I Wish You Could Be Honest Chapter Six: Leaving is Only For the Faint of Heart

HYDRA didn’t die out when it failed to take down S.H.I.E.L.D. during the time of the Winter Soldier. Now, top enemy agent Y/N L/N has been sent to finish the job by killing Steve Rogers. When she’s captured by S.H.I.E.L.D., she doesn’t know what to expect, but it certainly doesn’t involve Captain America himself trying to win her over.

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Moore leaves soon enough, and you’re alone on the balcony once more. You turn back to the landscape before you, hoping for something to distract you from the relentless surge of thoughts all crawling down your throat, but even the sky and sun can’t ease your mind anymore. The sunset has finished, the colors are gone. All that’s left is the gradual growing dark of night.

Steve comes back about five minutes later. You have to hand it to him, he tries hard to get you talking anymore, but the charm of your previous conversation has been lost. You feel restless, like you’re a junior agent on her first mission instead of the battle-hardened spy that you’re supposed to be. What happened to make you like this? Who stole your courage like a pickpocket snatching a purse?

You know, of course. Moore coming to tell you about the impending break-out attempt should have lifted your spirits, but it’s just sunk you back down into a wealth of shadows. You knew you would be leaving at some point, or you hoped as much, but now that you’re face to face with the truth, you almost don’t know what to do with yourself.

It’s good news, though. It’s meant to be good news. When Steve gives up and walks with you back to your cell, you force your mind to parade through every happy thing awaiting you back at the HYDRA base. Clean clothes that are actually yours and not just borrowed from the S.H.I.E.L.D. uniforms. Your best weapons. The friends you’ve made. The promotion that’s awaiting you, or at least the familiar burn of a chastisement. Everything about the organization that’s been your life for the past few years.

Yet, when you shut your eyes, alone in your cell once more, you do not see the faces of your boss, nor your coworkers, or even yourself. You see the blond man sitting before you, how he tilts his head back when he laughs and squints his eyes shut as if he can’t even believe himself for thinking what’s been said is funny, let alone you too. 

This illusion of your mind shrugs his shoulders, tips his bottle forward against yours then draws it back just as quickly for a drink. He does not know you’re going, and he won’t, not ever. You can keep a secret, even if you don’t know how to keep it from yourself.

There’s a security camera in the corner, it is watching you with a relentless stare. You sit up slightly, staring it dead in the eyes. Who’s the agent on the other side, looking back at you? Is it someone you’ve hurt? Is it any one of the other friends you made before you betrayed them all when HYDRA reared its head? Hell, is it Steve? Did he see your furrowed brows and wonder what you were hiding from him?

The red recording light blinks once as if in acknowledgement, then shuts off completely. In the weeks you’ve spent in this cell, that has never happened once, not even when Steve was talking to you outside of the interrogation. It stayed on all along.

You stand slowly, wavering as blood rushes to your legs. Moments later, the door to your cell clicks open, a precise sort of sound like the whir of a machine. Your head jerks towards it, your hands clenched into fists. The lights click on about half a second later, revealing Moore standing in the doorway.

He raises his hands in mock surrender, grinning. “You can calm down, L/N. We’re skipping town, so if you’re attacking anyone, it shouldn’t be me.”

You force your shoulders to relax, but there’s still a churning sort of nerves messing up the rest of you. “What happened to waiting it out? I thought we weren’t leaving for a while. Has something happened?”

Moore shakes his head, casually strolling further in the room so he can pretend to check out the room like a potential buyer on a reality TV show. “That was so you would take it easy, like you should be doing now. If I told you that we were going tonight, you would have reacted accordingly. We can’t have you communicating anything to Captain America or his trusty thugs, even by accident. What, did you want to give him a little goodbye kiss?”

You walk closer to Moore, laying a hand on his shoulder and squeezing just enough that he squirms in your grip like a fish out of water. “I’m going to suggest you stop talking and just get me out, or I’m going to tear your arms off.”

Moore laughs nervously, although he does a quick sidestep out of your reach the second he can. He works his shoulder with a free hand, grimacing. “So pleasant, Agent. I can see why you have so many friends.”

At a sharp glance from you, he sighs. “Alright, alright. Let’s go.”

You follow him out of your cell, but you only make it a few steps outside before he stops walking again. 

“Another detour?” You ask. “Why, are the security cameras on a loop or something?”

Moore has the bravery to scoff. “What? No, I know what I’m doing. No one can hear or see us unless they decide to take a trip down to the incarceration block for a fun nighttime activity.”

You give him a pointed look. “Then why are we stopping?”

Moore pulls a stack of key cards out of his pocket, handing half to you. “I’ve ordered some cell rearrangements. Everyone in this hall is a member of HYDRA. If we’re doing one jailbreak, we’re doing them all.”

You nod, grabbing the cards. Moore walks past you to the other end of the hall and begins to unlock another door. You were in the cell on the far left, so you move one door over and swipe a card against the lock. It opens with that same mechanical click, revealing an agent tied to a chair in the dead center of the room.

You recognize her, having seen this very same agent when you first arrived at the S.H.I.E.L.D. cell block. It’s Henrietta Clarke, the woman Steve took you to visit in the hopes of seeing whether you’d rat out anyone in HYDRA if given a chance at freedom. You hadn’t revealed her then, but upon coming face to face with her again, you can’t help but remember Steve’s words. 

He had said that you were the only HYDRA agent who had refused to turn in a fellow agent, contrary to what you had been told in the past. It’s HYDRA principle to never betray your coworkers, yet not one of your captured agents had ever played by that rule. Steve could have been lying, of course, but you’ve memorized his tells like a gambler memorizing the day’s lotto numbers. You know when Steve is lying, and he wasn’t lying then.

You push the thought out of your head. You don’t have time to think about Steve, not now. If you’re captured at this point, no amount of tricks will save you from a true interrogation. You’ve been offered an olive branch, and you need to use it to escape now. If Steve finds out about your attempt to flee, he’ll never offer you the same kindness again.

You reach for the dummy S.H.I.E.L.D. badge on your arm, removing the hidden blade in one crisp movement. As you saw at Clarke’s restraints, though, you can’t force your thoughts from Steve any longer. Moore wasn’t wrong about the date change for the break-out. If you had known that you were leaving tonight, you would have–

Well, what would you have done? Would you have told Steve that you were leaving, would you have hoped for a goodbye? Not a chance. Steve is still your enemy, even if you think you can share drinks with him on a sunny afternoon. There is no future that doesn’t involve the two of you gunning for each other, and no amount of jokes and false pretenses can change that. 

It’s over now, it’s done. This hasn’t been one of the worst lies you’ve told, and if you’re going to be honest with yourself, you might even miss it on late nights when the solitude of a spy’s life gets to you. Maybe you’ll reminisce whenever you see a man who smiles with eyes even half that blue, or when you delude yourself into thinking that you’ll ever be more than a killer. One man thought that you could be more than just yourself, and you’re proving him wrong right now.

You tug through the last of Clarke’s restraints with a savage tug of your blade, and she stands up. You can’t return her relieved smile, just slap another key card into her palm and tell her to start letting people out. You open door after door, and eventually, you meet up with Moore and a dozen or so newly freed agents.

From there, it’s relatively simple. Moore must have been planning this operation with other HYDRA agents for a while, because he’s got everything under lock. You can admit that much, even though you still think the guy’s a greasy asshole who’s far less slick than he thinks.

He manages to get you back your uniform and guns, too, even though your belongings are probably covered in trackers and have to be ditched soon enough. Well, the thought counts. Moore has identified specific corridors that are monitored by dead cameras, and you and your entourage of liberated HYDRA agents dash through the hallways as quickly as you can.

You’re running on adrenaline and the hope that you’ll get out soon, so when Moore starts directing you further into the S.H.I.E.L.D. complex instead of towards the doors leading out, you can’t help but feel frustrated.

You catch up to him, and mutter under your breath as you run. “Excuse my confusion, but I thought we were supposed to be leaving, not staying around even longer. Shouldn’t we be going the other direction?”

Moore smirks. “That’s if we’re going immediately, yes. We still have a shot to finish your mission.”

Something like ice starts to claw its way out of your stomach, freezing around your heart and crawling up your throat to tip your tongue with cold. “What does that mean?”

He chuckles. “Oh, come on. We’ll never get a chance like this again. Steve Rogers is going to come out of that door over there in approximately thirty seconds, and he’ll never be able to take on all of us, not when we have surprise on our side. I bet you twenty he doesn’t even have his shield with him.”

You turn to face him slowly. “We’re killing him now?”

This is too much. You were barely pulling yourself together when you thought you were leaving Steve with nothing, but now? You try to visualize what is about to happen. Steve comes walking out of those doors, coasting on the feeling of being safe for once in his life. He isn’t watching his back. He doesn’t have to, not in his own base.

What will happen when he sees you, out of your cell and surrounded by your own men? Will you watch those sky blue eyes flash with surprise, then grow cold when he realizes that you’ve betrayed him? You are the primary agent here, even though Moore’s been leading this rescue operation for a while. You will be the one expected to take your gun and pull the trigger.

It will be your hands stained with red, then. It will be your bullet piercing Steve’s skull. He will fall dead at your feet, because you never miss and you certainly won’t when he’s so close to you. Will you wait for him to realize the situation before you take the shot, or will you save yourself the torment of watching him understand, and kill him before he knows you’ve turned traitor once again?

All this flashes before your eyes in the space of about half a second. You blink, hard, to clear away the vision of Steve lying dead at your feet, and the linoleum clears itself of blood in about half a second. You have killed many times before, and murdered people far more innocent than Steve. You were ready to assassinate him weeks ago. You can do it again. You have no other choice but to do it again.

But Moore is shaking his head. 

“No, not this time, I’m afraid. We’ll do it eventually, of course, but he’s been so open to you that it’s got me thinking. Why cut off a perfectly good lead if you can keep using it? I’m thinking we take Rogers back with us to base, glean every piece of information we can, then shut him up once and for all. I mean, I’ve been undercover here for a while, and they only let me know so much. I can’t imagine the wealth of knowledge Rogers is sitting on, and if he shares even half of it, we’re golden.”

You let out a slow breath, feeling oddly relieved. “Alright, then. Shoot to wound?”

Moore considers this, then frowns, disagreeing. “Why bother? The noise would only alert people. We surround him, maybe rough him up a bit to get him to surrender, then knock him cold. We’ve got enough people that we can get him out without too much fuss. There’s a vehicle parked right out that door.”

You nod. “You’ve certainly planned this out well.”

It’s a statement of judgment, but Moore just seems pleased by it. “Yes, I have. Gratitude looks good on you.”

You’re not certain that you’re grateful in the slightest, but you don’t have time to unpack that, because the doors at the far end of the hall are opening and Steve Rogers is stepping out into the corridor. As the door shuts behind him, he freezes slightly, noticing that there’s a crowd of people where there should be nothing but empty rooms.

His eyes meet yours, flash to the people around you, then back to you again. He tilts his head back slightly, knowingly. “I suppose there’s no way I can convince you to go back to your cells, then?”

Moore laughs, the sound strangely discordant as it echoes off the half empty walls. “Not a chance. Stand down, Rogers. We’ve got you outnumbered.”

Steve shakes his head once. “Not the way I see it.”

Despite Steve’s bravado, Moore isn’t wrong. Steve may be a supersoldier, but even he can’t take on more than a dozen HYDRA agents that have been spending the last few weeks or even months biding their time for a chance to strike. He puts up a good fight, but there’s nothing he can do.

Eventually, he’s forced to the ground, his hands on his head. Moore rummages around in his pack for a syringe, and you find yourself standing directly in front of Steve, looking down at him.

Steve’s gaze is unwavering, and you feel the need to speak, anything to get this sudden, looming weight off of your chest. “Hey, don’t look at me like that. You knew I was a bad guy all along. It’s not my fault if you wanted to believe something different.”

Steve’s expression doesn’t change for a heartbeat. “I don’t believe it anymore.” He says, and you rear back for just a second as if he’s slapped you.

At the same time, Moore, having located the syringe at last, jams the tip into Steve’s neck and pushes in the plunger, releasing the sedative. Steve’s eyes shut in a matter of seconds, but you swear you can still feel his gaze burning holes into your head.

Moore looks up at you triumphantly. “Well, we did it. Mission accomplished, I’d say.”

You smile back feebly, and you don’t think it’s ever been harder to fake such a simple expression. “Mission accomplished,” you repeat.

This is supposed to be a celebration, a chance for you to finally go home, but you can’t seem to stop one question from replaying in your head, again and again until you think you might go mad:

What have you done?

series/marvel tag list: @maluisamarvelfan123,@navs-bhat,@thatfangirl42,@rogueanschel,@mycosmicparadise,@ellobruv,@caswinchester2000,@with-inked-solace, @sher-lokid7, @amortensie,@23victoria,@watchreadfangirlrepeat,@faiirybread

I have to work again tomorrow which means that I won’t be able to upload a full one shot but I can definitely write a few dialogues if you want.

So, send in your dialogue requests for the fandoms I write for:)

Just One Weekend ( Shang Chi )

summary:you have to ask shaun for a favour.

word count: 820 (drabble)

warning: fluff, sweet nickname calling

pairing: shang chi x fem!reader

author’s note: this is just a quick drabble I came up with this morning and I know it’s cliché but it’s also very sweet and I feel like the reader and shaun have the perfect chemistry in this.

“It’s just for one weekend!”, you exclaimed while you watched Shaun walk away from you however, he came to a stop once he heard the desperation in your voice. 

The young man turned around and looked into your y/e/c eyes. A sympathetic look graced his face while he let out a soft sigh before he made his way over to where you were.

“Why me? Why can’t you ask any of the other guy friends?”

“Because you’re my best friend. Please, Shaun. My family won’t let me live it down if I go there with no boyfriend.”

Your sister’s wedding was coming up this weekend and since everyone in your family had been pestering you about getting a boyfriend, you suddenly blurted out that you already had one but didn’t introduce him yet because it was quite early into the relationship. But of course, you didn’t have a boyfriend so the only one you knew could help you was your best friend, Shaun whom you have known for as long as you could remember. 

You knew it was a cliché to ask your best friend to be your date to the wedding and pretend to be your boyfriend and a lot of other people have done this before but there was no other way. Either you would go to your sister’s wedding with Shaun as your boyfriend or you wouldn’t go at all however, you obviously didn’t want to miss that big day. 

“Be my boyfriend for the weekend and I promise you, I will do anything for you for a week.”, you stated, taking Shaun’s hands into yours, squeezing them softly as you looked up at him with a hopeful smile on your face.

“A month.”

You raised your eyebrows. Knowing him, he wouldn’t take no for an answer hence you reluctantly nodded your head.

“A month.”, you mumbled, feeling Shaun’s hands slip out of yours as he held up his pinky finger, looking at you with a bright grin on his lips.

“Promise.”, he demanded. 

You felt as though you were a teenager again. You shook your head lightly before you held your finger up and pinky promised that you would do anything for your best friend for a month. You knew he would be asking for all kinds of things however you would instead grant his wishes than not go to the wedding and continue to get pestered by your family. 

“Then we have a deal. I will pretend to be your boyfriend for the weekend and you will do anything for me for a month … starting from today.”, he stated, wiggling his eyebrows as he took your hand, grabbed your car keys and dragged you out of your apartment. 

“But I said after the wedding.”, you said matter of factly, walking next to him as you tried to keep up with his pace.

“Where are we even going?”, you asked him out of curiosity while the two of you walked out of your apartment building and over to your car. 

“You will buy me a suit. I don’t have one and I can’t go to a wedding in sweatpants and a shirt. So, let’s go shopping.”, he said, grinning at you while he tossed you the car keys that you luckily caught in your hands. 

You looked at him in disbelief, your mouth slightly opened while he waited for you to open the door. 

“Come on, babe. You want me to look handsome for the wedding, right?”, he said as he winked at you, your mouth opening even more as you couldn’t believe what he had just said to you. 

“Okay, no. The first rule of this arrangement is no nicknames for each other. No babe, no love, no honey … nothing. Got it? I don’t like that and you out of all the people in the world know that.”, you stated, pointing your finger at him. 

You opened the car doors before you both got in. You quickly put your seatbelt on and started the engine, getting out of your parking spot and making your way to your local shopping mall. 

“But it won’t be convincing if I don’t call you anything sweet, my love.”, he said, emphasizing the ‘love’ which immediately made you shiver. 

“Stop it, Shaun. I mean you’re right but stop it … for now. You can call me nicknames in front of my family but when it’s just us two, you stop.”, you demanded, taking a quick glance at him before you focused on the street again. 

“Alright, honey.”

You let out a groan, slapping your steering wheel while Shaun couldn’t help but laugh as loud as he could. 

He knew that this upcoming weekend could be a very interesting one and to be honest, he would have gone with you even if you wouldn’t do anything for him but he was definitely looking forward to it now.

tags:@scandalous-chaos@lightprincess-world

Let Me In [2] ✾

Natasha Romanoff x Reader. 3rd POV. Word Count: 5.6k.

Part One || Part Three ✾Complete Chatroom Masterlist

Summary:Y/n has dinner at Natasha’s place.

Content:mentions of a past toxic relationship, angsts, mentions of death.

A/N: Wanted to post this last week but I got caught up with some personal stuff so I ran a bit behind on all my fics. But, I hope you enjoy!

MINORS, AGELESS BLOGS, AND BLANK BLOGS WILL BE BLOCKED.

Y/n wanted to look pretty.

She felt like a girl getting ready for prom, obsessing over how she looked in the mirror and if she accomplished her goal of looking pretty enough. Later that night at the hotel after running into Natasha, she realized she had nothing appropriate to wear to dinner. She was not expecting this to happen to her as it all occurred on her firstday back in this city. She didn’t want to show up in something shoddy, so she grabbed Kennedy from the daycare center and the two went downtown for Y/n to find something. The price tag on the dress she settled on is going to be felt next month when she’s budgeting, but she doesn’t pay it any mind. She feels like it’s worth it and maybe in the future she will feel like she was stupid for buying that dress and going through with the dinner, but not right now. She had been thinking about how tonight will play out for the past 4 days. This is either her revenge or the funeral for her 20 year old self.

“You look pretty,” Kennedy praises as she turns away from her stuffed giraffe for one second.

“Thank you,” Y/n huffs as she straightens her dress out. She was so nervous that even the little girl could feel it, but she interrupted much differently.

“Why do you have to get so dressed up? Where are we going?”

“We’re going to see my friend.”

“Is it that lady from the frog store? She was kind of weird, she kept looking at me funny.”

“She’s not weird. She’s just an old friend of mine and was surprised to see you with me.”

“But, if she’s your friend why would she be surprised to see me with you?”

“Because she’s an oldfriend, Kennedy. I haven’t seen her in years,” Y/n finally stops looking at herself in the mirror so she can turn to face the five year old, “go put your shoes on and then we’ll be ready to go. And don’t forget your socks; it’s warm now but it’s going to get much cooler tonight.”

Kennedy sighed in annoyance which made Y/n laugh in disbelief. Sometimes she feels like she’s raising a teenager. Kennedy is a smart and normally a good kid, but she is the opposite of Y/n as a young girl. She’s not timid or overtly obedient, she’s one of those kids who doesn’t have a filter and it doesn’t help that she’s too young to read the room. Y/n purposely didn’t tell her much about Natasha because she knows the little girl will snitch on her somehow. But, she did feel a bit guilty about not telling Kennedy more while they’re in a big city together for the first time. Although Y/n has her personalproblems with Natasha, she knows that her ex-girlfriend would never everdo anything that would lead Kennedy to harm. Y/n trusts Natasha with a small child, just not her heart.

Y/n takes one last glance at herself in the mirror, admiring the gold earrings she found in the discounted section of one of the stores and how the black dress she found just fits her perfectly. She was dressed more for going out to one of those nice restaurants like Agwi or that one with the statue outside that scared Kennedy. She was dressed up as if she was going out on a date, but she can’t admit that to herself, at least not right now.

“You ready?”

Kennedy gives her a nod, her little backpack hanging off of her shoulder, and Y/n takes her hand and holds onto it tight.

She’s so damn nervous that she feels like she’s going to throw up. Kennedy talked the entire drive over to the new address Natasha gave Y/n. Y/n tried to engage with her to take her mind off of the butterflies bumping intensely in her stomach but it was hard for her to find anything to say besides “oh” and “hmm.”

Y/n noticed that her GPS was taking her to the area of the city with the more expensive apartments. She felt like an imposter just driving through the streets of this district. Natasha’s last apartment was probably pricey simply due to location but there was nothing super fancy about. Stark Industries has to pay someone with a position like Natasha well, but it was just so surprising for Y/n to be coming around these parts to visit Natasha. Just because Natasha had a nice job and rubbed elbows with upper-class entrepreneurs and Silicon Valley tech workers doesn’t mean she was like them. Or at least that’s what Y/n thought. She doesn’t really know anymore (and she isn’t sure if she everknew), but she isn’t going to judge her. Y/n’s sure that once she moves up the ranks in her job she’s going to buy something better than the small 2 bedroom apartment she has back at home.

‘You have arrived at your destination’

The robotic voice sounds out throughout the car and it makes Y/n’s stomach churn. She’s so damn nervous that she almost misses the entrance to the apartment’s parking garage. There was a limited parking area for guests just like Natasha said. All the spots were nearly filled but Y/n managed to find one.

Natasha lived on the 5th floor. It was a pretty tall building but it had many floors because the apartments on each floor were huge (that’s what she discovered when she went snooping online when she was deathly curious about where Natasha lived now).

“You have to be on your bestbehavior, okay?” Y/n bent down to be at Kennedy’s level, balanced on the slight elevation from the boots she decided to wear. “You’re normally very good for me, but I just want to remind you to keep your hands to yourself and not touch everything that interests you, okay?”

“Okay,” Kennedy nods her head as her voice is filled with annoyance. Y/n always gives her this lecture when they go somewhere important and she’s tired of hearing it. As long as she has her entertainment in the form of her giraffe and her child-proof tablet then she’ll be fine.

“Okay, let’s go.”

It was intimidating walking through the garage and seeing all the nice cars parked in their assigned spots; not even the staff parking lot at the college was filled with this many newer car models. The building itself was secured and Y/n had to walk through a long hallway that only led to the lobby. She wasn’t surprised to see a receptionist at the desk separating him from visitors. She felt like she was in a hotel again, but this is just one of the amenities the stupidly rich have.

“Hi, I’m here to see someone on floor five,” her voice slightly shakes. The man doesn’t even look at her which makes her feel a bit small, like she’s not relevant at all.

“Apartment number?”

“Uhh, I’m not sure. I’m here to see Natasha Romanoff?”

“Sorry, I need an apartment number.”

Y/n furrowed her brow in confusion. This is one of those buildings that don’t want to confirmany of their residents that live there for the sake of anonymity but Y/n felt like the whole process was ridiculous. She had to dig her phone out of her purse and text Natasha to give her the apartment number. It took her a little bit to receive a text back with 'E53’.

“The apartment number is E53.” The man seems slightly annoyed at Y/n’s interjection but she doesn’t care. She just wants to be at Natasha’s door already because at least she’ll feel a smudge more comfortable around someone she knows.

“Okay, you have access to the elevator.”

It was such a weird process for something so simple, but Y/n didn’t protest and soon enough her and Kennedy were riding up the elevator to Natasha’s floor. Kennedy held onto her hand tight at the quick ascension. Y/n looked down at her to make sure she was okay. It may not be the most correct thing to do, but Y/n knows if she somehow needs to make an escape from an awkward conversation or Natasha tonight then she can use Kennedy being “tired” as an excuse to get out of there.

The elevator dinged and Y/n’s heart dropped. She was realizing that this is veryreal and she’s stupidly agreed to this. Just because she’s older now doesn’t mean she wasn’t going to fold at the mere sight of her ex-girlfriend’s face. She’s desperate for this to go her way so she doesn’t leave her with egg on her face.

She stops right at apartment E53, but she hesitates to knock. She lets go of Kennedy’s hand and adjusts her hair to make sure it looks good. She takes in a deep breath and lets it out in a sigh which makes the five-year-old look up at her like she’s crazy. Finally she knocks on the door and she’s never been so nervous in her life; Y/n wishes she was in Kennedy’s position, just oblivious to everything that’s going on.

“Just a minute!” A muffled voice calls from the other side of the door. Y/n nods her head as if Natasha can see her. She hears the shuffling of feet getting closer to the door until it opens up. The second that door cracks open Y/n feels like she’s too dressed up. She can’t ignore how Natasha’s eyes travel up and down her body with an expression she can’t read. “Wow, you look great,” the redhead croons.

“Thank you. So do you.”

Natasha looked like she was still wearing her work clothes which made Y/n feel young again for being the only person to put so much into something. It was fitting for the occasion, something she would laugh about because of the irony if she wasn’t the person in the situation.

“You two can come on in,” Natasha steps out of the way to make room for Y/n and her…not-daughter to step into her apartment. She wanted to catch up with Y/n in general but she had so many questions about the little girl holding her hand. She doesn’t resemble Y/n at all so they’re not sisters, besides Y/n would’ve just said that on the phone. She fully understands if Y/n is hesitant to tell her why she’s taking care of a whole human, but she might die if she doesn’t find out somehow.

“It’s really…spacious here.”

Y/n remembers Natasha’s old apartment as if the last time she stepped inside was yesterday. If Natasha still stayed at that apartment she thinks it would’ve made her more hesitant to accept this invite. It wasn’t a bad apartment, quite the opposite. It was way smaller than her new apartment but that’s what gave it that quaint, cozy feeling. There were books haphazardly stacked and placed on a bookshelf while papers were always somewhere on the floor. Natasha’s old apartment was the apartment of someone who was too busy to get their life together, and that should’ve been a sign for Y/n. Still, she was very fond of that apartment although the thought of it was too painful at times. Even after the years began to grow longer and longer, she remembered the instant warmth she felt the first time she went there, that first day she met Natasha in person. It was a stupid pipe dream to think that that would be theirapartment someday, but she used to fantasize about it a lot when they were dating.

“Dinners’ almost done. You two can sit in the living room and wait while I set up the dining table, okay?’” Natasha’s voice snapped Y/n out of her daze.

“Okay.”

They awkwardly parted and Y/n guided Kennedy to the couch. It looked very expensive just like everything else in here. The walls were decorated with paintings and there were vases placed on end tables. Y/n never took Natasha to be the one who decorated her home in such a nice and neat fashion. Sure there were posters on the wall of her old apartment, but that doesn’t compare to paintings.

Natasha was mentally berating herself the entire time while in the kitchen. She worried about not making Y/n feel comfortable enough or not really acknowledging Kennedy enough. She didn’t regret asking Y/n to come over for dinner, but she wishes she would’ve sorted her thoughts out first before ever making an offer like this. It would be a lie to say she hasn’t thought about Y/n in these last seven years, but she knows what type of girl Y/n is (or at least what type of girl she was), and she can bet that Y/n thought about everything ten times more than Natasha did. She felt a bit guilty thinking about Y/n losing sleep over their failed relationship, but Natasha has mastered the art of distracting herself from her personal life using work. So many things have happened in her career that it would be impossible to sit down and tell Y/n everything within these next two hours. She doesn’t want to anyway, she wants to focus on Y/n.

“Dinner’s ready!”

Y/n grabs Kennedy’s ipad and stuffs it back into her little book bag.

“Can I bring Raffie?”

Y/n looked at the look on her face and then to how tight she was holding the stuffed animal. She seemed a bit stressed due to the new location, but it was also because she didn’t see Y/n react warmly to the redheaded woman so she doesn’t know if she can trust her either.

“Sure,” Y/n says, sympathy painting her voice and her eyes. She felt bad for dragging Kennedy along but the university’s daycare closes around this time, so she had no other options.

Natasha is just finishing adding the dishes to the table when Y/n and Kennedy walk in. Her eyes light up when she sees them and she urges them to take a seat. It’s not a big dining table so there aren’t many options, but Y/n did notwant to sit next to Natasha. Instead she sat across from her with Kennedy taking the seat to her right, her stuffed giraffe sitting on the extra space of her chair.

“I didn’t know if the table would be too tall for her, so I bought a booster seat if she needed one.”

“Natasha, you didn’t have to do that.”

“I wanted to do that. It’s the least I can do.”

“I think she’s fine,” Y/n turns her attention from Natasha to the girl, “you okay, Kennedy?”

“Yeah, I’m fine.”

Natasha wasn’t super fond of kids as she hadn’t really been around them, but Kennedy was adorable. She knows she’s not Y/n’s daughter or anything like that, but it’s still very surreal to see them together. Natasha can tell by the way Y/n’s eyes linger on her that she’s very protective of her and they must have some sort of bond that mimics a mother-daughter relationship, or at least the relationship of two sisters.

