I Just Realised That Nearly EVERYTHING Would Have To Be Ordered Online..,, Lol Rip Reader I Mean At Least

Open Arms

Natasha Romanoff x Reader

You come home to find Natasha upset, but you know just how to make her feel better.

Note: I’m back with some more soft Nat. I promise it’s more comfort than hurt. I was listening to Journey’s song Open Arms when this one came to me. I hope y’all enjoy it!

Natasha Romanoff Masterlist, Main Masterlist

You come home from work to be met with a dark apartment. You frown. Natasha told you she would be here tonight, but you see no trace of her.

You’ve been dating her for a few months now and for the most part things have been more than great. She’s seemed a little bit off lately, but you chalked it up to nerves about her upcoming mission.

Yeah she’s the Black Widow and all, but the truth is she does get nervous about missions. The first time she told you that you thought she had to just trying to make you feel better about being nervous for something. But when she looked at you with her piercing green eyes you realized there was only truth in them.

You move through the apartment and go into your bedroom. As you switch on the light, your attention is drawn to your bed. Your stomach drops at the sight of Natasha sitting on the bed with tears falling down her face. She was here after all, but sitting in the dark.

“Hey Natasha,” you approach her carefully. You’ve never seen her cry before. “Are you alright?”

“Hey,” she says with a voice that’s hoarse from crying. She doesn’t answer your question, but you know she’s not alright. You don’t know how long she’s been here. You sit beside her and reach for her hand.

“Do you want to talk about it? We can just sit here, but it seems you’ve been doing that already,” you say softly, not wanting to push her but really wanting to know what’s wrong. She clears her throat and turns her head to look into your eyes. Hers are a deep chasm of emotion.

“I’m falling in love with you. I know it’s too soon to say it, but I just- I need you to know,” Natasha says.

That is definitely not what you expected her to say.

“Natasha I-“

“No, I know. It’s crazy, right? It’s crazy. I can’t believe I’m saying it,” she stands up now and paces in front of you. “But I just- I love you. I love everything about you and I’m so fucking scared of losing you.”

“It’s not crazy,” you stand up and grab her arms to stop her pacing. “Natasha, it’s not crazy.”

“It’s not?“

“No baby, I’m falling in love with you too,” your words don’t at all surprise you.

You’ve known pretty much from the moment you met her that you would love her so much that your bones ache with passion you want to pour onto her.

“I don’t- what if I can’t come back for you? What if I go on a mission and it’s a one way trip? Y/n, I can’t do this,” Natasha says. And that’s exactly why she was in your room crying. She’s scared to leave you forever.

“Hey, hey, hey,” you caress her face gently and wipe away tears as they fall down her rosy cheeks. “You’re the best there is, Nat. There’s no one more qualified to make sure you come home to me again.”

“But you deserve a sure thing, detka.”

“You are a sure thing, Natasha Romanoff. I know it. And deep down, my love, you know it. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. Should I say it again? I love you,” you emphasize your point with soft kisses to her cheeks before landing on her lips. She kisses you back hungrily.

“I love you too. God, it feels so good to say it. I’m sorry you came home to me like this. I just couldn’t stop thinking about everything and I had to tell you how I was feeling,” Natasha says, her hands go to your hips and she rubs them up and down your sides soothingly.

“You never have to apologize for having feelings, Natasha. And I’ll always be here with open arms,” you say with another kiss to her lips.

“With open arms,” she confirms and you both smile.

As you rest together that night, you feel a shift in your relationship. The good kind. One that means she knows how much her love means to you and you know how much your love means to her.

Tag list: @gracebutnotgraceful @i-wished-for-you-too @be-missed @likefirenrain @nataliaromanova-widow @hehehehannahthings @romanoffscottage @b0r3d-s1mp1ng-b1tch @readings-stuff @xxxtwilightaxelxxx @madamevirgo @milfloverslut @yelenabelovaisthebettersister @mrswidowjohansson @alotofpockets @wandassitcom @ggrangerdanger @marvelwomen-simp @maia-lightwoood @mortallytremendoussandwich @xxromanoffxx @peanutbutterprincess @karmasgxrl @wandaslittlewhore @exhaustedfangirl @when-wolves-howl @natashalovers @mythosphere-x

Let me know if you want to be added to my Natasha tag list or have any requests for her 😁

Interlude

Wanda Maximoff x Natasha Romanoff

Word Count: 3.4K

A/N: This is part of another fic challenge with @quietlyimplode. This is set after Black Widow for Natasha and after the Raft for Wanda.

Wanda could feel the aching sting of where the dampening collar had once sat around her neck.

Her skin buzzed as she stumbled to her feet. 

