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nats-firefly · 9 months

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secret hobbies

natasha romanoff x reader

summary: Your strong muscular girlfriend shows you one of her lesser known hobbies.

warnings: daddy kink, beefy!nat, choking very briefly, strap on use (r receiving), teasing, fingering (r receiving), smut 18+ only

a/n: once again a repost from my old blog (twilight-99-tm), if you have any other ones you's like me to repost, let me know <3

🚩 warnings are clearly stated please do not report/flag :) 🚩

words: 2.5k | feedback is always welcome | masterlist

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Natasha’s face snuggled deeper into the crook of your neck while the two of you laid on the couch. Nat was trying to take a nap, arms wrapped around your body with her slow, even breaths tickling your neck while you scrolled through your phone, soft tiktok audios filling the space of her bedroom.

One of your hands stroked Natasha’s hair while the other tapped your screen, the contents on the device pulling the other woman’s attention. That’s where you stayed for a while, Natasha’s eyes fluttering closed every now and then, your shared laughter occasionally filling the room.

The next tiktok that played was of someone making pottery, spinning the clay as if it was nothing. Your eyes sparkled, letting the video loop over and over again. Natasha smirked, looking up at you to find your enamored expression.

“I’ve always wanted to do that,” You said, pausing the tiktok and looking down at the redhead smirking up at you. “Have you ever made pottery?”

“Hmm,” She hummed, before leaving a chaste kiss to your neck and sitting up, strong thighs on either side of your hips as she took your hands into hers. “Come with me.”

She stood up, tugging your hand when you refused to get up. “But baby, we were so comfy.”

“C’mon,” She said, easily pulling you up onto your feet, arms flexing with her movement. “You’re gonna like this.”

You leaned your chin up, ever so slightly puckering your lips in protest. She chuckled and leaned down, pressing her lips against yours. You kissed her back, smiling against her lips as you wrapped your hands around her neck. Her arms made their way around your waist and down to your thighs, and before you knew it, you were being carried down the hallway.

“Where are we going?” You asked, not recognizing this part of the compound.

“You’ll see,” She said, smiling lazily as she walked down a flight of stairs. She put you down in front of two wooden doors, before scanning her thumbprint to unlock them.

Your jaw dropped when you walked inside, floor to ceiling shelves filled with pottery or bags of clay. There was a large window on one side of the room, and right in front of it a pottery wheel with a stool. You walked further inside, Natasha following behind you holding your hand.

“Is this,” You took in your space one more time, turning around to face your girlfriend. “Your art studio?”

Natasha almost blushed. She’d never brought anyone else here. The only person that knew about this was Tony and even he was sworn to secrecy. She nodded, pulling you closer to her and hiding her face in the crook of your neck. You wrapped your arms around her as you cooed, burying your hands in her hair.

“Big, bad, Natasha Romanoff, likes making pottery,” You said, swaying the two of you as you took in more of the space. Every corner screamed Natasha, from the forgotten coffee cups on the counter, to the pictures of you on the desk off to the side, and the small radio in the corner. “It’s cute.”

“Don’t make fun,” She mumbled. “It’s fun, and relaxing.”

“I wasn’t making fun, baby,” You said, bringing her face out from your neck so you could look her in the eyes. “I just wasn’t expecting it.”

She smiled as she looked at you, leaning forward to meet your lips once again. You gasped before she could pull away. “Did you make that pot you gave me the cactus in?”

The grin spreading over her face said it all, and you don’t think you’ve ever been more in love than right now. You pulled away from her, walking over to the pottery wheel and looking around the room.

“So,” Your fingers trailed over the top, sheepishly looking over at Natasha. “Are you gonna show me how to do it?”

“Do you want to?” She asked, excited.

“Do I want my hot strong girlfriend to show me how to throw pottery? Uhh, let me think about it.”

“You’re a dork,” She said, beckoning you to follow her.

“Yeah, but I’m your dork,” She leaned down to kiss you quickly before pulling an apron down from the hook. She draped it over your head before you turned around, her lips meeting the back of your shoulder as she tied it around your waist.

Natasha put her own apron on before moving to cut a large chunk of clay from a block, telling you to go sit by the pottery wheel. Your eyes followed the way her arms moved as she handled the chunk, your teeth sinking into your bottom lip when she threw it harshly onto the wheel in front of you. Thank God for muscle tanks.

She brought a bowl of water and a sponge closer before approaching you, asking for your hand. You looked up at her, very obviously trailing your eyes up her body. The apron tied snugly around her waist only accentuated her muscles and if you had a little less self-control you’d be drooling.

“I thought you wanted me to show you how to do it,” She said, taking your hand when you didn’t react. You let her pull you up, clearing your mind of the filthy thoughts your brain had come up with. She sat on the stool you had just stood up from. “Come sit on my lap, princess.”

You pursed your lips, letting her pull you into her. You made yourself comfortable atop her toned thighs, her breath against the back of your neck sending a small shiver you felt down to your core. You closed your eyes, your breath catching in your throat as her lips connect with where your neck meets your shoulder. You lean back into her as she runs her hands down your arms, taking your hands in hers.

“Let’s start,” She mumbled into your skin, making you turn your attention back to the task at hand. Her hands almost completely covered yours as she placed them on the piece of clay. Natasha smirked as she watched your face, she could clearly tell your mind was elsewhere, exactly where she wanted it. “I’m gonna start spinning the wheel.”

Her thigh flexed under you as she pressed down the pedal, your own thighs clenching at the movement. “Go ahead, baby, try to start shaping it.”

Natasha pressed against you, it snapped you out of your train of thought, making you focus back on your hands. Natasha placed her hands on your hips, holding them against her as she watched you try to shape the clay. You grunted, the material feeling too hard and dry against your hands to make any progress.

“Baby, it’s too hard,” You whined, slumping back into her. You looked up at her with your best puppy dog eyes, if only she could move those hands further down. Natasha pushed you forward, straightening you up. She placed your hands back on the clay, leaning over and taking a sponge from a bowl of water. You felt her thigh tense again and had to suppress a moan.

“You have to get it nice and wet, sweetheart,” The cool water dripped down the clay and mixed with your fingers, immediately making it easier to shape. Natasha licked her lips before leaving a trail of wet kisses up your neck to the corner of your jaw. “Look at that, your hands look so good working on this.”

Your eyes fluttered closed, her lips connecting back to your skin. You shuddered, struggling to maintain the shape you were molding. “I know where they could look better.”

One subtle shift of her hips and you felt it. Natasha smirked against your neck when you stiffened, making the semi-shaped blob turn back into an unrecognizable shape once again. Natasha tsked, taking your chin softly between her fingertips and making you focus back down on what you were doing. “Eyes on your work, princess.”

You’re not sure if it was the way her voice went down or the rasp that suddenly became apparent, you just couldn’t help the moan that erupted from your throat. “Daddy…”

Her hand trailed down your neck, fingers subtly wrapping around your neck before pressing briefly. You gulped, suddenly becoming aware of the increasing wetness between your thighs as you clenched them together. Natasha hummed against you, sucking a mark onto the skin on your neck as her hands roamed down your body.

“C’mon, detka,” She mumbled, hands curling around your thighs, and spreading them apart just enough so she could idly run her fingertips up and down your inner thigh. “I don’t wanna have to get my hands dirty, I’d much rather have them right here instead.”

She slid her fingers down to your core, pressing down against it over your clothes. You whined, pushing and grinding back against her. Your brain was becoming overwhelmed with the feeling of her against you, not wanting to focus on anything but that. “B-but, I-”

“Shh,” She shushed you, her fingers starting a slow movement sliding up and down. You have never hated the two layers of clothing separating her fingers and your skin more. You felt her arms flex around you as she pulled your hips back against her. “But what baby? Can’t think with Daddy’s hands all over you?”

“I- Pleas-” You stuttered, struggling to come up with words as you pathetically rocked against the redhead’s hand. You pulled back from the wheel, fully leaning against Natasha for support. This time, she didn’t protest, giving in to what you wanted in favor of all the pretty noises you were making for her. You needed to do the one thing you knew would give her no choice but to take you right there and then. “Please Daddy, I need you to fuck me.”

By the way her hands stiffened against you, you knew you played your cards right. Natasha is always one to tell you how much she likes it when you use your words. She practically stood up with you, turning you around and pulling your apron’s string behind your back. She slid it over your head before roughly slamming you against her workbench.

Her lips slammed against yours, her tongue immediately colliding with yours between moans and whines. Natasha slid her hands down to your hips and easily lifted you onto the tabletop. Your legs parted on instinct, allowing the older woman to stand right between them. Her fingers easily undid the button of your pants and pulled down the zipper, giving her enough space to slide her hand into your pants and feel how you’d already ruined your underwear.

“This all for me, princess?” She asked, smirking against your lips. You whined in response, crossing your hands behind her head and trying to pull her closer. “Nuh-uh keep those hands right there, let Daddy do the work.”

Your brain practically melted as she wrapped one arm around your body, easily lifting you up so she could pull your pants and underwear down in one go. Her fingers easily met your core once again, coating themselves in your wetness as you moaned against her lips.

“Please, Daddy,” You whined, rocking your hips forward so you were almost grinding against her. “I need you, please.”

“Patience, my love,” She said, easily pushing two fingers past your entrance. You gasped at the intrusion, legs clenching around her arm as she moved her fingers inside you. Her lips met your neck again, leaving marks in their wake as they kissed down to the collar of your shirt. You whined, clenching around her fingers as she reached the perfect spot inside you.

You tried pushing Natasha closer to you by bringing your crossed wrists closer to your body. Natasha smirked, leaning in just enough to tease you, eyes glued to your face. Your eyes were screwed shut in pleasure, lips parted and waiting for Natasha’s. She hovered her lips right above yours, breaths mingling in the small space separating them. She loved being this close to you, she loved knowing how good she was making you feel.

“Nat-Natasha,” You whined, clenching around her fingers. She knew you were close, but she had to drag it out longer, seeing how much you could take.

“That’s not my name,” She corrected, curling her fingers in the way she knew made your eyes roll to the back of your head.

“Daddy, please,” Your voice came out unsteady as you tried to hold yourself back. “I-I’m gonna cum.”

“Not yet sweetheart,” She said, withdrawing her fingers. Tears almost rolled down your cheeks at the loss of contact, your core yearning for sweet release. “I want you to cum on my cock.”

Natasha leaned back and slid her pants down enough so she could take out the strap, your core tightening at the mere sight of it. You reached forward, taking a handful of Natasha’s shirt and pulling her into you. You kissed messily, trying to feel as much of the other as possible.

The tip of the strap nudged your entrance, making your hips shift closer to the edge of the table. Natasha broke the kiss, just long enough to slide the large toy into your cunt. You moaned against Natasha as you bottomed out, the toy easily sliding in with your arousal alone. The redhead grunted as she began to fuck into you. The force made you support your weight on your hands behind you, your ankles locking behind Natasha.

Your thighs clenched around Natasha’s body as she brought you closer and closer to the edge. The mumbles leaving your lips only spurring her on more. She looked at your face contorting in pleasure before trailing her lips down your jaw and onto your neck. Her hand moved from holding your hip to rest on your front, thumb rubbing against your clit.

“You close, baby?” She asked, baby hairs sticking to her face as she continued thrusting into you. You couldn’t do anything other than nod, sloppily trying to move your hips in sync with hers. Natasha paused, pulling out before quickly and roughly flipping you onto your stomach on the table and sliding the strap back in. You arched your back in pleasure, reaching up and gripping the other edge of the table. Natasha held your hips, the sounds of your drenched pussy filling the room. “Cum for me, princess.”

You didn’t need any more than that to send you over the edge. Your body shook as the intense orgasm washed over you. Natasha slowed her thrusts, letting you ride out your orgasm as she watched you twitch under her. She slowly slid the toy out from your pussy when she saw your grip let up on the other side of the table, carefully flipping you around once again. You weakly reached up, wanting Natasha closer to you but too weak to sit up yourself.

“Fuck, Nat,” You mumbled, thighs instinctively twitching when the strap nudged your entrance when she came closer.

Natasha’s lips moved softly against yours, her arms holding you against her as you lazily kissed her back. Her hands slid down to cup your ass, enjoying the way you whined softly against her. The two of you shared a blissful moment enjoying each other's closeness before she pulled away.

“Do you have any other secret hobbies I should know about?”

#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x reader smut #natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff smut #bonk.repost #bonk.nat #black widow x reader #black widow smut #black widow x reader smut

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unholyhelbig · 5 months

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Part two of mafia nat???

Title: The Oversight [Part 2/7]

Ship: Female!Reader x Natasha Romanoff

Wordcount: 3079

Warnings: Hostage situation, brusing, mentions of child abuse, horrible grammar, and Quiznos

[a/n: Thank you all for the great response to the first chapter! I'm making this a thing, for sure!] Let me know if you're interested in being added to the taglist for this story!

Main Masterlist | Read my stuff on AO3 | Leave Requests

“The usual, sweet girl.” You set the plate of pancakes down in front of Veronica. A happy face was painted against the golden surface with whipped cream, with cherries and two slices of bacon divided perfectly for hair. Your daughter never seemed to grow tired of the meal and would swallow down a glass of milk with just a bit of strawberry syrup.

Despite having completed the maze on the back of the kid’s menu at least a dozen times, she remained infatuated, kicking her feet back and forth as the orange crayon made its way through the boldened lines.

You tentatively moved a lock of brunette hair from her eyes, tucking it behind her ear. “Eat your food, kiddo. Big day tomorrow.”

Veronica nodded and started to fork down the smiling face. She didn’t speak much, a few words here and there, and that worried you enough to take the day off from work. You had found a speech therapist right outside of the city that accepted your HMO plan with enough fervor that you made the soonest appointment you could.

While you worked hard to shield Veronica from the life that you were determined to break away from, you were distressed. Kids were smart, they didn’t’ get enough credit. You were sure that she noticed the only meals she ate was at this diner and at school. The way that you were here all the time, dressed in the same uniform stained with ketchup and coffee. The way you fell asleep on the second-hand sofa for a few hours at a time.

“She your kid?”

While your back was turned, mind rushing with intrepid thoughts, someone had sidled up against the counter with an empty white mug, its mouth flipped to the ceiling. The blonde looked innocent enough, if not in despite need of the coffee she was asking for. Her accent was thick. Russian or Ukrainian, nothing you could fully place.

“She is a very good artist.” She tapped her finger against the orange drawing of a sunset in the corner of the placemat. “A lot of talent in this one.”

You couldn’t help but smile at the compliment, picking up the coffee pot. The blonde nodded and smiled back as you poured her a cup. “She gets it from her father.”

While you weren’t entirely sure that was true, you did know that the talent wasn’t from you. You never had the artistic eye. Veronica, on the other hand, was a quiet force to be recon with when it came to art. Even at a young age, you knew whole-heartedly that she had a future in it if she stuck with it.

“That so?” The woman took a long sip of her coffee, not flinching at the heat. “She should keep going. It’s important to have something to hold onto.”

The memory flickered in our mind as you drifted in and out of consciousness. It could have been a day, or a week, and your heart ached just as fiercely for your daughter as it always had. She would be in safe hands for now, you were sure. Your sitter knew about your devoted love, your resilience to make sure that Ronnie was okay. You were all she had, and being tied to a chair until your muscles felt like jelly was not a good sign.

You weren’t sure what had pulled you out of a fitful sleep for a few moments, but there was a light squeeze on your shoulder. Your head shot back and collided with something. There was a soft grunt, and your inhale burned your lungs. When you blinked awake, there wasn’t complete darkness. A less harsh light had been turned on.

The blonde from the diner was standing in front of you, robbing a tender spot on the center of her nose. “Ouch, that really hurt!”

“Sorry, I-“ you frowned, snapping your mouth shut. You weren’t going to apologize. You were the one that had been kidnapped, not the other way around. “What’s happening?”

Natasha had left you without another word, and you hated the way you missed her presence. You’d drifted off in the quiet and considered it a better punishment than Clints vicious blows to the face. The girl in front of you held a bottle of water up as a peace offering.

She cracked open the top, and even if you weren’t quite sure if something was in it, you didn’t care at the moment. She guided it to your lips, and a few drops dripped over your chin. It cooled the burning in your throat.

“Thank you,” this time you meant it. Natasha had made it clear that there was no good cop, but this was starting to look like your reprieve. You tested your luck. “If they’re going to kill me, why hold me?”

“They are not going to kill you. Natasha is a cautious woman. She did not get to where she was without crossing a few lines. You claim that you’re not on drugs and my sister wants to make sure that is truthful. Can you blame her?”

From a technical standpoint- no, you couldn’t. You searched for some type of resemblance in the woman and came up with nothing but a slight similarity in the slope of her nose. She smiled, crossing her legs, and sitting back against the chair.

“Let’s play twenty questions.”

You lifted an eyebrow, and it sent a shooting pain to your temple. “If I get one wrong, do you shoot me?”

She laughed, “No wrong answers. Can you believe that I want to get to know you? I’ll go first. My name is Yelena, and my favorite color is green. Forest green if you would like to get specific, which I would.”

“Dark red.” You said “I’m y/n.”

“Oh, I know. How long have you lived in the city?”

You rolled your shoulders back again. They were stiff. You’ve never been this uncomfortable in your life, and not just socially. There was a cool calmness about Yelena that put you at ease. Though, she was one of your kidnappers, and most-likely a member of the secret underground organization that had inexplicitly frequented the diner.

“My whole life. Not this part of town, though. East lower with my mom and my dad until my mom died and my dad got himself killed when I was seventeen.”

“Foster care?”

“For a year until I was old enough to be out on my own. I’m not going to let my daughter end up the same way. That was the hardest year of my life and if she loses me then… Her father isn’t around, but I’m afraid that going into the system would be best case scenario.”

“She’s six?” Yelena asked.

“And a half, but yes.”

“Non-verbal?”

You nodded again. This felt like a shitty game of twenty questions. Yelena already knew all the answers and you could still taste blood and the aching in your jaw. She tapped her fingers against her knee, uncrossing them and leaning forward.

The ceiling still stretched above you. There were rafters that you could barely make out in the darkness. You blinked so you wouldn’t cry. Still, when you spoke next, your words came out pinched and you couldn’t help but feel weak.

“The world is a horrible place, and the odds are already stacked against her, you know?” You sniffed to keep snot that you couldn’t wipe away from dripping onto your shirt already soiled with blood. “She’s a good kid. She’s funny, and smart, and I want her to have a life where she thinks everything is okay, even if there’s a possibility that it never is. Ronnie doesn’t need to know that. She doesn’t need to know.”

Yelena swallowed hard and nodded. She stood and closed the distance between you. Her hand was warm against you skin as she tentatively wiped away the moisture on your cheek. She gave you the rest of the water. “Okay. Drink.”

You were foolish to trust her. There was something in the water that was tasteless but rendered you unconscious all the same. You blinked awake, not sure how much time had passed. Your mind was swimming relentlessly, being forced in and out of lucidity had done nothing for your resolve.

Sunlight, something you thought you would never see again, flitted through an open window. A cooling summer breeze accompanied the sight. You’d been freed somewhere along the way, and your gratitude wasn’t lost on you.

Dark purple bruises encircled both of your wrists. Your whole body ached, and you let out a low moan at the sudden blinking movement. “Oh… fuck.”

“That’s a beautiful sound.”

Your back was pushed up against a dark oak bedframe, heels shoving you back. There was a lightheadedness swirling around you. A nice bedspread was underneath you, and the room itself was dripping in riches.

It was large with floor to ceiling windows, the walls slathered in deep maroon paint. There was a wall of bookshelves filled with expertly bound books. Two chairs and a small cocktail table was set up in a beam of sunlight.

Natasha held a crystal glass of unidentified alcohol in her hand. The ice floated within the deep brown liquid as if it were afraid to make a sound. She wore a suit, one that hugged her sides. Her lips were painted red to match the walls and she tapped her nail against the glass, observing you.

Her words sent a pang directly to your core, and that embarrassed you more than your exhaustion. Blood flooded into your cheeks and the very corner of Natasha’s lip twitched in response. She set her glass down on the table.

You recoiled as she rose and transplanted herself on the corner of the bed. She was gentle with her movements as if you were an animal that she was afraid to startle. Natasha had a tight hold on her operations. She was nothing more than a myth. Simply the boss.

Somehow, she scared you more now than she did before. When you were tied to the chair, you were certain that you were going to die. But now, in this royal-style room, you were filled with questions about why she let you live.

“I don’t make mistakes, but unfortunately, the same can’t be said for the people who work for me.” She was glaring at the design etched into the duvet, gold embroidery. Her perfectly manicured fingers thumbed the flower. “You were profiled, and you were profiled wrong. I don’t go after single mothers, especially ones that don’t keep certain… habits.”

There was a sinking feeling that you weren’t meant to speak. This was the delicate moment during a hostage situation where the robber has a gun pointed at your head, the finger on the trigger and a burlap sack of money in the opposite hand. Your words would do nothing but loosen the safety.

“This is being dealt with, believe me.” Natasha looked up at you, her eyes fierce, a beautiful fern color that bounded off the darkness of the walls. “But you must understand, y/n, I am not known for my kindness, and I am certainly not known for my mercy. You still took the money, and you still owe me.”

You drew in a breath, opening your mouth to protest, but Natasha held up her hand and you snapped your jaw shut. There was a bit of amusement in her stare that you didn’t have the mental capacity to dissect.

“Yelena said that you know how to fight. Or, at the very least, take a hit. So, I’m not asking. I’m telling you that work for me until your debt is paid off.”

Natasha had gotten impossibly close to you. That same deep scent of mint filled your lungs. It wasn’t comforting, but it didn’t’ unsettle you anymore, and neither did her warmth. You winched when she reached up and grabbed your face, squeezing softer than Clint had, her nails still dug into soft bruising.

She whispered her words, breath hot on your lips. “You belong to me now, and I don’t always play nice.”

Natasha ‘not playing nice’ looked a lot like having a driver drop you off in front of your apartment without your shoes. The sidewalk was cold despite the hot day, and as you stared up at your unit, you swore that the curtains flickered. You blinked and squeezed the bridge of your nose immediately regretting it the second you felt the shooting pain reach your eardrums.

They had taken your keys, presumably to make copies, and the sweatpants that you were given were much too big around your waist. You had sinched them with a shoestring, just counting yourself lucky that they’d provided a change of clothes in the first place. Even the shirt was stained and had a logo on it for a defunct Quiznos in queens.

