#natasha romanov x oc
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Be Careful, It's My Heart
Natasha Romonav x Original Male Character
Hello, this is my first post on this blog and of course, it's a Natasha Romanov one. I’m not too sure how the formatting works on here so my apologies if anything seems off. In that case, this story involves my oc that is steves younger brother :) This is based on the song Be Careful, It’s My Heart by Frank Sinatra
“Hey, are you ready for tonight?” a certain captain asks.
The man grumbles, “No, not all,” he pans.
Steve chuckles,” Stop being so dramatic Gene.”
Eugene sighs, he can’t even fathom why he agreed to sing tonight at Tony’s stupid party. He’s normally not that shy, maybe a little awkward at first but he usually quells that after a few moments. But singing in front of everyone! That’s just something he’s never done before, only in the comfort of his own home or room.
Eugene looks at his brother, “I just don’t know why you volunteered me for this (why does Steve suddenly hate him)?”
“I volunteered you because you're an amazing singer and so you could use this as an opportunity to woo a certain redhead,” he says teasingly.
Eugene blushes, “I don’t know Stevie, she doesn’t even like me! And besides wouldn’t it be weird for me to sing about her in front of everyone and then she rejects me.”
“That's why you don’t even reveal who you’re singing about,” he nods knowingly, “She’ll know it's about her and then she’ll come and talk to you.”
The younger brother rubs his hand nervously around his chest, “How do you know?”
Steve smiles, “I just know.”
“I hate when you do that,” Eugene grumbles, “I’m telling Bucky about this!”
The older blonde panics, “NO! Anything but that, come on Gene, please?”
Eugene starts running to Bucky’s room, “I’m telling!”
Steve starts chasing him and while the chase is taking place they run right past Natasha and Wanda.
Nat tries to say hello but they run right past her saying, “Sorry!”
“What’s got them in a rush?” Nat asks a certain witch.
Wanda laughs, “You don't even want to know (Wanda hopes Steve put enough courage in Eugene so he could confess to Nat).
____________________________________________________________
James is fixing up his suit (why did Steve make him wear this?) when a knock is at his door.
He yells, “Come in!”
Eugene makes his way towards Bucky.
He sits by him, “I don’t know how I’m gonna do this Buck.”
James huffs, “It’s simple, you just do it, kid, now stop being a wuss, and let's go out there.”
Eugene rolls his eyes, “You just want to get this over with so you can take your suit off.”
James pats his face, “You know me so well.” He looks at Steve’s little brother who's gone through so much, “You got this Gene, I know it's scary to put yourself out there but if you just saw the way Nat looks at you, you wouldn’t be afraid,” he finishes with a smile.
The blonde nods, “Thank you, Buck.”
“Anytime, now let's get this show on the road.”
By the time they get to the party, it's already started and Steve’s waving over to them.
They go over to them and to Eugene’s surprise Nat’s sitting with him and he’s in awe. She’s gorgeous with her black satin dress that hugs her body beautifully. Her fiery red hair makes her stand out, and her perfect red lipstick that goes with it. Of course, her green eyes are staring at him like he’s the only thing in this world that she can see.
He loves her eyes, almost as much as he loves her.
He snaps out of it when Nat starts speaking to him, “Hey Gene, glad you could make it,” she says while smiling softly at him.
He nods and goes to sit next to her, “Yeah I sort of have to be here tonight.”
She looks at him questioningly, “Why is that?”
“You don’t know,” (he would’ve thought with Tony’s big mouth everyone knew) “Well I have to si—,” he was cut off by Steve who put a hand over his mouth.
He tries to speak but Steve won’t let him, “Hey Nat don’t listen to him, he's just a bit cranky,” they all look over at Eugene who is staring daggers at his older brother.
Right when Steve put his hand down Tony came over, “Eugene! The man of the hour! Are you ready?”
He hesitantly nods and Nat and everyone besides James and Steve are also in the dark.
Tony yanks Eugene out of his seat, “Excellent! Let's get this show on the road!”
While Tony’s pulling him away he yells, “HELP ME!” to his brothers and friends (they did not help him).
While the band is setting up Eugene is just in his head going over if he can do this. His heart is telling him to stop being a coward and to just sing this song to finally tell Nat of his feelings. However, his brain is telling him it's a terrible idea and he’s going to get heartbroken.
Right when he’s about to call this whole thing off a hand touches his shoulder, “Don’t quit now Gene,” Wanda tells him, “You got this.”
He shakes his head, “ I don’t know Wands why would she want me, I'm not all that special.”
“Gene you can’t read minds as I can and stop with the self-deprecating talk,” she scolds, “You’re a literal super soldier with a heart of gold, what's not to love?”
She hugs her friend, “It's time to finally show her, and sing how you feel.”
Eugene processes for a few moments before nodding, “I will, I’m gonna sing to a woman and hope she loves me too.”
“I’m glad,” she says while the band lets them know that they're done setting up.
Tony comes up to them, “It's time Gene, you ready?”
Eugene looks at Wanda and she nods to him, he’s ready, he has to be.
He gives him a thumbs up and Tony says, “Great!,” while leading him to the front stage.
When they get there Eugene realizes just how many people are there but more importantly how he instantly found Nat staring at him. He waves at her like an idiot, she chuckles but waves back (he calls that a success).
All of a sudden Tony’s voice could be heard throughout the party, “Hello everyone! Are you ready to get this party started!” People yell and cheer (sounds like some already let the alcohol get to them).
Tony laughs, “I like the sound of that but before that, I have a very special guest singing for our entertainment!” He looks at Eugene and waves him over, “Everyone! Welcome Sentinel aka Eugene Phillip Rogers aka little Rogers!”
Steve and Bucky make the most noise but Eugene also notices how Nat cheered for him (god he was such a goner).
Tony gives him the mic and whispers, “Good luck, I’m gonna get started on relaxing,” he gives Eugene a pat on the back while walking off stage.
He’s freaking out, Tony just left him to the vultures, the bastard.
He’s just gotta do it like Bucky said.
He doesn’t say anything, he just signals the band that he’s ready, and the lights dim and the conversations start to end.
Eugene takes a deep breath and looks towards his big brother, who mouths, ‘You got this.’
The music starts and it is now or never. He looks at Nat one last time and sees her green eyes and that's all he needs to know that he has to do this now or else he’ll never do it.
Now or never.
Be careful,
All eyes are on him but he can’t seem to care. He’s putting his all into this.
it's my heart
He won’t look at Natasha at all until it's over, so just in case her reaction is bad he won’t die on stage.
It's not my watch you're holding, it's my heart
It's not the note that I sent you that you quickly burned
It's not a book I lent you that you never returned
Remember,
He knew he had to pick this song. It represents what he feels, shows how his heart is fragile and out there but also how his heart is hers. She could make or break him and whichever she chose he would just say thank you.
Thank you for even allowing him to love her.
it's my heart
His heart beats so strongly for her. He remembers the first time they ever started actively trusting one another (they both have trust issues) and how natural their relationship came, like they’ve known each other since birth.
This heart with which so willingly I part
They’re both from completely different times yet, they fit so well together. He just hopes she feels the same. Or else he might just want to go back to the frozen box that kept him so cold. At least it will numb his feelings.
It's yours to take, to keep or break
But please, before you start
He hopes she feels just how much of himself he just showed her. How much he exposed his tender heart.
Be careful, it's my heart
Please be careful.
When the music comes to a stop it's silent for a moment and then all he can hear is thunderous claps and yelling, whistling, and cheering.
He can’t believe he did it.
He confessed, and he hoped Nat knew that the song was about her. He doesn’t want to look in case that turns out to not be the case.
The blonde heads off stage and out of the party passing people who are cheering him on.
He just needs to get to his room so he can relax and watch some old sitcoms that Wanda got him into.
He’s so focused on trying not to freak out that he doesn’t notice a certain redhead catching up to him and trying to get his attention.
Right as he’s about to turn a corner Natasha grabs him, “Why are you running?” She says while slightly out of breath.
He didn’t even realize he was running, “Oh, I don’t know,” he nervously rubs his chest, “Why aren't you at the party?”
Nat shakes her head, “Why would I be at the party when you aren’t there?”
She looked Eugene in his eyes, “Why would I still be there when the man that just sang to me left?”
Eugene gasps, “You know?”
She nods, “Of course I know. You love that song, you told me it reminded you of me, (how did they not know right then in there that they had the hots for each other)” She got even closer to him.
“I do love that song,” he leans his head towards hers, “It showed how I feel about you.”
Natasha gulped, “And how do you feel about me, Gene?”
It's now or never, whether Natasha feels the same way about him is irrelevant he just wants to get this off his chest and tell her how he feels.
“I love you, Natasha,” he whispered her name, “My heart beats for yours.”
He said it.
Finally, after all this time he told the love of his life that he loves her.
She’s smiling, “I love how you always end up being poetic, “ she says while making him lean down so she can wrap her arms around his neck.
They’re so close now. Natasha can feel how nervous and scared he is, she doesn’t want him to feel like this, “I think it's obvious but I love you too, Eugene.”
He smiles so brightly that it makes Natasha feel warm (she loves when he smiles).
Eugene wraps his arms around Natasha and embraces her. They stay like that for a few minutes just enjoying the warmth of each other.
However, they both want a little more, and being the gentleman that he is, Eugene asks, “May I kiss you, Natasha?”
She chuckles, “You don’t even have to ask but I’m still thankful you did,” she pulls him towards her and presses her lips against his.
It was worth the wait, that they could both agree on.
Eugene gently tugs her so they're both directly against each other and Natasha just keeps lovingly kissing him.
They both put their hands in each other's hair and just melt into one another.
She goes to take a breath but he chases her lips and kisses her again. They’re both content with doing this forever, but they’re both private people and don’t want anyone interrupting them.
So they both sadly stop kissing but they're still holding on to one another, “Let's go somewhere more private,” the redhead doesn’t ask but states.
He nods like an eager puppy, Natasha laughs, “Let's go to my room.”
She grabs onto his hands and puts one to cup her cheek, “I promise to be careful with your heart,” she says lovingly (she knows how brave he was to sing that song in front of everyone, especially in front of her).
The blonde kisses her again, “And I promise to be careful with your heart (he wants to say even more but this isn’t the place to do it).”
They’re both smiling messes and Natasha gets the smart idea to challenge him, “Race you to my room! Last one there has to be the one to help Tony back to his room tomorrow! (they both know whoever has to deal with Tony tomorrow will have to deal with him acting like a baby the entire day).”
He grins, “Deal!” He starts booking it.
Natasha chases after him, “Hey! That's cheating!”
While they're running to her room they pass Steve, Bucky, and Wanda.
The three all laugh and start cheering amongst themselves.
“Finally!” Wanda exclaimed.
Bucky and Steve both agree.
However, Bucky shivers, “It's great and all but now we’ll have to deal with them acting on the heart eyes they always send each other.”
Steve and Wanda both groan, they didn’t think of that.
But they all don’t mind, the two of them deserve all the happiness that they can bring each other.
After all, Eugene was brave to show his heart, and Natasha was brave to accept it and in return, showing hers as well.
They’ll both be careful of each other's hearts because to them it's the most important thing in the world.
#marvel#marvel fanfiction#natasha romanoff#natasha romanov#marvel cinematic universe#natasha romanoff x oc#natasha romanov x oc#natasha romanoff x original male character#natasha romanov x original male character#oc#original character#original male character#steve rogers#bucky barnes#wanda maximoff#natasha romanoff fanfic#natasha romanov fanfic#love confessions#fanfic#Spotify#natasha romanov x reader#natasha romanoff x reader#Natasha romanov x male reader#Natasha romanoff x male reader
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The only fool on April Fools'
Natasha thought she came up with the best prank ever. But she forgot exactly who she was trying to prank.
• Natasha Romanoff x Fem!OC
• Wordcount: 2.7k
• Warnings: suggestive talk
Masterlist
Do not repost my work as your own or translate my work!!
A/N: a late birthday post from me :)
2028
Natasha could not stop looking at her hands on the steering wheel. More specifically, she couldn't stop looking at her nails. Every time they caught her eye when she went to change the song on the radio or flick her blinker, the smuggest smirk took over her entire face.
She'd been thinking long and hard about this year's prank. April Fools' Day was a serious occasion for her and Katya, a holiday they planned for for months. It started in 2010 when Natasha had been brave enough to prank her girlfriend at the time, and it developed from there. The only rule they had was that the pranks shouldn't be too humiliating. Just funny. So there was a lot of creative freedom.
This year, she really nailed it. It was hilarious. She was hilarious, and Katya was going to be so pissed. She thought Natasha had just gone to get a haircut, but she'd be getting the worst surprise of her life when she showed her what she'd actually been doing in the city.
Was it cruel? Yes. But Katya replaced all the Oreo cookie filling with toothpaste last year. Natasha's Oreo cookies. And she filled a donut with mayo. So Natasha wanted to let her feel that same pain. Only more subtly.
When she walked into the house, pushing her smirk aside for the sake of the prank, the smell of cake filled her nostrils. It smelled delicious, like chocolate and butter. A special recipe that Katya had been meaning to try. Too bad that Natasha wouldn't be eating a single piece of it, considering there was probably salt in it instead of sugar, but at least she knew where to find her darling wife.
Prepared to feel incredibly smug and pleased, she strolled into the kitchen. Katya stood with her back turned, softly singing a song as she mixed something with the handheld electronic mixer. The noise drowned out the sound of Natasha's footsteps, so she didn't hear her come in. It only prolonged the excitement. "Smells good in here."
Katya jumped, quickly turning off the mixer. "Oh. Hi, baby!" An adoring smile spread across her lips as she turned around. Natasha almost felt bad for her upcoming prank. Almost. "Let me see your hair." A crease formed between her brows as she studied Natasha's long red locks. "It doesn't look any different," she said carefully, as if she was afraid to offend her new haircut.
Natasha smiled sheepishly, glancing down at her hands. "Yeah, well, you know… I was planning on getting my hair done, but then I passed a nail salon, and, well…" Instead of explaining, she simply brought her hands up, holding her nails out for Katya to see.
