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stephanieromanoff · 4 days

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Holiday baking

Angelique x reader

After volunteering to bake for the colllinsport tree lighting, you ask Angie to help, but she has other plans.

Fluff, suggestive af

Could be considered apart of the first holiday series, but you dont need to read it at all.

Taglist @evilcr0ne

"I don't understand why you had to volunteer to bake cookies for the town tree lighting." Angie complains from behind you, her breath against your neck as you mix the chocolate chips into the dough.

"Because Angie, it's Christmas, and I thought it would be fun to bake with you, but if you're going to whine the whole time then just go sit down." You fire back, annoyed at her constant complaining. you blow a stray hair out of your face, you hear angie scoff against your ear.

"I don't whine, you're the one that whines, 'Angie please, Angie hard, please please'" She mimics your words from last night, causing you to blush. "That's different, that's during private, intimate moments." You justify, stirring the dough aggressively.

Angie's arms wrap around your waist, pulling you back against her and she practically purrs in your ear. "Mmm, I'd like to have one of our intimate moments, right now." She says, while one of her hands slides down to your hip, then thigh, then… You gasp, enjoy the feeling, but only for a moment before you pull yourself away, grabbing the cookie dough bowl and bringing it to the kitchen island. "Angie, i have to have these done by 7 tonight." You tell her, you give her an apologizing look then turn back to the cookies.

You begin scooping cookie dough onto greased trays, keeping them from touching. Angie groans, "I'll help you get these done, but only because I want enough time before this tree lightning to see you naked." She says, coming over to the island with a devious grin as she looks you up and down.

You squeal excitedly, giving Angie a kiss, being careful not to let your sticky hands touch her. Angie's surprised by your excitement, but you can see a hint of a smile on her face.

"Okay, umm wash your hands then get the sugar cookie dough from the fridge, start rolling it out." You tell Angie, giving her a smile before going back to your job. Angie washes her hands and heads to the fridge, taking the cookie dough out along with an already opened bottle of wine, she grabs a place and offers you one, you decline, so she only pours herself one.

She sets the dough and her glass on the counter, sipping her wine before grabbing a roller, you look away for a minute, to set a full tray on the other counter by the stove, when you turn around Angie's standing there sipping wine, while the roller moves on its own, you roll your eyes.

You move over to Angie's side of the kitchen counter, and set out cookie cutters. "Which ones? I'm thinking we'll keep it easy and only have three shapes." Angie uses the question to move behind you, lean over you, breathing against your neck as she looks over her options. "Mmm." She hums against your neck, acting like she's thinking, but you know she's trying to get you riled up again. "Angie, we don't have all day." You say.

"This one, that one, and that." Angie says, pointing at three. Angie moves back to her wine. You quickly put the others away, leaving the three out. Angie snaps her fingers and the record player starts up, soon Christmas music fills the air, you have Angie cut the shapes and you carefully place them on a baking sheet, you finish filling the last sheet, you wrap the leftover dough up for another batch later, putting it in the fridge.

You put the trays in the oven, and set the timer. Angie comes up behind you again, grabbing your hips and pulling your back against her front, Angie starts swaying you, side to side, her head resting on your chin as you both move to the rhythm of the music playing, you relax against her, a smile gracing your lips, in a bold move you turn in her arms now facing her as you sway, your hands rest on her shoulders, forehead pressed against hers, smile grows on Angie's face at your move.

Angie's hands move from your hips, one moving to your waist, the other grabbing your hand, you realize the position you are in. "Angie, i can't dance." You whisper, nervously. Angie laughs, kisses your lips passionately, her lips taste of wine, Angie pulls back. "Just trust me, let me lead you." She says, watching your face, waiting for you to relax again, you do and she takes the first step, your steps clunky at first, but as Angie moves you around the kitchen your steps become more graceful.

The music perfectly matching the waltz Angie leads you through, you laugh as Angie lifts you, twirling you both around before setting you back done and and continues the waltz. As the song slows to a stop so does Angie, neither of you break away as the record scratches, signaling the end of the record, you're both too caught up in each other to move, staring into each other eyes, you see the love angie has for you shining in her eyes, you move closer, your nose brushing against hers, your breath mixing with hers as you both move in, your lips graze against each other but Angie keeps move her head back slightly every time you push forward, keeping your lips from finally connecting.

You've become desperate for Angie, grabbing her face you pull her in, your lips finally meeting in a passionate kiss, Angie's tongue runs against your bottom lip then bites it, you moan into her mouth, upon hearing it Angie pushes you against the kitchen counter, you pull away to look at eachother, both of you panting and desperate for the other, before you can continue kiss the timer rings, and you groan in annoyance. Pulling away from Angie, who's reluctant to let go.

You get the cookies out of the oven, moving them to a cooling rack. You turn back to Angie to ask her to get the dough back out, but she already has, and has rolled it out, you happily watch her before walking over to her and kissing her cheek lovingly. As she cuts the cookie shapes you make all the different icing colors for the ones cooling. With Angie willingly helping the whole thing runs a lot smoother, soon the last batch is in the oven and you're both icing the cookies, Angie icing the star-shaped one's while you do the more complicated trees.

Angie swipes her fingers through the icing bowl, collecting some on her fingers, she hold her fingers out in front of you, and you wrap your lips around her fingers, licking them clean, when you notice how entranced Angie is watching you, you begin suckinon her fingers before releasing them with a pop, your saliva now coating her fingers, you smirk at the state you've left Angie in, her breathing heavy, her eyes blown wide with lust, her lips parted ever so slightly.

The timer goes off again, the turn to get them, glancing back you wink at Angie and tell her. "Wash your hands again before decorating cookies." You take the cookies out of the oven, placing them on the stove top to transfer them, you turn away for one second to get the spatula, you turn back and the cookies are gone, you stare at the empty baking sheet in confusion.

Suddenly you are pulled away from the stove and into Angie's arms, looking over her shoulder you see all 5 dozen cookies you made, cooled, frosted and plated. You look up at Angie to see the grin on her face. "I figured I'd let you have your fun baking, but after that little show." Angie leans forward, whispering into your ear "I think I'll be having my dessert right now." Angie picks you up by the back of your legs, you wrap your legs around her hips Instinctively. Next thing you know you're in Angie and your shared bedroom, and Angie, still holding you, crawls onto the bed and lays you down underneath her.

Her grin grows. "Now I get 3 hours of fun with you before the tree lighting."

#angelique bouchard x reader

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stephanieromanoff · 6 days

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The Assassin and The Sunshine

Summary: You and Yelena were the most least-likely pair, or atleast that's what the avengers (Minus Natasha and Wanda) thought. So what happens when they see how the blonde acts when you get hurt

Warnings: Gunshots, medical stuff (minorly). Angry Yelena

----

Yelena Belova, with her steely gaze and lethal precision, was the epitome of intimidation among her peers. Her reputation as a formidable assassin preceded her, casting a shadow of fear wherever she went. With every calculated move and icy demeanor, she commanded respect and evoked a sense of unease among those around her. She was a force to be reckoned with, leaving a trail of apprehension in her wake.

And then there was you, Y/n Y/L/n. With a personality as bright as the sun and a heart as pure as gold, Y/n brought warmth and positivity to every situation. Her infectious laughter and unwavering kindness had a way of melting even the coldest of hearts, earning them the affectionate nickname of "the team's golden retriever."

Your gentle nature stood in stark contrast to Yelena's, and yet, somehow, the two of you had found a connection that defied explanation.

It wasn't easy, navigating a relationship with someone as closed-off as Yelena. She was slow to trust, and her walls were fortified with layers of steel. But you were patient, willing to chip away at those barriers bit by bit until you reached the heart of who she truly was.

The rest of the team couldn't understand it. They saw Yelena as an enigma, a formidable presence to be feared and respected. They couldn't fathom what you saw in her, why you would choose to be with someone so different from yourself.

"It's just... I don't get it," Tony remarked, glancing over at Yelena and you conversing in the corner of the room. "What's the deal with those two? Yelena's like a walking arsenal, and Y/n's... well, Y/n."

Steve nodded in agreement, his gaze following yours and Yelena's interaction. "I know what you mean, Tony. It's hard to imagine what they see in each other. They're like night and day."

Clint, who had been listening in on the conversation, chimed in with her own thoughts.

"Exactly! I still can't wrap my head around it," Clint admitted, scratching his head in confusion. "Yelena and Y/n... they're just so different from each other."

Bruce chuckled softly, glancing towards where you and Yelena were sitting. "Love is a strange thing, Clint. It's not always logical. Maybe Y/n sees something in Yelena that we don't."

Clint sighed, shaking his head. "I guess you're right. I just hope they know what they're doing."

It was a cold autumn day, and you found yourself on another mission alongside Natasha Tony, Steve, and Clint. The tension hung heavy in the air as the team moved with practiced precision through the dimly lit corridors of the enemy's stronghold.

The mission had been intense from the start, nearly dodging attacks at almost all turns, but as you ventured deeper into the heart of the HYDRA base, the atmosphere grew even more charged. Every step felt like a potential trap, every shadow a potential threat.

Suddenly, chaos erupted. Gunfire erupted from unseen assailants, and you found yourself instinctively stepping in front of Clint, shielding him from the onslaught. The impact was immediate, a searing pain lancing through your side as the bullets found their mark.

"Y/n!" Natasha's voice was a mix of alarm and concern as she rushed to your side, her expression tight with worry.

Clint knelt beside you, his hands hovering uncertainly over your injured form. "Y/n, are you okay?"

You managed a weak nod, gritting your teeth against the pain as Natasha and Tony quickly moved to assess your injuries.

"We need to get her out of here," Natasha declared, her voice firm as she glanced around the chaotic scene.

Steve's voice crackled over the comms. "Quinjet's on its way. Hold tight, we'll get you out of there."

As you were carefully lifted onto a stretcher, the team worked quickly to stabilize you. Despite the pain, you managed a weak smile, reassured by their presence.

"We've got you, Y/n," Tony said, his tone determined as he helped load you onto the Quinjet.

Clint squeezed your hand gently, his expression filled with worry. "Hang in there, okay? We'll get you patched up in no time."

You nodded weakly, feeling a surge of gratitude for your friends. As the Quinjet engines roared to life and the aircraft lifted off, you couldn't help but feel a sense of relief wash over you, knowing that even in the midst of danger, you had your closest friends by your side.

----

As the Quinjet touched down back at the base, the team wasted no time in transferring you to the medbay. Before Yelena could arrive, the medical team swiftly brought you into the operating room, shielding you from her sight.

Moments later, the door burst open again, and Yelena stormed in, her expression a mask of fury. Kate Bishop, who happened to be sparring with her when FRIDAY had informed Yelena of the news, was right beside her, offering silent support.

"Where is she?" Yelena demanded, her voice a dangerous growl, her eyes scanning the room for any sign of you.

Natasha stepped forward, her voice calm but firm. "Yelena, they've taken her into surgery. They're doing everything they can for her."

The blonde's tension only seemed to escalate at Natasha's words. "They better be taking care of her!" she barked, her tone sharp and threatening.

Tony and Steve exchanged uneasy glances as Yelena's fury filled the room. They shuffled awkwardly, intimidated by the practically burning blonde.

Yelena turned her rage on them, her eyes blazing with fury. "This is all your fault!" she accused, her voice cutting like a knife. "If anything happens to her, I'll make sure you all pay!"

Steve, ever the voice of reason, tried to reason with Yelena. "Yelena, we understand your concern, but right now our priority is getting her the help she needs."

Yelena's eyes flashed with fury. "Your priority should have been keeping her safe in the first place!" she shot back, her voice sharp with accusation, her Russian accent adding an extra edge to her words.

Tony, normally quick-witted, found himself at a loss for words in the face of Yelena's anger. "We did everything we could," he insisted, his tone defensive.

Clint, usually unflappable, shifted uncomfortably under Yelena's intense gaze. "Yelena, we're all worried about her. But yelling at us isn't going to help," he reasoned, trying to diffuse the tension.

But Yelena's rage was unyielding. "You think I care about your excuses?" she spat, her voice dripping with disdain. "All that matters to me is her. And if anything happens to her because of you…"

Natasha exchanged a knowing glance with Kate, silently acknowledging that it was time to intervene and calm Yelena down before her fury escalated further.

"Yelena," Natasha spoke softly but firmly, stepping closer to her friend, "I know you're scared. But yelling at them won't help Y/n."

Kate nodded in agreement, placing a gentle hand on Yelena's arm. "We're all worried about her," she added, her voice calm and reassuring. "But right now, we need to trust that Dr. Cho and Bruce knows what they're doing."

Yelena's anger seemed to waver for a moment as she looked between Natasha and Kate, her resolve beginning to soften.

Natasha continued, her voice gentle yet persuasive. "Y/n needs us to be strong for her right now. She needs you to be strong."

Kate nodded in agreement. "We're all in this together, Lena. We'll get through this, but we need to stay calm and focused."

Yelena's shoulders tensed, but gradually, the fire in her eyes began to dim as she took a deep breath, her anger giving way to concern for you. "I just want her to be okay," she admitted, her voice softer now, tinged with worry.

Natasha squeezed Yelena's hand reassuringly. "We all do," she said, her voice filled with empathy. "And Helen and Bruce will do everything we can to make sure she is."

As the tension in the room began to ease, Yelena nodded in silent agreement, her gaze lingering on the closed doors of the operating room where you lay.

Natasha gestured towards a nearby chair, silently inviting Yelena to sit beside her. Yelena hesitated for a moment before finally sinking into the seat, her body trembling with emotion.

Natasha wrapped an arm around her sister's shoulders, offering a comforting embrace. "It's going to be okay, Lena," she murmured, her voice soft and soothing.

Yelena leaned into Natasha's embrace, her walls crumbling as tears streamed down her cheeks. She buried her face against Natasha's shoulder, her sobs muffled against the fabric of her sister's uniform.

The other Avengers watched the scene unfold with a mixture of surprise and understanding, their eyes widening as they witnessed a side of Yelena they had never seen before.

Tony exchanged a glance with Steve, his eyebrows raised in disbelief. "Well, I'll be damned," he muttered under his breath, a hint of admiration in his voice.

