unironically want that mediocre gfs w u stuck and just the 'nat đłđłđłwhat r u doing'
you know. you know what. i make myself laugh. thats what matters.
title: you dirty, dirty girl
summary:
Nat chuckles. Her hands, calloused and hot, squeeze your cheeks. Spread them. Her mouth hovers over your tailbone. âSeriously? You got yourself stuck in the laundry machine in this get-up?â
âIt was not on purpose. Pull that back up, so help me-â
content: nat/f!reader, dom/sub, cum filled strap, anal, anal plug
(ao3)
Fate is cruel. So very cruel. You have never wanted to die this badly.
For over ten minutesâyou can tell based on the number of songs that have played, you have been stuck in your laundry machine. In your fucking underwear like some lousy porn. Whatâs worse is that you decided that today of all days, you would invite Nat over. Nat, who only ever takes two-hour naps at most and went to sleep on your couch an hour and a half ago. Nat, who will laugh so hard she dies from oxygen deprivation when she sees you. And then you will die because youâre stuck in a laundry machine with no possible escape.
At least youâll die next to each other. How romantic.
Picture this: blades at the inside of the laundry machine, cut up into strings. What bliss.
You stick your forearm into your mouth for the third time so far so you can muffle your scream of pure frustration. You will not be surprised at all if you lose your voice tomorrow.
It all started because of Natâs stupid fucking sock. Sheâs always complaining that your laundry machine eats her socks, so youâd made sure to fish them all out. Except when you tried to grab the last one (patterned with cartoon spiders hanging off a faucetâa gag gift you got her for her birthday), you had leaned too far in and now you couldnât squeeze your shoulders back out.
How does this happen in real life?
The rim of the laundry machine is starting to bite. You smack the inside of the machine with your fist, kicking your legs out. Another infuriated cry into your forearm.
Another song begins playing. You hate this song.
You close your eyes, feeling your head throb, and then suck in a deep, long breath. The air is humid, disgustingly so.
Itâs time.
Itâs time to suck it up.
You prepare a lungful of air, andâ you screech.
Thud!
âFuck!â comes Natâs sleep-raspy voice.
That felt good. You scream again, making sure thereâs a real guttural note to it.
âBaby?â Nat yells, confused, slightly panicked. Rapid footsteps. The door swings open. âAre you okay?â
âGet me out,â you grit lowly.
She doesnât react immediately. You imagine she didnât hear; sheâs taking it all in. Maybe, sheâs still rubbing her ass from falling off the couch. Then: ââŠwhat the hell.â
âNatasha.â Your knuckles blanche with how tight your fists are clenched. You speak louder, enunciating: âGet. Me. Out.â
A warm hand on your lower back, where your spaghetti top has ridden up. The music from your phone pauses, and Nat crouches next to you. âIs there a spider in there or something? I told you Iâm not going to kill spiders for you. The joke is old.â
âI am not.â You inhale. Hold. Exhale. âI am not fucking joking right now, Natasha fucking Romanoff, if you do not get me out of here-â
âYouâre really not funny. Youâre not.â Nat pokes your ass cheek. âI could be sleeping right now.â
âNatasha!â you screech, thrashing your lower body. âIâm fucking stuck in the laundry machine! Get me out. Get me out!â
Another lengthy pause. Nat puts both hands on your back and leans down, presumably to peek into the laundry machine because sheâs an asshole who doesnât believe you. Which is just soâ
âAnnoying piece of shit! Fucking-â You slam your palms down, metallic clanging grating against your ears. You feel like a child throwing a temper tantrum.
âFor real? For real, dude. YouâreâŠâ Nat presses closer and breathes down your neck. So not helping. ââŠwow.â
âI will break up with you.â
âButâŠâ
âDonât.â
âBut step-sister-â
âNatasha,â you grind out between your teeth.
Her body warmth withdraws, and you sigh in relief. Then, she hooks her fingers into your panties and slides them down to your knees.
