cloudy-minded-idiot

[cloudy-minded-idiot]

pumpkin carving

pairing: mostly just bonding with Peter, but a bit of natasha x reader thrown in at the end

warning: mention of knives

word count: ~1,100 words

a/n: I'm aware I haven't posted in forever but I swear I'm not dead, just super busy with uni. I'll try to write more in the future.

to everyone who's decided to follow me during my hiatus: welcome! glad to have you here :) hope you're doing well and wishing you a happy halloween! 😊

summary: you carve pumpkins with peter 🎃

"I'm not sure about this, Spiderling," you mutter, twirling the knife between your fingers with practiced ease. Deep in thought, your brows furrowed. Movement catches your eye as Peter turns to look your way, head cocked to the side as he takes in your progress.

"What do you mean? You're doing great! You're just overthinking."

You hum, pensively tapping the hilt of your knife against your chin.

"You're probably right," you conceded, with a sigh, "I just want it to be perfect."

Dropping the last scoop of pulp and seeds into the bowl between you, Peter rummages around in the some drawers, leaving orange stains on the surface.

"Maybe draw an outline first?" he suggests, holding out a black marker to you, "Here."

With a grateful nod, you take it. Carefully, you start to draw lines and shapes on the orange surface. You are by no means an artist, and the uneven surface doesn't help. Your drawing looks a little bit wonky in the end, but you were satisfied with your work anyway.

Picking your knife back up, you let the blade follow the markings carefully. Peter starts drawing on his pumpkin as well, using a picture on his phone for reference and biting the end of the marker in thought as he compares the two.

The two of you work in companionable silence, exchanging a few tips and tricks here and there. At some point, Peter asked FRIDAY to start playing music in the background and told you about some stuff that happened in school.

You were happy to listen to his stories, nostalgic for a time when getting good grades and a date for homecoming were your biggest problems. Simpler times.

"So you just stole the chemicals from the school lab?" You asked with a raised eyebrow, lips tugging up in amusement.

Peter pauses mid-carving, a sheepish look on his face.

"Well, yeah, I needed more web fluid, Mr. Stark wasn't answering my calls, and you know how Happy is."

You nod, a frown on your face.

"Maybe I should have a word with Tony about ghosting you. Very irresponsible on his part."

Peter's eyes widen almost comically as he hurries to reassure you.

"Oh no! Mr. Stark was just busy with the whole moving and being a superhero thing. Besides, all is well that ends well, right?"

You can tell he is nervous about getting Tony in trouble. So, reluctantly, you drop the topic, for now, still intending to talk to the billionaire another time.

"So, you two had a nice homecoming in the end?"

"Not really," Peter shakes his head sadly, "I pretty much walked out on Liz mid-dance to go fight her dad. And she moved states afterward and never wanted to see me again."

"That's rough, buddy."

He nods in agreement, mustering up a smile.

"But hey, I got a new suit out of it, and I'm more than happy with MJ."

You smile knowingly. Peter talks about his girlfriend pretty much all the time, so you are more than aware of how happy he is with her. You gesture to his pumpkin.

"So, is your pumpkin for MJ?"

Peter shakes his head with a grin.

"Oh no. She's not really that into Halloween. I made this for Thor."

The boy turns the pumpkin around so you can see his carving. It was a pretty good likeness of Thor's beloved hammer. You are impressed.

"I'm sure he'll be pleased. He's always interested in Midgardian customs."

You say the last two words in a poor imitation of your teammate's voice. The teenager chuckles.

"Yeah, and can you believe he has never been around for Halloween before?"

Peter shakes his head, cleaning his knife on a kitchen towel. You shrug.

"Yes, actually. Not a lot of Avengers-grade crimes going on at that time," you shared with a small smile, "I guess spooky season takes away the whole flair and fun of world domination."

Peter nods sagely, "And we all know villains are all about that flair."

Before you can reply, Peter freezes as he stares at something over your shoulder. Instincts kicking in, you grip the knife tighter, jump up, and swivel around, eyes searching for any danger. You relax when you see that it is just an unamused-looking Tony along with the rest of the team.

"What in God's good name have you done to my kitchen?" the billionaire asks, mortified, eyes sweeping the counters covered with orange stains.

You make a careless gesture with your hand.

"Relax. The kid and I will clean up later."

"There's pumpkin everywhere. How did you--"

"Is that Mjölnir!" Thor's boisterous voice interrupted Stark mid-sentence, effectively stopping what was sure to be a rant. The God shoulders past the billionaire to inspect the pumpkin from up close, almost knocking him over in the process.

Peter sits up straighter, holding the orange vegetable up proudly, his fear of Tony's wrath momentarily forgotten.

"Do you like it?" he asks, and Thor is quick to assure him, eagerly taking the pumpkin from his hands.

"It is wonderful," Thor pats Peter on the back with force. Peter hides a wince.

"You are quite talented, my friend. I shall put it outside my room."

Parker beams, and you send him a covert thumbs up. Your eyes scan the room searchingly. Arms snake around your waist, a chin comes to rest on your shoulder.

"Looking for someone?" A familiar voice whispers in your ear. Red strands of hair tickling your cheek. You smile, shaking your head.

"Not anymore," you wave towards the pumpkin sitting in front of you, "Look, babe, I made a carving of you."

"That's a spider," Natasha says deadpan.

"Correction: It's a black widow," you say, pointing to the hourglass shape on the spider's body. Natasha let out a small laugh, her breath brushing along your neck.

"It's very good," she compliments and presses a kiss to your cheek, "It's a pity that you're going to have to spend the whole evening cleaning this kitchen. Because I did have other plans for you tonight."

Her words drip with promise as she presses another lingering kiss to your neck. Your breath catches in your throat, and you swallow, mouth suddenly dry.

"Is that so?"

Turning around in her arms, you press the pumpkin into her hands with a loving smile.

"Hold this for me, will you, darling?"

She takes the pumpkin with a smirk, her arms leaving your waist. You turn back to Peter, who is still in conversation with Thor.

"Parker," you call urgently, running over and pulling him by the sleeve with you, "Go get the sponges we need to clean up ASAP!"

#natasha romanoff x female reader #natasha romanoff x reader #halloween fic #platonic peter parker fic

[cloudy-minded-idiot]

secrets

pairing: Shuri x reader

warnings: none that I could think of

word count: ~2,200 words

a/n: requested by @junajackson. sorry that it took me so long to write this! between uni and having to evacuate my appartment for a while, I really didn’t have a lot of freetime to write. I hope you like it :)

summary: shuri comes to visit the avengers compound, and your teammates dicover that you’ve been secretly dating the Wakandan princess for a while now. 

The sun was already starting to rise by the time you returned to the compound, bathing the sky in a light pink hue. It was a pretty sight for your sore eyes. You felt drained, the way you often did after a mission. You had been gone for almost a week without being able to contact anyone, getting very little sleep as you had to fight your way out of one mess after the other. Ultimately, the mission was a success but exhausted as you were, you didn’t have it in you to celebrate.  

You were welcomed back by an agent who briefly reminded you when your mission report would be due. You muttered out a confirmation and made a beeline for your room, stripping yourself from your dirty clothes and jumping under the shower. Cleaning up made you feel a lot better, and the warm water did wonders for your aching muscles. Dressed in something comfortable, you walked to your bedroom, ready to call it a day and catch some sleep. You had barely covered yourself with a blanket when a disembodied voice interrupted the tranquility of your room.  

“Mr. Stark has requested your presence in the common room.”  

Burying your head in your pillow, you let out a groan.  

“Do I have to?”  

Even to your own ears, your voice sounded whiney. The AI refrained from commenting on that, though.  

“Mr. Stark is giving you five minutes to get to the common room and advises you to make yourself look presentable.”  

