Dozens Of NYC Subway Riders, Fresh Off A Robyn Concert, Singing “Dancing On My Own” While Waiting

CAPTAIN MARVEL (2019) + Letterboxd, as requested by anonymous (insp.)

Oh gods this is so good my heart is melting😭 This really helped some of my insecurities and Scarlet is so sweet💕💕 You managed to convey emotion really well I honestly felt anxious before the premiere- I love this

What We Talk About When We Talk About Love

Scarlett Johansson x Reader

Word Count: 4.1K

A/N: Based on this lovely request. Please note this talks about body insecurity and also coming out. There are also sexy scenes :)

——

You didn’t know why Scarlett loved you, but you trusted that she did. You didn’t always love yourself. Kindness was easier with others than it was for yourself.

All the first moments between you and Scarlett had been hesitant. You’d met through friends, there’d been group dinners, nights at bars. You’d liked her smile, but you didn’t let yourself consider it.

You hadn’t known she liked women. Noone had. When she’d taken your hand the first time, in the back of the taxi cab, the movement had been rushed. Her eyes had been focused forward, but you’d caught her shallow breaths. There’d been a heartbeat of a moment, you’d felt everything hang in the balance. Then, you’d squeezed her hand back. 

Scarlett had turned to face you, eyes wide. Her cheeks had shimmered golden with the glow of the night time traffic. She’d looked briefly surprised, and then, abruptly she’d looked scared. You’d held her gaze as you smiled.

Scarlett had searched your eyes for a long moment before she’d smiled back. But, she did smile back.

You left the taxi cab together.

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Triple Threat

Summary: Three friends, one bet and two idiots in love. What could go wrong?

Natasha Romanoff x Super Soldier Fem Reader

Word Count: 5K

A/N: My first NatxReader fic ever. Hope you enjoy <3 

“Do you think she’s single?”

The girls look in your direction, not even bothering to pretend they’re actually working out at the Tower’s gym. Oblivious to their conversation and with your headphones in place, you keep the pace on the treadmill, pushing yourself to the limit.

“Don’t know, Minds. I just want her to use me for a night”, the blonde interjects.

“Keeping it classy, Lindsay” 

“I don’t think she’s dating anyone. We would have heard by now”, another girl comes behind them and the three share a conspiratory look. “Honestly, I almost asked her out when we were shooting that promo video for the animal shelter. Watching her hold a puppy made me ovulate”

“You should have” Lindsay says. “You missed your chance and now I’m gonna do it”

“Nu-uh, I called dibs”

“No one did, Kate” Mindy rolls her eyes.

“Alright, let’s all ask her out, see who gets a date”

“What if she says yes to all of us?”

“I don’t mind sharing” Lindsay winks at her friends. “Now, rock paper scissors to decide which one goes first”

Too engrossed in their argument, the friends never noticed Natasha Romanoff. The spy threw a hard kick at the punching bag and left the gym, deciding that if she had to endure another second listening to that stupid conversation she was gonna kill all three of them.

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kotenok part. ten

the team goes on a small vacation upstate, you and natasha enjoy yourself, and conversation amongst the team are made.

older!natasha romanoff x younger!reader

warnings: major age gap, mommy kink, fingering, squirting, wanda is a jealous bitch, awkward situations.

series masterlist

The sun shone on you like a glow that made your skin tingle. You smiled at the feeling, warmth replacing the ache and break in your heart from the breakdown you had a week ago.

You suppose it’s over now. Natasha was with you and so was the team. However much you despised them for their reluctance about your relationship with the older woman, their company at the cabin was something you admired.

It felt like a family outing.

Like everything was normal.

And as you sat on the edge of the pool in your red bikini, feet saturated in the water below you, chuckles from Peter and MJ echoed in your head. In the far distance, from the in pool bar, you could hear chatter from Tony and Rhodey.

It was the many moments with the team where everyone gathered. You were thankful everyone found a day off where the world didn’t need saving to travel up north of New York to the expensive little cottage Tony owned.

With the whole team invited, you carried on with your tanning as you watched them through your pink tinted sunnies perched up on the bridge of your nose.

“You having fun?”

You turned around to find your red headed girlfriend smiling at you. The older woman, mocking your outfit, but in a black bikini with a sarong wrapped about her waist, sat comfortably on her lounge chair with a book in her hand.

You smiled. Then softly nodded. “Are you?”

The older woman shrugged, and then sat up. Perched up on her shoulders, her eyes trailed from you to her friends who were in the pool.

“It’s hot.”

You giggled. “It is. I feel like I’m getting roasted out here.”

Natasha’s lips quirked up into a grin, her eyes now fully focused on you as you stared at her through your sunnies. She chuckled along with you and then whipped her head back to look into the cottage.

