Summary:  After a breakup, you decide to pack up your life and move to Westview. A coworker recommends you join the local community's cooking class in  order to settle into the new town. It sounded like a great idea, you  could learn a new skill (that you desperately need) and meet new people.  However, nothing could have prepared you for the green-eyed beauty you  met during class. Maybe you'll end up leaving the class with more than  just a basic understanding of cooking. Â
Casualty of Love
Summary: The Scarlet Witchâs path to reunite with her kids was filled  with destruction. And now you must fan the flames in order to help your  family adjust to your new life afterward.
A what-if story continuing the aftermath of the Scarlet Witch's dream walking but of Wanda who had never awoken her powers. She is now plagued with the memories of her alternate's life. Would you be able to support your Wanda through this new journey or will you lose the Wanda you fell in love with in the process?
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Natasha Romanoff x Reader
Operation 90 Day (Undercover) Fiance
Summary: Â What started as a month-long trip for work, ended with your heart stolen by a certain red-head. But are things really as they seem?
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WandaNat x Reader
What Remains Left
Summary: When the world fell into the apocalypse, all hope for a cure dwindled as the amount of deaths rose. A group has formed dubbing themselves as humanityâs last effort at salvation and have contracted Natasha and Wanda to finding the final piece for that mission, you.
Or, the Last of Us inspired Marvel fanfic that no one asked for.
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Summary: I just got inspired by Chappell, and thought my 7 year hiatus was enough haha. I hope you guys enjoy it.
Pairings: Natasha Romanoff x Reader.
Warnings: ANGST!Â
Word count: 3.6k
"You're so in love, just admit it already." Kate teased you for the thousandth time today. If you saw her gazing at Yelena like a lost puppy, you'd make fun of her. "Oh my god, please don't rub your love in front of us," Yelena said, taking her shot of vodka. The bar was crowded, and you were outside, gathered around a table with a drink in your hand. "Shut up." You said, not wanting to say anything more. No one was supposed to know, but of course, Natasha's little sister and your best friend couldn't exactly ignore all of the obvious signs.
Natasha was at another table with friends from work, beer in hand and a smile that never faltered. It looked like she was waltzing between both tables. Thursday nights were usually like this: after classes, you would go to some social gathering, accompanied by your closest friends, enjoy your youth, karaoke a bit, and drink, but always end your night with the same person.
"So, Y/N, when are you finally going to make things official with my sister?" Yelena asked. It was obvious that she wanted to know what role you would be playing in the near future, now that Natasha has finally started to work, and you being a year younger than her.
You choked a bit in response to her question, but you tried to laugh it off. "Geez, Lena, I'm not really sure what your sister's intentions are." Kate stayed quiet, looking at the whole scene in front of her, and a small smile played on her face. She has known you for quite some time now, and your emotions aren't that hard to read, as much as you would like to give yourself credit for. "Well, you know how my family is, and if you can't even answer that question to me, it's going to be fun seeing how you act around Alexei and Melina," Yelena stated. You nodded and chuckled at her words. Of course, their parents scared you, but Yelena wouldn't let you live it down. "We'll cross that bridge when we get to it." You simply stated, turning around towards Kate, to try to change the course of this conversation. "You had a date, right, Kate?" You asked, Kate looked like a deer caught in headlights, and that shut Yelena right up, her focus going towards Kate. "You motherfucker, you didn't tell me!" Yelena said in surprise, you grinned at the look of a nervous Kate, and now your little relationship problem seemed farther away as Yelena directed her attention towards Kate. "I-uh didn't want anybody to know," Kate said quietly, shooting daggers with her eyes towards you. You felt yourself relax slightly against your chair. "What- That's crazy, Kate! You know you can trust me, come on, tell me about it." Yelena dramatized. Those two had been dancing around each other for some time now. It was simply a matter of time for them to admit their feelings for each other.
"Well, I think I need a refill. I'll be right back." You said, letting the chair scrape against the pavement and turning around to go inside.
Inside, there were more people that you didn't recognize, some playing pool and others playing darts, you hum quietly as you take a quick detour towards the bathroom, taking your cellphone out.
"I didn't think I was going to find you alone tonight," a voice you recognize well said. You smile and turn around to see Carol standing behind you. "Carol! I didn't know you were back already!" You hug the taller woman, squeezing her hard. A genuine smile slips onto her face, twirling you slightly. "A year came and went faster than I expected." She smiled. Her hand stayed against your arm, warmth spreading from her fingers, and you took a moment to take her in once again. Her hair was longer than you remembered, even though her face looked tired, her eyes shone with happiness. "And how was it? Did you meet anyone new? Would you go again?" You asked, earning a slight chuckle from her, the bathroom long forgotten as you pulled Carol by her forearm towards a more secluded space. She left for an exchange program in Europe. She was one of your closest friends in your group, always participating in friendly competition with Kate. But everyone always knew that Carol wasn't meant to stay in one spot. "Well, I knew it was going to be an unforgettable experience, but man. I loved everything," she started. You had no problem chatting with her with a smile on your face.
"Hey, Nat," Tony started, signaling towards the window that looked inside. Specifically towards a blonde with a smaller figure next to her, an exchange is taking place. "Isn't that your girl?" He asked, and Natasha laughed nervously, turning slightly around to see the silhouettes. She recognized you in a heartbeat, and the other woman, she recognized as well. She had crossed paths with the blonde before, never really liking the woman much. She chuckled, shaking her head. "No, we're just casual." She stated, but excused herself quietly.
She walked over to you, a drink in hand, as you looked deep in conversation with Carol. She was explaining something with her hands, and you looked very focused on the conversation. She slid a hand towards your waist, pulling you close together, and handed you the bottle.
"I'm sorry I took so long," Natasha smiled as you turned your head towards her, your smile spread a little bit more. She leaned to kiss your cheek, and was sure that some of your lipstick stuck on her skin. "I was just talking to Carol about her exchange," you explained, gesturing between you both. Natasha nodded and offered Carol a small smile. "I'm glad you're back," She lied, her thumb tracing small patterns against your hip. Carol watched Natasha curiously, slightly nodding. "It's good to be back, it seems like a lot has changed," Carol stated, causing Natasha to chuckle. The air was tense, the music getting more and more on Natasha's nerves. "Well, I'm sure you want to get up to date, but we have to leave," Natasha stated, and you turned to look at her eyes, dark, and you weren't sure if it was the alcohol in her or the week that she had. You put your hand on top of hers, squeezing her hand. After all, Kate wasn't wrong with her statement before. And this is a clear example of that. "I'm sorry, Carol, you have my number, but we should get going. I have to get up early tomorrow." You said, saying goodbye and left Carol with a slightly confused expression while Natasha tugged you to her car.
When you arrived at Natasha's apartment, her lips were on yours. Feverently kissing you, hands strong against your jaw, neck. It was like your body was on fire, and her only responsibility was to extinguish you with her kisses. You didn't notice when she locked the door, your own hands buried at the back of her neck, tugging her hair slightly, letting her braid loose. Her fiery red hair brought you back to life, inhaling deeply as you let her lips go. You moaned softly as she started her trail down, focusing on your neck.
"Nat," you exhaled, pulling her slightly back, enough to let the outside light shine against her face, her cheeks were tinged slightly pink, barely noticeable unless you knew her well. Her lips puffed, and her eyes, those were always going to be your undoing.
"What happened?" You asked, caressing her cheek. She chuckled slightly, leaning towards your touch, she took a deep breath and closed her eyes, turning her head just enough to place a small kiss against the palm of your hand. "I just really need you," she confessed. While it was true, the unknown jealousy that blossomed at the pit of her stomach was the part that made her bring you home, made her selfish.
"Nat, you know that I'm yours," you started, bringing your hand down towards her arm, giving a gentle squeeze as you drew in closer, your lips hovering over her cheek before placing small pecks. Natasha smiled softly, turning her head to capture your lips with hers. Her hands came back up from your waist to your jaw, grabbing it tenderly. "Show me," she whispered against your breath, pulling you towards the all familiar bedroom.
The next morning, you woke up early as always, shifting between Natasha's sheets, her scent clung to your skin, and your eyes fluttered open to see her bathroom door open, the invitation clear with the sound of water running. And, as much as you would like to join her, you hopped up, grabbing her clothes and slipping them on before going to the kitchen. You knew her routine by now: shower, makeup, breakfast.
It was ordinary, everyone would do the same. And yet, you felt the need to help her with her routine. It might not be hard but making her breakfast, it was a small reassurance that you could give her.
The sun wasn't even up, if you were at your place, you would have done a small routine to get up, start to check lectures or study something that you needed to understand better. But here, with Natasha in the other room, you felt the need to show her that you could do more, be more.
"Hello, sweetheart," you heard Natasha say. You turned around to see her smile at you, perfume accompanying her. You give her a small peck, passing her a plate full of food, her coffee ready. "God, you're the best." She sighs, starting to eat.
Natasha clears her throat softly behind you, the scrape of her fork against the plate stalling for just a moment.
"Y/N," she starts, and you glance at her quickly over your shoulder, and she hesitates. Her eyes lingered on you a second too long. She looks down at her food. What she's about to say requires more effort than she expected.
"You know that we're not together," Natasha comments, looking over at you cautiously. But you know her; her voice is too even, and you recognize the mask when you hear it.
You're still, your back towards her. You grip the pan in your hand tightly, trying to take a few deep breaths, anything to hide the pain at the bottom of your heart, the fear of making a wrong move and shattering the most precious and fragile thing you own. "Yes, Nat, we're casual." The words feel like sandpaper, the complete opposite of what you feel. You aren't even sure if Natasha notices the way you tense, if she even knows your reactions to different situations, as you notice her reacting. "That means, you don't have to do this." She says, slowly and calculated. As everything always has to be around her. "Even so, thank you for the delicious breakfast." She says, and you turn around to see her. Long gone is the twinkle in her eyes; your body feels colder with every new word that she speaks. You feel as if last night was a dream, a recurring dream. "You're welcome." You comment, letting the pan sit on the stove, your hands gripping the grey marble, and you faking a smile. "See you later, Y/N," Natasha says, kissing your cheek and heading for the door, taking your heart with her.
The door shuts, and you want to cry, but you shouldn't. She doesn't deserve your tears. You don't even clean up, you muster enough energy and courage to save a plate for Yelena. You go back into Natasha's room, wondering how long you're going to let yourself go through this. You know it isn't fair, you don't deserve this. But you only feel this way when Natasha treats you coldly, when she's apart. Her warmth during the night is enough to keep you coming back.
You grab the clothes from your drawer- you even have a fucking drawer at her place! And she wouldn't have given it to you if you meant nothing, even if she doesn't see it yet, there has to be something.
"Y/N! Thank god you picked up!" You hear Yelena's thick Russian as you answer your phone, you rush through the city streets, paper in hand, as you try to make it in time for your class. "Yelena, what's happening?" You question, maneuvering around the people in the city. "I kind of kissed Kate." She states, you sigh in relief that the younger woman wasn't in any immediate danger. "Congrats? I don't know what you want me to do, Yelena." You answer, finally happy that they stopped their tiptoeing around each other. "No, I need you to come over after your class, my parents are coming around, and you know Alexei, he's so embarrassing, and then Melina, so cold-" she rambles, and you exhale, pinching the bridge of your nose. "You want me to be the buffer," You counter, cutting Yelena off. "YES! Exactly. I would appreciate it and owe you big time." She says, and you look around, feeling lucky that you found a bakery. "Fine, I'll go after class."
"Y/N! We're so happy to see you!" You hear Alexei say as he hugs you tightly. As much as Yelena complains about her father, they have the same energy. "It's so good to see you again, Alexei, Melina." You say, balancing the cake in one hand. Inside are already Yelena and Kate. Kate looks nervous, and you hope she keeps her mouth shut so as not to embarrass herself. This family doesn't let small things pass. "You look good, Y/N. How is school?" You listen to Melina as you bring the cake to the counter. Yelena seems to have finally let out a breath, thanking you quietly for the distraction.
"Pretty good, almost done with my final projects." You smile as you explain your life. "Oh yes, Yelena told me you had some projects together. It makes me feel calm to know that she has such a good influence." Melina said it wasn't easy to earn their trust and care, but you feel happy and safe with the family. "What about Yelena? She is the bad influence for Y/N, what with all the vodka and parties." Alexei counters, and you know that Yelena is embarrassed, you chuckle at his statement. "Alexei!" Melina scolds, shooting him a stern look. "Well, she is Russian, and I taught her well; I hope she has been showing you more about the culture." He says, and now you laugh, shaking your head. "She did at first, but now Kate and I manage to keep her from trouble. Although we still can't keep her from drinking." You joke, and Alexei laughs. "Alright, Kate, tell us more about yourself," Melina says, and you laugh slightly. You signal Yelena towards the kitchen, walking calmly to start gathering things.
"So, how are things going?" You ask softly, pulling the coffee filters. Yelena stood next to you, watching the exchange between her parents and Kate. "Good, but I wish I could have given her more of a warning." She says, you nod and hum slightly. "Well, you are like your family, so I don't think a warning would help." You state, chuckling as Yelena hits you softly. "How are things with you?" She asks softly. You don't know if it's because of how she asks, the fact that she's Natasha's sister, or because she is one of your closest friends, you feel your eyes well up with tears. "Thank you for breakfast the other day," she says, looking at the mugs you are now bringing out. "I know I'm not supposed to be biased," Yelena starts, and looks at you. You try to avoid her gaze, the knot in your throat getting too big for you to handle. "But I just want to say that anyone who has had the pleasure of knowing your heart is privileged. But not everyone deserves it." She states, and you nod, letting the gentle tears flow down, grabbing a napkin to clean yourself up. "I don't feel like I'm doing enough or am enough." You confess, Yelena grabs your hand and shakes her head, muttering something softly in Russian. "You are enough for the right person." She says, the words hanging heavily on your chest. You can't cry, Alexei and Melina are here. Natasha will be home. You need to be strong.
"Yelena! Y/N! Kate has a house on the beach!" Alexei boomed, it's enough to make you laugh and forget about your insecurities, for now. Yelena helps you bring the coffee and cake for everyone. "Like, I just have to check around with my mom, but I think she'll be fine with me using it for a weekend," Kate adds on, you smile softly at her. "It's gonna be great, my daughters and my beautiful Meilina will love a weekend away," Alexei boards on, and you don't dare to correct him. "Alexei, calm down." Melina softly encourages, but the man can never calm down, being the dramatic, overemotional parent he is. And you can't blame him, he has great daughters.
"Hey, I'm home," Natasha says as you finish putting the table. Her parents get up to greet her. "Natasha, pack your bags, we're going to go on a vacation," Alexei informs his daughter, and she smiles awkwardly, waiting for context. As Melina fills her in on the plans, you observe her. Whenever she's in the room, she always has your attention. Her red hair flowing, her smile small, and her clothes a bit disheveled. Could it be from work? Surely, you know that she's great at what she does, and Tony sees a lot of potential in her. She's destined for greatness; that was never in doubt.
Natasha sits down at the table, and you hear Alexei groan. "Natasha, show your love for Y/N! I didn't raise my daughters to just sit down." Alexei scolds, and Melina nods. You never were introduced as Natasha's girlfriend; you were always only her friend, but Melina and Alexei know their daughter better than you, and small touches, glances are enough for them to surmise their daughter's relationship.
Natasha chuckles, rolling her eyes, and you know you're blushing. She goes to hug you, her arms feeling familiar around your waist, and her intoxicating scent, the one that you've grown used to, invading your every sense. She sits down next to you, grabbing your hand, her fingers playing with the ring you got a few years back.
The gathering was filled with conversation between Alexei, Melina, Natasha, and Kate. You felt happy that Kate was getting their approval, but when they started planning the trip, you went quiet, a little bit serious. You dropped Natasha's hand, her warmth missing, and you regretted it, but these past few weeks have started to take a toll on you. Melina noticed the change in your attitude, and you felt Natasha tense.
"Why are my parents planning a vacation with you?" Natasha asked, voice low and tense as she leaned against the counter.
Kate and Yelena were down for the night, and now you were only washing dishes with Natasha. "What?" You question her softly. "Why are you here? Why are my parents planning a vacation with you?" She asks, and you take a deep breath. "Kate offered." You replied, washing the same plate over and over again. "I got that, but what made you feel like you had the right?" She asked, her tone stern. You turn to look at her incredulously, as if you wanted this. "Yelena invited me over, and Alexei told me that we were going on vacation." You stated, "I didn't ask to be a part of any of this, I was just doing my friend a favor." You continue, Natasha scoffs, and shakes her head. "Even so, that is not what we agreed to do, we said-" you don't let her finish. "Casual, I know." You said, leaving the spotless plates on the counter, turning to look at Natasha.
"How long until we can leave casual behind, Natasha?" The use of her name makes her tilt her head, you let your hands go to either side of your hips, looking at her leaning against the counters. "Another year until we can admit our feelings?" You continue, wondering aloud. "Natasha, casual is not me leaving my favorite lingerie in your apartment, it isn't your sister asking me advice for her relationships, it isn't us getting each other off, it certainly isn't you getting jealous because of a friend." You state, her gaze doesn't falter, her shoulders don't slump. "I didn't ask you to do any of that." She lets out softly, and you don't know if you want to slap or kiss her. "Casual," you spat, "was never what you meant. Your breakfast and your parents' vacation invite- none of that was casual." You say, and Natasha lowers her gaze, shaking her head.
She walks towards you, her hand lifting your chin, her lips close to yours. "I can't do casual anymore, Natasha." You whisper, you don't know if those words are correct or incorrect but you only focus on the feeling of her lips pressing up against yours, the way her breath trembles and her body relaxes in to your touch.
The passion is there, the love is there from your part, but you don't know if it's reciprocated.
Even if your heart protests, you push her gently away. Looking into her eyes. Your hands rest on her chest, your forehead against hers and you close your eyes.
"It's simple, really," You say, feeling the way that Natasha grabs your hands in hers. "You give us a chance, or I'll walk away, and I don't know if you'll ever get me back." Natasha's grip on your hands was like a vice. You could feel her breath hitch, right before everything changed.
Warnings: gaslighting, slight mentions of cheating, angst NOT EDITED
Summary: Natashaâs deepest fears get the best of her.
Main Masterlist
âI really donât want to do this with you right now,â you sigh kicking off your wet boots and soaked coat. Shaking the rain droplets off your umbrella just outside your door before resting it on the floor.
âWhy the hell not, huh? You donât think we should talk about how fuckin messed up that was?â Natashaâs voice is urging you to fight back, begging for you to raise your voice the same level she raises hers.
âHow was I supposed to control how she fuckin acts when sheâs obviously drunk? In what world would I have control over her actions?â
You almost flinch at the sounds of her loud scoff. You watch as her arms raise and drop in disbelief.
She rolls her eyes when you make no move to correct yourself.
Admit that you had let another woman rub herself against you and whisper drunken things in your ear with Natasha watching, even as a sick joke.
Admit that you laugh at her jokes and sometimes find yourself smiling whenever she was around.
Of course it had only been in a friendly way. You only and always have had eyes for Natalia Alianovna Romanova.
Itâs quiet, for only a minute, itâs silent but the rain outside is loud. Sounds of heavy rain outside and careful cars driving through the wet streets.
Her hair is wet, straight hair has now turned into small, curly waves. Her nose is pink from the icy cold, you knew if you were to touch her hands her fingertips would feel like ice. She always ran cold, itâs what you love about her. Her coat is hanging off a dining chair. Her light grey turtleneck compliments her pale skin. Sheâs beautiful even when sheâs angry.
âI canât believe you.â She blinks away the tears before you had the chance to notice them. Sheâs letting her anger take over.
âWhat, Natalia? What canât you believe?â You hiss, scolding her like a child that had left the gas on in the kitchen.
You donât even notice the way you use her real name.
The girl in front of you does. She picks up on how mad you are, clueless, and blind.
âYou literally canât even see it!â
You scoff at her words, wishing she could just spit it out. âJust say it. I obviously donât have a fuckin clue what we are talking about here!â
âSheâs in love you with you!â She screams, there is a vein that appears on the side of her neck when she spits it out.
âNow youâre the one being unbelievable.â
âNo Iâm not.â
âYes! Youâre crazy for thinking that!â
âNo Iâm not! Iâm not unbelievable and Iâm not crazy,â she paused, she knew if she has another word without stopping her voice would crack. âYouâre so fuckin blind.â
Your stomach sinks when she spits out your name instead of baby.
Itâs hypocritical to act hurt, just moments prior you had called her by her name as well. However, before you can redirect the conversation Natasha speaks again.
âDonât come up with some bullshit saying sheâs just your friend. You may be her friend and think of her as nothing but a friend, but remember. I was that friend.â Natasha points to herself, memories of the first few weeks the two of you had gotten to know each other came back to you.
âI was the friend that fell in love with you! I was the one that flirted with you and got drunk so you could take care of me. I did everything so I could have your attention. I was the friend in love with you!â
-
âHey stranger, missed you last week.â Natashaâs face lit up when she saw you walk toward the small bar entrance. âWhatâs wrong?â
âAhh I know,â you rub your temples before explaining, âMy girl had some thing with her parents.â
Thereâs a playful scared look while you slide into the booth sheâs sitting at. Reaching over to give her a small hug, Natasha held on for a just a second too long, but, of course, you brushed it off.
âParents? You guys are that serious?â Her nerves get the best of her as Natasha bites the tip of her straw, drink half full.
Your eyes unlock with hers as you flag down a waitress. Without wasting any time you order yourself a vodka tonic.
âThat bad?â Natasha jokes.
You laugh loudly at her joke before sighing deeply. âUm I- I donât really know if itâs gonna work out between me and her.â
âIâm sorry to hear that.â Natasha is sincere with her apology, but thereâs a small fraction of her that is hopeful.
âAre you?â
Natashaâs eyes widen in shock. Natasha stumbles to come up with words when you continue to look at her with raised eyebrows.
âY-yes Iâm sorry. Sheâs your girlfriend and if thatâs not working out then Iâm sorry. I want you happy because Iâm your friend.â
Natasha hates every word that fell from her mouth. No she wasnât entirely sorry to hear things were working out because she wanted you all for herself.
âItâs a bit funny cause she thinks you like me. Always going off about âNatasha likes you and fucking hates me cause Iâm with youâ.â
âI donât hate her.â Itâs true. Natasha doesnât hate her, sure sheâs jealous, but hate is such a strong word.
âBut you like me?â
âYes. Wait! No- I mean- fuck. Iâm sorry.â Natasha shuts herself up by chugging the rest of her drink.
âBut thatâs not the problem... the problem is I like you back.â
-
âRemember?â Her voice cracks and it breaks your heart.
Your eyes meet hers and now is the time you take to look at your wife.
Anger has faded and merged into hurt. She took your silence as your confession, that you had fell out of love with her. That you were going to have the same conversation you had with your ex with her.
âBaby,â you call softly, reaching over to hug her, reaching to comfort her. Hold her in your arms and tell that you only love her and youâre sorry.
âNo, donât touch me.â She grits out with tears sliding down her cheek, flinching away from your touch as if you had burned her.
âBaby, let me explain.â You choke out, trying your best to ignore the pain in your heart when Natasha refused to let her guard down.
Poor choice of words.
âIâm leaving.â
âDonât leave. Itâs wet out. They said that the rain is coming back.â You beg softly. You donât know why youâre not crying. You should be, but your eyes are dry.
âFrom the bottom of my heart, Y/N, fuck you.â
âNat. Stop. Stop that. You donât mean that. Just go to the room Iâll take the couch. Just donât drive. Itâs not safe.â
âNo, seriously. I donât know why I thought I was special. Youâre never going to change. You will always go onto the next girl who falls for you. I am so stupid thinking you can truly love me, let alone one person.â
Thatâs not true, you love only one person. You only have eyes for your wife, Natalia Alianovna Romanova. Only problem is you donât have a good way of proving it.
sumary: Natasha didnât expect anyone to notice she was barely holding it togetherâlet alone you. But when a simple playdate turns into days of fevers, exhaustion, and quiet overwhelm, youâre the one who shows up. No questions. No expectations. Just soup in hand, arms open, and eyes that see right through her
word count: 4905
warnings: flu, stomach bug, natasha being vulnerable, age gap and a huge amount of cuteness.
Part 1
author notes: Thank you all sooo much for the love youâve sent over this mini fanfic â seriously, my heartâs full! Iâm beyond excited to say that yes, a little series about our chaotic (but adorable) family is officially happening <3
Time had a funny way of folding in on itself when you werenât paying attention.
One moment, you were a reluctant presence on the fringes of her and Anaâs quiet world, and the next⌠you were everywhere. Slowly. Naturally. Not because you forced your way in, but because Ana wouldnât let you be anywhere else. Because Natasha hadnât known she was waiting for you until you started showing up.
With each passing week, you had become more a part of themâtangled in the fabric of small, ordinary things. Breakfast crumbs. Quiet laughter. The gentle thud of little feet running to find you the moment she entered a room. Natasha had told herself it was nothing. Just temporary. Just the way Ana gravitated to you.
But it was more than that. You werenât just a presence. You were constant. Steady. You were becoming a part of them in ways Natasha hadnât prepared for.
And that terrified her.
Because sheâd started loving you.
More than she meant to.
And not just emotionallyâher body had begun responding to you like it remembered something ancient, like it knew what it wanted before her mind had a chance to catch up. It wasnât just attractionâit was primal. Deep. Dangerous. Her womb would ache in ways she hadnât felt since before Ana. Ovulation, hormones, cravings⌠not just for you, but for the idea of you beside her, in her, with her. You, with Ana. You, in their future.
And you made it worse by being exactly who you were. By showing up when she least expected it. Like now.
Natasha was wrecked. Exhausted beyond measure. It had started with one stupid playdate. She shouldâve known betterâone of the other mothers had been coughing in that vaguely suspicious âIâm fine, reallyâ way, and now Natasha was paying the price. First came the fever. Then the stomach bug. First for her, then for Ana. And now they were both half-alive, curled into a blanket cocoon on Natashaâs couch, in the dim light of her apartment.
Ana was burning up and clingy in the way toddlers get when they donât understand why they feel so awful. She wouldnât let go of Natasha, not for a secondânot even to sleep. And Natasha herself was barely staying upright, her limbs heavy, her head pounding, her body still trying to fight off the virus sheâd caught. Her shirt was damp with sweat, and Ana had been crying for the last thirty minutes with no real reason other than pure discomfort.
She was drowning. Alone, exhausted, and on the edge of breaking.
And then the door opened.
No warning. No knock. Just the sound of your voice, soft but firm.
âHey.â
Natasha didnât have the strength to lift her head fully. But you were there. Jacket already half-off, eyes scanning the mess in a heartbeat. You didnât need an explanation. You didnât ask questions. You just moved.
You took Ana from her arms with practiced easeâAna went willingly, burying her flushed face into your shoulder like it was the only place sheâd ever belonged. You murmured something soft, bouncing her lightly, hand rubbing circles on her back. Natasha watched you lower onto the couch beside her, Ana now pressed between you both, content in a way she hadnât been all day.
And just like that⌠the panic faded. Natasha breathed again.
Your hand brushed against hers when you reached for the thermometer on the table. You glanced at her sideways. âYou look like hell.â
Natasha gave a breathless laugh. âThanks.â
âI brought soup.â
âYouâre a menace.â
But you were her menace. She leaned her head against your shoulder without meaning to, eyelids fluttering closed for just a moment.
And you let her.
There werenât any declarations. No promises. Just the warmth of your body beside hers, Ana dozing between you both, and the quiet understanding that, somehow, this wasnât temporary anymore.
It had never been temporary.
She hadnât meant to fall asleepânot really. Just close her eyes for a moment. But something about your presence always disarmed her, made her forget how long sheâd been holding everything together. And now, with Ana tucked warm and feverish against your chest, with the tension in her own body finally starting to loosen, she let herself lean into it.
Only for a few seconds.
When she stirred, it was to the smell of something warm and simple. Soup. Real food. She blinked blearily and found you in her kitchen, moving with lazy familiarity. You were pouring the soup into a bowl, spoon already in hand, as if this was your place to do that. As if you belonged here.
You did.
You handed her the plate without a word, just gave her that lookâeyebrow lifted, smirk tugging at the edge of your lips, the one you always wore when you were pretending not to care. She took it with both hands like it was a gift from the gods and didnât even bother pretending otherwise.
âOkay,â she rasped, already taking a spoonful. âThis might be the best thing Iâve ever tasted.â
You gave a faux bow, already shaking up a bottle for Ana with one hand while she watched you from the curve of your hip, dazed and blinking.
âItâs literally canned soup, Romanoff.â
She took another spoonful and closed her eyes, groaning. âYou heated it like a pro.â
âOh, Iâm very skilled with microwaves. A real domestic goddess.â
âYouâre lucky Iâm too weak to throw this at you.â
âYouâre welcome.â You smirked, adjusting Ana gently in your arms as you rocked side to side, absently bouncing her. It was natural now. So seamless it made something in Natashaâs chest ache.
She watched the two of you for a moment, spoon frozen halfway to her mouth. Ana had gone still, her eyes fluttering closed, hands curled loosely against your chest. She looked content. Safe. Natasha swallowed past the knot in her throat.
âHow did you know?â she asked, voice quieter now, worn at the edges. âThat I was sick?â
You didnât look away from Ana, just smiled lightly and said, âF.R.I.D.A.Y. noticed your vitals were way out of range for a few hours. High cortisol, spiked temp. She told me you werenât doing great. I figured something was up.â
Natasha blinked. âYou figured?â
You finally looked at her, that teasing glint still there, but softened. âIâm not gonna let you fall apart on your own, Romanoff. You and Ana⌠youâre mine too. My family.â
She didnât answer at first. Couldnât. The warmth in her chest wasnât feverâit was you. The way you said it so simply, like it wasnât something enormous. Like it didnât undo her piece by piece.
She looked down at her bowl and took another bite of soup, mostly to keep from crying. âWell,â she murmured after a moment, âyou mightâve just earned another microwave session.â
You raised an eyebrow, adjusting Ana as she finally slipped into deeper sleep. âIâll take that as a declaration of love.â
She smirked, eyes still on her bowl. âKeep telling yourself that.â
And in the quiet that followed, with Ana asleep between the two of you and the warmth of soup lingering in her hands, Natasha let herself believe it was real. That maybe this wasnât just a moment, but the beginning of something she never dared to imagine.
The soup was almost gone by the time Ana stilled completely in your arms, her little hand twitching once, then going limp against your collarbone. You stayed swaying, even as your legs mustâve grown tired, and Natasha didnât miss the way your fingers moved gently across Anaâs back, steady and rhythmic, like it was instinct.
The kind of instinct that made her want things she had no right to want. The kind of instinct that made her heart ache.
âShe loves you,â Natasha said, voice softer now, almost inaudible. She wasnât even sure why she said itâmaybe to test the sound of it in the air. Maybe to see if it shook you the way it shook her.
You didnât look up. âI know.â
The answer was simple. Certain. It wasnât arroganceâit was truth. You knew. And Natasha realized then that maybe youâd known for longer than she had. Maybe youâd been letting Ana pull you into their orbit from the start, quietly, without resistance. Maybe youâd been falling too.
âI thought you didnât like kids,â she said after a beat, not teasing this time.
You finally looked over, the weight of Ana sleeping across your body anchoring you both to the moment. âI donât,â you said lightly. Then added, âBut sheâs not a kid. Sheâs Ana.â
And Natasha smiled.
God help her, she smiled.
You glanced at her empty bowl. âDo you want me to warm up the rest?â
Natasha shook her head slowly. âNo, if I eat more, Iâll owe you even more declarations of love, and Iâm not sure your ego can handle that.â
âOh, I can handle a lot,â you said, setting Ana down on the couch between you both with infinite care, your hands lingering on her curls as she whimpered, then settled again. âIâve got range.â
She gave a tired laugh, her body sagging sideways, finally letting herself rest now that the worst of it had passed. Now that you were here.
She glanced at you through her lashes, quieter this time. âYou didnât have to come.â
You looked at her for a long second. âYes, I did.â
There wasnât anything more to say after that. Not really. The silence between you both wasnât emptyâit was full of unspoken things. Full of what was building day by day, moment by moment, croissant crumbs and emergency soup and the soft thump of Anaâs head against your chest.
Natasha watched Anaâs little face in sleep. Then she turned to you.
âYou know,â she said lightly, âI think sheâs just trying to get herself a stepmom.â
Your mouth twitched. âWell. Sheâs doing a damn good job.â
Natasha leaned her head back against the couch, eyes half-closing again, lips curved with something half-smile, half-surrender. âThis is your fault, you know.â
You raised a brow. âMine?â
She nodded once, slow and deliberate. âYou were supposed to hate kids. I was supposed to keep my life quiet. Ana was supposed to be enough.â
âShe is enough.â
âI know,â Natasha said. Then softer, âBut now thereâs you.â
You didnât say anything. You just looked at her like you already belonged there. Like youâd stay. Like maybe you were already home.
And Natashaâtired, sick, warm, and full of something she hadnât felt in yearsâdidnât say it either.
She just smiled.
And watched you keep pretending like you werenât already halfway hers.
âGo take a shower,â you said, rising from the couch, Ana tucked easily against your shoulder like she belonged there. âYou look disgusting.â
Natasha scoffed, too tired to argue. âCharming as ever.â
You shot her a smirk. âIâm just saying, it might not be the flu. It could be self-inflicted. Maybe try soap.â
She rolled her eyes, but the way her mouth curved betrayed her. That ridiculous, easy charm of yoursâthatâs what made it dangerous. Not just because you were funny or disarming or beautiful in that sharp, effortless way. But because you made it feel like loving you would be so⌠simple.
She watched as you disappeared into the hallway with Ana, cradling her like she was the most delicate thing in the world. And despite the biting jokes and your performative annoyance, you moved like you were born for it. Like Ana was safest in your arms.
Natasha sat still for a moment. Her muscles were aching, her skin hot from fever and sleep, but her thoughts didnât drift toward rest. They drifted toward you.
You, humming something softly under your breath while you ran warm water for Ana. You, scooping bubbles with your hand and making her giggle, even feverish and worn out as she was. You, being gentle. Thoughtful. Patient.
You, who werenât supposed to want any of this.
But you did. Maybe not in the way youâd admit out loudânot yet. Still, it was there in every wordless offering. In the croissant you split without blinking. In the soup you served before she could even ask. In the way you told her, so casually, that they were yours too. That thisâher and Anaâwas home.
What are we even becoming? she thought, rubbing a hand over her eyes. The question made her heart beat harder than it should have.
She leaned her head back against the couch and sighed. For so long, her future had been a blank spaceâno risks, no attachments, just the weightless quiet of a life lived in retreat. Ana had changed that. Sheâd started painting the outlines of something new: slow mornings, comfort food, the kind of chaos that wasnât dangerous but deeply, beautifully human.
But you⌠You filled the rest in.
And it terrified her, how easily she could see it now.
The three of you. A home that wasnât just a safehouse. A life that wasnât just survival. She could almost feel it like a memory that hadnât happened yet.
Donât get ahead of yourself, she thought, dragging herself to her feet. Itâs just soup. Just a bath. Just you.
But she smiled anyway.
When you returned, Ana was clean and dressed in fresh pajamas, her damp curls already drying against your shoulder. She was fast asleep again, breath soft and steady against your neck. You were barefoot, shirt wrinkled, and your hair damp from whatever splash damage Ana had managed in the bathâbut you looked so at ease. Like this had been your life forever.
âYour turn,â you murmured, keeping your voice low not to wake the baby. âGo. Before your skin peels off.â
Natasha huffed, but moved toward the bathroom without protest. She stopped in the doorway, turning back once more to glance at you. You were pacing slightly, patting Anaâs back, rocking her with barely a thought.
You didnât see her watching you.
You didnât have to.
Because the truth had already rooted itself deep in Natashaâs chest, undeniable and warm and terrifying.
This was never part of the plan, she thought, fingers curled lightly on the doorframe. But maybe it shouldâve been.
And with that, she disappeared into the steam of the shower, letting herself wash off everything but the thoughts of you that clung stubbornly to her skin.
âYou should take a shower,â you said, rising from the couch with Ana limp and quiet in your arms. âYou look⌠borderline contagious.â
Natasha blinked at you, deadpan. âWow. Thatâs romantic.â
You smirked, shifting Ana carefully to your other side. âJust thinking of your well-being. And mine. Mostly mine.â
She was too tired to quip back. Too tired to do anything, really, except let herself sink deeper into the couch cushions and close her eyes for a moment. Just a moment.
She heard the bathroom door creak open. The faucet run. Then the quiet echo of your voiceâlower, softer, like you only ever used that tone for Ana. Words she couldnât quite catch, but the cadence was gentle, soothing. A rhythm built for trust.
Natasha opened her eyes.
She didnât get up, not yet. She sat there and listened. To the occasional splash. To the stillness in between. To the silence when Ana didnât fuss or cry or fight. No complaints. Just the warm hush of water and care.
Eventually, curiosity pulled her from the couch.
She padded slowly to the bathroom doorway and leaned against it, too exhausted to announce herself, too captivated to interrupt.
You were on the tiled floor, legs crossed, sleeves rolled up. The tub was only half-full, steam curling into the air like a dream. And there she wasâAnaâleaned back against your chest, damp and drowsy, eyes fluttering closed even as you gently ran water over her curls.
She was asleep. In the bath.
Completely, utterly at peace.
And so were you.
Not smiling. Not speaking. Just there, holding her with the kind of quiet reverence Natasha didnât even know you were capable of. Your chin rested lightly on her head. One hand supporting her chest, the other tracing idle shapes on her arm, slow and repetitive. Calming.
It shouldâve been startlingâhow natural it looked.
But all Natasha could think was: Of course itâs you.
Of course youâre the one who could lull her daughter to sleep in the middle of a fever, in the middle of a bath, in the middle of a chaotic day that had nearly brought her to her knees.
You didnât notice her watching, not at first. You were too focused on the moment. Focused on Ana.
And then, quietly, you spoke. âYouâre staring.â
Natasha blinked. âI am not.â
You didnât turn around, but your smirk was audible. âYouâre allowed to be impressed, you know. Iâm amazing.â
She rolled her eyes. âSheâs asleep. You didnât solve world hunger.â
âNot yet. But I did make her smell like lavender and peace.â
You shifted slightly, moving with impossible care as you adjusted her position, resting Ana more securely against you. Her cheek smooshed softly against your shoulder, mouth parted in sleep. She didnât stir. She trusted you. Completely.
âSheâs out,â you said, glancing back. âWant to grab me a towel?â
Natasha hesitated for a second. Then turned around and came back with the softest one she had, warm from the dryer. You took it without fanfare, and in one practiced motion, you scooped Ana from the water and wrapped her up in it, holding her as if she were something precious.
She was.
And Natasha wasnât sure who she was talking about anymore.
You passed her gently in the hallway on your way back to the living room, whispering something into Anaâs ear even though she was fast asleep. Natasha just stood there for a moment, hand still resting on the towel rack.
Then, finally, she stepped into the bathroom.
The tub was still steaming. The scent of soap and baby shampoo clung to the air. And she stared at itâthe water, the stillness, the ghost of a moment that wasnât hers alone anymoreâand for the first time in days, she smiled without exhaustion in her bones.
You were supposed to be a complication.
Instead, you were comfort.
She turned the water back on and stepped out of her clothes slowly, heart still a little full in her chest. As the shower rained down around her, Natasha let her thoughts wanderâjust a little.
To quiet nights and lavender baths.
To soft smiles and someone else cooking soup.
To a world where she wasnât carrying everything alone anymore.
Maybe not just someone.
Maybe you.
The water had helped.
Not in any dramatic, life-changing way, but enough. Enough to strip away the fog in her mind, the heat on her skin, the ache in her muscles that had been screaming for rest. She toweled off slowly, her movements heavy but less desperate now. Steam clung to the mirror as she stepped out into her room, wrapped in one of her fluffiest towels, hair damp and curling against her neck.
And paused.
You were there. Bent over her bed, sleeves pushed up, changing the sheets like it was the most natural thing in the world. You had already stripped the sick-sweat-drenched set and tossed them in the hamper. Now you were laying down clean onesâfresh, cool cotton with the faint scent of lavender detergent. Probably the same kind you used for Anaâs things.
âYou organizing my closet next?â she said, arms crossing loosely over her chest, voice drier than the towel wrapped around her.
You glanced over your shoulder with a grin. âAlready color-coded your knives, too.â
Natasha snorted, dragging her hand through her damp hair. âThis part of the rescue mission, or are you just nesting?â
âSomeone had to make your bed not smell like death,â you replied. âI drew the short straw.â
âReally? I think youâre just obsessed with me.â
You paused for half a second. Just enough for her to notice.
Then you looked at her with a smirk that was half-deflection, half-something warmer. âKeep telling yourself that, Romanoff.â
She hummed and moved slowly toward the bed as you smoothed out the comforter. You were almost done, and her limbs were already sagging with the pull of sleep again. Still, she didnât want to rush this part. This version of youâquietly caring, effortlessly present, always pretending it meant less than it didâit made her want to look twice.
You finished tucking the corners in and stepped back, giving the space a satisfied nod.
âI know,â you said. âPerfect. Youâre welcome.â
Natasha rolled her eyes but sat down, slowly sinking into the clean sheets like they were heaven itself. They felt crisp and cool against her overheated skin, and she let out a sigh she didnât mean to.
âYeah, yeah,â you murmured, watching her with something closer to pride than smugness. âSay it. Iâm incredible.â
She didnât say it. But she smiled.
And when her head hit the pillow, she felt the familiar haze of exhaustion crawling back. Her eyes fluttered shutâbut only for a second, because then you spoke again, voice lower now, less teasing.
âI can stay.â
Natasha blinked up at you.
You were standing beside her, looking down, and for once you werenât hiding behind a joke. âI mean. If you want,â you continued, scratching lightly at the back of your neck. âI can sit with Ana tonight. Keep an eye on her so you can actually sleep.â
It wasnât the offer itself that made her heart stutterâit was the way you made it sound like breathing. Like of course you would. Like this was your home too.
She opened her mouth to say thank you. To tell you that was kind. That you didnât have to.
But what came out instead was, âLie down.â
Your brows lifted. âWhat, here?â
She patted the empty space beside her. âYou already changed the sheets. Might as well test them.â
You hesitated for a breath. Maybe two. Then you moved without a word, toeing off your shoes and sliding in beside her. There was still space between youâbarelyâbut it felt charged. Intentional.
Anaâs soft breathing came from the baby monitor on the nightstand, and for the first time in two long, fever-drenched days, the room felt calm.
You turned your head on the pillow to face her.
âYou sure about this?â
Natasha looked at you. At the girl who didnât like kids. The one who made her soup and changed her sheets and rocked her daughter to sleep in the bath.
âI think Iâve been sure for a while,â she said softly.
You didnât answer.
You just smiledâsmall and a little dazedâand reached over, letting your pinky brush hers between the sheets. Not taking. Not pushing. Just offering.
And Natasha, ex-spy, assassin, motherâshe curled her finger around yours and held on.
The room had gone quiet.
Not the kind of silence that weighed heavy or pressed against your chestâbut a hush that wrapped around them gently. Like it belonged there. Like it had been waiting for them to notice it.
Anaâs breathing was soft through the monitor. The hum of the city outside filtered in faintly through the curtains. But here, in this bed, there was only warmth. And you.
You didnât speak for a while. Neither of you did.
You stayed lying beside her, not touching, not rushing. The kind of nearness that said more than closeness ever could. And Natashaâwho had known how to kill a man in a dozen ways before she ever learned how to ask for helpâjust let herself exist in the moment.
Eventually, your voice broke through the dark.
âDo you miss it?â
She turned her head slightly, eyes finding you in the half-light. âMiss what?â
âThe life before this.â You hesitated, your gaze fixed on the ceiling. âBefore Ana. Before⌠quiet mornings and lavender soap and someone needing you all the time.â
Natasha took a long breath. Then shook her head.
âNo,â she said. âI was good at it. But I never wanted to go back to that.â
You nodded, slow. Processing.
âI didnât think youâd say that,â you admitted, voice quieter now. âEveryone talks about you like you were unstoppable. Like you were this myth in red.â
Natasha smiled faintly. âI was a myth. But it wasnât peace. It was noise. Constant noise. I didnât realize how tired I was until she was born.â
You looked over at her. âAnd now?â
She met your eyes. âNow itâs like⌠I finally exhaled. Like I didnât even know I was holding my breath until I saw her.â
There was a pause. You shifted slightly, the sheets rustling just a little. âSheâs lucky to have you.â
âIâm lucky to have her,â Natasha corrected gently. And then, after a beat, her voice softer: âAnd I think Iâm starting to feel the same way about you.â
You blinked. Slowly. As if the words had knocked the air out of you without even touching you.
âYou donât have to say that,â you murmured, eyes flickering down. âJust because Iâve been showing up. I mean⌠anyone would, right?â
âNo,â Natasha said simply.
She reached out thenânot boldly, but with certaintyâand let her hand rest on your arm, grounding, warm. âNot anyone. You.â
You swallowed hard, and for a second, she thought you might pull away. Instead, you turned toward her a little more, eyes clearer than sheâd seen them all night.
âI didnât think I had room for this,â you said, and the way your voice cracked a little almost broke her. âNot just the kid thing. Any of it. I have lived on my own since I was seventeen. I wasnât built for this kind of⌠closeness. I thought it would break me.â
You let out a shaky breath. Then, tentatively, like you were still surprised it was allowed, you reached for her hand and held it fully this time.
âSometimes I think she knew before I did,â you said.
âWho?â Natasha asked.
âAna.â Your voice turned fond. âShe just⌠decided. I walked into that briefing room and it was over. She picked me. I never stood a chance.â
Natasha smiled againâtired, wrecked, but so full of feeling it ached.
âShe does have good taste.â
âYeah,â you said, thumb brushing over hers. âShe really does.â
Another pause. But this time, it wasnât empty. It was fullâof something new, something forming in the quiet between you.
âI can stay,â you said again, softer. âNot just tonight. If youâll let me.â
Natasha didnât answer right away.
She looked at you, fully and openly, and saw the way you looked backâunguarded, raw, still scared, but trying.
Trying for them.
So she gave you the simplest answer she could.
âYou already are.â
You didnât say anything at first. Just watched her, eyes barely open, red hair a damp halo on her pillow, face soft in a way the world rarely got to see. That expressionâthe quiet, raw one that didnât come from war zones or missions or victory, but from something quieter. Something safe.
You shifted, slow and careful, until your body was turned fully toward her. And then, without asking, without needing to, you reached out and wrapped your arm around her waist. Gently, but without hesitation.
Natasha didnât tense. Didnât joke or protest or pretend to be made of stone.
She just let you do it.
And when you pulled her against youâwhen you guided her into your space like she belonged thereâshe went easily. Folded into you like sheâd been waiting for it all along. Her back settled against your chest, her breath hitched just once, and then her whole body melted.
