Wanda Maximoff and Natasha Romanoff x Fem!Reader (Oneshots)

Into the Woods (Natasha)*

The bell over the door rings with a loud jingle as you wipe off the counter. You hardly pay any attention to it at first, opting to continue tidying the bar as you wait for the new customer to take a seat. The morning is still young, although the day is inching toward noon as the sun shone through the windows in bright streaks that allow a wonderful light into the tavern.

After you finish wiping off the table, you smile as you head for the newest customer. You nearly pause when you see her: ginger-haired, green-eyed, smooth-skinned, and leather-clad with a sword on her back. She's beautiful. Her hair is gathered in two braids that turn into a bun at the back, and it gives you a clear view of her rosy cheeks and plump lips that are painted a subtle red.

Her armor is a collection of steel, leather, furs, and cloth. You can see vague designs on the metal breastplate, black and sleek and slightly shielded by her dark cloak. She sits with a straight back, glancing around the tavern like she is waiting for someone—or something—to jump out at her. When her eyes find yours, you offer your kind smile and approach her. Standing in front of her, separated only by the counter between you, you can see her pretty face a lot clearer. She's even better up close.

"Hello," you greet her. She returns your smile, though it's hardly as big. "You're a hunter, aren't you?" you ask, nodding toward the sword on her back.

She nods back, not at all fazed by your inquiry. "Yeah."

"What are you hunting?" you wonder, fluttering your lashes at her like it will persuade her to tell you. She tells you anyway.

"Wendigo." She leans in a little, as if she is about to tell you a secret with the smallest smirk. "You don't happen to know where I could find one, huh?"

You shake your head and join in, leaning over the bar as well. From this close, her scent is more definite, not as contaminated by the many smells around the building. It's strong, rich in the way that it swirls around your senses and momentarily halts your thoughts. It's an easy scent to distinguish.

"No," you finally answer. "I'm just a humble witch." You introduce yourself, jutting your chin out just a little, as if to staple the name in her mind.

Her smirk widens just a tad before she's leaning away again. "Well, in that case, keep a lookout for me."

You almost miss the closeness, being able to spot the freckles on her face that so lightly spot her nose. "Will do." Your mind clears of the slight haze of her scent, and you think back to the creature she'd spoken of: the wendigo.

"This is 'cause of that boy who wandered into the woods a ways over, right?" you recall. In villages like this and that one, news like that travels quickly for information and warnings. A little boy, no more than ten, wandered off into the woods after dark. The parents had sent a search party as soon as they realized he was gone, and he turned up dead with patches of flesh eaten up and a couple of missing limbs. That village is not too far, either. A day's walk, maybe. A little less on a horse.

The woman nods, her smirk fading slightly. "Yeah."

"Poor kid," you sigh. "They buried him a couple days ago, I heard."

"Tracked the thing back here." She lets out a sigh, "I need to speak with the leader of this place. Do you know where to find them, little witch?"

You shrug a shoulder, shifting your weight to your other leg. "There's no real 'leader' here. We've got elders, and we've got our advisers."

"Oh, yeah?" she wonders, raising a brow to allow some humor back into the steady flow of conversation. "You one of them?"

You shrug again, grinning back at her. "Not officially, but everyone knows everyone. I'm the healer, and I keep the dangers away. They'll listen to me. What d'you need?"