âI will kill you. I will kill you. I will kill you.â
Nat chuckles. Her hands, calloused and hot, squeeze your cheeks. Spread them. Her mouth hovers over your tailbone. âSeriously? You got yourself stuck in the laundry machine in this get-up?â
âIt was not on purpose. Pull that back up, so help me-â
âI donât believe you.â She removes a hand. Only to bring it back down in a spank.
You yelp, flushing deeply, abruptly. âI donât care,â your voice hikes up a pitch on another spank, âNat, please.â
âThatâs more like it,â she husks, breath fanning across your back. âBegging.â
It must be a Pavlovian response to that specific tone of voice. No other explanation for why youâre moments from getting wet. You did not do this on purpose.
Nat noses along the curve of your ass. You feel her lips curve into a smile; you can just picture it: impish, cocky, shit-eating. She digs her nails into your stinging ass cheek, bites the other one, and gives it another harsh smack.
The ass bad airflow in the drum must be fucking with your head. You bite your lip to prevent a whimper from escaping. To your great shame, you feel arousal gush out. Perhaps Nat wonât notice immediately, so you have time to brace yourself for the incoming humiliation.
Nat leaves a wet mark on your ass, and it prickles on your skin as it dries in the air. She sighs very contently, and you know, at that moment, the game is over.
âSweetheart, do you want to safeword?â You slot your teeth into the bitemark on your arm and groan into it. Her hand rubs your smarting cheek as if to console you. Sheâs unbearably smug when she says: âI didnât think so.â
You move your arm to your forehead, leaning heavily onto it. This is happening. It would be fantastic if those blades appeared now.
To your horror, Nat pulls away entirely and takes a few steps back.
You make a noise of alarm, body taut like a bowstring. âDonât leave me here. Nat, please, donât. Please.â
Footsteps returning. Hand patting your spine. âJust for a minute, okay? Iâll be quick.â
âPromise?â you whisper, afraid for a second that she wonât hear.
But she pats you again and says, âPromise, sweet girl. Be good.â
And sheâs gone for ages.
The embarrassment from this whole situation makes you heat up, makes you tense, makes you wet, and the latter makes the humiliation greater. Itâs a vicious cycle. Youâre definitely not thinking clearly anymore, pulled into that happy, fuzzy space where anything Nat does gets you off. Where time moves nonlinearly.
You sigh, biting your lip and waggling your foot as you wait for her. It feels like too long, but you canât trust your sense of time, and you canât trust Nat to not take forever just to fuck with you. But she did promiseâshe doesnât usually break promises like this.
âNat?â you ask, voice meek. Pathetic.
No response.
You brace your hands on the end of the drum and push. No go. Still.
Unfortunately, this is when Nat decides to come back. Pitter-patter of her feet incoming fast. You knew she wouldnât lie. She wasnât trying to drag it outâ
âWell, well.â Nat stops at the door. âI was going to be nice, you know?â
You drop your arms with a sad moan. âYou were gone.â
âGood girls are patient.â Her voice comes closer. âGood girls get their pussies filled.â
âPlease.â You practically claw your way deeper into the machine in an attempt to appease her.
She tsks, and her hands grip you by the hips, pulling you back in place. âHold still now. Iâll fuck you if you listen.â
âOkay,â you eventually mutter.
Nat hums. You hear clinking and rustling. Sheâs tampering with something. You wish you could twist around and see her, gauge her mood. Alas, the tight space does you no favours.
Anyway, you did agree to hold still, didnât you?
For a long time, nothing happens. This time, youâre sure Natâs fucking with you, but you donât know what to do to get her moving. Your slick is trickling down your thighs now. The odds are stacked against you.
âNat, please,â you whine.
A huff. âThat was your second chance.â Sheâs still not touching you. You curl your toes, tensing up. âHow many spanks for the impatience?â
ââŠum, five?â you attempt.
