a/n: listen,,,,,,,,, i know i promise this every time i finish something, but i swear im not dead. im just a simple bean trying to be an adult. and ive got the Big Sad. but im doin my best and yall will love me anyway âđ
Word Count: 1675
Warnings: none? i think?
Pairing: CarolNat x Reader (focus on Nat x Reader)
(pt.1 pt.2 pt.3 pt.4)
Unlike Carol, Natasha didnât wait until the evening to show up. No, she showed up in the middle of the day, right around when your lunch break should have started. If you had known, you wouldnât have even shown up to work. No, that was a lie, you absolutely would have still shown up to work.
It had already been an abnormal day; you had woken up late thanks to a certain blonde that had kept you up far too long. You had rushed through your shower, your coffee, and had gotten to work late. Now, your boss hadnât cared. Hell, he had been borderline ecstatic that you had finally showed up past your usual punctual arrival.
âHope this means you lived a little,â he had said when you showed up an outrageous 23 minutes late. His stupid smug face made you sick.
âWonât happen again,â you mumbled and, even though you knew he had heard you, he ignored it.
Aside from your boss giving you a stupid little smirk every now and then, work was normal. You were behind, but you decided you could just move your schedule back by 23 minutes. It would ruin everything, but it was something you could live with for the day. Maybe. You would try, at least.
You blasted your music and put yourself into high gear, trying to get a blueprint finished before lunch so you could get back on track. But of course you didnât, because for the first time in a very long time, your mind wouldnât shut up. It just had to remind you of the reason behind your embarrassingly strict schedule.
And when lunch came around, you decided to work through it. It wasnât like you were really in the mood to eat anyway, not with the graphic images running through your head. Besides, if you worked through lunch then you could be back on track for the afternoon. Seemed like a win-win, actually.
âHave time for a break?â
Of course. Of course there was the distraction. There was always a distraction. You put your carving knife down and turned your head enough to see Natasha walking toward you, a take-out bag in one hand and an envelope in the other. You suspected something, as you should. But that stupid smirk was enough to convince you to hear her out.
âNo,â you said simply, turning back to your project before waiting for her answer. You were in the mood to be problematic. As you rightfully should be.
âToo late, your boss said you needed one,â she said before immediately setting the take-out bag on your project.
âCarol said you needed a distraction,â Natasha continued as if she hadnât noticed you rush to lift the bag off your project in the hopes it hadnât gotten any condensation or⌠unsightly liquids on the wood.
âSaid you seemed a little stressed.â With that, she sat down in your chair and propped her feet up on the same project you had just cleaned.
âIâm not stressed,â you shook your head. âJust busy,â you emphasised by pushing her feet off the wood.
âHas anyone ever told you you work too much?â She asked. She leaned forward and rested her arms on your project - had she no shame? - before giving you another stupid smirk. Did she ever stop? Smirking that much just wasnât natural.
âNo.â
You didnât look up. You refused to look up only to see that look that you knew she was giving you. It was the same look Carol gave you when you wouldnât ease up on your schedule. The look Daniel gave you when you hesitated to take the kids on short notice. The look your mother gave you when she felt you were being ridiculous and needed to loosen up. All of those looks had one thing in common.
Pity.
And you hated pity.
âYou need to eat,â Natasha said, far softer than you had thought her capable of. That too-confident attitude had disappeared and she looked⌠mundane. You didnât think it was possible.
âI donât need to eat,â you shot back regardless of how normal she looked. Just because she was a mob boss didnât mean she could boss you around.
âYes you do.â
âI donât.â
âY/N.â
âNatasha.â
You both locked eyes, and you could see the way hers sparkled; not with frustration, but pride. Logically eyes didnât sparkle with anything really (unless it was the glitter from Dillonâs drawings) but you could tell. There was a slight squint at the corner of her eyes and you had known her long enough to know what that meant.
It meant she was proud.
Screw her pride.
