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Hotel California | Track 13: Part Of Your World

Natasha Romanoff x fem!reader

Summary: Natasha Romanoff, frontwoman of the punk rock band Velvet Rebellion, falls hard for a woman she believes is too good for her. Their intense relationship unfolds in the chaotic world of rock 'n' roll, where they struggle to balance fame, personal demons, and their undeniable passion for each other.

W/c: 8.4k

Chapter 13/18

Masterlist | General Masterlist

Note: This was unnecessarily long.

Themes: love, fame, sex, drugs

The sun was setting below the city horizon when she called for a group meeting. Natasha paced in front of the rest of the band, her eyes scanning the notes on her phone. They were gathered in Tony's Malibu mansion, where the final preparations for the upcoming tour occurred in a flurry of activity. The energy in the room was tense, a mixture of excitement and exhaustion that only came in the final stretch before a major event.

“So, just to recap,” Natasha began, her voice steady but carrying a certain edge of anticipation, “we’re hitting a few smaller cities after the big shows in New York and LA. We need to ensure everything is in place, especially for the merch and the opening acts. I don’t want any last-minute hiccups.”

"You got it, Captain," Tony nodded as he cracked open a Miller lite. He sipped it loudly, grinning as Natasha rolled her eyes. "The merch is all ready. I saw some pretty cool T-shirts with my face on them. I think I look snazzy."

"You're such a narcissist, Tony," Steve snorted, shaking his head. He looked back at Natasha, giving her a nod. "Why aren't we going over this with Mitch?"

"Mitch is busy," Natasha shrugged. "I figured a group session without her expertise would be great."

"Oh," Steve blinked. "We’re good on the setlist, right?"

“Yeah, the setlist is solid,” Natasha answered. “But we need to tighten up a few transitions—especially that acoustic intro with Wanda’s solo. Let’s make sure we get through it a couple more times before the first show. We don’t want it to drag on, and we don’t want it to feel rushed either.”

"I've been working on that part; I'll have it down before you know it," Wanda grinned, leaning against the back of the couch.

"That's what I like to hear," Natasha smirked, returning to the phone. "We're doing a photo shoot with a magazine the day before the first show, so make sure you're in the city by then. But if anyone needs a break from the spotlight, just let me know. We can always switch things up. Any questions?"

"What about the hotel situation?" Bucky asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Hotel situation?" Natasha repeated, looking at Bucky. "What hotel situation?"

"Where we're staying," Bucky explained, rolling his eyes. "I hope it's nice. The last time I was in a shitty motel, I came down with a fungus."

"Oh, fuck, that was bad," Tony gagged.

"Our budget is a bit bigger this time, " Wanda said. "We have a tour bus for most of the U.S. Keeping in touch with our roots. Though for the venues with double nights, we have suites booked."

"I don't know why you all like to pretend I'm not rich," Tony shrugged. "I can cover any hotel bills we might incur."

"Thanks, but we don't need your money," Steve smirked, his tone a tad condescending.

"Hey, it's not charity, okay? It's not my fault I'm better than you," Tony replied, his gaze meeting Steve's.

"We're not arguing about this again," Natasha said, pointing at both men. "I don't have the energy, and we don't have the time. We'll talk about hotels later."

"I was just wondering," Bucky grumbled, crossing his arms.

"You don't have to worry, Buck," Steve smiled. "This will be the biggest tour the band has ever done, and I'm sure the hotels will be great."

"You guys can have a whole room if you want," Natasha said.

"I like the sound of that," Tony nodded.

Natasha exhaled, her shoulders loosening slightly as she stood at the head of the coffee table. "Okay, that’s most of it. I think we’re in a good place. We just need to keep the momentum going and stay focused. Remember, we’ve got a long haul ahead. But we can do it."

"Can we talk about other things?" Tony asked with a smirk.

"Sure," Natasha nodded.

"Who's gonna hook up with who first?"

"Tony," Steve sighed.

"What?" Tony scoffed. "C'mon, it's not a bad question."

"No, I don't think so," Steve argued.

"It's an important question," Tony pressed. "We can't have people getting weird and emotional."

"Well, considering three out of five of us are taken," Natasha rolled her eyes. "Besides, aren't you with Pepper?"

"I've been known to stray," Tony chuckled.

"No, I'm pretty sure she'd kill you," Bucky smirked.

"She'd kill you, and then she'd kill me for hooking the two of you up," Steve nodded.

"Okay, maybe," Tony sighed.

"Let's try and have some semblance of professionalism, alright?" Natasha said, her gaze scanning the room.

"But Nat, isn't this supposed to be fun?" Wanda giggled.

"Wanda, please," Natasha shook her head.

"I'm just saying," Wanda shrugged.

"Just because it's fun doesn't mean we shouldn't take it seriously," Steve nodded.

"Oh, c'mon, Steve," Tony groaned. "Don't settle down just yet. Who's going to be my wingman?"

"Not me," Steve replied firmly, folding his arms across his chest. "I’m not interested in being dragged into one of your antics."

"Well, that’s disappointing," Tony sighed, leaning back in his chair. "I thought we were friends."

"We are friends," Steve said. "But I also like my peace of mind."

"You’re no fun," Tony muttered. "What about you, Bucky? Feeling up for a little adventure?"

"Hard pass," Bucky replied, not even looking up from his phone. "You’re on your own, Stark."

Tony threw his hands up in mock exasperation. "What’s the point of being in a band if none of you want to help me live a little?"

"Tony, we’re in the band, not your personal dating service," Natasha said, pinching the bridge of her nose. "And frankly, your idea of 'living a little' usually ends in chaos."

"Chaos makes for great stories," Tony shot back.

"And headlines," Wanda added with a grin, earning a chuckle from Bucky.

"See, Wanda gets it!" Tony said, pointing at her.

"Don't drag me into this," Wanda replied, laughing. "I’m just here to keep the peace."

"Well, at least someone here knows how to have fun," Tony muttered, though his grin showed he wasn’t taking the rejection too seriously.

"Fun doesn’t mean reckless," Natasha interjected, her tone firm. "This tour is important. We’ve worked too hard to let anything—or anyone—jeopardize it."

Tony held his hands up in surrender. "Alright, alright, point taken, boss."

"Good," Natasha said, her gaze sharp. "Now, can we focus?"

"Fine," Tony said with a dramatic sigh. "But when this tour’s over, Steve, you owe me a drink. Non-negotiable."

Steve rolled his eyes but smiled faintly. "We’ll see."

"You should all be so lucky to get a drink with me," Tony huffed.

"Whatever you say, Tony," Natasha smirked, rolling her eyes. "Now, as much as I love your charming company, I have to go meet up with y/n. Her daughter's birthday is tomorrow, and I haven't seen either of them in a week."

"How's that situation going?" Tony asked curiously.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, with her having a kid," Tony elaborated. "I never took you for the stepmom type."

"We're not married," Natasha said a tad defensively.

"Yet," Wanda grinned.

"My money's on the next couple months," Bucky commented.

"I'll raise you to the second tour date," Tony said. They looked over to Steve expectantly to see what he would say.

"I don't get involved in bets, guys," Steve replied, though he was smiling.

"Party pooper," Tony grumbled.

"You guys can't keep betting on my love life," Natasha frowned. "It's rude."

"Rude? Really, Nat?" Tony smirked, though he backed off slightly at her tone. "I thought we were family. Families meddle."

"Not like this," Natasha shot back.

"Alright, let’s dial it down," Steve interjected, his steady tone cutting through the tension. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "Tony, Bucky—leave her be. It’s not about bets or jokes."

"Aw, come on, Rogers," Bucky said, though his tone was more teasing than serious. "You can’t tell me you’re not at least curious."

Steve shook his head with a faint smile. "I’m not getting involved in your nonsense, but... I will say this." He turned to Natasha, his expression softening. "Nat, I’ve known you for a long time. Longer than anyone else here. And if there’s anyone who’s got a shot at being the one for you... it’s Y/N."

The room grew quiet at Steve’s words. Even Tony seemed to consider them momentarily, his usual smirk replaced by something more thoughtful.

Natasha blinked, caught off guard by the clarity and sincerity in Steve’s tone. She opened her mouth to respond but found herself at a rare loss for words.

"She’s a good person," Steve continued. "And from what you’ve said, so is her daughter. You wouldn’t be putting in this kind of effort if it didn’t mean something to you."

Natasha swallowed, the lump in her throat forming before she could stop it. She nodded slightly, her eyes fixed on the table. "Yeah," she said quietly. "It does mean something. I've kind of downplayed it to you guys because I've been scared. She's special. Truthfully."

"It's okay to be scared, Nat," Steve said softly. "But sometimes the best things are worth the risk."

Natasha looked up at Steve, his blue eyes full of understanding and support. She gave him a small smile, her shoulders relaxing slightly. "Thanks, Steve. That... actually means a lot."

"Well, now we have to go and celebrate our future niece," Tony smiled. "What does she want for her birthday?"

"Honestly, what would you get a kid that has everything?"

"A pony," Wanda replied, shrugging.

"Maybe a dog," Steve suggested.

"Those are both animals," Bucky pointed out. "Many people don't do well with gifts like that."

"Maybe a kitten," Tony suggested.

"That's still an animal," Steve chuckled.

"I'm not getting her an animal," Natasha interjected. "Y/n would kill me. I'm trying to be a good influence, remember?"

"Alright," Wanda smirked. "What about jewelry? Isabella is a little diva. I think she'd appreciate a nice necklace."

"Jewelry is good," Natasha nodded.

"Or a guitar," Steve offered, looking over at her. "That's something that she'd like."

"Yeah, it would," Natasha replied. "Maybe a custom guitar. That way, it's unique."

"Now you're talking," Steve grinned. "That's a solid gift. Maybe I can help you out."

"I'll take the help," Natasha chuckled. "Thank you, Steve. I'll see you guys later."

"See you later," Steve waved.

As she walked to her car, Natasha shoved her hands into the pockets of her leather jacket, Steve’s words bouncing around in her head. Maybe the best things are worth the risk. She hated how simple he made it sound like it wasn’t a minefield waiting to blow up in her face.

Her boots scuffed against the pavement as she walked, the cool evening breeze doing little to settle the heat simmering under her skin. Love wasn’t new to her—she’d been there, done that, and watched it crash and burn. But this? This was something else. With you, it didn’t feel like walking a tightrope. It was steady, calm, and easy in a way that scared the hell out of her. She exhaled sharply, running a hand through her hair. Too easy. That’s what kept her up at night. She didn’t trust easily, not after everything she’d been through. Love like this had to come with strings attached, right? Some catch she hadn’t seen yet. It always did.

Still, there was no denying how her chest felt lighter when you laughed, how the world seemed quieter when Isabella would climb onto the couch next to her and chatter about her day. Natasha felt grounded for the first time in longer than she could remember. She wasn’t waiting for the rug to be pulled out from under her—at least, not yet.

Natasha felt it in her spirit—an unfamiliar steadiness that had replaced the restlessness she used to carry like armor. Long gone were the days of being a womanizer, of chasing fleeting connections that filled the silence but left her empty. Back then, she’d convinced herself that love was just another game she could play and win. But now? Now, it wasn’t about the chase, the thrill, or the control.

It was about how you looked at her as if she was more than the sum of her mistakes. It was about the trust in Isabella’s tiny hand when it slipped into hers. It was about the quiet moments she never thought she’d crave, where laughter filled the spaces she once kept guarded.

Natasha hadn’t planned for this—for you. But somehow, you'd carved out a place in her life, so naturally, it was as if you'd been there all along. It wasn’t just love anymore. Something deeper terrified her even as it anchored her in a way she hadn’t known she needed.

**********

She didn’t know what to expect when she pulled into your driveway. Another car was parked in front of your house, and she couldn’t help the flicker of curiosity that crept in. Who had stopped by this time? Not that she had any fundamental right to ask—not officially, anyway. The two of you didn’t live together. She didn’t own a stake in your day-to-day life outside of what you chose to share with her.

Still, the sight of the cars tugged at her. It wasn’t nerves, she told herself, just... curiosity. She exited her vehicle and grabbed the small bag from the passenger seat. She'd picked up crepes and coffee for the three of you, hoping for a quiet brunch. She knew Isabella's birthday would be a big deal, and she wanted to spend time with you without the pressure of guests.

Natasha rang the doorbell, adjusting her jacket and jeans. After a few seconds, the door swung open, but instead of you, Natasha was greeted by a boy—about ten years old, his dark hair cut into a low fade and his expression guarded. He looked up at her, sizing her up with the kind of scrutiny that made Natasha blink.

“Who are you?” the boy asked, his arms crossed over his chest.

Natasha tilted her head, trying to suppress a grin. “I could ask you the same thing,” she replied, her tone light.

“I live here for the weekend,” he said matter-of-factly. “I’m AJ. And you didn’t answer my question.”

Natasha raised an eyebrow. “I’m Natasha. A friend of Y/N’s.”

“A friend?” AJ narrowed his eyes. “What kind of friend?”

“The kind who brings crepes and coffee,” Natasha said, holding the bag.

AJ didn’t look impressed. “That doesn’t mean anything. Lots of people bring stuff when they visit.”

“Hmm.” AJ tapped his chin, clearly trying to decide whether she was trustworthy. “Do you know Isabella’s favorite color?”

“Purple,” Natasha answered without hesitation.

AJ’s eyes narrowed further as if he suspected she’d cheated somehow. “Favorite show?”

“Easy. High School Musical The Musical The Series.” She'd sat through a Friday night binging with Isabella. Thank you very much.

AJ frowned. “Okay, but—”

“Aj!” Your voice cut through the interrogation as you appeared at the door, an amused look on your face. “What are you doing?”

"Grilling the hell out of me, that's what he's doing," Natasha muttered.

"Go play," You shook your head at the young boy. "Come inside."

"But—"

"Inside," You insisted.

"Okay," AJ sighed, turning around and heading back towards the living room.

You let out a small laugh as Natasha stepped inside, the warmth of the house enveloping her.

"Sorry about that," you chuckled. "He's very protective."

"It's fine," Natasha smiled. "Who is he?"

"Sam's nephew," You answered. "They usually spend the night with Isabella before her birthday. Their mom is here doing her hair."

"Oh, cool," Natasha nodded. "I brought crepes."

"You didn't have to do that," You replied, leaning over to kiss her cheek.

"A kiss on the cheek is all I get?" Natasha joked.

"You're right," You laughed. You stepped forward, your kiss light. It could be considered a peck. But it still sent a shiver down her spine. It was over before either of you could savor it. Only neither of you was satisfied with that. A week without seeing each other made you feel deprived.

Your arms wound around her neck, your fingers sinking into the hair at the base of her scalp as your lips parted. Natasha hummed, her free arm pulling you flush against her, the bag forgotten in her hand.

You leaned into her, deepening the kiss. Her tongue was a welcome warmth, and the moan she elicited was enough to make your knees weak. When her hand traveled down to your ass, you pulled back with a giggle.

"I've missed you," You whispered.

"Missed you too," Natasha said, unable to resist planting another kiss on your lips.

The shout pulled you apart instantly. Natasha cleared her throat, a faint blush creeping across her cheeks as she glanced toward the source of the interruption.

“I’m sorry,” you muttered, smoothing your shirt and stepping back. “She’s been a bit of a birthdayzilla these days.”

Natasha chuckled softly. “I’ll survive.”

You led her toward the living room, where Isabella was perched on a chair, her legs swinging happily as a woman—probably the braider you’d mentioned—put the finishing touches on her hair.

“Natasha!” Isabella’s face lit up the second she spotted her. She squirmed in her seat, but the braider gently reminded her to stay still.

“Hey,” Natasha greeted, a warm smile spreading across her face. Her eyes widened slightly as she took in Isabella’s braids—a cute mix of pink and purple stripes woven in, subtle but striking. “Wow, look at you. These are so cool!”

Isabella beamed, clearly thrilled by the compliment. “Do you like them? Pink and purple are my favorite colors!”

“I love them,” Natasha replied, crouching down to get a better look. “You look like a rock star.”

“Like a pop star,” Isabella corrected with a giggle. “But thank you!”

“Big difference,” Natasha teased, giving her a wink.

You smiled at the interaction, leaning against the doorway as you watched them. It was still surreal to see Natasha with Isabella sometimes, how easily she fell into this role that neither of you had planned. Yet here she was, making your daughter feel like the most special person in the world.

“Almost done,” the braider said, securing the last braid with a little pink clip.

“Can I show Natasha my birthday dress after?” Isabella asked excitedly, already bouncing in her seat.

“Of course,” you said with a laugh. “But let Aunt Sarah finish first.”

AJ poked his head into the room, his eyes lighting up as he spotted Natasha.

"You're still here!" He said.

"Yup," Natasha replied, smiling down at him.

"Good," AJ said. "Cause we'll need an extra person for the dance battle."

"Dance battle?" Natasha repeated, her brows arching slightly.

"Yup," AJ grinned. "We're going to have a dance-off for Isabella's birthday."

"Oh really?" Natasha chuckled.

"Yup," AJ nodded, looking over at Isabella. "And we're gonna win! We need a referee. Can you be fair?"

"Well, I can try," Natasha said, unable to hide her smile.

"She's on my team," Isabella said with a giggle.

"Nooo!" AJ said.

"Yes," Isabella replied.

"But, she's the judge," AJ countered.

"And my mom's girlfriend," Isabella argued.

"Girlfriend?" AJ's eyebrows furrowed. "Does Uncle Sam know about this?"

"Boy," Sarah scolded her son.

"For your information, I don't need permission from your uncle Sam to date," You playfully rolled your eyes at the little boy. You knew he was mischievous and didn't take offense to it.

"Alright," Sarah said, clapping her hands. "She's ready."

Isabella hopped out of her chair, her skirt billowing as she rushed over to Natasha.

"I want her on my team," She pouted, her lower lip sticking out.

"Awww, why can't we be on the same team?" AJ whined.

"Because you're mean," Isabella huffed.

"I am not!"

"Are too!"

"I think," Sarah cut in, her hands on her hips. "We can have a boys vs girls competition."

"Okay," Isabella brightened. "Me and Mommy and Natasha!"

"Alright, tomorrow it will be settled," Sarah said. We may have more volunteers.

"Nice save," You grinned as the kids ran to the backyard. It's probably to terrorize Bear. "This is my girlfriend, Natasha. Natasha, this is my ex-sister-in-law, Sarah."

"Ex-sister-in-law," Natasha echoed, tilting her head curiously.

"It has a weird ring when you say it like that," Sarah chuckled. She reached out her hand for Natasha to take. "Nice to meet you, Natasha."

"Likewise," Natasha shook her hand. "You're good at what you do."

"Thank you," Sarah smiled. "The braids were all Isabella's idea. I just do the job."

"She has great taste," Natasha said, her eyes flicking to you.

Natasha glanced between you and Sarah briefly, wondering if it was awkward for her to meet your ex-husband's sister. It had to be strange, right? She hesitated, unsure if she should say anything.

As if sensing the unspoken question, Sarah laughed and waved her hand dismissively. "You’re wondering if this is weird, aren’t you?"

Natasha blinked but nodded slightly. “A little, yeah.”

“It’s not,” Sarah assured her with a warm smile. “Our family’s close enough to know when people need to move on—and to be happy when they do. Life’s too short to hold onto things that don’t work anymore.”

Natasha nodded slowly, appreciating the honesty. “That’s... refreshing to hear.”

“Besides,” Sarah added, glancing at Isabella, who was already halfway to the backyard with AJ on her heels. “As long as Isabella is happy and loved, that’s what matters. And clearly, she adores you.”

Natasha’s lips curved into a soft smile. “I adore her too.”

“She’s easy to adore,” Sarah said with a knowing grin, then looked back to you. “You picked a good one.”

You smiled, your gaze flicking to Natasha. “I know.”

Natasha rolled her eyes but couldn’t stop the smile tugging at her lips. The moment felt strange. Comfortable, even. Like Sarah’s words had peeled away the awkwardness Natasha had been bracing for and replaced it with something much simpler: understanding.

"Alright," Sarah said, grabbing her purse. "I've gotta run. I'll be here super early since AJ and Cass are staying here. I'll go and kiss them goodbye. Nice meeting you again, Natasha."

"Nice meeting you," Natasha said.

"See you later, Sarah," You called.

Natasha slipped her hand into yours as the door shut behind her, gently squeezing it.

"Were you nervous?" You asked her softly.

"Not nervous, per se," Natasha shrugged. "Just a little concerned. She's the first ex-family member I've met."

"You handled it well," You chuckled. "She liked you."

"Did she?"

"She wouldn't have given her seal of approval if she didn't," You smiled.

"Her seal of approval," Natasha repeated, her brows arching slightly.

"Yes," You replied. "Now come on. We've got a dance battle to prepare for."

"Right," Natasha chuckled, following you out to the backyard. "A dance battle."

********

Spending the day with three children was even more of a task than Natasha could have ever imagined. She'd grown up with a sibling, always just the two. They had their fights here and there, but nothing held a candle for the three children today. Isabella was the ring leader of the chorus, and her cousins did everything she wanted. Natasha sat back on the couch and watched them go over their routine. It was a little silly, but she was impressed by how quickly they had developed a set. They were quickly reprimanded if they got too rowdy or rough with each other.

She had never seen a more disciplined trio of kids in her life. She had expected chaos from the start, but they'd been very organized instead. She had to commend you for it. You had such a way with them.

Eventually, the night winded down, and you turned to your bedroom to check last-minute emails, your back propped up against the headboard. A yawn threatened to escape, but you stifled it, determined to get through just a few more messages before calling it a night. You'd promised to return to the living room with the rest of the family. Only, you had so much to do.

Natasha stood in the doorway, leaning against the frame.

"Hey," she said, her voice low.

You looked up from your screen, your eyes lingering on her longer than you'd intended. She always looked so calm in moments like this, and you found it grounding in a way you couldn’t explain.

"I thought I would head home now," She gestured to the car. "The kids are almost asleep. Though I think Isabella won't be there for a while."

"Yeah," You smiled. "It's always like that with her cousins."

"Yeah," Natasha laughed. "They're worn out."

"They're going to wake up feeling like zombies," You said.

"Probably," She chuckled.

"So," You put your phone down. "You're leaving?"

"If I don't, I might fall asleep here," She said.

"Would that be so bad?"

"You want me to with the kids in the house?" She questioned.

"I'll lock the door," You grinned.

Natasha smirked. "Well, if you want me to stay."

"I want you to," You admitted.

"Then," She smiled. "I'll stay."

"Good," You whispered. You closed your laptop and placed it on the nightstand. She closed the door behind her and locked it. She threw herself into the bed, crawling slightly until her head rested in your lap.

"Hey," She grinned.

"Hey," You chuckled, your fingers moving through her hair.

"I've missed this," She sighed.

"Yeah," You agreed.

"I've missed us," She added.

"Us?"

