natasha romanoff one-shots (gxg)

𝐚 𝐝𝐢𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐥

a/n: you were sent to take natasha out — but you make a different call (yes basically clint & nat's story but make it romantic)

this is way longer than i'd intended it to be; i probably should've cut a few parts out but i didn't want to lol

also i made the antidote work a bit differently than it was shown in black widow bc of the story

slowburn, angst + fluff

. . .

You can feel your heart beating out of your chest as your back is pressed up against the wall, your eyes glued to the woman on the other side of the road. The dim light makes her outlines look fuzzy, almost as if someone drew her with a pencil. The only thing that stands out is her red hair, shoulder long and wavy.

The gun in your hand feels cold and heavy. You swallow as you keep watching the redhead, knowing that, soon, you'll run out of time. You need to gather yourself and do it — now. Otherwise she'll be gone, nowhere to be found, and it'll be months until you get a similar chance again.

The voice coming out of the intercom in your ear is deep and grim. You listen to the orders, clutching the gun tightly. The steel feels like it's burning your fingertips, giving you the sensation that the thin layers of your skin are disintegrating. A lump forms in your throat as you get the next order, and you start moving closer.

You lift the gun, pointing it at her head as you touch the trigger, just a moment away from pulling it. But the woman turns around, and her eyes meet yours.

They say eyes are the mirror of the soul. And, as much, as that causes you to roll your eyes, you also can't really deny it. They're the most sincere part of the face, as you have absolutely no control over them. You can't force your pupils to not dilate, or to not shine, or to keep the most sinister parts of your soul hidden.

They tell the truth — it's just about who decides to listen to it.

The lump in your throat gets larger, and your hand suddenly feels too weak to pull the trigger. It's a split second of hesitation, and Natasha doesn't need more than that to attack you. You fight back, clearly struggling. You definitely underestimated the woman's abilities, and now you're paying for that.

You have no idea how you end up tackling her to the floor, the muzzle of the gun pressed to her temple. She stares at you, her face cold and allowing no emotion to be seen. "Natasha Romanoff", you say quietly.

"Who sent you?", she asks, unfazed by the gun. There's a scar on her bottom lip, small and blood leaking out of it.

"As if you don't know already." You shove the gun against her head again, trying to see just a glimpse of what you saw in her eyes earlier. You need her facade to falter for just a second, just the tiniest bit — just enough for you to know that you didn't make everything up.

"Who specifically sent you?"

"S.H.I.E.L.D." You swallow as you keep inspecting her, internally begging for the cracks to reappear. You suddenly have an idea that might help. "Who controls you?"

"The Red Room."

The pain that shoots through her eyes is brief, barely there. You easily could've missed it, but you didn't.

You frown for a split second, your grip on the gun loosening. You quickly hold it tighter again, pushing it against her temple. "Do you know how many people you killed?"

"I do."

Her eyes are steely again, making it impossible for you to know what she's thinking right now. You let out a short breath, sounding almost like a huff, before you press the muzzle into her skin again.