You held her close. Not like she might disappear, but like you were tired of pretending you didnât want to. Like holding her was the most natural conclusion to every shared moment before this.
Your arm tucked snugly around her waist. Your nose brushed the back of her hair. She smelled like clean skin, steam, and something faintly herbalâmaybe Anaâs baby shampoo, clinging to her like a memory. She was warm and exhausted and completely real.
For a long moment, neither of you moved. The world couldâve fallen apart around you and it wouldnât have mattered.
âIs this okay?â you murmured against her shoulder, voice almost lost in the dark.
She nodded, a slow movement against your pillow. âItâs more than okay.â
You felt her fingers brush yours where they rested on her stomach, weaving through them with deliberate care. Not asking. Not rushing. Just saying Iâm here.
And she didnât speak again. Didnât need to. She let out a shaky sighâhalf relief, half something deeperâand her muscles softened further in your arms. She nestled closer, fitting her body more tightly to yours until you could feel every small breath, every quiet shift, every wordless surrender.
You held her tighter. Pressed your forehead lightly to the back of her neck. Whispered her name once, like a promise.
And when she finally fell asleep like thatâsafe, held, lovedâyou stayed awake just a little longer. Listening to her breathing even out. Feeling the weight of her against you.
sumary: The last thing Natasha expected was for her one-and-Half-year-old daughter to fall head over heels for the one person on the team who didnât like kids.
Paring: Natasha Romanoff x fem reader. Natasha Romanoff x platonic!avengers
Word count: 5075
warnings: age gap, light mommy issues if you squirm your eyes, fluffly content, Natasha being the best mom ever, light humor and jokes
Natasha had never been the type to hope for softness.
Not for herself, at least.
Sheâd made her peace with that years agoâon the rooftops of Budapest, in the sterile hallways of S.H.I.E.L.D., in the long silences between missions where guilt and memory left no room for sentiment. And then came Ana. Not by accident. Not by surprise. By choice. Hers. A deliberate, defiant, I want this, spoken with all the clarity of a life finally claimed.
She never regretted a moment of it. Not the injections. Not the procedures. Not the days spent alone, watching her body change, knowing no one was coming but not needing anyone to. Ana was the best thing sheâd ever done. Her softness, her quiet, her stubborn sparkâthat was Natashaâs legacy now. Not blood. Not missions. Her. Anasthasia Irina Romanoff. Sheâd chosen Irina long before Ana was even born. It wasnât a family name, or a tribute to anyone in her pastâit was a hope. Irina meant peace, and thatâs what Ana was. Her stillness after decades of running. Her soft beginning after a life of sharp edges. Natasha had spent so many years living on instinct, choosing danger over safety, solitude over softness. But Ana was different. Ana meant slow mornings. Shared breakfasts. Laughter in the middle of the day for no reason at all. She gave her the name Irina because, for the first time, Natasha wasnât surviving anymore. She was living. And Ana was the reason why.And maybe thatâs why she was so protective of itâwhy she kept the world at armâs length and Ana even closer. This calm, this rhythm sheâd built, it was fragile in the way that mattered most. So when new variables appearedânew people, new energiesâNatasha never let them close enough to shift the balance.
So she didnât expect anything to come from your arrival.
Not in the way that mattered.
You were Tonyâs daughter, and Natasha had always paid attention to the way people spoke about youâwith a mixture of respect and restraint, like they werenât quite sure what to do with someone who carried the Stark name but none of his chaos. She knew you joined S.H.I.E.L.D. when you were barely old enough to be called an adult, that youâd carved your space without leaning on legacy, and that youâd been stationed in England for the last few yearsâlow profile, high results.
She also knew something more personal. Something quieter.
You didnât like children.
Not in a cold, heartless way. You werenât cruel. You were respectfulâalways. Natasha remembered the way you helped Lila Barton when she scraped her knee during a holiday visit, how youâd stayed still and calm while the girl sobbed against your shoulder. But the moment she calmed, youâd set her down gently and disappeared from the room like your presence had been an accident. You didnât mock them, or treat them like they were less-than. You just⌠didnât want them near. Didnât invite them close. Natasha understood that. Some people didnât crave the chaos, the unpredictability, the weight of something small depending on you.
That was fine.
That was expected.
Which is why she didnât even flinch when she brought Ana to the morning briefing.
The meeting was scheduled in one of the larger lounge roomsâbright windows, low coffee tables, plenty of space for Ana to exist without needing constant wrangling. Natasha had done this dozens of times. Her daughter came with her everywhere now. She didnât leave Ana behind unless she absolutely had to. The team had long since adapted.
You, however, were new.
She entered the room with Ana tucked against her side, one arm looped around the childâs waist with practiced ease. You were already seatedâcoffee in hand, face unreadable, posture casual but distant. Natasha didnât expect more than a polite nod, maybe a glance. And thatâs what she got. You didnât tense. You didnât retreat. You simply acknowledged her presence and turned your eyes back to the screen.
But Ana didnât.
Ana saw you. And for the first time since Natasha could remember, her daughter paused.
Not in fear. Not in confusion. In recognition.
It started as a slow shiftâher little body repositioning against Natashaâs ribs, eyes locked in your direction, curious and alert. Then the squirming began. Not impatient, not fussyâfocused. Ana leaned out of her arms, little hand pointing downward.
Natasha frowned. âWhatâs going on, kotyonok?â she murmured, brushing her lips lightly across Anaâs hair.
âDown,â Ana whispered.
Natasha blinked.
Ana rarely asked to leave her arms during meetings. And never in unfamiliar rooms. Sheâd been clingy the last few daysâteething, off her sleep schedule, adjusting to so many new faces around the compound again. But now, her little legs were kicking softly, hands gripping at Natashaâs shirt in earnest.
âDown,â she repeated.
Natasha hesitatedâglanced at you.
You werenât watching Ana anymore. You were watching her. Confused. Curious. But not annoyed. Not disapproving.
Natasha could read people down to the smallest twitch of a muscle, and in that moment, she read one thing clearly: you didnât know what was happening either.
So she shifted forward and lowered Ana gently to the carpeted floor.
Anaâs sneakers touched down. She took one look backâbrief, instinctiveâthen turned toward you like she already knew the path.
Natashaâs chest tightened.
One step. Then another.
You looked up.
There was a breath, the room shrinking around it.
Ana stopped at your knees. Her curls were mussed from her motherâs shoulder, her little fox plush dangling from one hand. She tilted her head to look at you properly. She didnât blink.
And then she lifted both arms toward you.
âLap.â
You froze.
Not in fear. Not rejection. Natasha saw itâsomething break quietly across your expression, the way your eyebrows lifted just slightly, like your own body didnât understand how it was reacting before your brain caught up. There was no mask now. No calm Stark logic, no precise detachment. Just youâand the shock of being chosen by someone so small, so unrelenting, and so certain.
Natasha didnât move.
She stood where she was, heart pounding quietly behind her ribs, not from fear or worryâbut something more intimate. Something that reached the parts of her still holding every shattered version of family sheâd ever known. She watched as you stared down at the child who had never, not once, walked into a strangerâs arms. And she waited. Because whatever happened next⌠would matter.
You didnât reach for Ana immediately.
Natasha noticed the exact moment your eyes liftedânot to the child now reaching for you with unwavering certainty, but to her. And it wasnât a question. Not quite. There was no panic in your expression, no discomfort. Just a pause. A stillness that asked without words: Is this alright?
And Natasha, who rarely let anyone past the perimeter of her trust, gave you the smallest, most intentional nod.
You moved like someone reaching into deep waterâcarefully, gently, aware of the weight of what you were about to hold. Your hands met Anaâs sides, small and secure, and you lifted her with practiced ease, as though this wasnât the first time, as though her body already knew how to fold against yours. She settled into your lap like it belonged to her.
Like she had always meant to end up there.
Natashaâs breath caught in her throat.
Ana laid her head lightly against your chest, little cheek pressing into the dark fabric of your jacket. One of her hands tucked the fox between your arm and her belly; the otherâsmall, dimpled fingersâreached up to your collarbone and found your hand.
And then she started to play.
Not with toys, not with distractions. Just your hand. Your fingers. One by one she explored them, pressing her thumb into your palm, curling your pinky against her own, dragging the tips along her forehead in idle motion. Her eyes drifted half-closed, calm and curious, while you stayed perfectly stillâwatching her with that same look Natasha couldnât read.
It was almost unbearable, the quiet of the moment.
The meeting had technically begun, but Natasha hadnât registered a single word Steve said. She hadnât even sat down. She just stood near the door, arms crossed, eyes on the impossible softness blooming in front of her.
Because thatâs what it was. Impossible.
You hadnât flinched. You hadnât hesitated. You hadnât done what most people didâsmile politely, hand Ana back, or distract her with something shiny so they could pass her off. You were just⌠there. Entirely present. Letting her settle. Letting her explore. Letting her choose.
And she had chosen you.
The worst partâif she could call it thatâwas that Natasha wasnât angry. She wasnât suspicious. She wasnât even surprised anymore.
Because looking at you nowâback straight, eyes lowered, completely surrendered to the tiny storm nestled in your lapâsomething made sense in her chest that hadnât before.
Ana had found something.
Or maybe, someone.
And Natasha wasnât sure what that meant yet, or how far she would allow it to growâbut for the first time in longer than she could remember, she didnât feel the need to pull away. She walked slowly to her seat across from you, quiet as a shadow, never breaking the spell. And when she sat down, she didnât take her eyes off you. The briefing wrapped without fanfare.
Steveâs voice faded into background noise, Bruce gathered his notes, and the others filtered out one by one with practiced efficiency. No one commented on Anaâno one dared. Maybe because they saw the weight of the moment. Maybe because it wasnât theirs to touch.
The room was almost too quiet now.
Ana had slipped fully into sleep, her tiny hand still curled lazily around your finger, her head rising and falling against your chest like sheâd found the safest place in the universe. You hadnât moved. Not really. Just shifted to make her more comfortableâlet her sink deeper into you without hesitation, like her weight belonged there.
Natasha couldnât look away.
You hadnât noticedâat least, she thought you hadnât. You never were one to fidget under attention. But there was something different about you now. Something unguarded beneath all that calm.
âI have to admit,â she said, voice low, âthis wasnât how I pictured our first real conversation going.â
You glanced at her, brow arching just a little. âAnd how did you picture it?â
Natashaâs lips twitched. âNot with my daughter wrapped around you like a vine.â
You leaned back slightly, careful not to disturb Ana, and gave her that expressionâdry, sharp, quietly amused. âYou sound jealous.â
Her eyebrow lifted. âShould I be?â
You made a show of glancing down at Ana, then shrugged one shoulderâso subtle it barely moved her. âSheâs got good taste.â
The laugh caught in Natashaâs throat before she could stop it. Soft, surprised. God, you were so damn composed, and yet there was something underneath that surfaceâa spark of something warmer, something playful. She hadnât expected that. And she was rarely caught off guard.
âI should warn you,â she said, leaning her elbows on the table. âIf you let her get used to that lap, youâre going to regret it.â
âI donât regret much.â
âSheâs one and a half. Youâll regret it the next time you try to drink a coffee without someone demanding half of it.â
You smiledânot a smirk, not your usual reserved grin. An actual smile. And Natasha had to look away, just for a moment, because something in her chest pulled taut at the sight.
âAnd here I thought you brought her to meetings as a distraction tactic,â you said.
She looked back at you with narrowed eyes, playful. âYou think Iâd use my daughter to throw someone off their game?â
âI think,â you said, gaze darkening just a little, âthat if anyone could weaponize a toddler, itâd be you.â
Natasha laughed, this time all the wayâlow and warm in her chest, real in a way she didnât usually allow to slip out. She shook her head, leaning back in her chair.
âYouâre dangerous,â she muttered.
You tilted your head. âMe? Youâre the trained assassin.â
âExactly.â Her eyes dropped to the sleeping girl between you. âAnd youâre the one she asked for.â
The silence curled again. Not cold. Not awkward. Just thick with something unnamed.
You looked down at Ana once more, brushing a thumb lightly over her curls where they stuck up against your collar. âDonât get used to this,â you said, not looking at Natasha. âIâm still not a fan of kids.â
âYou keep telling yourself that,â she replied, watching the way you softened around the edges without realizing it.Natasha didnât argueâshe didnât have to. The proof was already wrapped around your side in cookie-stained pajamas. She just watched you go, a quiet smile tugging at her mouth, the kind that stayed long after youâd left the room.
She knew this wouldn't be a one- time thing.Â
A few days later, the morning unfolded differently, slower. Late morning sunlight filtered lazily into the kitchen, warm and indifferent. It fell across the countertops, gleamed off metal handles, and lit the soft chaos that was breakfastâor rather, the battle of breakfast.
Ana was seated in her high chair like a tiny queen in revolt, arms crossed firmly, lips pursed in open rebellion. The oatmeal had gone cold fifteen minutes ago. Natasha had tried coaxing, bribing, even threatening to call Bruce if she didnât eat. Nothing worked. The spoon sat abandoned in the bowl like a white flag.
âYou are so lucky youâre cute,â Natasha muttered, scrubbing a hand down her face. âOther peopleâs kids donât get away with this.â
Ana remained unimpressed. She glared past Natashaâs shoulder as if expecting reinforcements.
The door creaked open behind them.
Natasha didnât turn around right awayâshe was too focused on pretending she wasnât about to lose a diplomatic war with a toddler. But she didnât need to look. She could hear it: the shuffle of slow, dragging footsteps, the soft grunt of someone whose soul was not yet awake. Then came the familiar hiss of the espresso machine, followed by the rustling of a bakery bag.
Youâd arrived.
She turned.
You looked⌠awful.
Delightfully awful.
Hair wild from sleep, hoodie half-zipped, mismatched socks peeking out under flannel pants. You were cradling your coffee mug like a lifeline, eyes heavy-lidded, mouth in a petulant line that said youâd only been conscious for five minutes and deeply regretted that fact.
In your other hand: a cheese croissant, still warm, still flaking. You tore off a corner and bit into it like someone performing life-saving triage.
Ana stared, Hard. So damn hard.
Not at Natasha. Not at the bowl of oatmeal sheâd rejected like poison. But at you.
You took another bite, chewed, then finally glanced upâand blinked, slow and heavy.
Your gaze drifted to the high chair. To Anaâs unrelenting eyes. Then to Natasha.
âI take it weâre in the starvation phase of child rearing?â
âSheâs being dramatic,â Natasha said.
Ana made a noise like a whimper and kicked her feet, You squinted at her. Then reached forward, broke off a soft piece of croissant, and held it out between your fingers.
Ana took it like it was sacred.
âTraitor,â Natasha muttered under her breath.
You made a sound between a hum and a sigh and dropped into a chair with all the weight of someone being punished by existence itself. âIâve been up for six minutes,â you mumbled. âI havenât even looked at another human being yet.â
Ana reached again, You fed her another bite.
Natasha narrowed her eyes. âYou know thatâs not helping, right?â
âShe was clearly starving.â
âI told youâsheâs not.â
âSheâs got the same face I do when I havenât eaten,â you said, deadpan. âWe understand each other.â
Natasha studied you, the way you slouched, bleary-eyed and nonverbal, croissant in one hand, coffee in the other. She looked at Anaâmirroring your expression almost perfectly, down to the pout and the silent demand for carbs.
She huffed a laugh.
âMy God. Youâre the same person.â
You gave her a tired glare. âKeep talking. See if I share.â
âYouâre both insufferable when hungry.â
âSounds like someoneâs jealous.â
Natasha crossed her arms. âOf what? Your shared standoffish breakfast cult?â
You sipped your coffee slowly, eyes flicking to Ana and back.
âShe chose me,â you said, tone flat but triumphant. âI donât make the rules.â
Ana squeaked with joy, flailing her hands toward the croissant again.
âShe betrayed me,â Natasha replied, pointing to the untouched oatmeal. âI gave her life. You gave her cheese.â
You shrugged, already handing Ana another piece. âSheâs got good taste.â
Natasha shook her head, lips twitching as she turned away to clean up the bowl of oatmeal. âYouâre both ridiculous.â
You yawned, eyes half-lidded as Ana leaned her head dramatically on the edge of the tray, already chewing the last bite like it was a reward for surviving the morning. You were still half-asleep, leaning into your chair like gravity was trying to reclaim you, clinging to that coffee as if it were the only thing standing between you and the grave. You were cranky, antisocial before noon, and notoriously stubborn about foodâespecially when it was yours.
Which is why Natasha watched with mild astonishment as you rolled your eyes in a perfectly theatrical arc, sighed like a martyr, and wordlessly handed the rest of your croissant to Ana.
She squeaked with joy and took it like treasure, immediately stuffing the larger half into her mouth with both hands.
âUnbelievable,â Natasha muttered, not even bothering to hide her smile.
You ignored her, sipping your coffee in silence like you regretted every decision that had led to this exact moment. Your eyes were dark and tired, but there was no real irritation behind them. Just that quiet resignation you always wore when you knew you were losing a battle you never meant to fight in the first place.
You took another sip, then looked at her across the kitchenâeyes still half-lidded, voice hoarse with sleep.
âGive me the oatmeal.â
Natasha blinked. âWhat?â
You gestured vaguely toward the abandoned bowl. âShe doesnât want it. And Iâm starving.â
A beat of silence stretched between you.
Then, without a word, Natasha reached for the bowl and walked it over, setting it in front of you with a raised eyebrow. You didnât meet her gaze. You just set your coffee aside and picked up the spoon like someone about to make peace with their fate.
Ana was already chewing noisily beside you, bits of pastry stuck to her cheek.
Natasha crossed her arms, leaning against the counter again. âSo let me get this straight,â she said, lips twitching. âYou wonât share food with me, but she gets the last of your croissant and your breakfast?â
âShe didnât ask for it,â you said without looking up. âShe demanded it with her eyes.â
âRight. So toddler mind control. Thatâs the explanation weâre going with.â
âSheâs persuasive.â
âSheâs one and a half.â
You glanced up then, finally, spoon midair. Your expression was blank, deadpan, and yet something in your eyes sparked with mischief.
âSo am I,â you said.
And Natasha felt itâthat little flicker again. The warmth that was growing far too easily in the quiet spaces between these moments. It settled somewhere under her ribs, soft and persistent.
You looked back down and took a bite of the oatmeal without flinching.
Ana, satisfied and full of croissant, leaned against the side of your arm and let out a sigh so deep it could only have come from the depths of her soul.
Natasha didnât say anything else.
She just stood there, watching the two of youâboth stubborn, both sleepy, both impossibleâand thought, this isnât going to stay simple, is it?
But she didnât say that either.
She just smiled.And watched you keep pretending like you werenât already halfway hers.Days passed like thatâquiet, unspoken things folding themselves into the rhythm of the compound. You didnât come looking for Ana, but she kept finding you anyway. And Natasha⌠well, she kept watching. Kept noticing the way your edges softened more each time.
Then came the briefing.
It had started as a simple mission briefing. Nothing classified, nothing urgentâjust a routine strategy session with the new intel team that Natasha absolutely couldnât reschedule. One hour, tops. Ana would barely notice she was gone.
She was so wrong.
Clint had been her first call. Obvious choice. He knew how to juggle five kids and a mission report without blinking. But the moment Natasha handed Ana over, the girl went stiff in his arms like a statue, then started wailing as if heâd personally betrayed her.
Wanda tried next. Ana let her hold her for a full five seconds before twisting away like a feral cat and screeching âNO!â in a tone that made two agents duck for cover.
Steve, bless him, had approached with his most diplomatic smile and a stuffed bear in hand, only to be met with the full force of toddler disdain. Ana didnât scream that timeâjust buried her face in Natashaâs neck and growled.
And Natasha⌠Natasha was five minutes late to her briefing and dangerously close to losing her mind.
Which is why, when you happened to pass byâcoffee in one hand, tablet in the other, clearly heading for the lab and not remotely interested in babysittingâNatasha didnât think.
She acted.
âAna, sweetheart?â she whispered, shifting the toddler to her hip. âDo you want to go see her?â
Ana lifted her head.
Wide green eyes blinked once. Then a slow, devilish smile curled across her face.
That was all Natasha needed.
âCatch,â she said dryly.
You turned just in time to fumble and catch the small human now squirming gleefully into your arms like she belonged there.
âWaitâwhat theââ
âThanks!â Natasha called over her shoulder, already halfway down the corridor before you could protest.
Ana squealed in delight.
Natasha didnât look back.
She made it to the meeting just in time. And to her own surprise, she didnât spend the whole thing worried. Something about knowing Ana was with youâdespite the fact you hated children (or said you did)âhad her oddly at ease.
By the time she wrapped up and returned to the common floor, it had been almost ninety minutes. The hallway smelled faintly of coffee and cleaning supplies. Bruceâs voice echoed from the open lab door, calm and methodical, talking through some kind of energy recalibration.
And there you were.
One hip leaned against the table, the other supporting Ana, who looked perfectly at home in the crook of your arm.
Your hair was pulled into a haphazard bun, your shirt was half-untucked and absolutely covered in cookie crumbs. Anaâs fingers were dusted with sugar. You were talking to Bruce about vibrational decay patterns in multi-core reactors, as if the weight of a toddler on your hip was completely natural. Your other hand gestured midair, precise, animated, still clutching a small whiteboard marker.
Ana watched your mouth move as if following every word.
Then she gaggedâloudly and dramatically.
Not because of anything serious. Just⌠toddler flair.
You paused mid-sentence, looked down, and sighed. âRude.â
Bruce snorted. âShe takes after you.â
âShe has better fashion sense.â
Ana giggled, then burrowed her face into your shoulder.
Natasha stood in the doorway, unnoticed for a second longer, just⌠watching. The way your body shifted automatically to balance Anaâs weight. The way you wiped her mouth with the edge of your sleeve without looking. The way you didnât rush to give her back, or seem particularly bothered by the crumbs now stuck to your pants.
She cleared her throat.
You looked up, brows raised. âHey.â
Natasha raised one eyebrow. âSo⌠is this your new lab assistant?â
You looked at Ana, who blinked at her mother and clung just a little tighter.
âShe works for cookies,â you said. âAnd occasionally heckles my equations.â
Natasha bit back a smile, folding her arms. âWell, sheâs my daughter.â
âSheâs very opinionated,â you said dryly, adjusting her on your hip. âShe gagged at my thesis. Iâm considering it a peer review.â
Ana giggled again, tucking her head against your collarbone.
Natasha stared at the two of you for another second, then finally stepped forward, brushing a few crumbs off your shoulder. Her fingers lingered a little longer than they needed to.
âYouâre a mess,â she murmured.
You smirked. âI could be Your mess.â
She looked at you. And the words stuck somewhere behind her teeth, She didnât say them.
Not yet.
Instead, she stepped forward, reaching her arms out gently. âAlright, peanut,â she said softly. âCome here.â
Ana blinked up at her mother, expression unreadable for a split second⌠then, without protest, reached out. You transferred her easily, and the little girl immediately curled into Natashaâs hold like sheâd been waiting for it all alongâher thumb going straight to her mouth, her head resting against the curve of her motherâs neck.
Warm.
Quiet.
Home.
Natashaâs hand rubbed small circles against her daughterâs back, and for a second, she just breathed her in. The scent of cookies, and your cologne, and a hint of vanilla shampoo clinging to soft hair.
âSheâs full of sugar and attitude,â you said, brushing a crumb off your shirt.
Natasha glanced at you over Anaâs curls. âSheâs exactly where she gets it from.â
You tilted your head, already sipping the coffee youâd left to cool. âYou sure about that?â
Her smile curved lazily. âKeep telling yourself that.â
Then she walked awayâAna heavy and content in her arms, safe, sleepy, and smiling like someone who had everything she wanted in one place. Natasha had gone to her apartment at the Tower âjust late enough for the city to fall into a quieter rhythm, just early enough that Natasha hadnât had time to put up her usual walls.
Ana was half-asleep on her shoulder, cheek pressed against her collarbone, and Natasha held her like she was made of something finer than glass. There was oatmeal in her hair. Cookie crumbs on her onesie. A smudge of ink on her tiny palm, and no one knew how it got there.
But Natasha had seen it.
She had seen it.
Sheâd walked into that lab expecting chaosâBruce hunched over a console, a loose wire sparking somewhere, maybe you arguing with JARVIS about protocols. But instead she found you standing still in the middle of it all, with Ana on your hip and your shirt covered in evidence of breakfast bribery.
You didnât even pause the conversation with Bruce. You just kept talking about cellular decay patterns, as if you hadnât realized Ana was happily gnawing on a pencil and gagging every time you used the word âneurotransmitter.â
And that sound you madeâthat little laugh when she fake-gagged for the third time?
It rewired something in Natasha.
Now she sat at the edge of Anaâs bed, staring down at the little culprit like sheâd committed an unforgivable act of treason.
âYou traitor,â she whispered.
Ana, half-asleep and blissfully unaware of her crimes, blinked lazily at her mother, thumb already in her mouth.
Natasha sighed, brushing a loose curl from her daughterâs cheek.
âYou did this on purpose.â
Ana made a content hum and reached for her blanket.
âDonât play innocent now,â Natasha murmured, tucking the soft fabric under her chin. âI was fine. You hear me? I had balance. I had boundaries. I had one thingâone tiny, simple rule that I lived by.â
Ana blinked again. Unbothered.
âDonât fall for anyone.â
Natasha exhaled through her nose, quiet and helpless.
âYou were supposed to be the only love of my life, peanut. You. I planned for you. I fought for you. You were the only thing I ever let myself want.â
She leaned down, pressing a kiss to Anaâs hair.
âI walked into that room today and you were hers. Justâcompletely and shamelessly hers. You were giving her orders like a little general and she was just taking it. And smiling. She never smiles like that.â
Ana giggled softly, maybe in her sleep. Natasha narrowed her eyes.
âIs this part of your long con? Huh? Were you trying to get yourself a stepmama? Because listenâif thatâs your endgame, we need to have a serious strategy talk.â
Ana rolled a little, settling deeper into the mattress. Her small hand rested against her chest, and Natasha just⌠stared.
âShe doesnât even like kids, you know,â she continued, as if trying to justify this to someone who hadnât been there. âSheâs the one who leaves birthday parties early. She practically hisses when Clint brings his brood around. You sneeze near her with a juice box and sheâs gone.â
She paused.
âBut not with you.â
A slow breath pushed from Natashaâs lungs.
âShe picks you up like you weigh nothing. She lets you shove half your breakfast into her mouth and doesnât even blink. And I saw her yesterdayâreading with one hand while you chewed on the other. I donât even think she noticed.â
Anaâs breathing started to slow again, thumb slipping lazily from her mouth.
âAnd the worst part?â Natasha whispered. âShe makes it look easy. Like maybe⌠maybe this whole thing isnât a fluke. Like maybe she could actually stay.â
The confession hung in the dark like a sigh caught midair.
Natasha leaned down, resting her forehead against Anaâs tiny one.
âI didnât see it coming. I didnât want to see it coming. But you⌠You threw her right into the center of our orbit like it was nothing.â
She kissed her daughter again, voice teasing even as her chest ached.
âYou couldnât have picked someone older? Someone predictable? Someone whoâs not Tony Starkâs daughter, for godâs sake?â
Ana didnât answer.
Didnât need to.
Natasha ran a slow hand down her back, feeling the weight of love settle over her like a soft storm.
âYouâre trouble,â she murmured. âBut the best kind.â
Then she stood, brushing her fingers one last time across Anaâs cheek.
âYou really couldnât wait for me to fall first, huh?â
She flicked off the light.
Behind her, Ana slept soundly.
And Natasha stayed frozen in the doorway for just a moment longer⌠shaking her head to herself.
âKeep telling yourself that,â she muttered, her voice low and wryâaimed at the girl down the hall who had no idea what sheâd just done.
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Sequel to Game, Set, Match that was on my drafts and just decided to post lol.
Tennis player Natasha Romanoff x F!R
--
The grass is always greener at the start of the season.
No matter how many times you step in, Wimbledon always takes your breath away. The view is especially magnificent today, as your eyes follow the figure of your girlfriend, Natasha Romanoff.
Fury grumbles next to you.
âIs there a problem?â
âSheâs down! 3 games to lob on the first set. Why are you not freaking out right now?â the man whisper yells and Melina glares, shushing him.
âSheâs boredâ you say after she loses the fourth game.
âWhat did you just say?â
âNatashaâs bored. She won Roland Garros 6-0, 6-1, so she wants to make this at least a bit entertainingâ
âWell, could she possibly play sudoku or something else to combat this boredom? If I wasnât bald already Iâd be losing my hair from the stressâ
After the break, and as you suspected, Natasha wins three games in a row. You admire her graceful movements as she sprints across the court. Sheâs wearing all white, as tradition requires. Such a shame that her team opted for a polo shirt. Yes, she looks elegant, but youâd rather see those toned arm muscles as she exerts herself.
âFuckâ
Natashaâs outburst and the crowdâs gasp break your train of thought.
âAre you kidding me? That ball was so inâ she challenges the call.
âThatâs the ruleâ umpire Steve Rogers, aka Mister Manners, says.
âThatâs bullshitâ
âMs. Romanoff, language!â he says, truly shocked. Youâre amused, because Natasha can do so much worse than that.
So much dirtierâŚ
âStop itâ Yelena elbows you.
âStop what?â
âLooking like youâre ready to throw your panties to the courtâ
âIf that keeps the press from asking about her little outburst, be my guestâ Fury sighs.
But youâre already on it.
After throwing her racket across the court, Natasha has to go the extra mile to win 7-5 on the first set. Throughout the rest of the match, you make sure your left hand is showing the big diamond ring Natasha gave you.
âYouâre already trending on Twitterâ Yelena says, amazed. âThank God youâre on our side, evil geniusâ
Natasha wins the second set easily, and is saved from the court interview by the English rain.
âNice. The tennis part, not the tantrum in the middle of the gameâ Fury says.
âCome on, the umpire was being an idiot. How long do I have before the press conference?â
â20 minutes, give or take. Donât worry, theyâll be nice to youâ
You show the ring and she nods.
It all started as an honest mistake. Yes, Natasha had given you this particular ring as a present, and yes youâd wore it in public. But the speculation of an engagement was enough to boost her public persona, so you ran with it.
âYou know, when I get you an actual engagement ring, it will be hugeâ she says, pulling you closer to kiss you.
âI donât have a preference on that regard, Miss Romanoffâ you smile against her lips.
âReally? I was under the impression you liked how big my straâŚâ
âAaaah! Stop. I should have stayed in New York!â Yelena says, leaving the locker room in a rush.
â
âHave you set a date?â is the first thing a journalist asks during the press conference.
âDate for what, David?â Natasha plays dumb.
âWeâve all seen the huge diamond ring on Y/N's finger. Or maybe youâre planning on getting married right in the middle of the court once you reach the Golden Slamâ
âNo commentâ Natasha says, holding back laughter.
â
Itâs been two years since the start of your relationship with Natasha. Once it became clear that you were both committed to making it work, you quit your job and joined her team, as PR manager/mediator when Fury and Natasha were butting heads.
At first, you were worried that Iâd be too weird to work with Natasha, but she valued your input and trusted you. Two things she had never found in anyone else aside from her family and Fury.
The fact she had won 3 grand slams last year and was on route to completing the golden calendar this year was a testament to how good you were as a team.
Knowing her after match routine, you figure thereâs some time to catch up with Buckyâs first round match. He gets the job done in straight sets, and you wait for his interview to be over.
âHey, defending championâ you say, looping your arm around his. He smiles.
âHi, coach Y/L/Nâ
âGlad to see umpire Jarvis wasnât a total asshole to you this timeâ you mutter, looking around as a couple of kids approach Bucky for autographs.
âMight be too busy with all the Maximoff dramaâ
âOh?â
Though Wanda had stopped trying to mess with Natasha since you two became public, you were always on edge when it came to her. It couldnât hurt to have any extra intel on Maximoff.
âWord on the street is that they broke upâ Bucky lowers his voice, placing his hand on your back. âYou didnât hear it from meâ
âMy lips are sealedâ
âHopefully not for food. Iâm starvingâ
âLunch on me, champâ
â
âIâm homeâ you joke as usual, stepping foot on the hotel suite. That had been the hardest part of your new life.
You didnât spend more than two weeks in the same country, and being alone with Natasha was a rare ocurrence.
There were times when you missed your couch and the Indian food from around the corner of your apartment.
The sight that greets you is enough to make up for it.
Natasha is stretching in nothing but leggins and a sports bra, her perfect ass on full display as she bends over in a complicated yoga stance.
âNow thatâs a championâs assâ you whistle.
The redhead smiles and straightens, raising her arms above her head. You take the opportunity to wrap your arms around her waist, kissing her neck. âWhereâs everybody?â
âThey went to get some foodâ
âPerfect timingâ you whisper against her skin, enjoying the soft smell of lavender. Your hands wander all the way down to her ass and slap playfully.
âYou know the ruleâ Natasha warns, but still melts against your touch.
You huff, annoyed. Stupid, stupid rule. No sex during tournaments.
âI have to wait two more weeks to taste you? How is that fair, baby?â
âDonât I make it up to you everytime?â
âLet me justâŚâ you kneel hugging her hips and placing kisses on the small of her back. âIâll take care of everything. Just bend over and spread those pretty legs for meâ
âY/NâŚâ you can tell by her tone sheâs ready to give in and you smile.
âHope you are all starving⌠ah! AGAIN! I quitâ Yelena shouts as she walks in on you.
âStep away, Y/Nâ Fury warns as you stand up and whimper pathetically against Natashaâs shoulder. âGo take a cold shower.â
âNot fairâ you cry out. Natasha chuckles, leaning forward and kissing your neck. A blush spreads as you imagine her lips in other parts of your body. âReally not fairâ
â
It wouldnât be Wimbledon without a rain delay. Considering Nat lost the second set against Danvers, a little break might be good for her.
As you wait for the weather to improve, you keep looking at your calendar and the meeting that no one knows about. Of course it has to happen the minute the match resumes.
âIâll be right thereâ you promise, knowing it will be a quick call anyway.
âRamonda speakingâ the voice on the other end greets. She knows itâs you, but still makes you introduce yourself. You expect nothing else from the head of the WTA. âHave you thought about my proposal?â
âItâs very generous⌠but Iâm afraid Iâll have to reject itâ
Head of Communications for the Womenâs Tennis Association. Being on the citcuit for two years had put you on the map, beyond your wildest expectations.
But you would never leave Natasha. You are a team.
âYouâll still be able to see your girlfriend, if thatâs what youâre worried aboutâ the woman says, with a certain condescention in her voice.
âLike I said⌠itâs very generous. But I am where I need to be. Thank you, Ramondaâ
Thereâs a pause and you wonder if the woman will call you a fool and hang up.
âLook, our current director is leaving at the end of the USO anyway. Weâll hire a consultig firm for a bit, and I hope youâve had more time to think about thisâ
âAlrightâ
Your answer will be the same, but right now you need to go back to the game. Ramonda says her goodbyes and promises to send a better offer by the end of the month.
It makes you dizzy, to think that a local news reporter like yourself could ever do such a huge job.
âYou look a little paleâ a voice with a thick Russian accent says as you leave the locker room.
It takes you a moment to recognise it.
âAlexeiâ
âSurprised to see me?â
âWell, yes. Considering youâre banned from the clubâ you hope that heâll take offense and end the conversation. But the man laughs, showing his gold teeth.
âI still have my connectionsâ
âNatasha is not hereâ
âIâm not here to see her. Not right now, at leastâ
âThen what do you want?â
Alexei sighs, sitting in a bench and looking at you with a phony smile. He looks so much older, and nothing like the man that would get entire stadiums to cheer for him.
âYou know I taught her how to hold a racket? How to throw a ball? She was serving before she knew how to write her nameâ
âSorry, I donât have time for this sentimental daddy of the year bullshitâ
âI want her backâ he explodes, standing up and blocking the exit. You look up, aware that heâs a lot taller than you.
Heâs scaring the shit out of you and you hate him for it.
âShe listens to you. Put on a good word for me. And then, sheâll come to her senses. Thatâs how Natalia is, she always needs a little guidanceâ
âIf you go back to coaching her, it would be the worst mistake of her career. So, no. Now move. I have a match to get toâ
Alexei punches one of the lockers and you try not to jump at the sound.
âIâll make sure you regret thisâ
All you can feel is your heart beating out of your chest. What can you do to escape this situation?
âYou better leave now, jackassâ Bucky steps out of nowhere, shielding you with his body. âSecurity is on their wayâ
The man grumbles, exiting the room. You sigh with relief, allowing Bucky to hold you for a second.
âYou ok?â
âYes. Thank you, Buckâ
âNatasha has to know about this. He could be dangerousâ
âI donât want to worry her. It will be fineâ you dismiss his concerns quickly, but he looks annoyed âIâll tell Fury, that should be enough. You have a match to prepare for, Iâll leave nowâ
Despite his protests, you walk out of the room, heading to the playerâs box without paying attention to anything.
âY/N?â Fury insists when youâre seated and you finally snap back to reality.
âWhat?â
âDid you two fight? Because sheâs about to lose the match and you look like youâve seen a ghostâ
âWhat do you mean sheâs about to lose?â you look up, noticing Natasha is two games down.
Well, shit.
âNo, we are not fighting. And the reason I look like I might pass out is because Alexei was hereâ
âWhat?â
âIâll tell you about it laterâ you say, watching as Danvers prepares to serve.
This eighth game isnât any better.
One point and thatâs it for Natasha.
âSheâs gonna pull throughâ you say, hopeful.
And miraculously, she does. The redhead saves three match points, wins a couple of games and forces a tiebreak.
You sigh with relief as the umpire speaks those magic words.
âGame, set, match, Romanoffâ
Little did you know, this wouldnât be the last bump on the road.
â-
A questionable reputation
The world of tennis knows her as a devout girlfriend, strategist and PR manager to her partner of two years, Natasha Romanoff.
And yet, we know very little of Y/N Y/L/N as she seeks to share some of Romanoffâs record breaking glory.
An insider has shared that they met two years ago during the USO, when the Russian player was having one of the worst seasons of her career.
The public perception has been that Y/L/N contributed to Romanoffâs success, but recent information has put that into question.
As it stands, Miss Y/L/N has a habit of blurring the lines of professional and personal relationships. She has been tied romantically to Yankeesâ superstar Sam Wilson and current ATP number one Bucky Barnes.
It seems as if the loving girlfriend is actually a calculated gold digger, and Romanoff might be the next target in her long list of infamous conquests.
â
Well, shit.
Not only did Alexei drag your name (and career) through the mud, but he also managed to put Sam and Bucky in a PR nightmare of their own.
You severely underestimated him.
What a time to post the article. Natasha is about to make her way to the quarterfinals, which means the press conference will definitely include some questions about her âgold digger girlfriendâ
A tear rolls down and you try to keep it together, but it feels like the world is on your shoulders.
Your phone pulls you out of the miserable thoughts, but your stomach drops again when you see the name on the screen.
âYes?â you greet, wiping more tears from your face.
âAlexei is after youâ Ramonda drops the bomb without so much as a greeting and you laugh.
âNo shitâ
âYou knewâ the woman says, confused.
âHe asked me to convince Natasha to take him back as trainer. You can imagine what my answer wasâ
âI see. He called me too, you know? I donât understand what he was expecting to get out of it. Alexeiâs not a friend of the WTA. He suggested someone else for the job weâre offering you, which is frankly unbelievable. I wanted to call you and let you know that heâs cashing in the few favors he has left to bring you downâ
âWhat would you do in my place, Ramonda?â you pinch the bridge of your nose, feeling a headache coming.
âIâd give him hellâ
The playful tone makes you laugh.
âI got nothing to lose, right?â
âGood luck, Y/Nâ
She hangs up the phone, but the conversation keeps playing in your head.
You may have underestimated Alexei, but he doesnât understand one thing. As a team, Natasha and you are fucking unstoppable.
So, you take a deep breath, stand up, and go look for your partner.
â
The post match routine is the same as usual. The only thing missing is you.
âSheâll be right hereâ Fury says, nodding as Melina checks Natashaâs leg, where she felt a cramp.
âPickle juiceâ Melina reminds her daughter and she rolls her eyes.
âBut itâs so gross, Mamaâ
âGross, but effectiveâ
While they wait for you, Natasha walks to the bathroom. The first thing she hears upon entering is someone puking their guts out.
âYou ok?â she asks, not knowing who was there.
A beat of silence and then a voice that she knows all too well.
âIâm fineâ
Wanda.
âYou never threw up before a match. Are you nervous?â the Russians tries to joke while she washes her hands, but stops when Wanda exits the bathroom stall looking half dead. âJesus! What happened?â
âItâs nothing. Morning sicknessâ Wanda answers, too tired to care about keeping her pregnancy a secret anymore.
âOh. Congratulationsâ Natasha says in an even tone.
âYou sound more excited than Jarvisâ Wanda says, splashing some water in her face. âSays heâs not ready to committ after two years. What am I supposed to do with twins by myself?â
âTwins?â
Wanda is about to speak when she throws up in the sink once again.
âHere. Let me justâŚâ Natasha rushes to her side, offering some paper towels and craddling Wandaâs face between her hands as she cleans her mouth.
âIâve missed youâ
âIâŚâ
Natasha places a strand of auburn hair back in her place out of pure habit. This is the closest sheâs been to Wanda in years, outside of the court.
Her heart aches over Wanda, how terrified and alone she looks.
The redhead is about to say something else when the door opens.
âOhâ
Natasha turns around, her hands dropping immediately to her sides.
âY/NâŚâ
âDonâtâ is all you say as you leave, not looking back.
Youâve seen enough.
â
It was wise to keep some things to yourself. Like this little bar downtown, where Natasha would never think of looking for you.
She must be going crazy, considering your phone is off and the last time you saw her she looked ready to kiss her crazy ex.
Bucky said Wanda and Jarvis broke up.
So, maybe this whole time you were just a distraction. And now, with the article and Wanda being single againâŚ
No. Natasha would never do this to you.
âIâll have whatever sheâs having. Plus another one for herâ someone says behind you.
âCarolâ you turn, smiling at the woman. She squeezes your shoulder, taking a seat on the bar stool next to yours.
âI thought youâd be preparing for the next roundâ
âNah. Gold diggers donât work, we just cashâ you joke but she doesnât laugh.
âThat article was bullshit. Everyone who has ever worked with you knows that. And if Natasha believed it, youâre better off without herâ
âI donât know if she believed it. I left after I saw her with someoneâŚâ you sigh, taking a drink from the new glass the bartender brings over.
How you wish you could erase that memory of Natasha and Wanda.
âI thought her and Maximoff had called it quitsâ Carol says, shocking you. âWhat? They werenât as sneaky as they thought. The rest of us didnât care enough to mention itâ
âWowâ
You sit in silence, drinking and looking out the window. Itâs gonna rain again.
âIf I had knownâŚâ Carol starts, but just shakes her head. You encourage her with a nudge of your elbow. âI would have asked you out. But Natasha had to beat me to that as well. As she does with everythingâ
âOh, come onâ you say shyly, biting the inside of your cheek.
âI donât know, in the court Iâm pretty good at fighting Natasha. Maybe I can give it a try off itâ
âI wouldnât recommend itâ you smile, looking over at the menu as a way to change the subject. âYou got me a drink, Iâll get you a cheeseburger. How about that?â
âDealâ
â
By the time you go back to the hotel, the rain is pouring. Carol was staying very close to the bar where you had dinner, so she lent you her jacket to keep you dry during the ride home.
Youâre walking down the hallway, when the door to your room opens.
If looks could killâŚ
âWhere the hell have you been?â Natasha says through gritted teeth.
You were expecting an apology, not a scolding.
âOutâ you walk to the room, eager to change into some dry clothes.
âYeah? Danvers is your new target, or what?â
Your blood runs cold. Hell, youâre even sure Natasha regrets it as soon as the words leave her mouth.
But she still wonât apologize.
She just stares and that pisses you off.
âExcuse me? Say that one more fucking time, Natashaâ
âWhat do you want me to think? Thereâs that stupid article going around and just now, someone takes pictures of you hugging Danvers in the rain. Itâs all over social mediaâ
âShe was helping me with her jacket, Natasha. But, while we are on the subject, how is Wanda? As charming and batshit crazy as usual?â
âThatâs differentâ Natasha scoffs and you laugh.
âYou are unbelievable. Truly. One of a kindâ you go back to looking for clothes, praying the hotel has a spare room you can book.
âItâs not what it seems. She was going through a rough⌠just trust me, ok?â
âWhat? Is it her break up?â
âI donât have to tell you everythingâ Natasha says, and you feel like crying.
You threw your life out the window for someone who was waiting for the one that got away.
âYeah, youâre right. You absolutely donât have to tell me anythingâ
âI donât need this right now, Y/N. Think whatever you wantâ
She walks out, slamming the door behind her.
Everything you believed in has fallen apart.
â-
It was supposed to be an important day. However, your phone has been off since the day you got on a red eye back to New York City.
Bucky is the only person you talk to through video call using your old computer. Heâs so pissed off that he easily agreed to not bring up Natasha at all.
So, Saturday comes and you have no idea if she reached the Wimbledon final or not. You stay in your living room all morning and afternoon, watching a medical drama.
Your heart is so broken, and the last time you felt this kind of pain was after losing your father.
At some point, youâll have to start thinkig about getting a job. Thereâs no way in hell youâll take Ramondaâs offer, because it would mean working with Natasha at some point.
For now, staying in your couch while you wait for your food to be delivered is enough.
âFinallyâ you mutter, standing up to walk to the door. You open without looking whoâs on the other side.
âHiâ
Natasha is standing in the middle of the hallway. You look at the containers sheâs holding and realised she hijacked your order.
âThatâs mineâ
âCan we talk?â
âThereâs nothing to talk aboutâ
âYes, there isâ
âNo, there isnâtâ you reach for the food and she steps back. âSeriously? Fine, Iâll eat leftovers. Whateverâ
You begin to close the door, but Natasha stops it with her hand.
âIâm sorryâ
âWhat for, Natasha?â you say, but she doesnât answer. âFor not explaining whatever that was with Wanda? For impliying I was cheating on you with Carol? Or for stealing my fucking food?â
Thereâs no answer.
âEverything you just said. And for not protecting you from Alexei. Fury told me everything. Barnes provided some extra context in a very loud voice tooâ
You want to laugh at the idea of your best friend yelling at Natasha. Heâd been waiting to do it for so long. Itâs apparent that Natasha has no intention of leaving so you walk away, leaving the door wide open.
The redhead takes the hint and goes inside, closing the door behind her.
âHave you eaten anything?â
âThere was some food on the planeâ
âWait, what?â
âI⌠won Wimbledonâ
âCongratulationsâ you say without a hint of excitement.
