Hiiii

🌻Meditating🍃

Stony bingo submission for breath! Mcu stony being coerced by Nat to solve their anger issues and just their issues with each other in general through ~meditation~

Feeling So Tired; Falling Apart

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Summary: You don’t think you could ever be loved again, until Natasha comes into your life and refuses to be pushed out.

Word Count: 1,051

Warnings: Severe depression, self-hate, loneliness, isolation, heavy mental health issues and discussions, angst, and cursing.

A/N: This is just a vent fic that I wrote for myself because I’m not ok lol and I cope with fictional characters. Again- this is a vent fic, and please proceed with caution. Title is inspired by My Kind Of Woman by Mac DeMarco because I cry to his music.

You didn’t know when you realized that you were unlovable.

Maybe it was when you noticed how during your entire childhood the kids from school wouldn’t talk to you or invite you over to their birthday parties, or when you would hear their laughter in the hallways when you walked past them.

Maybe it was when everyone talked about their best friends and their plans for the weekend, but you had just decided to take on an extra shift at work to ignore the loneliness you were drowning in.

Or maybe, just maybe, it was when you were finally fucking old enough to stop being so goddamn stupid, and realize that everyone who told you that they cared or loved you was lying.

The only person who maybe could sometimes make you feel loved was Natasha.

Natasha.

She was the one person who was there for you. And you loved her for it. God, you fucking loved her so much.

But even with her support, you couldn’t drive away your depression and your isolation.

Because, unlike you, Natasha had other people. She was reunited with Yelena and spent a lot of time with her. Wanda was her best friend, and you could almost always catch them together. Even though she was your girlfriend, it didn’t feel like Natasha thought of you as her favorite person.

Because, quite frankly, no one ever did. And no one ever will. And fuck, it was the loneliest feeling in the world.

A feeling that even Natasha couldn’t and wouldn’t understand. No matter how hard she tried.

“Please baby, please. You can’t just push everyone away like this.” Natasha’s voice broke, but you couldn’t even hear it. You were huddled under your blankets, tears streaming down your face. You couldn’t listen to her.

You took a breath in when you felt the bed dip and arms wrap around your waist. “Natasha, please go away.” You whispered. You reached out for your phone and huffed in annoyance when the redhead grabbed it out of your hands.

“You’re not doing this again. I will not watch you spiral, Y/N. We all love you and support you and care. I cannot stand by and watch the love of my life do this to themself. Please, just let us-”

You felt rage bubble in your stomach, and you threw her arms off of you. “Who’s us, Nat? No really, who’s fucking us? Because as far as I’m concerned, I don’t have anyone, Natasha! I’m fucking alone, and you can never fucking understand it!”

Natasha shook her head, “Baby, please listen to me. I hear you, and I understand you-”

“Fuck!” You yelled, tears streaming down your cheek as you stood up from your bed. “No, no you don’t! You have people who love you! Yelena’s your sister, and you talk to her! Wanda’s there and-”

“Y/N, listen to me,” Natasha said firmly, grabbing onto your arms and forcing you back down onto the bed. “Do you think in the Red Room that I never felt alone?”

You went silent, unable to respond.

“I was alone my entire childhood. Actually, I don’t even think what happened to me counts as a childhood. So please fucking believe me when I tell you that I know what’s it’s like to be so fucking alone. But guess what?”

You looked up at her.

“I found a family. The Avengers. I thought I’d be doomed forever too. It’s hard to get out of that mindset, I know. But you will find people who love you, honey. I love you. Yelena loves you. Wanda loves you.”

You shook your head and tried to ignore the sobs that were rising. “No, that’s different. You were made to be lovable because you’re… you’re a good person. You’re enough, you’re worthy. And I’m not.” You couldn’t hold back your sobs anymore.

You could practically feel the redhead’s heart break from your words as she pulled you into her arms, and refused to let you out of them. “You’re so worthy. So beautiful.” Natasha whispered in your ear, gently rocking you.

“No, I’m not. I’m so alone. I can’t do this anymore, I can’t-” Natasha shushed you and turned over, spooning you close to her. “Everyone says they love me but they never really do. I’m no one’s favorite person, no one’s top priority, I just-”

Natasha shook her head once again, placing a soft kiss on your forehead, “But you’re my favorite person, honey. You’re my top priority, the light of my life. I need you, okay? I care about you so, so much. And other people do, even if you can’t feel it.”

“That’s not true. So many people say that and they’re lying- you’re fucking lying!” You couldn’t contain all the pent-up emotions from the years hiding anymore. You tried to escape the redhead’s grasp but she simply held you tighter and peppered kisses on your face.

“I’m not lying. Baby, I love you so much. It breaks me to see you hurting like this, it really does. I know the other team feels the same way. We all want you to be okay, we want you to feel happy. Because if anyone deserves to be happy, it’s you.”

You finally stopped fighting and let yourself cry. Natasha traced patterns on your back and whispered affirmations in your ear, unwilling to leave you alone, even for a moment.