When the nail stylist asked her what shape she wanted, Natasha told her to go for the pointest, most stabby looking nail she could do, and she hadn't disappointed. Two inches long, all of them ended in a point that could seriously poke somebody's eye out. The deep red color and the black details turned them into the sexiest murder weapons she'd ever had. The sexiest, most inconvenient weapons ever. They were lowkey homophobic.
She saw the different emotions cross Katya's face one by one. Excitement, at first. Probably because she was happy Natasha spoiled herself, or she liked the nails. Then hesitation. Then realization. Then anger, which manifested with a slight twitch of her brows. And lastly…
Actually, Natasha couldn't decipher the emotion that slid over the anger. It was like Katya mentally paused before she could get really angry, and then decided on a different course. All of it happened within a second. Her brain was just that fast at assessing a situation.
An excited gasp flew from her lips. "They look so good, honey!" Katya exclaimed, carefully taking Natasha's hands in her own to see her nails better. "The design is so simple yet so elegant. It really suits you!"
Natasha inwardly frowned, her smugness plummeting. This was not the reaction she had been hoping for. Not by miles. But she wasn't giving up yet. "What do you think about the length?" She smiled, mirroring Katya's excitement. "I wanted to go even longer, but I've never had nails before so I didn't want to overdo it."
"No, I love it! It suits your hand shape really well."
To Natasha's even bigger surprise, Katya let her hands go to grab her cheeks instead, pulling her close to press a sweet kiss to her lips. Her blue eyes sparkled joyfully. "I'm so glad you treated yourself to something nice. You deserve it."
Then she turned around and went back to making the icing for her cake.
Natasha stood there, lost, wondering how this had gone completely the opposite way of how she wanted. Katya was supposed to be upset, asking her what she was thinking, getting long ass nails as a woman in a lesbian relationship. With those weapons on her fingers, she could not use them for her favorite activity whatsoever.
But instead of getting pissed, Katya got the opposite. She happily sang, swaying her body as she finished mixing her icing. Not a care in the world.
Natasha's prank had dramatically failed.
"Look how good this looks." Katya suddenly turned around, a big scoop of chocolate icing on her pointer finger. Slowly, she brought it to her lips, sucking her finger into her mouth and pulling it out. "Hmm, so good," she moaned.
The very bottom part of Natasha's stomach twisted into knots. She couldn't find her words as she watched Katya lick off the icing in a way that was incredibly sensual. And not by accident.
''Yep, that's done!" She beamed. Katya covered the bowl with some foil and put it in the fridge, happily twirling around to a still frozen Natasha. ''I'm going to lift some weights. Could use a spotter.''
''I—'' Natasha mentally slapped herself, swallowing thickly. ''Sure.''
Katya perked up. ''Okay. Give me a minute to change.''
She wasn't stupid. She knew exactly what those nails meant. It meant her wife was an ass. An ass who didn't want to get laid for a few weeks, apparently.
Her first instinct was to get pissed. Get pissed at Natasha for partly ruining their sex life. Because while they owned many replacements, Natasha's fingers would always be her favorite, and they were not going up there looking like that.
But then Katya realized that getting angry was exactly what her wife was after. And what better way to ruin a prank by pretending not to see it? In fact, she was going to throw Natasha's own prank right back at her, make her miserable. Show her that getting these nails would come back to bite her in the ass. Fast.
Nobody messed with her.
Choosing her smallest sports bra and tightest cycling shorts, Katya threw her hair up and returned to Natasha. The woman seemed to be disoriented, or at least deep in thought. She was in the exact spot Katya left her ten minutes earlier, frowning at the countertop. When she did look up, Katya purposely flexed her biceps as she tightened her ponytail, drawing Natasha's gaze directly to her arms.
Her green eyes darkened as they took in Katya's figure. Everything that wasn't bare skin was skin-tight. And while her body didn't look the way it did when she was twenty-four—duh—Natasha still thought it was hot as hell. She wanted to grab it, bend it over the counter—
''Earth to Nat.''
Natasha rapidly blinked, pulling her head out of the clouds. ''Hm?''
Katya had a huge grin on her face that she tried to hide. ''I said; are you coming?''
''Oh, yes.''
She didn't even try to not stare at Katya's ass as the brunette walked in front of her. It was right there, shaking in those spandex shorts. The urge to grab it and press her nails—oh. With a frown, Natasha looked down at her pointy nails. She couldn't grab Katya's butt and press the top of her nails down at the same time.
''Hmm…'' Katya stopped in the doorframe of the garage—their home gym. ''What do you reckon I should do first?''
''Ass.'' Natasha was just in time to bring her gaze upwards when Katya spun around, staring straight into her raised eyebrow. Her cheeks heated up when she realized what her half-horny brain had thrown out. ''I meant squats.''
''Squats it is.'' Katya smiled.
Even the process of setting it all up drove Natasha up the wall. To get the weights on the bar, Katya had to lift them, and because she barely wore a shirt, her back, shoulder, and arm muscles visibly flexed for Natasha to see. Her hands itched, but she suspected Katya was playing a game, and she wasn't going to give in.
They both weren't going to give in. So it was going to be a game of who can hold out the longest.
If things progressed this way, Natasha was one hundred percent sure she was going to lose.
''Okay.'' Katya excessively bent over to put her resistance band down. She'd warmed her muscles—doing some very deep deep squats—and secured her ponytail once more. ''I'm ready.''
Natasha knew it was going to be a mistake when she stepped behind Katya. She knew she was digging her own grave. The brunette pressed her ass into her front and flexed her muscles way more than necessary as she adjusted her grip on the bar resting on her shoulders. Natasha clenched her jaw to keep still and quiet, but the frustration started to build.
Down Katya went for the first squat, pausing a few seconds before she went up again. Natasha squatted along with her, forcing herself to pay attention to the bar and only the bar. She wondered if she could even close her hands around it in case Katya needed her help. Those damn claws of her were probably in the way.
She was about to breathe out in relief when Katya didn't pull any stunts on the way up.
Then she let out the sexiest grunt ever.
Natasha nearly collapsed through her knees. Dirty memories of times where Katya grunted like that flashed through her head. Half an hour of teasing and she was on the very edge of damning it all to hell. Screw her dignity. She wanted something else to screw, and fast.
Down, Katya went again, audibly breathing out as she went down, and grunting when she straightened up. Down, breathing out. Up, grunting.
Three times, Natasha kept herself together with great difficulty. On the forth grunt, her sexual frustration snapped.
''Put it down.''
Katya smirked to herself. She expected her wife to keep it together a bit longer, but obviously her plan was working. ''What? Why? I've just started,'' she said innocently, pretending to be extremely confused the same way she'd been pretending to be stupid.
''Put the thing down.''
Carefully, Katya racked the bar, furrowing her brows as she turned to face the fuming redhead. Before she could blink, Natasha had her pinned against one of the squat rack's poles. She felt all that frustration in the way her spine bumped against the metal. ''What's going on?'' Her eyes widened like that of a deer in headlights.
''Stop playing dumb.''
''Playing dumb?''
Natasha took one good look at her and knew she wasn't going to give in. Katya could play the innocent persona as long as she wished to, no matter what threat Natasha would sling at her head. Torture training as a kid clearly worked better for her. The only thing she had to do was grunt a bit and Natasha was a goner.
A groan of frustration filled the garage. This was cruelty in the most ruthless way. Dangling the richest, most tasteful, most expensive wine in front of an alcoholic but not letting them have a taste. Collecting all her self-control, Natasha backed away, stalking off without so much as another word.
Katya snickered proudly, smirking as she turned back to the squat rack. Her plan was going amazingly so far. These weren't the only tricks up her sleeve.
The torture continued throughout the day. She was doing the dishes? She accidentally got the front of her shirt all wet, and didn't happen to wear a bra. The dinner table needed a good clean? She was bent all over that thing trying to get the spots in the middle. She was vacuuming? She was on her hands and knees on the floor trying to vacuum underneath the couch.
Wherever Natasha went, she also miraculously had to be. The redhead could not escape her. It was torture training. But in a way she'd never been tortured before.
The weapons on her hands had gone from ''the funniest things ever'' to ''I'm going to rip my whole nail off if it means I get to stuff my hand down her pants''. She couldn't take it anymore. Sexual frustration built and built until her stomach was in a permanent knot and her hands were constantly sweaty.
Two hours before Maya was meant to be coming home, Natasha couldn't take it anymore. The groans, grunts, and sighs, and the positions Katya bent her body in finally pushed her over the edge.
Fine, her wife had won. But taking a hit to her ego and pride was worth it if she could finally get her hands between those legs.
She didn't even bother soaking her nails off. She simply took nail cutters to them and cut them all off as short as possible. Then she filed them down roughly, paying extra attention to the middle three fingers of her left hand, and tossed everything in the trash.
Katya heard her coming from miles away, her rushed footsteps before Natasha cornered her in the laundry room. She saw them immediately; her nails. Or the lack thereof.
Concerned, she dropped a t-shirt back in the laundry basket, trying to reach for her hands. ''Oh, no, what did you do to your nails?''
But Natasha wasn't taking this innocent bullshit anymore. ''You drive me absolutely nuts. You pest,'' she grumbled. Her voice lacked serious anger as she slowly backed Katya up against the washing machine. Instead, it was laced with reluctant defeat and annoyance. Annoyance at herself.
A sly smile overtook Katya's features as she gripped the edge of the machine for stability. It looked like her wife had been through it. ''Ready to admit you made a mistake then?''
''I hate you.''
Katya chuckled softly. ''You dug your own grave, babe. Worst prank ever. Well, for you then. It was so much fun for me.'' She smirked teasingly as she slowly trailed her fingers up Natasha's arm. The game was still going on. Even now. The glare Natasha sent her was weak at most. ''Don't forget who you're messing with.''
Natasha rolled her eyes, leaning forward to connect their lips, thinking this was it. But Katya jerked her head back, amusement swimming in her eyes.
''Nuh-uh. Say it.''
''Say it?'' The redhead grumbled impatiently, seconds away from throwing a fit.
Katya nodded smugly, her fingers slowly trailing down Natasha's arm. ''I need to hear it. I…''
Natasha clenched her teeth together to swallow back the vile words and accusations that Katya would only laugh at. She didn't think she would be this cruel, giving her dignity another slap in the face by making her vocally admit her mistake like a child. Unfortunately, Natasha didn't have another option.
She squinted her eyes, placing as much displeasure in her words as she could. ''I made a mistake thinking I could outsmart my mean, cruel wife.''
Happy, Katya grinned, grabbing Natasha's hips to pull them flush against her own. This victory tasted sweeter than her chocolate cake downstairs. She won April Fools'. And she didn't even have to do anything for it. ''You know, it's really not my fault you get so riled up.''
Natasha usually loved to bicker, but she couldn't take it anymore. Her gaze kept drifting down from Katya's eyes to her lips when she talked, and if she wouldn't get her mouth or hands on her body right this instant, she was going to explode. ''Respectfully, shut up. You had your fun, now it's time for mine.''
''Yeah, those nails aren't going up there looking like that.''
#katandnat#katyaromanoffpetrova#forgotten ghost series#natasha romanoff#natasha romanoff x fem!oc#natasha romanoff fanfiction#natasha romanoff imagine#natasha romanoff fanfic#natasha romanoff x reader#natasha romanov#black widow#marvel#mcu#wlw#lesbian#sapphic#natasha romanoff fluff
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Chemistry
Description: Some things are given the perfect name. Natasha finds beauty in that. Some things are and sound as they appear, nothing deeper hidden underneath. Just a word and an obvious definition. That’s why she’s a fan of one-night stands. It’s not deep. It’s one night. Then, it’s over. So, you can imagine she’d get upset when one moves in.
Warnings: (Nat x OC! Series) smut, cringe-worthy awkwardness, angst, fluff, death, war, typical MCU stuff, trauma
(Prologue)
Lucky didn’t even begin to describe the way Kora was feeling. She was dreading going out at all, feeling out of touch in the crowd since being a mother. She had a teen pregnancy. Sure, she was an adult. 18. That didn’t mean she hasn’t missed out.
She got pregnant in highschool, and she could deal with that. She could handle the rumors that got out of control, the dirty looks, the rude teachers. None of it bothered her, not at first.
Then, her daughter came into the world. She couldn’t go to school. She didn’t trust anyone to watch her baby while she was there. That meant she couldn’t go out, unless it was child friendly.
News Flash: Highschool and college students aren’t child friendly.
With all the change, she was forever grateful to keep Anna. Her best friend for life, her ride or die, her family. But Anna was a kid too. She was still young, still experiencing. Kora didn’t blame her for choosing a fun time over her.
It was only natural for a kid to want to have fun. Kora understood, because she longed for that same carelessness and spontaneity. She didn’t blame her friend at all, but it still sucked. She had no support system, even now.
Kora loves her daughter more than anything; there is nothing that could replace the fulfillment of being a mom, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t feel the loss of connection to her youth. She could feel it, and it made her nervous.
She considers herself lucky, yes. The bar isn’t, by any means, packed. In fact, there were only a few people occupying the space. It eases her mind, being less overwhelming than a nightclub. She doesn’t want random people grinding up on her or slipping something in her drink. She wants a good fuck, and that means being pickier. Unfortunately, her luck didn’t supply her confidence. That’s a job for liquor.
She makes her order: a screwdriver, double. Kora always found that alcohol provided her with lust. She found it particularly hard to see more than aesthetics without substances. Even with them, she preferred to close her eyes, preferred the absence of them, of who was fucking her. It often made her feel weird; different; outcasted. For a girl already so set apart from her age group, from society even, it only added fuel to the fire. So, she drank.
“Another?” The bartender asks, a thin line of sweat on his brow, rag thrown over shoulder, looking down at her. One could say the man was gorgeous, and Kora noticed. She looked at him a moment, considering his words, feeling the beat of the music thump around her and the heat of her drink swishing down her chest towards her liver. She could use another.