"You and me," She said. "Being able to be us without interruptions."

"Well, there's no interruptions here," You said. "You've really missed me during the week. You sure you're not having fun being a hotshot rockstar."

"You're a hotshot too, you know," Natasha joked.

"I guess I am," You said, a small smile on your face. "You look so pretty like this."

"Like what?"

"Here with me," You answered.

"And you," She said. "You're always gorgeous."

"Always, huh," You repeated.

"Even when I'm annoyed with you," She chuckled.

"And when would that be?"

"When you're doing your work thing and don't let me distract you," She said.

"You distract me just fine," You laughed.

"I'm sure I do," She smirked.

"Mhmm," You hummed. "We should probably head to sleep."

"Probably," She agreed, though neither of you moved.

"Or," You suggested.

"Or?"

"Or, we can stay here a little while longer."

"Sounds like a plan," She whispered.

"I have a few last-minute things to pick up for Bella's birthday. I think I'll have Monica do them instead." You began.

"You're a good mom," Natasha hummed.

"Sometimes," You said. "I only say sometimes because I can't give her what she's wanted the most for the past few years. A sibling. She won't let it go."

Natasha's smirk softened into something more tender as she watched you, her hand lazily tracing small circles on your belly. She could tell there was something more behind your words, a weight lingering in your voice.

"Do you want more kids?" Natasha asked, her voice careful, almost hesitant.

You shrugged, your fingers idly toying with the hem of her tank top. "I don't know," you admitted. "My first pregnancy... I was so young, Nat. Terrified. I didn’t know what I was doing. Half the time, I still don’t feel like I do."

"You’re doing amazing," she said quickly, her sincerity evident.

"Thanks," you murmured, your lips twitching into a faint smile. "But if I did have another, I’d want it to be different. I’d want to feel ready and enjoy it instead of being scared out of my mind every second."

"Makes sense," Natasha nodded, her hand sliding down to intertwine with yours. She was quiet momentarily as if weighing something over in her mind.

"What about you?" you asked, tilting your head. "Isabella grilling you on our Facetime call told me enough."

"I'd like kids," Natasha shrugged.

"With me?"

"Of course, with you," She laughed. "Tell me about your pregnancy. What was it like? Something good."

"Oh," You chuckled. "Well, there was a point when I was craving the strangest food."

"And what would that be?" She asked, a small smile on her lips.

"Pickle ice cream."

"Pickle ice cream," Natasha repeated.

"And chocolate syrup," You added.

"That's the oddest combination," She said.

"It was what she wanted," You laughed. "Also, I couldn't eat meat for about four months. I would just puke it all up."

"Was she a picky eater?" Natasha asked.

"Sometimes," You replied. "She's still picky."

"That's not surprising," Natasha smiled. "And what about her birth?"

"That part," You chuckled. "I don't remember much. I know the pain was excruciating."

"Really?"

"Yeah," You nodded. "I kind of dissociated after. I do remember just being so in love with her. Holding her. She was so tiny."

"Wow," Natasha whispered, her hand still tracing lazy circles.

"She was so beautiful," You whispered, a fond smile spreading across your lips.

"Did I ever tell you how much motherhood suits you?" Natasha questioned.

"Well, if I didn't know any better, I'd say you're trying to get me pregnant." You joked.

"If I could, you would be," Natasha said in such a tone that you believe her.

"Oh yeah?" You chuckled.

"I can't imagine anything more beautiful than a mini version of us running around," She continued. "Not to mention, the practice would be kind of fun."

"Yeah," You sighed.

"And," Natasha sat up. "I'd be right here with you through the whole thing. From morning sickness to picking out the most god-awful maternity clothes. Every single step. I'd be with you."

"Really?"

"Really," She whispered.

You took a deep breath. "You talk a good game, Natasha Romanoff."

"I'm a woman of my word."

"Oh, I'm aware." You kissed her.

"So," Natasha whispered. "Does that mean you'll have a kid with me?"

"Maybe," You murmured.

"Maybe?" She frowned.

"Yes," You laughed.

"That's a yes, then," Natasha said.

"Well, not right now," You laughed. "In the words of Beyonce... you have to put a ring on it."

"That's the rule, huh?" Natasha grinned.

"Yup," You said. "No baby, unless there's a ring."

"So," She leaned in, her lips a breath away. "If I put a ring on it, you'll have my kid."

"Well, not just that," You replied.

"Then what?"

"You're also going to be my wife," You whispered.

"Your wife," She echoed, her tongue clicking against the roof of her mouth. "Hmmm, sounds perfect."

"You sound pretty sure," You teased.

"Well, I know I'll marry you," Natasha smirked.

"And why's that?"

"Because," She said, her lips brushing against yours. "We belong together."

"So cheesy," You whispered.

Before Natasha could deepen the kiss, a soft knock sounded at the door. You barely had time to pull back before Isabella pushed it open, standing there with her hands on her hips and a pout on her lips.

"Mama," she whined, her voice tinged with frustration. "The boys are trying to watch scary movies, and I’m not down for it."

You exchanged a glance with Natasha, biting back a laugh at her dramatic delivery. Natasha leaned back against the headboard, her arms crossed, the picture of casual amusement.

"Scary movies, huh?" Natasha asked.

"Yeah! AJ said I’d get nightmares and cry," Isabella huffed, crossing her arms.

"That doesn’t sound very nice," you said, patting the bed beside you. "Come here, birthday girl."

Isabella climbed onto the bed, squeezing herself between you and Natasha. She leaned into your side, her tiny arms wrapping around your waist.

"You can stay with us," Natasha offered.

"Really?" Isabella’s eyes lit up, her earlier frustration forgotten.

"Of course," Natasha grinned. "We were just talking about super important stuff like... pancakes for breakfast tomorrow."

Isabella giggled, her nose scrunching up. "Pancakes aren’t important!"

"Excuse me," Natasha feigned offense, holding a hand to her chest. "Pancakes are very important."

"She’s right," you said, kissing Isabella’s head. "And maybe we’ll make them extra special since it’s your birthday weekend."

"With whipped cream and sprinkles?" Isabella asked, her voice hopeful.

"Absolutely," Natasha said without hesitation, making Isabella delightfully squeal.

As the three of you settled in, Isabella leaned into Natasha, chatting animatedly about everything she wanted to do tomorrow. And though the moment had shifted, you couldn’t help but smile, your heart full as you watched Natasha listen attentively to your daughter, already fitting into your little family as if she belonged there all along.

*****

Natasha whistled softly as she stepped out of the car, taking in the sheer size of Sam's house. She thought your place was impressive, but this? This was something else. Despite its grandeur, the sprawling two-story home had a warm, inviting charm, and the massive backyard—already filled with decorations—was a whole world of its own.

The scene in the backyard was almost magical. Mini tents were set up, each acting as a spa station with its themes—manicures, pedicures, facials, and even a hair-braiding corner. The kids were running around in coordinated pink, gold, and ivory outfits, looking like miniature royalty as they giggled and chased each other.

"Wow," Natasha muttered as she adjusted the gift bag.

You caught her staring and smiled, nudging her shoulder. "Told you, Sam goes all out. He doesn't know how to do small parties."

"Clearly," Natasha said with a chuckle. "This looks like something out of a Pinterest board on steroids."

"Right?" you laughed. "Isabella's been talking about this for weeks. She even picked out a special outfit just for today."

As if on cue, Isabella came running over, her pink and gold dress flouncing as she moved. Her braids were styled in two neat buns, each adorned with little golden clips that sparkled in the sun. She was practically glowing with excitement.

"Natasha! Mama! Look at everything!" she squealed, grabbing both of your hands and pulling you toward the tents.

"Wow," Natasha said, crouching slightly to meet Isabella's eyes. "You look like a princess. That dress is amazing."

"Thanks, it's custom-made," She beamed. "My shoes, too."

"Your whole outfit is custom-made?" Natasha gaped.

"Of course," Isabella smiled. "Auntie Kate is the best. She makes all my clothes and does the alterations. Do you want me to show you how she does it?"

"You know how to sew?" Natasha asked.

"Not yet," Isabella shrugged. "But I'm learning."

"She's a busy kid," You shrugged. You leaned down to kiss her as you hadn't seen her since Sam picked her up after breakfast. "Hi, Bella."

"Hey, Mommy," She grinned.

"Is that my niece?!" Kate called.

"Hey, Auntie," Isabella ran over and hugged her.

"Happy Birthday, Princess," Kate cooed. "Go play; the party's just getting started."

"Okay," She rushed off to join her friends.

"You do make the cutest things," You said, wrapping Kate in a hug. "The dress turned out so good."

"You're not wrong about that," Kate grinned, pulling back from your hug. "Isabella has the taste of a fashion mogul already. I’ll be working for her in no time."

Before you could respond, a familiar voice called out, breaking through the hum of laughter and music.

"Am I interrupting a love fest?" Sam strolled over with a wide grin and a beer in hand. His tailored shirt and casual slacks gave him a polished but laid-back look, typical Sam.

"Always," you teased, stepping back. "Natasha, you remember Sam."

"I do," Natasha said with a slight nod and a polite but firm smile.

"And, of course, I remember you," Sam said, his smile widening as he addressed Natasha. "Nice to see you again, Natasha. Thanks for coming. Isabella's been talking nonstop about you being here."

"I'm glad I could make it," Natasha replied smoothly.

Sam's grin grew as he shifted his gaze between you. "So, how's it going with this one?" he asked Natasha, motioning toward you with a mischievous glint.

You rolled your eyes, already prepared for his antics. "Sam..."

"What?" Sam held up his hands in mock innocence. "Just curious. I like to keep tabs on who’s keeping you on your toes."

Natasha smirked, folding her arms. "I’d say we’re doing pretty well. She keeps me on my toes, too, though."

"Good," Sam said, nodding approvingly. "You need that. Trust me."

"Alright, cool it," you interjected, shaking your head but unable to hide your smile. "You’ve met her before, Sam. No need to grill her again."

"Hey, I'm just being a responsible ex-husband-slash-friend," Sam quipped, sipping his beer. "Besides, it’s nice to see you happy."

Natasha raised an eyebrow, watching the banter with interest. She could see it now—the ease with which you and Sam interacted, the unspoken understanding between you two. There was no tension, no bitterness. Just the comfort of people who’d once been something else but had figured out how to be something better for Isabella’s sake.

"How about you?" Natasha asked, surprising Sam. "You happy?"

Sam blinked, then let out a low chuckle. "I like her," he said, glancing at you. "Smart and straightforward. I can see why you’re with her."

"Don’t dodge the question," Natasha pressed, her smirk deepening.

"Fair enough," Sam said with a shrug. "Yeah, I’m happy. Life’s good. Got a great kid, a solid job, and I still get to hang out with my favorite ex-wife."

"Favorite?" you teased. "How many do you have?"

"Just the one, but you’re still the best," Sam shot back, making Natasha laugh softly.

"Well, I'm glad you two get along," You smiled. "I was a little worried."

"No need to worry," Sam said, his gaze shifting over your shoulder. "Here comes the birthday girl."

Natasha turned and watched as Isabella made her way over, followed closely by her cousins.

"Daddy, what color should I get my nails? AJ said pink is too girly." Isabella asked.

"AJ is a punk, and you know it," Sam said, a serious look on his face.

"Sam!" You scolded. "He's your nephew."

"Sorry," He said.

"You can get any color you want," Natasha offered.

"Any color?" Isabella looked at her.

"Any," Natasha repeated.

"Even black?"

"Black would be an interesting choice, but yes," You nodded.

"Can I get them with glitter?" She asked.

"Definitely," You laughed. "Go have fun. I'll get some snacks in a few."

"Thanks, Mama," She rushed off, her cousins behind her.

"They have a lot of energy," Natasha commented.

"You don't know the half of it," Sam sighed. "Those three could run a marathon. Now, Natasha, how much do you know about grilling?"

"Uh, a little," Natasha answered, slightly confused by the abrupt question.

"Great," Sam handed her his beer and started toward the grill. "I could use a little help over here."

"Okay, then," Natasha glanced at you with amusement.

You grinned and shrugged. "Good luck," you said, waving them off.

"The ex and the new girlfriend," Monica teased as she stepped up to you. "You, Sam, and another woman. Now, where have I seen that before?"

"In your grave, if you don't be quiet," You rolled your eyes at her.

"I'm not dead," Monica laughed.

"Not yet."

"Oh, come on, Y/N," Monica said. "Live a little."

"I've lived a lot already," You sighed. "This party planning drained me. Thanks for picking up the balloons."

"Anything for my goddaughter," Monica said. "Besides, it was on my way."

"It wasn't, but whatever," You smiled.

"Mama!" Isabella called. "Come pick a tent."

"Duty calls," You shook your head. You followed Isabella into a tent where she would be getting her pedicure. You sat to her left while Lenny sat to her right. "So, do you like this party better than the spa we planned?"

"It's way better," Isabella grinned.

"What about the boys?"

"They're being dumb," She rolled her eyes. "But, the dance battle should be fun."

"Indeed it will be," You said as you chose a color.

*********

Natasha stood by the grill, the warm sun overhead and the aroma of sizzling meat filling the air. Sam was expertly flipping burgers, his demeanor relaxed and friendly. A few of his old football teammates stood nearby, chatting and laughing loudly. Natasha could tell they were sizing her up, even if subtly. It didn’t bother her; she’d been in enough social situations to roll with it.

"Natasha, this is my buddy Jordan," Sam said, nodding toward a tall guy with broad shoulders and a grin too charming for his good. "We played together back in college."

"Hey," Natasha said, giving Jordan a polite nod.

"And that's Chris," Sam added, pointing to a stocky man with a buzz cut and a hearty laugh.

"Nice to meet you," Natasha said, shaking his hand.

"And over there is Keith," Sam finished, motioning to a lanky guy with a lazy smile.

"Big fan of your band," Keith said, extending a hand. "I saw you play in Austin a few years ago. You crushed it."

"Thanks," Natasha replied, a small smile tugging at her lips. "Austin was a fun gig."

"So, Sam tells us you’re a rockstar," Jordan said, leaning on the counter of the grill station. "What’s that like?"

"Chaotic, but in the best way," Natasha said. "I get to travel, make music, and meet people. Can’t complain."

"Well, you’re in good company," Sam interjected, handing her a pair of tongs. "Think you can handle flipping some burgers, Rockstar?"

Natasha raised an eyebrow, accepting the tongs. "I think I can manage."

"Here’s the trick," Sam said, pointing closer at the grill. "You press down lightly on the patties, just enough to sear them but not too much—you don’t want to lose the juices."

Natasha mimicked his movements, flipping a burger with precision. "Like this?"

"Perfect," Sam said with a nod. He leaned back against the grill station, watching her work. "So, you’re really into this whole music thing, huh?"

"Yeah," Natasha said, glancing at him with amusement. "Is this your way of scoping me out?"

Sam laughed, shaking his head. "Nah, not really. If Y/N trusts you, that’s enough for me. She’s got good instincts."

Natasha tilted her head, studying him for a moment. "You two seem close. That’s rare for exes."

Sam shrugged, flipping another burger. "We’re a team when it comes to Isabella. She deserves the best from both of us. Besides, Y/N is one of my favorite people. It’d be dumb not to keep her in my life."

"That’s fair," Natasha admitted, handing the tongs back to him. "For the record, she’s pretty incredible."

"Don’t I know it," Sam said, a playful smirk on his face. "But, hey, don’t let me intimidate you. I’m rooting for you, Rockstar."

"Good to know," Natasha said, her tone light but her eyes sharp. She liked that Sam didn’t play games.

"Alright, let’s see if you’re as good with hot dogs as you are with burgers," Sam said, sliding a tray of sausages toward her.

"Bring it on," Natasha replied, rolling up her sleeves.

"So, y/n tells me you're going on tour," Sam began.

"Yes, it's June through October," Natasha nodded. "We start here in LA, go through the us and UK, and then end in Madison Square Garden."

"That's a pretty long time," He replied.

"Yeah, it'll be nice," She nodded.

"When does the tour start?"

"Next week," Natasha said.

"So," He paused. "Y/n won't be able to visit."

"Well, it's hard when we're touring," Natasha nodded. "Oh, she's coming with me. I figured she and Isabella could come to certain cities in the summer. Maybe even ride in the tour bus."

Sam raised an eyebrow, his tongs hovering over the grill as he flipped a burger. "The tour bus, huh? With a bunch of rockstars?"

Natasha smirked, picking up on his subtle unease. "It's not as chaotic as it sounds. We're pretty organized. And the bus is comfortable—lots of space, no wild parties with a kid around."

"Still," Sam said, rubbing the back of his neck, "having Bella on the road... That could be tough. She's got her routine—school, activities, seeing her friends. It’s not just about her, you know? Y/n too. I don’t want her feeling stretched thin trying to juggle everything."

Natasha tilted her head, acknowledging his concern. "I get it. It's a big adjustment, but it’s not like they'll be on the road the whole time. Just a few cities here and there during the summer when school’s out. Y/n’s already thought through the logistics."

Sam exhaled, his jaw tightening as he pressed on a patty with his spatula. "I’m not saying no. I know Y/n will figure it out—she’s always been good at that. I just... worry, you know? Bella needs stability. And if something goes sideways, I’d hate for her to feel stuck in the middle."

Natasha watched him for a moment, appreciating the protective edge in his voice. "I understand where you’re coming from," she said carefully. "And I know you’re looking out for her, which is good. But I also know Y/n. She wouldn’t agree to this if she didn’t think it was what was best for Bella, too. It's not my place to tell you how to parent, but I think it would be a great opportunity for her."

"I hear you," Sam said, the tension in his shoulders easing a bit. "But, I mean, a rockstar, right? That's kind of a big deal."

"It is," Natasha nodded. "But she's met everyone in the band. They all adore her and Bella. I'd never let anything bad happen to either of them."

Sam paused, studying her for a moment. "I like you Romanoff. You can flip a good burger."

Natasha knew it was the end of the conversation for the time being. Sam flipped a burger with practiced ease, his jaw tight as he stayed quiet for a beat too long. Natasha could sense his unease simmering beneath the surface, even as he kept his town.

“Look, it’s not like I don’t think Y/n’s thought this through,” he said finally, eyes fixed on the grill. “But Bella’s... she’s still a kid. And being on the road, in and out of hotels, buses—it’s not exactly a routine.”

Natasha adjusted her stance, leaning casually against the counter to match his energy. “It’s not a nine-to-five,” she agreed, keeping her tone neutral. “But it’s not like she’d be on her own. Y/n planned everything to ensure Bella’s comfort—schooling, downtime, and even the other band members. Everyone’s on board.”

Sam nodded slightly but didn’t look at her. “Yeah, well, it’s easy for everyone to be on board when it’s not their kid. I’m just saying... this is a lot to ask of her.”

Natasha resisted the urge to bristle. Instead, she tried to meet him halfway. “I get it,” she said softly. “You’re protective. You should be. But Y/n isn’t making this decision lightly. She’d never put Bella in a situation where she didn’t feel safe or secure.”

Sam flipped another patty, his movements sharp. “It’s not about Y/n. I trust her. It’s... it’s the whole thing. Bella deserves stability.”

“And she’ll have it,” Natasha said firmly, holding his gaze when he finally glanced at her. “Even on the road, she’ll have her mom, a schedule, and a whole group of people who care about her. Stability doesn’t always look the same for every family.”

Sam exhaled through his nose, clearly turning her words over in his mind. “I guess.” He paused, staring down at the grill. “Just... Y/n should’ve brought this up with me first. I feel like I’m hearing about it after it’s already decided.”

Natasha nodded, her tone softening. “That’s fair. If this hasn’t been fully talked through, you deserve that conversation. I’m not trying to overstep here. I just wanted you to know I’m in this too—for both of them.”

Sam gave her a long look, his expression unreadable. “You care about them, huh?”

“More than anything,” Natasha said simply.

He nodded, his grip on the spatula loosening. Sam nodded, picking up the spatula again. “Alright, Romanoff. I’ll talk to Y/n to ensure we’re all on the same page. But don’t expect me to go easy on you just because you flip a decent burger.”

Natasha chuckled, picking up her spatula. "Wouldn't dream of it."

***

The dance-off had been a success. Isabella and her cousins were exhausted but beaming with pride as the last notes faded. The party continued with food, laughter, and joy. The kids were excited to play in the bouncy house, and the parents were having a blast. Steve, Wanda, and the rest of the band came to celebrate, and it was a joyous occasion. Everyone coming together to celebrate Bella was beautiful, and you were grateful for your family.

It was time for you to make a small speech before you sang happy birthday to her. It was a tradition you'd started when she was little, and it was just the three of you. 

You stood before all the guests and ignored the photographer buzzing around you. These pictures and videos would only be for family mostly.

"It's Isabella's tenth birthday," You began. "I know it may seem dramatic for us to give speeches, but this is a big one. Our baby is growing up. But I am so proud of her. She's kind, smart, talented, and so much fun. We have a special girl." You motioned for Isabella to stand next to you.

"Mommy and Daddy love you so much. You are so special," Sam continued.

"We love you, princess," You grinned. "Happy birthday."

"Happy birthday, sweetheart," Sam echoed.

Everyone clapped as the birthday song was sung.

"You ready for your cake?" Sam asked.

"Yes," Isabella beamed.

"Okay," You laughed. You leaned over, taking a moment to swipe a piece of icing to tap on her nose. "I love you, baby girl." You kissed her cheek as Sam kissed the other side.

"Love you, Bella," Sam added.

"Love you, Daddy," Isabella giggled. "Love you, Mama."

"Okay, let's get this show on the road," You clapped.

The rest of the party went off without a hitch. Isabella opened her presents and was thrilled. She loved everything she'd received, which was so special to watch. Her cousins and friends stayed over to enjoy the bouncy house, and all the parents were having a blast. You had your arm around Natasha's waist as you watched Isabella continue to bounce. It was a great way to end the night. 

--->

In the spirit of encouraging people to comment on fanfics while also making it easier to do so, I feel obliged to share a browser extension for ao3 that has quite literally revolutionized the comment game for me.

I present to you: the floating ao3 comment box!

From what I've seen, a big problem for many people is that once you reach the comments at the bottom of a fic, your memory of it miraculously disappears. Anything you wanted to say is stuck ten paragraphs ago, and you barely remember what you thought while reading. This fixes that!

I'll give a little explanation on the features and how it works, but if you want to skip all that, here's the link.

The extension is visible as a small blue box in the upper left corner.

(Side note: The green colouring is not from the extension, that's me.)

If you click on it, you open a comment box window at the bottom of your screen but not at the bottom of the fic. I opened my own fic for demonstrative purposes.

The website also gives explanations on how exactly it functions, but I'll summarize regardless.

insert selection -> if you highlight a sentence in the fic it will be added in italics to the comment box

add to comment box -> once you're done writing your comment, you click this button and the entire thing will automatically copied to the ao3 comment box

delete -> self explanatory

on mulitchapter fics, you will be given the option to either add the comment to just the current chapter or the entire fic

The best part? You can simply close the window the same way you opened it and your progress will automatically be saved. So you can open it, comment on a paragraph, and then close it and keep reading without having the box in your face.

