Natasha Romanoff Au - Tumblr Posts
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I do not give anyone permission to repost, plagiarize, or take credit for my original work. If you see this anywhere please let me know. Reblogs, likes, and comments are always appreciated! Men DNI
Who I write for
Marvel master-list
Requesting rules
About me
NSFW/Dark blog
Anons & friends
N.R. Master-list
Fluff: ~ Angst: !
I do not give anyone permission to repost, plagiarize, or take credit for my original work. If you see this anywhere please let me know. Reblogs, likes, and comments are always appreciated :) Men DNI
Let the light in pt. 1 pt. 2
Mom!Natasha series
Meet Cute series
Runaway Bride
Marvel master-list
N.R. Master-list
Breath of fresh air
Pairings: Natasha Romanoff x Fem!Reader
Warnings: Pregnancy, kissing, small hurt, mention of injuries
It was so nice to finally get outside and have some fresh air. The last few days you were stuck looking out the bay window as it poured and poured. Natasha, your wife and soon to be mother of your child, was extremely overprotective and made sure while she was gone that Laura watched over you from time to time.
The Barton’s only lived less than one acre over, on a small but beautiful farm of their own with their 3 mini Barton’s. They had actually given you and Natasha the idea to live off the grid, and who better to have as neighbors than the people who had become your guys’ family.
Especially Laura, she was one of your closest confidants and you loved causing chaos with her. Being a recent agent-out-of-commission due to your pregnancy was different, especially not training as hard and sleeping in, but as your symptoms really kicked up, you were grateful for the break. Recently entering the second trimester had not been easy. It was nice having someone like Laura to talk to, who really understood.
Natasha was scheduled to come back next Wednesday, and God were you ready for her to be home. It was hard to sleep without her soft touch, the Russian lullabies she sang you and the baby every night, and the way she'd gently rest her hand on your back throughout the day as a reminder she's there for you. Sometimes she'd come home with baby clothes or an extra teddy bear she'd seen for the baby's nursery, and in those moments there was no doubt in your mind that she’d make the most beautiful mother.
As you were drinking your tea and reading your favorite piece of poetry, an extremely loud whirring sound caught your attention. Using your book as a shield from the sun, you looked up to the sky to find the Quinjet making a rocky landing in your field, swaying the grass in waves. Almost immediately, Laura came out of her house with her kids trailing behind, worry and confusion written all over their faces. You went to each others sides, "What's going on Laur? Are they okay?"
"I'm sure their fine, relax, it's gonna be okay," but you heard the breathlessness in her voice as she held you close and away from the unpredictable helicopter in the middle of your flower field.
The door to the jet slid open and revealed a group of ruffed up, exhausted Avengers. The whole pack was there from first glance: Tony, Steve, Clint, Fury, Maria, Thor, Bruce, but no- oh there's Natasha. You and Laura exhaled at the same time, half walking and half skipping to Natasha and Clint. Finally, landing in her arms again. Her hold was tender but tight, tighter than ever as she closed her tired eyes and breathed in your scent and held the back of your head. The team gawked at you and Laura like alien specimens in your lovers arms.
"I'm just gonna say it- who the hell are you two?" Of course, Tony was the one to break the sweet moment.
Natasha let out a mix of a sigh and a chuckle, before sharing a glance with Clint. "This, Tony, is my wife Y/N. Y/N - the Avengers, Avengers - Y/N. There, the formalities are over." Clint soon did the same with Laura.
The sound of leather could be heard crunching as Fury walked toward you and Laura, embracing you two too hard, nearly making you cough. You gently reached up to give him a hug, "Nice to see you too Nick."
"HOW DO THESE TWO KNOW NICK?" Poor Bruce, he looked like he was trying to solve a math problem.
"We're agents with Shield, dipshit. I'm just on leave due to-," you gestured down to your visible pregnant belly, "and the fact that Nick is my boss so technically I have to listen to him. But Laura and I have actually known all of you for years, which is how we met Clint and Natasha...unfortunately." You chuckled when Nat lightly shoved your arm.
Good ol' Steve Rogers was the first to stick out his arm, "It’s a pleasure, Miss." His grip was firm, but not too hard. You smiled up at him kindly, "Nice to meet you too, Rogers. And call me Y/N, are you boys hungry?"