Grumbling out some incoherent swear words, you stumbled out of bed and slowly got changed and pulled on some shoes. After assuring your hair looked alright, you made the small track to the common room. Tony looked up when you entered but, seeing your glare, refrained from making whatever stupid comment he had on the tip of his tongue.  

Silently he passed you a cup of coffee which you received with a grateful nod. Taking a sip of the dark fluid, you let its warmth and the caffeine wash over you.  

“How was your mission?” Tony asked tentatively, almost as if scared you would snap at him. 

“Long and exhausting. I had to ditch my phone and comms the first day and barely had time to sleep or eat,” you took another long sip of your drink before throwing him a side glance, “I really hope for the sake of you that this is important.”  

Tony was quick to assure you that it was, perhaps fearing that you would lose your cool otherwise. And yes, you were tired, but you were not irrational. The worst you would do is hit him in the arm and cuss him out, maybe prank him, later on, to get even.  

“Important visitors are arriving from Wakanda today. We’re doing a bit of collaborative work on a new suit, improve some of my technology, etcetera. I need someone to show them around while I’m at a meeting with Fury. Think you’re up for that?”  

You visibly perked up once you heard about Wakanda. You were more than familiar with their technology. After all, you were dating the head of their science and information department, although Tony didn’t know that. No one on the team did. After all, it hadn’t been until very recently that Wakanda decided to open up to the world and share its knowledge and technology. So, naturally, secrecy had to be part of the deal at the beginning of your relationship. And since then, you had just never found the time or the opportunity to broach the subject.  

“I think I'll manage.”  

Tony patted your shoulder with a grateful nod.  

“Good. I know you’re tired, but I'll owe you one after this,” he said, distractedly checking his watch as he spoke, “I gotta run. Can’t keep Fury waiting any longer. Tell the Wakandans I'll be back by lunchtime. Keep them entertained until then, alright?”  

At your affirmation, Tony thanked you and left you alone in the common room. You made yourself a second cup of coffee, already feeling better than before. That might also have something to do with the excitement of knowing your girlfriend might be coming to visit. After all, she was the head of the technology and information exchange program, so it would only make sense for her to be the one arriving today.  

When FRIDAY alerted you that the Wakandan jet was preparing to land, you were out of your seat and down at the landing lane in no time. Some agents threw you weird looks, but you couldn’t care less. The plane had just shut off its engine when you arrived, waiting a couple of feet away to leave enough space for the small boarding ramp.  

First to step off the jet, were two Dora Milaje carrying their standard sonic spear and serious expressions. The two warriors remained at either side of the door, eyeing the terrain with watchful eyes. Your own were fixed on the door while practically bouncing on the back of your feet in anticipation. As soon as you recognized the silhouette of your girlfriend in the doorway, you couldn’t help the big goofy smile that came to your face.  

Her eyes trailed over the small airport before finally landing on you. Face lighting up, she matched your grin with one of her own. It had been so long since you had last seen Shuri in person, your heart stammered a bit just at the sight of her. The Wakandan princess quickly descended the ramp, immediately engulfing you in a hug that you returned just as fiercely.  

“I was not sure you would be here when I arrived,” she admitted, releasing you just enough so that she could really look at your face, “I haven’t heard from you since you left for your mission a week ago.”  

She gave you a playfully reproachful look, causing you to grimaced sheepishly.  

“I just came back an hour ago. I would have called, but sadly my phone was one of the few casualties of my mission. Anyways,” stepping back a little, you cleared your throat and jokingly bowed slightly before your girlfriend, continuing in a mockingly formal tone.  

“Princess Shuri, I have the honor to officially welcome you and the Dora Milaje to the Avengers Compound. Sadly, Mr. Stark will not be available for the next hours. Until then, I can offer you a tour of the parameters, if you like?”  

You held out your hand in silent offer.  

She bowed her head in thanks, lightly putting her hand on yours.  

“Why thank you, we would appreciate that very much.”  

Unable to keep up the show any longer, you both started to giggle before you motioned for her to come along.cHolding hands, you walked her through the most important parts of the compound, ending the tour in the main lab that Tony liked to use. Shuri looked around with an appraising gaze, silently evaluating the different pieces of equipment and machinery as you leaned against the table in the center of the room.

“Not as good as what I have at home, but it will do,” was her verdict, and you laughed slightly.  

“Don’t tell Tony that, or he might be tempted to renovate again. He likes to pride himself on having the best of everything.”  

“Oh, but he has already admitted that I have the better tech, has he not? Or I wouldn’t be here.”  

“True,” you conceded, “So what do you guys have planned? You’re not going to make him a vibranium suit, are you?”  

She shook her head, joining you on your side of the table, “We were more thinking along the line of nanotechnology. Something like my brother's Black Panther suit. Easy to carry around, quick to put on. Much more practical.”  

You rubbed the back of your neck, trying to sound nonchalant as you asked your next question.  

“So, how long do you suppose this would take?”

She hummed, taking a couple of steps closer to you.  

“Two, three days at most,” she said, wrapping her arms around your waist and pulling your closer, “But for you, I might stretch it out a little. Give us more time together.”  

You smiled adoringly at her, leaning in to press a long kiss to her lips. She returned it eagerly, letting out a content sigh. You really had missed her, more than you could ever put into words. And obviously, that sentiment was shared. After a few moments, you pulled apart to catch your breath, resting your foreheads together, breath mingling in the space between you. You stayed like that for a while, just content to hold each other and be close again.  

“Almost forgot, I have something for you,” she whispered after a minute, releasing you to reach into her pocket.  

“Oh, uh, I didn’t get you any gifts,” you muttered out, a bit embarrassed. She dismissed your worry with a shake of her head. Taking your hand in hers, she slid something onto your wrist. Shuri watched you with anticipation as you slowly realized what it was.  

“You made me a Kimoyo bracelet?”  

Your eyes were probably wide as saucers, a finger tentatively trailing over the engravings on the vibranium beads. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw her nod.  

“It’s easier for me to contact you with this than on one of your old school grandpa phones, and I thought it might be useful to you on your missions. It’s no big deal, really.”  

She shrugged at the end, trying to play this gesture off. You looked up at her in wonder, quite aware that despite her words, this was, in fact, quite a big deal. For one, vibranium was really expensive. For another, Wakandans weren’t known for just handing out Kimoyo beads to anyone. This not only demonstrated how much she trusted you but also that she believed that the two of you were in this for the long run. Your adoration must have shown on your face because Shuri immediately groaned.  

“Oh no, I know that look. Don’t you start getting sentimental on me,” she warned you without any malice. You smiled at her softly, unable to do anything about your expression.  

“I won’t, I promise.”  

She rolled her eyes playfully, overdramatically throwing her hands up in the air.  

“You’re already doing it. Alright, I’m outta here.”  

The Wakandan princess turned to go, but you gently took her hand and pulled her back into an embrace.  

“I love you, Shuri,” you told her, your voice conveying all the emotions you felt. Her expression softened at your admission, and she leaned in to give you a small kiss.  

“I love you, too, you big sap.”  

“What's going on here?”  

Both of you blinked in confusion, slowly turning to look at the door without letting go of each other. In the entrance of the lab, staring at you with faces ranging from shock to confusion and surprise, stood Tony, Steve, and Natasha.  

You cleared your throat, feeling your face heat up, and slowly let go of Shuri, still keeping one of her hands in yours.  

“Hey, what are you guys doing here?”  

Steve was the one that spoke up, vaguely gesturing towards your girlfriend.  

“We came to formally welcome the Princess.”  

“Looks like Y/n has done enough welcoming for us all,” Natasha muttered, only snickering when Steve sent her a reproachful look for her comment. Tony was still regarding you flabbergasted.  