Comments are what keep writers going, and as both a writer and a reader, I think it's such an easy way of showing support and enthusiasm.

Redline. (Bonus 3) | N.R

Older!Motorsportboss!Natasha x Younger!Racing!Driver!Reader

Warnings: Age gap (N= 32, r=23), crash, blood, broken bone (detailed), panic attack

Word count: 8,1k

A/N: There’s no tissue emoji, so I’m just using this one instead: 🧻

The first rays of morning light spilled through the sleek, minimalist bedroom, painting the polished surfaces in soft hues of gold. Natasha was already awake, her gaze fixed on her laptop screen as her fingers danced over the keyboard. Notes, timings, strategies, all meticulously checked and double-checked, as she always did on race days. It was her ritual, her way of ensuring everything went flawlessly.

But even while immersed in her work, her eyes flickered toward the bed, a gentle smile tugging at her lips. You were still tangled in the blankets, one arm flung over a pillow, your hair a beautiful mess against the white sheets. The peaceful rise and fall of your chest was one of Natasha’s favorite things to watch.

Natasha pushed away from her desk, stretching slightly before walking over to the bed. She perched on the edge, her fingers delicately sweeping a stray lock of hair from your cheek.

“Hey, sleepyhead.” Natasha murmured, her voice a soft blend of fondness and amusement. “It’s almost time to get ready.”

A sleepy groan escaped your lips, your eyes squeezing shut tighter as if to keep the morning at bay. “Five more minutes…” you mumbled, your voice muffled by the pillow.

Natasha chuckled, the sound low and rich. “You say that every morning, and somehow it always ends up being twenty.”

You cracked open one eye, your lips curving into a lazy grin. “You’re exaggerating.”

“Am I?” Natasha quirked a brow. “If you don’t get up soon, you’ll be the one explaining to the fans why their favorite driver was late.”

That got your attention. Your eyes fluttered open fully, the warmth of sleep slowly giving way to the familiar rush of excitement. Today was another race, another chance to prove yourself, not only to the world but to yourself.

“Fine, fine, I’m up.” You sat up, rubbing your eyes before glancing at Natasha with a sleepy smile. “You’re already in boss mode, huh?”

“Someone has to keep you in line.” Natasha replied with a smirk, but the glint in her eyes was nothing but adoring. “Now, I made you coffee. It’s waiting in the kitchen. I’ll get your things ready.”

“Have I mentioned you’re amazing?” You stretched your arms above your head, the early morning light catching your features in a way that made Natasha’s heart skip a beat.

“Once or twice.” Natasha’s voice softened, her hand resting on your shoulder. “But I like hearing it.”

You reached up and captured Natasha’s hand, bringing it to your lips for a gentle kiss. “Well, you are. Absolutely amazing.”

Natasha’s cheeks flushed, but her composure never wavered. “And you’re a dork. Now, get moving. We have a race to win.”

Within thirty minutes, you were showered, dressed, and already buzzing with pre-race energy. Natasha was all precision and efficiency, double-checking every little detail before you left.

The drive to the racetrack was relaxed, filled with quiet conversation and the comfortable silence that only comes from years of understanding. Your fingers laced through Natasha’s as she drove with her usual cool confidence, the city blurring past the windows.

“Ready to meet your fans?” Natasha asked, glancing sideways at you.

A grin spread across your face. “Always.”

The moment you arrived at the paddock, you could hear the hum of excitement from the fans gathered just beyond the barriers. As you stepped out of the car, the familiar chants of your name echoed through the air.

“Y/N! Y/N! Over here!”

You beamed, your nerves melting away under the warmth of the crowd’s enthusiasm. Natasha watched from a few steps behind, arms crossed, her expression softening as she saw you stop to sign autographs, exchange kind words, and take selfies with your adoring fans.

Natasha joined you by the barrier. A few fans squealed, not just for the famous driver but for the woman standing at your side.

“Alright, alright.” Natasha said with a half-smirk, “You’ve had your fun. Let’s get you to the garage before you start signing every piece of merchandise in this city.”

You laughed, but Natasha could see the energy it gave you. You were glowing. And today, Natasha would do everything to make sure your star kept shining.

The energy in the paddock was electric, the kind of buzz that seeped into your veins and made you feel alive. Natasha guided you through the usual pre-race routine like clockwork, her presence as steady as ever. But there was a warmth to her efficiency that only you could feel. A care threaded between every checklist and instruction.

As you made your way to the garage, you glanced over at Natasha, your fingers twitching slightly with pre-race nerves. Natasha caught the movement instantly. “Cold feet?” she asked, one eyebrow arching in concern.

“Just the good kind of nerves..” you replied, offering a crooked smile. “The ‘I’m ready to crush this’ kind.”

“Good.” Natasha nodded, her eyes scanning the garage as you entered. Technicians hustled around you, final checks and adjustments happening in a blur of motion.

The minutes ticked by as you completed your pre-race rituals, your muscles thrumming with the familiar cocktail of nerves and excitement. As the call came for drivers to take their places, Natasha walked alongside you to the car.

You slid into the driver’s seat, your hands instinctively reaching for the steering wheel as you settled in. Natasha leaned over the side of the car, her gaze locking with yours. “Remember, no heroics. Just smooth and clean. You’ve got this.”

“Got it, boss.” You winked, your cheeky grin making Natasha roll her eyes, though her expression softened with pride.

The engines roared to life all around you, but your focus remained on Natasha until the last possible moment, the warmth of her touch lingering long after she stepped away.

The race began with a thunderous surge of power, tires squealing against the track as you pushed your car to its limits.

The race was going perfectly. Almost too perfectly. Your grip on the steering wheel was firm but relaxed, your breathing steady, your focus unshakable. The crowd’s roar was a distant echo, dulled by the padded embrace of your helmet. Lap after lap, the world narrowed to nothing but the track before you and Natasha’s calm, measured voice in your ear.

“Just a few more laps, Y/n. You’re holding the lead beautifully.” Natasha praised, her tone laced with that signature coolness but layered with something deeper. Pride. Relief. Love.

You grinned despite yourself, eyes flickering briefly to the rearview mirror. The pack was behind you, clawing at your shadow, but your speed was unmatchable today. You were flying.

Then, out of nowhere, chaos erupted. A sharp, metallic scream tore through your headset, the sound of metal against metal. Tires shrieking. Engines spluttering into desperate, dying growls.

“Car pileup! Sector 3! Repeat, multiple cars down!” The voice from Race Control was pure panic, barely able to keep its terror in check.

Your stomach twisted. Your eyes snapped to the bend ahead. It was supposed to be an easy maneuver, just a clean sweep around the corner before the long straight. But the corner wasn’t clear.

Smoke billowed, thick and acrid, curling into the sky like dark fingers clawing upward. Amidst the haze, the glint of wreckage shone with a wicked brightness, metal torn and twisted like paper. Two cars tangled together, blocking the track almost completely.

“Oh, shit…” Your voice came out cracked and trembling, your foot already slamming on the brakes. But there was no time.

No way to avoid it.

“Y/n, slow down! Pull to the left!” Natasha’s voice cut through your ear, sharp and desperate, the cool edge of her usual calm utterly shattered. “Y/n, now!”

You tried. God, you tried. The wheel jerked beneath your hands as you swerved left, but another car had already collided with the wreckage, spinning out of control and slamming into your side. The crash happened so fast, it was nothing more than a nightmare stitched from metal and fire.

The sound of steel shrieking against steel filled your ears, your body thrown forward as your car skidded violently against another. Pain flared across your ribs, your shoulder slamming into the frame, your head knocking against the padded helmet hard enough to leave your vision blurred.

Then, just darkness.

The crash happened so fast, it was nothing more than a nightmare stitched from metal and fire. Meanwhile, in the control room, Natasha was frozen. Her fingers dug into the edge of the console, knuckles white, her eyes glued to the live feed that displayed nothing but a burning mess of wreckage and smoke.

Around her, the other team managers were reacting, shouting commands, issuing urgent instructions, some already sprinting toward the exit. But Natasha couldn’t move. She was locked in place by the overwhelming dread that had wrapped itself around her like ice.

“Romanoff! What the hell are you doing just standing there? Move!” A voice snapped her out of the icy paralysis gripping her. A hand on her shoulder was rough, shaking her out of her trance. She could barely see him through the haze of panic clouding her vision, but his eyes were sharp and urgent.

“I-” Natasha choked on her words, her voice cracking. Her mind was torn between the control room’s blinking screens and the burning wreckage outside.

“She’s out there..” she rasped, her voice thick and guttural.

“I know.” The men replied, his jaw clenched. “And so is my driver. We’re going to find them. Now, get in the damn car.”

Natasha barely registered the way Daniel’s fingers curled around her arm, dragging her toward the emergency exit. The world around her was a blur of frantic shouts and blaring alarms. All she could hear was the faint, distorted echo of your last words over the headset.

She felt like she was choking. The memory of your grin, your careless confidence, your unwavering faith in her guidance, all of it tore through her with the cruelty of broken glass.

They reached Daniel’s car, the bright red vehicle roaring to life the moment he turned the key. Natasha threw herself into the passenger seat, her hands trembling uncontrollably.

“Buckle up.” He snapped, his tone leaving no room for argument. But Natasha barely heard him. Her thoughts were a tangled mess, each one worse than the last.

What if it’s worse this time? What if your car is nothing but wreckage, your body broken beyond recognition? She swallowed thickly, her nails digging into her own palms until pain flared in her hands. “Drive faster..”

“I’m going as fast as I can without crashing us both..” He shot back, his eyes locked on the road as the car shot down the access lane toward the accident site.

The air between them was electric with urgency, the silence filled with the muffled rumble of engines and the distant screams of the crowd. The crash had spread like wildfire, multiple cars caught in the violent mess of twisted metal and scorched asphalt.

“Natasha.” Daniel’s voice broke through her spiraling thoughts. His eyes flicked toward her, his own panic tightly controlled, channeled into cold determination. “We’ll find them. Y/ns strong. She’s a fighter. You of all people should know that.”

Natasha clenched her jaw, her lips pressed into a thin line. “That’s the problem.” she whispered. “She’s been fighting her whole damn life. And if it’s bad this time…if it’s worse…”

The wreckages came into view, a horrifying sprawl of debris and smoke. Cars were scattered across the track, crumpled like toys thrown aside by an angry child. Marshals were already swarming the area, trying to contain the chaos, but there was nothing contained about the devastation before them.

Daniel slammed the brakes, bringing the car to a screeching halt. The instant they stopped, Natasha was out of the passenger seat, her feet pounding against the asphalt as she ran toward the destruction.

They split up, their desperation spurring them in opposite directions, both of them scanning the wreckage with feverish intensity.

The smoke was thick, burning her throat, her lungs. She stumbled over a shattered piece of debris, her legs threatening to buckle under her. But she kept going. Because she couldn’t stop. Because you were out here. And Natasha was not going to leave you alone.

Her voice tore from her throat as she called out, her screams swallowed by the chaos around her. Her eyes scanned the mess of broken vehicles and frantic medics, her throat raw from shouting your name. The world was a blur of flashing lights, shouting officials, and the terrifying echo of her own heartbeat.

And then, through the haze of smoke, she saw it. Your car. It was half-crushed against another, the nose twisted, panels ripped apart like some brutal sculpture. But even more incredible was what Natasha saw beside it.

You.

Natasha’s breath seized in her throat as she saw the way your body sagged between the medics’ arms, your head lolling forward like you could barely hold it up. The paramedics were lowering you carefully to the ground, their words a mess of urgent commands and rehearsed reassurances.

She was at your side in an instant, her knees almost buckling with sheer relief and terror all tangled together. “Y/n. Hey. I’m here. I’m right here..”

Your eyes flickered open at the sound of her voice, dazed and unfocused. The dark glass of your helmet’s visor was cracked, splintered lines running through the surface like spiderwebs.

“Natasha..?” Your voice was barely a whisper, your lips chapped and trembling.

“Yes, it’s me. I’m here. You’re okay..” Natasha said, her voice tight and trembling. Her hand wrapped around your gloved fingers, gripping them like a lifeline.

The medics were already circling like vultures, one of them barking orders into a radio while the other started running through the protocol.

“We need to get her helmet off, check her breathing. Possible concussion. Someone get the stretcher ready!”

Natasha’s fingers tightened around your hand, her gaze locked on your face. “Stay with me, okay? You’re doing great. Just stay with me..”

The medic nearest to you was speaking calmly, his gloved hands gentle as he reached for your helmet. “Y/n, I need to take this off, okay? It’s going to hurt a bit, but you’ll be able to breathe better. Just stay still.”

You nodded, though the motion was clumsy, your head barely moving. “’Kay…Just…just don’t leave..” you slurred, your gaze sliding to Natasha’s face with a desperation that nearly broke her.

“I’m not going anywhere.” Natasha promised, her voice hoarse. “I’m right here. I’m not leaving you.”

The helmet came off with a sickening scrape of broken metal against skin. Natasha’s breath hitched as her eyes caught the glistening trail of blood running down your face from a vicious gash torn across your eyebrow. The cut was deep, the blood so dark it looked black against your skin.

Natasha’s gasp was almost a sob. “Oh God… Y/n…”

But your gaze was unfocused, your breathing shallow. “I…I’m fine. Just…just a little dizzy..”

The medic’s gloved hands were already pressing gently against your head, checking for fractures, murmuring reassurances you couldn’t hear. Natasha’s eyes traced every drop of blood, every twitch of pain on your face.

“Y/n, I need you to try and stay awake, alright?” the medic continued, his tone calm and firm. “Can you tell me where it hurts?”

Your voice was sluggish, your words slurred. “Uh…Head…and…foot. Really hurts..”

The medic’s eyes dropped to your leg, and Natasha followed his gaze. Then her stomach dropped to the ground.

Your right foot was twisted at a sickening angle, the racing boot visibly swollen. But worse than that, the thing that almost made Natasha vomit, was the jagged, broken bone protruding just above your ankle, blood pooling against the fabric.

“O-Oh God..” Natasha whispered, her voice barely more than a strangled breath. Her hand squeezed yours so tight she feared she’d break something.

“Dammit, we need to get her stabilized.” the medic barked, his voice now laced with something that sounded far too much like fear. “Get the stretcher over here, now!”

Your head was already turning, your glassy eyes trying to make sense of the panic around you.

“W-What’s… going on?” you slurred, your gaze starting to drop downward, toward the carnage of your own leg.

“Hey, hey.” Natasha’s voice was sharp, her free hand reaching to cup your face, gently turning your head back to meet her eyes. “Look at me. Just look at me, okay? Everything’s fine.”

“But…my foot…” your brows furrowed, your voice fractured by pain and confusion.

“It’s fine.” Natasha lied, her own voice shaking. “You’re going to be fine. Just keep your eyes on me. Don’t look down.”

The stretcher arrived, more hands pressing around you, securing your neck, your broken leg. Natasha hated the way they moved you, the way your face twisted in agony, the little gasps of pain you couldn’t quite suppress.

But even through the horror, your fingers clung to hers, your grip as tight as you could manage.

“N-Nat…?”

“I’m here.” Natasha’s voice was firm now, as solid as steel. “I’m not leaving you. Not for a second.”

They loaded you onto the stretcher, the medics shouting orders Natasha barely registered. Everything was a blur, but her gaze never left your face.

“Talk to her.” one of the medics said to Natasha, his tone harsh with urgency. “Keep her awake. We can’t risk her passing out before we assess the damage.”

“Y/n, sweetheart, listen to me.” Natasha said, her own panic buried deep beneath the surface of her voice. “You’re going to be okay. You’re too damn stubborn not to be, right?”

You tried to laugh, but it came out more like a shuddering gasp. “Y-Yeah…stubborn…that’s me…”

“Damn right.” Natasha’s thumb traced over your knuckles, her own hands slick with blood. “You’re not leaving me, you hear me? You’re staying right here with me.”

“’M not… leaving…” your words were fading, your eyelids drooping as shock and pain clawed away at your consciousness.

Natasha felt her own breathing hitch, her voice breaking. “Good. That’s good..”

As the medics lifted the stretcher and began moving it toward the waiting ambulance, Natasha followed, her hand locked around yours like a lifeline.

Minutes later, the ambulance tore through the streets like it was chasing time itself, sirens wailing into the sky, the city blurring into light and sound. Inside, Natasha sat wedged against the wall, one hand gripping the steel bar, the other never leaving yours.

Your eyes fluttered, trying and failing to stay open. Your skin had gone an ashen shade beneath the streaks of blood, your chest rising and falling in shallow, unsteady rhythm. Every time the medic adjusted your leg, you whimpered, barely a sound, but one that carved itself deep into Natasha’s chest like a knife.

“You’re okay.” Natasha whispered over and over, her voice cracking around the edges. “I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.”

The moment they reached the emergency bay, the ambulance doors burst open. Lights flooded in, followed by the blur of movement , gurney wheels on concrete, shouting voices, cold air rushing through the gap before the building swallowed them whole.

“Female, 23, compound fracture to the right foot, deep laceration above the right eye, suspected concussion.” the paramedic rattled off as they passed the threshold of the hospital.

A woman stepped forward, tall, composed, sharp eyes framed by silvering curls tucked behind her ears.

“Get her into Room Five-” she ordered, but the moment her eyes fell on Natasha, her entire posture shifted. Her brows lifted slightly, the recognition instant.

“Get the VIP trauma room prepped now. Clear the hallway. Tell imaging to stand by.”

Natasha stayed right at your side as the gurney wheeled through wide corridors, glass doors flying open before them like water parting.

“Vitals are unstable.” one of the medics said. “BP’s dropping.”

Inside the trauma room, the chaos turned clinical. Machines hummed to life, IVs were connected, and gloves snapped into place.

The nurse stepped up beside and leaned over you with practiced precision. “My name is Helen. I’m going to check you, okay? Can you open your eyes for me?”

You blinked slowly, your gaze unfocused. “Mhmm…”

“Good. Stay with me.” Helen reached up and shone a penlight into your eyes. “Natasha, any known allergies?”

“No. No allergies..”

Helen nodded quickly. “What’s your full name?”

Your lips moved, the sound faint. “Y/n…L/n.”

“Do you know where you are?”

“’M…I was racing…”

“She’s lucid but foggy.” Helen muttered. “Pupils are sluggish. Concussion confirmed.” She gently wiped away blood from your temple, exposing the deep gash beneath. “We’ll stitch this after scans.”

Then a second nurse moved to the foot of the bed, starting to unwrap the temporary support on your leg. The second she shifted it, you jolted violently, a strangled cry escaping your throat.

“Careful!” Natasha snapped, stepping forward, her own panic flaring. “Her foot-”

The nurse paused, her expression grim. “Confirmed compound fracture. Bone’s fully through.”

“Prep for OR.” Helen said calmly.

But that calm shattered the second the word OR hit your ears. Your chest hitched. Your eyes widened. And just like that, the panic flooded in.

“No. No-no no no!” Your voice cracked as your hands reached for anything, the rail, the blanket, Natasha. “Not surgery, not again, please don’t- don’t-”

“She’s panicking..” Helen said immediately, eyes darting to the vitals monitor. The heart rate was skyrocketing.

Natasha, cupping your face. “It’s okay! It’s just a bone, baby. Bones heal, you hear me?”

“It is-” you sobbed, your voice breaking. “It’s happening again..I’m gonna be stuck- I won’t”

“You can, and you will, you hear me?” Natasha said, forcing her voice to be stronger than the tremble in her own heart. “It’s not your spine. It’s not your nerves. It’s one damn bone..”

You were trembling, head jerking side to side as if trying to run from the memory crawling up from your past.

“She has trauma from her last crash..” Natasha said, looking up at Helen. Helen’s jaw clenched, then her expression shifted. “Alright. I’ve got her.” She turned to the nurse by your feet. “Touch her toes.”

The nurse blinked. “What?”

“Touch her toes.” Helen repeated. “Y/n?” She turned back to you, voice soft now. “Can you feel this?”

The nurse pressed gently along the top of your foot, just above the exposed break.

You gasped but nodded. “Y-Yeah…I feel it..”

Helen leaned in, voice low and firm. “That means your nerves are fine. You’re not paralyzed. Your body’s okay. The surgery is to fix something fixable. We are not going to let this become what it was last time.”

Natasha watched as the words landed, saw the slow, shaky exhale leave your lungs. Your hand, still clinging to Natasha’s, loosened just slightly.

Helen stood, her eyes flicking over the vitals. The panic was still too high, pulse, blood pressure, breathing all elevated. Too dangerous for surgery in that state. She turned to Natasha quietly.

“She’s too wound up to go in like this.” Helen said under her breath. “We’re putting her under now. I’ll make the call.”

She gave a small nod to a nearby nurse, a younger man already prepping the IV line. He moved with practiced hands, drawing a small vial from his tray and inserting it into the port.

“It’s going to hit fast.” Helen said. Natasha knelt beside you again, brushing damp hair away from your pale forehead. “Hey, baby. They’re going to give you something to help you sleep now, okay? Just sleep. That’s all.”

You blinked slowly, tears still welling in your lashes. “You’ll be there…when I wake up?”

“I’ll be the first face you see.” Natasha whispered, kissing your temple. “I swear to you. I’m not going anywhere.”

The nurse pushed the medication in, and within seconds, your body began to still. Your breathing evened out slightly, your trembling stopped. Your eyes fluttered. “I love you…” you murmured, barely audible.

Natasha’s throat closed up. “I love you more.”

And then your eyes slipped shut. The panic was gone. Replaced by a terrifying, aching silence. Helen gave Natasha a nod. “You did good. Now let us take care of her.”

The stretcher rolled out, the surgical team falling into step. Natasha followed them to the doors of the OR, only stopping when Helen placed a firm hand on her arm.

“She’s in good hands now.” she said gently. “But you need to breathe. Sit. And wait. And when she wakes up, she’s going to need you.”

Natasha stood frozen as the doors swung closed. The surgical wing was too quiet. Too white. Too sterile. Too full of time that refused to move.

Natasha sat down on a hospital bench just outside the OR, elbows on her knees, fingers tangled in her hair. The double doors to the OR stayed shut, a glowing IN USE light above them. Mocking her.

She had tried to sit still. To breathe. But her leg was bouncing uncontrollably, and every minute that ticked by felt like someone carving another line into her spine. The guilt was crawling up her throat like bile. I promised her I’d protect her. She trusted me with everything.

“Natasha.”

She flinched, eyes snapping up. Yelena stood in front of her, pale and tight-jawed, still in her coat like she’d run straight from her apartment the moment she heard.

“You okay?” Yelena asked softly.