“Yes.” She doesn’t have to ponder on it for long. She’d been there 2 hours now, drinking and drinking, starting to worry that maybe she isn’t as pretty as she thought. She had a few guys come up to her, but none were attractive.
Come to think of it, she doesn’t think anyone hot ever had come up to her before. If it did happen, her guess is their mouth made them ugly. She wonders if she would mind taking the bartender home.
She supposes that she would, if the opportunity arose. There’s something about men she can’t have that turns her on. It’s exciting, being desired so badly that a man would risk his job to be with her.
“Penny for your thoughts? A drink?” A woman speaks beside her, drawing her out of her head and back into the dark room. She swirls the last of her drink in the bottom of her glass, hesitating. Something inside her is bubbling. She figures she’s excited to make a new friend.
“It’s not much of a party in here, is it?” Kora smiles, gesturing to the quiet atmosphere. The woman is pretty, that’s for sure. She doesn’t look like she belongs in a place like this. It’s so run down, gloomy, and cheap. It’s not the setting Kora would imagine to meet someone that looked like her.
“That’s why I like it.” She smiles back, ordering that drink with an air of comfort. Kora assumes she’s a frequent flier, maybe even friends with the bartender, a man she thanks by the name of Kevin. She calls him Kev, flashes a smirk, and returns her attention to her drink.
“You don’t like parties?” Kora can’t stop herself from asking, the question leaving her lips before she can so much as think about it. Something about the woman is captivating and Kora can’t look away.
“Most nights, I don’t. You’re looking for one?” Her eyebrow raises, drawing attention to the woman’s eyes. They aren’t brown, but they seem dark from where she sits. Kora finds herself leaning forward, trying for a better look. She blushes at the realization of her actions, leaning back in her seat awkwardly as she runs a hand through her hair, similarly raking through her mind for an appropriate response.
“No. No, I was just thinking that it’s surprising a bar this close to the university isn’t packed.” Kora’s blush deepens at the look she receives from the other woman. She can’t decipher what it means, but it’s gone soon enough.
“Are you disappointed?” She questions, finishing her drink and waving for another.
“No. I was relieved, actually.” Kora smiles, looking away from the woman’s cherry red lips and the way they press firmly against her glass.
“Oh?” She smirks, raising her brow, yet again. This time, Kora only glances at her for a second, looking at her own drink, and taking a sip before responding.
“My friend wanted me to get laid. Although, most the guys in here are old, so I think I’m off the hook.” Kora laughs, glancing back at the woman. She doesn’t know why she’s talking so much, rambling on to someone she only just met.
“You don’t want a good fuck?” She asks, her bluntness throwing the girl off-guard. Kora’s surprised she didn’t blush, or choke on her drink. The woman asked the words casually, gluing her eyes to Kora’s as if she hadn’t been the one speaking, as if she had only been listening; observing.
“Not from an old man.” She laughs, looking around the room again, as if to solidify there was nobody to catch her eye.
“Their loss.” Her voice is low, and Kora feels her heart speed up. The woman looks so casual and confident that Kora is desperate to appear a similar level of carefree.
“They’re too fragile, I think.” Kora doesn’t know how she meant for it to come off. She’d never have this conversation sober. Maybe that’s why she got drunk.
“So you like it rough then?” She smirks, watching an embarrassed blush color the girl’s cheeks.
“I don’t know. I definitely don’t like it weak.” She smiles, taking another sip of her drink. There’s nearly an air of awkwardness, one Kora knows is her making, but the other woman paints over it quickly.
“Has no younger man tried to pick you up?” She gestures to the rest of the bar, which has increased in size since Kora first arrived. Kora notices, as the woman moves, that the light bounces off her hair, making it shine in an almost red hue. It makes her wonder what color it really is, if it feels as soft as it appears.
“They have.” Kora avoids the woman’s intrigued gaze. She feels embarrassed, as if she’s been caught acting a way she’s not supposed to.
“I don’t doubt it.” She sounds so sure, so much so that Kora can’t help but glance up, almost as if to see if her face told another story.
“You asked?” Kora is not easily distracted by flattery, even when drunk. She’s suspicious now, her own eyebrow raising with a scrunch.
“That, I did…I wanted to ask why you haven’t gone with them, but that seemed too crass.” Her voice sounds slightly unsure to Kora. She appears utterly at ease, as if she’d just spoke about the weather. It confuses Kora slightly, who feels a strange sense of far-off excitement at what it could mean.
“Oh.” Kora doesn’t know what to say. However, she is desperate to keep the pretty woman talking. “I guess they just weren’t good enough.” Kora mentally curses herself at the arrogance, but the woman is only amused.
“So you play hard to get?” She smirks at this, takes a drink, and Kora looks away.
“Not usually.” She blushes, embarrassed by how easy she must sound. A woman as pretty as the one before her has likely had many men kneeling at her feet. Kora sees no possibility of this girl going home with just anyone.
“What changed?” The woman speaks again, turning her body slightly, as if to make the other girl more comfortable or open.
“I haven’t been satisfied.” Kora almost slaps a hand over her mouth. Her words came out sultry, sexy, and with a sense of challenge. The alcohol must’ve gave her more than confidence.
“Yeah? That’s a shame.” Her voice is raspy, and her pointer finger runs the rim of her glass. Kora feels her eyes burn with gloss, as if watching that act had burned a hole, all the way down to the apex of her thighs.
“It is?” Kora feels her eyes snap to the other woman’s, desperately trying to read the words. They could mean anything, if she really thought about it.
“If I had a pretty girl like you, well…” The woman smirks, taking a swig of her drink, and emptying the glass. Kora notices herself watching as the alcohol is pushed down the woman’s throat. She notices the eyes smugly looking over at her, waiting for the moment Kora realizes that she’d been caught. Kora catches her eyes, but surprises the woman.
“Well?” Kora pokes, trying her best to appear the way the woman was. She keeps eye contact, straightens out her posture, and tries her best to look neutral. She can’t find it in herself to not see how this goes, but she doesn’t want to look desperate.
“Well…” A devious and arrogant glint passes over her eyes, “I’d fuck you just for saying that.” The words sucked air from Kora’s lungs and lit a fire below her stomach.
“Too bad nobody has me.” She shrugs, a playful glint in her eye as she mixes her drink slowly with the umbrella straw.
“Oh, no. That’s no bad thing, sweetheart.” She purrs, causing Kora to look up in confusion.
“Why’s that?” The other woman is confusing Kora in many ways, but at this, she’s starting to think it’s just a game. It’s fun, but not quite what she’s looking for.
“If nobody has you, that means I get to fuck you and not feel bad about it.” She states, finishing her drink without even the slightest reaction.
“You think you’re gonna fuck me?” Kora may be affected by the woman’s words, but something inside her wants to play with the other woman too, payback almost. She was on the edge of disappointed, about to jump off and kill the question of her desire. The woman had put her there and pulled her back just as carelessly.
“You don’t want me to?” Her eyebrow raises, an amused expression raising her face. Kora hates how the woman can keep her cards drawn in close, how she remains so constantly cool and sexy.
“I-What if I didn’t?” She poses the question with procrastination, part of her scared of her own answer, of her own desire.
“I’d call you a liar.” She states, drawing over the bartender to close her tab. Kora can’t find a response, blown away at the knowing arrogance of the woman before her. “Look, I’m heading out. You can come with me, or you can stay here. I don’t care.” Kora watches as the woman stands, pulling out a wad of cash to count, before leaving a generous tip. Kora notices even her actions are careless, as if she had no concern over getting mugged. It turns her on, makes her feel strangely safe. No woman is stupid enough to be careless in New York City.
This woman? She lacks fear, which Kora finds enthralling. As the woman turns to leave, she finishes her drink and runs after her, gripping a surprisingly muscular arm to steady herself. For the first time in years, Kora is excited.
—-
A sound akin to a squeak slipped from Kora’s mouth when their lips smashed together. It felt tingly. It made her tingly. The woman’s mouth was warm, really warm. It made the cool air of the hotel room seem a little more cold, or maybe that was the fan. She couldn’t think about it. When hands cupped her jaw, Kora found herself leaning into it, enjoying it. She got lost in it.
She whimpers when she’s slammed against the wall. The woman pushes closer to her at the sound. She’s getting more confident, more aroused. Kora never thought a kiss could feel so good. She wondered how the rest of the night would go when she already felt like this. It made the Apex of her thighs feel warmer.
A hand drops to her neck, wrapping around the back, pulling her into the woman. Kora’s own hands set themselves on the woman’s hips, feeling her curves, sliding up her tank top to touch the soft skin of her waist.
The woman groans at this, pulling back to leave hot kisses down Kora’s jaw, heading to her neck, where her pulse thuds and her heavy breathing only gets heavier. A soft moan leaves her mouth when the redhead finds her sweet spot, pulling the skin tight and into her mouth, caressing the sting of her teeth with a wet tongue.
Kora raises a hand to the red hair in her line of sight. She sighs at how soft it is. It feels better than she had imagined. She runs her fingers through it, and she can’t help herself. She tugs. A grunt falls from the woman’s lips, who was working on slipping the dress past Kora’s shoulders. The woman allows herself to be tugged up, back into a hot and heavy kiss.
A firm grip lands on Kora’s hips. They’re pulled up and into the other woman, who grinds back, and Kora moans. The hands slide down, feeling for the bottom of her dress, sliding up her thighs, revealing her lacy panties. A strong thigh slips in between her own and she can’t hold herself back. She grinds down, feeling her throbbing get better.
She lets herself fall into it, back and forth, back and forth. When she fails to kiss back, lips leave hers and drop to her neck again, sucking harsher. The hands on her hips guide her, moving her again and again against the rough fabric of the woman’s jeans. Even as she shudders, as one hand finds the woman’s hair, and the other slips under her black leather jacket, feeling the tight muscles of her back shifting with movement, the repetition stays the same. Even as she moans, as she clutches the woman tighter to her, breast to breast, and face falling into the crook of the neck before her, the woman keeps moving her.
Forward, now back, forward, now back. Forward and her stomach is clenching, growing more uncomfortable by the second. Slightly faster and she can only focus on the coil in her belly. It’s getting hotter, twisting harder, and she knows she’s close to getting what she so badly wants.
“You’re moaning so pretty for me, sweetheart.” That’s all it takes. Just 7 words wrapped in the sweet sound of her voice, dripping with sex. Kora’s thighs clench around the woman’s. She gasps against her neck, letting herself come undone, arching back into the wall behind her, feeling the familiar warmth of lips returning to her neck.
The woman stretches her high, continuing the grind against her thigh, feeling the warm wet path of juices on her leg. She sighs at the feeling, at the woman grasping onto her, at the sweet taste of sweat on her neck, and the soft skin under her dress. She can feel the girl shift, the overstimulation likely growing uncomfortable. The woman loves it. She wants more.
“Please.” Kora pants, the sound coming out at the level of a whisper, with the tone of a whimper. She doesn’t know why she’s begging, or how to ask for what she wants, but the woman appreciates it nonetheless. She can tell by a groan at the words.
She’s pushing them backwards, further into the room. Kora’s knees hit the mattress, and she climbs back shakily, situating herself comfortably in the center, the woman staring her down, taking in every inch of Kora.
It almost leaves her uneasy: the hungry look on her face. If she wasn’t feeling the same way, she’d close her eyes. But she keeps them open, locking them with the woman, seeing what she missed in the bar. They’re green. They’re sharp and careful and calculating. They’re bold and make her want to look away, to cower. She blushes instead.
Those eyes gloss just a tad more, getting closer and closer, until they drop to the dress, to her hips. She climbs up, on all fours, hovering over Kora, looking down at her with pure lust. She takes in the sight. The straps to her dress are still pulled over her shoulders, down her arms. Her collarbone is exposed, and the woman runs her eyes over it, jogging down to her cleavage and walking lower to the curves accentuated by her dress. She smirks at her thoughts; reveling at the body below her; ready for some real fun.
Slender hands slide down under Kora and pull her up. One hand holds her like this, steady in the air. Kora nearly moans at the display of strength. Her hand falls to the woman’s arm, feeling her up, all the way to her shoulders. The woman unzips Kora’s dress, a slight blush rising up her neck while she’s being felt.
Suddenly, Kora drops. A gasp leaves her lips, blush darkening. The woman smirks again, watching her body react to the fall. Her breasts bounce, her arms brace, pushing her chest up, and the dress slides further up her thighs as her leg comes up to steady herself. The woman smiles, but it’s not sweet or comforting. It’s dangerous.
Her dress is removed delicately but quickly, slipping down her waist without the slightest scratch. She’s surprised by this. Although, that emotion could be the product of the woman’s warm body slipping between her legs, pushing her deeper into the bed.
It all feels so good. The weight, the way hands gripped her hips, felt her stomach, her breasts pressed against the other woman’s. She’s never been with a girl before, and Kora finds herself slightly anxious. She doesn’t know how to make the other woman feel good too.
Her own hands fall back into the red hair. She loves the silky texture, and even more so enjoys the feeling of soft lips on hers. She decides to take more control, sliding her mouth across the woman’s jaw, feeling her clench, dragging her fingertips over the tight muscle. She places a kiss there, and continues down. The girl’s neck is nearly burning, but it feels nice. It’s like hot tea on a night without sleep, warming her insides, tasting so sweet, and filling her head with a fluffy swirl of daze.
The woman smells like sweat and honey. Kora finds herself breathing it in, almost as if to save it for memory as she licks a stripe up her neck, stopping occasionally to suck and wrap a leg around the woman, pulling her further into Kora. The woman breathes heavier, but doesn’t allow this for long.
“Tsk, I’m not the one getting fucked tonight, am I?” Her voice is raspy, dark, and oh so pleasant to hear. The words turn Kora on even more than she’d like to admit, more than she understood to be possible. That, accompanied by the woman gripping her jaw, forcing her face closer. Their breaths mingle, Kora’s lips tickle with the air, her nose picking up the sweet scent of whiskey.
“No.” Kora breathes, letting the woman pull back.