She contemplated it for a moment and you quirked a brow at your girlfriend, curious to what she was thinking.

“Wanna settle in our room for a moment? It’s colder in there.” There was an implication in her sultry tone but you knew her all too well. Natasha was insinuating more than what she intended and you saw through her.

She apparently caught on to your gaze, smiling as the gears worked through in your head. She smiled, setting her book down with the bookmark apparent for her to see.

“No funny business.”

You smiled. Unsure of her promise, not that it was one in the first place but you knew there was always something more.

You stood up from the pool, a grin present on your lips as water cascades down your thighs. And as you inched yourself towards your lover, a hand out for her to take, she sat up from her chair and took it.

Leading you inside the house, the cold air hits the both of you with surprise, your nipples blossom with ease but Natasha turn to get a glimpse. Instead, the both of you pad your way down the hallway until you found the room where you and her are suppose to stay.

Unbeknownst to both of you, the eyes of a certain Sokovian from the other end of the pool, watched as the two of you disappeared.

When you and Natasha find yourself all alone in your shared room, you find her words correct as the air dries the droplets of water on your skin.

She’s attached to you the moment the door clicks shut. Her skin is abnormally cold, and it rises goosebumps on your own as sweeps hair away from your neck.

“I can’t wait for tonight’s bonfire.” You admit it through a soft whisper, your eyes focusing on the eccentric decor of the room, attempting to distract yourself from Natasha’s lips against the nape of your neck.

She hums, carefully and gently in response. “I’m sure we’ll have fun. Have you enjoyed the vacation so far?”

You gave her a nod, a smile presenting itself on your lips in genuine content. It had been a while. You hadn’t felt this happy since you and Natasha made it official. You found a family and they found you. It was all working together, even if it wasn’t perfect. It was all here.

“I haven’t had this much fun in a while.”

Her hand snuck around your waist and to your front, slender fingers and cherry red painted nails gently scraped the front of your tummy.

“That’s good, kotenok. I’m glad.”

Natasha was relentlessly with her teasing, but somehow, she managed to work her way through it with small talk about the cottage. And as she dipped her hand under your red bikini bottom, she asked you about how you felt about hiking.

You frowned, then bit your lip when Natasha found out you were shaven bare underneath as she slightly paused in her touch.

“I don’t like walking.” She smiled against your neck, then moved up to nip your lobe before her finger dip to swirl the pads of her fingertips against your clit. You whimpered, your head lulling back against Natasha’s shoulder where she welcomed you.

“I know you don’t, baby.” She cooed against your ear, feigning a conversation as her finger now travelled further south to smear your arousal over your cunt.

If anyone could see the two of you, it would be a sin. The sight of you settled on Natasha’s lap, legs parted with the obvious sight of the older woman’s hand between your legs and down your bottoms, fingers sawing back and forth as she fingered you, hell would let lose.

You felt ashamed. Not of your relationship but that you left your friends and family out in the pool to be a slut with your girlfriend. Though, you’re sure no one could blame you. With the older woman sitting behind you, she was an insatiable thing.

You adored her. Adored how she couldn’t get enough of you. Adored how she worshipped your body as if it were the only one out there. Compared to Natasha’s, you were a small, petite, and meek girl. Compared to her’s, she had legs of a super model, abs of a swimmer, and creamy clear skin of that a whiteboard.

You weren’t jealous. You didn’t envy your girlfriend. It was something you could never do. But you do wonder from time to time, how a woman such as her, mature and grown, could find fulfillment in someone like you.

Perhaps that’s what some of the team thought. The age gap. The taboo of it all. The media hasn’t found out yet. You and her were careful. Even while out in the city, the media had only dubbed the two of you as bestest of friends. You could only laugh at the pictures.

You didn’t mind. You had Natasha all to yourself. Even if it were just within the walls of the tower, you and her were content. Even if they really did think the two of you were gal pal’s. Best friends don’t finger each other the way she had been doing.

And as Natasha nuzzled her nose against your cheek, holding your firm against her front, you could feel her breasts press up firmly against your back. Her taunt nipples chafing against her bikini top, touching your back like they were teasing you.

So, you bucked your hip and wiggled your hips against her. She grinned and then nipped the thin skin of your pulse.

“My insatiable little girl.” Her voice was sultry in tone, almost like honey. “Mommy’s fingers not enough?”

Your breath was shaky when you spoke. “Y-You just feel so good, mommy.”

Natasha smiled and you felt it against your cheek as she pressed her face against yours. You had fallen deep as she pumped her fingers in and out, and turns out she had too as both of your breathing had synced in tow of your orgasm.