"She's stable"

---

The steady beeping of the monitors filled the room as you blinked away the fog of anesthesia, your senses gradually coming back to you.

As your eyes fluttered open, you were met with the sight of Yelena sitting beside you, her expression soft and full of concern. "Hey," you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper as you reached out to her.

Yelena's eyes widened in surprise at the sight of you awake, but she quickly composed herself, a small smile tugging at the corners of her lips as she took your hand in hers. "Hey," she replied, her voice gentle and full of warmth.

Relief flooded through you as you squeezed her hand, grateful for her presence by your side. But, as you squeezed Yelena's hand, a wave of concern washed over you when you noticed the tears welling up in her eyes. "Lena, what's wrong?" you asked, your voice filled with worry as you reached out to gently cup her face with your hand.

Yelena's lower lip trembled slightly as she tried to compose herself, but the floodgates had opened, and tears began to trickle down her cheeks. "I was so scared," she admitted softly, her voice barely above a whisper. "I thought... I thought I might lose you."

You pulled her into a gentle embrace, holding her close as she cried softly against your chest, which hadn't be affected much, and was already fixing up thanks to Bruce's cell regenerator.

"Hey, it's okay. I'm right here," you whispered softly, pressing a kiss to her forehead.

Yelena leaned into your embrace, her tears gradually subsiding as she took comfort in your presence. "I was so scared," she admitted again, her voice trembling slightly.

You brushed a strand of hair away from her face, offering her a small smile. "I know, Lena. But I'm okay now. You're the one who's always saving me, even when you're not anywhere near me," you said sincerely, squeezing her hand reassuringly.

Yelena's lips twitched slightly, a hint of amusement flickering in her eyes. "Yeah, well, don't expect me to always save you," she teased lightly, a small chuckle escaping her lips, as she resorted to her usual coping method of humour.

You grinned, feeling a surge of affection for the woman in your arms. "Oh, come on, Lena. You love playing the hero," you teased right back, trying to lighten the mood.

A genuine smile spread across Yelena's face for the first time since you'd woken up. "I kinda do" she chuckled, shrugging nonchalantly, before the both of you started laughing.

But as the laughter faded, a heaviness settled in the air once again. Yelena's eyes clouded with sadness, the weight of the situation crashing down on her once more.

You reached out, cupping her face in your hands. "Hey, Lena. It's okay to be scared," you said softly, your voice filled with empathy. "But we're together now. And we'll get through this, I promise."

As the Avengers stood at the door, watching the unexpected tenderness between you and Yelena, they exchanged surprised glances.

Tony raised an eyebrow, his voice laced with disbelief. " The White widow is a softie after all, what would you know?"

Steve nodded in agreement, a small smile playing on his lips. "Seems like we all jumped to conclusions too quickly."

Bucky, who had been silently observing, chimed in. " I guess, they are perfect for each other hm"

Clint chuckled, shaking his head in amazement. "Never thought I'd see the day when Yelena Belova was making someone laugh."

As they listened to the laughter emanating from the room, as you and Yelena continue to make each other laugh, the Avengers couldn't help but feel a sense of admiration for the unexpected bond between you and Yelena. It was a reminder that sometimes, people were more than their tough exteriors.

#yelena belova x reader

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stephanieromanoff · 7 days

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I decided doing like a masterlist of fics from AO3 I like for myself, but thought maybe I should share it with y’all so here it goes.

POLLY GRAY X READER

Smut

Day 12 - bottom!reader

Office hours - bottom!reader

Fluff

A new addition part 2 - adoption

War wounds - getting shot

OTHER POLLY FICS

A small kindness - Ada looks after Polly (2.05)

#stephanie talks #fic recs #masterlist #polly gray

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stephanieromanoff · 8 days

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Put in the tags a piece of media that’ll never fail to make you cry.

#instant family

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stephanieromanoff · 8 days

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reblog and put in the tags your queer awakening (could be a person, movie, book, event, whatever).

#the one who actually made me question my sexuality was Natasha

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stephanieromanoff · 9 days

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˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆ FLUSHED CHEEKS ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

━━ ada’s brothers won’t believe her when she tells them that she’s dating a world famous fashion designer / model icon.

word count: 1328

pairing: fem!reader x ada shelby

warnings: none

The day you met Ada was the day that made the remainder of your life perfect.

You memorized clearly that you encountered her during one of your visits to London for a fashion exposition.

One of Ada's friends somehow managed to acquire two tickets for the exposition and invited Ada.

Within thirty minutes of arriving there, Ada had to go use the restroom.

When she entered the women's bathroom, she noticed you seated on the tile floor with a cigarette in your hand. Your head was leaned back against the wall, while your heels had been discarded beside you.

When you heard the door opening, you looked up to see Ada. At first, you assumed you were so high that you were dreaming of angels, but after having examined her clearly you realized that you weren't dreaming.

Ada had shifted uncomfortably as she was at the mercy of your cold stare, but momentarily realised that you were y/n y/n/n the world-known fashion designer and model.

When Ada ultimately came back to her senses, she was relatively surprised to see you there considering the fact that you were the main guest of the fashion exposition.

When she timidly questioned you about it, you just told her that you didn't particularly like these kinds of events and that you were inclined towards hiding in the restrooms if you had the chance.

Ada merely nodded, not knowing what to do as you resumed staring holes into her head before she took cover in a toilette stall.

After she had composed herself, she unlocked the door again to see that you still hadn't moved and walked over towards you.

She gestured for you to shift slightly to create a place for her to sit before sitting down beside you and turning to look at you.

“Are you alright, Miss. y/l/n?” She questioned you softly, as you studied her features quietly.

“Yes, of course I am Mrs.-?”

“Miss. Ada Shelby,” she finished for you with a sweet smile resulting in the corner of your lips turning upward.

“It's a pleasure to meet you, Miss. Ada Shelby,” you spoke while seizing her delicate hand in yours and pressing a soft kiss to it which made her blush.

The remainder of the evening was spent in the women's bathroom, with you divulging to her all about your life as a famous fashion designer and model while she told you narratives of her life in Birmingham.

Occasionally someone would come into the restroom, but they mainly disregarded the two of you, thinking of you as some drunk women who were up to no good.

When the evening was reaching its end, you recalled not wanting to part ways with Ada. Having spent these few hours with her made you happier than the previous months when you were constantly miserable.

So, you gave her your address and told her that she could visit you anytime she desired.

You knew it was foolish to give your address to a stranger, but you couldn't help yourself as you looked into her sparkling blue eyes that had now become your favorite color.

Currently, you were driving your car to Birmingham because Ada wished to introduce you to her family.

When Ada informed her siblings and aunt that she was dating a woman, they couldn't believe their ears.

Surprisingly, Tommy had been the first one to smile and congratulate her sincerely before threatening whoever dared to date his little sister.

The remainder of her family soon followed, and she found herself to be supported by her family members, which was a tremendous solace to her.

When John ultimately raised a question of who you were, she told them that she was dating y/n y/l/n the famous fashion designer and model.

Ada had felt extremely offended when Arthur and John burst out laughing while Polly was scolding them.

So, here she was dragging you from your manor all the way to Birmingham to prove that she was dating you. That you weren't some figment of her imagination. And of course to introduce you to her family.

“You alright?” You questioned her as you saw her fiddling with the necklace that you purchased for her on her birthday.

“What?” Ada twisted to look at you with a perplexed expression as you examined her features carefully.

“I asked whether you are alright,” you repeated before taking her hand in yours.

“Oh, yes. Just jitters I guess,” she replied with a kind smile on her face.

“If you say so,” you mumbled before leaning over to kiss, which made her giggle into the kiss.

The ride to Birmingham passed painfully slow, but around the evening you finally reached your girlfriend’s hometown.

You unlocked your car door before strolling around the car to open the passenger door, where Ada had been applying a fresh coat of red lipstick.

You put the keys to your car into your pocket before you pursued your girlfriend towards her aunt’s house, where her family had been waiting to meet you.

Ada knocked harshly on the door, resulting in you lingering for a few moments before it swung open to reveal a youthful boy who you believed to be Finn, Ada’s youngest brother.

Finn’s eyes broadened at the sight of you as he stood there staring at you with his mouth agape.

“Finn?” Ada’s voice seemingly revived Finn out of his daze, rendering him to straighten out before he offered you a nervous smile.

He entirely ignored his sister as he outstretched his hand for you to shake.

You complied but rather than shaking your hand, he kissed it softly, which made Ada roll her eyes at her brother.

“I’m Finn, you must be Miss. Y/l/n,” you nodded with an amused smile on your complexion, resulting in him blushing slightly.

“Oi, Finn! Are you gonna let the ladies in or not!” Arthur Shelby’s voice bellowed throughout the house, which made Finn widen the entrance before stepping out of the way to allow you two into the house.

Ada whacked the back of Finn’s head, which made him hiss at her before they lead you towards the living room where the remainder of Shelby’s were.

When you entered the room, you first noticed an older lady who you assumed to be Polly. The noblewoman had an exceptionally great taste in fashion if you had to be honest.

Polly made her way towards you before shaking your hand politely as she smiled at you.

“It’s nice to finally meet you, Y/n. Ada’s told me a lot about you,” she spoke, causing the others to come out of their previous astonishment that Ada was, in fact, dating you.

John and Arthur nearly dashed towards you before Arthur pushed John out of the way, much to your amusement.

“I’m Arthur Shelby,” he flirted while kissing your hand before John reappeared behind him and shoved him out of the way.

John let out a breath of air as he quickly restored his hair before also kissing your hand with a cheeky grin plastered on his face, which made Ada once again roll her eyes at her siblings.

“It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, Miss. Y/l/n. I’m Ada’s older brother, John.”

Polly scoffed at her nephews before shoving both of them away from you because they were nearly all over you.

Eventually, the last man, who you identified as Tommy, in the room approached you with confident strikes. His icy blue eyes boreholes into your skull as he halted in front of you.

“Y/n,” he said briefly.

“Thomas,” you copied as he eyed your figure narrowly.

“I prefer Tommy, but it’s good to finally meet you,” he nodded curtly, provoking the corners of your lips to turn upwards slightly.

“Pleasures all mine,” you responded before turning back to Ada, who looked willing to slaughter all of her brothers.

©cupidsheqrt , 2022.

#ada shelby x reader

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stephanieromanoff · 12 days

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Request : Could you (if you don’t mind) do a fic where the reader is a Shelby Sister (closest to Thomas) and is gay. I don’t mind whether it is a coming out fic or one where she has a crush on the same lady Tommy is getting close to. (And in the end that lady chooses the reader)

prompt : none

Warnings : swearing, smoking, mentions of homophobia

Authors note : Y/N and Tommy would be around 22 (Tommy turning 23) in this, Ada 16, John 18, Arthur 26 etc etc

if you like my work and want to read more regular updates, here’s the link to my chapters of “child’s play”, a peaky blinders Shelby!sister Fanfiction on my main

Fate had tossed Y/N right smack into the middle of the Shelby family…. Technically the middle, at least. She was older than Ada and Finn and John, but younger than Thomas and Arthur. It was an even number of children, but technically her and her brother John shared the roll of middle child. But she was about four years older than him, which made her closest in age to Tommy, as there was barely twelve months separating the pair. Ten, to be exact. While Thomas was born in January, Y/N was born in November. They were what was called catholic twins (or Irish twins, Dutch twins, Scottish twins… there was many words for it). Two siblings born less than twelve months of one another, and Thomas and Y/N Shelby were born ten months from one another both in the year 1890; which made them the same age for five months.

What a chaotic bunch that they were. Always enforcing mayhem all across the city and never behaving themselves. Y/N, was the most misfit of them all as it seemed most days, because she stuck out like a sore thumb no matter how hard she tried otherwise. She was always…. different, and her family always assumed she would grow out of it by the time she was a teenager. But no, when she was a teenager Y/N had come to terms with what exactly was wrong with her. Although she viewed it as natural, the entire law and world insisted it wasn’t.

When she was fifteen years old, she had befriended a girl her own age by the name of Nancy McClougden. Even today, Y/N’s heart fluttered at the recollection of the girl who she hadn’t seen in years. You see, the problem began when Y/N realized that if she were a boy, she would be all over Nancy and be trying to woo her to the best of her abilities, and the problem escalated when Y/N realized that she didn’t want to have to be a boy to kiss Nancy. That she would kiss Nancy any day, if she would ask her to. By then, it was clear to the eldest Shelby girl what she was, and it was clear to her that no one could ever know.

And with being so close (in both age and relationships) with her brother, Thomas, that proved to be difficult as growing up the two came in a pair and were inseparable. Not to mention the fact he was a nosy bastard who always had his hand in other people’s business when he shouldn’t have.

One night, later in the evening, when everyone was in the garrison celebrating the new year of 1913, a situation occurred and was one that Y/N personally believed wouldn’t ever happen. Moments after everyone had shouted ‘happy new years’ as the clock struck twelve AM on the first of January with the year now 1913, the party had truly began. Loud talking and drinking that was accompanied by what was almost even louder music that played on a gramophone someone brought in. Y/N found herself seated at the crowded bar line with a woman roughly around her own age that had introduced herself as Isla, and of course, Y/N wasn’t just talking but she was rather blatantly flirting with the red haired woman who giggled along to the Shelby woman’s words and played along. It was going well, to say the least. That was, up until Y/N gave a small jolt of surprise as an arm fell around her shoulder. “Hello, Thomas.” She greeted her brother, a slight roll of her eyes coming his way as she took a sip of her drink.

“Why, Y/N, aren’t you going to introduce me to this pretty lady?” Her brother urged to set him up with another young lady that probably, just like most, wouldn’t last long. She would be around for a few weeks at best, because it was safe to say every Shelby man had, in lack of better terms, commitment issues.

Smiling with tight lips up at her barely elder brother, Y/N glanced back to the woman sitting in front of her. “Tom, this is Isla. Isla, this is my brother, Thomas.” She briefly introduced the two in order not to simply brush her brother off and seem catty over nothing. “But all you get is an introduction, Tommy. Her and I were having a private conversation that doesn’t need dropping in on.”