“You,” Tony took off his ever-present sunglasses motioning between you and Shuri, “And her? Since when?”

“Shuri and I have been dating for almost a year now.”  

“A year?” Tony repeated incredulously

“Back when Wakanda ‘s borders were still closed to the world,” Shuri sonfirmed, “With all the secrecy surrounding our technology, Y/n and I thought it would be best to keep our relationship secret too.”  

“And after that, I just didn’t know how to tell you guys,”  you added sincerely.

Tony looked as though he was about to ask more questions, but luckily Cap intervened, flashing you a smile.  

“Well, I’m happy for you two. You look like you're happy together.”  

Shuri squeezed your hand encouragingly, knowing how nervous you had been, not knowing how the team would react. Having the Captain’s blessing, even if you didn’t really need it, was appreciated.  

“Thanks, Steve.”  

“At least this explains why you’ve been having so many late-night phone calls. Good for you,” Natasha teased you, her words having the desired effect of making you groan in embarrassment.  

“I guess I’m happy for you, too,” Tony admitted reluctantly after being prompted byone of Steve's stern looks, “But I'll be much happier after your girlfriend helps me with my suit. So shoo, out of the lab. Play time's over, let's get working.”  

The billionaire made a motion for you all to leave, Natasha and Steve complying readily, saying their goodbyes to Shuri. Rolling your eyes, you followed his demand as well, but not without leaning in to kiss Shuri’s cheek.  

“I'm beat anyways. I haven’t slept in a minute.”  

She released your hand with one last small squeeze.  

“Get some rest. I'll see you later.”  

You were barely out of the lab when, much to Tony’s dismay, you heard Shuri brag about her own lab's much better equipment. You still had a fond smile on your face by the time you finally laid down in your bed.  

___________________________________________

taglist: @fireflyglass @madamevirgo @xxxtwilightaxelxxx​ @penparkz​

#shuri x reader #marvel reader insert #request

[cloudy-minded-idiot]

sealing a deal

pairing: Sharon Carter x reader 

warnings: alcohol consumption, slight spoilers for TFATWS

word count: ~1,400

a/n: requested by @penparkz . thank you so much for your request! I’ve never done Sharon Carter before, but I hope you like it :) 

summary: newly arrived in madripoor, sharon attempts to strike a business deal with the reader. (set sometime between civil war and infinity war)

The club was dimly lit. Shadows moved in the colourful neon lights, bodies dancing to the sound of the newest bass-filled techno song. It was impossible to move around without jostling at least a couple of party-goers. They didn’t seem to mind either way, too drunk or high to really notice their surroundings. So, Sharon pushed on, gradually making her way to the bar. Subtly she attracted the barkeeper's attention, muttering the code word she had been given beforehand. With a nod, the burly man put two drinks down in front of her and told her to stay put. He disappeared without another word.  

While she waited, Sharon eyed the bottle in front of her. Its transparent glass revealed a strangely coloured liquid that seemed to change its hue depending on how the club lights hit it. Letters of a foreign language adorned the label, the paper of which was soaked from the condensed water that slowly ran down the side of the cold bottle.  

„It's an expensive drink. Very hard to acquire, “a voice quietly spoke up beside her. The blonde turned her head slightly to face its owner, eyeing the newcomer as they sat down.  

You continued, unfazed by her scrutiny.  

„In fact, I have to import it myself. It’s very costly, so I tend to reserve it for special occasions. “  

She cocked her head to the side, face not betraying any emotions.  

„And you think this will be such an occasion? “  

You simply smiled in answer, picking up the second bottle and holding it out to her.  

„I sure hope so. “  

Taking your cue, the blonde clinked her own bottle to yours, waiting for you to take the first sip before trying the liquid herself. The drink felt smooth in her mouth, tasting both fruity and bitter-sweet, with slight hints of alcohol underneath. You looked at her expectantly, and she nods, setting the bottle back down.  

„Not bad. Not sure if I'd go through all that trouble for this drink. But not bad,” she delivered her assessment with a polite smile.     

„Your honesty is appreciated. I can get you something to drink that’s more to your taste if you like,” you raised your hand to wave down the barkeeper, but the blonde stopped you, with a hand on your arm.

“That’s very kind of you but unnecessary. I'd rather just get down to business,” she told you, releasing your arm again. 

Slowly, you lowered your hand, regarding her with a calculating gaze. There wasn't much you could read from her expression as she kept her professional mask. Typical ex-government agents. You had run-ins with your fair share of them. They usually weren't much fun. Usually weren't as pretty as her either. Suppressing a sigh, you shrugged and took a swig from your drink.  

“Fine," you let out breathily, nodding at her, "I was told you had a business proposal for me. So go ahead. Propose.”  

The other woman wasted no time. Sharon launched into her explanation, going over the plans she had come up with. You listened patiently, letting her talk uninterrupted. She laid out her idea for a high-scale art heist. Nothing you hadn’t done before, definitely doable. She took out a tablet, showing you the piece in question. It was a portrait of a woman, sitting under a tree and looking out to a distant mountain, surrounded by fields of flowers. You were familiar with the work. Very beautiful. Very expensive.  

“The painting will be a part of a special exhibition in Tokyo this week, " Carter explained, swiping on her device to pull up a satellite picture, "Security will be tight, but less so than it would be in the museum. I know a guy who can get us the plans of the exhibition hall and details on the protocols. You would provide the forgery, of course. We’ll quickly swap out the portraits and transport the real one back to Madripoor. I already have a handful of potential buyers willing to pay astronomical prices for this piece. We’ll split our winnings 50-50.”  

You traced the grain of the wooden counter as you thought her plan over with a hum.

“That's a pretty tight schedule. My forgeries take some time,” you pointed out. The blonde remained unimpressed.  

“I've heard stories of you painting a Van Gogh, a Monet, or even a Botticelli in two days. This will be nothing compared to that.”  

“I see, you've done your research," you said with the slightest hint of approval, "Then you'll also know that I don’t usually work with newbies. It’s risky and I have a reputation to uphold.”  

You paused to let your words settle in, taking another sip of your colourful drink. You could feel Sharon’s gaze on you, as you pretended to carelessly look around the club.  

“I have a counteroffer," you went on, keeping your tone light, "You'll handle circumventing the security and selling the portrait. I’ll provide the fake and organize transportation. I get 80 percent of the money as compensation for the risks I'm taking for trusting new blood. In return, if this goes well, we can do more business together in the future and I’ll make sure to recommend you to a couple of my associates. Really get your business going.”  

You couldn’t hide your smile, as you saw her mask slip, a discontent frown settling on her face.  

“So, I'll only get 20 percent despite being the one doing most of the dirty work? I might as well be doing this whole thing on my own-"  

You held up a finger, stopping whatever else she was going to say.  

“Oh, but you can’t. Because your whole operation depends on me making that forgery for you,” you smirk. You saw the way her jaw set in irritation. She knew you were right. You were invaluable to her plan. Didn’t mean she had to like it. Fidgeting with the cold drink in front of her, she made up her mind.  

“45-55 split, and you get to choose the next target should we cooperate again.”  

“I thought that was a given," you dismissed her offer casually, "I can offer you 30 percent.”  

“Absolutely not. 40-60, or I'll look for someone else to help me.”  

You let out a laugh, shaking your head in genuine amusement.  

“Good luck finding someone. There’s no one even close to being as good as I am. If there were, that’s where you’d be,” you leaned back in your chair, “Besides, I'm being generous for even considering working with you. Folks around here aren’t overly fond of newcomers, especially ones that still smell of big government.”  

The two of you held each other's gaze for a moment. Her face was set in determination, eyebrows drawn together as she thought about her rebuttal. You had to admit you admired her stubbornness and resolution. Undoubtedly something she had learned from that great-aunt of hers. Your little staring also contest gave you time to reassess your offer.  