“I made spaghetti. I made other stuff, but I figured spaghetti would be a good option because I heard young kids can be picky — I was at that age.”

“Spaghetti is perfect. Kennedy likes it a lot.” Kennedy nods her head in agreement with Y/n’s words. She was nervous about this stranger, but that began to dissipate when she learned she would be eating spaghetti.

Watching Y/n fix her plate and remind Kennedy not to make a mess was interesting to say the least. She sounded like such a mother Natasha was still unable to grasp the entire situation, including that Y/n is here in her apartment, right in front of her, right now. Y/n’s slight nagging reminded Natasha of her mother, but a much nicer, softer version. She only wanted the best for Kennedy and wasn’t going to make her feel dumb when talking to her.

“So,” Natasha interjects while fixing her own plate, “is the city like you remembered?

"Pretty much…I mean nothing has really changed, but I also hadn’t explored the city much in the first place.”

“That’s true. We didn’t go thatmany places. Which hotel are you at?”

“The Echo, it’s more towards the outside of the city.”

“I’ve heard of it before. Very fancy.”

“Yeah I’m surprised my job put up the money for me honestly.”

“Mmm,” Natasha hums.

This dinner is more awkward than she wanted it to be. She suspects it’s because there is an elephant in the form of a five year old in the room that severely limits Natasha.

“So, are you in preschool, Kennedy?” Natasha’s voice is stiff as she asks the child a question. She has had conversations with very powerful people but no one makes her quite as nervous as children. She just doesn’t know what to say to them or how to talk to them because she’s not a child.

“I’m in kindergarten,” she answers, mouth full of spaghetti.

“Chew and swallow your food before speaking, okay? It’s rude to talk with a mouth full of food.”

“Okay, Y/n.”

It was surreal to see Y/n in this motherly role, but from how Kennedy talked to her it was obvious that they didn’t have an explicit mother and daughter relationship. They acted more like sisters which made Natasha nearly desperate to know what the full backstory of this is. Y/n tries to speak to Kennedy in a stern voice but it always comes off as soft and gentle. Her words sounded more like suggestions than concrete rules for life.

“Sorry,” Kennedy apologized to Natasha who really did not mind that a kid was being a kid, “I’m in kindergarten!”

If this was any other child Natasha would probably not be too fond of them, but this little girl seems to mean a lot to Y/n. She can see it in the way she looks at her. She can also see the insecurity in Y/n’s eyes which she guesses is in regards to being a parental figure.

“What’s kindergarten like?”

“I don’t know…it’s easy. I like coloring and playing with my friend,” she explains to which Natasha nods.

Kennedy is very different from both Natasha and Y/n as children. She has that sense of freedom the two of them never felt at that age. Y/n was notgoing to raise this girl like her mother did her; it wouldn’t be fair to neuter a young girl’s potential before she even knows what that word means.

Kennedy had finished dinner faster than the two adults which resulted in a tummy ache.

“I told you about eating too quickly, Ken,” Y/n softly chides her as Kennedy starts to cry crocodile tears.

“I’m sorry…can I lay down?”

Y/n suspected that she was tired and that’s why she’s making a bit of a fuss. She had a long day playing at the daycare and now she’s worn out. Y/n looks to Natasha before she can answer the question.

“She can go lay down on the couch. I’ll grab a blanket for her.”

Y/n nods before pushing herself out of the seat and picking Kennedy up. She carries her to the living room where Natasha is there grabbing a blanket for one of the closets’. She lays Kennedy on the couch and grabs the blanket from Natasha who stands closer to her. It’s one of the softest blankets Y/n has ever felt as she unfolds it and lays it over Kennedy.

“If you need me just call my name, okay?” She reminds her as she tucks her in like they do at home.

“Alright,” Kennedy says through a yawn. From the look of it, she’ll be out in a minute or two.

Y/n stands up and watches over her for a few seconds. She stares at her to make sure she doesn’t magically disappear before she’s comfortable enough to leave the girl alone to fall asleep.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt dinner,” she apologizes after turning to Natasha.

“It’s okay. We can finish up.”

Now they were alone; the adults in the room. Natasha could finally talk candidly without worrying about her language around a child.

“Is it easy?”

“Is what easy?”

“Being a…parent? I don’t know what to call you,” she admits truthfully, “but you’re clearly her guardian and she’s very fond of you.”

“You should see her when I’m trying to make her turn off PJ Masks so she can go to bed,” Y/n quips.

“But she definitely listens to you and respects you. She seems like a good kid.”

“She is. No child is "easy” to raise per say, but I am glad that Kennedy makes things a little bit easier.“

Natasha was beating around the bush, trying her best to avoid the real question that has been plaguing her mind. But she wants Y/n to feel comfortable enough to tell her. Prying it out of her would be too scummy in her opinion.

"Have you been seeing anyone?” Natasha pivots the conversation with the other bold question she wanted to ask.

“I don’t have time. Between work and Kennedy, I barely get enough time to myself, yet alone time to date. There is this guy at my work who flirts with me but he reminds me of my father — huge turn off.”

It’s true that Y/n is too busy to date, but she could make time if she really wanted to. She’s just too jaded right now to date. She’s always had the fear that anyone she dated would move on from her because she didn’t fit into their lives. Even when it was someone who lived a similar life to her, she just felt like she was a bit too odd to fit into someone’s life. Then Kennedy came along and she was afraid of the stigma of dating as a single “mother.” She’s not going to talk about the circumstances surrounding her and Kennedy all willy-nilly so many of potential suitors have written her off when they found out about the little girl.

“I haven’t gotten out much either. The con of being a career woman.”

Y/n wasn’t sure if that was supposed to reassure her or not. She doesn’t care to know about Natasha’s dating history after their relationship because she knows it will set off some jealousy inside of her. But she can’t help but compare herself to the hypothetical partners in her head.

“I’m sure we’ll both find the time to date someone someday.”

“Maybe…it might take a little longer for me since my career quite isn’t where I want it like yours is. I have a ways to go. And I rather focus my extra energy on raising Kennedy. She needs me.”

“I have to ask,” Natasha couldn’t hold it in any longer, “what is Kennedy to you? Is she your sister?”

“Oh, hell no. My parents stopped touching each other when I was like 12. I don’t even think they like each other anymore. Kennedy isn’t mine and I’m not related to her by blood. It’s just…do you ever have a story that is too complicated to tell? One that has too many side stories and footnotes that tie all together to make the story make complete sense?”

“That’s it every story I have from college,” Natasha jokes.

“Well this is mine.”

“If you don’t mind, you can indulge me. I don’t mean to offend, but you were never really one to have a lot of friends so I worry you may have not had anyone to talk about all of…that.”

“It doesn’t offend me because you’re right. It was never easy for me to make friends and that hasn’t changed. I do talk to a few coworkers so I’m not alone. Sometimes it’s better to just keep things to myself.”

“But, you don’t have to with me.”

Y/n knows that, but what’s the point? She’s only here for a week-and-a-half, and she isn’t even sure what she wants from Natasha. She accepted this dinner for a reason but now she’s backing out.

“If you don’t trust me, I understand. You have the right not to-”

“It’s not about trust. I trust you with the story. I just don’t want you to feel like you have to shoulder the burden of it.”

“It’s the least I can do.”

'The least I can do’

That was becoming the tone of this trip. Y/n noticed Natasha say that to her more than once. It was her way of atoning, hoping that all those small gestures could make up for what she had done. Neither of them are naïve enough to think forgiveness works that way. One dinner and one talk isn’t going to give Y/n what she wants, and neither is it going to make Natasha feel less guilty. Both of them are scarred from this and it’s time to either patch up the wound or rip it open again.

“Amy and I became really close,” Y/n begins, “it was random and came out of nowhere. Cindy kind of…she kind of faded out of the picture but it wasn’t by any of our choices. Amy and I moved in together after graduating and Cindy went to grad school across the country. Amy got in a relationship with this really awful guy. Long story short he knocked her up and left her. We were practically raising Kennedy together,” she pauses for what feels like a minute but is only a few seconds, “then she got in a really bad car crash. I don’t want to go into the details of it. I had to fight really hard to get custody of Kennedy — I was so lost and clueless while doing it, but she had no one else but me. Amy’s grandmother died a year after she was born and she really has no other family besides an estranged older brother. They wanted to put Kennedy in foster care, but she knew me and loved me, I couldn’t let her go.”

Natasha inhaled sharply at the story. She didn’t think it would have taken a turn like that. She feels awful for Y/n; awful that she was probably alone in the process too, it makes her guilt grow even larger.

“I wish I would’ve reached out.”

“It’s okay, Nat. You didn’t know and no one expected this to happen. Neither of them can change the past, but I’m just glad that everything is okay now. Kennedy doesn’t really remember much about her mother, but I like to remind her everyday. Amy really loved her and it’s unfair they were separated like that. I could never replace the spot of a mother, but I will try my best.”

“I can tell you’re doing a great job, Y/n.”

“Now it’s my turn to ask a personal question…Natasha, why did you invite me here? Are you trying to say sorry without saying it? I don’t want to dwell on the past…” It was such a lie because that’s all Y/n has been doing for these last few years, but she doesn’t want to admit that in fear of looking pathetic. Natasha may not have been in any long-term, serious relationships since the two of them broke-up, but she’s sure Natasha has had someone in her life since.

“Honestly? I’m not sure. I do feel bad. What I did wasn’t right. I don’t want you to think I regret our relationship, but I do hold most of the blame because I don’t think I should’ve progressed it any further. You were young and only in college while I was reaching some of the heights of my career.”

“But, it was my choice,” Y/n says hastily, “I made the choice to be in the relationship too, not just you.”

“I’m aware, your consent was always important to me, but did I ever make you feel like you were pushed to be with me?” Natasha asked that for the sake of herself. She can be domineering at work but sometimes it spills into her personal life. The last thing she wants to be is the person who forces relationships (romantic, platonic, professional, whatever) onto people.

“No. I wanted to be with you and I enjoyed it. It wasn’t always easy but I just figured that it was because of my first relationship. Plus relationships are not easy in general and heartbreak is inevitable.”

It is, but Natasha certainly could’ve gone about the break-up in a better way since she was the older party. But, she doesn’t admit that out loud.

“Do you think we were a good match?” Y/n asks.

“You want my honest answer?”

“Of course,” no matter how painful it might be, Y/n needed to hear the truth so she could maybe start the process of getting over this.

“It was just the right person, wrong time.”

Y/n never noticed the small things like the hesitation and vague answers before, but now it’s glaringly obvious and it’s almost upsetting.

“Ugh, don’t say that. I don’t like stuff like that. It was either we were a good match or not.”

“Things are more complicated than that, Y/n.”

“Oh, spare me that,” she responds with a bit of anger. She didn’t mean to let her emotions get the best of her but she has wanted to say something for years and now she’s sitting directly across from the person she needed to get these things off of her chest to. “I know things are complicated, but sometimes there are clear distinctions of right and wrong. I’m not a little girl anymore, and I know that some of the stuff you did to me back then was fucked up.” Y/n’s anger begins to bubble but she keeps her voice low so Kennedy doesn’t wake up to her saying “no-no” words.

“I know, I know. I’m sorry. I told you I regret a lot of things, including even starting the relationship. When I realized that maybe a relationship wasn’t what you needed, I should’ve been more careful.”

It was hard for Y/n to getwhat Natasha was saying. Just because time has passed doesn’t mean she has grown all that wiser. She just felt like Natasha was being cruel with her power because she simply could. Y/n couldn’t bring herself to regret their relationship (even the arguments they had), but she did mull over what maybe she could’ve done differently to change the outcome.

“I guess,” Y/n says defiantly. She wasn’t going to see eye to eye with Natasha tonight, and maybe not ever.

“Regardless, I don’t think you should give up on love because of what happened between us. I’m sure you can easily find somebody.”

“Well, the same goes to you.”

“I’m pushing 40 Y/n, I’m old,” Natasha jokes. She always had this air around her that she was too bothered to be in a relationship and now that she’s older she wonders if it’s even worth it.

“40 isn’t old, Nat.

"Maybe old isn’t the right word, but I’m definitely…definitely settled into my ways.”

Y/n hums; she couldn’t disagree with that.

It was later than Y/n expected. She was grateful for having to go in later for work tomorrow since it’s a Friday.“

"We should be heading out. I don’t want to keep Kennedy out too late.”

Natasha almost forgot about the little girl since she was so quiet in the living room. “Of course,” she responds before standing up from the table. Their dinners were partially eaten, a sign that their conversation swept them up more than the food.

Kennedy was sound asleep on the couch and Y/n was hesitant to wake her up, but she had no choice. “C'mon Ken, we gotta go.” Y/n was met with groans from the fussy five-year-old. She knew she was going to have to carry her all the way back to the car.

“Do you need any help? I can walk you both to the car.”

“No, no, it’s fine,” she answers as she throws Kennedy’s book bag on the same shoulder as her purse. “She looks heavy but you develop a super strength when you have to carry a sleeping child,” Y/n jokes.

With a half-sleep Kennedy in tow, Y/n lets Natasha open the front door for her.

“Thank you for dinner. It was nice to eat something other than fast food and college cafeteria food.”

“No problem. I hope you enjoyed it — and I hope our talk wasn’t too much.”

“It was fine.”

The two kind of linger for a bit, the air around them becomes stiffly awkward again. Was this goodbye-goodbye or just a 'see you later’?

“Have a good night, Nat.”

Y/n begins to walk down the hall before Natasha can respond. She pokes her head out the door to watch the two and make sure they make it to the elevator. Natasha wanted Y/n to look back at her, maybe give her a little wave or something, but Y/n kept looking forward.

Let Me In [1] ✾

Natasha Romanoff x Reader. 3rd POV. Word Count: 3.6k.

- || Part Two✾Complete Chatroom Masterlist

Summary:Y/n is back in the city, a place she never thought she would be. A heavy cloud hangs over her until it produces a heavy storm.

Content:mentions of a past toxic relationship, slight angst.

A/N: I hate to call this a starter chapter because it makes it seem like it’s not important, but this chapter is just to get us started. I hope you all enjoy the sequel! It won’t be as long but it will tie up all the loose ends!

MINORS, AGELESS BLOGS, AND BLANK BLOGS WILL BE BLOCKED.

“If you keep dragging your feet we’re going to miss the shuttle!”

“I don’t like it here, it smells,” the five year old groans, tugging hard on Y/n’s hand. The plane ride was fairly easy but the young girl had gotten so restless and has been complaining ever since they landed. Y/n did her best to keep her at bay, but it’s hard to explain to a child why they have to keep walking when they’re so tired. Y/n had to carry both of their carry-on bags while rolling her suitcase in her free hand so couldn’t pick her up even though that’s what she wanted.

“I know Kennedy, but we have to keep going, c'mon.”

She held onto her hand tightly as their suitcases rolled against the pavement. She feels a little bit bad about dragging the little girl along as they exit the airport, but it’s either that or having to wait another 30 minutes for a shuttle to the rental car pick-up building. Y/n had developed the skill of tuning Kennedy out when she really needed to; she can deal with feeling guilty just for a little bit.

She’s only able to feel relief when they make it to the shuttle at the right time. The small bus is fairly crowded already but there is one open seat on the left. Y/n helps Kennedy up the stairs and ushers her to the seat. A few eyes gloss over the two before reverting back to wherever they were looking before. Y/n feels so awkward and out of place even though she has no reason to be. It’s been years since she’s had to deal with the busy process of the airport and it’s her first time with Kennedy. She stands close to her, worried that somehow if she takes her eyes off of her for even a second that the girl would disappear. Y/n’s mother offered to come with them, but Y/n politely declined her offer. It was hard enough to answer her phone call in the first place; she just isn’t ready to talk to her yet let alone be around her.

The cracked windows of the bus allow a breeze of tepid air to flow in and out. Y/n is grateful that she got to come to the city now when it’s Spring, almost Summer, time. It’s lovely in the winter, but she doesn’t think she would be able to handle the snow and the cold while alone with a five-year-old Kennedy. She hasn’t seen snow yet, but maybe when she’s older they’ll come back together so she can see just how pretty a city looks when it’s covered in a light dust of snow.

“I’m hungry.”

“Shh, I know you are. I promise when we get the car and then we’ll stop and get some food, okay?”

The plan seemed to placate the little girl who was playing with the straps of her little book bag. They had run out of snacks half-way through the plane ride and Y/n was worried about a meltdown happening but Kennedy just sat with a pout on her face and her arms crossed instead of making a big fuss. Y/n took her silent anger as a win as long as she wasn’t crying on the plane.

They come to a stop and a few people file out before Y/n and Kennedy can leave. Some man grabs Y/n’s suitcase for her to give her a helping hand. He gives her a sympathetic look, one that she is used to and has learned to stop taking the wrong way. She’s just glad to have made it this far even though their journey isn’t necessarily complete. And with Kennedy’s hand in hers, they walk inside the car rental center.

What was a hectic 7 hours of her life felt worth it once they were secure in the car and driving into the city. Y/n feels a sense of relief when she drives into the city and passes a few buildings that are painfully familiar to her. She can hear Kennedy constantly going ‘wow’ in the backseat as they move deeper in the city. Y/n had the same feeling when she first stepped foot into this city. The buildings are so high up that it can make anyone feel small and it’s a city that’s always buzzing.

“Are those buildings touching the sky?”

“Kind of. If we have enough time we can take a tour of the tallest building in the city and look at the clouds!”

Kennedy let out a satisfied giggle that made Y/n smile. It is bittersweet. Completely bittersweet. She was coming back to the city, mixing her old life with the new.

Y/n hopes that everything goes smoothly with her job, Kennedy, and herself. She is older, but she is not necessarily better with handling her emotions. She pushes them down, and it’s easy to push down smaller feelings of sadness and disappointment related to the newer aspects of her life, but the feelings from her 19 year-old are proving to be a fighter. She fought back veryhard to keep those feelings deep down from bubbling up. But the dissonance in her head had her feeling completely out of whack the moment she accepted the offer from her job. In the last few weeks she pretended like she didn’t care about the particular location. Yet the years of imagining and secretly rehearsing the scenarios she imagined in her head where she comes out on top serve as evidence that she does stillcare no matter how hard she tries to convince herself she’s not. There is a slim chance of running into anyone, she believes, but even just being here makes her wonder.

-

“It’s two weeks long. I know you’ve got Kennedy to take care of but the university provides a daycare service. Dr. Bennett specifically requested you— she said something about an old teacher of yours? Anyway, this would be great for your resume, and it’s paid for. I hope you don’t let this opportunity pass you.”

Y/n found it tedious to travel for her job. Location aside, she didn’t like having to make a decision about something so major so quickly. There were many, manypros to this little two week work trip, and virtually no cons honestly. But it felt like a ripping off the band-aid off of a wound too early — except she suffered that wound 7 years ago. Now she is sitting in the place that is the very genesis of where many of her problems began.

Kennedy was buzzing to go into the place with the giant frog outside. It looked just the same as it did when Y/n first came here, not even a single poster on the wall had been switched out for something newer. She hesitated to step inside but she had no choice when the five-year-old developed some mysterious strength and dragged her to the door as she walked on her little feet.

“Look at my frog!” Kennedy croons. Y/n quickly shushes her so she doesn’t disturb anyone around them. Y/n noticed a few annoyed glances when she walked in with a small child in tow. She knows what it’s like to be bothered by the presence of a kid in a place that’s normally chill and meant for concentration. But, she also found herself being angry at the people who even looked at Kennedy with an ounce of contempt. Other people’s reactions to Kennedy is still something Y/n is not used to, especially since their town back home is small and they don’t interact with that many people.

“We can’t stay here long, okay?”

“But why?”

“Because we have to go back to the hotel and unpack or else we’ll never get to it.”

The girl said nothing, she just ignored Y/n and went back to playing with the toy frog that came with her meal. She has so much energy yet Y/n feels swamped. It’s partially her fault for obsessing over whether or not Kennedy was going to behave. She was on edge thinking about someone yelling at them on the airplane because Kennedy was too loud. Y/n is a big girl now, but confrontation still scares her. She also wouldn’t want Kennedy to be upset for any reason.

But, she doesn’t have to worry about that now. It’s easy to become inundated with the what-ifs and scenarios where everything goes wrong that it’s hard to remember that everything is fine. Y/n’s worries are a part of a larger fear she’s playing the game of pretending it’s not there. She may have to confront that some time while she’s here, but right now everything is fine. Kennedy is preoccupied and making a soft noises that she thinksa frog makes, a song Y/n remembers from years ago is playing through the speakers, and they made it to the city safely. Y/n reminds herself of those three very real facts to bring herself back down to Earth. She’s been so in her head, and always has been, but it can no longer be her coping mechanism when she has very real things in the real world to deal with.

She lets Kennedy enjoy a few extra minutes snacking on her food and playing with her toy before Y/n realizes that they spent a little too long in the café. The familiarity makes it so comforting that the time flew by.

“Alright Kennedy, it’s time for us to go.”

Kennedy didn’t make any complaints, much to Y/n’s relief. She could always entice Kennedy with a trip to the hotel’s pool if she ever acts up, but that’s her last resort.

“When we go back, can we watch TV?” Kennedy reaches up with her small hand and Y/n grabs a hold of it, both of them holding onto each other tightly in what feels like a strange new world for the younger one.

“Sure, but after we put all of our clothes away, okay?”

“Fine.”

Y/n has this habit of looking down at Kennedy as she’s talking to her even if she’s walking. She’s walked into strangers before so when it happens to her right in this moment it doesn’t feel like such a big deal to her.

“Oh god! I’m so sorry…sorry!” Y/n scrambles so much that she doesn’t even open her eyes or look up at the person who she bumped into.

“I thought that was you.”

Movies and TV shows have told her that a familiar smell, sound, or voice can transport a person back to a poignant time in their life; today was not the day Y/n wanted to learn that that was true. She looks up and feels like she’s got the wind knocked out of her. Not even the collusion was as jarring as registering Natasha’s face in her head. Suddenly it felt like the Earth had shifted underneath her feet and she felt uneasy. Of course the thing to pull her back was Kennedy’s little voice.

“Sorry for running into you!” She says as if she was the one being so careless and clumsy. She’s completely oblivious to what is going on.

Watching Natasha laugh and bend over to reassure Kennedy that she hadn’t done anything wrong made Y/n’s blood run cold. She found herself warring with her needs and her wants. She needsto keep walking and leave as quickly as possible, but what her subconscious wants is to stay here and imagine Natasha being present for every single moment of the past seven years, including the day Kennedy entered Y/n’s life.

“I…I’m sorry,” Y/n repeats, this time her voice hoarse due to her dry mouth. She’s sure that Natasha is still able to read her like a book and knows how deathly nervous she is.

Natasha stands tall again and looks at her. She’s looking at her as if they’re old classmates or something like that; not people who once dated each other. It’s partially because Natasha doesn’t really know how to act around Y/n, but that’s not how Y/n takes it.

“It’s okay, Y/n.”

Kennedy looks between the two adults as they stand there silent. She’s so confused but her five year old brain would not be able to comprehend this moment even if someone tried to explain it to her. She doesn’t know why Y/n is frozen in the spot, not saying anything, and just staring at this stranger. She also doesn’t know why Y/n would be so scared of this random woman.

“Why are you here — I mean — why are you in the city? I never thought I’d see you here again,” Natasha laughs nervously.

“Work. I’m here for work,” Y/n responds curtly.

Natasha nods her head which makes Y/n nod her head too. It’s so awkward that Y/n wants the floor to open up and swallow her whole. She forgets all about the task at hand of going back to the hotel and unpacking all of their clothes for the next two weeks. She feels many emotions at once, some she doesn’t even have the words to describe, and that’s why she’s paralyzed. She’s wondering if she’s going to wake up any moment now and will still be on the plane.

“Excuse me!”

Without thinking, all three of them step to the side. Neither Natasha or Y/n realized they were blocking the exit to the cafe. Natasha can’t be mad at the guy who yelled at them because they were being a nuisance, but this is an important moment that Natasha doesn’t want to be ruined by outside influences.

Natasha never thought this would happen more so than Y/n. She didn’t think Y/n would want to step foot into this city ever again; she already wasn’t too fond of it, plus Natasha had given her a reason to hate it. She can’t decide which is more shocking, seeing Y/n here at this cafe where they met for the first time or that she has a child holding onto her hand for dear life right now. She can’t help but keep glancing down at the little girl because she’s desperately trying to see if she can recognize the traces of Y/n’s face in hers. Natasha had not checked up on Y/n after deleting her Myspace page, and she felt too guilty to find her on Facebook (if Y/n even used it).

She wonders if Y/n is still mad at her even after all of these years. She wouldn’t be able to blame her if she was mad. The more time Natasha had to sit with her thoughts she came to the conclusion that what she had done was shitty to say the least. Not just the break-up itself, but the entire relationship as a whole was a bad move on her part. She knew that in the moment when it was happening, but those few months after she felt worse and worse about it. What Natasha wasn’t expecting was to feel sobad about it right now. Y/n is not a young girl anymore, she’s 27 now, but in her face Natasha can still see some of that innocence she had in college. It’s good that a part of the light in her eyes hadn’t been completely dulled, but she’s so curious if it’s because she’s matured or not.

“How long are you staying in the city?”

Y/n is hesitant to even give her an answer. She knows what that question will lead to and she knows she won’t be able to decline any offers from Natasha. And that’s exactly why she answers, “two weeks.”

“Two weeks is a long time! What are you going to be doing.”

“Oh, I’m a research assistant. I’m going to be working in the university downtown. I didn’t want to do it, but you know how jobs give you better opportunities if you clear your whole life schedule and travel for them.”

What was a little joke to clear up some of that awkward air was a reminder of why it’s so awkward to be around Natasha in the first place. Y/n sees a change in Natasha’s face, a flash of guilt, but the redhead quickly washes it away. Y/n didn’t mean it in that way even though deep down she still has that resentment towards her ex-girlfriend.

“That sounds great,” Natasha’s eyes flash down to the little girl who is anxiously buzzing before looking back at Y/n, “well I won’t hold you two up any longer. But, I do want to extend an invite to have dinner. It’s the least I can do.” Through the formalities and faux friendly behavior is a show of humility from Natasha. The look in her eye is almost sympathetic, like a nice good meal is the best she can do to offer Y/n some comfort for a pain she caused seven years ago. “You two will probably be eating out a lot, so I can cook so you can have a homemade meal,” she continues.

Before she can’t process anything Y/n’s lips are moving and she’s agreeing to this plan.

“Great. I have a new place that’s nice and big, and I could use some guests to help me break in the place. We can exchange numbers and go from there.”

“It’s still (630) 555-3825, right?”

“Yeah,” Natasha is shocked that Y/n still remembers her number. She also can’t gloss over the fact that Y/n figured she wouldn’t change her number. “That’s exactly it.”

“I’ll call. Okay?” Natasha nods her head. Y/n looks down at Kennedy to check in with her; the little girl was growing restless just standing there and listening to the adults talk and they’re going to have to go soon. “I’ll see you later.”

Y/n gives her a small smile, the first one of the trip, and the first one Natasha has seen in years. It’s refreshing to see even if she can tell that it’s forced when she sees Y/n’s true emotions are right in her eyes.

Y/n walks past her and leaves the café with Kennedy in tow. Natasha is still a bit stunned that that actuallyhappened. It was like a movie moment in real life but without the glamor and a more painful feeling. She didn’t expect a happy reunion, but she at least thought the tension between the two would have lessened. It’s been 7 years, many career changes, and possibly many relationships later, that shouldrequire someone to move on to an extent. She hopes that the dinner will be more lighthearted and less awkward. She can’t believe Y/n accepted her offer, but if she’s anything like she remembers then Y/n still struggles to say no.

Natasha leaves the café and heads home in the opposite direction of Y/n’s hotel. What was once a decent, sunny morning turned into a bitter afternoon. It was the opposite of what Natasha felt inside. She felt an optimism that was almost uneasy. For years after that break-up she was desperate to make it up to Y/n for her ego’s sake. She wanted to prove to Y/n and herself that the break-up wasn’t just a power move. But, it is also easy for Natasha to delude herself when she wants to justify her actions that cause emotional harm. She’ll have to reevaluate what she gains from this and what she wants out of it, if she wants anything, but right now she revels in the happenstance.

That is until her phone begins to buzz and takes her out of the moment. An unfamiliar number pops up on her screen. She rarely answers calls from numbers she doesn’t know, but she does this time.

“Hello?”

“I’m just making sure you have my number.”

Natasha was not expecting Y/n to callher just five minutes later. Y/n didn’t expect to call her either but she wanted to hear that voice again and how it has changed so much yet still tugs on her heart all the same. She’s too stubborn to admit any of that to herself though.

“Oh okay. I have your number now.”

“Okay. My work schedule isn’t exactly always accurate so I’ll be the one calling you,” Y/n says matter of factly.