Isla laughed slightly at that, her round and rouged cheeks turned up at the apples as she smiled. It caused Y/N’s heart to soar and flutter as if she was a little schoolgirl again. She had come to discover that unless serious, Isla was capable at making everything lighthearted in a positive way. It was a relief, in y/n’s opinion to be truthful as it was a rare thing to see in Small Heath.

Barely nodding his head, Tommy casually gestured for the current bartender to fetch him a drink before speaking again. Y/N sighed, knowing there was no getting rid of him now, as he would be stealing away yet another girl who was just out of her grasp. “Ah, well, what is it you were speaking about?”

“Didn’t I just say that—“

“Horses.” Isla interrupted, not on purpose, but her and Y/N began to speak in union and the Shelby girl gave up her words rather easily. As soon as the word horses was spoken, she could see her brother’s ears perk up. There definitely was no getting rid of him now. “Y/N here was telling me about horses…. Or I suppose I more so asked about them. I understand that you work with horses, Mr. Shelby.”

“I shovel shit at the stables located in my uncle’s scrapyard, if that’s what you refer to.” He joked, and Isla had giggled at him which caused Y/N’s eyes to roll to heavily she was sure that they would stay jammed in the back of her skull. “Now… what is a lady like yourself doing in a place like Small Heath, in a pub like this one, and asking about horses on New Year’s Day?”

“Nothing special, truly…. I suppose I thought celebrating the New Years in a new environment would be the best way to start off the new year. I’m here with my sister, you see…. But I lost track of her awhile ago, I’m sure I’ll mean her again sooner or later.” Her reply was rather simple. “Besides, if I didn’t have the need for adventure, I wouldn’t have met Y/N tonight.”

The Shelby girl smiled at this, pleased with the fact that she made so far a good impression with the lady. But soon Tommy smirked as he looked over Isla. “And where might you be from, Isla?”

“Balsall Heath. Not far from here.”

He gave her that charming Shelby smirk, and offered her his hand, and it was in that moment Y/N had realized her brother may have won this battle. “Well, Isla from Balsall Heath, how would you like a drink? On me, of course.”

As the night passes on, Y/N had watched as her brother flirted and attempted to woo over Isla. The only thing she could do is sit and pout at the bar. When Isla had been dancing and laughing with her brother for what Y/N counted as the third time, it wasn’t long before the young woman’s little sister approached her; the sixteen year old linking arms with the elder of the pair, and leaning into whisper. “Think you could get me a drink? Aunt Polly has be watching me like a bleeding hawk all evening, and I think it’s only fair that I get at least one hard drink. It is new years after all, Y/N/N.”

“No, you don’t need a drink.” Y/N dismissed her and her wanting of alcohol. “You’re not drinking tonight. Don’t you remember how you got at Christmas after a few drinks? We’re not having that replay.” She reminded her younger sister, who was to her junior about only four or five years. “Besides, I saw John slip you a few glasses of champagne anyhow. You’ve had your share.” She added with a grin, and Ada simply groaned in annoyance before watching her blue eyes sister’s gaze drift back to the woman their brother was dancing and evidently flirting with smoothly yet obviously. The bloody Shelby charm was a blessing yet a curse depending on what side you fell on.

Ada’s dark eyebrows creased at this, and she looked back towards her elder sister. “Is something the matter? You’re sitting here pouting and gazing longingly at that lady Tom’s with. He steal your friend away from you or somethin’?” Naturally Ada assumed they were friends as they arrived together and hadn’t parted until Tommy swooped in.

Y/N grumbled at that, taking a sip of her drink. “Something like that, I s’pose….” She mumbled in reply, every word coming out of her laced with bitterness of the situation. But what was Y/N meant to do? She couldn’t exactly have told her brother to piss off because she was smitten over Isla. She could only imagine his reaction. Tommy would blink at her dumbly for a few moments before disowning her ass right then and there. Y/N would rather have allowed him to steal Isla from her for the night than have that happen.

Half an hour after everyone left the tiny New Years party at the Garrison pub, hanging around the extra half hour in order to regain their own acknowledgement of the real world; Y/N found herself walking home with her brother that night, both hanging onto each other for dear life as they tried to find their way back home in one piece while drunk at one in the morning. This wasn’t new to the pair, but also was one of the most traumatic things they do together every so often. Isla had left with her sister around ten minutes before them, meaning neither Shelby was victorious of bringing her somewheres alone; but with how drunk everyone had gotten, it was for the best.

Trying to support one another’s weight while venturing home, tripping over one another and nearly yelling at each other while speaking. One must remember that this was 1913…. And Thomas Shelby wasn’t currently the Thomas Shelby that was the fierce leader of the notorious Birmingham street gang. The peaky blinders were formed, but during these early days, to most people they were just a bunch of school boys trying to be men and out dick whoever they came across. “Oi, get offa me fucking toes, ya fucking wanker.” Y/N hissed at her partner in crime when he trampled her feet whilst trying to walk.

“Fucking walk straight, and maybe we won’t run into each other.” He simply said. “I swear, the only thing you’re good for is introducing me to ladies…. Though, that Isla tonight seemed rather stuck up. Took a few free drinks and a few dances, and then went straight back to chatting with you before her sister came and collected her to go home.”

“Here’s an idea, brother, maybe she wasn’t in to you.” Y/N laughed, soon noticing they stumbled upon number six of watery lane, where both of the siblings were relieved to find one of them still had house keys on them so that they wouldn’t have to wake everyone up by banging on the door. Y/N would have felt most sorry for poor little Finn, as the five year only always got cranky when woken up loudly. “Can’t always steal every woman from me, can ya? I’m gonna win some every once in a while, you know.”

“Eh? The fuck do you mean?” Tommy turned his nose up to her absurd words, and Y/N blinked through her drunkenness and caught her own mistake.

“What do I mean by what?” Y/N naturally played dumb on it, soon shushing her brother loudly as he stumbled inside the house and crashed into the hallway table; making a loud thud noise. “Be quiet, for fucks sake, if we wake Finn Polly is going to have our asses!” She hissed at him.

Rubbing his shin where he had roughly bashed it against the table, Tommy momentarily grumbled beneath his breath before glancing back at his barely younger sister. “I know what you said. So what the fuck do you mean by it?” Tommy re-asked. “You a homosexual now or something?” He nearly laughed at that, finding his own words and joke absolutely hilarious in this moment of drunkenness.

“A homosexual? Of course not, Thomas. Don’t be absurd now.” She was quick to brush away his words. “But if you’re flirting with a woman, like fuck I’ll be her friend because as soon as you forget about them, that would make it far too awkward to have a friendship.” She lied easily through her teeth.

“‘M just saying, Y/N.” He shrugged at his sister. “If you were, I’m just gonna remind you that that shit is illegal. Be careful.”

And that was the last of that for the night, as both weren’t in the right minds to discuss such things. Y/N had gone up to her room not long afterwards, and her brother passed out on their aunt’s sofa. The only remaining siblings living in watery lane had been Finn, Ada, Y/N and Thomas. Even though Thomas was on the verge of moving away, but Y/N always stayed to assist with her two youngest siblings in order that Polly didn’t have the burden of them. The next morning hit Y/N’s head felt like a bloody train had crashed into it in the middle of the night and she felt like her entire body had been as well. This is why she only tended to get drunk on special occasions such as the New Years; she hated the aftermath of being so intoxicated. But at least she wasn’t the type to be bent over a toilet spewing up her guts all day.

After forcing herself out of bed, Y/N ventured downstairs into the oddly quiet home where there surprisingly wasn’t much talking other than a slight mutter coming in from the kitchen; where she could pin the voices to belong to her aunt and two elder brothers. Rubbing the sleep from her eyes, the chatting seemed to stop as she entered the kitchen. “G’morning, family.” She greeted before going straight to the cupboard where she knew her aunt kept teas and such, hoping that would help take away her booming headache.

“Good morning, Y/N.” Polly seemed to drawl her words whilst greeting her eldest niece, and her eyes shifted to her eldest nephews momentarily. “How’d you sleep?”

“Like a fuckin’ log.” Y/N replied, grabbing the still hot kettle in order to make her tea. “A log that got hit by two trains, because let me tell you, Aunt Pol, I have never felt worst in my entire life. This is the exact reason why I tend to be the sober one.”

“Well are you sober enough to answer a question?” Arthur had asked bluntly, and Polly could be heard hissing at him to shut up and be nice.

Turning back around to face the small portion of her family while sipping on her heavily sugared tea, Y/N’s dark eyebrow raised and she was soon to give a shrug of her shoulders. “I suppose so. It’s only a hangover, after all. I’m sure I’ve had worst, and if not I’m sure there’s worst to come.” Y/N said lightheartedly, as her hangovers always would hurt like a bitch but never lasted more than a few hours.

Then, out of nowhere before anyone else could utter a word, her eldest brother spoke again. “Are you a fucking homosexual?” This caused Y/N to snort into her drink out of surprise, and have a bit of it go up into her nose; causing her to sputter and cough.

“Arthur Shelby!” Their aunt hissed at him, and he simply held her hands up in defence for a brief moment.

Once Y/N had stopped sputtering and coughing over her tea that had just burnt her nostrils due to the fact she inhaled some, she quickly wiped her face with a dish towel before looking at her eldest brother in astonishment. “Pardon me?”

“You heard the question just fine based on that reaction.” Arthur gave a small roll of his eyes. “Tommy said—“

Immediately, she was set off like a firecracker; just like the ones that had been set off for the new years last night. “Tommy fucking said, eh?!” She hollered. “Tommy fucking said what exactly?!”

“Tommy said that when the pair of you two came stumbling home last you, you were yapping about something along the lines of not being eager to introduce every woman you meet to him because you’d like to win her over once in awhile.” Polly added in. “So, Y/N, it’s a yes or no answer. Which is it?”

Y/N scoffed defensively. “Oh yes, because if I was homosexual, I would just be jumping at the bit to say so and get my arse disowned and arrested.”

This time, Tommy’s eyebrow raised. “Who said shit about disowning?”

“How the fuck else is it supposed to go?! Are you fucking dense in the head, brother?” Y/N asked rhetorically with a snap in her voice. This was not how she wanted her hungover morning to be spent. There was a sacred time during a hangover where the said person was left alone and in peace, and so far Y/N was experiencing no peace of the sort. “If someone likes the same gender, it is frowned upon. Might not be something they can necessarily change about themselves and it’s still frowned upon. Do you know why? Because it’s fucking unnatural. It’s always been unnatural and the moment I were to say, yes I like women more then men, then I would be fucked.”

Throwing his hands up in exasperation, Arthur spoke, “Jesus fucking Christ, Y/N, we don’t give a fuck what gender you like!” He spoke with irritation seeping from his gruff voice. “It was just a bleedin’ question out of curiosity!”

When she noticed Arthur’s irritation over the simple fact she was making a scene about it, as well as Polly’s growing smirk that she attempted to hide with her blue and white tea cup as she took a sip of the drink, plus Tommy’s unbothered stature as he leaned against the back cabinet whilst smoking a partially smoked cigarette, Y/N’s mouth snapped shut as she was just left blinking at the three family members. “Repeat that?” She asked.

“Look, is it unnatural? Sure it is. Aint exactly the most common thing in the world… You could get in real shit for it.” Tommy spoke up, shrugging his shoulders. “But you’re of fucking sister, Y/N. You were our sister yesterday, the day before that. Last month. Last year. You’re out fucking sister, and that isn’t about to change because of somethin’ like this. Ya hear me?”

Y/N ran up to her brother and hugged him incredibly tight at that. Probably in a tighter embrace than she had ever put someone in before. Tommy could only chuckle a bit and hug her back. “So that all it took, eh?” Y/N asked the room while pulling away from her elder brother, standing beside him with his arm over her shoulders, wiping tears from her eyes before they even had the chance to fall. “Just one slip of words while I was drunk?”

Polly gave an amused sigh of laughter before going back to reading the newsprint she had in front of her. “Oh no, dear, we’ve been suspecting things ever since Nancy McClougden.”

TAGLIST:

@bdudette

#shelby sister

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stephanieromanoff · 20 days

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A Taste for Something Younger - Polly Grey Headcannon

Omg I love the Ada roommate headcanon! Could you do the same for Polly? Maybe with a woman a little older/same age as Ada (because we accept age gaps in this household) and her and Polly actually get together in the end? I’d die for that ( @vikingsxf )

this idea gave me a big gay hard on and honestly I’m so glad you had it; Polly doesn’t get enough love. Ive gone for a younger (Ada age) reader because we definitely support a healthy age gap relationship and i just want to pretend its me who's with polly so. ALSO THIS IS A BIT SMUTTY JUST A LITTLE BIT BUT JUST A WARNING OKAY BABES

Continuar lendo

#polly gray x reader

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stephanieromanoff · 20 days

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Hello! You asked for Polly Gray requests so here you go!

What if the reader is a criminal on the run and when she tries to escape from the police, Polly shows up and helps her. The reader immediately falls in love with Polly, but is too stunned, and everything happens so fast that she forgets to ask Polly's name before leaving, so she tries to find her the next day.

LIKE A GHOST DANCING IN SHADOW

pairing: polly gray x fem!reader

word count: 1870

notes and warnings: i’d just like to point out that i have no idea how train boarding works because im american and have never been on a train in my life <3 also this is not proofread im too lazy

“I’m not separating with 40 fucking percent of the company,” you said firmly. You attempted to look as resilient as you could, but nothing seemed to break the sureness of the stoic figure before you.

You had come to the Peaky Blinders in need of an alliance – the police were looking for you after a deal had gone wrong with your own business at the races, and you knew that the people coming after you were in Thomas Shelby’s pockets. Your only means of escape was to partner with the Peaky Blinders, and if you didn’t, it would be more than a percentage of your company on the line.

Even so, you weren’t quite willing to part with your business all the same, especially since the Shelbys had so much fucking money already. You would merely be adding to their pile of riches while rotting away, starting over in hiding.