âAnd when I looked to my box, you werenât there. I didnât even climb to hug anyone. I got through the ceremony, then went to the airport and on a plane hereâ
âNatasha, are you insane?â you go back to work mode immediately after hearing how stupid sheâs acting. âYou know you have to stick around for the interviews, the pictures, the dinner. The press is gonna have a field day speculatingâŚâ
âI donât careâ
âI do. We are getting you back on a plane to London. Not to mention the Olympics are in two weeks on a completely different surface. You should be trainingâ
There is absolutely no way in hell that Natasha will miss the milestone of her career because of you. You find your phone tucked away in your travel bag and plug it, ready to call Fury and make a plan.
âY/N, Iâm not going back unless you come with meâ Natasha walks to your room, leaning against the door.
âI- I canât. Not now, Natashaâ you look away, tears rolling down your cheeks. âYou should goâ
âOkâ
She agrees so easily to let you go, or so you think until she speaks again.
âIâll be back to get you some breakfastâ
âWhat?â
âIâm going to a hotel. I meant what I said earlier. The only way Iâm going back is if I can fix the mess I madeâ
Natasha lingers for a second and you sigh.
âUse the guest roomâ you give in, turning to cut off her thank you. âJust for tonight. One way or another, Iâm making sure you go back to Londonâ
â
The call with Fury takes an unexpected turn.
âWhat do you mean you donât want her back?â
âThis past week was hell for all of us. Did you see how hard she was hitting the balls? I almost thought sheâd break them in half mid playâ
âSo what? Sheâs so close, Nick. We have to help her to the finish lineâ you plead. Just two more things and sheâll become a legend. Thatâs the way it was always supposed to be.
âDonât tell me youâll be the one to put the sport above your relationship. I thought it was all Natashaâs doingâ
No, it wasnât all Natashaâs doing. This past week has been eye opening for you.
You gave up your life to follow her, you decided to become her rock. She didnât ask for anything, and even when she crossed a line, being too focused on the game to check on you, your immediate reaction was to minimize your needs. In your mind, Natasha came first because she was extraordinary; a once in a lifetime talent.
But what about you?
âYou still there?â Fury says, making you snap out of it.
âYeah. Just thinkingâ
âListen. If she doesnât want to come back, no oneâs going to force her. I think you know better than anyone that nothing can change Natashaâs mind. Well, only one person canâ
âWho?â you think about Melina or Yelena. They can talk some sense to her.
âYouâ Fury says before hanging up.
Well, that wonât do. Youâre done telling her what to do, or when. Sheâs a big girl and she can handle herself.
âHowâs Fury?â she says as soon as you walk out of your room.
âHe wants you on the next flight to Parisâ you lie to her, but she laughs.
Of course she knows better.
âIf you want me out of your place, just say the word and Iâll find a hotel. But Iâm not leaving until I fix this. Hey, are you listening to me?â
âThereâs a seat available for tonightâs flightâ you ignore her, pulling out your credit card to buy her a ticket.
âStop it!â she protests, snatching the card from your hands.
âNatasha, give it back. You need to practice before the Olympicsâ
âWhy are you so worried? Clay is my best surfaceâ she argues and you take the bait.
âYour best surface is grass but stats donât reflect that because thereâs like two championships! Why am I even arguing with you?â
âI donât care about any medals if youâre not thereâ she insists, going after you as you pick up a basket of laundry and walk to the bedroom.
âReally? Youâre fine with Maximoff taking it from you? The one thing missing in your career? Olympic gold. Boy, she must have done a number on you on that bathroom, huh?â you say bitterly, trying to shut the door, but Natasha pushes inside.
âWhatâs that supposed to mean?â
âI saw how close you were. Her hands on your waist, yours on her face. Fine, be with her, I donât give a shitâ
âIt looks like you doâ Natasha tries to joke when you throw the clothes on the bed. âAnd Wandaâs not competing. Sheâs pregnantâ
âCongratulationsâ you smirk, walking out of the room. Natasha stays annoyingly close and youâre aware of how small your apartment really is when you keep moving but thereâs absolutely no way of putting distance between you two.
âOk, now youâre just being an ass. You donât believe I want to be with herâ
You laugh, but it comes out as a sob. Natashaâs smile fades, and she tries to inch closer to touch you, but you step back. She doesnât push it this time.
âYouâre the one who was quick to assume I was flirting with Carol. The one that believed the article. It hurt, Natasha. Especially because I quit my job and my life to be with youâ
Your words are met with silence. Not even an apology. Great.
âWaitâ she says a second later when youâre opening the door to leave.
âDonât. I need to be aloneâ
Luckily, she listens to you.
As you walk down the street to get some food (because yes, youâll stress eat like you always do), Furyâs words come back.
You could change her mind.
But you donât want to. Sheâs a grown woman, a professional athlete with a career to think about. If she wants to throw it all away, thatâs fine.
Thatâs not your problem anymore.
âHey, Y/Nâ Pat greets as you enter your favorite diner. âShouldnât you be at the Olympics?â
Since you left to travel with Natasha, thereâs always a tennis tournament on their television. Apparently itâs a big deal for everyone when the camera pans to the playerâs box and youâre there.
âAh, I had to come back for a bit, I donât think Iâll make it to Parisâ you say, trying to avoid the topic.
âIs that why you werenât at the Wimbledon game either?â the woman says with a frown and your eyes widen. âIt was all the commentators were talking about, sweetheart. They said it was a miracle she won. You didnât watch it?â
âNopeâ
âWellâ she turns to the screen and shushes a customer complaining about watching baseball. âThere. Watch for a bit while I get you some foodâ
âPat, itâs scary how much you know meâ you smile in spite of yourself.
Itâs a though watch. Natasha lost the first set and barely managed to get the second one in a tiebreak. You notice how she kept looking at the playerâs box, and then shaking her head, muttering to herself.
Pat gets you a chesseburger, shaking her head at the way in which your eyes are glued to the screen.
During the break before the third set, she sat looking defeated, and you notice she was running her hands up and down her left arm.
Of course.
Itâs the spot where you always write something or put on a smiley face before a match. A spot only she can see.
Even if you already know the result of the match, you cheer when she wins. Natasha doesnât. It looks like she couldnât care less about winning, she wonât even go to her box.
âQuite the watch, huh?â
âYeah. It was⌠very stressful. I would have shouted at her if I had been thereâ
âLike your dad during the NBA playoffs?â Pat jokes and you laugh.
âYeah. Would have gotten banned tooâ
âHere. Take this back to her. Sleep it offâ she says, handing you a package with a burger. You nod, smiling when she tells you to go back home.
Youâre walking back when the rain starts.
âCome onâ you protest. To your surprise, Natasha meets you halfway there, holding an umbrella.
âPat called meâ she explains when you inch closer, feeling thankful as she shields you from the cold drops. âCome on, letâs go homeâ
Natasha places her hand around your waist, and even if it is only to keep you under the small umbrella, it makes your heart beat faster.
Once youâre back in the apartment, she places the umbrella in the hallway.
âIâll get us some towels. Sorry, your food got wetâ
âItâs okâ she smiles, taking the bag.
You go back to your room, getting rid of your wet clothes, and searching for a couple of towels among the mess you left earlier.
âSorry, I should have knockedâ Natasha says, but is unable to keep her eyes away from you.
âItâs okâ your voice shakes.
It feels like a small gift from fate. Youâre never completely alone, youâre always thinking about the next tournament. But now, itâs just you and Natasha, and the rain drowning out the rest of the world.
She approaches you first, pulling you by the waist until you lean your head on her shoulder.
âYouâre coldâ she says against your temple.
âLetâs take a showerâ you say, surprising her.
It also takes you by surprise, considering how pissed you were. Considering she hasnât said sheâs sorry.
But it feels like itâs been forever since sheâs been yours and no one elseâs. Your Natasha, not the tennis legend, the number one in the world.
No one can have her, not like you do.
âOkâ she nods after a second, allowing you to lead her by the hand. Itâs a small shower, and definitely not as fancy as the ones in those hotels you stay at.
You laugh and giggle as you struggle to fit inside, and Natasha reaches behind you to get the water running.
âNat!â you shriek when the cold water hits you. âItâs the other oneâ
âI always forget your showerâs messed upâ she apologizes, and you push against her to run away from the stream. âNot that Iâm complainingâ she adds when you invade what little personal space is left in the shower.
Before you can protest further, she kisses you, slowly at first and then with more urgency.
âFeeling warmer?â she teases against your lips and you smile.
âVery much soâ
Her hands travel to your waist, one trailing lower until her fingers are circling your clit.
âNatâ you sigh against her skin. She teases your entrance, and takes her time playing with your clit. It isnât the friction that makes you come, itâs the soft kiss she places against your ear as you keep moaning.
âItâs ok, let go, baby. I got youâ
And as you ride out your orgasm, digging your nails in her back, you feel complete again.
â
The sounds of the city wake you up. As you open your eyes and look up, Natasha is already awake, admiring you.
âMorning, detkaâ
âWere you watching me sleep like a weirdo?â you grumble, sinking further in her arms.
âI missed this view. Thought Iâd never get it againâ
You donât say anything, and stay in her arms until your stomach protests.
âIâm making you pancakesâ Natasha says, kissing your temple and leaving the bed.
Even if you want to stay in bed, you follow her to the kitchen and watch as she gets everythig she needs for breakfast.
âIâm surprised you have anything at allâ
âDid some shopping the day I got hereâ you comment, and she nods, trying to act unfazed.
Natasha cooks in silence, and as she places a plate in front of you, kisses your temple.
âCan I say something?â Natasha asks after a beat of silence. You nod, bracing yourself for the worst. âFor the last two years, youâve done what I wanted. I never ask you what you want or need. So, today I want you to tell me what do you want me to doâ
âI want you to go and win the gold medalâ you answer.
âWill you come with me?â
âI have to stay here⌠think about what I wantâ you say. âNatasha, I love you but my life has been all about tennis for the past two years. And I did it because I love you and weâre a great team⌠but if you were to break up with me tomorrow, youâd still have your career. And what about me?â
âLook, youâre right. We make a great team. But you need to tell me things too. If I had known Alexei was threteaning you, I would have handled everythingâ
âI didnât want to worry youâ you say, looking away.
âYouâre my biggest concern. My reason to do thisâ Natasha says, holding you by the chin. âIâm sorry I made you doubt it, detkaâ
You lean forward, kissing her. After a few moments in her arms, you take a deep breath.
âIn the spirit of transparency⌠Ramonda offered me a job as Head of Communications of the WTAâ
âWhat? Thatâs amazing! When do you start?â
âI havenât accepted the offer. If I do, I wonât be able to be with you all the time, Natâ you smile sadly, knowing you couldnât do that to her.
âIf thatâs what you want to do, Iâll support youâ she says.
âNot sure yet. And anyway, with everything that happened the offer might be rescindedâ
You eat in silence for a moment, thinking about the things you discussed with Natasha.
âI guess Iâll take the next flight to Parisâ
âCall Stark, ask for the jet. It will be fasterâ you roll your eyes, knowing Natasha hates talking to the former professional turned business man.
âPassâ
âYouâre so stubbornâ you complain, and she kisses your cheek, taking your plate to wash it.
âSo, any advice when I move back to clay?â
âPatience is rewarded. Agression is notâ you say, the same way your father always told you when watching those tournaments.
âAgression is my thingâ Natasha grumbles.
âI know. Which is why clay is not your best surfaceâ
âI knowâ she smiles, walking back and carrying you to the bedroom. âNow, letâs do some cardio. Just so I can get back into shapeâ
â
âPassport? Money? Your special socks?â you check as Natasha goes over her small suitcase.
âBaby, I didnât bring a lot with me. I didnât even shower after the game. Itâs fineâ she says, walking to the door.
Natasha hesitates before reaching for the doorknob, turning to look at you. You frown, arms crossed as you try to figure out what sheâs thinking.
âThis isnât how I wanted to do itâ she sighs, reaching for her pocket and pulling out a small box. You gasp. âBut I realise that this place feels like home. Because youâre here. I know we go to all these amazing locations and I could set up a romantic dinner or a huge show, anything to impress you. Hell, I even had it with me at every final this year, thinking I might propose after winningâ
âNatâŚâ
âI know, you would hate thatâ she smiles, placing the box in your hand and looking at you. âI want to spend the rest of my life with you. If it is here, while you work and I become a personal trainer for wealthy, senile people, so be itâ
âOh, that would be fun to watchâ you chuckle.
âYou donât have to answer yet. But know that I love you, and Iâll do anything to prove how much I want this. And apparently that includes winning a gold medalâ
âI⌠Iâll think about it. Call me when you land?â you ask, taking her face in your hands, kissing her softly. âI love you more than anything, Natasha. The trophies are just a plusâ
âMeanâ she laughs against your lips, kissing you again. âSee you soonâ
âYeahâ
With a final kiss, Natasha closes the door and youâre left in your apartment, still holding the box.
You try to think of something else, distracting yourself with cleaning and sorting out some clothes. Natasha texts you when sheâs about to board and that finally makes you open the box.
The ring is beautiful. Very simple, because thatâs what you like, instead of some flashy, giant diamond. You put it on and it feels⌠right, like itâs meant to be.
âScrew itâ you take your phone and dial Starkâs number. âTony, hey! Have a small favor to askâ
â
Thereâs a lot of movement in the airport, tourists and athletes arriving for the Olympics. Natasha figured it was going to be chaos, so she told Fury there was no need to pick her up. Still, thereâs a driver waiting for her at the arrivals section.
âThis way, pleaseâ the man says politely, leading her to a black SUV.
âI told you not to pick me upâŚâ she complains as soon as sheâs inside, but itâs not Fury on the other side.
Itâs you, smiling at her.
âI couldnât miss this. Not when youâre about to make historyâ you smile, kissing her. She squeezes you in her arms, shaking and refusing to let go. âHey, itâs okâ
âI love youâ
âMore than winning?â you tease and she laughs.
âYes. A million times yesâ
âDamn, you have it bad. Now, letâs get going. Furyâs gonna put you on a tight training scheduleâ
â
Itâs been a week. As you obviously pointed out, Natasha needed a lot of practice in clay. The surface asks for consistency and patience, and sheâs anything but patient.
Still, sheâs made it to the final, and youâve been at the playerâs box every single day. The press is having a field day, speculating about your absence during Wimbledon.
âSo, what do I get if I win this thing?â Natasha says when you go and wish her good luck before the final match.
âA vacationâ you promise, pulling out a sharpie to write in her arm. âYou canât read it until the match is over. Iâll place a little bandaid over it because Iâm sure youâll cheatâ
âBaby, not fairâ
âShh, just do as I say. Thereâ you finish, grabbing her chin so sheâs facing you again. You smile, kissing her softly. âYou got thisâ
âI love youâ
âI love you tooâ you smile, smacking her ass. âGo win this thing, babyâ
The crowd cheers as Natasha steps into the court, and you sit by her family and Fury as she warms up.
âDo you think sheâll be extra mean because sheâs playing against Danvers?â Yelena whispers as the match begins.
âWhat do you mean?â
âWell, the picturesâ Yelena says, smirking.
âNo, come on. She knows nothing happenedâ
But then Natasha executes a move that leaves Carol on the floor, her shirt and shorts covered in clay.
Yelena whistles, laughing as Natasha gets another game with four aces in a row.
âAlright, yeah. She might still be a little pissedâ
The first set goes on to be a little bit of the same, Natasha winning with an easy 6-4. For the second one, it becomes a close call. Whenever Natasha serves, sheâs in control of the ball, but if itâs Carolâs turn, she manages to throw Natasha off her game.
âThird setâ Fury says, when Carol wins the tiebreak by two points.
âShe looks kinda tiredâ you frown, knowing the change of surface might be getting to her.
And it definitely shows when Carol wins the first two games, Natasha struggling to get a deuce on the third one. If she loses this one, then you feel like sheâll definitely not be able to come back from it.
âIs there anything we can do?â Melina says, and you think about it for a moment.
âOh, boy. I hope I donât get kicked outâ you stand up, aware that several people (and their phone cameras) turn to you.
âTake off the bandaid!â you shout. The umpire glares, asking for silence. Thankfully, thereâs no request for you to get kicked out.
Still, you watch as Natasha does what you ask, while Carol dries her hands and gets ready to serve. Once she reads what you wrote, she smiles, turning to look at you.
Then, a miracle. Carol throws what looks like a killer serve and Natasha returns it so fast that you have to do a doble take.
âIs it code for something dirty?â Yelena jokes when Natasha wins the third game and gets two aces for the next one.
You laugh, ignoring her question. Sheâs so close. Two games. Eight points.
âServing for the matchâ Fury moves around in his seat, anxious.
Natasha tries to breath, turning to look at you and you smile, nodding. You mouth an I love you and blow her a kiss.
Then, an ace.
âFastest serve sheâs ever doneâ Melina comments, looking at her notes.
The last three points go by in a blur, as Carol is simply not playing right. Her last unforced error gives Natasha a match point.
It goes by in slow motion. How she throws the ball, lifting her racket. Her movements graceful, almost like a ballerina as she practically floats.
Carol returns the ball, but it gets stuck in the net.
The crowd goes wild, Natasha dropping to her knees after the realisation sinks in.
Carol waits for her at the net, smiling and hugging her. Natasha accepts the congratulations, going to greet the umpire and turning to you a moment later.
She goes through the sea of people, straight to lifting you up and kissing you.
âDo you mean it?â she says, looking at the thing you wrote.
Yes, Iâll marry you.
âAbsolutely. Now, put the ring on itâ you say, handing over the box discreetly so she can pull the ring out and slide it in.
âCongratulations!â Yelena says, hugging you both.
Natasha is called back to the court, and you wipe the tears as she talks to the interviewer.
âThanks to my family, my trainer, and my fianceeâŚâ
The crowd cheers, and you canât help but laugh at how perfect everything is.
This is a day youâll remember forever.
2 months later
âDarcy, what news do you have for us today?â Maria says, the screen splitting to show the producer turned reporter.
âRomanoff breezed through her first match and is the favorite to become the USO champion. This would mean she would be the youngest player to complete the Golden Slam in the Open Era. Her wife and a former collaborator of us was also thereâ
âI believe sheâs joining the WTA team soon, isnât that right?â
âAs Head of Communications, yes. And it couldnât have happened to a better person. Congrats Y/N, but you still owe me a beerâ
âWell, letâs hope she finds the time to settle her debtâ Maria laughs, but then frowns. âHey, you said wife. Didnât they get engaged recently?â
âWell, have a look at what Natasha said in her post match interviewâ Darcy says with a smile, the screen running a recording.
âHave you set a date yet?â one of the reporters ask.
âActually, we got married last nightâ Natasha says, turning to look at you, and youâre blushing when you notice all eyes on you.
âCongratulationsâ another reporter says. âCan you share anything about the ceremony?â
âJust that weâre very happy and canât wait to go on our honeymoon. But my wife says I need to win the USO first, so⌠I better get back to practice. Nice chat, everyoneâ
Natasha leaves the conference room, amidst questions and camera flashes. You greet her with a short kiss, smiling as she pulls you by the waist.
âNow everyoneâs going to say youâre whippedâ
âArenât I?â she jokes, kissing your temple. âCome on, letâs win this so I can have you all to myself for the next monthâ
âRelax, Mrs. Romanoff. We have our whole lives aheadâ you kiss her, smiling as she squeezes your hand, her thumb running over your wedding ring.
Summary: Natasha Romanoff is a professional tennis player, struggling to go back to the top and win the US Open. Reluctant at first, she allows a sports journalist into her life... and a bit more.
Natasha Romanoff x Fem!R - Ya know it, fluffy af.
A/N: I love tennis and this was basically written for me. But @canvascoloredin is also a fan and thought, ok well, let's post it, maybe someone else will enjoy :)
âThirty allâ
Sheâs catching up, do something.
âForty, thirtyâ
âDeuceâ
âCome on, Natashaâ her sister yells from the box.
Advantage, Romanoff.
Game, set, match. Natasha Romanoff.
Everything that happens after is a blur. Natasha feels like she just played the final, but in reality, itâs just the first round.
âWay to go, darlingâ her mother compliments when sheâs back in the locker rooms, but Fury is quickly behind, not holding back.
âThree sets against an amateur and you won because she got nervous and got a double fault. Thatâs not goodâÂ
âI beat her, didnât I?â Natasha averts her eyes, putting on her jacket to go to the press room.
âBarelyâ her trainer mumbles.Â
Natashaâs heart beats fast as she sits in front of all the journalists. They were warned about the questions they could ask, but still. Natasha feels all eyes on her, judging her reaction and demeanor.
âDid you worry about losing control at the start of the third set?â a man in the front row asks.
âIt was the defining moment of the game, so I felt like I had to push myself harder and control the rhythm of the match. Which obviously happenedâ
âHow was it to go back after your break? Unlike other players, you didnât participate in any tournaments between Wimbledon and thisâ
âIâve been playing tennis all my life, really, so it doesnât feel like a big deal to me. Just because I wasnât playing to win titles doesnât mean I didnât trainâÂ
Natasha hears Fury cough and has to resist the urge to roll her eyes.
Control your temper, heâs trying to say.
Well, maybe they shouldnât ask stupid questions.
--
Youâre sitting in the middle of the press room, eyes trained on Natasha. Sheâs looking anywhere but you.Â
I guess this means she read my column.
The conference is coming to an end, so you raise your hand and the assistant points at you.
âWe have time for one moreâ he concedes.
âThatâs enough for todayâ Natasha shuts it down before you can ask.Â
Yeah, she definitely read the article.
Natasha canât wait to get out of there, thanking the press before sprinting out of the room. You consider following her, but a text from your boss stops you.
Go to LA Stadium, Wanda Maximoff just bageled some poor girl.
With a bit of luck, youâll get an exclusive with Wanda.
--
The biggest crime of Shostakov
It was a Tuesday afternoon, well into the second week of Wimbledon, when the news broke out. Alexei Shostakov, retired tennis player, was arrested for fraud and tax evasion. While in custody, it was discovered Shostakov was in possession of drugs.
The famous Red Guardian, who once had won on that very same club, was now dragged away in a patrol car, stripped of his days of glory. For people who are well versed in the history of tennis, this doesnât come as a complete shock. Shostakov was a notorious trouble maker, often breaking rackets, ripping his shirts open and getting expelled from a total of 15 matches during the entire run of his career.
No one seemed more affected by the news than his protegee and adoptive daughter, Natasha Romanoff. The favorite to win the worldâs most important Grand Slam retired amid the breaking news. As a result, Wanda Maximoffâs path to the trophy was an easy one, taking the number 1 from Romanoff while she was at it.
If her career depends on Alexeiâs ability to get back on his feet, Natasha Romanoff should retire now.
In her best form, Romanoff is stealthy, precise and absolutely lethal. Her movements reminisce those of a ballerina; one that gracefully dances across the court -doesnât matter if itâs grass, clay or hard- to deliver blow after blow of brilliance. Natasha has raw talent, pure heart and an unbreakable spirit.
The biggest crime of Shostakov, is that heâs in the way of her greatness. Maybe itâs his ego or a compulsion to attach himself to a woman who has the capacity to break every record from the Open Era.
Whatever the reason, itâs clear sheâs better off without him. For those of us who love this sport, and want Natasha to be the champion she was meant to be, this is an unique opportunity to watch her finally emerge from the shadows of the overbearing man.
The proverbial ball is in Romanoffâs court. In all her brilliance, the one thing Natasha rarely does is take risks.
Itâs never too late to start.
--
âWeâre finishing the second day of the US Open and we have some major upsets. Carol Danvers, number 3 in the world and only American in the top ten lost to Brit Peggy Carterâ you say, holding the mic and looking at the camera.
âI understand there was some excitement on the manâs singlesâ you hear Maria say on your earpiece and you nod.
âQueens had a face off with Brooklyn today. Bucky Barnes defeated amateur Peter Parker, but get this! They played five sets, and Peter won every tiebreak. So it seems like we have some exciting new talentâ
âWeâll keep an eye on him, for sure. Thanks for the report, Y/N!â
âA pleasure as usual, Maria. Greetings to everyone back on the studioâÂ
âAnd cutâ Darcy, your producer says. You remove the earpiece and hand over the mic. As you turn around, you spot Natasha training. Itâs obvious youâre staring when Darcy speaks.
âYou didnât do anything wrong, you know? You wrote what a lot of people were thinkingâ
âWell, seems like she doesnât wanna hear itâ
âItâs fine. I mean, it would be better if we could get a quote from her or an interview but if she hates you that much we can get someone else to do itâ
âOr, I could go and try to talk to her?â
âSo you have a death wish!â
âDidnât you just say I did nothing wrong?â
âYes, but that doesnât mean sheâll listen. I am also legally obligated to tell you that your health insurance doesnât cover injuries caused by tennis balls. Or racketsâ
âVery funnyâ
--
âRelax your wristâ Fury instructs once again and Natasha ignores him, as usual.
She hates the press, the interviews, the hoops she has to jump through just so she can play tennis.Â
None of it is optional and she has to follow the rules, something Natasha is particularly bad at.
âIf you want to move to the next round youâre gonna have to listen to meâ
Does she really want to move to the next round? Is there a point to all of this? She had lost her number one ranking and people were focusing more on her private life than her career.
Fury spots you across the court and smiles.Â
You nod your head towards the man and he sighs, defeated.
âCan you talk some sense into her?âÂ
âCan anyone?â you say and he pats you on the back, leaving the court. The sun is setting and people are going home, ready to return tomorrow to watch the next round of players. You greet Natasha but she ignores you.
âYou owe me a questionâ you try to joke, as she keeps hitting the ball so hard you think her racket will break in half.Â
âI know who you are and Iâm not talking to youâÂ
She looks hot when sheâs pissed.
You push those thoughts away.
âNatashaâ
âNo, you and I are not on a first name basis. Not after you wrote all that crap about me without knowing meâÂ
âI only spoke the truthâÂ
âThat my career is doomed and I should retire?â she finally stops throwing balls across the court and turns to look at you.
âOh, my God! You didnât even read it, did you?â
âI donât need to. I know what everyone's been saying ever since Alexei was arrested. I know he was unconventional, but he was my trainer. He was beside me through the good and badâÂ
âI get it, ok? Heâs your family. And your trainer. Thatâs never easy and I understand how it can be hard to see things objectively. But, Natasha, you are great in spite of him, not because of himâ
That makes her pause.
âNick Fury came out of retirement to train you. Thatâs how talented you are!â
The redhead serves a couple of times, staying completely silent.
âIâm not talking to youâ she reminds you.Â
âYouâre the best player out there, Natasha. And right now youâre the only thing getting in the way of your successâÂ
--
Morning comes and so does the next match. Natasha is looking out the window of the suite, as people come and go around the busy streets of the tennis center.
Fury steps in, immediately aware of her nervous energy. If he asks if sheâs ready, sheâll probably rip his head off. So, talking about something different might be the way to go.
âHer father was also a sports journalist,â he says, pouring himself a glass of orange juice.
âWho?âÂ
âY/N. Richard was a single parent, so heâd always bring her to the games, even as a baby. She behaved better than most people tooâÂ
âIs he retired?âÂ
âNope. Cancer. Four years agoâ Fury sits in front of Natasha. âDidnât expect her to follow his steps, but that girl really knows sports. Sheâs working with the local station, and also writes for Sports Illustratedâ
âWhat are you trying to say?â
âNever hurts to have a couple of friends around,â he says, sipping from his glass.
âIâm not good at making friendsâ Natasha looks away.
âYeah, I know. Youâre good at tennis, soâŚâ the man checks his watch and stands up. âLetâs kick some assâ
--
Natasha has to face Kate Bishop, currently ranked 24. Her game is the opposite of aggressive, but sheâs famous for her impeccable aim. Natasha has to control the game from the start if she wants to win.
She serves first, and as she bounces the ball, preparing her stance, Furyâs words echo in her head. All the advice he has given her for the past months, advice that she has consistently ignored.
Then, as she throws the ball, her eyes meet yours. Youâre sitting in the front row, leaning forward.Â
In a split second, she makes a decision.
Natasha is ready to take risks.
She aims for the corner of the service box, hoping it will fall inside. Kate lunges forward, shocked at the speed of the ball.
âAceâ the umpire announces. âFifteen loveâÂ
Natasha sees you clapping and can hear Fury shouting âThatâs it, you can do this, Romanoffâ
And boy, does she deliver. Kate is running across the court. Natashaâs unforced errors are incredibly low. While the crowd usually loves long games, the redhead is a legend and theyâre excited to see her prowess first hand.Â
The game ends in 47 minutes, 6-3, 6-2.
Kate approaches the net and shakes Natashaâs hand.
âThat was⌠incredible, Romanoffâ
âThank you, KateâÂ
The kind words and the genuine admiration make Natasha relax instantly.
Of course, the crowd goes wild as the redhead lifts her arms, clapping and waving.Â
Sheâs in such a good mood that she decides sheâll finally take your question. But as she enters the press room, youâre nowhere to be found.Â
Still, she chats and even jokes around with the journalists present.
Once again, the entire family celebrates as if Natasha had already won the Grand Slam.
âSeestra, the crowd was going craaaazy, it was like a Taylor Swift concertâ Yelena tells her excitedly as they eat. Natashaâs starving, so nervous about today that she didnât even have breakfast.
They keep chatting, talking about strategy for the next game and wondering who will go against Natasha next.Â
âNatalia, your father wants to talk to youâ Melina interrupts, holding her phone.
âWhy?â Natasha snaps, going back to her stoic self.
âHe wants to congratulate you,â the woman insists.
âIâm not in the mood. Excuse meâ she stands up, losing her appetite.
Out on the terrace, she watches people passing by, trying to think of anything else but Alexei.
Your words come back to her, and she starts to believe them.
You are great in spite of him.
âHey, there you are!â you shout from the bottom of the stairs, waving. âDo you have a sec?â
Natasha nods, going down.Â
âFirst of all, wow. Bravaâ
âYou wanted something?â she rolls her eyes, but you notice she blushes lightly.
Itâs quite the view, Natashaâs body covered in sweat from the physical exertion, her sculpted arms in full display.
That tennis outfit looks really good on her.
âOh.. yeah. Do you, uh, have time to meet a fan? Sheâs a little girl and youâre her favorite playerâ
âOf courseâÂ
âAwesome, come with me!â you take her by the hand.
Natasha tries to ignore the tingling feeling she gets as sheâs dragged around the center. Some people recognise her, but youâre walking fast and they donât have the chance to stop her for a picture.
âHey, Ava!â you greet the little girl, whoâs holding a big tennis ball and a black marker. âNatasha, meet Ava. Sheâs your number one fanâÂ
âHi,â the girl says shyly. Sheâs about nine, her mother standing next to her and smiling.
âHi, Ava. Itâs so nice to meet youâ Natasha greets. âHow are you liking the tournament so far?âÂ
âUh, it was great, and you were so awesome today!â
âThank you, I really appreciate it. Would you like me to sign that?â
âYes, please!â her arms shoot forward, anxiously.Â
âWhat other players would you like to meet?â Natasha says, as she signs the ball.
âMaybe Peter Parker⌠We met Carol Danvers, Bucky Barnes and also, Wandaâ
Yeah, Natasha didnât miss the way Maximoff signed the ball.Â
From the number 1 player to the number 1 fan.Â
So pretentious.
âThatâs nice,â Natasha says, handing the ball back.
âAlright, letâs take a pictureâ you pull out your phone. Natasha kneels to be closer to Ava, and then places her tennis hat on the girlâs head.
âYou can have itâ Natasha smiles and is surprised when she gets a very enthusiastic hug. Her mother has to practically drag her away from where youâre standing, Ava turning around every couple of steps to wave at Natasha.
âThank you, Nat,â you say, smiling.
âItâs not a problem. I didnât see you in todayâs press conferenceâ
âThatâs because itâs my day offâ you say, surprised that she noticed your absence.
âWhat about that thing?â she points at the badge hanging from your neck that reads Press.
âThatâs how I get in for free, duhâÂ
âSneakyâÂ
âI can beâ you shrug your shoulders and then turn back to your phone. âHey, so can I send this to your PR team for them to post it?âÂ
âYou donât have toâÂ
âFine, Iâll post it on my feed and tag you. Alright, gotta go. Have to cheer for Buckyâ you say, taking her hand one last time. âOnce again, thank you. And congrats. You were fantasticâ
âI owe you a questionâ she calls when youâre walking away.
âIâm saving it for when you win the championshipâ you wink and she smiles, scratching the side of her neck nervously.
Later that day, her phone is blasting with notifications.
âAlmost one million likes, Natashaâ Yelena shows her the picture you uploaded of her and Ava.
âIs that good or bad?â the redhead shrugs her shoulders and her sister rolls her eyes.
âYouâre so uncool!âÂ
However, she knows enough about Instagram to find your profile, going through your feed. Most of the pictures are from different games, some hangout with friends, the most frequent ones being Barnes and a pro that plays for the Yankees, Sam Wilson.
Sheâs about to close the app when two things that are equally horrible happen.
First, she likes one of your pictures from two years ago.
Second, she gets a message.
OfficialWandaMaximoff: Congrats on your win today <3
--
Bucky just lost the second set and is down on the third one. You keep refreshing the feed as you wait next to other journalists for Wanda Maximoff.Â
Of course sheâs in the quarter finals, thatâs hardly a shock. Everyoneâs waiting for her to face Natasha in the finals. When it happens, youâre obviously rooting for Nat.
Speaking of whichâŚ
@SportsBrooklyn: Good luck tomorrow!Â
@NatashaROfficial followed you back
@NatashaROfficial: Do you only use Instagram or can you text like a normal person?
@SportsBrooklyn: Oh, right, text you to the number I donât have!
Wanda walks in that moment and you lock your phone. Her auburn hair is tied in a high ponytail, and she changed to her signature red windbreaker and black pants.
Youâre busy taking notes when your phone pings again. To your surprise, Natasha actually gave you her phone number.
@NatashaROfficial: If you share it with anyone else Iâll choke you
@SportsBrooklyn: Kinky ;)
The press conference ends and you practically sprint out to see if you can catch the rest of Buckyâs game.
You have to settle for the screens on the Champions Bar, comforted by the fact that Bucky seems to be ahead on the third set. As soon as he wins it, you stand up, knowing the break is the perfect time to slip into the playerâs box.
âIâm so sorryâ you say as you crash into none other than Wanda Maximoff. She grabs your arm to steady herself, smiling to ease you.
âThatâs alright. Youâre in a hurry?â she says, turning at the screen.Â
âA bit, yeahâÂ
âI wish someone as cute as you was rooting for meâ she smiles, placing a strand of hair behind her ear. Sheâs flirting? Oh boy. âI noticed you looking at your phone during the press conference. Barnes is a lucky guyâÂ
âOh, weâre notâŚâÂ
âHere I was thinking he was smarter than thatâ
Thereâs a sense of urgency to go before the break is over, but youâre also completely confused. Why is Wanda Maximoff taking an interest in a local reporter? Youâre vaguely aware that her eyes drift somewhere behind you from time to time, but before you can turn and have a look, she pulls your press badge and smiles.
âIf you ever want an exclusive, just let me know, Y/NâŚâ she reads the name from your press badge and walks away, leaving you completely confused.
--
Natasha watches the entire interaction from her small table. She needed a break so she decided to put on a hat and glasses, to get a drink without being recognised.
Wanda was all over you, giggling and looking Natashaâs way as much as she could, to let her know this was entirely to upset her.
All Natasha wanted to do was stand up and take you away from Wanda. You were too good for someone like Maximoff.
Wanda thought she was making Natasha jealous.Â
She was right, but not in the way she would have wanted to.
--
âMaybe itâs time I retireâÂ
âYouâre 28âÂ
âMight as well be 100 in tennis yearsâÂ
âBuckâ you nudge him.
Youâre looking out the Brooklyn Bridge, trying to cheer up your best friend after losing in the round of 16.
âYou won the Australian Open this yearâÂ
âOh, yeah. I forgot about that. See? Iâm senileâ he mumbles, still grumpy.
âYou did great, and youâre still in the top five, Grumpa. Ha! See what I did there?â he rolls his eyes and you smile, pulling him back to the street. âCome on, Sam is waiting for us to have some lunchâÂ
âOk, but itâs on you because Iâll be broke once I retireâÂ
âYeah, yeahâ you roll your eyes, looping your arms together and dragging him to your favorite dinner. Samâs already there, chatting around with everyone that recognises him.
All eyes turn to you as he stands up and practically shouts.
âHowâs my favorite girl?â Sam greets you and then slaps Buckyâs shoulder. âDonât make that face, man. You won the aussie oneâ
âThatâs what I told himâÂ
Bucky takes his jacket off and orders a beer as soon as the waiter approaches you; even if itâs only noon, you let it slide.
You get a text from Darcy, asking if youâre watching the game.
Your mind instantly goes to Natasha. Did she lose? No, that canât be. She was playing against Van Dyne, who was only there because of a wild card. You turn to one of the screens and ask the waiter to change the channel.Â
âSheâs winningâ you say, still not understanding what Darcy meant.
âWhy does she look so upset, then?â Sam points out.
Natasha is arguing with the umpire. You recognise him immediately.
âI hate that guy,â Bucky says, echoing your thoughts.
âJarvis⌠something. Stone?âÂ
âYeah, a total asshole. Wouldnât give me a point I clearly won on Wimbledon because the other player was also a BritâÂ
The argument ends and she keeps playing. Her forehand is killer today.
âWowâ Bucky says at the same time as you gasp.
âMan, I feel so dumb right nowâ Sam is looking between both of you, not knowing what caused your reaction.
âJust now? Itâs more like, alwaysâ Bucky teases and Sam glares. He rolls his eyes and points at the screen. âVan Dyne hit after a double bounce. Thatâs not allowed. But Stone clearly doesnât give a shit. Heâs giving her the pointâ
âNatasha stopped playing because she saw it. He claims he didnât so in his mind, she lost this oneâ you keep explaining.
âIf Hope had a little bit of integrity, sheâd concede the point or play it againâ
âWell, sheâs losing so sheâll take all the help she can getâ you say.Â
Natashaâs rage fuels her after this and she ends up winning, the second set a devastating 6-0.
However, the two men on the screen are being unsurprisingly critical of her. Your stomach turns when you hear the words âemotionalâ and âaggressiveâ thrown around.
Even if itâs a long shot, you try calling her. Phoneâs off.
If youâre lucky, youâll manage to see her once you get back to the stadium.
--
âTurn it off,â Natasha grumbles. Fury is watching the news in the living room.Â
âI wanna see the highlights of other players. Prepare for whatâs coming next. If you donât like it, leave the roomâ he says with a dismissive wave of his hand.
After the game, Natasha did the mandatory press conference, went back to the lockers, destroyed two rackets, took a shower and then looked out the window for the better part of the day.Â
She wasnât in the mood to do anything and she didnât want to turn on her phone. The temptation to read what the press and public had to say about her after todayâs argument with the umpire was too big.
âY/N, how are things at the US Open?â Maria Hill says. The screen splits, your image appearing on the right side.
âExciting names on both sides for the semis. We have Thor against Banner, and T'Challa faces Namor for a spot in the semis. As for the ladies, Maximoff breezed through the match against Jean Grayâ
âWell, I understand Romanoff didnât have it so easy,â Maria says.Â
From her seat, Natasha holds her breath. Yelena walks in at that exact moment, watching her sister closely.
âYou know, I find it unbelievable that an umpire at the US Open could make such a poor call, not once but twice. First, with the hindrance call against Natasha and then by completely ignoring the double bounce before Van Dyne hit the ballâ you say, clearly upset. âWeâve seen time and time again that some umpires are not up to the standards set by Grand Slams. And to my fellow journalists who like to throw around words like emotional, better save that energy for the men that smash their rackets just because they lost a point. As we all saw, Romanoff was in her right to demand fairness and she did it with the utmost respectâÂ
âYes, I completely agree with youâ Maria nods, clearly regretting even asking about it. âWell, let us chat tomorrow after we have the final for the menâÂ
âOf course, Maria,â you nod.
Natasha tries really hard, but she canât help but smile at your words.
Yelena arches her eyebrows.
Well, this is interesting.
--
Natasha refuses to leave her room, arguing sheâs not hungry. Melina, Yelena and Fury leave her alone, but the sudden silence becomes too much. Thereâs no noise to stop her thoughts from spiraling.
With a sigh, she turns on her phone. Two messages come through.
Y/N: Sorry about today. That umpire sucks :(Â
Y/N: Bucky hates him too
Next thing she sees is a picture of Bucky and you holding your middle fingers to the screen with Jarvisâ face. Natasha chuckles at that.
She also zooms in, checking that your other hand is very close to Buckyâs. She feels a pang of jealousy that is interrupted by a knock on the door.
âRoom serviceâ a strange voice says.
âI didnât order any..:â she says, but finds you smiling on the other side of the door.
âGotchaâÂ
âWhat are you doing here?â the redhead canât help but smile. Youâre wearing a black leather jacket, a white tee and skin tight jeans. Sheâs torn between admiring your figure and paying attention to what you say next.
âLittle bird told me you were very upset and you might need a distractionâÂ
âIâm gonna kill FuryâÂ
âNot Nick. Your sister. And are we gonna find something to eat by standing here orâŚ?â
âIâm not hungryâÂ
âWeâre going, Natasha. Go get changedâ you push past her, tired of waiting around in the hallway. Sheâs taken aback by your forwardness. Her mother and sister would usually let her get away with anything.
âWhere are we going?â she asks, hoping you wonât go all the way to her room and pick an outfit for her.
âSomething casual will doâÂ
She changes as fast as she can, taking her phone and some money with her. You nod approvingly and then open the door, peeking around the hallway.
âThis little field trip is not Fury approved so letâs be discreet about itâ you inform her, taking her hand to lead the way to the elevator.
âOh, yeah, this is super discreetâ Natasha complains as you lead her to an electrical carriage.Â
âHave a little fun, why donât you?â you climb up, offering your hand. She takes and sits next to you. Natasha resists the urge to put a strand of hair behind your ear as you lean forward to give the address.
You feel her eyes on you, so you turn back, smiling and blushing lightly.Â
Itâs a short ride, and soon after you enter a small diner.
âHey, Y/Nâ the owner greets you. âMy, this must be a special occasionâ she leans towards Natasha and whispers. âSheâs never brought a girl overâ
âOk, Pat! Natasha is just a friendâ you clarify, blushing in the process. Natasha laughs at you.
âWhy? Sheâs pretty. You need to start datingâ Pat says, leaving two menus.
âDonât botherâ you stop Natasha as she starts reading it. âSheâll bring us whatever she wants. But it will be worth it, I promiseâ
âDo you come here often?â
âMy dad couldnât cook if his life depended on it. But he was always good at finding the best spots to eat. So we came here all the time during the US Open and then later when Bucky started trainingâ
Natasha nods and looks away.Â
âSo, youâre not dating Barnes either?â she says, looking anywhere but you. Itâs embarrassing how much she cares.
âUh.. no. Heâs like a brother to me. His parents worked a lot so heâd tag along to games with us, and we grew up togetherâ you wait until she turns to look at you. âCan I ask now?â
âIs this off the record?â
âDo you see my press badge anywhere?â
âOne never knows with you peopleâ
âOuch, Natashaâ the redhead laughs but you ask anyway. âAre you dating anyone? Youâve never been public about itâ
âIâm not, no. I just donât think Iâd be able to find the balance. Between tennis and a partner. And my public and private lifeâ
âFair enoughâ you say. Pat approaches with milkshakes, cheeseburgers and fries.
âI hope you girls are hungryâ
âStarvingâÂ
âFuryâs gonna kill meâ Natasha sighs, but then dips a fry in the milkshake and practically moans at the taste.
Your mouth is hanging wide open, and your teeth clash at how fast you shut it when Natasha turns to you.
âYouâre right, this is worth itâ
The rest of the night is spent eating and talking about everything but tennis. You learn that Natasha likes to bake in her free time, and that Yelena is taking a sabbatical before moving to New York to study at NYU.
After finishing your food, you both agree that walking back will be the best idea.Â
âIâm so fullâ you complain as you enter through the back, too scared to be caught by Fury. Natasha walks in the opposite direction of the foyer. âUh, what are you doing? I donât want your coach all over my ass if youâre missingâÂ
âHave a little fun, why donât you?â she echoes your words from before and you have no choice but to follow her. You end up on a tennis court, balls scattered around the floor.
âDo you practice here?â
âIf I canât sleepâ Natasha picks up a ball and a racket and hands it to you.
âCan I help you?â
âPlay with meâ
âI canât even serve, Natashaâ
âWell, would you like to learn?â she says with a smirk and you canât resist it.
âFine. But after that, you go back to your roomâ
âStance firstâ Natasha instructs. She corrects your posture and movements a couple of times, inching closer until sheâs whispering instructions in your ear. The last thing she does is put her hands over yours to make sure your grip is tight. âShow me what you gotâ
She steps away and you miss her presence instantly. Trying to remember everything she told you, you toss the ball in the air and swing a little too hard. You trip over your own feet, but Natasha moves forward and catches you before you fall.
âYou ok?â she says and you nod.
âHow did I do, coach?â you steady yourself, holding her close to you. Your eyes travel to her lips, and youâre both out of breath from laughing.
Neither one can tell who leans first, but the fact is that you do and you discover, with great pleasure and no surprise, that Natasha is an excellent kisser. Her lips are soft against yours and she pulls you closer by your waist.
âIs this a new way of interviewing people, Y/L/N?âÂ
Oh, shit.
You break apart and turn to Fury, who looks very much not impressed.
âThe only cardio youâre allowed to do until this slam is over is at the gym, Romanoff. Back to your room, nowâÂ
âIâm not a little girl you can boss around,â Natasha protests.
âCome on, you should rest. Weâll talk laterâ you donât want her to start arguing with Fury, not now that sheâs finally listening to him. Natasha turns to you and nods, squeezing your hand one last time before going back to the hotel.
âI donât want her distracted,â Fury says and you nod.Â
âI wasnât trying to⌠I wonât get in her way, Nick. I want her to winâ
âGlad we understand each other. Now go homeâÂ
He turns to leave and you wait for a little bit, trying to calm down after a mindblowing kiss. As youâre about to leave, you spot a yellow bracelet on the ground. Youâve seen Natasha wearing one before, but youâre too scared of Fury to go back now.
Tomorrow will be a new day for all of you.
--
âKeep your leg behind the ballâ Fury instructs. Natasha has been listening to every single thing he says.
Yes, sheâs nervous about the semis. And Furyâs the only one that can understand the feeling or help her play better.
âI want you focused,â he says as she walks to dry her hands.
âI amâ
âYou know what I meanâ he says and as if on cue, you walk up to the court, waving. Natasha places the racket down and approaches you. âPractice isnât over, Romanoff!â
âFive minutesâ she asks, meeting you on the edge of the court.
âHiâ
âHiâ she says back. Her eyes go down to your lips and your heart flutters.
âUh, you left⌠I think this is yoursâ you remember to speak, showing the yellow bracelet.