“That’s fine. I’m off of work every day at 4.”

“Okay I’ll call you when I can to set dinner up. Bye-“

Natasha quickly interrupts her before she can hang up, “Y/n?”

“Yes.”

“Can I ask you something? I don’t want to be rude or pry, but I’m just very curious.”

“Sure, go ahead.”

“Is that your daughter?”

Y/n is surprised Natasha hadn’t asked her sooner. She kept looking at Kennedy with a mix of fear and confusion when they were at the shop; Natasha tried to hide it in her eyes but it was so obvious to Y/n. There is no way that a person wouldn’t have many questions when seeing their ex with a small child. Maybe Natasha didn’t ask earlier because she wanted to be polite and not ask in front of Kennedy. Y/n is grateful for that.

“No. She’s not mine, but she is mine…if that makes sense.”

“It does.” It absolutely doesn’t make sense to Natasha, but now is not the time to try to get any more information out of Y/n. Despite there still being some confusion, Natasha feels a sense of relief wash over her at the answer.

“Okay, well I gotta go.”

“Okay, bye.”

“Bye bye.”

Natasha’s plans when leaving the house today to run some errands was to go home afterwards and continue her productive day. Now she feels like kicking her shoes off and taking a bottle straight from her wine cellar. Bucky is going to be in for a story tonight.

Chatroom [10] ◇

Natasha Romanoff x Reader. 3rd POV. Word Count: 5.7k.

Part Nine || Fin

Chatroom Masterlist

Summary:This time, it is Natasha who has her mind completely made up about this relationship.

A/N:Here’s the end of Chatroom. This story was originally supposed to only be a one-shot but the support for more chapters turned this into a complete series! Thank you for all the support on this story. There will be a sequel, Let Me In, which will begin in February. This is also the last fic of the year and it’s been a long one. Thank you all for sticking with me this year and if you’re a new follower then welcome! Let’s hope 2022 is better

The sun is so high in the sky today.

Winter’s consistent cold has finally broke. Everyone is enjoying the sun beaming onto their skin and the approaching end of the semester. Some people will be graduating, like Amy’s sort-of-kind-of boyfriend, but Y/n has two more years left.

When she was first applying to college, the prospect of staying in one place for four years felt like so much. She’s heard the horror stories about college and how stressful it can be. Her first year was not good for the most part. Her sophomore year was better, but still not the best. However, Y/n is feeling much more optimistic about these next two years because for the first time in her life she knows what she wants for herself

“Everyone is going to be going down to the pier, and the pizza place is going to be packed.”

“So where does that leave us?”

“I don’t know? Maybe we can hangout at the lounge? It’s always empty during the last week of school.”

Y/n is going to miss her friends more than usual this time around. She still feels little pangs of guilt for not telling them the full story of her relationship. There are still many things they don’t know about, but it didn’t seem necessary to get into the details of everything. They know the basic story and that’s fine for them. Y/n realizes how lucky she is that her friends didn’t just discard her after learning she kept something big from them.

“I can’t believe youof all people will be studying abroad,” Cindy pokes at Amy. It came as a surprise to both Cindy and Y/n. The girl who raved about being in a sorority and on the cheerleading team was leaving both behind to go study in Europe for an entire year.

“Why is it so shocking? I feel like I’m cultured! Maybe I’ll find myself a French boyfriend,” Amy jokes and Cindy laughs along. She wasn’t the only one who had studying abroad on her mind though, “how about you Y/n? Have you made your decision yet?”

The pamphlet sits in her backpack, waiting for her to read it again. The edges are curled over and slightly ripped from being stuffed inside with all those books and notebooks. Y/n has probably ready the pamphlet about ten times already; she’s had it for two weeks now. She was just so indecisive despite the encouragement from both of her friends. Even her parents weren’t turned off by the idea. The only person she didn’t run it by is Natasha. She isn’t sure how her girlfriend would react to her being gone for that long. Summer break is already long enough, but tack on an additional six months and it’s nearly a year along.

“I don’t know. My advisor said it’s still not too late, but I’m running out of time. It’s just…hard.”

She could always just wait until the second semester of her junior year. Maybe by then she’ll have the courage to talk to Natasha about it. But, she really wants to go as soon as she can. She spent hours on her laptop looking at Myspace pages and the blogs of people studying abroad. They looked so carefree, yet they were achieving so much and meeting new people. She remembers how much Natasha talked about traveling and how amazing it was for her.

“Yeah, you’re not like me; you actually have a relationship to think about. You should still do it. You don’t have to join me in France, but based off of the fact that your parents, of all people are agreeing to this then you should seize the opportunity.”

Her friends were pushing her to take the opportunity. Cindy was going to be without her best friends for a year, but she thinks this is a necessary step for them, especially for Y/n.

“I don’t know — it’s a lot to consider.” It is obvious to her friend that there is something holding her back, and that something is her relationship.

“Did you tell Natasha about it?”

“No. She’s been busy with work and I didn’t want to bother her. Our conversations have been fairly short since our trip. Both of us are just busy.”

It wasn’t a complete lie, but Y/n had plenty of chances to tell Natasha about this, but she caves every time. Y/n doesn’t like to acknowledge whyshe’s nervous to tell Natasha about this. It’s a positive thing yet she’s afraid. She fears that her girlfriend might dump her due to the distance, or worse, tell her to go and then forget about her while she’s gone. Her mind visuals herself logging onto Myspace and seeing photos of Natasha with someone else. But, considering that both of them have been using Myspace less and less, maybe she’ll just never hear from Natasha again. She could block Y/n’s number or change her own number.

Y/n finds her thoughts to be irrational, but they plague her mind. She shakes them away every chance she gets, but they come creeping in. She spent a whole week with Natasha just a mere two weeks ago, there isn’t a good reason why she thinks thisof all things would blow her relationship up. There have been more fumbles throughout their relationship, and this just can’t be one. Natasha has encouraged her to open up and this would be a pretty extreme way of opening up.

“But, I’ll try to tell her tonight — if I can reach her. If not tonight, then tomorrow night.”

“Good.”

Y/n takes a deep breath as Cindy and Amy go back to planning a get together. She shouldn’t be so nervous. She left the trip feeling happy and fulfilled. She didn’t hear the “I love you” that she expected, but it’s fine. She read in an online article that everyone says I love you at different times. She let it slip a few times but she tried to act like nothing happened. Some people have a hard time expressing themselves, and maybe Natasha is one of them. Y/n was fine with that, especially since she left the trip with something special. Around her wrist is an emerald green bracelet Natasha gifted to her. Coincidentally it was a bracelet that Natasha had gotten when she was in England, the country Y/n was considering studying abroad in. Everything felt like it was meant to be, which is why she doesn’t want to be so nervous about asking Natasha.

This is her taking the leap. This is her taking initiative in her life.

Her efforts are appreciated by her friends, even her parents, and most importantly herself. There is only one last important person in her life to tell, but Natasha is the person who will be the most proud of her.

-

Natasha was shutting off her desktop later than usual. Thanks to it officially being Spring, there was still some sunlight peeking over the horizon. It’s currently 7:02, two hours and two minutes after the usual time she leaves.

Everyone in the office could see the cloud hanging over her head, but no one asked her how she was. Hell, no one even approached her — she’s not the nicest co-worker in the building when she’s upset.

Time is her current scapegoat. Before it was bad luck, before it was otherpeople — but now it is time.

Natasha came to the realization that this relationship with Y/n has been the most inconsistent thing in her life. Even hooking-up with people was a more consistent thing. But, with Y/n it’s either a good time or a bad time, and it seems to teeter-totter between good and bad. Everything was perfect after she came home from the trip. Work was going good, her social life was going good, and her relationship was solid again. But of course there was another wrench thrown into her life. If only this had come before she met Y/n.

She thought that leaving late from work would be the solution to all of her problems, that way she could avoid her boss at all cost. She told Y/n she was working late hours at work (which isn’t a complete lie, but she didn’t feel like explaining how Myspace is banned on her job’s server after an incident where someone posted a photo of one of the bosses drunk at the annual holiday party). She was at her cubicle for hours, feeling closed in by the walls.

She sighs and shakes it off for another night. However, just as she begins to stand up, her boss is blocking her path.

“Why haven’t you answered my emails?”

Natasha felt like a kid getting caught stealing candy. Tony was going to catch her eventually, so it was naive of her to think she could avoid him at all cost.

“Sorry…sorry,” she shakes her head and smiles trying to appear as if the conversation between her and Tony genuinely slipped her mind, “I’ve been busy. I wasn’t ignoring you on purpose.”

Tony doesn’t believe her, but he isn’t going to argue with her. Natasha isn’t in trouble, but she’s avoiding him like she is. He’s not understand why his best employee is acting like this.

“Have you thought about the offer?”

“I have.”

“And?”

“I’m still thinking about it.”

Tony sighs in a mix of frustration and defeat. He can’t forceNatasha to say yes, but he won’t just accept a ‘no’ from her.

“You know I need you to answer soon, Natasha. The office in London is waiting for an answer, and you know I’m a man of punctuality!”

Tony’s voice was like nails on a chalkboard. She didn’t want to hear another word about the offer or the word ‘London’ – she could go an entire lifetime not hearing it ever again.

She looks away from her boss, and he’s no idiot. Natasha would never turn down an opportunity like this. In fact, she thought this offer was going to come to her a little over a year ago. She had been working hardto get that temporary office transfer to London, but was crushed when a former co-worker, Melina, got it. Natasha thought that shedeserved that spot. She was less than kind when complaining to Bucky about Melina who she claimed would be “gallivanting around the city with her legs wide open” in the city that she had dreamed about living in.

It was unfair then, and it’s unfair now. She didn’t have a relationship to consider when the rumors of her name being attached to the offer floated around the office nearly two years ago.

“If something is holding you back then get rid of it now,” Tony says suddenly.

Natasha holds back at gasp. It was like Tony was reading her mind and it was making everything so much worse.

“You shouldn’t let anything get in front of an opportunity like this — especially since you would have said yes in a heartbeatif this was two years ago. You’re not in your 20s anymore Natasha. You’re a big girl.”

Tony was basically telling her ‘take the offer or your career will suffer’. One thing that Natasha has mastered is reading between the lines. Even when she’s nervous or distracted, she knows that most people’s words have a double meaning. Working in business is not easy and she prepared herself to make hard decisions, but the last thing she expected to stand in her way is a relationship.

Natasha is not saying no to the offer. She was never going to say no to the offer. But, what she needed was time, the one thing she has been blaming over and over again. She needs time to think about what she’s going to do. Would it be fair to force a 20 year old girl into a long distance relationship? It’s already tough being an hour away from each other, how could they survive a 6 hour time difference with an entire ocean between them? Natasha knows that if she brings it up to Y/n that Y/n will be willing to accept it. She wonders if she should accept it too.

By the time she lands back in the states, Y/n will be a fresh college graduate and preparing herself for grad school; it would be perfect.

So, why does it seem like such a hard decision to make?

A long distance relationship just sounds so dreadful. Natasha enjoyed the trip with Y/n so much that she realized that she needs the closeness if this relationship is going to work. An hour is a barrier, but not as big of a barrier as her being away in another country. But, throwing an opportunity like this away for a relationship sounds very unlike her. That’s why she’s been trying to avoid Tony as much as possible — her thoughts are conflicting and change every single second.

Tony had left her alone to fester in the silence. He hoped that the little “pep talk” he gave her would push her into making the right decision. He specifically told the company that Natasha would be the perfect fit. Not only should she feel an ego boost from that, but it would be a pay raise, and when she comes back she’ll have an elevated position in the company. This is something she struggledto achieve. Taking on hard jobs with stupid long hours to get into grad school and finally getting her masters. She deservesthis after all that hard work.

Natasha figures her problems out herself, but she felt something nagging at her to ask someone for guidance about this. She leaves the office, pulling on her light jacket, and heads in the direction of the restaurant she was supposed to be at an hour ago.

Wanda called everyone to get together to celebrate. What is she celebrating? Quitting her job. Everyone found it so funny that she was gathering everyone to celebrate her being new unemployed, but Wanda hated her boss and hated that job so leaving called for celebration.

Everyone was already warmed-up, slightly tipsy, and full off of appetizers. No one noticed Natasha walk up to the table and take the spot designated for her over the gregarious air of the room. No one, except for Bucky who was seated right next to her.

“Where were you?”

“Work,” she says plainly as she takes her jacket off. Bucky was suspicious, but once he saw her outfit underneath her jacket he knew she was telling the truth. His eyes trail up to Natasha’s face and she looks an absolute mess.

“You look like shit. Do you want wine?”

Natasha gives him a harsh stare but nods her head in acceptance. She ran out of Merlot last week and hasn’t had the time to get more from the store. She just felt so tired and worn thin, the decision weighing heavy on her. The stress is written all over her face, it’s one of the first things Bucky noticed when she plopped down next to him. He struggled to find something to say. Usually Natasha has a better poker face, but now her guard is completely down. He runs through a list of things that could be the problem and at the top of the list is her relationship. Bucky hates to pry, but at the same time he doesn’t.

“Trouble in paradise? Oh, and how was your trip?” He pushes a plate of bread towards Natasha’s direction so she can have something to eat while she drinks. The last thing Natasha needs is to get shit-faced drunk when she has work in the morning.

“It was great. Too great.”

“Why do you say that like it’s a bad thing?”

Natasha looks around the table and no one is looking at her and Bucky. She leans into him as if they could even be heard over the different conversations going on at the table.

“I got an offer from Tony.”

“What? What is it?” Bucky was intrigued. He doesn’t know much about thee great Tony Stark aside from his reputation in the city and what Natasha tells him. From what he knows, Tony doesn’t just give out offers for fun.

“London. Two years. I’d be working with one of the sister companies, and I’d be making bank. Not only that, but I’d come back home to a senior position which is salaried.”

“Isn’t that the offer you wanted like a year ago? That would be amazingfor your career? Why is this a dilemma for you?”

Just as he’s finishing his question, Bucky quickly realizes whythis is a dilemma for her. It’s that relationship of hers that makes her hesitate. Bucky is surprised her relationship has lasted this long despite Y/n’s young age. Of course there are things he doesn’t know, but Natasha was buzzing after her trip. She even changed her relationship status on Facebook to ‘in a relationship.’ For other people that’s just a given, but for Natasha it is a big deal. Bucky gave Y/n a bit of a hard time, but she seemed like a good girl. Of all the things that might end the relationship, Bucky didn’t see this coming. Neither did Natasha which is why she’s so anxious right now.

“Does she know about it?”

“No.”

“Well you have to tell her.”

“I know, I know. I’m not stupid.”

Natasha was being incredibly short with Bucky. He sighs in frustration, but he doesn’t expect anything else from his friend. She’s not going to just spill her guts at the dinner table, he’s going to have to pry it out of her though.

“You should tell her soon. You’ve been seeing her for over a year now, right? This is a very big deal, Nat.”

“I know. I’ve been meaning to tell her, but whenever we talk on the phone the conversations are short. I also wanted to tell her in person, but she can’t find the time to come to the city. This isn’tsomething I want to discuss on the phone, it just seems unfair to do that to her. But, it seems like it’s going to happen that way.”

“Well, what are you thinking? What are you considering?”

“I’m not turning that offer down. I’d be the dumbest bitch on the planet if I did that. But, if I break-up with Y/n then I’ll feel like the biggest bitch on the planet — either way I feel like a bitch but there has to be a less painful option.”

“So you’re considering long distance?”

“Yes. But, why does that feel like a cop out? It just sounds sounfair to do that to Y/n. She’s 20…why would she want to be in a relationship like this? I can’t be there for her like she wants me to, and if I’m that far away I won’t be there at all. She could date anyone at her college-“

“Someone more age appropriate?”

Bucky knew that was a point of contention in their relationship, at least on Natasha’s side. He wonders if Y/n knows more about her now that it’s been a year. It’s easier for Natasha to hide parts of herself and her life when her girlfriend is 50 miles away and in college.

“I ruined her birthday,” Natasha says with a sigh. Her stomach growls in hunger, but she can’t bring herself to eat right now. She only came because she didn’t want to be alone, “she said everything was fine because I took her on the trip, but when is she going to stand up for herself? I would’ve ended my relationship if my older girlfriend did what I did to her. I don’t want to throw a pity party for myself, but I haven’t been a good girlfriend at all, yet she still sees potential in this? I can’t help but wonder if it’s just because she’s never experienced this before or if it’s because it’s me.”

“From what you tell me, it seems like she reallylikes you. She was shy and kept clinging to you at your birthday party. She seems like a nice girl too.”

“What would you do if you were me?”

“C’mon, Nat, that’s not fair to ask,” Bucky says abruptly. Bucky has had his fair share of messy relationships, but nothing like this. He’s never had a glaringly obvious age gap in his relationship. “My opinion can only mean so much because I don’t know all that has happened between you two.”

“I still want your opinion. You’re one of my closest friends, Bucky.” She wasn’t going to lay off him until he was telling her exactly what she wanted to hear.

“I think you should stay with her if you reallywant to. It seems like she makes you happy. I don’t think there has ever been a time where I saw you smiling at your phone because you got a text. Maybe the space is something you both need. You’ll both grow in two years time. And who knows, maybe Y/n will break it off.”

Natasha hadn’t thought about that being a possibility. Maybe it will be Y/n who is turned off by the distance and wants to end things. That relieves Natasha for some reason. She just doesn’t want to hurt Y/n. She could temper her own heartbreak if Y/n wants to end things.

“Okay…okay…I’ll talk to her tomorrow.”

“Good. Whatever happens, don’t blame me,” he jokes.

Natasha gives him a half-hearted smile. Talking did help, but this is something that shehas to figure out herself. She knew from the beginning what her decision would be, but she had to put herself through the wringer before facing the hard part. Her mind is completely made up, and it has been for some time.

-

Two essays down with two more to go.

Y/n was ahead of her personal schedule and she felt on top of the world. It was a warm day today, and the rain didn’t come like the forecast said it would. And, her roommate was not being as strict as she was last semester. She herself was up working on a paper. Their backs are to each other as they work at their desks, the light over their desks hurting both of their eyes.

Y/n felt her phone buzz which gave her the perfect excuse to pull her eyes away from her laptop. She had a break scheduled in about 30 minutes from now, but she needed it now. Her eyes light up when she sees that it’s Natasha calling. She pulls out of her desk and leaves the room before answering the phone.

“Hold on, let me go to the lounge,” she says before Natasha could get a word out.

She walks down the hallway, the hallway with awful reception. The call drops without her realizing it. She was lucky that the lounge was empty so she could call Natasha back.

“Hey.”

“Hi, sorry about that. The reception in the dorms sucks. But, I’m here now.”

“You’re here now.”

Now that she’s settled into the call, Y/n reminds herself that she has something to tell Natasha. She’s worried about her reaction, but it’s now or never since tomorrow is the last day to notify her advisor whether she is going to do it or not.

“I have something really, reallyimportant to tell you.”

“I do too.”

“O-Okay,” Y/n says shyly, “you go first!”

“I wanted to tell you this in person because it’s an important thing and not something we should be discussing over the phone, I respect you more than that, but I know neither of us will be able to find the time and I’m on a time crunch so we have to do it this way. I got a job offer out of the country and I’m taking it. I already told Tony yesterday that I’m going.”

Natasha’s voice is dry. She had to down a full glass of wine before calling Y/n. She was slightly dizzy, but her words came out smoothly. She felt like she was out of her body and her lips were moving without her being mindful of it.

“Oh…that’s great!” Y/n wondered if Natasha could hear the fakeness of her voice. It’s not like she’s not happy for her girlfriend, it’s just that she doesn’t know what this means for them. This also makes it harder for her to tell Natasha her important news. More time and more distance between the two sounds like something that would end a relationship.

“I’ll be going at the end of the Summer, so we only have a little bit of time left. I’ll be gone for two years…I know that’s such a long time, but in college the time flies. I’m sure you’ll be preoccupied with all the college stuff you do and whatever your friends get you into. I understand if this doesn’t sound ideal though. I’ll be off in London and you’ll be in the states.”

“You’re going to London?”

“Yeah?” Natasha was confused. Not because of the question, but because of the tone of Y/n’s voice. The upturn of her voice couldn’t be anything other than happiness?

“Well that’s great because my big news is that I’m thinking about studying abroad and I wanted to go to England! I don’t have enough time to learn another language so that was one of my only options. The school Brecker is partnered with has a great biology program. I don’t know if it’s in London but we would still be in the same country! Oh god I was so nervous to tell you about it because I didn’t want to be so far away from you, but we can still be close!”

Y/n felt over the moon. It was too perfect to be a coincidence that Natasha was going to London and she has the opportunity to study in England for a full school year if she wants to. Her excitement is boiling over, but Natasha doesn’t share the same excitement. It’s perfect, right?

“Don’t you think this is great? That way we would only be apart for a year. I know I have the freedom here at college, but can you imagine how things will be in another country with just the two of us?” Y/n was met with silence from the other side of the phone, and it was beginning to get to her. “Isn’t it great? I was so nervous to tell you, but everything worked out.”

The desperation in her voice was becoming palpable. Natasha’s voice was caught in her throat. She was completely blindsided and not prepared for this. One of the many things she wanted in life was to travel the world with someone she loves. But, that person isn’t supposed to be a college student; a girl who just entered her 20s.

“It sounds great Y/n,” she says with a sigh, “but I don’t think that would be a good idea.”

“What?”

“You shouldn’t upend your life for me.”

“But I’m not. I-I wanted to go but was afraid that the news would upset you, but now we still have a chance to be together! You should be happy about this.”

“Y/n. You’re a 20 year old girl. If you want to study abroad then that’s great, but you shouldn’t be concerned about me or following me around.”

“How am I following you around? It’s just a coincidence but it’s a good one. Why are you not happy?”

Natasha groans in frustration. Y/n was having trouble reading between the lines. This was not how things were supposed to go. She was supposed to tell Y/n about the job transfer. She had no plans to end the relationship because in reality she expected Y/n to dump her.

“At 20, you shouldn’t be so concerned about a serious relationship.”

“So why did you get into a relationship with me then!? You knew how old I was…and I still don’t even know how old youare! You don’t tell me anything! It’s like you don’t even want to be in a relationship with me and now you’re coming up with some bullshit excuse.”

Her voice fills the lounge on her floor and bellows down the hallways. A few of the girls on her floor can hear her voice — it’s just another break-up happening in the sophomore lounge.

"You need to let this go Y/n.”

“I can’t! I can’t! It’s not fair! You’re giving up! Why are you giving up!?”

“Because you’re too fucking stupid to realize that I’m doing what’s best for you! Even if you study abroad in England, what if it’s not in London? What if we’re separated even more than we are now? And who’s to say that you won’t be too busy to see me or vice versa? You shouldn’t…you shouldn’t have to hesitate on life decisions just because of me. You’re at a time in your life that is greatly unique. This is the only time in your life where you will feel like you have no real responsibilities in life. There is a lot of ugly shit in this world and it’s not easy-“

“You’re not making any sense. What does any of that have to do with us!? You knew I was in college, you knew I was 19 when we began dating, but you decided to continue a relationship with me. Youdid that, not just me. I didn’t get into this relationship alone so I don’t know why you’re just talking about random stuff. We can be together, so why are you doing this? Are you doing this just to hurt me?”

Natasha can’t give her a clear answer. Hell, she doesn’t even have one herself. When she left the office today, she told herself that she was going to let Y/n make the call about their relationship. But, she didn’t think Y/n would just have the “perfect” solution to the distance. Natasha can’t put her finger on why it’s imperative to end things right now, but she knows it’s the right thing to do. The right thing to do was back off Y/n when she learned her age and her upbringing. There are so many similarities between the two of them except that when Natasha got to college she threw allcaution to the wind and get burned. She doesn’t want the same for Y/n. What would be worse? Both being in the same foreign country and slowly beginning to drift apart because of being busy and self-discovery, or ending things now? This is not a fairy tale. Just because Y/n thinks things are fine doesn’t mean they are. She just keeps ignoringeverything. There was shit she shouldn’t have ignored. Natasha found herself slightly turned off by her passive behavior. As painful and awful as it is, Natasha believes that this is what Y/n needs to learn to stand up for herself. If Natasha had learned this lesson at 20 like Y/n then she wouldn’t have wasted her 20s in such shitty relationships.

“You need to form an identity of your own. When you grow up the way you did it’s easy to latch onto someone. Are you going to trail me the rest of my life?”

“We are in a relationship. Why are you acting so annoyed that I want us to be together!?”

“I want you to be your own person,” Natasha continues. She was tuning Y/n’s voice out so she could get through this without breaking down. She finds it hard to believe that Y/n would take her back if she suddenly changed her mind and puts on a happy voice and says that this will be great, but she knows that Y/n will let her put her through all that heartache just to hear what she wants to hear. “You don’t understand. You’re not going to understand for a very long time, but this is necessary.

“B-But I love you,” her voice wavered as tears slipped down her face. She felt stupid for crying, stupid for being so vulnerable. How could she not see this coming? They just spent a week together not too long ago and it was the best time of her life. Y/n had come to the conclusion that she lovesNatasha on that trip. She’s never been in love so she doesn’t know if that’s how she currently feels but she felt like she could get to that point. Why was Natasha stopping her dead in her tracks before she could come to that point? Why doesn’t Natasha understand her?

“You need to let this go. Let mego. I’m just one person, you’ll meet a thousand more people in your life that will mean much more to you than I do. Everything feels so big and life-changing right now but that’s because you’re 20. You have so much ahead of you and I don’t want to give you a complex because I’m selfish-”

“But you’re being selfish right now! You’re not listening to me at all!”

Natasha sighs. For the last time she opens her mouth to speak to Y/n.

“Please take care of yourself.”

The phone plays it’s call-ended sound, and it sounded out so loudly in Y/n’s ears. She stares at her phone, almost wanting to throw it across the room and let it break into pieces as if it was the person who hurts her. Her vision is slightly blurred as she bites back her rage. It simmers inside of her and makes her head hurt. She gets broken up with and all she gets is a ‘please take care of yourself’. Natasha’s words repeat in her head like a mantra that makes her sick to her stomach.

She has no answer and no clear understanding of what just happened. Just herself and the useless sentence: please take care of yourself.

Y/n has never felt so alone in her life.

Natasha Romanoff x Reader. 3rd POV. Word Count: 4.1k.

Part Eight||Part Ten

Chatroom Masterlist

Summary:Y/n and Natasha continue their trip and enjoy each other’s company alone.

Content:age gap, some angst, fluff, smut (18+ only, MINORS DNI), semi-public sex, fingering, tribing.

A/N: One more chapter left of Chatroom! This one is pretty lighthearted to prepare for the calm before the storm

Natasha told her that burnt toast is the best way to eat. Y/n thought they were too charred to even eat but her girlfriend convinced her otherwise. She giggled while she explained how browner the perfect toast is with such conviction. It felt silly but Natasha talked so passionately about it as if someone had told her all her life she was wrong about her opinion on bread.

And Y/n realizes what she likes most about Natasha. It was silly to see the admirable trait of being passionate come through when she’s talking about bread, but Y/n is certain that she could talk about paint drying on a wall and she’d look at her with stars in her eyes. She has a passion that Y/n has never witnessed herself — a lust for life if you will. The people around her are exploring life, but there is just something so attractive about a person who has it together while not being solely tied down to their career every waking moment. It seems more meaningful than the trap of college life where you’re trying to party hard yet come out of college unscathed. Natasha has direction in her life, something that feels hard to grasp in the throes of college and preparing yourself for life beyond while in a totally new environment.

Y/n would like to feel like she has her life together someday. She never worried or thought about that until she met Natasha. Her main concern prior to this relationship was finding herself and being able to open — she feels like she has been able to do that with this relationship. However, she’s still in college where her life feels a little bit jumbled.

She is aware that right now she fits into Natasha’s life as much as a square peg fits into a round hole, but she hopes that doesn’t deter her from wanting to be with her. Aspects of their lives and personality make them incompatible, but there are so many great things that keep them bonded together. If both of them can just hold on for a little longer then things will fall into place.

“What do you want to do today?”

Natasha’s voice cuts through her thoughts and Y/n had no clue she was just staring at her as she sat across from her. She tries to play it off, hoping that she hadn’t been caught. She just looks so good in her morning attire with the scratchy voice to match.

“I don’t know…what do you have planned for us?”

“Well we could go down to the river nearby. It’s not warm enough for a swim,  but it’s still beautiful down there. Or we could go hiking. Either one sounds fine to me.”

“I wanna go hiking! I’ve never been to the dunes but Amy told me that they’re so beautiful and I gotta see it.”

“Then we’ll do that,” she tilts her head to see the clock on the stove that reads ‘11:23’, “we can head out at 1. That’ll give us plenty of time to get ready.”