You vaguely registered hearing a clatter at the front of the betting shop — you didn’t bother to think anything of it, for to redirect your attention would be to distract yourself from your resolve.

Tommy’s gaze briefly flickered from you to the closed door of his office, but in the end he dismissed the clamor as well, turning back to you. “Well, if you—”

The door to his office slammed open. A boy of no more than six or eight years old stood in the doorway, his breathing labored and frantic. Finn, you thought, was his name. “Tommy! They’re here!”

“Who’s here?”

“The search party,” he answered quietly.

Your nerves turned to ice. They had found you, and if you didn’t play your cards right, you would be dead by morning.

Tommy looked at you as if he’d won. “40 percent, or I’ll have no reason not to tell the search team you broke into my establishment.”

“Your fucking illegal establishment, you mean?” You half-shouted, but then you remembered once more that the police were paid off, and it didn’t matter one way or another. “Fuck! Fine, 40 percent is yours.”

It was as if you had pulled some sort of trigger, for after that everything happened astonishingly quickly.

Tommy urged you to a back door of the shop. “I have someone that can keep you in hiding for the night. One night. There’s a train that leaves at 5am tomorrow, and you’re going to be on it. Understood?”

Frantically you nodded.

“Finn!” Tommy shouted, “take her.”

The young boy led you out of the shop, pulling you into the streets of Small Heath. As you chased him you were reminded of how horrendous your cardiovascular health was, and if you hadn’t been running for your life, you would’ve given up and laid down in the middle of the street just for a break.

Abruptly the boy stopped, opening the door to a car and shoving you into it. He was remarkably strong for his age, you thought.

Finn sprinted away, running into a small shop on the corner of the street. You contemplated chasing him, but you desperately needed to catch your breath, and you didn’t want to fuck things up any more than you already had.

After a moment you saw him return, and behind him followed a woman in a black dress, her unruly dark hair loose and splayed across her back and shoulders. Her black hat hid her features as she walked so that you could only catch quick glimpses of her features, but every time such a moment came you felt your breath catch ever so slightly. Her energy portrayed a sort of dark femininity, from the way she walked so full of dignity through the dusty, smoke-filled streets to the way the crowds of bustling citizens seemed to part for her so naturally.

In a matter of moments Finn had returned to the car with the woman close behind him. The woman said something to the young boy and he sprinted away.

She watched him for a moment before turning to the car. The woman opened the door on the driver’s side, and upon seeing you she sighed.

You were finally able to take in her full appearance, but as soon as you looked at her you looked away, for though you never wanted to take your eyes off of her, you couldn’t bear her knowing the effect she already had on you.

“I hear we’re getting 40 percent of the company,” the woman said dryly, and you could sense the slight pride-filled humor lacing her words.

“Yes, if you can prevent me from getting shot,” you grumbled.

“I suspect I can manage that. It’ll be rather simple compared to what I put up with from the boys.”

“You’re the aunt, then?”

A bit of a smirk teased her lips, and then you realized you shouldn’t really be looking at her lips in the first place, so you redirected your gaze to the road. The woman wordlessly started the car, and though you could only see her in your peripherals as you continued through the streets, not a single moment passed in which you couldn’t feel the strength of her presence beside you.

—

She shut the door behind you, moving quickly after to shut all of the drapes. “You’ll need to stay inside,” the woman instructed, taking off her hat and the black coat that matched her dress, “and no looking through the windows. If anyone comes for whatever reason, you need to hide, and if you get caught I’m not covering for you.”

“Aw, you’re that fond of me?” you said sarcastically, and she gave you a pointed look. “What about your husband, what are you going to tell him?”

She scoffed. “Don’t worry about that.”

“Oh,” you said knowingly, nodding with a small smile.

“Quit looking at me like that.”

“Like what?”

She disappeared into the kitchen, and you heard the profanities she muttered under her breath.

A while passed before she came back, and you were mildly surprised that she was empty-handed apart from two glasses and a bottle of whiskey, and you vaguely suspected that she had gone into the kitchen just to be relieved of you.

You had turned on the radio, and blues leaked lazily into the living room, creating an ambience of slight nostalgia when combined with the subdued light of the lamps around you and the sharp taste of the whiskey the woman had handed you.

You knew she was staring at you from her seat on the sofa across the coffee table, her kohl-lined eyes searing into you, but you were in no mood for questions regarding your situation or for her sharp-witted inadvertent insults, so you continued to eye the whiskey in your hands.

“Have you ever had your palm read?” she asked suddenly.

You sighed, groaning. “Fuck, I’m not going to pay you to tell me lies about myself.”

“I don’t want your money,” she snapped, “you don’t have any, anyway… and my readings are fucking accurate.”

You rolled your eyes.

“Give me your hand.”

You considered her for a moment, and when you met her gaze you knew there was no way out of this than to give her your hand, so you set your whiskey down on the table and extended your right arm.

“Give me the left hand.”

“Palm readers usually use the right.”

“I know.”

You were beginning to lose your patience, but you obliged, giving her your left hand. “Why the left?”

“The right hand represents who you are to the world. It represents your current self, the current finished product and facade. But the left shows your development, what you’ve undergone and who it’s made you to be… I want to know who you really are.”

She took your hand, and at her touch your breath caught ever so slightly. The woman did not react, but somehow you knew she had noticed, and it tortured you in the best way.

After a few minutes of subtle torture and feeling like you had been thrown into a fire, she suddenly pulled away, picking up her whiskey and leaning back against the sofa.

You waited – but then you realized she had no intention of speaking. “Aren’t you going to tell me what you’ve learned about me?”

“No. Wouldn’t want to tell you any lies, remember?”

You shook your head, smirking. “I can’t stand your family, you clever asses.”

At this, the woman chuckled, and it was the first time you’d seen her smile.

You wouldn’t admit to yourself that you wanted to see it again.

—

The morning came faster than you would’ve liked, and upon waking you discovered that you were also a lot more hungover than you would’ve liked, and that couches could actually be quite uncomfortable to sleep on without a decent pillow.

The two of you drove to the train station in silence, equally as fucked up but neither really wanting to admit it.

You desperately wanted to leave Small Heath, but you were a bit irritable considering you would be parting with so much of your business, and that you had absolutely no idea where you would go once the train arrived and you were forced off. You could figure it out, without a doubt, for you had to, but that didn’t give you much solace as the woman beside you stopped the car to let you out.

The goodbye you shared was less than heartwarming. Neither of you quite knew what to say, so you made it as impersonal as you could, but you could feel her watching you as you entered the train station, like a ghost dancing in the obscured figures of your shadow.

The wait for the train was rather short, considering how early you were leaving, and in a daze you boarded. As you sat waiting for the rest of the passengers to find their seats, your mind wandered back to the day before. It wandered back to the 40 percent of the company you were losing, to the way Finn had raced through the streets of Small Heath to lead you to–

To lead you to…

You had no idea what her name was. You knew she had told you, at least you thought so, but every time you searched your mind you went blank.

“Fuck,” you muttered – there would be no way to contact her or find her again without her name.

The train was almost boarded. It was now or never, it was the moment of a thousand possibilities, the only chance you had to decide the faraway future.

—

A knock at the door startled her.

Polly grabbed the gun from the drawer of the decorative table in the hall, peeking out the windows before sighing and tossing the gun lazily onto the sofa.

She opened the door and there you were, having parked a stolen cab in her driveway.

“Is everything alright? Hasn’t the train left by now?” Polly asked, glancing around you to see if there was anyone watching.

“Everything’s fine,” you assured her. “I just realized you never told me your name.”

She shook her head in feigned irritation. “Oh, for fucks sake,” she said, as she opened the door to let you inside.

———

Taglist: @cartoonpeoples @thedeconstructionist @cordeliass @paulsonsratched @goodeday2u @traumatisedfangirl @mayfair-fleur

#polly gray x reader

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stephanieromanoff · 20 days

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The Peaky Blinders princess

Prompt: you are the Apple of Polly’s eye, besides her family and the business you are absolutely everything to her. Being the youngest peaky blinder standing at age 23 your the little princess to polly and her family, but know you might have your own princess.

Being apart of the peaky blinders had it ups and downs you always had to worry about people trying to kill you and your family. The only part you love is the women that makes your world turn the none other than Polly Gray, she is the best thing in your life she makes you feel special and spoiled.

Polly would make sure nobody fucked with you even if it was someone in the family, she most certainly doesn’t like Tommy and Arthur bother anymore, they would always make fun of you for being with Polly because she was 42 and you were 22 but you didn’t care you love her and she loves you that’s all that matters, you and polly got Married after dating for 2 years, she asked and obviously you said yes.

The family meetings were the worst because you had to wake up early and be there in time to get all the information about what’s going on, right now your siting next to Ada and polly listing to Thomas going on about something that happened and how they needed to handle it, you felt a hand grabs yours and looked to your left where your wife was sitting handing your hold

“You okay princess, you look lost in thought” she asked

“Yes Pol I’m okay I’m just not feeling good, I feel really nauseous” you told her truthfully

“Do you want to go home I’m sure it’s not more important than your health” she said caressing the side of your face

“Polly I think that it’s you know what” you looked into her eyes

“Isn’t it to early to know, we need to go” she said worried and panicking a bit

“Polly no you stay here this is important”you said kissing her hand that held yours and standing up

“Thomas we need to go” she said to hand pulling me out of the house

“Why didn’t you stay” you said holding her hand as she dragged you to your car

“Because princess this is more important to me” she said as you both got in the car

You wanted to protest but you knew it wasn’t any good as she won’t listen, your wife is the most stubborn person you have ever met in your entire life but you still love her so it didn’t matter. You had made it home and you get out of the car as you follow polly to your door as she opens it, you both get in and take off your shoes and coats and run to the bathroom.

“Alright I’ll be back with the test” she told you as she left the bathroom

You hadn’t told the family that you and polly had been trying for a baby for a reason because you didn’t want them to take you both out of the business until you had the baby if anything you just wanted them to take you out because the family business is important to Polly you didn’t want her to leave for 9 months.

She comes back with the test and hands it to you “here princess take it, do you want me to stay or wait outside?”

“Stay please” you asked her as you pull up your skirt

“Alright princess I’ll be right here” she said as she sat on the tub and waited

After you peed on the stick you waited and bounced your leg up and down nervously, polly grabbed your hand and kissed it and held it to her lap as you both waited.

“Should we look now” you asked polly

“Yes princess, let’s look” she said still holding your hand and pulled you up to the sink counter and took the stick

You wanted to Polly to look because you were to scared that if you weren’t pregnant that polly would be upset because she really wanted an another kid to watch grow as she didn’t for her son and her daughter had passed away, so you knew how important this was to her. She flipped it over, and smiled so much

“YOUR PREGNANT” she yelled happily grabbing you to pick you up as you wrap your legs to her waist, and she kissed you with so much love and passion

She was kissing you still as she let you down and held you close to her, before she went to her knees and lifted your shirt and kisses your stomach as you giggle.

“Pol that tickles” you say giggle as she leaves little butterfly kisses on your stomach, you pushed your fingers through her hair and looked at you smiling continuing

After awhile she stood up and held your waist as you leaned forward and laid on her chest, she kisses your head and held you tighter.

“Can we go to bed now I’m tired” you say against her chest

“Of course we can princess” she says before kissing your head again before you both walked into your bedroom

You both get changed into your sleepwear and laid down, you laid your head on Polly’s chest as she rubs your back and leaves kisses on your head once in a while

“I hope that if we have a daughter I’m still your princess” you say against her chest

“You will always be my princess because your the Fucking Peaky Blinders princess” she says against your hair

“Good night Pol, I love you so much thank you for wanting a family with me” you say tiredly

“Good night princess, I love you too and thank you for giving me the opportunity to have a family with you” she says to you

And after that you fell asleep to Polly rubbing your back and kissing your head.

#polly gray x reader

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stephanieromanoff · 22 days

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Detecting Love

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x fem!reader

Summary: A person with the power to detect lies meets the spy who has been trained to lie her entire life.

Warnings: fluff, light angst

Words: 6169

You have the power to detect lies.

Now, it’s not exactly strong enough to be a hero, but you can honestly say that it has been useful in your life.

Sure, it gets annoying at times, but one of the many lessons you’ve learned is to ignore minor instances of dishonesty — white lies or small things like that — since it helps reduce unnecessary confusion or chaos with others.

People lie. That is an undeniable fact of life.

And while one may believe that being able to detect such things is great, the truth is there are times when you find yourself resenting your power.

Because, of course, everyone experiences moments when they wish that someone important to them isn't lying.

Like when your fiancée tells you she loves you.

There wasn’t really a malicious reason behind why a usually affectionate statement suddenly became so hurtful.

There was no cheating.

There was no fighting.

It was just another one of the many lessons you’ve learned in life.

That sometimes…a truth can also become a lie.

It’s just unfortunate that this lesson happened to you in such a way.

These kinds of moments make you wonder if maybe it’s better that people shouldn’t always know when someone is lying to them.

Then they don’t end up alone, drinking at a bar late into the night, trying to numb the pain of a broken heart.

You let out a heavy sigh as you stare at the pair of rings resting on the bar top, remembering the conversation that ended with one of them being returned to you.

It was a heart-wrenching discussion where your fiancée confessed her steadily changed feelings for you, leading to the resolution to remain friends.

And while neither of you is completely at fault for why things ended, you can’t help but blame your stupid power for putting you in the situation in the first place.

You sigh heavily once more before swiftly downing the glass the bartender had set in front of you.

At least your current attempt to drown your sorrow is going well, judging by how the rings start to blur in your vision.

With a sad sigh, you reach for the rings to put them away, but in your clumsy state, one slips from your grasp and tumbles to the floor.

Just as you move to retrieve it, a hand beats you to it.

Looking up, you find a red-haired stranger standing before you, offering the ring to you with a charming smile.

She looks familiar but the drunken haze in your brain makes it hard for you to remember where you’ve seen her before.

“Here, you dropped this,” she says, her voice low and smooth.

She’s beautiful and her voice sounds perfect. You think to yourself as you take the ring from her.

She chuckles lightly, “Thanks.”

Oh, did you say that out loud? You must be more drunk than you thought.