âYes, thank you. Do you mind?â Natasha extends her hand and you put it around her wrist. âYelena gave it to me before my first match. Itâs my lucky charmâ
âWell, good thing I saw itâ
âMaybe youâll be my next lucky charmâ
âOh? Am I supposed to be at every game from now on?â you smile, nodding when youâre done with the bracelet.
âI really wanna kiss youâ Natasha blurts out and you blush. âButâŚâ
âThere are people watching and Fury doesnât look happy eitherâ
âHe never does. Can I call you later?â
âYes, you definitely canâ
You want to kiss her so bad, damn it.
âCome on, go back, before Fury kicks me out of the courtâ
Natasha nods, squeezing your hand gently.
The way Natasha looks at you makes you all kinds of flustered, so you leave in a hurry before your desire takes over and you end up kissing her in front of all these people.
Once again, you run into Wanda Maximoff, only this time she doesnât smile at all.
âSheâs quite the player, right?â she says with a cold voice, her accent a bit thicker.
âUh- yes. Natasha is a very talented proâ
âOh, thatâs not what I meantâ she takes a step forward and looks you up and down. âNatasha likes to fuck around. But she always comes back to meâ
âYouâre⌠together?â your heart drops. Natasha wouldnât lie to you about this.
Would she?
âLook, of course she wants to get distracted and sheâll use anyone that is dumb enough to fall for it. But donât forget, she and I have history. And thatâs stronger than whatever it is you think you have with Natashaâ
No one is around to save you from this horrible conversation. You donât want to argue with Wanda, because youâre still a journalist and itâs your job to be on the playersâ good side.
But the reckless part of you wants to tell her to fuck off.
You sigh and look down. Wanda takes this as a sign of defeat and smiles, leaving you standing there.
It takes a minute for you to snap out of it, and you look around, desperate to walk away from everything that just happened.
â
âYouâre seriously telling me you know nothing?â you ask Bucky for the tenth time.
âI donât pay attention to rumorsâ he shrugs his shoulders, and you roll your eyes at him.
Heâs sitting on your couch, the movie long forgotten. You nudge him with your foot and glare.
âYour best friend is a journalist, you should know better. Youâre my insider into this crapâ
âIâm sorry, Y/N. Iâm just not on the loop of who dates who on the womenâs side. But I am not surprised Wanda scared you. Heard she can be batshit crazyâ
âShe didnât scare meâ you mumble. The both of you sit in silence for a while, until your phones ping simultaneuosly.
Thankfully, itâs not Nat. Right now, you donât even know what to say to her.
âSam. Probably to brag about his date in that fancy restaurantâ Bucky tells you, but his eyes widen as he reads the message. âWow. You need to look at thisâ
He hands you the phone and you read the conversation. Itâs your group chat and Sam just sent a picture of Jarvis Stone, who is having dinner with none other than Wanda Maximoff.
âWhat the actual fuâŚâ
âSo thatâs why he was being a dick to Natashaâ Bucky says. âYouâre not telling her about this, are you?â
âNo, of course not. She has the semis tomorrow and I donât want to distract herâ
You look at your phone and press send before you chicken out.
Y/N: Can we talk tomorrow?
YBelova: Sure
â
Youâre waiting by the entrance to Arthur Ashe, looking around. Even if Maximoffâs match is later, you are still dreading to spot Wanda.
âHeyâ Yelena says and you jump like a coward. âWow, relax, itâs meâ
âIâm sorry to be meeting you like this. I didnât want to bother Natasha, especially today⌠she has enough on her plateâ
âItâs ok, you can trust meâ
âI know I can⌠itâs not easy to ask this, but do you know if Wanda and Natasha had a⌠thing? Like a relationshipâ
âAre you asking as a journalist?â the blonde says, clearly on edge.
âNo, itâs not like that! Natasha and I⌠we kissed. And then Wanda told me yesterday that Natasha is just fooling around because she always comes back to her⌠and thatâs weird but then a friend sent me this. Itâs from last nightâ
âThatâs the umpire that was a jerk to Tashaâ Yelena takes your phone, looking at it in desbelief. âThat bitch is still pulling this shitâ
âIf it had been only about us, I would have waited until Natasha finished her match. But it seems to me, like Wanda is trying to play dirty hereâ
Yelena sighs and hands the phone back. She looks around and steps closer, lowering her voice.
âYes, they dated. Kept it a secret. It was on and off, especially when they were playing against each other. Wanda didnât like to lose and then, after a while, she began to mess around with Nat. She would have a fight with her before a big match, even if they werenât playing each other. Made Natasha lose her cool and struggle. They really havenât spoken since the AOâ
âWhat do we do? I donât want her to mess with Natasha. I wonât let Wanda get in her wayâ
âIâll speak to Fury about this. He knows everything. Iâll let you know what he saysâ
âDidnât know you two were friends nowâ
A voice calls from behind you.
âSeestra, hey!â Yelena steps forward to give you time to recover. âY/N was just telling me about her time at NYUâ
âIs that so?â the redhead looks between you two and you nod.
She stills makes you nervous and flustered.
âAlright, my presence is no longer requiredâ Yelena complains, but still gives you a meaningful look as she walks away.
âI have to warm up, will you stay for the game?â she asks, stepping closer.
âYes, of course I will. Iâll be screaming your nameâ you blurt out and then blush. âI mean, rooting for you. Didnât mean it to sound like thatâ
âSounds good to meâ she says, coming closer. âCan I have a good luck kiss?â
You look at her smile, her beautiful green eyes. Think about all the times sheâs been kind and funny and brave. And you also think about how someone played with her heart just for a stupid title.
So you nod and lean forward, kissing her gently.
Natasha deserves to win, not only because sheâs the better player. Sheâs the better person.
âGo win this thingâ you say against her lips and she smiles, pecking your lips one last time.
â
Natashaâs win is not a surprise to you, considering the level of her recent games. You still have to stick around for the Maximoff match, opting to stay far away from the press room once she wins.
So, itâs down to the two of them in the final.
Youâve never wished for Natasha to win something so much until today.
Work keeps you busy enough. Both of the menâs semis take a combined time of eight hours and you end up completely exhausted, seriously considering just sleeping in one of the locker rooms.
You havenât heard from Natasha but itâs understandable. Sheâs playing for the championship tomorrow, and knowing Fury, he will be preparing her in every way possible.
As you get a cup of coffee from one of the last stands open, your phone pings again.
Natasha: Are you still here?
Y/N: Yes :(
Natasha: Meet me in court 17?
Y/N: Yes :)
When you finally get there, you find Natasha serving a couple of times, wearing a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt.
âIs Fury ok with you staying up so late?â
âI did everything he said today. I think I deserve this one thingâ she smiles, walking towards you. âYou look a bit tiredâ
âJeez, thanksâ
âI didnât mean it like that. Ugh, Yelena is right, I have no game off courtâ
You laugh at that, taking her hands in yours.
âItâs fine, I was just teasing youâ you say, looking as her eyes drift towards your lips. You both lean forward, sharing a kiss.
âThank youâ Natasha says.
âUh, youâre welcome?â
âI donât mean the kiss, no. Thank you for telling Yelena that thing about⌠Wandaâ
âOhâ
Natasha walks with you to one of the chairs and you sit together.
âI havenât spoken to her in months. And I donât want to be with her. I need you to know thatâ
âBut still⌠you said youâre not sure you want a relationship, right? It would be too much troubleâ
âI think it might be worth the effort for youâ she confesses and you smile.
âYou do have gameâ
âI do?â
âTiny bit. Weâll work on itâ
She laughs, and you sit in silence for a moment.
âI made my debut in this courtâ
âI knowâ
âHowâŚ?â
You sigh. Since youâre sharing storiesâŚ
âAfter my dad died, I kinda took distance from the things we did together. That included all kinds of sports. It was a painful reminder. And then, as the USO was starting, I realised he had already bought our tickets. So I came here, walked around a bit. And then I saw youâ
Natasha smiles, squeezing your hand.
âYour hair was shorter, and you were wearing a weird orange top with green shortsâ you frown as you remember how awful it looked.
âMy mom chose it for me!â the redhead buries her face in her hands and you laugh. You take them in yours as you continue the story.
âYou were amazing that day. Controlled, precise⌠I forgot for a little while about how sad I was. And after you won, I came back everyday to watch you playâ
âThank you for telling me that. I wish I could have known your fatherâ
âI would have liked that tooâ
Thereâs silence as you both think about your own journies, the things that brought you to this moment.
âCome on, we should go. You need your restâ you stand up, offering your hand to Natasha. She thinks for a moment before taking it, but instead of standing up she pulls you down until youâre sitting on her lap, your legs around her.
âNat?â you gulp, blushing at how close you are.
âTell me to stop and Iâll stopâ she whispers, kissing your neck and squeezing your ass.
âHoly shit, no, donât stopâ you plead, tangling your fingers in her red hair.
âLocker room?â
âLead the wayâ you kiss her frantically, hoping no one sees you.
Once you arrive there, Natasha smiles and your heart stops for a second.
âReady to scream my name?â
â
Thereâs warmth. And a nice pressure. Some tingling on your back. Like a soft touch.
You open your eyes in an unknown room, trying to remember where you are. As you turn around you find Natasha fast asleep, her arm around your middle.
âNat?â you call for her, hoping no one walks in any time soon.
âFive more minutesâ she mumbles against your skin.
âNat, wake upâ you plead.
As it turns out, she only reacts when Yelena kicks the door, walking in on you naked under the sheets.
âHappy finals day seestraâ-ah! Nakedâ
âYelena what is wrong?â to your horror, Melina joins her daughter. âOh, you two lovebirds!â
âWHY DOESNT ANYONE KNOCK HEREâ Natasha screams, putting the sheets above her head.
As you both get dressed, the memories of last night come back to you.
After your rendezvous -and almost getting caught by security- you decided it would be better to continue elsewhere. You blush as images of Natasha moaning, kissing and pleasuring you also come back.
âHeyâ she approaches you as you walk to the door. âYou ok? You look a littleâŚâ
âFlustered?â you say, trying to hide your blush.
âWell, yes. Iâm sorry about them walking inâ
âLast night was⌠amazingâ
âYeah?â she circles your waist with her hands and pulls you closer. âHow amazing?â
âLike winning all Grand Slams in the same year kind of amazingâ your hands go around her neck and you pull her for a kiss.
âWow, thatâs big talkâ Natasha comments agains your lips. And as sheâs about to kiss you, Fury walks in.
âRomanoff! What did I tell you about that cardioâ
âFor the love of God, knock!â Natasha says, defeated.
âDonât worry, Fury, I promise she was laying down for the most partâ you wink at the man.
âStay for breakfastâ Melina invites as sheâs setting the suiteâs table with all the room service.
âThis has been sufficiently awkward, thank you. And I also imagine you have stuff to doâ
âYou need to stay hydrated. How much liquid did you lose?â Fury says, going around the kitchen like a headless chicken.
âFury, I havenât seen her this relaxed in months. My sister will be fineâ Yelena comments.
âAre you coming to the game?â
âOf course. Iâm on press dutyâ
âCome to the playerâs boxâ Melina says.
âWould that be wise?â you ask and everyone shares a look. âWhat I mean is, we want to make Wanda think her plan worked, right? If she sees me there sheâll know we are on to herâ
âI donât care what she thinks. I want you thereâ Natasha takes your hand and you smile.
âAlright. Iâll be there. See you laterâ you kiss her cheek and smile.
âByeeeâ Melina and Yelena say, and you realise that Natasha will have to deal with their questions.
Well, if she can deal with the press, she can deal with her family.
â
The day goes by in a blur, and as the match approaches, you feel more anxious. God, how does Natasha do this? If it were you with the world watching, youâd probably break down the minute you step into the court.
âHello thereâ Yelena greets as you meet at the playerâs entrance of Arthur Ashe. âEver been here?â
âJust once, with Buckyâ
Itâs hard to forget the luxurious facilities where players can get food, special gifts, some physio or workout before their matches.
âHe won last year, right?â
âYesâ you smile at the memory. âHow is Natasha doing?â
âSheâs done with warmup, she had something light to eat and she seems ready. Sheâs also been smiling like an idiot all day, even if Fury kept her away from her phoneâ
âI want her to win, so whatever it takesâ you smile at the blonde, and follow her to the lounge, where Natasha is waiting with Melina. The redhead smiles as soon as she spots you and you kiss her on the cheek.
âHow do you feel?â
âLike a complete wreckâ
âYou got this. Remember she prefers short games, she also doesnât like to volley or come close to the net. And people say her forehand is killer but she goes too far behind her back, so use it against herâ
âY/N?â she interrupts your rambling. âAll of that is fine advice, but I already have Nick on my back 24/7â
âRight, sorryâ
âYou know what he doesnât provide?â
âHm?â
âGood luck kissesâ
âThatâs right, itâs above my paygradeâ Fury says. âSay your goodbyes nowâ
Melina and Yelena hug her, Fury squeezes her shoulder and then they give you some space.
âGo win this thingâ you say, leaning forward and kissing her softly.
Natasha leans her forehead against yours and smiles.
Sheâs ready.
â
Natasha comes out first, and the crowd goes wild.
Wanda is close behind her; you catch her staring at you, clearly shocked that youâre next to Natâs family.
âWhoâs losing focus now?â Yelena says with a cheerful voice and you canât help but smile.
The game begins and it is very clear that Natasha is playing aggressively. She has an ace on every game and there are hardly any break points for Wanda. Itâs been 30 minutes and the score is 5-2.
âSheâs cooked,â Fury says, looking at Wanda. You shake your head.
âMaximoff has an insane record after losing the first set, you know thatâ
And in fact, she does lose the first set. As always, the crowd loves to cheer on the underdog, so they go wild when Wanda wins the first two games of the second set.
âCome on, Tashaâ you scream, and she looks your way, smiling. In no time, theyâre tied.
âWhat are the odds on a tiebreak?â Yelena asks.
âIt can go either wayâ you sigh, confirming that it will happen as they reach 6-6.
Natasha is playing fast and hard, giving no time for Wanda to recover.
But as she serves for the match, Wanda challenges the call in the most disruptive way possible.
It was in, but since Nat stopped playing the point goes to Wanda.
âThatâs bullshitâ Yelena says under her breath and you nod.
Sure enough, Natasha zones out and goes from match point to losing the second set.
âDear Lordâ Fury says, trying to keep a neutral expression.
âMaximoff looks exhausted, Nick. Natasha is doing great. She didnât give away the second set. Sheâll do thisâ
The third set begins, the first four games a close call. Deuce is called when theyâre tied at 2, and you know that whoever wins this point will end up winning the match.
Every time Wanda has an advantage, Natasha comes back and breaks. Even when the Sokovian is serving, it doesnât stop Natasha from pulling her back to 40-40. The Russian is a wall, and Wanda seems to lose hope as time passes.
And then, it happens.
Wanda has a double fault that gives Natasha the advantage. Followed by a double fault that gives her a break.
âYesâ Fury claps, trying to keep it together.
As the score approaches 5, your heart beats faster. Once again, 5-2.
Natasha serving for the match.
An ace.
The crowd goes wild.
The second ball goes out of the court when Wanda hits it.
Then, a double fault.
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
Itâs 30-15 and then 30-30. All Natasha needs are two more points to win.
She searches for your face in the crowd and you smile, nodding.
âYouâre going to winâ you say and she smiles.
Another ace.
The screens show the âchampionship pointâ sign.
Wanda doesnât make it easy for her. Sheâs like a wounded animal that has nothing to lose, so she runs, she answers every throw with a groan, she comes to the net.
But when Natasha does her signature dropshot, Wanda tries to run, reaches too late and the ball bounces one, two, three times.
âGame, set, match, Romanoffâ
âFuck, YEEESâ Yelena screams, standing up and cheering.
Itâs all a blur, Natasha falling to the ground and covering her face. Walking to the net to shake Wandaâs hand, and then the umpireâs.
After, she walks among the crowd, trying to reach her box. Yelena is the first to jump, their mother hugging them both and crying.
Fury looks like heâs about to cry as Natasha hugs him. Youâre certainly crying happy tears as you watch them.
And then, she walks past him and picks you up from the ground, kissing you in front of the entire stadium.
âCongrats, Natâ you say against her lips.
âIâll be right backâ she promises when the security guard asks her to come back for the ceremony.
âYou owe me a questionâ
âSave it for the next championshipâ she says against your lips and you kiss again, in spite of the guardâs insistence and with the crowd cheering you on.
â
Itâs been six more slam titles, two years of tours around the world.
Natasha still owes you a question.
Youâre saving it for a time when youâre both ready, and youâll ask her to marry you.
Summary: You're used to being Natasha's in the dark, where no one can see you, but what if all the hiding causes insecurities to rear their head and make you question if you are even good enough for this job?
Word Count: 12.5K (CRAZY IK)
AN: Maybe - definitely - OOC Natasha, but I wanted to get my annoyance out somewhere. It's been a long week *crying face*. Anyway, I can't write anything angsty (dk if I would classify this as angst angst but ya know) without a lil bit of fluff at the end so yh. Also sorry that the plot is a bit shit - I haven't reread this and it was a lil bit word-vomity?? Will reread and edit eventually haha. HEA, hurt/comfort vibes? :P
Take your eyes off of me so I can leave
I'm far too ashamed to do it with you watching me
The dim light of morning filters through the curtains as you quietly gather your things, your heart a tangled mess of emotions youâd rather not confront. Natashaâs apartment is always neatâpristine, even in its chaosâbut today it feels colder than usual. The aftermath of the night lingers in the air: the weight of intimacy, of bodies pressed together, of shared moments that somehow don't leave a mark, yet always seem to hang over you.
You move with practiced ease, pulling on your clothes, the soft rustle of fabric breaking the stillness. Natashaâs absence from the bed doesnât surprise you; sheâs already up, probably training or doing some task to keep herself distracted, to keep from thinking about the mission, about what happened, about anything. You donât blame her. Youâve seen the way she handles itâhow she compartmentalizes her emotions, how sex is the one thing she doesnât keep in a box.
The door to her bathroom creaks open as you finish zipping your jacket. She doesnât look at you, her hair damp from a quick shower, her expression unreadable, almost distant. She grabs her black leather jacket from the chair, pulls it on, and heads to the kitchen, the clink of mugs the only sound in the otherwise quiet room.
You take a deep breath, gathering the courage to speak, but the words always seem to hang on the tip of your tongue, trapped behind something you donât know how to say. You're youngerâyears youngerâand Natasha... well, Natasha never gives anything away. Not in the way you want her to. Her walls are solid, built from years of training, of being a weapon. And you? Youâre just a moment, a fleeting thing in her life.
You find her standing by the window now, her back to you, her figure outlined against the early light. Sheâs always like this after missions, like sheâs trying to rid herself of the weight, trying to get back to being Natasha again, instead of... whatever else sheâs forced to be.
âThanks for last night,â you manage, your voice barely above a whisper.
She doesnât turn to face you, doesnât even acknowledge your words immediately. Then, as if the silence is too much to bear, she speaks. âYou should go. Goodnight, baby.â Her voice is low, steady, but there's an edge to itâsomething you canât quite place.
You nod, swallowing the lump in your throat. âYeah. I know.â
You turn to leave, but something inside you twists, a knot in your stomach that isnât just from the awkwardness. Itâs the realization that, for all the time youâve spent together, nothing will ever change. This is just routineâan unspoken agreement between the two of you. She'll keep using you to forget, and youâll keep pretending this isnât affecting you.
But Natasha doesnât ask you to stay, doesnât even look at you as you make your way toward the door. When you reach the threshold, you steal one last glance at her. Her eyes are on the window again, her face set in that familiar, unreadable expression.
You leave without a word, the door clicking softly behind you, and the silence that follows is deafening.
This is never ending, we have been here before
But I can't stay this time, 'cause I don't love you anymore
The quiet hum of the helicarrier was almost calming, the steady vibrations of the engines beneath your feet grounding you after a chaotic mission. Youâd never felt more alive than when you were out thereâfighting, taking down the bad guys, doing what SHIELD trained you to do. But tonight, that adrenaline wasnât enough to silence the nagging feeling inside of you. You kept replaying the moments from the missionâthe moments with Natasha.
The mission had gone smoothly. You had worked well together, flowing seamlessly as a team, and Natasha had even given you a rare, approving glance when it was all over. It had been a high-stakes op, but everything had fallen into place. When the mission was debriefed, there had been laughter, light-hearted jokes exchanged between agents, but your thoughts kept drifting back to Natasha.
Her touch had lingered, just a moment longer than necessary, when she passed you your gear. Her eyes had met yours once, a flicker of something in them. It was fleeting, but it was enough to make you wonder. Maybe she feels it too, you thought. The way she looked at you, the way she spokeâthere was an intimacy in it, a spark you couldnât quite ignore.
The night had unfolded with a casual invitation to meet in her room. No big deal, sheâd said. Just to grab a drink, just to relax. But when you entered her room, it felt different. You both shed the weight of the mission in the space between words, the tension between you growing as the night went on. Her touch had been slow, almost gentle, when it first brushed against your skin. Youâd been hesitant, unsure of what was happening, but she seemed so confident, so sure.
It wasnât until laterâafter you were tangled up in each other, breathless, skin flushedâthat you felt that spark you had hoped for. Maybe she was just as interested, just as real about this as you were. It wasnât just a mission anymore, not just two agents getting the job done. There was a connection. There was something between you.
But when you stepped out of her room the next morning, something shifted in the air. The way she had casually kissed you on the cheek before you left, the way she didnât ask you to stay, didnât look at you the way you hopedânone of it was what you imagined.
Later, you passed a group of agents gathered in a corner of the mess hall, talking in low voices. Youâd barely paid them any mind, too focused on your own thoughts, but then you heard it.
âI wonder who Nat picked this time,â one of them had said, laughing.Â
âProbably one of the newbies who doesnât know any better. Gets what she wants, and moves on. No strings attached.â
The words hit you like a punch to the gut, your heart sinking lower with every syllable. Natasha. Natasha Romanoff. The woman you had admired from a distance, the one you had trusted and looked up to, had just used you. And maybeâmaybe you had been just another mission for her.
You couldnât help but feel the sting of that realization. You had wanted more. You had convinced yourself that there was something more to itâthat the way she held you, the way she whispered your name had meant something. But no. This was who she was. A lone wolf. Cold. Detached.
You didnât say anything, of course. You just nodded, forcing yourself to accept what you had heard, forcing yourself to forget what had happened the night before. The optimism you had clung to began to die right then and there. This wasnât a relationship. This wasnât something that could grow or change.
You walked back to your quarters, the weight of the missionâand your heartacheâsettling in your chest. Maybe it was better this way. Maybe it was easier to be just one of the many in a string of forgettable faces. The night with Natasha had been a blip. No more, no less.
The next time you saw her, you kept your distance, smiled a little tighter, and allowed the walls to go up. There was no point in hoping for something more when you knew exactly how this worked. She was always a few steps ahead of you, always thinking of the next mission, the next fight, never lingering too long in one place.
And you? You learned to accept that. No strings attached. No expectations. Just the way things were.
Please, stay where you are
Don't come any closer
The clang of metal against metal echoed through the training room as you and Natasha sparred. The fight was almost second nature nowâquick jabs, swift dodges, and the occasional, playful taunt thrown into the mix. You'd gotten better at handling the pressure, but still, when it came to Natasha, it was hard not to feel like you were always playing catch-up. She was faster, stronger, more experienced. Sometimes, it seemed like she was born to fight.
You threw a punch, aiming for her midsection, but she dodged it with effortless grace, countering with a sharp jab to your ribs. You grunted, stumbling back a step, but you didnât let it throw you off. You pressed forward, more determined now.
âNot bad,â Natasha said with a smirk, her voice light. âBut youâre still weak. You need me to save you again, huh?â She laughed, a glint of mischief in her eyes.
It was a joke, you knew that, or at least, you thought you did. But something about her words hit you differently today. You werenât in the mood to laugh. You had been pushing yourself hard in training, trying to prove that you could handle it on your own, that you werenât just some rookie who was always under Natashaâs shadow.
You took a deep breath, trying to shake off the growing frustration that bubbled in your chest. You swung again, but this time, you missed her entirely. She dodged it effortlessly and caught your wrist in a hold that felt too tight.
âStill not enough,â she teased, raising an eyebrow. âMaybe I should give you some more training lessons. You know, to make sure I donât have to keep saving you.â
The joke, the lightness in her voice, it only made you more upset. âMaybe I donât need saving,â you snapped, trying to pull your wrist free from her grip, your temper flaring. âMaybe I can handle things on my own for once.â
Natashaâs smirk faltered, but she kept her hold firm. âMaybe Iâll believe it when I see it.â
Deep down you knew it was a joke, but it wasnât funny to youânot today. Not when you already felt the weight of everyoneâs whispers hanging over you like a shadow. Sheâs only here because sheâs sleeping with Natasha. Sheâs nothing without her. Every agent seemed to think the same thing. Even some of your own teammates seemed to treat you like you were just an afterthought, a placeholder who only got the mission because of who you knew, not because of your skill.
You had always tried to prove them wrong. But when Natasha said things like that, it felt like all your efforts were for nothing. Like all of it was just... a joke.
You yanked your arm out of her grip and stepped back, glaring at her. âI donât need you to save me, Natasha. I donât need anyone.â
Her expression shifted, the playful edge in her eyes dimming. She didnât understand. Of course she didnât. She didnât hear the things you heard, didnât feel the weight of the judgment you carried every day. To her, this was just another training session, another moment of playful teasing. But to you? It was like being backed into a corner, your confidence slowly slipping away with every word.
âYouâre being ridiculous,â Natasha said, her voice sharp now. âYou know Iâm just messing with you. Stop getting so moody.â
It stung more than it shouldâve. You clenched your fists at your sides, holding back the urge to walk out of the room, to leave her there without another word.
But you didnât. You just stood there, feeling the walls close in around you.
âYou donât get it, do you?â you muttered, trying to keep your voice steady. âYou think Iâm just here for the fun of it. That I canât do anything without you. You donât even see it.â
Natashaâs brows furrowed, and she let out a frustrated sigh, dropping her stance. âYouâre being overly sensitive.â
You felt the words cut deep, the sting of her dismissal more painful than you wanted to admit. The last thing you wanted was for her to see you as some emotional mess. But it was too late. You could feel the heat rising in your chest, the ache of being ignored, dismissed, and reduced to nothing more than a pawn in her world.
âFine,â you snapped, unable to stop the words from spilling out. âMaybe I should just go. You donât need to deal with my mood anymore.â
Natasha didnât even flinch at your outburst. Instead, she looked at you with a cold indifference. âThen fuck off,â she said bluntly, as if you were just another irritation, another moment she couldnât be bothered with.
The words hit you like a slap. You froze for a moment, trying to make sense of it. She didnât get it. She didnât understand why you were so angry, why you felt so small in that moment. And you realized, with a sinking feeling in your stomach, that maybe she never would.
You turned and walked away without another word, your chest tight, your emotions a storm inside of you. You didnât even know where you were going, but you couldnât stay there, not with her. Not now.
Don't try to change my mind
I'm being cruel to be kind
The words hit like a slap in the face.
You hadnât meant to overhear it. You had only walked into the SHIELD briefing room to check on some mission updates when Agent Ryderâs voice cut through the air, low but unmistakable.
You could feel the sting of his dismissive tone reverberating in your bones. Nepotism. The word had echoed in your head long after heâd left, taunting you. You knew the truthâyour guardian wasnât some high-ranking official, wasnât some big shot with connectionsâbut still, how could they say that? How could they reduce your hard work to just that? To nothing but the connections you didnât even ask for?
You had always tried to prove yourself. Every mission, every task, every step forward was to show you deserved to be here, that you werenât just some token agent or a pawn in a bigger game. You had trained harder than anyone. You had put in the hours, learned everything you could, sacrificed the same as everyone else. But still, every time you turned around, someone else was whispering behind your back, casting doubt on your worth.
And then there was Natasha. Her teasing had been the last straw. You had tried to laugh it off, to pretend it didnât bother you, but you knew deep down that the way she dismissed youâit was just another reminder that you were expendable. You werenât one of them. You were just... a mistake in the system.
So when you walked into the training room the next morning and saw Natasha leaning against the wall, arms crossed, looking as relaxed and confident as ever, something inside you snapped.
You didnât go to her like you usually did. You didnât smile, didnât offer the usual greeting. Instead, you simply nodded once, cold and distant.
âSomething wrong?â Natasha asked, raising an eyebrow as she stepped forward.
You didnât answer immediately. Instead, you turned away from her, grabbing your gear and adjusting it with deliberate care. The silence stretched between you both. You could feel her eyes on you, studying you, waiting for an explanation, but you didnât owe her one. Not anymore. Not after everything.
âYouâre still upset about yesterday, huh?â Natashaâs voice was softer now, but there was an edge to it. A warning, maybe. âYou know I didnât mean it like that.â
You ignored her, shoving your focus back into the task at hand, determined not to let her see the way your chest tightened. You didnât want to feel weak. You didnât want her to know how much her words hurt. You were done with thisâdone with pretending, done with leaning on her. You were going to prove yourself. You had to.
A few moments passed before Natasha stepped closer, frustration creeping into her tone. âIf you donât stop this, weâre going to have a problem.â
You turned to face her then, finally looking her in the eyes, the words spilling out before you could stop them. âNo. Weâre not going to have a problem. Iâm done with this.â You swallowed the bitter taste in your mouth. âIâm done with you. Iâm tired of being treated like Iâm some kind of charity case. Like I donât belong here unless Iâm under your shadow.â
Natashaâs face shifted, confusion flashing in her eyes. âWhat the hell are you talking about?â
âYou donât get it, do you?â You took a step back, your voice rising in frustration. âYou think itâs funny, donât you? All of it. The way you make fun of me. Like itâs just a joke. Well, itâs not. Iâve been busting my ass here, and all you do is remind me that everyone thinks Iâm just some charity case. Nepotism. You think thatâs a joke? You think I need you to save me?â
Natashaâs expression hardened, her gaze flickering to the side, and then back to you. She crossed her arms, clearly trying to hold her composure. But there was something in her eyesâsomething tight, something hurt.
âIs this about yesterday?â she asked, her tone sharper now, but there was a hint of concern buried underneath. âYouâre overreacting.â
âIâm not overreacting!â You shot back, unable to hold it in anymore. âYou donât get to dismiss me and then act like nothing happened. Iâm not some... some... tool for you to use whenever you want. Iâm not some kid you get to play with and forget about when itâs convenient.â
The words hung in the air for a moment, thick with tension. Natashaâs jaw tightened, her lips pressing into a thin line. âYou think this is about me using you? You think Iâm using you? Is that what you really think?â
You nodded, your heart pounding in your chest. âYeah. Thatâs what I think.â
Natashaâs eyes flickered with anger, her usual calm demeanor slipping for just a moment. She shook her head, disbelief and frustration written all over her face. âYouâve got it all wrong. But fine, if thatâs how you feel, then go ahead. Go prove yourself, like you keep saying you will. But donât come crawling back to me when you realize you canât do it alone.â
The words stung, but it was the way she turned and walked awayâcold, finalâthat hit you the hardest. You felt the knot in your chest tighten, but you didnât call after her. You couldnât.
You spent the rest of the day avoiding her, your mind racing with doubt and anger. It wasnât about the mission, not really. It was about feeling like you were fighting a battle on your own, with no one in your corner. The more you tried to distance yourself, the more you realized how much you needed her, even if it hurt to admit it.
But you were stubborn. You had to prove to yourself that you werenât just here because of someone else. You werenât going to be Natashaâs shadow anymore.
You couldnât.
You have given me something that I can't live without
You mustn't underestimate that when you are in doubt
The morning briefing had gone smoothly, the usual debriefing about mission parameters, objectives, and exit strategies. But there was an undercurrent of tension you couldnât shake. It was just a solo missionânothing too difficult, Natasha had said, and you knew the protocol well. But the moment she had pulled out, just hours before takeoff, something in your gut twisted.
"It doesn't need to be a two-person mission," Natasha had said with her usual casual smile, but it hadnât reached her eyes. "Itâs easy. Youâve got this." Her voice had sounded almost dismissive, as if she hadnât been training with you for months, as if she didnât know how much you relied on her presence during missions. You knew Natasha wasnât one for emotional goodbyes, but the absence of that small gestureâher usual good luck kiss before every missionâfelt like a sign. You had never gone on a mission without one, and now, as you stood alone in the SHIELD hangar, you realized just how much you had come to rely on it.
She hadnât even given you a heads-up, hadnât said goodbye with her usual teasing smirk or reassuring look. Itâs an easy mission, you told yourself. You donât need her this time. But the unease in your chest told you otherwise.
You tugged the straps of your gear tighter, glancing once more at the aircraft. The mission was supposed to be straightforward: infiltrate a small criminal syndicate operating out of a hidden base in the mountains, retrieve intel, and get out. Youâd handled worse. But you couldnât shake the gnawing feeling that something was off. Your instincts were screaming at you, and for once, you werenât willing to ignore them.
You checked your wristwatch again. The flight would take a few hours, leaving you with time to prepare mentally, but all you could think about was Natasha. The way she had waved you off with barely a second glance, as if you didnât matter enough for a goodbye. You tried not to dwell on it. After all, Natasha didnât do sentiment. But the emptiness in your chest was hard to ignore.
Maybe sheâs just busy. Maybe sheâs just focused on something else. But none of that helped. You were used to her being there with you, a reassuring presence by your side. You needed her, especially when the missions were dangerousâespecially when you felt the weight of the world bearing down on you. But now, you were alone, and that felt heavier than you expected.
As the helicopterâs engines roared to life, you settled back into your seat, trying to center yourself. This mission wasnât supposed to be difficult. You could do this alone, you kept telling yourself. But something about it didnât feel right. Maybe it was Natasha pulling out at the last minute. Maybe it was the fact that she hadn't given you her usual kiss for luck, the one that always helped you steady your nerves before a mission. But whatever it was, it gnawed at you. Your instincts were telling you to watch your back. Something wasnât adding up.
By the time you arrived at the drop zone, the helicopter had been quiet for too long. The mountainside stretched ahead, vast and intimidating, and the cold wind carried the promise of danger. You could see the hidden compound from the airâwell-guarded, heavily fortified, and far from any backup. A simple mission, Natasha had called it.
You didnât believe that for a second.
The drop was smooth, and you quickly moved into position, your boots crunching against the frozen ground. The area around the compound was still and eerily quiet. Too quiet. No guards on patrol. No sign of life. It didnât make sense, but you pushed the unease aside. You had a job to do.
You made your way toward the compound, slipping into the shadows, the cold air biting at your skin. Every step felt calculated, but the tension in your shoulders refused to loosen. You kept glancing over your shoulder, as if expecting Natasha to appear and tell you everything was fine, that this was just another mission to add to the books.
But she wasnât there.
You reached the compoundâs perimeter and found the first guardâs post abandoned, his gear left behind but no sign of a struggle. There was no time to waste. You slipped inside, working quickly to disable the security systems and hack into the mainframe. The room youâd accessed was silent, save for the whir of the computers. As you pulled the intel from the servers, the cold feeling in your gut only grew.
Something wasnât right. Your instincts had been spot-onâthis mission had been a setup.
The hairs on the back of your neck stood up as you heard the faint sound of footsteps approaching. You froze, turning off the monitor and moving swiftly toward the exit. You didnât have time to think. You just had to get out. The sudden realization hit you like a punch in the stomachâNatasha wasnât here for a reason. Sheâd known this mission wasnât as easy as it seemed. And now you were paying the price for going in blind, without her by your side.
Your heart pounded as you sprinted for cover, your mind racing. Every corner you turned felt like a trap. The compound was alive with activity now. You could hear voices, shouts, the sounds of boots hitting the concrete floor.
I shouldâve known better. I shouldnât have trusted this mission without her.
You ducked into an alcove, pressing your back to the cold wall, your breath shallow. The door to the room youâd just vacated opened with a quiet click, and a group of armed men poured in, searching for you. The walls seemed to close in on you as the adrenaline kicked in. You had to move, had to get out, or you would be trapped.
Suddenly, your body started to droop, collapsing against the wall behind. The last thing you saw before everything went dark was long red hair tied into a bun.Â
But I don't want to carry on like everything is fine
The longer we ignore it, all the more that we will fight
You woke to the sting of cold water splashing across your face, the shock of it making your body jerk awake, muscles aching with the memory of the fight. The pain was sharp, gnawing at your ribs and shoulders, each breath a struggle. The world around you was blurred, and all you could focus on was the weight pressing down on your chest.
Your eyes opened, blurry at first, and then the details started to sharpen: concrete walls, dim lighting, and the cold, oppressive silence that clung to the room. There were metal chairs around you, all empty but one. The leader of the enemy force, a tall man with a face carved from stone, stood before you, a smug look on his face as he held the bucket that had been your rude awakening.
He tossed the remaining ice water in your direction, a small slosh hitting your face as he watched you with cold, calculating eyes. âYouâre a tough one,â he said in a low, mocking voice. âI didnât think youâd last this long. But everyone cracks eventually, donât they?â
Your throat was dry, and your tongue felt like it was made of sandpaper. You could feel the blood caked on your face, the bruises that were already starting to swell. But despite the pain, despite the overwhelming urge to break, you held your ground. You glared up at him, refusing to give him the satisfaction of seeing fear in your eyes.
âYouâve got nothing to say?â the man sneered. âYou SHIELD agents are all the same. So loyal. So stupid. Youâre all just waiting for your little friends to come save you, arenât you?â
Your lips pressed together tightly, and you refused to let a single word slip from them. You couldnât afford to give him anything. Not a single piece of intel, not even a whimper. You knew that if you did, it would all be over.
He stepped closer, placing a booted foot against your thigh, forcing you back against the cold concrete. The pressure was almost unbearable, but you didnât flinch. The silence between you both stretched, thick and heavy, until he finally gave a humorless laugh and straightened up. âI can wait. All of you are the same. Eventually, youâll break.â
But you didnât.
The next few days bled together in a haze of cold, pain, and isolation. The room was a blur of steel, concrete, and fluorescent lights. There were no windows, no sense of time. Your body was sore, covered in cuts and bruises, and the hunger gnawed at you. But you couldnât give in. Not now. Not when you knew someone would come for you.
Theyâll come. They have to.
Every time they came in, it was the sameâquestions, threats, taunts. And every time, you remained silent. You couldnât let them know how desperate you were. You couldnât let them see you break. Even if every part of you screamed for help, you stayed resolute, hoping that somehow, someone would find you, someone would come and end this.
But no one did.
It was only when the fourth day passed, when the darkness of the room had become your world, that you started to feel the weight of your own mind closing in. The silence, the isolation, the constant threat of painâit started to take a toll on you. The hunger gnawed at your insides, and your thoughts drifted in and out. You could still hear his voice echoing in your head: Theyâll come for you. Theyâll come...
It was on the sixth day that it happened. A crack in the door. The low hum of voices. The sound of boots. You didnât move at first, couldnât. But then, just like that, the door swung open, and a small team of SHIELD agents burst in, guns drawn. They moved quickly, efficiently, sweeping the room and securing the area. You didnât even have the energy to react as they cut through the restraints on your wrists and helped you to your feet.
"Hey, itâs okay, youâre safe now,â one of them murmured, gently pulling you into their arms.
But the words didnât register. You could hear them, but it was like they were coming from another world. You felt light-headed, your body numb, the weight of everything that had happened pressing down on you. Your mouth was dry, but you didnât speak. You couldnât.
The next few days were a blur of recovery, of medical checks and debriefings that you couldnât bring yourself to respond to. Every word felt like it was coming from a place far outside of you, and you couldnât find the strength to answer.
In the quiet, isolated room they had put you in at the base, you sat in silence, staring blankly at the wall. Every noise around you felt too loud. Every touch too much. They gave you time to recover, but you couldnât shake the heaviness in your chest. Your mind had shut down, your body running on autopilot.
There were no words. You couldnât bring yourself to speak. The trauma, the isolation, everything that had happenedâit left you feeling hollow. Broken.
You didnât speak at all for days, your body recovering, but your mind still trapped in the darkness of that cold room. The cold manâs words echoed in your head. Youâre all waiting for someone to come save you.
But even as the team tried to coax you into talking, even as they brought you your favorite food and gave you the space to recover, the silence remained.
Natasha didnât come. She wasnât there when you needed her, and the weight of that felt heavier than any physical wound. It wasnât her fault. You knew that. But somehow, you couldnât shake the feeling that you were still alone.
Your recovery was slow. You werenât the same person when you were finally cleared to leave the facility. There was a coldness in your eyes, a distance in your posture. The silence you had once embraced had become a shield, and now, it was all you had.
Natasha had visited you once during your recovery. She hadnât said much, just sat in silence beside you. But even when she reached out to touch your hand, you couldnât bring yourself to respond. The trauma had built walls too high, too thick to break. And no one, not even Natasha, could find their way through.
You were alive, yes. But the silence that followed felt like it would never end.
Please, don't fall apart
I can't face your breaking heart
The sterile scent of the hospital room, the constant hum of machines, and the bright, white lights overhead did little to make you feel at ease. You stared at the ceiling, your gaze unfocused, your mind a swirling mess of everything that had happened. You couldnât bring yourself to do anything. You didnât feel like you were livingâjust existing, going through the motions. Every movement felt like an effort, and the space around you felt too small, too suffocating.
You hadnât spoken since the rescue. Not to anyone. The silence, once a comfort, had become a prison you couldnât escape. Your throat was raw from the lack of words, and when you closed your eyes, you could still see the cold walls of that room, the mocking face of the enemy leader, and the weight of the isolation pressing down on you.
The door opened, and you didnât look up. You knew who it was before the first words even registered.
âAre you seriously ignoring me?â
The voice was sharp, familiar, cutting through the fog that had settled around your brain. Natasha.
You didn't respond. You couldnât. Your mind was screaming for you to stay quiet, to not let her in, because the moment you spoke, you knew it would shatter the wall youâd built to protect yourself. But Natasha didnât wait for a response. She stormed into the room, her boots heavy on the floor, her expression tight with frustration.
âIâve been trying to reach you for days,â Natasha continued, her voice rising with every word. âDo you have any idea how worried Iâve been? I canât believe youâre acting like this. Itâs been weeks. Youâre acting like a damn child, and Iâm done with it. I donât have time for this immature bullshit, especially from you.â
Your chest tightened, a knot of anger and confusion building inside you, but you refused to show it. You couldnât. You knew better than to let her see the storm inside you.
âIâm sorry I didnât follow your schedule,â you said, your voice flat and devoid of emotion. You couldnât bring yourself to add any more, any more than the words that barely scraped out. Sorry for being alive, sorry for failing.
Natashaâs eyes narrowed as she took a few steps closer, standing at the side of your bed. Her face was hard, her anger not hiding the concern that still flickered beneath. âYou think this is easy for me, too? That I just get to pretend nothing happened? That Iâm supposed to just let you wallow in here likeâlike this?â Her voice broke slightly, but she quickly regained her composure. âThis is fucking ridiculous, and Iâm not going to stand here and watch you ruin everything youâve worked for. Do you understand me? Youâre going to lose everything.â
The sting of her words cut deep, but it was the accusation in her tone that truly hit you. The one that had been festering in your chest ever since youâd been dragged out of that hellhole. You werenât who you thought you were. You werenât the person who deserved this life. The dream job, the recognition, the chance to be someone worth a damnânone of it was meant for you. Not after everything that had happened. You werenât strong enough to keep it all, to be who they thought you were. And NatashaâNatasha, who had always been a silent pillar of strength for you, was now reminding you how easily it could all be taken away.
Her words stung. Immature... Ruin everything... You could feel the weight of her disappointment settle into your chest like a stone, heavier than anything you had ever felt.
And then, it clicked.
The final straw broke. Natasha didnât understand. She didnât understand the extent of what had happened to youâthe isolation, the pain, the days spent waiting for someone to find you, and the crushing feeling that no one would. You were broken, and she was treating it like it was just a phase. That you just needed to snap out of it.
But you couldnât.
You swung your legs over the side of the bed, the pain from your injuries flaring in protest, but you pushed through. You werenât sure where you were going, but you couldnât stay here any longer. You had to leave. You had to escape the judgment, the expectations. You couldnât pretend to be strong anymore.
âDonât walk away from me!â Natasha snapped, but you were already moving. You couldnât be near her right now. The anger, the betrayalâit was all too much.
Ignoring her calls, you grabbed the nearest coat, not caring that it didnât quite fit right, and you made your way out of the room. You could hear her following you, her footsteps echoing behind you, but you didnât turn around. You didnât owe her anything anymore.
You didnât owe anyone anything.
It didnât take long to get to the secure office where you had to sign a few papers before they cleared your discharge. You barely registered the words the agent at the desk was saying. You barely noticed the fact that your fingers were trembling. You only had one thing on your mindâthe resignation letter you had been drafting in your head for days.
You placed it on the desk in front of the agent, your hands shaking slightly as you slid the paper over to them. The words were short and to the point, and they made everything feel so final. So irreversible.
âIâm resigning,â you said, voice hoarse. âEffective immediately.â
The agent didnât ask questions. They just nodded, their face unreadable, and then went about processing the paperwork. You watched, numb, as the reality of it all settled over you like a weight that you could never lift. You had dreamed of this job for so long, had worked so hard to get here, only to throw it all away because you didnât deserve it anymore.
And in that moment, you felt everything youâd been holding in for weeks. The grief. The betrayal. The isolation. It all came rushing back, but you didnât cry. You couldnât cry. The numbness, the emptiness, it was all you had now.
You stood up, turning away from the desk, and for the first time in what felt like forever, you felt a sense of finality wash over you. No turning back.
It wasnât until you were almost out the door that you heard Natashaâs voice again, this time softer, more desperate. âWait.â
But you didnât stop. You couldnât.
The door shut behind you with a soft click, and the world outside felt both too big and too small at the same time. You were alone now. Completely, irrevocably alone.
And somehow, that felt like the only truth you could rely on anymore.
I'm trying to be brave
Stop asking me to stay
Clintâs sharp eyes caught you before you could make it out of the door, his footsteps quick as he crossed the hallway. He was dressed in his usual casual gear, a quiver slung over his shoulder, his expression a mix of concern and frustration.
âHey, wait,â Clint said, his voice softer than it usually was when he called someone out. You didnât stop. Your feet kept moving, your heart hammering as you tried to escape. But Clint was relentless. He grabbed your arm gently but firmly, turning you around to face him.
"Where do you think you're going?" he asked, his voice laced with something like disappointment. âYou canât just walk out on everything. Natâs worried sick.â
You looked up at him, eyes glassy, exhausted. âI donât need anyoneâs pity,â you muttered, your voice strained. âNot hers, not anyone's. Just... just leave me alone.â
Clint studied you for a moment, his eyes narrowing with understanding. Then, without warning, he pulled you into a quieter corner, away from the main corridors, where he knew you wouldnât be overheard.
