone knows how much you value family.

“I think there’s a chance you already know.” You respond. It’s almost too difficult to say the words yourself: I’m killing him. If Nat thought hard enough, maybe she could recall the times you talked about getting your revenge all those years ago.

A sharp inhale informs you that she figured it out on the other end. “Please don’t do this, please come home.” She pleads through the phone. You can practically picture her worried expression, and the usual protectiveness it often came with.

“You know I can’t do that, Natasha.” Your response brings silence across the call once more, the redhead taking a moment to process. Will she still attempt to stop you? Will she plea for your return again and again?

“We all have monsters in the closet, but you can’t risk your life over trying to get rid of them,” Nat suddenly starts, “You can’t ever make them go away completely.”

Maybe her words have some truth to them, because a pang of guilt in your chest now rises into your watering eyes. “I can try, I have to try!” You remark, your tone growing defensive with anger. Nat killed most of her enemies, she doesn’t understand. You feel betrayed that she’s sitting here telling you what to do while contradicting her own actions.

“Killing him won’t bring your mother back.” Natasha states firmly. You choke on your tears, covering your sobs with your free hand. You won’t let her hear you like this. You won’t let her know she’s right. “Come home, please.” Her words force their way into the swirling grief inside your mind.

Overwhelmed, and now regretting your call, you hang up without another word. Natasha is left in the dark, unable to call you back due to the unknown number leaving no trace. It’s just how you want it, yet something feels wrong about the entire situation.

Nat is right. You never thought you would say that, but it’s true. Killing him won’t bring your mother back, and if anything she wouldn’t support that endeavor either. It’s time to make a decision, one that will change the course of your life either way.

Do you kill the responsible agent and loose trust with the only people you can call family, or do you go back to the compound and feel unaccomplished? Neither sounds appealing, but if you want to leave the dusty bunker you have to make a choice.

The answer that fills you with the least dread was the one that still involves the only family you have. You know that the right path is the one that leads you back to the place you call home. So, you prepare to head back to the compound empty handed. You pack up your things, taking the same route on the jet back to the large white building on the water while your motivation to make a change for the better grows.

Unaware you’d be returning, the landing pad out front is empty as the sleek black quinjet touches down. It doesn’t take long for pattering footsteps to replace the sound of the cooling engine, the entire team now running outside at the sight. The person at the head of the group is none other than Natasha, a sad smile covering her face.

“You were right, killing him won’t bring my mom back.” You admit as you step off the jet, walking up to the redhead. She nods once, putting both her arms on your shoulders before enveloping you into a hug.

She takes a deep breath, relieved to have you back in her arms. “Even if you can’t see how proud your mother is, know how incredibly proud I am.” She voices. It hits you that you didn’t even realize in all your time planning that you didn’t need to prove anything to your mother. You didn’t need to prove anything to anyone. The real love that you so desperately wanted was in front of you this entire time, you just happened to be looking in the wrong place. And thankfully, Natasha would always be here to help you find your way back.