The woman offers her hand to you in greeting, and with a confident smirk, she introduces herself.

“My name’s Natalie. Natalie Rushman.”

Immediately, a red aura surrounds her, causing you to roll your eyes and return your attention back to the bar.

“Liar,” you mutter tiredly as you gesture to the bartender to close your tab, not really in the mood to deal with any more lies tonight.

At the corner of your eyes, you see the stranger give you a slightly impressed look.

Ready to leave, you stand up quickly from your seat.

However, the action makes the room suddenly spin in your vision, causing you to stagger backward.

A hand steadies you, resting gently on your back, and you unconsciously lean back against her surprisingly strong frame for support.

There’s a soft chuckle near your ear, sending a shiver down your spine.

“Let me try again,” she whispers smoothly, guiding you upright and turning you around to face her.

Offering her hand once more, she reintroduces herself.

“My name’s Natasha Romanoff. I’m here to recruit you to work for the Avengers.”

You blink slowly, trying to comprehend her words through your drunken haze. You wonder if the alcohol is affecting you more than you thought when no red aura appears this time at her words.

Chuckling to yourself, you shake your head in disbelief, unfortunately worsening the pounding in your skull.

Work for the Avengers? That has to be a lie.

Before you can think about it any further, you feel yourself falling once more, unable to remain upright.

Strong arms catch you, and as your consciousness fades, you see a blurry glimpse of her striking green eyes before succumbing to darkness.

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

You wake to the pounding in your head and the bright sunlight streaming through your window. Turning away, you groan into your pillow, remembering that your fiancée – your ex-fiancée – would typically close the curtains before leaving for work.

Now that she’s gone, you’re going to have to adjust to living alone once again.

A cup being placed on the nightstand startles you into sitting up, as you turn in surprise to find the beautiful red-haired stranger beside your bed.

“For your headache,” she explains, placing some medicine next to the cup.

Your mouth hangs open as you struggle to remember the events of last night, some of which are honestly a blur.

You examine yourself, checking your clothes and finding them unchanged from the previous night, and then you scan your surroundings again and realize in relief that nothing was out of place.

Well, except for the presence of this stranger in your home, who’s patiently waiting for you to gather yourself.

Searching through your drunken memories, you think you vaguely remember meeting her last night. She had mentioned her name was — Nata…?

“Natalie?” you ask with uncertainty.

At her raised brow, you quickly apologize, feeling bad for not remembering correctly.

“I’m sorry, I can’t seem to remember, but did we…did something happen between us last night?” you ask hesitantly.

Her face twists in genuine sadness and disappointment, causing a panic to run through you as you struggle to recall what could’ve possibly happened between the two of you for her to have such an expression.

“I’m hurt,” she finally says, placing a hand on her chest, “And after you even said that it was the best night of your life.”

Seeing the familiar red aura appear around her at her words, you let out a brief sigh of relief before realization sets in, and you give her a hard glare.

“You’re lying.”

Her hurt expression quickly morphs into an impressed look, and you are slightly startled at how effortlessly she was able to shift her emotions.

The woman straightens her posture and crosses her arms, adopting a commanding stance that seems more likely her typical demeanor.

“So it’s not just luck,” she remarks, studying you curiously.

At her words, you quickly rise from your bed in confusion.

However, the action causes you to wince in pain at the pounding in your head.

Shutting your eyes tightly, you hold your head in comfort and lean lightly on the nightstand for support.

As you do, your hand brushes against yesterday’s newspaper that you had been reading moments before your ex said those fateful three words that led to the heartbreaking conversation between the two of you.

When the pain subsides, you slowly open your eyes, catching a glimpse of the front page before doing a double take.

The front features an article about the opening of the new Avenger Compound, including a photo capturing the Avenger members posed in front of the completed building.

What catches you off guard is the uncanny resemblance between one of the Avengers in the picture and the woman standing before you.

Pointing at her in disbelief, you stammer.

“You’re…,” then, gesturing at the newspaper, you continue, “…her?”

She doesn’t respond to your question but instead nods toward your other room, inviting you to follow.

“Let’s talk,” she says, heading toward your door, then gestures at the medicine on your nightstand. “But drink those first.”

After freshening up in your bathroom, you take a moment to stare at your reflection in the mirror, noticing the remnants of last night’s tears in your slightly puffy, red eyes.

Sighing, you brush away the depressing thoughts of your failed relationship before taking the medicine and exiting your room.

You are greeted by the sight of your unexpected guest comfortably seated at your kitchen counter, flipping through a magazine with casual disinterest.

“You’re Black Widow,” you say confidently this time, positioning yourself on the opposite side of her.

She closes the magazine with a snap, placing it on the table before clasping her hands atop of it and meeting your gaze.

“It’s actually Natasha,” she corrects you, before nodding at you. “And you’re Y/n L/n.”

“How did you…?”

She holds up a wedding invitation draft, displaying you and your fiancée’s names printed in fine lettering.

Realizing that she must have been snooping around your things, you give her a disapproving glare, snatching the card from her hand and hastily stuffing it into a drawer.

Feeling a mixture of emotions—irritated, sad, hungover—you turn to the fridge, deciding to make breakfast to give yourself some focus.

After you retrieve the eggs and other ingredients, you heat the stove before glancing at Natasha briefly, asking, “So, what does an Avenger want from me?”

Out of the corner of your eye, you see her resting her head against her hand, watching you with interest.

“I told you yesterday,” she replies.

You roll your eyes, giving her a deadpan look, knowing she’s aware that you don’t remember.

“Remind me again.”

Natasha gives you an amused smirk, straightening up in her seat.

“Alright, I’m here to recruit you, more specifically for a sort of managerial position at the new Avenger Compound.”

Furrowing your brows, you question, “Why me? I don't have experience with that sort of thing.”

“But you can tell when someone is lying, can’t you?”

Pausing briefly in your cooking, you contemplate her words and its possible implications. Not many people know about your ability, and you don’t think you did anything to reveal it to the spy who’s currently staring expectantly at you.

So, in response, you shrug, replying as casually as possible.

“I guess you could say I’m good at reading people…psychology degree and all.”

A silence ensues, broken only by the sizzling of your cooking, until Natasha finally nods, seemingly accepting your explanation.

You breathe a silent sigh of relief, returning your attention to your current task.

But then she pulls out a folder filled with documents and places it on the counter, causing your nerves to rise again.

“Well, you’ve helped solve hundreds of cases with your interviews of the suspects,” she remarks casually, flipping through the folder before glancing up at you through her lashes.

“100% accuracy rate in the information that you provided to the detectives,” she continues, nodding at you in acknowledgment. “For a part-time profiler, that’s impressive.”

“Thanks,” you respond with a polite smile, but beneath the surface, a hint of suspicion creeps in as you begin plating the meal you made.

Natasha closes the folder with a definitive snap, making you look at her.

“You could say it’s almost impossible,” she muses, before a confident smirk forms on her face, and she tilts her head at you with a raised brow in challenge.

“Unless there’s some way you can guarantee that they’re telling the truth.”

Honestly, you should’ve known better than to think that the experienced spy hadn’t already completed thorough research and investigations into you and your powers before meeting with you.

If anything, this was likely just a test for her to confirm what she already knows about your abilities.

Sliding a plate across the counter to Natasha with a pointed glare, you relent, deciding there’s no point in denying it anymore.

“Fine, what do you know?”

Instead of responding, Natasha’s gaze lingers on the plate before her, a hint of confusion in her expression.

Her plate holds a fluffy omelette accompanied by a side of crispy bacon and a slice of golden-brown toasted bread.

As she glances back up at you with a questioning look in her eyes, you take a seat across from her, setting down a similar plate in front of you before also placing a stack of fluffy pancakes at the center.

“What’s this?” she asks, gesturing to the meal.

“Breakfast,” you reply bluntly, taking a bite from your plate.

Natasha raises a brow at you, remarking plainly, “It’s noon.”

“Brunch then,” you correct with a roll of your eyes.

Natasha's lips quirk up in amusement, and she shakes her head.

“Thanks, but I’ve already eaten.”

The red aura appears around her, and with your mouth full of food, you give her a pointed glare.

“Right,” Natasha says in realization, remembering what you can do. She pulls the plate closer to her with a soft thanks.

The atmosphere that followed was unusual but surprisingly not awkward. Despite being practically strangers, you find yourself slightly comforted by Natasha’s presence.

If she wasn’t here, you probably wouldn’t have dragged yourself out of bed today after what happened yesterday.

After a moment of eating, Natasha breaks the silence.

“So, how can you tell when someone’s lying?”

Pausing to contemplate your answer, you wipe your mouth with a napkin before responding.

“Well, when someone lies, there’s always this rush of chemicals that happens in their bodies,” you explain. “It ends up causing the typical indicators — things like fidgeting, sweating, or tone changes in their voice.”

“I didn’t do any of that, yet you still knew I was lying,” Natasha points out.

“No, you're right,” you admit, nodding. “You’re a perfect liar.”

From what you have seen so far, every expression and comment of hers appears genuine and honest, and if it was anyone else, they’d probably believe anything she says.

However, thanks to your ability, you know better.

Gesturing at her, you clarify, “You still give off the same chemical reactions though, and I have the ability to see that.”

Natasha leans back in her seat, crossing her arms as she processes your explanation.

“It’s mainly visual then,” she concludes before asking curiously. “You don’t even need to hear what they said to know that they’re lying?”

You nod, ruefully adding, “Yep, my world’s just filled with people glowing red at random.”

“And how long does this ‘glow’ stay around them?”

“Depends,” you reply with a shrug. “Usually not long, maybe a few seconds.”

Natasha hums in interest, tapping her chin, her brows pinching lightly in thought.

You can’t help but smile amusedly at the sight.

For a person who has such an intimidating reputation, the spy in front of you right now looks kind of cute rather than scary.

After a moment, you break the silence this time.

“So, what’s the job?”

Natasha’s eyes focus back on you at your question.

“Nothing too complicated,” she assures. “You’ll be in charge of interviewing the new employee candidates and conducting continuous reviews of the current ones.”

“You mean like screening them?” you ask, tilting your head in confusion, already aware of the rigorous and difficult process required to work at the Avengers buildings.

“Don’t you guys already do extensive background checks before hiring people? Why do you suddenly need me?”

At your question, a charming smile appears on her face, effortlessly shifting her expression like before, though now you understand she’s just hiding her true feelings about the situation.

“That’s confidential.”

You scoff in disbelief and cross your arms.

“You do know that just makes it harder to trust you, right?”

Natasha mirrors your posture, her pretty grin still in place, masking any other emotions.

“Fair point,” she admits. “But to be honest, you should never put your trust in people like me anyway.”

“People like you?”

“Spies,” Natasha clarifies as she begins to gather her empty plate and utensils. “Which is one of the types of people you’d be looking out for in this position. Their deception skills would be on a similar level to mine.”

You chuckle at that, causing Natasha to pause in her actions, raising a brow at you in question.

“Sorry, but everyone lies, whether you’re a spy or not,” you tell her, standing and taking the empty plate from her with a small smirk. “You’re just slightly better at it.”

A tiny offended look slips through Natasha’s expression at your little jab, her brow furrowing for a brief second.

Your grin widens at the sight of seeing a glimpse of her real self as you turn to place the dirty dishes in the sink.

Natasha quickly regains her composure, moving around the counter to lean back against the table next to you.

“In any case, the decision is still yours. I’ve already confirmed your abilities. It’s up to you to decide if you want to accept.”

At her words, you pause to consider your options.

A new job working with the Avengers is a great opportunity, but it would be a significant change in your life.

Then again, you’re already facing a huge change.

Your eyes unconsciously drift to the drawer next to where Natasha is leaning, where the wedding invitation draft remains, and your face twists in sadness at the memory.

You guess it wouldn’t hurt to add a career change alongside your new relationship status.

At least this way you can still earn a salary while also distracting yourself from the depressing thoughts of your failed engagement.

“Okay,” you decide, meeting Natasha’s gaze with a sigh, “I’ll take the job.”

“Great, I knew you would be agreeable,” Natasha remarks, extending her hand to you.

A red aura appears around her, causing you to huff and roll your eyes.

You take her hand in yours, giving her a tiny glare.

“Liar.”

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

“I don’t remember agreeing to this.”

You say that as you dodge another swing from Natasha, ducking under her arm to get behind her, only for her to twist her body around and deliver a kick that you narrowly block with your arms.

Still, the impact has you stumbling back.

“Really?” Natasha asks with an innocent tone as she circles you. “I thought I mentioned to you that training was a part of your employment.”

A red aura begins to appear around her, but you don’t have time to comment before she swings her leg at you again.

You catch it against your side with a small grunt of pain.

Having been a profiler for criminal cases before, you do have basic defense training, and you always believed that you could hold your own against most aggressors.

At least you used to.

This current fight is making you reconsider your skills.

With her off-balance position, you attempt to throw her to the ground, but Natasha swiftly regains her footing, catching herself on her hands and executing a fluid movement to flip upright. She then bends low, sweeping your legs out from under you.

You land on the mat with a groan, feeling the impact reverberate through your body. Another pained breath escapes you as Natasha expertly pins you down.

You catch the faint red aura fading from her before throwing your head back against the mat with an exhausted sigh.

“You’re such a liar,” you breathe out, your voice tinged with both exhaustion and playful accusation. Closing your eyes, you take a moment to catch your breath.

Natasha's laughter fills the air, resonating above you, her amusement infectious and drawing a small grin from you. You peek open your eyes, watching as she disengages from atop you and heads over to her water bottle at the side.

“I’m a spy. It comes with the job,” she says casually, taking a sip.

“Okay, and I’m basically just HR,” you counter, pulling yourself upright into a sitting position. “So how does combat training fit into that?”

Natasha gestures towards you with a sweep of her hand.

“You need to be prepared to defend yourself if you ever expose someone dangerous and find yourself without backup,” she explains.

“That’s unlikely considering I haven’t even encountered anyone suspicious since I started,” you remark with a sigh.

It's been a month already, and you're starting to question if your presence here is even necessary.