“Go to sleep. I know you’re tired baby.” Natasha said in a soft tone, helping you get back under the blankets. “And when you wake up, I’ll get you some food, okay? Just rest for now, love.”

“I’m sorry, I just-”

“No. I don’t want any apologies to be spoken, okay? You have nothing to be sorry for. I love you and I’m not leaving you. No matter what you go through, I will be here. My love is unconditional, and I’m not going anywhere.”

With blurry eyes you looked up at her, “Do you promise? You promise you won’t leave me?” Your voice broke, and Natasha nodded.

“I’m not going anywhere.”

And with the redhead by your side you realized that with Natasha, you maybe had a chance.

You had a chance to feel better. To be better. Because unlike everything else in your life, Natasha stayed.

Main Taglist: @catasha @romanoffs-wallflower @wandanatvoid @marvelwomen-simp @freesloppy @alotofpockets @thewidowsghost @didujustcallmedumb @dawnoftime22 @deadcvpid @romanoffscottage @millieistheunofficialsimp @heartoreadallthequeerthingz @avengerswriter4eva @multifandomlesbianic @romanottsmaximoff @chiyongberry

Natasha Romanoff Taglist: @milfloverslut @ghostlybailiffathletestatesman @madamevirgo @proudmorning @fanfictioniseverything

Hurt/Comfort Taglist: N/A

reunion

nsfw nat/f!reader

note: uh.. foreplay? idk i didnt edit this or read this, it was in my drafts and i never finished it because I’m lazy also i think this was supposed to be mediocre gfs verse but i forgot where i was going with this so here u go

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Iron Man 2 was funny as fuck like imagine you’re battling a terminal illness and at the end of what is arguably the worst week of your life some guy shows up and is like “we’ve been conducting a secret job interview for a position you didn’t apply for and we’ve decided to reject you” and you just go “alright fuck you too then” and revolutionize the energy business.

could you do some melina and yelena quiet day in fluff ?

Melina knows the storm is coming in because Cat keeps pawing at her left leg, back arched and pink tongue curling out in a long yawn. It’s Tuesday. Nothing else. No desperate communications, no scrambled transmissions, no bullets, no blood, no baited breath.

Yelena gives a noise from the bed. She had wandered into Melina’s spaces sometime past six during the woman’s brief trip to get water and use the bathroom. Melina came back, half dead with sleep only to find the once widow curled up underneath her comforter.

She looked to the window curtains, sighed, and climbed back into bed.

Now it’s nearing 8:30, and they ought to be doing some kind of preparation for…something. Anything.

Melina climbs back into bed. Yelena mumbles something that she can’t make out before clinging to Melina with such drowsy dexterity that the older woman can’t help but think of those animal programs they sometimes watch late at night. Baby capuchins clinging to their mothers who bounced from tree to tree, all wide eyed and curious.

“Not quite a monkey,” Melina decides softly. Her fingers massage the base of her daughter’s spine, a constant reminder of safety after a too close call with a grazing bullet during those inescapable years in the Red Room. She doesn’t know the story, not at all. But the fact Yelena trusts enough to let her have contact is enough for her mother. The scar is ugly and thick. She traces it with gentle fingers, humming a cossack lullaby under her breath between yawns.

“Can we go to the exhibit today?” Yelena’s voice is thick with sleep.

“What time?”

Some half mumble that is either 10 or 3.

Melina laughs. “Yes. We will go.”

“I’m hungry.”

“Then you ought to get up and make yourself something to eat. I’m a scientist, my love, not some…” she can’t remember the word in English. Or Russian. Or any of the other 15 drilled into her mind from age six. So she offers suggestions. “We still have fruit.”

“Nyet.”

Melina gives a long suffering sigh. “Ona govorit ‘nyet’ etomu i nyet.” she mutters. “Skoro ty sam sebe otkazhesh'sya!”

“No, I don’t.”

“Case in point.” Her lips press against blonde hair. “We can go to a bakery, but I’m not paying for a single thing.”

Yelena swings her leg over Melina’s left thigh, a tangled affection made of some thick red quilt and leggings with a hole in the knee.

“Okay,” she decides. Her body weight is almost entirely on top of her mother. “I like the fruit there.”

“I know,” Melina laughs. With a solid poke to her left hip, Yelena’s head comes up to look at her makeshift pillow full in the face. “It’s what you say yes to.”

“I say yes to other things.”

“Such as?”

Yelena considers, and then boops her nose against Melina’s. “Good morning. I say yes to that.” Her mouth curls into a grin.

That’s something.

Only Nat would be this aggressive before 6am.

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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Natasha x reader.

Natasha has a nightmare and reader hears from her room so she goes to comfort her and they both fall asleep in the end

warning: best friend!natasha x fem!reader, best friend to lovers trope, slight angst? mutual pinning, and sad nat :(

Her room is quaint but ever so full of her personality. With her white coated rug and fancy little Eames chair, you frown knowing that even in her sleep, Natasha finds no serenity.

