natasha romanoff x fem!reader one-shots

𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬 (𝟐/𝟑)

a/n: second part; as it turns out im definitely not done yet so ill write a third part ig

You know why you did it. You had a reason. Yet, you regret it.

You entertained it, after all. You engaged in this fantasy until it became real for the both of you. There's no line anymore — you crossed it, blurred it, wiped away the evidence. Now you're trying to deal with the aftermath.

Your life continues the way it was before. Not much changes — you take Grace to daycare, go to classes, work your night shifts. Sometimes, you're booked for VIP rooms, but it never ends up being Natasha waiting behind the curtain for you. You reject all private room bookings despite Katrina carefully advising you not to. Dancers have been fired for that exact same thing before, when multiple customers began complaining, but you're trying to stay positive it won't happen to you.

You miss seeing her face in the crowd. Only weeks ago, you felt completely detached from lap dances, as they weren't anything personal. Every time you have to perform one now, it feels a bit like betrayal.

Natasha doesn't go back to the club. Not at first, that is. She shouldn't feel like she was being led on, but that's exactly what it feels like. She was aware of the rules from the beginning; but you started to cross them, and so did she, and in the end, it felt like those rules didn't exist anymore.

She jumps right back into work. She takes on more missions than ever, spends her free time at the SHIELD headquarters or in the gym. Sometimes, when she's not in the mood for any of those things, she sits down in some bar and drinks. This strategy to forget works about two weeks — and then, Tony Stark notices her avoiding the strip club.

"No fucking way", he says, pausing in front of the doorway. She barely looks up from the files scattered in front of her. "It's a Friday night."

"Shouldn't you be getting drunk off your ass somewhere?"

"Shouldn't you be feeling up a stripper somewhere?", he counters. She clenches her jaw. "What happened to you and the red one?"

"Don't", she says, irritated, and slams her laptop shut. He grins. "Mind your own business for once. Go make up with Pepper or something."

"Pepper's fine", he brushes her off. He walks around the kitchen island so he's facing her and leans against the counter. "Don't tell me you messed up. Did you break the rules? You know the rules, Romanoff. Never break the rules."

To his surprise, Natasha does go quiet for a moment. He raises his eyebrows, almost baffled that she'd fold so quickly. But a second later, she's on her feet and rounding the kitchen island at an alarmingly fast pace.

"You dragged me there", she hisses, getting all up in his face. He stares at her. "You're the only reason I ever stepped foot in that place. And why? So you could prove something? And don't talk about rules, we both know you never follow those."

"I feel like you need to calm down", he says, tilting his head. "Destress a little, you know. Let some of that anger out. Please remind me, where do you go to do that again? Oh right."

One second, he's talking. The next, his head is whipping around from the impact of Natasha's flat hand. His cheek burns up almost immediately, a red hand print slowly appearing, but she doesn't feel bad. He's been asking for this for weeks.

"You happy now?", she asks, voice biting, and turns around to wash her hands. "Hope that won't leave a mark. You have an interview with the press tomorrow."

Tony shoots her a glare. He's been poking the bear for too long. He's aware that if he keeps going now, she might actually beat him up right here in his kitchen.