Natasha gets up and walks over to Y/n’s side of the table and kisses the top of her head. In front of her was a plate of the simple breakfast she made for them. There wasn’t much to work with in the house. Natasha appreciated the effort. It was a new experience for her to wake up to noises coming from the kitchen and the smell of food in the air. It felt oddly domestic which was both comforting and frightening for her.

After last night, Natasha decided that she wasn’t going to bring up her feelings or acknowledge them for the entire trip. Y/n deserves the peace of knowing that her girlfriend does indeed like her. She feels guilty about the birthday fiasco, but Y/n acts like everything is fine so she decides it’s not worth bringing up on the trip. Y/n only acts like there isn’t an obvious problem because she’s clueless about how relationships work. Sometimes Natasha wants to be blunt with her. Y/n should be mad at her, she should want to stick up for herself and call her out. Every second that passes where she doesn’t do that Natasha feels like pushing her to do so, but she feels like that would do more harm than good. There is just no gentle way to confront reality and it sucks. She wishes she would have never been selfish in the beginning.

Natasha has to force herself to quit from thinking about exactly what she told herself to avoid. She doesn’t want to ruin this trip because of pessimism. Instead she turns her focus to packing for their hike. It’s not a hot day, but she wants to be prepared. It’s Y/n’s first time visiting the dunes and she doesn’t want it to be a bad experience. She contemplates packing one of the toys her eyes gloss over. She has a few that she hasn’t used on Y/n just yet and she’s excited to explore during this trip. However she decides not to pack one of their toys for now. She can’t promise herself  that the outing will be completely innocuous, but she’s already equipped with what she needs to get her girlfriend off. The dunes are nearby and she can’t wait for Y/n to see them. She’s sure that she’ll love it and she hopes it can give them the much needed peace deserved after the last two weeks.

-

“How close are we?”

“Less than a mile baby.”

Y/n wanted to groan but she feels like she’s complained enough already.

The forecast had lied to them and it was warmer than expected. Y/n was wearing a sweater, the one with Natasha’s alma mater on it, when they first began their journey on one of the dune trails. Now it’s tired around her waist and she’s in a sports bra. It’s a little bit too small for her and it’s very noticeable. She only wore it because she didn’t think she’d have to take her sweater off. Natasha felt childish for ogling her tits, but Y/n is her girlfriend after all and she just can’t help but to stare at what’s hers.

They’ve been walking for a good 30 minutes. Y/n was growing exhausted, but Natasha wanted to show her something. She promised her that the work it takes to make it to their destination will pay off and Y/n hopes it’s true. They pass by multiple mile markers and Y/n counts down until they finally reach the next full mile. The trail breaks off into two separate ones. Y/n is about to walk down the one on the left before Natasha stops her.

“Here.”

Natasha grabs Y/n’s hand and leads her to the trail on the right. Y/n is a bit worried that a lot more walking is ahead of them, but she sees that the trail has reached a dead end. It’s not really a scenic area so Y/n is sort of confused as to why Natasha really wanted them to come to this spot.

“We can take some time to rest here. I doubt anyone will stumble upon us — plus we get this view.”

Natasha points to the vast opening where they can see the Earth stretch out for miles and miles. They can see the other trails and so much more. Y/n has never considered herself an outdoorsy person but Natasha didn’t lie when she said this would be perfect.

After just staring at the landscape beyond her for a few minutes, she turns to Natasha and sees that she has set up a blanket on the ground for them to sit on.

“Come sit with me,” she pats the space beside her.

Y/n happily walks over and sits down. She’s grateful for Natasha packing all the stuff she did or else this would be a much more miserable time. There is even more water than she has in her water bottle and a few snacks. Y/n’s hand is reaching for the grapes and she quickly opens up the baggy before popping a few in her mouth.

“So…how do you like the view?”

“It’s perfect,” Y/n says after swallowing what was left in her mouth, “how many times have you been here?”

“Countless times. I would always come with friends, or by myself, but never with someone I’ve dated.”

The revelation makes Y/n feel special. She doesn’t make a big deal of the comment but she keeps it stored away in her mind.

“I love the city, don’t get me wrong, but this is perfect. When I get old and retire someday I want to leave the city. I don’t know if I’ll necessarily move close out here or out of state, but I want to spend the last of my days out by nature.”

“Really? I guess I haven’t thought about that far out in my life.”

“If you live more than five years in the city, then you’d get what I’m saying.”

Y/n lived in the suburbs all of her life so city life was a foreign thing to her. All of her treks to see Natasha and going into the city made her feel oddly mature. Her parents told her cities are so dangerous and filled with rude people, but she’s never encountered any of that. The city was colorful and filled with so many different people. She found Natasha to be so lucky that she could step outside her apartment and have countless options for things to do on a day off. Y/n has been looking up schools in the city for that very reason. She almost considered transferring in the middle of her undergraduate years, but it’s just easier to wait until she graduates. She hasn’t said anything to Natasha about it because she’s unsure of how she’ll react. Would her close presence be unwanted? It’s hard to find the answer, especially after the last two weeks.

“I can tell when you’re thinking,” Natasha teases her. She leans back and props herself up on her elbows, “it’s written all over your face whenever you’re thinking too much.”

“Is it that obvious?” Y/n giggles as she lays down next to Natasha.

An arm wraps around her shoulder and draws her in closer. Everything feels perfect — almost like it did in the beginning. Y/n forgets about the problems of the last two week, in fact she thinks about any and all of the problems they’ve had. It all feels so small and asinine now. Y/n loves Natasha so much that she’s willing to look past the petty stuff. It’s finally set in that she’s in love with her girlfriend and now it’s time to move through life together. Y/n wants to know so much more about Natasha. She feels like she’s always talking about her life and her past, but barely knows about Natasha besides the small tidbits from casual conversation.

“Did you like doing this kind of stuff when you were a kid?” Y/n asks, breaking the silence.

“Sometimes. My parents would take me camping. It was one of the few times I felt like I was able to be a kid. I used to get made fun of by my classmates that I didn’t know how to skip rocks, but I learned how to on my very first camping trip. It’s so stupid, but stuff like that really makes you feel alienated when you’re a kid who doesn’t know better.”

Y/n could relate so much to Natasha’s upbringing so she wonders why she doesn’t open up about it much. It could be hard for her to do, but Y/n understands what she went through.

“That was me but with crayons. My parents wouldn’t give me the big 48 pack of crayons while everyone else had them. They thought it would make me ‘spoiled’ and turn into a brat. In hindsight it’s was such a small thing to be upset about but I was in 1st grade and it felt like the end of the world for me.”

“Most of it was small silly stuff, but that denial of small things snowballs into bigger things,” Natasha inhales deeply, “let’s change the subject. We’re out here and it’s so beautiful, let’s not ruin that.”

Y/n nods her head. She doesn’t believe that opening up is going to “ruin” their time out here, in fact she thinks it’ll bring them closer, but she doesn’t protest. Besides, she has no choice but to not talk about it when Natasha kisses her.

It was mostly to placate her. She doesn’t want Y/n to think she’s trying to shut her down, but now is just not the time to talk about those things. She feels Y/n melting underneath her and she feels like her mission has been accomplished.

“You’re so pretty,” Natasha says between kisses. Y/n hums into the kiss and arches her back to press her body closer to Natasha. Y/n hoped that this spot is as secluded as Natasha said because it would be embarrassing to be caught like this.

Natasha’s hands rested idly on her sides before she began to tug at her leggings. The action was making Y/n wet because she knows exactly what Natasha wants. She wants her too and the thrill of doing something so private out here makes her feel delirious with lust. Natasha places her head in her neck and begins to suck on her skin. Y/n sighs and whimpers when Natasha nips at the most sensitive parts of her skin.

A hand snakes between them and Natasha applies pressure to Y/n’s clit through her leggings. Those little gasps and sighs of pleasure are heavenly to her. She’s obsessed with getting Y/n off so much that it makes her impatient. She’s eagerly tugging at her leggings while still kissing her neck.

“Natasha,” Y/n whimpers. Everything was happening so fast and she couldn’t stop it. But she didn’t want it to stop. This is Natasha’s way of showing her love. It becomes increasingly obvious that it’s not easy for Natasha to open up, but she shows it physically and that’s enough for Y/n.

Natasha pulls away from her neck and sits up on her knees. She removes her own t-shirt to reveal her sports bra. She grabs Y/n’s bra before Y/n is taking it off herself. The warm air hits her tits and instantly hardens her nipples. Y/n groans as she feels them pebbling. Natasha grabs the sweater around her waist and Y/n assumes she’s going to discard it somewhere but she instead places it over her head.

“I want you to wear it,” Natasha declares. Seeing Y/n in her clothes turns her on so much. It’s a little too warm to be wearing it, and their activities are going to heat her up even more, but Natasha is too selfish right now.

Y/n puts it on and it covers her up but it doesn’t deter Natasha from reaching underneath her shirt and squeezing her tits. Y/n’s sighs get a little bit louder, especially when Natasha’s fingers swipe across her hard nipples.

“Feels good, doesn’t it?”

Y/n nods her head while biting down on her bottom lip.

Natasha gets Y/n’s leggings off leaving her in just her underwear. Natasha is still partially clothed, but Y/n begins to tug at her sweat pants.

“You’re just so eager,” Natasha teases her for being hasty just like she is. It’s all lighthearted because once Natasha gets Y/n’s panties off she’s not going to be able to control herself.

“I don’t want to be the only one naked,” Y/n says with a pout.

Natasha gives her what she wants and takes her sweatpants off, but she quickly turns the attention back to Y/n. She hooks her fingers in the elastic and pulls her underwear off. Now she’s left in nothing but Natasha’s college sweater. Her hair is a bit disheveled from their fumbling on the blanket. She looks so hot like this, but Natasha wants to make her look even more of a mess. She’s possessive and likes to be reminded that she’s the only one who does this to Y/n.

Y/n felt slightly vulnerable being exposed like this, but she feels safe with Natasha. Natasha grabs her hips and pulls her across the blanket. Y/n gasps at the sudden movement and those gasps turn to whimpers of pleasure when Natasha dips two fingers into her pussy.

“Oh my god,” she whines.

She’s reminded of what they did just the day before when Natasha pushes her fingers in deeper. Y/n is so wet, soaking every inch of her digits as she slowly pulls them in and out. Y/n is too embarrassed to look at herself getting finger fucked, but Natasha can’t pull her eyes away. Her pussy is so deliciously warm and wet. Her slow pace is damn near tortuous but Natasha is having so much fun hearing Y/n whine and whimper like a bitch in heat.

“Your pussy is so tight. No matter how many times I stretch you out, your pussy is always wrapped so snugly around my fingers.”

Y/n’s body is heating up and it’s not just because of the outside temperature. Natasha’s fingers are somehow too much and not enough at the same time. She is constantly on a rollercoaster of emotions with Natasha’s but the highs are so high.

“Natasha,” Y/n whines again. It’s like that’s the only thing she can say because that is the only thing that matters.

The call of her name makes Natasha move her fingers in and out of her faster. She watches and hears the lewd sound of her fingers splashing in her wetness. Y/n’s pussy is already creaming around her fingers and it really hasn’t been that long. She just loves how responsive and needy Y/n gets.

As much as it’s fun to turn her into an impatient mess, Natasha is becoming one herself. She pulls her finger out of Y/n’s pussy and they’re covered in her slick. She sits back so she can take her own pants off and her panties follow suit.

“W-What are you doing?”

This was something new for Y/n. Natasha straddled her and placed her legs around her legs to make them fit like a puzzle piece. She was rendered speechless when Natasha placed her pussy on top of hers. She was wet and sticky. Their arousals mix together as Natasha begins to swirl her hips so their clits can roll over each other. She grabs onto Y/n’s leg tightly for leverage. Y/n has no clue what they’re doing but it feels so good.

“Nothing feels better than your pussy on mine,” Natasha confesses as her voice cracks. She feels like she’s in heaven now. “So fucking wet for me.”

Y/n was just laying there while Natasha did most of the work. She was so overwhelmed but Natasha was so much more composed than her. Y/n felt herself getting closer and closer every time Natasha moved her hips. She ground herself harder against Y/n’s pussy, chasing her high as much as she was concerned with making Y/n cum.

“Pussy is so sweet baby,” Natasha’s voice is now whiny which matches Y/n’s.

Her fast thrust makes Y/n’s tits juggle underneath the sweater. Natasha nearly cums at the sight of those pretty tits jiggling under hersweater, her alma mater sewed proudly into the soft fabric. She’s never felt so much pride in claiming someone as ‘hers’. It’s been a long time since she could say that. Flashes of regret hit her as she wishes she would have showed Y/n off at her birthday party. There are many things she could have done better, but Natasha can’t fix it now. Sometimes it feels futile to do so.

“I’m gonna cum Natasha!”

Y/n’s voice pulls her out of the daze. It was easy to get lost in contemplation when her hips were moving absentmindedly for her. But Y/n always somehow pulls Natasha into the reality where everything is fine. That clashes with the only reality that exists, but she can pretend until it becomes her reality because that’s all she wants.

“Cum for me baby,” Natasha leans down so her face was inches away from Y/n’s face, but her pussy is still on Y/n’s, grinding feverishly. “I want to feel you cum against me baby. You’re so goddamn wet.”

Y/n kisses Natasha with all the energy she has left in her. It’s going to be so hard to trek back down that trail, but that’s the bridge she’ll cross when she gets to it. She’s lost in the moment and the sweetness of her girlfriend’s lips against hers. Their kiss is so soft and delicate compared to the rough and fast movements of their hips. Y/n cums first, moaning against Natasha’s lips which sends a vibration throughout her body.

The feeling of Y/n’s pussy gushing against hers triggers Natasha orgasms. She’s the one who pulls away from the kiss so she can let out a strangled moan. She still grinds even as she grows sensitive. It’s Y/n who is the one who stops them, her hands gripping Natasha’s hips to bring her to a halt.

Natasha stops moving, but she rolls Y/n around so she’s on top. Her lips are back on hers and she never wants them to part. She kisses her feverishly, her tongue sliding into her mouth. It’s so lascivious that it makes the shy girl in Y/n all bashful. But the person on the outside is kissing back with so much passion. She’s come such a long way and her being able to be comfortable with her sexuality is a big step for her.

They could go forever, and it almost seems like they’re going to until a rock falls and makes both of them jump. Y/n yelps and Natasha looks in the direction of the fallen rock. When they realized it was just a rock and not a person, they relaxed. Y/n laughs at herself for getting all scared and yelping like that. Natasha joins her before she kisses her exposed collar bone.

“Was that good?” She asks against her skin.

“So good. It’s always so good with you.”

Hearing that makes Natasha’s heart pump faster and she feels up with warmth. She’s a grown woman but she feels like a teenager in love. It’s scary that someone so young is able to make her feel like this.

That mere thought makes her become hesitant again. She pulls her lips away from Y/n’s collarbone but she does it in a way that isn’t sudden and won’t worry Y/n. Her girlfriend has a big, satisfied smile on her face.

“I love being out here with you. I love this trip so far.”

Y/n was fawning over the trip, and what they just did, but what she really wanted to say was that she loved Natasha. She just feels like it’s too soon when considering their relationship. If they lived nearby and were able to function like a regular couple then she would have no problem saying it. It’s been a little over a year of them being together, how could Y/n not love Natasha?

Natasha has strong feelings for Y/n too, but it takes her much more to say 'I love you’. She’s only said it to one girlfriend and she truly meant it then. She still has love for that girlfriend, but she’s not inlove with her. She isn’t in love with anyone, but Y/n brings her good feelings that she hasn’t felt in a long time.

Her growing love for Y/n makes her believe that what Y/n wants is the opposite that she needs.

But, that is a problem for another day.

They’re on a trip together, enjoying the beautiful view of the dunes and the surrounding nature. Nothing else matters. Whatever problems arise in the future will be addressed then. For now they just have each other and the silence that falls between them. That’s all they needed — a moment of stillness in the quiet chaos of their relationship.

Sing for Me - Shang Chi

Karaoke was always low stakes, always all fun and games; keyword being ‘was’.

“Amazing! Just amazing!” You cheered, clapping as Shang and Katy finished belting out the last note of Mr. Brightside by The Killers.

“Thank you, thank you, to our adoring fans!” Katy said, bowing with a dramatic sweeping motion. You cupped your hands by your mouth and exhaled a soft scream to immediate a larger crowd shouting your friends on. Shang laughed at the sound as he collapsed on the couch by your side, causing you bounce slightly. With the dip in the cushion, you slid until your left shoulder pressed against his right.

At the touch, you craned your neck to look over at Shang. You found that his eyes were already fixed on you, the softest of smiles playing on his lips. In the light of the karaoke menu screen, you could see Shang was flushed. Whether it was from the alcohol or the exertion of singing, the red in his cheeks made him look all the more sweet and soft as he held your gaze.

“Hi,” he murmured dazedly, leaning a little closer.

“Hi,” you echoed with a smile, leaning a little closer as well. “Tipsy, are we?”

“Only slightly, just enough to embarrass myself.”

“Your singing isn’t embarrassing,” you laughed. Shang’s expression shifted from playful to serious then, and you feared you misunderstood what he said, lost his meaning in the music of the karaoke machine’s idling music. Though, when he opened his mouth to reply, Katy interjected with a snappy shout.

“Who’s up next!?” Katy continued scrolling through the song list.

“What do you want to sing, Y/N? A little Amy Whinehouse? Oh! One Direction maybe?”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa! I never said I was singing tonight,” you pressed. “My voice is still recovering from the last time. Wong left me with all those high notes!”

“It was the best rendition of Bohemian Rhapsody yet,” Katy said sincerely that she turned to look at you, her eyes stone-cold serious. “I mean it.”

“I can tell,” you said with a wide smile, “but I’m still on vocal rest.”

“Boo!” Katy shouted, standing up and waving her hands at Shang to get him to join in her cajoling. “C’mon, Y/N! Boo!”

Heat rushed to your face as Katy continued. When Shang’s voice did not join the fray, you looked over at him. He was still fixed on you, a gentle smile on his lips. There was a glint in his eyes that intensified the bashfulness that warmed your skin. He turned the spark into a wildfire. You considered yourself scorched when Shang tilted his head towards yours.

“Sing for me,” he murmured, eyes flicking from yours to your lips and back again. The sight of Shang’s shifting gaze entranced you, compelled you to give into him. But, for what felt like a prolonged moment, you were unable to speak.

“I-I, oka-”

“Excuse me, hello?”

At the sound of a new voice in the room, you, Shang, and Katy swung your heads towards the room to the karaoke booth. There lingered a pasty-looking teenager who looked rather displeased with having to work the Saturday night shift. He eyed the three of you warily as if he was unsure what to expect. When he was greeted with quiet, he seemed relieved.

“Yeah, this booth was booked for a bridal party so…you gotta go.”

“Oh,” you said in a breath, glancing back to Katy and Shang, the latter of whom wore a frown. Katy just appeared pissed. She crossed her arms over her chest and scowled. If it were not for the bright, lime green pants she wore, she would have been very intimidating.

“Is there another booth open?” She asked, her tone unyielding and eyebrows stern. You back-tracked your thoughts. Katy wasintimidating, even with the neon trousers.

The teen’s eyes widened. “Uh, no. There isn’t. Sorry.”

Katy grumbled something indiscernible before she reached towards the couch for her fanny pack. “C’mon, guys. I’m sure the bar on Hawthrone has a better selection anyway.”

Quickly, Katy darted out of the booth, leaving you and Shang to haphazardly collect yourselves to follow after her. You gathered your things and paused, making sure you forgot anything. Shang grabbed his red jacket, slipped it on over his shoulders, and looked to you.

“Got everything?”

“Y-Yeah,” you said, barely meeting his eyes. Your mind was still whirling from the way he looked at you before, the sound of his voice when he spoke: low and wanting. “I think so.”

“Great,” he replied, letting your step in front of him.

You heard him mumble a ‘thank you’ to the young employee. Though, you were only half listening as Shang rested one of his hands on the small of your back, gently guiding you outside. His touch remained until you both were swallowed by the cool night air and the sound of Katy huffing in distaste. She paced up and down the sidewalk, her lips pursed.

“Why didn’t that little twerp tell us. Now we gotta walk across town to the other bar! I’m so-Ugh! I don’t even want to walk there.”

“Wanna call it a night, then?” Shang asked, glancing from Katy to you. You met his gaze and felt the heat again, how quickly it rose to your cheeks. You looked away and nodded.

“Yeah, I’m a bit tired anyway.”

“Ugh!” Katy shouted one last time before taking a very deep breath. “Yeah. Okay. I’m good. We can go home.”

You and Shang laughed before you followed after Katy as she started off in the direction of home. Growing up in the same neighborhood gave you the perk of being able to walk with each other. Being with Shang and Katy during these late-night treks home made you feel safe. Though, since your last walk, you knew more. You knew about Shang’s powers, became reacquainted with Katy’s bravery, and found your own strength. It was all the more comforting.

As was the feeling of Shang’s hand idly brushing against yours as you walked. Between laughter and chatter, you would sneak glances at your knuckles. Then, you would let yourself watch them bump into Shang’s. Each time, you smiled to yourself and looked at your feet.

Eventually, the pavement grew familiar. You began to step over crack patterns that housed dandelion weeds between the concrete, patches of yellow and green against grey that you passed earlier that day. Some of the flowers closed with the lack of Sun, while the others that remained open were like pieces of stars that fell from the sky to nestle between sidewalk slabs. Katy nearly stepped on one as she turned towards her family’s apartment door.

“Sorry about the karaoke bust,” Katy said, turning to face you and Shang. “Maybe tomorrow we can hit the deli and go bowling?”

You nodded and looked at Shang, only to find his expectant gaze on you already. “Yeah, that sounds good. Meet up at noon?”

“Sounds like a plan,” Shang agreed, giving you, and then Katy, a smile.

“Great! See you tomorrow!”

With that, Katy disappeared inside the apartment complex wedged between storefronts. You looked back at Shang and tipped your head farther down the street.

“Walk with me?”

“Of course,” he replied, smiling. “You don’t even have to ask.”

“Well, I don’t know! You might have super-secret Avengers plans that I’m not invited to,” you said teasingly. “I have to ask to be sure I don’t interrupt a tea party with the Hulk.”

Shang laughed and shook his head. “Bruce doesn’t strike me as a tea type of guy.”

“That’s a shame.” The two of you laughed together and let a silence fall between you as you walked down the street towards your apartment. “But really, have you heard from any of them yet, since they recruited you?”

“No, not yet,” Shang sighed, “I think I’m relieved about that though.”

“Don’t wanna fight any aliens or evil wizards?” As you walked, you knocked your shoulder against Shang’s. He did not budge nor bend with the impact; though, you had to focus on staying steady on your feet. Struggling with that, you nearly missed the feeling of Shang’s hand closing around your own and holding you in place.

“You alright?”

“Mhm,” you hummed, blood rushing to your face. To distract yourself, you pressed, “you uh, you didn’t answer my question.”

“Yeah, I don’t want to. I just want to…to breathe for a bit,” he looked to you and smiled. “Just want to spend time here, living.”

“And embarrassing yourself?” You asked, referencing what he had said in the karaoke bar. Before he could reply, you added, “what did you mean by that anyway?”

Shang’s smile faltered then and he stopped mid-stride. Worried you had overstepped somehow, you raised a careful, questioning brow at him, to which he replied with a squeeze of your hand and a tip of his chin upwards. “This is you, right?”

You followed his eye line and, when you saw the familiar facade of your building, you nodded. “Yeah, it is.”

Willing to let your curiosity die, you attempted to let go of Shang’s hand and start towards your door. Yet, as you tried to pull away, Shang pulled you close. Your chest was pressed against his and, almost as soon as you caught your breath, his free hand cupped your face. Warmth spread through your every nerve ending at his touch.

“Embarrass myself,” he started softly, “like admitting that I wanted to kiss you in Ta Lo but I didn’t and I’ve been kicking myself since.” Shang licked his lips and held your gaze, searching your eyes for any tell as if your blush was not evidence enough. “Like admitting I still want to kiss you, like stupid bad.”

You could not help but laugh at his words, overwhelmed with every emotion that you kept bubbling beneath the surface. “Stupid bad?”

“Yes,” he said in a breath, “yes, so badly.” The hand of his that cupped your face shifted, his thumb skirting along the edge of your lips. You knew he had to feel the heat in your skin, to hear the wild beating of your heart against his chest.

As if stoked into a burning sense of bravery, you freed your hands and gripped his jacket tight. Teasingly, you tipped your head forward, “then kiss me.”

Immediately, Shang’s lips melded against yours. It was a desperate, needy kiss, one that left you reeling, pulling him with you towards the door to your apartment complex. Shang guided you to rest your back against the brick with one arm around your waist, the other extended against the wall like an anchor. When he pulled away, you smiled.

“Still want me to sing for you, too?”

Shang’s dark eyes widened at your question but he grinned. “Y-Yeah.”

Lost in the feeling of fiery passion and Shang’s hands, you smiled. You smiled, and you unlocked the door to your home and pulled him inside.

Dating Bucky Barnes Would Include…

AN: I can’t believe I haven’t done one of these for Bucky yet! Warning, this turned out to be more of a slow burn than I intended. Oops!

