natasha romanoff x fem!reader one-shots

𝐚𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬 𝐩𝐭.𝟐

a/n: part 2! no real plot tbh, just renovating + driving lessons + smut :)

There's no clear way to tell what this will end up being. It started with yellow paint — a creamy, muted shade, not unlike the petals of a buttercup. A deep red shade followed, rich and deep, but resembling blood a little too much. Then, you cracked open a paint bucket that looks like you poured its contents straight from the night sky.

A night sky is basically what you've turned one of the walls in your living room into. You're standing in front of it with a brush, using your fingers on its bristles to create tiny little stars. Natasha's on the floor, covered in paint and slowly dozing off.

"Do you think I should add the actual constellations? Like Aquarius, Cassiopeia..."

She hums, eyes closed. "I'm a Sagittarius."

"That's not what I meant", you say, turning around. But she looks like she's asleep already, and you scoff. "Hey! That's rude."

"Huh?" She blinks, then groans and sits up. "Y/N, it's the middle of the night."

You glance at your watch. She's right — it's past 4am, and you haven't slept yet. You shrug and step over a paint puddle to grab a different shade of blue.

"Aren't you used to it?"

Natasha rolls her eyes and puts her arms behind her head. She scoots lower until she's almost lying down. This doesn't even faze her anymore. Your sleep schedule is pretty much nonexistent at this point. You sleep when you can and want to, not when you should.

She doesn't mind it, either. Usually, you let her sleep. But now that you've started renovating, you insist she stays up so she can have a say in what everything will look like, too.

She hasn't had a full night's sleep in over a week now. She's used to taking naps in the afternoon sometimes, but now, those are mandatory. Otherwise, she'd topple over.

"Oh, great. Just when I thought the torture was over", she mutters. She sighs and forces herself to get up. "What's that?"

You're bent over the table, hands braced on the surface and loose strands of hair framing your face. You're staring at a map of the stars like it's the most interesting thing you've seen all day. Apparently, artists really do see art in everything.

Natasha nudges you when you don't reply. You blindly reach for her and grasp her wrist.

"From that night", is all you mumble. She raises her eyebrows, and you look up. There are blue paint freckles all over your face. "The night you kissed me."

Her cheeks go warm. She clears her throat and glances at the map again. "You mean the night you kissed me."

"You kissed me back, though."

"Yes, but you kissed me first."

You dismiss it with a wave of your hand. Straightening up, you walk back to the wall and start placing more defined dots. Natasha stands behind you and watches, arms crossed and eyes heavy.

She knows what you're like. If the circumstances are right and the networks in your brain are cooperating, you could go for another ten hours. It's happened before. She remembers you sleeping for an entire day afterwards.

Natasha nods at the hallway, already walking backwards. "I'll, uh, get some rest."

"Stupid brush", you mutter, frowning at a dot that ended up too big. You finally register her words and turn around. She's already walking up the stairs. "Like a grandma, I swear."

"I'm tired", she calls. Her voice turns muffled as she reaches the second floor. "You could join me, you know."

Too focused on painting the wall, you don't respond. All Natasha hears is the quiet creaking of the stairs and the wind howling outside. There's no traffic out here. You live in a remote area, so your only neighbors are forest animals and the moon.