âWeâll do five times the number I was thinking. Better luck next time.â Her palm comes down out of nowhere and with a punishing force. You cry out, trying to twist into the drum. She just drags you back out. âCount for me. No mistakes, and Iâll halve the number.â
Were you not so horny, you wouldâve asked her why sheâs acting like a primary school math teacher. Instead, you choke out: âOne.â
She hums and hits at your thigh this time. You wriggle, count, and she resituates you. Repeat. The spanks land along your ass and thighs, and, every so often, she pauses to massage your stinging flesh. By the time she hits twenty, youâre a snivelling mess.
She shushes you, squeezing a hand through to rub circles between your shoulder blades. âFive more, okay?â
You nod, though she might not see it. Still, she takes it as a go-ahead to give you five more swats, alternating spots with each one. You spit out the last five numbers in quick succession, voice small and wobbly.
Nat squats low to kiss at your tender skin, murmuring praise and encouragements to you until you sigh. âIâm okay now. Mostly.â
Her hand rests gently on a bruise. âMostly?â
You nod again, head drooped into a pile of your arms. âYeah. Green.â
A thoughtful hum. Then, sheâs gone, and thereâs the pop of a cap being opened. âRelax for me, sweetheart.â
With a keen, you do your best to slacken. Even then, when cold fingers touch your still sensitive ass, you jolt and hiss.
âSorry, baby,â Nat soothes. Gingerly, she tugs you open. âCome on. Deep breaths. You know how prep goes.â
You do. Your clit throbs.
You do as youâre told, trying to count out each breath. You begin to appreciate her cool touch, overheated as you are.
When sheâs deemed you sufficiently calm, she presses her lubed thumb against the ring of your ass and makes tiny circles on it. Your cunt clenches in anticipation.
âYouâre my good girl,â she coos, ghosting her other hand along your inner thigh. âMy baby. Good little slut for me, hm?â
Tiny: âMhm.â
Nat rewards you with the first knuckle of her index finger. You gasp, and she cuts it off with one of her own. âNo matter how many times I fuck you, youâre still this tight,â she says, almost like sheâs musing to herself. Another press of her lips to your ass, then she pushes her finger all the way in. âSo good for me.â
Yes. Good. You nod, eyes clenched shut.
Before she slips her second finger in, she gives you a few thrusts that have you groaning and dropping heavily into the laundry machine. Natâs patient with you, waiting for you to settle back down before pistoning both fingers into you. Once, twice, three times.
She scissors her fingers, curls them, twists them. Each time, you try not to writhe. Your earlier screeching has your throat too raw to make sounds louder than a breathy wail, so youâre left whimpering and heaving for breath.
Overlaying all of this is Natâs filthy whispers. She calls you good, her precious baby. Yet, every time your cunt leaks more arousal, or it clenches on nothing, or your sphincter spasms around her fingers, sheâs groaning out greedy whore, aching for cock. Your head spins from it all.
After an age, she drags her fingers out of you with a sound that verges on forlorn.
âIâm fucking you âtill Iâm bored,â she informs you.
âPlease, please, please,â is all you can say.
She laughs, probing at your asshole with the head of her strap-on, and youâre instantly babbling out pitiful sounds, and she just laughs a bit more. Your arms are damaged from how hard you grip onto them, from the occasional snap of your jaw around them.
The cock splits you open slowly, rubs against your hypersensitive skin, and you hiccup midway through a cry. Nat stops when she bottoms out, cursing under her breath at the sight of your ass wrapped tight around the girth of her piece.
Then, the sound of a shutter.
Your sound of confusion sounds like a mewl.
âDonât think,â she says lightly, jerking her hips into a grind, âjust take it.â
Your lungs run ragged, trying to take in enough air for your brain.
She strokes over your waist, down your thigh, and exhales softly. Pulls out halfway and drives the cock back in. âOh, sweetheart,â she sighs. âYes. Just take it.â
âYes,â you echo, eyebrows crinkling as she starts up a snappy pace, âyes, yes, yes-â
The fit is tight, excruciating in its pleasure. The friction of your muscles around her girth has you drooling on your arm, mouth slack and open.