A few hours later you were in the kitchen, freshly showered and bandaged Avengers sitting at your dining room table, causing a ruckus and playing poker. You loved the sound of a full house and conversations mixing together to make one babble of laughing, foul mouthed heroes. It was music to your ears.
A gentle figure hugged you from behind while you were over the sink, placing their soft hands on your belly, you closed your eyes for a second and sighed happily.
“Missed me much sweetheart?”
“You know I did,” you craned your neck to give her a gentle kiss on the temple.
That night, as the worlds mightiest slept in your spare bunks and sleeping bags, you fell asleep safe and sound with Natasha’s arm around you and your baby-to-be.
Natalie, the sweet one
Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x Fem!reader
Warnings: feelings developing, light touches, that’s all I think :)
Summary: Your relationship with the rich redhead slowly, but surely, blooms
Song: Opera house- Cigarettes After Sex
Nimble fingers quickly buttoned the slippery pink buttons that accented the white blouse you had on, hugging you perfectly in every corner. Swatting away the dust that fell on your black skirt in front of your mirror, you realized it showed the scar on the side of your thigh. The scar you hated. Nevermind that, you fluffed up the bouncy h/c hair that sweeetly framed your face before grabbing the cherry lipstick you stole from your mom, running out the door and down the flight of stairs in your apartment. Right as you were about to open the door leading out to the smoggy street you lived on, the tip of your shoe bent a tad too far and sent you tumbling down the last three stair steps, sending you face first into the door before your arms awkwardly caught you.
By the time you arrived at Natasha’s beautiful home in Manhattan, a small cut on your lip started to come apart and mix hints of blood with the cherry lipstick that adorned your pouty lips. Your rang the doorbell to the Romanoffs home. The ring sounded so perfect, like it belonged in one of your favorite shows with a perfect family. A dark haired, tall, lean woman with deep eyes opened the door for you with such poise and grace- Natasha’s mom. Something about the two was very similar, but it wasn’t necessarily by features. Her mother smiled, extending a gracious hand with a jewel the size of a rock on her ring finger, “Make yourself comfortable, she’ll be right down I’m sure.” This was your third time being over to their house as you two have started working together, and you found Mrs. Romanoff to be unexpectedly sweet. As you were guided into the living room, your curious eyes wandered from luxury to luxury, capturing everything like a camera. What a life. Especially their perfect family portraits, the entire family looked so beautiful and well put together. Each piece of clothing they adorned was brand new, most likely no hand-me downs.
The click-clack of Mary-Jane’s caught your attention, your study buddy ascending the winding stair case to the living room. Her eyes lit up as soon as they caught yours across the room. You two always worked in the study that sat untouched while her mom was always away doing…well no one actually knew. She just had a busy energy to her. The study is a quaint, old-fashioned space, tucked away. Time seems to stand still while your there, and 3:00 pm quickly turns into 6 before you know it. It’s filled with the comforting scent of aged paper and polished wood. The room is lined with tall wooden shelves, packed tightly with books of all kinds—some worn and weathered, others crisp and new. The shelves reach up to the ornate ceiling, where brass chandeliers hang, casting a warm, golden light that dances softly across the room.
As much as you tried to keep the conversations to concepts for the robotics project, your chats often drift beyond the pages of your textbooks. The two of you end up talking about everything, from your hopes to the constraints of your small high school, and even working after college. Natasha speaks of places she’s been, the things she’s seen. Through all of this, you get a sense that she’s lonely…that maybe no one really talks to her. It resonates with you. You notice that the redhead that sits so close to you is such a funny girl. She genuinely makes you laugh. It’s nice to not have to be the comedian for once. A part of you hurts though, when you remember the poisonous little thoughts of your mean stereotypes toward her.
As it gets later and creeps into the evening, the sun sets, casting a warm, golden glow through the windows. Natasha reads aloud from a book, her voice smooth and captivating, the words of the textbook spilling the space between you.
As she reads, you find yourself mesmerized, not just by the words, but by her. There’s something in the way she looks at you, a softness in her eyes that you’ve never noticed before. The world has taught you that feelings like these are dangerous. But in this moment, everything else fades away.
