Dive Deep into Creativity: Discover, Share, Inspire
New update coming tomorrow besties :D
Quietly, Natasha put the food down on the island counter, keeping her movements practiced and measured. Then, walking around the couch, a tender smile settled on her lips at the sight in front of her, providing an explanation as to the shadowed room, only offset by the wide, open windows, and the still, withdrawn atmosphere.
Truth was sleeping. Her long legs stretched out on the couch, covered by a fuzzy black and orange blanket that definitely had an image of some sorts on it, but it was impossible to discern with it ruffled up, stopping just at her waist. Her right arm was bent at an angle by her head, skewing the headphones that sat over her ears, bunching up her hair, while the other dangled over the couch, leading one to believe that the sketchbook and graphite pencils scattered on the floor had once been in use before she’d succumbed to her exhaustion.
The gradual rise and fall of her chest coupled with the serene, unfettered expression, completely at peace, filled Natasha with a warmth so strong it almost burnt within her chest, the sight pleasingly familiar what with her prior duties of watching over the assassin in those few crucial hours after dressing and cleaning her wounds and getting her into bed. While that had been a time of uncertainty and worry, harried by frequent nightmares and terrors, there had also been times of tranquility and calmness. She remembered the feel of threading her hands through thick, soft waves, gentle noises of content, and small smiles whenever the woman curled her body closer, searching for comfort.
Something within Natasha surged up again at the sight of her so defenseless, completely at ease. For some absurd, ridiculous reason, she wanted to hold her again, protect her from the lingering shadows, to ensure her peace wouldn’t be disrupted.
But, that would be…unwelcome, no doubt. It wasn’t Natasha’s place to do that anymore—hell, there was no reason for her to want to do that at all. Truth was fine where she was and, if anything, she probably wouldn’t appreciate her intruding into her space, even if Natasha ever convinced herself that it was acceptable to do so.
Sitting on the floor between the couch and the table, resting her chin on her knees brought up to her chest, Natasha debated her options. For a moment, she admired her effortless beauty. Her hair carried a grace that Natasha felt she herself lacked in the sometimes unruly, almost bland curls that she didn’t know what to do with half the time. Her waves were ethereal where Natasha’s curls were wild. They told a story with how they framed her face, a couple strands falling over her nose in a way that was almost purposeful.
Speaking of, her nose was quite literally perfect—not perfect in the way that it held no flaws, but perfect in that it suited her face perfectly. Coupled with long, curved lashes, meticulously curved brows, pretty full lips, and a slender jawline, she was just so…utterly stunning. It was the tone of her skin, a beautiful brown, golden as a blotch of filtered sunlight shone on her exposed torso, the dark birthmarks scattered like paint on a canvas disappearing past the fabric of her grey camisole. Natasha’s eyes followed the pretty assortment of marks along her unusually bare arms, wondering how something so…random and unique could come off as purposeful and artistic.
Natasha could’ve sworn that she’d never seen someone more gorgeous, inside and out.
She was so, so pretty, it almost hurt.
So, I've been thinking about new years resolutions and whatnot and I kinda wanna be more active on here from now on and talk more with y'all about my writing and updates and maybe start doing fic recs as well? Lemme know if y'all would be interested in that 🙃
On another note, here's a little snippet of what I'm working on for this weekend's update to The Siren (my natasha romanoff fic)...
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Natasha brushed her damp curls over her shoulder, preferring it to slowly soak the back of her shirt rather than ruin the substantial documents before her.
You know, the usual things an agent such as herself would receive. Like her official employment offer letter, or the multitude of non-disclosure agreements, security questionnaires, and health/fitness assessments that she was beginning to consider a little excessive.
Just the typical, run-of-the-mill stuff that basically cemented her official status into S.H.I.E.L.D.
Nothing too serious.
At least, that was what she tried to convince herself, the pen twirling expertly through her fingers as she stared at the page.
Her weapons qualifications form sat on the island, fully signed and waiting due process, along with her new badge and identification she’d picked up from Maria following her solo morning workout.
Her body was pleasantly thrumming, ready for whatever the day had in store. She’d gone a bit harder than usual, marked by the slight soreness coating her thighs and biceps, but she didn’t have any responsibilities requiring her to be at peak physical strength and Clint hadn’t been there to nag at her to take it easy, either.
That had been part of the reason that, instead of sleeping, she’d gone down to the gym at the break of dawn, having the room all to herself for those couple hours before the usuals started trickling in.
The other part had to do with the fact that, despite the few good days she’d managed to have recently, sleep was still the enemy and Natasha hardly felt good about herself unless she was pushing herself to the limits, the fatigue keeping her dark thoughts to a minimum.
Maybe it was the silence. She debated putting her TV to use, but she wanted to get this done before anything else. It didn’t help that she was only running on a cup of coffee and a single granola bar, just the bare minimum to keep her functioning for a time.
Though, maybe it was wearing off now considering she’d just read the same sentence about three times and still hadn’t processed a single word.
Sloppy, her mind supplied. This was the kind of lack of focus that would get her killed. She’d done more on less for majority of her life, much of her accomplishments occurring even when she’d hardly consumed a meal in days.
In the Red Room, almost all of her meals had been earned. The better and faster she completed her studies constituted rewards that were basic necessities to the rest of the world—inherent human rights stripped down to a luxury.
Her hand came down on the table with a thump, the pen trapped beneath her palm. The action had her mind snapping back into focus, and she took a deep breath, eyes finding the beginning of the sentence for the fourth time.
If she really wanted breakfast, it would have to wait until the work was done.
Only, her attention was once again swept away in a matter of seconds. Though, this time, she lifted her gaze to stare at her front door, brows furrowed. Not only was she unsure if she had heard anything at all, she doubted it was anything more than someone passing by—
But, there it was again. A light tapping against the door. If her hearing wasn’t so sensitive, even in the quiet of her apartment, she was sure she would’ve missed it otherwise...
to everyone who follows me from ao3 and keeps up with my Natasha Romanoff fic, I am still working on the next chapter, but I wanted to see what everyone thinks of me splitting chapter 2 in half to get an earlier update? right now I'm at about 22k words, but it's definitely going to get longer because I have one more scene to write. I could post what I have already this weekend or I can wait until the whole chapter is done (which I unfortunately don't know when that will be because of exams and assignments).
If there's no clear consensus, I'll likely split the chapter up anyway. I just want to know your opinions before anything! super sorry it's been so long between updates, but this is my way of trying to fix that <33