After a particularly loud whimper, Nat plants a hand on your back and presses you into the rim of the machine. With the leverage, she can fuck into you harder, faster. Her other hand flits around your body and slithers down your navel to cup your mound.
You buck down into her hand.
âStay,â she barks. With her assistance, youâre returned to your previous height, much to your chagrin.
âPlease,â you moan brokenly, âNat, please.â
She pinches your ass, ignoring your mournful yowl. Somehow, she fucks you harder, your bodies swaying forward with every shove. The ache, the sound, of her front meeting your backside has you needier. Somehow, needier.
So full. Alight with sensation. Just not where you need it.
Nat takes pity. She reaches around and, this time, sweeps the pad of her finger over your clit.
You wail.
The finger draws tight circles around your clit, pressure becoming more deliberate, harsher, as your cries escalate intoânothing.
Your mouth falls open silently, overworked throat failing at producing noise.
And youâre fullâso fullâmore full. Nat releases into you with a grunt, a gasp, and then a long groan. Fingers splayed out on your back, the other hand slipping away from your dripping cunt.
Fake cum pools heavy inside you, fucked deep inside you by the strap that Nat keeps pushing into you.
Afterwards, she drapes her body over yours with a puff of breath.
âThank you,â you mumble eventually.
She barks a laugh. Itâs a cute sound, you hate to admit. âYouâre welcome for using you as a fleshlight.â
You manage a smile. âAny time.â
Another exhale as she hikes herself up using the edge of the machine and inches her cock out of you. She hums in sympathy with your quickened breathing.
You make to wiggle out after, but she stills you with a hand.
âWhatâs the rush, baby?â Thereâs a hint of mirth in her voice that you donât trust at all. A very familiar click of shutters. âLook at you, gaping for me. Leaking for me.â Her thumb whips out to catch the cum dribbling out, pushes it back in. âBetter not waste, though.â
Your clit throbs with your pulse. ââŠNat.â
âWhat?â But she doesnât give you a chance to continue, bulldozing on: âYou know, honey, the absence of your humongous mommy kink has been quite disappointing.â
âMy god.â
âLaundry machine? Anal? Coming inside? Check, check, and check. Weird familial-â
âPlease stop.â Your temple throbs with your pulse.
Natâs laugh, cackle, really, is much less charming this time around. âHold onto this for me, will you?â she basically croons. And then she sets the tip of what you assume is a plug at your asshole. âAnyway, donât act like you donât love this whore that you are.â
âNat,â you whine, but then you stop because you canât deny her. She makes a point of holding the plug in your ass at its widest point and then releasing it, enjoying the view of your ass swallowing it.
âGreedy little hole,â she notes. Then, she claps her hands together, makes a sound like sheâs dusting them off, and gets up. âWell, that was fun- Oh, you didnât start the dryer.â
âYou- Nat, youâre not leaving me-â
âSure am.â Beep. Beep-beep. The dryer starts loudly. Obnoxiously. Natâs shadow passes over you, and then thereâs the sound again, of camera shutters. âThese are great. Canât believe this is real life. Can you?â
âNat! You are not leaving me here!â
âThanks for letting me borrow your phone. Let me just send that over to myselfâŠâ The fact that she used your own goddamn phone to get a picture for this really drives the shame home. âAnyway, see you when the dryerâs done.â
Footsteps receding.
You shriek, shrill. Your ass closes tight around the plug, around the cum inside you, and you feel how utterly soaked your lower half is. And your upper half, from the laundry water.
âWeâre fucking over!â
Natâs laugh rings through the house.
I really like your take on the last one! How about these?