And that was the thing about the older woman. She took pleasure in your pleasure. She always made sure you were satisfied, always taken care of. You always attempted to return the gesture, sometimes fingering her with her praises, and sometimes eating her out when she was still asleep.

But it had always been you.

To Natasha, there was nothing more important than you. She made to show you that through everything she did. Even if others despised her for it. You were everything.

“You’re so tight, kotenok.” She said it through a hiss. “God, you’re such a pretty girl for me, baby.”

You flushed under her words which caused her chuckle.

“It’s true, dekta. It’s all you.” You whimpered when she curled her fingers, and she even mocked your little whine when she fastened her hand. “Let go, honey. Let go. It’s just me.”

When you shook and cried in her hold, hips bucking in tow, Natasha held you through the way until her fingers soaked and dripping. The squelching sound filling your ears before you laid limp in her arms as you finished.

“There we go, kotenok.”

You whimpered when you felt her fingers leave you, feeling empty, you squirmed in her lap and sighed.

“It’s still hot.”

Natasha chuckled and helped you sit up. Her cheeks, now a crimson red, stared at you as you peered up at her from where you sat.

“Let’s go wash off then.” You raised a brow at her suggestion. “For real this time. No funny business.”

She helped you stand, legs wobbly as the two of you walked into the large shower. Tony really did outdo himself with the cottage. It was beautiful and lush. Eccentric but still modern in a sense.

And as the two of you stood under the shower, Natasha kept to her promise.

Chatter echoed against your ear, your lips curled into a smile, your body curled against Natasha’s lap, while her hands were curled against yours.

You smiled when she sat her chin on the top of your head, occasionally pulling away to get a sip of her beer which almost made you jealous and out of place as everyone had a glass in their hand. Even Peter as he sat close with MJ.

But you didn’t mind. You didn’t need to be intoxicated to enjoy what was happening. That was, Tony telling a story of that one time where Steve asked him what was an OnlyFans, as he was approached by a fan once asking that he should create once.

The whole group fell into a fit of laughter, making you smile as you watched the scene unfold. It was a story that you hadn’t heard of. It had happened way before you even joined the team, but it was a story that you were going to cherish like a memory.

The scene in front of you made you feel warm and all giddy inside. It felt odd. It was one of those rare occasions where you could feel happy without worry, without any fear or stress. Those moments where it was just you and your favourite people in the world.

You smiled as Tony made large and dramatic hand movements, falling deeper into Natasha’s hold. Rhodey eventually got him to settle down, making the billionaire to roll his eyes in tow while Pepper scolded him for being so loud.

The moment was wonderful. And when the group fell back into its comfortable silence, you sighed and snuggled close to Natasha’s arms.

Tony caught your gaze and he smiled. “Feeling cozy, Romanoff?”

You heard Natasha hum beneath you but you also watched her roll her eyes at Tony’s teasing antics. You were cozy, both of you were and you couldn’t help but grin at Tony’s question in response.

“Where did you two go off this afternoon?”

He was talking about when Natasha suggested the two of you cool off in your shared room. Which turned from cooling off to two fingers, knuckles deep inside of you, the comment made you flush under the fire’s warmth.

“We cooled off.” Natasha said it ever so simple with a face that said nothing at all. Her emerald striking eyes staring at Tony.

It was all fun and games.

Until Wanda spoke up with a nerving comment.

“Didn’t sound like it was just cooling off.”

The silence now became uncomfortable and you frowned in return, your eyes looking over at your friends who’s gaze were settled on the wooden deck.

Natasha settled uncomfortably under you and repositioned you on her lap. She scoffed and turned to Wanda.

“What makes it your business, Maximoff?” Natasha’s tone was firm and irritated, it held an octave lower than usual and her grip on you was tighter.

You frowned and turned, smushing your face against her breasts to hide away from the embarrassment.

“How about we settle down—”

“It’s my business when the two of you are always sneaking off to fuck.” Wanda’s voice was much louder and you couldn’t help but cower under her tone. “This is supposed to be a family event. A team thing. But you two can’t keep it in your pants for at least five fucking days.”

“Wanda.” Steve’s voice echoes against the silence and you see him with a glare harder than you’ve ever seen. Your eyes bat from the captain to the Sokovian witch. “Keep it to yourself. Natasha and Y/n are minding their own business. They’re in a happy and wonderful relationship and I suggest you keep your words to yourself unless you want to be sent home.”

“Tasha...”

The redhead snuggled close to you, both of you watching the scene unfold as Steve looks at the younger woman across from him. It’s all awkward, the topic of your relationship with Natasha was one that wasn’t usually brought up as it caused rifts in the team, but seeing one of the many few people stand up for the both of you? Something ached in your chest.