Natasha scoffed, a bitter sound. “She’s in there with a fucking broken foot and a head wound, and you’re asking me if I’m okay?”

Yelena didn’t respond immediately. She just sat down beside her, shoulder brushing Natasha’s, grounding her like an anchor in a storm. Natasha swallowed hard. “It’s my fault.”

“No.” Yelena said firmly. “No, it’s not.”

“I put her back in the car! After everything she went through. After that crash. After her body was wrecked the first time. I pushed her. Because I missed the racer in her.” Her voice cracked. “Because I wanted to win..”

Yelena looked at her, eyes narrowed. “You didn’t force her to drive, Natasha. You believed in her when no one else did. That’s why she came back.”

Natasha looked away, lips pressed into a line. “And now she’s bleeding in an OR again. Screaming. Panicking. Because all I ever do is bring her back to the pain.”

There was a pause. Then Yelena sighed and dug into her coat pocket.

“I wasn’t gonna tell you yet..” she muttered, pulling out her phone. “But…they’re waiting for news. I called them.”

Natasha blinked. “Who?”

Yelena’s lips pressed together. “Her parents. They’re on the line.”

Silence. It was a full second before the weight of the words hit her like a wrecking ball. Natasha’s body went stiff. Her fingers curled in her lap. Her breath froze in her lungs.

Your parents.

“Oh god..” she whispered. “Yelena, what the hell am I supposed to say to them?”

Yelena’s voice softened. “You tell them the truth.”

“No. I- I can’t! I told them I’d keep her safe. I promised them..” Natasha’s voice cracked, her hands shaking again. “They trusted me. After the last time? They didn’t even want her back on the track. I had to fight for her, with them. And now she’s in a damn OR again and I—”

“Natasha.” Yelena turned to her, firm now. “They’re scared out of their minds. They need to hear from the one person Y/n trusts most.”

Natasha looked at the phone in Yelena’s hand like it was a bomb.

“She’s their daughter.”

“And she’s your everything.” Yelena said quietly. “So breathe. And talk to them.”

Natasha reached out with a trembling hand and took the phone. “Hi. This is… this is Natasha.” Her voice was hoarse.

There was a pause on the other end, and then a voice. Soft. Tight with worry. Your mother.

“Where is she? Is she okay? What happened? Natasha, w-what happened to our daughter? P-Please don’t say-”

Natasha’s throat closed up. Her free hand gripped the edge of the bench like she needed to hold on to reality. She tried to answer, but nothing came out at first. Not a word.

Then finally, broken and quiet, she whispered:

“I’m so sorry.”

Natasha’s hand shook as she held the phone to her ear, her voice cracking with every word.

“Yes. She’s in surgery..”

Pause. Natasha swallowed the lump in her throat. “Yes. A broken foot. And a concussion.”

Her gaze kept flicking toward the double doors of the OR, her eyes raw and burning from the unrelenting tears she refused to fully shed. The sterile lights above buzzed with cold indifference.

“She’s alive. The doctors..They’re doing everything they can.”

Her fingers clenched tighter around the phone, knuckles white.

“I-I’ll call you back when I know more, okay? I promise.” She clicked off, the phone slipping from her grip and landing heavily on the floor.

Yelena bent down, picking it up, her own expression unreadable. “I’ll let them know when she’s awake.”

“Thanks..”Natasha rasped. Her voice was shredded, hollow. Her entire body trembled with the effort of holding herself together.

Minutes turned to hours. The cold, merciless kind of waiting where every passing second felt like a punishment. Natasha’s mind kept churning over every horrific possibility. What if the concussion was worse than they thought? What if her leg was so damaged she could never drive again? What if she woke up and decided Natasha had pushed her too far this time? What if she never woke up?

The doors finally swung open with a soft whoosh. Natasha shot to her feet so fast her vision spun. A doctor stepped out, flanked by Helen. Both of them wore weary but steady expressions. Natasha’s stomach twisted. Her nails dug into her palms.

“Miss Romanoff?” the doctor began. His voice was calm, measured. She hated how clinical he sounded.

“Yes. I’m-” Her voice cracked, too sharp, too desperate. “Is she…is she okay?”

“The surgery went smoothly.” the doctor continued. “The bone was successfully reset and secured. The nerve function in her leg is undamaged, which means with proper rest and rehab, she will make a full recovery.”

The words crashed over Natasha like a tidal wave. A violent rush of relief so strong her legs nearly gave out beneath her.

“S-She’s okay?” Natasha breathed, her voice trembling.

“She’s stable.” the doctor confirmed, his gaze sympathetic now. “We’re moving her to recovery. She’ll be groggy when she wakes up, but she’s going to be fine.”

The tears Natasha had been holding back finally broke free, spilling down her cheeks unchecked. Her shoulders shook, her breathing turning into something ragged and uncontrollable.

“Thank you. Oh God, thank you…” Her hands flew to her face, trying and failing to hide the ugly sob that tore its way out of her throat.

Helen reached out and squeezed Natasha’s shoulder. “We’ll make sure no one bothers her while she recovers. I’ve already spoken to security. No paparazzi, no press. And if anyone tries, they’ll have to get through me.”

A wet, broken laugh slipped from Natasha’s lips. “Thank you. You don’t know…you don’t know how much this means.”

Helen’s smile was brief but genuine. “They’ll be bringing her out in a few minutes. She’s going to need rest, but you can be there when she wakes up.”

Natasha’s shoulders sagged with exhaustion. But beneath it, there was hope. Raw and fragile, but alive. She glanced over at Yelena, who had been standing just outside the doctor’s conversation, arms folded tightly across her chest. Their eyes met, and Yelena gave a short nod.

“See? She’s tough as hell.” Yelena said, her voice rough with emotion she wasn’t about to admit. “Just like you.”

Natasha didn’t have words. She just nodded.

When Helen patted her shoulder one last time and turned to leave, Natasha couldn’t help herself. She reached out and threw her arms around the nurse.

Helen stiffened, caught off guard, but only for a moment. Then her arms wrapped around Natasha, gentle and reassuring.

“She’s going to be fine.” Helen whispered, her voice low and steady. “And so are you.”

Natasha pulled back, wiping furiously at her eyes. “I just…thank you. Thank you for everything.”

The walls were a soft cream, the blinds drawn to shield from the press of evening light. The private VIP suite was spacious, silent, and most importantly: protected. No noise. No reporters. No cameras.

Just Natasha.

She sat in the chair beside the bed, elbows resting on her knees, fingers curled into her palms. Her heart still hadn’t stopped racing. The image of you, limp and bloodied on that stretcher, still looped in her mind like a cruel replay she couldn’t turn off.

Now, you lay before her. Wrapped in white hospital blankets, hooked up to monitors, your head gently bandaged. Your leg was elevated and braced in a temporary cast.

But you were breathing.

Natasha didn’t take her eyes off you for a second. A soft beep from the monitor spiked, just slightly. And then a subtle twitch in your fingers.

Natasha shot up from the chair, her heart lurching. “Y/n?” she whispered, stepping closer.

Another twitch, your head shifted faintly, your lips parting as your brows drew together in faint discomfort.

“Hey..” Natasha said softly, her fingers brushing your hand. Your eyes blinked open, slow, uneven. Cloudy from anesthesia. Your gaze was unfocused at first, drifting past Natasha like you weren’t really seeing her.

“Where…?” Your voice was raspy, so soft it was almost inaudible.

“You’re in the hospital..” Natasha murmured, her thumb stroking gently across the back of your hand. “You were in a crash. But you’re okay. You’re out of surgery. You’re safe now.”

You blinked again, your pupils beginning to center, focus returning in slow, heavy waves. You winced, your free hand moving slightly toward your head.

“Easy.” Natasha said quickly, gently taking your wrist. “You’ve got a concussion, and a cut above your eye. But you’re stable. They stitched you up.”

You blinked, your breathing beginning to pick up as awareness started setting in. “My leg…”

“It’s just broken.” Natasha said softly. “But the bone’s set. They fixed it in surgery. The nerves are intact, full feeling. You’re going to walk. Drive. Everything.”

There was a beat of silence, and then your eyes finally locked onto hers , really saw her. And the tears welled almost instantly.

Your fingers tightened weakly around hers. “You didn’t leave..”

“Never.” Natasha breathed. “I held your hand through the whole thing. And I’ll be right here for every step of what’s next.”

You let out a shaky breath, your eyes beginning to close again. “You’re warm…”

Natasha smiled gently, brushing the hair back from your bandaged brow. “That’s the morphine talking, baby..”

A small, dopey grin formed on your lips. “Good… I don’t wanna feel anything right now.”

“You don’t have to.” Natasha murmured. “You just sleep. I’ve got you.”

You blinked once more, and then slipped back into sleep, but this time, it was peaceful.

Natasha sat back down, still holding your hand. She wouldn’t be letting go anytime soon.

The early morning sunlight seeped through the blinds, a soft glow painting the hospital room in warm hues. It was quiet. Peaceful. Almost enough to trick Natasha into believing the nightmare was over.

Almost.

She hadn’t slept. Not really. She’d spent the night in the uncomfortable plastic chair beside your bed, her legs curled up, one hand still clutching yours like a lifeline. Every time you so much as twitched, Natasha’s eyes would snap open, her pulse spiking until the monitor’s steady beeping reassured her you were still okay.

But now, in the calm glow of morning, your eyes fluttered open again. Slowly. Blinking groggily against the light.

“Nat…?” Your voice was raspy, hoarse from disuse and the effects of anesthesia.

Natasha sat up straight, fingers lacing through yours. “I’m here.”

Your gaze slowly focused, your lips twitching into a weak, lopsided smile. “Still here…”

“Always.” Natasha said softly. “How are you feeling?”

“Like I got hit by a truck..” Your brow furrowed, your hand drifting toward the bandage on your forehead. “My head feels… foggy.”

“You had a concussion.” Natasha explained, her thumb tracing calming circles on your palm. “You might feel a little fuzzy for a while.”

You nodded, your gaze sliding down the length of your body until it landed on your elevated leg. The bulky cast was awkward and ugly, but Natasha had never been so relieved to see something so damn unappealing.

“Leg’s broken?” you asked, your voice too casual, like you were trying to make the truth sound less real.

“Yeah.” Natasha’s voice was gentle. “Clean break, though. They fixed it up good. The nerves are fine. You’ll be walking in no time.”

You swallowed, the tension in your shoulders easing slightly. “So…not like last time?”

“Not like last time.” Natasha reassured, her voice steady and strong. “This one’s just a bone. It’ll heal.”

Your eyes glossed over with relief, the shaky exhale escaping your lips almost like a sob. “I really thought…I thought it was all happening again.”

Natasha’s chest tightened. “I know. And you pushed through it. You’re…You’re so damn brave.”

Your fingers tightened around hers. “I was a mess. Crying, panicking…that’s not brave..”

“Want me to argue?” Natasha’s voice cracked with a teary smile. “Because I will. And I’ll win.”

A half-laugh, half-sob slipped from your lips. “God, you’re stubborn.”

“And you love me for it.”

“Yeah. I do.”

Their fingers stayed entwined, the silence between them comfortable for a few precious moments. Natasha watched the way your breathing evened out, your expression softening into something like peace.

But before she could fully relax, the door creaked open. Natasha’s head snapped up, eyes blazing with protective wariness.

Yelena stepped in, her expression neutral but her eyes sharp as always. But she wasn’t alone.

Behind her were two familiar faces. Your parents. Natasha’s stomach clenched, guilt and terror slicing through her chest like a knife. But their eyes weren’t on her. They were on you.

“Y/n?” your mother’s voice cracked, the sound ragged with emotion.

Your eyes widened. “Mom? Dad?”

And then the tears came. From all of you. Natasha started to pull back, to give them space, but your hand tightened around hers, refusing to let her go.

But her gaze drifted to your parents, waiting for them to tell her off. To say this was her fault. That she’d broken you all over again. But instead, your mother walked over, reached out, and hugged Natasha. “Thank you…for being here for her.”

Natasha nearly collapsed from the sheer relief that tore through her. She glanced at Yelena, who gave her a subtle nod of approval. And somehow, that made the world seem just a little bit safer.

Your parents stayed for a while, their voices a soft blur of relief and love as they hugged you, whispered words of comfort, made promises of being there every step of your recovery. Natasha mostly stayed quiet, her fingers still wrapped around yours, never letting go.

Eventually, they slipped out for a much-needed break, some coffee, air, anything to relieve the ache of hours spent in panic. Yelena went with them, promising Natasha a few minutes alone with you.

Now, the room was quiet again. And your eyes found Natasha’s, searching for something unspoken.

“Everyone’s okay, right?” you asked, your voice still rough but stronger now. “The other drivers? From the crash?”

Natasha hesitated for a split second. “Yeah. Everyone made it out. Some got pretty banged up, broken ribs, concussions. But no deaths. They’re all alive.”

You let out a slow, shaky breath. “Thank God. That crash was…”

“Horrific.” Natasha finished for you, her gaze dropping to your hand in hers. “I saw it happen on the monitors. It was like…like a nightmare.”

“It was..” you admitted, your expression darkening. “Everything just…closed in. There was nowhere to go. Just metal and fire.”

Natasha’s thumb traced over your knuckles. “And you still fought your way out. You’re stronger than you think.”

“Not strong enough to keep my cool.” You laughed bitterly, your gaze slipping away. “I was a total wreck. If you hadn’t been there to talk me down, I don’t think I would’ve—”

“Stop.” Natasha’s voice was firm, cutting through the doubt like a knife. “You did everything right. You survived. You held on. And you’re here. That’s all that matters.”

Your eyes softened. “And you’re here.”

“I’m not going anywhere.”

A soft knock on the door pulled their attention. It swung open to reveal Helen, clipboard in hand, her expression calm but focused.

“Mind if I do a quick check-up?” Helen asked, her voice gentle. “I just need to make sure everything’s looking good.”

“Yeah, sure..” you mumbled, offering a weak smile.

Helen stepped in, eyes flicking between you and Natasha with that same warm but professional gaze. “Nice to see you looking a little less like roadkill.”

“That’s a real compliment right there..” you replied with a ghost of a grin.

“Hey, in here? That’s high praise.” Helen approached the bed, her eyes scanning the monitors before she leaned over to inspect the bandage on your forehead. “How’s your head feeling? Any dizziness? Nausea?”

“Uh…a little dizzy, but nothing terrible. Just… fuzzy.”

“That’s expected.” Helen said, her fingers carefully pressing around the bandage, checking for swelling. “The cut’s clean and stitched up well. We’ll keep an eye on the concussion, but I think you’re already doing better than most would.”

You managed a wry smile. “I guess I’m not most.”

Helen’s eyes crinkled with amusement. “No, you’re definitely not.”

She continued her examination, clicking her pen against her clipboard before moving toward your elevated leg. Her fingers traced gently along the edges of the cast, checking the exposed skin for circulation.

“Any pain? Tingling? Numbness?” Helen asked, all business now.

“Pain, yeah..” you admitted, your fingers twitching against Natasha’s hand. “But no tingling. I can…I can feel everything. Well, as much as you’d expect, I guess.”

“That’s excellent.” Helen nodded, glancing at the monitors again. “The break was nasty, but they did a damn good job putting you back together. You’ll be out of here sooner than you think.”

Your shoulders relaxed visibly. Natasha felt the tension drain out of her too, her chest loosening with every word Helen spoke.

“So…I’m not gonna be stuck in a bed for months again?” your voice was small, laced with a vulnerability that made Natasha’s heart twist.

Helen’s gaze softened. “No. You’re not. You’re going to heal. And once you’ve done the proper rehab, you’ll be walking again. Racing again, if that’s what you want.”

Your eyes flickered to Natasha’s, an unspoken question hanging between you. Natasha nodded, her grip tightening. “You’ve got this. And I’ll be there every step of the way.”

Helen straightened, tapping her clipboard lightly. “I’ll come back in a few hours for another check. Just get some rest and, for God’s sake, take it easy.”

You smirked, though your eyes still brimmed with exhaustion. “Yes, ma’am.”

Helen headed for the door but paused, looking back at Natasha. “And you. You should rest, too. You look worse than your patient.”

Natasha managed a shaky smile. “Not leaving her.”

“I figured.” Helen said, her own smile gentle. “But the offer stands.” With that, she disappeared down the hallway, leaving you and Natasha alone once more.

Hours later, Natasha’s legs felt heavier than concrete as she wandered through the hospital corridors. The bright lights, sterile air, and endless sea of white walls were all starting to blur together. But she needed to do something other than just sit by your bed and replay every horrific second of the crash over and over.

So she’d gone to fetch food. Something decent, not the bland garbage most hospitals served. Because you deserved better. Always.

The cafeteria was practically empty, just a few staff members drifting like ghosts through the aisles. Natasha grabbed a couple of pre-packaged sandwiches, bottled water, and fruit cups. Nothing glamorous, but it would do.

The walk back to your room was shorter than she expected, but when she turned the corner to the private suite, she stopped dead in her tracks.

Two interns were standing just outside the door, talking in low, excited voices. “Holy shit. That’s really her. Y/n. The Y/n.” The first one whispered, his voice barely restrained from outright squealing.

“I know, right?” The second intern shook her head, eyes practically sparkling. “She’s, like, legendary. After that last accident years ago? And then her comeback? It’s insane. And now she survived this? She’s got to be superhuman or something.”

“I would kill for a chance to talk to her. Even just an autograph.”

“Forget an autograph. Just seeing her — that’s like…damn. It’s like meeting a god.”

Natasha’s jaw tightened. Her eyes narrowed, gaze locking onto the interns like a hawk zeroing in on prey. She took a slow, deliberate step forward.

The interns saw her. And the joy drained from their faces like someone had flicked a switch.

“OO-h..” the male intern whispered, his eyes widening in terror. “That’s Natasha Romanoff…”

“No freaking way…” the girl muttered, her voice trembling.

Natasha’s eyes burned as she approached them. The sandwiches and drinks felt like dead weight in her hands. She didn’t say a word. Didn’t need to. The look on her face was enough.

The interns immediately stammered out awkward apologies and practically sprinted down the hallway. Natasha’s gaze followed them until they disappeared around the corner. Only then did she let herself breathe.

She hated it. How the vultures were already circling. How they saw your pain as some kind of heroic legend instead of a goddamn near-death experience. How they would never understand what it was actually like.

Taking a deep breath, she pushed the door open and stepped into the quiet safety of your room.

Your eyes were half-closed, but the second the door creaked, you blinked awake. And the lazy, knowing smile that spread across your lips nearly undid Natasha entirely.

“What’s got your murder face on?” you murmured, your voice a touch stronger now.

Natasha grumbled something incoherent and kicked the door shut behind her, the metal click a satisfying note of finality. “Just some idiots loitering around like they think this is some kind of theme park.”

“Fans?” you asked, smirking even as your eyelids drooped.

“Interns. But yeah, pretty much.” Natasha muttered, striding over to the bed and placing the plastic tray of food on the bed table. “I swear, they’ve got no boundaries. And if anyone else hovers near your door, I’m personally throwing them out the goddamn window.”

Your grin widened. “I love it when you get all protective. Makes me feel special..”

“Because you are special.” Natasha’s voice softened, and the tension in her shoulders finally eased. “And you’re still not eating this crap alone. I’m not getting scolded by you for making you eat hospital food again.”

“Oh nooo, can’t have that..” you joked, but your eyes shone with warmth.

Natasha slid the table closer to the bed, opening one of the sandwiches before nudging the fruit cup toward you. “Eat. And drink this water. No arguments.”

“Bossy.” you mumbled, but your fingers reached for the cup obediently.

Natasha’s gaze remained locked on you, tracing every detail of your face. The way your eyes still fluttered with fatigue, the way your lips twitched as you fought through the pain. It hurt to watch. But it was better than not seeing you at all.

Once she was convinced you had eaten at least a few bites of the food, Natasha leaned forward and gently tugged the sheets, sliding you slightly over on the mattress.

“What…what’re you doing?” you asked, your brows furrowing in confusion.

“Making room.” Natasha replied bluntly.

She kicked off her shoes, climbed onto the bed beside you, and settled herself down against the pillows. One arm curled protectively around your shoulders, pulling you gently against her own chest.

“You don’t have to-” you started.

“Shut up.” Natasha’s voice was soft, but the underlying force of it silenced you immediately. “You’re not getting rid of me. I’m staying right here. Whether you like it or not.”

You chuckled weakly. “Guess I don’t really have a choice, huh?”

“Nope.”

The warmth of your body against her own was more comforting than Natasha could have imagined. She felt the weight of exhaustion settle over her like a heavy blanket, tugging at her limbs and mind with quiet insistence.

“Nat?”

“Hm?” Natasha’s voice was already thick with sleep, her fingers gently stroking your arm.

“You’re the best.”

The only answer was a soft, barely audible snore. You smiled, your head nestled against Natasha’s shoulder, your own body easing into the kind of rest you hadn’t felt since the crash.

They were okay. Somehow, against all the odds, they were okay.

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Eyes Closed

Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Word Count: 1.8k

A/N: Day 11: I've merged a lovely request from a lovely anon with the @taylorswiftmicrofic prompt for the 11th of January, which is 'prom'.

Fluff and gentle smut contained below.

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You were in bed. The darkness had crept into the room slowly, just like the silence. You turned on a light but it wasn’t enough for that kind of darkness. 

You thought about her. You tried not to worry.

.

‘I know, I know.’ Natasha called out as soon as she entered the room. Your mouth dropped as you stared in shock at her appearance. Blood stains coated her face and suit. You could barely see her skin beneath. Natasha stood at the foot of the bed with a nonplussed expression on her face. 

‘I feel like Carrie at the prom.’ She yawned as she unzipped her blood-soaked suit to her waist, revealing her toned stomach and sports bra. 

Natasha reached up to her hair then, ready to undo the end of her usual braid. She groaned as she remembered her more intricate hairstyle made up of several smaller braids.

‘Here, love.’ You slipped off the bed and walked to her. ‘Let me help.’

Natasha tilted forward, her head pressing tiredly against your shoulder as you worked to undo each braid. You tried not to hesitate as you worked around the hair matted with even more blood.

When you were done, you resisted the instinct to kiss her.

‘This might be your most disgusting post-mission look.’ You said wrinkling your nose at the pervasive smell of the dried blood. 

Natasha gave you a sarcastic thumbs up as she headed to the ensuite bathroom.

‘Guess you won’t be joining me.’ She commented dryly as the shower began to run. 

‘It’s so hard to say no.’ You grinned, grabbing your phone and keys and heading out of the room. ‘I’ll bring you back sustenance.’ You promised as you left. 

You returned soon enough, a peanut butter jelly sandwich in one hand. You’d cut the crusts off. Natasha didn’t actually care about the crusts. That wasn’t why you did it. 