How she would deal with being around really touchy people,not the inappropriate touchy just like Hugs and Hand holding.Same for a touchy lover
How she feels about Social media and how much time she would spend on it
How she deals with starting to like someone romantically
How she makes friends
How she would handle a workaholic lover
And finally
How she reacts to random shows of affection from her lover
Hey! Yes these are fun!
1. I think at first, sheâs much more comfortable if she initiates it. I think she also can tell that you find touch comforting and she likes being able to show you love/affection and know sheâs doing it right.
I think she likes prolonged touch also. Sheâs more interested in sitting together, watching a movie, your head in her lap. Than she is about say a brief squeeze of her shoulder as you walk past. Itâs hard for her to read brief touch as affection, sheâs been programmed to expect the worst.
2. She texts. Sheâs in group chats/conversations. But, I donât think anything more. I donât think she wants to really be herself in front of strangers. And I donât think she cares much to know about them either.
Itâs not really social media, but I bet she watches cat videos on YouTube and sends you the links without context.
3. She doesnât. I think she goes two ways. If you are confident, then I think she goes shy. Things arenât moving at a pace that she is setting and sheâs feeling stuff thatâs overwhelming and exciting. I think she gets nervous and she starts overthinking herself. But, on dates she slowly remembers just how well you work together. Her eyes sparkle when sheâs around you, and she canât help smiling. The feeling trickles in and she lets it.
If you are shy, but honest and kind. Natasha worries and she tries to be distant. She sees the potential harm she can cause too clearly. Itâs up to you to draw her back to herself. Take her hand and remind her of the simplicity of being with you. Spending time together feels too good to ignore. You ground her until she settles, accepting that good things can happen for her too.
4. Easily and never. I think she can make a lot of people feel like her friend. She seems open and is always able to fit into their life. But, she doesnât trust many people with the parts of her that might cause friction. Youâd have to see her at her worst moments, or youâd have to be consistent for a long time for her to trust you truly.
For her, friendship exists within boundaries and control. Because, even a limited friendship is more than she thinks she deserves. She seems so entirely grateful to the Avengers and the friendships she has with them. But, she is also different with each of them, and never fully herself.
5. I donât know if Natasha could have a lover that works more than her. She is such an inherent workaholic herself. I think sheâd have to see that your work is taking a toll on you to notice that youâre working too hard. And from then on, she wouldnât be able to stop worrying about it.
I think sheâd try and make your life subtly easier for a long time before sheâd directly ask you to consider working less. Her work matters so much to her, so Natasha knows that yours does too.
More likely, a workaholic partner would indirectly make Natasha start to ease back on her own work. She needs to be there when you get back to work, if she wants to make sure you have a relaxing bath. She needs her lunchtime free if sheâs going to find you and make sure you take a break too.
You find a balance together.
6. Sheâs completely thrown at first. She tries to seem calm at the time, almost neutral. You have to not let it throw you off. Youâve bought her a necklace at a gift shop. Itâs spur of the moment, but you know in your heart that she should like it. When you offer to put it on for her, she accepts. But thereâs a silent tension between you and you donât know how to read it.
But then, when Natashaâs alone, she stares at herself in the mirror sometimes and she can barely believe the way her smile looks now. And the happiness curls inside her chest and she feels shy meeting her own gaze. She plays with her necklace more and more when sheâs thinking to herself.
And then, at a later time. Sheâll take your hand, or come up behind you and rest her chin on your shoulder, her arms wrapping around you.