"Look," Clint said, his voice lower now, softer but still firm, "I donât know what kind of crap Nat's been feeding you, but I can tell you're hurting. You think you can just walk away from everything, like itâll make things better? You think that's gonna fix anything?"
You didnât answer. You couldnât bring yourself to. But Clint didnât need an answer.
âI hear things,â Clint went on. âIâve been around long enough to know when someoneâs trying to hide something. And Iâve been in the rafters during most of those 'training' sessions with Nat. You think youâre the only one who feels small, huh?â His voice turned bitter, a subtle edge to it. âYou think youâre the only one sheâs pushed away?â
You stared at him, shocked, unable to respond. Clint saw right through you. He knew what was happening, and he wasnât going to let it slide.
âSheâs been messing with your head, hasnât she?â Clint said. âSomehow, you think youâre not good enough, that you donât belong here. You think everything youâve done has been handed to you on a silver platter because of her. Well, let me tell you somethingâthatâs not true.â
Your chest tightened at his words, but you still didnât speak. It was like you couldnât find the words. The guilt, the shame, the feeling of never measuring up to the expectationsâthey all churned in your stomach.
Clint let out a long, frustrated sigh, his eyes softening. âYouâre good enough,â he said, his tone firm, but there was an understanding there that made your throat tighten. âYouâve earned every bit of your place here. And if she can't see that, then she's the one whoâs in the wrong. Itâs not about who you know or who you're sleeping with. Youâre here because of you. Donât you ever forget that.â
You felt the tears welling up, but you forced them back, swallowing the lump in your throat. Clintâs words had landed hard, and it was like a breath you didnât realize youâd been holding was finally being released. But before you could say anything, Clint stepped closer, lowering his voice even more.
âNatashaâŚâ Clint trailed off, his jaw tightening. âSheâs been a mess lately. Sheâs scaredâscared of losing you, scared of messing things up. But she doesnât know how to apologize for anything. Sheâs been pushing you away because sheâs too afraid to admit what sheâs done. So yeah, she's been selfish. But you canât just run away from everything. You deserve better than that."
Your heart twisted at his words, and for a moment, you felt that familiar pang of wanting to believe everything he said. But the hurt was still there, the feeling of being abandoned in your most vulnerable moment. You didnât trust yourself enough to believe that you were the one who mattered.
Clint left you with a small pat on your shoulder - he couldnât blame you for wanting to leave, he just wanted you to know the truth that Nat definitely wasnât going to tell you. Now to chew her out. It didnât take long for Clint to find her. Natasha was pacing the hall just outside, her face etched with frustration. The second Clint approached her, she shot him a glare.
âWhere the hell is she?â Natasha demanded, her voice tight with anxiety. âYou didnâtââ
Clint held up a hand to stop her. âSit down,â he ordered. âAnd listen. Iâm done with you thinking you can just brush this off like itâs nothing.â
Natashaâs jaw clenched, but she stood still. Clintâs eyes were hard, and for the first time in a long time, he wasnât holding back.
âYouâve been treating her like shit, Natasha,â Clint continued, his voice rising just enough to get her attention. âYou think sheâs the problem? That sheâs just acting âimmatureâ or âchildishâ? Look around you for two seconds. Youâve been pushing her away, making her feel like sheâs not good enough, like she doesnât deserve anything sheâs worked for. Youâve been feeding her insecuritiesâher real onesâwith your own mess. And, sheâs traumatised. Those guys out there, the ones that tortured her for six days because she went in without an extraction planâ
Natasha opened her mouth to argue, but Clint cut her off with a sharp motion.
âI hear things,â Clint said. âIâm up in the rafters sometimes. I hear the crap that other people say about her when they think no oneâs listening. They question her place on the team because her dad was an officer in Furyâs good graces, or because they think you play favourites with her. They donât realise that youâve got something else going on, but all that shit compounded. Youâve made one of our best agents question everything about herself.â
Natashaâs face went pale, her expression shifting from anger to guilt in an instant. âClint, Iââ
âYouâre lucky she didnât quit sooner, Natasha. Youâve been so wrapped up in your own bullshit that you didnât see how bad she was hurting.â Clintâs words hit like a slap. âNow go find her. And you better make this right, because if you donât Fury is gonna be pissed.â The âand Iâ went unspoken.
We're not the only ones, I don't regret a thing
Every word I've said, you know I'll always mean
Natasha stopped at the entrance of Tonyâs stupid âserenity gardenâ. It was the last place she had left to look, and it looked like luck was on her side. You were sitting on one of the benches in the corner, your back to her as you stared into the depths of the Koi pond. It was like you were a part of the landscape now, blending into the tranquility of the place. Natasha felt her throat tighten at the sight. You looked so small, so vulnerable, so distant. She had never seen you like thisânot once. It was always her who had the walls up, not you.
She took a cautious step forward, the grass underfoot crunching softly as she neared you.
Natasha called your name softly, her voice hesitant, like she was testing the waters. You didnât respond immediately, and for a brief second, Natasha was unsure if you had even heard her. The silence between you felt thick, almost unbearable. She sat down beside you, not too close, but close enough that she hoped you could feel her presence.
It wasnât the same as beforeâwhen she had always known what to say to you, when her words had always been sure, always laced with a confidence that kept her safe. But now? Now she had no idea how to begin. Her usual sharp tongue had failed her. There were no easy words to break the ice this time, no snarky jokes to hide behind. Only youâand the wreckage she had left in her wake.
You turned your head just slightly, enough to see her. The surprise in your eyes caught her off guard. Youâre surprised to see me here, Natasha realized. You didnât expect her to come. You didnât expect her to care enough to seek you out.
And for the first time ever, Natasha didnât know what to say.
Her mind was racing, every thought colliding into the next. She opened her mouth, then closed it again. She glanced at you, her expression filled with uncertainty. She could feel the weight of everything she had said, everything she had done, everything she had failed to do. The words that had always come so easily to her were nowhere to be found now. It was as if the depth of your hurt had trapped her, left her speechless, helpless.
You, on the other hand, hadnât moved, hadnât turned to face her entirely, but your gaze lingered on her for a moment longer than usual. You could sense her struggleâNatasha Romanoff, the Black Widow, speechless for the first time in your memory.
âNat?â you finally said, the question carrying more weight than it should. You almost didnât recognize your own voice, hoarse and small, like the person you had been before all of this had come crashing down.
She looked at you, the smallest glimmer of relief flickering in her eyes, but it was quickly replaced with the same guilt she had been carrying for days now.
âIâŚâ She stopped herself, shaking her head. âI donât know what to say.â
You blinked at her, surprised. This was the first time youâd ever seen Natasha lost for words. Youâd always been the one fumbling for the right thing to say, the one who couldnât figure out how to get past the pain. But sheâNatasha Romanoff, the one who always had control, always knew how to navigate even the most dangerous situationsâshe was the one who was struggling now.
It was like the world had shifted, and the unshakable woman you had always known had suddenly become... human.
It is the world to me that you are in my life
But I want to live and not just survive
Her voice was soft, as if the weight of everything she had been holding was finally catching up with her. âI messed up,â she said quietly. âI messed up, baby. And I... I donât know how to make it right.â
Your chest ached as her words hit you. The vulnerability in her eyes was raw, and it took everything in you to keep the tears from falling.
âIâve been a mess,â Natasha continued, her eyes looking straight ahead, not daring to meet yours. âI didnât realize how badly I was hurting you... And I was so wrapped up in my own shit that I justâI pushed you away. I thought youâd be fine. I thought youâd understand. But I see now that I made everything worse.â
You swallowed, the words feeling like they weighed a ton in your chest. You couldnât speak, not yet. But you turned your head slightly to face her, your gaze still unreadable.
âI never wanted to make you feel like you donât belong here,â Natasha said, her voice breaking slightly. âI never wanted you to think that you were here because of me, or that you werenât good enough.â Her lips tightened, frustration and regret flooding her features. âI justâI didnât know how to deal with my own feelings. And I made you think I didnât care. But I do. I care. I care about you more than you could ever know.â
The silence stretched out between you both, and for the first time in what felt like forever, Natasha felt small. Her pride, her strengthâall the things that had always defined herâwere gone, stripped away by the vulnerability of this moment.
You glanced at her, studying her face. It was like you were seeing her for the first timeâbroken, fragile, and unsure.
And for the first time, you allowed yourself to feel the smallest sliver of hope.
âI donât know if you can fix this,â you whispered, your voice barely audible. âBut I need you to know something, Natasha. I needed you. And youâyouâwere the one who turned away.â
Her chest tightened at the weight of your words, but she didnât flinch. She nodded slowly, accepting the truth, knowing it wasnât something that could be undone in a moment. The air between you and Natasha felt heavy with words you couldnât articulate. You had remained silent for so long, allowing her apology to linger in the air like a fragile thingâsomething too delicate to touch, to hold onto. But now, with the weight of her words pressing down on you, you couldnât remain silent any longer.
âIâm leaving,â you said, the words steady, though they felt like they weighed a thousand pounds in your chest. You werenât sure why you were telling her this now, but you had to. You had to make it real, to take control of something in your life again.
âIâm transferring,â you added, your voice quiet but firm. âIâm going to Quantico. Iâll be working with the FBI as a consultant. Itâs not what I thought Iâd be doing, but... I donât deserve to be here anymore. I got the hint.â
The words felt like a confession, a goodbye you hadnât yet found the courage to say. There had been so many dreamsâso many things youâd imagined for yourself at SHIELD. You had fought for them, worked tirelessly, sacrificed for them. But now, they felt like they were slipping away.
Natasha didnât say anything at first. She didnât even look at you. Her eyes were fixed on the ground, like she was trying to find the words. You knew what sheâd say. Sheâd tell you that you were making a mistake, that you had so much potential. But it wouldnât matter. Nothing would fix what had been broken.
You could feel the emotions swirling inside of you, but you had already made your decision. It was easier to walk away, easier than confronting everything that had gone wrong.
But then, she spoke. And it was different from anything youâd expected.
âYouâre the best SHIELD has to offer,â Natasha said, her voice steady, though there was an underlying urgency in it. âYouâre the best agent weâve got, baby. I... I donât think you see it. Youâve done things that people canât even dream of. Youâve proven yourself time and time again. Youâve earned your place here. And I know I havenât made it easy for you, but you belong here.â
Her words hung in the air, and for a moment, you couldnât quite comprehend what she was saying. Her voice was fierce now, insistent, and you could hear the raw sincerity in it. But none of it felt real. None of it felt true, not in the way you needed it to.
âI donât believe you,â you said, your voice quiet, almost lost in the distance between you. âI donât think Iâve ever truly belonged here. Not in the way you think. Iâm not you, Nat. Iâm not cut from the same cloth. Iâm justâme. And Iâve been holding on to a dream that doesnât fit. Not anymore.â
Natashaâs expression faltered. She opened her mouth to say something, but the words died on her tongue. She could feel your resolve, could see how broken you were, how done you seemed. It was like you had already leftâmentally, emotionally, even before physically walking away.
Her chest tightened. âBaby, listenâ"
But you shook your head, cutting her off. âWhatever youâre going to say, Nat, Iâve heard it all.â You inhaled sharply, the words rushing out. âAnd Iâve finally started hearing whatâs been said. And now Iâm seeing whatâs been true all along. Iâm not enough, no matter how hard I try. No matter how much I give. And you... youâve made it clear that Iâll never be anything but a second choice. I was just a comfort to you, a distraction. You made me feel like I needed to prove myselfâlike I needed to earn my place, but I did. I did, and it never mattered.â
There was a pause. Natashaâs lips trembled, the harshness of your words sinking in. She knew she had been wrong, knew she had made everything worse. But hearing you speak this wayâso broken, so defeatedâit shattered something deep inside her.
"Please..." Natasha's voice faltered, her tough exterior cracking. She reached out toward you, but the gesture was hesitant, unsure. âI never meant for it to be like this. I never wanted to make you feelââ
You pulled away, standing up slowly, the decision final in your mind. âIt doesnât matter anymore. Iâve made my choice. Iâm leaving. And I donât think youâll miss me that much anyway. Itâs easier to pretend like you donât need anyone than to admit you might be wrong about something.â
That's why I can't love you in the dark
It feels like we're oceans apart
Before you could take another step, you felt a hand grip yours. Warm, strong, and unyielding. Natasha had caught up with you, her fingers laced around yours, holding you in place. You didnât turn around. You werenât sure you wanted to face her again, not after everything that had been said, not after the rawness that she had exposed.
Natashaâs voice was softer now as she called your name, more vulnerable than youâd ever heard it. âPlease, justâdonât walk away yet.â
You swallowed hard, trying to steady your racing pulse, but it was hard when every part of you wanted to run. You didnât stop, but neither did she.
Her grip tightened, pulling you back just a little, her touch sending a mix of warmth and tension straight through you. When she spoke again, her voice wasnât the confident agent you were used to, the one who had always kept her emotions under lock and key. There was something different now, something uncertain, almost as if she wasnât sure of her place in your world anymore.
âIâve messed up,â Natasha continued, her voice shaking with emotion. âI know I pushed you too hard. I know I made you feel like you werenât enough, like you didnât belong here, and... I did that because I wanted you to be the best. I wanted you to be safe. I was afraid that if anything happened to youâif I lost you on a mission, IâI donât think I could survive it.â
You could feel her breath, the rise and fall of her chest close behind you, but you didnât turn around. Not yet. Her words hit you like a wave crashing into the shore, raw and jagged, and for a moment, you didnât know how to process them.
âI pushed you because I was scared. And in trying to protect you... I ended up pushing you away,â she whispered, the confession hanging in the air, the depth of it too much to ignore. âI was wrong. Iâm sorry. I was so so wrong.â
The air between you both was thick with everything she had just said, and you stood there for a long moment, processing it all. But it wasnât enough, not yet. You couldnât bring yourself to face herânot yet.
âI donât know how to forgive you for this, Natasha,â you said, your voice a mixture of anger and hurt. It wasnât snark this time, no biting sarcasm, just raw emotion. "The only time something terrible happened to me, something that almost killed me, was when you abandoned me. You made the call. You didnât show up. I was out there, all alone, and you werenât there when I needed you most.â
Your chest tightened as you spoke, the hurt pouring out like it always had, but now it was different. Now, it wasnât just anger. It was a deep, aching sadness that threatened to drown you. And despite yourself, you couldnât stop the words from coming. âYou made me feel like I wasnât worth it. Like I wasnât worth anything.â
You could feel Natashaâs breath hitch behind you, the weight of your words striking her deep. She didnât say anything at first, and when you finally turned around, you saw the truth in her eyesâguilt, sorrow, and a pain you hadnât expected. The sight of it, the way her face crumpled in on itself, broke something inside you.
Her hand fell away from yours, but it wasnât because she wanted to let go. It was because she was shaking, trembling with emotion that she could no longer hold in. And then you saw itâtears. Two, maybe three, glistening on her cheeks. Natasha Romanoff, the unshakable Black Widow, was crying.
âI didnât mean to hurt you,â she whispered, her voice quivering. âI didnât. Iâm so sorry. I never wanted to make you feel abandoned. I... I couldnât bear the thought of you in danger. But... I hurt you worse by pushing you away.â
For the first time in all the years youâd known her, you saw Natasha unraveling in front of you, breaking apart piece by piece. It felt almost cruel, to see her like this after everything youâd been through. But as much as your heart ached for her, you couldnât bring yourself to forgive her. Not yet. Maybe not ever.
âYou canât just apologize and expect everything to be okay, Nat,â you said, the words coming out sharper than you intended. âYou hurt me. You made me feel worthless, like I wasnât enough. And when it mattered the most... when I was out there fighting to survive, you turned your back on me.â
Natasha flinched at the force of your words. They were like a punch to the gut, and you saw how much it hurt her to hear them. But the truth was, you couldnât keep pretending that everything would just magically be okay.
âI know,â Natasha said, her voice barely above a whisper. âI know. And I canât take that back. I canât make up for it. But... I just need you to know, I care. I never meant to hurt you.â
âI know you care,â you said softly, but your voice still carried that edge of distance. âBut thatâs not enough anymore. I donât know how to keep going back to the way things were. I canât keep coming back to you only to be left in the dark again.â
There was a long silence, the kind that seemed to stretch on forever, and Natasha stood there, her shoulders slumped, her eyes filled with unshed tears. She was broken, but that didnât change the fact that what sheâd done had hurt you in ways you werenât sure could ever heal.
âYouâre right,â she said finally, voice cracked. âYou deserve more than this. You deserve better. Someone who wonât make you feel like you have to earn their care, someone who wonât turn their back when things get hard.â
You stood there, feeling the weight of the finality in her words, and for a long time, you didnât know what to say. You looked at herâthe broken woman in front of youâand you realized that, despite everything, despite all the hurt, you didnât want to stay. You needed to walk away. For yourself.
âI need to walk away, Natasha,â you said quietly, your voice steady but firm. âI donât know what we were, what we are anymore. But I canât do this anymore.â
You turned towards the exit, your steps unfaltering as you walked away. Natasha half expected - hoped - youâd turn around and run to her. But you didnât. You walked away, slowly, your footsteps fading into the distance, away from SHIELD and away from her.
There is so much space between us
Baby, we're already defeated
A year laterâŚ
It was a quiet evening when you walked into the bar after a long day, your mind still buzzing with the details of your latest case. Quantico was different to SHIELD in almost every way. The people were different, the procedures were different, but you found that - after getting into the swing of things - it wasnât worse. Just different.Â
The dim lighting of the bar, the hum of conversation, the clink of glassesâit was a familiar comfort now, one that made you feel grounded after the chaos of your job. You ordered a drink and leaned against the bar, letting your shoulders drop, the weight of the day lifting slowly.
That was when you saw her.
Natasha Romanoff, standing across the room, her back slightly to you as she talked to a stranger at the bar. But even from behind, something about her caught your attention. She looked different. Older, somehow. More... mature. The woman you had known was always poised, confident, and untouchableâbut there was something in the way she held herself now that made her feel more human. Vulnerable, even.
Her hair was different tooâshorter, sleek, straight, a stark contrast to the wavy red that had once framed her face. She had always been beautiful, but now she seemed to radiate something elseâsomething quieter, more grounded.
You stared for a moment, unsure if you were seeing things right, but as she turned to glance around the bar, her eyes met yours. Recognition hit her almost immediately, and she froze for a second, her expression flickering with surprise. Then, just as quickly, it softened.
Her voice was a little hoarse as she whispered your name, almost like she hadnât expected to see you here, or maybe she hadnât heard your name in so long that saying it felt foreign.
You didnât say anything at first. You just watched herâreally looked at herâbefore taking a slow step forward. âNatasha.â Your voice was calm, composed. Different from the way you used to say her name with that sense of longing, of wanting something that wasnât ever going to be.
She gave a small, tentative smile, the kind that spoke volumes about how much time had passed, about how many things had been left unsaid between you. "You look... good," she said, her eyes flickering over you.
It was an understatement. You felt good. You felt like you were finally living a life that wasnât defined by the weight of the past, by the mistakes youâd made and the ones others had made for you.
âI could say the same about you,â you replied, with a small smile of your own. âYou look different. I like it.â
âYeah.â She ran a hand through her new, shorter hair, a nervous habit, before looking back at you. âA lotâs changed.â
âClearly,â you said, glancing around. You couldnât help but take in the way she stoodâso different from the woman who had always been so self-assured, so used to being in control of every situation. But in a way, it made her more real, more approachable.
The two of you stood there for a moment, the air between you awkward but not uncomfortable, as if neither of you knew where to start. It was Natasha who broke the silence first.
âSo, howâve you been?â she asked, her voice softer than you remembered it. âReally?â
You raised an eyebrow at her, unsure if she even knew what really meant anymore, after everything. But it was a simple enough question. And youâd spent the last year being honest with yourself, so why not? âIâm doing alright. Different. Moving on. Got a new job at Quantico. Therapyâs been helping. Iâm in a better place now.â
Natasha nodded, though you saw the flicker of something behind her eyesâa mix of regret, of longing, maybe. âIâm glad to hear that. Iâve... Iâve been trying to do the same. Itâs been a long year. Things havenât been easy, but I think Iâm getting there.â
You studied her for a moment, your expression unreadable. The quiet honesty in her voice made you want to believe that she was trying. You could see it now. She had changed too.
âYouâre still working for SHIELD?â you asked, trying to keep the conversation casual, as if the past didnât hang over both of you like a thick, invisible cloud.
She nodded, but there was a hesitation in her movements. âSort of. Iâve been taking a step back, working in a different capacity now. More... behind the scenes. I guess Iâm trying to figure out who I am, outside of all the missions, the work.â
It hit youâshe was no longer the same person either. The intensity in her eyes had softened, and there was a certain sadness to her that you hadnât seen before. She seemed tired in a way that wasnât physicalâtired of running, of hiding behind the façade she had built. You hadnât seen this version of her before, and in some ways, you almost didnât know how to react.
âSo... what now?â you asked, the question feeling lighter than it should. âNow that weâre both here, like this.â
Natashaâs eyes met yours, and there was a long pause, the weight of everything that had passed between you hanging heavily in the air. And then, almost as if on instinct, you spoke.
âDo you want to come back to my place?â You offered the invitation like it was just a reflexâlike things could go back to the way they were, the comfort of those old habits, the way things had felt when it was just the two of you, before everything had gone sideways.
She looked at you for a long moment, and you saw the conflict in her eyes. She was torn, and you could see in her eyes, that something was playing on her mind.
âNo.âÂ
Everything changed me
And I don't think you can save me
The words hit you like a jolt, a shock of electricity shooting through your chest. Natashaâs eyes were steady on yours now, no longer hesitant, no longer uncertain. There was a firmness in her voice that you hadnât heard in a long timeâa quiet confidence that seemed to say sheâd finally found something worth fighting for. And for the first time in a long time, you saw Natasha Romanoff not as the untouchable spy, not as the woman who had left you behind, but as someone real, someone who had learned from her mistakes.
âIâm not going to make the same mistake twice,â she said, her voice low but with an undeniable certainty. âIf you want me, Iâm going to do it properly this time. No more running, no more half-heartedness. Iâve hurt you, and I wonât do it again. But this time, itâs going to be on our terms. If thatâs okay with you.â
You stared at her for a long moment, taking in the gravity of what she was saying, the weight of the promise she was offering. For so long, youâd wondered if this day would ever come. The idea of thisâof her askingâhad seemed impossible, a distant dream you never thought youâd reach.
And yet, here she was, standing before you, offering a chance to try again. A real chance.
âDinner tomorrow?â she asked, her lips curving into a small, tentative smile. âIf you're free?â
You didnât have to think long. The question felt so simple, so natural, in a way that almost made you want to laugh at how easy it seemed compared to everything that had come before.
"Yeah," you said, the answer escaping your lips before your mind had fully processed it. "Iâm free."
Natashaâs smile deepened, the corners of her eyes softening as she took in your response. It was a quiet victory for herâone that meant more than words could convey. She wasnât expecting you to forgive her immediately, or to trust her completely. But she was willing to try, and that was more than she had ever given before.
âIâll pick you up,â she said softly, her voice almost shy now. âIâll make sure itâs a good night.â
You nodded, still processing the fact that she was here, still standing in front of you, willing to do what she hadnât done before. And for the first time in a long while, you allowed yourself to believe that maybe, just maybe, there was something worth saving between the two of you.
âSounds good,â you replied, a quiet confidence settling in your own chest. âTomorrow then.â
With that, Natasha gave you one last look, a small, genuine smile gracing her face, before she turned and walked out of the bar. You stood there for a moment longer, feeling the weight of everything that had happened between you two, and then, for the first time in a while, you allowed yourself to feel something elseâhope.
Tomorrow. You were willing to see where it could go. And maybe, just maybe, Natasha Romanoff was going to do it right this time.
You saved me.
The evening had been everything and nothing like you expected.
Dinner was at a beautiful, upscale restaurant with soft candlelight flickering across polished wood tables, glasses of wine that felt far too expensive, and Natashaâsitting across from you, more present than she had ever been. She wasnât the untouchable agent, the mysterious woman who kept her emotions locked away. She was Natasha, just Natasha, in the soft glow of the candlelight, her laughter filling the space between the two of you, the lightness in her eyes almost enough to make you forget the weight of the years spent apart.
The night had been filled with easy conversation, the kind that flowed without effort, as though the years of silence hadnât really existed. But it had. They had.
And yet, here you were, sitting across from her in a place that made your own paycheck look laughable, eating food that was far too rich for your taste, and all you could think about was how right this felt. You hadnât expected it to be this natural, this easy to fall back into old rhythms, the way she looked at you like you were the only person in the room. And by the time you were back at your apartment, after a night of shared glances and a warmth between you that neither of you had ever truly experienced before, you couldnât deny it anymore.
You wanted her. You needed her. And maybe, just maybe, you were ready to give her another chance, to let her love you, to let yourself love her again.
The moment your door clicked shut behind you both, Natasha pulled you into her, her lips capturing yours with an urgency that felt foreign, yet so familiar. There was no hesitation this time, no walls between you. Her hands roamed to your sides, pulling you closer, as though she couldnât get enough. You met her halfway, losing yourself in the kiss, in the warmth of her touch, the way she made you feel like everything would be okay.
It wasnât just the kiss though. It was what she said in betweenâher voice breaking the quiet with a rawness you hadnât expected.
âI love you,â Natasha whispered against your lips, her hands tender as they traced over the curve of your jaw, as though she was afraid to let go. âI love you. And I never want to keep you hidden again. Iâm done pretending I donât need you. Youâre everything.â
Her words hit you like a wave. They didnât come with the weight of shame or regret this time. They were just the truthâsimple, honest, and real. She loved you. After everything, after all the mistakes, she still loved you.
You breathed out a soft laugh, a tear slipping down your cheek at the raw vulnerability in her voice. She reached up, brushing it away with her thumb, as if she could erase the past for you, make everything better with that one gentle gesture.
âIâve missed you,â you said quietly, your voice catching in your throat. âIâve missed this.â
Natasha smiled, a single finger running down your cheek. "I don't want to hide you anymore. Let me love you in the light."
Sophomore year of college was not going to plan and it hadnât even started yet.
Youâd made the choice not to apply for dorms. Instead, youâd made plans with your two best friends from freshman year. The three of you had been inseparable for two semesters, and it made perfect sense to rent an off campus house together.
As the summer went on, it started to feel like you were the only one in the group still excited for the experience of living together. You found yourself sending links for potential houses into the group chat, only to be left on read.
You should have seen it coming. You started to stress as the start of the semester loomed closer. Your anxious messages were still being left on read by both friends. Worry started to flood you on a daily basis, houses were being rented at a rapid pace and any good options were running out.
There were barely two weeks left until the start of the semester, when you finally received a message. Both of your friends were going to move in with their boyfriends instead. Theyâd met the boys in the last few weeks of your freshman year, and somehow the relationships had lasted through the summer. The four of them could split the rent of a two bed house close to campus.Â
They were overly apologetic, promising that you could visit whenever you wanted.
Anxiety spiked immediately and you found yourself crying in your car as you read over the message. You were already late for the last shift of your summer job. You felt profoundly stupid like you should have seen it coming. You also felt lonely, you were only really close to those two girls.
You realised how different the next year was going to be. You tried to think clearly as you calculated how much money youâd managed to save across the summer. Youâd only budgeted for one third of a houseâs rent. There was no way you could afford a place on your own.Â
You spent your lunch break scrolling through Craigslist ads. Your friends messaged you again and their apologies were more heartfelt. You knew they were feeling bad about your lack of response. You didnât have time to care.Â
You tried to filter through the housemate requests. You decided quickly that you didnât want to share with couples, still feeling bitter about your friendsâ decision. Boldly, you decided against sharing with multiple other people in general. You were feeling sick already of being the third in a friendship. You didnât think you could stomach living with two best friends and feeling even more alone.
There was only one advert that met all your criteria. It was a little far from campus, but the rent was more than reasonable. The offered room was small, but there were trees outside the window and you decided it looked peaceful.
The listing itself was short and to the point. Female sophomore looking for a friendly housemate to help out with the rent.
You sent them an email. You kept it formal, not quite sure how to phrase yourself. By the time youâd finished your final day of work for the summer, you had a reply.
They replied with two words, an address and a name.
Visit Saturday?
Natasha.
You tried not to feel nervous about the girlâs blunt response. You replied and agreed to meet her, heart beating loudly as you typed. You spent the next two nights stressed about the potential serial killer you were likely going to meet on Saturday morning.
You considered asking one of your friends if they would come with you to the meeting. Then, you saw their joint posts on social media about their beautiful newly-rented house and decided youâd rather be murdered.
You pulled up outside the house early on Saturday. Something in your heart settled as you examined the outside from the driver's seat. It was smaller than the house that your friends were renting, but it also looked prettier. There were red leaves falling from the tree in the front yard. The roof looked new, but it matched the older style of the house.
The front door was painted a dark blue and the paint looked fresh. It didnât look like a student house, it looked like someoneâs home. You wanted to live here. Absent-mindedly, you wondered at how authoritative your potential housemate might be to keep a house looking so neat.Â
You imagined being pulled into a rigorous cleaning rota and decided it might still be worth it. There was a cute bench swing on the porch.Â
You walked up the path to the front door and knocked hesitantly. It opened only a few seconds later.
The redhead stood there with awkward expectancy and you knew that sheâd seen your arrival in the car and had been waiting for you to knock.
Two things struck you immediately.
Firstly, this sophomore was in her thirties. Secondly, this sophomore was an Avenger.
Natasha Romanoff shifted slightly from foot to foot as you stared a little too intensely back at her.
âHi.â She addressed you and her hand moved up to give you an uncertain wave.
âHi.â You replied in a nervous exhale.
âIâm Natasha.â The woman introduced herself. You bit your lip to stop yourself from explaining that you recognised her. It felt strange to acknowledge it. This woman couldnât have looked less like a professional superhero.
Her hair was loose and hung down past her shoulders. It was braided at the top and the style framed her face with a particular kind of softness. Her grey hoodie was oversized and her black leggings made her look unassumingly normal.
Your eyes glanced down at her fluffy socks disbelievingly. You tried not to be too obvious.
âIâm (Y/N), Iâm here to see the room.â You informed her unnecessarily and your hand moved automatically for a handshake. Natasha shook it readily, an amused smirk flickered over her face.
âWould you like a tour?â She asked you warmly and you nodded, feeling shy.
You started to take your shoes off at the door and Natasha glanced at you in surprise.Â
âThereâs not a rule or anything.â She assured you.
You shrugged.
âThis place is so nice.â You answered simply, looking over her shoulder at the clean hardwood floors. Natashaâs smile was small, but it seemed proud.
âI always travelled around a lot.â She told you suddenly. âI bought this place last year, and I ended up staying through the summer. It's the first place thatâs really felt like home.â
You smiled back automatically at her words.
âSo, youâre the landlord?â You confirmed teasingly, following her through to the kitchen/dining area. The lighting was soft and golden and it made the room feel warmer.Â
Natasha rubbed the back of her neck unsurely.
âI donât really need a housemate.â She admitted as you wandered over to the oak dining table accompanied with two matching benches that stood in the centre of the room.
âItâs just a quiet house.â Natasha added softly. You looked up from the table and met her gaze. Natashaâs eyes flitted away from you with embarrassment and she gave a small shrug. You wondered how lonely an Avenger could get. Abruptly, you realised it was likely lonelier than most.
âAre you a sophomore?â You asked her suddenly, wanting to confirm what youâd read in her advert. Natasha moved through to the living room area, opening a door for you to walk through.Â
She nodded briefly. Your eyes caught immediately on the rows of bookshelves that lined the far wall. There was a laptop sitting open on one armrest of the sofa and a grey blanket folded on the other.Â
This didnât look like a typical student house. You didnât care, this was so much better.
âI realised that Iâve only ever learned things for my job.â Natasha explained from the doorway. âBut Iâve never learned about anything just because I wanted to. I know Iâm a bit older.â Natasha paused again and she smiled carefully at you.
âItâs okay if that bothers you.â She added. âI wonât be offended.âÂ
You caught the briefest shadow of loneliness cross her face. You felt sympathetic, Natasha seemed lovely and already you wanted to know her more. Still, you werenât surprised that it had been hard to make friends on campus.
You grinned back at Natasha, trying to make her brighter with your own smile.
âDoesnât bother me at all.â You assured her. Youâd had an action figure of Natasha as a kid. It was too embarrassing to mention.
Natasha started asking you some questions then. You found yourself explaining the highlights of your own first year. She asked you follow ups and soon you were telling her about the shock of your friends ditching you unexpectedly.Â
Natashaâs focus was flattering as she listened carefully. You tried to hide another wave of shyness as you realised that youâd been explaining your problems to an Avenger. You realised how different your problems probably were.
Natasha showed you the bathroom and gave you a brief look into her spacious and tidy bedroom. Then, she opened the door across from it, revealing your own.
You were right that it was a little small, but it was clear that Natasha had recently renovated it. The paint seemed fresh and the IKEA desk facing the window still had a protective plastic cover wrapped around it.
âPerfect.â You said aloud, because it was. Natasha beamed now, leaning against the doorframe, her hands rested easily in the pockets of her hoodie.
As you descended the stairs, Natasha told you about her degree choice. Sheâd picked an English major and her cheeks flushed slightly when she told you that sheâd started the yearâs reading list early.
You started asking her about the ones that sheâd read so far.
Natashaâs conversation felt hesitant to begin with, but you could sense her desire to talk. You wondered how long the summer alone here without classes must have felt. Natashaâs explanations were detailed in a way that told you she paid attention in class far more than you did. You fought a grin as you realised Natasha Romanoff might be a huge nerd.
When you arrived back at the front door, there was an abrupt pause as Natasha cut herself off. You lingered in the hallway awkwardly for a second before you realised that she was awaiting your verdict on the house.
âIâd love to live here.â You told Natasha upfront, feeling suddenly much younger as you stood in front of her.
It felt bizarre when some tension seemed to lift from Natashaâs shoulders at your words. It was inconceivable to have her seek your approval. Natasha Romanoff had stopped aliens from invading New York.
Natashaâs answering smile seemed more relieved than anything else.
âWhen do you want to move in?â She asked easily.
.
The next time you pulled up at the house, car filled with cardboard boxes and assorted items, the weather was perfect.Â
Natasha opened the front door while you were walking up the porch steps.
âLet me help?â She offered immediately and her eyes shone with something that made you feel like friends already.
You spent the next hour together, bringing heavy boxes up the staircase. Even Natasha had started to sweat with exertion. She seemed excited though, and you shared slightly giddy smiles when you passed each other in the hallway.
When the last box was in your room, Natasha hovered awkwardly by the foot of your bed. Before she could turn to leave, you gave her a reassuring smile.
âYou wanna sit?â You offered casually, though your heart was pounding in your chest. Youâd been crushing on Natasha Romanoff, the superhero, for years. Meeting her in real life had only made that feeling stronger, but you tried to push through it. More than anything, you wanted to be friends with your housemate. âYou can give me decorating advice?â
Natashaâs eyes widened slightly in surprise at your suggestion and she moved obediently to sit on the end of your mattress. Her hands rested in her lap and she looked around your room unsurely. You could tell she was trying to think of something to say.
You started up a conversation about her upcoming classes. Natasha told you about a professor sheâd been hoping to avoid but had ended up having for the second semester in a row. Any hesitancy left her voice as she found her rhythm. One story led to another and Natasha stood up to help you move clothes into your wardrobe as she told you all about an assignment sheâd handed in to that professor before.
You tried not to smile at the realisation that the Black Widow was talking to you like you were friends. It was endearing to hear anyone talk so interestedly about a subject.Â
There was something fresh in the way she told her stories and answered your questions. You could tell Natasha had formed opinions about her classes that sheâd never shared with anyone before. It made you feel special.
After youâd moved most of your things into the right places, you decided to take a shower. The bathroom was shared and it gave you the opportunity to unpack your items for showering.Â
You wandered downstairs an hour later, hair still wet. Natasha was sitting on one end of the sofa, legs curled under her as she stared at her laptop screen. When Natasha saw you, she straightened up. You waited for her to speak. Irrationally, you worried that she was going to tell you a list of house rules that included not showering in the afternoon.
âIâm making lasagnaâ.â Natasha told you suddenly. You nodded, realising now why your mouth was watering. âThereâll be extra?â
You felt like you were in a different reality, sitting at the dining table as Natasha presented you with a plate of food. You asked if you could play some music, trying to diffuse the tension. The first song that played was embarrassing and much louder than youâd planned. You hurried to skip it on your phone. Natasha huffed out a soft laugh. You glanced up from your phone and saw the amusement in her eyes. Somehow, you found yourself laughing too.
Soon, you fell into light conversation. Natasha wasnât like anyone youâd ever met before. You knew already that you were in love with her voice. You tried to focus on the lasagna. You were so glad that youâd answered that Craigslist ad, but you could already feel the sting in your heart. Unreciprocated crushes always ended badly.
You insisted on cleaning up the kitchen but Natasha hovered close. She was curious about the music you were playing and started asking you questions about your other interests. Â
The soft lighting made her eyes sparkle and you tried to focus on loading the dishwasher.
Natashaâs hand brushed your back as she moved past to start the coffee machine. You startled at her touch, feeling warmth rush to your cheeks.Â
.
There were three more days until classes began. Youâd been worried that Natasha might get sick of you just in those first few days. Instead, the pair of you gravitated towards each other with an unexpected familiarity.
The first morning, Natasha offered to walk with you to the nearest convenience store, so you would know the route. You felt shy at her thoughtfulness. The morning had been perfect, wrapped in scarves, shoulders brushing as the cool wind blew the falling leaves in spirals around you.
You bought the ingredients there to bake cookies, feeling weirdly festive as you embraced the last few days of vacation.
Natasha looked flattered when you offered her one of the cookies. She smiled carefully and told you how much she liked cinnamon. You were pretty sure that youâd fallen in love with her.
The next few days kept their festive theme. You felt like you were sharing a holiday with someone you already knew. Every once in a while, Natasha would take a phone call and leave the room.
Sheâd glance back at you as if conscious about how strange her behaviour must be. You barely reacted. It was easy to forget that Natasha was an Avenger on hiatus, but it didnât bother you at all. You did wish that youâd acknowledged it from the start. It felt too late to explain that you knew her other identity, but it was painfully awkward when Natasha was elusive about details from her past.
.
Your first class was not as bad as youâd been expecting. Youâd resigned yourself to trying to find a new place to sit in the lecture theatre. You softened slightly when you entered the room and saw your two friends waving eagerly from the back row. The situation stung less now that youâd ended up sharing a house with Natasha.
You sat next to them and soon you were talking in hushed voices about your summer vacations. Your friends gushed about their boyfriends and you tried to look mildly interested. It was clear also that theyâd spent a lot of time together during the summer break without inviting you.
When they asked about your new living situation, their voices turned sombre, as if they were giving you condolences. They were surprised to hear about a sophomore that they hadnât met before at any party. When you explained that Natasha was older, their looks became even more sympathetic.
You stopped talking, allowing them to move onto other topics. You felt annoyed that theyâd made a snap judgement about Natasha. You tried to focus on the professor, speaking at the front of the class. Your friends were talking about a party they were throwing that night. They invited you enthusiastically and you couldnât help but wonder if theyâd only done so because you were sitting with them.
You agreed quietly, deciding that if nothing else, at least there would be other classmates there too. You had a feeling that you needed to expand your college social circle.
It was lunch right after the class and one friend invited you to sit with them and their boyfriends. The other, shot her a resentful look when she made the suggestion and suddenly you saw just how false they both were. You declined politely, realising with certainty that these people were not your friends.Â
There were several places to eat on a street just off campus, and you wandered there without much of a plan.Â
Natasha was sitting in the back corner of one cafĂŠ, your eyes caught on her red hair, tied back in a loose ponytail. She was wearing an oversized sweater and her focus was entirely on the book in front of her. You tried to catch her eye but she didnât look up.
Without thinking, you entered the cafĂŠ. It was slightly more expensive than the chain coffee shop next door and so there were hardly any customers sitting inside. Natasha glanced up at the sound of the door opening and her eyes widened at the sight of you. You waved awkwardly, heading over to the counter to place an order.Â
Natasha gave you a surprised smile and you prayed that you werenât being weird and overstepping by coming in here. The waitress told you to sit down and sheâd bring your order over to you. You moved awkwardly over to Natashaâs table, feeling like a school kid as you tried to fight the nervous lump in your throat. You just had to ask to sit with her.Â
Natasha glanced up from her book again and looked at you quizzically. She smiled politely, evidently a little confused. You wanted to sink into the floor. You glanced down at the chair sitting opposite her and something clicked in her head. Natasha scrambled to move her items over to her side of the table.Â
You sat down, wishing that every social interaction you started wasnât always this mortifying. Then, Natasha gave you a shy smile.
âI didnât think you wanted to sit here.â She told you embarrassedly. âI thought maybe you were leaving to meet friends.â
You rolled your eyes automatically at the word friends and Natasha laughed easily, shutting her book and instead picking up the sandwich that had been lying forgotten on the table. You explained briefly about your interaction with your friends. Before youâd finished, your own sandwich had arrived. You felt almost dizzy with your change of mood. Suddenly, you felt lighter than air.
Between bites, Natasha told you too about her first class. Her memory seemed eidetic as she recalled the contents of the lecture. You marvelled silently at how skilled she must be as a secret agent.
You mumbled about how impressive her memory was, and Natasha tucked her hair back with a hint of self consciousness. You gave her a reassuring smile.
âIâm really glad I answered that ad.â You told her randomly and Natashaâs features relaxed as she nodded in silent agreement.Â
You both had an hour to kill before your next class. Slowly, Natasha returned to her book, jotting down careful notes as she went.
You listened to music as you tried to neaten up the notes youâd made in your last class. You groaned quietly when you saw the address scribbled in the margin.
Natasha looked up immediately, head tilted.
âI promised Iâd go to this party.â You explained, head in your hands at the prospect of your plans for this evening.
Natasha looked surprised.Â
âWhy donât you want to go?â She asked curiously and you explained who was hosting.
âYou can always ditch.â Natasha suggested hesitantly after a moment. âI was only going to watch movies tonight but youâre welcome to join.â
Youâd never felt so ready to abandon a social plan. You imagined how perfect the night could be. Then your mind caught on something and you hesitated.
âI canât keep relying on these two friends.â You muttered, feeling embarrassed about your social failings.
âThree.â Natasha corrected quietly, taking a drink from her glass of water. âYou have three friends.â
You felt a rush of gratitude suddenly and your smile was uncontrollably wide. You glanced down at the table trying not to look too silly.
âWould you come with me to the party?â You asked suddenly, picking at the side salad on your plate.
Natasha hesitated and immediately you felt mortified with your question. You opened your mouth to try and backtrack.Â
Natasha spoke before you had the chance.
âIf youâre sure that you want me there. Iâll go.â She promised quietly and her voice rasped with her assurance.
âI do.â You mumbled shyly, trying to process that Natasha, the beautiful Avenger, was going to a party with you. âI really do.â
.
Your classes flew by and, before you knew it, you were back at your house. For the first time, Natashaâs bedroom door was shut during the daytime. You hovered outside it for a moment, too nervous to knock.Â
You worried that sheâd changed her mind about going to the party with you and she didnât know how to tell you.
You ate dinner by yourself and started getting ready soon after. You tried not to make any assumptions about Natasha coming with you. You told yourself to get a grip in the mirror as you fixed your hair.Â
There was something rhythmic to getting ready. You tried to focus all your stress into the various tasks. Twenty minutes before you were planning on leaving, there was a knock on your door. You smoothed your outfit nervously, sure that Natasha was going to cancel officially, but still wanting to make a good impression.
Your jaw dropped as you opened the door.
Natasha was the hottest person that youâd ever seen, let alone stood a few feet away from. Her green dress hugged her curves. Her hair was intricately braided and your eyes ran over the beautiful patterns of her plaits, before catching on her exposed ear piercings.
Natasha looked tense, balancing in her heels.
âI havenât done this in ages.â She murmured. âDo I look okay?â
You huffed out a quiet laugh.
âNatasha.â You said, reaching out to take her hand. âYou were already next level beautiful. But, right now you might cause heart attacks on campus.â
Natasha rolled her eyes and you watched as a rush of confidence buoyed her slightly in her heels. Her mouth stretched into your favourite easy grin.
âYouâre looking pretty fucking hot yourself.â She told you simply. The genuineness in her voice was unexpectedly attractive and you felt a rush of heat run through you.
You squeezed her hand suddenly.
âThanks for doing this.â You mumbled. Natasha squeezed your hand back.Â
âThanks for asking.â She replied and you felt the undeniable want to kiss her.Â
Unrequited crushes were the worst and you forced yourself to stand still. Natasha was far more of an adult than you could ever imagine being. You couldnât fathom how many lives sheâd saved. You felt stupid for hoping for more luck than you already had.
âYouâre the best landlord.â You joked lightly, trying to remind yourself of the boundaries between you. Natasha laughed loudly and her fingers interlaced with yours.
.
You were still holding Natashaâs hand when you knocked on the door of your friendsâ house. Youâd expected a wave of jealousy or bitterness when you saw it in person, instead you found yourself even more grateful for where youâd ended up living.
One of the boyfriends opened the door. Awkwardly, you introduced yourself again and Natasha for the first time. His eyes widened as he took in Natashaâs outfit.
He hurried to welcome you inside. He offered you both a bottle of beer which you accepted, before leading you into the living room. There were various seats arranged in a loose circle around the room. Most of them were already full, youâd arrived purposefully later so that thereâd be plenty of other people.
You watched as a sea of faces turned to stare at Natasha. Natashaâs own expression was careful and a little guarded. You recognised the uncertainty in it and squeezed her hand. You knew that for everyone else, her expression could only be adding to her intimidating beauty.Â
You caught sight of your two friends in the corner. They looked shocked at your arrival and at the appearance of your housemate. You ignored their pointed stares, instead squeezing onto an old sofa, next to Natasha. Her bare leg was pressed against yours and you felt a strange electricity in the air between you.Â
Natasha was only here for you. The awareness of that made you feel even warmer in the crowded room. Your hand touched her thigh. Conversation started up again and the room devolved into smaller social circles.
You found yourself taking steady sips of your beer. Different conversations started to spark up around you. You realised that, despite the presence of many people from your classes, Natasha was the only person you wanted to speak to.
You bumped your knee against hers familiarly and she bumped your shoulder in response. You shared a secret smile. A few people tried to catch Natasha in a conversation. She answered politely, always staying pressed close to you. You watched as their brows furrowed as they tried to decide if she really was the Black Widow at a college party.
Each time they seemed close to asking directly, Natasha would turn back to you, purposefully cutting them out of the conversation. She offered you her half drunk beer when you finished yours and you sat together in quiet conversation as the party grew more boisterous around you. The house had been filling up rapidly, and soon there was barely any space to move.