Wanda rolled her eyes, and within the writhing moments as she stood, she left and disappeared into the house.

The fire crackling settled the silence in the air, the warm auburn glow from the heat made you frown at how the night had been ruined. You shook your head and sat up from your seat, jerking Natasha to attention.

You smiled at the woman, pecked her lips and moved away from her lap. “I’ll be back.”

Her brows furrowed but before she was able to protest, you had slipped away into the darkness.

ITS BEEN SO LONG !

Also a dark!Wandanat where they see you at your job one day and have to be with you 😩

A/N: I would love nothing more than for wandanat to see me working and just be like “hm...let’s fix that” also I know I’ve been gone for years 🥲

warnings: dark!fic (18+ ONLY)

✨👻 spooky month requests 👻✨

-

“Hey, can you take the customers that just came in?” you hear your manager ask and nod, smoothing your apron as you head to the front.

“Good morning! How can I help you today?”

Two women stand on the other side of the counter, and as their attention diverts from the items behind the glass to you, charming smiles appear on their faces. The one on your left has bright blonde hair resting on her shoulders in contrast to her counterpart with orange hair, both hiding behind sunglasses, but you couldn’t help feeling like you’d seen them somewhere. 

“Good morning, love,” the orange haired woman speaks softly as she steps a bit closer. “We’ve never been here before. What do you recommend?”

“If you’re feeling something sweet, these donuts are amazing,” you tell them as you gesture to a couple, moving down the counter a bit and the pair follows. “If not, these cheddar bagels are also my favorite.”

“I think we’ll take something sweet,” the blonde woman answers with a grin. “If you don’t mind.”

“Not at all!”

You carefully package the donuts that your customers select and ring up the transaction, answering a few questions about what the city is like, as they’re apparently just visiting for a while and wanted to know more about the area. When you finish, you’re startled by the blonde woman leaning over the counter to tuck a cash tip in your apron pocket before the pair thanks you and head out while holding hands.

“They must really like you,” your manager jokes as they approach and you cover your face with a laugh.

Outside of the bakery, Wanda climbs onto the bike behind Natasha, placing the food in her bag before wrapping her arms around her waist.

“Do you think asking someone we just met to join us while we’re on the run is coming off too strong?” Wanda asks over Natasha’s shoulder, who chuckles in response almost immediately.

“Who said we were going to ask?”

Seera-Li Marvel Masterlist

╰(*´︶`*)╯♡

Natasha Romanoff

Show Mommy What You Got  NS*FW

Natasha your mommy, decides that you look stunning in lingerie she chose on a vacation in Amsterdam and decides to do something about it.

Warnings: Mommy Kink, WLW sex, implied age gap, reader has a pus*sy, reader wears a bra + panties, no pronouns are used for reader, edging, fingering, clitoral play, Natasha romanoff is referred to as Mommy multiple times, reader is called a sweet thing, Kotenok and sweet heart, author has no clue what Amsterdam is like

At Her Altar, As Her Worship Fluffy

Ever since your turning you have been succumbing to the cold. Your faithful mentor and vampiric 'mother,' Natasha would never allow it to happen.

Warnings: General blood themes because of vampires, Natasha gets bitten consentually on the breast by reader, reader drinks breast milk and blood, reader sucks on Natasha's breasts, no pronouns are used for reader, reader gets called little love

Speak up baby NS*FW

Mommy decides to test your limits. It will of course, be fun for you.

Or

Natasha fucks you until you cry.

Warnings: Heavy general NS*FW themes, presumed mutual consent, presumed safe word, mommy kink, use of a vibrator on reader, use of a strap on- on reader, use of bondage (ropes) on reader, reader gets breasts played with, overstimulation, reader gets manhandled by Natasha, reader cries from pleasure and overstim, mentioned edging, reader begs to stop, clitoral and gspot over stimulation, reader sucks on Natasha's breasts, multiple orgasms, reader gets called a sl*ut, sweet heart, baby and kotenok, Natasha gets called mommy once, no pronouns are used for reader, reader has a pus*sy and breasts

Naughty girls NS*FW

You and your mommy, Natasha, have some fun during movie time. Until you misbehave.

Mommy kink, man handling, se*x toy usage (dildo), implied age gap, reader gets penetrated, vaginal penetration, coc*k warming, grinding, thigh riding, sex with clothes on, WLW sex, Natasha gives reader neck hickies, Reader gets called puppy, baby, honey and little girl, reader comes without permission, implied mutual consent, degradation, squirting, light begging, implied punishment, reader misbehaves, implied rules

To be continued...

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.”

Keep reading

Summary: Facing the threat of deportation to her home country Russia, book editor Natasha Romanoff comes to an agreement with her assistant to get married. With that, comes a visit to the assistants hometown and meeting all of her family. Can they fool everyone that they’re in love? Will they have to pretend for the rest of their lives?