Your body threatened to give out as you took the stairs two at a time up to your apartment. You still didn’t’ have a grasp on how much time had passed, but it was evening when you left work, and the sun felt like a mid-day assault on your senses.

Frantically, you knocked on your neighbor’s door, wiping your sweaty palms against your pants. Natasha’s pants. More than likely- Clints pants. It took a few moments for the door to swing open, but when it did, you were flooded with relief.

Darcy had an eyebrow lifted at you. “Holy shit,”

You didn’t let her get another word in edgewise before you engulfed her in a hug. She let out a breath at the impact and after a few seconds, pulled you in closer. Darcy was a friend, someone you trusted enough to watch your daughter. There was a soft spot in your heart for her. You didn’t let go when she backed the two of you into the living room and let the door fall shut behind you.

“I was three seconds from calling the police, y/n.” she pulled back, squeezing your shoulders. “What happened to you?”

You were instructed on what to say, word for word. You’d repeated it twice to Natasha and once to the driver. Lying to Darcy, someone who was the equivalent of a lie detector. Her eyes were hard, her voice hushed.

“I got jumped by a couple of guys on the way out of the restaurant. I was stranded on the other side of town, no phone. I tried to get here as soon as possible but I got a little banged up. I’m okay, a little shaken, but okay.” You frowned, “What day is it?”

Your eyes searched the room for a clock, for anything that would give you indication, but Darcy, while one of the sweetest people you had ever met, was a bit scatter-brained. You trusted her with your daughter, and with your own life, but there were spare computer parts strung out across her coffee table, on the couch, and the television stand.

“Y/n, you’ve been gone for two days.” She lifted your chin with a curled finger, making a hissing noise as she sucked in a breath “Oh they got you good. You’re sure you don’t want to press charges?”

“More trouble than it’s worth.” You shrugged your shoulders. “I would love an icepack, though. If it’s not too much trouble.”

“I’ve got frozen peas and corn, dealers’ choice. Ronnie finally fell asleep; I kept telling her that nothing was wrong but she’s too preceptive for her own good sometimes.”

It was a bad move, but you gave Darcy a thankful squeeze on the shoulder and moved down the hall to the guest room. It was the cleanest place in the house, reserved for visitors. Darcy still had zoomed in photos of computer chips. They were like little mazes without an escape, her personality shining through.

Veronica was laying on top of the duvet, curled up in a blanket that was typically strewn across the base of the bed. She wasn’t asleep, her tempered gray eyes flicking to the door and then lighting up when she realized that it was you. You leaned against the doorframe, warmth flooding you.

You wrapped her in a bone-crunching hug, squeezing her into you as if you never wanted to let her go. She smelled like Darcy’s shampoo, a light floral concoction that comforted you. Ronnie’s hand squeezing the fabric of your borrowed shirt.

“Hi, baby” you pulled back slightly, enough room for you to give her a kiss on the forehead, pushing back ringlets of curly hair. “I missed you.”

Her nose scrunched up and her little fingers ghosted so softly over the pulsing bruises on your face. You never wanted her to see you like this, for anyone to see you like this, but at the moment you didn’t care. Having her in your arms was enough to erase all of that doubt.

“It’s alright. I’m alright,” You assured, and she crunched her nose again. “Oh, you think I stink?”

You probably did. You’d been strapped to a chair for 48 hours, nearly vomiting up what little food you’d consumed the night of your abduction. You’d sweat through your clothes, and the borrowed ones weren’t much better in the scent department.

“Too bad, little one,” you poked at her sides, eliciting an infectious giggle. “You’re stuck with me, stink and all.”

You let yourself go slack against her, trapping her under one of your arms. Veronica playfully tried to shove you off and you let out a grunt at each attempt. Eventually her arms wrapped around yours and she settled into you.

Maybe some sleep wouldn’t do you bad. Your body was about to give out, and the only instructions you’d gotten from Natasha other than the white lie of your injuries, was to hang tight and heal until she contacted you, and she would contact you.

“I didn’t know which one you wanted, so I brought both.” Darcy said from the doorway. You mumbled into the pillow in response, nothing legible. “Oh, we’re cuddling, or is this a hostage situation?”

You winced internally at the words, but sighed contentedly when you felt the weight of the frozen vegetables against your shoulder blades. You melted into the pillows, the bed dipping down as Darcy laid on the other side of Ronnie, as you drifted off to sleep.

[Taglist🕷♡: @dumbasslesbi, @lostremind, @toocreativeforausername @autorasexy @eringranola @mikookaaaaaao @marvelwoman-simp @pacmanmiles @mostlymarvelsstuff]

#Natasha Romanoff #Natasha Romanoff x y/n #Natasha Romanoff x reader #Natasha Romanoff x you #Black widow #Black widow x reader #Mafia au #Mafia boss au #Mafia Natasha Romanoff #Marvel #Marvel Fanfic #Yelena Belova #darcy lewis

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bishopsbeloved · 3 months

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the art of falling in love (part four)

natasha romanoff x fem reader

best friend!yelena belova, aroace!yelena belova, internalised homophobia, found family trope, coming of age, angst, fluff (eventual happy ending)

read this fic on ao3!

Natalia Romanova has lived her whole life in maybes.

When she was five years old and first banished to an orphanage in a far vast snowy corner of Russia, she thought to herself, okay. Maybe this will be the place that I find my forever family. Surely no place can be worse than that which I have come from. But the other girls she lived with were taller and crueler, and almost a year passed before a certain scraggly blonde rascal stumbled into sharing a room with her. Without hesitation she began causing havoc for every single resident. Natalia liked her immediately. It was not long before the two would share a bed at night and call one another sister.

Maybe I was right, Natalia would think to herself sleepily, as she and tiny Yelena huddled together beneath a duvet to survive the cold winter nights. Maybe this is my forever family.

It only took one day for that to fall apart for her, though. It hadn’t even occurred to her that someone might adopt Yelena without her too, or vice versa. And when that happened, and Yelena was torn away, she was at a loss.

“Не волнуйся,” Yelena reassured her as she sped around their tiny bedroom, gathering her many trinkets and treasures into a bag. “It’s okay. My mama and papa, they are very lovely, they promise they will come back for you. We will be a family together, in America. A new start. Together.” She held out a pinky earnestly.

“Together,” Natalia repeated, sealing the deal.

But two years after Yelena’s departure, she began to wonder if maybe her sister had been wrong.

She still can’t remember much of the day that they finally, finally came back for her. She was eight, and you and Yelena were both seven. Of course, she didn’t know you even existed at first — not until the long journey back, gazing down at the motherland below them as they left it behind, when Yelena babbled endlessly about her new best friend she’d made in Ohio. She doesn’t remember much of that, either — the whole day felt too perfect to be real. It’s all a blur. But still to this day, proudly framed by Alexi and hung above the fireplace, are the photos he took the day she came home.

Only a week into her life in Ohio did she ask her mother if she could change her name. Natalia Romanova was too difficult for Americans to pronounce, and it didn’t feel American. It felt as though it were just another of countless things that screamed I don’t belong. Maybe it would help her feel more acclimated to her new home. And when she worded it like that, who was Melina to deny her? So Natalia Romanova became Natasha Romanoff. You barely even batted an eyelid when the news reached you, and she’d often catch herself smiling when you went out of your way to use her full name in any situation you could.

Although it feels as though she’s loved you forever, it’s true that she was wary of you at first. That fateful moment she first met you, you came tearing into her new home to spend time with her sister and she was scared you’d take her away — but you didn’t. You shared her. And as time went on you began to share parts of yourself with Nat, too.

She’ll remember the day you won her over until her dying breath. December 3 — almost six months since she first moved to Ohio, and her first birthday there. You’d stayed over the night before, as you often did even then, and in the morning you approached her with wide adoring eyes and something clasped carefully in your hands.

“Natasha,” you began, with a slight tremor in your voice, “um, it is your birthday, obviously,” you glanced over at the gaudy banners Alexi had strung proudly around the house in declaration of this fact, “and, uhm, I know we haven’t known each other super long, or anything, but, yeah,” you finished lamely, and held out your hands to her, opening them up. “I found this super cool rock. Alexi helped me clean it. It’s pink.”

It was super cool, Natasha decided. Pink had become her favourite colour as of late — ever since she’d learnt that in America it’s for girls. She looked from the sparkly rock to your earnest, hopeful face and back again, and decided then and there that she loved you. (And maybe you even loved her back.)

The nature of said love did not make itself known to her for a good few years; even before it did, she made her best efforts to dismiss it, though. She very quickly learnt just how American girls were supposed to be — which did not include bright blue hair, or a desire to kiss other girls. Within just a few days of starting public school Natasha had bleached the dye from her hair, quashed down any potential interest in Daphne from Scooby Doo, and at night would carefully practise the American way of pronouncing words in the mirror — without her gentle Russian tinge. She tacked up posters of male pop stars in her room, and began to strategically pick which boys in her class she’d be crushing on next. Maybe, just maybe, if she kept all of this up then she’d be able to fit into her surroundings the way she was somehow never able to in the orphanage.

And for the most part, she did. She found herself becoming one of the most popular girls in class. She’d discovered that actually she was very good at fitting in, as long as she paid enough attention to everyone else. And she felt good about herself — as long as she didn’t pay attention to you and Yelena, who were entirely unbothered by the social norms she adhered so much to, and seemed a whole lot better off for it. It was entirely uncool to be so close with your sister. Her annoying little sister, and her quiet lovely best friend. Yes, as long as she avoided the two of you wherever she could, she’d be fine.

That’s how the years passed, for a long time. Natasha eventually outgrew her desire to distance herself from Yelena, and she returned to the protective tendencies she had harboured for the blonde when they were so young and alone, but what she didn’t outgrow was her need to fit in. That followed her way into high school. By sophomore year she was cheer captain and everyone in school knew her name. (She wasn’t mean, though, she always made sure of that. And she made it known that if anyone were to mess with Yelena — or you, by extension, as by this point people had started referring to you as the twins — there would be consequences.) She had friends, she had boyfriends, she had invites to parties. And as long as Natasha pretended she didn’t have a massive interest in you or a mental list of your likes and dislikes, she would be fine. Probably.

When she was sixteen she realised with startling clarity that the massive interest she acted as though she didn’t have in you was love. She and two of her good friends, Sharon and Maria, were animatedly discussing whether Sharon really loved her boyfriend or not. And the way love was described, romantic love, was identical to what she felt for you (and what any idiot could tell you felt for her, as much as everyone seemed to have agreed to pretend that you didn’t). An inexplicable attraction drawing her to you, an interest in anything you were interested in (see that time she was ten and stayed up all night researching your favourite cartoon just so she could discuss it with you over breakfast the next morning), a desire to just be with you forever. That was love. She loved you.

Oh, shit.

“You’re awful quiet, Nat,” Maria commented. Natasha cleared her throat and took a sip of juice. “Anything on your mind?”

“Just that Sharon needs to dump her shitbag of a boyfriend,” she replied shortly. Maria clapped her hands together in triumph, while Sharon let out a huff of annoyance.

“That’s what I keep saying,” Maria told her proudly, as Sharon spluttered in protest. The discussion resumed and the matter was forgotten. Natasha shoved her discovery to the back of her mind, hoping and praying she could un-discover it. Maybe if she did, things would stay okay.

Try as she might, she couldn’t, but she has tried; more determined than ever to be the perfect American girl. Over dinners she pretends to be annoyed at the teasing, saying that her accent’s gone, she’s no Russian, the American agenda has got her, that she’s almost as American as you.

“Our token Yankees,” Alexi often says merrily, to this day, clapping both you and her on the back with force that makes you wince and her giggle. She’ll whine and wrinkle her nose at him (while you just sit and blush), but secretly revel in the praise that her efforts have been so fruitful.

Barely any time into this school year, her senior year, she realised that she hadn’t had a boyfriend for a suspiciously long time.

“You and James would be cute,” offered Sharon, pointing with her fork at where her good friend and fellow Slav sat across the cafeteria, laughing about something.

“Yes,” came Natasha’s thoughtful reply, “we would, wouldn’t we?”

Every single aspect of her life was coldly calculated, unfeeling, sterile. Natasha Romanoff knew what she wanted and she would obtain it. Her pursuit of Bucky Barnes was no different. He was politely reciprocal at first, and the two entered what Nat’s friends called a situationship over the coming months. It wasn’t until a Stark house party that he turned her down.

“Natasha,” he said gently, and the word was so loud despite the music that blared only a few rooms away. He only had to say that and she knew. She sighed, and sat down on the bed in defeat, only to look up in surprise at his next words.

“I don’t… I like Steve.”

Not even Natasha could understand why she started crying. But Buck was so kind, so patient, and he held her until her tears dried. When she could speak evenly again she opened her mouth and everything came flooding out. The way she felt for you and her deep, innate fear of being different.

Bucky was quiet for a few moments in contemplation. Then he said, “I’m scared, too. Me and Steve are like you and Y/N, we known each other all our lives, and it’s like, what if whatever I do or say or feel ruins that? But you gotta… it’s…” He scratched at the back of his head. “You gotta trust it’ll work out. If you love each other proper, then even if she don’t like you back, you’ll still have her. In your life. It’ll be okay, you know. You just gotta have faith.”

Of course, Natasha knew without a shadow of a doubt how hopelessly head over heels you were for her. Rejection wasn’t what she feared. But she wasn’t sure how to word that to Bucky without sounding entirely conceited, so she just nodded. After that night, though, the two were a whole lot closer, and in no time at all they established a kind of beard situation — they’d act ambiguously involved in public so that in private they could affiliate with the ones their hearts truly desired. It wasn’t as though there weren’t queer people within their school, because of course there were, but both feared for the loss of their social standing so intensely that they saw no other option.

It was Bucky who pushed Nat to kiss you at the New Year’s party.

“If it goes wrong, come find me and we’ll drink,” he shouted over the blaring music. Both of them knew it wouldn’t go wrong, though.

But she drank anyway — for luck, she told herself, downing an impressive amount in one. She was Russian, even when she pretended she was not. A perk of that was being able to handle her liquor.

The New Year’s kiss famously went swimmingly, and Nat felt so giddy the next morning that she marvelled she hadn’t done this sooner. The two of you began to sneak around, which pleased her greatly, but she felt the words you didn’t say during the silence that would sometimes descend on the two of you. Your slight twitchiness, the way you would work yourself up to say something only to dismiss it at the last second. You didn’t want to ask what are we? for fear of the probable answer — and Natasha didn’t have an answer for you, anyway. She liked the way things were now; she had a pretty girl wrapped around her finger who she could sneak around with in private, and she could simultaneously maintain the social status she’d always had in public. She was certain that if you were ever to make her pick between the two she would spiral. Eventually you seemed to take the hint, and the hopeful silences stopped.

It never really occurred to her that she wasn’t treating you well until quite a few months into your relationship — around June, after Stark’s spring break party, once Yelena had started teasing you about a mystery girl. Every time it was mentioned in front of her she would tense, but you handled it with surprising and admirable nonchalance, and her sister seemed to have no suspicion it was her that was spoken of.

Natasha came back late one night from a hangout with friends. She’d forgotten her key and, assuming everyone was asleep, decided to let herself in through the garage rather than disturb anyone. But you and Yelena were still up and enjoying a quiet night in, as the two of you often did, huddled together under blankets on the sofa in a way that would make Natasha reminisce on the way she and Yelena used to do that in the orphanage — except they had done that to survive the bitter cold, whilst the two of you did so merely to enjoy reality TV reruns. It warmed Natasha to see her baby sister happy, at least.

The noise of one Kardashian fighting another (Natasha always got them mixed up) drowned out her quiet arrival, and the two of you were mid-conversation. She made for the stairs, not really wanting nor caring to intrude, but froze as she tuned into Yelena’s next words.

“You never really mention your mystery girl anymore, anyway,” the blonde was saying. “Did something happen? I can hurt someone.”

Natasha craned her neck to catch your next words.

“Nothing happened,” you said quietly. Defeatedly. “I just… I don’t know. I don’t think she likes me as much as I like her.”

“Ah, конечно нет, impossible,” drawled Yelena. “You are adorable, утенок. Everyone likes you.”

You murmured something unintelligible, and Yelena scoffed, but Natasha didn’t need to hear any more. She crawled up the stairs as if the world were about to slip away from beneath her feet. Suddenly everything around her was so overwhelmingly real, and she realised with sickening clarity that you were real, too. She spent the rest of that night lying in her bed, unsleeping, unmoving, counting the paint strokes on the ceiling and wondering if she could’ve gone her whole life without knowing that she’s a bad person. Maybe she has.

That was probably the beginning of the end. When she looked you the next morning it was as though she was seeing you for the first time — you were quiet, you were pale, there were dark circles under your eyes. You were smaller somehow, as though something had defeated you completely. And Nat knew in that moment that she was too much of a coward to give herself to you, so the kindest thing she could do was let you go. If she was lucky then maybe, just maybe, she wouldn’t lose you completely if she set you free now.

Right now it’s prom night. Seeing you dancing with Sam was one of the most gut-wrenching sights she’s ever endured, but he at least seems to make you happier than she ever did. It didn’t make her very happy to look at, though, so she convinced Buck to drop her home on his way back to Steve’s. (Prom was their first official date and, as Buck informed her with a proud grin as she left the car, it went fantastic.) Melina and Alexi are out — every other Friday is their date night, and while Yelena groans and gags at how ridiculously in love their parents are, Natasha just finds it sweet and hopes she’ll have something like that someday. But you’re the closest it’s ever come to that for her, and she’s fucked that one. Royally.

“Hi, Liho,” she opens the front door and mumbles to the cat, who is sat in the hall expectantly. His haunches rise defensively, and Nat just sighs. He is very much your cat, not hers, and in recent times he seems to have been picking up on the turmoil she’s been putting you through. “Look, man, she’s out being happy, without me. Isn’t that enough?”

Liho hisses, and stalks with his head held high out of the front door.

“Yeah, whatever, leave then,” Nat grumbles, and kicks the door shut behind him. Even through the thick oakwood she can hear the noises of annoyance he makes back at her.

She kicks off her heels and throws herself onto the sofa, and lays there for a long time. It would be nice, she thinks to herself, if she could just stay here forever, and never have to face the world again. And she does for a while, but eventually the front door slams, bringing in cold air and with it the announcement that you and Yelena are home. Nat tenses as she recognises the sounds of your crying, and leaps to her feet, sliding across the smooth wooden floors in her stockinged feet towards you.

“What’s going on?” she pants, taking in the scene. You’re cradling something dark and vaguely furry to your chest, and Yelena is fussing over it worriedly. She realises like a punch to the gut that it’s Liho you’re holding. “Holy shit, what —”

She freezes as she realises she’s the one who let him outside. Is he supposed to outside? She doesn’t know anything about this goddamn cat, he’s not hers. Shit.

“Call Alexi,” you choke out. Natasha stands still frozen in shock, so Yelena lets out a mutter of “бесполезный” and charges towards the landline herself.

“Are you— okay?” Nat tries uncertainly. “What —”

“Piss off, Nat,” you cry. Ouch. Okay, she probably deserves that.

“Sorry,” she says quietly, and steps back from you. You stand in silence for a few moments until Yelena comes skidding back out into the hall.

“He’s nearly home anyway,” she pants. “He says don’t call the vet, not until Ma has looked him, we should just stop the bleeding. It was definitely a car, probably a hit and run so he said to check the doorbell camera thingy. What is their name?”

“That is the scientific term, yes,” Natasha nods, and you make a noise that’s both a laugh and a sob. “Um, I think Dad has the app on his iPad.” Not that he knows how to use it. He’s such a comedically giant man that seeing him trying to navigate the tiny device offers her a steady stream of entertainment. (“Глупый кусок жести. Делай как я говорю!”)

“On it,” Yelena nods, and sprints off to where she last saw the device.

“I’m sorry,” Nat offers again, once her sister’s out of earshot.

“Not now, Nat,” you sigh tiredly, and you sound so broken that she just wants to scoop you up and protect you from all the evil in the world. But she’s subjected you to that evil, whether she meant to or not, and now she has to deal with the consequences.

Yelena is gone and oddly quiet for a suspiciously long time.

“You okay?” you call, cupping the cat desperately to your chest as you pad off in search of her. Unsure of what else to do, Natasha follows you, hanging behind awkwardly and making sure to give you enough space.

Yelena is stood still as anything in the kitchen, staring at the iPad propped up on the counter, rewatching one clip over and over on the security camera app. Nat can’t tell what it’s of, at first, but the exact moment you realise you let out a squeak, and squeeze Liho even closer to your chest. Only a moment later does Natasha understand what it is.

It’s from quite a while ago — the timestamp says sometime late at night in March. In the clip Nat’s car pulls up onto the driveway, with her at the wheel and you in the passenger’s seat. Once the car stops, Nat leans over and she kisses you. And you kiss back. On camera.

Liho lets out a noise of pain at how tightly you’re gripping him to you. Yelena stares blankly at the screen as the video plays over and over again.

“Lena?” you ask quietly, and when the blonde turns round her eyes are glossy. “I don’t —”

The next thing Natasha knows is a sharp pain shooting through her nose, and she steps back in shock, because there’s no way Yelena’s just hit her.

“What the fuck,” Yelena says, and there’s that scratchy sound to her voice that’s only ever there when she’s trying not to cry. “The one person who is off limits and you just couldn’t help yourself, could you?”

“Lena,” you cry out in alarm as the blonde raises her fist again. “Don’t, it wasn’t — it was an accident —”

“Oh, what,” she’s rounding on you now, “so you just slipped and fell into my sister’s —”

“No,” you plead desperately, “it wasn’t like that.”

“You were the mystery girl all along,” Yelena shouts, and presses her lips together with her eyes screwed tightly shut. “All the time you were right there. You lied to me.” She raises her fist again, but Nat is prepared this time and catches it neatly in her own.

“Don’t,” she says evenly, but she isn’t prepared for the hatred that burns in the green eyes that meet hers.

“How many months were you sneaking around behind my back?” Yelena hisses. Nat still holds her wrist tightly, so she merely turns her head to address you next. “Ты - лжец, how long have you been using me for her?”

“I wasn’t,” you plead, and whatever is shouted after that is indiscernible. After a few moments of noise the front door opens again, and Melina and Alexi stumble in, with a sense of urgency about them.