You knocked the door as you entered. Natasha was lying on her stomach, sprawled out on the bed, wrapped in a fluffy white robe that she’d stolen a million years ago from a fancy hotel. It was tied loosely, already half off one shoulder. You could tell she was naked underneath. Her long red hair was damp, combed through and already curling at the ends. 

She turned at the sound of the door. Her attention immediately fell to the plate in your hands. 

She made a happy noise, muffled by her pillow as she rolled over onto her back. She shuffled to a seated position in the bed.

‘Give.’ She demanded teasingly as you held out the plate. 

Natasha noticed the missing crusts. Her delight was easy to see. She covered her face and gave a laugh. 

‘I’m special.’ She teased.

‘Yep.’ You agreed simply and sat down next to her, your arm automatically snaking around her waist. 

Natasha leaned against you like you were her support pole. She chewed slowly on the sandwich, her eyes closed with the first bite and she nodded happily to herself.

‘Good?’ You checked teasingly. 

Wordlessly, she gave you another thumbs up.

When the sandwich was done, Natasha fell backwards onto the bed. With great effort she moved back to her starfish position across the centre of it. 

You felt yourself finally approaching the moment. The time for acknowledge what she was obviously avoiding. 

The energy had been too light since she got back. It had been a bad mission. 

‘I’m so tired.’ Natasha mumbled finally against her pillow. 

You crawled over to lie beside her. You brushed her damp hair away from her face.

‘What kind of tired?’ You prompted gently. Natasha’s eyes screwed tight against your gaze.

‘A lot of people died.’ She murmured at last. ‘I didn’t know what to do.’

She opened her eyes again and met you with a heavy stare. You recognised the swirling regret and thought inexplicably about ocean waves crashing over rocks.

‘I should’ve-’ Her voice cracked. 

The rush of love was overwhelming and you leaned forward with the sudden, aching, urgent want to kiss her.

Natasha clung to your lips needily, her fingertips brushed your jaw. 

Her lips were cracked and the sensation brought you back to yourself. You cupped her cheek gently as you slowly encouraged Natasha back to a sitting position. 

‘You’re thirsty.’ You hummed out as Natasha’s lips continued to brush yours over and over again. 

Natasha’s eyes briefly squeezed shut again and then she nodded. 

You left the bed to retrieve her water bottle on the other side of the room. Natasha unscrewed the top and wordlessly drank it all.

Your stomach twisted as you watched her.

It could be a symptom, sometimes, of the bad missions. Not giving herself what she needed. Punishing herself for things that weren’t her fault. 

Natasha put the empty water bottle back on the nightstand. She turned back to you with the same hidden sadness in her eyes. Still, she gave you a small smile. 

You reached forward again with a surge of the same want. You left a trail of the softest kisses along on her neck. You could smell the familiar mix of her body wash and that scent that was only Natasha. 

Natasha hummed with pleasure. You felt her body rise and fall as her breathing evened out into slow, deep breaths. You tugged the white robe gently away from her shoulder, and then again, until you’d removed it all the way.

Natasha acquiesced readily to the direction of your touch. There was a relief almost in the way she was naked next to you. As if the pretence could leave her. 

She arched her back dramatically and you watched the muscles move and stretch. Then, she returned her body easily to its most comfortable bad posture. 

Natasha looked at you again and, this time, her gaze was easier and her smile was warm. 

A longing caught itself in your throat. 

Hesitantly, you touched the old scar that sat between her shoulders. Evidence of another mission survived, another risk taken.

You pressed a little harder and Natasha moaned in response to the pressure on the fatigued muscle just beneath the skin.

You adjusted yourself back on the bed, propping yourself up on your knees. You kissed the base of her neck as your thumbs began to rub concentric circles over her shoulder blades. 

Natasha murmured your name. Her back arched again in pleasure. 

‘You are brave.’ You told her, consumed with the constant need to take away her pain. 

You kissed her again, trailing a path down the curve of her spine.

‘You are strong.’ You murmured, your mouth grazing past another nameless scar. 

You felt the rise and fall of Natasha’s chest against your lips. The steady proof of her existence; all you could hope for.

‘You are trying your best.’

Your thumbs brushed lightly over the large, fresh bruise that sat under Natasha’s ribcage. Natasha stiffened.

You ran your hands soothingly back up to her shoulders and then around to cup her soft breasts.

‘And, you are always, always forgiven.’ 

You felt Natasha’s limbs loosen unthinkingly with your words and then, slowly, you felt her muscles tighten again with a different want. 

Natasha murmured your name again. And then again. You listened to the longing soaked into her voice. 

You squeezed her breasts slowly before moving around to stand in the space in front of her seated position on the bed.

You reached over and took a pillow from the bed. You held it to the back of Natasha’s head and gave her a teasing smile as you pressed her gently in encouragement to lie back. 

Natasha’s fingers caught the front of your shirt automatically as she let her torso go flat against the mattress. 

Her feet were still touching the ground. You watched her hip bones cant upwards towards the air in this new position.

You lost yourself briefly in the act of just looking down at her. At the softness and sharpness that made Natasha's body the only one that you craved. 

Natasha’s eyes were half-shuttered as she watched you too. Her smile was easy but you caught the swirling of a thousand emotions that sat beneath her stare.

It was enough for you to drop to your knees.

You spread her legs slowly and slid between them. The steady warmth of her was your favourite heat. 

Another anchor that promised you she was here. 

You stretched out your arms, letting your fingernails brush back and forth along her toned stomach. You didn’t waste any more time. 

Slowly you ran your flat tongue along her pussy. There was the familiar tang of her body wash  and the taste that could only be Natasha. 

Natasha groaned above you. You felt her stomach muscles tighten under your fingers and knew that she was already close. 

You moved on instinct, your eyes closed as you lost yourself in the sounds of her hums and sighs. The heat of her against your tongue spread through you. You let your tongue arc and flatten, finding the rhythms that caused her breathless moans. 

You felt her tensing. Felt the pleasure inside her become a desperate need. You used your hands to keep a steady pressure against the urgent movement of her hips. 

Natasha gave a strangled cry and in the midst of it you heard your name. You pressed again and again with your tongue. You felt her body wind itself tighter and tighter and then undo itself all at once. 

You tasted the dripping want and heard the soft pants of something achieved. 

You gave one last lick along her pussy. 

‘Good?’ You murmured, as you moved back to survey Natasha. 

Natasha didn’t move or speak. Slowly, as if with great effort, she gave you a silent thumbs up. 

You breathed a laugh, kissed her one more time and got to your feet.

You headed to the bathroom, grabbing a flannel and running it under the warm water. You returned and gently washed between her legs. 

Natasha’s eyes were fully shut now. 

You leaned forward and Natasha moaned in automatic pleasure at the sudden heat of your body against her bare one. 

‘Bed, love.’ You whispered, pulling the covers back and coaxing her gently. 

Natasha acquiesced and you watched her crawl beneath the warm covers. 

You left and got yourself ready for bed too. 

Just as you were about to slide under the covers, you heard the first snuffling noises of Natasha pressing herself comfortably into her pillow. 

A moment later, you clicked off the light on your nightstand.

.

You turned to face her. Natasha’s face was framed by her own messy curls. You thought about her. About the sadness that you could always see unless her eyes were closed. You tried not to worry.

Natasha snored suddenly and the sound was another steady proof that she was here. You closed your eyes and finally slept. 

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Requests are still very welcome for future January fics. More info in the pinned post if you're interested in requesting. <3

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Lessons of love - Part 3

Nerd!Natasha x Rogers!F Reader

Wdym I'm writing fic instead of resting 😅 anyway, I just had to finish this to give my brain a break.

Whatever this is, blegh, enjoy it.

Part 1, Part 2

--

Melina’s study was an amplification of her daughter’s room. It was all neatly displayed, wall to wall covered in books, some in other languages that you were sure she was fluent in. 

There was a laptop on her desk, atop it a pair of reading glasses; a gentle reminder that geniuses are human too.

“It’s not what it looks like” Natasha spoke first. You and Melina scoffed at the same time.

“You two look like a couple. So, am I to understand that it’s incorrect, and you’re going around kissing every girl that crosses your path, Natalia?”

Natasha turned to you, her eyes pleading for help. You crossed your arms.

“No, go on. I’d like to hear what you have to say about this” 

“I… uh…” your girlfriend mumbled and you turned to her mother, finally giving Nat a break. 

“Mrs. Romanoff, I’m terribly sorry for the way you found out. Truth is, I’ve been crazy about Natasha for such a long time, but never really thought I had a chance with someone like her. And then, Fury paired us in Chemistry and things just went from there” you turned to look at Natasha for a moment, smiling. “To be fair, we only made it official on Wednesday”

“Natasha, she’s a keeper” Melina said, blown away by your sincerity. Natasha had to agree. You had a way with words that she admired. “Well, congratulations. I know you’re both responsible girls, but there’s not gonna be late night outings during school days. I can’t obviously speak for your parents, Y/N, but I hope Natasha keeps her excellent grades and you both focus on school”

“I agree, of course” you nodded.

“Now, as for safe sex” 

“What?” you jumped, while Natasha stared at the ceiling. She pleaded in Russian, but her mother dismissed her words. “Mrs. Romanoff, we’re not there yet. At all, so don’t worry”

“I’ve had the talk with Natasha, of course” Melina spoke, and it was as if she didn’t listen to you at all. “I know your father is a surgeon, but if he’s not up for helping you with birth control at some point and you need an adult to accompany you, please know I’ll be happy to come with you. You must be responsible when having intercourse”

“Which hasn’t happened yet, Mama!” Natasha intervened.

“Right” you said, though… to be fair, it had crossed your mind. Especially when your girlfriend was towering over you as she opened the car door… or did anything, really.

You might be the horn dog in this relationship.

“I’m just obligated as a parent to mention it. If you have questions, please come to me” she said, reading your flustered expression. Busted.

“Yes, Mrs. Romanoff” you said.

“Very well! Now, please, would you like to join us for dinner tonight? We should go out and celebrate!”

“Yes, of course” you smiled, sensing the hard part was over. Melina clapped excitedly, walking you out of her study. 

“I’m so sorry” Natasha rushed as soon as you were out. You stopped her with a short kiss, smiling against her lips. “Why…?”

“I’m just… happy. That’s all” you said. “It’s ok, baby. Your mom is looking out for you. I don’t mind the talk, or anything else”

“That thing you said… about liking me for a long time. That was just to get her to calm down, right?”

“Oh, Nat” you leaned to kiss her again. “You’re so clueless, my love” 

The girl blushed. She had a hard time deciding which term of endearment made her knees weaker. 

“I have to go, tell my parents and all. Remember we’re going to the movies with the twins, and then dinner with your family, yes?”

“I’ll come with you, we’ll tell your parents together” 

You shook your head no. Natasha was about to protest, when you placed your hand on her chest, letting out a shaky breath.

“I told you, Nat, they’ve been having a hard time with me lately. I’m worried they’ll scare you away”

“They won’t” you gave her a gentle look to remind her how her own mother had made her trip with her words. “Ok, I know. I’m not as good as you when speaking to people. But, whatever they say, it won’t scare me away. If I have to go through a background check or take a test or cure cancer to be with you…”

You cut her off with a kiss that turned frantic as she pulled you closer. 

“Nat?”

“Yeah?” she said against your lips, eyes closed.

“I’ve thought about it… about, you know. That”

“Oh” she looked at you, and you swore her pupils dilated.

“It’s too soon, I’m aware. But… I guess I wanted you to know”

“Ok”

“Ok” you repeated, pecking her lips. “I’ll see you at the movies. Ask Yelena if she wants to come”

“You sure you don’t want a ride home?”

“Yes, darling” you nodded, squeezing her hands. You could use the time to walk and think. “I think I’ll stop by my mom’s gallery. It will be better if she’s the one I talk to first”

Natasha nodded.

“Text me when you’re there? Or if you change your mind. I’ll go pick you up”

“Thank you” you nodded, smiling as she opened the door for you.

“I like it when you call me all those things… baby, love” she confessed on your way out. “Not sure which one I like the most, though”

“Well, then I’ll have to come up with new nicknames to see which one is better. Lucky for you, I’m good with words” 

—

You were hoping to prolong the walk, but in the end, it only took 20 minutes to get to your mother’s gallery. It was a Saturday, which meant Wanda was working until noon. 

“Hey” you greeted your friend at the reception. Wanda looked up from her notebook and smiled at you. You placed your hand on the desk and she gaped at the bruises.

“Holy crap. You weren’t kidding” 

“Trust me, he had it coming”

“Everyone’s asking me about it. Your popularity has gone up a bit” Wanda leaned forward and you frowned.

“What do you mean?”

“Jessica Jones asked me if you’re single. Darcy was similarly interested. I didn’t know if you wanted the rest of the school to know about Natasha so… I just said I had no idea”

You sighed. Considering Natasha’s concerns about hiding your relationship, it was better if everyone knew. You just had to figure out how.

“Well, I’ll fix that later. Right now I have to tell Mom”

“She’s in her office, speaking with a Japanese artist”

You nodded, walking past your friend to the back of the gallery. Knocking with your good hand, you waited for your mother to answer.

“Come on in. Oh, hi sweetheart. I thought you’d be staying home, recovering from yesterday”

“It’s just a bruise, Mom. Nothing to recover from” you took a seat in front of her, looking at the board behind her desk and the Art History books that she kept all over the place. It was an interesting contrast to Melina’s study, the image of order and chaos mirroring their own disciplines. Creative and scientist.

“Well, what are your plans for the day?”

“Uh… going to the movies with the twins and Natasha”

“The Romanoff girl? She’s so nice. Very shy, but sweet” your mother noted, still writing on her notebook.

“Yes, actually… we’ve been lab partners this semester and we’re also kinda… dating” you said the last part while your heart was beating out of control.

You gulped, as your mother put her pen down and looked at you. 

“Please don’t be mad” you begged, but she smiled that comforting smile that let you know she had your back.

“Mad? You’re 16. At your age, I was leaving a trail of broken hearts”

“Mom!”

“Don’t tell your father, though. He was a late bloomer”

“Speaking of Dad… can you be the one to deliver the news to him? He’ll get grumpy and you’re the only one that can handle him” 

“Don’t you worry about him, darling girl. Leave him to me. Now, will you wait for us to finish here so we can go to lunch and you tell me all about Natasha?”

“Of course” you smiled, always happy to know your mother was on your side. “I’m having dinner with her family tonight”

“Well, then she’s having dinner with us tomorrow”

“Yes, Ma’am” you nodded, thinking you’d have to prepare Natasha for meeting Captain Joseph Rogers.

—

Pietro and Wanda picked you up for the movies, the music booming across the street.

“Are you insane?” you leaned over Wanda to lower the volume on the stereo. Pietro laughed, his fingers drumming against the wheel.

“He’s been playing that stupid song since I told him you punched Rumlow”

“Eye of the Tiger is not a stupid song” he protested, finally stopping as he drove you to the movies. “She’s our Rocky Balboa!”

“Dork” Wanda mocked her brother with an affectionate smile and then turned to you. “Why are you dressed so fancy?” 

You had a burgundy cashmere sweater, camel colored pants and boots.

“Well, I’m having dinner with Natasha’s family. Do you think it’s too much?”

“You look amazing” Pietro assured you and you went to hug him  from your place in the back of the car.

“My favorite Maximoff”

“Hey, I called you fancy!” Wanda protested and Pietro laughed. “So, are you nervous?”

“Not really. I’ve spoken to her family, and I always see them when Natasha and I work on Chemistry homework. I’m more concerned about what Captain Rogers will have to say about Natasha”

“I’m sure it will be fine” Wanda said with a soft smile. She knew how hard these past few months had been, with the accident and the fallout between your parents and Steve.

Seeing Natasha eased some of the tension. Yelena was looking around the cinema when you arrived and after making the proper introductions, you moved over to greet your girlfriend.

“Hi” you said, kissing her softly. “Missed you”

Pietro pretended to gag behind you and you elbowed him.

“Wow, that was harsh”

“I’m Rocky, remember?” you winked, taking Natasha by the hand. Pietro insisted on buying popcorn and Yelena followed suit. 

“Don’t spoil your appetite, we’re going out for dinner tonight” Natasha reminded her. Yelena pouted.

“I can eat popcorn and have dinner, Natasha”

The redhead roller her eyes, but was soon distracted by your hand on hers. Either way, Yelena got away with it. Once at the theater, Pietro squeezed his way between Nat and you, saying he’d sit in the middle holding the giant popcorn bucket.

You gave him an angry look that he ignored and you had to play dirty to sit next to Natasha.

“Hey, babe” you called for her, leaning over Pietro so he would listen to everything. “We should go shopping tomorrow. You ripped my last pair of underwear, remember?”

“Ew, no” Pietro moved, allowing you to change seats.

“Ha. Easy” you mocked, leaning against Natasha. 

The movie started and you could tell Yelena and Pietro were hitting it off, making similar comments about the movie. Wanda was no better, pointing out things that the other two had missed.

“Oh, no, if they team against us we’re done, baby” you whispered against her ear. Natasha tried to reply, but moved against the back of her seat, pulling at the fabric of her pants. “What’s wrong?”

“I have a very good imagination” is all she said, trying to cover her crotch.

“Shit, sorry. I was just trying to get Pietro to move. Try to think about… something else”

“I’m trying” she said through her teeth.

“What are you going to say to Selvig tomorrow when we meet him?” you asked, hoping that would do the trick.

“We’re meeting him?” she turned to look at you and you shrugged your shoulders.

“Yeah, why not? If they don’t let us, I’ll use my press badge from the school paper and demand a Q & A session or something. Shutting down a teenager looking to learn more about the universe might be bad press”

Natasha chuckled, relaxing against your side. You could tell she was feeling better and the tension had eased. Just to be safe, you let her approach you first, and she reached for your hand, placing a small kiss at the back of it.

“I can’t wait for Virus XX!” Pietro clapped as you left the theater. 

“There’s gonna be more? We’re gonna be married leaving the kids with the sitter just to watch the next one” you whistled.

“I’m sooo full” Yelena complained.

“I warned you” Natasha said. The sisters began arguing and you waited for Wanda and Pietro.

“Ok, now I’m feeling nervous” you admitted. Wanda placed her arm around your shoulder and Pietro patted your back.

“You’ll do great and they’ll love you. You care about Nat and make her happy, that’s all her family wants” 

“Right” you took a breath, trying to slow your heartbeat. As you reached the exit, you waved goodbye to the twins and walked to Natasha’s car.

Your girlfriend was quiet during the car ride, and Yelena filled the silence with questions about practice and the twins. You were happy that they hit it off. Once at the restaurant, Natasha opened the car door for you while Yelena walked to the entrance. You took her hand, and followed her sister.

“Wait” Natasha asked, pulling you back.

“What’s wrong, Nat?”

“My family is a lot sometimes. They’re just loud and crazy and ask the weirdest questions…. If it’s too much…”

“Natty, it’s fine” you promised, kissing her cheek. “Come on. I’m starving” 

“You look very beautiful, by the way”

“Thank you, I wanted to make a good impression” you blushed.

“They already like you. My mom couldn’t stop talking about how wonderful you are” Natasha commented, pulling the restaurant’s door for you to enter.

“Well, I’m very fond of your family too. But you’re my favorite, sweetheart”

The Italian restaurant had a nice atmosphere, with warm lights and soft music playing in the background. Melina waved at you and you walked towards their table.

“The girls are here, come, have a seat!” she said, excitedly. “I do hope you’re hungry”

“Yelena is starving” Natasha mocked and her sister glared.

“I am, actually” 

“Oh, Alexei, you know Natasha’s girlfriend, right?”

You waved at Alexei and he nodded. 

“Wait, how do you know? Mama just found out today” Yelena said.

“Well, they do homework together and go to the movies. Isn’t that what friends do?” Alexei looked at the two of you.

“No, Papa, they are girlfriends. As in holding hands, kissing and… bleh, other stuff. I don’t want to lose my appetite now that it’s back” 

“Oooh. Our little Natasha, quite the Casanova, eh?” he teased his daughter, laughing when she blushed. “Well, I’m very happy for you two. Tell me, what do young people do for dating now?”

“Well, movies, picnics, the mall. We’re going to the Planetarium tomorrow”

“Oh, we used to go there all the time” the man said, taking his wife’s hand. “And the minute it got dark, Melina would pinch my butt” 

“Ew, why?” Yelena dropped the menu, looking upset. 

“Because your mom is a butt girl, aren’t you, sweetheart?” 

“No, that’s not what I meant, Papa”

“Oh, I see where Natasha gets it from” you joked, unable to help yourself. Your girlfriend looked around the table, turning red.

“I am officially not hungry” Yelena grumbled, making everyone laugh.

—

You focused on some homework during Sunday morning. Since you were meeting Natasha later, you also cleaned your room and got a chance to do your hair and make up, opting for a loose dress and a light jacket.

“Dinner isn’t until 7:30, young lady” your father said as soon as you walked down the stairs. He was wearing a polo shirt and slacks, carrying a book about World War II. His idea of a relaxing Sunday was very different from yours.

“Oh, I’m going out with Natasha”

He groaned, removing his glasses. 

“Yes, your mother mentioned this Romanoff girl”

“So, what do you think?” 

“You’re too young” 

“I’m not marrying her. Yet” 

Your father glared and you had to laugh at his stern expression. So dramatic.

“This isn’t funny”

“Dad, do you know what we’re doing today? Going to a talk about Astrophysics. You really have nothing to worry about.”

“There will be rules”

“I expect nothing less from Captain Rogers”

“And curfews”

“Those are like suggestions to me, but sure, go ahead”

“Young lady” 

Stepping forward, you hugged your father. Guess you can’t really take the military out of the man. But still, he had a soft spot for you and conceded, his arms around you.

“I love you, Pops. And I’m happy. So, just trust me on this one?”

“Ok, sweetheart” he nodded, sighing. “I guess I just refuse to believe you’re growing up”

You broke apart when the doorbell rang. Natasha was waiting at the door, wearing a white shirt with jeans, blue blazer and oxford shoes. 

My God, glasses too. 

“Hi” you greeted, staring. She looked… dashing. “Uh…”

Your dad rolled his eyes, stepping forward and introducing himself.

“Captain Joseph Rogers”

“Natasha Romanoff, sir. A pleasure to meet you” she shook his hand and you were surprised by her confident demeanor. Double fuck, she looked even hotter now.

“Dinner is at 1930” he informed your girlfriend. “No speeding, no texting while driving. You understand me?”

“Yes, sir” Natasha nodded. Your mother shouted from the kitchen, making you snap out of your trance.

“Joe, just let them go and come help me!”

“Thanks, Mom! Bye, Dad” you kissed his cheek, taking Natasha by the hand and pulling her towards the car. “You look… wow”

“Yeah? I thought it would be more formal, considering the event” 

“Handsome” you blurted out, making Natasha blush. Oh, yeah. She liked it a little too much. You played with the lapel of her blazer, feeling hot everywhere. “My father is probably staring out the window but know that if he wasn’t, I’d be all over you right now” 

Natasha groaned, opening the car door for you. Unable to help yourself, you gave her a quick kiss, smiling as she began the drive to the Planetarium. 