Her mind buzzed too. Power flooded back into her veins like a broken dam. She stretched out each of her fingers unsurely. The relief was overwhelming, but it wasn’t enough.

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Love that it's now 100% confirmed canon that Natasha spends her free time watching over the top Cold War era spy fiction/techno-thriller movies like James Bond and WarGames, and she's a gleeful little geek that gets a kick out of quoting the dialogue.

I love so much that we spent years assuming Nat would mock the shitty spycraft in movies, but actually she's enthralled every time. Like, a five-year-old seeing Frozen? That's Natasha any time these movies are on the screen. Yes she's seen them a million times, but when your entire life is dangerous spy hijinks it must be so nice to see stuff that you do in a context where no one you love is in danger at any time.

Also the thing that's so nice about her being a geek is that the movies have tried so hard to make us think she's a badass. And, I mean, she is totally a badass! But "Do you want to play a game?" could have been a one-off thing, a way to tease Steve and integrate Steve and make her own fun while on the run. Instead it's become a running part of her personality, which takes how the Red Room used popular media as indoctrination and turns it into something she can relax with and make into something that's her own.

Like I feel at this point if we found out that Clint used to call Nat every week after Dog Cops finished airing to dissect the plot, it would not feel out of character, and that is beautiful.

are you jealous?

pairing: natasha romanoff x reader

warnings: (NSFW) strap on, fingering, semi-public sex, slight mommy kink

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Partners in Crime

Summary - Natasha is forced to confront her past after a certain witch decides to play mind games with the Avengers; that includes remembering the one person she regrets failing the most.

Pairing - Natasha Romanoff x KGB!reader

Warning(s) - The Red Room being shitty, canon typical violence, angst

Word Count - 4.2k

a/n - This could be read as a one-shot or I could extend it into a series, that I have definitely not started to plan out. I’ll leave it up to you guys. ;)

- Also, the vibe of their relationship was inspired by the song of the same title as the fic by FINNEAS. It’s nice and heartbreaking, but also one of my favorite songs so give it a listen.

- Last thing, this won’t impact the fic a ton, but I’m making Natasha’s past more comic aligned, meaning her date of birth is around the 1930s, not the 80s like in the MCU; so just keep that in mind.

If you would have told younger Natasha Romanoff that she would one day be fighting an evil sentient robot with the help of a god, a science experiment, a world class narcissist, and a SHIELD agent, she would have laughed in your face and then probably killed you.

But here she was, on a dark, humid cargo ship in the middle of Africa engaged in a three way shootout between the Avengers, Ultron, and some weapons dealers.

As soon as the shooting had started, she formed a list of the threats present in order of priority.

First, Tony’s murder bot and his, its? minions. She supposes a robot couldn’t possess a gender, but something about it was distinctly male. Probably the giant ego and the inability to listen to anyone except himself. Ultron wouldn’t bother her, he would most likely be engaged with Tony for a bit before making his escape. Nothing she and her twin glocks could do to stop that.

Next, his smaller robot clones. Those he would most definitely leave on the boat to add to the chaos and provide a distraction for his escape. They would be shooting at her, but more importantly, she could help take them out in return.

Finally, whatever mercenaries were left on the boat from the deal they had with Ultron. She almost didn’t consider them at all. Sure, they’d be running around shooting at everything, but they were like flies to her: low threat, annoying, loud.

With the mental list successfully mapped out in her mind, she chances a peak around the corner she was using for cover, immediately putting two bullets in a merc across the walkway.

She turns to intercept one of the bots making its way over to Clint when a loud crash sounds from the deck below her. A blue blur lands roughly into a pile of crates and that’s when she remembers the twins.

She chastises herself for leaving them out of her mental game plan.

The Maximoffs are unknowns, and that fact alone is enough to put them on the top of the threat list.

Natasha lets her body go on autopilot, relying back on her life of training to shoot at the remaining men and androids alike, while her mind is occupied with assembling a file on the enhanced.

The boy would be annoying, but she doubts that he would try and seriously harm any of them. The most she’d have to deal with is getting the wind knocked out of her after getting pushed down by him.

The girl however, was truly something that could provide a real threat towards the team. Natasha thought back to when they first encountered her at the HYDRA base, how Tony went radio silent before returning with the scepter, and how he didn’t seem entirely present on the flight back to the tower.

Thor’s voice interrupted her assessment as he announced that the witch had tried to warp his mind, but that his mightiness was sufficient to thwart her attack.

“Steve, you hear that?” The assassin checked on her comms, only to be met with a silence that made the hairs on the back of her neck stand up.

“Thor, Steve, are you receiving me?” She tries again, adjusting her earpiece for good measure.

The ship was eerily quiet, as if all the sound around her was sucked out, as if she were the only remaining entity on the battlefield; and only now did she process how hot it was and how the dim lighting added to her unease.