“That’s right. So be a good girl and keep these hands to yourself.” Kora watches the woman grab her wrists, pulling them up above her head. Her hips raise, gliding along the woman’s toned torso. The pleasure only lasts a second, a hand firmly holding her hips down into the mattress. A pout finds her lips and the woman smirks.
Kora’s hands are left lying there, her hips devoid of relief, and the woman sinks lower. Their eyes are linked, a never ending staring contest taking place. Kora is curious. She doesn’t know what’s going to come next. The woman is craving a reaction.
A manicured hand runs up Kora’s chest, snapping the strap of her bra against her skin. Kora gasps, the slight sting matching the fire in the woman’s eyes, the contact making her all the more wet.
Her other hand starts at Kora’s calf, running up lightly, reaching her knee, her lower thigh, and just slightly higher. She’s right below where she’s needed, just watching, running her thumb back and forth in a featherlight manner. She watches Kora’s chest rise and fall with heavy pants, the glazed look in her eyes, the twitch of her hips, the tight hold on the sheets above her head. The woman doesn’t linger here long and for that, Kora is glad.
The hand on her thigh stops moving. She leans back on her legs, her hands pulled to her own thighs. She looks contemplative; excited but undecided. Then, she climbs up. She straddles a leg, pushes her knee up into Kora’s sex, and drops her torso over the other girl. Kora moans, grinding down on her again. With hands holding her up on either side of Kora’s head, the woman smirks.
“Arch for me.” Kora is taken aback, but does as she’s told. Her breasts touch the woman’s above her, with only the fabric of her bra keeping her from feeling more than a light skim over her nipples. Just then, the woman reaches under her, undoing the clasp on her bra as if having read her mind. She pulls it off gently, sucking in a breath at the sight. Kora blushes.
“So pretty.” She purrs, gliding a black fingernail over her collarbone, down, down, down, until it brushes against the soft skin of her nipple. Kora’s stomach flexes, her hands gripping the sheets tighter, anticipation filling her veins, raising goosebumps on her skin.
“Thank you.” She breathes, her cheeks burning hot at the look she receives. Kora feels desired and equally so, desire. The woman turned her head just slightly at the gratitude, confusion tugging at her brow only for a millisecond, before she relaxes and a smirk grows again. Something about Kora’s words seem to turn her on.
Kora gasps as a warm, wet mouth lowers on her lower breast, sucking slightly. Her other hand rises to give attention to the other. She sharply tugs at the nipple, surprising Kora, whose back arches slightly, a pretty noise escaping her mouth while her hand drops to the woman’s hair. She runs her fingers through it, holding the back of her head to ground herself. The woman groans against her, a ripple of vibration releasing a soft whine from Kora.
“Did the pretty girl forget?” Kora stills at the words. She hadn’t realized she’d gone against the rules. She rolls her eyes, annoyed.
“Must have.” She snarks.
“Your hands stay up here.” She practically growls, firmly holding her wrists above her head with a challenge. When Kora realizes she can’t pull away, her legs clench around the woman’s waist, and she sighs. She hadn’t expected the woman to be so strong.
Pressing her hand over Kora’s underwear and hearing a gasp, the woman smirks. “For someone so wet, you really should listen…Only good girls get to cum.” She whispers in the girls ear, shrugging as she moves her hand away from the soaked cloth and the hips so desperately searching the air for contact.
“Wait…please.” Kora begs, the ache between her legs beginning to pulse. She can’t remember ever being so worked up before. She also can’t remember sleeping with a woman.
“Only this once…because you asked so kindly.” She purrs, ripping the panties from her skin. Kora hears the fabric rip and a hand hushes her complaints, settling itself over her lips. Excitement flows through her veins and a finger slips through her folds. She gasps, lifting her hips into the feeling, satisfaction filling her breaths as her clit receives much missed attention.
As it starts slow, with soft circles around the bud, Kora begins to shift around, pushing into the hand that only pulls back to the same level of ghostly pressure. The feeling is good, but not enough. She can’t stand the lightness of the touch, the breeze of her fingers, instead of their full presence.
“I need more. Harder.” Kora begs, her words muddled by the hand covering her mouth. She locks eyes with the woman who had situated herself straddling a hip, one hand still hiding Kora’s lower face, the other below sight.
“Harder? What’s the magic word?” She husks, turning her hand to drag her fingers down Kora’s mouth, pulling her bottom lip out, feeling it shake with anticipation.
“Please.” She breathes, watching with hooded eyes as the woman takes her in completely, as if she had to consider Kora’s body, as if she wasn’t sure if she felt like giving in so easily, as if she longed to watch a struggle.
“Good girl.” She purrs, smirking as she soaks in the sound of the moan pulled from the girl beneath her. She’s enjoying this too. Kora can tell. She can feel the wetness on her hip, the wetness that’s discolored the jeans she still wears, making Kora frown. She wants to see skin too.
“Take off your clothes.” Kora pants, almost moving her hands to help. She caught herself before she could, her arms only slightly twitching with the thought. Either by this, or her words, the woman’s eyes light up. Kora feels uneasy by it, in an exciting way.
“And I thought you had manners.” She says raspily, pulling away from Kora’s body with a teasing frown. The girl stops herself from protesting the lack of contact, instead watching the woman unbuckle her jeans, pull the zipper down teasingly slow, and begin to wiggle out, looking up through her lashes as she makes eye contact, savoring the moment, the look on Kora’s face, the feeling of air brushing her damp skin.
She slides her jacket off her shoulders, folding it in half and tossing it onto a chair near their bed. Kora’s legs shift together, and the woman notices, but so does Kora. Kora notices the toned muscle and prominent veins on the woman’s arms, the skin of her lower belly, as that too becomes exposed, and the hunger she feels. She aches to reach up and run her hands over her stomach, to feel the ridges in her abs. She’d enjoy any contact at all.
“Better?” The woman asks, her eyebrow raising in question. Kora nods, having enjoyed watching every sliver of skin become exposed while the tanktop came off. She feels awe-struck, lying there, staring up at the women who’d yet to touch her again. “Use your words.” She orders, crossing her arms over her chest, covering the black design on her bra.
“Yes. Much better. Please fuck me.” She whines, begging, pleading with her. Kora’s sex feels uncomfortable. It’s pulsing, begging for contact, aching so badly to be filled. She’s desperate. The woman loves desperate.
Slowly, the woman sits how she had, sliding her hands over the girl’s stomach, using it to steady herself as she straddles Kora’s hip, sighing at the pleasure of it. She looks up, taking in Kora’s breasts, their perkiness, her neck, littered with a hickey or two, her mouth, open and panting, her arms pulled up over her head, and her hands that take hold of the comforter, yet again. She grins, watching the girl’s hooded eyes widen and her mouth part further with a hoarse moan as she slams her fingers into the girl’s pussy.
In: harsh and deep, out: pulling against her spongy walls, each thrust searching deliciously for that one special spot. Kora closes her eyes, her face scrunched in pleasure, her mouth hung open, silently moaning.
Gasp after gasp, and she feels herself getting closer and closer. Her stomach feels like it’s shriveling up, sucking for air, for release. Then, it stops. Nothing is inside her anymore. She feels her sex clenching around nothing, her eyes opening in confusion. The woman waiting for her, for those glossy eyes to open.
Just as Kora moves to speak, to question her, it starts again. It’s slower this time, it’s not enough. She feels herself clench again, sucking the woman’s hand further inside her. Suddenly, she gasps, stars lining her vision as if she had stood up too quickly. Her hips shoot up, making the woman slide down her thigh, a trail of wet heat following her. The woman moans, throatily, unexpectedly, and it’s a noise that has Kora’s thighs shaking, awaiting more pleasure.
“Keep your eyes open this time.” The woman almost looks annoyed at her, setting her hand on Kora’s lower stomach, pressing her weight into it as she pulls herself back to her prior position. Kora moans at the pressure of her hand, pleasantly surprised at the feeling.
Kora doesn’t have time to respond. The words are stolen from her tongue and her mind when two fingers enter her this time, gliding against that spot gracefully.
“Jesus, you’re so fucking tight.” She groans, skillfully fucking Kora whilst maneuvering up her body. Kora moans, her hooded eyes glossed over so much that she wonders if tears will fall. The slender fingers pump into her faster, and Kora feels it all. Every edge and side of them rolls smoothly against her walls. She feels almost perfectly full, another finger stretching her slightly.
“Oh my go-od.” Her whole body begins to shake, the sting of the stretch lighting the match in her belly, fireworks just seconds away from releasing from their container. Lips press softly against her neck, a vast difference from the hard thrusts of her hand and the rough grind of her wrist against Kora’s clit.
Kora heard the pops of the beautiful lights in the sky. She must have, because her ears are ringing and her vision is gone and all she feels is pleasure. She’s sure she’s moaning, she has to be. It feels so good. It lasts longer than expected, the woman stretching it out with lazier thrusts and gentle caresses on her breasts.
It’s then that Kora knows she’s screwed.
#avengers#natasha romanoff#marvel#natalia romanova#natalia romanoff#natasha x oc#fan fic#fanfic#natasha romanov#natasha romanoff smut#prologue#black widow#wlw tag#wlw love#wlw ns/fw#wlw smut
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Real Cowboys Don’t Run
Natasha Romanoff x female!OC
“I ain’t tellin’ you shit, eyepatch.”
“I think you’ll find yourself talking in no time, cowgirl.”
She smirked, feeling the dried blood on her face crack with the motion. The pain was excruciating but she’d never show it. She’s been through worse interrogations. Torture that not even SHIELD—corrupted as they are—could match.
“How about we start with a name?”
She merely yawns, looking around the dark concrete room.
“No? Alright then. You like steak? Lobster? Been a while since you ate.”
“I could go for some Mac n cheese. The box kind.” She says blankly.
“Really? You are not kidding right now?” She merely shrugs. “Fine then.”
He leaves the room and she’s left alone with nothing but silence and the metal cuffs digging into her skin. She breathes slowly, ensuring no aspect of her body language changes. She knows they’re watching.
2 hours and 43 minutes later—she counts each second that passes—a redhead woman stalks into the room. She sits carefully in the metal chair across from her. She does nothing but stare for 57 seconds. “Who are you?” The redhead finally asks. The blonde offers no response. Not even a twitch. “How about a name? Doesn’t even have to be a real one.” Absolutely nothing.
Natasha doesn’t show it, but she’s unnerved by the steely exterior. Never before had she been unable to read someone. She had perfected the art of body language at a disturbingly young age. Interrogations were her forte.
The stare down continues, neither party giving an inch.
“Look, I don’t know who you are. I don’t care. I just want to know why you were sneaking around that facility. If you pose no threat, you’ll be free to go.”
The blonde knows that’s a lie. They would never just let her go. But she won’t show it. Never give them anything, because a good interrogator will use anything and everything against you.
“Well since you’re feeling a bit shy, I’ll carry this conversation for the both of us. We tried to run prints but they’ve been burned off. Likely hydrochloric acid, according to forensics. Was it forced? Or did you do it willingly? Made killing a little easier, did it? One less thing to worry about?”
People usually jostle when she brings up the subject of murder, but the woman doesn’t move an inch. Natasha is having fun with this, though she knows she shouldn’t be.
“And then there’s the fact that you simply don’t exist. We ran facial recognition, DNA, toe prints, everything. Searched millions of records for something that might resemble you. Absolutely nothing. So tell me, where did you come from?” She leans forward.
The blonde woman smiles. “A farm.”
“Ah, yes. The cowgirl. I like the hat. And the belt buckle. It’s a cute touch,” she gestures to the silver buckle at the woman’s waist. “Tell me about this farm. Are we talking a normal farm? Or a place that breeds serial killers and mercenaries?”
“Cows. Potatoes.”
“Cows and potatoes. Nice. No serial killers?” The woman shakes her head in denial. “So why talk now? Why tell me this and not the goons who spent hours trying to beat it out to you?” The blonde offers no response. “C’mon, just tell me. Weak spot for beautiful women?”
The woman smiles slightly at that. It’s calculated, Natasha thinks. “Because no matter how much I tell you, Natalia Romanova, you will never get what you want. You caught me because I let you. You will never know who I am because I am no one. I am a ghost. Merely a puppet in the shadows. I cannot be broken. Believe me when I say many have tried and failed. I will tell you this much: I am not HYDRA, but I am not on your side. There are no sides in this game, Agent. I do what I need to. It has nothing to do with you. Never has, never will.”
Just like that, she leans back in her chair, her face set in stone once more. Natasha nods and leaves, refusing to show the anxiety she feels about the fact that the woman knows her name. Her real name.
One hour and twelve minutes later, several agents enter the interrogation room. They unchain her from the chair, leaving the cuffs on her wrists. After a bag is placed over her head, she’s escorted to another room. This one is a cell. With a toilet and even a blanket. There are no windows, but it’s an improvement. The cuffs arw removed and she is left alone in the cell.
Eventually a tray of Mac N cheese and a bottle of water is slid through a slot in the thick metal door. She eats it without worrying about poison, knowing they would’ve killed her by now if that’s what they wanted to do.
~
Tucked in the corner of the cell, she breathed deep and slow as she let her body sink to the floor before pushing through her pinky fingers, raising her body back up. Her feet remained still and straight in the air as she went through the exercise, determined to stay in shape throughout her captivity.
She slowly moves into a planche, loving the way her muscles strain with the movement. When the door beeps and clicks and the redhead enters, she doesn’t flinch. Agent Romanoff leans against a wall and watches.
The blonde woman moves into a tuck planche before sitting on the ground and taking a swig of water. “You like watching, do you?” Agent Romanoff says nothing but smirks. The blonde stands and wipes her face with a towel, leaving the rest of her body sweaty in her black sports bra and sweatpants. She watches Romanoff’s eyes as they move down her body, taking in the tattoos and scars.
“That’s a lot of scars for a cowboy.”
“I’ve been in my fair share of rodeos.”
“Touché. Do the tats mean anything?”
“They mean everything. But you’d never be able to figure it out.”
“I know. You’re an enigma. I’ve learned that by now.” She unlocks a door, revealing a basic shower. “Get cleaned up. You stink.”