“Oh goodness, what is all this shouting, girls?” Melina asks loudly, and at the sound of her raised voice you all instinctively fall quiet. “In fact, this is not important. Where is this poor cat?”

You hold out the bundle of bandages and fur to her, face shiny with tears, and she scoops him up gently. “Will he be okay?”

“I don’t know,” she says shortly. “I will get him to the vet. I’ll call you.” She kisses your forehead, then Yelena’s, then Natasha’s on the way out and the front door slams behind her.

Yelena turns on you again with no less venom than before.

“You,” she says, “are not my family. And neither are you,” she adds to Natasha. “Do not speak to me.” She storms out of the room, and you, Nat and Alexi watch her leave, stunned.

“Well,” says Alexi with a jovial chuckle, clapping his hands and rubbing them together, “she seems a little upset, да?”

#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x you #natasha romanoff x fem reader #natasha romanoff x female reader #natasha romanoff #natalia romanova #black widow #high school au #marvel high school au

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the-swift-escape · 6 months

Text

A Fine Team

Part 1 of (N/A)

Summary: The reader and Loki are sent on a mission at an art gallery, their objective is to pose as husband and wife to gain entry into a hydra auction. The reader has been falling for their friend for some time now and doesn’t think that he could ever feel the same.

Pairing: Loki x Reader

Author’s Note: I’m thinking of making this a multi-part fanfic, not sure how long but I have a few ideas for the plot. I’ve never written any fan fictions like this before and I’m mostly trying to get back into the groove of writing again.

Word Count: 3,422

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The art gallery is filled with a warm glow of light. The walls are paneled with a dark wood and the floor is a shining marble that echoes with each step of heeled feet. There’s low classical music playing but no one is dancing. The guests are either too occupied by the exhibition or conversation with their peers. If you didn’t know better you wouldn’t even suspect anything abnormal about this event. Just a bunch of old money socialites viewing art they’re hoping to bid for in the auction later tonight.

Unfortunately for you, this is a mission, not a social event. Loki is not your date, holding you close against him as you view a landscape piece. He’s not whispering sweet nothings into your ear. He’s observing the people around you, and he’s playing a part. He is your mission partner, not a lovesick newlywed. He is your friend, nothing more. When you think about the press of his hand against your lower back and his lips close to your ear, your heart clenches. It feels like the most exhilarating torture for him to be so close yet so far. He has no idea how hard it is to suppress the blush rising to your cheeks and you want to keep it that way so instead you watch an older man in a dark red suit jacket look at his watch.

“There he is, it’s almost time for the auction. Don’t lose sights,” you whisper, pulling your lips into a smile as you turn toward Loki.

“He couldn’t be more obvious if he tried,” Loki says while pushing a strand of hair behind your ear and your breath hitches and you pray he doesn’t notice.

“You guys are disgusting, I can’t believe I have to watch this,” Tony’s voice comes through your ear pieces.

Loki rolls his eyes, scoffing, “Would you rather me hold a knife to her throat, Stark? Would that be more in character?”

“For you? Absolutely,” Tony says pointedly.

You clear your throat.

“If you two are done having your dick measuring contest, the target’s moving,” You whisper harshly.

The man in the red suit goes to the back of the gallery and flashes his watch to a young bouncer. He looks at him with an over polite smile. He’s nervous, this must be the new kid that Hydra set to work this event. Fury was right, they didn’t see the avengers as a threat. To be fair, the intel was fresh and the event was just arranged a few days ago. They just hadn’t checked the museum staff for any spies yet.

Nat looks at you subtly from the bar as she abandons her spot behind the counter and heads toward the back room. Her hair is dyed a dark black and is swept into a braid. She has a completely different face, courtesy of stark industries, but she moves with the same practiced ease of Natasha. She touches the bouncer’s arm and lean towards him. His eyes go wide and he hastily steps aside and follows her past the velvet rope. When they turn the corner you hear a door close through her mic and then you hear a few grunts and you swear you hear a sharp cracking sound.

“You’re all good, auction is about to start,” Nat says her tone calm.

“You’re brillant, Nat,” You shake your head in awe and hold onto Loki’s arm.

His suit is a dark green. The material cool to touch and fitting across his arms. His dark hair is swept back into an elegant loose bun. His face is at ease and you feel your heart stutter as his green eyes sparkle with the chandelier light overhead. You’re wearing a long gown the same color as his suit, the neckline is revealing but not too revealing to warrant any unnecessary glances. The thin straps on your shoulders are beaded with gold and the details on your bodice are dripped in gold, to match his cufflinks. He insisted on your outfits matching perfectly. ‘To sell the illusion’, he said.

“You look lovely, my dear wife,” He says as you pass a small group of lower hydra operatives.

“I’d hope so, I picked it out just for you. Now that we’re married it doesn’t mean I’ll stop trying to impress you,” You laugh airily as the two of you approach the now clear hallway.

You make a show of batting your eyes at the man beside you as a few of the operatives turn to look at the two of you. Loki wraps his arm around your waist and pulls you close, giving you a featherlight kiss on your forehead. When you turn the corner down a darker hall you both stop and press your backs against the wall, waiting to hear footsteps. None follow and you relax against the wall and look over to see Loki looking at you with a wolfish grin.

“You play this part beautifully, darling.”

You roll your eyes at him, trying to hide the start of a smile on your lips.

“You can turn it down a notch, Loki, all these rooms are sound proof according to the blueprints we got from Fury. No one is here to hear your flirting-“

“Except for us, Reindeer Games, you’re making me sick over here,” Tony complains and you can’t help but laugh.

“Careful, Loki, y/n may have to kick your ass if you get too frisky. This is a mission after all, what would Fury say?”

Nat’s smirk is evident in her words. You wish you could stop the hope from rising in your chest when Loki doesn’t seem too interested in defending himself. But then it’s crushed just as fast and you see his smile drop and he raises one eyebrow.

“I’m not flirting, I’m staying in character. There’s a difference. I suppose that’s why I was chosen for this mission over you, Stark. I’m simply more professional.”

“Yeah that’s the reason, definitely not the fact that I’m an extremely famous billionaire, philanthropist and the owner of one of the tallest buildings in New York. Which just so happens to have my name on it. But you’re right, Rock of Ages-“

You hear a door open down the hall.

“Will you two shut up,” you hiss.

You look at your diamond encrusted watch. They must have just got done appraising the piece you’re here for. You see a supply closet out of the corner of your eye and grab Loki’s wrist and pull him silently into it, turning your ear piece on mute. The room is cramped, the space taken up by cleaning products and a rack of boxes and towels. You can’t help but press Loki against the door as you hold your hand over his mouth. Your heart is racing. It sounds like there’s about five men in the hall. Stopped right in front of the closet door. In the small glimpse of light peaking through the door from the hallway you see Loki’s eyes shut tightly, his eyebrows furrowed.

You listen in on their conversation but it’s mostly small talk. All they say that rouses any suspicion is that they’re meeting at a hotel a few months from now. As their steps echo down the hall they say their goodbyes. Hail Hydra.

You let your head fall against Loki’s chest and take your hand from his mouth. He reaches up to his ear as he breathes heavily.

“Darling, if you wanted to get me alone, I could’ve arranged that much earlier.”

His voice is as smooth as silk, if a little breathless. You try to chuckle but you feel like floating. Your skin pricks as you look up and realize how close the two of you are.

“If I wanted you alone, Laufeyson, it would have already happened,” You counter, trying to slip into your usual banter.

It’s harder when it’s like this. When it’s so close to the truth but it just isn’t. You want him, but you know there’s no way he’d have you.

Loki opens his mouth to reply, smirking, but he stops short. You’re close enough to hear the muffled noise from his ear piece and Loki clears his throat when you pull away to turn the volume up. You nod at him and he opens the door to the closet.

“Hello? Am I just talking to myself here?”

“No, Tony, sorry. Had to focus, heading to the auction room now,” You respond.

Loki offers his arm and you take it, avoiding his eyes in hopes of just appearing focused. The two of you reach the auction room and slip in unnoticed. You find the place marker with your aliases and your paddle number and take your seat in the back.

The auctioneer hasn’t gotten to your item yet but you pretend to be interested and whisper to each other when it’s time for Loki to put his paddle up. You bid low enough to lose but high enough to where you drive the price up on some of the smaller items. An hour or so passes with you and Loki waiting to see the painting you came here for. Every time he raised the paddle he’d steal a glance at you, pleased with how frustrated some of the older attendees sounded when they had to place a higher bid.

You couldn’t help but marvel at how far he’s come since the battle of New York. You were one of the only people that was able to connect the fact that Loki’s eyes were the same color as Clint’s when he was being mind controlled. Before Loki ever joined you’d brought it up multiple times but no one ever really took it seriously. After he arrived at the tower, and he opened up more, in his own ways he confirmed that your theory was correct. He hasn’t told anyone what happened that lead him to that point, though. Luckily, he’s adjusted pretty well and if some of the avengers still don’t like them- they have a begrudging respect for him. Loki and Bucky bonded and formed an interesting friendship, with what Loki has told you it seems that they’ve helped each other readjust to freedom in a way. Wanda has also helped Loki open up more, they tend to spend some time every few weeks training with their magic. Clint still keeps his distance but that’s not a scar that’s going to heal quickly, you don’t think.

Loki tears you from your thoughts, tapping the inside of your right wrist. He’s staring straight at the painting you’re here for. It’s a 1940s battlefield landscape. But you’re not here because of the art itself, you’re here for what’s sewn into the canvas. You know that Tony is listening in as the auctioneer announces the piece.

“Showtime, newly weds,” Tony comments.

According to Fury’s intel there’s a note with coordinates to a hidden hydra base that has been thought to be inactive since just after the war. There’s been whispers of a resurgence of the winter soldier program in a top secret location. This might be the key to finding the headquarters.

Loki waits for a few people to bid before placing his first one in. If you can get your hands on this painting it could completely destroy the last of the winter soldier program, if you don’t win then this mission will be a hell of a lot more difficult. He puts his paddle up again and rests his hand on your thigh, his fingers dipping just inside of the dress’ side slit. He keeps his face straight and you assume someone’s looking but you can’t take your eyes off his hand. Your breath is shallow but you try to focus, giving his hand a pat when you think he should bid.

The general protocol is that the highest bidders are given directions to a safe house where they can make the exchange. Hydra transports the item there in heavily guarded vehicles. Which the team will be tracking via the Quinjet. You feel your knives strapped to your thigh, all night you’ve been itching for a fight. Maybe it’s the pent up frustration from your ruse or just the fact that you’ve been surrounded by hydra agents all night. It feels like torture to blend in with them but it’s honestly not even close to being one of the most difficult missions you’ve gone on. It’s tame in comparison to most, little combat and little interaction with the enemy. The hardest part is keeping your heart in check when Loki’s touching you like that. You’re starting to realize how incredibly distracting it can be.

“Sold to number twenty-five!”

The auctioneer announces the winner and you realize it’s not you.

“Shit.”

“What’s up, (y/n)? Did you get it or not?” Tony pries.

“They cut the bidding short. Two men came in and delivered a note to the auctioneer,” Loki explains.

You didn’t even notice. How did that happen?

“It must’ve been rigged, get out of there, we’ll see you at the jet.”

You slip your hand into Loki’s, the cold of his fake wedding band nipping at your skin.

“Let’s go, honey. I have a little surprise for you back at home,” You tease seductively.

His green eyes cut to yours, you swear that for a moment there’s a flash of something there. You just can’t quite put a name to it. Loki’s tongue brushes over his lower lip, bringing your hand up. He leaves a lingering kiss on your matching ring. The look in his eye paired with the graze of his mouth on your skin sends a strike of electricity through your veins. He gets up, leading you to the door.

“Shall we?” He makes a show of letting you exit first after you exchange the customary hail hydras with the organizer and his bodyguards.

When you get into the hall the two of you pick up your pace.

“Now, what?” You hiss at Loki.

He grins mischievously.

“Now, darling, we have some fun.”

You can tell he’s thinking what you’ve been feeling, this has been too easy. Now, at least, it’s getting interesting. You really wish you had a body suit under this dress but maybe if you’re lucky you’ll be able to make it to the jet before you have to do any real damage. You get instruction from Tony to take a few turns down the hall to a back exit that leads to an alley closer to the meeting point.

The night air is breezy and goosebumps form on your arms. The stars are bright and the moon is little more than a sliver. Your heels echo softly on the pavement as you walk. Loki is close enough to where your hands brush once in a while as you walk. Each time it happens you feel yourself being pulled further into his orbit. There’s something magnetic about Loki, and most might say it’s because he’s a god or because he’s like a predator. Coaxing his prey into a false security, but you don’t see him that way. You see a man, a god, that has been through awful things. Like anyone else, he has struggled. He is hard to crack but when you’re able to see what’s underneath the calculating front he puts up, he’s not that different from the rest of the team.

“You did good in there, Laufeyson, I think you’re getting the hang of this whole avenger thing,” you bump his shoulder with yours, “who knows, maybe you’ve found your glorious purpose.”

He chuckles and rubs the back of his neck.

“I don’t think that the other avengers share that sentiment.”

Your chest pangs, because it’s true.

Then his face hardens, glancing back the way you came. You hear some low voices cutting through the night and before you can react, Loki is grabbing you by the waist. He’s spinning you around and the world is tilting on its axis. You close your eyes thinking something bad is about to happen.

Your back hits the wall and one of his hands is on your waist, the other supporting your head, guiding it to back gently. When you open your eyes he’s looking at you and he silently shushes you. Loki leans in close to you and his nose is brushing yours and his gaze drops to your lips. Your heart is pounding in your chest and your skin is tingling. He’s so close and his breath smells like whiskey. His cologne is coating the air between you and it smells like the forest and it’s warm and welcoming and it’s so hard to pretend like you’re not in love with him when he’s so close.

“You look truly divine,” He breathes.

“You don’t mean that,” You whisper back, shaking your head.

The footsteps are getting closer and closer and you screw your eyes shut. You have no idea what to do now that you’ve lost contact with the others and you can’t think straight. Loki always leaves your mind cloudy and usually it doesn’t effect your mission but you’ve never been in such a compromising position. He’s intoxicating and it takes all your willpower not to lean into him further. Not to press your lips to his or wrap your arms around his neck.

“Yes,” he leans a fraction closer, “I do.”

Then he’s pressing you further into the bricks and his fingers are brushing against your cheekbone. You open your eyes and he looks at you and his pupils are blown wide. Then he kisses you and it’s so soft. He’s kissing you like you’re going to disappear, like you’re made of glass. It’s fragile and you can tell he’s braced for rejection and even though you’re terrified that this is all for the mission somehow you melt into the kiss. A low noise is pulled from him as you slide your hands through his hair, it falls from its slicked back bun and the strands are falling against your cheek. The moment is everything you’ve ever dreamed it would be and still it’s so much better.

The whole world is slipping away and you ears are buzzing and you realize you need to breathe. You pull back, leaning your head back toward the cool night air and then his lips are on your neck and you feel weightless.

“Believe me, (y/n),” he whispers against your skin, his breath cool, “I could never lie to you.”

The sound of your name makes you whimper as his lips move further and further down. The footsteps are long gone, you realize. You should go, both of you should go meet the others at the rendezvous point. But you can’t move, it’s like you’re stuck to the spot and all you can focus on is this, this mischievous god against you and how his hands are chilling your skin and setting it on fire all at once. The way his tie has come slightly loose and how his cheeks are reddened. He’s disheveled and you never thought it would be for you, because of you.

“Loki-“ You choke out.

“(Y/n), come in. Can you hear us? Where are you, agent?” Steve’s voice breaks through the static in your ear piece.

Loki pulls back abruptly, the voice of your captain breaking through the moment. His eyes are wide as he looks at you and your heart sinks. He regrets it. You just lost your best friend. You sober up quickly and slip from Loki’s grasp and maneuver around him, looking down the alleyway.

“I hear you, Cap. We’re not too far from the museum, had to take a detour. On our way now.”

“We got eyes on the truck, good work you two, you make a fine team.”

You look at Loki for a second. You can’t read his expression as he straightens his tie and fixes his hair. He wipes his lips, erasing all the evidence of what happened just like that. As if it never happened, couldn’t happen. Not with you, at least. You sigh.

“Yeah, I guess we do.”

In silence you head to the rendezvous point. The tension thick between you. Maybe all he’ll ever be is your partner. Maybe you were naive to think that it could seriously be more. It was just the heat of the moment and it should have never gotten that far. Maybe you could learn to live with that.

#Loki #loki x reader #loki reader insert #marvel #marvel fanfiction #marvel x reader #the avengers #fake dating #friends to lovers #fluff #pining #loki laufeyson #loki odinson #avenger loki #loki fanfic #light angst #insecurity #multi part fic

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babbygirlblues · 2 years

Text

The One Chance - part i

(i.e. chapter one)

Summary: Before your father sets you up with a mate, you ask Natasha to be your first time. She jumps at her one chance to be with you, her best friend and the omega she’s been in love with for years.

Alpha!Nat & Omega!Reader, reader gets threatened on the street, kissing, dry humping, yeah. 4K

18+ MINORS DNI

“Please,” You beg, “Please, Father. I really don’t want to do this.”

He doesn’t budge in his seat at the head of the table. He’s chewing on a mouthful of food and you have to wait for him to wash it down with a sip of wine before he answers.

“This isn’t a choice, Y/N.”

You know it’s useless to fight and your heart drops as his words sink in.

A mate, an alpha, strong, from a good family, for your good future.

Your head swirls with a wild hurricane of thoughts, red hair and green eyes at the centre.

~~~

The three of them ogle and sneer.

You’re standing at the bus stop around the corner from Natasha’s gym where she comes out freshly showered and weary eyed. It’s a beautiful sight, one that makes waiting alone after the sunset worth it.

They keep their distance for a while and you take quiet cautionary glances at them. It’s obvious they’re alpha’s, the kind that gives the rest of them a bad name. The leader is bulky and bristly, he puffs his chest out in a way that makes your stomach turn in disgust rather than fear. The two that back him up are almost as big and the blonde on his left is genuinely scary.

“You smell like you’re looking for a daddy.” The leader calls out and they move closer, dragging their feet across the concrete as they approach you.

“Mmm smells good to me.” The blonde sneers and he lunges forwards towards you, pressing his nose close to your hair. You try to not react, that’s what they’re looking for, you remind yourself and you stay still in place.

The other two laugh at the grimace on your face. The blonde alpha stinks like he’s been pumping out pheromones all afternoon. It makes you sick as your stomach turns and you resist the urge to gag. He starts to lean in closer and a grimy hand reaches for your waist.

The smell suddenly dissipates when the blonde is shoved back away from you hard and he almost trips over his feet at the power with which his body is forced backwards.

“Fuck off!” Natasha snarls. Her voice is raspy, feminine and commanding. She gently pulls you behind her as she puffs her chest making herself look bigger. She smells perfect to you, her familiar scent immediately makes you feel safe.

The three of them laugh at her. She’s only slightly taller than you, but they don’t know she’s contending for a place on the national team in mixed martial arts. You’ve seen her take down alphas, male and female, double and triple her size with ease.

“Oh? What’s this then?” The leader pipes up, intrigued by Natasha’s appearance.

“A beta bitch?” The third one slurs.

Natasha lets it slide; she's never been one to bother asserting dominance amongst other alphas. You press your palm into her lower back, a silent plea for her to be careful.

“Step aside, don’t want you to get hurt.” He mocks her. “We just wanna tasty treat, right boys,”

They murmur an agreement amongst themselves, emboldened in their small group.

“It’s an alpha’s right.” The blonde sneers, staring you down.

That makes Natasha rumble with a husky growl, her chest reverberating around the deep sound. It makes them pause in their tracks but it makes you mewl silently. Your omega practically keens.

She’s an alpha, they realise. And it should be obvious in the power of her stance, in the breath of her chest and limbs, and the aggressive way she defends you. But you’re not mated to her, you smell unclaimed and it doesn’t make sense for an alpha like her to defend someone she’s not mated to.

They awkwardly shake her off and slowly drag themselves away from the confrontation, smart enough to at least recognise she’d put up a nasty fight.

She stares them down as they leave and you reach a small hand to the crease of her elbow, gripping the tense curve of her bicep. It draws her attention back to you and she’s suddenly a different person. She smiles as you thank her quietly, a little embarrassed by how much you enjoy her protectiveness and the fact you needed it in the first place.

She shrugs and knocks into your shoulder playfully, “You could have handled them.” She says.

You follow her on the bus when it pulls up and she guides you into a seat against the window. In the aisle seat next to you, she slides her duffle bag under her chair and you pass her an ear bud to play the calming music you know she likes. Her arm brushes against yours with the sway of the rickety bus until eventually she wraps her arm around the back of your seat. Out the window, you watch cars pass by and you play over the question lingering on your mind. But it’s hard to think of anything now that Natasha is here. Everything about her reminds you of what you’re risking and the fear comes right back, blowing like a cool breeze up your spine at the thought of losing her over a stupid love-sick request.

~~~

Upstairs in your bedroom there’s a soft glow from your fairy lights hanging from the ceiling. They’re a relic from your childhood you’ve never bothered to pull down, and they set an intimate atmosphere you can’t resist turning on.

Your eyes follow Natasha like a lost puppy as she flops backwards onto your bed, her hair splays out over the white sheets and her legs hang over the edge. You’re stuck in the middle of the carpet looking at her while the scent of her aggressively protective pheromones lingers in your nose. It stirrers that molten desire for her that perpetually simmers in your stomach. You try to tear your eyes away from the small bulge below the band of her sweat pants that isn’t usually there. It’s disrespectful and she’s so much more than that to you. Your eyes draw up her torso to her face where her eyes are closed and she breathes softly through thick red lips. Somehow that does more damage to the lava in your core, she’s so beautiful.

“Anyway,” She sighs, “What about you?”

Her head tilts upwards as she examines your awkward stance at her feet.

“Ms Medicine, or should I say Dr.?” She lifts an eyebrow teasingly.

You slide down on the bed next to her so your heads are at the same height and you can look at her upclose now.

She’s grown into her features over the years since you were kids. Her face has gotten longer, her cheekbones more defined and her nose slightly bigger. The extra training from working in the professional leagues has made her more muscular, the subtle thickness of her neck is accentuated at her pulse and scent glands.

It’s hard to focus. She looks so much older these days and your mind is busy replaying the image of her strong arms pushing away that blonde alpha at the bus stop. Her raspy growl still echoes in your ears.