Before you can dwell further on your thoughts, the cold touch of a metal water bottle against your cheek startles you.

Recoiling, you look up to see Natasha holding it out to you.

Raising a brow, Natasha waves the bottle lightly in offer.

You snatch the bottle from her with a tiny glare, but she only smirks in response.

Apart from the new job, the other surprising addition to your life is your budding friendship with the Avenger.

After the whole recruiting ordeal, you honestly expected to only have passing encounters with her at the compound.

However, to your surprise, on your first day here, Natasha was the one who volunteered to give you a tour of the place, and in the days that followed, the two of you would often share coffee and chat before you had to head off to your respective jobs.

Those regular interactions with her also earned you a fearsome reputation among the other workers, which actually works out in your favor since they’re already nervous by the time you call them in for a review. This way they are more likely to slip up and reveal anything they may be hiding.

But, like you said, you haven’t found anything substantial yet.

With a heavy sigh, you pull your knees to your chest, resting your forehead against them, feeling the weight of failure bearing down on you.

Then you hear Natasha plop down beside you.

“Back when we met, you asked me why we needed you,” she begins.

Curious at her words, you turn your head slightly to glance at her, waiting for her explanation.

Natasha leans back on her hands, her gaze fixed on the ceiling as she continues to speak.

“A couple of months ago, our surveillance revealed that someone within the compound staff was plotting an attack during the opening ceremony of the new building. However, we couldn’t confirm who it was without risking exposing that we knew of their plan."

Your eyes widen in confusion at the revelation. From what you remember, the opening ceremony was a success. There hadn’t been any news of an attack that day.

“But you caught them, right?” you inquire.

“No,” Natasha responds, shaking her head before meeting your gaze. “You did.”

Surprised, you straighten up, giving her a questioning look.

Natasha offers a small smile, elaborating, “You had recently interviewed him as a suspect for another case, and in your notes, you labeled him as dangerous and untrustworthy, despite everything about him proving otherwise.”

“And you believed me?” you ask incredulously.

Natasha shrugs, “Well, I had no other leads at the time anyway.”

You scoff in exasperation at her teasing, playfully pushing her away.

She chuckles softly before adopting a more serious expression.

“Trust in your abilities, Y/n,” Natasha says with a genuine tone. “If it’s you, not finding anyone suspicious is a good thing.”

You watch her closely, waiting for the red aura to appear.

But as a couple of seconds pass and nothing changes, you tuck your forehead back against your knees, this time to hide the smile threatening to spread across your face.

“Alright, break’s over,” Natasha announces, giving your back an encouraging pat. “Let’s go again.”

You groan in reluctance, remaining in your curled-up position.

“Come on,” Natasha urges, her tone coaxing. “I’ll go easy on you this time.”

You don’t even need to look up to know the red aura is surrounding her.

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

“What’s this?”

Natasha's voice draws your attention away from the task of pouring cooked popcorn into a bowl.

She's sitting on your sofa, examining a small, elegant card that you had accidentally left on the table.

Widening your eyes in realization of what she’s found, you hurry over to her, but her narrowed eyes tell you that she has already read the names on the card.

“She’s inviting you to her wedding?” Natasha exclaims, disbelief coloring her tone. “It’s only been a year since your breakup, and now she’s already getting married?!”

Sighing in disappointment, you had hoped to keep this information from Natasha, who developed a strong dislike for your ex after you shared the details of your breakup during one of your girls' nights.

Placing the bowl of popcorn on the table, you take the invitation from her hand and head to the kitchen, intending to tuck it away in a drawer.

As you slide it open, you catch the sight of the old wedding draft buried at the bottom, which causes a tiny pang of sadness in your chest at the memory of that time, of how everything changed so suddenly.

You can't help but wonder how your life might have unfolded if your engagement hadn't ended.

Would you still have accepted Natasha's offer if you hadn't been seeking a distraction from your failed relationship?

“You’re not thinking about going, are you?” Natasha's voice interrupts your thoughts.

Glancing up, you notice a peculiar look in her eyes, though it quickly shifts to a neutral expression at your gaze.

After a whole year of spending time together, you could tell underneath her impassive expression that she was upset about something; though, you figured it was just outrage at the situation.

Tossing the invitation into the drawer and shutting it, you offer her a small reassuring smile before returning to your seat beside her to start the movie.

“No, of course not,” you tell her.

As the opening scenes play, you maintain a normal, nonchalant expression, aware of Natasha's gaze still lingering on you even as the red aura fades from around your body.

After a while, Natasha huffs in disbelief before finally settling into the sofa, pulling the bowl of popcorn into her lap.

“You better be sharing that, Romanoff,” you tease, your eyes fixed on the screen.

Natasha scoffs before tossing a piece of popcorn at you.

“Of course, I will.”

Just as you're about to turn your head to look at her and confirm her honesty, she swiftly shoves a cushion pillow to the side of your face, blocking your view.

After a few seconds, she releases it, fluffing the cushion casually before leaning her head against your shoulder and tossing another piece of popcorn into her mouth.

You chuckle at her antics, amused by her playful behavior, before returning your attention to the screen.

A few days later, you find yourself standing on the outskirts of the wedding area, observing as servers and workers hustle to complete the finishing touches.

A sad, bittersweet expression tugs at your lips as you recognize familiar details chosen by your ex, mingled with hints of a stranger’s preferences in the decorations.

To be honest, you don’t intend to stay for the wedding. You're just here to confirm something for yourself.

Taking a deep breath, you close your eyes, conjuring your ex’s face in your mind, and whisper to yourself.

“I’m in love with her…”

Opening your eyes, you exhale slowly, a content smile on your lips as you notice the red aura surrounding your skin. It's a relief to be able to find closure regarding your feelings for your ex.

“You know, I don’t need powers to know you were lying,” a voice remarks from behind.

Startled, you turn to find Natasha approaching.

She stops beside you, her gaze fixed at the scene ahead as she accuses, “Saying that you weren’t going to come here.”

You look at her briefly before returning your attention to the field.

“I got curious about something,” you admit. “Figured that this was one way to confirm it.”

Excited and happy chatter fills the air as your ex appears, surrounded by friends and family.

Suddenly, thoughts of what-ifs from the other night resurface, prompting you to ask out loud unconsciously before you can stop yourself.

“Do you think I should’ve just pretended that she was telling the truth at that time — when she said she loved me?” you ask Natasha. “Maybe it might’ve worked out between us if I just kept my mouth shut.”

There’s a beat of silence before Natasha finally responds, her tone tinged with wistfulness.

“From my experience,” she begins, “I can tell you that living a lie would not make you happy…no matter how much you wish for it to be true.”

You chuckle lightly, “You’re probably right.”

“Of course I am,” Natasha says confidently.

A comfortable silence falls between you as you both observe the preparations from a distance.

“She is a fool for letting you go, though,” Natasha suddenly adds, her tone casual.

You laugh softly, gently chiding her, “You can’t call the bride that on her wedding day.”

“Alright then,” Natasha concedes, turning to you. “You’re an even bigger fool for coming here by yourself.”

She returns her gaze to the field, muttering under her breath with a hint of irritation, “…still visiting the one who broke your heart.”

Amused, you tilt your head to catch her eyes, chuckling at her words, as you tease, “You know, it almost sounds like you’re jealous.”

When Natasha doesn’t respond or look at you, you raise a brow in surprise and poke her side.

“Wait, seriously, are you jealous?”

She swats your hand away.

“Stop that,” Natasha reprimands, before gritting out, “I’m not jealous!”

A small grin forms on your face as you notice the red aura appear, causing Natasha to roll her eyes and walk away.

“I’m leaving,” she declares firmly.

“Aww, come on, Natasha,” you call as you trail behind her.

Glancing back at you and seeing your pleased expression, she points at you in warning.

“That smile better be off your face by the time I pull up, or else you’re walking home,” she states before continuing on her way.

Watching her go with a fond smile, you find yourself softly repeating the words.

“I’m in love with her.”

Looking down, your smile widens when you don’t see the red aura appear, confirming what you already knew about your feelings for the red-haired spy.

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

As you sit in your office at the Avenger compound, you feel a sense of fatigue wash over you at your busy schedule of back-to-back interviews.

Across from you, the final candidate squirms in her seat, clearly nervous under your scrutinizing gaze.

A chill sweeps through the room, courtesy of the cold blast of air from the AC, and you can't help but regret your decision to have it set so cold, a choice originally intended to maintain an intimidating atmosphere during interviews.

With a sigh, you reluctantly pull your hands from the cozy warmth of your hoodie pocket and turn to the next page of questions.

"Let's talk about handling confidential information," you begin, your voice cutting through the tension in the room. "Can you share a time when you had to ensure the secure handling of sensitive data?"

The candidate responds with some slight hesitation, but you sense it’s more from her nerves than any dishonesty, so you continue, moving on to the remaining questions.

Luckily, the rest of the interview goes by quickly and smoothly with her answering the other questions without any problems.

However, now comes the final question of the interview.

“Among the Avengers, who do you consider to be the hottest?”

Clearly caught off-guard, she stumbles over her words, “W-what?”

Maintaining your serious demeanor, you repeat the question.

“Who do you believe is the hottest Avenger?”

After a moment's pause, she softly answers, “Black Widow..."

Setting your clipboard down, you extend your hand.

"Thank you for coming. It was nice meeting you," you say, signaling the end of the interview.

As she thanks you and leaves, you flip to the last paper on your clipboard, revealing a sheet with tick marks beside the names of your Avenger friends.

With an amused smile, you add another mark at the end of Natasha’s already leading line.

“I don’t think that last question was approved by Steve,” a voice accuses from the doorway.

Glancing up, you see Natasha leaning against the frame, her arms folded.

You shrug in response, “Makes it more interesting though.”

Natasha hums curiously before moving to your side, perching on the edge of your desk. Her narrowed eyes fix on you.

“Is that my hoodie?” she asks in suspicion as she tugs at your sleeve.

“Maybe,” you reply, hastily pulling the hood over your head to conceal your guilty eyes.

Natasha had left the piece of clothing at your place after her last visit, and given the chilly room, borrowing it seemed harmless enough.

“Don’t you have a briefing to get to?” you deflect, attempting to change the subject.

Natasha huffs knowingly before responding, "I had some spare time, so I came to bother you."

"I’m honored," you quip sarcastically, though inwardly your heart warmed at the fact that she thought of you.

Natasha chuckles lightly, then gestures towards your clipboard.

"Ask me some questions," she prompts, her tone playful yet eager.

Deciding to indulge her, you reach for your clipboard and adopt a serious demeanor.

“Name?” you begin.

Natasha shoots you a deadpan look, prompting you to show her the document with the question written on it.

“If they lie about their name, then that’s a red flag already,” you defend, giving her a pointed look.

“Natalie,” you mock.

Natasha chuckles, shaking her head at the memory before extending her hand.

“It’s actually Natasha,” she corrects, playing along.

Skipping past the other general questions, you delve into more targeted inquiries related to threat assessment.

“Have you ever been associated with any extremist or radical groups or organizations?” you ask.

“If you consider working undercover to gain intel on them, then yes,” Natasha responds without hesitation.

“Have you ever participated or been involved in any violent behavior where someone was hurt?”

This one makes her pause for a moment before she finally admits softly, "…yes."

As the questioning continues, Natasha's playful demeanor gradually fades, replaced by a rueful tone.

By the time you reach the final question, she places her hand on your clipboard, gently setting it down on the desk.

"Maybe these questions aren’t meant for people like me," she says sadly, her tone filled with regret.

Observing her disappointed expression, you scoot closer and rest your hand on hers to draw her attention.

“Do you still want to hear my final assessment?” you ask gently.

After a contemplative pause, Natasha nods, curiosity evident in her eyes as she gestures for you to continue.

“Well, based on your answers,” you say with a dramatic pause, flipping through the papers before shaking your head firmly.

“Absolutely not. Extremely dangerous. Definitely a high-risk candidate.”

Natasha huffs in disbelief at your teasing and gives you a playful push. As your laughter subsides, you soften your tone, meeting her gaze sincerely.

“But…I’d trust you,” you admit genuinely.

Natasha's eyes widen slightly before she averts her gaze, clearing her throat. Her fingers toy with the clipboard, flipping to the last page and seeing the score sheet, before chuckling in amusement.

Turning back to you, she tilts her head with a raised brow.

“I don’t get the special question?” she asks.

You take the clipboard from her, offering a knowing look as you begin to organize the documents on your desk.

“I think we both already know your answer to that question,” you reply.

“Then ask me another,” Natasha insists.

Her request makes you pause as you ponder what to ask. Only one thing comes to mind, the question you’ve been hesitating to ask her for a long time.

Meeting her expectant gaze, you find yourself wanting to know the answer, despite the fear in your mind at the possibility of causing another big change in your life again.

Summoning your courage, you face her directly.

“Would you…,” you start, faltering momentarily before gathering yourself with a deep breath.

“...would you say ‘yes’ if I asked you out on a date tonight?”

There's a moment of silence, and just as you consider retracting the question, Natasha reaches out and adjusts the hood atop your head.

Perplexed by her action, you watch her suspiciously. Then, in one swift motion, she pulls the hood down over your eyes, obscuring your vision.

“No,” her voice responds to your question.

Hearing her stand, you quickly remove the hood to see Natasha already making her way out of the door, but before she disappears from your view, you catch the red aura surrounding her slowly fading away.

As an excited smile spreads across your face at the revelation of her true answer, your phone on the desk pings with a new message. Glancing at the screen, you see a text from Natasha.

I’ll pick you up tonight.

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

a/n: Thank you for reading! I know I said I was going to take a little break, but I had some time so I ended up finishing this and decided to post it now instead of later.

#natasha romanoff x reader

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stephanieromanoff · 1 month

Text

Mistle-toeing

Warnings: fluff, a really annoying "i-don't-know-limits" man.

Word count: 4.5k

Disclaimer: this was the first lil thing I wrote about Angie. I do hope you enjoy it <3

Morning came and you groaned as your alarm rang and pulled you out of dreamland. You pulled your arm from under the covers and slapped it off, proceeding to stretch and swing your legs to the side of the bed, putting one foot in front of the other before opening the curtains and getting hit by the morning light.