After all, you had done your research on her as well. And you weren't stupid. You knew working with her wouldn't be as great a risk as you made it out to be. She might be new, but she was skilled, and she obviously knew her stuff. Her previous training certainly came in handy too. All she needed were the right connections, and you were sure it was only a matter of time until she made a name for herself here in Madripoor. When that time came, you wanted her to be an ally. Or, possibly, even something more. You never could resist a pretty face.

Mind made up, you set down your drink and held out your hand to the blonde who eyed it with caution.  

“Here’s my last offer. I'll agree to your terms. You get 40 percent of the money. I'll guarantee to do business with you in the future and put in a good word for you, so you can establish yourself around here," you listed off with a grin, never breaking eye contact, “In return, you'll buy me another drink and let me take you out some time.”  

“Take me out?” Sharon repeated with a raised eyebrow. Resting her chin on the knuckles of her hand, she regarded you with interest. For a moment, you admired the way the neon lights danced across her face.

“On a date,” you clarified, “Unless you don’t want to. It's not a deal-breaker. I'd also settle for two drinks instead.”  

The blonde smiled in intrigue, leaning forward to take your hand in hers. Her grip was firm as you shook on your deal.  

“One drink and a date, it is.”  

___________________________________________

taglist: @fireflyglass @madamevirgo @xxxtwilightaxelxxx

#sharon carter x reader #marvel reader insert #request #sharon carter #spoilers?

[cloudy-minded-idiot]

mentor

pairing: platonic Natasha Romanoff x reader

warnings: none

word count: ~ 1,900

a/n: a big thank you to the lovely @witchyredfoxes who requested this! I hope you like it!

summary: you’re new to the avengers and Natasha takes you under her wing. 

You had never felt this tired before in your entire life. Out of breath and disgustingly sweaty, you forced yourself to throw another punch at the dummy, ignoring the way your aching muscles protested against every move you made. You needed to do this. The dummy rocked back with the force of your punch and snapped back surprisingly fast. Too fast. Your exhausted senses registered the threat far too late and the plastic head of the dummy hit your face with full force. Caught off guard, you stumbled and fell down on the mat.  

Groaning, you rubbed at your nose, glad that your hand came back without any blood. It still hurt like hell though. Closing your eyes against the pain, you hit your fist against the ground in frustration and used your other arm to hide your face in the crook of your elbow. Maybe you could just lay down here for a while. Just wallow in your shame where no one else would find you. The blue mats were surprisingly comfortable. But that might just be your tiredness speaking.  

“You know you have a perfectly good room upstairs, right?”  

Spooked, you scrambled to your feet as fast as you could, heart beating wildly in your chest and eyes wide as saucers as you stared dumbly at the newcomer in the gym. You knew who she was. Of course, you did. She was basically a legend among the SHIELD agents and a renowned superhero. The Black Widow smirked at your reaction; her arms crossed over her chest as she leaned against the wall. She was glad in her famous black mission outfit, red hair pulled back in a messy bun and face dirty. You had heard that she was gone on a special operation when you had been first introduced to the other superheroes a few days ago, so her attire came as no surprise. She must be fresh off of her mission.  

After few seconds of openly gaping at her, you realized you should probably say something too.

“I do know. I just thought I should get some more training in.”  

She raised an eyebrow, eyes darting to the clock on the wall.  

“A bit late for that, don’t you think? Not even Steve trains at these hours anymore.”  

For a moment you marvelled at the way she so casually referred to Captain fricking America as 'Steve'. Honestly, the friendly way they all treated each other and how close they were was the thing that has surprised you most since you first met the team of heroes. When your instructor told you about the Avengers Initiative, you had imagined a team that only worked together on a professional basis, always keeping a distance, following strict orders. But it was much more casual and less hierarchical than you thought. They joked together, watched movies, had drinks. It seemed nice. You really hoped you could be a part of this someday.  

You cleared your throat, shrugging at the agent's previous statement.  

“He’s actually the reason why I'm here. Mr. Rogers gave me some pointers on what I should improve during training earlier. I thought it was best to get a head start.”  

The Black Widow smiled in amusement, shaking her head at you. Forwning, you went over your words again to find out what she could possibly find amusing about them. But before you could overthink it any more, the redhead pushed herself away from the wall and approached you. Her steps were sure, her gaze never left you.  

It felt like she was appraising you, so you did your best to stand up straighter, hid your tiredness and kept a neutral look on your face. She stopped a couple of feet away.  

“You know, your superiors warned us about you, Y/L/N.”  

Her statement made you nervous, but you forced yourself to not let it show. Her light-hearted tone suggested that she didn’t mean to cause you anxiety.  

“He said you were hard-working, insufferably so even. Dedicated and driven to the point of negligence when it came to your own needs. I’m inclined to agree from what little I know of you.”  

You opened your mouth to defend yourself somehow, but she cut you off with one simple motion of her hand. She flashed you a reassuring smile, making sure to let you know that she did not mean to offend. You relaxed a little, keeping your mouth shut.  

“Your superior also said you were a damn fine agent. The best that he has,” she took another step closer, laying one hand on your shoulder in comfort, “And I promise that despite your obvious worries, you will make an even better Avenger. There’s no need to double-guess and overwork yourself.”  

Her word made it clear to you that she had seen right through you and recognized the motives for your late-night training sessions. You really had thought you were concealing your emotions pretty well. But then again, she was a master spy. Your shoulders sagged as you let out a defeated sigh, suddenly feeling even more exhausted than before.  

“It's just...I really want this to work out and I feel like there’s so much I need to improve before I could even begin to be a valuable part of the team. All of you guys are legends, gods, geniuses, and masters of your crafts. It’s intimidating.”  

Your admission was met with understanding as the redhead slung an arm around you and slowly steered you away from the training equipment.  

“You’re being too hard on yourself. I read your file, even came to watch you train a couple of times at SHIELD.”  

Your eyes widen at her revelation, having been previously unaware of that fact. You were sure you would have noticed her in the training room.

She continued.  

“So, I know what I'm talking about when I tell you to stop selling yourself short. You’re already a valuable addition to the team. We wouldn’t have chosen you if you weren’t.”  

Her words, surprisingly, did much to calm your anxious mind. The knot that had formed in the pit of your stomach since your arrival at the compound loosened little by little. You flash her a hesitant smile.  

“That’s- Thank you. That really helped, Ms. Romanoff.”  

She scrunched up her nose at your words, the two of you stopping at the entrance of the gym.

“Please just call me Natasha. Ms. Romanoff makes me feel old. And I'm glad I could be of help,” she nods to the door with a grin, “Now go catch some sleep, you’re barely standing upright.”  

You shake your head in agreement, an equally embarrassed and grateful smile on your face. You were almost out the door, when she called your name again, a mischievous glint in her eyes.  

“If you really want to improve, I'd suggest training with actual people rather than getting beat up by a plastic dummy.”  

You groan, closing your eyes in embarrassment. Could the floor please just open up and swallow you now?  

“You saw that?”  

She let out a small laugh at your apparent discomfort.  

“Don’t feel bad. You picked the most ferocious dummy of all. But I do expect you to put up more of a fight when we train together tomorrow, understood?”  

You blinked in surprise.  

“You want to train with me?”  

“Of course,” she shrugged like the answer was obvious, “You said you had some things you needed to improve. I'm happy to help you. Fair warning though, I’m very competitive and will not go easy on you. So, bring your A-game and go catch some sleep now. You’ll need it.”  

You couldn’t keep the giddy smile off of your face if you tried.  

“Thank you, Ms- Natasha,” you amended. She acknowledged your thanks with a nod and finally shooed you out of the gym.