She decided that checking on the boys had just shot to the top of her priority list and moved to descend the stairs when a presence moved out of the shadows next to her.

The next thing she knew she was no longer—

How

How did she end up back at the one place she had actively avoided going back to for the past few decades.

She looked around, now wondering why, why she would be thrust into this living nightmare where the walls felt like they were closing in on her and she couldn’t help but shake the feeling of being watched.

That notion of prying eyes didn’t go away, even as she swung her head around, sweeping the location for unwanted persons just as she had been taught here all those years ago. She turned around, poised for an attack, expecting to find Petrovitch or Madame B or something there besides the emptiness. Only to be met with the pristine ceramic floors and the old wooden walls.

Has this place always been this unnerving? She supposes so and chalks up her unease to the time and distance spent away and in the safe arms of SHIELD. She had gone soft. Or maybe it was the fact that she hadn’t always been lucid during her time here.

That didn’t matter though. All that mattered was the fact that she was here.

Alone.

Or so she thought before she finally noticed a figure pass through the hall in front of her, wrapping around the corner before she could start to analyze them.

Almost as if she didn’t have a choice, her legs started to move after the person, an invisible force tying her to them; who was it?

The path was one that led her down many cold, dark halls that felt foreign at first, until the familiarity of the place crept up from the recesses of her unwilling mind. Her entire childhood that she had worked so hard to shut out was being thrown right back into her face as she was forced to relive it.

She spotted them again right before they ducked into a room, shutting the door behind them.

She knew it wasn’t locked though, their doors never had that capability. Personal privacy was not a luxury they were afforded here.

She paused as her hand brushed the door handle; did she really want to face this, to face you?

She didn’t have a choice though, and it was silly to entertain the idea of one at all.

So she went in.

You were leaning up against the wall, your arms crossed over your chest and your head down in waiting.

You look up though when she walks through the door, a smile on your face as you push off the wall and close the distance between the two of you, gently closing the door behind your Natalia.

There’s almost no distance in between you two and her breath hitches as she looks into your eyes.

Those eyes that once were the center of her whole world, the ones that stubbornly held so much light and love despite all of the things they had seen. The ones that she had fallen in love with and found shelter in throughout the darkest part of her life.

Too bad she never had the chance to tell you any of those things.

Too bad you weren’t actually here.

But you were, right?

She cups her hand around your cheek, fingers brushing lightly against your jawline. It felt so real, you were warm, and you were standing right in front of her; so close that she could feel your breath on her skin.

“I miss you.” Was all that she could manage to get out, her voice so quiet she thought that maybe it would go undetected.

It worries her when a few seconds go by without a response, but that dissipates when she hears your voice.

“Oh Natalia.” You say, equally as quiet as a sad smile graces your face.

She can’t take it anymore.

The way you’re looking at her with those disappointed puppy dog eyes, the knowledge of chances not taken haunting her, her want need to be even closer to you.

So she closes her eyes and kisses you.

It surprises her when you kiss her back with equal fervor. It shouldn’t when she knows what she meant to you. You hadn’t been scared to let her know you loved her. She just regrets that she never told you her own feelings.

But you are here now and she is kissing you so she tries to pour all of her love into this one moment.

You stay locked in that embrace for as long as you can before you pull away, out of breath.

She looks at you and notices your face is wet with tears before feeling her own tears streaming down her cheeks.

Apparently that had been something you both desperately needed.

You step back, creating distance between the two of you and allowing the cold to wrap itself around her now that your presence is gone.

The silence was deafening as she waited for you to say something, her cheeks still flushed from the heat of the kiss.

This was how it was supposed to be: you two against the world, finding solace in the love you shared, and using it to shield yourselves from the horrors that were thrown at you.

She let that thought envelop her for a moment before once again being distracted by the silence and your movement along with it.

You had your back turned to her now, the sole dim lightbulb warping your frame and turning your naturally soft aura into the sinister one they had beaten into you from before you could speak.

“Why did you let them take me?” You voice the question that she had been tormenting herself with ever since she last saw you.

You round on her now, your voice taking on an edge that made her want to bolt. The accusing glint in your eyes causing her to break eye contact with you; something she hadn’t done since entering the room.

“You’re a coward, Natalia.”

Gone was the soul she had fallen in love with, the one she had shared an intimate moment with just seconds before. It had been wiped, replaced with one bent on destruction and making her crumble.

The dormitory that had once been a sanctuary for her, a place to shut herself in with no one else but you, suddenly seemed too dark, too cold, too hostile. You had provided the light that she needed to keep going, but now you had turned on her, effectively plunging her into darkness.