She finishes reading and looks up, meeting your gaze, “I just,” her chest falls with a sigh, “I want people to know that I’m smart. When people look at me, it’s like they see nothing. But I really am, you know…smart.” There’s a moment of silence, and the air is thick with unspoken words. You see a flicker of something in her eyes-hesitation, vulnerability. “I know you are, Nat. I know that.”
You look at her sympathetically, and gently touch her hand. Does she feel it too? This inexplicable connection that seems to grow stronger with each passing day.
Finally, Natasha speaks again, her voice barely above a whisper. “Do you ever feel like you’re not quite where you’re supposed to be? Like there’s something more out there, something that you can’t quite name but you know it’s meant for you?”
You nod, unable to find the words to express that you know exactly what she means.The room feels smaller, the walls closing in as your heartbeat quickens. You move closer, whispering, “I think I know what you mean.”
“I knew you would.”
The tension between you is palpable, an invisible thread pulling you together. Nat reaches out, her hand lightly brushing against your knee, sending a shiver down your spine. She hesitates, giving you a chance to pull away, but you don’t. You can’t. And just like that, a line you didn’t know could exist, was blurred.
Tag list: @kkreader78o
Runaway Bride
Summary: There’s only one person you really want on your wedding day
Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x Fem!Reader
Warnings: Weddings, love, crying, running away, lots of angst
Song: Someday I’ll get it by Alek Olsen
You were out of breath by the time you got there, crisp cold air hurting your chest. Your throat was as dry as sandpaper. Natasha was there, waiting for you like she always was. Your legs were tired from running, broken nude heels in your hands, beautiful and forgotten. The white flowy, soft fabric of your dress touched your body delicately, dragging and picking up the color from the wet mossy grass. Sore legs lowered down to sit on the grass next to the girl who once captured your heart…but she was silent. Just you two, alone. The air was so cold it hurt your bones.
You rested your head against the large oak tree that sat behind you two, making a little cove under its branches. So many thoughts were racing through your mind, “I’ve ruined everything. What will people think? I have to say sorry.” But once you saw your favorite spot waiting for you, with your favorite girl, everything melted away. You shouldn’t even be here right now, you shouldn’t have been thinking about Natasha, but she was the only person that ran through your mind.
“Long time no see, Natty.”
You’ve gotten used to her silence though, it kind of became her new character trait these days. Sometimes you pretended it didn’t hurt anymore, but it always did. A little more each time. Rain droplets started to fall around you, wetting every inch of dirt and stone. More green from the grass started to slowly seep into the beautiful white fabric of your dress. You knew her deep gaze was on you, looking at you with pity…maybe with love?
Your chest tightened as you blinked hard, vision blurring, “I was supposed to get married today, you know,” a sad laugh escaped your throat as you played with the fabric of your dress, “I looked beautiful. My hair was done and my makeup was perfect and-I was supposed to be happy today,” you whispered, your voice cracking. “I was supposed to be standing at that altar, looking into her eyes, promising forever. But I couldn’t even say the words. Because every time I looked at her, I saw you. And I hated myself for it.”
“I’m so tired of missing you. Some strange part of me thought getting married would make me happier. But all I see is you. When I say my vows, it’s your name they’re written for.”
I think of you all the time, now that you’re gone.
The rain poured down in relentless sheets, soaking through the dress. The sky above was a swirling mass of dark clouds and angry wind. Digging your manicured fingers into the soft mud, it felt like the only grounding thing. The feeling of mud seeping under your nails was the only anchor you had.
You checked your phone, trying to wipe the rain off of it and realized that you’d already been there for over an hour with Natasha. You needed to get back, answer all the missed calls and texts. This would be the last time you two saw each other…something inside you was certain about it. Shaky legs stood up, using the big oak tree as support and grabbing the bouquet you forgot about next to you.
You slowly kneeled down in front of your first love, first everything, and pressed your forehead against her cold grave stone, “If love could have saved you,” breaths came in short, sharp gasps, salty tears falling into your mouth, “you would have lived forever, my Natasha.” Soft lips kissed the engraving of her name as you gently lied the bouquet down for her, grabbed your broken heels, and said goodbye. It took all your strength to not look back as you walked out of the private cemetery.