 The redhead was of great help outside the training rooms as well. Natasha did her best to help you settle in, making sure to include you in conversations, invite you to hangouts, and to scold the boys when they tried to pick on you. She was by far your closest friend and confidant, and with her help, you really got to know your fellow teammates.  

Finally, after weeks of rigorous training, it was time for your first mission as an Avenger. You had to admit that you were a bit nervous when the call came in, but you went into working mode pretty fast after the briefing. After all, this wasn’t your first mission ever. As a SHIELD agent, you had been a part of several high-risk operations. Still, this was a very special day for you.  

Natasha really hadn't been kidding when she told you she was hard to train with. Every day she pushed you to your limits and you left the gym hurting in places that you never knew could hurt. But she also helped you hone your skills to perfection. With the Black Widow as your mentor, you really could see some great improvements.  

Tony was already in the quinjet when you arrived, working on making the plane ready for take-off. Being able to put on his armor in a matter of seconds, it didn’t take long for him to suit up.  

“That was fast,” he commented as you came closer, shooting you one of trademark Stark smirks, “But I wouldn’t have expected anything else from you. Nervous about your first mission, rookie? Tell you what, you make it out without needing a visit to the ER afterward and I'll buy you a celebratory drink. Deal?”  

You ignore his proffered hand, cocking your head to the side.  

“You really think it’s going to go that bad?”  

“It’s nothing personal,” he assured you, “Things happen, you're new, it's your first time...You know what? How about instead of a drink, I'll let you take one of my suits for a ride?”  

You opened your mouth to reply but were stopped by a familiar voice behind you.  

She returned your smile, before turning a glare on the billionaire.  

“Don’t listen to him, you’re gonna do fine."

You turned around to smile at Nat as she entered the jet, followed closely by Steve and Wanda.  

“And you, stop trying to scare her and get your ass to the pilot seat.”  

Tony raised his hands in mock-surrender and walked to the cockpit, muttering something about a mother hen under his breath. Nat squeezed your shoulder, pulling you towards the seats.  

“You got everything, right? Your weapons? Comms?”  

You rolled your eyes at her worried tone.  

“This isn’t my first mission, you know? I'm fine.”

She nodded with a good-natured smile.  

“Alright. We’ll still go over the mission details again together. Just to be sure.”  

With a sigh, you surrendered to your fate. The flight went by faster than you thought as you rehashed the plan together. Natasha was not satisfied until you were able to recite every step by heart. Which you did, easily. A good thing about her worry was that it took your mind off of your own nervousness. So, once you and the team left the quinjet, you were completely in the zone.  

You were joined in the field by Sam and Rhodes, who had flown in on their own and as you got into formation Steve uttered the two words you had been dreaming of hearing addressed to you for a while now.  

“Avengers assemble!”  

(Tony did end up having to buy you a post-mission drink.)  

___________________________________________

taglist: @fireflyglass @madamevirgo @xxxtwilightaxelxxx

#natasha romanoff x reader #requests #reader insert #platonic

[cloudy-minded-idiot]

closing time - part 2

pairing: Natasha Romanoff x female reader

warning: none that I can think of

word count: 2,700-ish

a/n: just wanted to thank everyone who took the time to comment, reblog or like the first part 💕 your support truly means a lot to me. everyone who has asked to be tagged or requested a second part has been @-ed below.

previous part

"Who are you talking to?”

The question came seemingly out of nowhere, making you jump so hard you almost dropped the phone in your hand.

“Jesus, woman!” you swore, putting your free hand over your rapidly beating heart, “Don’t sneak up on me like that.”

Natasha was fresh out of the shower, her wet hair twisted in a towel. The redhead was wearing an oversized grey hoodie and some sweatpants that you had found somewhere deep inside your closet. She looked adorable, you had to admit, like a kid wearing their parent's clothes. The sight strangely made your stomach flip.

“Force of habit, I'm afraid,” she smiled apologetically, carefully sitting down on the couch. Her face was finally clean, no more mud, blood, or grime sticking to her features. Except for the blue-ish bruise on her left cheekbone, and a small cut near her eyebrow, her skin was unfairly flawless.

“So, are you gonna answer my question?”, she plopped her feet up on your coffee table, shaking you out of your thoughts. With a shrug, you pocketed your phone, hoping she hadn’t noticed your staring.

“Just work. Called in sick until Tuesday. After all, I can’t let you roam around my apartment unsupervised. For one, you’re injured, for another, you’re still a stranger.”

On your way to the couch, you picked up the first aid kit from your kitchen counter.

“A stranger?” she repeated with mock hurt, putting a hand over her heart, “ You wound me. After everything we’ve been through, I really thought we were getting closer.”

Shaking your heart amusedly, you sat down next to her. Balancing the first aid kit on your thigh, you pulled on a pair of rubber gloves with a snap. You could feel her gaze on you, watching your every move. Nervously, you cleared your throat, a little uncomfortable with her attention.

“Let’s have a look,” you nod to her and she complied with your unspoken request, pulling the hoodie up just enough for you to access her injury. Gingerly, you removed the bandage, dumping it into the trash can and inspecting the stitched wound, quietly humming in concentration as you did.

“I think you strained it a bit with your morning escapades today but I don’t think you pulled any of the stitches,” you concluded after a moment. Your voice sounded more sure than you actually felt about your assessment, considering all your expertise came from the internet. But, apparently, your word was good enough for your patient.

“See, I told you. You worried for nothing,” she slapped your shoulder jestingly and you rolled your eyes, taking out a new bandage to re-wrap the wound.

“I wouldn’t say for nothing. After all, you have been stabbed and only received medical attention from an amateur,” you pointed out, giving her a chastising look when she tried to dismiss your troubles with a languid hand motion.

“I think you should be concerned by the fact that I seem to be more worried about your health than you are," you continued, undeterred, "How's the pain, by the way?”

She shrugged nonchalantly, waving away your concerns, “I’ve had worse.”

“That’s not what I asked.”

“I'll be fine”, Natasha insisted with emphasis, “Besides, I don’t like taking painkillers. Dulls the senses.”

If you weren’t as tired as you were, you might have argued a little more. Instead, all you did was sigh and give a curt nod to signal your understanding. You didn’t really get her at all. If she was just going to hang around your apartment for the next couple of days, then who cares if her senses are dulled? It wasn't like anyone knew she would be here.

You finished wrapping her wound, leaning back to observe it from afar. You were admittedly getting better at bandaging. So that was a plus point.

“Alright, that’s it,” you nodded pleased, starting to clean up. Natasha inspected your work as well, pulling her hoodie back down once she was satisfied.

“You’re surprisingly good. Have you ever done this before?”

Chuckling, you shook your head, closing the little dark green box on your lap.

“You mean have I ever stitched someone together before and let them take refuge in my home? No. Can’t say I have.”

She smiled at your sarcastic tone, rolling her eyes playfully, before smirking mischievously.

“Ah, I'm your first. I'm honoured.”

You flushed at the implication of her statement, trying to hide your embarrassment by fiddling with the first aid kit. Don’t overthink it. You do not want these kinds of thoughts right now. Not about her. Sure, she is beautiful and it is kind of fun to banter with her and she has probably the most beautiful eyes you had ever seen and her lips…

“So, what’s your verdict doc?” she nudged you back to reality, amusement in her voice. You cleared your throat, shaking your head to clear your previous thoughts away.

“You need rest. Lots of it. No putting unnecessary strain on your injury,” you explained distractedly, pulling the gloves from your hands and letting them drop into the trash can, “So, I forbid you from leaving the couch for anything other than using the bathroom. Like I said before, if you need something, ask me.”

“You forbid me? My, my, how bossy of you. Then again, your home, your rules.”