“Umph.” Her back hit the door roughly as you had rushed her, pinning her there with your hand around her neck.

“Please,” she started, but you cut her off by slapping her harshly across the face.

“No. I’m dead, and it’s all your fault.”

You release the death grip you had on her and stalk out of the room, disappearing into the darkness of the hallway outside.

The redhead bent over to refill her lungs before whirling around to sprint after you.

But you were gone.

Slipped from her grasp into the night air.

And just like before, there was nothing she could do to stop it.

She lowered herself onto the ground, a choked sob escaping her lips as she closed her eyes and hugged her knees close to her chest.

She didn’t know what to do so she just sat there, squeezing her eyes as tight as she could and hoping that you would come back.

Then she heard a voice calling her name, one that brought her comfort and safety.

“Natasha. Natasha, come on!”

It wasn’t you though as she had hoped for, it was the wrong voice and the wrong name.

The voice was pleading though, and she didn’t like how sad it sounded so she forced herself to open her eyes and look at the man kneeling in front of her.

It was Clint; his eyes full with worry. Oh how she was glad to see him. Her best friend, her partner in crime, her brother. She quickly gauged her surroundings and noticed that somehow she had been moved to the Quinjet and that it had landed on a familiar farm.

How long was she out for?

As if reading her mind, Clint spoke up, “the Maximoff girl hit us hard, everyone except me and Tony. We needed a safe place to regroup, so I thought it was time to introduce the rest of the team to the Barton clan.

Oh, oh that’s right. Ultron, the twins, HYDRA, it was all coming back to her now. She nodded numbly towards the archer and moved to stand up, the man quickly supporting her and walking her inside the farmhouse.

She couldn’t be bothered to tune into any of the conversations going on around her, too preoccupied with the fact that she had seen you for the first time in half a century; even if it was just in her magic fueled imagination.

None of the Avengers, even Clint, had ever seen her so unnerved, and it worried them greatly, but all of them were more or less emotionally stunted, so they just made sure to give her space as they stood gathered in the living room.

What finally snapped her out of her stupor was two children barreling into the room, one little girl in particular asking to see her Auntie Nat. She smiles and is proud to say it’s only half fake as she picks up the eight year old.

She also manages to tease Laura about her pregnancy before escaping up to her usual room, letting out a sigh as she shuts the door.

Shower. She needs a shower. That will help her clear the nightmare from her mind.

To clear you from her mind.

She steps into the bathroom and sets the handle to the max temperature, using the scalding water to ground herself.

After she’s done she allows herself to sit on the bed and take a moment to process the whole thing. From the shock of seeing you again, to kissing you, to the seething rage radiating off of you as you blamed her for your fate.

She needed to remember what was real. The true events that led to you being taken from her, not the reality from the fake you that had somehow felt so real, that was what she needed to find and let play in her mind.

There wasn’t a lot to choose from, even with the time and the help from SHIELD the ever-present gaps in her memory, courtesy of the Red Room’s “conditioning”, made it hard to pin down a certain, complete moment with you.

But, after an indeterminable amount of time staring at the wall and raking through her memories, she picks one out, one that had been strong enough to stick around in her head, even after all this time.

Circa 1955

She was on a mission in Paris. Her being as efficient and ruthless as her title implied, she had completed her mission almost 24 hours prior to when she was originally due to report back.

Deciding that a small break would be in everyone’s best interest, but mostly hers, she chose to not contact her handlers about the early mission accomplished and instead took time to explore the City of Light.

A small part of her wondered if they would know, if she should just call them and head back to base like they would want her to, but a larger part of her was disgusted at the mere thought of going back, so she broke protocol after making absolutely certain that there was no way they could find out.

After a day of playing a ditzy American tourist and checking out the city she found herself back at her hotel, dreading her extraction time.

She was sitting on the balcony, a bold move for an assassin of her caliber, but at this point she couldn’t bring herself to care if someone shot her; maybe the world would be a better place after her death.

“What are you thinking about?” A voice sounded from within the hotel room, a voice belonging to the only person in the world that could sneak up on her like that. A voice that belonged to her one soft spot.

And there you were, standing with your hands shoved into your pockets like a shy school kid, even if you hadn’t held that sort of innocence in a long, long time.

She tilts her head down slightly, but not before you catch the blush spreading quickly across her face, which was framed beautifully by the pale moonlight from outside.

“Just you,” she smirked, doing well to hide the morbid topic she had truly been entrenched in, not wanting to dampen the mood when you had risked a lot to show up here.

Speaking of, she wasn’t sure where your mission was, but it definitely was not in Paris, so how did you get here? And why were you putting your neck on the line just to see her?

“Well it turns out I have impeccable timing then,” you tease, choosing to drop the obvious lie she had told. She could put all of her walls up, fool the entire world, but there was no veil of hers you couldn’t see straight through.