Tags: Natasha Romanoff x Reader, Natasha Romanoff Fic, Natasha Romanoff Fanfic, Natasha Romanoff, Black Widow Fic, Movie Fic, The Proposal (2009), Reader has Daddy Issues, Natasha is Readers Boss, Fake Marriage, Fake Dating, Meeting Family,

Warnings: Cursing, Mentions of Sex, Marriage?, Daddy Issues, Boss x Assistant,

Word Count: 3.4K

Taglist: @timmyslover (please ask to join through asks or message me!) Let me know if you want to be tagged for this series :)

A/N: this fic is based on the 2009 movie The Proposal with Sandra Bullock and Ryan Reynolds. some of the events have been changed to fit Natasha and to make it easier for me lol. please please leave comments or come scream at me about it :)) i’m actually estatic about this fic istg. also i’m seeing spider-man for the first time today wish me luck. just got my booster shot so i’ll exercise my arm while wiping tears

The Proposal Chapter One

Working for Natasha Romanoff is hard on a normal day. On a day like today, it’s absolute hell. You woke up later because the power in the building went out sometime in the night. Which leaves you where you are now, rushing around your apartment, looking for anything you can put on. There’s one clean dress shirt hanging in the closet, and you find the slacks you wore yesterday on the floor. They look clean enough, so you put them on, hopping around on one foot frantically while putting on one shoe.

You practically run to the Starbucks that’s close to where you work. Kate, the barista, already has your drinks made.

“You’re a lifesaver, Kate.”

“Don’t forget it,” she calls back with a smile.

You go as fast as you think you can with hot coffee, yelling apologies behind you at the people you bump into.

The elevator doors shut behind you just as you make it into them.

“Just in time,” you say to yourself, casting glances and awkward smiles at the people next to you. As soon as you hear the ding for your floor, you get again start hauling ass to Natasha’s office. Unfortunately, because that’s how today is going to be apparently, you crash into someone, spilling coffee down the front of your shirt.

A string of curses falls from your lips as you help the man up. Your shirt has dark stains all down the front. You’re pretty sure it’s not something Natasha will accept in her office.

You walk down the row of desk and stop in from of the first person you see that’s wearing something you can match with and not look like you picked a random shirt.

“I’ll give you company seats to the New York Avengers if you give me your shirt. You have five seconds to agree.” You start counting, and they run to the bathroom to change. You follow, thanking them profoundly along the way.

You rush to Natasha’s office, getting there right before she does. When Natasha walks in, you’re waiting by her desk, coffee in hand. She curtly thanks you and sits down at her desk, going through her paperwork.

She’s wearing a dark blue dress with a matching belt. Her hair is pinned back in the illusion of a simple bun, but you know how long she probably spent doing it. You’ve never seen her hair down. You know better than to ask.

“Your immigration lawyer called,” you say quickly, wanting to get this part of the day out of the way and go back to your desk.

“Cancel the appointment. And add open up my schedule on that weekend in September we talked about. Fury has decided to do Oprah.”

“Fury decided or you worked your persuasive magic on him and made the decision for him?”

“They’re the same thing,” she dismisses.

“Right. You have a conference call with Steve Rogers in 37 minutes and a staff meeting at 9:00. Also, someone called about the winter release for-“

“Tell then it is what it is and that if they think I can change time they should pay me more.”

“I’ll tell them politely no.”

“Waste of time,” she mutters. You’re about to leave when you remember that you have one more think to ask about.

“Did you have the chance to read the manuscript I sent you?” you ask, standing on the opposite side of Natasha’s desk.

“I started it, but I lost interest fairly quickly. Nothing really impressive about it.”

You start to exit the room and relax a little bit at your desk, but Natasha calls you back.

“Wait. Who is Kate and why does she want me to call her?”

You turn around slowly, meeting Natasha’s uninterested gaze. “That was mine. Yours spilled.”

“You drink a lavender latte with almond milk and foam?”

“Yes,” you say convincingly. “It tastes like summertime in my mouth,” you end lamely, your statement sounding much more like a question.

“Hm. It’s strange, because that’s my exact drink order. You wouldn’t possibly be ordering my drink for yourself in case you spill one of them because you’re scared shitless of what would happen. No, that would make you very much pathetic.”

That’s actually exactly what you do. She knows it. You know it. You should admit it. But what comes out of your mouth instead is: “Of course not. I just really like lavender coffee.”

“Mhm. The phones are ringing. Go do your job and answer it.”

“You got it.”

Again, before you leave she calls out to you. “Oh, one more thing. There’s a book fair this weekend that I need you to go to with me.”