“I just don’t want you to make anything worse,” you replied earnestly, ignoring her teasing tone.

Natasha grinned, eyes sparkling, leaning dangerously close to you.

“It's cute how concerned you are,” she almost whispered, her breath ghosting over your face. You felt your heart speed up.

“Don’t tell me you care about this lil old stranger here.”

Needing to remove yourself from this situation, you practically jumped off the couch, trying to play your reaction off with an annoyed eye-roll and a huff.

“Don’t be so full of yourself. I just don’t want you to start bleeding again. Might end up ruining my carpet,” you explained, the words leaving your mouth so quickly, it was a wonder you didn’t stumble over them. You resolved to change the topic entirely.

“Want anything to eat? Drink?”

Without sparing a second, you walked over to the kitchen, idly opening the fridge and looking through it just to keep your mind busy and eyes away from her. The frigid air definitely helped cool down your heated face as well. So that was a nice side effect.

“Vodka on the rocks would be nice,” she quipped. You shook your head, well-aware that she couldn’t see you, hidden away behind the fridge door. Apparently, your silence was answer enough though, because only a few seconds later, she let out a concessive sigh.

“Fine. Water will do.”

Preparing her a glass, you carried it over to the living room area, nudging her foot with your leg to get her to take them off your coffee table. She complied begrudgingly, accepting the glass and draining most of it in one gulp. It was only when you noticed a single droplet running down her chin that you realized you were staring. Again. Very obviously. Immediately you averted your gaze, opting to eyeball the wall in the far distance.

“So, what are you gonna do today? Anything planned?”

What a terrible question.

“Not really,” you saw her shrug out of the corner of your eye, “But I do need to use your radio again. Would you mind grabbing it for me?”

“Uh, sure.”

You spotted the device on the tv cabinet. Handing it over, you made certain that it was plugged in for her, watching the red digits on the small display light up. For a moment you remained in place, observing her as she fumble with it, her forehead creased in concentration. Feeling awkward just standing around, you approached, anxiously rubbing at the back of your neck in search for something to say.

“Can I ask, what exactly is it that you do with it?”

She seemed to mull your question over, before patting the couch cushion next to her.

“Sit. I’ll show you.”

You do, making sure to keep a decent amount of distance between you while still being able to see what she was doing. Natasha showed you how to switch to a shortwave radio station and how to input messages to be transmitted. The static sound filled your apartment again, changing to a couple of high-pitched sounds once in a while when she enters a new code. It was fascinating, something that seemed entirely taken out of an old spy movie.

“So, you’re sending encoded messages to someone?” you summarised her explanation, intrigued, “Do you use morse code for the encryption?”

“Morse code. That’s cute,” Natasha let out a short laugh, shaking her head in amusement. The towel her hair was wrapped somehow stayed in place. She looked up at you with a cocky smile, her eyes meeting yours and taking your breath away for a moment.

“If I wanted all the other agencies in the world to know my location, then yes, I'd use morse code. No, this is my very own code. Only a handful of people know it.”

“Impressive. So this means you’re a spy, right?”, you asked as she continued working on her transmission, “Because this is textbook spy behaviour.”

Natasha didn’t reply. Not that you had expected her to. Yep, definitely a spy. That would also explain her injury and need to lay low for a few days.

“So, do all secret spies have their own encryption codes, or are you just special?”

“Oh, I think you’ll find that I’m very special,” she quipped seriously, not looking up from her task, “Once I'm recovered, I’ll gladly show you my special set of skills up close.”

You blinked, perplexed, cocking your head to the side.

“I’m not sure whether you’re trying to threaten or flirt with me,” you remarked, a frown settling on your face. The redhead turned the radio off, putting it down next to her and looking up at you with a big grin.

“And isn’t that just part of the fun?”

--------

Natasha, it turned out, had quite the talent for coming up with pick-up lines that could double as thinly veiled threats. You did your best not to show how flustered she made you, either changing the subject, feigning ignorance, or trying to come across as exasperated or annoyed instead. To be honest, you did rather enjoy her flirtatious remarks. After all, it wasn’t every day that such a beautiful and quick-witted woman hit on you, even if it was just in jest. She also had something rather mysterious about her that intrigued you. It was probably a spy thing.

She, in turn, seemed to grow more comfortable around you as time passed. Daring to express her emotions more openly without always relying on sarcasm or flirtation. The memory of making her laugh out loud for the first time - a real laugh that had her throwing her head back and crinkling her eyes - was practically ingrained into your mind. Even now, just thinking about it, brought a fond smile to your face and made your heart flutter.

You weren’t stupid. At least you liked to think you weren’t. No, you were fully aware of the fact that you were developing feelings for the secretive redhead. And you knew that it was a terrible idea, that you should fight it. After all, she would be leaving soon and you weren't likely to see her again. But resisting her charms was a lot harder than you had anticipated. Especially, when you had to share your small apartment.

So, instead, you decided to treasure whatever short time you did have with her. You cooked her your favourite dish, blushing when she complimented your skills in the kitchen. The two of you watched several movies huddled together on your couch. You had seen them all before but enjoyed watching her point out all the unrealistic plot points and inconsistencies, only to end up grinning like an idiot at the cheesy happy ending. You also came up with several bad and dorky jokes just to hear her laugh out loud again. It felt nice. Almost domestic and natural.

But in the end, Tuesday came sooner than you had hoped. All night long, you had laid tossing and turning in your bed, dreading what would happen.

The sun was not yet out when you heard the now-familiar sound of radio static coming from your living room. Suddenly very awake, you practically shot out of your bed and hurried out the door.

Natasha was already dressed to leave, hair pulled back into a braid. A few locks had escaped and framed her lovely face. She looked up when she heard you enter, putting the radio aside.

“Morning,” she greeted with a small smile, “You’re up uncharacteristically early. Did I wake you up?"

“It’s fine. Didn't sleep well anyways,” you assured her, brushing a hand through your hair. A moment of silence.

“So. It’s Tuesday, huh?”

“Observant as always. My colleague will be picking me up shortly if that is what you’re asking.”

Dread filled you. While you knew this moment was coming, you suddenly found yourself wholly unprepared for it.

“Then the air is clear again, right? Successfully laid low?”, you asked, fumbling with your hands as you rambled on, “That’s good. Great.”

The redhead quirked an eyebrow at you, shouldering a small duffel bag as she approached you.

“It is indeed great. Means I won’t be targeted the moment I step outside your door,” she commented casually. As if possibly being assassinated wasn’t a big deal.

“Right. Good,” you nodded in agreement, unsure what else to say to that. She stopped directly in front of you, regarding you curiously. Your pulse spiked.

“Need me to check out your wound again? One final examination before you’re dismissed from the hospital?” you offered. Natasha shook her head.

“I’m fine. You did a great job, doc,” she flashed you a big smile, “I can’t thank you enough for everything you’ve done for me these past few days.”

Face growing warm, you make a throw-away motion with your arm.

“No need to thank me. I really enjoyed spending time with you,” you tell her genuinely, meeting her green gaze. Her expression softened. she took another step closer. Your breath hitched at her close proximity.

“Me, too. But I’d still like to express my deep gratitude."

Something mischievous flashed in her eyes. Before you could ask her what she meant, she had already cupped your face and pulled your face to hers.

The moment your lips met, every other thought you had vanished from your mind. Electricity shot through your veins, your skin tingled where she touched you. After a moment you caught yourself and returned the kiss, pressing back against her, your hands carefully settling on her waist.

For a while, nothing else seemed to matter. Breathing, thinking, everything appeared rather trivial in comparison to this feeling of her lips on yours. It wasn't until a loud knock sounded on the door, that you broke apart. You were both breathing hard. Your eyes met and the smile she gave you had to be the most beautiful sight you had ever seen.