“How are you here?” She breathed, hesitant to really believe you were there, even as you walked out onto the balcony towards her.

“I have my ways,” you shrug, she doesn’t need to know what you did just to get a moment alone with her. “This place is beautiful at night,” you change the subject, wanting to use this time to talk about things outside of your shared occupation.

Luckily she goes along with it, nodding in agreement and turning to look at the night sky that was illuminated by the many lights of the city.

You shift, swinging up onto the railing and letting your legs dangle off the side of the, 23rd floor; if you remember correctly. Apparently you didn’t have much of an aversion to death either.

A comforting silence falls between the two of you and you decide to close your eyes and focus on the cool night wind running through your hair and the sounds of the city dozens of feet below you. It wasn’t often or, at all, really that either of you had the chance to just sit and do nothing besides enjoy the other's company and neither of you were about to let this moment pass without stopping to let it imprint in your memories.

You opened your eyes and turned to watch Natalia now. You were so in love with the girl it bordered on obsession, but you had never told her so in words. You hoped she knew; that she could tell from your actions alone, but a part of you needed to make sure that she did.

“I love you Natalia.”

The words startle her, and you can’t tell if it’s because of the actual meaning behind them or just because you had broken the peaceful atmosphere you had found yourselves in.

You hoped it was the latter.

She turned to you then, unsure of what to say, but not wanting to stay silent she whispered, “I know you do.”

You turn your face back to the sky in an effort to hide your relieved expression from the girl, but you know she can see so you adopt a blank look instead, the one you use when appearing void of all emotion.

At least you told her, you think to yourself. She knows and that’s all that matters. She didn’t need to say it back because you knew she felt the same way. You saw it in her eyes everytime she looked at you. She was just scared of what admitting it out loud might mean for the two of you and you understood that; it was why you had waited so long to tell her.

Natalia was not a mind reader though and took your actions for disappointment in her. She hated herself for being so weak when you were so brave and it broke her heart thinking that you didn’t know she loved you right back.

Needing to leave so you could get back to where you were supposed to be, you get up, making sure to leave the small item that had been hidden in your pocket in your wake.

A satisfied smile graced your face as you exited her room and walked away.

Not sure of what to do, it takes her a few minutes to move back into the room, but when she finally does, she notices the shiny gleam of something on the railing where you had been sitting.

It was a ring.

Just a small, thin band, something that would be easy to hide, even from people who were constantly scrutinizing her every move.

She took it quickly, as if it might disappear at any moment, before packing her things and heading to the extraction point.

Natasha wiped the tears that had fallen from her face as she reminisced about the moment where you had practically proposed to her.

She smiled though, as the memory of your true existence had almost completely wiped the nightmarish version from her mind.

She wasn’t able to dwell on that small victory for long though, as her mind vaulted itself into another, much darker memory.

6 months post Paris

You both had been called to Petrovitch’s office. It wasn’t an unusual occurrence and definitely not cause for alarm as you both were among the top performing agents.

Expecting a mission briefing, it took you both by surprise when you were met with Petrovitch seemingly in the middle of a meeting with an unknown man.

You both moved to the side of the room as he finished speaking with him, their slimy hands clasping together to seal whatever deal they had just arranged.

“Ah there they are, my deadliest weapons, my proudest accomplishments.” He slapped a hand on each of your shoulders, a show of power, of control.

“This one,” he gestured to you, “is yours,” he smiled then, a gross, wicked grin that sent chills down your spine.

It dawned on you then, why you were really here; you were simply a pawn, an object to be traded for money or information or god knows what else. There was also nothing you could do to stop it. All you could feel in that moment however, was relief that it was you and not her.

Never her.

This place you were at now was an absolute shithole, but at least it was familiar. The rules were known and all it took was obeying to stay alive. This new party, well you had no idea what to expect.

You desperately wanted to make eye contact with her, but there was no way you could without it being blatantly obvious.

“Follow me,” the dark-haired man ordered and you moved from your position next to Natalia, your legs feeling like lead as you walked toward the door. The portal that would separate you from her for the rest of time.

You moved to shut the door behind you, glancing over your shoulder as you did, allowing you to finally lock eyes with your love. In that split second you had before it closed you tried to make sure that she knew it wasn’t her fault, that you would be okay, and that you loved her.

Then your sight line was cut off from those sad, green eyes as you walked away, the latch ringing loudly in your ears, and Natalia didn’t even bother to hide her fear from Petrovitch.

“Do you know why I called you in here, huh?” The man had the audacity to speak to her, to taunt her with her loss.

She glared at him then as she pieced it all together. He must have known, somehow, but you had been so careful.