“This weekend?” you ask.

“Yep,” she says, popping the p loudly. “Is that a problem?” Yes.

“No.”

You spend a while at your desk, taking calls and filing through the manuscripts that Natasha thinks are worth her time. You make sure to check the simple things like format and grammar, outlining them in red pen so she doesn’t have to do it.

Being an editor has always been your dream job. Growing up, books had been your form of escape from the overwhelming weight of your family. They led you through good times and bad, and gave you something to look forward to during the worst. Being Natasha’s assistant gives you an amazing opportunity to be just that, if you can make it.

You’re interrupted from a thrilling story when the phone rings.

“Ms. Romanoff’s office, how can I help you?“

“There’s my baby,” a familiar voice says.”

“Hi, Mom. I’m at work, is everything okay?”

“You sound stressed? Is that devil woman working you too hard again?” she frets. You can hear her frown.

“When is she not? Look, mom, I needed to talk to you anyway. I can’t come to Grammy’s birthday this weekend.”

“What?” You have to hold the phone away from your ear, wincing at the sudden volume of her voice. “You already bought tickets. You promised you would be here.”

“Yeah, well plans changed. It was nothing I could control.”

“Put your boss on the phone. I have a few choice words for her.”

“If only I could”- you look up to see Natasha walking over to your desk-“offer you a better deal, but unfortunately our prices are set. Goodbye.” You hang up the phone and turn to Natasha.

“Was that your mom?” she asks, walking down the aisle.

“Yep.”

“Did she want to kill me like usual?”

“Yep. She’s mad you’re making me miss Gammy’s 90th birthday.”

“Good. Consistency is key.” She stops at the door marked for D. Dreykov, knocking and pushing the glass door open.

“Ms. Romanoff, it’s good to see you,” acknowledges Dreykov, putting down his drink. With a vague sense of puzzlement you notice that it’s whiskey.

“It’s fucking eight thirty in the morning,” you murmer, low enough so Dreykov doesn’t hear. You’re pretty sure Natasha does, but she hides her smile by turning away. Even if she wasn’t, you’re going to pretend she does just to annoy her.

“You as well. How are you?” she ventures, looking pointedly at his glass.

“The same. You?“

“I can’t complain,” says Natasha, turning to a huge wooden armoire in the corner of the room.

“Is it new?” she inquires, tracing it with her fingers.

“It’s an eighteenth century piece,” he brags. “But to my office, yes it is new. You can't come here to talk about furniture, Ms. Romanoff. How can I help you?” You brace for what comes next. Knowing Dreykov, this isn’t going to go well.

“You’re fired,” Natasha says bluntly, no look of sympathy on her face. It’s a face you never hope to see looking at you.

“You better be joking,” laughs Dreykov.

“Do I look like I’m joking?”

“You’re overreacting. You got Fury to do the show anyway.”

“Am I? You have two months to find yourself a new job. Everyone will be told that you resigned.” With that, Natasha walks out, you right behind her.

“What’s the update? How’s he looking?” she asks, questioning you about Dreykov’s reaction. You look back and see Dreykov pacing around the room.

“Fuming. Trying to decide if he’s going to come over here.”

“Shit. Don’t do it, Dreykov. It’s the wrong move.”

“He’s doing it.”

“Damn it.” Natasha turns around to see Dreykov coming towards her.

“You bitch,” he seethes. “You fired me because you thought I was better than you! You’re threatened by me, so you took me out. This has nothing to do with the Fury interview.” His voice raises volume, attracting interested stares from the people in the office. The same people who are quick to look away whenever Natasha starts speaking.

Calmly, she explains. “You’re right. I didn’t fire you because of Fury. That would be pointless and putting my own neck on the line. I fired you because, not only are you lazy and an asshole, you treat everyone in this office, including me, your boss, like they owe you something just for being in your presence. You show up late, drink all day, and turn in shitty work. And, frankly, I just don’t like you. So there you go. That’s why you got fired. If I hear another word I’m going to have my assistant over there call security to escort you out. Looks like you won’t be resigning after all.”

He starts to speak, but Natasha cus him off. “Not another word.” Her eyebrows raise, almost challenging him to speak again. He doesn’t. Instead, he storms off to his room like a child.

“Upstairs called my office directly. I’ll have to go up there in”-Natasha checks her watch-“five minutes. After ten in the room, I want you to make up an excuse and come get me. We have to much to do.”

“Sure thing.” Natasha heads the opposite direction while you go back to your desk. The office relaxes significantly as she leaves, people starting to talk about what just happened. You almost hear a sigh of relief sweep across the office when she’s gone.