You realise she’s waiting for an answer and you shrug with a soft smile.

“I’m good.” You tell her.

Not really. You’re running out of time, you tell yourself.

Natasha carefully observes the hesitance in your eyes, there’s something you’re not telling her and that protectiveness lingers in her chest. The world is a hard place, hard for her and even worse for you. But there’s a comfort that you bring her that’s equally as exciting as it is warm. It’s addictive. Her father says it’s a consequence of her bond to you, it’s simply her body’s reaction. But her mind and heart says that this is different, it's bigger than her bond.

“Thanks for protecting me today,” You whisper.

Your lips are inches from hers. Through thick eyelashes your irises flicker between emerald eyes and her pink lips as you struggle to keep eye contact, afraid of the words that will come pouring out if you let them.

“What’s really going on in that big brain?” Natasha questions softly.

You shift anxiously on the mattress, afraid of her reaction and terrified that she won’t care.

“My father,” You start to speak but the words die in your throat.

“What?”

“He…” Your face turns slightly into the sheets, half hiding your lips away so the words can't come out.

“He what?” She presses carefully, her hand pushes your shoulder backwards and tilts you back up to face her. “Did he hurt you?”

“No, he…” You swallow the lump in your throat. “He’s setting me up with a mate.”

“Oh.”

Her eyes widen as she slowly starts to comprehend the meaning of this upcoming arrangement. She hardens her face under a forcefully neutral expression while her heart breaks. It’s official she thinks, she’s finally waited too long and now she’s lost you forever. She’s always been too scared to tell you how she feels. Your father would never approve of a female alpha as a mate, nor would she risk ruining your friendship to tell you the truth.

“When?” She whispers in air that is suddenly stale and suffocating in your room.

“A couple weeks, he’s coming to meet me with his parents.”

“He?” Her eyes are on the lookout for any clues from your face. “An alpha?”

You nod, attentive to the tense energy in her shoulders and traps. She watches a salty tear slowly track down your cheeks and the broken pieces of her heart shatter. You wipe it away restlessly, impatient with your own display of emotion but Natasha doesn’t try to hide the worried look in her eyes.

“I’m sure it’ll be fine.” You mumble carelessly, but you don’t convince her.

You can feel your question on the tip of your tongue and your eyes blur with tears as your chest thrums with nervous, fearful energy. You’ve got to ask her today, it's your last chance.

There's a thick and incandescent tension between you on the bed. Both of you are heavy with the news and there’s an air of apprehension about this future meeting. She bravely holds your gaze, it's soft and open and curious as you reach up to brush a strand of red hair out of her eyes. There's a quiet and uncertain understanding between you as you both try to read the other's mind, hoping that the other will reveal something beneath the surface.

You hand lingers at her forehead, caressing the warm skin there and she leans into your touch. Her eyes flutter under heavy eyelids and your gaze drops down to pink pillowy lips. In your head you’re begging for her to take pity on you.

She doesn’t even realise what she’s doing, caught in your tender embrace, something makes her lean over the last inch of space between you and her lips brush light as a feather against yours. Your eyes flutter closed and you absorb every detail before you kiss her back, your lips capturing hers gently. She presses forwards passionately in response and your noses brush against each other when she tilts her head for better access.

Your fingers snake through her hair, still slightly damp from the shower and you tangle in the locks at the base of her skull. She breathes you deep into her lungs. Your smell, sweet like honey and cinnamon, makes her head spin. The taste of your lips make her want to sink deeper into your mouth, demanding the taste of your tongue.

The sound of your lips pushing together and pulling apart mixes with the heartbeat thundering in your ears as you kiss her eagerly, her lips becoming hot and heavy against your mouth. For years you’ve waited for this, dreamed of it. Your omega rejoices at the feeling and pheromones seep from your glands begging her for more. A thick arm follows your head back onto the bed and she tips on top of you, holding herself on a forearm and hand on either side of your head. You whimper quietly and your hands tremble as you start to reach for her waist to pull her closer.

Suddenly, she retracts completely, your lips lilting apart as she rips back away from you. She slumps on her knees, panting heavily under her breath and she looks at you with an unreadable expression.

The alphas head swirls, she feels like she’s been caught in a fever dream. Her lips are tingling, wet and swollen. She panics as she slowly realises that she just kissed you. She’s terrified that she’s ruined your relationship forever, how are you supposed to trust her now? She’s just like those alpha’s at the bus stop - willing to take what she wants without permission. Her heart pounds even harder and she’s disgusted by the enthusiastic reaction in her pants.

Your eyes are glazed over as you try to make sense of her reaction and you sit up beside her. She doesn’t know it, but your omega is sobbing pitifully in your chest, the alphas' hash reaction making her hurt and inconsolable.

“Sorry, I’m probably not a good kisser,” You mumble.

Your face is flushed ruby red and Natasha is immediately sobered by the dejected look on your face. She knows you better than the back of her hand, the pain and discomfort radiates off you and it’s painted over your body language. Never did she expect to be the cause of it. Your fingers pick at your nail beds and she flinches at the tears blurring your eyes.

She claws to make it better.

“What? No, it was really good.” She rushes, “Great actually,”

“You don’t have to say that,” You tell her, “You didn’t even like it.”

“No, no, I did like it. ” She insists. I loved it, too much.

“I can’t believe I pushed myself on you like that.” She says, “I didn’t even ask if you wanted to.”

You wait a moment for your omega to calm but Natasha’s still panting softly beside you. It’s painting an unhelpful image in your mind.

“I did want to kiss you.” You murmur, your voice dripping with vulnerable honesty.

You run a rough palm through your hair, pressing the tussled mess out of your face.

“Uhm,” You clear your throat awkwardly, “I was actually going to ask you,”

You look up at her and wish that she could read your mind.

“Yeah?”

“Since the whole set up thing is happening…” You explain, “I want my first time to be with someone I trust.”

“I was hoping maybe you would…” You trail off, unable to actually ask her to sleep with you.

Natasha’s body starts to thrum at the implication in your voice.

“Make love to me.” You mumble softly.

Her eyes trace the words on your lips and your eyes look to her full of a hesitant hope. Her alpha roars to life, screaming at her this is my chance and her pants start to tighten at the crotch as she feels herself grow hot.

Natasha’s eyes are wide and you start to worry that she’s going to be offended. The last thing you want is to drive away your best friend with such an inappropriate request.

“Are you sure?” She whispers.

You nod at her, “You don’t have to say yes.”

“Yes,” She cuts you off without a beat.

You can’t help the breathy giggle that escapes from your lips, the way Natasha beams at you is beautiful. God, you’re so in love with her.

You inch closer to her again and she slowly leans back over you, chasing your lips as you lean backwards. The pinky finger of her left hand nervously brushes against your outer thigh.

You let her claim your lips again and you press back equally hard. Your tongue cheekily pokes out to caress her lower lip but you whimper when her tongue slips out to fight for dominance and lick into your mouth. Her lips are full and tenacious, she kisses you softly and then nips at your lip like a warning that makes your stomach soar with butterflies. As she starts to push you onto your back to lie down but you bring a hand up onto her chest and push her slightly. She stops the instant she feels you resisting her.

“We can’t tonight,” You say regrettably. The hand in her chest smooths down the curve of her arm where thick muscles flex under her weight. “My mother will be home in an hour.”

Natasha's heart stutters and she shifts nervously on the mattress, her underwear feels painfully tight and the baggy grey sweatpants on top don’t do a good job hiding anything. She feels like she’s carrying a neon light pointing at her crotch that screams I’ve got a hard-on the size of a tree branch. An exaggeration, maybe.

“Tomorrow night?” You ask her in a soft, anxious voice, “My parents are going away for the week.”

“Tomorrow’s good.” She says and her voice cracks embarrassingly on tomorrow.

She starts fumbling around for her bag hanging by the edge of the bed.

“Tash?”

“Yeah,” She cowers away from your gaze and you see the way she curls her arms over her lap.

You gesture at her crotch, “You can’t leave like that,” You tell her gently.

You smile at her and it makes her blush harder.

“I’m so sorry, Y/N.” She stutters.

“Don’t apologise,” You whisper. You can see the shake in her hands and you’re amazed to find her so nervous in front of you. She’s always so composed, you didn’t think you could have that effect on her. But she’s irresistible, now you’ve felt her mouth, tasted her lips, you’re longing for more of her.

Anything she’ll give you.

You don’t give yourself time to think about it, in a moment of bravery, you swing a leg over her and plant yourself in her lap. She gasps and her hands reflexively grasp your waist as she starts to panic, pulling you up and off her growing erection.

“It’s ok,” You whisper, appeasing her with a loving kiss to her lips.

You press your hips against her hands and delicately rock down onto her. The effect is instantaneous. Her grip switches and she guides your hips down harder as her pelvis presses up and into the warmth between your legs.

You roll against her firmly, the abrasive material at the seam of her pants scratches you through your tights.

“Fuck!” She moans.

Aching, heavy, heated arousal starts to pool in your panties as Natasha helps you set a rhythm humping against her.

Her feet plant solidly on the ground giving her the ability to thrust up hard against you. The rock-hard bulge in her pants starts to pound into the sensitive skin around your pussy and there’s no-where for the blunt pressure to escape. You take the brunt of her thrusts as they rock your body up into the air and you try your best to keep up with her fervent pace, grinding yourself along the restricted length of her cock.

“Oh god!” Natasha moans, her voice shaky and high pitched.

Her head fogs up and her mouth opens with soft moans of your name, over and over, that you do your best to soothe, you kiss along her neck, up along her jaw and eventually back to her lips. She’s gorgeous, all soft and smooth skin, you admire how red and puffy her face is getting and try not to think about the same effect between her legs.

The pressure doesn’t take long to build but right before she starts to break, a different kind of throbbing starts to thrum at the base of her cock. Something desperate in the pit of her stomach starts to crave more. Her alpha is all too aware that it's you above her. Her whole body starts to vibrate, but she shoves that voice down as it tells her to rip your pants off and make you hers for real.

"Fuck," She grunts, "Fuck, fuck, fuck."

She sounds pained and you hurry to console her.

"You're okay," You whisper, "It's ok."

Your glands start to burn with the fog of pheromones seeping out to please her and it seems to work. Natasha picks up her pace, your hands move to grip on her shoulders as you cling on for dear life as she rocks her pelvis under you. Your cheek presses against the sharp line of her jaw and every exhale forces soft feminine whines from your lips as you moan and whimper at the painful and pleasurable way her bulge strikes your clit. She hears the soft sound crystal clear in the ear your lips press against and it captivates her alpha long enough to forget about all that’s missing.

Your chests rub together. Her nipples, hard through her shirt, brush against your own in an oscillation of forceful and gentle pressure as you bang back and forth into her. You moan her name as a small orgasm bursts from the grinding pressure bumping against your clit, making your cunt pulse and gush. All at once, the powerful scent of your arousal wafts up and it’s far too much for her, she lets go.

Her fingertips dig into your skin and she pulls you down hard into her pelvis. She thrusts up into you uncontrollably as she squirts into her underwear, every hump against your cunt is joined with a breathy groan as she instinctively tries to pump her seed in you, it makes your omega mewl and scratch against your rib cage in disappointment.

She catches her breath hidden away in the crux of your neck and a tentative hand snakes around your waist to hold you tight against her chest. Your nose nudges against her scent gland as you hope that at least some of her scent is seeping into your sheets and clinging to your skin so you can enjoy it after she’s gone.

“Oh my god.” She whispers, tilting her head back and the muscles in her throat strain under the weight of her head. You debate pressing a wet kiss to the thick vein bulging from under her skin as it thumps with her fast pulse, it’s calling out to you but your bravado is slipping away now that the high of her movement against you is over. Her dazed expression makes you giggle and soon the pair of you are giggling manically into the heated air between you.

“Are you okay?” You whisper.

You can feel her still hard beneath you and you’re doing your best not to press too much weight onto her lap as you climb off her legs.

“More than okay.” She replies, a shy smile poking a cute dimple into her cheeks.

It takes her a moment to relax and you wait for the moment to become awkward but it doesn't happen. Eventually she stands up from the bed and you don’t stop her this time when she reaches for her bag. You want to tell her you love her. You love the flush in her cheeks and the softness of her hands when they wrap around you. You adore the thickness of her thighs, the feeling of being chest to chest and her lips are even better than you imagined. Most of all, you love the things you can’t see on the surface.

But you keep your mouth shut, at least until tomorrow, you can’t risk ruining your chance to be with her.

You walk her downstairs to your door and watch through the window curtains as she jogs down the street towards her house. Every step reminds her of the painful knot rubbing against the rough material of her pants. She spends the whole trip home thinking of nothing but your glazed eyes, the beautiful bounce in your breasts, and the blissful warmth between your legs.

Yelena looks at her suspiciously when she comes in through the backdoor with her bag covering her crotch which she tries and fails to make look natural. Luckily Alexi isn’t there to get a whiff of her and she washes away any incriminating evidence in the shower.