You rubbed your eyes and blinked repeatedly as they adjusted to the light, getting ready for a much needed shower that’d finally wake you up. It was going to be a long, long, day, you thought, before stepping under the stream of warm water and letting your dreams wash away with it.

As you walked through the streets of Collinsport, you pulled on the brown, thick coat you wore, trying - and failing - to hide your nose from the cold so it wouldn’t turn rudolph red.

Quickly, you entered the building and shuddered at the change of temperature, ruffling your hair to get rid of the snow that had collected in it, and running your hands along your coat to clean it up from the little white particles that had stuck to it. Rubbing your hands together to warm them up a little bit, your eyes scanned the place.The sight was not the usual; and the energy felt different. A good kind of different.

The office was decorated all around, giving the usually white, clean, serious and cold surrounding, a cozier feeling. An elegantly decorated tree sat next to the coffee machine, which now had an addition of delicious ginger cookies on the counter, along with garlands up on the walls and some wreaths hanging in between them, finished with lights adorning the cubicles, everything strategically placed so it was a harmonious look. Funnily enough, everyone seemed just as surprised as you were. In the few months you’d been around, you had never heard of the office celebrating any kind of festivity, but, well… Here you were, with decorations along the office boxes, Christmas music playing in the background (you recognized Sinatra’s Let it Snow) and Nancy, Angie’s secretary (and your confidante) wearing a Santa hat. You guessed this was her making, and you couldn’t fathom how she had convinced Angie Bouchard to let this happen.

As you walked by Nancy, you waved shyly at her, mouthing a “Good morning, Nance” and receiving a big smile in return, followed by a wink - you didn’t get the reason for the last gesture, but you knew she always knew things you didn’t. To be honest… you were quite oblivious.

Absentmindedly walking towards your desk, the decorations distracted you from the pair of cobalt eyes following your every move, like a predator stalking its prey, silently, meticulously, and waiting until you had reached your designed space, still staring and assessing your reaction to the changes.

You dropped your leather bag on the desk unceremoniously and hung your coat on the chair, starting your computer to check for the new mails - but something felt off. A glimpse of red showed up on the corner of your eye, and you rapidly turned your head towards the salient colour. There was a gift sitting on your desk. You stared suspiciously at the neatly wrapped box that sported a ruby red colour, finished with a golden bow. No one in the office was too close to you, so this was quite the surprise. Carefully lifting the box while looking for the tag, you instead found a neat card that had your name elegantly written on it, alongside a small message;

“Y/N,

A little birdie told me you had been staring at these for quite some time.

I do hope you enjoy them thoroughly.

P.S., I see you’ve got good taste. Very nice choices.”

You turned the card around to find any kind of initial or name, but ended up with nothing. Saving the little card safely on your bag, you pulled on the ends of the ribbon and watched it fall lightly on the desk. The tips of your fingers grazed the red wrapping paper, feeling its soft texture and travelled down the softness of it until it met one of the seams; your nails picked on the scotch tape and lifted it, being meticulous enough so it wouldn’t tear.

After you pulled the box out, you kept trying to figure out what it could be. And when it opened, you had to bite your lower lip to keep the grin from taking over your whole face, yet still jumped up and down in your spot excitedly. Inside it there were two of the vinyls you had been looking at the store for the past two weeks, but always decided to not buy them just yet: Herbie Hancock’s Crossings, and Santana’s Caravanserai.

You were a huge music geek, and these were recently out. You looked around hoping to recognize something in someone’s eyes or expression, any tell-tale sign, but only found Nancy’s warm eyes; “Oh!” you exclaimed.

In one of your many conversations with Angie’s secretary, you had gushed about one of these two albums and how much you absolutely loved Christmas, considering it was big back at home. You set the vinyls back on the box and walked towards Nancy, but before you could open your mouth, she spoke without even drifting her eyesight from the computer screen.

“That was not me, dear.” You cocked an eyebrow up and a quizzical look took over your features. “Well - if it wasn’t you, then…” Nancy looked up at you and shrugged innocently. “I have no idea, darling. But they do seem to be paying attention to you.” With that, you decided to drop the topic and go back to work; god knows the secretary would not spill any more information. Jesus, this woman could get caught by the CIA and keep everyone’s secret’s safe, acting like she knew absolutely nada. And even when you tried to avoid your workload, you had a lot to catch up on. Yet, you found yourself looking back at the little card and reading it repeatedly during the day, smiling at the neat handwritten message.

The day passed by fairly quickly, and you were drained. Meetings, mails, getting ready for the end of the year at Angel’s Bay meant absolute mayhem, you learned. The thought of a warm cup of hot chocolate and a good Christmas movie under the warm covers of your bed, in the safety of your little flat made you yearn for the end of the shift, when you could finally relax. With that in mind, you finished typing the document you were working on and stood up from your chair, quickly making your way towards the coffee counter, eyes focused on the warm cups of chocolate that Nancy had just put down, turning towards you to gift you a soft, caring smile. You loved that woman to bits, and she knew you had been having a hard time lately. Christmas was not a day you were used to spending alone, so the thought of it had been taking a toll on you the past week. Of course, Nancy was constantly checking on you and doing small things to cheer you up - asking about your day and if you ate, to which you would roll your eyes playfully and answer while chuckling “Yes, mom”, or leaving candy canes on your desk, and now preparing your favourite thing ever; hot chocolate. She left the tray and kept walking forward towards her desk, which was right next to Angie’s office.

You grabbed the warm, white cup and the sweet smell of chocolate invaded your senses, bringing you the comfort you were looking for. There were small marshmallows on top as well, and you had to contain your excitement to avoid squealing like a little kid from the happiness it brought you.

While you were immersed in your hot chocolate cup, you didn’t realize who was walking towards you, until your personal space seemed to be awfully invaded by a strong cologne that reeked of musk - not the good kind. You don’t know what you despised the most; the smell or the person who came along with it.

Freaking Jack from the sales department. Another of the smug assholes who never took “no” for an answer, because his fragile ego could not take it. He’d been trying to get your attention since the first day you started working at Angel’s Bay, taking advantage of any situation he had to brag about himself - god, he was so full of himself. Today was not the exception. The rest of the girls in the office swooned over him; it was sort of like a Belle and Gastón kinda situation. Terrible, to say the least.

You heard him clear his throat and rolled your eyes before plastering the most fake smile you could manage, turning back to look at him.

“Jack.”

“Y/N, what a coincidence” Not.

“Yeah, well, considering we work on the same floor, I'd call it a very probable event.” You said, matter-of-factly. You knew he had spent the last 5 minutes looking around for you, and you actively avoided him. It’s not that you disliked him… No, no, it was that you disliked him. A lot.

He laughed forcibly at your statement, flashing you what should be considered a perfect grin, but instead came off as straight up weird. “Oh, aren’t you a funny one”

Realizing how close he was, you took a few steps back, and he followed suit, playing aloof while talking about his day, not bothering to ask you about yours, until you were standing in front of the tree, and very much cornered. You hugged the mug to your chest and felt it warm your skin up, looking around nervously, meeting Nancy’s eyes and praying she saw the apprehension in yours and came in to save you from this idiot, who wouldn’t stop talking.

Speaking of the devil, you saw a sharp, mischievous smile form on his lips, and you knew he had come up with some sort of plan to make you even more uncomfortable. He had his eyes glued to the ceiling, and for a moment you thought he had just… rebooted himself. Who knows.

Following Jack’s eyes, your own gaze sat on the pointy green leaves that accompanied the white, round fruit, delicately placed with a red bow over your heads. Of course you had to be standing under the one mistletoe that was up. You mentally facepalmed as soon as your mind registered the little plant, and you regreted every single decision that had taken you to this situation.

“Well, well, well… Seems like we have found ourselves under the mistletoe, my dearest y/n”. His voice lowered in an attempt to sound seductive, and it only made you want to smack the satisfaction off of his face. He grabbed the mug from your hands and left it back on the counter, not giving you a chance to speak before talking once again. “You know what it means. And it’s tradition, lovely y/n.”

You were at a loss for words as you felt his rough hands grab you by the waist and pull you against him, as your hands landed on his chest and you attempted to keep him away.

“Jack - this is not funny. Back off, please.”

The rest of the office had started speaking in whispers and hushed laughs, presencing Jack’s shenanigan as if it were nothing but a simple joke. They watched amused, except for two pairs of eyes. One belonging to Nancy, of course, and the other cobalt blue pair throwing daggers with her eyes, ready to strike.

“As I said, it’s tradition, y/n. Come on, don’t be such a buzzkill. I promise you’ll like it.” He said smugly, while leaning in.

You were so lost in thinking about what to do and how to kick the man and get away from his grubby hands, you didn’t even listen to the faint clicking of heels that had sent the whole office scrambling back to their desks and work, as well as the cold silence that had taken over. You could only hear your own blood pumping in your ears, until the clicking of the heels stopped. And Jack’s face looked like he had seen a ghost.

“Such a pretty face stuck on the body of a useless man. If I were you, I would leave this instant. That is, if you wish to keep your hands.” Her words seethed with venom, eyes shining brightly and sporting a menacing look, alongside an emotion you couldn’t quite put your finger on dancing on her deep blue orbs. Was it hatred? Jealousy? No, it couldn’t be. She stared at his hands grabbing your waist, which were quickly dropped and followed by an amount of excuses Angie was clearly not interested in listening to.

“Listen up, boy. You better gather your things immediately and leave the building within the next 10 minutes, or you’ll suffer a much, much terrible destiny. Your reputation is already ruined as it is.” She spoke without paying mind to the man, now a stuttering mess, who left the moment she had gone silent.

You dreaded the thought of being on his spot… Until you realized you were next. “Shit.” You said quietly, breathing deeply and getting as ready as you could to confront the upcoming interaction.

—------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

A fucking mistletoe. A single piece of dangly fruit that hung over your head, reminding you of the promise it brought, mocking you with its gentle swaying. You swore that if it could talk, it’d laugh at you. One little mistletoe that had gotten you in this mess.

“Fuck - fuck fuck fuck” you thought, as your eyes tried to set on anything but the alluring woman in front of you, her red, full, pouty lips, the defined jawline and high cheekbones, the softness of her porcelain-like skin, the intensity of her cobalt eyes that added to that ethereal, almost unrealistic look - no, nope. Stop. Stop thinking about it.

You didn’t even need to look at her. Instead, your eyes were glued to the floor, which suddenly became extremely interesting. Your gaze set on anything and everything it could. You probably never payed this much attention to the rugs before, but you had decided the best idea was to count every single damn thread in it, if it meant you could avoid the situation. Still, the air seemed to thicken, and you could feel the wicked smile setting on her ruby red lips as she looked at what hung over your heads, completely understanding what it meant. Suddenly, you felt hot under that piercing stare that turned your cheeks bright red and made the shirt you were wearing feel a tad bit too tight.

The way your name left her lips made you feel like your knees had turned to liquid, and you swore they buckled slightly. Her voice was all that was tempting in this world - sultry, velvety tone, honey-dripping. Christ, even the foulest of words would feel like a damn poem coming out of her mouth. You could only imagine what it would be like in a more intimate setting, your name leaving her lips with passion and lust. And god, you wanted to hear that prayer repeatedly. You only thought of worshipping her.

Your thoughts didn’t matter anymore - there was simply no way you’d get more flustered. She repeated your name, two, three times, before grabbing your chin in between her thumb and index finger, softly raising it, forcing you to redirect your eyes back up. You peered up at her through your eyelashes, as she dropped her hand and pushed a strand of hair away from your face, tucking it behind your ear. Your lips parted at the glimpse of her features, the same features that had flooded your dreams countless times. An almost inaudible sight left your mouth, and you wanted to convince yourself she had not noticed; but you knew she did, she always did. Her right eyebrow lifted ever so slightly, and there was the ghost of a pleased smile on her lips, before she spoke again and broke the obvious ogling you had going on.

Your throat felt dry and you cleared your throat to avoid the crack of your voice, because the last thing you needed was to falter in front of the one and only Angie Bouchard.

“I’m beginning to think the floor is much more interesting than listening to me, y/n. I did not know I could be so uninteresting.” She said in a scolding manner, yet there was a tint of playfulness that bathed the statement.

That was the last drop you needed, and like a dam breaking, your words spilled out quickly, without a single thought behind them. You just needed to say something.

“I - I’m sorry, boss. I didn’t know there was a mistletoe and I don’t really know who put it up here but I just wanted a cup of hot chocolate and, well, you know, Jack arrived too and - I am very aware of the rules but it… it wasn’t like that I promise, I - why is there a mistletoe there? I swore it wasn’t when I got here!” your nervousness expressed itself on rambling, speaking without even taking a breath, while Angie watched clearly amused at your nervousness. She tilted her head to the left and her soft blonde hair followed the motion, falling over her shoulder until it set properly. She let out a soft chuckle that echoed in the floor, as everyone watched the exchange with curious eyes. The realization of the scene made you shut your eyes with shame and sigh defeatedly.

You didn’t know if she was about to have your head on a platter and fire you in front of everyone, scold you as if you were a five year old brat, or just leave without saying another word.

And you didn’t know what option was worse. But in between the plethora of scenes and options you ruminated, the upcoming one was definitely not in the books.

“So, tell me, did you like your gift?” She said, redirecting the conversation. You paused and narrowed your eyes at her. “Gift? What gift - wait. That was you?” Your voice had shown more shock than you would’ve liked to, but to be fair, it was pretty damn shocking.

Angie smiled, pleased with herself and your reaction, nodding once. “I had a little help, but someone told me this festivity is quite the big deal for you…” You shook your head and recovered the words you’d been missing. “I loved it. You didn’t have to, boss.”

She rolled her eyes and softened her gaze. “Drop the formalities, darling, you can call me Angie. And I’m glad you liked it. Nancy worked hard on the decorations of the floor.”

Of course the secretary was in all of this. You giggled and hid your face in your hands, shaking your head side to side. “A little birdie, huh? So it was Nancy.”