You wait ten minutes, answering one call and sitting there the rest of the time. Then, you take the elevator to the next floor, deemed by everyone “the upstairs.” At the end of the hallway is a large office with huge windows.

You pop your head into the door of the office and are met with an immediate call to get out. Such polite people.

“Sorry to interrupt, gentlemen. Natasha, I have Sam Wilson on the phone for you. I told him to call back later, but he insists that it’s important and cannot wait.” You expect her to come with you like she always does when she tells you to do this, but she doesn’t move. She just stares at you, then looks back at her bosses, then back at you.

She mouths something to you that you can’t decipher. She does it again, and motions for you to go stand next to her.

“I understand the situation that I’m currently in, that’s why I think it’s important that you know…”

She puts her arm around your shoulders awkwardly and announces: “We’re getting married.”

“Who is?” you question, a fake smile on your lips.

“Us. Me and you. The lovebirds of the office,”she says through her teeth.

“Uh, right,” you turn to her bosses and smile at them, trying to figure out what the fuck is going on.

“You know, she’s just so…” Natasha trails off, looking at you.

“I feel like it shouldn’t take that long to think of an adjective,” you mutter.

“Honest,” bites Natasha sweetly. “She’s honest to me. It was all those late nights together and early mornings, you really see the worst of each other. But that couldn’t stop us, could it sugarbear?” Sugarbear? Really? You send an unamused look at Natasha, who smiles pointedly back at you.

“Sure, honeycomb,” you grimace at the endearment, hoping it doesn’t sound half as ridiculous as you think it does. “We just couldn’t help ourselves from the attractive pull.”

“Something simply happened between us that I can’t explain,” concludes Natasha.

“Something definitely happened. And there’s definitely no logical explanation,” you agree.

“Is this-this is what you want, right? This is good?” Natasha motions between the two of

you, looking at the two men in front of you. They’re both wearing business smiles.

“Just make it official,” one says, pointing to his ring finger.

“That’s hot,” says the other. You want to punch him. You don’t think your fiancé (?) would appreciate that, though.

“Great. We’ll go to the immigration office right now and get this all sorted out. Thank you, gentlemen.”

“Of course. Ms. Romanoff, Ms…” the man at the desk trails off, giving up on remembering you name. He shrugs and goes back to his work.

“Ouch,” you murmur. You walk the rest of the way in silence, trying to figure out what’s going on. Natasha looks completely calm and in control.

Once you make it to you office, you shut the door, expecting some sort of explanation. Instead, Natasha sits down and starts working.

“What is it?” she asks.

“Do you want to tell me what that was about? Because last time I checked we aren’t engaged and very much aren’t in love.”

“I was going to be deported to Russia and fired. This makes it where that doesn’t have to happen,” she states simply.

“And why would I comply with this? No offense, but I don’t need you to have a career here,” you inquire.

“Because if you don't, do think you’re going to be fired.” You raise your eyebrows at her, and she continues. “Dreykov, who we just fired, is going to take my place. You think he’s going to keep you around? I can answer that for you. No. He’s not. So if you want to be an editor, you’ll do this.”

“Jesus fucking shit.”

“That’s quite a swear,” notes Natasha mildly. “Don’t stress about it. We’ll get married, wait for me to get my green-card, and then get a quick divorce. Easy.”

“Easy,” you repeat, not convinced. Natasha tells you to clear her schedule for today and get all the papers ready to go to the immigration office. By the time you’re done, she’s waiting at your desk for you. “Let’s get this over with. Did you make an appointment?”

“I don’t think you know how this works.”

You’re proved correct when she skips the line, cutting in front of tons of people.

“You can’t just do that,” you protest.

“I just did.” You sigh and follow her, apologizing to the people you just cut in front of.

“I need this to file for a fiancé visa, please,” she says. She slides the papers across the desk, and a man approaches.

“Ms. Romanoff?” he asks.

“Yes?” Natasha answers, looking up from her phone.

“I need you to follow me.”

She turns to you. “See, I know how to do this.” The man leads you to a small room with a table and three chairs. He sits in one and the two of you sit across from him.

“I’m Mr. Smith. And you just be her fiancé?” he asks, looking at you.

“Yes. That’s me. Natasha’s fiancé,” you say smoothly. Natasha kicks you under the table.

“We appreciate you seeing us on such short notice. It all just happened so quickly,” thanks Natasha.

“That it did,” you agree. She kicks you again.

“I just have one question to ask you, and then you can be on your way.” He turns to face you. “Are you marrying Ms. Romanoff to save her from being deported to Russia, therefore committing fraud which has a penalty of five years in prison?” You stare at him with his mouth open like an idiot. Natasha tries to speak up, but he stops her.

“Because that’s what we think you happen to be doing, let me explain the steps that you will have to go through.”