âIâll put it in the fridge for later,â she finally said, breaking eye contact as she did it. âDonât forget it.â
It was a stern warning, but the fact that she hadnât added an actual âor elseâ meant that nothing was going to happen. You knew it, she knew it, it was an empty threat. But you almost appreciated her attempt at taking care of you. As well as a mob boss could, you supposed.
The moment she was out of your work space, you focused back in on the project in front of you. With absolute surprise, you could finally focus. You were getting things done and, even though Nat was back within two minutes, you had actually made some progress. Maybe it was because Nat had come to see you.
Why the fuck would that matter?
âWe got you a card,â Nat said as soon as she got back.
You looked up to see her holding the envelope she had walked in with. You brushed the splinters off your hands - even though you should have been wearing gloves - before taking the envelope from her slender fingers that you knew had pulled the trigger more times than you cared to accept.
They hadnât closed it properly. Part of you wanted to scold them for it, but the other part was glad you wouldnât have to rip it open and ruin your always-put-together demeanour. Obviously you could open it properly at home, but you werenât at home, were you?
It was a simple card. A few flowers on the front, some pink some white. It was pretty cheesy if you were being honest with yourself. But then on the inside is where it got good. There were more of the same flowers, but they were underlining the two sentences in the middle of the card.
âWe fucked up. So weâre really really sorry.â
When you looked closer, you noted that the original card had said âI fucked up,â but the âIâs had been scribbled out and replaced with the âweâs. Then below the flowers, in surprisingly childlike handwriting, was Natâs and Carolâs names.
âHave you two⌠ever signed a card before?â You hesitated to ask, but only after seeing the uncertainty on Natâs face.
âWhy do you ask?â
âItâs just⌠youâŚâ but the look on her face was enough to get you to sigh and smile softly to yourself. âItâs a really good card.â
That smirk of hers was back as she leaned in her chair and propped her feet up onto your project again. If she didnât stop, there were going to be consequences. In theory, of course. You were never really one to break the rules at work.
Okay, you were one to never break the rules at work.
You were still mesmerised - whether in a good way or bad way, you couldnât quite tell just yet - by the card when you finally noticed a pair of arms wrapping around your middle. You knew it wasnât your boss. Even though he was overly sweet, he wasnât a perv.
Deductive reasoning aside, you would know her touch at any time.
âI heard Carol made it up to you,â Nat whispered in your ear. Well, as close to your ear as she could get. She was just a little too short to reach.
âNo, I made it up to her,â Â you shot back quickly, wanting to make it clear that Carol had not gotten the best of you. No one got the best of you.
âMmm how about I make it up to you, then?â
Admittedly, you loved the tone in Natâs voice. As much as you tried to tell yourself that you didnât really feel anything for the couple, you did. You felt so much for the both of them that it hurt your heart. Literally. But you also knew you couldnât let anyone get the best of you. Not even Nat.
âMy boss isââ
ââgoin home for the day!â He called out, and you immediately started questioning just how much he had eavesdropped. âDonât forget to lock up!â
And with that he was gone. Almost like he had planned the whole thing. Maybe he had. Or maybe the woman behind you had been cunning enough to⌠âconvince himâ to leave for the day. Yeah, that was probably the more accurate option. You could live with that.
But you couldnât live with Nat thinking she had the upper hand.
he moment her hand started to move up your stomach, you grabbed one of her arms and used it to pull her between yourself and your project. One of the benefits of being bigger than her; you could manhandle her all you wanted. And there was also the perk of her being shocked by your size every single time.
Nat knew better than to argue. In the real world around other people, she was the boss. But in this one room, away from prying eyes? Everything was different, she had no control and she knew it, and she loved it. So much so that she put up no fight when you lifted her onto your project and stepped between her legs. Nothing could fix that weekend, but maybe it could distract you just enough.
It was certainly enough to bury all your previous concerns of getting your project dirty.
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