• For the majority of his life, Bucky Barnes has fought.
• When he wasn’t fighting, he was atoning for the sins that followed whatever battle he survived.
• Post-Snap, Bucky threw himself into making amends.
• Sometimes it would be doing small acts of kindness for strangers.
• Other times it was moving across the hall from a man whose life you played a part in making terrible.
• Balance was never his strong suit.
• Dr. Raynor was little help in his atonement as she was less of a therapist and more of a well of one-liners about Bucky’s social life.
• It was an easy mark though, as Bucky knew more ghosts than actual, living people.
• Perhaps that was why Dr. Raynor’s teasing hit him so hard.
• Perhaps that was why her comments on the topic lingered in his mind on the nights when his terrors were quiet.
• “Do you have any friends? What about Sam? Have you heard from him?”
• “You should try meeting someone, James.”
• “Did you speak to anyone new over the weekend?”
• Every time, Bucky would reply, “no, just Yori and the bartender.”
• “The bartender nice?”
• Every time, Bucky would shrug and say, “I dunno. I’ll find out next time.”
• Then, ‘next time’ would come and Bucky wouldn’t find out.
• It was like clockwork.
• Until it wasn’t.
• Until you.
• It’s during Bucky’s usual dinner and drink with Yori, when he least expects it.
• Izzy’s is a dive, a well-too-hidden gem covered in dust kicked up by those who lived in the city, walked the streets, called it home.
• That means that Izzy’s is typically empty, but if it is busy, it’s full of regulars.
• Leah, the bartender Bucky didn’t know was nice, was the only employee anyone seemed to see.
• So, when you shadowed her behind the bar, eyes wide and drinking how she made each concoction for Izzy’s patrons, you stuck out.
• That was why Bucky watched you at first, listened as Leah taught you the ropes.
• “Alright, so, show me how to make it.”
• “Like you just did?”
• “Yes, Y/N. Like I just did.”
• Bucky smiled then.
• He smiled at your clear nervousness, the sound of your voice, the first utterance of your name.
• Yori was talking about something, reciting some story that he already told
• and Bucky was half listening, his eyes flicking up from the counter top to you.
• Once, you locked eyes with him.
• You smiled and Bucky felt his own smile widen.
• That was before he lost his nerve and quickly looked away.
• He wanted to talk to you, but he got in his head about it; as he always did.
• Plus, your training finished and you walked out of Izzy’s with only one last glance in his direction.
• He must have imagined it.
• That’s what he told himself.
• It would be pointless anyway.
• What was the likelihood that he would see you again?
• Whenever he and Yori went to the bar, Leah was the tender.
• You would have a different shift, so he would never see you again.
• But then, he did.
• You were behind the bar, worriedly getting people their drinks as Bucky and Yori walked through the door.
• As soon as they sat down, your eyes met.
• An awe-struck silence fell over the two of you.
• Bucky isn’t one for believing in a higher power, not after all he’s seen and been through, but he wonders, at that moment, about fate.
• You wonder the same as the shared stare continues.
• Then Yori would break the spell and ask, “where’s Leah? Leah works on Wednesdays.”
• “I’m covering for her for a few weeks.”
• “You’re new,” Yori said before he glanced at Bucky with a glint of mischief in his eyes.
• “I am,” you laughed and followed the, seemingly, older man’s eyes to Bucky. “And you two are regulars, right? That’s what Leah told me.”
• “Yeah,” Bucky replied, putting on a nervous smile.
• He cursed himself for being so out of practice.
• He cursed himself for being so suddenly taken by you.
• Luckily, Yori could care less about Bucky’s ability to flirt with people.
• “You two should go on date.”
• Immediately, you and Bucky looked at Yori, chuckling warily before you glanced back at each other.
• “Yori, c’mon, that’s not,” Bucky shook his head.
• “We don’t even know each other’s names.”
• Well, Bucky did know yours, and that put you at a disadvantage.
• He didn’t like that, didn’t like that you didn’t know him.
• Before Yori could introduce Bucky to you himself, Bucky extended his right hand (his flesh hand) out to you.
• “I’m Bucky.”
• Your eyes flicked from his fingers to his eyes before you smiled.
• “Y/N,” you replied, taking his hand.
• “There you go. Now date,” Yori proclaimed, “life is short.”
• “Alright, easy now,” Bucky said when you dropped his hand. “I’m sure Y/N is a busy person, especially with this job.”
• Bucky gestured around to the near-empty bar as he spoke and, much to his surprise, you laughed.
• “Oh yes, so busy.”
• Yori waved a dismissive hand and went on to ask for a drink and some food for himself.
• Bucky watched quietly as you worked, pulling Yori’s favorite beer out and darting into the back kitchen to place his food order in.
• You were a worried whirlwind of energy and, every so often, as you filed in and out of the adjoining kitchen, you met his eyes.
• It took all Bucky had to focus on Yori and his complaining about the neighbors.
• When you interrupted to give them the food they had ordered, Bucky was overwhelmed with relief.
• He had an excuse to look at you then, to speak to you.
• “Thank you,” was all he could muster, along with a shy smile.
• The evening continued like that: a collection of small, stolen glances and the tension of Yori’s words between you.
• Bucky got lost in his thoughts, questioned whether you felt it too.
• Though, as always, Yori grounded him back to reality by the end of the night.
• Tipsy and unsteady, the old man stood from his stool and grumbled something about heading to bed.
• Bucky was helping Yori towards the door when he saw you again.
• You were wiping down a newly emptied table near the exit and you lifted your head, eyes meeting his.
• It took all Bucky had to explain, “I gotta get him back.”
• “Okay,” you said, the faintest of frowns on your lips. “You two have a goodnight.”
• “Yeah, you too.”
• Bucky quickly guided Yori out the door before the man could press a possible date any further
• That didn’t mean that Yori didn’t mention it on the walk home.
• “You should have asked.”
• “I’m not looking for…for that right now,” Bucky pressed, shaking his head.
• Yori shook his head too, but he was chuckling, a lot.
• With furrowed brows, Bucky watched him as he succumbed to an almost full-belly laugh.
• “Oh, you’re a young man,” Yori managed through his chuckle, “you know nothing.”
• Bucky huffed in amusement because he couldn’t deny that.
• Despite being a century old, Bucky Barnes had not truly lived.
• “You do not look for love,” Yori continued, “it finds you.”
• The old man’s words struck Bucky in the chest
• harder than any punch or shock or bullet ever had.
• He barely had time to recover before Yori continued, but with his focus shifted to the noisy neighbors once again.
• Bucky was glad for the distraction, though your smile lingered in the back of his mind as he helped Yori to his door.
• “I’ve got it. I’ve got it.”
• “I’m sure you do,” Bucky drawled disbelievingly.
• “You don’t,” Yori returned, opening the door this his apartment.
• “What?”
• Yori stopped at the entrance of his home and let out a long, heavy sigh.
• “That Y/N. You didn’t make a date.”
• “We’ve been over this. I didn’t but-“
• “What a shame.”
• “Yeah…a shame,” Bucky echoed, tension bleeding out from his body.
• There’s a long pause where the two men sit in the quiet, each one waiting for the other to say something else.
• Yet, they both thought better of it.
• “Goodnight,” Yori said, patting Bucky’s shoulder.
• Bucky held his breath at the touch, a flood of terrible, hazy memories flooding back and renewing his stress.
• In a rush, Bucky replied, “Night, Yori.”
• With a nod of acknowledgment, the old man disappeared within the dimness of his apartment.
• Bucky took a trembling breath before he turned towards his own door.
• His hand reached out to twist the knob, but the action stirred a feeling within him.
• A memory of a few hours before Bucky’s hand extending out towards you as you smiled at him.
• In turn, his hand falls back down to his side and he shakes his head as if to clear it.
• Bucky turned and started back down towards the entrance of the apartment complex.
• A walk would clear his head.
• At least he hoped that it would.
• Yet all Bucky got was rained on.
• A storm rolled in, bringing small, isolated showers with it.
• By the time he was nearby Izzy’s (one of the only places he knew how to get to), Bucky feared getting soaked.
• So, he tucked beneath the oning that hung outside the door to the bar.
• The thick, dark green fabric provided a little protection from the rain, and Bucky savored the fleeting feeling of safety it supplied.
• It lasted only a minute or so before the door to Izzy’s swung open
• and, of course, it had to be you that walked through.
• “You’re back!” You quickly recollected yourself, shaking your head. “I mean, you’re back.”
• “I’m back,” Bucky said, unable to keep himself from smiling at your presence.
• You were smiling too, before confusion furrowed your brow and forced your lips into a frown.
• “Everything alright? Yori okay?” You asked, concern dripping from your tone like the landed rain drops slipping off of the oning.
• “Yeah, yeah. I just wanted to…”
• When Bucky met your eyes, he realized he wanted you.
• But he couldn’t say that.
• He was out of practice when it came to flirting but that would be…creepy.
• “I wanted to apologize for him. He doesn’t have a filter sometimes.”
• You laugh and Bucky felt a heaviness, one he didn’t know he was carrying, lift.
• “It’s alright.”
• A small quiet fell over the two of you, with Bucky just looking at you and you looking at him.
• When you both realized that you were staring, you both chuckled and looked away.
• Your eyes drifted towards the road, the rain that gathered in puddles in the pavement; and Bucky watched as you extended your hand.
• With an open palm, you tested the frequency of the rain fall with a grace so akin to a fairytale that Bucky was winded.
• “You don’t happen to have an umbrella with you, do you?”
• Bucky heard your question, but he only managed to find himself and the words to reply when you turned your head to look at him again.
• “I-I don’t.”
• “You forgot it in your magic Mary Poppins bag?”
• The way you smiled made Bucky think it was a joke, but he had missed the punchline, the reference.
• When you saw that twinge of confusion in his smile, you frowned.
• “You don’t know Mary Poppins?”
• “And if I don’t?”
• Your lips quirked up once more into a wide smile.
• Bucky watched as you teeth sunk into your bottom lip, a thoughtful expression as your eyes flicked from him to the door of Izzy’s.
• “If you wanna come inside to escape the rain, I could explain the reference.”
• Then it was Bucky’s turn to put on a thoughtful expression; though, only for a moment because he almost immediately replied.
• “Yeah, sure.”
• “Great,” you returned and Bucky opened the door and went inside Izzy’s for the second time that day.
• Before you were both inside, you paused and met Bucky’s eyes again.
• “This isn’t a date, is it?”
• “Not unless you want it to be.”
• You never responded to that half-assed offer of a date and
• a strange sort of ritual started formed.
• On the days you worked and Bucky and Yori went to eat, Bucky would drop off Yori and come back.
• Bucky would feign ignorance, tell you that he spent time out of the States for work with family and missed a lot of American pop culture.
• You would tell him all you knew, explain movies he missed, recommend TV shows, books, music anything you thought he would like.
• “I’ve heard of One Direction.”
• “You have?”
• “They trend on that bird app every so often.”
• “You have Twitter?”
• “Not anymore. I never thought people posting text could be so loud….and annoying…and confusing.”
• Nights were spent just talking, exchanging stories.
• Though, of course, Bucky kept a majority of his tales close to his chest.
• In the vaguest of terms, he mentioned Steve, harrowing winters, traveling in the army, and even partaking in a ‘clinical trial’ headed by Russian scientists.
• He told you everything he could without giving himself away.
• He didn’t want to be the ghost of the Winter Soldier, not anymore.
• He just wanted to be Bucky Barnes to you, some guy you met at a bar because a sweet, but sour, old man told you both that you should date.
• There were a few times that he slipped back into a more combat-ready state.
• For instance, the night he almost told you everything, you didn’t greet him outside of the door to Izzy’s.
• He missed your smile at first, then his mind wandered to every terrible possibility.
• Quickly, he rushed inside the bar and scanned the establishment for you.
• You were neither sat that the table you usually shared with him
• nor anywhere in the seating section.
• You were still behind the bar, wearing a twisted expression as a man leaned over the counter and far too close to you.
• Your brow was furrowed in disgust, lips in a scowl, but your eyes were nervous, wary of the leaning man’s intentions.
• That was enough for Bucky.
• He stormed over and circled around the man so he could rest his left hand (his Vibranium hand) on the creep’s shoulder.
• “I don’t know if you’ve noticed but,” Bucky began, “you’re making the best bartender in the borough a little bit too uncomfortable.”
• The man turned and glared at Bucky, but said nothing.
• Bucky shook his head and added, “we can’t have that.”
• With a squeeze of his hand, metal fingers crushed into the meat of the man’s shoulder and he yelped.
• “Watch it,” he spat, trying to recover a facade of dignity after his somewhat embarrassing, high-pitched shout of pain.
• The man shifted his angry eyes from Bucky to you and then back again before he turned around and darted out of Izzy’s.
• “You’re the one that needs to watch it,” Bucky called after him.
• After he was sure that the man was gone, probably high-tailing it down the block, Bucky looked to you.
• There you were, your expression turning up into the smallest of smiles as you began to speak.
• “Best bartender in the borough?” You pressed a hand to your chest, “I’m honored.”
• “It’s the truth,” Bucky said, taking a seat on the barstool directly across from you.
• “Does the hero want a drink?”
• “I’m not a hero,” Bucky mumbled, shaking his head.
• “You just exiled the bad guy,” you pointed out, gesturing towards the door.
• “I’ve exiled good guys too. Sometimes worse.”
• Your brow furrowed as you looked into Bucky’s eyes and asked, “but you don’t anymore?”
• Bucky huffed, in his own disbelief, and shook his head.
• “I try not to, yeah.”
• “Well, if you’re trying then I’d call you a hero,” you said, your expression exuding a warmth Bucky hadn’t felt in years. “Tonight, I’d call you myhero.”
• Right then and there, Bucky wanted to kiss you.
• Instead, he choked out, “so, you’re working an extra shift tonight?”
• “Leah’s running late. I’ll be off soon if you wanna hang out.”
• “Great, yeah.”
• Until Leah arrived, Bucky watched you work: pouring glasses of color drinks, popping open beer bottles, and shuttling food from the kitchen to the customer.
• When you were free, Bucky could tell you were exhausted.
• “Why don’t we skip tonight. You look beat.”
• You gave him an unamused smile, “thanks, Bucky.”
• “I didn’t mean it like that,” he explained in a rush, “just that-”
• “I’m just giving you shit,” you said with a wave of your hand.
• Bucky nodded quietly and you both started towards the door.
• He held it open for you and, as you passed through, you caught sight of the night sky and men across the street, loitering in a nervous way.
• Still in the doorway, you turned and looked up, into Bucky’s eyes.
• “Walk me home?”
• “Of course,” Bucky replied before he could really register what he was saying.
• He didn’t mind it, obviously.
• As you walked, you both talked about strange happenings.
• Bucky even mentioned therapy, as he dropped the newest bit of wisdom Dr. Raynor had provided him with.
• “So, she basically just told you to get a life?”
• “Basically,” Bucky agreed.
• “Therapy is great, it’s good you’re in it, but…she sounds awful!” You threw your arms in the air for emphasis and Bucky was awestruck by how the streetlamp light cast you, in that pose, under a yellow spotlight.
• “She kinda is,” he murmured, unable to entirely refocus himself.
• Before you could delve deeper into how awful Raynor was, you arrived at your front door.
• “This is me,” you said through a groan.
• “You don’t sound happy about that,” Bucky chuckled.
• “I feel bad that our night was wasted.”
• “Not wasted,” Bucky said softly, “we still hung out.”
• At his words, your disappointment metamorphized.
• Frown lines turned smile lines and eyes grew bright, hopeful.
• “Yeah, you’re right.”
• There was a pause then, with just the two of your staring at each other as the dark of night mingled with the sounds of the city.
• In the distance, music played and the fast tempo coaxed Bucky’s heart to pick up the same fast beat.
• “Well, I better-”
• “Yeah, you better head to bed.”
• You started up the steps but stopped when you were on the stair that put you exactly eye level with Bucky.
• Bucky was about to ask what was the matter when you leaned in and pressed the lightest of kisses to his cheek.
• It was so fast that Bucky swore he imagined it;
• but when you pulled away, eyes still bright and bottom lip tucked between your teeth, thinking, analyzing his reaction, Bucky knew he hadn’t.
• “Night, Bucky.”
• “Goodnight, Y/N.”
• Bucky lingered, made sure you got inside alright, and then started back down the street, towards his apartment, a little extra pep in his step.
• Your ritual of night talks continued, but there was no mention of the sweet kiss.
• Not that Bucky minded; though he did find himself lingering on you more and for longer as you talked about everything and anything.
• It continued like that for a while until Sam gave over the shield.
• That spent Bucky into a spiral and not even you could pull him out.
• He never missed a night talk but you could tell he was distant.
• Onthe night he told you everything, you asked about his awayness.
• “Are you okay? You’re quiet, but you’re normally not this quiet.”
• “Yea, I-” Bucky stopped when he met your gaze.
• He couldn’t lie to you. Not anymore.
• “I’m not okay,” he admitted, “there’s…there’s something I have to tell you.”
• “Alright,” you said, settling into your chair, “tell me.”
• “It’s actually a lot of somethings.”
• “I’m ready when you are.”
• Bucky took a moment, thought of you the night you kissed his cheek, and began to tell you his story in all of its gritty detail.
• There were points where you were silent (when he told you how old he really was), where you gasped (when he told you about falling off the train), where you smiled (when he recounted his friendship with Steve), where you almost cried (when he told you the truth of his ‘clinical trial’ with HYDRA).
• When he showed his arm, you reached across the table and took his hand.
• His breathing shuddered as you intertwined your flesh fingers with his metal ones.
• “Can you feel my hand?”
• “What?”
• “You said Vibranium is like a living metal, right? It can sense vibrations and absorb energy. Can you feel my hand?”
• Bucky’s brows furrowed, “I’ve never tried that before.”
• You studied him, your joined hands, quietly and Bucky took that opportunity to really focus.
• He wasn’t entirely sure of all the capabilities Shuri incorporated into his new arm.
• He knew the port the arm attached to was loosely connected to nerve endings to give him more control, but he didn’t know if that would allow him to feel.
• So, he closed his eyes and really tried.
• He wasn’t sure that he felt the warmth of your palm and the dull beating of your heart or if he just imagined it.
• “I feel something,” he said, eyes opening to meet your gaze, “but I don’t know if it’s ‘cause I really want to or…”
• He trailed off, lost in your eyes.
• “It’s something,” you comforted and gave his metal hand a soft squeeze.
• You held his hand as he continued to tell you everything.
• He told you about the most recent happening, with Sam and the shield.
• “Steve gave it to him.”
• “He has a reason for doing what he did,” you said, giving his hand another squeeze.
• “But that shield is…”
• “It’s part of your friend, but it’s not everything he left behind.”
• Something in your words stirred an old ache in Bucky’s chest, but he nodded.
• “Yeah, but I think,” he sighed, “I think I have to talk to him. Figure out what he’s doing.”
• “How long will talking to Sam take?”
• “I don’t know.”
• You nodded and pulled your hand from his as you said, “well, you owe me a night out when you get back.”
• “I’m okay with that,” Bucky said, and he felt every ounce of dread he carried with him ebb.
• Then Bucky goes off to find Sam, talk about the shield, they meet John Walker, the Flag Smashers, and….well, you know the rest.
• And if you don’t, Bucky is sure to tell you all about it when he returns.
• He’s a touch tanner than he was when you last saw him, and when he tells you about Sam’s home in Louisiana, he beams as much as the sun.
• “Sounds like you really liked it there.”
• “It was nice, nice to get away from the city,” he glanced around Izzy’s as he spoke, “but it’s better to be back here. Back with you.”
• You smiled bashfully and Bucky himself felt his face grow warm.
• “I’m glad you’re back,” you managed, shyness lacing your tone, making it feather-light.
• There’s a soft pause, where the two of you meet each other’s eyes then look away….before looking back again.
• Bucky surprises himself when he breaks the silence.
• “So, what do you want to do for that night out I owe you?”
• “I don’t know,” you admitted, “I haven’t thought that far ahead.”
• “As much as I missed this place, I don’t think we should go to Izzy’s.”
• You laughed and Bucky almost sighed with relief.
• He had missed the sound of your laughter.
• “Yeah, you’re right. Somewhere different….I don’t know where.”
• “How about I pick you up at your place tomorrow at five and you trust me to pick the place?”
• “Alright, but do you remember the way to my place?”
• “No,” Bucky said with a smile, “but if I walk you home again tonight, I’ll be able to remember it.”
• You laughed again and sighed, “that was smooth, Barnes. Very smooth.”
• After another hour or so of talking, Bucky walked you home.
• “Are there any places, besides Izzy’s, that you don’t want to go to?”
• “Umm, a funeral home, pet cemetery…”
• “Okay, okay, I get it. No spooky places.”
• You raised a hand and shook your head, “no, I’m cool with spooky, just not sad.”
• “Spooky, not sad,” Bucky echoed. “Noted.”
• By that point, you both reached your home and were lingering outside.
• Passersby glanced at the two of you, probably eyeing your closeness.
• You were so close that you could feel each other’s heat.
• “So, out here, tomorrow at seven?” You asked.
• “Yeah,” Bucky replied, “tomorrow at seven.”
• He watched as you sunk your teeth into your bottom lip and let your eyes flicking across his face, thinking.
• Later, down the line, you would tell Bucky, that you were debating whether to kiss him that night.
• You ultimately decided against it and simply smiled at him.
• “I’ll see you tomorrow then,” you said.
• “See ya then.”
• Bucky watched you go inside and started the long trek back to his apartment.
• When he got there, it felt emptier, not quite as homey as the Wilson’s place or how Bucky felt when he was with you.
• Though, he slept well that night.
• During the day, he was nervous.
• Not as nervous as he would have been prior to working alongside Sam, but still nervous.
• He was in his head again, but until seven at night when he saw you walk down the steps.
• You knew him, he had told you everything and you still wanted to waste time with him.
• Bucky smiled at the thought, at you as you strode up to him.
• “So, where are we headed?”
• “To the park,” Bucky said in a breath, still trying to collect himself.
• “The park,” you returned, your smile enduring.
• As you walked towards the park nearby your home, your arms would brush against Bucky’s, a tickling reminder that you were alone together.
• The park was lovely, framed by the sunset.
• Children giggled, clinging to playgrounds and soaring in swings.
• An elderly couple sat at a bench you and Bucky passed, all grey hair and joined hands.
• Eventually, Bucky led you to a patch that was decorated like a haunted landscape.
• Pumpkins, some carved some not, littered the grassy knoll
• Plastic facades of ghosts, ghouls, and haunted houses stood proud, some nearly as tall as Bucky.
• “Wow, you took the spooky thing to heart, huh?”
• “Y-Yeah, you like it?”
• You glanced around before you met his eyes and nodded.
• “I love it.”
• You and Bucky wandered through the maze of gourds and decorations, smiling, cracking jokes about Halloween costumes past.
• “I didn’t get to do much so I was an army man most years.”
• “Oddly fitting,” you teased.
• “What about you?”
• “There were a few DIY costumes over the years,” you admitted.
• Bucky’s face immediately brightened and he chuckled. “Oh really?”
• “Oh yes, and there’s photo evidence to support how terrible they could be,” you smiled and added, “I’ll show you sometime.”
• You both watched as children darted between plastic ghosts, trying to scare each other.
• Eventually, you and Bucky perched yourselves on an empty bench.
• Your shoulders were almost pressed together, your warmth mingling and wrapping around you both, banishing the crisp evening chill.
• “I haven’t been to the park in ages.”
• “Really?” Bucky asked, happy that you broke the silence that claimed you both.
• “I’ve been too busy, with work and just…life.”
• “So I was right when I told Yori that you were too busy for a date.”
• You chuckled and shook your head.
• “Except for now,” you said, turning your head to meet his eyes.
• Bucky couldn’t help the grin that spread along his lips.
• You smiled back at him.
• “This isn’t a date, is it?” Bucky asked, mimicking what you had asked the first time you spent the night talking to each other at Izzy’s.
• “Not unless you want it to be,” you returned, the same thing he told you back then.
• Bucky smiled and nudged his shoulder against yours.
• “I want it to be.”
• “I want it to be, too.”
• There was another stretch of quiet, though easier than the one before.
• You and Bucky stared at each other with all the softness in the world.
• Bucky’s face was relaxed, more than relaxed than you had ever seen him; his lips wore a lazy smile and his blue eyes were glinting under the light of the setting sun.
• That light further bathed him in a warm orange glow that made your stomach twist.
• Bucky was drinking in the look of you too, outlined in the green of the park and beautiful.
• “I also want to kiss you,” Bucky said, his voice tender, almost lost in the wind.
• “Then kiss me.”
• At your reply, Bucky leaned in and pressed his lips to yours in a fumbling rush.
• You didn’t care though, so neither did he.
• His hands reached to cup the sides of your face and held you with all the careful fervor he could muster.
• Your hands gripped at the front of his dark red shirt, pulling him impossibly close.
• While PDA might not be your favorite thing, you were so swept up by Bucky’s touch that you didn’t care.
• Bucky, who loves PDA, already didn’t care.
• When you pulled away (‘cause Bucky sure wasn’t going to be the first to do so), his lips were kiss-swollen and eyes half-lidded.
• “Should’ve done it sooner,” he murmured when he met your gaze.
• “Yeah, definitely.”
• After that first date, you and Bucky retained your three times a weeknight talks
• and a weekly outing on the weekends.
• He would check you out while you worked, make sure that people like that creepy guy wouldn’t come around to bother you.
• He would glare at anyone that even looked at you the wrong way.
• “You’re staring,” you said, passing him a bottle of beer.
• “Do you blame me?”
• You gave him a warning glance, but there was a smile on your face.
• When you ask why Yori doesn’t come around with him anymore, Bucky is honest with you.
• “But that wasn’t you.”
• “It was,” Bucky said, “my body still-”
• “I don’t care what your body has done, I care about what you do. And you care about people, Bucky, you try to help wherever you can. You love. That’s you. The man that killed his son wasn’t you.”
• Bucky wanted to kiss you, in the dingey corner of Izzy’s after your shift, but held back.
• On the walk home, he held back;
• but the second you were about to say goodbye, Bucky cupped your face and kissed you, hard.
• The force behind his lips was strong, but his touch was so mild that you melted into him.
• Your chests pressed together, heartbeats melded into one.
• He walked you backwards until your back knocked against the fence.
• You laughed as you nearly toppled entirely into Bucky and broke the kiss.
• You threw your arms over his shoulders as he rested his forehead against yours.
• “Sorry,” he murmured.
• “No, don’t be sorry,” you leaned up and snuck another kiss.
• Bucky pulled his forehead from yours and stared down at you.
• His fingers, with rough pads, traced along your cheek to your jaw and tilted your face up with such a softness that the rush before felt like a hazy memory.
• Just before your lips touched, you asked in a whisper, “come upstairs?”
• “Yes,” Bucky said just before he pressed his mouth to yours.
• The two of you were a stumbling, tangled mess getting to your room.
• Needless to say, even when you reached your bedroom, you both were still a stumbling, tangled mess.
• A softer mess, a more tender, pleasurablemess.
• That night began another ritual.
• Bucky would sleep over at your place a few times a week.
• Eventually, you dedicated a drawer to him, his clothes.
• Though, they weren’t always his clothes.
• “Where’s my red- doll.”
• “What?”
• “Are you wearing my shirt?”
• “Maybe,” you teasing, pulling at the long sleeves of a shirt that was definitely Bucky’s.
• You turned around to face him and he was, literally, shirtless, with his dog tags shining against his tanned chest.
• “I’d like it back.”
• “Come get it then.”
• Spending the night together wasn’t always teasing.
• Most of the time it was sharing movies, ordering takeout, talking, laughing.
• Basically, you catching Bucky up on pop culture.
• “Steve’s list mentions a Star Wars?”
• “It’s a movie series. You wanna watch it?”
• “How many movies are there?”
• “Ten, I think, eleven maybe.”
• “Ten! How many movies can someone make about the same characters?!”
• “You’d be surprised.”
• It’s after one these movies nights when it happens.
• You’re switching off the screen, ready to head to bed when you turn around and see Bucky still sat on the couch.
• His plaid pajama pants rode up a little, disturbing the hem of his tight grey shirt.
• It’s then you see the steady rise and fall of his chest grow a touch more rapid.
• “I love you.”
• His voice is low, gravelly but soft when he says it.
• You thought you misheard him at first and Bucky feared that he said it far too soon.
• When your pause extended, Bucky moved to sit up, to backtrack.
• But then, finally your face broke into a grin.
• “I love you too.”
• “Come ‘ere then,” he said, arms extended and reaching out to you.
• You walked towards him, felt his warm hand and cold hand grab your hips and pull you down into his lap.
• “I love you,” he said again, leaning up for a kiss.
• “I love you,” you echoed, meeting him in the middle.
• Leah makes jokes about how icky the honeymoon phase is.
• You agree, but you explain that you’ve never felt this way before
• and Bucky was first to admit that his encounters with love were limited.
• So, you both hold on to each other; become one another’s safe space.
• Once, Bucky mentioned a vacation.
• “Where to?”
• “Louisiana. You could meet Sam, go out on the boat, get out of the city.”
• “I’d like that.”
• When you do go eventually, you love it.
• The Wilsons welcomed you with open arms.
• “So you’re Y/N,” Sam greeted, “Buck won’t stop talkin’ about you.”
• “That’s saying a lot, because he hardly talks,” you said teasingly, squeezing Bucky’s hand.
• Sam laughed, “oh, I like you.”
• You and Bucky spend days on the docks, the beach, on the boat.
• One night, you were on the dock, watching the sunset.
• When you turned, Bucky was taking a swig of his beer, basking in the sun.
• “This place looks good on you.”
• Bucky turned and beamed at you, “really?”
• “Yeah,” you replied, reaching a hand out to brush through his hair.
• “It’s nice seeing you of the city, not busy. Relaxationlooks good on you.”
• You leaned in, as if to kiss him, but lingered just out of reach of his lips to say, “maybe we should stay a little longer.”
• “I wouldn’t mind that.”
• “I’ll call Leah,” you said, starting to move away.
• Bucky pulled you back, your chin pinched between his forefinger and thumb.
• “Tomorrow,” he murmured, “right now, you’re mine.”
• You were his, just as he was yours, for the next few days.
• Sadly, after another week in Louisiana, Bucky mentioned how Sam needs him back in action.
• “So, he’s stealing my boyfriend?”
• “More like borrowing me.”
• “When do you leave?”
• “After we get back to the city,” he replied, walking towards where you sat on the edge of the bed.
• You tucked your bottom lip between your teeth and Bucky smiled.
• He kneeled down before you, between your legs, and reached up to pull your lip free.
• “What are you thinkin’ about, doll?”
• “I’mthinkin’we just shouldn’t go back.”
• Bucky head fell to the side, strength almost crippled by the sadness of your voice, and leaned up towards you.
• He didn’t have to say anything.
• He poured his agreement, that shared wish, into the kiss you shared.
• Not the last kiss.
• No, that would come far later.

Things have been different since you returned from Europe; since Peter told you his super-powered secret. The two of you had been distant. School and Peter’s ‘extracirruclar’ activities had taken over your lives. Luckily, you and Peter have a group project that brings you closer than ever before.

“How long have we been working on this?” Peter asked through a yawn.

“Stop it,” you said, waving at hand at him. Though, it was too late. A yawn forced its way to your face and you groaned through it. 

Peter, under the heat of your mildly amused glare,  let out a small laugh. “Sorry.”

“Sure you are,” you teased, reaching for your phone. Your eyes widened when you saw the time. “No, no that can’t be right.”

“I think it might be,” Peter said, his voice sounding far away. When you looked over to where he was sat, you saw only empty space. Quickly glancing around the room, you found him by his bedroom window. He pulled the curtains to the side and revealed the darkness of night that had settled over Queens. 

“We’re not even close to finished with this,” you said, running a hand through your hair. “Did we spend hours just talking?”

“Guess we lost track of time,” Peter agreed, moving to sit across from you once more.

On the floor before you were scattered papers; some riddled with nasty equations and others were scholarly articles lifted from the school’s database. You and Peter had barely begun to scratch the surface of the project assignment. Your eyes flicked over the rubric and your hands lifted to hold your head up as all your energy suddenly morphed into worry.