When the blonde emerges from the shower—feeling much better, though she’d never admit it—there’s a fresh pair of sweatpants, underwear, and a t-shirt waiting for her. She gets changed and takes a seat on the concrete floor.
“Get up, we have places to be,” Natasha says as she enters the cell.
The blonde doesn’t budge. “Were you standing out there watching me change? That’s a bit creepy, Agent Romanoff.”
“You’re a prisoner. You’re being watched 24/7.” The woman’s smirk tells Natasha that she already knew that.
She stands and follows the agent out the cell door. “No cuffs?” The blonde asks.
“No cuffs. Don’t make me regret it.”
The woman chooses to remain silent, following Natasha through the maze of white hallways. They arrive at a conference room, a familiar man inside.
“Eyepatch! Nice to see you again.”
“Cowboy. Wish I could say the same.”
“Why did you drag me out of the comfort of my cell?”
“Well, glad to know you’ve settled in nicely. We’re done with these games, cowboy. We’re gonna sit down and talk like adults.” He gestures to a seat across from him and the woman takes it, showing no signs of nervousness.
“How may I be of assistance to you, Director Nick Fury?”
“You are very good. I will give you that. But I am better, Hallyn Chase.” He tries to shock her with the knowledge of her name, just as she’s done to them.
Hallyn remains stoic for several seconds before bursting into laughter. “That’s it? Seriously? I’ve been here for two weeks and all you’ve got is my name? That’s cute.”
“Your name is all I needed. Now we can have an actual, civil conversation. So tell me, Hallyn, why were you at the facility?”
Hallyn sighs, shaking her head with a click of the tongue. “I needed information. A friend of mine went MIA a while back. Just trying to find him.”
“Does this friend have a name?”
“Well, yes, he’s not an animal,” she states obviously.
“You’re not gonna tell me his name, are you?”
“No, no I am not, Eyepatch.”
“Well I appreciate the honesty. Moving on. You’re very skilled. What’s your background?”
“You know I can’t tell you that.”
“Can’t you?”
“You know I can’t. And I won’t.”
“I gotta say, my first impression of you was military. But there’s no record of you. So special ops maybe? CIA even?” He asks the question even though he’s already fairly certain of the answer. He slides a picture across the table to her. Three MARSOC uniforms stand side by side, weapons in hand. Every face and name is blurred out. Hallyn merely raises a brow. “That’s you in the middle, is it not?”
“At one point that was me. Not anymore.”
“That’s what I thought. So you enlist in the marines, go into special forces, and kick ass. You get promoted to a team that’s so secretive, even I don’t know the name. Maybe you still work for them, maybe you’ve gone rogue. I don’t know. I don’t care. What I do wanna know is if you are a threat to me and my organization.”
“Nick Fury, the only threat to your organization is the one that’s already penetrated it.”
His eyebrows furrow. “What are you talking about?”
“I think you know. I think you’ve suspected it for a while but didn’t want to believe it. But Steve Rogers cut off one head. Another one was bound to grow back.” His one good eye goes wide as Hallyn leans back in her seat. “May I go home now?”
“Does someone like you have a home?” Romanoff asks.
“No,” she answers honestly.
“You can stay here for the time being. Under close surveillance. Play this smart, and you just might find that I can be a useful ally.”
“I don’t need an ally.”
“Maybe not. But I guess we’ll see.” He nods at Romanoff and she grabs Hallyn’s arm, signaling her to stand. Hallyn gives Fury a nod before following the redhead.
Natasha leads Hallyn to a different floor in silence. They end up in a basic bedroom with a small attached bathroom. The walls and bedspread are white, much like a hotel.
“This will be your room for the time being. There are cameras in the bedroom and directly outside the door. None in the bathroom, don’t worry. You will be heavily monitored, but behave yourself and you just might earn a bit of leeway.”
“Really? That’s it? You guys snatch me up, beat the shit out of me, lock me in a cell, and then give me a bedroom and freedom?”
“Yes. Because for some reason, Directory Fury seems to trust you. Frankly I’m not sure what he sees.”
“Me neither. But I will not betray you, Agent Romanoff. You are not my mission.”
“What is your mission?”
“I’m not quite sure anymore.”
She hesitates for a moment. “What happened to you?”
“That’s a conversation for another day.” Hallyn answers vaguely.
Series Masterlist
#Natasha Romanoff#Natasha Romanoff x reader#black widow#yelena belova x reader#black widow x reader#natasha romanoff angst#natasha romanoff fluff#natasha romanoff x oc#yelena belova#natasha romanoff smut#natasha romanov
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One Shots Masterlist
Hello, I'm new to tumblr and I don't really understand how it works. So Welcome to my account and i hope you enjoy reading what i post😁.
I will be writing one shots of different celebrities and characters of both movies and series. And a Wattpad writer will also be helping me and will let me upload their one shots to my profile.
Below I will update the famous ones and the one shots that I will upload:
Emily Dickinson -> "The past comes back" Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4 .
Daenerys Targaryen -> "The rightful heir." Part 1, Part 2, Prart 3, Part 4, Part 5.
Hailee Steinfeld -> "The Late Late Show"
Rhaenyra Targaryen -> "The Personal Guard." Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6.
Eloise Bridgerton -> "The Prince". Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4.
Emily Junk -> "The New Bella." Part 1, Part 2, ...
Wednesday Addams -> "The wolf in my bed". Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4…..
Tara Carpenter -> "The lies I keep". Part 1, Part 2,...
Kendall Jenner -> "Yes". Part1, Part 2.
#daenerys targaryen#jenna ortega#tara carpenter#rhaenyra targaryen#hailee steinfeld#wednesday addams x reader#game of thrones#rhaenyra targaryen x reader#sadie sink#emily dickinson#house of the dragon#gigi hadid#shelby goodkind x reader#eloise bridgerton#maddy perez#alex morgan x reader#emily dickinson x fem oc#female reader#male reader#male oc#female oc#oc character#celebrities#one shots#dove cameron#kendall jenner#kylie jenner#natasha romanov#got#lydia martin
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Feel free to send requests!
#natasha romanoff#natasha romanoff fanfic#natasha romanoff x fem!reader#natasha romanoff x reader#natasha x reader#wanda maximoff#mattheo riddle imagine#natasha marvel#natasha romanoff imagine#natasha romanov#maria hill#theodore nott x slytherin!reader#theodore nott x y/n#newt maze runner#hogwarts oc#hufflepuff x slytherin#soft natasha romanoff#harry potter
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Does this have potential??
The Great War || N.R. X Fem!OC
Once, a girl with red hair dyed blue met a blonde girl. The blonde girl didn't have her hair dyed, but she had the most beautiful, brightest eyes the redheaded girl had ever seen. Three months during the summer were more than enough for the two girls to bond. But when the summer came to an end, everything fell apart. The bright-eyed girl, without explanation, left the red-haired girl, who later fell back into darkness and pain.
Ekaterina lost everything she loved, fell into the hands of greedy people and became a puppet. When someone finally reached out to her, she grabbed it. Ekaterina became Katy and, for a long time, tried to forget what had happened in the past: to forget the mother she lost, the father who betrayed her and the girl she loved. But the truth is that the ghosts of the past would never abandon her and would always come after her to take her back.
For Natasha, Ekaterina was a stain on her past, just another fake part of something that was never real. When those eyes insisted on taking over her mind, she wondered if she really existed. Having their paths cross again, side by side, reconciliation and the search to survive the great war.
Ps: English is not my language, so I'm sorry for any mistakes... 🫶
#fanfic#fanfiction#please help#avengers#marvel#natasha romanoff#natasha romanov#the avengers#female oc#natasha x reader#natasha romonova#for you
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The Snap
A/n: I didn’t re read this, at least I finally posted it though 😅
Summary: reader gets snapped and can’t find Natasha
Tw: death, the snap i guess?
Natasha's strong arms wrapped around you. A movie was playing on the TV, but neither of you were paying any attention to it. Her eyes looked into yours...
oh, those beautiful, deep, green eyes. You had known them for so long, yet they still held so many secrets.
Wonders.
Smiles.
She brushed a strand of hair away from your face and softly ran her thumb over your cheek.
Suddenly, you felt something fluttery on your shoulder. Touching it, your hands came away with charcoal-like dust on them… and bits of your hand falling away?
“Natasha?” You gasped. It was getting harder to breathe. “What’s happening?” You looked at your hand, fear running through your veins. You squeezed Natasha’s hand desperately, like she would somehow pull you back to reality, but it was no use.
“Y/n, listen to me, I promise- I promise that I will bring you back. I will do whatever it takes, I don’t care if I have to climb all the way up to heaven to get you back- I will. Trust me, I will always you, no matter what happens next. Just breathe with me, okay? Just breathe, y/n, breathe. ..”
and then the world went dark.
Light flooded through your senses. You felt as if you had just woken up, a bit sore and confused. And your whole body was itching like hell… oh. I dissolved. The memories from before with Natasha came flooding back. Shit. . . Where was Natasha? You stood up hastily. If the light from the window was any indication, it had been a couple of hours.
All of the rooms in the house were empty. It must have been a while. . . Maybe she went to get the milk™️.you grabbed your phone to check the time. Dead. You plugged it in. While you waited for it to charge, you observed the room.
Walls faded from green to a grayish color. Blankets askew and unfolded. Pictures gone…
You grabbed your phone, desperately hoping that you were wrong. Locking your eyes to the top right corner of your screen, you gasped.
2023
No, this- but how?
With shaking hands, you called Natasha.
Voicemail. Shit.
Just then, you remembered what you and Natasha had talked about when you had first moved in together.
“I know that this isn’t a pleasant subject to talk about, but. . .” Natasha wrung her hands, “if something ever. . . Happened, and you couldn’t reach me, I need to give you a number to call. Her name is Yelena, and she’s my sister. But only call her if it’s an emergency.”
“Only if it’s an emergency,” you agreed, “And I’ll put my aunt’s number in your phone.”
The two of you swapped phones and put in the numbers.
But of course, you thought, I’ll never need to call Yelena.
In many ways, you were wrong.
You dialed the number.
“Hello?” A shaky voice asked on the other side of the line.
“Is this Yelena?” You asked.
“Who’s asking?” She snapped.
“You probably don’t know me,” you started, “But I’m Natasha’s girlfriend, y/n.”
“Oh,” her voice softened a bit, “Yes, this is Yelena.” There was a sort of smile in her voice. “Y/n. Natasha never stopped talking about you.”
“Do you know where she is?” You prodded, “is she with you?”
“Unfortunately, I don’t know where she is, either.”
“Oh. . . Okay, it’s just that she wasn’t answering her calls and, well, she gave me your number for if I ever couldn’t reach her and there was an emergency. Which, according to my phone, we’re five years into the future and I don’t know what happened in the past five years,” you rambled, “and so I called you.”
“Don’t worry, I’ll call you the second that I hear something from her.”
“Great. . . Okay.” Your head spun as you hung up.
You fell asleep and you waited, and you called Natasha and listened to her voicemail and you waited, and you texted Yelena and you waited.
Because, no matter what, you knew that you would never stop waiting for her.
#natasha romanoff#natasha romanoff x reader#natasha marvel#natasha x y/n#natasha x reader#natasha x you#natasha x oc#natasha romanoff fanfic#natasha romanoff fanfiction#fanfic#wattpad#natasha angst#natasha romanoff x fem!reader#natasha romanoff x y/n#y/n#natasha romanoff x you#natasha romanov x reader#natasha romonova#natalia alianovna romanova#natasha romanov#romanoff#angst#natasha x Reader Angst#natasha romanoff angst#Natasha angst#marvel#marvel cinematic universe#marvel x reader#mcu#marvel mcu
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I came up with new ideas for the AU! (I just need a name 🤔)
Dark!Reader, while a black widow also got involved in HYDRA as a volunteer experiment, she got some cool super solider powers but they definitely don’t make up for the horrible nightmares she has at night
Wanda tried sneaking into your apartment pretending to be scarlet witch to seduce you for information but it didn’t work because Scarlet isn’t one for romance she just tells you instead of whatever Wanda was trying to do by kissing your neck softly and whispering sweet nothings into your ear, that’s just weird and you quickly dealt with her but not before sending her back with a dark hickey on her neck for all to see
As a weird attempt at making nice with your enemies you invite Wanda and Nat out to dinner in a public place so they couldn’t try anything
“Isn’t this nice? So what have you two been up to recently”
Wanda rolled her eyes “why are we here Y/N?”
“To enjoy dinner, what you don’t like that I’m sleeping and working with your variant?”
“Why would I care who you sleep with?”
“Because you’ve been glaring at Scarlet ever since we sat down annnnnnndddddd I can read minds like you witchy, thinking about my tongue are you?”
The dinner ends with Nat shooting your shoulder and Scarlet eating all the dessert, a success if you say so yourself
Reader and Scarlet have a partner, Tony’s eldest daughter daphne, she’s a redhead who fell into your arms after having a distressing argument with her parents, you found her crying and drinking in the bar across from your apartment and knew she’d be perfect to corrupt
When you brought her home Scarlet was quick to question you “who’s this?”
“This is daphne and she’s pretty upset after an argument with her dad”
“Daphne? What kinda Scooby doo crap name is that?”
“Her dads iron man”
Scarlet laughed “ah I see! Well princess come in and we’ll make you forget all about your narcissistic father”
After that day you and Scarlet treat daphne like some fragile toy, always needing help to do things and never leaving the house without permission, because the world is dangerous and she needs to be protected at all times
Eventually Tony finds out where his daughter is and demands she comes home “give me my daughter back!”
“Oh but she likes it here don’t you honey?” You would smirk
Daphne would nod “yeah, mommy and daddy take great care of me”
The avengers are shocked but Wanda and Nat are secretly impressed but as always Pietro is confused “who’s the mom and who’s the dad?”
#Dark!Y/N#marvel#marvel AU#wanda maximoff x reader#wanda maximov#wanda maximoff#the scarlet witch#the scarlet witch x reader#tony stark#pietro maximov#pietro maximoff#marvel oc#OC daphne stark#wanda maximoff x natasha romanoff#natasha romanov#Natasha romanoff#Dark!Reader
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STEVE ROGERS x FEM!READER
silver assassin ( part 2 / ??? )
warnings: violence, use of guns, anxiety/panic attacks, mentions of abuse.
