natasha romanoff oneshots

always so dramatic steve

 The Avengers were scattered around the common room of the Avengers Tower, each of them engaged in their own activities. It was a rare, quiet evening, with no looming threats or world-ending catastrophes to address.

Tony Stark was fiddling with a new gadget, his feet propped up on the coffee table as he lounged on the couch. Bruce Banner sat beside him, flipping through a scientific journal, his brow furrowed in concentration. Steve Rogers was seated in an armchair, sketching something in his notebook, occasionally glancing up at the others with a small smile.

Clint Barton and Wanda Maximoff were playing a card game at the dining table, Clint explaining the rules of poker to Wanda, who was still getting the hang of it. Sam Wilson and Bucky Barnes were in the kitchen, teasing each other as they prepared a late-night snack, the sounds of their laughter filling the room.

Thor was perched on the edge of a barstool, regaling the group with a tale of one of his grand adventures in Asgard, his booming voice punctuated by the occasional clink of Mjolnir as he set it down on the floor beside him.

Despite the various conversations and activities, there was an underlying sense of unease among the group. Natasha Romanoff, their trusted and steadfast comrade, had been gone on a solo mission for far longer than expected. She was supposed to have returned hours ago, but there had been no word from her, no update on her status.

Steve, ever the leader, had been checking his phone frequently, glancing at the clock with growing concern. The rest of the team had noticed, and though they were trying to keep the mood light, there was a palpable tension in the air.

"She'll be fine," Clint said, breaking the silence as he dealt another round of cards. "Nat's tough. She's probably just tied up with some loose ends."

Wanda nodded, though her eyes betrayed her worry. "I know she can handle herself, but... it's not like her to be this late."

"Maybe she just needed some time to unwind after the mission," Sam suggested, setting a plate of sandwiches on the counter. "You know how she is—always needing to clear her head."

Bucky, who had been unusually quiet, glanced at Steve. "Still, it wouldn't hurt to check in with her."

Steve nodded, setting his sketchpad aside. "If we don't hear from her in the next few minutes, I'll call Fury. Just to be safe."

Tony, who had been silent until now, sighed and put down his gadget. "I can try to track her down, see if I can pick up any signals from her comms or suit."

Before he could move to do so, the elevator doors at the far end of the room slid open with a soft chime.

All heads turned toward the elevator, relief washing over them as they expected to see Natasha step out, maybe a bit disheveled but otherwise fine. But as the doors fully opened, what they saw made their blood run cold.

Natasha stumbled out of the elevator, her body barely upright as she clung to the doorframe for support. Her normally agile and graceful movements were sluggish, and she was drenched in sweat, her breathing ragged and shallow. Blood stained her torn suit, seeping through the fabric in multiple places, and her usually sharp eyes were glazed over with pain and exhaustion.

"Natasha!" Steve was the first to react, leaping to his feet and rushing toward her, his voice filled with alarm.

The rest of the team was close behind him, their previous calm shattered by the sight of their injured friend. Natasha took a shaky step forward, her knees buckling under her weight. Steve caught her just before she collapsed, his strong arms wrapping around her to keep her upright.