natasha romanoff x fem!reader one-shots

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐛𝐨𝐨𝐤 (𝟒/𝟓)

a/n: posted this chapter yesterday but took it down because wattpad is experiencing issues with notifications again (yay) and watching it get like no reads after an hour was just painful when you put so much work into it. don't know if it's fixed yet but i'm giving it a go

i'm taking this down and republishing it for the third time now to see if anything's changed, + i'm releasing the final chapter tomorrow so i wanted to see if maybe it works again (my hopes aren't high). apologies to anyone who might've gotten multiple notifs for this chapter

A smell of coffee and grass, wafting in through the open window. You're back on the kitchen island again, legs dangling and eyes tentatively studying Natasha's back as she grabs the carafe. Black liquid, steaming hot and herby, is poured into two mugs.

You see her hesitate as she turns around. Then, she hands you the mug that's chipped at the top.

"We used to share", you muse quietly, blowing on the coffee to cool it down. Natasha's lips tug into a brief smile, then she averts her eyes. The ease that was once so natural between you has changed, but it lingers. It fills the space your silence is leaving empty.

Her eyes trail back to the ring on your finger. She can't help it — she's constantly wondering about who the guy you said yes to is.

Maybe he deserves you. Maybe you are happy. You'd deserve it.

You notice her gaze. For a moment, you're set on not saying anything. But then, you speak.

"College", you say simply. "He sat behind me in class. We went out a few times, then started dating. He's a good guy."

"Treats you right?", Natasha probes, leaning against the counter in front of you.

"Yes", you say — because it's true. Apart from being a little too eager to get married and live that perfect life your parents want for you, he's never done anything that'd make you question his intentions. He's always kind, always respectful, always opening doors and closing zippers for you. "I don't think you'd like him, though."

"Well, that's obvious", she mutters into her coffee. You smile faintly and move your foot, lightly nudging her thigh.

"What about you?"

Natasha hesitates. Truthfully, her relationship history isn't something she'd like to tell you about. A few dates leading to either one night stands or nothing at all. Then, hookups. Sex without feelings. Faces and names blur together in her mind, a collection of strangers who never mattered.

She still doesn't understand why you aren't part of that mess. Why you're the exception, the clarity in her confusion, the memory she can't escape.

Why you're the one she had to end up pushing away.

"Not much happening", Natasha says slowly. You tilt your head and hum, your foot making contact with her knee repeatedly. She grabs your ankle to stop you, but her grip is light and hesitant. "I don't have time for that stuff."

"Right, your spy-career." You nurse your coffee in between words. "How's that working out?"

"Oh, you know." She smiles wryly. "Not exactly nine-to-five."

"No", you agree, pulling your ankle out of her hand. She lets you go willingly. "Anything else?"

Natasha shakes her head and leans against the counter. Her eyes are contemplative as she looks you over, noticing small but obvious changes. The shape of your eyebrows, the length of your hair. The tattoo peeking out from underneath your shirt.

Without thinking too much about it, she steps closer. Her hand gently pushes the neckline of the shirt aside, revealing your inked skin.

Tiny, delicate stars surround your collarbone. Natasha swallows, her heart suddenly thumping in her ear.