Finally, the chairs and sofas were cleared to the walls and you found yourselves stood together in the corner of the room as the speakers began to blast loud dance music.Â
Natashaâs shoulders tensed and you saw her blink in discomfort at the sound.Â
She turned to you, her lips next to your ear when she asked if you wanted to dance.Â
You shook your head wordlessly, you didnât know how to express what Natashaâs attentiveness made you feel.
You could sense how much of an effort this whole night had been for her. You remembered the hours sheâd taken getting ready and you felt a sudden certainty in your chest.
Your arm slid around her waist as you led her quietly from the room. Natasha acquiesced immediately.Â
You stood together on the cold front porch. Natasha watched the other dancers through the window, the party seemed strangely magical from a distance. You could still feel the thump of the speakers through your feet.
You didnât move your hand from Natashaâs waist. Instead, you turned to face her, moving both your hands to rest on her hips.
âI do want to dance with you.â You admitted shyly. âBut, just with you.â
Natasha looked at you carefully. You saw her take a deep breath as her hand moved to your face. Her thumb brushed your cheek and you couldnât look away from her green eyes.
âYou donât know everything about me.â Natasha told you seriously. âThereâs a lot I havenât told you.â
âI know who you are.â You interrupted softly. You tried to memorise the way her body felt under your touch in case this was the only time you would be allowed to hold her. Natashaâs mouth opened in surprise.
âI know that itâs not as simple as being a superhero.â You said quietly. âI know youâre not just one thing. There are so many pieces that make you up. But, I like you with all of those pieces.â
Natashaâs eyes softened, her brow relaxed as she considered your words.
âYouâre beautiful.â She told you simply. âI want to dance with you too.â
You couldnât hear the music properly, only feel the beat of it under your feet. Still, you started swaying together. Natasha brought her body closer to yours and her hands rested on your shoulders.
With every sway, you found yourselves drifting closer together. Natashaâs lips made you think of fall.Â
You leaned closer.Â
Your first kiss was perfect. The night air was cold, but Natashaâs arms were around you. She tasted like cinnamon. You felt like you were flying.
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Here you can find all the works I've posted on Tumblr. To read everything I haven't posted here, go to my ao3!!
All fics are Natasha Romanoff/reader <33
Note: 18+ content in some chapters, so please read at your own risk!!
Books:
Portrait of a wounded heart - lesbian artist fall romance (w/c 47,7k) You attend a live figure drawing class with the intention of falling in love with your favorite hobby again, instead you set your sights on something entirely different.
Child of September - smut collection, fall and art themed lesbian oneshots as a sequel to Portrait of a wounded heart. (w/c 31k)
Learning you by heart - Christmas romance (w/c 90,7k), You lock eyes with a stranger in the audience of an opera, her troubled appearance piquing your interests immediately, the thought of her sticking around to haunt your mind that demands answers for her predicament. Turns out that there might be more to her than you could have ever imagined.
Summary: Sequel of Boundless Devotion Series. MedievalAU. With her coronation over, Natasha is now the queen of the Romanov Kingdom. However, the position comes with challenges from both old and new enemies as Natasha tries to maintain the peace while also navigating her relationship with you.
Masterlist
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 |
Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 |
Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11
Warnings: light angst, violence, death
Words: 2513
The three of you navigate the quiet alleyways, shadows stretching across the cobblestones as Redwing glides ahead, scanning the area for Sitwell.Â
The tension between you and Natasha lingers in the atmosphere, though youâve made no effort to address it.
Instead, you keep a deliberate distance from her, your focus locked on the path ahead, and Natasha feels the sting of your cold shoulder intensely.
She knows she mishandled thingsâshould have told you about having Sam and Redwing keep an eye on youâand now sheâs left to wrestle with how to make things right.
A quiet sigh escapes her lips.
The sound draws your attention, and for a brief moment, you glance back at her.
Natasha straightens, her heart flickering with hope, but the moment is fleeting.Â
Once you see sheâs relatively okay, you quickly shift your focus back to your conversation with Sam, effectively shutting her out again.Â
âSo, how far can Redwing fly?â you ask, tilting your head as you watch the falcon hover effortlessly above.
Sam perks up immediately, his tone turning proud.Â
âOh, he can make it all the way to the Mar-vel Kingdom and back in a day. No problem,â he boasts, clearly delighted to share the falconâs capabilities.
Your expression softens into genuine interest as you nod, absorbing every detail Sam shares.
Natasha watches you from a step behind, the faintest smile softening her expression despite herself.
Sheâs always admired the way you connect with others, your genuine curiosity and openness drawing people in. Itâs a quality that makes her heart ache even more at the thought of you feeling shunned and ridiculed recently.Â
To her, itâs unfathomable how anyone could associate you with Dreykovâs scheming persona. Â
Your thoughtful hum pulls Natasha out of her musings.
âAnd he can find anyone?â you ask.
Sam nods with certainty.
âGreatest tracker Iâve ever worked with.âÂ
As if to prove his handlerâs point, Redwing emits a short chirp and begins circling a spot some distance ahead, drawing all of your attention.
Sam glances back at her with a serious nod.
âFound him,â he states simply, quickening his pace toward the location to scout the area.Â
You fall in step beside Natasha, keeping your word to stay close to her, though you maintain your pointed silence.
Natasha bites the inside of her cheek, glancing at you from the corner of her eye.Â
With Sam far enough ahead, she seizes the opportunity to address the lingering tension.Â
Natasha takes a deep breath, steeling herself as she nudges your shoulder lightly.
âY/n,â she calls softly, her voice a quiet plea.
You donât respond, your gaze fixed ahead, and Natashaâs heart sinks. She takes another breath, her words tumbling out earnestly.Â
âIâm sorry,â she begins. âI should have told you about Redwing. Itâs justâŚâ She hesitates, searching for the right words. âRoss had his men following you, and I knew he wouldnât stop unless there was some kind of surveillance to replace his.âÂ
Your eyes narrow slightly at her words, though you still donât look her way.
Natasha hurries to clarify, her voice faltering.
âNot that you need to be watched,â she says hastily. âI just wanted to make sure you were safe. Thatâs all. I swear.âÂ
Her voice falters as you continue to remain silent, and she sighs heavily, running a hand through her hair as frustration and regret simmer within her.Â
âI really amââ Natasha freezes mid-sentence, her words catching in her throat as she catches the faintest hint of a smile tugging at the corner of your lips.
Her eyes narrow in suspicion.
âWait a secondâŚâ she mutters before letting out an exasperated sigh. âAt what point did you forgive me?â Â
You finally look at her, a playful glint in your eyes.Â
âAt the first âIâm sorry,ââ you admit with a shrug.
Natasha exhales sharply, shaking her head.Â
âYou were messing with me this whole time?â
âMaybe a little,â you confess with a soft chuckle. âI told you, itâs cute when the charming princess gets flustered.âÂ
Natasha rolls her eyes, though a faint blush dusts her cheeks. Reaching out, she catches your hand, stopping you and turning you to face her.
âYou know,â she mutters, a teasing smirk playing on her lips, âhaving your queen grovel for forgiveness might be grounds for punishment.âÂ
Laughing lightly, you step closer, leaning into her body, your voice dropping as you reply in a challenge.
âThen punish me, my queen.â
Natashaâs breath hitches for a fraction of a second, the warmth in your tone and the proximity sending her heart racing.
But before she can respond, you step back with a knowing grin, your eyes sparkling with mischief.Â
âYouâre unbelievable,â Natasha mutters under her breath, though the smile tugging at her lips betrays her true feelings.
âAnd you love it,â you quip before stepping to follow Sam toward Redwingâs signal.
Natasha huffs, shaking her head as she refocuses on the task at hand, though a faint, lingering smile refuses to leave her face.
The alley stretches ahead, cloaked in dim light and deepening shadows as you all silently approach the narrow entrance where muffled voices echo from within.Â
The three of you press against the wall, staying hidden.Â
Sam raises a finger to his lips, signaling for silence as he leans forward, peeking cautiously around the corner.
âItâs Sitwell,â he whispers, his voice barely audible. âAnd heâs not alone.â
Natasha creeps forward to peer around the corner, her sharp gaze taking in the scene as the lordâs voice becomes clearer.Â
âItâs not my fault that Commander Hill took over Rumlowâs operations before I could!â Sitwellâs voice is frantic, a mix of frustration and desperation. âShe locked everything down.â
âAnd what of the weapons?â a second voice asks, calm yet menacing. Itâs muffled, belonging to the cloaked and masked figure pinning Sitwell against the wall.Â
âIâI donât know where they are!â Sitwell stammers, his voice trembling.
The figureâs grip tightens as they brandish a knife, the blade gleaming faintly in the low light.
âWe had a deal,â the figure hisses, their tone laced with quiet fury.Â
Sitwell fumbles frantically, producing a glowing stone similar to the one Natasha had seen before at the tavern. He offers it to the figure, his hand shaking.
âWait!â he pleads. âI can get you more! Rumlow wasnât the only one who knew the man who made themâI do, too.â
The figure hesitates, taking the stone and examining it. They motion for Sitwell to continue.
The lord swallows hard, seizing the chance to plead his case.
âRumlow had a deal with him. He was supposed to deliver secrets about Dreykov and Romanovâs Widow operations in exchange for the weapons,â Sitwell says hurriedly. âBut he double-crossed him and used it for himself. Now, only one person can give him what he wants.âÂ
âWho?â the figure demands.
âLady Y/nâsheâs the one heâll trade for,â Sitwell blurts out, his voice shaking.
Natasha stiffens, her head snapping toward you. Her expression hardens with a mix of alarm and fury.
Sam clenches his jaw, his focus shifting to her as if awaiting orders.Â
Natasha looks between you and the alleyway, her mind racing, before coming to a decision.
She gestures for Sam to take you away.
With an acknowledging nod, Sam starts to nudge you back, but you shove his arm aside when you realize that she intends to stay.Â
The masked figure tilts their head, processing Sitwellâs claim, before their attention snaps to the faint movement from your group.
Their gaze locks on Natasha, their body tensing in readiness.
In an instant, they shove Sitwell to the ground and bolts.
âSecure Sitwell!â Natasha commands Sam as she charges forward after the fleeing figure.
Natasha closes the distance quickly, her movements precise as she grabs the figureâs cloak, yanking them back.
The figure stumbles but smoothly pivots on their heel, delivering a swift kick toward Natashaâs head.
Natasha ducks under the attack, but with surprising skill, the figure follows up quick with a sharp kick aimed at her torso. She blocks it at the last second with her arms, but the impact forces her to stumble back.Â
Youâre immediately at her side, steadying her with firm hands.
âThanks,â she mutters breathlessly, her eyes never leaving the figure.Â
The cloaked individual looks between the two of you cautiously before they suddenly lunge, their knife flashing as they swing at Natasha with calculated precision.Â
Natasha pushes you away from her side as she sidesteps each swipe, narrowly dodging the blade.
Grabbing the figureâs wrist mid-swing, Natasha twists sharply, forcing them to drop the weapon with a metallic clatter. She traps their arms in a hold, locking them in place.
âNow!â Natasha shouts to you.
Understanding her unspoken command, you move quickly, delivering a powerful kick to the figureâs side. The impact forces a grunt from them as Natasha releases her hold, letting them stumble back into the wall.Â
The glowing stone slips from the figureâs hand, falling to the ground.
The moment it hits the pavement, a loud crack resounds, and an intense, blinding light explodes outward, flooding the alley with a searing brilliance.
âGet down!â Natasha yells, shielding you with her body as the light engulfs the area.
The overwhelming brightness disorients you both, your vision obscured for several long seconds. When the light finally fades, Natasha blinks rapidly, her sight still hazy as she surveys the alley.
But after a quick scan, itâs clear that the mysterious individual is gone.
Natasha curses under her breath when thereâs no trace of where they went. Only the faintly glowing, fractured stone remains on the ground, pulsing weakly with light.
âDamn it,â Natasha mutters, frustration evident in her tone.
Your hand comes to rest on her arm, grounding her for a moment.
She turns to you instinctively, her eyes darting over you, scanning for any sign of injury. Her hands come up to cup your face, tilting your head slightly to inspect every angle.Â
âIâm fine, Natasha,â you assure her softly, gently pulling her hands from your face and placing them back at her sides.Â
The warmth in your touch lingers even as you step back, creating a subtle distance between you.Â
Your eyes flick briefly to where Sam stands, your awareness of the others pulling you back into your carefully maintained composure.
The sound of a struggle draws Natashaâs attention to where Sam restrains Sitwell, who thrashes ineffectively in his grip.
âUnhand me!â Sitwell shouts, his voice sharp and panicked.
Natasha stalks over to the squirming lord, her presence looming with command.
âWho was that?â she demands, her voice cold and threatening.
Sitwell recoils at her tone, his earlier bravado crumbling into fear.Â
âI donât know!â he exclaims. âTheyâre justâŚsome black market arms dealer. Rumlow had a deal with them.â
Natashaâs expression hardens, remembering the way Sitwell targeted you at the council meeting, making you experience all sorts of discomfort as he questioned you.Â
âAll your talk of loyalty to the kingdom, yet here you areâa traitor.âÂ
Her words cut like a blade, and Sitwell visibly flinches.
âNo, Your Majesty,â he pleads, desperation creeping into his tone. âI was trapped in Rumlowâs deal. When he didnât fulfill his part, they came for me. I had no choice.â
âThatâs a pathetic excuse,â Sam scoffs, tightening his grip on the struggling man.
Natasha steps closer, her icy glare silencing any retort from Sitwell.
âIf you want even a chance at leniency, youâll tell me who Rumlow was working with. Who made these weapons?â
Sitwell hesitates, the weight of her demand pressing down on him.
Finally, he opens his mouth to answer.
But before he can speak, a sharp whistling sound cuts through the air.
An arrow buries itself in Sitwellâs chest. His words die on his lips as his body crumples to the ground.
Natashaâs head snaps upward, her sharp gaze locking onto a shadowy figure perched on a rooftop above.Â
The figureâs silhouette is menacing, their face obscured, but Natasha doesnât miss how their focus shifts directly to you.
âNatasha,â you whisper, your voice tinged with worry as you instinctively grab her arm, tugging her back.Â
But Natasha immediately moves to shield you, pushing you behind her protectively.
Her eyes narrow dangerously as she glares up at the figure.
For a moment, they linger, their presence a silent threat, before disappearing into the darkness.
Only once Natasha confirms the area is safe does she drop her hand from your side.
Sam kneels beside Sitwellâs body, his expression grim.
âHeâs gone,â he confirms.
Natasha clenches her fists, her frustration mounting.
Sitwellâs death has left more questions than answers, and her mind churns with thoughts of who these mysterious figures could be.
Before she can voice her thoughts, she notices you moving away from her side.
Natasha turns to see you kneeling beside the fractured stone, its faint glow drawing your attention.
The light pulses weakly, almost hypnotically, and your hand hovers inches above it.Â
Natasha remembers her earlier experience back at the tavern when her hand had brushed the similar stone on the attackerâs gloveâthe flashes of the worst moment of her life and the fear that had gripped her mind and heart.
âY/n, donât touch that,â Natasha warns, stepping forward and reaching for your arm.
The moment her fingers graze your skin, your reaction is sudden and uncharacteristically harsh.
You swat her hand away with surprising force, startling her.
Natasha pauses and pulls back from you, her eyes widening in shock.Â
âY/n?â she calls again, softer this time, her voice laced with worry as her eyes search your face.
For a brief second, your expression is distant, your eyes unfocused. Then you blink rapidly, as though shaking off a haze, and your gaze shifts to her, confusion flickering across your features.
âWhatâs wrong?â you ask, your voice tinged with genuine puzzlement at her expression.
Natashaâs lips press into a thin line, her sharp eyes scrutinizing you.Â
âYou pushed me away when I tried to stop you,â she says cautiously.
âI did?â Your brow furrows in surprise, and your gaze darts back to the now-dimming stone. Its glow fades completely, leaving only the cracked surface behind.
Natasha watches you closely as you stare at the stone, your expression unreadable.
The silence stretches between you, heavy with unspoken questions.
âY/n?â Natasha says softly, her hand reaching for your arm again.
This time, you donât pull away. You turn to face her, your eyes meeting hers.
âYou donât remember?â she presses, her voice gentle but firm.Â
You hesitate for a moment, your hands fidgeting nervously in front of you at her words, but then you shake your head lightly and give her a reassuring smile.
âI'm sorry, my body mustâve still been on the edge after everything that just happened,â you reply softly.
Natasha studies you for a moment longer, unease flickering in her chest.
Whatever had just happened, it wasnât normal like youâre suggesting. And as much as she wants to press further, she holds back, not wanting to push you too hard.
âThatâs enough for today. Letâs head back,â she finally says, her tone steady despite the worry lingering in her gaze.
You nod silently in agreement before making your way out of the alley.Â
But Natasha lingers in place, turning her attention back to the fractured stone on the ground. Her mind races with the mystery of its powerâand the brief, unsettling moment when it seemed like you werenât entirely yourself.
~~~~~~~ â§ ~~~~~~~
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 |
Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 |
Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11
a/n: And we're back. đ Time for more mysteries, secrets, and challenges for the two. Thank you for your patience and for reading!
If you asked to be tagged and I missed it, please let me know again.
Š thewidowsledger - DO NOT REPUBLISH AND PLAGIARISE
Pairings: Fuck buddy Avenger!Natasha Romanoff x Fuck buddy Student!Female Reader
Word count: 1.3k
Tags | Warnings: Angst, bit of fluff, deep talks, no happy ending but a realistic one, this is a self-respect fic y'all don't expect part two or anything
Author's Note: Just a short product of procrastination
Navigation | Masterlist
â§
"Why? Aren't you enjoyingâŚthis?"
"Nat, I do. I swear. But I feel like I am regretting all of it."
"Your post-nut clarity is crazy babe." Natasha joked, your cheeks heated up in embarrassment but you just laughed it off once again.
â§
Finally, it was the end of your long and tiring graveyard shift, you step out of the school building, exhausted and worn out. You pull out your phone, seeing multiple missed calls and texts from Natasha.
"Where are you, babe?"
"Can I see you? I just got back from a mission."
"Where are you, Y/N?"
"Do you have uni today or tonight? I told you to send me your schedule."
"Text back, please."
"I miss you."
"I'm in your uni :)))"
As soon as you step out of the university gate, you see her sports car parked outside, the engine purring quietly. You hurry towards the car, a few students from your year noticed and started whispering to each other, pointing towards Natasha's Chevrolet Corvette Stingray. You can feel your cheeks flushing a light shade of pink as you quickly slide into the passenger seat, slamming the door beside you.
"Hey there, cutie." She reaches over to give your leg a gentle squeeze before focusing back on the road. "Long day?"
You nod tiredly in response to Natasha's question. "Mhm, felt endless. How have you been? I never got any calls from you after you left me that night." You lean back against the leather seat, turning your face towards the window so that she won't see the disappointment in your face but is evident in your voice.
"Sorry, baby. You know, the world calls for me."
You just hummed, it's not that you can demand for more of her anyway.
â§
You and Natasha had been watching TV on the couch in your apartment, slowly drinking the wine she bought. You found yourselves making out heavily. She had picked you up, wrapping your legs around her waist and carrying you off to your room. Then one thing led to another.
The next morning, you wake up to the warm sunlight filtering through the curtains, and a strange feeling in your lower region. As you slowly open your eyes, you realize you're completely naked, and so is Natasha, sleeping soundly beside you under the duvet covers of your bed. You made sure to slowly get up and dress yourself with your favorite sweater you arbored from one of the world's mightiest hero, then you went straight to the kitchen to cook some breakfast.
While you're busy in the kitchen preparing breakfastâthe smell of bacon and fresh coffee filling the roomâNatasha wakes up, stretches lazily, and watches you from the bed. She props herself up on one elbow, admiring your focused expression as you cook. "Good morning...smells amazing here."
Natasha slides out of bed, she dresses herself up and pads softly into the kitchen behind you. She wraps her arms around your waist from behind, resting her chin on your shoulder. "Need any help, gorgeous?" Her voice is still husky with sleep.
"Get the plates and prep the table. And sit pretty for me."
She chuckles softly before reaching on top of your cabinets, her height towering you. You turned around only to be trapped by her, you giggled and hit her chest playfully before moving around her to put her coffee and your milk down the table.
It was so out of the blue, you two were okay as you both dug into the breakfast you made. Natasha was telling you about how she caused a circuit problem on Tony Stark's suit and how she had to sing for the Hulk for him to calm down. You two were joking and being playful around, but all of a sudden it changed.
"I don't think this is for me." You laughed it off, but there was more to your words.
Natasha suddenly frowned, her mood dropping down. "What do you mean?"
"IâŚI just-I feel guilty." You muttered, flashing a small awkward smile towards her.
"Why? Aren't you enjoyingâŚthis?"
"Nat, I do. I swear. But I feel like I am regretting all of it."
"Your post-nut clarity is crazy babe." Natasha joked, your cheeks heated up in embarrassment but you just laughed it off once again. The redhead immediately noticed making herself feel bad about it, then the tension became finally really serious, Natasha cannot help but ask. "Why? Why do you feel that way?"
"I justâŚI just feel like I am losing respect for myself with this kind of set up. I don't think this is for me, beb." Your voice was raw with vulnerability.
"So, what do you want to happen?" She asks in a flash, you laughed to make the atmosphere lighter, which always worked.
"Wait, my dialogue is not yet done." You smiled, you were still trying to sort things out in your mind but you have been thinking about this for some time now.
You told her that you feel like you aren't made for a fuck buddy type of relationship. You will not call what happened to you both a mistake, but an experience. Somehow, Natasha felt bad since she was the one who offered to be fuck buddies but you kept reassuring her that you agreed to it in your own will.
You and Natasha met in a bar while partying, both of you were hard drinkers and accidentally something happened between both of you that night due to drunkenness. You didn't even realize that she was the Black Widow not until you ended up being in the Avengers compound.
Natasha said that she wasn't ready for commitment and you agreed being so focused on your studies and side jobâfrom there your relationship or set up rather, started.
"I don't know, I just feel sorry for myself. I pity myself." All playfulness instantly drains from her face. She's completely taken aback, her brain momentarily stopping from processing. "This type of set up isn't for me, I cannot keep up. I know I wasn't looking for something serious because of the demands of my study and my job but I didn't know that it would change."
You stare at her for a long moment, your eyes searching hers. You then gave her a faint smile.
"I am not made for relationships like this, I don't think I can still do this anymore. I think I am ready for something serious, a relationship where I can respect myself. I want to be with someone genuinely, not this shallow. I finally want someone to know me for who I am. I know you are interested and attracted to me, Nat. But now I am yearning for a deeper connection. Like I hope you knew I do digital arts, I sculpted, I do paintings and I love films before you saw my body. I wish you saw all the arts I made before you get to touch me. You don't even know I can sing and dance, you don't know that I play volleyball." You look defeated, like a weight has been pressing down on you for so long and you're finally allowed to collapse but still, you gave the redhead a warm genuine smile.
"That's all. I just feel like I am wasting myself in this when I am genuinely so much more, Nat." You tried to hold your tears back, biting your inner lip but the smile on your face never faded away.
You sit there, waiting for her to say somethingâanything. You want her to look at you and confess that she wants the same things you do. All this time you have been hinting her that. But the silence is deafening. It's telling you everything you need to hear. The longer she remains quiet, the more your heart sinks.
"I'm sorry, Y/N. I just don't think it is for me, you know, love? " She cannot even say the word without grimacing, but you gave her an understanding smile.
"I know you'll find someone that will make you feel that it is for you."
It was bittersweet. You two are on a different page now. You wanted something more and she stayed the same. And somehow, that's okayâit's not that you can ask her to be the person to make her feel that love is indeed for her anyway.
Summary: You try to fix your relationship with Wanda.
Yelena struggles to open her eyes. The constant beeping of the alarm annoys her, and she protests.
âFive more minutesâ she pleads, reaching out to snooze it.
âYelena. Itâs meâ a soft voice says, and she can feel fingers caressing her forehead. âItâs Mamaâ
âMama, I donât wanna go to schoolâ Yelena says, earning a chuckle from Melina.
âYouâre in the hospital, sweet girlâ her mother says. âYou almost drownedâ
It all comes back to her in a rush. The feeling of sinking, the freezing water paralyzing her. Your voice, asking her to stay awake.
âY/N. Is she ok? Where is she?â she tries to stand up, but her mother stops her. Natasha walks in that moment, locking eyes with her sister. âSomething happened to Y/Nâ
âNo. Sheâs okâ Natasha shakes her head.
âThen why do you look so worried? Donât lie to meâ Yelena asks, tears welling up in her eyes.
âIâm not lying, sestra. You just scared me, thatâs allâ Natasha promises, leaning her forehead against her sisterâs.
She tries to pretend everythingâs ok.
â
Wanda is in your arms, reassuring you. Itâs overwhelming, to feel her, to hear her.
Knowing what you just did.
And it all comes crashing down.
The stress of the past months, the lack of sleep, your resentment towards your mother and your last encounter. A sob breaks out and you canât stop crying, because you fucked up.
Wandaâs gonna hate you, sheâs going to leave you.
You wish you had drowned, because itâs better to die than to hurt the only person youâve truly ever loved.
âWanda, IâŚâ your voice shakes. Your girlfriend looks at you, alarmed. Sheâs never seen you this shaken.
âBaby, look at me. Youâre safe. Iâm hereâ she tries to calm you down, but your sobs intensify.
âWhatâs wrong?â Darcy appears behind you, trying to check for any internal injuries. âHey, Y/N. Youâre hyperventilating. You know what you need to do. Breathe. In and out. Ok. Just like Iâm doingâ
You allow Darcyâs voice to guide you, while Wanda stays by your side.
âIâŚâ you stutter.
âI think we should keep her in observation for a bit. Maybe sheâs in shock or had a concussion. Did you hit your head?â Darcy asks. âOk, come with me. Wanda, we will be right backâ
âOk. Hey. Itâs okâ she says against your lips. âIâm not leavingâ
Wandaâs gonna leave when she finds out. And you wonât blame her. But as your thoughts spiral, and you begin to hyperventilate again, Darcy drags you to an exam room.
âWhat happened? Talk to me, Y/Nâ
âI should have died out there. Sheâs gonna leave me, Darcyâ you cry out.
âDamn it, ok, breathe. Do you want me to give you⌠something? Just to calm you downâ
âOk. And page Carol. I need to talk to herâ
âYeah. Okâ
Carol joins you a couple of minutes later.
âHeyâ she looks between you and Darcy, not knowing how much she can say.
âShe asked me to page you. What the hell happened? Sheâs having a nervous breakdownâ Darcy hisses. Add her to the list of people who have never seen you lose your shit.
âJust tell herâ you mutter, looking away. You need someone to say it out loud, so itâs real. And you can understand how much you fucked up.
âI walked in on Natasha and Y/N kissing just nowâ Carol says, looking at you with pity in her eyes.
âWhat the hell were youâŚ?â Darcyâs first instinct is to yell at you, but as she sees you shutting your eyes, she calms down. âOk, just tell me what happenedâ
âI donât know. I walked in to find some gauze for this scratch on my arm and then she was there and she kissed me and I didnât pull away. Not at firstâ
âSo she kissed you?â Darcy clarifies. âYou didnât go after Natasha?â
âNo, I wasnât⌠I thought sheâd be worried about Yelena and when she came in, I assumed something bad had happenedâ you stumbled with your words. Itâs all a blur.
âYou werenât kissing when I walked in. She had her hands in your neck but you were leaning backâ Carol says.
âI donât give a fuck, it doesnât matter. Wanda wonât care. I fucked up, itâs overâ
âI think itâs important to⌠make the distinction. That she went after you. If you tell Wand at allâ Carol adds.
You sigh, looking at your best friend. The one person who has been a constant in your life, who knows how much you struggle. The only one who understands that Wanda is your world. And how devastated youâll be if when you lose her.
âI think you should tell herâ Darcy says. âIâm sorry, I do. I know youâre honest and youâd never be able to live with yourself if you donât tell herâ
Not only that, but knowing what you know about Wanda and how she got cheated in the past. You canât lie to her.
Even if it means losing her.
âIâll do whatever you wantâ Carol says, squeezing your hand. âI wonât ever judge you, Y/N. If you decide to keep it a secret, Iâll take it to my grave. I swearâ
âThanks, Carolâ you sigh, wiping the tears that wonât stop. âI need to get home and calm down. She deserves to hear it when Iâm sane and wonât make up a stupid excuse hoping sheâll forgive meâ
âI really think you can get past thisâ Carol says before leaving the room.
âI hope so tooâ you try to smile.
But the truth is youâre not very optimistic.
â
The next day, you refuse to leave the room. Youâre not sure if you catched a cold with the freezing water or itâs your bodyâs response to the stress of what happened, but you run a fever that knocks you down.
At one point, you dream about the encounter with your mother. But itâs not her outside the hospital. Itâs Wanda, and sheâs hitting you as she finds out youâre a liar.
Your eyes fly open and you sit up, running to the bathroom to throw up. As you look in the mirror, you understand one thing.
Youâre not gonna be able to keep this up any longer. You have to tell Wanda.
Sheâs nowhere to be found, probably because itâs a school day and someone has to drive the kids. While you wait for her to return, you run a bath and try to clear your head.
How are you even starting?
When you hear Wanda come back, your stomach drops, but you push through, sitting in bed.
âThere you are. How are you feeling, my love?â she greets with a smile.
âIâm ok, I guessâ you manage to say, looking anywhere but her.
âSweetheart, whatâs wrong? Youâre scaring meâ Wanda says, knowing somethingâs changed. Truthfully, sheâs expecting to hear that this life and death experience made you realize you want something different in your life.
Someone else.
âI⌠Wanda. Iâm so sorryâ you whisper, tears rolling down your cheeks. âI didnât want it to happenâ
âWhat? What are you talking about?â
With a deep breath, you finally say the words that will change your relationship forever.
âNatasha kissed me. We kissed. I mean, I didnât look for her, she just walked in the room and then she was kissing me, but that doesnât really make a difference, right?â
Wanda stays silent for a second, and then turns to leave the room.
âIâm going to kill herâ
âWandaâ you catch up to her, stopping her at the top of the stairs. âWait, pleaseâ
âNo! Who does she think she is? Everything was fine between us, and then she comes and youâre pulling back. And now she thinks she can kiss you and I wonât fight back? Seems like someone should put her in her placeâ
âI donât care about herâ you plead, taking Wandaâs hand.
âYouâre mineâ
âOf course I amâ you agree, trying to pull Wanda into a hug. She relents, but you can tell sheâs tense and struggling with your closeness. âWanda, I love you. Iâm sorry, I didnât want this to happen, Iâll do anything to make it right, just please, pleaseâŚâ
âDid you kiss her back?â Wanda pushes you away suddenly.
âI⌠donât know. It happened so fast. I didnât even think. I pulled awayâ
âBut before that, did you kiss her back?â Wanda insists, looking at you expectantly.
âWanda, I donât know. She just came out of nowhere and I was trying to recover from almost drowningâ
âI think⌠I think you should leaveâ she interrupts you. âYou told me you were different, that youâd never lie to meâ
âI didnâtâŚâ
âPlease, leaveâ she raises her hand to stop you. âI just canât look at you right nowâ
Looking down, you nod. As you walk back to pack a bag with clothes and other stuff, Wanda stays rooted to her spot in the hallway.
You want to say something, but words are not enough to convey everything you feel. âSorryâ is an understatement. âI love youâ? It feels like you lost the right to say that.
So, you walk out of the house, and drive to a hotel, wondering if itâs really that easy to lose your entire world.
â
The next days are hell.
You really wish youâd drown that day on the river.
Thereâs a hotel close to the hospital, and you stay there, wallowing in self pity and regret. You ignore everyoneâs text and calls, because youâll only answer one person.
She never reaches out.
âHey, budâ Darcy greets when you get to work after two days. âI take it it didnât go wellâ
âNopeâ is all you say, not wanting to talk about it at all. You need work, distractions. Or a bus than runs you over. Whichever is fine.
âIâm here if you want to talkâ is all she says, knowing youâd rather not.
âThanksâ
Kate greets you, a little too cheerful for your liking. Maybe itâs because she has the ER for herself. Speaking of which, you donât even know if Yelena was discharged.
âIs Belova ok?â you say, looking at all the reports you need to sign.
âYes, she left yesterday. And, uh⌠Doctor Romanoff was asking for youâ Kate hesitates.
âIâm not speaking to Romanoff under any circumstances. If she asks again, tell her I said she can go to hellâ you answer with a harsh tone.
âMaybe I could say youâre very busy?â
âWhatever keeps her away from meâ you agree, walking to the entrance as an ambulance parks outside.
Itâs a hectic day and you appreciate it. You also lose track of how many times you go out to smoke. At some point, you give up waiting for Wanda to call you.
Actually, now you donât want her to reach out at all. Youâre not ready to hear her say itâs over, so at least now you can pretend thereâs a chance youâll get past this.
âDid you sleep at all?â Carol says when she sees you next morning.
âFor a half hour, maybeâ
âListen, you need toâŚâ
But whatever well intended advice sheâs about to give is interrupted by Fury.
âDoctor Romanoff would like a wordâ
âIâm busyâ
âNot for her, youâre notâ he cuts you off, practically pushing you in the direction of a conference room.
This is a new low, using Fury to talk to you.
âDoctor Romanoff, Iâm so sorry, as you can imagine our Head of Trauma is busyâ Fury says, moving so you can step forward. âMeet Doctor Y/L Y/L/Nâ
Wait, what?
A brunette approaches you with a wide smile. She has the same nose as Natasha, and even if her eyes are more hazel than green, you definitely see the resemblance in the determined stare.
âI canât thank you enough for saving my daughterâs lifeâ
Right. That Doctor Romanoff.
âJust doing my jobâ you say, hoping Natasha wonât join you.
âSheâs eager to get back to work. Yelena said youâre a fantastic teacherâ the woman says, smiling.
âWell, she definitely has a lot to learnâ you say, which makes both people in the room turn to you.
âDoctor Y/L/Nâ Fury warns. But you donât give a fuck. You want them gone from the hospital and the city and your life.
âYelenaâs good, but she could be better. That reckless behavior almost got me killed. She also needs to move faster and be more precise. Her work can be sloppyâ
âThank you, Doctor Y/L/N. That would be allâ Fury cuts you off.
You nod, avoiding Melinaâs stare as you leave the room.
Unfortunately for you, one of her daughters is waiting outside.
âCan we talk?â Natasha says. You ignore her, walking back to the ER. âWhat? Seriously?â
She grabs your wrist and you finally turn around.
âDonât. I have absolutely nothing to say to you, Romanoffâ
âWhat? Did your girlfriend forbid you to talk to me?â
âYou donât think about her or talk about her or anything related to Wanda. Stay away from meâ you say, opening the door. Of course she follows you before you can lock yourself in, blocking the only way out.
âI didnât think youâd be such a fucking coward, Y/Nâ she accuses you.
âExcuse me?â
âYou kissed me backâ
âI did not!â you kick the chair next to you, groaning. âI had just seen my abusive mother and almost drowned saving your sister. Do you really think I had the mental capacity to act rationally? I was still on fight or flight, Natashaâ
âLie to yourself all you want, but youâre not gonna lie to me. I know the way you look at meâ
âWhich is?â
âLike youâre picturing me nakedâ
You scoff at that, looking away.
âI donât hear you denying itâ she challenges, stepping closer.
âDonâtâ
âIf you were really sure about your feelings, youâd tell me to go to hell and move on. You wouldnât be looking around the room, desperate to find a way outâ Natasha says, moving closer and closer, until youâre inches apart. âBecause if we stay this close, you know damn well that weâre gonna end up fucking each otherâ
âPlease, stopâ you say, trying to push past her. Natasha takes your wrists, and pulls you closer, letting you decide.
And you pull away. You do.
âDonât mistake attraction with devotion. Wanda is all I want and need. Iâm not playing games. Stay away from meâ
You try to look composed as you leave the room, but in your mind, you know you hesitated.
A fraction of a second, but it was hesitation nonetheless.
â
Carol finds you outside the hospital, smoking as usual.
âThough shift?â
âYou could say thatâ
You stare at her as she takes the cigarrette from your hands.
âDonât tell Mariaâ she warns you and you laugh.
âNu-uh, you need to be on your best behavior. One of us has to have a happy endingâ
âDid you tell her?â Carol asks.
âYeah. She kicked me out. Which is a very nice reaction. If I were her, I would have run me over repeatedly with her carâ you sigh, lighting another one. âAnd now Natashaâs on my ass, saying I canât deny that I have feelings for her too, when all Iâve done is be friendlyâ
âOk, donât shoot the messenger, Y/N, but it was obvious you two were flirtingâ Carol says. You stay quiet, and since you donât argue, the woman takes it a sign to continue. âLook, when Maria came back⌠I hesitated too. I never told you this, but I wasnât just trying to move on from her. I liked you, your committment to work. How kind you are. Honestly, with a little more time I could have seen myself in a different situationâ
âBut?â
âBut Maria came back and I made a choice. What Iâm saying is⌠I donât think itâs unnatural for people to be attracted to others, even if youâre in a relationship. We seek connection, and surgeons have a fucked up schedule and life that only other doctors understand. Of course you felt somethingâ
âNatasha is⌠a challenge. Sheâs funny and stubborn and quick witted. She doesnât give a fuck about anything except work. Itâs like an adventureâ you finally admit out loud, knowing Carol understands. âBut Wanda is my family. And I canât lose thatâ
âThere you go. I think admitting that you feel attraction is how you move past this. The important thing is if you act on itâ Carol insists.
You think back to the encounter you had with Natasha just now.
You pulled back.
This time, she didnât just kiss you. She gave you a choice. And you made the decision to step away.
Thatâs gotta count for something. Right?
âThanks, Carolâ you sigh, feeling better for the first time in days. To your surprise, Darcy comes next.
âIs it my turn now? Iâm freezing, Danversâ she complains.
âTurn for what?â
âWell, this is an interventionâ Carol explains, leaving the spot next to you so Darcy can sit.
âAn intervention? Next to the trash? Really?â you say, looking around.
âYou practically live here with all the smoking. Which, by the way, stops nowâ Darcy says, throwing away the pack youâre holding. âNow, as you know I briefly considered a career in Psychiatry. So Iâm going to give you my analysisâ
âUgh, I hate thisâ you mutter. In spite of everything youâve been through, youâve never once considered going to therapy.
You have a job and a life. Youâre obviously fine.
âReady? Iâm about to tell you some harsh truths. You can cry if you want toâ Darcy says, settling. âYou donât believe you deserve good things. Of course, your mother showing up out of nowhere didnât help. Youâre self sabotaging because you think you donât deserve Wanda. Itâs a self fulfilled propechy. And itâs frankly stupid. You donât need to fight your demons on this one. Just tell Romanoff to piss off and go get your girl. Speak up, tell her how you feel. This passive shit of wallowing in self pity is beneath youâ
âWow, anything else?â you say, trying not to be offended.
âYesâ Darcy says, looking at you. âYouâre my best friend. I want you to be happy. Donât cryâ she snaps when tears roll down your cheeks.
âYou just told me I could cry!â you complain, laughing at her.
âYeah, well. I changed my mind. Now come onâ Darcy nudges your side. âIâm freezingâ
â
Itâs uncharacteriscally quiet lately. No one says anything, but Pietro can feel it.
Your absence is the most obvious sign that somethingâs wrong.
Wanda can lie to the kids and tell them youâre working day shifts, but Pietro is not easily fooled. He never hears you come in, or leave.
You havenât been home in a week.
âWhatâs going on?â he finally asks when Wandaâs doing the dishes, the twins fast asleep.
âWhat do you mean?â she plays dumb, without turning to look at her brother.
âSheâs not working. Did you fight?â
âLeave itâ Wanda says.
âNo. Youâre obviously not fine and I can imagine how Y/Nâs doingâ
âY/N is very busy fucking that Russianâ Wanda spits out, finally turning to look at her brother.
âYou mean she cheated on you?â
âThat woman⌠kissed her. And now, I kicked her out and heaven knows what she must be thinking. Itâs perfect for Natasha, isnât it? She didnât have to try that hard to break us apartâ
âOk, so it was a kiss? Or more? I think you need to start overâ Pietro asks, sitting at the kitchen counter and leaving his crutches against the wall.
So, Wanda tells him everything. How you began to spend more time at the hospital, and she got jealous and pushed you away as response. How her insecurities and your attitude made things harder and put you through a rough patch.
âBut⌠she told you right after it happened?â Pietro tries to understand the timeline. âAnd it was just a kiss?â
âItâs not about the kiss. Itâs about swearing nothing was going on, making me feel like I was acting crazy andâŚâ
âHow do you know she didnât think the same thing?â his brother says, which makes her stop talking. Wanda shrugs her shoulders. âMaybe she thought they were friends. The thing is, she was honest, Wandaâ
âYeah, butâŚâ
âYou canât let your past influence your future. I know he hurt you and itâs not easy to trust people. But not everythingâs black and white. Do you honestly think Y/N was trying to hurt you?â
âOf course notâ she says, shaking her head. âI just donât know how I will get over thisâŚâ
âSo itâs better to pretend nothingâs wrong?â
Pietro couldnât say it without hurting his sister, but she was always so afraid of taking risks. And now she took the easy way out.
âLook, avoiding the issue wonât solve anything. If you want to fix it, do it. If you really canât get past what happened, you at least need some closureâ he says, his tone becoming softer as Wandaâs eyes well up with tears.
âI just hate this. I wish we could just go back to how everything wasâ Wanda sobs, covering her mouth. âAnd I miss her so muchâ
âMaybe you should tell her thatâ Pietro struggles to stand up, and goes to hug his sister. âIt will be ok, sestraâ
â
Itâs kind of shitty to be happy over having a lot of injured people on your shift. But youâre so exhausted youâre positive youâll pass out the minute you get home.
Well, the hotel.
That minor correction stings.
Your roomâs a mess, but youâll clean it up after you get some rest.
Thereâs a knock on the door right as you plop down in bed and you sigh.
âI donât need any room cleaning, thank you!â
âItâs Wandaâ
You get whiplash at those words, running to open the door.
âHiâ you say, trying to not sound too anxious. Thereâs a pang of guilt as you notice the bags under Wandaâs eyes.
âHi. Can I come in?â
âSure. Yeahâ you step aside. âUh, sorry about the mess. Workâs been crazyâ
âSo listen⌠I think we need to talkâ she says, looking back at you.
âOhâ
So sheâs here to break up with you. You stay quiet, urging her to continue.
âI⌠Iâm not happy with this situation. Honestly, I really wished you had set boundaries with that woman from the start. I donât know if you were just being friendly or a part of you was attracted to her at allâ
âWanda, IâŚâ
âI donât think Iâm interested in knowing the answer to that. But I do know that weâre not gonna fix this by staying apartâ she says, crossing her arms.
âOh, so you wanna fix⌠I thought you were here to break up with meâ you sigh, your shoulders relaxing at the realization that sheâs giving you another chance.
âI have some conditionsâ
âVery reasonable. And my answer is yes to everythingâ you hurry to say, scared that sheâll change her mind.
âYou sure you donât wanna hear them? What if one of them is doing the laundry for a month?â she teases and seeing her smile is like a breath of fresh air.
âWanda, Iâll cook forever if you ask me toâ
âLetâs not get ahead of ourselves. Itâs not like we can eat pancakes every dayâ
You both smile at that, and you let her take the first step, reaching for your hand.
âPack your things, and Iâll meet you back homeâ she says, giving you a light squeeze.
âOk, babeâ you nod, wanting to kiss her. But she pulls away before you can lean forward, smiling.
You really hope thereâs a way you can fix everything.
Because losing Wanda is simply not something you can deal with.
â
The first week back is definitely challenging.
As soon as you get home the boys run to hug you and you try really hard not to cry. You thought youâd never see them again. Pietro gives you a knowing look but keeps whatever he has to say to himself.
That first night you take the kids out to the arcade and to eat pizza, and though youâre a little disappointed when Wanda declines to join you, you understand she must be exhausted.
When you come home, you find a blanket and a pillow in the sofa. The message is pretty clear, but you take it without complaining and sleep there.
It was unrealistic to expect everything would be back to normal right away.
âHowâs work?â Wanda asks one morning when youâre getting some coffee, ready to leave.
âItâs better. Weâre not as short staffed anymore. Why? Do you need me to take some time off? Iâll talk to Furyâ you hurry to say, desperate to prove your worth to Wanda.
âNo, thatâs fine. Uh⌠is she still there? I mean do you still have to take that course?â she asks, looking away.
âOh. No. I mean, yeah, sheâs still there but we donât talk and I havenât joined the last sessions. Darcy just brings me up to speed laterâ
âI donât want you getting into trouble. I can manage if you have to be thereâ Wanda says, curious about your answer.
âItâs fine, love. Iâm busy in the ER anywayâ you appease her, reaching for a Pop-Tart. As you leave, you kiss her cheek out of pure habit, too busy with picking up your things to remember Wandaâs been avoiding physical contact. âCatch you later, have a good dayâ
âYeah, you tooâ Wandaâs hand goes to the spot you just kissed, blushing.
Your day starts as usual, and you make sure you donât leave the ER unless it is absolutely necessary. Thankfully, Yelena is eager to do any task you assign to her. That way, you avoid running into her sister.
At some point, you do have to go to the front desk to deliver some schedules and signed discharges.
âWe have missed you these past sessionsâ someone says behind you.
You recognise Melinaâs voice and answer without looking up.
âER is very hecticâ
You think thatâs the end of the conversation until she asks something that almost makes you turn.
âSo, which one of my daughterâs pissed you off?â
The only sign of surprise you show is how you stop writing for a second, but then you keep going.
âIâm afraid I donât understandâ
âI think you do, Doctor Y/L/Nâ
âExcuse meâ you say, saved by your pager.
Melina hangs around, waiting for you to come back and finish the conversation, or find either Natasha or Yelena to get them to fess up.
The woman is looking around when a brunette joins her in the front desk, greeting the receptionist.
âIâll page Doctor Y/L/Nâ
âAre you a patient of hers?â Melina says, looking at the woman up and down.
âIâm her girlfriendâ Wanda answers, feeling like thereâs something familiar about the woman.
âOh, Y/Nâs girlfriend. Yes, weâve heard about you. Sheâs such a good teacher to my daughter. Iâm Doctor Melina Romanoffâ
Of course, Romanoff. No wonder Wandaâs gut was telling her to get out of there.
âY/Nâs teaching Natasha?â Wanda says, confused. She thought it was the other way around.
âNo, Yelena. Sheâs working in the ERâ
âOh, good. Thereâs more than one of youâ Wanda grumbles, wondering if Yelena flirts with you too.
âWhat was that, dear?â Melina says, confused.
âOh, nothingâ
Thankfully, you show up, smiling at Wanda.
âHey, come hereâ you say, dragging her away from Melina.
âWhy didnât you tell me?â Wanda asks as soon as the woman is out of earshot. You tilt your head, confused. âYouâre teaching her sister. The whole family is hereâ
âOh, that. Fury made me do it. Trust me, if it were up to me theyâd all be long goneâ you mumble.
