natasha romanoff x fem!reader one-shots

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐛𝐨𝐨𝐤 (𝟏/𝟓)

a/n: (request) based on the movie, though i did make some changes/add some things. i haven't watched it, but i looked up the plot to make sure i know the most important things. can't guarantee that any of this is accurate though lol. natasha represents noah, you represent allie :)

They say one summer can change everything — you never thought it would be yours.

In hindsight, you won't be able to say when exactly it all started, but it must've been at the town's annual fun fair. Popcorn and fried dough, old carnival rides and duck ponds, neon signs and bells ringing.

You come reluctantly, dragged along by a friend who insists it'll be fun (and then proceeds to ditch you after meeting some guy at the hot dog stand). You don't expect much — just the usual: sticky cotton candy fingers, cheap thrills, and a fleeting distraction from the monotony of summer evenings. What you don't expect is her.

Green eyes and a black bomber jacket that looks way too warm for a hot summer day, her red hair in a loose braid. Bruised knuckles, painted in all shades of blue and purple, and a faint scar above her left eyebrow. She's leaning against the side of one of the booths, a cigarette dangling from her lips. For a moment, your eyes get stuck on her. But when her gaze meets yours, you turn back to the shooting gallery in front of you.

It gives her the opportunity to let her gaze linger on you, sharp and assessing. It's not the kind of look that makes you uncomfortable — if anything, it's curious, like she's trying to figure you out. Her eyes trail from the sundress you're wearing to the smudge of sunscreen on your wrist, then back up to the necklace that glints against your skin as you lean forward to aim.

Your fingers curl around the grip with a mix of hesitation and focus. In front of you are bright red and yellow circles, each one suspended on a flimsy wooden board. Some are shaped like ducks, others like stars, but they all feel impossibly far away.

The gun's plastic body feels awkward in your hands, too light to mimic the real thing, but you pull the trigger anyways. Just as expected, you miss, the dart-like projectile whizzing softly as it flies past the target.

You miss one shot. Then two. Then three.

Natasha, deciding she's had enough of seeing this pretty girl embarrass the hell out of herself, stomps her cigarette out with the heel of her boot before approaching you. She steps up next to you, the sound of her boots quiet against the pavement. You turn your head, a frustrated look on your face that doesn't waver even when she smirks. Without a word, she grabs the fake gun from your hands.

"Let me show you how it's done", she says, her voice low, just for you. She doesn't wait for your response before taking aim.

With a quick flick of her wrist, she hits the first target, then the second, then the third — each shot landing perfectly. You huff quietly as you watch her, trying to hide that you're somewhat impressed by this stranger's skill. She's not even showing off, just doing what she knows best.

It makes you wonder who she is. You don't know her, despite this town being quite small. You'd remember her, you're sure of that. She seems like the kind of person who'll float around your head like a little faded cloud until the day you die.

When she looks at you again, you quickly clear your throat and force a small, teasing smile. "Not bad", you say. "Now let's see if you can do that blindfolded."

Natasha smirks, her eyes glistening with amusement. I like her, she thinks, handing the plastic gun back to you. She feels a spark deep in her bones. She doesn't want to let it fizzle out.

"How about you let me take you on a date first? Then, maybe we'll talk about you blindfolding me."

"Wow", you muse, suppressing a small smile. This is dangerous territory, flirting so shamelessly with someone you probably aren't allowed to have. The odds would be against you. However, nobody said you can't have a little fun. "A marksman and bold. Lucky me."