At home, you skip dinner, telling your parents that you’ve come down with a stomach ache and it’s not exactly a lie. There’s a flood of wetness that continues to build every time your mind drifts back to the redhead. It’s certainly not the first time your cunt has wept thinking about her, but this one leaves a sharp and painful stabbing sensation behind. You hide under your sheets for the rest of the night, itching to see Natasha again and god knows, it’s always like this with her.

~~~

part ii ❤️

#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x female reader #natasha romanoff #natasha romanov x reader #wlw #writing #The One Chance

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fandomfluffandfuck · 1 month

Note

Ok ok ok ok, the post about Steve drawing a portrait of his own dick for Bucky’s wallet, and all your posts about Steve’s exhibitionist streak -

My uncle is a photographer and at their old house he had a picture up in the spare bedroom, of my aunt from their honeymoon where she’s naked on a beach. It’s artfully shadowed and you’d have to stare at it for a while to understand what you’re looking at (or at least I did when I was 9), but I distinctly remember him taking it down once before a dinner party, winking at me, and saying something like, “this doesn’t stay up for company.”

Steve drawing intimate portraits of himself for Bucky. Bucky starts just the way you wrote, as a silly little ask to keep in his wallet and make Steve blush, but also because Steve never had self confidence in himself as an artist and is resisting getting back into it even as a hobby, and Bucky figures that anything that will get Steve drawing again is a good thing, especially if he can rib him for it. But that doesn’t prepare Bucky for the look on Steve’s face the first time Bucky pulls out his wallet when Steve KNOWS the photo is in there.

They’re at a neighborhood coffee shop. The shop is busy, people passing by everywhere. After learning about credit card fees both he and Steve try to pay with cash whenever they can, so Bucky is chatting with the barista as he digs through his wallet for exact change. He turns to Steve to ask if he has 26 cents and-

Bucky scoffs whenever people say that honesty is one of Steve’s positive attributes, cause yeah, the guy’s honest, but with a poker face as shitty as his, he doesn’t really have a choice.

Bucky sees it all on his face. Beet red from his hairline to where his collarbones peek out from his shirt, mouth gulping in shallow breaths, eyes wide and terrified and so dark he looks high, bouncing between the wallet in Bucky’s hand and the people getting creamer behind him. He’s so overwhelmed that he hasn’t even thought to cover himself, and his dick (flaccid in the portrait; should Bucky have questioned that choice? Did Steve draw what he saw? Or did he get hard and feel ashamed of it?) is hard under his jeans, begging for Bucky to reach out and grab. Steve’s eyes flicker up to Bucky’s, and a slow, evil smirk slides across Bucky’s lips.

“C’mon Stevie, help me out. You don’t want me to drop anything on the floor, do you?”

Something in Steve’s head clicks and he jerks back to life, digging out his own wallet and handing over the change, eyes on his shoes. Instead of waiting at the counter, Bucky drags Steve to a spot on the back wall and, casual as can be, moves his body between Steve’s and the cafe and cups a large hand between Steve’s legs.

“Bucky, what-“

“That’s why you said yes, isn’t it?” Bucky murmurs, dragging his hand up and down like a slow handjob. Steve chokes on his own saliva, eyes glued to Bucky’s. “You weren’t just indulging me, you LIKE it. You like thinking that any stranger coming up behind me could see me handling your dick like money. I don’t have to put your ass on the corner, you printed your own cock-sucker cash just for me.”

Steve whimpers, fine trembles running through his limbs. He knows his safe word. He doesn’t use it.

“What would Maggie think if I handed her your cock to pay for my latte? She’d want more next time, wouldn’t she? A pretty cock like that, you can’t get just once, huh?”

They get out of the cafe without being charged with indecent exposure, and the moment they get home Bucky muscles Steve to the bed and fucks him until he’s wailing.

After, they get up. Reheat their lukewarm coffee. Watch rugby on TV while Bucky absentmindedly rubs Steve’s feet, until it’s time for Steve to leave for a jog with Nat.

Just as Steve is about to head out the door, Bucky calls, “Hey Steve? When you get home, I want you to draw yourself hard. Use that nice paper I got you for Christmas. About time we put up some more art around here, huh?”

Over the next few months Steve draws dozens of sketches of himself, and one by one they go up on the walls of their apartment. Mostly in private areas like their bedroom or the en-suite, but every so often they’ll have Sam or Nat over and Steve will glance up in the middle of a sentence and feel his throat fill with fire because Bucky’s snuck one of them up. It’s half hidden behind the curtains but Steve sees it every time the breeze blows through the open window; that’s the one he drew on the floor, on his hands and knees, a system of mirrors rigged between his legs so he could sketch himself as Bucky rocked into him. He drew everything, from the precum drooling from under his foreskin to his dangling balls to Bucky’s shaft gleaming with lube and stretching him open.

He doesn’t let himself look at it for the rest of the night. He doesn’t know if Sam or Nat see it. But when they say their goodbyes and Bucky closes the door behind them, Bucky turns to Steve already on the floor on his knees, on his chest, whining in helplessness as he struggles to pull his clothing off without changing position.

Bucky doesn’t help him. Leans against the door and plays with his own cock as Steve finally gets his jeans and underwear down, contorts his arm so he can pull back a cheek, whimpers for it.

Bucky goes to him. But not before grabbing Steve’s sketchbook.

related to this

I 👏🏻 fucking 👏🏻 love 👏🏻 this 👏🏻

Like, oh my fucking GOD, this is so good. This is such a good fucking concept and then the way you wrote on top of that--the dirty talk especially, christ--makes it irresistible. Fuck.

This is fantastic. Thank you so, so much for this. This is going to and already does live rent-free in my head 😮‍💨😮‍💨 I can see every part of this ask, and it's filthy and beautiful

#asks #sail-not-drift #anon provided writing #bucky barnes #steve rogers #stucky #artist steve rogers #artist steve

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traffic-light-eyes · 8 months

Text

Ninja as Marvel Superheroes

Lloyd:

To me, this is the most obvious. He would be Spider-Man; Spider-Man is young, witty, and learning the ropes along the way. I'd imagine he'd make his design off of a green lynx and still keep the ninja motif with baggier pants, maybe. I just genuinely think he'd be Spider-Man if anything.

Nya:

Hear me out. Iron Man. Her being iron man makes so much sense!! It calls back to her days as Sam X with her mech. And don't even bother talking to me about how it's Iron Man, I really don't care. She'd be, like, Iron Samurai or Iron Maiden (because I totally think she'd name herself after a killing machine). She's techy, incredibly smart, and resourceful! Maybe a bit prickly at first, but that's her <3

Zane:

This one is kinda a tie between Hawkeye and Vision. Skill wise, I feel Hawkeye would fit more, but personality and being, well, a robot, Vision fits better. So, I think I'll go with Vis! Like I said earlier, both are robots/nindroids/synthezoids, and both have a very similar personality! Even the Ice Chapter could fit in with what happened to Vis in WandaVision (I won't spoil!). It's definitely a good pick!

Kai:

He was a bit difficult. I feel like he gives Black Widow vibes, though. He is very skilled, stealthy, and not above killing for the people he loves. He's a fierce protecter of his people from the shadows and a bit standoffish at first - just like Nat! I just feel that Nat is way more suave than he could ever be.

Jay:

FALCON!! It calls back to when he tried to make wings from the junkyard! This was probably the easiest one to choose!!! I think that instead of his wings being from the military, he made them himself. He loves his people and wants nothing more than to do what is right. I don't think that a single person could fit him better.

Cole:

Hulk or Cap! I feel like using Hulk is a bit of a cop-out because, well, big strong man smashes things woah. Seems too easy. He doesn't have much in common with Bruce aside from strength, really. So I didn't want to fully choose him. Cap, however, seems like a much better fit. Cap had spent his days as a show-pony, basically. Singing, dancing, the likes. This feels similar to Lou's pushiness to the arts. Similarly, Cap (if you didn't know) loves to draw! Two confirmed drawings in his sketchbook are the monkey riding a unicycle and a little sketch of the city in the corner of the page. This really draws back to Cole. Not to mention, both Cap and Cole seem like the grounding glue holding the team together. The mother-hen. The face of the team. (Don't even lie to me and say he isn't. You don't have to be the main character to be the face - he's not even my favorite character, and I completely agree that he's the face. Everyone I know, when asked, says that they had a crush on Cole. It's ridiculous.) I just love the idea of Cole as Cap!

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spicywhenspeaking · 5 months

Text

If I'm There: Chapter Twelve

read from the start

summary: Noah and Natalie meet in high school and developed a relationship through their love of music and art. Falling in love, innocent and young, they think nothing can keep them apart. However, sometimes in the pursuit of your dreams the things we love the most get left behind.

warnings : mentions of alcohol abuse. this story contains mature themes, minors do not interact.

taglist : @lma1986 @cookiesupplier @notingridslurkaccount @blackveilomens @thisbicc @thebadchic

It's the first Saturday in a while that I don’t have work and all I want to do is watch movies and rot in my bed. I decide to wait to talk to Noah about the voicemail, I don't want to think the worst It doesn’t stop the feelings from festering but I’m trying to be mature.

I head downstairs to grab something to eat for breakfast and I see a letter on the kitchen counter addressed to me. It’s from the scholarship fund I applied for last year.

Dear Miss Howlston,

We regret to inform you that we are unable to process your application due to it being incomplete. You are therefore ineligible for the McGovern Scholarship Fund……

My breathing goes rapid as I read the words. Inside is the application I sent in. I flip to the end page, tears welling into my eyes and blurring my vision, and see the highlighted section where my Mom was supposed to sign. It is empty. I asked her over and over and over. I even sat in front of her with a pen but she was too preoccupied with opening her next bottle of wine to pay any attention. I should have just forged it. Why didn’t I forge it?!

“What the fuck.” I whimper out as heavy tears fall like raindrops.

“What the fuck!” I repeat. My limit has been reached. I cannot hold it in anymore.

I crumple the paper, forgetting the bowl of cereal I prepared on the counter, and run upstairs as sobs begin to wrack my body. I get to my room, slam the door, and dive head-first into my pillows as another sob leaves my mouth. I grab my phone and try Noah’s cell, the feelings of jealousy are pushed away for the moment, I just need to talk to him.

Ring ring ring ring *click* “Hey Natty! It’s Nick, sorry Noah just ran out with Alex to grab everyone coffees. I guess he forgot his phone, what's up?”

A teenage girl can only handle so much in so little time, I cannot handle this. One hit after the next and now when I need Noah, just to hear him and talk to him he's with some other girl he didn't even tell me about. “Nick, I-” I pause. “Just forget I called. I’ll talk to you later.” I say and as I press the red end-call button I hear Nick's “Wait, Nat-” click.

The emotions I’m feeling are in an epic battle for dominance. The sadness and anger I feel towards my Mom, the loneliness and heartache I feel towards Noah. Is this life with him? Just waiting and hoping I hear from him. I should have told him how I felt about it before now, now I’m upset. I’m angry. I lay back against the pillows as fresh tears fall onto my cheeks and I hear a soft knock at my door.

“What?” I call out.

“Um, can I come in?’ Kyle asks softly.

“Sure.” I roll away from the door so my back is facing him as he opens up and takes a step inside.

“So I saw the letter in the kitchen,” he says and walks towards the bed. I feel it dip as he takes a seat on the corner. “I’m so sorry Nat.”

The tears fall harder and he places his hand gently on my shoulder and squeezes.

“It was the biggest one” sob “I ca-can’t afford the sc-schools I applied to without it.” I wipe the tears from my eyes. “The money I’ve saved from work is supposed to go towards moving and housing. Fuck. Why did I think art school was a good idea? What was I thinking? I’ll be stuck here for the rest of my life while everyone else is off living their dreams.” I know I’m being melodramatic but I don’t care.

“I have some money saved from working with Dad this summer,” Kyle tells me in a soft voice. “you could have it for school.”

I turn around, surprised at his offer. “Kyle. I couldn't accept that. You earned that working for Dad, having probably a horrible summer.” He laughs at my comment.

My phone lights up with Noah's contact photo. I stare at it for a few moments before hitting the end call button sending him to voicemail.

A few seconds later its ringing again and I reject the call and turn off my phone. I just can’t talk to him right now.

“Um, is everything alright?” Kyle asks awkwardly after noticing me decline Noah’s calls.

“Yeah…well. Sort of? Not really. It’s complicated. I need to talk to him but I don’t want to right now. It’s.-” I look at Kyle and he has an unnatural look of concern on his face. “I know you don't want to hear about my relationship drama. You said so yourself.”

A look of shame crosses his face. “I was an asshole, in more ways the one and I’m sorry for saying that. You can talk to me about anything Nat.” I sniffle as more tears continue falling. “I appreciate that Ky, I really do. I just don’t want to think about this thing with Noah and this scholarship thing, you know I didn’t even get to apply for financial aid because Mom didn't give me her proof of income. I’m totally screwed.” I wish I could call her. Yell at her for ruining my future. Scream at her for being so selfish, for being sick, for making Kyle and I take care of ourselves for so long. “I can apply for student loans I guess,” I mumble out, the last thing I wanted to do was build a mountain of debt. “Ugh, I don't want to think about it anymore.”

“Do you want to watch a movie or something?” Kyle asks.

Sitting up in bed I wipe the remaining tears from my face. I know my eyes must be puffy and red but with a small smile on my face I agree to the movie. “As long as it's horror, no lovey stuff right now. Just blood and guts.” Kyle laughs, “deal”

We go downstairs and decide to watch “Sinister.” It offers an escape from my current thoughts and after watching Kyle tells me he’s ordering a pizza for dinner. Dad texted that he’s staying at his house near his job site since he has an early morning, not much of a surprise.

When I get into my room I turn my phone back on and see I have some missed texts from Noah.

Noah: hey Natty :) Nick said you called, you ok? 1:20pm

Noah: Sorry I didn't call last night, the show ended late and we all stayed up until like 4am. 1:20pm

Noah: Natty? Everything okay? 1:35pm

Noah: call me when you get a chance, I miss the sound of your voice. 2:26pm

I stare at the messages. “Everything okay” I repeat in an annoyed voice. “No, everything isnt okay. My future is fucked and I have no plan.” I say to myself.

I take a deep calming breath and call Noah.

Ring ring- *click* “Natty! I’m so glad you called. I miss you so much.” Noahs voice is light and happy and I just wish he was here. Two weeks between tests or projects goes by with lightning speed, two weeks without Noah moves at a glacial pace.

“Hey Noah.” My voice is soft and I have to clear my throat to break through the tightness forming. “I miss you too.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t call last night,” but you did call, you just didnt know. “We didnt leave the venue until like midnight, it was wild. So much fun, I wish you were here.”

“Yeah, sounds like you guys were having a really great time.” I’m trying to hide the emotions in my voice, just wanting to hear him and pretend nothing is wrong, but that can’t last forever.

“Is everything alright Nat? You sound…weird, not weird but..you don't sound like yourself.” Noah says.

Fuck, so much for hiding my emotions. “um I just got some news from my scholarship application today that was upsetting, and last night -” I try but Noah’s voice cuts me off.

“Was it less than you expected?” He asks.

“They denied me the scholarship and last ni-.” Noah cuts me off again.

“What??!” Noah almost shrieked and I had to pull the phone from my ear. “Denied? With your grades? And you got first place in the last youth art contest last month, how could they deny you? When did you find out?”

“Um yeah, it's because my mom didn't sign something, I didn't realize it was sent in without it. I feel like such an idiot.” I mutter out defeated.

“Fuck, Natty. That sucks. Did something else happen? You called this morning and then just disappeared.” Noah questions.

“Well yeah, you did call me last night Noah.I guess you pocket-dialed me.” I tell him. “You were talking to some girl and she was asking you about the next leg of this tour. She was saying how much she’d miss you if didn’t go with them.”

“Oh. Shit.” he breathes. “I’m sorry about that. It’s just Alex from the band we're opening for on the tour, she doesn't mean it like anything.”

“But you said maybe.” my voice is small.

“Well I have to consider it..Nat. it's a huge opportunity. You understand that right?” He sounds exasperated, like wondering how I could be opposed.

“And school? What about that?” I ask, with more edge in my voice than I meant.

“Alex dropped out and her band is getting huge, I don’t need a high school diploma to make my dreams come true,” he responded with a slight sting in defense.

“Oh, and whatever Alex says goes huh? You're just dropping out?” And now I’m getting angry, the festering feelings that disappeared with the movie are returning with white-hot intensity. “You were with her last night after you said you’d try and call me and then this morning I got that letter that absolutely destroys my future and when I call Nick answers and you are busy again with her..” I bite out.

“What are you implying?” he asks.

“I’m not impling anything, I tired to call. You were busy. Thats a fact.” I bite back.

“I’m sorry Natty, but nothing happened on the trip, with Alex if that's what you're thinking,” he says. “This kind of exposure is exactly what I’ve been working for. I thought you would be excited for me? I thought you believed in me?” Now his voice is small, like he’s genuinely upset and I feel sick that I’m the one that would have caused it.

“I don't think anything happened. I trust you, Noah. I'm just going through a lot right now. I hung up on Nick because I was upset and then I didn't return your texts because I was still upset. With you, with my mom just about everything. I needed you.” I take a deep breath before continuing. “Of course, I believe in you Noah, but I mean you're talking about just leaving school? We're seniors, so close to graduating already why throw it all away when you're so close.

“If I don't take this chance now I'll be throwing away this dream, there's no guarantee I'll get this opportunity again.”

“So what? Do you want me to just sit around and wait for you to call? I mean that is if you call?” I ask him.

“Why is this a fight? I thought you'd be happy for me?” Noah’s voice is rising with frustration.

“It’s not a fight Noah, I just thought you’d take the time to at least talk about it with me about it first. I mean you talk all the time about our futures like you want them to be together but you’re making these huge decisions and not even telling me about it first.” I try to keep my voice steady but I know it's wobbling a little.

“I haven’t even decided yet, you’re talking like I’m doing this to hurt you. I am thinking about our future Natty, you could alway come with me?” He says and I scoff.

“You’re not serious, are you? I could graduate early but not until the spring and after all the work I’ve done with my GPA. You’d ask me to just drop out?” I ask.

“You’d ask me to say no to this opportunity?” Noah questions in response.

“You know what Noah? I think we should just talk about this when you get home. I have a lot of homework that I need to work on and this is just too much right now on top of everything else.” I tell him in a defeated voice.

“I’m sorry Natty, I love you. I didn’t want to talk about it like this. I can’t stand you being sad because of me.”

“I love you too Noah, It'll be okay. Let's just talk later okay?"

We finish our goodbyes and I toss my phone back on the bed and take the homework out of my backpack.

The rest of the week is slow. School and work are uneventful. Noah and I barely text and it feels awful, what happened? It was great for months and he leaves for two weeks and falls apart? Is our relationship that fragile?

Friday I’m working behind the counter while a jazz trio plays for the night as our live musical guests. I don’t hate it, I guess. Noah is supposed to get in tonight but we didn't really make plans, I’m not sure if I’ll see him. I’m busy checking the syrups and making sure all of the milk options are full in the fridge when I hear someone clear their throat behind me.

I turn around and like just the thought of him caused him to appear Noah is standing in front of me.

“Hey Natty”

Next chapter here!!!! Thank you besties!!!!!!

divider from here!

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obwald · 5 months

Text

RAAHHHHHH finished

oswald original screenshot that I redrew:

#oswald the lucky rabbit #epic mickey #oswald #mickey mouse #disney #mickey #oswald and mickey #mickey and oswald #nat art corner #oswald doodle corner

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mostly-marvel-musings · 1 year

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Rhodes has probably walked in on Tony and his s/o so many times that at this point he's just like "oh the two seals are at it again... EVERYONE, STAY OUT OF THE KITCHEN, THE SEALS ARE THERE" which probably just ruins the sex because now Tony and his s/o can't stop laughing, while the avengers are outside complaining because "c'mon, we eat there! don't they have a full fucking floor for them, why are they in the common kitchen!?!"

Voyeurism

Pairing: Tony Stark x Reader

Warnings: 18+ smut and fluff and humour and all the good things in life!

Yet another clang echoed through the kitchen as a metal bowl clattered on the marble, forcing a giggle to escape your lips before Tony’s lips silenced it.

Hearing a door unlock, you broke the kiss to listen in on a possible walk in on your semi-undressed state. Tony simply shrugged, continuing like nothing could bother the man while he was focused on his task; which was to slip his fingers inside those leggings you wore that made your butt look amazing.

He had wasted no time in cornering you in the kitchen as you returned from a sparring session, shoving you against the counter before slanting his hungry mouth on yours, hands groping your breasts that looked tantalising to him.

“Are we giving them a show again?” You smirked, eyes hooded with lust as Tony momentarily halted his ministrations to look at his art work that was your flushed skin, swollen lips, beard burn that left it’s delicious red marks along the column of your throat and neck.

“Honey it’s not our fault they keep barging in on us while we’re minding our business.” He murmured, giving you a wink before turning you around and pushing you against the countertop.

Back against his firm chest, you gasped as Tony’s hand slipped inside your panties, parting your legs by wedging his knee in between to open you up for him.

“It’s a common kitchen, Tony…” you trailed off, weaving your fingers through his shorter, soft hair as he soothed the marks he’d made with his tongue.

“Mmhmm. Which I paid for.”

Even from the back of your head, he could tell you’d rolled your eyes at his statement; he parted your lower lips and revealed your clit to swipe his thumb teasingly against the bud.

Between little mewls and gasps, Tony worked you up like he always did, arousal pooled between your legs which he gathered on his fingers to slide them in your entrance, leaving a burning desire for more.

There were distant footsteps you could hear approaching, meaning someone was on their way to the kitchen. You felt Tony’s fingers slip out before the man licked them clean, causing your cheeks to heat up.

“Damnit Tony, don’t be a tease.” You couldn’t care less if anybody were to walk in on the two of you right now, you had needs and this man was going to be the death of you.

He chuckled at your whining, flipping you around once again and pushing his tongue past your lips, allowing you to taste yourself on him. The authority with which Tony kissed you had you weak in knees every single time, he owned every inch of you and his kisses consumed you.

The way his fingers tugged on your hair, pulling it just enough to elicit a moan from your lips; a smirk that you wished to wipe off his handsome face with the way your body behaved so obedient for him.

“I would absolutely love nothing more than to bend you over this counter and fuck you senseless but baby, this ass right here, it’s all mine. Wouldn’t want anyone else to see it.” Tony slapped your ass for effect, pulling it flush against him to let you feel his boner that was straining against his pants.

“That didn’t stop you before..” you challenged him, palming his clothed cock to watch his mouth fall open and his breath shudder.

“Maybe I have plans for you in the shower today. Shut that pretty mouth of yours by stuffing my cock in it, hmm?”

Grabbing your hand, he pulled you towards your bedroom, not noticing Nat and Steve with their scandalised faces as both of them emerged in the kitchen.

“Stay away from the common areas you rabbits!” You heard Nat yell after the two of you, making you giggle as Tony entered the bedroom after leading you in and purposely slammed the door shut.

#tony stark x fem!reader #tony stark imagine #tony stark smut #tony stark x reader #tony stark fanfiction #tony stark fluff #tony stark feels #tony stark drabble #tony stark oneshot #marvel fanfiction #the stark squad #tony stark #iron man smut #iron man x reader

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unholyhelbig · 5 months

Note

part 4 mob boss mommy *i mean natty oops*

Title: The Oversight [Part 4/7]

Ship: Female!Reader x Natasha Romanoff

Wordcount: 4325

Warnings: Gun imagery, heights, unecessary tension, horrible grammar, and funnel cake

[A/n: Heads up, I wrote this while I had the flu & a pretty bad fever, so it's not my greatest work. Thank you all for the postive feedback!]

Main Masterlist | Read my stuff on AO3 | Leave Requests

“Hit me.” Natasha’s words were growled, a low rumble compared to the warm spring breeze that produced nothing but a balmy environment. Sweat glossed her collarbone, moved against expanses of skin that you had let yourself imagine, but had never seen. She was a distraction, despite being your instructor.

Her wrapped fist made contact with your jaw, a metallic taste coating your tongue. You let out a grunt of protest, fingers quickly working against the area to ease the throbbing pain. “That wasn’t fair,”

“You think they’re going to play fair? Focus up. Hit me.”

There was something about being this close to Natasha that formed a pit in your stomach. You were meant to have skin on skin contact, though most of your mornings for the past two weeks had been spent at the gun range, she had deemed you ready enough to learn how to fight. It was an art, you figured, not just something you could blindly go into.

For the first fifteen minutes of your day, you had watched Natasha and Kate spar. Yelena was standing next to you, a borderline predatory gaze on her face. You’d realized that it was one of the only emotions she harbored, and that Clint was rightful in his fear. Still, her attention was not focused on you, and that was good enough for the time being.

Instead, it was homed in on Kate. “I have been teaching her for nearly a year now.”

“She’s good.”

“You do not have to lie, y/n. She’s sloppy, reckless. Look how calculated Natalia is.”

Those emerald eyes were tracking every move the taller girl made. She’d initiated contact with Kate’s ribs, with her knees, and her shoulders. She’d fallen to the grass more times than you could count, but she still got up. That’s what seemed to count around here. Even as green a brown stained her workout gear, and as purple blotches of dead blood rose to the surface of her skin.