“First, we ask around. Friends and coworkers will be asked if they know anything about you. Then, we ask families. After that, we check phone records and sightings. Lastly, there’s an interview. You will be asked everything about each other. If there’s even a slight difference in your answers, Romanoff will be deported and you will be put into jail for at least five years under the charges of fraud.”

“Unfortunately, your scare tactics won’t work because I’m totally and completely in love with this woman,” says Natasha, startlingly convincingly.

“What she said,” you second, trying not to sound miserable.

“If you’re not going to cooperate, things are going to get worse.”

“Ms. Romanoff, have you told your family about the engagement?” he asks blandly.

“My birth mother is dead and even she didn’t know who my father was. My adoptive father just got out of prison in Russia and my mother is on a farm with no way to contact her,” states Natasha matter-of-factly.

“It says here that you have a sister, Yelena Belova.”

“I haven’t seen her in years.”

“Are you currently in contact with her?“

“Yes, but we don’t talk about our dating lives,” Natasha says.

“What about you, ma’am? Have you told your family?”

You try to stutter out an answer, but nothing of substance comes out. You look at Natasha, hoping for a lifeline.

She rolls her eyes at you. “We were going to tell her family this weekend. It’s Grammy’s birthday.”

“How old is she turning?”

“90. Right, baby?” Natasha asks you. You nod.

“That’s a big one. She can’t come here. Where does Grammy live?”

You’re completely positive that Natasha doesn’t know this. “Why am I answering all the questions? It’s her family,” laughs Natasha effortlessly.

“My family is from Sitka. Everyone but me lives there.”

“Fine. Friends? Do any of them know? Or does anyone at your work know?”

“We couldn’t tell them because…” Natasha looks at you for help.

“Because of my big promotion. I was going to be promoted to editor next year, which was a decision made before we started dating, and we didn’t want people to think-“

“Right,” he cuts you off. Mr. Smith sighs and tells you that you can go. “I’m warning you, though. I’ll make sure that this is real.”

“God forbid the book editors start taking over America,” mutters Natasha. “Thank you for your cooperation,” she calls back at Mr. Smith, flipping him off.

You walk quickly out of the building, Natasha right on your heels.

“We’re going to have to push back all of our meetings for this weekend. Can you call Steve and tell him? And we need to get a first class plane for today to Sitka. And get me the vegan meal, last time I had this terrible chicken salad,” says Natasha.

“I’m sorry, were you not in the same meeting as me? I could go to jail for doing this, and the only reason I am is so I probably don’t get fired,” you exclaim, halting your walking.

“Well, what do you want?” she asks impatiently.

“I want to be an editor.”

“I’m not promoting you to editor,” she laughs.

“Then I’m not doing this. Being your assistant for the next few years isn’t worth the possibility of jail. Have fun in Russia.”

“Fuck,” she groans. “Fine. Welcome to the fucking team.”

“And I want my manuscript published.”

“Ten thousand copies,” she agrees.

“And if I’m going to do this, you’re going to have to ask me nicely.”

“Fine. Marry me,” she says flatly.

“You can do better than that. Come on, get down on a knee and ask me to marry you.”

“I’m not doing that,” she hisses.

“Have fun in Russia, Natasha,” you reply cheerily, starting to walk away.

“Jesus. Okay, okay! I’ll do it.” Muttering insults under her breath, she slowly gets down on her knees. “Dearest love, will you marry me? Nothing would make me happier.”

“I don’t appreciate the sarcasm, but I accept,” you say.

“You don’t really have a choice.”

“There’s always a choice,” you say lightly.

“Is it really a choice when one of the options is absolutely shitty?” she questions, still on the ground.

“Sure it is. I’ll see you at the airport.”

“You’re not going back to work?” she stands up clumsily, her skirt getting caught on her heel. It’s one of the only times you’ve seen her not the epitome of perfection. It’s almost endearing. It would be more so if she wasn’t asking you about work, but you’ll take baby steps.

“Fuck no. I’ve earned the day off. Bye sugarbear.”

“Piss off, homeycomb.”

All Too Well

College!Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Word Count: 5K

A/N: Happy Birthday @reminiscingtonight. You’re the best, I hope you have a year as awesome as you. Despite the title, this is all fluff. I hope you like it!

Sophomore year of college was not going to plan. It hadn’t even started yet. You’d made the choice not to apply for dorms. Instead, you’d made plans with your two best friends from freshman freshman. The three of you had been inseparable for two semesters, and it made perfect sense to rent an off campus house together.

As the summer went on, it started to feel like you were the only one in the group still excited for the experience of living together. You found yourself sending links for potential houses into the group chat, only to be left on read.

Keep reading

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.”