( gif not mine )
THE DAY WAS STILL YOUNG, NO TRACE OF THE SUN ON THE HORIZON, JUST A MILKY MIDNIGHT BLUE THAT WAS STARTING TO FADE AS THE HOURS PASSED BY. Y/n could make out the twinkling lights of the city below, distant from the height of the jet and scattered in seemingly random intervals. Her heart was in her throat.
Rhodey had announced ten minutes until they where over the base, and she wasn't expecting the rush of anxiety that had momentarily paralysed her. Compartmentalise, she chided herself, deal with your emotions later.
Sam helped her into her harness, adjusting the straps to her thighs and shoulders until he was satisfied with the fit. She connected the buckle across her chest, then checked her weapons where secure in their holsters. "You alright?" Sam questioned, and she hoped it wasn't because he'd seen her hands trembling.
"Peachy." She muttered, then added a tight lipped smile to alleviate the obvious sarcasm in her voice.
"Y/n, you're with Rodger's." Tony gestured her forwards, "First wave."
Great. Fantastic. She glanced at Steve, and he gave her a firm nod— he was professional when it came to missions, it was just after them she dreaded. Y/n returned it, stalking towards the cargo nose that had been lowered and was now making the air colder. She resisted the urge to wrap her arms around herself.
"Twenty seconds." Rhodey warned, and she did one last check of her harness, inhaling slowly.
Ten seconds. She readied herself at the point where the level floor started to dip, hand grasping the wall to secure herself. Steve was next to her, staring intently at the ground below. Y/n really hated this part. The jump. Free falling was against every human instinct, and she'd never been an adrenaline junkie.
"Three, two, one—"
They set off, feet only on the cargo nose for a mere few seconds at the speed of their sprint. She counted in her head, trying to busy herself until she could deploy her parachute, which Rhodey normally instructed her to do over the coms— it was too dark to gage the altitude herself. "Y/n, five seconds," He warned, and after she'd started over her counting and reached five, her hand pulled at the cord that had propelled her back upwards a couple dozen feet. Then she was falling again, but much slower this time.
Steve had landed before her, not needing a parachute to break his free fall. She landed on her feet, and he helped her with the mechanism Tony had implemented in her harness that reset the parachute into its original position.
"Ready?" He questioned, and she gave a nod, not letting her thoughts drift to anything other than the task at hand.
They weaved through buildings, old and worn with metal gates and overgrowth, likely abandoned or made to look so. They crept around the biggest building, stealth leaving no trail, until they reached a grate in the floor Rhodey had briefed them on. She was vaguely aware that Sam and Nat had departed the jet through the voices in her ear piece.
Steve pried away the cover, fitting his body into the small space. She followed behind, her feet landing on something wooden and unstable, rocking beneath her boots. They where on scaffolding, about twenty feet high, the unlit room only illuminated by a small amount of moonlight that managed to seep through the space they just entered. It looked like storage.
Steve took the leap, and landed agilely, while she had to climb down the separate layers to join him. They checked for signs of life in the hallway, but it was empty, so they deemed it secure enough to move into. Everything was oddly unkept for an alleged active base, but she knew hiding tactics could be at part.
"Somethings wrong," she muttered as they walked back to back through the hallway, "There should have been dozens of hydra agents on us by now, they'd have the security to detect us. What are they waiting for?"
The mission was suppose to be about the element of surprise, but they anticipated conflict as soon as they neared any building. There was nothing.
"Maybe security isn't as tight as we predicted."
Y/n shook her head, "Not for something like this. They wouldn't risk loosing more assets like—"
Like they had when they'd lost her and Violetta. She didn't want to put the words to Steve. She didn't like to acknowledge any kind of connection to her past where he was concerned. "They wouldn't risk loosing assets." She adjusted her wording, but she knew he'd already read between the lines.
They reached a staircase, and Steve went first, it leading out onto another hallway that was almost a mirror of the last— but the only doors where further down, not evenly spread out like it had been downstairs. There was six.
"I've been here before," Y/n murmured, her steps tentative as she gazed around. Fragments flew together in her head, small moments of time that had lost their permanence in her mind. It was all coming back now, like shards of a mirror falling back into place, allowing a clear image of something she'd long since forgotten to the infinity of her mind, "I know I have."
She was sure of it. Her eyebrows knitted together as she took a-few more steps into the hallway, stopping before a door. The nostalgic feeling only grew stronger— like apart of her subconscious was playing a game of hot and cold, screaming that she was boiling close to finding her answers. She raised a hand, hesitated, then swiped a thumb across the label that sat just below eye level next to the door. It was thick with dust, but the lettering beneath became visible nevertheless. number one, reaper.
She drew her hand back like it had been burned. Y/n’s eyes darted towards the next door way, and as if on autopilot, she was moving towards it and swiping away the dust on the next tag. number two, hellcat. The next, number three, silver assassin. Her.
Oh god. This was it. This was the place where she'd been trapped all those years, suffocating in her human nature that screamed at her every time she completed a mission. They had moved her to a different base only a year prior to shields infiltration— but this, this, had been the four walls that confined her since she was five years old.
"This is where they kept us." She murmured, not quite believing the words that fell from her lips.
"How is that possible?" Rhodey's voice came over the coms, "y/n, this base was monitored for years, shield would have know."
"Well they didn't." Her words where harsher than she intended, but she didn't have the capacity to debate wether or not this was in-fact the place she knew it to be. It just was. Her head was busy re-living a million different moments all at once.
"She's telling the truth," Steve said, his face painted in subtle astonishment, "Her name— all of their names— they're on the wall."
He turned to her, "Y/n, are you o—"
Suddenly she remembered there was two other name tags she hadn't seen yet, and a stupid, completely unrealistic idea came to her head that possibly— just maybe— oh my god. The two doors on the opposing wall weren't like the other three, they where clean, well-kept, in use. Her breath hitched, and she took a-few steps forwards, "These rooms are still in use." She said, and he was at her side in an instant, staring at the doorway like it's existence was impossible. Number three, viper. Number four, serpent. She turned to look at Steve, and he gave her an uneasy look, but then the sparks of bullets hitting metal interrupted.
Steve pulled her behind his shield, gun fire clanking against it relentlessly. They looked at each other, shared a nod, and sprung into action. He threw his shield at the first guard, and when all the bullets began to target him, Y/n made a run for the second. Her arm reach out towards his, pulled him forwards, and used her leg to swipe him off balance. She was able to take his gun, using it on the remaining two agents.
"Go!" Steve yelled, beginning to sprint down the corridor as another group of agents rounded the corner behind him. He fell into step beside her, and they navigated a-few more halls before finding themselves on the roof.
"They know we're here." Steve panted into the coms.
Static sounded for a moment, mixed with the commotion of metal and grunts that sounded an awful lot like Tony dodging bullets. "Yeah, no shit."
"Get back to the jet!" Rhodey also sounded like he was in the middle of his own conflict, and Y/n felt unease settle into her stomach.
She watched Steve's eyes dart around before he looked at her, "The jet can't pick us up here, it'll be shot down. We'll have to get past the gates."
That meant they'd have to go back through the building, which would be swarmed by hydra agents by now. It sounded like an impossible— bullets clanked against metal, and in a split second she caught sight of countless assassins closing in on them, her body diving behind a raised air vent. Steve ducked down beside her as he let out a rare curse, "New plan, we'll have to jump."
Y/n sent him a look that suggested he was insane, "Steve, I'm human. I jump that and I die."
"You won't be jumping," He moved an arm around his back, fixing the shield in it's place, "I will."
Y/n eyebrows knitted, "What—"
"I'll take the impact," He chanced a look at the assassins before he elaborated, "But I'll have to carry you."
There where a millions reasons why she had a problem with that option, but it was the only one they had, so she nodded in agreement. "I counted seven agents, but they're pretty close together so the bullets won't be too different in angles. If I keep my back to them we shouldn't get hit." He said, and she could see his eyes calculating the distance between them and the roof edge.
She let out a nervous sigh, feigning optimism, "It's doable."
Steve give a firm nod, "You'll have to hold on tight, while I'll be taking the impact, the landing could still cause you damage if you loose your grip."
Y/n hadn't had any intentions of a feeble hold on something that was literally her only chance at making the drop, "Good advice, Captain."
He sent her a sardonic look. Steve waited a-few more moments before he decided it was time to move. Picking her up when they where standing would waste vital seconds they didn't have, so when he gestured her forwards she had to shove aside the awkward intimacy that came with straddling his lap and wrapping her arms around his neck. His voice was slightly ragged, and she assumed it had something to do with the life and death situation they where about to throw themselves into, "Ready?"
Y/n forced out an uh-huh, and in an instant he was on his feet. One hand hoisted her upwards by the back of her thigh, joining the other that was firmly around her waist. She could hear the bullets against his shield, some soaring past her ear in a near miss. Her head ducked into his shoulder to minimise the target on her, and gravel crunched underneath Steve's feet as he sprinted, sprinted, sprinted— her stomach dropped at the sudden free fall. It couldn't have been longer than five seconds, but it felt more like minutes as she anticipated some sort of disastrous landing. He had been right about the impact knocking her of balance, because even with an iron tight grip she still almost slipped from his hold. Yet, despite his stumbles at the lack of free arms to steady himself with, all she got was a slight scrape against the brick wall he walked them into.
She dropped her legs from his waist, and his hold moved to her forearm for a moment to ensure she was firmly on her feet. Steve's eyes lifted to the roof, "We best get out of here, it'll be raining bullets in a second."
Y/n nodded, and they where running again, weaving
through a scatter of buildings and across the court yard. It was all too familiar, like she was plunged right into the stage of her nightmares. She'd been trapped here for years, and suddenly a feeling crawled up her throat that was making it hard to breath. It was so dark. For days, weeks, months, she was left in the dark. The silence.
Steve grasped onto her arm and hoisted her up onto the jet, and she registered people, the team, but their faces didn't feel familiar to her mind. Then there was the blood shed. It had been so vivid and plentiful that sometimes she could still feel it on her like a second skin. They made her spill it, they'd forced her plunge that knife into flesh over and over and over and over— she wasn't breathing. She couldn't.
"Y/n—"
She held a hand up to silence them, doubling over with one of her palms pressed to the wall in a poor attempt to keep her knees from giving away. She was gasping. Suddenly she could feel the world spinning. Round and round and round. Metal collided with her knees, and she grasped at the rope that decorated the wall like it would stop her from sinking through the floor.
"Y/n." The voice was far away. Sam. Her mind found some clarity. It's Sam. But it was drowned out as another wave of panic hit her— the blood, the blood, the blood, the blood— "Get her head between her knees." A different voice. She was underwater, and it echoed, but she still heard it.
Hands grabbed at her, and she thought she might of struggled against them, but now she was sat with her back against the wall and her knees pulled up to her chest. Her vision was blurred. She was crying. Was that Steve?
Someone was in front of her. They where telling her to breath. Slowly, slowly, slowly. She felt like she was moving a million miles an hour, but the voice was like spikes in the road that caused the wheels to deflate and— slowly, slowly, slowly. "That's it, just like that."
Y/n still felt breathless, but now oxygen was beginning to inhabit her lungs again. It was Steve. He took a step back, allowing Sam to crouch before her. His face was unreadable, but maybe there was some trace of concern. Her eyes moved to Sam's, and he was looking at her empathetically, "You alright? You know where you are?"
"The jet." She muttered out.
"Exactly," He gave her a reassuring smile, "The jet, where it's safe. It's over now, y/n, you don't have to go back there again."
In the pit of her stomach, she didn't think that was true. Their rooms had been in use, and if they where there, she would take a million panic attacks to get to them. But she nodded at him nevertheless, and reached out a hand so he could help her up. She was slightly wobbly on her feet, but stable enough for him to let go. Y/n was too tired to acknowledge any of the other sympathetic gazes, but she offered a smile when Nat squeezed her hand after she sat down next to her.
Eyes falling shut, she allowed the hum of the jet to settle over her. Strangely, amongst all the fear and exhaustion and pain, there was a little bit of hope that she hadn't felt in a long time. Maybe she could finally bring them home.
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#steve rogers x reader#steve rogers x oc#steve rogers#steve rogers imagines#marvel imagine#marvel mcu#marvel#iron man#peter parker#natasha romanov#thor x reader
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Inked surprises
What's better than getting tattoos? Surprising your wife with them!
• Natasha Romanoff x Fem!OC
• Wordcount: 1.4k
• Warnings: vague mention of SH scars
This is part of my series where I post small scenes I've written over the years that have never seen the light of day.
Masterlist
Do not repost my work as your own or translate my work!!
2028
The house was quiet, the bedroom semi-dark. Katya stood at the end of the bed in her pajamas, twisting the cap on the tube of tattoo cream.
Her body vibrated with excitement. Way too much to sleep. The whole afternoon, she'd anticipated showing her wife what she'd really been doing in town today. It was a miracle she didn't blurt it out earlier, especially with the knowledge that Natasha would absolutely love the surprise, but she had an idea in mind and she wanted to execute it exactly the way she imagined. It was cheesy, but romantic, and would make it a million times better than if she were to simply take off her shirt.
Natasha just came out of the bathroom now, tying off the end of her braid. Her face glowed with the moisture of her skincare, and her presence brought along the smell of vanilla. Katya quickly tossed the tube of cream on the bed, trying to act casual as she smiled, but the movement caught Natasha's sharp eye.
She stopped in her tracks. ''Is that…'' Her gaze flickered from the tube, to Katya's smug face, back to the tube, and then back to Katya's even smugger face. Her jaw slowly dropped when realization settled in. "Katariina, you did not."
Katya grinned widely. This wasn't the way she hoped this would go, but the response was exactly right. "I did."
A dozen different emotions flickered behind Natasha's eyes. Playful disappointment, surprise, a hint of lust, but mostly excitement. She loved it when Katya got new tattoos as a surprise. "Show me.''