During the ride, you went over some basic information about your family that would probably help her with conversation. You mentioned your mother and her time living in Paris while she got her Masters in Art History, your Dad and how he went from Army medic to surgeon at a private practice. You mentioned that Bucky lived with you because his father was working in D.C., and how your father and Colonel Barnes went way back to their days as soldiers.

By the time you reached the Planetarium, Natasha felt she understood where you came from a little bit better. 

“Wow, this is amazing” you admired, looking at the scale models of probes sent to explore space. NASA had collaborated with the museum, sharing materials and information that came first hand from their work. Natasha explained things and concepts that sounded totally foreign to you, but you nodded, appreciating her enthusiasm and admiring the way her eyes lit up every time you came across some fascinating space rock. 

“Please join us at the conference room for Doctor Selvig’s talk” the hostess announced, and you let Natasha guide you to your seats. 

You were fully expecting the talk to be full of science terms and concepts that were above your comprehension, but Doctor Selvig was a great speaker, and the hour went by in the blink of an eye. There was a standing ovation as he delivered his last remark, and before it was over, you pushed Natasha to the side of the stage.

“Let’s say hi to him”

“Why?”

“Because he’s cool and you look like you want to cry from being in the same room as him” you whispered, intercepting him as he walked down the steps. “Doctor Selvig, Y/N Y/L/N with the Daily Shield. My girlfriend Natasha Romanoff is a great fan of your work”

“Hi” Natasha greeted him, starstruck.

“Romanoff? Any relation to Doctor Melina Romanoff?”

“She’s my mother. Do you know her?”

“We met at a conference in Berlin a few years ago. She has some interesting ideas about the composition of minerals we found near meteorite sites”

“Right. Molecular astrophysics. I’d love to study all of that” Natasha said excitedly.

“If you’re half as brilliant as your mother, I’m sure you’ll be very successful” he said, patting her shoulder. “It was a pleasure to meet you both”

“Likewise, Doctor Selvig” you said as he went to greet the people from NASA. “How cool was tha…?”

Natasha kissed you, pulling you by the waist. 

“Thank you” she whispered against your lips.

“No, thank you” you smiled, enjoying her closeness. “We should get going. I just need to use the restroom first”

“Ok” she nodded, kissing you again. God, she made you weak in the knees.

You felt light as a feather as you walked to the bathroom. Everything was coming together so nicely; Natasha’s family liked you and you were sure your girlfriend would manage to turn around your father’s bad mood.

Coming back to the auditorium, you searched for Natasha. To your surprise, she was speaking with a girl that looked ready to pounce on her any minute.

“Hey” you greeted, standing next to Nat. 

“Oh, hi. Ready to go?” Natasha turned to you.

“Aren’t you gonna introduce me?” you eyed the other girl, who smiled and extended her hand.

“Jane Foster”

“Y/N Y/L/N. I’m Natasha’s girlfriend”

“Oh, I had no idea you were dating anyone” the girl commented and you had to resist the urge to punch her. “Natasha and I met last summer at Science Camp. No wonder you stopped texting back, Natty” 

Jane reached out, squeezing Natasha’s arm playfully. Your anger transferred to Natasha when she just stood there and did nothing.

“Yeah, well. We should go, we’re having dinner with my parents” you said, although the last thing you were was hungry. 

“Nice seeing you, let me know if you’re going to the Winter Retreat. We’ll have the best time” Jane said with a wink.

“Nice seeing you too” Natasha said goodbye, while you rolled your eyes, walking to the exit as fast as you could. “Y/N, wait for me. Y/N!” Natasha insisted, chasing after you. “Hey, what’s wrong?”

“She was flirting with you” you accused, looking down. Since when were you the jealous type? “And you didn’t tell her you had a girlfriend. What was that about?”

“I just… don’t really think of her as anyone worth talking to?” Natasha admitted. “We spoke for a bit during summer, but that was it. I’m not interested in her”

“It’s just that…” you sighed, kicking the floor. “She’s smart, right? She probably understands everything about this exhibit and more, and could talk to you about all these science things while I’m… just me”

“Stop right there. You’re funny, and beautiful, and smart, kind, caring… I could spend all night listing things that drive me crazy about you”

“Crazy good?” you blushed, taking her hands.

“The best type of crazy” she promised.

“Ok” you nodded, allowing her to pull you closer. “I’m calling a truce because you look too damn good right now”

“Yeah?” Natasha smiled. Unfortunately for her, you spotted her good friend Jane Foster, still looking at you as if she wanted to continue the conversation.

Whatever Natasha was about to say next died on her mouth, because you crashed your lips against hers in a searing kiss, nibbling at her bottom lip until she groaned, allowing you to explore her mouth with your tongue. Her hands slid to your lower back and you scratched the base of her neck, fingers threading through fiery hair.

“Are you hungry now?” you whispered against her mouth, satisfied at the way she chased your lips, whining when you stepped back. 

“Huh?”

“Dinner. We can’t be late” placing a hand on her cheek, you smiled. Natasha nodded, following you to the car, her little friend long forgotten.

Yeah, that’s more like it.

—

During the drive back, you were still thinking about that Foster girl, and Natasha could read you like an open book, holding your hand as she went back to your home.

As usual, she opened the car door for you and allowed you to lead her to your house.

“Want a tour of the place?” you offered, taking her blazer so she’d be more comfortable. You appreciated the way the shirt clung to the muscles in her arms.

“Sure” she nodded, following you and looking at the framed pictures on the walls. Most of them were of Steve and you throughout the years. 

“Living room, that connects to the entertainment room” you pointed to a door where you’d usually have movie nights with the twins. “The pool table is close to the back shed, dining room, kitchen over there… Rooms are upstairs” 

“I guess I never noticed how big your house is”

“My mom has a studio and my dad has his reading room as well. Come on” you walked to the kitchen and got everything to set the table.

“Hi, girls. Did you have fun?” your mom greeted and you nodded.

“Can I help with anything?” Natasha offered and your mother nodded. 

“You can take the potatoes to the table, darling, thank you” 

She admired the way you set different silverware, including glasses and a bottle of wine that you knew your father liked. It all looked extremely fancy.

“We’re foodies here” you explained. “Hope you like greek lamb”

“I’ve never had any” 

“Oh, I do hope you love it” your mom said, carrying the tray with the food, fresh off the oven.

“Food’s ready, chop chop!” you shouted, assuming Steve and Bucky were playing pool. 

“Smells delicious” your father complimented, setting his book down.

“How are you liking Ryan’s book so far?” Natasha asked, sitting next to you. Your father seemed pleasantly surprised that she was interested.

“It’s good. About time I read The Longest Day. Though I still have to finish Churchill’s volumes. I’m stuck on the second half of the third”

“It took me two summers to read it all” Natasha agreed as if it wasn’t a big deal.

“All four volumes?” he said, clearly impressed.

You should have never doubted Natasha’s ability to win over a nerd.

“What did we miss?” Steve walked in, nodding towards Natasha. “Hey, what’s up, Nat”

“Romanoff” Bucky said and you glared. He sure as hell could be nicer, but alas. Boys will be boys.

“Just discussing some interesting books about World War II” your father replied and they both groaned. “Boys, it is an integral part of our history as a nation!”

“Pass the potatoes” Steve said, but your mother stopped him. 

“Guests first”

You poked your tongue out in a mocking gesture, passing the food to Natasha. 

After everyone had their plates ready, you started eating, talking a bit about your day and stuff you’d done during the week. Sundays were the only days you all had dinner together. Sometimes, your father was in the hospital for 24 hour shifts and your mom would stay late working at the gallery. 

“How was the conference?” your mother asked.

“It was fascinating. Did you know asteroids can have rings? And moons? There’s a whole world out there and we know so little” you said, inspired by Selvig’s speech. “Lucky for them, Natasha will put her brilliant mind to work on discovering new things pretty soon” 

“So, I’m guessing you’re going for MIT, Natasha?” your father asked.

“Yes, sir. That would be my first choice. Followed by Harvard and then CalTech”

“All very fine schools, right, Y/N?”

“NYU is also a very fine school” you defended, taking a sip of the wine you were allowed to have with Sunday dinner. Very European of your mother.

“Too many distractions in such a big city” your father complained; sensing the potential of a fight, your mother changed the subject.

“Bucky, still thinking about UCLA?”

“Yeah, some sun would be good for me”

“Next year you’ll both be gone, I can’t wrap my head around it” your mother pondered.

“Maybe we can finally get a dog” you proposed. “He’ll behave a lot better, that’s for sure”

“Very funny” Steve said.

“Not a joke, bro” 

“Natasha, what about your parents?” your father said.

“What about them?” you jumped, eyeing him suspiciously.

“I just want to know what they do”

“Well, my father is a retired football player. Alexei Romanoff. He was with the Patriots for six seasons. And now he’s a coach at school. It’s more of a hobby than anything. My mother is the lead researcher on a project to develop a treatment for Alzheimer’s” 

“Wait, Romanoff as in Doctor Melina?”

“How many Romanoffs do you gather live in Westview” your brother joked.

It was the second time someone mentioned Natasha’s mother and you were honestly impressed.

“I’ve heard about your mother’s work, it is very interesting. Perhaps your family can join us for dinner one day” he proposed and you locked eyes with your brother. That was as good as it was going to get with your father.

“That would be lovely, thank you” 

The conversation kept flowing  and by the time dessert was served, you were full, sleepy and happy to see Natasha relaxed and smiling next to you. You reached for her hand, squeezing it.

“Y/N and Natasha set the table so you’re on cleaning duties, boys” your mother instructed.

You took Natasha to the backyard, walking along the edge of the pool.

“What’s going in that mind of yours?” you asked, seeing her eyes getting lost in the water.

“We’re also going to college in a few years”

“Mhm” you nodded, taking her hands. “And?”

“What will happen to us? I mean, I know it’s too soon, but I hate the idea of not seeing you every day and being away… you’ll probably make so many new friends…”

“Nat…” you said softly, until she looked at you. “I’ve waited for so long to be with you, do you really think being in different cities is gonna stop me?”

“Really?”

You laughed, taking a deep breath.

“If I were a poet, I’d write a haiku; you should know I really like you” you recited.

“How did you… You wrote it” she gaped. 

“It wasn’t my best work, but to be fair, we were 12”

A note that had been left at her locker, on Valentine’s Day. 

Natasha thought it was a prank or a mistake.

“That’s how long I’ve liked you” you nodded, your arms around her waist. “So, we will cross that bridge when we get there, in approximately two years. Ok, love?”

“Sorry, I know I get crazy…”

“Yes, but that’s part of your charm” you smiled, leaning forward to kiss her. As you broke apart you yawned, laughing. “Shit, I’m sorry, baby. It’s the wine”

“It’s ok” she said, kissing your cheek. “I should go, it’s getting late”

“Come on, I’ll walk you out” you said, leading her to the kitchen to say goodbye to your mother. Natasha thanked her and was forced to take back a giant piece of cake. Yelena was going to be extremely happy, that was for sure. 

As you opened the door, your father called for Natasha, placing a hand on her shoulder.

“It was lovely to meet you, young lady. You are always welcomed in our home”

“Thank you, Captain. And thank you for a lovely evening” 

Holy shit, holy shit, you kept saying in your head. And there was Natasha, looking super chill.

“What?” she asked, as you covered your mouth to keep yourself from screaming in pure joy.

“Uhm, that thing he said? He might as well ask you to call him Dad. He likes you, Nat” 

“Really?”

“Really” you nodded. “Can’t blame him one bit. Ok, drive safely, text me when you’re home” 

“Will do” she kissed you. And God, you wanted it to last forever.

You were so in love with her. The realization hit you hard and fast, but you decided to leave it for another time, when you weren’t so dazed by her presence and the little bit of red wine you had with your dinner.

Staring out the window, you watched her drive away.

“That was nice” your mother said and you nodded. The sound of plates crashing against the floor made her sigh tiredly. “Oh, boys” 

By the time you went up to your room, it was almost 10 PM. While you took off your dress, your phone pinged with a text from Natasha, letting you know she was home, and that Yelena had stolen the cake from her hands as soon as she opened the front door.

You laughed, sending heart emojis, as well as a picture of Natasha during the exhibit. She was smiling, looking up, the soft glow of the lights giving her a mysterious aura. 

Y/N: Stunning view

Leaving the phone on your dressing room, you went to the bathroom to wash your teeth, and brush your hair. As you settled in bed, you got a new text.

Natasha: 

each kiss is perfect

your smile is like summer breeze

our world is magic

Counting the syllables, you laughed. Of course Natasha wrote a haiku for you.

Y/N: Show off.

Y/N: I love it.

Bad Hair Day

Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Word Count: 1.3k

A/N: Day 3: I've merged a lovely request from an anon with the @taylorswiftmicrofic prompt for 3rd of January, which is 'spite'.

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Natasha’s shoulders were back. Her head was high. In spite of the obvious danger. She walked calmly forward into certain death. 

The footage blurred and the screen went black. 

You replayed the tape.

Natasha’s shoulders were back. Her head was high. In spite of the obvious danger. She walked calmly forward into certain death. 

You replayed the tape. 

You stared at the dark screen. 

You could hear the others around you. Lots of talk about what might have gone wrong, what could be done. Plans, strategies and no action. 

The sounds echoed strangely as if the air in the room had turned to water.

‘We need to consider contingency plans for various outcomes.’ You listened to one man advise the group behind you. His tone was smug, you could tell he wanted a promotion. You swallowed rising bile. 

You replayed the tape one more time.

Natasha’s shoulders were back. Her head was high. In spite of the obvious danger. She walked calmly forward into certain death. 

You stood up. The people around you quietened. You cleared your throat and heard a different echo in the room. A quiet theater waiting for a stage performance.

In three sentences you stated your case.

‘We don’t know when she might reappear but we do know her location. We should send a medical team now. We should be ready when she needs us.’

Your voice cracked and you felt shimmering sympathy in the air. Your jaw tightened. Everyone knew the rumours about yourself and Natasha. 

The rumours were true but their sympathy wasn’t helpful.

You waited for someone senior enough to nod in approval. You listened to them instruct your suggestion back at you; to assemble a medical team and prepare the quinjet. 

You watched the right person type a code into the computer, updating your access to include the nearest quinjet. 

You walked out immediately. You were lying to a room full of spies. You didn’t want to wait. 

.

You went straight to the flight deck. You boarded a quinjet and you flew away. 

The rumours were true. But they weren’t even close. 

You turned off the built-in quinjet comms when voices crackled through, filled with sharp concern. 

You only thought about Natasha as you flew. You didn’t need to replay the video. You could fill in more details than any camera. 

You thought about the grainy footage of her glossy shoulder length hair, straightened to perfection. 

.

You were the one who’d straightened it that morning. 

Natasha smiled widely when you offered. It was that smile of sudden, unexpected happiness that always made her look free. You kissed her cheek when you saw her glance away with shyness. You pulled out a dining chair and motioned for her to sit. You left your phone on the table, playing some of her favourite songs.

You handed her a freshly made coffee and it made her laugh. Natasha said something about having a spa day and you laughed too. It was 5am and the smell of her instant coffee was better than the taste. You kissed the top of her head and promised to take her to a better spa someday. She laughed again, sipping her coffee like it was worth drinking.

You straightened each piece of her hair methodically, listening to Natasha hum along to the music from your phone. As you finished, you dragged your fingers slowly through her warm hair. Natasha sighed and leaned her head back against you. 

Natasha kissed you once in the doorway, before she left for her mission. Her lips brushed yours and then she pulled back and hesitated. Her thumb brushed your lower lip. You watched her force herself to walk away. 

It couldn’t be the last time you saw her.

.

You landed the cloaked quinjet silently on the roof of the building. You turned on the built-in comms just long enough to tell them where you’d landed the quinjet, to ask them to tell Natasha where it was if her comms reengaged.

You left the jet, walked to the single door you found on the roof and broke the lock. Your heart hammered in your chest now. You tried not to think about being scared. 

You’d had rudimentary combat training but you’d never used it. You’d armed yourself appropriately but you weren’t as confident as you should have been. Combat training had been a while ago. Medics weren’t meant for this. 

You waited at the open rooftop door until you were sure that you didn’t hear anything below. Carefully, you walked down the rusted stairs to the top level of the building. You found yourself at the end of an empty hallway. You tried to tread lightly as you walked along it, heart in your mouth. 

As you walked, you thought of Natasha’s simple bravery. You lifted your head and you let your shoulders relax. You took a deep breath. Before you’d fully turned the corner at the end of the hallway, you were shot in the shoulder. 

You fell awkwardly to the floor and crawled instinctively back around the corner to safety. 

The wound was just below the shoulder. It was okay. It was probably okay. You weren’t sure if it was okay.

You held still and held pressure. You tried to count and take deep breaths. 

You pressed your back against the wall and waited for the sound of someone coming to finish the job. There was only more silence. 

You weren’t sure if you briefly lost consciousness or if only a few minutes passed. 

You heard someone take a sharp breath in front of you and knew immediately that it was Natasha. 

You opened your eyes and winced at the sudden brightness. Natasha had blood dripping from her chin to her neck. The ends of her hair were coated in it. You could tell it wasn’t her blood. You closed your eyes and smiled with relief. 

Natasha knelt down next to you. Her hands were shaking as they skimmed lightly over your own. She touched the area that you were holding pressure to. Your body tried to recoil. Natasha made a choked sound.

You cleared your throat. The world around you echoed with the slow haziness of trauma and blood loss.

‘Rooftop’s clear. I brought you a getaway car.’ You tried to sound calm but the pain was evident. 

Natasha’s green eyes were an inch away from you. She looked terrified. 

It took ten minutes to get you onto the roof and another few to get you onto the quinjet. 

Natasha didn’t speak until the ramp had closed behind you and the jet was in the air. 

You watched her bury her face in her hands. 

‘You could’ve died.’ She said quietly. Her voice was hoarse and tense. 

You swallowed every response you could think of. 

I wasn’t thinking. I had to help. I couldn’t bear the thought of you hurt and alone.

‘I was so scared.’ You whispered finally, carefully. 

Natasha crumpled in on herself. You watched her curl over the control panel. Her chest heaved.

‘I love you.’ She whispered at last, still not looking at you. ‘You give me spa days.’ 

You called her name softly and Natasha turned around. 

Her eyes were shining with tears. She moved desperately toward you. Her hands ran lightly again over your body. You realised it was her way of checking that you were still here.

‘I love you too.’ You told her softly. Natasha closed her eyes and she nodded hurriedly. You watched a tear roll down her cheek.

‘Okay.’ She mumbled, wiping the tear away with her sleeve and leaving a bloodstain on her cheek. ‘So don’t even think about dying.’

You gave her a long look, breathing still shallow from pain and heart too full for words. 

After a moment, Natasha became self-conscious.

‘What?’ She checked unsurely.

‘Nothing.’ You sighed, fighting not to smile. ‘It’s just, you’ve ruined your nice hair.’

.

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Requests are still very welcome for future January fics. More info in the pinned post if you're interested in requesting. <3

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Hotel California | Track 2 - Electric Desires

Natasha Romanoff x Fem!Reader

Summary: Natasha Romanoff, frontwoman of the punk rock band Velvet Rebellion, falls hard for a woman she believes is too good for her. Their intense relationship unfolds in the chaotic world of rock 'n' roll, where they struggle to balance fame, personal demons, and their undeniable passion for each other.

W/c: 7.2k

Chapter 2/12

Masterlist | General Masterlist

Note: Each chapter is hella long because I had time to sit and wait to release this one. Weekly updates might be the wave.

R and Nat will be moving quickly so if you like slow burn this isn't the story lol.

Themes: love, fame, sex, drugs

Natasha sat cross-legged on the worn-out couch in their cluttered studio: which was just Tony’s garage. The room buzzed with creative energy and the faint scent of old leather, a familiar combination that fueled the essence of Velvet Rebellion. She strummed her guitar absentmindedly, her fingers dancing over the fretboard, creating a gentle hum in the room. She was in her element in full force. 

Steve, Bucky, Wanda, and Tony were huddled around a battered coffee table, scraps of lyrics, and scribbled notes strewn about like confetti after a wild party. They were her bandmates, her comrades in music, and tonight they were deep into a songwriting session. Natasha enjoyed days like this the most. She often found the songwriting process frustrating but fulfilling, which is why they’re on hour four of this session with only the first verse written. It seems she’s not the only one with writer’s block. 

"Natasha, we need something here," Steve’s voice cut through the room's creative haze. He furrowed his brow, fingers dancing over the keys of a vintage synthesizer. "A melody to tie this verse together."

Natasha tore her gaze away from her guitar and glanced over at Wanda. Her fingers stopped mid-strum. She blinked; her thoughts momentarily disrupted.

"Nat, you with us?" Tony chimed in, his eyes darting between Natasha and his laptop.

A flush of embarrassment washed over Natasha. She'd been lost in thought, her mind wandering where it shouldn't have. She’d been thinking about you again. She couldn’t get you out of her head. There was a hint of exhaustion on her features as she sat her guitar next to her. She’d spent the previous night going down a rabbit hole of YouTube videos involving you. It seemed you’d understated how good of a musician you were. Natasha discovered you had a small fanbase with plenty of videos dedicated to your brief yet impactful career. Even if your resume included a lot of backup singing, she could see why there was a push for you to strive for something more. You were talented in every sense of the word. 

With a sheepish smile, she nodded. "Sorry, guys. Got a bit distracted there."

She fumbled to put her phone face down on the coffee table, hoping her bandmates hadn't noticed her constant glances at the silent screen. Natasha had been replaying every moment of your brief encounter at the party in her mind, questioning if she'd made a connection or if it was just another fleeting moment.

Steve’s fingers continued their dance on the synthesizer as he tried out different melodies, his voice soft, almost hypnotic. "No worries, Nat. Happens to the best of us."

But Natasha couldn't help but feel a pang of frustration with herself. She was the lead singer and lyricist and usually held everything together. Yet today, her mind was scattered, torn between music and an unexpected, lingering hope that her phone would light up with a message from someone she'd barely known.

Natasha's fingers deftly reached for her well-worn writing book, nestled among scattered lyrics and half-finished songs. Her eyes scanned the pages, searching for something that had evaded her for far too long. Her bandmates carried on their musical discussion, oblivious to her momentary distraction.

Finally, she found it—a scribbled idea that had haunted her thoughts for weeks but had remained unreachable, refusing to take a tangible form. Natasha's heart raced as she read the words, her handwriting staring back at her, challenging her to bring them to life.

"Guys, hold on a sec," she called out, her voice trembling with excitement. Her bandmates stopped their conversation, turning their attention to her. Natasha's fingers tapped the page she'd found. "I think I've got something."