Thatâs her reaction, thatâs her thank you. She just needs to allow herself to trust the happiness, before she can show it.â€ïž
title: ovary action
summary:
You squint at her. âYou know, just because you, personally, donât get your period doesnât mean you canât show a bit of sympathy.â
âGo ahead, bring up my traumatic forced sterilisation.â
notes: sfw mediocre gfs fluff where ur on ur period and nats, for once, an above average gf
inspired by conversations with @ataraxyaz
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Ohh my godđ„șđ„Č Natasha in this fic is so contradictory.. I LOVE her honestly I have never watched Jennifer's body but this is making me want to SOO badly oh gods succubus(?) Nat is so hot and mean this is amazingïżŒđđ
pairing: dark!nat/f!reader
summary:
Aside from the cannibalism, Nat is mostly the same. Still ridiculously strong and stupidly hardheaded. And that face â flinty, cold, mean. Natâs always been mean.Â
(inspired by jenniferâs body)
additional notes: mommy kink, dom/sub, bloodplay(?), dacryphilia, uhh pussy spanking, choking, unhealthy relationship, terrible aftercare
title from a song suggested by an anon: nobody by the crane wives
(ao3)
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beefy nat and a tiny reader at a supermarket
warnings: beefy!nat x filipina!reader, this is more of general!nat but whatever i enjoyed this anyways
You were practically at awe at the selection of snacks on the wall. With your eyes wide and mouth agape, Natasha couldnât help but chuckle at your little dance when you found the snack that you had been craving since a week ago.
âSee, Natty?â You turned to your girlfriend with a grin as you hugged the bag of V-Cut chips to your chest. âI told you Seafood City had them.â
The redhead shook her head playfully. âWell, you didnât really give me much choice when you dragged me into the car, now did you?â
You gave her a shrug as a smile lined your lips. You knew no matter how much you annoyed her, she couldnât resist you.
Which is how you ended up dragging her through five different aisles, throwing in whatever snack you wanted without care as she just watched and pushed the cart in tow.
âWhatâs that one, baby?â
You turned around with a pack of strawberry flavoured Mogu Mogu in your arms, your eyes wide as you looked down.
âItâs a drink, Natty. Tastes like those aloe drinks with the aloe chunks? Think youâll like them.â
She smiled and nodded, letting you drop the pack of drinks into the cart before moving on.
âWhatever you say, baby.â
| natasha x fem!reader | Â part one, two, three, four, five, six, seven |
summary: Sheâll find you. Sheâll find you. Sheâll find you. Sheâllâ
warnings: r being completely batshit insane AGAIN lol, FLUFF FINALLY : rated [T]
a/n: god im over it now i just wan them 2 be happy
Keep reading
Only Nat would be this aggressive before 6am.
đđđ
Hello!
You can have three very random bits. :)
----------------
Natasha screamed out hoarsely. Her own arms moved to shield her head, she flinched like you might hit her.
---------
Sipping her tea, Wanda watched the Spiderman for a moment. There were textbooks strewn across the nearby kitchen table and he was sprawled on the sofa like he had tripped over his feet and stopped moving when heâd landed somewhere soft.
She wondered if it was more pathetic that heâd obviously realised he was too tired to study and still had only managed to make it a few feet across the room before collapsing. He should be in bed, she thought hypocritically as she drank.
----------
A tall woman with dark hair half runs after you in the hallway. She catches your arm and you stop.
âAgent Hill.â She introduces herself. You just stand there.
âAgent Romanoff.â The woman begins again. You bristle at the formality and Agent Hill notices. âNatasha.â She corrects softly. âShe has items on board, she has you listed as next of kin.â
Your jaw clenches so hard that you canât speak. You barely manage a stiff nod as you follow Agent Hill to a small room on the base.
She stands in the doorway. You wait pointedly not moving until sheâs gone. Then, you check everywhere. Natasha isnât gone. She canât be. She made you a promise.
You check every hiding spot that youâve ever known her to have. You know youâre acting frantic, you canât even process what theyâre suggesting. She made you a promise. She wouldnât disappear on you.
All you find, taped to the back of her nightstand, is a carefully folded photo of you. Once you start crying, you canât stop.
Natasha Romanoff x Reader
Word Count: 2.5K
A/N: A soft angst kinda one shot. Reader used to date Natasha and gets a call from her during the night. Mentions alcohol and toxic past relationships.
She called you in the night. You answered. You always answered, but it felt dirty.Â
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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. Iâll 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. Itâs nice and heartbreaking, but also one of my favorite songs so give it a listen.