"Hmm…" Katya hummed in thought, pursing her lips. "No."
"Please?"
"Begging already?" Katya chuckled when Natasha's face fell into an unimpressed stare. She was loving this power play already. Natasha not so much. "I have a riddle for you. Solve it, and it'll be your only hint."
Natasha scoffed. "A riddle? What am I? Four?"
"Fine.'' Katya shrugged, turning away to pick up the tube to toss it in her nightstand. ''No riddle, no tattoos."
Natasha stubbornly crossed her arms over her chest, watching Katya as she walked around the room. "What are you going to do? Hide your naked body from me for the rest of your life?" When it stayed unwaveringly silent, Natasha groaned in defeat. She knew Katya couldn't keep this up forever, but she could keep it up for a long time. And her own patience wasn't that good. "Give it to me."
With an excited smile, Katya abruptly turned back to her. "I am an odd number. Take away a letter and I become even. What number am I?"
She watched Natasha's face closely while she tried to figure it out. The gears visibly turned behind her eyes, searching for the answer. It wasn't too difficult of a riddle, it shouldn't take her smart brain long to get it. Not to Katya's surprise, she lit up quickly, puzzle pieces falling into place.
"You got seven tattoos?" Natasha hissed in disbelief, her arms slipping loose until they dangled by her sides. Her reaction was nearly comical. If this was a cartoon, her eyeballs would jump out of her head. "How small are they?!"
Katya chuckled slyly, slowly closing the distance between them. "Nuh-uh, you got your hint." The front of Natasha's shirt bunched up in her fist when she yanked her forwards into a kiss, catching her off guard again.
It was so disorienting—the kiss and the earlier surprise—that Natasha barely managed to kiss her back, still reeling about seven new tattoos as Katya pulled her on top of her on the bed. They fell onto the mattress in a tangle of limbs, years of practice helping Natasha unconsciously sort out this straddling-situation. Only the feeling of Katya's tongue tracing her bottom lip pulled her out of her haze.
With a shake of her head, she pulled back, attempting to regain her composure. "Distracting me is not going to work."
Katya smirked up at her mysteriously, her brown hair a mess around her head. "I'm not trying to distract you, I'm trying to help you. But it won't work if you don't follow your instincts."
Natasha suspiciously narrowed her eyes at her. How was kissing going to help her out? "You are being so vague right now."
"Indulge me."
Defeatedly, Natasha sighed, going back to kissing her. As expected, she quickly lost the battle against her brain as the taste and feel of Katya's lips took over every other thought. She grew more eager, biting Katya's bottom lip playfully to pull the softest of whimpers from her right as her hand began to wander over her body. It came naturally, her movements, her needs guiding her.
Before long, Natasha had forgotten about the tattoos, the lust freely roaming her veins. Katya hooked a leg over her back and used the incredible strength in her thigh to yank her body down until it was flush against hers. A husky grunt flew from Natasha's lips, her heart starting to pound in her chest with anticipation of something more.
Eagerly, she left Katya's lips to trail the kisses up her jaw, nipping at the skin. Her lips followed the same path they always did, in search of that patch of soft skin right below her wife's left ear. A kiss to that place, and Katya—
Natasha froze. It was like someone hit her on the head and slammed out all the arousal that clouded her logical brain. Utterly confused, she snapped her head up, staring at the spot she meant to kiss. Katya's grinning eyes watched her process why the skin felt sticky.
There, directly below Katya's earlobe, sat a tiny heart, about half the size of her pinky's fingernail. It appeared Natasha found one of the tattoos.
She frowned at it, finding the placement quite odd. Her gut told her there was more to it. What did Katya say again? Natasha fought through the haze of lust in her mind to recall her exact words from before.
Her instincts… Katya knew her instincts would bring her here, that her lips would end up going to that spot. Maybe that also meant—
Eager but carefully, Natasha pulled the neckline of Katya's shirt down, smiling to herself when that same outlined heart was tattooed on the top of her left breast, where her living, beating heart resided.
She was onto something.
Wordlessly, Katya sat up to help her remove her shirt all together.
Another heart, right there on the outside of her right shoulder.
Starting to get strangely giddy, Natasha gently twisted Katya's body around to confirm her suspicions on number four, at the very top of her spine, right between her shoulder blades.
She was fully smiling now, tracing the shape with her finger. However, there didn't seem to be any other hearts on Katya's upper body.
Questioningly, Natasha glanced down at Katya's pants, then up at her grinning face again. They both knew she had figured it out by now, but it was fun to have her guess.
The inside of Katya's right knee. The inside of her left thigh, very close to the seam of her underwear. Those made six. But no matter how hard Natasha looked—curiously hooking her finger under the waistband of her underwear before Katya slapped her hand away—she couldn't seem to locate the last one.
"You're missing my favorite," Katya muttered as Natasha hovered over her, playing with the ends of Natasha's braid. That's when the redhead spotted it, on the inside of her wrist. Number seven. "There were many more spots, but then my whole body would be covered."
Natasha couldn't find any words to describe the feelings in her chest or the thoughts in her head. Katya had put a heart on her favorite spots to be kissed. By her.
"Do you like it?" Katya asked softly. It was a stupid question, the emotion was written all over Natasha's face.
"I love them,'' she managed to squeeze out. Gently, she took Katya's hand in her own, kissing the heart on her scarred wrist. Her own heart felt like it was going to explode right out of her chest. ''But you know I don't need a map to know where you like to be kissed."
"You immediately knew where to find them…'' Katya whispered vulnerably, feeling so seen and so loved.
''Of course I did, honey. How can I be your wife and not know all of you?'' Natasha smiled tenderly. This was the single most romantic thing anyone had ever done for her. Tears burned behind her eyes as she stared deeply into Katya's. ''You want to know my favorite spot?''
Katya nodded, closing her eyes when Natasha leaned in. Her lips were ready to get their kiss, parting in anticipation, but they were never touched.
Her forehead tickled at the brush of a feather-light kiss.
#katandnat#forgotten ghost series#katyaromanoffpetrova#natasha romanoff#natasha romanoff x fem!oc#natasha romanoff fanfiction#natasha romanoff imagine#natasha romanoff fanfic#natasha romanoff x reader#natasha romanov#black widow#marvel#mcu#wlw#sapphic#natasha romanoff fluff
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Burn - N.R
This is a Natasha Romanoff x Fem!Original Character AU. !(WIP)!
*Not my gif*
Description- Life without purpose is something often seen in the eyes of humanity, but for some, it is the purpose they are given that is tearing them apart. In the eyes of one person, subjected to the hell of the KGB and Hydra’s collaboration, it is purely usage that drives the rage of revenge. When it seems as if nothing could put an end to the death and destruction following their path, a red headed assassin steps up to the plate. Will things change for the vengeance-fueled experiment, or will it be yet another trap that ends in agony?
Gender: OC is a woman with a vag
TW: WIP, 18+, Blood, Violence, Fire, Arson, Murder, Abuse, Angst, Experimentation, Human/Child Trafficking, and anything else you’d see in the MCU.
This is an introduction alone. A prologue, if you will. The following chapters will likely be longer. However, I literally spent MONTHS perfecting this fic so idk when I’ll update it. Hopefully you love this as much as I do! Stay safe!!
~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•
Naivety is known to offer a face of oblivion, sheltering with its vile deceivance. As age wilts within the mind, it seems to release a sense of perception that once had been out of reach.
The moment when the world changed is unrecognizable for most, but the difference still holds great definition. No longer does the sun set with ease, filtering away the cruelty of its presence, but instead, the warmth fades and brings forth a cold challenge: A warning. The sky burns black and the scenery changes. Shadows creep out of hiding and shatter the safety of sight. Every 24 hours cycles through an all too familiar game of hide and seek. The day becomes nothing but a bad hiding spot. A ripped safety net.
Reality steps in.
Heavy footsteps thump down the hallway, the soles of the boots dragging against the cold concrete, creating a screeching echo that bounces off the cracking drywall.
It was unsettlingly uncanny: the affect of the darkness. The way the pounding steps send ripples of vibration, consuming all with its intention. A small candle, perched up on the window sill, provides just a flicker of light, casting an eerie glow against the rotting tile. Leaves scratch against the thin glass, wind howling as the small shadows dance against the dried blood crusted to the floor.
Each thundering step elicits a slight twitch of the candle, the shaking wax working to cover the wick, to drown the light. It’s only a matter of seconds before the door is blown off its hinges and he finds his prized possession. Until then, his object sits, staring into a void of nothingness that had swallowed its mind.
The door snaps and cracks with the force of a blow. The quivering wax flicks over the burning braided cotton, sending an eerily soft flush of smoke into the air. Almost as if on cue, the nightmare begins. The door splinters with the weight of his fist, his fingers curling as they push through the wood, reaching for the handle.
Perhaps the possession should care, maybe even open its eyes. The blood curdling screams aren’t coming from the throat of the item, but they should be. Hot red liquid pools at his feet, satisfaction lining his eyes. Death would not disappoint. Except, death was not present in the eye of the item on this cruel night. Figuratively, sure; something in the item died this night. Whether that be its heart or its mind, nobody can really know for certain.
One final crack of its jaw and the life is seemingly gone. A soft thud interrupts the shallow song of ragged breathing, the malnourished corpse hitting the floor with sickening ease. Grey water splashes against the leather boots, matted hair soaking in the puddle. The peace of unconsciousness drowns the object, merely the exact moment the cage bursts in black flames.
The fire is alive and unrelenting, consuming everything blocking its path of destruction. There is no light. Smoke covers the moon, leaving a just transparency of the object’s ending. The crackling flames don’t touch the possession, but they don’t need to. As consciousness seeps back into the item, a sick grin fills its features. Bones grind and pop in retaliation as the object moves to stand. The warehouse is in ruins, broken shards of glass breaking through the calloused skin of the possession as it stumbles forward. The scent of dust and burning flesh sizzles in the air, welcomed by a surge of unraveled pride.
Each faltering step gains distance, moving the object through the raging heat. Colorless liquid drips down its body in allusion to the previous events. Its mind runs freely with no emotion pulling on its power. There is no longer an ounce of trepidation, only the smirk of vile revenge as the flames wrap its failing limbs. With each spark of hunger, the fire reverses a painful memory. No longer was the possession in usage, nor would it cower to the hand of a man. The flares of angst only grow hotter, burning with rage.
Man would crumble to fire. The very flames that lick the wounds of the object would skin the walking corpses of those that were deserving. Each step away from the warehouses burning walls led a trail of charred grass and dirt. The maddened object would halt for nothing. Only time could tell the objects future. What would become of the vengeance lacing its veins is unknown. Crackling black smoke hides the object from a glance of light, from a glimpse of what would become. In some sick twist of fate, the darkness had already consumed the object. The very hate that had torn the soul to its death had watered the seed of its revenge.
Naivety is long gone. The sun only illuminates pretenses of innocence. Darkness would prevail. The object has come to its senses. It’s name is no longer wrapped by the cruelty of possession, but born with the flame of resurrection. It’s name, her name has found meaning yet again.
~•~•~•~•~•~•~~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~
“Her name is Xelvakna. That’s all we’ve got on the girl.” Fury sighs, tossing the empty file on the round table. The presence of the director was not one often found in the Avengers compound, save for the occasional end-of-the-world threat, so you could say the 6 superhero’s were more than attentive to his presentation.
“You mean you’ve been looking for her for how long and all you’ve got is a name?” Tony chortles, spinning his chair like a child. Contrary to popular belief, the billionaire did not have a lack of respect for the director in front of him, but rather, something he would not dare admit: fear. Majority of the group had associated the Director with the news he brings. None of which, had ever lead to something good.
“She wasn’t a priority. We had worse to deal with.” Fury retorts. It had become quite his thing to be such a secretive descriptor but nobody was in the mood for it. This Xelvakna obviously had more to her than this if Nick Fury, of all people, had come to inform the team of her.
“What exactly are we dealing with?” Steve asks, tapping his foot against the floor with a rhythmic beat. The old song wasn’t one of great popularity in the current era, but it held a sense of welcomed familiarity that the elderly man couldn’t seem to rid himself of. Music had been a helpful tool in terms of grounding himself, especially in moments like these.
“A mass arsonist. 2 years she’s been at it and she’s killed over 8,000 so far.” Fury answers, clicking through a holographic slide show of “bombings” and “gas leaks” throughout a number of countries, all within the time frame. With each picture came a new establishment burnt to a crisp. No flames, no evidence, just ashes and smoke.
“How is that not top priority?” Steve stands, obviously offended at the amount of lives S.H.I.E.L.D has let her take. The man was known for his traditional moral and majority of the time, it came with tickling remarks, but in this instance, no person could muster a word. The battle of New York, unfortunately, came with a death count and the numbers weren’t pretty. To be blunt, there wasn’t a thing any of them wouldn’t do to make up for the irreparable damage they’d done. Adding more to the list of guilt wouldn’t help anybody.
“It wasn’t civilians she was killing, Rogers. She’s going after Hydra and as of a few weeks ago, the KGB.” Fury snaps, causing the room to fall into silence until the next person speaks. The situation would have been a lot less complicated if it were as simple as a sadist on a rampage.
“So why is she priority now?” Clint speaks up, drawing attention to his side of the table. The archer was not known for a talkative nature, but no good agent would leave questions unanswered.
“She’s going after Alexi Bruskin next. Her perfect opportunity is at this gala tomorrow night. It is for the KGB elites and their families. My guess is she’s going to light the place up. You are going to stop her.” Fury responds, flipping through the slides of the event. Several well-known faces of public figures and communists arose on the holograph, but only one agent was painfully aware of their hidden obsessions.
“Why are we stopping her?” Natasha questions, all eyes snapping to the introverted redhead. The assassin trusted the director more than she let on, but she was nowhere near a blind follower. Those people had every reason to be set ablaze and she, personally, didn’t see why she would care to delay their karma.
“I wouldn’t normally mind if a few got lit up, but they won’t be the only ones there. Innocent people, children, will be there…I need you to stop her and bring her back in one piece. Clear?” The director finalizes, sighing in satisfaction at the submission of the group before exiting the room.