Wandaâs taken aback by your bitter tone. No matter how annoying someone can be, youâre rarely unkind. It seems like theyâre really testing your patience.
âOk, well. I just wanted to drop off these cookies for Darcyâ
âFor Darcy and none for me?â you pout, taking the container.
âYours are at homeâ Wanda says, and youâre busy checking your pager so you donât notice Wanda looking over your shoulder, eyes locking with Natashaâs.
Wanda pulls you down, meeting your lips in a kiss that is not at all appropriate in the middle of your shift.
âTry not to be late tomorrowâ she says and all you can do is nod, taken aback by the sudden display of affection. It only makes sense when you turn around, Natasha staring at you. Rubbing the back of your neck, you walk past her, only looking back once to wave your girlfriend goodbye.
Wanda stands there a little bit longer, arms crossed as she glares at Natasha. When the Russian gets annoyed, she drops her folder and makes her way over to Wanda.
She doesnât have a chance to say anything, as Kate comes out of nowhere, dropping her coffee in the middle of both women.
âOh, shootâ she says, not sounding sorry at all.
The sudden intrusion makes Natasha walk back and leave the reception, annoyed at having to keep to herself all the things she wants to say to your girlfriend.
Wanda, on the other hand, leaves the hospital with a smile on her face.
Kate is on the fence about telling you of the almost argument between your girlfriend and Doctor Romanoff.
To those close to you, is very obvious your relationship with the other surgeon went south, and considering how Wanda looked at Natasha, Kate has a very good guess around the reason why.
âI miss Boston a little bitâ Yelena is talking your ear off while you check some X-rays. âMama and Natasha are going back today and I wish I could too. And by the way, why is she acting strange around you?â
âPage Ortho and tell them we have a surgical case. Run lab work for the patientâ you ignore her. âQuestions?â
âYes, did you and Natasha fight?â
âAbout the case, Belovaâ you clarify, turning to leave.
âOh. No. So what happened?â
âBishop, the case is yours nowâ you snap, annoyed at her insistence. You already had to deal with her motherâs questioning today, and it ran your patience thin. âBelova, you are in charge of post opsâ the blonde opens her mouth to protest and you look up. âReconsider what youâre about to say or Iâll send you to the morgue with Vidalâ
Yelena nods, but you can see sheâs hurt. A part of you feels guilty, but then you remember her family is incredibly wealthy and they could simply pull their heads out of their asses and hire a new Head of Trauma in Boston.
The rest of your shift is semi chaotic, until the end when you have to stay longer. Wanda doesnât respond to your text when you explain why youâll be late, so youâre in a hurry to leave.
âWhat the hell is your problem?â a voice chases you down the hall, making several people turn. You look over your shoulder at Natasha.
âCan I help you?â you ask in a bored tone, gathering your stuff to leave.
âWhatever happened between us is our business. Donât be an asshole to my sister because it got into your head that Iâm the one that screwed up your perfect relationshipâ
âWell, if your sister doesnât like it she can go back to Boston, as I hope youâll do soon and without any plans to returnâ you spit out, taking your bag to leave.
âI was so wrong about youâ Natasha says when you walk past her.
âIâll find a way to sleep at nightâ you mock, but then Natasha hits you where she knows will hurt.
âYeah. In the couch, I betâ
Her mocking tone makes you turn.
âWhat a great relationship it must be, if she only likes you when you do what she wantsâ
Whatever you are about to say is stuck in your throat, so you turn around and leave.
The words repeat like an echo in your head until you get home.
Figuring Wanda must be in the bedroom, you go up and knock.
âHey, sorry I had to stay longer. I texted youâ
âYeah, I got the textâ Wanda nods with certain indifference. So, sheâs back to being distant.
âWell, Iâll just grab a change of clothesâ you say.
Wanda turns to look at you. Something takes over when she imagines Natasha kissing you, watching as you undress yourself.
Without warning, she turns you around, kissing you.
âHey, what is it?â you ask, trying to get her to slow down. Instead of replying, she pushes you to the bed, barely giving you time to react when she straddles your lap. âWanda, maybe we shouldâŚâ
âI donât want to hear it. Youâre mineâ when she doesnât get a reply, she pushes forward. âAre you gonna let me fuck you or not?â
All you can do is nod, and she takes off your pants and underwear. Youâre conflicted, because Wanda doesnât seem to be in a right state of mind, pushed by her insecurities.
And then you feel her tongue on your clit, any coherent thought pushed to the back of your mind as she laps at your folds. Your hands go through her hair, but she pushes them away with a slap.
She doesnât give you time to protest, moving up until she kisses you. The taste of yourself renders you speechless, except for the moan that leaves your lips when Wanda pushes two fingers inside you.
âBabe, slowâŚâ you plead, overstimulated.
âNo, youâre gonna take itâ she shuts you up, biting your lip.
Her hand moves faster and you cling to the comforter, moaning until youâre pushed over the edge, squeezing her fingers as you come.
âWandaâ you say, trying to catch your breath. But she stands up immediately. âWhere are you going?â
âTo pick up the kidsâ
âCan I come with you?â
âStayâ she answers, leaving the room.
You plop down in bed, the rush of your orgasm quickly forgotten at her cold demeanor.
This wasnât about pleasure, it was about jealousy, as everything seems to be lately.
She only likes you when you do what she wants.
You take a shower and drift off, appreciating how comfortable the bed is compared to the sofa.
The sound of footsteps and laughs wakes you up, Billy and Tommy entering in a rush to the bedroom.
âYouâre here!â they say, jumping on the bed. Lately, they always seem anxious to know exactly where you are, as if they sense youâll disappear without a trace.
Itâs as endearing as it is heartbreaking.
âHey, thereâ you laugh when they pile on you, shouting about their day at school. âOk, ok, one at a time, kids!â
âBoys, no shoes on the bed!â Wanda walks in a minute later, making them go get changed for soccer practise. âWhy did you let them do that?â
You resist the urge to roll your eyes.
Itâs been a week, of course youâre gonna be in the dog house. But honestly, even when youâre not doing anything, Wanda seems to find a way to be mad at you.
âWhy donât I take the kids to soccer practise?â you offer, thinking she couldnât possibly be upset about that.
âPietro has physical therapy, you drive him and Iâll take the kids to soccerâ
âOr we can all drive to the rehab clinic and then to practiseâ you say.
âOk, I donât have time to argue. If youâre not gonna be of help, stay out of the wayâ she snaps, which makes your eyes widen in shock.
âIâll drive Pietroâ you mutter, going out of the room.
You wait for him in the backyard, throwing Sparkyâs ball and relaxing when he gets tired and sits next to you. At least someone in this house still likes you.
âWhat happened now?â Pietro asks from the backseat, and you shrug your shoulders, starting the car.
âSheâs just in a mood. I guess itâll passâ
âAnd if it doesnât?â
âCome on, no one can stay angry for that longâ
Can she?
âY/N, she hasnât spoken to our mother in three years because of what happened with Dadâ Pietro says.
âOk, but she lives in a different country and this was a very serious subjectâŚâ you try to excuse her.
âListen, I love Wanda, but itâs hard for her to let go of things. Unless you push a little. Momâs giving her space, but you live with her and you shouldnât be hiding forever. We all make mistakesâ
âWell, look at you, being a couples counselor and all. You have a backup plan in case snowboarding is out of the pictureâ you say, opening the door for him.
In a split second, you decide to drive back to practise. Even if Wanda doesnât want to see you, you want to be there for the boys.
To your surprise, Wanda is laughing alongside a tall man, her hand going to his arm. You walk around the field, standing next to other parents and looking over at her.
Theyâre both engaged in conversation, standing a bit away from the crowd. Wanda only notices your presence when Billy runs by and waves at you.
âHeyâ she walks over to you.
âDonât worry, Iâll pick up Pietro in a bit, I just wanted to see the kids playâ
âYeah, thatâs fineâ
âSo, whoâs that?â you say, referring to the man she was talking to.
âOh, heâs Richard. His son joined recentlyâ
âNo missus?â
âTheyâre separated. So, you know, sometimes heâs here and sometimes she is the one driving Danielâ
âNice. Glad they make it workâ you comment. Tommy waves at you because heâs having issues with his shin guard. âIâll goâ
You jog to him, smiling as you walk past Sharon.
âThere you go, kiddoâ you ruffle his hair, encouraging him to go back into the field.
âFriend of Wandaâs?â a voice says and you turn around. The so called Richard is smiling at you. âSheâs greatâ
The way he says great makes you want to punch him in the face.
âYeah. She isâ
âDo you know if sheâs dating anyone?â
âMeâ you say, frowning at him. âWhy? Wanna sell us a time share or something?â
âOh, no. Iâm so sorryâ he turns red. âShe didnât mention you at allâ
âHuh. Funny. Just moved in together, it probably slipped her mindâ you say, offering your hand. âDoctor Y/L Y/L/N, nice to meet youâŚâ
âRichardâ
âDickâ you say, punching his arm a little too harsh as you walk away. âPleasureâ
Asshole.
âYour friendâs niceâ you mutter, walking past Wanda. âIâm picking up Pietroâ
She didnât mention you at all.
Funny, you canât shut up about Wanda but she forgets you exist when someone new shows up.
Fine, whatever.
âWhat now?â Pietro says, sighing. It must be written all over your face when you go back to take him home.
âNothing! I didnât say anythingâ you defend yourself.
This time he doesnât push it, probably because heâs too tired from the physical exertion.
You help him out, walk Sparky and then, once the kids are back, spend the rest of the afternoon with them going over homework. Whatever it takes to be away from Wanda.
During dinner, you stay focused in your food and only speak when the kids ask you something.
âAre you gonna be home this weekend?â Billy asks and you nod, smiling when he gets excited.
âYeah, buddy. Wanna do something fun? We can go catch that movie you wantedâ
âOhâ they both turn to look at each other. âWe went yesterday with Daniel and his dadâ
âMom told us you wouldnât have time to go to the moviesâ Tommy apologizes, looking sorry for something thatâs not remotely his fault.
âWe can go do something else, kids. Anything you wantâ you promise, smiling at them.
âDid Darcy like the cookies?â Wanda asks, trying to asses how pissed you are.
âSureâ you mutter, looking anywhere but her. âYou know what, Iâm not that hungry so Iâm going to start cleaning the kitchenâ
As you leave, Pietro starts to speak Sokovian in what you think is a reprimand, but who the hell knows.
Everyone else finishes their food and you clean everything, being deliberately slow to avoid Wanda. But there she is, leaning against the counter while you load the dishwasher.
âWanna come to bed?â
âNopeâ
âYou donât have a leg to stand on, Y/N. I was just being nice to Richardâ
âHe didnât know about meâ you snap, turning to glare at her, âAnd he wants to ask you out, so donât let me get in the way. Maybe your next outing should be without the kidsâ
âIt hurts, doesnât it?â
âI never once hid you. Everyone I work with knows about you. Everyone I meet, thatâs the first thing I tell them. My girlfriend and my kids, because I love them. And I love youâ
âItâs just hard for me not toâŚâ
âNot to what?â
âNot to hate you! For hurting me. For lyingâ she says, looking away.
âThatâs fair. If you want to hate me, by all means, Wanda. But then be honest if you think this will always be the case and let me go. Because right now? It hurts a lot more to stay than to walk awayâ
She bites her lip, fidgeting with her hands as you walk past her.
As youâve done every night for the past week and a half, you lie down on the couch, wondering if things will ever get better between you.
â
The weekend was nice, if only because you got to spend time with the kids. You asked Wanda if she wanted to join once, more out of politeness than genuine desire for her to come along.
The first time she made an excuse about having to work on the book. So you went to the mini golf course, the arcade, to get some pizza and then buy a couple of videogames.
Billy and Tommy were very happy and thatâs all that mattered to you.
On Sunday you went grocery shopping, turning a blind eye when they sneaked a couple of chocolates. There were some nice flowers, so you decided to get them, just to have something that made you smile.
You werenât planning on sticking around for dinner, having a night shift. As youâre having a snack in the kitchen, scrolling through your phone, Wanda walks in, unsure if she should say something to you.
Sheâs very aware that with her hot and cold attitude sheâs done her share of damage to your relationship.
Wandaâs never been good at forgiving people.
âYouâll spoil your apetiteâ she tries to joke when she sees you eating a couple of cookies.
âI have a night shiftâ you smile, briefly looking away from your phone.
âThe flowers are niceâ
âYeah, I liked them tooâ you agree.
Your girlfriend wanders around the kitchen, trying to come up with something that can be remotely interpreted as a peace offering.
Looking at the calendar, she notices a circled date two days from now.
âDid we have plans for anything?â she asks, trying to remember what the date means.
âItâs ten months since our first dateâ you say, looking away.
âOh. Ten months? Time fliesâ
Yeah, it does. Not in a million years would you have guessed that things would go so bad in the course of a few weeks.
Even the ring you were so excited about is now stored away in a box in the garage.
âWe should do somethingâ Wanda says. âWe could go to dinner to that restaurant you likeâ
âIf you want toâ you say, unsure if her mood will be the same two days from now. Hell, maybe sheâll go back to hating your guts by then and it will be an awkward dinner.
âYesâ she hurries to say, standing in front of you when you get up to wash your cup. âIâd want to⌠I think Iâd like to just⌠talk like we used to. You know?â
Of course you do. Thatâs all youâve wanted since this nightmare began but every time you think youâre making progress she pushes you away. And youâre not sure how much more you can take.
âOk. Iâll make the reservationâ you agree. âI have to go now. Have a good nightâ
âHave a good shift at workâ
You go up to take your bag and say bye to the kids.
âSee you Tuesday after schoolâ
âYou promise?â Billy says and you nod, offering your pinky. He links it with yours and you both laugh.
âBe good, kiddosâ
At the door, Wandaâs waiting with some food.
âIn case you get hungryâ
You nod, taking the container and smiling as you walk past her.
Wanda wishes she had the courage to go after you and kiss you. But all she does is watch as you drive away.
â-
âWhereâs Belova?â you say, annoyed. Sheâs supposed to be here and itâs only you and Kate in the ER.
âShe said she had a family emergency. And that sheâd tried to be here early in the morningâ
Right. You can afford to skip a night shift if your mother is a reknowned surgeon.
âWell, go get some rest and if anything urgent comes up Iâll let you knowâ you say, not feeling very tired.
The brunette nods, grateful for the chance to sleep. Ever since Yelena joined you, sheâs been staying longer in the hospital to get whatever cases she can get. You appreciate her commitment.
For once, itâs an easy shift. The worse that comes is a group of college kids that are drunk, one of them breaking his nose as he fell.
âIâm kinda hungryâ you tell Barnes as you finish up with the young man.
âGo, Iâll stay hereâ
âWould you like to join me? I have plenty of foodâ you offer, suddenly realising youâve never spoken to Barnes beyond work. He thinks about it for a second and then nods.
âSounds niceâ
You take it as an acheivement, going to a break room where you split Wandaâs lasagna in half, while Barnes comes back with a couple of sodas.
âThanks⌠sorry, I call you Barnes, but is there other nameâŚ?â
âBuckyâ he says, sitting down.
âAlright. Buckyâ you nod, following suit. You both eat in silence for a moment.
âYouâre a good cookâ
âThatâs my girlfriend. I can only do some decent pancakesâ you admit.
âOh, is that the woman that came the other day?â he asks and you nod, surprised that he noticed.
âYeah, thatâs herâ you say, suddenly remembering everything thatâs happened in the past weeks. âShe has two kidsâ
âI like kidsâ he says, which makes you chuckle. He raises an eyebrow, amused. âWhat?â
âIâm sorry, but youâre always so serious. I canât imagine you with kids. Iâm being rudeâ you mumble, watching as his smiles widens.
âNah, I get it. Iâm just not good at making friends. And it feels like everyone knows each other alreadyâ
âIâm sorry, I guess we should have made more of an effort to include youâ you nod, thinking that it must be awful to be left out. âTell you what, weâll all go out for drinks one of these days. Thereâs a bar close to the hospitalâ
âMaybeâ
âThereâs a pool tableâ you insist and he smiles.
âOk, yeahâ he finally relents and you celebrate. Once youâre done with the food, he hands over a chocolate bar. You appreciate the gesture, and munch on it while holding back a yawn.
âGo get some sleep, Iâll page when thereâs somethingâ Bucky says.
âThanks. This was niceâ you pat his shoulder, happy that you got to speak to him.
Youâre paged a couple of times but manage to get a few hours of sleep.
The next time someone calls you is to go to the third floor, to a conference room. Of course itâs Melina Romanoff.
âYes?â
âOh, good, youâre here. Have a seat, pleaseâ she speaks, completely indifferent to your mood.
âI have workâ you refuse the offer, but sheâs clearly not speaking until you do as she says. You sigh, relenting. Maybe sheâs about to rip you to shreds for being an ass to Yelena.
âYou know what I like?â
Dancing in the moonlight like a witch?
âNo, not reallyâ
âHonesty. Someone who doesnât care about anything other than the truth. And skillsâ you remain impassive and then she takes off her glasses, smiling at you. âAll those things you said about Yelena are true. She has great potential, but sheâs missing the drive. Itâs about consistency. And hard workâ
âYeah, and yet she skipped the night shiftâ
âThat was my bad. Her father is in townâ she says, and you resist the urge to roll your eyes. âAnyway, the people who have worked for me are always too afraid to tell me the truth. Because they want me to like them. But not you. Which is whyâŚâ
Melina extends a letter. An offer letter to be the Head of Trauma at Romanoff Medical.
âIâm not interestedâ you say, noticing the pay is triple what you currently make.
âAnd whyâs that?â
âMy familyâs hereâ
âHum, I see. We can arrange for relocation. Youâll have enough money to buy a beautiful houseâ
Sheâs probably referring to the sign up bonus you get if you accept the job.
âWanda would never want to move. I appreciate the offerâ you hand back the paper and she stops you.
âHow long have you been with this girl?â
âTen monthsâ
âAnd itâs good? Thereâs a future?â she insists.
âMaybeâ
A month ago you would have said that absolutely there was a future. Now, itâs very uncertain.
âOk, well⌠sometimes we have to make choices. This is one of those times, Doctor Y/L/N. You work for Romanoff Medical and everyone will know your name. Theyâll try to steal you and Iâll double your pay at some point to get you to stayâ
âThe money isnâtâŚâ
âIt should be. Because youâre good at your job, one of the best Iâve seen. At least take the letter and read it carefully. Weâre going back to Boston tonight but call me if you change your mindâ
âThanksâ you nod, hearing your pager. You fold the letter and put it on the pocket of your lab coat, finding Kate in the ER struggling with a doppler ultrasound.
You smile at the pregnant woman that is waiting, looking worried.
âHello, Iâm Doctor Y/L/N. What brings you to the ER today?â
âIâm having some pain, and contractions but weâre only at 35 weeks. It canât possible beâŚâ the woman says.
âWeâre having twins, boy and girlâ her husband explains.
âCongratulationsâ you smile. âTwins are fun. Youâll have to get two of everything for Christmas, thoughâ
âDo you have twins?â the woman asks, trying to forget about the pain.
âTwo boys. Hereâ you check for the heartbeats, but notice the womanâs water broke, blood mixed with the fluid. âWeâre doing an emergency C-section. Donât worry, weâll take great care of you and your babiesâ
Kate pages OBGYN and Maria for the delivery of the babies.
âEverything will be fine, Miss Hardwickâ you say, introducing the surgeons. âYour husband is on his way to the OR, the nurses are helping him scrub inâ
âTell me about your boysâ she asks when the procedure begins. You smile, looking at her.
âWell, Billy likes science and art. So I donât know if heâll be a scientist or an artist like his mom. Tommy is really fast, the fastest boy in the soccer teamâ
âTwo moms?â the woman says and you tense up, unsure if sheâll have a problem with it. âYour house must be very cleanâ
Maria and you laugh at that.
âYou know, it is. But she does the cooking and I try to keep everything neat, and help with homework and taking out the dogâ
âHoney, I think I want to be a lesbianâ the woman says, and her husband looks around.
âItâs just the anesthesia talking, sheâs jokingâ you calm him down, smiling.
After an hour of surgery, you admire the new family, though the babies will have to spend a few days in the NICU.
âThanks, Mariaâ you smile at the woman as you scrub out. âIâm glad theyâre all okâ
âWe just need to be careful with the post op, can your team handle it?â
âYeah, of courseâ you say.
Yelena finally shows up, with a million apologies about how her dad surprised her with a visit from Russia. You decide her punishment should be sticking to the Hardwickâs post op.
âThis was a high risk pregnancy. Youâre gonna be checking up on her by the hour, no excuses. Can you handle that?â you say.
âYou got itâ
âGood. Youâre also on ER duty, since Iâm sending Bishop home. She just pulled off a 36 hour shift and three surgeriesâ you grab your charts and turn back to look at her. âBetter catch up, Belova. Right now, youâre way behindâ
Hoping the rest of the day can be better, you instruct her on how to work the ER and she seems to be eager to follow your instructions.
A little too eager, as Yelena hurries to pull out a knife from a manâs leg and getting you sprayed with an alarming amount of blood.
âOh, my God! Iâm so sorryâ she says, being pushed out of the way by Barnes so he can fix the mess.
You wipe your face and arms. Well, itâs been a while since youâve had that happen.
âWhat did you do wrong?â you calmly ask Yelena.
âI⌠I didnât take X-rays. Or his BPâ
âYeah, make sure that doesnât happen againâ you say, tired of being too hard on her. Itâs clearly not working. âStitch him up, I gotta get changedâ
Cleaning up proves difficult when you donât have a change of clothes in your bag. This is what you get when youâre in a hurry to leave.
âDonâtâ you warn Tony when the elevator doors open and he watches your bloody scrubs.
âFine. I wonât say I told you soâ
âScrew you, Starkâ
âRomanoffs! Evil!â he says as you roll your eyes, walking to your car.
Wandaâs reaction is a little different when she sees you come in.
âOh, my God! Are you ok?â
âNot my bloodâ you reassure her. âI forgot my other scrubs. Iâll take a shower and throw these awayâ
âYou got some on your lab coat tooâ
âDamn itâ you raise your elbow. Thatâs gonna be a bitch to clean.
âLeave it, I was doing laundry tomorrowâ Wanda says and you nod, smiling.
âThanksâ
Worrying about the mess Yelena could make while alone in the ER makes you hurry up, taking a quick shower and walking out of the bathroom in your underwear, jumping around as you put on your pants.
âIn a hurry?â Wanda asks, eyeing you curiously.
âYeah, she almost got someone killed while I was standing there. Wanna guess what happens if I leave for more than an hour?â you huff, looking for a new pair of sneakers. âHey, how was it when the twins were born?â
âWhat do you mean?â Wanda tilts her head.
âI donât know, we delivered twins today, and it made me wonder, what happened when Billy and Tommy were born, ya know? Was your family there? Did Pietro cry? All thatâ
âOh, thatâs a long storyâ Wanda smiles. You stand up, ready to leave and she leans forward. âWhy donât I tell you over dinner?â
âIâd like thatâ your heart flutters at her beautiful smile. She kisses your cheek.
âSee you laterâ
âBye, loveâ you smile, feeling like somethingâs changed between you two.
Hopefully, for the better.
â
Love: Happy ten months to us.
Love: I love you, detka
You smile at the text you got from Wanda right at midnight.
âItâs feeding time, wanna help?â Maria says as you stand outside of the NICU, watching their oxygen levels and temp.
âYou sure?â
âYeah, come onâ
You both change into special gowns and cover your heads and shoes to avoid contamination. One of the nurses hands you the little girl and you begin to feed her, amazed at how strong she is in spite of being a preemie.
âYouâre a naturalâ Maria comments and you laugh, while the baby wraps her entire hand around one of your fingers.
âOh, man. Itâs happening again. Iâm catching baby fever. How have you managed your entire career, Maria?â
âWell, dealing with Carol is a lot like having a kidâ she jokes and you both laugh.
Feeding time is over too soon for your liking and youâre honestly thinking youâll come back before your shift ends just to enjoy this a bit longer.
And then Yelena walks in the room.
âBelova, youâre contaminating everythingâ
âMrs. Hardwick is crashingâ
âWhat do you mean, crashing?â
You run out of the NICU, hearing the code blue over the speakers. By the time you get to the room, Bucky is working with compressions. You spring to action, asking for medications and taking over CPR.
âTalk to me, Belovaâ
âWe have a pulseâ she says, not taking her eyes off the monitor.
âOk, letâs do blood work and an ECG. Did you do the post op, Yelena?â
âYes!â
âEvery hour?â
âEvery 45 minutes! Y/N, you have to believe me, I did everything. What about? Ok, I know Iâm just an intern but Iâve read about peripartum cardiomyopathy?â
âIt was a high risk pregnancy. We need to get those lab results to rule it out. The bad news isâŚâ
âThat in critical cases, a heart transplant is the only way. And thereâs a high rejection rateâ Yelena says, and you nod.
âVery good. I wish I could say youâre wrong, but itâs not the caseâ
The results arenât good. Neither is your chat with Mr. Hardwick, whoâs facing the potential loss of his wife and their children are still in the NICU.
âWhat are our options?â
âWe can start with beta blockers, diuretic, other treatments. If itâs not good enough we will have to consider a heart transplantâ
âHow long will that take?â he says, desperate.
Your pager interrupts you. Her room again.
âWait hereâ
But of course he doesnât.
âSheâs crashing again. Charge to 200â
âWe have to do something nowâ Maria says, helping you with compressions.
âLVAD. It can be a bridge treatment for medical management or heart transplant. Page Rossâ you turn to one of the nurses.
âHeâs outâ
âThen page him and tell him a woman is dyingâ
âHeâs not in the countryâ Bucky clarifies.
âAlright, whoeverâs available in Cardio, Jesus. Is that so hard to find? Weâre not wasting any time, tell them to meet us in the ORâŚâ
âDoctor Bernard is two hours awayâ
âNot good enoughâ you yell, feeling desperate. All you see is a woman with twins, like Wanda, who needs to see her babies grow up.
âNatashaâs still hereâ Yelena offers and you nod without hesitation.
âCall herâ
The adrenaline makes it seem like itâs been a second since you began to prep for the surgery, and Natasha walks in, ready to go.
âAn LVAD can be a temporary solution. But she needs the transplant. My mother is already calling UNOSâ
âOk, letâs beginâ you nod. You stand opposite to Natasha, doing everything she asks.
Her movements are calculated and precise. You find yourself looking in awe at her skill.
She was born to be a surgeon.
âThereâs a heart in Boston. You need to go nowâ Melina says when youâre almost done. Tony is right behind her. Seems like everyone wants this case to have a happy ending.
âIâll goâ you and Natasha say at the same time.
âTake the jetâ Tony says. âMine, not Romanoff'sâ
âYeah, okâ you look at the clock. You have twelve hours for dinner with Wanda. âLetâs just wrap up before dinner, or my wife will be madâ
âWife?â Maria says and you look up.
âGirlfriend. Sorry, my mind was elsewhereâ you mutter, shaking your head.
âI didnât know youâd propose. Congratulationsâ Natasha says, looking at you over her surgical mask.
âNot proposing⌠Not anytime soon at least, things havenât been so⌠niceâ you say, focusing on the LVAD.
âIâm sorryâ Natasha says, and for the first time, it seems like she means it.
âNot your fault. Not all of it, at leastâ you joke in a low voice so only Natasha can hear.
âJerkâ she says, but thereâs no malice in her tone. âWeâre done here. Iâll leave instructions for the post OP while we get the heartâ
âJetâs waitingâ Stark confirms.
âThanks, Tony. Youâre my favorite nepo babyâ you smile, taking off your gloves.
â
Itâs all a blur. People greet Natasha, and it feels like the entire room stops when she walks in. Of course, her family owns this place.
In Stark Hospital, sheâs a guest,
Here, Natashaâs the boss.
One of them, at least.
âThis is Doctor Y/L/N, scrubbing in with meâ
You feel a little intimidated, at the sheer size of the hospital. Twice as big as the one you work at. So, maybe thatâs why Tony doesnât like them that much.
Men and their obsession with size.
âYou should see the ERâ Natasha says when she catches you looking around the facilities.
âMaybe some other time. Letâs get our heartâ
âNow I think I just owe you a pair of lungsâ she jokes and you laugh, remembering the time she went to Westview.
Everyoneâs ready for the organ harvest but Natasha takes a deep breath, approaching the woman in the operating table.
âYouâre about to save a motherâs life. We hope she can see her children grow up. Thank youâ
With that, she turns to nod at you.
Again, you are in awe of her technique, even if itâs your third surgery together. You realize the first time you hadnât noticed because you were too busy joking and admiring her green eyes.
Yeah, the damage to your relationship wasnât Natashaâs fault at all.
Iâm such an idiot.
âEverything ok?â
âYeah, just worriedâ
âAbout being late for dinner?â
âAmong other thingsâ you say, avoiding her stare.
âWell, weâre done here. Letâs get back to Westviewâ
â-
This is the third time she calls you. Wanda looks at her phone, worried that something might have happened to you.
She decides to call the hospital, but itâs Kate who answers the ER line.
âKate, hi. Is Y/N ok? She hasnât called or textedâ Wanda says, holding her phone between her cheek and her shoulder, getting the laundry ready. She picks up your lab coat, and a sheet of paper falls.
An offer letter.
To work with the Romanoffs.
âHi, Miss Maximoff. Sheâs on her way back from Boston. Her and Doctor RomanoffâŚâ
âShe went to Boston? With Natasha?â Wanda stops reading the letter, catching up to what Kate is saying.
âWell yeah, we had aâŚâ
âI have to goâ Wanda hangs up, dropping the phone.
She reads the letter one more time before crumpling it in a ball.
â
Itâs been a while since you had such an intense shift. I mean, sure, maybe fishing Yelena out of the water was hard, but this was one of those cases that had the entire hospital on edge.
Mrs. Hardwick is in post OP with a new heart, and her twins are getting stronger by the hour. You desperately hope thereâs a happy ending.
Also, you made it in time for dinner, with some actual time to shower.
âHeyâ you greet Wanda when you walk in. Sheâs sitting in the dining table, glaring at you.
âYou have a lot of nerve to show upâ
Youâre about to ask whatâs wrong when she throws a ball of paper your way. Of course, the offer letter.
âWandaâ
âNo, donât even start. You broke your promise. Why were you in Boston? Looking for a new place?â
âJesus fuck, Wanda!â you shout, exhausted. âI was in Boston for a heart transplant so a woman who just had twins can live. I mean, a mother could have died, her babies are still in an incubator and you are worried about a job Iâm not even gonna take? Get a fucking grip!â
âDonât talk to me like that. You said that you were done speaking to her, that nothing was happening. And now this?â
âHer mother made the offer that I rejected because my family is here. As for the surgery, well, yeah, I broke my promise for a good reason. What was I supposed to say? Sorry, your wife will have to die because my girlfriend is paranoid?â
âDonât you dare call me paranoid when you kissed her, not to mention all the times you were calling her Professor Romanoff, or how you always talked about having dinner or going outâ
âHow do youâŚ?â it takes a moment and Wanda licks her lips nervously, looking away. âYou went through my phoneâ
âWhat else was I supposed to do? Here she is, this stunning woman that is offering you so much thrill and excitement while Iâm nagging you about taking out the trash. And not only that, but a chance at a better life tooâ
âSo you went through my phone and my stuff. Thatâs great, Wanda. Very healthy and matureâ you run your hands over your face, resisting the urge to kick the wall. âI would never sign that stupid contract, in a million years. Our life is here, but no matter what I do, you always doubt Iâm committedâ
âYouâve been lying to me for weeks and Iâm the bad guyâ Wanda says, looking defeated. âIs that all you have to say? No apology for hurting me? For betraying me?â
âI apologized over the kiss. I kept my promise and yeah, I broke it to save a life. Natashaâs on a plane back to Boston, and sheâs never coming here again. But if you canât trust meâŚâ you sigh, and wipe the tears that roll down your cheeks. âIf you donât trust me, I donât see how we can do this. Because then the issue isnât Natasha. Itâs usâ
âYouâre rightâ Wanda says after a beat of silence. You relax at her words, thinking the fight is over and you can talk rationally about it. Her next words hit you like a brick wall. âI donât trust you. And I donât think I ever will againâ
Wanda stares at you, until you look away and sigh.
âThen what? The kidsâŚâ
âThey are my children. I should have never involved them, that was my mistake and it is one Iâll never make again. Weâve been doing good our whole lives, just the three of us. Itâs best if you leave us alone. We will be betterâ
Weâll be better without you.
âI should goâ is all you say, closing the door behind you.
â-
Bucky leaves the hospital, sighing. What a day. He even stopped by the NICU to see those cute babies.
Heâs about to get on his motorcycle when he spots you, sitting in a bench.
âHey. Came to check on your patient?â
âYeah. And talk to the Chiefâ you sigh, looking at him. âHow about that drink we talked about?â
âIâm kinda tiredâ
âYou sure? Because this is the only chance youâll getâ
âWhat do you mean?â he asks, noticing the tear that rolls down your cheek.
Summary: As you grow closer to Natasha and struggle with your family past, Wanda begins to doubt your relationship.
A/N: Aaah, I think this is very long. I threw in some fluff as an apology. But remember, not everything is black and white. Also, don't hate me, I just like where this is going.
------
Natasha: You missed the inferior venacava
Y/N: Come on, itâs elementary school. Not like the teacherâs gonna notice.
Natasha: Fine, but youâre getting a B- from me.
Y/N: Professor Romanoff, youâre too strict.
As the kids enter the dining room, you put your phone down.
âWhereâs Mom?â you ask them, and they turn to look at each other.
âShe was arguing with uncle Pietroâ
âIâm sure itâs fineâ you say, placing the food in front of them. âLetâs eat and practise your presentation for Biologyâ
âOkâ Billy agrees.
For a little while, everything seems normal until Wanda walks in, looking ready to kill someone.
âItâs absolutely useless speaking to himâ she says, walking past you and into the kitchen. You follow her, leaning against the wall.
âWhatâs wrong?â
âHe wants to go back to snowboarding. Risking his life for what? Some likes on instagram and sponsorships? You almost died trying to save him and here I am busting my ass cleaning after him. And he wants to dieâ
âWhy donât I talk to him? You try to calm down and eat something. The kids were worried about youâ
âIâm not hungryâ she shakes her head, but accepts your hug, leaning her head against your shoulder.
âJust try, for me?â
âOkâ she nods, kissing your cheek. You smile, and take your dinner out in the backyard, where Pietro is throwing a ball for Sparky.
âMy answerâs still noâ he says when you drag a chair and sit next to him.
âI didnât say anythingâ you shrug your shoulders, offering Sparky a piece of your chicken. âWhat are you talking about?â
âIâm not quitting sportsâ
âOk, thatâs fine.â
âItâs gonna be fine. What happened that day was a freak accident. Lighting doesnât strike twiceâ
âI mean, I guess. Except it absolutely can happen again. Listen, if this is your life calling and everything, I get it. Just try to understand your sister. What would you feel like if the roles were reversed? If she got seriously hurtâ
âWhat would you do if you couldnât perform surgery again?â
âIâd go insaneâ you admit. âIâm not telling you to quit. Iâm just telling you to understand Wandaâs point of view. Plus, you still need to start physical therapy.â
You sit in silence for a while, eating and looking at the sky.
âIâm hungryâ Pietro admits, and you laugh.
âCome on, letâs get you some foodâ
As Wanda prepares his dinner, you take the kids upstairs. They ask you a couple of questions about the model of the heart you helped them build with clay until theyâre both yawning.
âSleep now, boysâ you close the door, watching with a smile as theyâre already snoring.
Wanda is still cleaning the kitchen when you join her, and she smiles at you.
âThank you. Heâs being less stubborn now. Wants to start therapy next weekâ
âMy pleasure. Iâll finish cleaning, go to bedâ you say, kissing her temple. She squeezes your arm in thanks, but turns around as she remembers.
âCould you take out the trash?â
âHuh? Yes. Iâll do it, no worriesâ you answer absentmindedly, looking at your phone.
You spend a lot of time on your phone lately, Wanda thinks.
After cleaning up, you sit and practise for your own test tomorrow. Natasha told you theyâll begin to implement her motherâs technique at the hospital and you want to scrub in.
For that, you need a bunch of grapes and a sowing kit. Everytime you finish a set of stitches, you send a picture to Nat and wait for her feedback.
Nat: That oneâs perfect.
You smile at that, proud of your work. Youâre so busy texting back that you donât hear Wanda come in.
âDid you take out the trash?â
âOh, crap. Let me do that right nowâ you put your phone down and remove your gloves.
âWho are you talking to?â
âWhat?â
âIâve been waiting for an hour for you to come to bed, and it seems like youâd rather be texting. Is it her?â Wanda says, clearly upset.
âWanda, come on. I was practising to scrub in this week. It would be a pretty big deal if they pick me to be in the surgeryâ
âPlease, itâs so obvious that woman will let you in just because she has a thing for youâ Wanda scoffs.
âOh, so youâre saying I canât get in because of my skills?â
âThatâs not even⌠you know what? Donât come to bedâ
âWhat?â you turn to look at her, frowning.
âYou can sleep on the couchâ she says, leaving the kitchen without looking back at you.
Un-fucking-believable.
Fine, whatever. Youâll sleep on the fucking couch.
You clean up your mess and finally take out the trash, going to your car for a cigarrette and a lighter.
As you sit in the porch, another text comes from Natasha.
You decide itâs faster to call her.
âIsnât it past your bedtime?â she jokes.
âNah, I was kicked out of the bedroomâ
âWhat did you do?â Natasha asks, clearly amused.
âWhy do you assume it was me who did something?â you want to sound offended, but after a beat of silence, you admit the truth. Or part of it. âI forgot to take out the trashâ
âThatâs not so badâ
âI guess not. But whatever, Iâll manage for tonight. Got a doble shift ahead of me tomorrowâ
âSorry, if I was there Iâd be more than happy to take you inâ she says in a low voice and you donât know exactly what to say to that.
âWhen do you get here, by the way?â
âMy flight lands at seven thirtyâ
âWant me to pick you up? We can have breakfast and then go to the hospitalâ you offer, feeling better at the prospect of having plans to catch up with Natasha.
âI wouldnât want to trouble youâ
âNot at all, Iâm happy to play the part of private driverâ
âWill you hold a sign with my name like they do in the movies?â
âIâll tryâ you laugh, looking behind you. âAlright, Iâll go get some sleep. Night, Natâ
âNight, Y/Nâ
Pulling out a blanket and a cushion, you lay down, sighing and trying to get comfortable. A few minutes later, you can hear Wanda going out of her study, and you stay still, hoping she wonât come looking for you.
Truth is, you donât want to talk to her right now either.
Not after she kicked you out of the room for something so insignificant.
So, you close your eyes and try to let go of the hurt.
Tomorrow will be better.
â
Next morning, you get up at break of dawn to get changed and pack your bag for the next 48 hours. Honestly? Youâre happy to be at the hospital for two days.
âWant some breakfast before you leave?â Wanda offers when you walk in to get changed, and by the looks of it, she didnât get much sleep last night.
âIâm fineâ is all you say, looking for your scrubs and your phone charger.
âY/Nâ she calls as youâre about to leave. You turn to look at her reluctantly, eager to just walk out of the room. âHave a nice dayâ
âYou tooâ you say, without any emotion, going down the stairs and straight to your car.
The ride to the airport lets you clear your head, and you feel a lot more relaxed when you go down to wait for Natasha.
Itâs not long before you spot her, walking out and looking flawless.
âMy apologies in advanceâ is all she says as you approach her, and you look confused.
âWhat do you mean?â
âNatalia, wait for me! Youâre always in such a hurryâ a blonde woman, younger and shorter than Natasha comes right behind her, carrying three very big suitcases. âAre you our Uber?â
âYelena!â Natasha scolds, switching to Russian. âIâm sorry, my sister has no mannersâ
âHey, no worries, itâs not the first time Iâve had siblings fighting in a foreign languageâ you smile, introducing yourself to Yelena.
âNice to meet you. Thank you for picking us upâ
âAre you staying for the whole month?â you comment, struggling with Yelenaâs bags.
âYes, my mother arranged for me to spend some time learning at Starkâs Hospital. I want to be a Trauma surgeon and Natasha said they have the best one sheâs ever metâ
âDid she say that now?â you laugh, as Natasha blushes and gets inside the car.
âWhy? Do you know them?â Yelena sits on the back seat, unlocking her phone to find the address of her new place.
âYeah, theyâre ok I guessâ you joke, making Natasha roll her eyes.
âItâs Y/N, you dumbassâ Natasha clarifies, which makes Yelena groan and curse in Russian.
âHey! That means bitchâ you recognise it.
âHow do you know it?â Yelena asks.
âMy girlfriend and her brother are always saying it to each other. Living together has regressed them to their teenage yearsâ you lament, trying not to think about them.
Yelena is restless in the backseat, asking you to change the music until you give up and hand over your phone so she can play whatever she likes.
âHave any siblings?â Natasha says, massaging her temples.
âTwo half siblings but I donât really speak to themâ
âLuckyâ
âNatalia, that is so rudeâ Yelena mutters, singing along to American Pie. âIâm hungry, can we get food before going to the apartment?â
âWeâre having breakfast and then going to the hospital. Thatâs what grown ups do, they work even if they had to fly in the middle of the nightâ
âFiiiineâ
As you park, Yelena jumps out, because she wants to sit on the second floor with a view to the promenade. You wait for Natasha, and walk inside with her to the restaurant.
âSo, I take it I have a new student?â
âIâm so sorry. Fury was supposed to ask you first but sheâs just so damn impulsive. Please donât feel like you have to help her in any wayâ
âItâs fine. Iâm guessing your motherâs behind it? I donât want you to get in any trouble. And Kate could use some friendly competitionâ
âI really appreciate itâ Natasha smiles, and you both sit while Yelena looks out the balcony, taking pictures of the sunrise.
Yelena asks you questions about your background and work experience. You think itâs just curiosity as sheâs starting her residency soon, but Natasha can tell Yelena is doing a job interview in her own sneaky way. Sheâs always so outgoing and charming that people have a hard time believing she can be a little shit.
âHave you ever been to Boston?â the younger woman asks and you shrug your shoulders.
âNo, never beenâ
âYouâd love it, itâs so pretty, and our hospital has one of the best Trauma centers in the country. Of course, the issue is finding the right person to run it, right Natasha?â
âI guessâ
âOh, I didnât know you had an openingâ you comment for the sake of conversation.
âWell, yes, actually. Didnât Natasha tell you? Weâre actively looking for someoneâ Yelena says as if itâs such a big coincidence. âYou wouldnât happen to be interested in it?â
âSorry to say, my girlfriend would not want to move to Boston. But if I know of someone Iâll send them your way. Who was your former head of department?â
âRumlow. You know him?â Natasha says, wishing she didnât. He was a pretentious ass.
âYeah, heâs an asshole. We studied together and only one of us got to go to work at John Hopkins. Spoiler alert, it wasnât himâ you brag, making Natasha smile.
âTell me more about your girlfriendâ Yelena asks, which makes Natasha flinch.
âDonâtâ
âIâm just being politeâ she lies, and you have a feeling it is better to change the subject. So, you ask for the check, paying for the three of you and then driving to the hospital.
âI have to get ready for the next session. Behaveâ Natasha says, and then turns to you. âIf sheâs being bad, you have my authorization to kick her assâ
âDuly notedâ you wink at Nat, walking towards the ER, where Kate is already waiting with some charts for your rounds. âMorning, Doctor Bishop. This is Doctor RomanoffâŚâ
âBelova. I go by Belovaâ Yelena corrects you and you nod.
âOh, that will make it less confusing. Sheâs gonna be working with us for a bit. If you could teach her some of the basics of our ER Iâd appreciate itâ
âOh⌠okâ Kate looks between you two, and then walks behind you. âSorry, am I getting kicked out as your resident? Did I do something wrong?â
âNot at all. Yelena is here to learn, as are you. Thereâs enough to do for everyone, right?â
You keep an eye on their interactions, noticing how Kate is a lot more uptight in the way she keeps the ER than Yelena. The blonde moves around the hospital like sheâs been there her entire life and it doesnât come off as pretentious, but as second nature. Her mother probably always dragged her daughters along while she worked.
But, by the time thereâs an ambulance coming along, you see her go into professional mode, talking to the paramedics.
âMale, forties. Fell off a ladder, was conscious but had a seizure and BP droppedâ Drax says, and you move the patient to a gurney.
âBishop? Belova?â you question them as the patient has another seizure.
âIâd administer lorazepam and rule out skull fraction and hemorrhageâ Yelena says, and you nod.
âVery well. Heâs your patient nowâ you nod. âOnce you get the results, page me and Neuroâ
Kate looks a little hurt at that, and you sigh, watching as Yelena stabilizes the man and coordinates with Barnes.
âSheâs just here for a little while. And you need to be on your toes. ER is all about speed, Kate. Donât sweat itâ
âYes, Doctor Y/L/Nâ
You pat her shoulder, going to check Natashaâs class. Itâs already started and you know the exercises as she gave you an overview before anyone else. So you lean on the door, watching as everyone practises the sutures.
âCare to join us?â Natasha says and you shrug your shoulders.
âIâm on duty. Looks like your sister got her first surgeryâ
âSo soon? Who did she piss off to get it?â
âJust my resident. Thatâs ok, though, Iâm sure next surgery will be Kateâsâ you look at Darcy, giving her an excited thumbs up when she shows you her sutures.
âSpeaking of which, Fury has told me he wants Bishop and your friend Lewis in the first surgeryâ Natasha says and you nod, trying to hide your disappointment. âIâm really sorry, I wanted it to be you, but heâs doing us a favor with Yelena and we have to give something in returnâ
âI get it. Thereâs always a next one, right? Plus, Iâm happy for Darcy, sheâs an excellent surgeon and Iâm sure sheâll do greatâ you smile at your friend. In that moment, your pager goes off and you sigh. âGotta get back to it. See you around, Natâ
âWaitâ she leaves the skills lab, following you into the hallway. Her hand rests on your wrist and you turn around.
âWhatâs wrong?â you say when you catch the frown on her face.
âIâm sorry, for giving you extra work with Yelena. I didnât think⌠I was just saying youâre a great surgeon. If I had known my mother would do this IâŚâ
âNat, come onâ you squeeze her hand, stepping closer. âItâs no bother at all. Iâm happy to teach her whatever I can until your mother finds someone else back in Bostonâ
âYouâre too kind. I might owe you a nice dinner after all of thisâ she smiles, noticing you havenât let go of her hand.
âIâll hold you to thatâ without thinking, your hand travels to her elbow and you give her a light squeeze. âI really have to go nowâ you say when youâre paged again. âGood luck with the surgery tomorrowâ
âThanksâ
You smile back at her as you leave for the ER, finding Kate in the middle of chaos, with an accident involving three people.