- Last thing, this wonât impact the fic a ton, but Iâm making Natashaâs 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, Tonyâs murder bot and his, its? minions. She supposes a robot couldnât possess a gender, but something about it was distinctly male. Probably the giant ego and the inability to listen to anyone except himself. Ultron wouldnât 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 didnât consider them at all. Sure, theyâd 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 thatâs 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 sheâd 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 didnât seem entirely present on the flight back to the tower.
Thorâs 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.
âSteve, you hear that?â 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.
âThor, Steve, are you receiving me?â 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 longerâ
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 couldnât help but shake the feeling of being watched.
That notion of prying eyes didnât 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 hadnât always been lucid during her time here.
That didnât 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 didnât 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 wasnât 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 didnât 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.
Thereâs 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 werenât 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.
âI miss you.â 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.
âOh Natalia.â You say, equally as quiet as a sad smile graces your face.
She canât take it anymore.
The way youâre 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 shouldnât when she knows what she meant to you. You hadnât 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.
âWhy did you let them take me?â 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 hadnât done since entering the room.
âYouâre a coward, Natalia.â
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.
âUmph.â Her back hit the door roughly as you had rushed her, pinning her there with your hand around her neck.
âPlease,â she started, but you cut her off by slapping her harshly across the face.
âNo. Iâm dead, and itâs all your fault.â
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 didnât 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.
âNatasha. Natasha, come on!â
It wasnât you though as she had hoped for, it was the wrong voice and the wrong name.
The voice was pleading though, and she didnât 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, âthe 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 thatâs 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 couldnât 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 itâs 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 sheâs 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 wasnât 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 Roomâs âconditioningâ, 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 everyoneâs 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 couldnât bring herself to care if someone shot her; maybe the world would be a better place after her death.
âWhat are you thinking about?â 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 hadnât 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.
âJust you,â 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 wasnât 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?
âWell it turns out I have impeccable timing then,â 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 couldnât see straight through.
âHow are you here?â She breathed, hesitant to really believe you were there, even as you walked out onto the balcony towards her.
âI have my ways,â you shrug, she doesnât need to know what you did just to get a moment alone with her. âThis place is beautiful at night,â 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 didnât 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 wasnât 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.
âI love you Natalia.â
The words startle her, and you canât tell if itâs 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, âI know you do.â
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 thatâs all that matters. She didnât 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 didnât 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 wasnât 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 Petrovitchâs office. It wasnât 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.
âAh there they are, my deadliest weapons, my proudest accomplishments.â He slapped a hand on each of your shoulders, a show of power, of control.
âThis one,â he gestured to you, âis yours,â 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.
âFollow me,â 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 wasnât 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 didnât even bother to hide her fear from Petrovitch.
âDo you know why I called you in here, huh?â 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.
âI wanted to see the look on your face as they were taken away. And you didnât disappoint.â
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.
âYou two were so funny. Thinking you could sneak around without getting caught. You were subtle, Iâll give you that, but I see everything.â
Still she didnât bite, even if all she wanted to do was kill the man where he stood and then burn this place to the ground.
âThis place,â he waved a hand around for emphasis, âis not one for friends, for allies. I thought you knew that.â 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 couldnât 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. âDo you know who that was?â
Of course she didnât, 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.
âIâm not going to tell you,â she could practically feel him preening at his own comment. âAll 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.â
Thatâs it, she wasnât going to let him stand there all smugly after slandering your name by spelling out how you were going to be tortured and killed. âYou bastard.â
âThere she is,â he chuckles before backhanding her across the face.
A knock on the door before two guards come in.
Petrovitch turns, finally addressing someone that wasnât her. âTake her, remind her of what happens when you forget your place.â
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 wouldnât be bothering her if there wasnât 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.
Sera they/them |adult| I apparently write smut now so a reminder that your media consumption is your own responsibility :)
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