“Wheels up in 60.”
#avengers#natasha romanoff#original character#natasha x oc#red room#marvel#enemies to soulmates#enemies to lovers#gaypride#alternate universe#natalia romanova#marvel comics#marvel original character#le$bian#le$bean#fan fic#fiction#wlw love#wlw tag#natasha romanov#female protagonist#biseuxal#bisexaul#bi character
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Human: Rewritten
Chapter One
Natasha Romanoff x Female OC
A/N: Troyes, France is 6 hours ahead of NYC so 7pm there is 1pm in NYC
Barcelona, Spain; January, 2012
The repetitive ticking of the clock registered in her brain before her eyes even opened. She didn’t need that clock to know what time it was, of course. It was 4:30 am— the same time she’d woken up everyday for the past twenty-five years of her life. She no longer needed to wake up that early, yet it’s a habit so deeply entrained in her framework that it’s seemingly unbreakable. She rolled out of bed and made her way into the dingy kitchen with light footsteps. With some quick math she figures that she got barely two hours of sleep last night, but that’s typical. She started the coffee machine and asked with a sigh, “Would you like some coffee or are you just going to lurk in the corner?”
The leather-clad stranger with an eyepatch stepped up to the kitchen island opposite of her and responded, “I wouldn’t mind a cup. I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised that you knew I was here.”
“Well, you know what they say about old habits. You got a name?”
“You can call me Fury. We have a lot to talk about, Eight.” She slid him a mug of cheap coffee and gestured for him to take a seat.
“Then we’d better get started so you can get the hell out of my apartment.” He simply chuckled in response and Eight could already feel her patience wavering.
Two hours later, Eight rubbed her forehead in an effort alleviate the headache.
“Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement and Logistics Division? Really, dude?”
“Yeah, it’s a mouthful. Trust me I know.”
“I’m sorry that you came all this way for nothing, Fury, but there’s no way in hell I'm working for some government spy circus.”
“It’s technically an extra-governmental spy agency-”
“Doesn’t matter. I’m not joining,” She said, cutting him off.
“So, you’re just gonna hop from one shitty apartment to the next until you die? That doesn’t seem like a great life.”
“Better than the one I lived before.”
“You aren’t the person to live in hiding. You’re the person who thrives in the action and lives to kick ass, and we both know it.” When she didn’t respond he continued, “I’ll leave you my card. When you change your mind, which you will, you’ll know where to find me. You don’t have to be the bad guy anymore, Eight.” With that he slid off the stool and left her apartment, leaving her with nothing but her rapidly spiraling thoughts and a black business card.
Troyes, France; May, 2012:
It had been four months since Director Fury paid a visit to Eight’s apartment in Barcelona. They had kept in contact and he hadn't given up on her joining SHIELD. She’d lived in three different apartments since then. Eight was watching the seven o’clock news when she saw something that made her choke on her Cheerios. “An alien invasion? What the hell is—” Her muffled exclamation was interrupted by the ring of her burner phone. “Hello?”
“Eight, you watched the news recently?”
“Uh yeah, I'm watching it now. You fighting aliens now, Nicky?”
“Okay first of all, I told you to stop calling me that. Second, yes, aliens. I’m forming a team of extraordinary people to help protect against these threats. They could really use a hand to finish off this fight.”
“I may be a bit unusual but I’m not ‘extraordinary’, Fury. I don’t wanna join your band of misfits.”
“Alright, how about a compromise? You fly your fancy jet here right now and help them out and if you still don’t wanna join, you can go right back to France after the fight is over and I’ll stop bothering you about joining.” After a few seconds of silence she agreed.
“Fine, but I’m not gonna change my mind. How do you know about my jet?”
He gave a hearty laugh and said “I know everything, Eight. You should know that by now.”
New York, New York; 96 Minutes Later:
Eight flew her jet into the city, making sure to take out a few flying Chitauri in the process. She found herself extremely grateful for the stolen German jet capable of flying 2100mph. She saw a few interesting characters standing in a circle fighting off an endless sea of aliens. She maneuvered the jet and— Is that guy wearing blue tights? Is this what Fury meant by extraordinary? She landed in the street about 20 yards away and killed the engines, then hopped out and started jogging towards the group. A couple of them turned around, probably wondering who the hell she was and—whoa that’s a beautiful woman. After realizing her steps had literally faltered at the sight of the woman, she slowed to a walk and said “You guys need a hand?”
“Depends on whose hand it is,” replied the gorgeous redhead.
“I’m a friend of Fury’s. He practically begged me to come save your asses.”
“Fury doesn’t beg,” she said in a doubtful tone.
“Not typically, but I'm just that awesome. If you don’t believe me then call him up but I’m gonna go kill some aliens.” With that she took off down another street where there was a group of the repulsive bastards. After unloading all of her magazines into Chitauri bodies, she switched to swords and daggers. After another hour or so of fighting, there were no more aliens in sight. Eight started jogging toward the rich dude’s tower when she saw said rich dude falling through the rapidly-closing portal. She stopped next to Mr. Blue Tights and Mr. Hammer Man when the big green thing grabbed Mr. Rich Dude from the sky and landed next to the group. The green guy yelled, waking Mr. Rich Dude up with a start. “What the hell? What happened? Please tell me nobody kissed me. Except for her, she’s pretty hot,” he said, nodding toward Eight. Just then the redhead jogged over to us and eyed Eight’s blood-soaked form from head to toe.
“See something you like, Red?”
“No. I’m pretty sure I'd be classified as a sadist if I liked the sight of that much blood,” she said with a raise of her eyebrow.
“I’d be into it if you were.”
She shook her head at Eight with a small smirk. There was barely a second of silence when Mr. Rich Dude spoke up.
“Anybody want shawarma?”
Three Hours Later:
Eight had gone to the Triskelion after the band of misfits apprehended Loki. Agent Hill showed her where to land her jet and directed her to a room so she could shower and stay the night if she wanted to. Eight had put on black jeans, a white tank, and a black jean jacket, all of which had been in a to-go bag in her jet. She was toweling off her hair when someone knocked on the door. Eight opened the door to see none other than the one-eyed-wonder standing there. “What can I do for you, Nicky?”
“The Avengers are being debriefed in Conference Room 6B in ten minutes. You should come.”
“The Avengers? Is that what you’re calling them? That’s cute. But I'm not an Avenger and I don’t want to be an Avenger, so no thanks.”
“You should come anyway.”
“I don’t actually have a choice, do I?”
“You know me so well, Eight,” he said with an amused grin.
She walked into the conference room, finding the Avengers already there. Steve Rogers, Clint Barton, Tony Stark, Bruce Banner, Thor, and Natasha Romanoff—whose names Eight had learned from Hill—were scattered around a large table, along with Fury. Romanoff eyed Eight from where she was standing and arched a perfectly sculpted eyebrow at her. Eight squinted her eyes and wiggled her eyebrows in response, and she could see the redhead stifle a laugh.
“What’s your name?” She accompanied the question with a blank expression.
“That’s a very personal question, Miss Romanoff. Let’s slow the pace, please.”
“You know my name but I can’t know yours? That doesn’t seem fair.”
“The world isn’t fair, Miss Romanoff, and I love a good mystery.”
“If you two are done flirting, we have business to attend to,” interjected Fury.
“Right, my apologies, Nicky.”
“Don’t call me that, Eight.”
After an excruciating 43 minutes and 27 seconds, Fury finally let the group leave. Eight was so close to freedom when that unbelievably sexy voice called to her.
“Eight!” Romanoff hastily walked towards her in an effort to catch up.
“Yeah?”
“Is your name actually Eight?”
“If you want it to be.”
“Why are you so damn stubborn?”
“It amuses me, Red.” There was a brief silence during which both women were trying to figure out if the conversation was over.
Eight was about to leave when Natasha continued, “So that’s it? You’re just gonna leave?”
“Well, no. I’m going to stay the night, steal some really expensive jet fuel, and then leave in the morning before Fury can get up my ass about joining his little team.”
She rolled her eyes and responded, “Why won’t you join the Avengers? And why won’t you tell me your real name?”
“It’s just not my style. I’d rather fly solo.”
“You ignored my second question.”
“Then maybe you should take the hint and stop asking.” With that she turned around and started walking away, but a hand on her arm stopped her dead in my tracks. Alarms started going off in Eight’s head, and Romanoff might’ve been saying something to her, but she was too caught up in the memories to register it. After a few seconds, the white of her vision cleared up and the voices in her head faded into the background. Her heart was still hammering in her chest and she was trying to keep her breathing steady. Eight regained her neutral expression and said. “Sorry, did you say something?”
“Are you okay?” Natasha had a concerned expression and if Eight wasn’t so blinded with anxiety, she would’ve appreciated how cute the furrow of her eyebrows was.
“Yeah, I’m fine. I’m just gonna turn in. It’s been a long day.” She turned around and walked back to her temporary room at a brutal pace. As soon as the door closed behind her, hot tears raced down her cheeks and she lost the ability to breathe as she fought the old conditioning messing with her head. It was gonna be a long night.
3:21 am:
She finally managed to calm herself down and stop the panic attack after almost four hours. Trying to sleep would be pointless, so she decided to leave before anyone woke up. Eight didn’t have much to pack so she grabbed her duffel bag and left the room. She made it to the corridor attached to the landing pads, then ran into the one person she really didn’t want to see. “What are you doing out and about, Red?”
“I’ve got places to be and things to do. Were you just going to sneak out in the middle of the night like a teenager with a rebel streak?”
“Yes, that’s exactly what I’m doing, actually. Do you need a ride? Where are you going?”
“Madrid. Fury said I could hitch a ride on another plane that’s headed for Germany.”
“Well I’m going to France if you wanna ride with me. My jet will get you there a lot faster.” Natasha studied her for what felt like way too long, probably debating if Eight would try to kill her or not. Spies can be so untrusting.
“What the hell, why not?”
And that is how she ended up in a jet with “Candy Shop” playing over the speakers and Natasha Romanoff in the copilot seat yelling at her to ‘slow the fuck down!’
“Why would I slow down, you psycho?! That’s the whole damn point of this thing!”
“Where did you even get a German jet this fast?”
“Germany.”
“No shit Sherlock. How did you get it?”
“I went to Germany, stopped in at the local speedy-jet dealership, and walked out with this beauty.”
“Sarcasm is a defense mechanism, you know. You’re dodging my questions.”
“You act like you’d answer my questions if I were to start asking about you.” It was quiet as the two women shared a look of mutual understanding.
Madrid, Spain:
Eight landed the jet at the local SHIELD base and killed the engines. They removed their headsets and Eight stood to help Romanoff get her bags. “Well, I’ll see you around I guess.” Eight had never been good at goodbyes. Or any social interactions, really. Twenty-four years in a cell will do that to you.
“Will I? See you around, I mean.”
“Um, I don’t know, honestly.”
“Why won’t you join SHIELD? I mean what else are you doing?”
“Oh, I see. You just love me so much that you don’t want me to leave. You’re gonna miss me so much-” Eight was cut off when Natasha threw her backpack at my head. “Hey! You’re lucky I caught that! Fucking crazy woman.”
When their laughter died down, Natasha said, “Well I should probably go. Thank you for the ride.”
“Of course. Hitchhikers are always welcome aboard my beloved jet.” A small smile appeared on her face and she stepped forward to give Eight a hug but she must’ve seen her body go rigid because she stepped back. And then she was gone. Eight walked to the front of the jet and started the journey to France.
Series masterlist
#natasha romanoff#natasha romanoff fluff#natasha romanoff x reader#natasha romanov#natasha romonova#natasha romanoff smut#natasha x y/n#natasha romanoff angst#natasha romanoff x oc#yelena belova#black widow#black widow x reader
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Stolen Chapter 15 OUT NOW!
HERE IT IS! I hope you enjoyyy! 🕷
⬆️⬆️⬆️⬆️
#fanfiction#marvel fanfiction#natasha romanoff fic#natasha romanoff imagine#natasha romanoff fanfiction#natasha romanoff au#natalia alianovna romanova#natasha romanoff x reader#natasha romanov#natasha romanoff#natasha romanoff x you#natasha romanoff fluff#natasha romanoff x y/n#black widow x oc#black widow x you#black widow imagine#black widow angst#black widow x reader#black widow au#black widow fanfiction#black widow#natasha romanoff angst#natasha romanoff x oc#marvel cinematic universe#mcu#fanfic#natasha romanoff x female reader#black widow x female reader#lesbian natasha romanoff#lesbian black widow
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Changed my User name from @marieausparie to this , because i can't have people ,that know me from school , find this account
#school suuuucks#do your homework#hogwarts oc#hogwarts houses#mattheo riddle imagine#mattheo x reader#natasha romanoff#natasha romanoff fanfic#natasha romanoff x fem!reader#natasha romanoff x reader#natasha x reader#natasha marvel#natasha romanoff imagine#natasha romanoff x you#natasha romanov#soft natasha romanoff#wanda maximoff#mattheo smut#mattheo riddle x reader#harry potter and the goblet of fire#harry potter#slytherin boys x reader#hufflepuff x slytherin#slytherin girls#slytherin boys#marvel#my stuff#private#newt the maze runner#the maze runner
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NATASHA ROMANOFF MASTERLIST
open for requests!
• most of my works will be x fem!reader or x original female character
* —smut + sexual themes
❀—favorite
SERIES
[ more than 10 parts ]
MINI SERIES
[ less than 10 parts ]
ONESHOTS
romantic lover | fluff
" Baby, its 3:00 am " | fluff ❀
DRABBLES & HEADCANONS
headcanons of nursing Natasha who has flu
#natasha romanoff masterlist#natasha romanoff x reader#natasha romanoff x fem!reader#natasha romanoff x you#natasha romanoff x female#natasha romanoff x female reader#natasha romanoff x oc#natasha romanoff imagine#natasha romanoff one shots#natasha romanov#natasha romanoff#natasha romonova#wlw#girlslove#lgbtq#saturn writes#sleepisaturn
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