“I wanted to see the look on your face as they were taken away. And you didn’t disappoint.”

She clenched her jaw hard in an effort to keep her anger at bay, but that action alone was enough to cause the man to laugh in her face.

“You two were so funny. Thinking you could sneak around without getting caught. You were subtle, I’ll give you that, but I see everything.”

Still she didn’t bite, even if all she wanted to do was kill the man where he stood and then burn this place to the ground.

“This place,” he waved a hand around for emphasis, “is not one for friends, for allies. I thought you knew that.” He cocked his head then, his methodical pacing coming to a stop right in front of her, daring her to make a move against him.

And she was so close to smacking the smug look off of his face, but she couldn’t give him this satisfaction, not after all he had done to her.

Noticing her increasing anger at him, the man decided to give a final push. “Do you know who that was?”

Of course she didn’t, but he felt the need to rub it in her face as much as possible. To break her, she supposed; she hated to admit that it was working. You were her weak spot, and he knew it.

“I’m not going to tell you,” she could practically feel him preening at his own comment. “All you need to know is that he represents an organization that specializes in, hmm, breaking people in the most archaic ways, in the name of science of course; until they outlive their usefulness that is.”

That’s it, she wasn’t going to let him stand there all smugly after slandering your name by spelling out how you were going to be tortured and killed. “You bastard.”

“There she is,” he chuckles before backhanding her across the face.

A knock on the door before two guards come in.

Petrovitch turns, finally addressing someone that wasn’t her. “Take her, remind her of what happens when you forget your place.”

Natasha snaps back to the present then, not sure if she could handle remembering what had happened to her next.

The scars littering her mind and body were reminder enough.

And anyways, Clint was at her door, telling her that she needed to come down and eat something. He wouldn’t be bothering her if there wasn’t an important reason for her to get up so she hastily wiped her eyes and followed him down the stairs.

The ring you gave her weighing heavily on her finger, and her mind.

Peripheral Vision

Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Warnings: Disassociation, swearing, minor injuries

Word count: 1.3K

“Have you taken anything?”

You laugh dryly. “You know, people always ask me that whenever I’m too happy or too sad.” At the policeman’s expectant look, you sighed. “No, it’s just me.”

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MY LITTLE MEOW MEOW 💌

Learning (To Trust Your Touch)

Taglist: @lynxwhispurrs

Summary: When an unexpected touch brings a realization to light, Natasha does everything to show her favorite person that it's real.

A/N: This was inspired by @missmonsters2's "Words Beneath Your Skin', a beautiful piece of art I"m not worthy of with my touch starved ass. I wanted to add my own little spin to it using my favorite assassin :3 Thank you again for giving me permission to do this <3

Warning: Open ended quote that might be interpreted as abuse. I'm not for sure, but just to be safe.

Natasha noticed.

To be fair, she is a assassin turned avenger. She notices a lot of things.

Natasha spent lifetimes learning about the human body. Where to break, where to shed blood most, vital areas that deliver poison faster than others….the list can go on.

She saw it when you visited her room. A part of the problem.

You were still new, not to the team, but to the compound. And even though everyone was mostly in and out on missions, your presence was very welcome to many.

Especially to a certain feline.

Liho was never one to welcome strangers, but your small peace offering of expensive canned tuna definitely made an impression.

Soon enough, you began to feed Liho, and her owner. Leaving small meals for both of them to find, and to keep finding you to ask for more.

You become both their favorites. And being a favorite of Natasha did allow certain perks.

“Found those limited edition chips you wanted.”

“Your shoelaces are untied,”

“Wanna go shopping?”

“I restocked the snack drawer and charged your computer.”

She pays attention as you start to settle into your new room. How you grab small snacks instead of sitting at a dinner table with the others, how you wrap yourself in a blanket when you’re in an empty living room. What snack you like best after a training session.

They’re small things, and to her credit, she was really just trying to say thank you for feeding them both. Thank you quickly turned into dates you thoroughly enjoyed.

It’s how you ended up in her room for the first time.

“I bought a few too many snacks at the store,” was the best excuse she could come up with, and she thanks whatever god there is that you bought it with that smile of yours.

Natasha’s room was interesting, simplicity mixed with sparks of modern and rustic all in one. Splashes of red and white mixed with shades of black.

“It’s pretty,”

Natasha gives you the smallest of smiles, genuine and true. “Thank you.”

Her bed is even softer. The mattress invites you, and you immediately burrow into the blankets like it’s second nature.

Meow

Liho follows suit after you open up your bag of potato chips and nestles in a spot close to you, and that night black tail swaying in pure bliss.

Then it happens.

Natasha looks at you, green eyes spotting remnants of chips resting against the corner of your lips. It doesn’t bother her, quite the contrary, you look absolutely adorable.