“My colleague’s here", she whispered, somehow breaking through the fog in your mind. Right. She was about to leave. You swallow against the lump that formed in your throat. Still unable to find words, you just nod, taking a small step back. You tried to keep the sadness off your face and most likely failed miserably.

To your surprise, she laughed, shaking her head.

“Don’t look so glum. This doesn’t have to be goodbye.”

“It doesn’t?” you asked hopefully. Natasha gave you a look full of adoration, pulling a small slip of paper from her pocket.

“I'll probably be busy for a few days, but I have nothing planned next week,” she pressed the paper into your palm. Unfolding it, you saw a phone number scribbled on it in blue ink. A big grin overtook your face as she continued.

“I'm sure we can work something out. I'd love to take you out.”

You meet her eyes, butterflies going wild in your stomach.

“Take me out as in on a date, or…?” you asked jokingly.

Wordlessly, she pressed a small kiss to your cheek.

“Guess you’ll have to wait and find out.”

___________________________________________

taglist: @blackxwidowsxwife @fishlikestuff @madamevirgo @chickenhavewisdom

#natasha romanoff x female reader #natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x reader #marvel fanfiction #black widow x reader

[cloudy-minded-idiot]

closing time

pairing: Natasha Romanoff x female reader (kinda?)

warning: mentions of blood, a probably very inaccurate description of a wound being treated (lemme know if I should add anything else)

word count: around 3,000

a/n: wrote this before bed last night and edited it this morning. feedback would be appreciated, just pls don’t be too hard on me, since it’s the first fic i’m posting on here. i have a vague idea for a second part if anyone’s interested.

summary: a wounded stranger stumbles into your life one night, and you find yourself helping her out despite your better instincts.

next part

It was a slow night for a change. The last customer had left half an hour ago. An elderly man who had only bought two packs of cigarettes and some strawberry mint gum to go along with it. He was a regular, came in at least once a week, always bought the same thing. The kind of customer you enjoyed after a long day: quiet and quick to leave.  

You were all set to lock up for the day. All you could do now was wait for your shift to actually be over. A difficult thing for someone who was inherently impatient and had nothing to distract herself with. Your phone had died halfway through the day, and you had finished your book sometime around lunch. Any other night, you would at least have your co-worker or your boss to chat with, but Mr. Douglas had left early today. Something about his in-laws coming to visit. You hadn't question it.

A glance at the clock. Ten more minutes. With a sigh, you closed your eyes, just listening to the ticking sound. For a while, you counted along. It was calming. Almost enough to lull you to sleep. Not that that took a lot, you were pretty tired after all. You had long lost track of the seconds gone by when, in between the rhythmical tik-tok, a  shrill bell chimed. The one above the entrance you knew all too well.  

You had to suppress an annoyed sigh. Last-minute customers.

Whatever complaint you had on your mind was quickly replaced by utter shock when you opened your eyes. In, through the drugstore-door, staggered a woman with fiery red hair, covered head to toe in dirt. Bruises lined her face, and she kept one hand pressed to her abdomen in a futile attempt to stop blood from seeping out of a wound. Little droplets fell to the floor despite her efforts, marking her path to the counter.  

"Holy shit!" you breathed out, eyes probably wide as saucers. You continued dumbly, "I think you need to see a doctor."

An understatement, to be sure. If her sickly pale complexion was anything to go by, she was sure to keel over sooner rather than later.

The redhead shook her head determinedly, a pain-stricken look on her face.  

"No doctor. No hospital. Just need some medical supplies," her remark was accompanied by her slamming crumpled dollar bills on the counter.

"O-kay," you said slowly, leaving the counter and taking her by the elbow, "I'll get you your supplies, but you seriously need to sit down."  

You opened the door to the break room, guiding her to a chair that she more or less collapsed onto. She winced in pain, and you stayed a moment to make sure she was all set before hurrying back out. In a frenzy, you jogged along the shelves, mentally trying to create a list of supplies she could need. Rubbing alcohol, a first aid kit, scissors, tweezers. You also grabbed some painkillers and a bottle of water on your way back.  

Dumping all the supplies on the round wooden lunch table, you watched her nervously as she started to cut off parts of her shirt to get better access to the wound. Almost instinctively, you grabbed the trash can holding it out for her to dump the blood-soaked fabric into.  

"Water," she croaked out in between painful gasps, "Need to…rinse the wound." 

Mutely, you nodded. Rummaging through the cabinet of the small old-fashioned kitchen counter until you found a big bowl and filled it up. Dipping a towel into the lukewarm water, you knelt in front of the woman.  

"Let me do it. You need to save your strength."

She looked like she wanted to object, but, in the end, she gave you a curt nod. There was a lot of blood. You did your best not to irritate the wound too much. By the time you were finished, the water itself was a deep crimson. She had closed her eyes, sweat covering her brow. She grabbed you by the sleeve of your shirt when you tried to stand up, holding you in place.  

"Now with alcohol," she told you. Your eyes flickered to the bottle on the table.

You hesitate. Swallowing the lump in your throat.

"Are you sure?"

"Do it," the redhead commanded, eyes still closed. She let go of your arm then, returning hers to the armrest of the chair. Her fingers left behind bloody prints.  

You obeyed her order, wincing along with her in sympathy as you pressed the alcohol-drenched cloth to her wound. You could only imagine how much it must sting. Her grip on the armrests tightened until her knuckles turned white. When you were done, she inspected the wound, eyes narrowed to see in the dim light of the fluorescent lamps. A long silence stretched between you two. She looked up, meeting your gaze for the first time. Her eyes were a mix of greens with little specks of grey thrown in. Under different circumstances, you might have admired them a little longer. They were quite beautiful.

"Can you sew?"  

You nod slowly, sensing where she was going with this and not liking it one bit.  

It took a while to find sewing supplies. Taking deep breaths, you willed your hands to stop shaking and followed her murmured instructions. Put on latex gloves, sterilize the needle and thread. She sounded very calm as she explained how to make the first stitch, didn't even flinch when the needle pricked her skin. It helped calm you down a little.  

By the time you cut off the excess thread, you found yourself unable to recall doing any of the other stitches. The rush of the moment made the procedure seem to pass faster than it probably did in reality. She eyed your handiwork for a moment before giving a small nod of approval, a faint, exhausted smile tugging at her lips.  

“Not bad for a rookie.”  

“Thanks,” you breathed out, already preoccupied with sifting through the first aid kit.

Wrapping the wound was much more your forte. The redhead leaned back in the chair once you finished, washing some painkillers down with a big gulp from the water bottle. With the adrenaline wearing down, you felt as exhausted as she looked. Leaning back against the table leg, you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding, your body relaxing as your apprehension lessened little by little.

You took a couple of moments to mentally catch up to what just happened, processing the sheer craziness of it all. Your brain was brimming with questions. Who was she?  Who hurt her? Why didn’t she get professional help? They were on the tip of your tongue. But the woman passed out before you had the chance to ask her anything.  

With tremulous hands, you cleaned the store for the second time that evening, wiping up blood from the floor, the chair, and the table. You discarded the rags with the rest of the used supplies. All the while, you checked on her multiple times, unable to shake the fear she might die right then and there. She looked unnaturally pale, but her pulse continued to drum rhythmically, her chest kept rising and falling with every breath she took.  

What now? Should you call the cops? The hospital? She seemed pretty set on not getting any authorities involved. Perhaps with good reason?  

You resolved to find out tomorrow, hoping you would not grow to regret it. Slinging one of her arms over your shoulder, you lifted her up and carried her bridal style, mindful of her injury. She wasn't too heavy, but you still were glad you had had the foresight to park your car nearby. After making sure she was safely strapped into the passenger seat, you went back and finally closed up the shop.