“Hey,” you felt Peter’s warm hand on your upper arm, anchoring you to reality. “It’s not due ‘til next week. We have time.”

You met Peter’s brown eyes and your hands fell from your face. Nerves that claimed you melted into the floor of Peter’s new bedroom, leaving only the two of you, staring at each other. The corner of his mouth was quirked up in that infuriatingly charming half-smile he favored around you. How you had missed that smile. How you had missed him.

At the thought, your worry resurfaced. “Will we though?”

Peter cocked his head to the side. “Will we…what?”

“Have time?”

“What do you mean?” Peter’s hand fell from your arm, leaving you to face the chill your questioning created. With a small sigh, you summoned the courage to reply.

“This is the longest we’ve hung out in….in a while. I know you’re busy with Spiderman things, I get it, I do, but since Europe it’s like become ghosts to each other. Does…does that make any sense? I mean, I,” you swallowed hard and you met Peter’s eyes, “I miss you.”

Peter’s furrowed brows relaxed at those last three words. His hand reached out again, gently taking your hand. You glanced down at his fingers as his rubbed his thumb along your knuckles. The relationship you had with Peter had always been friendly and full of friendly touches. Though something about the tenderness of his hand on yours made your stomach twist. Not with nerves but a tickling sort of excitement.  

“I-I’ve miss you too, Y/N. I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry too,” you said softly. Peter gave your hand a squeeze and gave you another one of his lopsided smiles. 

“We’ll make time for each other. And the uh, the project.”

“Okay,” you tried to match his smile. 

“Cool.”

A sweet silence filled the air. The ticklish twisting in your gut subsided, melted into the steady beating of your heart as you found yourself wholly entranced by the shine in Peter’s eyes. You had noticed it in Europe: the newness that surrounded Peter. He was braver than the boy you had grown up with before the Blip, but still himself. The time you had spent apart had made that all the more clear. That, and knowing his Spider-Man-sized secret.

“Y/N, there’s something that I’ve wanted to tel-”

Just as Peter was about to continue, his phone hummed with a loud alarm. The sound made you both jump, though Peter recovered quickly. He got to his feet and picked up the device from his bedside table.

“Oh crap,” he murmured. When he turned to face you, you were greeted with a frown and sorry eyes. Your heart sank at the sight.

“What is it?”

“I gotta patrol.”

“Oh,” you nodded sadly, looking around the room for your things; looking anywhere but at Peter. “Then I guess I better go.” 

A low, thoughtful hum filled your ears and coaxed you to peer back up at Peter. One of his hands scratched at the back of his neck, almost nervously. Despite his lips being pressed into a thin line, the glinting in his eyes told you there was something he wanted to say. 

“What?”

“I could…uh, give you a ride, kinda, sorta?” 

You raised your brows and widened your eyes. “You got a car?”

“What?! Oh! No, I mean,” Peter rushed over to his closet door and, with a quickness that was beyond human, pushed it open to reach inside. He pulled his arm back and revealed the device in his hands. “I got this. I could swing you home.”

“You…you mean…”

“Only if you want,” Peter raised his hands, “I know heights aren’t everyone’s favorite thing so-“

He was beginning to backpedal, to rescind his frightening yet exciting offer. Before he could, you swallowed the clot of fear that had caught in your throat and nodded. 

“Yes,” you gave him a smile, “yeah, a ride would be nice.”

“O-Okay! Great! Um, let me get ready.” 

Peter crouched suddenly and, in a flash, a white web shot out from the gadget in his hand. It reached under his bed and, when Peter pulled back on the sticky webbing, a suit of red and black landed in his grip. You blinked, your eyes flickering between the suit and Peter’s proud smile. His brown eyes seemed to shine under the light of your impressed expression.

“Wow. Now, you’re just showing off.”

 Peter let out a soft laugh and, with rosy cheeks, duck his head to hide his face. He nodded towards the floor and lifted his gaze to meet yours once more. Pink still dusted the peaks of his face. His fingers tightened around the material of his suit, a nervous squeeze that stole your attention away for a moment. When you looked back up at Peter, you saw that the shade of his blush had only deepened. 

“I need to…” he raised his suit in his hands and refused to hold your gaze. You had never seen Peter so bashful and– your mouth fell open with realization.

“Oh, yeah, sorry. I’ll just grab my stuff and wait outside,” you said, bending down to pick up your things. Folders and papers slid from your fingers and into your bag in a rushed mess. Heat gathered in your cheeks, the burning of an embarrassed blush; similar, you imagined, to Peter’s. You didn’t want to give him the chance to see.

“Alright,” Peter coughed roughly to clear his throat, ideally the room, of the new, heavy tension within. “It’ll only be a second.”

“Cool, good,” you straightened your posture and threw you bag over your shoulder. In two paces, your hand was within reach of the door. Rustling of fabric reached your ears; Peter must have already started to change. Your heart pounded at the thought and you quickly closed your fingers around the bronze door handle. Without thinking, you stepped to the side to open it.

With the shift, you caught a glimpse of Peter’s bare back. Shaded and sloping valleys of flesh and muscle flashed before you vision. Scattered freckles dotted the skin of his shoulders, something you had never noticed before. It was something you wished you hadn’t noticed because it froze you in place. Eventually, you were overwhelmed by a new wave of heat that thawed you out. You tore your eyes away and pushed yourself through the door, slamming it when you had meant to shut it softly. 

Shit! Your head fell back and knocked against the wood of the door with a dull thud. Trembling, a small breath passed over your lips. Like your every nerve ending, it hummed around you, filled the air until all you felt was the wild thunderstorm of your heartbeat. 

“Y/N?”

Wide-eyed, you tilted your head back upright and locked eyes with Peter’s Aunt May. Her surprise melted into a wide grin and she stepped towards you, arms open. 

“It’s been so long!”

“Y-Yeah,” you stammered out. You leaned into her embrace, taking long, slow breaths as you did. Silently, you hoped May couldn’t feel the jack-hammer that had started to work in your chest. Also silently, you forced the image of a half-naked Peter, dressing paces behind you, from your mind. Breathing steadily became an easy feat by comparison.

“Peter mentioned you were his project partner,” May said, pulling away to look into your face. “I haven’t seen him so happy! And I haven’t seen you since you went to Europe!”

A blush spread along your cheeks at the mention of Peter happy to be working with you. It eased the lingering worry that worked i your gut. He had missed you too, he had said as much, but it was another thing to hear it from May. She beamed at you, undoubtedly noting the rush of blood that stained your cheeks in a flush. 

“Yeah, like you said, it’s been too long.” 

May squeezed your shoulder. “You should come over for dinner, like you used to! We still have pizza on Friday nights!”

“I would love that.” An instinctual smile spread along your lips. Parker Pizza Nights was a custom that you had helped shape when you and Peter were just kids. Now, nearly graduated, and one of you a superhero, it persisted. “I would really love that.”

“Great! And I have a feeling that-” May phone chirped loudly, pulling her attention towards the glowing screen that shone through the denim of her jeans. “Oh, jeez, that’s…wow it’s late! You kids were working hard, huh?”

You nodded as May slipped her phone back into her pocket. She glanced over your shoulder at Peter’s closed, bedroom door. One of her dark brows quirked up in question and you felt your chest tighten at the sight.

“Uh, Peter’s gonna walk me home. He’s-”

“Walk?”

You couldn’t meet May’s dark eyes. Lying to her was impossible. How had Peter managed to do it: hide Spider-Man from her? The eggshells he must walk on, or swing over.

“Y-Yeah. Just to the bus stop. It’s so dark.” May’s eyebrow lifted impossibly higher. You curled your fingers into a fist, letting the tips of your nails dig into the flesh of your palm. “So, how have you been, May? Pete said something about a boyfriend?”

May laughed and started to reply in the same instant you felt a sudden draft. You spun on your heels and found that Peter’s door was open. Stood in the entrance to his room was Spider-Man, Peter, masked up and ready to give you a lift home. His window was open, curtains billowing ever-so slightly in the night’s breeze. 

Your mouth fell open and you turned your head grew heavy with all the possible excuses you could make to May to cover for Peter’s little show. Though, when you turned around, May was smiling. Her brows were relaxed and she looked…clearheaded.

“Oh, he’s giving you a lift. That makes sense. Walking, ha,” she shook her head. “Be safe, kiddos. Alright? Good to see you, Y/N.”

May gave your shoulder another squeeze before making her way to her own room. You watched her disappear down the hall before you turned back to Peter.

“She knows?!”

“Y-Yeah! I didn’t…I didn’t tell you, did I?” You groaned and stepped back into his bedroom. In relief, you reached a hand out and pushed Peter’s shoulder. He didn’t budge.

“No, you didn’t! I thought I was going to have to explain your,” you let your eyes trail over Peter’s form. The red and dark fabric was so form-fitted. You could see every muscle in his slim frame. The very same muscles you had caught only a tempting glimpse of minutes before. His shoulders appeared broader, stronger than you remembered. Or maybe this was just your first time seeing this side of Peter fully fleshed out.

“Y/N?” He waved a gloved hand in front of your face. You shook your head and felt a rush of heat towards your cheeks. How long had you been staring?

“Sorry, I was, I was worried I was going to have to explain your costume.”

“Oh,” the white eyes of Peter’s suit seemed to shrink, focus in on you. “Yeah, well, she’s known for a while. Sorry about that.”

“It’s alright,” you said, waving a hand at him. Warily, you stepped towards the open window and peered out into the dark that had fallen over Queens. “So, through the window?”

“Yup!”

“Won’t people see you come out of here and blow your cover?” Peter was silent and, for a moment, you thought he didn’t hear you. “Won’t it-”

“There’s no one around,” Peter clarified. He pointed a finger towards where his ears were tucked in his suit. “Spidey senses means spidey hearing.”

You raised a brow at him. “Spiders have good hearing?”

“I…actually, I don’t know,” he stepped past you and jumped to crouch on the window sill. He pushed the glass the rest of the way up and, in that moment, you saw that he had modified the window to be the perfect, and secret, gate-away spot. “You ready?”

A red hand reached out to you at Peter’s question. All at once, the disappointment of hearing Peter’s failure to mention you disappeared. Your heart lifted, swelled in your chest and, in a strange flood of bravery, you took his hand. With ease, he pulled you up on the window sill and to his chest. The close proximity knocked the air from your lungs.

“Alright so, uh, don’t let go.”

A breathy, near-silent laugh rumbled out of your throat. “Really? What do you take for, Parker? An idio-”

Gravity suddenly fell away and your stomach dropped out from under you like your window sill perch. The word died on your lips and morphed into a hit-pitched shriek as the sound of rushing wind filled your ears. Your hands curled into the fabric of Peter’s suit as you clung to him for dear life. To distract yourself from the coldness of air he was swinging you through, you focused on the warmth of Peter’s body.

“Just hold onto me!”

Every biting, mocking retort you had saved in your social memory bank lacked the nerve to be said. Vertigo and the awful thought of falling consumed you. Only Peter, despite being far from it spatially, was able to ground you. His right arm was wrapped around your waist like a flesh safety belt, anchoring you to him in such a way that, if you weren’t a few hundred feet above a busy street, would have made your stomach twist with excitement. 

“Scream louder if you want to land,” Peter shouted. 

Only his voice seemed to cut through the hollering air that whooshed by you. Air. You were basically flying. You screamed louder than when Peter first lept with you in his arms.

“Alright! Hold on! Hold on!”

Your scream shrank with the sound of the wind that roared in your ears. Aside from the warmth of Peter’s body pressed against yours, all you could feel was the rapid pace of your heart and, eventually, your toes hitting something solid. Even when the entire length and width of your sneaker rested against what you imagined was the ground, you kept yourself pressed into Peter. His arm remained around your waist, holding you close.

“You’re alright, I got you,” Peter murmured, his voice loud but soft in your ear. “I got you, I promise.”

Slowly, you lifted your head from Peter’s shoulder and peeled open your eyes. Tops of buildings were visible to you. Black in the darkness, the roofs of apartment glinted only in the changing colors of traffic signals. Red then green then yellow; multi-colored, urban fireflies.

Convenience store signs glowed bright, illuminating the streets that rested far below from where you stood. Neon signs flickered in the windows of a tattoo shop, nearly in-time with the drunken laughter that spilled out of the mouths of passersby on the sidewalk. From this high, the strangers looked small, like children. You glanced around and saw grey heating units, metal boxes fixed on cement around you. 

“Where are we?” Your voice felt small as you looked up at Peter. The white eyes of his mask were already focused on you. 

“Only a few blocks from your place,” the hand he had resting on your waist shifted, rubbing soothing circles into your side. “We can walk the rest of the way, if you want?”

“No,” you replied too quickly. You squeezed the material of Peter’s suit that your fingers still curled around. “I like this.”

“Yeah? It’s hard to tell with all the screaming,” Peter quipped. You shot him an unamused grimace and he laughed; the sound rumbled in his chest, vibrated against your own. “I like thistoo.”

Despite looking into the unreadable blankness of Peter’s mask, you felt a softness. When he didn’t move to continue swinging you home, you felt your chest tighten. The white material that covered his eyes grew larger then smaller, still trained on you. His hand stopped it’s comfort campaign against your back and instead opted to fall still.

“Are…are we talking about liking the same thing?”

“I don’t know,” you admitted and swallowed hard on the fear that was climbing up your throat. “I just know I’m happy that I don’t have to miss you anymore. That I know more about this guy,” you pinched the fabric of his suit. “Spider-Man.”

“Me too.” Peter’s voice was quiet as he replied. “I like being your partner.”

A small smile slipped onto your lips as you recalled what May had said. “Your project partner?”

“Yeah, your project partner, and well, I…” Peter trailed off, a few sounds of thoughtful filler floated around you as he struggled to find the words. His arms slipped from your waist as he gestured with his hands, explained to you that, after Europe, he was scared to put in harms way again. “I mean, it found me on vacation!”

“It?”

“Danger,” he sighed. “I don’t want to put my partner in danger like that again. I don’t want to put you at risk.”

“Partner?” You cocked your head slightly to the side. “You mean friend?” Peter stopped his pacing along the roof and lifted his still-masked face to your eyes. You didn’t have to ask him to lift his mask to know he was staring at you. His arms fell to his sides and the quiet balanced around you both was enough; though it confused you. “Peter?”

“My friend, yeah,” he started to close the gap that he had made between you, “but also, like…partner partner, if you’d want that? This, this isn’t how I imagined this going in my head.” Peter raised his hands and sandwiched his face between his palms. You couldn’t help but laugh at the sight of Spider-Man, the hero of Queens, embarrassed. “Great, you’re laughing.”

“Not at you,” you said quickly, reaching your hands out to him. They shook slightly as you held Peter’s shoulders. So did your voice as you asked, “how did you imagine this going?”

“Well, I wanted to tell you in Europe. Paris maybe or in Big Ben, somewhere tall and romantic. But then…I didn’t tell you that and I told you about this.” He poked the spider emblem inlaid in the fabric on his chest. “And then we got back and I…now we’re here and-”

“Peter,” you whispered, a smile spreading along your face. He stopped rambling and the white eyes focused in on you. Wordlessly, you stepped closer to him and reached a hand up towards his face. With a new bravery guiding you, your finger tips found the end of his mask and began to lift. Peter didn’t stop you as you exposed his neck, his chin, and then his lips.

A shuddering breath passed through parted lips and, suddenly, he was just Peter again; your Peter, again. He was the boy you missed, the hero you had known him to be a kid playing with chalk on the sidewalk. Peter was the boy you loved trying to tell you that he loved you too in the most Peter-way how: on some roof in Queen, highlighted by the romantic glow of the streets below. Not quite how he imagined it but it was perfect for you.

So perfect that you weren’t scared when you leaned up towards him. You didn’t tremble as you placed your lips to his or when his hands gripped your waist. He pulled you to him, anchored you, once more, to his body. It was as if he were trying to keep you from floating away. As if he thought the kiss was not enough to keep you in place.

The kiss was certainly enough to convince you to keep sharing your space with him. Even when you pulled away, you did not go far. Only far enough to see the lazy smile on his lips as he said, “wow. That’s…just how I imagined it.”

A Lesson - Yelena Belova

It’s Yelena’s kind-of-day-off, yet she always seems to find a way to weave her work into her free-time. Sometimes, like this time, it works out in your favor.

“Come back to bed.”

“Shush,” Yelena waved a dismissive hand at you, her back still turned to you and the bed. “I thought I heard something.”

With a defeated sigh, you fell back against your pillow to wait for her eventual return. Early rays of sunlight peeked through the window of the room the two of you rented out the night before and shone almost directly into your eyes. To escape it, you pressed your face into the pillow and turned away from the light. As you moved, you noted how the glow exposed the less-than-lovely water stains on the ceiling and the fine layer of dust that covered the small table in the corner of the room. At the sight, your nose scrunched up as if to block the threat of a sneeze.

Despite that, the room was not the worst place you and Yelena had been housed in. Though, you had stayed at farfiner establishments. At places where specks of dust were viewed as vermin to be exterminated. There were times where you missed the luxury that came with that level of care and cleanliness.

But you knew better than to ask for an upgrade. The first, and last, time you dared to question the quality of your and Yelena’s housing, Val shut you down with a mere glare. After that, you never even endeavored to ask whyyou stayed at a certain location. Granted, most of the time, the advantage was clear.

For instance, you once camped in the concrete skeleton of an abandoned apartment complex, situated across the street from Yelena’s mark. While you never quite grew used to the presence of rats, the target never saw the end coming. Yelena was able to watch him through the windows, stalking along the cement ridges and metal frames that would be deconstructed by a demolition crew soon after you left.

Then, there was the time you and Yelena slept in the silk sheets of a highrise suite. You don’t remember leaving that bed all too often during that mission. If you and Yelena did venture out beyond the edge of the California King mattress, it was to lounge on the balcony to listen and watch the life flowing through the city until sunset. Yelena always worked best in the dark.

There was no balcony at this motel, aside from the one that the stairs led up to reach the second level of rooms. You and Yelena were booked a room on the first floor, with a neighbor above you that insisted on stomping while they packed for their early morning departure. Even with one ear pressed against numerous layers of fabric, you could hear their thumping around.

“It’s probably the person upstairs,” you grumbled into the pillow.

Yelena shushed you again as she peeked inside the adjoining bathroom. A long, too quiet moment passed and you felt a shock of nerves settle in your stomach. Tentatively, you pushed yourself up and off of the bed. Fear guided your feet silently to the carpeted floor as you craned your neck to look for Yelena. It was tooquiet.

“Lena?” You called out softly, your voice cutting through the sudden quiet.

When you got no reply, you padded closer to the bathroom door. Your fingers curled tight into your palms, creating a pair of perfect fighting fists. Yelena had drilled you on the proper form in the past. To defend yourself, she had said; though, back then, you never imagined a time where she wouldn’t be by your side.

Now, you were all too aware of how alone you were. Apprehension was your only ally as you called out again, firmer this time, “Yelena?”

Another long beat of silence surrounded you, overwhelmed your senses with nothingness, before the bathroom door suddenly flew open. The stopper on the wall met the metal handle with a loud thud that made you jump.

“What?” Yelena asked, face blank and unamused until her brown eyes fell upon your curled fists. Then, her lips quickly quirked upwards into a wide, mischievous grin. “Were you worried about me, dorogoy?”

Exasperated, you dropped your unclenched your fists, dropped them to your sides, and scowled. “You weren’t answering!”

“Izvinit’, sorry,” Yelena said as she stepped closer to you, her focus trained on your hands. “But show me the stance again.”

There was an edge in her voice that nearly sent a shiver down your spine. Luckily, Yelena seemingly didn’t notice as her fingers found yours and raised your hands up. When you met her eyes, you found her grin faded into a softer, less-teasing smile. Was it pride?

“Show me,” she echoed, her gaze unyielding. Her tone wasn’t forceful, but you felt yourself compelled to concede.

You raised your hands and closed them into tight fists once more, even going as far as to bring them close to your head. Between your raised arms, Yelena was perfectly framed. Her eyes drank in your stance, studied your pose, the placement of your thumb. You couldn’t help but smile at her intense attention to detail.

“What do you think?” You asked, putting on your best Russian accent. Yelena’s brow raised at your attempt and your smile widened slightly. “No good?”

“Your accent is terrible, beyond help,” she mused, hands reaching out to resituate how you held your arms. “But your stance is…it’s good. Could use some work, but it’s good.”

“Well, you’re the one who taught me, so,” you trailed off, leaving for words open as an invitation for training, for a lesson. Or a lesson.Yelena leaned back and gave you a knowing look before she began to circle around you, surveying you.

You could feel the heat of her eyes on you, analyzing your posture. Despite your desire to go back to bed and drag Yelena with you, you remained still. There would be time for that later. Plus, either way, you were with Yelena and enjoying time together. Either way, Yelena’s hands would be on you.

“You have to stand with your dominant side foot farther back and apart, so you can pivot when you punch. Here, scoot this back,” she said, tapping your foot with her own. You stepped back but Yelena shook her head. “No, too far. Now you’re vulnerable for a sweep.”

“A sweep? What is-”

“This,” Yelena interrupted, swinging her leg out to strike yours. There wasn’t any pain, only the feeling of your leg giving out beneath you.

Then, there was the falling. Red and dingey, the carpet of the hotel room floor rushed up at you. Just as a yelp of surprise began to slip past your lips, Yelena’s leg, the one that illustrated was a ‘sweep’ was, swung back around and bumped you again. With the strike, you were tipped backwards rather than forwards and to the side. Your change in direction gave Yelena the opportunity to reach out and catch you.

Her hands grasped your hips, pulling your body flush to hers. At the contact, your hammering heart slowed, calmed by the warmth of her arms around you. You fight whiplash to meet Yelena’s eyes and, when you finally met her gaze you saw that her grin has forced crinkles in the corners of them.

“That’s a sweep,” she beamed.

“Uh-huh,” you replied breathlessly, “I figured.”

Almost immediately, Yelena’s grin melted into an expression of concern. Her brow furrowed and her lips parted, while her hands squeezed your hips. “I didn’t hurt you did I, I was just-”

To silence her worry, you leaned forwards and kissed her. Your hands traveled up from Yelena’s arms to cup her face. The smooth skin of her cheeks filled your palms. That was what you loved most about her: she was soft despite it all. She loved and cared, despite being a Widow; despite being able to land you on your ass in an instant.

You pulled away slowly and smiled when Yelena’s eyes remained closed. “Thanks for the lesson.”

Yelena smiled then, her eyes opening wide enough to drink your look of pleased surprise as she lifted you off your feet and carried you back to bed, at last.

Just like Bruises - Yelena Belova

You find yourself sitting by Yelena after a long day, checking post-battle injuries. Some wounds run deeper than they seem.

BLACK WIDOW SPOILERS

It was only when the jet took off did you feel it. The ache of a battle well fought. It was a familiar, dull pain; you may have considered it an old friend. Certainly your travel companions did.

You studied their sullen faces as you teetered your way towards the back section of seating. Decked out in her suit combat garb was Yelena, attention fixed on the window. You felt your lips pull up a little at the sight, at your girl. The almost-smile lingered as you moved to take the seat beside her.

“Scoot over,” you muttered, limbs suddenly and cripplingly tired.

As you sat, you budged Yelena’s shoulder softly with your elbow. Her dark eyes met your gaze the second your arms collided. There was a warmth to her expression, despite the distant glint in her stare. It was then you saw the bruise that bathed her eye socket in a budding purple, framed it with finely carved cuts. Your mouth fell open at the sight and you quickly reached out to cup her jaw.

“What happened to your face?”

“It’s nothing,” Yelena murmured, trying to pull away from your touch. “I fell from the sky. Bruises are bound to happen, especially in our line of work.”

“That doesn’t change the fact that your eye will swell shut if we don’t ice it.”

“And you want to ask themif they have any ice?” Yelena asked, tipping her heads towards the other Widows sat around you. You frowned at them, the fear in their faces. It must be the first time they’ve felt a fear like that, a freedom too. When you looked back to Yelena, there was a bitter knowing set in her features.

“No,” you murmured, letting your hands fall from her jaw. “But as soon as we land-”

“As soon as we land we’ll find some ice.”

You frowned at her pursed lips but said nothing more. Instead, you watched as Yelena stared out of the jet’s window and watched the details of the Earth grow muddier and muddier. Trees blended into nondescript masses of green, broken up only by strips of grey and squares of farmed brown foliage. None of that held the attention of her dark eyes for very long.

Yelena was looking for her sister, despite how you both knew Melina had guided the jet far past the landing zone of the Red Room. Natasha was gone.

At the thought, your frown deepened and you could not help but lean towards Yelena again. Her body’s warmth eased the ache in your muscles, though, as soon as you nudged her and tilted away, the feeling fled. Yelena’s eyes flicked back to yours, set under heavy brows. There was a quiet question between her lips. What was that for?

“You’ll see her again, in time.”

“A lot can happen, in time,” Yelena countered, “a world could end, a secret base could fall from the sky, and a few dozen girls with it.”

“Well, those things are just bound to happen, especially in our line of work.”

Yelena’s lips quirked upwards slightly, for only a moment. “Just like bruises.”

You nodded and held your out, resting the back of it on your knee. Open and wanting, your palm waited for Yelena’s touch. The blonde eyed it before she let her gloved fingers intertwine with your bear ones. The fabric was rough against your skin, but the same warmth you felt emanating from Yelena’s body flowed through the weave and kissed your palm. As it did before, her heat melted away the lingering ache.

“Just like bruises, you’ll move past the end of the world, or whatever threat comes next. You always do. You’ll see her again.”

“Will you be with me?” At the soft timidness of Yelena’s voice, you, quickened by shock, lifted your eyes from your joined hands and to her eyes. All the distance that she once held in her gaze was gone, cut short. She was close to you, then, terribly so. It took every last bit of your strength to keep from leaning into her.

“Of course.”

Yelena’s posture straightened then, only slightly, and her expression lifted out of the firm-lined seriousness she wore moments before. “Good.”

It was all she said and all she had to say. There would be time for more later. Now was for taking care of wounds, old and new, and rest. Plenty of rest.

There was no need to tell Yelena that she should try to sleep. Years of training and missions had taught her to rest whenever possible. You couldn’t imagine the hardships she faced, the loneliness. She had been left behind after all, just as you all left Natasha behind. No wonder she spared one last glance out of the window before she turned herself inward again.

You both sat in silence, trying to coax your minds to give in to your bodies’ cries for sleep. Yelena’s caved first. Her head knocked against your shoulder before she settled in the crook of your neck. Her frame yielded and pressed warmly against yours, pushing you off the edge and into the dark behind your own eyelids.

Quiet in the Closet - Sylvie Laufeydottoir

You and Sylvie have been on the run causing chaos in every branch that dared to bloom off the Sacred Timeline. Though, when you find yourselves in a new apocalypse, full of vile raiders, quiet becomes your cause.

Your chest was an engine. It must have been with all of the heaving, with the fire that burned through your lungs as you ran past the abandoned storefronts of the South Shore Plaza. The mall had been left for rising waters of the Massachusetts Bay. Within hours, hurricane Typhine would rage and swallow a majority of the East Coast of the United States.

That was why you and Sylvie portaled there, to 2061. The rising level of the Atlantic ocean was marketed as a slow apocalypse, a sluggishly growing doom since the late 2010s. Yet, despite the early warning, and the ample time to try to correct their destructive behavior, the people of Earth were taken by surprise. The haphazard way the South Shore Plaza was deserted was evidence enough of that.

However, deserted was not quite the right word, you thought. You were, after all, running away from looters, fools stubborn and stupid enough to risk the vicious prevailing winds. They knew the mall halls too well and managed to split you and Sylvie up. The fact that you lost sight of her, her shining blonde hair, only added to the stress searing in your chest.

The shouts of your pursuers only served to stoke the flames, which made your every breath sting something furious.

As you ran along the second floors’ main thoroughfare, you sent a wide-eyed glance over your shoulder. They were gaining on you. You could see their panting scowls and curled fists. When you looked forward, your terror drove you to the right and off the straightaway walking path.

Sadly, your turn led you to a dead end. Store fronts, one for shoes and another for long gowns, held you on either side. There was no means to escape and the screeching of the looters began to cinch your fate. All you could do was try to hide and hope Sylvie used the TemPad to save herself.

In a rush of panic, you rushed into the gown shop. The door gave way under your pushing hands and, as you darted inside, you nearly tripped over a discarded dress. The large, sequined skirt caught your foot and dragged you towards the floor. You prepared yourself for a sudden and hard impact, which would be followed by the looters finding you seconds after.

Just as you bit back a yelp of fear, you stopped falling.

“C’mon, love,” Sylvie’s voice came out in a harsh whisper as she pulled you on your feet. “To the staff room.”

