natasha romanoff one-shots (gxg)

𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐝𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐲 𝐢 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐡𝐞𝐫

a/n: yes another songfic yes also another taylor song like what were you expecting at this point; only inspired by a few parts of the song, so it's not 100% the same

odinson!reader (you're thor's daughter), bw!nat bc that era fits the best

ik asgard got destroyed but pls pretend that didn't happen, and i also know that parts of this aren't accurate but just ignore that for the sake of the story

forbidden love

. . .

From the day you were born, you had the privilege of living a stable, happy life with considerable freedom and the ability to choose what you want to do with your life. Most choices were yours to make, and it wasn't common for anyone — not your father, not your grandfather — to interfere. The clothes you wear, the parties and social gatherings you attend or stay away from, you getting married or staying single forever: nobody tried to take away or even limit your autonomy.

That is, until Natasha happened. A storm of a human, someone so captivating and addicting to the point of you not thinking about anything else but her anymore. All it took was a few moments of being alone with her — and suddenly, you were hers just like she was yours.

It starts at the Avengers' compound, when your father lets you to accompany him on his visit there. You're semi-excited; as a goddess and Asgardian, you never viewed mortal beings as something to be thrilled about. They're only equal in the sense of them having feelings and emotions, just like Asgardians do, but that is about it. Nothing else to admire or care about, nothing special or remotely relevant.

But Natasha's different; you're aware of that the moment you get introduced to her. Red hair, piercing green eyes, a demeanor that has you weak in the knees. Her voice, deep and soft when she speaks, makes your heart thud in your chest. You deem it impossible to look away from her, but, secretly, you don't mind that at all. You've seen beautiful things before, but they never made you feel like she does.

In retrospect, Thor tends to blame himself for not keeping his eyes on you. But, after all, you're an adult and not a small child. You don't need constant supervision anymore. Also, his trust in you has always been big enough to let you find your own way in life. He's always been protective, sure, but never overly cautious, and he prides himself on being like that. He calls himself the 'cool dad', who doesn't have any strict rules for his child — which is exactly why you feel confident enough to take advantage of his carefree approach to being your dad.

You sneak away with Natasha as soon as you can, your entire body longing for just a minute spent alone with her. And Natasha doesn't protest suddenly being dragged away by the pretty girl in the golden dress, with eyes like seas and skin like silk. She feels intoxicated by your presence, your sweet scent, the way you make her feel drawn to you in every way possible. She actually likes the unexpected amount of attention you're giving her, she likes how bold you are, how you don't seem to give a shit about anything else. She likes feeling wanted, desired — she likes it all.

Outside, the sun has started to set. Your dress is shimmering in the honeyed sunlight, and the briskly moving wind tousles your hair. There's a hint of glitter gracing your cheeks. Natasha can't stop herself from staring at you. Suddenly, the title 'princess of Asgard' seems to fit too damn perfectly.

You start talking — quietly, secretly, to make sure nobody can hear you. You keep leaning in as you whisper to her, the smile on your face small but permanent. Every word you exchange with her causes a fluttering giddiness in you, like millions of butterflies.

To Natasha's surprise, you aren't just a pretty face — not at all, actually. Your words carve themselves into her mind like you're carving a piece of wood. She listens intently, not missing a word, not letting a single thing slip out of her grasp. You keep inching closer, and Natasha doesn't even try to back off. Instead, she leans in as well, mirroring your subtle movements.