“It pays to learn fighting styles. That is something the Danver’s family does not understand. They hire whoever they can. Bodies over skill, it can work in some situations, but not all.”

“When did this… war start?”

“Mm, the power struggle has been raging for decades. Our parents, and their parents, and their parents before them. Both of us were trained to take over the family business. Men, they fight with their hearts and not their heads. When Carol and Natalia took up the mantel, things only got worse.”

You felt silly, growing up on these city blocks, and not realizing that a fight bigger than yourself was raging just within the shadows. You supposed that was a good thing. If you knew, you’d have taken Ronnie out of here in a second.

Kate hit the ground for a fourth time, the air knocked out of her lungs. She still had enough left to groan and prop herself up on her elbows. Natasha chuckled, the sound bubbling past her lips. This was much too fun for her.

“She is fragile.” Yelena nudged you with her arm. You frowned. Kate accepted the outstretched hand and allowed herself to be pulled to her feet. She looked dazed. “Do not tell her I said so, but she was looking for a project. You have to give it your all. For both of your sakes.”

You drew in a breath to respond, but Yelena clapped a hand on your back before taking a step toward the dueling duo. “Alright Nat! I think you’ve tortured Kate Bishop enough. Do not break her.”

Kate was bouncing back and forth on the balls of her feet, her fists raised in a defensive position. Her lip was split, rusty crimson against the corner of her mouth. “I can do this all day.”

“You do not have to.” Yelena’s nose scrunched up “You stink. Go take a shower.”

The blonde shoved Kate playfully towards the house, trailing behind her and murmuring things in Russian. She’d left you alone with Natasha, something you had become quite accustomed to. In your workout gear, you felt more than a little exposed, her stare raking up and down your form before her cheeks turned a deeper shade of pink than they already were.

The two of you had sat on the lawn chairs as she wrapped your knuckles, had you punch the palm of her hand to see how much blowback it would cause. You were holding back, and you both knew it. Her last command had been non-negotiable.

When you swung your right hand towards her jaw, Natasha wrapped her fingers around your wrist. She had flipped you onto the ground with enough force to knock the air from your lungs. You’d flailed in panic instead of going limp like Kate had.

You’d dragged Natasha down on top of you. Her body weight was warm from the beating sun, her elbows on either side of your head. Natasha’s knee was between yours, pressing into your core. You let out a small gasp at the sensation, pulling in her musky scent of sweat and clove.

Stray strands of russet hair framed Natasha’s face as she peered down at you, her chest heaving, each breath pushing her closer to you. Her nose was brushed against yours. The two of you were impossibly close, soul-crushingly so. You were certain that she could feel your heartbeat through your shirt.

She made a quite noise “Pet, if you wanted to get me on top of you, all you had to do was ask.”

Your gaze had given you away, and Natasha suddenly had a shit-eating grin against her lips. You hooked your legs against hers an arm wrapping around her waist. In a smooth move, you had her flipped against the grass, eyes reflecting the blue of the cloudless sky. She nearly seemed impressed, and you preened at the stare.

That was before her knee came up and knocked the wind out of you for the second time. You grunted, rolling off her. The two of you stared up at the sky for a few moments before she hoisted herself up and offered you a hand. You batted it away out of habit, rising on your own.

“When you fall, you fall with grace.” Natasha said, her voice stoney, right back to her serious self. “That way you don’t end up like we just were.”

“And if they ask?” you lifted an eyebrow at her, a hint of malice in her voice. She took a step closer to you, and that ever-intoxicating scent filled your lungs once more. Your ribs still ached from her kick, fingers massaging the sore spot. However, all of your movement halted.

Her voice was murmured and rusty. “I don’t want anyone else on top of you.”

“Okay,” You whispered, throat suddenly tight. “Then show me how.”

Veronica had the excited reflection of light in her eyes. They scanned the traveling fair that had been set up in the park bordering the harbor and a square city block. Each year, tents with local vendors would go up, rides and carnival games in their stead.

The scent of kettle corn filled your lungs, a mix of sweet and salty that reminded you of your own childhood spent here. It was the one constant that every foster family took part in. Sometimes you’d be given a stack of tickets, others, you’d get enough for a large cup of the best lemonade you had ever tasted.

Her hand tightened around yours, squeezing in excitement. Despite your current situation, you couldn’t help but smile. The soft sound of music and the light breeze was enough to make your forget about your aching muscles, and the light sweater that you had thrown on to hide the bruising against your shoulders, your arms, and collarbone. Natasha had really done a number on you.

“Jimmy is a nice guy, he really is, but the whole magic thing is driving me nuts.” Darcy used her forefingers to pinch off a bit of blue cotton candy, shoving it into her mouth. She talked around the melting sugar. “Seriously, he spilled my coffee all over my lap attempting a card trick and then attempted to mop it up with a never-ending handkerchief.”

You snickered at that, earning a look cut from glass. “What? I’m sorry about your drycleaning, but it is kind of funny.”

“Yeah, whatever. I just have to grow a backbone. He doesn’t try to pull that shit with Monica. No one tries to pull that shit with her.” She knelt in front of Ronnie, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear. “You’re not going to tolerate stupid magic tricks, are you?”

She was met with a silent, but amused stare, her eyebrow lifted. You’d been leveled with that look more than once yourself. It dissolved you into more laughter. “Alright, alright. No magic for the kid. Does the Ferris Wheel count as magic?”

“Well sure, but only at the worlds fair.”

You rolled your eyes but effectively tugged them both into the line. It had always been one of your favorites. It gave you a good look at the city you called home. Of course, your view of that city had been stunted lately. It never truly changed the beauty of the lights and the way they reflected off the water.

Your shoulder came in contact with chilled leather, your attention having been trained on fishing through your pockets for the small red tickets. Your eyes shot up, ready to rush out an apology until the words stopped in your throat.

Seeing Natasha outside of her manor was jarring. She looked nearly the same, a tight-fitting black T-shirt and a leather jacket draped over her shoulders. Her hair was loose, unlike it was at training earlier in the day, cascading down her shoulders. Her make-up was light, her unripe stare pouring into yours. That bewilderment melted into her cool exterior as if it were never there in the first place.

“Natasha,” the word poured from your lips before you could stop it, and the corner of her mouth quirked up in amusement. “Sorry, I wasn’t paying attention.”

“I can take a hit” She stated matter-of-factly. You were well aware of the fact, and you had to stifle a shiver as it worked its way down your spine. Hours before she had been nestled so perfectly on top of you.

Your cheeks heated up and you glanced sparingly at your friend, her own eyes going back and forth between the both of you. It was then that you noticed Clint, towering over Natasha with his arms crossed over his chest. He gave you a finger wave, and you lifted your chin in return.

“I’m Darcy, you are?” She was beyond forward, and it made you internally cringe. She reached her hand out to the very woman that ran the city. It was like sticking your hand in the lions enclosure covered in steak sauce.

“Natasha,” her words dripped with a subtle hint of her accent “This is Clint.”

“Howdy,” he knelt then, Veronica was clinging tightly to your leg, peeking around tentatively. She hugged you closer as he spoke. “You must be Veronica.”

The woman in front of you softened as you had never seen before. Her eyes grew brighter, though you could pin that on the circulating lights of the Ferris Wheel. There was a genuine smile on her lips as she looked at the girl who hugged you ever close.

“She doesn’t talk much, I’m afraid.” Your hand moved comfortingly to her shoulder. Ronnie seemed comfortable, if not excited about the rides that were teeming around them.

Nat smiled at you “Oh, I’m sure she’ll speak when she has something to say.”

Ronnie’s death-grip on your leg seemed to loosen a bit as Clint straightened up. Darcy continued to scrutinize you and Natasha, something mischievous in her stare that you didn’t exactly care for. She rocked back and forth on her feet and directed her attention to Clint.

“How good are you at skeeball?”

“An absolute beast.” Clint replied.

“What do you say to a challenge? I bet I can kick your ass with the power of science. Winner springs for funnel cake.”

You picked up on the subtle look Clint gave Natasha and the even more subtle wave that she responded with. She blew an amused breath. Darcy stretched her hand towards Ronnie and wiggled her finger. “Kid, you staying or going?”

This time, Ronnie looked up at you for confirmation and you gave her a small, encouraging nod. She dislodged herself and wrapped her hand around Darcy’s. The promise of flaky and sweet funnel cake topped with powdered sugar was too tantalizing.

Admittedly, you were used to being left alone with Natasha at this point. Though it had mostly been in a business capacity. She seemed almost shy now, the line for the Ferris Wheel inching ever so closer.

“We can still go on, if you want.” She suggested.

“Yeah, yes. Of course.” You replied, “that would be lovely.”

“Your friend is very persistent.”

“She’s harmless, really.”

“And your daughter. She’s beautiful.” Natasha shoved her hands into her pockets, the two of you inching closer in line. “Just like her mother.”

Once again, you could feel the breath lodge in your throat, your cheeks flushing with fire. She was so bold at moments, and you remained silent in your conquest. There was no telling what was overstepping, though she blinked at you expectantly.

You fumbled dumbly with the tickets in your pockets, presenting them to the attendant. You both ended up in a cherry red car lined with nice leather cushions. Natasha’s thigh was warm against yours, her thick scent coating your lungs. Her arm was around the back of the cart, and a familiar sense of safety settled within you.

“You worry about her,” Natasha said to fill the silence as they loaded each cart. It lurched forward and back, making your stomach turn. “I didn’t start speaking until I was nine years old. My mother, she was so concerned that she rushed to be every specialist that money could buy. Whole days spent driving to different counties, just for them to say that same thing. Nothing is wrong, and I’ll talk when I’m ready.”

“What was that moment? The one where you were ready?”

She shrugged her shoulders. “The thing about being quiet, is that people tend not to notice when you’re in the room. My father protected Yelena and I from his world for as long as he could, but eavesdroppers hear no good of themselves, and others. I watched him give a man his last drink before shooting him between the eyes.”

“Fuck, Natasha.” You murmured.

“He doesn’t know I saw that. I ran as quietly as I could back to my room and hid under the duvet like a child. Something snapped in me that day and I no longer wanted to be silent. I suppose the fear of displeasing either of them ebbed the words from me.”

She was being vulnerable in front of you, a side that you had never seen. There were always her subtle touches, and her purred words that would hit the pit of your stomach. You’d watch as she gave unwavering commands to Clint, to Yelena and Kate. But this was different. This was her.

The city sparkled around you. Tricolored lights reflected off the blackness of the causeways that lapped listlessly at the harbor. If you squinted, you could almost make out the mansion where you spent most of your time.

The carnival buzzed below. Her scent was overwhelming, so warm and welcoming despite her danger. And dangerous she was. It was alluring, exciting. You looked at her, eyes pouring with emotion. Not so much pity, as she would snap your wrist at the fact. But a simple understanding.

Tentatively, you reached up and cupped her cheek. You both were too far above the ground to be realized and the simple gesture was one of good faith. Surprisingly, she leaned into your touch, making a quiet, relieved noise.

Your voice was whispered, “You didn’t deserve that. You were just a kid.”

She had closed her eyes, reveling in the warmth of your contact. Her features were so soft, so broken in this moment that you resisted the urge to kiss her frown away. Before you could contemplate it, the Ferris Wheel lurched and she gently took her fingers and wrapped them around your wrist, lowering both of your hands into her lap.

“She’ll talk,” Natasha gave your hand a squeeze “give her time.”

Natasha cleared her throat as the cart neared the end of its journey. She pulled away entirely, her arm still along the back of the seat. When she leaned closer, you could feel the weight of the gun in the inside pocket of her jacket. Seriousness had lidded over her eyes once more.

“We have a job tonight, and I want you to come along.” She said, breath hot on your collarbone.

You were suddenly snapped back to reality. Natasha was in fact the head of a crime ring that you had unwittingly stumbled into. Up until now, aside from the brutal beating, it had almost felt like child’s play. She’d relearned you how to shoot, and you knew the very basics of fighting. But, you were far from her Winter Soldier stand in. You weren’t even a toy soldier.

She sensed your hesitancy. “I have a meeting at a restaurant downtown. It’s not going to go south, but if it does, I need you there. You won’t be alone.”

“Clint?” You asked.

She shook her head “guys got a family of his own, he must spend some time with them outside of work hours. Kate.”

You fought back the noise that threatened to escape your throat. You didn’t doubt Kate, but you certainly doubted yourself. You didn’t have your own weapon, and the threat of leaving a restaurant with a bullet lodged between your ribs became very real, very quickly.

She chuckled at that, “I trust her. I trust you. Just stand there and follow her lead. Look hot and intimidating.”

“Is hot really a requirement?”

“Not really, but you pull it off.” There was a switch in her again, one that had been flipped effortlessly as she grabbed the collar of your sweater and pulled you impossibly close. You were nearly sitting in her lap. “Don’t fail me on this, y/n. It’s imperative that you do as you’re told.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

You swallowed thickly as her hands wandered your side expertly. It took you a moment to realize that she had pulled the gun from her own coat and silently transferred it to yours before she released her hold on you. You had admit that you missed the touch instantly.

She stood from the cart when the attendant unlocked the door, reaching her hand out to you. You took it was ease, letting her help you onto the metal dismount. There were no words exchanged as you readjusted the weapon as slyly as you could muster, hands shoved into your pockets a moment later.

“I don’t know what to tell you, dude.” You could hear Darcy’s voice from within the crowds. It was easy to spot them, and you swore you saw the ghost of a smile on Natasha’s face. “The kid kicked both of our asses. Split the difference and pay up.”

“Yeah, fine.” Clint fished out his wallet and placed a couple of bills in Darcy’s waiting palm. “The price of carnival food these days is outrageous.”

Kate had presented you with a leather holster that fit snuggly around your chest and abdomen. She’d tightened the straps, your arms halfway raised. It felt a bit like a dressing room at the mall, her breath hot on your cheek as she tugged the center strap to make sure it was secure.

“Natasha likes us to be presentable.” She handed you a dark jacket to throw over the contraption. “Inconspicuous and deadly. But still presentable.”

You followed Kate’s lead. Natasha was to drive to the restaurant, and the two of you were to follow in a separate car. It was important to stay quiet unless you were spoken to directly by Natasha. Kate seemed at ease on the ride over, drumming her fingers against the steering wheel to an incoherent pop song.

The holster pinched you uncomfortably, but you were so deep into your own fear, your own reluctance, to pay much attention. Kate shot you a look, hard in her nature, and then softer when she glanced at you a second time.

“You’re much too tense” she flicked off the radio, delving you into a comfortable silence. “Lower your shoulders and relax. It’ll be an uneventful night.”

“Right,” you let out a shaky breath “uneventful.”

“Look, I can’t imagine how jarring this is for you. I would have shut down by now, changed my name and gone into witness protection if I was thrown into this life the way you are. Without a choice. But, we can make the best of it and do what we can to protect Natasha.”

“It seems like she can handle herself,”

Kate chuckled “Oh, she can. But she doesn’t keep us around just for protection. It’s a big city, she wants people she trusts. She wants a family. And I know it might not seem like it, but her welcoming you into her inner circle… it’s a blessing. Just like we’d go to bat for her, she’d do the same for us.”

You swallowed the dryness in your throat as Natasha pulled her car to the curb in front of a russet brick building. Kate did the same expertly, shutting off the engine. She clapped you on the shoulder, giving you one more encouraging smile. “One night at a time, y/n. Follow my lead.”

Kate opened the door for Natasha, and you had to keep your jaw from dropping on the ground at the sight of her. Her long leg stretched onto the sidewalk, her hand squeezing Kate’s in return as she helped her from the vehicle.

She wore a maroon dress, one that had a slit down the leg that left little to the imagination. The color matched the shirt Kate had given you earlier, everything orchestrated to a tee. The woman looked at you approvingly before she took striding steps towards the front of the building. Out of habit, you held the door open for you, another look sparkling in her dark eyes.

It was a restaurant that you had never set foot in. There was a sour, yet pleasant, scent of vinegar and cabbage masked with that of freshly baked bread and beef. The walls were painted deep green, black and white photos of rolling hills placed above empty tables.

It was clear what table you were to be led to. There was one in the center of the restaurant that was set up with a bottle of wine, and water. A candle burned in the middle, shading the woman who occupied it with shadows that stretched her delicate features. She wasn’t alone.

The woman had cropped blonde hair at the shoulders. Her hazel eyes were calculating, clocking Kate and yourself immediately. Kate pulled Natasha’s chair back, allowing her to sit before she took a step back. You flanked her sides, arms behind your back and stare trained straight ahead like a sentinel.

“Two,” the woman smiled devilishly, hiding it behind a glass of deep red wine. “Are you compensating for something, or someone?”

The woman who stood much like you did behind her boss was not masking her contempt towards you. She was familiar in an irking way that you paid no mind to. It was in passing, you were sure, but it was one of those itches that would worsen until you could scratch it with your whole hand.

“Not at all,” Natasha replied cooly, “I believe there was something you wanted to discuss?”

“Mm, there was. You know the Maroni property on the west side.” She leaned forward, placing her glass down. Her lips were stained in a dark red that matched Natasha’s dress. “I want it.”

“That’s a horrible way to say please.”

“Natasha, we both know it doesn’t serve you in it’s current position.” She put emphasis on the name.

“I fail to see how that matters. Just giving you the property is out of the question. That’s not how this works, but I do admire your gumption.”

“Then how exactly does, this work?” She narrowed her eyes and leaned forward. Both you and Kate tensed. The vaguely-familiar woman behind Carol shifted on her feet in the slightest movement. “You kill one of my men and offer nothing in return?”

Natasha lifted her eyebrows “Exactly. This isn’t a bartering system, and it never has been. If I give you this building, it will change everything and I’m not much in the mood for a power struggle. What do you need it for?”

She seemed to falter “I don’t have to answer that. I’m offering to buy the property from you.”

“It’s not for sale.”

There was finality in her voice that rocked the room into silence. She hadn’t touched her wine, nor her water, and you figured she wouldn’t. Carol glowered at her, clearly not used to having her endeavors squashed with such ferocity.

Natasha took a steadying breath. “Is that all? It’s late and I’m tired of your graveling.”

She let out a sigh and crossed her legs, drumming her ringed fingers on the cloth-laid table. The flames in the candle seemed to react to her impatience. Kate’s jaw clenched and unclenched as she leveled the woman behind Carol with a fierce stare.

“I suppose. I want you to remember this moment, Natasha. I offered you a deal.” She stood and dramatically sighed once more. “This could have been easy.”

Kate always kept her eyes on Carol, on the woman who followed behind her with her hands shoved into her pockets. The darkness of a previous scar littered her collarbone. She had the same stare that Bucky had, that same determined anger that came with years of meetings with higher stakes than this.

“Oh, and Nat.” She stopped just short of the door, turning to face the three of you.

Kate reached for her weapon, and out of a blind trust, so had you. It was warm from its housed place against your side. In that moment, you knew that anyone else in the room would be a quicker shot than you. Still, your heart was beating quickly in your throat.

“I don’t know where your Winter Soldier is, but this is a sorry excuse for a replacement.” She laughed, a mean sound. “A kid and a burn-out… you should’ve taken the deal.”

She left without another word, leaving you in a chilling silence. For a few long moments, Natasha stared at the table, at her reflection in the syrupy red wine. Her fingers brushed against the glass, frowning.

“I’m twenty-three.” Kate let out in a single breath, eyes drifting from you.

“Don’t look at me,” You whispered back, “I am a burn-out.”

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bishopsbeloved · 3 months

Text

the art of falling in love (part two)

natasha romanoff x fem reader (high school au)

best friend!yelena belova, aroace!yelena belova, internalised homophobia, found family trope, coming of age, angst, fluff (eventual happy ending)

read this fic on ao3!

A good few months have passed, now, since that night in the laundry closet. The harsh Ohio winter begins to melt away to a much more gentle spring, and as the world around you blossoms, so do the relations between you and Natasha.

They remain secret, of course. The novelty of sneaking around has not yet worn off, and so for now whatever is blooming between the two of you remains concealed in a cloak of deceit. You can’t help but feel a little guilty for lying to Yelena, your best friend in the entire world, but the blonde doesn’t seem to notice anything amiss. Whenever Nat can tell it’s bugging you, she does her best to calm you down, pressing kisses to the places that she knows will make you forget everything except her. Pretending in front of others is hard, acting as though everything’s the same as it was before and as though the absolute love of your life doesn’t send you good morning and goodnight texts, but it’s made absolutely worth it by the attention she does give you when you’re alone.

It’s nearly four months in, now, and you’re still struggling to believe she’s choosing to do things with you. You — her gangly little sister’s scrawny best friend. There’s no doubt in the fact that she could have anyone at your school, senior or otherwise, and the fact that she has chosen you over everyone else in the world quite often makes your head spin, and you have to drop what you’re doing and go and touch her just to remind yourself that this is reality. You’ve wanted this for so long, since you were able to understand what loving someone in this capacity means, and her reciprocation is quite literally incomprehensible to you.

Well… maybe reciprocation is a slight leap. Even though she’s the one who kissed you first, who instigated this whole relationship, she becomes a little flighty whenever you bring up anything more serious — taking her out on a date, or talking about what will happen between the two of you after she graduates. It stings a little (a lot) to think that you might just be a secret for her, someone she would be embarrassed to be seen in public with. That’s been your number one fear since the moment you were sentient enough to comprehend your feelings for her; the crippling fear that you’re not good enough for her. Her, the perfect popular cheerleader and you, who’s decidedly not that. Every moment that you remain a secret is like a constant reminder that those fears are true. The fact that this might be true and that she is ashamed of her relations with you is something you’ve trained yourself to not think about because you start to get all twitchy if you do.

So that’s how it stays. You try to shut off your mind and keep sneaking around with Natasha, trying not to think of the future or of the day that she will inevitably toss you away like a toy she’s no longer interested in, and trying to enjoy the fact that she sees you as worthy enough of any attention at all.

Right now, it’s the last day of school before spring break — and to celebrate, the Starks are throwing a party tonight at their McMansion. It’s all anyone has been talking about since Tony stood up on a lunch table in the cafeteria and announced it himself last week. You were there for the announcement, sat at your usual table tucked away in the corner with your group of friends. It’s a small posse, but you’re very close-knit; consisting only of Darcy Lewis, Wanda Maximoff, Makkari Eternal, Yelena Belova (of course), and you by extension (you’re often teased by the others that you’re attached at the hip, and it’s true, in many ways). As soon as Tony stepped down from his makeshift podium, the whole cafeteria erupted into noise, and Darcy began to excitedly plan who she would ask to go with her.

Your stomach turned involuntarily at the thought of pretending that you’re available, and tolerating your friends’ (mostly Darcy’s) matchmaking attempts for the millionth time. Before you could even stop yourself, you found your gaze wandering to Natasha on the other side of the cafeteria, where she sat with her own (decidedly larger) group of friends. To your surprise you found her already looking at you wistfully. The two of you shared eye contact for a moment, something oddly intimate for such a public setting. At least you could take some form of comfort in the fact that you weren’t the only one in this relationship uncomfortable in pretending you aren’t accounted for.

“Earth to Y/N,” Darcy hums loudly, and you blink as she snaps her fingers in front of your face. “Welcome back, space cadet. We’re talking about —”

“The party,” you finish for her tiredly. You weren’t planning to go at all, but Darcy’s coerced you into it, promising you’ll only have to stay a couple hours. You didn’t have the energy to fight with her, lord knows how insistent she can be, so you ended up giving in — on the condition that she wouldn’t set you up with anyone tonight. She just grins at you though, seemingly amused by your determined lack of enthusiasm.

Darcy is trying to pair us all off with someone, Makkari informs you long-sufferingly. How unpredictable. (Sometimes you forget that most of the people your age haven’t been hopelessly in love for all of their lives, and actually enjoy putting themselves out there, while not feeling awfully guilty that they’re betraying someone.)

“And Makkari was next on the list!” Darcy signs and speaks, so that Wanda (whose nose is buried in a cloth-bound book) can still hear what’s going on. “You and Druig would be cute together, I think.”

The visceral disgust on Makkari’s face is so intense that Yelena bursts out laughing.

“Don’t laugh, I’m serious,” Darcy complains, even though she’s smiling too.

That is revolting, Makkari tells her with feeling . That man is… a brother to me. And I’ve been told he’s a shit kisser anyway.