________________________________________________________________

The next morning, you were woken up by some clattering sounds coming from your living room. With a groan, you forced yourself out of your bed and stumbled through the door into the next room. The redhead was walking around in the dim light, rummaging through your drawers and dropping things left and right. You watched, for a moment, too perplexed to say anything as you rubbed your eyes tiredly.

“Shouldn’t you be resting or something?” you ask, voice rough from sleep. It was still way too early to be awake. You had thought the pain killers would help her sleep for a couple of hours more. Looks like you were wrong.

“Later,” she muttered just loud enough for you to hear. Crouching down, she opened the bottom drawer of the tv cabinet and pulled out some DVDs you had stored there, only pausing to look at the title of one of them with a smirk.

“Is this not a kids' movie?”

You had no idea what she was looking at, but you crossed your arms, feeling a bit offended anyway. Blame your lack of sleep for making you a little sensitive.

“Do you make it a habit to judge the movie taste of people who were gracious enough to let you stay in their home overnight?”

The woman didn’t answer verbally, just put the movie back and closed the drawer again. She turned to face you, her expression turning serious all of a sudden as if only now remembering where she was and how she got here in the first place. She looked apprehensive, taking a couple of steps in your direction.

“Does anyone else know I’m here?” her voice conveyed a sense of urgency, eyes staring into yours imploringly. Confused, you just shook your head. 

Her shoulders relaxed a little.

“Good,” she nodded, her attention already returning to her little scavenger hunt.

The redhead walked across the room, sifting through your kitchen cabinet next.

You sighed, picking up a couple of things she had knocked over in the living room and putting them back in their proper place. Every few seconds, you would glance at her from afar. She was still wearing the outfit she had on when she came into the drugstore. With her unconscious, you hadn’t seen any way of getting her into some new clothes, at least not without possibly irritating her wound or waking her up. She could surely use something clean to wear. Her current attire was dirtied and bloody, not to mention that her shirt now looked like a makeshift crop top since she had cut off parts of it last night.

“You know, if you just told me what you’re looking for you wouldn’t have to make such a mess of my apartment,” you winced as one of your spice shakers fell out of the cupboard and landed on the stove just as you finished speaking. Luckily, nothing broke.

The woman paused mid-motion, still on her tiptoes, body halfway turned towards you.  

“A radio. An old one preferably.”

Frowning, you picked up and folded the blanket she had discarded on the floor in front of your couch.  

“What for?”

The redhead eyed you for a moment, hesitant and unsure whether you could be trusted. In the end, she kept quiet, ruling against explaining herself. You reluctantly accepted her decision, tossing the folded blanket back on the couch cushion in resignation.

“I should have an old radio alarm clock somewhere in my wardrobe. Will that do?”  

It took you a couple of minutes to find the old thing, hidden away in the very back of your closet, underneath some clothes you hadn’t worn in forever. When you returned to the living room, your visitor was leaning against the kitchen isle, nibbling on one of your pop tarts which she abandoned as soon as she saw you. Eagerly she took the alarm clock off your hands, acknowledging you with a grateful nod. The redhead sat down on the couch, plugging the device into the closest outlet. 

You more or less kept an eye on her while you made yourself some coffee, but you had no idea what she was doing. To you, it looked like she was just fiddling with the controls, only static and a couple of high-pitched sounds filling the living room. It was grating on your nerves, but you made no comment. By the time she finished and turned the radio off again, you were already on your second cup.  

“Are you expecting any visitors in the next couple of days?” she asked casually, sidling up next to you in the kitchen.

 You raised an eyebrow, placing your empty cup in the sink.

“No. Why?”

“I need a place to lay low until Tuesday.”  

“Lay low?” you parroted, “What for? Who are you hiding from?”

Subconsciously, she glanced down at her bandaged wound, and you followed her gaze, slow realization coming over you.  

“Did they do that to you? Did they hurt you?” you asked more softly. She only shook her head in confirmation, “Then why not just go to the police? I’m sure they can help you better than I c-"  

“No,” she cut you off immediately, gripping your wrists tightly in both her hands as if to physically keep you from taking your phone and calling the cops. This only made you grow more concerned.

“No. We can’t go to the police. It’s not safe,” she loosened her grip on you a little.

 Your eyebrows were drawn together as you thought about what she said.

“Why would it not be safe? Unless...,” you swallowed as a possibility crossed your mind, “Are you in trouble? Did you do something illegal?”  

When she didn’t immediatley deny your statement, you started to jump to conclusions, your voice rising with panic.

“Oh, shit! You did. What was it? Were you in a fight? Did you kill someone? Holy shi- Does helping you make me an accomplice? Am I harboring a criminal in my ho-”

She cut off your rant by slapping a hand over your mouth, thus muffling your words.

“Be quiet, your neighbors might hear,” she hissed, gaze darting to the door, almost like she expected someone to burst through it. 

Your eyes were wide in fear, but you listened to her, your heart racing. She slowly removed her hand, giving you a warning look as though she feared you would start talking again. You didn’t.

“I’m not a criminal,” she told you earnestly, “I am, however, on the run, so I would appreciate your discretion.”

“On the run from whom?”

The question was no more than a whisper, too scared to raise the volume of your voice. She held your gaze for a moment before shaking her head.

“I’m afraid that’s classified.”

“Classified,” you repeated, incredulous, “So let me get this straight. You show up at my job, bleeding all over the place and telling me not to call the authorities. I help you out, let you crash at my place and you, in return, wake me up at an ungodly hour, make a big mess of my living room, imply that you might have done something illegal, and expect me to let you stay here until Tuesday without getting any information whatsoever?”  

“I know this isn’t fair...,” she admitted, and you laugh humorlessly.

“Not fair? I would be crazy to agree without at least having an idea what I’m getting myself into.”

The redhead nodded in agreement, looking away guiltily, teeth biting down on her lips. She seemed genuinely beat down, something even you, as a stranger, could tell was foreign to her. Oddly enough, you felt bad, although you knew, realistically, that you had done nothing wrong.

You let out a weary sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose. Curse your empathetic heart.

“Three conditions,” you conceded, making her look at you in surprise. Holding up a finger, you started your list.  

“One. No more throwing my stuff around. If you need something, ask. I don’t want to have to clean up after you.”  

She nods, having the decency to actually look sorry this time. You put up a second finger.

“Two. You tell me your name. Doesn’t have to be your full name or even your real name if that’s a secret or whatever," you added with an indifferent shrug, "I just want something other to call you than ‘hey you’.”

“What’s the third condition?” she prompted, not commenting on the second one.

“You promise me that you’re not the bad guy in this situation and that helping you won’t land me in trouble somehow.”  

The redhead cocked her head to the side, an almost fascinated expression on her face.

“How would you know I’m telling the truth?”

“I don’t,” you countered without hesitation, “I’m just gonna have to trust your word here. Just as you will have to trust mine that I’ll keep your presence here a secret.”  

For a moment, she regarded you with some indescribable emotion on her face before nodding in concession. Letting go of the one wrist she was still holding, she took a step back. Caught up in the moment, you hadn’t even realized how close you were standing. Thinking about it now made your face heat up for some reason. The redhead raised one hand as though she was about to take an official oath. She held your gaze unwaveringly as she spoke.

“I promise you, that I will not make a mess in your home anymore. And I solemnly swear that you won’t get in trouble for helping me in any way whatsoever.”

Something about her demeanor told you she wasn’t lying. You shake your head satisfied, a small but relieved smile taking over, some of the tension and apprehension leaving your body. She smiled tentatively in return, extending her hand to you in greeting.

“The name’s Natasha.”

Glancing at her proffered hand, you took it and gave it a small shake.

“Nice to officially meet you, Natasha.”

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