âSee? You got yourself at least two surgeriesâ you smile at her, overseeing the work. Kamala is already there, helping Kate with everything she needs.
âHeard thereâs someone newâ she whispers to the brunette as they stabilize a patient.
âYeah, sheâs the youngest Romanoff. Iâm now competing with medical royalty for the best casesâ Kate huffs, but shuts up when she catches you staring.
âShe could be the Princess of Genovia and Iâd still make her work for it, Bishopâ
âWhatâs Genovia?â Kamala asks, confused.
âYouâre so youngâ you sigh, feeling like the crypt keeper all of a sudden. âTake them to imaging and page me when you speak to Carol. I have to check on Yelenaâ
When you scrub in, you find that Yelena has made her way next to Tony, pushing Peter to the back of the room. It seems like she has a real talent for getting what she wants without most people noticing.
âDoctor Y/L/N, nice of you to join us. I thought youâd be with the rest of sycophants at Romanoffâs masterclassâ Tony greets you bitterly.
âDoctor Starkâ you try to tell him that another Romanoff is holding the suction tube, but he keeps ranting.
âHonestly, I canât wait for this stupid training to be over. We have to pretend that weâre impressed by this, really? Stark Hospital is one of the top teaching hospitals in the continent. Iâve had applications from Yemen to study with me. I think itâs time we show the Romanoffs what it looks like to be at the forefront of innovationâ
âTony, I really donât think we shouldâŚâ
âUgh, I get it. Natasha is your type. Redhead, green eyes, you have a crush. But honestly, Iâve known her for so long and I can tell you, she can be real phonyâ
âHonestly, Tony, just shut your mouthâ you plead, mortified at everything Yelena just heard.
The blonde looks at you, but she seems amused.
âI agree with Doctor Starkâ she says. âNatasha can be annoying. But then again, sheâs my sisterâ
You could hear a pin drop after those words. Tony looks at you and you shrug your shoulders. Itâs not like you didnât try to warn him.
âMore suction, pleaseâ is all he says, and Yelena leans forward.
âIs that ok, Doctor Stark?â
âYeah. Peachyâ
â
48 hours and six surgeries later, you feel completely beaten and ready to pass out.
The worst part is that you donât even know if youâre gonna get some decent sleep when you get back home. Wanda texted you a couple of times, and you tried really hard to act normal, but all you want is an apology for the way she acted.
Unfortunately for those who knew you, you had a tendency to hold a grudge beyond reason.
So, youâre once again stalling, smoking outside the hospital when Natasha pulls over.
âHeyâ she smiles and you wave. âDidnât know you smokedâ
âOnly after a hard shift. Want one?â
âI quit last yearâ she shakes her head, sitting next to you.
âCongratulations. I quit every yearâ you joke. âHeard the first procedure went greatâ
âYeah, there was a great deal of enthusiasm. Made me less reluctant to be here. And I promise youâll be on the next surgeryâ
âItâs ok, Iâm happy to wait for my turn. Good things come to those who waitâ
âSpeaking of which, what are you waiting for to go home?â
âI donât knowâ you shrug your shoulders. âI just wanted a moment to chill before going back to reality, ya know?â
âIf for some reason you end up on the couch again, I have a spare bed in the apartmentâ she offers and you laugh.
âThank you, Natâ you watch as Yelena finally goes out to meet her sister. âHave a good night, you twoâ
âBye, Y/N. Thank you for a great first shift!â Yelena says, excited. She was working as much as you did and for some reason sheâs not looking disheveled or exhausted.
To be fair, youâve been doing this for more years than her.
By the time you get home, all of the lights are out except the one on the porch. Thinking it might be better to stay downstairs, you drop your bag and plop down on the couch, like you used to do when you were living alone and came back completely spent from grueling shifts.
After a few minutes you hear someone walking down the stairs.
âY/N?â Wanda calls and you sigh.
âHeyâ
âI thought I heard you come inâ
âYeah, sorryâ you sit up, rubbing your eyes. âItâs pretty late and I didnât want to wake you up. Go back to sleepâ
âDid you eat something?â Wanda ignores your suggestion to go back upstairs, sitting on the edge of the couch.
âNah, Iâm exhausted. Maybe tomorrow. Sleep is all I want nowâ you sink your face in the cushion, hoping thatâs the end of the conversation.
âCome to bedâ Wanda asks softly, her hand pushing a strand of hair out of your face.
âYou sure?â
âYes. I canât sleep without youâ she admits in a low voice and you smile.
âOk, then. Letâs go to bedâ you stand up, allowing Wanda to lead you to your room, smiling when she settles next to you.
Youâre practically asleep by the time your head hits the pillow, and Wanda admires your sleeping form, wishing she could know whatâs going on with you.
âI love youâ she whispers against your forehead as she places a small kiss there.
She wonders if thatâs enough to get through this rough patch.
â
Hunger is what wakes you up. If your stomach wasnât protesting the lack of food, youâd stay in bed for the next eight hours.
âHey, youâre upâ Wanda greets you when you walk in the kitchen.
âIâm starvingâ you say, going through the fridge and hoping Pietro didnât eat everything again.
âWant me to make you something?â
âThatâs ok. Iâll get some cerealâ you reject her offer, though you are dying for some of her pancakes.
Thereâs a beat of silence as you start eating, and then Wanda interrupts it.
âDid you get to scrub in on that big surgery?â
âNope. Guess Natasha doesnât like me that much, huh?â you try to joke, but it comes off as bitter.
âSo, weâre doing thisâ Wanda sighs, standing in front of you. You keep eating, looking down at your plate.
âDoing what, exactly?â
âArguing over herâ
âIâm not arguing. Thereâs nothing to argue about. Iâm just mad and hurt because you made me sleep on the couch before a 48 hour shift over forgetting to take out the trashâ you say, crossing your arms. Now youâre not even hungry.
âItâs not about the trash. Itâs about how youâre constantly on your phone, or spend more hours in the hospital and how you walk out of a freaking room with herâ Wanda says, raising her voice.
âWanda, she knows Iâm with you. We barely talk about personal shit. Hell, I donât even know if she likes women!â
âShe likes you, and thatâs enough for me to hate her and this whole situationâ
âI have never, ever, given you a reason to doubt me or my committment to this family. I canât control if she likes me, but what I can control is my own actions. And Wanda, I would never cheat on you. Itâs not who I amâ you insist. âThis is the last time I will defend myself over this subject. You need to figure out if you can get over it or not, because itâs getting exhaustingâ
She looks at you, and you stand up, washing your dishes. As youâre about to leave the kitchen, Wanda calls for you. Youâre surprised to feel her clinging to you, her hands around your shoulders.
âIâm sorryâ she says against your neck. âYou know how he lied to me. I guess Iâm afraid it will happen again. But youâre right, youâre not him. Iâm sorry, please, Y/Nâ
Her voice quivers as she keeps pleading and all of your defenses drop instantly. You turn around, hugging Wanda tight against your body.
âIâm here. I want to be here. I love you and the boys and this is the life I want. Donât forget thatâ
âI know. I love youâ
You give her a sad smile when you break apart, watching as tears roll down her cheeks.
âMaybe we could⌠letâs go out tonight. Have a date for ourselves. Iâll ask Laura to take the kids for the night or find a babysitter. I just want to be with youâ she asks, leaning her forehead against yours.
âIâm down to whatever it is you want to doâ you promise, kissing her nose. âSo, weâre good?â
âYes, detka. Weâre goodâ
And for a moment, you truly believe this will be the end of it.
â
âWhere are you going?â Billy follows you, while Tommy stays glued to his mother.
âAsk your Mom, bubsâ you say, looking over at Wanda.
âWeâre going to the ballet. Would you like to join us?â
âNoâ they both say, running out of the room.
âAre we really going to the ballet?â you say, trying to not sound disappointed. Itâs not like you donât want some time alone with Wanda, but youâre still pretty tired and if you sit in a theater for two hours you might end up asleep.
âOf course not. But Iâm not telling you just yetâ Wanda kisses your cheek, taking your hand so you both go down the stairs.
âHave fun tonightâ Pietro waves goodbye, Morgan and the children busy with a videogame.
âKids, come say bye to usâ Wanda asks and the twins run to your arms.
âLove you. And youâ you say, blowing a raspberry on Billyâs cheeks and then tickling Tommy.
âLove you tooâ they reply, giggling.
âLove you threeâ Wanda smiles, kissing them before taking your hand.
âSo, when are you telling me⌠youâre kiddingâ you say when Wanda hands you a piece of fabric to cover your eyes. You scoff, but tie it, and lean in the seat of the car. âHow did you know that my perfect date is to be kidnapped by a beautiful woman?â
âWell, you did tell me you like to be tied upâ she jokes and you squirm in your seat. âMaybe some other time weâll try thatâ
âTeaseâ
You try to picture the road Wanda is taking but after ten minutes you give up, leaning back and humming along to the beat of the music playing in the stereo. Thankfully itâs your Beatles playlist, as your father always made you listen to them.
âIf I fell in love with you, would you promise to be true, and help me understand, cos Iâve been in love before, and found that love was more than just holding handsâ you sing, making Wanda laugh. Of course you know all the lyrics by heart.
âYou have a really nice voice. You should sing moreâ
âPass, baby. Can I take my blindfold now?â
âAlways so impatientâ Wanda teases you. âFine, weâre here either wayâ
Cheering, you pull the blindfold down, blinking a couple of times to adjust your eyes. Looking out the window, you can see the lights of the amusement park that is close to the peninsula.
âOh my God! Iâve been wanting to come here for so longâ
Ever since you moved to the city, you had planned to visit with Darcy but work always got in the way. You knew Wanda had come with the kids in the past and you always talked about visiting again.
âCome on, letâs goâ Wanda takes your hand, and you eagerly follow her to the entrance. You walk around, pointing at all the things you want to try. Without realising, Wanda is leading you to the ride you absolutely do not want to get on.
âNu-uhâ you step back when she turns you to the Haunted House.
âOh, come on! Please? I can never go because of the kids, and I love haunted houses. Plus itâs in a cart so weâre not gonna be chased by anythingâ
âPeople pay money to get chased?â you shout, jumping away when a group of teenagers are wheeled between the doors of the ride, screaming. âBabe, come on. Iâll do anything to skip this oneâ
âPlease? It will be fun. Ok, not fun for youâ she clarifies when you make a face.
âGive me one good reasonâ you challenge her. Of course, Wanda decides to pull you into a kiss, and itâs so good it takes your breath away.
âI knew being this gay would get me in troubleâ you mumble while she celebrates her victory.
As you wait in line, you try to get a look at whatâs inside and watch people who leave the ride, talking and laughing. They donât seem traumatized or crying. Thatâs good, right?
âOk, no, I want outâ you plead the minute you sit down, and the woman operating the ride gives you a curious stare. That makes you settle, and you sink in your small seat, where your legs can barely fit.
The cart is sent through the tracks and youâre engulfed by darkness, still trying to figure out if the first thing will jump from the left or the right.
âHell, noâ you scream, feeling something in your head.
âItâs just rags, detkaâ Wanda eases your nerves, looking excited for the next scare.
Now that youâre also worried about whatever touches your head, you miss the dummy that pops out on your right, flailing while something that looks like sausages spills out of its chest.
âGross AND anatomically incorrectâ you shout at it.
âYouâre so crazyâ Wanda laughs next to you, until something else jumps from a coffin and scares her.
âPlease let it be over, oh, God why are there red lightsâ
You are wheeled into a room full of weird looking creatures, and a spray of fake blood almost stains your clothes.
âShould have worn scrubsâ you mutter.
There are a couple of typical jumpscares, like the plastic bat that falls from the ceiling, or the cackling witch that almost touches you with its decaying hand.
âLetâs never do that againâ you say as soon as the cart stops, jumping out and looking all disheveled.
âMmm, letâs try the one where you walk next time we comeâ she says instead and laughs when you look like youâre going to pass out.
âYouâre being meanâ
âIâm sorry, letâs do something you want nowâ
Roller coasters and other mechanical rides have never been your jam, so you walk towards the carnival games. You try your luck at the ring toss, balloon darts and the fishing game.
âOk, last oneâ you say, pulling Wanda to the milk botttle toss. Youâre determined to win something for her, though she insists she doesnât need anything.
âOk, that was very impressiveâ she says when you throw the ball and it knocks down the bottle at the top. The second ball barely touches the rest of the bottles and you sigh, changing your stance. Before throwing, you look at Wanda and place your cheek next to her face.
âGood luck kiss?â
Your girlfriend blushes, but kisses you and walks back as you get ready to throw.
âBabe, I did it!â you shout, lifting Wanda in the air.
âVery nice, detkaâ she laughs as you put her down, turning to check all the stuffed animals that she can pick from. âOh, I want the capybaraâ
âYou heard the ladyâ you say to the man in charge of the stand and he hands it to Wanda.
As you get some food, she pulls it against her chest.
âI love itâ
âI love youâ you smile, kissing the back of her hand.
Thereâs a lot to pick from, but you settle on hot dogs and fries, talking about the book and Pietroâs physical therapy.
âWhat about your surgery?â
âWhat surgery?â you say as you finish your own food.
âDo you know when youâll scrub in?â
âOh, no idea. I know theyâre having another one tomorrow, but the Chiefâs the one making the calls right now, soâ you shrug your shoulders. âAlright, Iâm done. Want to go on the ferris wheel before we head home?â
âSureâ
Wanda was a bit hesitant because of the height, but once you reach the top of the ride and enjoy the view, she decides it was totally worth it.
âI loved our date night, thank youâ you say, noticing how sheâs getting cold and offering your own jacket. âHere, babyâ
âThank you. Iâm glad you liked it, even if I made you go into the Haunted Houseâ
âDarcy must never hear how much I screamedâ you warn her, enjoying how she scoots closer, leaning her head against your shoulder.
The view is breathtaking and you enjoy it in silence, until Wanda speaks again.
âOur first birthday here, mom and dad took us to one of these amusement parks. We had been in the US for some months and I think it was the first time I thought we could have a normal lifeâ
âThat sounds nice. Iâm glad you had them to create good memoriesâ
âYeah, I wish my dad was around to see the kids growâ she sighs. âAnd if my mother wasnât so stubbornâŚâ
âUh⌠your momâs alive?â you blurt out, and smack your mouth shut, mortified. âOk, that came out wrong. Itâs just, you never mention her!â you stutter, while Wanda laughs.
âWe had⌠a disagreement. After everything settled in Sokovia, they moved back to this small farm. It was the life they had always wanted. But my dad got cancer and he made mom promise she wouldnât tell us. I was starting my job at the publishing house and he didnât want to⌠I donât know, worry us?â
âIâm sorry, Wandaâ
âSo, yeah, by the time we knew it was too advanced and we didnât get to say goodbye. Iâve had⌠some resentment towards her ever since. I think we deserved to knowâ she looks away and you let her take time to calm down.
âI get it, it happens all the time. Sometimes patients want something that goes against their familyâs wishes. Itâs a fine line, between wanting the best for your loved one and giving them the freedom to chooseâ
âYeah. I know Pietro speaks to her because heâs a mamaâs boy. But she hates flying and I donât feel like Iâm strong enough to go back to Sokovia⌠thereâs a lot of painful memoriesâ
âMaybe one day we can all go. Or find a middle ground. Whatever you wantâ
âMy mom would love youâ Wanda says and you laugh.
âWell duh, all the Maximoffs love meâ
âEspecially meâ she says, kissing you softly. You smile against her lips and break apart just as the ride ends.
You agree to drive back home, while Wanda plays music from your car console.
âYou have a playlist titled W?â
âYeah, those are songs that remind me of youâ
The first song she plays is Kiss Me by Sixpence None the Richer.
âA classic, and so romanticâ
âI need to see the entire playlistâ she asks and you hand over your phone.
âThe passwordâs the day of our first dateâ you say. Wanda melts at that, and sheâs scrolling down to check out all the songs -her absolute favorite is This will be (An Everlasting Love) by Nat King Cole- when a text comes through.
Nat: Got you a spot at tomorrowâs surgery :)
Nat: So I think now you owe me dinner
Wanda reads the text a couple of times, and her curiosity gets the best of her. To you it looks like sheâs scrolling through the playlist, but sheâs actually going through your conversation with Natasha.
Itâs definitely more flirty on her side, but youâre not acting cold towards her. Wanda knows how friendly you can be, but it seems like on some level, youâre tethering between nice and flirty.
She doesnât get very far, feeling like she crossed a major boundary. Your words echo back. Youâre done discussing the matter and itâs all in her head.
Right?
âEverything ok? I know you donât like Paramore but The Only Exception makes me think of usâ you say, unaware of what is happening.
âYeah, no. I think I ate too muchâ Wanda lies and you squeeze her leg, parking outside of the house. She lets you open the door for her and as you pay Morgan, Wanda goes upstairs to change into her pajamas.
Itâs all in your head.
But when you go up, and are lookig at your phone with a smile, she has to bite her tongue and pretend like everythingâs fine.
âOop, let me answer thisâ you say as you get a call.
âDonât be longâ she asks, her voice small.
âYes, my loveâ you wink at her. Going downstairs, you look behind you to make sure sheâs not listening. âHello? Yes. About that ring. Iâm buying itâ
â
Life is great.
Fantastic.
You bought an engagement ring and youâre proposing to Wanda.
As you enter the conference room for the staff meeting, you whistle, making Stark look at you.
âSomeone got luckyâ
âYes, I got lucky by meeting the most amazing woman in the worldâ you smile, sitting down next to Darcy.
âUgh, I hate cheerful Y/N, it makes me want to unfriend youâ she jokes, but you just roll your eyes.
Chief Fury goes over the most important things for every department, and then reminds you the next surgery with the Romanoff technique is happening today, with you as assistant to Natasha.
âOh, thatâs why youâre so peppyâ Stark rolls his eyes.
âTony, donât be such a drag. Live, love, laughâ you pat his back as the meeting ends and you run after Darcy.
âHeyâ Natasha meets you in the hall and you stop for a second. âReady for today?â
âYes! I just need to ask Darcy some questionsâ you lie. âMeet you in the ORâ
You finally catch up to your friend and she eyes you suspiciously.
âDid Wanda get you pregnant?â
âThat would be a dream. Our kids would be beautiful. Come hereâ you pull her by the sleeve of her lab coat. âWanna ask me what did I do this weekend?â
âNoâ
âDarcyâ you stomp your foot on the ground and she sighs.
âFine, Y/N, what did you do over the weekend? But without the dirty detailsâ she adds, raising her hand.
âI went shopping. Sort of. I actually made a call about something I wanted to buyâ
âNew toaster?â
âEngagement ringâ you say, and finally, Darcy reacts accordingly.
âOh, my God! At last! Show me!â
âOk, so only a picture because itâs getting adjusted to Wandaâs ring size but hereâ
Darcy admires the yellow gold ring, white diamonds surrounding a big ruby in the middle.
âHoly crap, itâs beautiful. How are you proposing?â
âUgh, thatâs the hard part. I want it to be memorable but not over the top, you know?â you take back your phone, smiling.
âSo, a flashmob is out of the question?â
âVery much so. If Wanda sees me dancing she wonât want to marry meâ you joke, making Darcy laugh.
âIâm happy for youâ
âThanks, pal. And youâre gonna be my maid of honor, whether you want to or notâ
âI can live with that. Congratulations to you and Wandaâ she adds a little louder, because Natasha is walking towards you, and your friend still doesnât like the way the redhead looks at you.
âCongratulations are in order?â the woman says, eyeing you curiously.
âNo, sheâs just joking about uh, getting a new toasterâ you lie, trying to keep your proposal a secret.
âAlright then. Letâs save some livesâ
âSounds goodâ you smile, walking down the hall with Natasha.
â
For the first time in a long time, Wanda wishes there was more chaos at home. The silence doesnât help with those spiraling thoughts about you and that doctor.
Youâre performing an exciting surgery next to her, saving lives and doing something youâve always dreamed of doing.
How can she ever compete with that?
Will she have to watch as you keep pulling back, until you come to your senses and leave her?
You had so much fun on your date and Wanda thought things would get better. If she hadnât seen those messages, maybe things would be different. What would you even think if you knew she read your private conversations?
Her mindâs a mess, so much so that she doesnât even notice someoneâs at the door of your former house, knocking and looking through the windows.
The girl looks fairly young, 18 at most, so she figures it might be a college student looking for accommodation. But sheâs insisting on knocking even when itâs clear no oneâs around, so Wanda decides itâs better to check if she can help.
âHello thereâ Wanda approaches the girl, smiling.
âHi. I⌠Iâm looking for my sisterâ
âOh, you might have the wrong address. This house is empty. Whatâs your sisterâs name?â
âY/N Y/L/Nâ
âYouâre Y/N sisterâ Wanda repeats, amazed. Sheâs never even seen a picture of the girl. All she knows are your half siblings names. âJennyâ
âYes. Do you know her? Can I borrow your phone? I really need to talk to herâ the girl says, and Wanda pays closer attention to her demeanor. She has a backpack, running shoes and a piece of paper with the address. No phone, or anything else.
It honestly looks like she ran away from home.
âOk, sweetheart, come over and weâll try calling her. Sheâs in surgery right now, but Iâm sure sheâll manage to come over if she knows you need herâ
âThank you. Iâm sorry, I donât mean to be such a bother, MissâŚâ
âWanda. My nameâs Wandaâ
â
Things are going great. You look at your work and then at Natasha across the operating table.
âAlmost as good as mineâ she says and you roll your eyes.
âItâs pretty darn good, Romanoffâ
âFine. Iâll make sure to write those words down in my reportâ
Fury is observing from the corner, approving of your work as well.
âNice job, Y/L/N. Now, Iâve heard your residents are drowning with all the patients in the ERâ
âAh, this work never ever ends, does it?â you sigh, going out of the OR as the rest of the teams cleans up. Natasha is behind you and washes her hands next to you.
âThat was amazing, Nat, honestly. Thank youâ
âDonât thank me. You earned it. No one practised more hours than you didâ
âI had a great teacherâ you smile at her. âWhatâs next? Monitoring over the next 24 hours?â
âI can handle that, I know you got work to do at the ERâ
âNo worries, Iâll stop by later and check how everything's goingâ you pat her shoulder, smiling as you leave the scrub room. You hear Natasha call your name and you turn, thinking thereâs something you forgot. âWhatâs up?â
âI⌠nothing. Good job out thereâ
You nod, and leave as you get paged a couple of times. Yeah, Fury wasnât exaggerating, the ER is total chaos. Thereâs a school group fighting over a baseball match gone wrong -two concussions, a broken nose- and to top it all of, Yelena and Kate are arguing over who gets what cases.
âOk, thatâs enough. Belova, CT scans. Bishop, youâre monitoring the post op of my patient with Doctor Romanoffâ
Typically, that wouldnât be the most exciting work to do, but itâs a new procedure and Bishopâs more than happy to obey.
âCan I get the broken nose too?â Yelena asks, dancing when you nod.
One of the guys with a concussion has a seizure, which prompts one of the teachers to scream. You have to kick everyone out, trusting Yelena will be able to stabilize him.
You lose track of time, going in and out of the ER and asking for consults with Ortho, Peeds and Plastics. Itâs only after a few hours that you think about checking your phone.
Six missed calls from Wanda. Your heart drops as you call her back.
âBaby, are you ok?â
âYes. Relaxâ she says, noticing how tense you sound.
âCome on, are you hurt? Are the kids ok? Six missed calls is somethingâ you begin to ramble.
âYour sisterâs hereâ Wanda cuts you off, figuring thereâs no easy way to say it.
âJenny? Did my motherâŚ?â
âNo, itâs just your sisterâ Wanda looks back, lowering her voice. âI think she ran away from homeâ
âOh, shitâ you pinch the bridge of your nose. âThatâs just fucking fantastic. My motherâs gonna make a sceneâ
âI donât thinkâŚâ
âJenny came to find me. Who do you think sheâll blame?â
Wanda stays silent for a moment. Of course itâs not your fault, but knowing what she knows about your mother, itâs pretty obvious that sheâll find a way to make you responsible.
âCan I speak to her, please?â
âJenny, Y/N wants to speak to youâ Wanda says, passing the phone to your sister.
âIâm so sorryâ itâs the first thing she says, which keeps your mouth shut. âShe canceled our trip, said I wasnât going away to college that far from home. Y/N, sheâs been so awful all the time. I just want to be away from her like youâ
âJennyâŚâ you sigh. You honestly didnât know. All this time, you thought the problem was you. You, who came to live with her new family and be an intruder into their life. The unwanted child that she was forced to take in.
âLook, does your dad know at least? Iâm sure theyâre worried about youâ
âI left my phone back at home and took a busâ
âOk, ask Wanda to text me your dadâs number so theyâll know where you are. Iâll see if I can get them to wait until tomorrow to pick you up, and weâll talk when Iâm homeâ
âOk. I really am sorryâ she says.
âI know, kid. I need to speak to Wanda againâ
While she hands over the phone, you take a second to breathe, trying to ease your nerves.
âWands, Iâm so sorry. I didnât mean to involve you in all of this. Iâll find a way to leave work and take her to a hotel or somethingâŚâ
âDetkaâ Wanda interrupts you. âStay. Do what you have to do. I can take care of things here. Weâre a team. We do this togetherâ
âAre you sure?â
âYes. Weâll see you for dinner, ok?â
âThank youâ
âAnything for youâ she says with a gentle tone, hanging up.
â
It feels like itâs been a week instead of a couple of hours. The ER was packed, Natashaâs patient had some complications and now you had to prepare to face your mother.
âHeyâ Wanda walks out the second she hears your car. Your face says it all, so she skips the part where she asks how youâre doing.
âTheyâre picking her up tomorrow at noonâ is all you say, allowing Wanda to hug you, and placing your head against her shoulder. You breathe deeply, trying to ease your nerves.
âSheâs playing with the twins now. Come onâ Wanda takes your hand to lead you back inside, but you stay rooted in your spot.
âI havenât seen her in ten years⌠I donât even know what to say to herâ
âMaybe she needs someone who listens and understands what sheâs going through. Come on, youâve got this, detkaâ she insists, careesing your cheek.
âWanda, I canât thank you enough. I donât know what I would have done without youâ
Those words, coupled with the look of complete adoration youâre giving her, is enough to soothe her soul and make Wanda forget all those fears about not being enough for you.
Jennyâs sitting at the kitchen counter, speaking to Tommy and Billy.
âTheyâre very curious about your sisterâ
âYeah, well, so am Iâ
Hearing the door close, your sister turns around, and you stare at each other for a moment. It makes your heart ache, to see her all grown up. Last time you saw Jenny she was seven.
Setting boundaries with your mother came at the cost of watching your siblings grow.
âHey, kidsâ you say. Tommy and Billy run to greet you, and you kiss their heads. âMy minionsâ
âHiâ Jenny says, standing up and looking at you. âIâm sorry, I didnât mean to get you in troubleâ
âLetâs walk Sparkyâ you propose, grabbing his leash. The dog knows exactly what that means, and he starts jumping around. âWeâll be back in a bitâ
âOk, sweetheartâ Wanda smiles.
âThey seem niceâ Jenny comments when you walk down the street.
âYeah, they are. Iâm very lucky to have themâ
âI didnât knowâŚâ
âI know, Iâm sorry. I try to keep these things to myself. Your mother would find a way to ruin itâ
âOf courseâ she says, fidgeting with her hands.
âI spoke to your dad. They agreed to fly tomorrow and pick you up at the hospital. He wasnât mad, just worriedâ
âHeâs not the one I have a problem withâ she huffs. âDadâs not even happy with her, but he thinks weâll be traumatized if they get a divorceâ
Sparky wants to chase after a cat and you let his barking fill the silence for a while.
âSo whatâs the plan here? You want to be away from her?â
âI just⌠canât breathe anymore. Sheâs cruel and manipulative and controling. Sometimes I feel like the only way to make it stop is by never speaking to her againâ
âYeah, that sounds familiar. In my case it was easier, she was very eager for me to leave and never come backâ you point out, starting to head back home. âI donât think that will be the case with youâ
âWell, maybe I should simply stop talking to her at allâ Jenny says.
âListen, ask your dad for support. Maybe thereâs a way to find a middle ground. Because itâs not an easy thing, kid. Youâre alone for a lot of the time. I can try and help, but with work and everything else⌠leaving home and cutting her off will mean a lot of changes. Thatâs all Iâm sayingâ
âI knowâ she nods, her voice lower than before.
âCome on, Iâm starvingâ you open the door, letting Sparky run towards the kitchen.
Dinner is spent talking about your sister, and sheâs happy to chat with the kids. Thereâs an awkward pause when they ask about how you were growing up.
âGuys, Jenny was just a baby, she doesnât remember a lot. What I can tell you is she cried every time she watched Finding Nemoâ
âI did not!â she snaps and you hold a laugh. âI only cried because you played it all the time and I was sick of itâ
âYeah, yeahâ
âPietro cried when we watched Snowhiteâ Wanda intervenes and now, you do let out the loudest lauh.
âHey, Iâm just here minding my business, why are you attacking me?â he says, though he gives Wanda a playful smile.
Itâs nice to see Jenny so comfortable, and definitely more relaxed than before. But you know thatâs the way Wanda can get to people. She has the talent of making you feel like you belong without trying.
As you look at your girlfriend from across the table, laughing and chatting with your sister, you remember the ring youâre getting in a couple of days. And honestly, it doesnât matter how you propose, you just hope Wanda wants to be with you forever.
Jenny helps with the dishes, and you recognise that eagerness to be useful in the way you used to clean every surface of your motherâs house, to at least be considered less of a burden. So, you offer to split the work.
âItâs fine, kiddoâ you reassure her when she protests.
âIâm almost 18â she challenges you and you let out a laugh.
âOh, yeah, to be 18 and think I know everything. Iâm your big sister. Youâre always gonna be a baby to meâ
You both work in silence, until Jenny speaks again.
âI remember some stuff. Not a lot, but enough to know how unfair she was to you. But you were never unkind to me. Or Zachâ
âIt wasnât your fault. Whatever shit that woman had going on with me was between us twoâ Jenny snorts at that. âOh, fuck, pretend you didnât hear me curseâ
âYou just did again!â
âNo, fuck my life, I already owe like 30 bucks to the swear jarâ you hiss, making Jenny laugh again. You throw some water her way, and you engage in a soap war.
âNu-uh, no mess in my kitchen. I like to keep it cleanâ Wanda interrupts, scolding you.
âOh, babe, come on. Itâs not like weâve never had seâŚâ
âY/N!â she slaps your shoulder. âDo not give this young woman the wrong impression about me. Jenny, we have a full house, but I made the couch as comfortable as possibleâ
âThatâs ok, itâs way better than a bus seatâ your sister smiles. âGoodnight and thank you for everythingâ
âNight, kidâ you say, letting out a sigh when she leaves the kitchen. You turn to Wanda, pulling her by the waist and holding her impossibly close. âThank you for everything. You kept calm and were kind to her. I donât deserve youâ
âYou make it sound like Iâm perfectâ
âYou areâ you say with complete devotion, kissing her cheek. âIâm not ready for tomorrow, Wandaâ
âWeâll do it togetherâ she kisses your shoulder, but you shake your head.
âI donât want that horrible woman anywhere near you. Iâll come back to pick up Jenny and hand her over to the parents at the hospitalâ
âCome back? Are you going to the hospital now?â she says.
âIâll be restless and overthinking⌠I think only work can get me through this nightâ you sigh.
âOk, if thatâs what you need to doâ Wanda agrees, but you catch the hurt in her eyes. âIâll go back to working on some sketches, thenâ
Sheâs about to leave the kitchen when you change your mind.
âCan I watch you work? I think that would help meâ
âYes, of courseâ Wanda smiles, reaching for your hand. You pause before the door, kissing her softly.
âLove youâ
Jenny is fast asleep when you walk past her.
You settle in Wandaâs study, getting cozy in the small sofa while she takes a seat and works on her drafting table.
Her soft movements lull you, and before you can tell, youâre fast asleep.
Wanda watches as you rest, hoping you can finally have a peaceful night.
â
The drive to the hospital is quiet.
Wanda said goodbye to Jenny with a hug, and a reminder that sheâs always welcomed in your home.
But now itâs only the two of you in the car, and you donât really know how to comfort her.
âIf I were to go to college close to Westview⌠could I visit? I know youâre busy with work and your family, Iâm just thinkingâŚâ
âJenny, of course you can. You heard Wandaâ
âIâm scaredâ she admits when you park, and you stay inside the car for a minute longer.
âLook, sheâll probably blame me. So, let her. Donât argue or defend meâ you advise. âShe canât hurt me, not anymoreâ
Jenny nods, and follows you as you leave the parking lot. Darcy is waiting for you in the lobby.
âHi, Jennyâ she greets. Darcyâs the only one of your friends who knows your family. It was during the only time they visited on campus and Darcy made sure your mother knew she didnât like her.
âHeyâ the girl greets, shyly.
âI have to make my rounds, but Darcy will spend some time with you in the cafeteria and then you can wait in the break roomâ
Fortunately, the night shift wasnât so chaotic and Natashaâs patient seems to be stable.
Seems like Natasha went home right after you, so she might be back anytime now. Either way, you keep working until your phone rings.
âHey, weâre hereâ Jennyâs father says as you pick up the phone.
âOk, wait outside. We donât want her making a sceneâ
âYeahâ he hesitates and you know heâs just as worried. Youâre about to hang up, but think twice.
âEd, take care of them. Theyâre good kidsâ
Jenny isnât thrilled when you come looking for her. As she walks besides you, you pull her into a hug.
âYouâre a strong kid. Itâs gonna be fineâ you say, and she holds on to you tighter.Â
When you walk out of the hospital, your eyes meet your motherâs. How you wish you could say she doesnât scare you anymore, but a part of you will always be a kid at the mercy of her twisted ways.
Jenny looks at you one last time before she walks up to her parents. If things were different, youâd never let her go back to such a horrible environment.
You prefer to look down until theyâre gone.
Which is why you never see the blow coming.
Your mother slaps you across the face and your cheek and the skin around your eye burns.
âYou poisoned her against meâ
Even if you feel humiliated, you laugh, rubbing your face.
âHave you tried not being a fucking monster to your kids, for once?â
She aims again, but the slap doesnât land. Thatâs when you look up, and watch as Natasha holds her wrist, glaring at the woman.
âI would think twice before doing thisâ Natasha threatens, and you figure her hold most be doing some harm, as your mother retreats her hand.
âYouâre dead to me. Donât ever try to contact me againâ she hisses your way and you want to cry with relief. Thatâs the best thing sheâs ever told you.
âIâm sorryâ Jenny shouts, getting dragged away by her mother, Ed looking pissed at his wife.
To be fair, seems like her husband hates her guts too. Not that itâs difficult to do so.
âAre you ok?â Natasha turns to you, her hand on your cheek.
âI forgot about the big ass rings sheâs always wearingâ you try to joke, but youâre skin is still burning and itâs hard to open your left eye.
âCome onâ Natasha takes your hand, leading you through the hospital halls until she finds an empty room. Quickly checking for any medical supplies she might need, Natasha comes back to sit next to you.
âWanna talk about it?â
âIâm ok. Besides the slapâ
âYeah, itâs gonna leave a mark for a couple of daysâ Natasha mutters, checking that the skin is only a bit reddened.
âNice. It will match the one I have on the back of my head from when she threw a glass at meâ you try to joke, but Natasha stays silent.
âCan you open your eye?â
âI think soâ you make an effort, blinking a couple of times. Natasha holds your chin, inspecting your pupil.
âItâs fineâ she says, nodding. âWe should probably put something cold so the swelling goes down, thoughâ
âOkâ you nod. Natashaâs about to stand up when she catches the tears threatening to spill over.
âIâm hereâ she reassures you, holding your face with her hands.
âI failed her. I should have known⌠I should have stayed to protect her. But I left, because it was easierâŚâ
âItâs not your responsibility. You were a kid tooâ she says, catching a tear that rolls down your cheek. âYouâre kind and sweet, and a wonderful person. You didnât let that woman poison you. Thatâs what mattersâ
Her words hit you like a wave, so you close your eyes and breath. Youâre about to thank Natasha when you see it.
Itâs a very brief moment, but you catch it.
Natasha staring at your lips.
Her hands are still on your cheeks, looking conflicted on what to do next. Pull apart and pretend it never happened? Lean forward and kiss you?
Natasha knows you caught her.
And you havenât pulled back.
Pull back, pull back.
Whatever you were about to say is interrupted by your pager.
911.
Of course.
âIâŚâ
âYeahâ Natasha nods, finally dropping her hands and standing up, her back to you. You grab the doorknob, but donât turn it in your hands, heart still racing.
âNatashaâ you say and she turns around, looking hopeful.
âDoctor Y/L/N, there you areâ Kate walks in, but her eyes widen as she sees Natasha across the room. âIâm sorry, thereâs an emergency. An accident in the bridge, multiple people hurt. Weâre called onsiteâ
âGet everything ready and page Yelenaâ you ask. Kate nods, leaving the door open.
âI have toâŚâ you say, looking back at Natasha.
âBe carefulâ is all the redhead says, smiling at you.
âThank you. For what you did back thereâ you remember, smiling one last time as you leave the room.
Itâs all a blur as you get ready to leave, packing bags with medical supplies. Your mind is elsewhere, especifically in that room with Natasha.
Would something have happened if it werenât for Kateâs interruption?
âHeyâ Yelena calls for you, and you snap out of those thoughts.
âCome on, you two. Lewis is running the ER; be in constant contact to alert about upcoming patientsâ Kate and Yelena follow you to the ambulance waiting, and you sit across from the blonde. âAlright, Belova. Letâs see what youâve gotâ
--
Thereâs a reason not everyone can do this job.
Your team steps out of the ambulance and walks into pure chaos. At least ten cars have crashed against each other, while a bus impacted the railway.Â
âDriver of the bus lost consciousness. Crashed into the rail and other carsâ Clint says as soon as you come into view. âWeâre prioritizing the people on the bus, we donât know how much damage there is on the rail and it can be dangerousâ
âKate, you can handle this, right?â you say, and the brunette nods, excited at the prospect of working solo. âBelova, youâre with meâ
Yelena is overwhelmed, looking around at the people who are in shock or bleeding.
âCome on, weâre here to help, not stareâ
âYes, Iâm sorryâ
Clintâs team is helping everyone out of the bus and you walk up to the driverâs side. A car is blocking the door and heâs still unconscious.
âWhat do we do?â you ask Yelena.
âCheck if heâs breathingâ
âHe is. And?âÂ
âCheck his pulse. Then weâŚâ
âImmobilize neck and spine, place him on the back board and carry him outâ you say. âYou gotta go faster, Belovaâ
An EMT joins you, helping with the maneuvers until youâre out of the bus.Â
âFlail chest and hypoxia. Iâm starting BVMâ Yelena says, pulling out the equipment. She makes sure everything is in place before the ambulance leaves for Stark Hospital.
You keep working on more people, and the less critical injuries are redirected to Westview Medical Center. When youâre almost done, Kate asks for your help and you leave Yelena checking the vitals of an elderly man.
The blonde is exhausted, leaning against the railway and watching you work with Kate. The brunette has a lot more confidence in her movements and decisions, and Yelena tries to think that some day sheâll manage to be at that level of skill. As she looks down to the bridge, she notices a motorcycle. Leaning forward, she catches sight of a leg, noticing thereâs a person trapped. Sheâs about to turn and ask for help, but youâre doing CPR while Kate struggles to stabilize a woman. The jump isnât that bad, so she decides to go over the railing and land on the pile cap.
âHello? Sir?â She shakes the man and searches for a pulse, but itâs obvious by his injuries that heâs dead. The question is how to go back to the bridge now. She tries to climb back using some of the loose parts of the rail, but she stumbles, making part of the structure fall close to her head.
âWhatâs that noise?â you ask, looking around. âWhereâs Yelena?â
As you run around, searching for her, you hear a metallic crash and the splash of water.
âYelena?!â you scream, looking everywhere for her. You spot her windbreaker stuck in the pier of the bridge.Â
âDo you think she fell in the water?â
âI donât think, I knowâ you say, your heart dropping as you spot her getting carried away by the current, still unconscious. âTell Clint to hurry up, because I really donât wanna die todayâÂ
âWait!âÂ
But youâre already diving, and the cold water leaves you out of breath. It feels like your lungs are on fire when you gasp for air, and you have to use all your strength to not get dragged away from Yelena. Her bag is helping to keep her on the surface, though sheâs not awake and you have no idea how long sheâs been in the water.
It takes you a few minutes swimming against the current to reach her, and by the time you do, youâre exhausted.
âCome on, Yelâ you say, keeping her head above the water. Youâre not gonna be able to keep this up for much longer, and the bridge is looking further away every time you turn around.
If you survive this, youâre gonna propose to Wanda the next time you see her.
But as a wave hits you and you struggle to keep yourself and Yelena afloat, you think thatâs a pretty massive if.
--
Natashaâs not a team player, thatâs for sure. But the ER is a mess, and she knows itâs all hands on deck. So, she scrubs in, working with Darcy and Barnes to help everyone that comes in.
âWe got the last one coming,â Darcy announces, picking up the phone. âShit. Romanoffâ
âWhat?â Natasha asks, although sheâs afraid she knows the answer.
âYour sister, something happened⌠Y/N dived to rescue her, they both got dragged by the currentâ Darcy says, holding the phone against her ear. âAmbulance is five minutes awayâÂ
Natasha feels like throwing up. Those are the longest five minutes of her life, and Fury joins her as they wait for them to arrive.Â
âFemale, twenties. Unconscious, hypothermic. Intubated and started oxygenationâ Drax says as soon as the ambulance stops. Kate jumps out, running next to the gurney and holding on to Yelena.
âKate, whereâsâŚâ Darcy says, and you jump out of the passenger seat, holding a blanket. Youâre freezing, but alive.
âHere. Iâm fine. She didnât spend that much time underwater, I got to her soonâÂ
âWe need to stabilize her and raise temperature. You, stay here and let someone check youâ Darcy says when she sees you getting ready to help.
Natasha is in the room with her sister, while Fury, Barnes and Darcy work. Taking a deep breath, you walk to the locker room to find dry clothes, and hopefully get a little warmer.
You honestly thought youâd both die out there, until Clint arrived in a boat that he stole from heaven knows where. Still, it was a close call.
Hopefully, Yelena will be alright.
Once you change into some dry scrubs, you notice thereâs a gash in your arm. Sighing, you walk to a supply closet, looking for something to clean up the wound. Someone walks in and you turn around when the door slams behind them. Natasha looks at you, chest heaving.
âIs YelenaâŚ?â you fear the worst.
But she doesnât let you finish.
Natashaâs lips crash against yours, holding you by the neck and inviting you to explore her mouth. All you feel is the warmth of her body against yours, the passion sheâs pouring into the kiss intoxicating and clouding your mind. Your hand goes around her waist to pull her closerâŚ
Wanda.
The thought makes you open your eyes, and you pull back, out of breath. Natashaâs still holding on to you, and you almost get lost on her green eyes when someone else walks in.
Carol looks between you two, and Natasha turns around, hiding her face.
âWandaâs hereâ
Your heart drops. Without looking back to Natasha, you leave the room, following Carol.
âDarcy called me. I was so worriedâ your girlfriend launches into your arms, her face against your chest. You try to control your shaking hands, arms going around her shoulders. âIâm so relieved that youâre okâ
In that moment, you turn your bodies around and your eyes meet Natashaâs.
You feel guilt, shame.Â
And something else.
A flutter in your chest at the memory of her lips on yours.
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Content on Red Room Reflections is dedicated solely to Natasha Romanoff, with occasional fics of Wanda Maximoff.
Natasha Romanoff-Centric: All writings, musings, and creative works revolve around Natasha Romanoff, exploring her character, stories, and mostly alternate universes.
Constructive feedback and engaging discussions about Natasha Romanoff and Wanda are encouraged.
I will not write inc*st or anything with underage characters. I also will not write dark fics or anything with noncon.
My A03 is here - LockedSoulsAM
Natasha Romanoff
Not Easily Broken (Natasha and Reader go through a tragic divorce - angst with a happy ending) (finished series)
The Loud House (series) (Natasha and R try to navigate marriage, moving to a new city, and life with five children)
threads of a promise - tlh one shot -( r and nat experience grief)
II Hands II Heaven (Natasha Romanoff and Reader reluctantly team up for a couples retreat mission. Despite initial resistance, they find themselves drawn together by unexpected circumstances and shared experiences.) (series)
Who Lives, Who Dies, Who Tells Your Story (Natasha and Reader are married. They get into an accident where Natasha suffers serious injuries including amnesia. Natasha no longer remembers her life with reader and their children. All she remembers are her days loving Bruce.) (finished series)
The Ghost in The Window (series)
Gentle Hands (Natasha suspects Reader is in an abusive relationship.) (finished series)
The Lucky Ones (one shot) - The Last of Us Au - two siblings end up having to navigate the world after the world ends
Hotel California - Punk Rockstar Natasha Romanoff falls head over heels with a woman she believes is way out of her league. (series)
what about me? | natasha's always had you to fall back on. imperfect, flawed, and elusive as you were, you were always there for her. even until the very end.
trust | trust is a difficult thing to come by between two very untrusting people. fortunately, a mission where one of them almost dies fixes that quite quickly.
spidey! reader
your sweater | for as long as natasha knew you, you had a grey sweater that had slowly become hers. all that she was left to do, was to make its owner hers, too.
odessa | you had to make a choice between saving the world, and saving your world.
a second chance | in which natasha is given a second chance; a chance encounter with clint's children that sparks her wish to start a family with you.
welcome home, red | going on a mission to track down your ex-girlfriend lets natasha finally learn how jealous she can get.
is there someone else? | pt 2 | pt 3 | you and natasha have been going through a rough patch lately. wanda comes in and shows you everything natasha is unable to offer.
36 hours | set between civil war and black widow, your love for natasha, and her patience for your return, is tested beyond what the both of you had ever gone through before.
cold | a miscalculation turned mistake, you used your one last phone call to apologise to natasha.
others / general
all i've ever needed | a doomed relationship troubled by missed time and misunderstandings, some things take more to fix than a simple 'i'm sorry'.
days off | natasha finds out just what you do on your days off, and the pleasant surprise it rewards her with.
the arrangement | pt 2 | there were supposed to be no feelings involved.
forty, love | pt 2 | pt 3 | winning was everything, and losing was a sin. unfortunately, you were on a losing streak, and natasha loved winning.
R finding nat's memorabilia | R and nat as parents
felicia hardy
cowboy like me | inspired by taylor swiftâs 'cowboy like me'.
welcome home, red | felicia was your first love, but you didn't know if it was enough to get her out of this sticky situation.
wanda maximoff
routine | a routine to follow; to secretly navigate the delicate balance of your double lives, you and wanda risk it all for just a clandestine affair teetering on the edge of discovery.