“He can learn,” Darcy replies with confidence. Makkari performs a very rude and elaborate gesture. “Hmm, who next… Yelena, you got your eye on anyone?”

Yelena shakes her head vehemently. “No. No, thank you.”

That’s a lie, Makkari comments. I see you and — She fingerspells a name much too quickly for any of you to catch it, and you all lean forward in confusion. Makkari rolls her eyes and spells out the name again, slowly, and then even slower again at the blank looks on your faces. K—A—T—

“Kate Bishop,” supplies Wanda dryly, looking up from her book.

Thank you, Makkari says exasperatedly, while Darcy gasps, clapping her hands together in delight and Yelena’s jaw drops, her cheeks flooding with colour.

“Oh, that’s perfect, I totally see that,” Darcy gushes. “How long has that been going on?”

“Nothing is going on,” says Yelena defensively, “she is — we are partners in class, and she shares her snacks with me sometimes. We went to the mall once or twice. That is all.”

When Darcy stares back skeptically she presses her lips together tightly, leaning slightly into your shoulder. You slide a hand into your best friend’s hair, scratching at her scalp to calm her down, eyebrows furrowing in confusion. This isn’t the giddy behaviour of someone with a crush, you realise — this is genuine discomfort.

“Why are you just projecting onto us that you can’t find anyone to go to the party with, anyway,” you snort to Darcy, signing out the basics of that sentence with your one free hand (Makkari subtly nods to let you know she understood). Wanda snickers at that without even looking up from her book this time.

“Okay, ouch, not true,” Darcy narrows her eyes at you, “Thor Odinson asked me to save him a dance. Is that not the behaviour of someone who’s showing interest in me?”

Makkari snaps back with quick retort that you don’t catch, and Darcy gasps in faux insult, the two of them beginning a quick and fiery exchange. You look down at Yelena to see her already looking up at you, the corners of her eyes crinkled in silent gratitude. You wrinkle your nose at her, and brush the bangs out of her eyes before returning to your food. She stays nestled against your shoulder for the rest of lunch — the rest of which proceeds as normal.

Natasha has agreed to drive the both of you to the party, as naturally she will also be in attendance.

“On one condition,” she warns firmly, as you all sit down at the dinner table. “Neither of you get blackout drunk, okay? I won’t have too much since I’ve gotta drive you both back, but if either of you cannot support your own body weight I will literally leave you there. You can fend for yourselves.”

“Always so serious, Natasha,” Alexi chuckles as he folds rags covered in very pungent motor oil. “Loosen up, да? If the twins want to drink they can drink. Lord knows I did at their age.”

“Not at the dinner table, Alexi,” Melina scolds, slapping at his shoulder as she passes him on her way to the stove. “This is good wood, oil will ruin the varnish.”

“Also it smells like shit,” Yelena adds helpfully, promptly ducking to avoid the massive hand that attempts to cuff her reprimandingly round the back of the head. “What is it from? Don’t tell me you are working on that beast in the garage again.”

“The one and only,” Alexi says with glee, rubbing his hands together at everyone’s collective groans. “What is this about, ah? She will be beautiful once I have fixed her up. You will all love her, I know. I call her… Melina.” He says it in a hushed voice, full of wonder, which is promptly quashed when the real Melina just snorts in amusement.

“Very creative,” she quips dryly as she sets down a crockpot in the middle of the table.

“Oh, you laugh now,” Alexi grumbles, “but when we are in backseat you are never complaining.”

Melina laughs wholeheartedly at that, while you, Yelena and Natasha let out similarly horrified noises.

“I can’t eat,” Natasha announces, pushing her plate away dramatically, and you quickly follow suit.

By the time Natasha pulls up into Tony’s stadium-sized driveway, the sun is already dying in the sky, taking its last fiery breaths that paint the world a shadowy pink before dwindling below the horizon into nothingness.

“Remember what I said —” Nat starts.

“About drinking, yes, I remember,” Yelena finishes for her impatiently. “No throwing up on myself, promise. Can we go in now?”

“Well fuck you too,” Natasha retorts. “Be careful of drink spiking, don’t just take a drink that’s handed to you. There’ll be a lot of people here, Stark knows some… unsavoury individuals so just stick to people we know. And whenever you’re feeling like heading home, text me, or come find me, kay?”

“Okay,” says Yelena long-sufferingly, which earns her a twisted arm in response.

You’ve never actually been inside of the Stark household before — well, maybe household isn’t accurate, it’s a multi-million dollar property and easily the biggest building you’ve ever set foot in. Yelena looks around at the high ceilings and chandeliers with a similar element of awe, while Natasha gazes around bemusedly, what with this place being a regular sight for her.

“Romanoff and co, you made it,” Tony Stark himself cheers, swooping into the lobby with a box full of beers. “Drink, m’lady?”

“Driving,” Natasha grimaces.

“Ooh, unlucky. Probably for the best, though, I heard Barton conspiring to put something gross in the punch. He thinks he’s slick… I swear, that guy thinks everyone else is as deaf as he is.”

Nat snorts in amusement, sending you and Yelena one last glance before heading off to the kitchen with Stark. Yelena links her arm through yours, and the two of you head off into the thick mass of people, on a quest to find your friends.

This task proves difficult. Half an hour in, you’ve wandered quite a few of the Stark Mansion’s impressive number of halls without a single member joining your party. You return to the main area, choosing to settle in a corner near a table covered by very expensive-looking vases, and Yelena disappears briefly to fetch you both some drinks. You don’t notice much what it is, you’re just grateful for the cool relief it provides.

“Oh look, it’s Kate Bishop,” you say absently as you spot her over at the chocolate fountain (now is not the time to question the presence of a chocolate fountain, you decide) next to America Chavez. You made the remark without thinking, knowing that Kate is one of the people Yelena likes to see (“she is like a puppy,” Lena said to you once, “all squishy and bouncy and eager to please. Fun to spend time with”), but you remember what happened at lunch today and tense, looking at her to gauge a reaction. “Oh. Sorry.”

“It’s okay.” Yelena plays it off well, sipping from her drink to avoid replying any further.

Your hand hovers tentatively for a moment before resting on her shoulder. “Y… you know that if, well, anything, you can tell me, right? I won’t… make fun of you. I like talking with you. Just, uh. Just so you know.”

She looks down at you for a moment, gaze darting from the hand on her shoulder to your eyes. You stare back to her with uncertainty, but a desperation to reassert that you care. She observes you for a moment, long and hard, and you daren’t look away.

Then she gives you a short, sharp, singular nod, and downs the rest of her drink in one.

“I know,” she says curtly. “I will go say hi to her. Come find me later.”

She pats your head with a gentleness that one wouldn’t expect from a tall threatening Russian, to let you know she’s not mad, and you watch her go serenely. You’ve known Yelena for all of your life. She doesn’t say things, she does things. Talking has never been her strong suit, especially in a language that isn’t her mothertongue; you have always been careful to respect her boundaries. You’d never expect her to do something she wasn’t ready for, you’ve always been patient with her and you’ll give her as much time as she needs on this one. You know with a calming certainty that she will talk to you when she’s ready, about whatever she’s feeling about Kate Bishop that’s confusing and hurting her. The fact that you can know your best friend, your twin flame with such assuredness (and she know your own behaviours in turn) is something that never fails to make you feel as though you’ve found your place in the world. You don’t know what you’d do without her. She is your family (and the thought of you betraying her so in sneaking around with your sister is like a knife through your guts, so you’ve very quickly learnt to simply not think about it at all).

But this feeling of otherworldly serenity is shattered as soon as you turn to leave and explore. Your eyes land upon the sight of Natasha dancing with Bucky Barnes, and it makes your blood run cold.

To be fair, it’s not as though they’re the only two on the dancefloor; most of their friendship group are stood in fairly close proximity to one another. But these two have clearly paired up for this song (Nelly Furtado, you think, but you don’t care enough to figure it out), with their arms around one another, and Barnes whirling her around when the beat drops. The way she’s smiling at him, as though she wants do the things with him that she does with you, makes you feel so ill that you have to look away for genuine fear of being sick right here on this dancefloor.

Feeling like this is an overreaction, you rationalise desperately to yourself, even as all the hairs on your arms begin to stand on end. The two of you aren’t exclusive — that much has been made clear by her insistence around avoiding the topic. And it’s just a dance, Bucky is a good friend of Natasha’s, it probably doesn’t even mean anything.

So why do you feel so gross?

You need a drink, you decide, stumbling off in the direction of the kitchen to overanalyse in peace.

You’re not sure how long has passed by the time Sam Wilson stumbles upon you, in a long dark narrow hall that weirdly reminds you of the Hogwarts bridge, one wall lined with gaping windows that look out on the rest of the house. You’re sat on the floor, wedged into a corner with your knees up to your chest and your back pressed against the wall, watching the party from a whole other dimension with a bottle beside you.

“Oh — hey, sorry, I was just on my way to the bathroom,” he laughs easily. “You gave me a fright there, all curled up in the dark like some horror movie shit.”

There’s a moment of silence, during which his eyes are presumably adjusting to the dark, before he speaks again. “You’re… Y/N, right? That kid Romanoff lives with?”

You press your lips together tightly at the mention of her name, but you nod. (Sam looks so funny where he’s stood in the distance, at the far end of this corridor, you think to yourself. Like a tiny matchstick guy you could put in a dollhouse.) Sam must see your response, because he continues, “thought so. Hey, what’re you doin up here all alone? Where’s Belova? You okay?”

You shrug. He dithers for a moment before slowly walking the hallway, approaching you as though you’re a wild animal that might scare at any moment. When you don’t, he slowly lowers himself onto the ground next to you.

“‘S loud down there,” he says after a moment. “Stark’s my bud and all, but his shit gets too much for me sometimes.”

You nod your agreement. You don’t know Sam well at all — you don’t recall ever speaking to him, he’s much more Natasha’s friend than your own — but there are definitely worse people who could choose to talk to you right now.

“That why you’re up there? All alone? Without your conjoined twin?” he adds, spirit light, a teasing smile on his face.

The corners of your lips twitch upward, and you speak at last, voice a little croaky from crying. “I guess. She went off with someone, I was trying to give them privacy.”

Sam hums, and nods in understanding. “Well if you’re not enjoying the party anymore we can get you home. I think Nat stayed sober tonight, or we can call you a taxi… put it on Stark’s card,” he adds mischievously, which earns a laugh from you.

“Yeah,” you rub at your eyes unceremoniously, “this party’s been a bust.”

“We’ll get you home, then,” he says gently. “Parties ain’t for everyone. Romanoff was looking for you, anyway.”

You freeze. “She was?”

“Yeah, think so. C’mon, let’s go.” He gets to his feet, offering you a hand, and very politely doesn’t comment when you have to lean on him a little on the journey back to the main hall.

“Alright. You sit tight, I’ll go find Romanoff.” He pats your shoulder before letting go of you, and wanders off.

You cast your vacant gaze around the party, simply looking rather than really seeing. With the state your brain is in it takes a few moments to process Yelena rushing across the dancefloor, head lowered and hair shrouding her face, with Kate hurrying after her, calling out. The haze that your somewhat intoxicated brain applies and the distance with which you’re watching from makes the scene look unreal, like something from a movie.

You bite the inside of your lip, hard, forcing yourself to pull it together, and discard the bottle you’re holding on a nearby table as you make your way over to Kate — who by this point has given up the fruitless chase and stands forlorn by the front door, staring out at Yelena’s quickly disappearing figure.

“Bishop,” you say, trying to keep your voice even, “what happened?”

She’s already nervous, you can tell, but when she sees you by her side her eyes go big as saucers. “Oh god. Hi. Hi, hi hi. Um, so, I don’t know.”

“I’m not gonna be mad at you, Bishop,” you say tiredly, “but I need to know what’s going on. She’s been acting weird all day, and when Makkari brought you up earlier I think she actually malfunctioned. What’s going on?”

Kate twitches instead of replying, and you groan, pinching the bridge of your nose between your forefingers. “Please just spit it out.”

“I don’t know what happened,” Kate maintains squeakily. “I thought we were good and we went to like some nice roses or something, I don’t know this place is massive it was like a garden I think, we sat on a bench and we were talking just normal talking it wasn’t even anything weird like we’ve talked about much weirder stuff! This was pretty tame! And she just like shut off and went all blank and marched out and I don’t know what I did,” she finishes lamely, with the trademark Bishop puppy dog eyes that Yelena has complained about to you.

You nod. “Okay. Uh, I’ll talk to her, you just… uh, get home safe. And text her, but don’t suffocate her, you know?”

Kate nods vigorously, stammering more than you’ve ever heard someone stammer before. “Y— uhh, yep, alright, cool, perfect, got it. No… no suffocation. Nope. That would not be good. Uh, is double texting suffocation?”

“Double texting is like the maximum you can go before it’s asphyxiation,” you advise sagely, and she nods like one of those little dolls with a spring for a neck that you see in trucker lorries before scurrying off (she really is like a puppy, you muse to yourself as you recall Yelena’s words; an oversized, long-legged puppy).

“Alright,” you mutter, “where have you gone, Belova?”

When you turn around, it’s not Yelena that you’re faced with, but her sister. Well, it’s a start, at least.

“Nat,” you say, and your voice sounds like it’s very very far away and it doesn’t belong to you, “come on, we have to find… Yelena.” You reach out to grab her hand but she shakes away your touch, and your cheeks burn at the rejection and the realisation you’re in public. Of course she doesn’t want to touch you in public, you think to yourself, and the doubts from the hallway before Sam came and found you start creeping back and your head starts to hurt again.

“What’s going on?” Natasha asks, daring to place a hand on your shoulder as she leads you through the front door and down the driveway. “What’s wrong with Yelena?” She pauses, taking in your appearance for the first time all night under the light of the street lamps that line the long, linear driveway. “What’s wrong with you?”

You open and close your mouth a few times without making any sound, like a fish, searching for the words. Suddenly it feels as though the whole night is catching up on you, and you can’t really explain it but you’re not really you or in your body — it’s like you’re watching from someone else’s perspective, or reading about this experience instead of living it, and all of the thoughts seep out of your head. (Shit, maybe it’s a good thing you don’t drink that often.) Nat’s face softens slightly, and in the solitude of the front yard she’s gracious enough to loop an arm round your waist and guide you gently to somewhere you can rest for a minute; the stone pillars, to the corner of the front of the house.

“Deep breaths,” she urges you quietly, pinning you between a pillar and her body, both of your hands in hers and her face nestled in close against your shoulder, lips by your ear, safely hidden from prying eyes by the shadows of the pillars. You comply, in, out, in, out, until your body is yours again, and you can feel her breath on your cheek.

“I told you not to get shitfaced,” she tells you as she pulls away again enough to be able to look at you, but there’s no real anger in her voice, and her eyes are so soft and warm as they look down at you. Her hands are still in yours, grounding you, and you grip onto them tightly. “What’s going on? Where’s Thing 2?”

“Kate Bishop upset her,” you relay blearily. “She ran off, I was gonna find her, n go home.”

“And what happened to you?” she adds more gently, cupping your face in her hands.

“You,” you mumble, and then realise what you’ve said. Her eyebrows furrow in confusion, and you quickly try to rectify, “no, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean. I just meant… I’m sorry, sorry, I can’t do words, I didn’t mean that. Wanna go home.”

“It’s okay,” she says quietly, “but can we talk about it? What did I do to upset you tonight, huh? To make you get like this?” She moves one hand to prod gently at your chest to emphasise her last two words.

You shake your head, normally at first, but the movement becomes more exaggerated as though you’re trying to clear your head of this fog. “N — nothing. God. Sorry. It was — me. Just, I just mis… misread the situation. Thought I was special. Was being dumb. Sorry. Can we,” you tug on her arm, “can we go home, I can’t think, my head really hurts.”

Her eyebrows are furrowed deeper than ever, glossy lips pushed together, but she nods — and then her head turns sharply in the direction of the bushes. You turn too, instinctively, and see Yelena walking toward you. Her eyes lock onto yours for a moment, and you are filled with the most paralysing, existential dread. This is it, you think to yourself, this is how my life ends. But Yelena makes no move towards you, and you realise quickly that even though she can see someone’s hands on you, she can’t see who they belong to. Natasha has picked a place to stop so perfect that Yelena can’t see her from where she’s stood, and this realisation has you weak-kneed with relief.

The two of you make eye contact for a moment, and despite your deep longing to have Natasha publicly be yours you’re overwhelmingly grateful in this moment that your tracks are somewhat covered . Lena’s gaze flits from yours to your hands, occupied by a shadow-faced stranger; her lips press into a thin line and her eyes fill with tears as she turns and trudges away again, disappearing into the night.

By the time you get home, she’s already there, in your bedroom getting ready for bed. Her tearstained face takes one look at yours, which is in a similar state after your car ride home with Natasha. While Yelena doesn’t say a word to you or Nat, she kisses your forehead before you both climb into your beds on the opposite sides of the room, so you know she’s not really mad. She just needs time, you know, and you’re very careful over the days that follow to give it to her.

Melina and Alexi are all too familiar with Yelena’s silent episodes. They come on whenever she’s processing something, and the only thing you can do to support her is wait patiently until she’s able to talk. Even though you’ve long since grown up, and nowadays can see the grey in a situation that was black and white when you were young, you still think of things in the very simple terms they had been presented to you in as a six-year-old.

“Why is Yelena quiet?” you asked Alexi. “I didn’t do anything.”

The giant man had sunk to his knees, wincing at the pop and crackle of his joints, to be on the same level as you, and took both of your tiny hands in one much larger one. “Uhh… ah. So you have to be very grown up, ah? да, смутьян? Yelena did not have same start in life as you, eh. Me and Melina are her parents, you know, we live here in Ohio with you,” he tickled your belly to punctuate your involvement in his story and you squirmed happily, “but we are not… giving birth to her, ah? Before we bring Yelena to Ohio, in fact before she is brought to orphanage, she is having another mom and dad. Who giving birth to her,” he explained to you in his usual broken English; he spoke with a level of thought and caution that you’d never seen before on the usually crude man.

“In Russia?” you queried.

“In Russia,” he confirmed. “The motherland, ey? So the mom and dad who giving birth to her, they aren’t very nice, ah. So Yelena’s… formative years, when she was baby and learned all the emotion things like cry when sad, smile when happy, she learned different, да? To protect herself. If cry, her old mom and dad get angry because of noise, so when sad she go all quiet and… spaced out and faraway instead. And even though now she is in place where we won’t be angry if she cry, it is still how she has learned things. So if something bad happen, she shut down. It is her way to cope. And you are probably thinking that it is strange, but we have to be gentle to her, okay?” he said encouragingly to you, and you nodded eagerly to this man who even then was like a father to you. “We are gentle, and show her we aren’t get angry when she sad, and when she ready she open up. Make clear we love her. It is big important task. We treat her with kindness when she go quiet, kay? Can you do that, trouble, eh?”

And of course you nodded seriously, because Yelena was your best friend, and you already knew you would do almost anything for her.

You understand a lot more, now, but you still think of it like that. It’s the way her brain works, it’s a result of her start in life — she can’t help it, it’s not her fault, and it would be beyond unfair to make her suffer for something so out of her control. So you barely leave her side in the days that follow, by her side in every mundane task she half-heartedly attempts, even clambering into her bed from your own on the dark drizzly morning where she can’t even peel herself from her own bed. You and Natasha haven’t spoken since that hellish car ride home, but for probably the first time ever the redhead is barely on your mind; you’d do anything for her, it’s true, but you’d do anything for her sister too. You knew it when you were six years old and seeing one of Lena’s silent episodes for the first time, and you know it more than ever now. This takes precedence.

Yelena doesn’t utter a word for six days, only nodding thanks and smiling at you with the corners of her eyes. On the morning of the seventh day, you wake up to her sat on your chest.

“Oh,” you wheeze, “good morning.”

And she smiles at you in reply, wheezy laughter bubbling in her chest at the way your limbs are splayed out awkwardly beneath her weight, and you can tell that she’s back.

She doesn’t tell you what had her spiralling until the evening, but you spend the whole day bouncing around the house with her as though you’re little kids again, and it fills you so wholeheartedly with joy to have your best friend back. She truly is like an extension of you, you don’t feel right when she’s not around, and you don’t feel right when she doesn’t, either. But she’s back, she’s talking and laughing again and it’s contagious. Whatever souls are made of, yours and hers are the same.

Right now the house is quiet, the lights are out and the two of you are sat on the windowsill, looking out at the stars.

“That one’s winking at us,” you whisper with a grin, pointing to a flickering star. You feel Yelena’s eyes on you, and turn to see her smiling softly at you, her eyes crinkling at the corners the way they only ever do when she’s trying to tell you that she’s grateful for something.

“There is a thing that is broken inside of me,” she tells you matter-of-factly. You blink, surprised, but nod encouragingly for her to keep going. “I don’t think I am like you or Darcy or Kate. And that doesn’t feel fair. I thought, it is always me, I just want to be normal. So I say okay, I will be normal, I ignore it and pretend it wasn’t there, and it only makes things go all funny and the world doesn’t make sense. It’s like one of those…”

She pauses for a moment to think. “Ah черт возьми, cannot find the words, you know those… visual — eye tricks? Illusions? At the museums, that are like art, and hurt your brain?”

“Optical illusions?” you offer.

“Yes. When I am pretending it is like looking at the world through optical illusions. Nothing is making sense, and it makes me so sick and sad and lonely. So I was pretending at the party, but it was like everything just…” She makes a boom noise with her mouth, and mimes an explosion. “I could not handle, no more, I thought why me, why don’t I have what everyone else has, what did I do wrong? And then I saw you, making kissy face with some girl —” your heart leaps, but she still doesn’t seem to know who it was, thank god “— and I just,” there are tears in her eyes that glisten with frustration, “and I just… wished it could be me. Not that I want to kiss you,” she adds hastily, “but I want to want it. It would make things so much easier.”

“You… wish you wanted to kiss me?” you ask carefully.

She nods furiously. “Maybe not you, we are Близнецы… that would be weird, probably. Just to… want any kissing. But I don’t. I don’t want to kiss you, or Kate Bishop, or anyone. There is none of that for me, it’s just not…” She gestures vaguely in the air, as though she is searching for something she does not have, and then shrugs. “Я потерян, I don’t know. Y/N, I am aroace,” she tells you proudly. “I did the research, it is me, it fits me perfectly. But I don’t… want to be. Not when everyone else, even you, is kissing people. You are my person, I don’t want to kiss you, but I want to… always be with you. But then I realised,” she gulps, and she’s fighting back tears again, “that’s not… how things work. And you are kissing other people — I don’t care who,” she adds as you open your mouth to interject, “I know it is not my business and you will say when you are ready, but we are growing up and I must do grownup things now and it’s scary. And Darcy is always asking me who I am crushing on and… it is hurting, a lot, to realise no one. Ever. And I’m okay with it, I don’t want it because I want it, I want it because if I don’t want it I’m wrong and it means there is something… wrong inside of me. And my brain is broken enough as it is,” she covers her face with her hands, “and I think I just lost the… hold on everything when the Kate Bishop kissed me.”

“She kissed you?”

“Mhm. And it was like the world ended, I could not handle it. Because I thought I was so good at pretending that I have this thing when I don’t, but I couldn’t tell that… she felt like that, when a normal person would have been able to tell. Darcy could. Makkari could. And I am just done pretending, I think, and I don’t know what to do anymore.”

Her hands still cover her face, but after a few moments you catch her peering through the gaps between her fingers, anxiously trying to gauge a reaction from you. For a split second you see a scared child watching apprehensively through the slats of a staircase bannister, younger than you ever knew her, fearing someone who in this moment she does not know. When the fear is this primal, it is timeless, and all-consuming. You see it in the way she closes the gaps between her fingers again, closes the blinds on the outside world, decides she’d rather not know what it is that you make of this for fear of it being negative; in the way that it has always ended for her, in the rare moment she’s been so fragile around someone. And you feel it, in this moment. It’s so heavy it’s almost tangible, and you fear if you speak or move or think wrong it might shatter irreparably.

So you are absolutely silent for a few moments. You don’t move, don’t blink — you’re not sure that you breathe, actually, while you process what’s just been said.

“I’ll talk to Darcy,” you say eventually. “I’ll tell her to stop. I’m sorry I didn’t see that it was upsetting you sooner.”

Yelena’s hands drop away in surprise, and she looks at you, her cheekbones shimmering a little in the starlight. “You — you aren’t? You don’t —?”

“No,” you say simply, but gently, a hand moving to rest on top of hers, which fiddles with the loose threads on her pyjama bottoms. Its movements cease instantly. “Why would I be? You are okay with me liking girls. Why wouldn’t I be okay with you not liking anyone?”

She crumples, then, in relief; as though it’s so all-consuming that she can’t support herself any longer, and you’re there to catch her. She cries even as you smooth her hair and pull her over to her bed.

“Я тебя люблю,” she chokes out quietly as you cocoon her in the mass of blankets she insists on keeping in her bed.