Wanda leaned in closer, her eyes gleaming with curiosity. "What is it?"

Natasha cleared her throat and began to read the lyrics she'd unearthed, her voice carrying a hint of the sweet melody she envisioned:

"Underneath the city lights, I saw your face,

In the crowded room, you were my saving grace.

A glance, a smile, it all fell into place,

In that moment, I knew, love's tender embrace."

As Natasha recited the lyrics, Wanda's eyes widened, and she nodded appreciatively. "That's beautiful, Natasha."

Natasha couldn't help but blush at the compliment. She felt the lyrics were deeply personal, a reflection of the emotions she'd been grappling with. "Thanks, Wanda. But I think it's missing something."

Wanda leaned in closer, her fingers lightly grazing Natasha's arm as they huddled together over the writing book. "What do you have in mind?"

A spark of inspiration flickered in Natasha's eyes. "How about this? Instead of just a glance and a smile, it's about meeting someone and falling in love at first sight. The moment your heart skips a beat."

Wanda's lips curved into a knowing smile. "I like that. It adds depth to the story."

With renewed enthusiasm, Natasha began to sing the modified lyrics, her voice filled with emotion:

"In the heart of the city, I met your eyes,

In that instant, I felt my soul take flight.

Love at first sight, a sweet surprise,

Two worlds colliding, under starry skies."

The words flowed effortlessly, weaving a sweet melody that resonated with everyone in the room. Sitting behind his drum kit, Tony started tapping a rhythm, adding a pulsating beat to the song. Steve found his way back to the keyboard, his fingers searching for the chords that matched the melody.

The studio came alive with the energy of collaboration as they played off each other, improvising and experimenting. Wanda's voice dipped into low notes, adding a haunting harmony, while Tony began to find a mix to add to the music. 

It wasn't the final product but the magic of creation—their music taking shape from a mere spark of inspiration. Natasha couldn't help but smile as they continued to refine the song. 

Bucky sat down his guitar, a sly grin playing on his lips as the melody they'd created together hung in the air. He couldn't help but feel a shift in Natasha's usual songwriting style, one that intrigued him. "Nat, you're getting into writing love songs now?"

Natasha shot him a playful yet challenging look, her fingers still scribbling along the notebook pages. "Oh, please, Bucky. We had love songs on our first album."

Bucky chuckled, shaking his head. "Not like this. These lyrics, they're something else."

Natasha sighed, closing the tiny notebook again. She knew he was right, and she couldn't deny the shift in her lyrics and her emotions. "Alright, fine. Maybe I am writing a love song."

Bucky leaned forward, his gaze intense. "So, are you in love, Natasha?"

She met his gaze head-on. "No, Bucky. I'm not."

Bucky nodded in understanding, sensing the unspoken annoyance in her words. Natasha had always been guarded about matters of the heart, and they respected her boundaries. They returned to their instruments, each lost in their thoughts, letting the music speak the words that couldn't be said.

********************

The leotard store was an arrangement of colors, and Isabella, your spirited nine-year-old daughter, was bouncing between the racks, playing her own game of hide-and-seek with the endless collection of spandex. Her enthusiasm for picking out leotards rivaled her passion for gymnastics.

"Mama, check this one out! It's super sparkly!" Isabella shouted, triumphantly holding up a leotard adorned with sequins like a little treasure hunter.

You and Monica shared a knowing smile as you surveyed the options. "Great choice, Bella," you replied, trying to match her enthusiasm. "Let's add it to the pile."

Isabella nodded, seemingly satisfied, and skipped off in pursuit of her next leotard conquest.

As Monica and you continued your search, your mind drifted back to a conversation you’d had at Harley's party just a couple of weeks ago. There was a woman there, a stranger to you, who had engaged you in a conversation that had held your attention for longer than you’d expected.

"Hey, y/n" Monica began, her tone a mix of curiosity and amusement. She sifted through the clothes, trying to understand what she was looking for. Isabella had a very specific taste.  "Are you going to finally tell me about the woman from the party? You two seemed to be hitting it off."

You glanced at Monica, feeling somewhat caught off guard. "Oh, that? It was just a casual conversation. I doubt it's anything worth dwelling on."

Monica raised an eyebrow, clearly not satisfied with your dismissal. "Just a casual conversation? You looked pretty into her. What's her name?"

You sighed, knowing Monica wouldn't let it go quickly. "Her name is Natasha Romanoff. She’s the lead singer of that band. Velvet Rebellion. We talked for a while. But honestly, I haven't reached out to her or anything." You shrugged. 

Monica persisted, undeterred. "She’s cute. I’ve heard a couple of their songs in passing. Why haven’t you called her?"

You shifted uncomfortably, your fingers unconsciously fussing with a leotard on the rack. "Life's been hectic lately. I've barely had a moment to breathe, let alone call someone."

Isabella, who had overheard your conversation while meticulously assessing leotards with the discerning eye of a seasoned fashion critic, joined in. "Mom, you should call her."

You couldn't help but smile at Isabella's straightforward logic. "You focus on the leotards. You only need a few for now. You’re growing like a weed."

Monica and Isabella exchanged amused glances, both united in their disbelief. "The kid is right," Monica declared, her eyes dancing with mischief.

Isabella nodded in agreement, adding her hint of authority. "I’m just saying." She held up a pink leotard and you shook your head. The cut wasn’t appropriate in your opinion. She returned the leotard to the rack with a sigh and went to a new one. 

Monica's curiosity was relentless, and she wasn't about to let the topic of the woman from Harley's party go. As you continued looking through the racks with Isabella's energy bounding around you, she probed further.

"Come on, y/n, what's the big deal about calling her?" Monica inquired, a mischievous glint in her eye.

You sighed, trying to choose your words carefully. "Mon, you know their band's reputation. The tabloids haven’t been so easy on them. Especially with them being new. Trust me I’ve checked.” You shook your head. “And besides, Natasha used to date Carol Danvers. We’re not friends, but we’re not exactly enemies either. I’m not in the business of going behind her back. It was a bad breakup if it’s anything like the tabloids say and I don't want to risk the same fate."

Monica raised an eyebrow, her expression one of bemused disbelief. “You're not even dating this Natasha person yet. It could be a fun fling or something. You don't have to jump into a full-blown relationship. Also, you hate Carol Danvers."

“I don’t hate her,” You refuted her claims. “I simply enjoy spending my time in spaces that don’t have her in them.” You couldn't deny Monica's point, but the cautious side of you still hesitated. "Also, I know it doesn’t have to be more than what it is. But I've been down that road before, and it wasn't pretty. Besides, I don't want to have this conversation in front of Isabella."

You leaned down to pass a few leotards to Isabella and whispered to her, "Sweetie, can you go find some shoes that match these leotards? That would be a big help."

Isabella nodded enthusiastically, her focus shifting from the leotards to her newfound mission. As she scampered off in search of the perfect shoes, you turned your attention back to Monica.

Monica gave you an understanding look, her voice lowered. "Alright, I get it, y/n,  But don't let the past hold you back from something potentially great. You deserve happiness, too. Even if that means you fuck a few times and that’s it."

“Monica,” Your eyes widened, clearly scandalized by her bluntness. 

“Am I lying?” Monica held up a hand. “When’s the last time you had some? You don’t know do you?”

“I do know. It hasn’t been that long.” You considered her words. You thought back to the very brief casual sex thing you had with a woman around last year. Or was it two years ago? “You’re right I don’t know.” 

“See,” Monica leaned against a rack. “Ask her out to the party tonight. It’s a group thing. I get to vet her. You get to see her. We all win.”

“Fine, fine,” You shake your head. 

“Call her now,” Monica nodded. 

“Um, she’s probably busy.” You furrowed your brow. Another excuse from you. 

“She’ll answer,” Monica said assuredly. “Do it or I’ll dm her myself.”

“Don’t you dare,” You held up a warning finger to Monica. Sometimes your best friend’s forwardness wasn’t welcome. Even if she meant well. She raised a brow at you before pointedly looking toward your purse. “Fine.” You grumbled as you took out your phone. 

You walked to a quieter corner of the store, away from the bustle and the excited chatter of Isabella and Monica, who were now hunting for beam shoes. You scrolled through your contacts until you found Natasha's name. With a deep breath, you pressed the call button.

On the first ring, Natasha's voice came through, calm and confident. "Hello?"

You couldn't help but smile, though your attempt to sound equally composed might have come off as forced. "Hey, Natasha. How's everything going?"

“Oh, it’s you,” Natasha's tone change was evident. "Everything's good. I've been wondering when you'd call."

You felt a rush of relief hearing that she'd been waiting for your call. "I'm sorry it took me a while. Life's been crazy lately, and, well, you know how it is."

Natasha's tone shifted slightly, her voice carrying a hint of playfulness. "I do know. But you don't need to be nervous. It's just a call."

You chuckled softly, feeling a bit more at ease. "You're right. I've just been out of practice with this whole...courting thing."

“Courting? Is that what we’re doing?” Natasha's voice lowered, the flirtatious edge unmistakable. "Well, maybe we can help you get back into practice."

You couldn't help but blush, even though she couldn't see it over the phone. "That sounds like a plan."

Just then, you heard Isabella's excited voice in the background, likely showing off a pair of beam shoes she'd found. Natasha must have heard it too.

"Sounds like you've got company," Natasha noted. 

Just as you were about to respond to Natasha, Isabella's excited voice carried through the phone in the background. "Mama, look at these beam shoes! They're so cool!"

You grinned and chuckled softly. "That's my daughter, Isabella."

Natasha's voice held a hint of warmth. "She sounds like a lively girl."

“She is,” You nodded. You give Isabella a thumbs-up and a smile. "Listen, Natasha," you began, "there's something I wanted to mention. There's a party tonight at this great club called Heatwave. Have you heard of it?”

“Yes, I’ve been there once or twice,” Natasha replied.

“Well, I don't usually go out much, but I'll be there. It would be great if you could join."

There was a brief pause on the other end, and then Natasha's voice returned, filled with a sense of anticipation. "Heatwave, huh? I'll stop by."

Your heart skipped a beat at her response. It seemed that, despite your initial hesitation, the possibility of something exciting and new was on the horizon, and you couldn't help but look forward to seeing Natasha at the party tonight.

“What time should I be there?” Natasha questioned. 

“I like to put Bella to bed before going out,” You informed her. “My mother will be watching her, so I’d say around nine. Does that work for you?”

“That works for me,” Natasha agreed. 

“Okay then, Natasha,” You smiled, wondering if she could hear it in your voice. “I’ll see you then.”

“Great, see you then.” Natasha mirrored your excitement. You hung up the phone and tucked it into your back pocket. You walked back over to Monica, trying to hide your excitement, but she noticed immediately. 

She gave you a silent questioning look and you give her a thumbs up in return. This should be fun. 

***********************

Back inside the recording studio, the band was wrapping up what turned out to be a successful recording session. They’d written one song so far and revised a few Natasha had in her back pocket for times like this. Which was the most progress they’d gotten in a year. Either way, it was a session that left them fulfilled. Natasha stood in front of the microphone, her voice still echoing in the room. She exchanged satisfied smiles with her bandmates before returning her wired headphones to their stand. 

As they wrapped up their belongings Steve spoke up, "Alright, Natasha, we nailed it today. What's the plan for tonight?"

Natasha leaned back against the soundboard, a wry smile playing on her lips. "Oh, you know me, Steve. I'm a creature of habit."

Steve chuckled, "Yeah, we all are, aren't we? It's one big codependent family."

Natasha nodded, her red hair cascading around her shoulders. "True, but you guys like it that way."

Steve smirked, "And you do too."

Natasha sighed playfully, "Alright, you caught me. I have a thing."

The moment she mentioned 'a thing,' the rest of the group became intrigued. Tony, Bucky, and Wanda started bombarding her with questions, eager to know more. They were known for their tight-knit bond, often spending their evenings together.

Tony asked, grinning, "What kind of thing? Spill the beans, Red!"

Natasha tried to deny it, but under the pressure of their excited curiosity, she finally admitted, "Okay, okay! I'm going to Heatwave, a club downtown. I'm meeting up with a new friend."

Immediately, it was settled - if Natasha was going out, they were all going out. Tony's eyes gleamed with mischief, "Sounds like a party! Can we come too?"

Natasha hesitated for a moment, thinking about the guys' tendency to get a little rowdy. Then she relented, "Alright, fine. We can all go."

Steve high-fived Tony, and Bucky and Wanda exchanged excited glances. "This is gonna be awesome!" Steve exclaimed. Though he wasn’t much of a partier he loved exploring new places. 

Natasha couldn't help but grin at their enthusiasm, "Yeah, let's hope it's good, then."

With the decision made, the band members packed up their instruments, ready for another night on the town. 

*****************

As you stood before the bathroom mirror in your finest party outfit, face and hair all done up, the room around you painted a stark contrast. The soft notes of Beyonce’s “Yes” played in the background as you prepared for your night out. The bathroom was a chaotic scene, messy and disheveled, with makeup and hair curlers scattered haphazardly. Clothes lay strewn on the floor and over the edge of the bathtub. The countertop was cluttered with various cosmetic products, their caps discarded carelessly.

A hairbrush, half-buried under a pile of clothes, seemed to have given up on its role in maintaining order. The floor bore the evidence of spilled powders and makeup brushes discarded in haste.

Isabella, standing in the doorway, disapproved of this sight. Her usually tidy nature couldn't help but frown at the disarray. With her wide, disapproving eyes, she silently conveyed her thoughts to you. “Why must it be so messy in here?”

“Must? I knew I was creating a bougie child,” You laughed to yourself, applying the final remnants of your makeup.

“I’m not bougie. I just go to a good school,” Isabella quipped. She stood with her arms folded her expression showing her unhappiness with the looks of your room. 

"I know I pay the high tuition bill remember?" You mutter. Sierra Canyon was a school worth every bit of the $35,000 tuition. Even if it did hurt you to sign that check every year. “Well, I’ll pay you twenty dollars to clean it up,” You offer.

“Forty and we have a deal,” She counters. 

“Forty?” You asked incredulously. 

“Inflation, Mama,” Isabella explains as if it’s obvious. “My favorite toys aren’t cheap anymore.”

“I see,” You mumble. “You drive a hard bargain, but you have a deal.” You turn back to the mirror. 

You did a spin to get Isabella’s final say. You wore a black backless draped split dress that reached mid-thigh, perfectly complemented by your sleek, hair slicked into a bun with two small bangs framing your face. The finishing touches of makeup were precise, accentuating your features with a subtle, smoky eye and a deep red lip. 

“You look really good,” Isabella nodded. 

“Not too trampy?” You asked and she shook her head. 

“Not,” Isabella said. 

“You know that was kind of a test and you failed?” You sighed. “Your dad lets you watch reality TV at his place again?”

“Maybe,” Isabella pretended to zip her lips and throw away the key. She was not one to tell. 

You couldn't help but smile. You bent down to Isabella's level and planted a series of gentle kisses all over her cheeks, as she mostly wiped them off with a giggle. 

“Oh, Isabella Marie, my little artist," You chuckled, feigning scandalization. "You've ruined my masterpiece!"

Isabella just laughed, her eyes sparkling with admiration for you. She reached up to touch the necklace you were wearing, a subtle gesture of appreciation.

You took Isabella's hand and said, "Come on, it's time for bed."

“I really should try to convince you to let me stay up later,” Isabella commented as she allowed you to drag her out to the living room. 

You made your way to her bedroom, where you tucked her in with great care.

“Did you brush your teeth?” You asked as you rearranged her pillows. 

“Yep,” Isabella nodded. “And I washed my face.”

“Good girl,” You praised her. 

As you smoothed the covers over Isabella and adjusted her stuffed animals, Isabella reminded you with a bright smile, "Mama, remember, I have Lenny’s skating birthday party tomorrow. You said we'd go together."

You leaned in and kissed Isabella's forehead, making sure to wipe her face free of your makeup, as your heart warmed by your daughter's excitement. "Of course. We’ll be there. Now sleep, I love you.”

“Read me a story?” She begged in anticipation of your answer. 

“One story,” You warned her before walking over to her bookshelf. You grabbed Hair Love by Matthew Cherry, one of her favorites these days. You sat beside her, offering her your best voice as you began to read to her. Isabella leaned into your body. When you were done, her eyes drooped with drowsiness as she whispered a contented, "Goodnight, Mama.”

“Goodnight, my precious girl. Sweet dreams." You turned off the bedside lamp, leaving the room in a warm, cozy darkness. With one final kiss, you left Isabella to her dreams. 

With your preparations complete, you rushed out of Isabella’s bedroom and headed for the kitchen. Time was of the essence. In your hurry, you grabbed your purse and a bottle of water from the fridge. With a sigh of relief, you twisted open the cap and took a long, refreshing sip.

As you did, your mother entered the kitchen, her gaze appraising your outfit with a discerning eye.

"You're going out looking like that?" Her mother's tone was a mix of concern and disapproval.

“What don’t you like my outfit?” You turned to face her with a determined look. Your mother sighed but said nothing. "Yes, Mom. I've already put Isabella to bed, and I'll be back by two at the latest."

Your mother's expression softened, but she couldn't hide her worry. "Y/n, you know I worry when you go out so late."

You smiled reassuringly. "I know, Mom, but I never go out anymore. It’s all mom's life and work. I just want to have some fun with friends tonight. I promise to be careful."

“That only makes me feel slightly better,” She shook her head. 

"I'll leave my phone on in case of an emergency, okay?" You promised her. 

Your mother nodded; her eyes filled with maternal concern. "Alright, but you better answer if I call."

You laughed softly and hugged your mother. "I promise. You can count on me."

With a final smile and a quick kiss on her cheek, you left the kitchen, hoping to catch your Uber before it was too late. 

************

As Natasha and the rest of Velvet Rebellion arrived at Heatwave, the vibrant thump of bass and the lively chatter of the crowd spilled into the street. The atmosphere was electric, and it was clear that the club lived up to its reputation. There was a line wrapped around the entrance, everyone attempting to get to the same point. 

Natasha was sure they would be able to get in unscathed. However, as they approached the entrance, it became evident that someone had tipped off the paparazzi about their plans. As soon as they exited the car, flashbulbs began to pop, and reporters shouted questions. Natasha and Wanda, not yet accustomed to such situations, swiftly made their way inside, their confidence unshaken.

The boys followed closely behind, with security personnel discreetly positioned around them. However, the security was mostly unnecessary. Velvet Rebellion wasn't a superstar band, and they had no intention of acting like one. They were here to enjoy the music and the vibes, just like any other patrons.

Once inside, the pulsating rhythm of the club enveloped them. Heatwave was a mix of hip-hop, reggae, rock, and everything in between. The diverse crowd danced and mingled, creating an intoxicating blend of cultures and energies. The dimly lit club was a sanctuary for adults, a place where the music was loud, and the energy was contagious.

Natasha and her bandmates moved deeper into the club, losing themselves in the music and the seamless fusion of genres. The vibes were indeed immaculate, and they were ready to savor every moment of the night, leaving their fame behind for a while and simply being themselves - music lovers enjoying a night out.

Wanda, swept up in the excitement of the club's atmosphere, leaned in closer to Natasha and shouted over the thumping bass, "Hey, Nat I'll find us a booth! Tony's going to grab drinks for everyone!"

Natasha nodded and gave her a thumbs-up before deciding to excuse herself to the bathroom. The path to the restroom was a maze of dancing bodies and neon lights. A few girls recognized her and attempted to approach her for autographs or selfies, but Natasha simply smiled and waved, preferring to do things in peace. She could feel the presence of her security guard, Mike, behind her as she stepped into the bathroom. He waited outside of course. 

After freshening up in the bathroom, Natasha emerged and found herself back in the crowded club. As she navigated the sea of people, she accidentally bumped into someone. Before she could react, her security personnel stepped forward, ready to intervene. However, Natasha recognized the person she had bumped into and quickly raised a hand to stop her security detail.

“Mike, it’s okay,” Natasha nodded to him. 

It was you.  A hint of amusement danced in your eyes as you noted the security presence. You couldn't help but think of the time when you, too, needed security. Back when your father was at the height of his career. Now not so much. 

Despite the loud music, you managed to engage in a conversation, leaning close to hear each other over the thumping bass.

Natasha, with a playful smile, observed you, her eyes raking over your bad in a way that sent chills up your spine. "You look stunning tonight. That dress suits you."

"Why, thank you, Natasha. You look great too.” You lightly touched her arm. “I’m glad you could make it.”

“Me too.” Natasha shouted over the music. "Life's been busy."

You nodded in understanding, "Tell me about it. It's been a whirlwind."

Natasha's eyes sparkled with curiosity. "What's new with you? How have you been?"

You leaned in closer, your lips almost brushing against Natasha's ear as you shouted above the music. "Lots of work, but tonight, I'm here to let loose. What about you? Any new songs in the works?"

Natasha nodded with a grin. "Always working on something.”

“That’s good then,” You smile back. You blink at her through your thick lashes before your eyes scan the room. “I see you brought your friends.”

“I have,” Natasha stepped a bit closer, though it was subtle, and you didn’t notice. You liked feeling the warmth radiating from her. “They wouldn’t let me come alone.”

“Gotta love them,” You joked. “Care to dance?” You ask. 

“Lead the way,” Natasha takes your hand as you drag her onto the dance floor. She pretends she’s not checking out your ass but when you look back you nearly catch her. Funny. 

Just as you and Natasha hit the dance floor, the DJ transitioned into a surprising mix of "What Is Love" by Haddaway and "In Da Club" by 50 Cent. The blend of the '90s dance classic and the early 2000s hip-hop anthem was unexpectedly catchy, and the crowd roared in approval.

Natasha was a fantastic dancer, her movements fluid and precise. You were equally impressive, managing to keep up with Natasha's rhythm effortlessly. Your bodies moved in perfect sync as you joined the sea of people on the dance floor.

The atmosphere was lively, energetic, and incredibly fun. Laughter and cheers filled the air as the club-goers embraced the unexpected combination of music with enthusiasm. The dance floor seemed to vibrate with the collective joy of everyone present.

You couldn't help but enjoy having Natasha so close. Her skin against your fingertips felt like heaven. The way her hands rested gently against your back. It was intimate, warm, and sensual despite the tempo of the music. 

As the music continued to pulse through the club and once you were all danced out, bodies slick with sweat, you led Natasha to a booth where her bandmates were already seated. Their faces lit up with excitement as they spotted Natasha. It’s then you noticed Monica was already sitting amongst the rockstars somehow having made it past security. 

“There you are,” Monica smiled sweetly. “You two were on fire out there. I was just making friends with our new family.” She said despite the quizzical looks. You reciprocated her hug as you whispered low into her ear. 

“I hate you so much,” You growled. 

“I love you too,” Monica laughed. 

"Natasha, this is Monica," you said, introducing your best friend to the redhead. 

Monica extended a friendly hand and smiled, though there was a hint of suspicion in her eyes. "Nice to meet you, Natasha."