Instead as you enter and find her whimpering and turning under her duvet, you rush to her aid. Worry present on your features before you wake her up in fear that she might hurt herself.

“Natty?”

You’re hopeful that your voice will lull her back to the land of the living and when it does, a sigh of relief falls so effortlessly from your lips.

Victory is short lived when you find her looking at you in distress. With brows pinched and lips quivering, a hand cups her cheek out of empathy.

“You okay?” You ask, though you’re more than aware that she isn’t. You’re giving her the opportunity to open up to you, on her own terms and on her own field. “Bad dream?”

She nods carefully, but melts within your touch. It flutters something inside of your chest, mixing with the guilt of falling in love with your best friend.

“Was about you,” she confesses. Her eyes flutter close in shame but you’re there to remind her that she’s not alone.

“You don’t have to talk about it, Natty,” you say, voice gentle and understanding that this, her trauma and her past, is a hard experience to go through again. You’re in no place, regardless of your friendship with the woman, to condemn her back.

She nods, grateful for your understanding. Though her fears return when she realizes that once you leave, she’ll be alone once more. Another night spent cold and heartless, a feat that she struggles to deal with every day until you came into her life.

And so through a quivering lip and flushed cheeks, she turns to you in hopes of an answer. “Will you stay?”

You freeze in your spot. Never have you slept in her bed with her beside you. Sure you’ve done it in the couch during nights dedicated to spending time with her but never alone in her room where vulnerability and trust are at stake.

Unsure, you look at her to confirm that you had heard correctly. “You want me to?”

Natasha shrugs, nearly embarrassed but still ever so truthfully in what she wants. The mere thing you adored about her, her honesty and while to some, her bluntness.

“If that’s alright with you,” she says.

Her words make a grin sprout on your chapped lips, but it’s when you nod that confirms your eagerness.

“I would love nothing more.”

pulling your lover closer by the waistband

Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Word Count: 633

[100 Kisses Masterlist] // [Main Masterlist]

Moving out of the compound was one of the best decisions you ever made. 

Don’t get you wrong, you loved living with your friends. But after living under the same roof as seven superheroes for over five years, you were ready to rip out your hair. From interrupted date nights to the lack of personal space, all you wanted was some peace and quiet every once and a while. 

So when you and Natasha finally tied the knot last year, she brought you out to a lakeside house, surprising you with two matching sets of keys. 

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since SOMEONE hasn't written anything new w/nat and cigs..

older!nat smoking a cigarette as younger!reader passes by her and reader looks lost and reader IS lost bc why would an innocent young thing like reader be in that part of town?

warnings: older!nat, younger!reader, stranger danger, use of cigarettes and implied underaged smoking. SFW

Natasha raised a brow at you. “What’re you doing on this side of town, sweetheart?”

She grins at the way your face flushes in response to the nickname, even more so as you tuck fallen strands of hair behind your ear

“I- I don’t think I took the right bus home.”

The older woman cocked her head, the cigarette between her fingers burning with a smell as she shook the ashes off the tip. The redhead took a hit, inhaling softly before she exhaled with a puff of smoke leaving her.

“What bus did you take, hon?”

You swayed in your spot. “The forty one.”

Natasha clicked her tongue and shook her head, your eyes widened and your cheeks warmed at the way the stranger’s gaze almost made you feel hot and bothered.

You could tell she wasn’t part of town. But just somehow, the way she dressed, clad in a leather jacket, black skinny jeans that hugged her toned thighs, and the under-the-knee-boots told you everything.

Her flaming red hair had had you in a trance as she looked down at you. Her height was almost more like and you suddenly felt insecure for being so meek and inexperienced in front of a woman who looked like she could be old enough to be your mom.

“That bus heads upstate,” she took another inhale of her cigarette, “unless that’s where you’re heading?”

You shook your head, a frown present on your lips. You worried that you were going to be late in getting home. It was only five but you had planned to be back by six and you knew with how far you had gone, there was no way you’d be on time.

“No, miss. I live further down.”

She hummed, fluttering her lashes at your gaze before she outstretched her arm and offered you her cigarette. “Want some?”

You blinked curiously at the woman. “I’m not allowed to smoke, miss.”

The redhead looked at you, her eyes turned into slits, her emerald eyes like snakes staring right at you. She took a moment before she took back her hand, dropping her cigarette onto the floor where she stomped on it.

“Well, that’s too bad.” She sighed, peeling herself off the wall before she stood straight. “I’ll give you a ride home, sweetheart.”

You beamed at her offer, making the older woman grin at your eagerness to get in a car with her. The young and naive. She could have fun with you. You looked like a dyke, and her gaydar is never off.

“Really?”

She shrugged. “Why not? I’m going down south too.”

Your eyes widened and Natasha could help but mock it as she stood over you, and as she started walking, with you behind her into tow, the silence returned.

“Oh, and stop calling me miss. You make me feel like I’m fifty. I’m only forty, dear.”