“Я тоже тебя люблю,” you whisper, “так много.”

A few moments of quiet, where your fingers continue to comb through her hair, and her eyelids begin to flutter.

“I don’t know what to do about Kate Bishop, though,” she admits sleepily. “Because I don’t… ah… not like her. I just don’t think I can be what she wants me to be, but I don’t want to… lose her.”

“It’s all about how you feel,” you remind her gently. “Kate’s cool. She will always respect you, remember. She’s like a puppy, you’re not getting rid of her if you try,” and Yelena giggles a little at that. “We’ll figure it out, Lena. We’ve got all the time in the world.”

She nods, and mumbled something about thinking, and slips into the first peaceful sleep she has had in seven days.

Your mind moves to Natasha, now that you know with certainty that Lena will be okay. You kiss her forehead before quietly leaving the room and heading downstairs, where you know Natasha will still be awake, watching old black and white reruns.

As you reach the bottom of the stairs, Liho pads up to you, meowing and tugging insistently at the bottom of your pants.

“Hiya, buddy,” you murmur, relenting at once and giving him what he wants. You scoop him up just the way he likes and he purrs happily, writhing around in your arms, rubbing his face against yours before eventually settling with his chin on your shoulder and you cradling him to your chest like a baby.

The two of you walk slowly into the living room, where just as you predicted, Natasha is curled up on the sofa beneath a blanket in front of the TV. What surprises you though is what she’s watching.

“I thought you hated this show,” you comment quietly, a smile fighting its way onto your face as you watch Kourtney and Kim fighting. You move to sit down in the armchair furthest from her but she makes a noise of displeasure and pats the spot next to her insistently, even lifting up the blanket for you and Liho to slide underneath.

Well, who are you to deny her?

“I wanted to see why you guys like it so much,” she replies after a few moments, once you’re half on top of her, head on her chest with Liho tucked into the warm gap between you, and you can feel every word that she says. “I’m not sure I really get it, to be honest.” Her fingers gently trace the outline of your face, your jawline, your cheekbones and you melt into the touch. “Are you still upset about the party?”

“I don’t wanna talk about it,” you murmur.

“But I do, you said that I upset you. You’ve been avoiding me all week, Y/N/N, I don’t even know what I did.”

“You didn’t upset me, I was just being dumb.”

“About?”

You groan, and press your face into her chest, sensing she’s not going to let this go. “Just seeing you, like, dance and flirt with other people. I just wish I could do that sometimes. Please, I don’t wanna think about this anymore,” it comes out as something of a whine, and you can feel the way she’s tensing against you.

“Y/N,” she sighs heavily, “you know we have to cover our tracks, if we both keep acting weird when someone flirts with me then people are gonna know that we’re together.”

“But we’re not even together, really,” you mumble. “Please, let’s forget about it. Please.”

“You can’t keep saying stuff like that and then tell me to forget about it,” she scolds half-seriously, and you break the eye contact for a moment to bury your face in her chest again so she won’t see your smile. “You know we can’t tell people about us. It would… it would be too much to handle.”

Whether that’s for you or for her she doesn’t explain, but she doesn’t have to. She might be protecting you, but she’s also protecting herself. She couldn’t handle it, if she held your hand in public. Stolen moments like this are all you’ll ever get, you think to yourself miserably, as she ever so gently lowers her lips to your neck. But even with this knowledge you would still let her do anything to you, in whatever way she wants, because her wanting to touch you in any capacity is going to have to be enough — even if she harbours you like this, her little late night secret, it’s surely better than the days that she barely looked at you at all. You might not ever have her in the way that you want to; every moment like this is precious beyond belief.

So you give yourself over to her completely, and pray that someday this lingering feeling of dirtiness will fade away, and only the gratitude remain.

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gracethyomen · 4 months

Text

"Olympics, Menus and Artists"

Hey y'all. Its me. Ya prophet. I come bearing angst/comfort and some Mattalie for you all this fine evening. This chapter is a long one so buckle in. I wanted to get some of Natalie's personal life into this one and get more of a judge of how she is as a person outside of just her relationship with Matt and the gang.

Warnings: Buckle tf up this one is wild. Kidnapping, mention of kidnapping, mention of death, violence, mention of violence, blood, language, guns, imprisonment, crying, injuries to main character, panic attacks, catholicism, praying. This is part one of the original post I have on my page that started this whole shebang, so some of it might look familiar.

Natalie sighed heavily and tucked her chin into her jacket against the wind, clutching her niece's gloved hand in hers as they walked down the street,

"Katie, i'm sorry I couldn't make it to your ceremony last week." She spoke over the rush of air, looking at the sweet dark-haired girl by her side.

"That's okay." The girl reassured with an easy smile. "You had lawyer stuff to do, right?"

"I'm not a lawyer, Kate, I just help them out." Natalie laughed, ruffling the girl's hair with her free hand. "I do paperwork... Plan cases... Investigate legal documents..."

"Sounds interesting." The girl hummed, tucking into Nat's side. "I wanna be a lawyer some day." She wondered aloud.

"You do?" Natalie looked at her incredulously, opening the door to a restaurant for the two of them. "Since when? I thought you were set on Olympics."

"My mom says it's unrealistic." She huffed.

Natalie hummed and smiled when the hostess came up to them. "Reservation for two. Bishop." She said kindly. "Two kids menus please." The hostess nodded politely and led them to a secluded booth near the corner, taking their drink orders before leaving them to continue talking.

"My mom says i'm too old to color in the kids menus." Kate added, looking at the crayons sadly.

"Well that's why we're not going to color." Natalie reassured, deftly flipping the menus over to the clean back. "We're going to draw. Drawing is a fine art, i'm sure your mother would approve."

"She says artists are all broke and delusional." Kate huffed, but picked up the purple crayon and put it to the paper.

"Man, Olympics, menus, artists..." Natalie laughed lightly. "Sounds like your mom needs to have more fun." She smirked conspiratorially at Kate. "Maybe we should show her sometime. Then I think she'd have a lot of fun."

"I don't think she likes you." Kate said sadly. Natalie paused her coloring. "I don't know why. You're awesome. She just says she doesn't need your nose in her business."

"She said that?" Natalie asked, trying to seem unbothered but failing.

"Only when she drinks." Kate shrugged, not looking up from her drawing.

Natalie cleared her throat, leaning across the table to look at the drawing closer. "What're you drawing, pumpkin?" She asked, tilting her head to try and get the perspective.

"Hawkeye." The girl said, matter-of-fact. Natalie nodded, now making sense of the arches and curves of the bow and quiver, the straight lines of the suit.

"Still your favorite?" She asked.

"Yeah." She nodded. "He's the best shot in the world."

Natalie smiled and tapped the drawing, making Kate look at her. "For now." The girl smiled so wide it made Nat's heart weep a little.

"Do you miss my dad, Aunt Nat?"

Natalie's smile dropped for a moment, but she pushed her hair back over her shoulder and plastered it back on, ignoring the thoughts regarding her estranged late brother.

"All the time, Pumpkin."

"Just one little sign..." Foggy insisted, hands open and pleading jokingly with Karen.

"What would it cost? You can hardly afford to pay me!" Karen laughed. Nat smiled a little at that, shuffling the physical copies of Karen's case and putting them in the filing cabinet as the first file.

"I thought you were working for free?" Foggy countered.

"Only for a day."

The door opened, revealing Matt... With a nasty black eye.

Wordlessly Natalie stood and met him halfway, turning his head with a soft touch on his jaw. "What happened?" She whispered.

"Jesus, Matt!" Foggy swore, and she heard Karen gasp too behind her.

"I'm fine." Matt insisted, tilting his head away from Natalie's touch and she walked past him to the rickety fridge, snatching a package of frozen peas from the tiny freezer. "I wasn't paying attention, it's my fault."

"You need a dog." Natalie scolded in a sing-song voice, wordlessly handing him the peas before moving back to her desk.

"I'm not getting a dog." Matt snickered. He heard Natalie sigh but she didn't say anything. She wanted to, but she didn't. She was wearing the brown sweater top today. The one with the boat neck she liked to shove up around her elbows because the sleeves were too long. He could hear it in the way the fabric brushed the desk. When she shifted her legs under the table, a specific sound of shifting fabric hit his ears. The black wide-leg trousers today. The scent of her jasmine and ginger shampoo was particularly present; she'd washed her hair this morning. And put it in a... ponytail. The way her soft curtain bangs hung around her face told him she'd worn her glasses instead of contacts today. He liked imagining her with glasses. Cute frames around her big eyes. Foggy had told him that. he'd described them like bug-eyes but knew they were more like doe's eyes. Although he liked the image of her in glasses in his head, it made the air currents around her face a little harder to decipher.

In his rapt state trying to paint a picture of Natalie on that particular morning, he had missed most of the conversation between Foggy and Karen, but the long silence was enough for him to hum in question, tilting his head at the two of them.

"There's someone at the door."

"Our door?" Matt questioned, standing from his desk with a soft groan, dropping the peas from the side of his face.

"I'll get it," Natalie murmured, moving to open the door to their rickety office. A man was outside, he noted. Wearing a freshly pressed suit and lacquered shoes from the smell of him. The cologne was refined. A man of class. Expensive. What was he doing here?

"Hello there." The man chuckled when Natalie stepped back to let him in. "Enchante." He whispered to her only, when he lifted his hand for a shake, she met him, but he instead lifted it to his mouth for a soft, demure kiss. The exchange lasted less than a second, but it set Matt's blood boiling. Before he could speak, the man entered further into the office and looked at the rest of them. "Do you take walk-ins?"

Exactly three minutes and seven seconds later they were all sat at the adjoining conference table with Karen taking notes and Natalie with a folder in front of her. Since Karen's employ it opened up Natalie's abilities to do more of a paralegal's job than a secretary. Spreading out the many responsibilities she had previously shouldered.

"I represent a consortium with diversified interests in the private sector, both domestic and international." The man explained. "From time to time, we scout the landscape for promising talent to put on retainer."

"Retainer?" Matt snarked, and Natalie tapped his leg under the table, checking his tone. "Why are you approaching us? Why not a larger firm, Mr..."

"Confederated Global Investments is my employer." He filled in.

"Not what I was asking," Matt said flatly.

Natalie glanced at him in her periphery. Her brows furrowed; why was he being so rude? Sure the man seemed a bit foreboding but usually he wasn't this open with his judgment.

"It's the only name relevant to this discussion, Mr. Murdock." The man inclined his head just a fraction of a degree, smiling just a little at Natalie, causing her to clear her throat and focus on the table.

"So why us?" Matt continued on, clenching his jaw at Natalie's reaction.

"Obviously the larger firms aren't able to provide the same hands-on attention that we pride ourselves on at Nelson and Murdock." Foggy tried, also looking at Matt confusedly.

"It's a fair question." The man considered, folding his hands neatly on the poorly stained table. "I'm here because my employer does extensive business in Hell's Kitchen and who knows it better than two local boys and their lovely paralegal who graduated from Columbia law, cum laude and summa cum laude?" The man gave a closed-mouthed, charming smile. "You set up shop right here in your backyard despite the fact that both of you were made a very lucrative offer from Landman and Zach in Manhattan where you interned."

"You've done your homework," Natalie remarked, raising a singular eyebrow. She crossed her legs under the table, shifting carefully in her seat.

"What Ms. Bishop is trying to say is we're still building a practice so we're very particular about our clientele." Foggy interjected, also seeming unsure as to where the conversation was headed.

"I assure you, all my employer wants is for you to continue to be ethical, decent men," He looked at Natalie. "And women. Good lawyers." He ended. "For that, and nothing more than your exceptional skills and discretion you'll be fairly compensated."

Foggy's eyes widened as the man slid him a check across the table, Natalie eyed it from beside him and found her mouth dropping open at the sum written there. "It's-It's fair. That's... That's fair."

"Your partner doesn't seem convinced." The man looked at Matt thoughtfully, sizing him up from his stiff posture to the grip on his white cane.

"Like Foggy said," Matt said carefully. "We're particular about our clientele."

"Perhaps you should review one of our cases before you make a decision?" The man stood, adjusting his expensive suit before he placed a crisp file on the table before them. "Peace of mind and whatnot."

"That's a fantastic idea." Natalie said amicably. "Matthew? What harm could it do?" She swiped the file and added it to her pile of papers, passing them to Foggy and standing.

"You have thirty-eight minutes to get to precinct fifteen. Everything you need is in that file." He passed around the table to meet Natalie at the door. "Thank you for your time."

"I'll show you out." Natalie said, just as she heard Foggy start to splutter out questions. She opened the door and the both of them walked through it, Natalie passing in front of him to open the door to the office.

"Walk with me for a moment, Ms. Bishop?" The man asked, Natalie paused for a long moment but nodded her agreement, grabbing her long coat from the hook near the door.

"What can I do for you, Mr. Confed Global?" Natalie tried, crossing her arms over herself to hide her nerves.

They made their way to the street before he answered her. "I'm very familiar with your sister-in-law, Natalie." The man raised his voice over the sound of the street around them. "She's told me much about you."

"She did?" Natalie stiffened just a tad, unsure of how to respond. "Nothing bad, I hope?"

"No, very good things, Natalie. Very good." The man chuckled, drawing a white card from his coat. "My employer and I are interested in working in much closer regard with you as well as her." Natalie stopped walking to take the card from him, staring at the numbers written on it. "You are better than a do-gooding law firm out of a broom closet, Natalie. Your brother thought that, so does my employer." He tapped the card with a finger. "This is my personal number. Call me." Before she could stop him the man leaned in to press a chaste kiss to her cheek, making her take a half step back in shock.

She stood there for a long moment, watching the man as he walked away and pulled his phone out of his pocket, watched him more as he walked a whole block before getting into a large black SUV.

She watched him until she couldn't and then she turned to walk back to the office and her coworkers, shoving the card into her jacket pocket. Just when she thought her relationship with her sister-in-law couldn't get any stranger.

Natalie shoved the keys into her door with a soft groan, feeling the clip in her hair dig into her aching head. Long day, a nightmare case... She was still so confused about the card in her pocket and the man who gave it to her. More confused about how he knew her brother's widow.

All things she didn't have time to ponder because a hand gripped the back of her head tight and yanked it back. Another hand covering her mouth as panic took over her body.

"I hate being broke." Foggy whined, leaning back in his broken chair and staring at their water stained ceiling.

"You think Landman and Zach would have been better?" Matt snarked, smiling into his glass.

"No." Foggy held up a hand, "But they had free bagels... every morning." Matt laughed at that but he kept going. "And they had furniture that didn't smell like a pack of cigarettes."

"This is true," Matt conceded. "We're doing good here, Foggy."

"Are we?"

"Yeah we're making a difference." He reassured him, loosening his tie with one hand. It was at that exact moment that the burner phone in his pocket began to ring, sending a soft jolt through his body. Claire. Only Claire had that number.

"You get a new phone?" Foggy asked, raising an eyebrow when matt pulled it from his pocket. "It's a girl isn't it? You got a new phone just for your girls."

Matt laughed as Foggy stood and gathered his things moving towards the door. "I'll see you tomorrow, Foggy." He called out, just as he heard the front door shut and Foggy's soft murmur about how his life sucked.

"Hey, what's up?" He asked into the phone, only hearing commotion from the other side. "Claire?" A crash, more noise. "Claire, can you hear me?" It was then that he heard a scream, somewhere between a shout and a sob. Bloodcurdling. "Natalie..." He whispered, recognizing the tone of voice. "Natalie!" He repeated, gripping the phone tightly between his fingers.

"Yeah we have the woman." An accented Russian voice spoke through the phone. "A young man named Santino was kind enough to introduce us." Matt opened his mouth to pour a threat into the phone when the call clicked. All at once his hands started to shake, he threw his briefcase against the wall with an animalistic shout, pulling his tie completely from his neck and running a frantic hand through his hair.

They had her.

"Our father who art in heaven. Hallowed be they name." Natalie fought against the tears threatening to clog her throat, whispering under her shaky breaths. "Thy kingdom come, thy will be done on earth as it is in heaven. Give us this day, our daily bread and forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who have trespassed against us." One of her captors swore a little, pacing irritably. She couldn't see but she could hear his agitated footsteps. "Lead us not into temptation and deliver us from evil. Yours is the kingdom, yours is the glory, yours is the power for ever and ever, amen."

Taking a shaky breath she began the next step in her prayer. "Hail Mary, full of grace, the Lord is with you; blessed are you among women-" She was cut off in her prayer by a harsh strike to her face, tearing a scream from her throat.

"Stop fucking whining." A man's voice called before fingers gripped her jaw harshly. "Don't bother with prayers. Your god can't save you now."

He released her with more of a push than was necessary, knocking her head back. Despite the shaking of her body and the fear wracking her she continued her prayers in a whisper. "-and blessed is the fruit of your womb, Jesus." She heard a soft hum and the filtered light through her blindfold was gone, sounds of confusion following. She stiffened, and the gap in her prayers was long enough for a hand to clasp around her mouth, muffling a scream as hot breath touched her ear.

"Close your eyes." The husky voice ordered gently, "Keep praying. Whatever you hear, don't move, and keep praying." The hand muffled a choked sob from her throat, and then it was gone. Leaving her a whimpering mess.

At the first sound of the fighting, she yelped in terror and started praying again through her sobs.

"Holy Mary, Mother of God, pray for us sinners now and at the hour of our death, Amen." She cried, shoulders shaking with the force of her sobs. "Glory be to the father," She screamed as gunshots rang out but continued praying. "-and to the son, and to the Holy Spirit. As it was in the beginning, is now, and ever shall be, world without end. Amen."

Next was the Our Father prayer again. This time she could hear less violence and less screams, but they were still coming. "Our Father who art in heaven. Hallowed be thy name. Thy kingdom come, thy will be done on Earth as it is in Heaven. Give us this day our daily bread-" She choked as she heard steps starting to come towards her, stopping inches before her feet. "Forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive those who trespass against us." The blindfold was gently lifted from her face, but she kept her eyes screwed tightly shut, tears now able to flow freely down her reddened face. "And lead us not into temptation..."

"Natalie, open your eyes." That same husky voice urged softly. She shook her head, voice cracking on a sob.

"But deliver us from evil."

"Open your eyes, Nat."

She gasped at the familiar voice and opened her eyes, seeing a pair of familiar brown ones directly in front of hers, so close she could hardly see anything else.

"Amen." She blubbered, sobs beginning anew at seeing a familiar face, mixed with confusion and shock.

"Amen." He whispered back. Then he took a knife from his pocket and cut the binds holding her to the chair. "I'm gonna get you out of here, Nat." He soothed, rubbing her wrists where the circulation had been cut off. "I'm going to pick you up, and I want you to close your eyes and finish the rosary. Okay?" She nodded absently, shivering in place and hot tears sticking to her face.

Without another word, Matt's arms were around her, lifting her gently off the chair and collecting her against his body, tucking her head into his neck to shield her eyes from the massacre that he'd left behind to get to her.

All he could think about as he carried her away from the empty room was that he wished those men had suffered more. That they'd paid a heftier price for laying a hand on her. "This isn't going to feel great." Matt apologized in advance, nose wrinkling at the thought of putting her in any more pain.

"I don't understand." She whispered, wincing as the needle entered her skin again. "How are you doing this?"

"Used to patch up my dad when I was young."

"Not the sutures." She swallowed. "You act like you can..."

"See?" He finished, smiling faintly. "I can. In a way." The smile vanished into an expression of concentration as he continued stitching her gash back together.

"So you aren't blind?" She wondered aloud, still trying to process everything that had happened in the past twelve hours.

"I am blind." He conceded, tying off the last suture. He frowned at her whimper of pain. "Sorry."

"You've probably had worse." She murmured around her swollen lip.

"You haven't." He countered, cutting the thread and smoothing a bandage over his stitching. "And.. I more meant I'm just sorry. Sorry for bringing you into this."

"I don't even know what this is, Matt." She sighed, pulling the borrowed shirt over her shoulders again. Normally, this situation would have her melting, but she found she wasn't entirely feeling romantic after the events of the day.

"I never thought i'd be putting anyone else at risk." He reiterated, brushing her hair back from her neck to lay on one shoulder. She shivered at the touch but found herself almost leaning into it.

"You can't have known this would happen." She insisted, refusing to look at him for fear she would do something stupid. "Random things happen."

"It wasn't random." The whisper was barely audible over the beating of her heart when she looked at him. There was a softness in his eyes that was so vulnerable, and something else there too that she hadn't seen yet. Something that looked like longing.

"What do you mean?"

"I talked about you." He murmured, stroking a single finger down from where her ear met her jaw to the line of her shoulder. "I was hurt. Someone was patching me up and I told her... About you."

"I don't understand-"

"Someone else heard. They heard when I talked about the color of your eyes. Your hair. The bistro by your apartment. Your name." He swallowed, a flush burning his neck. Something akin to embarrassment flaring in his stomach. "They used that information to find you. To hurt you."

Natalie swallowed hard past the lump in her throat, standing from the stool at his counter and turning to face him fully. "Why? Why would someone do that?"

"Because of how I talk about you." He spoke plainly, voice low and clear. "Because they put it together..." He paused a long moment before forcing the words out. "I care about you."

"I-" Her words were cutoff when Matt leaned into her space, hovering so close to her mouth but not crossing that final boundary.

"They knew hurting you would hurt me." He spoke almost against her mouth, and without thinking she gently pressed her lips to his, closing that last infinitesimal distance between them. He froze, just for a moment, then turned his head, breaking the kiss

The stood in awkward silence for a long moment, then he cleared his throat, stepping away. "You can... take the bedroom tonight. It's probably not safe for you to walk around right now. People could still be watching."

"Right." She nodded, wandering aimlessly past him towards the sliding door of his bedroom. His soft footsteps followed her, and she wished with everything in her they didn't. The rejection he'd given her stung, and she honestly wished she was in anyone else's' apartment right about then.

She tried to move into the bed without looking at him. But she only managed it for a moment before she stopped him at the door.

"Matt?" She hated the shakiness in her voice, but he turned at her call. "Will you stay with me?" She asked meekly, feeling weak and ashamed. "I just-"

"Yeah." He answered, saving them both from her awkward ramblings. Wordlessly, she scooted across the plush mattress and lifted the covers making room for him. Once they'd settled, she rolled over to her other side, looking away like she could pretend she couldn't feel the heat of him just less than a foot behind her.

It could have been minutes or hours later before she rolled over and opened her eyes to find Matt already watching her, something heartfelt and touching in his unseeing eyes.

"Stop looking at me like you want me." She begged in a whisper. "Matt, we both know you don't."

"I do." He muttered painfully, lifting a hand to touch her face. "That's the worst part."

"I don't believe you." She laughed humorlessly, closing her eyes sadly. "You don't have to say these things to spare my ego, Matthew. I know where I stand-" She was broken off when suddenly Matt was no longer a semi-appropriate distance away, but rather right against her, lips hovering over hers in a promise of a kiss. Without thinking she lifted a hand slowly to the back of his neck and pulled him that last millimeter, their lips meeting softly in the middle.

Matt started the kiss gentle, but it didn't stay that way, only seconds later she felt his tongue just brushing the seam of her mouth, asking permission to enter. She granted it on a gasp when his arm wrapped around her waist, gently bringing her in closer until they were touching from shoulder to knee.

The kiss broke suddenly, leaving them both taking in air, breath fanning across each others' faces.

"Believe me yet?" Matt nearly growled, moving his hand from her waist to her hair to tangle his fingers in it.

"I could do with some convincing." She countered, with only a little uncertainty in her voice. She thought she saw his lips turn up in the beginning of a smile before they were pressed against hers.

a/n: WHEW this one was a marathon to write. I am so tired right now but the second part of this scene will be included in the beginning of the next installment, including a lot more soft Mattalie content and the aftermath of the attack.

as always this story is dedicated to @abucketofweird and I'm extending it to @sunflowersandsapphires as well. You guys have been amazing supporters and none of this would be written let alone posted without you both.

I'm unsure if starting a tag list is a good idea. If anyone would be interested in that let me know. I've never done this crap before.

If you guys are liking this story please consider leaving a note or following for more it really means a lot. I'm gonna try and keep updating this semi-regularly but I make no promises because I'm chronically ill and in college. So nothing is certain lol.

Thanks again,

-Sybil :)

#daredevil #daredevil x reader #matt murdock x oc #matt murdock x reader #daredevil x oc #daredevil x ofc #marvel #matt murdock #matt murdock x ofc #matt murdock x you

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