Natasha returned the smile warmly, "Likewise, Monica."

As everyone settled into the booth, the conversation flowed effortlessly. Monica was cautious but kind, warming up to Natasha as they chatted about various topics. The club atmosphere had a way of breaking down barriers, and it wasn't long before they were all laughing and enjoying each other's company.

Somewhere along the way, the group decided to order a mix of different foods and drinks, sharing bites and sips as the night wore on. On the booth, Natasha sat next to you, the two of you sharing a closeness that was hard to ignore. During the lively conversations and the infectious rhythm of the music, Natasha couldn't shake the feeling that someone in the crowd had their phone out, possibly recording you. The thought bothered her, but you kept her engaged and distracted, your charm and energy captivating.

There was a break in the peace Natasha felt as her sharp eyes caught sight of her ex-girlfriend, Carol Danvers, making her way towards the booth. Natasha knew that this could potentially lead to a problem, so she decided to intercept Carol before things escalated. 

“Excuse me for a moment,” Natasha sighed. She was not expecting this to happen tonight of all nights. You watch the two of them walk away before turning your attention back to the group. It was none of your business. "Carol, hi, let me talk to you.” Natasha wanted to take action before the mess. The last thing she needed was a problem when there was none. 

She gently guided Carol to a more private corner where the music was lower, allowing them to have a conversation without distractions. As they stood facing each other, Natasha's demeanor was polite but distant. She wasn't fond of talking to Carol but wanted to ensure she was okay.

“I see you’re having fun,” Carol rubbed her sweaty hands against her jeans. Her eyes looked a little bloodshot, the deep bags being covered by concealer and heavy makeup. In all honesty, Natasha could tell Carol was not in her correct frame of mind. Whether that was due to lack of sleep or something else wasn’t her responsibility.  Carol's voice quivered with emotion as she spoke, "You look good."

“Thank you,” Natasha sighed and shook her head, her expression a mix of sadness and resolution. "Carol, it's not worth it. We've been through this."

“I know,” Carol nodded. “I just wanted to say hello.” 

Natasha found Carol’s meek demeanor unsettling. It was so unlike her. Again, not her problem. 

“Look, it was good to see you,” Natasha peaked back at the booth to see you were laughing with Monica about something. “Take care of yourself.” Natasha rubs a hand over Carol’s arm before walking away. She was not in the mood to be dealing with this right now. When she sits down again, it takes a moment for her to reacclimate with the group, her feelings of dread and the aftermath of the breakup all taking over again. 

You noticed the change in her demeanor and decided to check in on her.

With genuine concern in your eyes, you asked softly, "Natasha, is everything okay?"

Natasha tried to feign a smile, "Yeah, I'm fine. Just... old memories, you know?"

You nodded, understanding that sometimes the past had a way of sneaking up on you. You decided to lift the mood by embracing the party spirit. As fans approached you for pictures, only allowed with the say-so of security, you graciously obliged, even though you weren’t used to so much attention. Having a famous family meant everyone assumed you were someone to know too.  The smiles on their faces and their gratitude brought a spark of joy to the night.

However, Natasha's mood didn't seem to improve. You could see the lingering discomfort on her face and sensed that Natasha might need a change of scenery. You leaned in closer to Natasha and asked, "You sure you're okay, Natasha? If you want, we can get out of here."

Natasha appreciated your concern and gave you a small, genuine smile. "Isn’t this your friend’s party?”

“Alicia? She’ll understand,” You grinned. “I’m a mom.” You shrug. 

“How many times have you used that excuse?” Natasha questioned. 

“Once or twice,” You laughed. 

“I think that might be a good idea then." Natasha leaned over to whisper to Wanda that she was leaving. Wanda narrowed her eyes between the two of you but ultimately said nothing. 

“Monica, I’m leaving with Natasha,” You informed your best friend. “I love you.” “Love you too,” Monica smiled briefly. “Call me tomorrow and tell me everything.” She said a bit lower. 

“I will,” You roll your eyes. 

As you made your way towards the exit, Natasha felt grateful for your understanding and support. As you neared the club's exit, you leaned in closer to Natasha and suggested, "Let's use the back exit. It's a quicker way out, and we can avoid the paparazzi."

Natasha nodded in agreement, appreciating your thoughtfulness. She followed you towards the inconspicuous back exit, with Mike, Natasha's security guard, close behind. The corridor was dimly lit, and the sounds of the club faded away with each step.

Walking side by side, you and Natasha found a comfortable silence between you. Natasha appreciated the quiet respite after the club's raucousness. 

Then, without hesitation, you reached out and gently took Natasha's hand. It was a bold move, and Natasha's heart skipped a beat. The connection felt warm and reassuring, 

Natasha looked at you, her eyes softening with gratitude. Your fingers entwined, as you continued down the dimly lit sidewalk together, taking comfort in the simple act of holding hands, a gesture of comfort and support.

“Downtown Los Angeles is not exactly the safest place to hang out at night,” You point out. 

“Did you have anywhere in mind?” Natasha questions. “I’m not really ready to go home yet.’

“How about here?” You point to the restaurant just across the street. It was settled. 

You and Natasha walked into the small Japanese food restaurant and were greeted by a soothing ambiance of sleek and modern dining. The interior featured clean lines, polished wooden tables, and elegant, dimmed lighting that created a cozy yet sophisticated atmosphere. The walls were adorned with tasteful Japanese-inspired artwork, adding to the restaurant's aesthetic appeal.

Despite the late hour, they were still open, and there weren't many people left in the restaurant. The subdued chatter of a few diners in hushed conversations added to the tranquil atmosphere.

The restaurant staff welcomed you and Natasha with warm smiles, happy to accommodate your late-night visit. You were ushered to a well-appointed table with comfortable seating, creating a sense of intimacy in the otherwise empty space.

Once seated, you took the lead in order, your familiarity with the menu evident. You chose the baked crab hand rolls, a delectable choice known for its rich flavors and delicate textures, and edamame with a sprinkle of salt for a simple and satisfying appetizer.

Natasha decided to indulge in a sushi sampler, intrigued by the restaurant's offerings. She also ordered drinks for you to share, wanting to continue the evening in a relaxed and enjoyable manner, free from the distractions of the outside world.

As you waited for the food to arrive, you turned your attention to Natasha, your expression carrying a hint of concern.

"Natasha, "You began hesitantly, "Can you tell me more about Carol? Should I be worried about her showing up like that?"

Natasha sighed, recognizing the need for honesty. She leaned in, speaking softly, "Carol is my ex-girlfriend. We used to be really close, and she was a good person, but lately, she's been caught up in the wrong crowd. I've been trying to keep my distance from all of that."

Caught up in the wrong crowd could mean a host of things in the industry. Drugs were usually the most common. Though you didn't press for her to elaborate.

You listened attentively, her concern deepening. "Do you think she's going to be a problem?"

Natasha could see your question for what it was. Was she going to be a problem in whatever potential the two of you could have? 

Natasha shook her head, her gaze reassuring. "No, nothing like that. She's just... lost, for now. I don't want you to worry about it. I'm doing my best to stay out of any trouble, especially now."

You nodded, appreciating Natasha's honesty and the effort she was making to ensure your time together was free from complications. You reached out and gently squeezed Natasha's hand, silently conveying your support. 

You leaned in closer and admitted, "I understand, Natasha. My ex and I co-parent Isabella, and it wasn't always easy either. But we've found our way." You shrugged. 

Natasha appreciated the understanding and felt a connection with you as you shared your experiences. 

Then, the conversation took a different turn, and Natasha's curiosity got the better of her. She leaned in with a playful glint in her eyes and said, "Alright, enough about my drama. I want to know more about you. You downplayed your singing career at the party. Backup?”

“You’ve done your research,” You chuckled at the playful teasing but then became more serious as you responded, "You're right. Singing has always been my love, my passion. But the demanding career and the lack of privacy that comes with it gets to you after a while. That's why I love being a publicist. It allows me to stay in the industry that I adore but from a different angle, more behind the scenes. It gives me room to breathe and a sense of control over my life."

Natasha nodded in understanding, appreciating your candor. She could see the sincerity in your eyes as you spoke about your career and the choices you had made. It was clear that you had found a balance that worked for you, and Natasha respected you for it.

When the food arrived, you immediately dug into your meal. Your curiosity got the better of you, and you asked Natasha, "Do you and your band have a publicist or a manager?"

Natasha smirked playfully, a hint of amusement dancing in her eyes. "Is it that obvious? I guess it's the many times Tony's been arrested.” Natasha began to list. “Or the time I punched paparazzi for trying to take a picture at an awkward angle.” She grimaced. 

You couldn't help but laugh at Natasha's observation. "Well, those incidents might have given it away a bit."

Natasha's smile faded slightly as she confessed, "Honestly, I know we need someone to manage us, but I've never felt entirely comfortable with the idea. It's like giving up a piece of our freedom and creativity. We've managed so far, but I know it can't go on like this forever."

You nodded in understanding, recognizing the challenges that came with managing a successful music career independently. You asked, "Do you have anyone in mind for the role, someone you might trust enough to bring into the fold?"

Natasha thought for a moment, her gaze thoughtful. "Possibly. It's a big decision, and I want to make sure it's the right fit for us, you know? We've been doing this our way for so long that it's hard to let go."

“Well, when you’re ready, I’m your gal,” You offered your services. “I also may have a few wild cards that would work perfectly.” 

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Natasha sips from her cup. 

As the night drew to a close, you found yourselves waiting on a quiet street corner for your Uber to arrive. The bustling energy of the club was a distant memory, replaced by the calm of the late-night city.

Natasha looked at you with a genuine smile and said, "I had a lot of fun tonight, y/n. Thank you."

You returned the smile, your heart warmed by Natasha's words. "I did too, Natasha. It was great getting to know you."

The streets were mostly empty, and the city was bathed in the soft glow of streetlights. There was a moment of silence as you stood together, the unspoken tension of the night hanging in the air.

Then, as if guided by an invisible force, Natasha leaned in and softly pressed her lips against yours. It was a gentle, lingering kiss that sent shivers down your spine. Your cheeks flushed, but you couldn't help but smile.

Breaking the kiss, you teased, "Well, that's a surprise ending for the night."

Natasha chuckled and replied, "I couldn't resist."

“Don’t worry, I liked it,” You grinned. You leaned forward, kissing Natasha again, lingering when your lips pressed before you pulled back. 

The distant sound of the approaching Uber pulled you back to reality. Your ride had arrived. You exchanged one last lingering look, a silent acknowledgment of the connection you had shared that evening.

With a soft goodbye, you climbed into the waiting car, and Natasha watched as it drove away into the night. As she walked away, Natasha couldn't help but smile, feeling grateful for the unexpected and unforgettable night she had just experienced.

---> next part

I Kissed The Scars On Her Skin

Natasha X Reader

Inspired by the lyrics ‘I kissed the scars on her skin, I still think you’re beautiful’ from the song A Match Into Water by Pierce The Veil.

Chapter warnings/Tags: Mentions of objectification/sexualisation, Brief Reference to Natasha’s past and unwanted sexual experiences, talks of body image, Insecurities and anxiety about body image, comfort, fluff (?)

Word Count- 2.6k

I wrote this to try and get out of my writer's block and it's not worked 🫠

Please read the warnings/tags before reading.

Masterlist

Staring ahead at the mirror in the corner of the room, emerald green intently stared at her reflection, observing every inch of her bare body that was on display, wet, red curls clinging to her body as she simply stood in front of the mirror, her usually playful green corrupted into disgust. Hurt, regret and shame crawled down her spine as her gaze flickered from one body feature to another, a lump clawing its way into her throat as pain creeped onto her face as she continued to stare, every second passing only amplifying the whirlwind of emotions flooding through her.

Natasha couldn’t stop the negative and despondent trail her thoughts drifted down as she looked at herself properly, nausea stirring deep within her. She didn’t see herself staring back at her, all she could see was an object, a tool she used to get the mission done, no matter what it took. She didn’t see someone soft or beautiful, someone you’d want to spend hours admiring because they were so pretty and delicate, all she could see was something… to be used. She was sexy and seductive, she wasn’t someone who was tender or gentle. She wasn’t someone lovable, she was something to be utilised for a mission.

Her eyes glossed over as she continued to berate her body, objectifying it herself as everyone else had done to her as she stared and ogled at her own body, trying to persuade herself there was something more to her than her looks. Her teeth anxiously bit down on her lower lip to stop it trembling as she failed to convince herself of anything positive, a stray tear managing to escape her when her gaze settled on one of the many scars that littered her body from her past.

The haunting memories of her past desperately tried to gnaw away at her thoughts but she didn’t pay them any attention as she was too focused on drowning in her other thoughts, drowning in the onslaught of doubts and insecurities eating away at her. She was a weapon and a killer. That’s all she was and all she was ever going to be.

The sound of keys twisting in the door made her aware of your arrival, the redhead not bothering to cover herself up as she assumed you would be happy to see her completely exposed, everyone else would. God, what did you even see in her? Was she just a good fuck? Is that why you hadn’t left her yet?

“Hey, you’re never going to believe what Sam did on the mission-“ You chuckled out as you opened the bedroom door, your eyes widening in surprise at the sight of her body, a smile naturally tugging at your lips before your gaze met her green in the reflection, the sheer amount of emotion swirling in them immediately filling you with concern, your face dropping into worry. “What’s wrong?” You ask softly as you carefully place your bag down on the floor, making your way gradually over to her body, watching her reaction as you approach your girlfriend.

“When you look at me, what do you see?” Her tone was laced with hurt as your brows furrow, your eyes trained on hers in the reflection as you move to stand next to her, being respectful and keeping your gaze locked on those eyes you fell so deeply for.

“I see the most beautiful woman in the world,” you whisper, your voice dripping with care and honesty as you watch her reaction, pain flashing across her face and causing confusion to wash across yours.

“No, no you don’t,” she mutters, lifting her hand to wipe away the tears lingering on her cheeks, brushing it away roughly as she hates crying, she hates showing any sign of weakness. “I’m not beautiful, I’m…I’m disgusting,” she mumbles, your face instantly reacting to her words, disbelief engraved on it as you take another step closer to her body, trying to think of a way to convince her that she wasn’t, she was more than what they made her.

“Nat,” you whisper softly as she stares ahead at the mirror, avoiding your gaze in the reflection as she tries to blink back the tears brimming in her eyes. “Natasha, look at me,” you murmur affectionately, waiting patiently for her to muster the courage to look at your loving and tender gaze, her mesmerising green eventually flickering over to your soft gaze. “Do you trust me?” your voice was barely above a whisper as your mouth moved near the shell of her ear, waiting for her consent before trying to show her how wrong she was.

She was beautiful, not because of her body but because of her heart. Despite everything she thought about herself, she was a kind, loving, and amazing woman, she was someone who managed to steal your heart without even trying. She was everything to you, and you needed her to know that.

When she nods, you show her your hands in the reflection, signalling to her you wanted to touch her before waiting for her to nod again, your hands gently moving to caress her waist when she was ready. Your warm touch felt odd against her skin momentarily, the sheer tenderness and care you managed to put into it made her heart flutter as you kept your gaze on her face, gauging her reactions carefully. It was almost overwhelming to feel so appreciated and seen by you, your hands moving against her soft skin slowly, your fingers moving over every inch of her body in an adoring way, not a hint of lust or desire present in your touch as you explored her body, slowly warming her cold body up.

“Do you know why I said I think you’re the most beautiful woman in the world?” you murmur as you place a delicate kiss to her bare shoulder, the kiss so innocent and affectionate it almost makes Natasha tear up from the loving blooming within her as you close your eyes, almost lost in your admiration for her. “Because there’s not a single part of you I don’t adore, I love all of you Natasha, not just your body,” you whisper, your warm breath tickling her skin as you kiss her shoulder blade, letting your lips ghost over a small scar you knew haunted her.

You kissed over the scar with as much love as possible, trying to sooth her worries about the physical scar as well as trying to comfort the mental scars that littered her, the feeling of their rough, forceful hands still invading her thoughts from time to time.

You can hear her exhale a shaky breath at your words and actions, her body slowly relaxing further into your touch as you move to glide your hands down her toned arms, propping your head on her shoulder as your mouth ghosted her ear again, watching her reaction to your touch as she lets her eyes flutter shut, trying to engrave the memory of your touch into her mind forever.

“Do you know why I love your hands?” You mumble softly, a smile tugging at your lips as she shakes her head, too scared to speak and ruin the tranquil atmosphere that’s wrapped around the two of you, wanting to let the world fade away. “I love the way you run your fingers through my hair when we cuddle,” you whisper, trying to list all the unique things she does that you adore, trying to express to her your undying love, needing her to realise how much you care about her. “I love how gentle they are when I let you braid my hair, the way you twirl your pen between them in debrief meetings, that when you get anxious you trace the lines on your palms,” you mimic the movement with your own fingers, dragging the tips of your fingers across her hand before up and along her forearm until you move them back to her waist to rest there for a moment, letting everything sink in for a moment before you continue.

“Do you know why I love your shoulders and back?” you ask quietly, letting your fingers trace her spine almost intimately as your body ghosts behind hers, her body subconsciously leaning back further against you, seeking your warmth and comfort. “Because despite carrying the world on your shoulders, you make time for others, you care for everyone else,” you whisper, “But most importantly, you let me take care of you, which I know was something difficult for you to start with. I love how now you let me run my fingers up and down your back because you know I love watching you relax,” your let your thumb gently press into a spot on her back, knowing it was her weak spot and watching as her body crumbles apart at your touch, relaxing instantly into your arms as your hands move to snake around her waist, letting her sink into your embrace.

You hold her for as long as you think she needs it, her eyes still closed as she focuses on the feeling of your steady heartbeat behind her, ears listening attentively to your calm breaths as you embrace her, smiling fondly at her reflection as the disgust on her features dissipated into shyness and love, the suffocating spiral she was trapped in easing it’s grip as your words lured her out of her dark thoughts.

Only when she was ready, did you move away from the embrace, moving around her body to face her, your lips pressing delicately against her forehead to make the corner of her lips lift up that little bit more before you slowly kiss down her body in an appreciative way, trying to express your love for her as you kneel before her, almost as if you were worshipping her.

“Do you know why I love this scar?” you whisper ever so gently, her head tilting to look at you as you peer up at her, honesty overflowing from your eyes as she struggles to process how you could love the old wound on her lower abdomen. “It shows how strong you are,” you mumble as you kiss the scars on her skin, “It shows that you are a good person, Natasha. You saved that man’s life, you risked yours just so he could go home to see his children, I think that’s something to admire and love.”

“Y/n,” she murmurs out but you kiss near the scar again, her hands naturally moving to thread through your hair, wanting to feel closer to you as she lets you continue praising her body.

“I’m not finished,” you mumble playfully, not letting her disagree with your words. “I also love how if I let my fingers brush over the spot above it…” you chuckle out, knowing she was some reason ticklish there, a soft laugh escaping her as her body jerks at the funny sensation, your hands settling at her hips to show you weren’t going to tickle her again. “I get to hear that angelic laughter,” you whisper with a cocky smile, her eyes rolling as she looks down at you, unable to stop the smile breaking out on her face, your comforting words a safety boat coming to save her from the sea of doubts and insecurities.

“That was mean,” she grumbles, scratching your scalp softly as you lean against her body, smiling up at her with nothing but love in your eyes.

“It still made you smile,” you say whilst kissing the spot you had just tickled, your hands moving down to her legs, deciding to compliment one more part of her body, having a feeling your plan had already seemed to have worked. “Do you know why I love your legs?” You hum out, looking up at her and noticing the small hint of mirth in her eyes.

“Why?” She murmurs in a tender tone, your lips peppering a few soft kisses against the soft skin and her tone muscles.

“I love how you wrap them around my body to pull me closer when we cuddle,” you whisper, knowing that, especially when she was tired, she’d throw her leg over your body and slide you closer to her, needing to feel you completely pressed up against her to sleep comfortably. “Or when you use them to trap me to the bed playfully, trying to prove that you could beat me in a sparring match,” you tease, knowing full well she’d kick your ass if you spared against her. You chuckle as you watch her brow raise at your words, her smile endearing as she gets lost in your enamoured gaze, her heart unable to cope with the amount of love pumping through it.

Gradually, you push yourself back up to your feet and let your arms snake around her waist, pulling her body closer to yours as she keeps her eyes on you, trying her best to express how grateful she was to have you in her life, to have you push away all those negative thoughts and clear the fog of anxiety that would cloud her mind.

“You’re beautiful, Natasha,” you whisper, not hiding an ounce of your love for her in your tone, the soft look in your eyes turning serious as you need her to know you mean it. “There’s nothing you could do that would make me think otherwise. I love you, I always will.”

“I love you too,” she murmurs back affectionately, kissing your lips innocently, not wanting anything to escalate as she simply wanted to be with you, to feel loved and cared for. You let her face rest at the crook of your neck as you try to slide your jacket off to cover her body, noticing how she shivered slightly at the gentle breeze that filtered through the room from the window. You let her take as long as she needed in your embrace, only parting when she moved first, deciding to warm herself up by slipping under the covers of your bed as she watched you sit on the edge of the bed, taking off your boots tiredly. “I’m sorry,” she mumbles after a moment, realising that you had just gotten back from a long mission, exhaustion evident in your features as she observes you, your head instantly turning at her apology.

“You have nothing to be sorry about,” your tone is quiet as you kiss her forehead, letting your hand cup her cheek and thumb brush over the smooth skin. “I’m here for you, no matter what,” your tone conveys your care for her as you kiss her once more, swiftly taking the rest of your clothes off so you could join her in bed, letting your bare bodies press into each other so you could both get lost in a tranquil moment between lovers, gazing into each others eyes.

“Thank you for loving me,” she whispers after a little white, your lips stretching into a soft smile, your head tilting to look at her as she hugs your side, her leg slotted between yours like she always did.

“Thank you for giving me the chance to,” your words are soft as you hold the intimate stare, her cheeks tinting pink before she lets her face press further against your body, trying to hide the sudden shyness consuming her as well as giving into her body’s desire for sleep, the tormenting thoughts from earlier draining her. “Goodnight Nat,” you whisper once you could tell she was drifting off to sleep, your lips pressing one final kiss to her hair before letting your own eyes close, content with being in the arms of your lover. 

Hello!

Welcome to my blog! For now, this is mostly dedicated to my Natasha Romanoff series posted on Wattpad and AO3. I wanted to have a better way to connect with my readers on both platforms, so, here we are! I will primarily post updates and sneak peaks of my fics on here (you can also find playlists for all my works at the bottom of this post), as well as reblogs of things that I recommend/love from other creators, but I also want to interact with you guys! If you've read my works or you're just coming across it for the first time, feel free to reach out to me with any questions or comments! I'd love to chat <3

Playlists:

n.r. - act 1

n.r. - act 2