She brings it to your attention with a small chuckle, and hovers a finger over her face to point out the crumbs. Your focus on the movie, and perhaps looking a little too much at Natasha’s eyes and not her cue for you to wipe your face makes you brush away the opposite cheek.

A laugh escapes, and you wonder what’s so funny before she takes action herself.

Then she sees something.

How your eyes widened when you felt it. Hearing your heartbeat damn near thump out of your chest. Seeing the muscles tense up at the exact spot where the assassins hand brushes against your cheek. Feeling your face heat up at the intention, or even the very contact itself.

It’s how Natasha has her epiphany.

That you weren’t comfortable.

-

No childhood was ever really perfect, but coming to the root of it…was it really even normal?

Sure, your parents maybe made a few mistakes, but they gave you something, they gave you life. That’s probably the best gift they could give you. You didn’t need affection.

Right?

The memory of last night comes, how she…did that. Touched you. Lingering for only a few moments to the point where you thought you saw trees in those forest eyes of hers.

You look away from it, and she retracts, eyes quickly turning apologetic before you excuse yourself..

God…gardening was supposed to relax you. Not reminding you of the memory of a touch setting you off.

You gingerly touch the potting soil you laid out, placing a little in your hands and gauging the rich dirt. It’s not like grass, rooted to the ground. It’s flexible, vulnerable and-

Meow?

“Liho?”

You dust your hands off, and allow them to hover over the feline. You feel like a ghost, so close to her, but yet-

“Your momma must be mad at me, hm?”

Meow

“I know…not the smartest move to avoid her.” You allow your fingertips to ghost over the fur slowly. “I just…”

Liho makes an effort to listen. To stay as a friend, as a ear to listen.

“I don’t know.”

It’s an honest answer. One that makes Natasha’s heart break a little inside as she waits for you to finish your session with Liho.

She thinks about it for a moment, as she makes her presence known after you stop talking. A small wave and a soft “Hello” before she scoops liho in her arms and away from you.

The words slip out before you can think.

“Please…wait.”

Natasha stands still, liho jumping out of her arms in an instant and running back to your side. Natasha looks to the empty spot next to you in the green house, and when she looks at you this time, it’s different.

You see her ask. Green eyes waiting, despite everything inside her wanting to embrace and comfort you, for permission to get close to you.

You nod, and it’s the best decision you made today when you see her get comfortable on the ground.

“I’m sorry.” She starts. “I never meant to make you feel like I was going to hurt you. I would never hurt you.”

She feels like it’s her fault. For making you like this, so scared of this, of-

“You didn’t do anything wrong.”

Her eyebrows knit together, and she frowns as Liho makes her way to the redhead and nuzzles her thigh.

“What happened yesterday? Did I make you feel uncomfortable?”

You place your hands on your lap, the texture of your blue jeans giving some imitation of stimulation. The feeling is awkward and does little to ease your nerves, it’s baffling that jeans don’t have any other purpose than being expensive, but Natasha’s hand makes you stop.

Her hand is right in front of you. The early afternoon sunshine rests on her palm, extending towards you. She makes a conscious effort not to touch any part of your body, no matter what this urge is consuming her from the inside out.

Natasha only looks at you, and keeps her hand extended.

It’s another question.

I want to understand…please talk to me.

You take her hand, and allow your fingers to trace the lines on her palm before taking another step to full on hand-holding.

“It’s not you.” You shake your head. “Never you.”

She’s relieved, and quietly thanks a god as she looks at you. As she searches for those answers with you.

“I just…it felt so…different.”

She quirks an eyebrow at that. Before gently squeezing your hand. “Different how?”

“It felt…” You bit your lower lip in thought.

So soft, and gentle…how the warmth of her fingers rested on your cheek, her thumb swiping away the crumbs, how you felt so safe keeping eye contact with her when those few seconds felt like an eternity.

It felt like you wanted so much more of it. That..that touch.

But it’s wrong, in your mind.

It’s wrong to yourself to yearn for that feeling, to want it and to never let it go. To cherish its warmth like a fire on a cold winters day.

You find yourself not answering it. That feeling that keeps yelling at you to indulge in it.

“It felt so…new.” You explained. “Like it wasn’t going to leave. Like it was safe.”

Natasha nods. “Did it ever feel safe before?”

She waits for your answer, and feels the warmth of your hand slip away from her.

“Not everyone is like you,” You whisper. “Not everyone is good.”

She gets it.

-

Natasha never felt like this.

So determined, so hellbent on showing you something you’ve been denied for so long.

Take it slow, she reminds herself.

Natasha starts small. Hand and eye contact. A good start.