Leaning on Sylvie’s shoulder, you made your way towards the door she had gestured to. The stomping strides of your pursuers grew louder as you stumbled inside the dark of the back room. Sylvie pulled you along, dodging tables sent akilter and belongings, like sweatshirts and work uniforms, left behind by frazzled employees. In the shadows, you tried to look for a place to hide; but it seemed your companion had other plans.

Sylvie reached her free hand out and waved her fingers. A sparkling dance of green magic followed after her movements and peeled back an illusionary wall, revealing yet another door. You eyed Sylvie as she led you towards it.

“How did-”

“Just get in!” Sylvie whisper-shouted as she opened the door. You stumbled inside, nearly tripping, again, on a bucket that sat on the floor. Luckily, you were able to catch yourself before you fell as Sylvie was busy recreating her illusion and shutting the door behind you both.

As it shut, pure darkness settled around you both. After a few slow blinks, your eyes began to adjust and you could make out the outline of Sylvie’s face. Neither of you dared to say another word. The only sound that filled the small space of the cleaning closet was your winded breaths. On its own, the loud panting made listening for the looters more difficult.

Just as you and Sylvie managed to calm your breathing, the hurricane siren rang out. You stiffened at the sound but did not make a peep. Your yelp of surprise slipped past your lips when a loud crash jostled the magically hidden door of the closet.

Immediately, Sylvie leaned in towards you and pressed one of her palms over your mouth. Her body pressed against yours, allowing you to, despite the dark, look directly and deeply into her eyes. There was a chill caught in the cloak and leathers she wore that soothed the burning dread that held your every muscle taut. You could not look at anything else; all you saw was Sylvie.

Eventually, your focus on her sharpened, and the rooting around of the looters became a dull rumble. A looming threat of death reduced to a background noise by the power of Sylvie’s touch. Against your lips, her hand was cold, a sensation that you encountered a few times. You always assumed it was a lingering touch of her Frost Giant lineage. She didn’t talk to you about her past, not in great detail. You learned not to press her on it.

She would come to you, in time. Sylvie would tell you her story when the need to jump from ending world to ending world passed; when vengeance was had at last. You could settle down with her maybe, if she wanted you, if she wanted to. You wanted to, that much you knew.

Before you could peer deeper into the shining blue of her eyes, Sylvie started to pull away. Her face turned towards the door and you realized the sounds of angry rooting around had passed. Only the drone of the siren remained, along with the wild whipping of the wind.

“They’ve gone,” she whispered as her palm fell away from your mouth. As her hand slipped off, you reached up and grabbed her wrist softly. Sylvie’s eyes flicked back to you, her brow furrowed. “What is it?”

For a moment, you bit your tongue. Life with Sylvie was always go, go, go. There was never quite a moment to just savor the quiet, to settle even if only for a second. Then, Sylvie’s concern deepened and she leaned back towards you.

“Just needed…” You needed her, but you knew better than to push intimacy forward.

“Needed?” Her voice was still a whisper, “Y/N?”

You struggled to find the proper response. What could you say that was true? What could you say that was true but wouldn’t frighten Sylvie? A breath? No, you caught that long ago.

Yet, Sylvie, being the goddess of mischief, an agent of chaos, an apocalyptic wanderer, always did her best to steal it away again. As you grappled with what to say, the blonde leaned in closer, and then closer, and closer. Closer until her lips landed on yours in the dark. Immediately you melted into Sylvie’s touch. All at once, it was quiet in the closet again.

So, it seemed that not all questions needed an answer, at least not right away. Although, the kiss was ultimately the correct response. The kiss was something you wanted, not quite something you knew you needed. But in the storm around you, Sylvie’s touch grounded you gloriously.

crush masterlist

part 4 – in his arms

               Returning to school on Monday morning was the most difficult part. All weekend, you didn’t receive a single sign from Peter. Your phone didn’t show any notifications from him, not a call, or even just a text, absolutely nothing. It tore you up inside trying to think of what you could’ve done wrong. Everything seemed to have been going so well. MJ tried to hit you up a couple times, asking why you left early from the dance and if everything was alright, but you didn’t feel like talking to her. You didn’t feel like doing anything, really. You just felt devastated, and sad, and broken hearted. All this time you had convinced yourself that Peter was a good kid, that he was someone you could really trust, that he wouldn’t be the kind to hurt you or use you. But now, you just felt foolish and stupid.

               With whatever sliver of confidence you had left within yourself, you cleared your throat nervously and clutching your lunch tray, made your way to the cafeteria table. Just because Peter didn’t want to talk to you anymore didn’t mean you were going to end your friendship with Ned and MJ. You had been sitting at their lunch table every day now and it would be weird all of a sudden not to. “Hey,” you gave a weak smile as you approached, setting your tray on the table and sliding into a seat. You made eye contact with Peter and he instantly looked away, grabbing his tray and getting up, leaving the cafeteria. You stared, shocked and angry, watching as he left. “Are you shitting me?”

               “Y/n-” MJ’s eyes softened, reaching out a hand to comfort you and you recoiled.

               “No, that was, that was such a shit move,” you shook your head, refusing to feel sorry for yourself anymore. “Is he really going to be that immature?”

               “He’s just-” Ned went to vouch for him but you held up a hand, cutting him off.

               “He couldn’t even bother to look me in the eyes,” you muttered. “Did I really do something that bad?” You glanced down at your lunch, realizing your loss of appetite and got up, throwing away your food and marching out of the cafeteria yourself, frustrated and furious.

               During chemistry, all you could manage to do was look back and glare at him. You hated Peter Parker. You decided to be brave and try to befriend him, open yourself up and be vulnerable for once, actually try to make a move with a guy you liked, and this is what you got in return. With no explanation or warning, he just left you, as if you meant absolutely nothing to him. In the middle of the homecoming dance much less. And now, that you were trying to still give him a chance and sit at his lunch table, he straight up ditched you? It made you feel worthless and you hated it. Once the bell rang, you made a bee line towards your locker and tried to go on with the rest of your day as quickly as possible. You told yourself to save your tears for when you got home. You couldn’t cry, not here anyways.

               “Miss y/n, you seem distressed and dehydrated. Would you like water delivered to your room?” JARVIS chirped and you groaned, burying your face in your hands as you entered your bedroom, angrily throwing your bookbag to the ground.

               “I’m just fine, JARVIS,” you grumbled, letting out a sigh and sitting on the edge of your bed, staring blankly at your phone. You didn’t know what to expect. He hadn’t reached out to you all weekend, and he couldn’t even talk to you at school, there would be no reason for him to do it now. “Fuck you.” You threw your phone across the room, trying to ignore the tears welling up in your eyes, when you heard a knock on your door.

               “Hey sweetie, can we talk? I know you haven’t been doing too well lately,” your dad’s voice came from the other side of the door. “I haven’t seen you in the lab once, and I know that’s your favorite place to be. Something’s up. Please talk to me.” He knocked again and you stared, wondering if you should tell him or not. When he and Happy picked you up from the dance, you didn’t explain what had happened. You just said that you felt sick and you wanted to go home. He didn’t pry too much, and you were grateful for it, but now, you almost wanted to tell him. You wanted your dad to kick his ass, just like he promised he would. “Is it okay if I come in?”

               You wiped the tears off of your cheeks and walked to the door, opening it and instantly falling into his arms, hugging him, crying harder. “I’m sorry,” you sobbed into his chest and he stood there awkwardly, unsure of what to do, clearing his throat and patting your back.

               “Hey, hey let’s uh, let’s take this over there, okay?” he walked you over to where you were both sitting at the edge of your bed, him handing you a box of tissues as you blew your nose, red eyes glancing at his concerned eyes and furrowed brow. “What’s the matter, kiddo?”

               “Peter Parker is a major asshole,” you sniffled, shaking your head. “I thought that uh, that he was nice and smart and handsome and charming, but he’s just a dick. Just like all the other boys.”

               “Oh, that Parker kid?” Tony raised an eyebrow, looking a bit hesitant. “The boy who took you to the dance? He seemed awfully nice. What did he do?”

               “All night he kept avoiding me like I was the plague or something, and it made me feel awful. And he wouldn’t talk to me or even look at me. And then this song came on, and I wanted to dance, and he uh,” your voice broke and you shook your head, shutting your eyes tight, trying to hold yourself together. “He told me that we weren’t working out. And he said that asking me to the dance was a big mistake.”

               “Honey…” Tony put a hand on your shoulder and you just cried more.

               “I really liked him, dad,” you confessed. “I was… I was hoping he was the one.”

               “I’m so sorry, sweetheart. Sometimes boys are just assholes,” he sighed. “I don’t know what to tell you.”

               “I just- I can’t seem get over the fact that he never told me why,” you argued. “I doesn’t add up. We were doing so well, and I felt like we were really close, and then that night. He came to the door and he seemed different. And you talked to him and…” You paused, widening your eyes, putting two and two together. “What did you tell him, dad?”

               “W-what?” he looked caught off guard and you hardened your piercing gaze, glaring at him.

               “That night, when he picked me up for the dance,” you specified. “You talked to him and everything changed. What did you tell him?”

               “I didn’t say anything,” Tony lied, although you could easily see the fear in his eyes.

               “Bullshit,” you spat. “All night he looked terrified and nervous. You told him something that scared him off, I know you did. He wasn’t like this until he talked to you.”

               “Look, Pete? That kid… he was trouble, okay? He was going to hurt you,” your dad finally broke and you stared at him, shocked and confused and infuriated all the same. Tony shrank back and you shook your head, enraged. “I was trying to protect you, I told him that I didn’t want him around you. Trust me, y/n, he might seem nice and all, but I know boys like him-”

               “Like hell you know boys like him!” you shouted, angry. “Dad, he was the best thing that ever happened to me! Do you know how happy he made me? How much this meant to me? And now, just cause you’re scared that your little girl is growing up and she’s might get her heartbroken, you took away the only chance I ever had?” You ran your hands through your hair, pressing your lips together, feeling doubly betrayed.

               “He was no good for you!” Tony persisted. “He was going to hurt you anyways.”

               “Peter Parker was the sweetest boy I’ve ever met in my life,” you refused to believe his words. You stared at him, feeling broken and exhausted. “Dad, if you really cared about me then you would’ve known how much I wanted this.” You shook your head, walking to the door.

               “Y/n. Y/n!” he called after you but you ignored him, marching to the elevator. He chased you out of your room. “Where are you going?”

               “If you knew me then you would know,” you insisted, letting the doors shut and racing out onto the streets of New York, trying as best as you could to remember the address of that little apartment Peter showed you in Queens.

               Thankfully, when you arrived, May had no problem with letting you in. “Is it okay if I talk to Peter?” you asked nervously and she smiled sweetly.

               “Of course, sweetheart,” she responded. “He’s in his room right now working on homework. Feel free to just knock.”

               And so you did. Standing outside his bedroom door, he opened it, blinking at you, shocked. “Y-y/n? I didn’t expect you to-” he stammered as you roughly brushed past him, quickly shutting the door behind you, facing him with your teary eyes.

               “Fuck you,” you stood in front of him, eyes stinging, hands shaky, overwhelmed with emotion. “Why would you do that to me?”

               “Y/n, I didn’t mean to…” he seemed so broken up, but you just stared at him, devastated. “I’m sorry.”

               “Why didn’t you tell me?” you asked, desperate for some sort of reasoning on his part. “You made me feel so stupid, like you didn’t even like me back, and I felt so angry at you. You couldn’t even look at me at the dance, and then at the lunch table today, god, I just- I get it. My dad scared you or whatever, but fuck Peter- why didn’t you tell me? It’s like you just decided to give up on-”

               In the middle of you talking he cut you off, pressing his lips to yours, and you melted into the kiss. It was soft and warm and sweet and apologetic and when he pulled back, he looked at you, nervous, scared. “I’m sorry, y/n. I really am,” Peter insisted, reaching to grab your hand, holding it in his, brown eyes apologetic and genuine. “I’m an idiot. I should’ve told you, and I shouldn’t have done what I did, and I’m sorry. But I um, I also should’ve been honest.”

               You looked up at him, biting the inside of your cheek, eyes blurry, still remembering the imprint of his lips against yours. “Go on.”

               “I like you a lot, y/n. So ridiculously much. But I haven’t been completely honest with you, because I was scared, and I’m sorry about that,” he apologized. “The truth is, your dad didn’t want you to be with me because he was afraid that I’d put you in danger. The same way he puts you in danger.”

               “What are you talking about, Peter?” you stared at him, but he only squeezed your hand tighter, struggling to find the words to say.

               “He wasn’t going to let me tell you, or anyone really, and that’s why he didn’t want me near you, but I care about you so much and I don’t want to keep any more secrets between us…” he shook his head, looking up at you again. “You know how your dad is Ironman? And by you being his daughter, you’re constantly in a state of danger simply through association?”

               “Yeah…” you trailed off, confused as to where this was going.

               “Well-” he instantly shot up his free hand towards the ceiling of his bedroom and a small trap door fell down, making you shriek and jump towards him, a blur of red and blue falling from above. You jumped into his arms and he laughed slightly, holding you tight, and your eyes fixated on the clothing hanging from the ceiling, mouth agape. The red and blue fabric was part of a suit, a spider emblem etched in the center of the chest piece, bionic eyes sewn onto the mask, making your own widen.

               “Holy shit,” you gasped.

               “I’m Spider-Man,” he whispered in your ear and you stared at the suit dangling from the ceiling, watching as he shot his free hand up again, swinging the trap door shut and swiping the suit up with it, cleverly tucking the secret away in the ceiling. Your eyes widened before looking back at him, and he seemed scared, waiting to see how you would take it.

               “What the fuck, Peter?” you blinked at him, partially terrified.

               “I know, I know it’s a lot,” he smiled apologetically. “But I wanted you to know. And that’s why I know your dad, through the superhero stuff. When we first started working together and he found out we went to the same school, he specifically told me that he didn’t want me near you, but I uh, I really couldn’t help myself.” He blushed and shook his head, sobering up. “When he found out I was taking you to the dance, he got mad, because he knew I blatantly ignored his orders, and he thought that if I was around you, then you would be in twice as much danger as you already are. He told me I wasn’t allowed to be with you anymore, and I got scared, and I didn’t know what to do. So I cut you off completely, and I’m sorry.” He shut his eyes tight, tears of his own starting to surface. “That’s so fucked up, and unforgivable, and horrible, and I am so very sorry I put you through that.”

               “I just thought maybe you hated me,” you whispered, hugging him tightly, sighing and trying to drink it all in. “But now, I think I’m slowly starting to understand.”

               “I shouldn’t have let anything get in between us,” Peter acknowledged. “I really do care about you, y/n. So much.” He paused. “Actually, that night, before the dance, on my way to your house, I was planning to ask you out. And make us official.”

               “Really?” you looked up at him, wondering if you should allow yourself to be hopeful again, so soon.

               “Really,” he smiled. “I see where he’s coming from, but in the end, I shouldn’t have let your dad scare me.”

               “He’s an overprotective jackass of a father,” you sighed. “But I’d be lying if I said I didn’t love him.”

               “He’s a good guy, Mr. Stark,” Peter admitted. “You’re really lucky to have a dad like him. He cares a lot about you.”

               You nodded your head and hummed in agreement, pausing for a moment. “What are you going to tell him?” you wondered softly, both of you still holding each other, Peter’s fingers running through your hair. “When he finds out?”

               “I think I simply might just tell him that I don’t care,” he murmured, shrugging softly. “Cause I really do care about you. And I would do anything to have you back in my life again, because you make me really happy, you do. And I know that I can’t have a normal life, but I can at least try. That would be fair, right?”

               “I think so,” you replied. “Why do you care so much, anyways? When you have your other things to worry about, like uh, like the Spider-Man…”

               “Cause you’re beautiful, y/n. You’re smart and you’re bold and brave and funny and you always make me smile. When I’m with you it’s like I could stay there forever, and I can’t help but stare at you whenever I see you, and you just-” he looks at you, eyes sparkling, sighing. “You’re the most amazing girl I’ve ever met in my life, y/n. Really. And I’d be damned if I let anyone take me away from you.”

               “Sooo…” you giggled, looking up at him, your arms draped around his waist. “Does this make me Spider-Man’s girlfriend?”

               “If you’d like to be,” he grinned.

               “I don’t think there’s anything I could possibly want more,” you confessed, kissing him again, him holding you in his arms. You couldn’t imagine yourself being with anyone else.

crush masterlist

part 2 – an apartment in queens

               The following weeks you found yourself sitting at Peter Parker’s lunch table nearly every day. You slowly got to know him better, understanding his passion for photography, his love for Star Wars, and of course, his obsession with science puns. Alongside him, you also got to know his friends, MJ and Ned. MJ was more laid back and careless than Peter, messy hair and doodling in class, dark humor and straight-to-the-point conversation. She wasn’t like the other girls you knew who liked to gossip about drama or swoon over boys. Instead she talked about true crime and conspiracy theories. Ned was a lot like Peter, minus the anxiety. He was a goofball who enjoyed LEGOs and read comic books and was always excited to announce whatever latest movie just came out or NASA’s newest discovery. His friends were interesting and cool, and you enjoyed hanging out with them a lot too. Of course, they weren’t nearly as charming and polite as Peter was, but you liked the company all the same. MJ was reliable in recommending you good music and Ned in showing you memes he thought you’d appreciate.

               As far as Peter goes, when you weren’t sending silly selfies to each other or texting paragraphs back and forth over the phone, you both made an effort to spend time together at school. Study hall slowly became a regular thing between the two of you. After the dismissal bell rang, you would meet at the cafeteria vending machines to grab snacks, and then spread your textbooks out on a library table and breeze through your homework, sharing jokes and stories about the school day or whatever else was going on in your lives at the time. However, approaching the library that evening, both of you instantly pouted at the notice posted on the door.

               “Closed for SAT prep,” Peter read aloud. “Uh oh.”

               “You’ve got to be kidding me,” you stared at the piece of paper taped to the entrance, letting out a small huff. “We have a test tomorrow and to be completely honest, I haven’t even read the last two chapters yet.”

               “I have,” Peter piped up. “I can fill you in if you want, you can borrow notes.” He turned to face you and narrowed his eyes. “Although it’s not like you to be slacking on an assignment. What’s up?”

               “I’ve just been helping my dad with this uh, this project lately,” you replied. “I’m trying to figure out how to improve computation time through admissible heuristic-”

               “A* yeah,” Peter blurted, recognizing your words, and you paused, thoroughly impressed.

               “Wait! Parker, you’re telling me you know algorithms?” you stood there, jaw still hanging in surprise.

               “Sure, I am a computer geek after all,” he chuckled softly, flexing a humble brag. “I have a bit of experience in computer science, if you ever want a helping hand.”

               “Holy shit,” you blinked, thinking to yourself, as if he couldn’t get any hotter?

               “Anyways, you should really get on those chapters. You know this exam makes up ten percent of our grade for the quarter.” He pauses to think for a moment and then his eyes light up with an idea. “Let’s hang at my place and I can catch you up,” he offers, and you look at him incredulously, practically delirious at this point.

               “Y-you want me to come over?” you raise an eyebrow and he stiffens, hesitant.

               “Uh, I mean, if you’re okay with that,” he explains. “I just thought since the library was closed, you know, we could find a different place to study. It doesn’t have to be my place we can go to a coffee shop or the park or something-”

               “No, no your place sounds perfect,” you insisted, head reeling at the fact that your crush just invited you to their house.

               “Awesome, cause I know a really good pizza place on the way,” he grins and you think you could melt on the spot right there.

               Peter doesn’t live very far from Midtown at all, just a couple transfers. And as far as pizza recommendations go, he knows the very best spot in town. It’s obvious he’s a Queens kid, the way he walks about the city and interacts with the people, it’s like there’s nowhere else he could ever possibly belong. It’s heartwarming, to see the way he talks about his favorite shops and people, pointing out little things like good climbing trees and perfect awnings for being caught in the rain. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think he created the city himself, the way he was familiarized with everything. It was impressive.

               Your dad didn’t really let you out of the tower to roam much. Happy usually escorted you around a in a car or he insisted you take a taxi rather than the subway. When you did go out, it was usually in his company, to a fancy party or a conference hall, a five-star restaurant or a prestigious academy. Being raised surrounded with such success and wealth was a blessing, and you were ever grateful for it, but it was times like these when you wondered what it would’ve been like to just be a normal kid. To be able to explore and meet others and know the city as well as Peter does, every little hideout and bodega, the best spot to watch the sunrise or grab a sandwich.

               “Well uh, this is it,” Peter clutched onto the straps of his backpack, giving a nervous smile. “It might not be much, but it’s my home. It’s just me and my Aunt May, she’s the one who pretty much raised me so…” He shrugged and then opened up the door, you being sure to take everything in.

               “Oh my gosh Peter! Hi! How was school today? Oh! And you brought a friend!” a bubbly brunette with glasses greeted both of you, scooping up Peter in a hug, and you instantly knew she must be Aunt May. “Hi dear, I’m Aunt May and you are?”

               “This is y/n, remember?” Peter introduced you and you raised an eyebrow at that last part, noting the way that he must’ve mentioned you to her before. You tried to hide the blush rising to your cheeks.

               “Y/n? Oh yes, how could I forget your-” May paused immediately upon Peter’s terrified eyes and nodded slowly. “Your uh, your?”

               “My friend,” he smiled. “She’s my friend, May.”

               “Right. Awesome,” she looked at you and you could sense her suspicion, that they were hiding something, but you dismissed it and smiled back. “I’m so glad you could come visit today, Miss Y/n! Peter’s told me so much about you.” You looked at Peter and he gave you terrified eyes, making you laugh. “Oh, was I not supposed to say that?” May turned to you and you laughed harder, reassuring her it was just fine, but inside, your head was reeling. Peter had talked to her about you before? You just hoped it was all good things.

               “Anyways… We’re gonna study for our test, so we’ll be in my room. Just knock if you need me,” Peter explained, and to your surprise, grabbed you by the hand and led you down the hall, heart fluttering in your chest every step of the way. He dumped his bookbag on the ground and shut the door, flopping onto his bed, sighing. “Sorry that’s my Aunt May, she can be a little overbearing at times.”

               “No, no, you’re all fine,” you reassured, taking a seat next to him at the edge of his bed. “I get it. My dad can be a lot like that too. Lots of questions and pestering- it’s just cause they care about us, you know.”

               “Yeah, I appreciate that,” Peter smiled softly, leaning up and looking at you, noticing the way you pressed your lips together, waiting to ask something. “What?”

               “You told her about me?” you wondered, and he swallowed nervously, clearly embarrassed.

               “I mean, uh… Yeah. I did…” He paused, staring at the floor. “Is that okay?” he asked, scared. “I mean, I tell Aunt May about everything, she’s sort of my best friend- but not in a weird way, she’s my aunt you know, but-”

               “You’re fine, Peter,” you laughed. “I’m just giving you a hard time.”

               “Oh,” he grew quiet, letting out a soft sigh of relief as you laughed a bit harder, smiling at him. He looked back at you, face reddening, hazel eyes softened. “You have a nice laugh, you know.”

               “Really?” you cocked your head to the side, growing self-conscious. “I always thought it was a bit too obnoxious.”

               “No, it’s genuine,” he shook his head, insisting. “I like it a lot.” He looked down towards his feet and started to pull out some textbooks from his backpack, and you could’ve sworn you heard him mumble. “I could probably listen to it all day.”

               Reading classic English literature was never the most exciting way to pass time, but with Peter, it instantly became your favorite hobby. Both of you impersonated characters and made fun of the old dialect, as well as sprinkled in vine references at every appropriate moment. While writing notes, you doodled cartoons in the margins and decorated them with stickers. It was like hanging out with Peter outside of school made doing school related things much less nerve wracking. It gave you the freedom to be laid back, boisterous, and most of all, handsy. Throughout studying you found yourselves guilty of seeming to find any excuse to touch the other, whether it was poking, tickling, pulling hair, slugging a shoulder, or tugging on a sleeve. At one point, Peter even leaned against your side, resting his head on your shoulder and watching as you scrawled down notes, making your head dizzy.

               A notification went off on Peter’s phone and he sighed, walking over to where it was charged on his desk before staring intently. “Woah,” he held his phone screen up to you with the displayed time. “I didn’t even know it was this late! I’m sorry.”

              “Oh no,” you glanced at your own phone, spotting the several missed calls and texts from your father, sighing. You didn’t want to leave, but you knew you had to. You didn’t want to dig yourself a deeper hole. Shooting your dad a couple texts and asking Happy to come pick you up, you groaned, realizing there was no avoiding explanations on this one. The school library wouldn’t have even been open for study hall at this time if you said you were there. “Shit, I’ve got to go. I’m sorry, Peter.”

              “It’s okay,” he insisted, although you could sense his disappointment too. “Maybe another time?”

              “Definitely,” you grinned. “I think I like hanging here much better than the library. You even have a periodic table up on your wall for reference.”

              “Exactly!” he pointed out, overexcited, and you giggled at his enthusiasm. “The library’s got nothing on us.”

              “It’s a lot quieter in here too,” you added. “Which is ironic, because you’d think a library is the quietest place there is.”

              “Not in a high school it’s not,” Peter shook his head and you laughed alongside him.

              “You got that right,” you agreed.

              Gathering up your things into your bookbag, you joked back and forth with him, until you were about to head out the door and he stopped you, making you freeze. “C-can I ask you something?” he wondered and you stared up at him, wide eyed, nervous. “I’ve sort of been meaning to ask you but I get nervous sometimes and I didn’t know how you’d react but uh-”

              “What’s up, Parker?” you smirked, having a feeling that whatever was about to happen could only lead to something good.

              “Well you see, there’s this dance coming up, next week actually, and me and Ned were talking about it. Um, it’s the homecoming dance. I was wondering, if it’s okay with you, and it can be as friends or maybe more than friends but well, maybe, I was thinking…” he stopped rambling and sighed, looking at you, frustrated and terrified of himself all at the same time. “Would you like to be my date to the homecoming dance next Friday?”

              “Peter-” you stared at him, fireworks exploding in your chest. “Yes! Of course!”

              “Wait, really?” his eyes lit up and you nodded eagerly, dropping your bookbag and rushing up to hug him.

              “Really,” you insisted, wrapping your arms around him. You had never hugged Peter before, but he was warm and comfy and he smelled like fabric softener. You buried your face into his shoulder, squeezing tight, muffling your giggles. Both of you pulled back and he was smiling ear to ear, you as well. “I wish I could stay longer, but um, I’ll be sure to shoot you a text when I get home.”

              “For sure,” he kept smiling at you like a fool, and you couldn’t say anything because you bet you probably looked the exact same.

              Waving goodbye to Aunt May and closing the door behind you, you took a step before instantly hearing Peter excitedly ramble on to his aunt. “I asked the question May- the one to the dance. And she said yes! She said yes, holy shit- I’m gonna need a suit. And a corsage. Where do you even get a corsage?”

              “Woah, slow down there, kiddo,” Aunt May chuckled. Trying not to eavesdrop any longer, your entire face flushed, heart fluttering, fuzzy feeling enveloping you as you walked down the hall. You were falling for Peter Parker. And you were falling hard.

              The car ride home with Happy was pretty quiet, and you knew you were going to get another talking to, you could just feel it. It wasn’t that you were purposely trying to be rebellious or anything, sometimes you just genuinely lost track of time. It was easy to be distracted when you were with someone like Peter. Your attention seemed to effortlessly gravitate towards him, you couldn’t even help it yourself. Making your way up to the elevator, half of you was still buzzing with excitement from your night at Peter’s, but the other half was dreading the rest of the night to come dealing with the repercussions from your dad.

              “It’s nine o’clock, y/n. Where in the hell were you? And don’t even start with study hall,” your dad folded his arms, already exhausted.

              “I went over to a friend’s house to study,” you explained. “I’m sorry, I lost track of the time and I just-”

              “Was it a boy?” he looked at you, narrowing his eyes from behind his glasses and you sighed. “The boy?”

              “What does it matter?” you whined.

              “It matters because you’re the type of girl to get into trouble,” he argued and you did a doubletake, offended.

              “Excuse me?” you stared at him. “I get perfect grades, dad! I’m on the honor roll! And you think that I’m going to get myself into trouble?”

              “You’re my daughter, y/n. There’s no way in hell that you aren’t,” he shook his head. Tony sighed, looking you up and down, and then pursed his lips. “Does he treat you right at least? This boy?”

              “Y-yeah,” you blushed, nodding, slowly feeling your agitation fade away. “He’s really sweet.”

              “Is he smart?”

              “Super smart. He competes in the decathlon, dad. Plus he literally studies computer programming for fun.”

              “So he’s a giant nerd.”

              “No! Okay, maybe. But he’s a cute nerd.”

              “Alright, alright,” Tony nodded slowly. “So are you two dating or is this a crush type situation?”