You see her extend her hand like she’s did in the green house during breakfast oneway, her forest orbs looking at you with that question.

Do you want this? It's okay if you don't.

Your decision is like that game show with the music for the final question. You’re over and under-thinking, worrying and doubting.

But she stays still and true.

You take her hand as many times as she extends it, and every decision getting just a little shorter than the last. She sees you start to intertwine your fingers with hers eventually, and the eye contact remains through it all.

You find yourself looking at her eyes so much. Sometimes it’s to check if she changed her mind, or if you did something wrong. But she brings you back with those green eyes of hers, an affirmation that it’s okay.

You're safe with me

She builds a foundation this way. Natasha slowly starts to stay a little longer by your side, she finds you starting to look for that feeling. She builds from hand holding, to sparring together, and from that, hugging.

She loves it when she gets to hug you.

The feeling of safety always washes over you when she wraps her arms around you, like she doesn’t want to let go. The subtle squeeze she gives you proved her point when Bucky called her out on it.

She didn’t want to let go. She never does.

Natasha slowly and consistently continues to build that foundation, and takes it at your pace. She’s patient, and attentive.

It gets longer, the contact.

You start to hold Liho for longer periods of time as Natasha sits next to you when you watch movies. Your fingers grazing over her fur as the assassin watches with adoration.

Hugs quickly became late night cuddling, and god it was heaven for you both.

You allowed yourself to initiate small touches. Brief hugs with the team as a greeting whenever in passing, high fives when Bucky says something funny at lunch, actually going to lunch instead of hiding in your room.

You became a permanent guest at Natasha’s bed, and you began sitting a tiny bit closer to her every time. Sometimes you’d lay on her lap as she braided your hair, others would be more comfortable sitting positions if anything else.

She sees a shift of sorts when you’re in bed with her one night.

The television show was long forgotten about ten minutes into the series, and she sees your crinkled brow under the covers. You’re not frustrated, far from it actually, and she’s relieved when she hears your heartbeat is steady.

Your body moves on its own accord. Gently shifting your position to sit up. Natasha immediately locks eyes with you, and turns down the volume with her other hand.

“Can you hold me?”

Her answer is a smile, and her eyes softening before meeting your own.

"May I?' She asks.

You give a nod, before she adjusts herself. Her movements aren’t as quick as her reflexes, she gives you the opportunity to see everything she’s doing, and the power to stop this.

You feel her hands brush against your sleep shirt, the warmth leaving as soon as it came. Her movements stop, as she gives you a moment to take in the result of her ministrations.

She’s under you, so many strands of red hair you try not count splayed all over her pillows, her hands hovering over the small of your back. Her eyes never leaving yours for a second.

“Is this-“

Her breath hitches when you take the initiative. Your hands find hers like your life depends on it, and she feels your body relax under her when you find the missing piece.

You see her look at you, and there’s something different about her.

You're beautiful

You both move in sync, you reach down as she rises to connect your foreheads together.

“How does this feel?”

Natasha’s voice is a mere whisper in the dimly illuminated room. Her raspy tone is prominent, calming, and intoxicating all at the same time. Hands ghost against your waist, holding you steady.

You lean in closer, your lips inches apart from hers.

“It feels like you..”

It does, everything feels like Natasha. From the way she holds you, to how she’s kissing you right now in this moment.

Her lips are velvet against yours, full of devotion, and adoration just for you. You take it all in, you feel it all in the kiss, and it’s euphoric.

It feels so…good, and warm, and soft and safe.

And you never want it to stop feeling this way.

You both pull away, and Natasha gives you a different smile, one that’s like the sun.

“It’s real…” she whispers incredulously. “This is real.”

“It is.” You whisper

It truly is.

You both find each other’s hands, and press your foreheads together.

Natasha squeezes, ever so softly.

“It’s always real when I’m with you”

I hope you're doing well too🥰 and there's no need to be flattered I love your stories!

I Spy

Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Word Count: 3.1K

A/N: This is based entirely on the fact that it’s Lesbian Visibility Week and I like both puns and cute girls wearing glasses. As such, it’s all a little bit of nonsense. Also, entering it into @slutfornat’s fic contest before I chicken out.

There was always more with Natasha than what met the eye. Not every pattern you could spot or even explain, but you liked to try.

There were little behaviours, the smallest of quirks that hinted more at her personality than any of the careful phrases she’d given you about herself since you joined the team.

It started when you noticed the way that Natasha would read a mission report; always at arm’s length. It gave her this air of nonchalance that you found immediately attractive. Natasha would give the details a cursory glance, barely lifting the file from the desk before placing it back. From those few seconds, she could reiterate the mission outline to anyone. You’d checked. Soon enough, you had stopped bothering to study your own mission file at all during meetings.

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