              “He asked me to the homecoming dance,” you told him, blushing furiously just at the thought of Peter Parker in a suit and tie, hair gelled back, swaying with you on the dance floor.

              “I better get around to meeting this kid then,” he insisted. “If he’s inviting you over and going to the dance with you and all.”

              “I’m sure you will, dad,” you smiled sweetly. “The dance is coming up soon and he’s obviously going to pick me up so, you can have a couple words with him then. He’ll be dressed up and everything, it’ll make a good impression.”

              “Right, right,” he laughed. “Well just be careful, alright? I can’t have my daughter’s heart getting broken out here. He should know he’s messing with Iron Man’s daughter, I’ll kick his ass if he ever wrongs you.”

              “I know, dad,” you rolled your eyes, giving him a big hug. “But I think we’re safe with this one. He’s a really good guy. I can feel it.”

crush masterlist

part 1 - study hall

               Although none of the other girls in your class would agree with you, you were convinced that Peter Parker was the most attractive guy at Midtown High. He had stolen your heart from the very first day of AP Chemistry, confidently answering some basic questions concerning the structure of carbon compositions, and you basically swooned. You found smart guys unbelievably sexy, and ones who were humble were twice as good. Parker was a quiet kid, very sharp and sensible, but also friendly and courteous. Unlike the other boys at your school, he wasn’t loud mouthed and cocky, throwing outrageous parties and trying to hit on every girl within a five foot radius. It was refreshing to see a guy your age not be obsessed with copying down your homework or trying to invite you to a college frat party. Peter Parker was different, and you liked that about him. You liked it a lot.

            He kept to himself and two his friends mostly, MJ and Ned, which made you more interested in him and his life. Most days he either wore these adorable blue V-neck sweaters or these goofy science pun t-shirts that looked as if ordered in a bulk pack from Amazon. He was a proud member of the photography club, robotics club, debate team, and Science Olympiad. He was one of the smartest people you knew, and in turn, that simply made him the most attractive. Perhaps it was your father who had established your high standard in boys, seeing as he dabbled in astrophysics and technological engineering as a hobby. He was Ironman after all, being an overachiever was practically a household expectation. You were pretty smart yourself, and although it could be looked upon as rude or inconsiderate, the truth was you liked to surround yourself with others who either matched or challenged your intellect.

               Since establishing your crush on Peter Parker, you strived to spend more time with him. You told yourself you could start it off as a friendship with a silly crush and see how things went from there. Towards the end of the class one day, you were determined to talk to the boy. The plan was to ask him to go over some of his notes with you, maybe make it a study date situation, hope he didn’t call your bluff. It wasn’t that you didn’t understand the lesson, you understood everything perfectly fine. Hell, you could probably speak stoichiometry in your sleep. However, you needed a good reason to introduce yourself, so you hoped for the best and decided to take a leap of faith. Nervously smoothing your sweaty palms down on your thighs and gathering your books up from your desk, you walked over to where he was talking to his best friend Ned. “Hey,” you tapped him on the shoulder and he turned around, staring at you with his soft hazel eyes, brunette hair swept up neatly, eyebrows raised in curiosity.

               “Oh hi,” he gave a warm smile and nervously cleared his throat. “What’s uh, what’s up?”

               “I’m y/n, I sit over there,” you pointed out as an introduction.

               “I think I’ve seen you around. Aren’t you Tony Stark’s daughter?” he cocked his head to the side and you groaned slightly, ever the exhausted with being immediately associated with your father.

               “Yup that’s me,” you sighed. “Uh, anyways, I noticed you seem pretty caught up on this lesson and I was having some difficulty understanding some of the concepts, I was hoping maybe I could borrow your notes sometime? If that’s okay?”

               “Oh?” he seemed surprised, but flattered, blush rising to his cheeks. “Sure! Of course. I’m Peter by the way, Peter Parker.” He gave a nervous laugh and then shook his head. “My notes aren’t the neatest in the world but if you think they could help, I’d be more than happy to lend you them for a night or two.”

               “Thanks,” you nodded. “That would be great. I think I’ve seen you in my lunch period too, so I could always just return them to you before class then.”

               “Yeah, yeah,” he agreed. “Or uh, if you wanted, we could always hang out at the library afterschool and I could explain it to you. Protein structural components can get a little tricky sometimes.”

               “For sure,” you chuckled, realizing how lame you probably sounded laughing over chemistry. “I’m usually free afterschool, as long as you’re okay with it, that sounds great to me!”

               “How afterschool tomorrow?” he offered. “Just for an hour or two?”

               “Perfect,” you couldn’t help but blush yourself. “Thanks, Peter. Really.”

               It felt like your heart was beating out of your chest as you walked away, envisioning his adorable smile still in your mind. He was so sweet, and kind, and understanding. Pretty eager too. You had to stifle a laugh as you heard Ned slug Peter on the shoulder and whisper shout, “Dude! You just scored a study date with Y/n Stark!”

               “See ya, Parker,” you turned around and winked, walking out of the classroom and towards your locker.

               The next day in class, you kept glancing back in your chair to look at him, smirking to yourself every time you caught him staring back. He was shy alright, and nervous, but it made him all the more adorable. That morning you made sure to fix your hair up and put on a little bit of lipstick, and after being thoroughly interrogated by your overbearing father, you were able to get out the door in one piece. It wasn’t that you were overexerting yourself into catching his attention, but you’d be lying if you said you weren’t hoping to have him compliment you. The rest of the school day, you caught yourself using the rest of your attention to calculate how much time was left until you could rush to the library and actually talk to him for once.

               “I thought you’d never show up,” you teased as he took a seat next to you at one of the tables, setting his backpack down on the floor and sighing.

               “Me either,” he groaned. “Ned wouldn’t stop bugging me about this being a date.” He gave a nervous laugh and turned to you, but you weren’t laughing. Instead you looked at him, smiling sweetly, unable to resist your temptation.

               “It can be a date,” you shrugged, opening up your textbook and waiting for a response, only to catch him dumbfounded, struggling to find words to say.

               “Oh, I mean- I-” he stammered and you chuckled.

               “I’m just playing with you, Parker,” you playfully reassured. “Now come on, open up those science notes so I can take a good look. I’m still lost on the GPCR structure similarities.”

               “That’s what doesn’t really make sense to me though,” he mused, doubtful as he instead swiped your notes across the table, reading them over and pointing at your diagrams. “I think you do. All of these are mapped out perfectly, and your comparisons are spot on.”

               “Well there’s no harm in getting clarification,” you replied, trying to grab back your notes but he held them out of your reach, narrowing his eyes. Peter didn’t buy it.

               “Why do you need my help, y/n? You’re literally the smartest girl in school. Your father is Tony Stark for heaven’s sake, you don’t need tutoring,” he insisted. “If anything, you should be tutoring me.”

               “You?” you scoffed. “Pete, you’re varsity on every academic team there is. No way.”

               “I just don’t get it,” he admitted. “Why’d you ask for my help? It’s obvious you understand the lesson perfectly fine.”

               “Well…” you blinked at him, shocked at how quickly he had seen right through your cover. “I uh, I don’t know.” Your face turned a bright shade of pink and you began to feel queasy. “Can I be honest?”

               “Of course,” he nodded, concerned but also curious as to what you had to say.

               “I just wanted an excuse to talk to you,” you confessed, embarrassed. “I always see you around and you seem so smart and you’re a part of all these clubs and teams and I don’t know…”

               He looked surprised, almost confused, but then smiled. “Me? Why me?”

               “I dunno. You seem really sweet.”

               “Thanks. You too.”

               “I was thinking maybe we could be friends? If that’s not too weird or-”

               “No, no that sounds, that sounds great,” he insisted, clearly flustered. He looked up at you, eyes sparkling, lips curled up in a smile. “You could’ve just asked you know.”

               “Yeah I’m uh, I’m clearly a fool when it comes to those kinds of things,” you laughed nervously, scratching the back of your head.

               “Well, since we’re here anyways,” Peter decided. “Want to do homework together instead?”

               “Sure,” you agreed. “That sounds great.”

               Both of you spent the next couple of hours solving Gauss-Jordan elimination matrices and memorizing resistance series equations. In a lot of ways, Peter Parker was just as much of a nerd as you were. It was comforting to know someone’s brain worked the same way yours did, excited to be challenged with theorems and calculations, determined to find solutions and build upon your already established intellect. When the library eventually closed, you walked to the cafeteria vending machines and grabbed some chips and sodas, exchanging conversation and making each other laugh with stupid jokes.

               “Sit at my lunch table tomorrow,” Peter invited after having added you on snapchat. “MJ and Ned will be there, and you can bring some of your friends if you want too.”

               “Okay,” you grinned. “Count me in.”

               Walking home, your entire stomach was filled with butterflies. Things couldn’t have gotten better. He was genuinely funny, and clever, and really sweet too. You hoped and prayed things would go well between you two. Practically skipping to the elevator, you tried to hide the stupid smile on your face in hopes that your dad wouldn’t pry too much. However, you instantly cringed when you heard JARVIS’ voice greet you as the doors slid open and you reached your floor.

               “Good evening, Miss Y/n. It seems that you have finally arrived home from school,” he chirped and you groaned, knowing what was to follow. “Your father has requested that I alert him upon your arrival, he has been inquiring about your whereabouts-”

               “Yeah, yeah, I know JARVIS,” you mumbled, setting your bookbag on your chair and frowning. “I came home late, I was at study hall with a friend.”

               “You are approximately three and a half hours late from your usual arrival,” JARVIS informed.

               “I am aware,” you insisted yet again, noticing your dad march towards you from a hall. Part of you was surprised he even noticed you were gone at all. Most of the time he was either out with the Avengers on a mission or cooped up in the lab working on a new project.

               “And where were you afterschool, young lady?” he inquired, arms folded, peering at you above the rim of his glasses.

               “I was at study hall with a friend,” you repeated, chewing at your lower lip, trying to play it off. “It took a little longer than I thought it would, I’m sorry.”

               “You couldn’t give me a call at least?” he asked, annoyed.

               “I didn’t think you cared,” you shrugged.

               “Well I’m your father, so I do,” he argued and you nodded, growing quiet and waiting to hear whatever scolding you had coming to you.

               Sometimes you wondered why he was constantly on your case. Maybe with him being an Avenger and all, always exposed to threats and danger, it translated to him being constantly worried about you. You knew it was just cause he cared, but at times, it did get a bit overbearing. You’ve learned by now to just nod your head and respond with “yes dad” and “I’m sorry dad” interchangeably.

              “Much less, why are you all dolled up?” he looked you up and down in disapproval. You glanced down at your skirt and sweater, remembering the way he had inquired about your hair and makeup this morning. He wasn’t wrong. You rarely ever put any effort into your appearance when it came to going to school. You usually threw on some jeans and a hoodie and made your way out the door. “If I didn’t know any better I’d think you were trying to impress someone.”

             “I’m not,” you lied, rolling your eyes. “I just felt like changing it up today.”

            “Uh huh,” he drew out. “Twenty bucks says your little friend at study hall was a boy.”

            “Dad!” you whined and he smirked.

            “That’s all I need to know,” he threw up his hands defensively, secretly proud of himself. “Hey kid, get your homework done and then meet me in the lab. Bruce has a project for you concerning some Dijkstra’s algorithms that are right up your alley.”

            “Lucky for you I already got my homework done in study hall,” you pointed out. “So let me grab a snack real quick and I’ll meet you down there.”

            “That’s my kiddo,” he smiled proudly. “See ya in a bit.”

It was times like these when you blamed your dad for your high standard in boys. Being the daughter of Tony Stark came with some pretty high standards, and even higher ones for any boy you decided to bring home. So when the cute nerd in your chemistry class catches your eye, you’re determined to get him to like you back.

y/n (reader) x peter parker (love interest) x tony stark (dad) // fluff & angst

masterlist

study hall - part one

an apartment in queens - part two

the homecoming dance - part three

in his arms - part four

The Right Idea

Summary: You struggle to understand your partner in anti-crime sometimes, but you didn’t expect him to go to such lengths to get through to you.

A/N: I’m not sure how anyone could confuse the signs that get confused in this but it’s fiction so I’ve suspended my disbelief. Please let me know what you think!

MasterlistIRequests

Sunlight awoke you mere moments before your alarm began dramatically flashing at your bedside. Sighing, your nocturnal activities having allowed only a brief respite before you were forced to rise and live your ordinary life, you stretched to turn it off. The motion pulled at sore muscles pulling a groan from you. Heavily, you flopped back against the mattress.

Staring up at your ceiling, half-heartedly attempting to chasten yourself into getting up, you melted back into your mattress. When your eyes drifted shut, your mind teetering precariously over the edge of sleep, you forced yourself to move. The sudden sharp cold of the morning air drove you to dress quickly before you hurried to brew some coffee.

As your usual morning routine was coming to a close, your mind already mulling over what the day would bring, a familiar flashing white light caught your attention. Brow crumpling in confusion, you hesitated as you watched the wall mounted light flash a few times. Returning your now tepid mug of coffee to the counter, you straightened up and moved to the door. Apprehension slowed your movements; who would be visiting you this early?

Having reached the door, one hand laid against the handle, all that was left to do was open the door and greet this yet unknown visitor.

As you opened the door you were almost overwhelmed by the, somehow still surprising, floral scent of your eccentric neighbour’s apartment. Stifling a cough at the oversweet aroma you peered at your visitor. Recognising Matt your face dropped slack in surprise before drawing back together in confusion. “Matt, hi” you greeted almost blankly. Recovering yourself, the shock of seeing him at your door giving way to concern, you stepped aside and gestured for him to enter.

Shutting the door behind him, you turned to face him and leaned heavily against the stained oak. “Is everything okay?”

Your eyes dropped to his lips to catch his response, “did you make any progress last night?”

You cocked your head, confused. “I would have let you know if I found anything,” you reassured lightly, trying to stem your annoyance at this display of mistrust. Then, with a heaved sigh you added, “I’m starting to wonder if it’s even worth me going back.” His lips twisted oddly in response but you continued before he could misinterpret your lost faith as a desire to stop trying entirely. “There’s surely so much good I could be doing elsewhere,” ruefully you shook your head, “but I’m stuck chasing a lead that’s getting me nowhere.”

Head leaned back against the dark wood behind you, you looked - perhaps unfairly - to him for some kind of answer.

He nodded, pursed his lips and gave his response. ‘You need to have faith.’

Involuntarily, your lips quirked up into a smile as your eyes widened at his response. The phrase itself, the sentiment of faith especially, was not a particularly groundbreaking response from him. However, the way in which he expressed the response spread a warmth through your chest; he had signed the phrase with awkward hands, unfamiliar as he was with the gestured language.

You had previously expressed to him how difficult it could sometimes be to rely on reading his lips, especially during your nocturnal ventures together. You had hoped your complaint would at least inspire him to enunciate a little more or, at the very least, to face you more directly when he did speak. This attempt of his, however unpracticed it may have been, was warming in it’s thoughtfulness.

Realising you were yet to give a response, you swiftly blurted “you’re right,” before moving quickly to a follow up question; “you can sign?”

A wry smirk pulled his lips and his head cocked to the side as he raised his hands once more. ‘I’m trying.’

You honestly tried but you were unable to stop the grin from overtaking you; “I’d say you’re doing better than just trying,” you encouraged.

With, what seemed to be, increased confidence he raised his hands to respond even as his face turned to the ground. ‘We’re turtles.’

Immediately, you let out a drawn out noise of confusion. Briefly you wondered over some hidden meaning behind the phrase but eventually you gave in to giggles. At the sound of your laughter he raised his head and grinned at you, the rise and fall of his shoulders suggesting that he too was laughing. Pleased that he was not offended by the humour you found in his mistake you allowed the laughter to overtake you more fully.

You assumed that he continued to laugh alongside you, your attention too focused on your own amusement to notice if he attempted to communicate once more.

A gentle hand beneath your chin immediately worked to pull your attention entirely back to him and you hoped the catch of your breath were not too obvious. Given the smirk widening upon his features, you knew that he had noticed and an immediate heat rose to your cheeks. When your attention fell to his lips, whether to read their words or to consider more illicit actions, you nodded against the hand that still gripped your chin.

With this subtle confirmation that you were, in fact, paying attention, his grip softened but never dropped away. Eventually, he asked; “Was that wrong?”

Swallowing thickly, you stuttered but eventually managed a suitably teasing response. “Depends what you were trying to say?”

Fingers finally falling from you, something that relieved and disappointed you all at once, he frowned as he responded. “We’re friends,” he clarified.

Nodding pointlessly, you responded. “Then yes,” you clarified softly, not wanting your correction to come across as a lack of appreciation, “that was wrong.” In an attempt to more pragmatically correct him, you lightly gripped his palms and tried your best to squash any physical response to his skin upon yours.

Taking a stalling, but necessary, steadying breath, you moved his hands firstly into the previous configuration. “This,” you murmured, “means turtle.” You left his hands there briefly as you watched his lips quirk upwards and his brief nod of understanding. Moving his hands, hooking his fingers together twice, you explained; “this means friends.” In an effort to instil the gesture more completely, you repeated the movement once more.

With the impromptu lesson over, your hands lingered inexcusably against his. In some lazy attempt to prevent him noticing your lingering touch, you asked; “how did you learn this?”

Matt did not attempt to remove his hands from beneath your light grip, not that he would likely know how to give his response with gestures, and so you watched his lips for a response. “A friend from work helped me.”

Eyebrows raising, doubting it was particularly easy to show a blind man how to correctly perform ASL, you subtly pushed for more information. “I bet that was fun.”

He almost grinned as he responded, “yeah, I think she may have gotten the wrong idea.”

Eyebrows raising, you nodded aimlessly as you looked down at your still joined hands. It was hardly surprising that this faceless colleague of his had gleaned the ‘wrong idea’ from this request of his. An hour or more in close proximity, hands almost interlaced as you teach him a skill that, as far as this faceless colleague was aware, he had absolutely no use for.

“Gee,” you huffed out sarcastically, uneasy at the annoyance your own thoughts had inspired in you. “I wonder why?” You gave a laugh and finally dropped his hands. “Matt,” you started, more seriously, “I really do appreciate it.”

He smiled fully as his right hand re-captured yours after the briefest loss of contact. “Maybe you could teach me more?”

Squeezing his hand, you asked; “you’re not worried I’m gonna go and get the ‘wrong idea’?”

Smirking, looking as though you had said exactly what he had hoped you would, he shot back; “Actually, I’m hoping you’ll get the right idea.”

FusilliandFeuds

Summary: You try your best to actually finish cooking a meal for Yelena without her input. Yelena thwarts your efforts.

A/N: Something lighthearted and short :) Can you tell I was hungry when I wrote this? Let me know what you think!

MasterlistIRequests

A clattering door and a questioning yell of your name alerted you to Yelena’s arrival. “In the kitchen!” You called, smiling as she arrived in the room. This smile immediately dropped and your eyebrows scrunched together at the almost terrified expression upon her features. A sudden fear overtaking you, the seriousness upon her features so unfamiliar to you, you dropped your spoon. “Yelena, what is it?”

“What are you doing to the fusilli?”

Narrowed eyes almost glaring at her, gaze flickering towards the boiling pasta for a brief moment, you slowly answered; “No, Yelena, not tonight.” You warned, ready to ward off her usual attempts to take over with the blunted fork clutched between your fingers. “I’m cooking the pasta,” you explained, as though that would ease her.

With an exaggerated groan she burst forward in a fit of ungodly speed and deftly ignored your brandished fork to snatch the spoon from the counter. “No!” She exclaimed, “you’re ruiningit.”

She fiddled with the hob controls and the over-zealous boiling calmed significantly. “Yelena,“ you tried sternly, before being immediately cut off.

“Cooking pasta is an art,” she told you sternly, brandishing the spoon like a weapon. “It’s a balance - too long and it’s a stodgy mess, too short and it can break your teeth.”

You groaned, leaning your elbows against the countertop and letting your head fall into your hands. “Yelena, it’s my turn.“ you tried again but she resolutely ignored you.

“Did you put salt in this water?” Without awaiting a reply, she grabbed the salt shaker from beside you and liberally sprinkled some into the pan. “RememberItoldyou, you have to salt the water.”

Rubbing tired eyes with the heel of your hand, you asked; “why?”

“I don’t know,” you could hear her rifling through one of your cupboards and you groaned once more, “it’s what the Italians do.”

Counting backwards from ten, in every language you could think of, you slowly relaxed. Raising your head from its cradle in your hands, you asked hopefully, “what about the sauce?”

Her voice was low, dramatic, as she asked; “The sauce?”

Vaguely, nervous for her judgement, you gestured to the pot on the spare ring. “It’s in there.”

Trepidation overtook her. A slow, cautious hand reached towards the lid and, with a mighty flourish, she revealed the simmering sauce beneath. Wide eyes turned on you, “are you going to finish cooking the pasta in this?”

For the life of you, you couldn’t work out the answer she were after. Eyes narrowing in an attempt to work her out, you hedged your bets and guessed. Slowly, you let out; “no.”

Her mouth fell open, disdain colouring her gaze. “No?” She repeated, distaste lining the word. “You have to finish the pasta in the sauce!” She exclaimed, pots and pans clattering as she entirely reorganised the workspace to her liking.

She continued speaking, a tirade of specificities of the world of cuisine spilling from her, but you tuned out entirely. You should have been more prepared for this outcome, it was almost a weekly routine between the pair of you at this point; you would exclaim that it was your turn to cook only for Yelena to arrive before you had finished and entirely overturn your attempts.

Your hopes at successfully finishing this meal thoroughly dashed, you slumped further over the counter. Something tugged suddenly at your apron and you whirled around, hands awkwardly raised as though ready to shove an attacker.

Yelena laughed at the futility of your poor attempt. Agilely, she caught the wrist that came closest to meeting its mark and deposited the wooden spoon into your hand. “Turn around,” she instructed.

Eyebrows raised, you asked, “Why?”

Dramatically, she gestured to her shirt. “This is my favourite shirt,” your eyebrows raised as you looked over the all black, scoop neck T-shirt. “I don’t want to ruin it.“

Harshly, she tugged your apron free and wrapped it around herself. As she lifted her arms to adjust the strap over her neck, you raised a brow at her. “There’s a hole in your ‘favourite shirt’.”

Looking at the ripped hole just beneath her arm, she nonchalantly explained it away. “It’s character.”

“Sure,” you nodded wryly.

You watched her potter in the kitchen briefly after that, brandishing spoons and spices like one of those dramatic chefs you saw so much of on daytime tv.

Quickly, you realised your attempt to cook had been entirely thwarted for the evening and you were forced to retreat to your rickety table. Scraping the chair dramatically against the tiled floor, you slumped into a seated position with an almighty creak.

Yelena finished off the meal very efficiently after that. Presenting you with an admittedly delicious smelling plate of steaming pasta, that looked very different from the dish you had originally intended to make, she waved a dramatic hand over it with a flourish. “Voila.”

Your eyes drifted shut as you sniffed at the aroma rising from the plate, “this smells so good.”

“I told you,” she sternly spoke, “pasta is an art.”

Rolling your eyes, you impatiently speared some pasta on your fork and gave the bold proclamation; “next time I’m definitely cooking.”

Yelena scoffed. Mouth already full of pasta, she awkwardly told you; “you say that every week.”

You went to reply, make some comment about her controlling culinary nature, but immediately cut yourself off as the tangy, yet sweet, taste of seasoned tomato engulfed your tastebuds. Your words morphed instead into; “this is so good.”

Momento-Part2

Summary: After destroying the red room and returning from the blip, Yelena turns her focus to finding you. You, unwilling to let the memory of your oldest friend die, leave a trail of momentos in your wake for her to follow.

A/N: Thanks for all the love guys, please let me know what you think!

Masterlist|Requests

Part One

The red room had fallen, finally. Torn down from its looming spectral position in the sky and torn viciously apart as it surrendered to the relentless pull of gravity. A sweet relief of revenge had flooded Yelena as the metal had crashed and screeched in its destruction. The others were freed, the girls and women escaping their predetermined fate and finding a new freedom of choices that had been stolen from them.

It was wonderful, really, their victory against all odds. And yet, Yelena felt unsatisfied.

The job itself had been tough, planned to the millisecond and leaving no room for Yelena to break from the mission and find you. She had wanted to, needed to really, find and reconnect with the person who had supported her through everything. Her survival meant little to her without the people she loved; her family. You were a part of that family, even if you could not remember her yet. Doing her duty, knowing you would do the same in her position, she ignored the desperate urge to find you and did her part in permanently dismantling the red room.

And now it was over. The red room was no more and, somehow, Yelena had still lost even more. Returning from the blip, that impossibly vast expanse of time that had felt like seconds, Yelena had lost years and Yelena had lost her sister. Yelena’s plan had always been to find you, the blip interrupting her before she could even finds a place to start, but the loss of Natasha only made her more desperately reckless in her search for you. For companionship.

It had been tough. Even without the five years you may have lived whilst Yelena was ‘away’ she knew you would be more than skilled at hiding your tracks. If you didn’t want to be found, it would be near impossible to find you.

Except, you wanted to be found. Yelena knew this because she had been pleasantly surprised to find you had left her an expanse of clues. A trail of identifying marks. A business card for a cafe you briefly worked in, the short-term lease agreement you left at an apartment you used to rent, and an almost blank postcard you had left in an abandoned house you briefly squatted in; all marked with the same lopsided flower that forever adorned Yelena’s wrist.

Despite months of seeing nothing but this lopsided flower in lieu of you, Yelena did not entirely lose hope. She must be getting closer, she must be.

And, as it turned out, she was.

It was just after midnight in Chicago. The sounds of the city were distant but echoed through the empty air like remnants of another world. This district had been abandoned, it seemed. Business crashing during the blip and never quite making a recovery. Empty warehouses provided both the shelter and solitude you would prefer were you unsure who may be after you.

Your last flower, scribbled onto a torn dollar bill had also included the symbol for wind that weathermen often employed and a dark blue splodge. Trusting her instincts with your notes had always worked well, it seemed you more than understood how Yelena’s mind worked, and so immediately she took off for the Windy City. What the splash of blue had meant, however, she hadn’t known. Until now.

There were countless warehouses in this district but she were certain the blue would hold a meaning. When she stopped before a warehouse with a dark blue flag waving floppily from a flickering streetlamp out front, Yelena held her breath. Holding the dollar bill crumpled in her fist, she stepped through the large steel doors.

In this vast empty spaces her steps echoed all around her, bouncing from every unadorned wall to surround her in her own hesitant steps. She were looking for another clue, another scrap of paper for her to pore over and helplessly follow to your next location. But, there was nothing here.

A frown pulled her lips downwards as her shoulders deflated; what else could your note have meant? Where else in the world could you be?

Another pair of footsteps echoed around her, hastier than hers had been and heavier in their approach. Caution taking over, Yelena immediately ducked into a crouch and raised a gun to her attacker.

Except, it wasn’t an attacker, it was you. You, with eyes wide and hands raised in surrender even as you tried for a smile at her. When she gave no response except for a blank stare, slow blinks, and a stuttered breath, you giggled. Unsure how else to really react, the relief of seeing you again a little overwhelming after these hopeless months of chasing you, she broke into a snigger of her own. This lightness that you shared with one another cut through any awkwardness or uncertainty that may have otherwise overshadowed this bright reunion.

The laughter, as though it were magnetic, worked to pull you closer to one another. With words yet to be exchanged, you embraced each other. Chin resting against your shoulder, Yelena closed her eyes and continued to laugh even as tears sprang from her eyes.

After minutes that stretched like hours, she pulled back, gripped your arms, and spoke through the hoarseness of her throat. “You’re alive.”

You raised a hand, using a delicate fingertip to wipe away a stray tear, and nodded. “So are you,” you responded, voice far away as though you were making some wondrous epiphany.

Yelena wondered over so many questions; who had freed your mind from its slavery to the red room? How long had you been freed? Was it merely your paranoia pushing you to run from every shadow that lingered for too long? Or were you entrenched in some new darkness that she could help you escape?

You, also, had a plethora of questions fighting to escape you; how long had Yelena remained ensnared by the red room? Had she found her sister, who she spoke of so very often? Had she disappeared like so many others all those years ago or had she been following your clues for all the years you had been leaving them?

It had been so long that you had all but given up on her finding you. You had begun to leave the notes as more a ritual in her honour, reminding yourself that your one true friend had been real and deserved to be remembered no matter where she had ended up.

But here she was after all these years.

The pair of you remained gormless in your shocked relief for a brief while before your excitement got the better of you and your face split into a beaming grin.

Rushing forward again, you crushed her into a more aggressively friendly embrace than the first. “I missed you so much!”

She returned your likely overzealous embrace with similar zeal and nodded with a small sob. “I’ve got so much to tell you.”