“Well, she told me about one of the albums, and the hot chocolate. Technically, there were two little birdies. The owner of the shop told me how much time you spent there looking at Santana’s vinyl. I didn’t need to do much, one stare and the information was there, willing and able.” She shrugged unapologetically before speaking up once more. This time, the timing of her words was slower, more thought out, and felt very private. She lowered her voice and inched closer to you, the mistletoe still dancing over your heads. And you were far too aware of it, your eyes travelling up quickly, before locking back with Angie’s.

“As for the Christmas decorations… You do get loud when you speak about something you like, don’t you know that? Whether it's music, festivities, or… people.” The last word made your blood run cold and the smile dissipate from your lips - her voice dropped and seemed to be impossibly attractive, but all you could think about was the fact that Angie found out about your crush. Detail, big fat detail: your crush on her.

Considering how many times you had spoken to Nancy about your admiration for Angie, and how every single one of those times she’d tease you -“Wipe the drool from off your face, y/n” she’d lean in and whisper- either for how you couldn’t stop smiling when speaking about the blonde enchantress, how your eyes lit up when she passed by (and how you’d get flustered every single time) or for every time you looked at her a little too long, you mentally scolded yourself for doing it in front of her office. Not the smartest of moves if you’re trying to keep it a secret.

“I - Oh.” She nodded softly and repeated your words “Yes, oh.”

The silence fell heavy between you, and the energy shifted into a tense, addicting feeling. You were sure you could feel electricity surging between both of you, and you definitely didn’t miss Angie’s eyes looking up at the mistletoe. “Ah, the infamous mistletoe. Shouldn’t we honour the tradition, then?” Her voice seemed impossibly seductive, and you were sure this is how mermaids had to speak - it was far too enticing, far too consuming.

She inched closer and snaked her arm behind your waist, pulling you in, hips snug against each other. You felt the rhythmic rising and falling of her chest, synchronizing your own breathing to hers. The proximity made you extremely nervous, and you kept breathing in her perfume, that intoxicating scent that made your brain go into overdrive and your heart beat faster. Your eyes followed the outline of her lips and marvelled at the way the light and shadow mixed and hit them, making them look even better. The lights of the tree twinkled softly and reflected on her eyes, which transformed them into the most beautiful starry sky; a universe in its own. You had gotten lost in the thought of them countless times, and here you were, staring right at them, feeling completely vulnerable and transparent, like she could read your mind.

Her right hand travelled up to your neck, thumb, index and middle finger pressing softly on each side of it as it looked for your pulse points, not leaving the spot once they had found it. You were inches apart, and as if the teasing was already not enough, she gently pressed the first kiss on the corner of your mouth, moving to the other side, doing the same thing before putting some distance between both. “Is this okay?” She said softly. You could barely nod, absolutely immersed in the situation.

After your confirmation, she brushed your lips against hers before pressing them softly. You wanted to remember every sensation, the plump feeling of your lips against her, the softness of her mouth, the intoxicating scent, her electric touch. You felt her hands grab your waist and press down, her nails digging in your skin with just the right amount of pressure, and you relaxed against the kiss.

Angie lightly slid her tongue across your bottom lip as if asking for permission, which you dutifully granted. You drew a deep, staggered breath at the surge of sensations and the heat you felt coursing your whole body. The kiss grew intense as she sucked on your lips and a shallow hum escaped her, completely pleased at the feeling she evoked on you and how you felt.

She tasted like a sweet, addicting nectar. And right then and there, you knew there was nothing you’d crave more in your life. Nothing that felt more right than this. Her body responded to yours and they moulded perfectly together, your primal needs clawing its way to the surface, and begging, begging you to not let her go. And so, your hands locked behind her slender neck, pulling her impossibly closer. They moved towards her face and caressed her cheek softly.

You swore you could feel your heart push through your chest as Angie’s left hand left your waist, which immediately missed the pressure and warmth of her touch, travelling through your upper body to set roots on top of your fastly beating heart. You felt so alive - and she felt it too, smiling through the kiss at the amount of power she held over your fragile heart, knowing, deeply knowing, you were hers. Her nails raked over your heart as she bit down on your lower lip and growled, “mine”. And there was simply no way you could ever contradict that statement, for the woman had been the owner of your heart since the moment you set eyes on her.

The tidal wave of lust that had washed over both of you slowly started to set once you parted from the kiss to allow air into your burning lungs. Still dazed from the experience, you were sure you’d wake up from the dream at any given second. Angie’s thumb still ran across your lips reassuringly, her pupils blown wide, black against cobalt blue with shimmering lights reflecting from the tree. All danger, adventures and strong desire, a reckless sea, a new odyssey - and with all the trouble it might come, you knew it was absolutely worth it.

Exhaling and taking a step back from you - which made you miss her warmth immediately - the blonde woman intertwined your fingers with hers, squeezing your hand before looking back at the rest of the office, which had seen the exchange and were staring slack-jawed.

“I do not like it when people touch things that belong to me. Good thing I put up that mistletoe and everyone knows who you belong to, now.” She winked at you, and before you could open your mouth to protest, shut you up by pressing one last soft kiss to your lips. Angie hummed in approval while assessing the messy red tint on your mouth; her work made her chest fill with pride, before wiping the red stains from your mouth as best as she could, although she liked the view, the mark she’d left on you. Somehow hers didn’t seem messy at all.

Before you realized, Angie was walking towards your desk, pulling you along with her, ignoring the staring and whispers. Confused, you followed like a lost puppy. Honestly, you’d go anywhere she took to you, without thinking about it.

“Grab your things, darling. We’re not done yet.” She purred.

You were completely entranced, and stumbled over your desk to grab your things, as she stared amused at your clumsiness. Once you had your coat, bag and gift, you looked at the muse in front of you and waited for instructions. She went into her office and gathered her purse and car keys, before saying goodbye to Nancy. You did the same thing, earning a sly smile from the old lady behind the computer.

“Take the rest of the day, Nancy. Go enjoy it with your family.” Angie said, sauntering towards the door with a hand possessively set on your waist. You were sure you’d faint if she kept this going.

“Well, dear. What is it that we’re going to do to enjoy our first Christmas together?” She spoke while turning the car on. You held onto those words like a promise, like an oath, and giggled at the thought of what a little plant could do.

#angelique bouchard x reader

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stephanieromanoff · 1 month

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Printsessa

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x fem!Reader

Summary: During a quiet moment between you and Nat, she teaches you some Russian.

Tags: Tooth-rotting fluff :-)

“Printsessa? You okay?”

You snuggle further into Natasha’s embrace, face growing warm. “‘M fine.”

She kisses your forehead. “What’s got you so flustered, huh?” she teases, laughing softly.

“Nat,” you groan. “Stop it.”

“Dusha moya.” Your brows furrow. “My soul,” she says, pressing her lips softly to your cheek.

“Nat…”

“Moya sladkaya. My sweet.”

She kisses your other cheek, letting her lips linger there for a few moments longer than normal. Your heart flutters.

“Teach me more?” you ask, voice no more than a whisper.

“Ty lyubov' moyey zhizni,” she whispers into your ear.

Even though you have no idea what she just said, your heart still pounds against your ribcage.

“What does that mean?” you ask.

“That you’re the love of my life,” Nat says softly.

Your breath catches in your throat. You look up at her, biting your lip. “How do you say ‘I love you’?”

Nat smiles, pink dusting her cheeks. “Ya lyublyu tyebya.” You try to repeat her, though you think it comes out hardly intelligible. She laughs, and the sound makes your stomach fill with butterflies. “Ya tozhe tyebya lyublyu.”

“What?” you ask.

She rolls her eyes. “I love you too, you idiot.”

#natasha romanoff x reader

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stephanieromanoff · 1 month

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Meteors

Natasha Romanoff x Female Reader

When you start working on the Barton’s farm, you meet Natasha

Note: It’s been wayyy too long since I’ve been able to make time to write. Hope y’all enjoy this Nat fluff!

Natasha Masterlist 1, Natasha Masterlist 2, Natasha Masterlist 3, Main Masterlist

Natasha watches from the front porch as a truck she’s unfamiliar with pulls up in the driveway. Just when she’s about to go ask Laura if she had any idea who was arriving, the woman steps out onto the porch.

“Right on time,” Laura comments mostly to herself.

“Who’s this?” Natasha asks, her attention is piqued.

“The new farmhand,” Laura explains. “She’s been working here every week for about a month now. Clint didn’t tell you?”

Nat shakes her head.

“Well, she’s pretty great at it,” the older woman continues. “Come meet her.”

Natasha follows Laura down the steps and to the truck. You are unloading a bale of hay from the bed of the truck when they walk up.

“Hello!” Laura greets you. She’s always so kind. “How are you?”

“I’m doing well,” you reply before turning around to actually see her. “How are you?”

You drop the bale onto the group and turn to see more than one person standing there.

“Oh hi,” you say to the new person. She politely lifts the corners of her lips, but doesn’t quite smile at you.

“This is Nat,” Laura says. “Nat, this is y/n.”

“It’s very nice to meet you,” you say, holding your hand out for her shake. She takes it in hers and the eye contact you make lingers.

“Oh, I forgot I have cookies in the oven,” Laura says. “I’ll be back. Nat why don’t you get to know y/n a bit.”

With that, Laura leaves you there with this beautiful stranger. God, she really is beautiful. You both stand there a little awkwardly before you make a move to talk to her more.

“So, how do you know the Bartons?” You ask.

“I work with Clint,” Nat says. You try not to let yourself go weak in the knees at hearing her voice for the first time. “You’re probably familiar with what we do.”

“Partially,” you say with a soft laugh. “I better get started for the day. I’ll see you around?”

Nat nods and walks back towards the house. You work the rest of the day with Natasha on your mind. She had uttered barely ten words to you, and yet you can’t get her out of your head.

A few days go by before you see her again. It’s early in the morning when you arrive. Natasha is sitting in a rocking chair with baby Nate in her arms. You walk to the porch to say hello.

“Good morning,” you greet her.

“Good morning, y/n,” she says. You try memorize the way your name sounds coming from her lips.

“He’s up early,” you comment.

“Yeah, a little too early. I offered to hang out with him while Clint and Laura sleep in,” Nat replies.

You smile at that.

“You’re here earlier today,” Nat says. You try not to overanalyze why she knows your schedule so well. It’s probably just the spy in her, you think.

“I am indeed. The cows need some extra work today, so I got here early,” you explain. “Come on out to pasture if you get bored. I’ll be there all day.”

“I just might do that,” Natasha replies.

You get a boost of confidence from her words. After you bid her a farewell for now, you drive out to the cattle field.

Meanwhile, the rest of the Barton family wakes up. The kids eat breakfast and start chores. Clint asks Nat to help him with some outside work.

A few hours go by and Laura calls everyone in for lunch. Natasha looks around the kitchen for you, but she doesn’t see you.

“Is y/n eating with us?” She asks.

“She likes to stay out there and work, so I usually take her some food after we eat,” Laura explains. She tries to read Nat’s expression. “You could take it to her today if you want.”

“Oh, sure. Yeah I can do that,” Nat says.

Laura smiles knowingly. The family eats and then Natasha makes her way to you.

At the sight of you wrangling cows, she can’t help but smile. You’ve shed the light jacket you were wearing this morning and she can see how strong you are.

“Oh hey, Natasha!” You say once you see her.

“Hey,” she replies, her head cocked to the side a little to examine your current position. “Do I even want to know what you’re doing?”

“Probably not,” you reply. “Is that what I think it is?”

“Lunch,” Nat says. “Laura’s famous grilled cheese.”

You walk away from the cows and towards Natasha. She stands by the truck, so you open the tailgate and sit on it. You pat the area next to you as a way to ask her to sit.

She hands you the lunch bag and lightly blushes when your hand touches hers.

“Thank you, Nat,” you say. “Wait, do you prefer Nat or Natasha?”

“Either one,” she says, shrugging. “Technically my name isn’t Natasha, but I’ve always gone by that.”

“That is a fun fact,” you say. Nat laughs. You try to memorize the sound. “I like Natasha.”

“Then call me Natasha,” she says.

There’s a silence, but it’s not awkward. You eat your sandwich and watch the animals move around the farm. You wonder what Natasha is thinking about as she swings her legs and sits next to you.

“It’s so peaceful out here,” the redhead breaks the silence. “I feel like I can actually think and be free.”

“Yeah, I love it. Being out on a farm is my comfort place. So far, this one is my favorite,” you say.

“Why’s that?”

“The people. Clint, Laura, the kids,” you say. “And you.”

“I’m already a reason?”

“You were a reason I love this place the second I met you,” you say. You didn’t mean for it to come across so cheesily, but Nat doesn’t seem to mind. “Hey, how long are you staying here for?”

“A few more weeks maybe,” Natasha says. “Why?”

“In two weeks there’s supposed to be a meteor shower. Maybe we could come out in the field and watch it together?”

“Sounds fun,” Nat says, trying to act casual.

“I better get back to helping Clint. He’ll be pissed I let him stack bricks alone.”

You chuckle at her words. You want to ask her to stay, but at least you know you’ll be seeing her around.

And from that point on, Natasha brings you lunch every day. Laura doesn’t even have to ask her to do it. Nat wants to. She seems to sit with you longer and longer each day.

It all leads up to the night of the meteor shower. You wear a nice shirt and jeans and drive over to the farm.

When you knock on the door, Lila answers. You greet the family and have dinner with them. Natasha is in her element here. You can see how she lights up around the kids. And she loves watching you interact with them too.

Once dinner is over, you and Natasha sneak outside. You drive out to the field and lay a blanket down in the bed of the truck.

“Very fancy,” Nat comments.

“Only the best for you, Natasha,” you joke. “Laying down is the best way to see it.”

You both lie down a respectable distance from each other, but close enough that you both have butterflies.

“You know when I was a kid, I loved anything that glowed in the sky,” Nat opens up. “Stars, planets, and things that didn’t even really have to do with the sky. Like fireflies.”

“That’s really sweet, Natasha. I love those too,” you say. “There’s so many out here in the summer.”

“I wish I saw them more.”

“You’ve gotta move out here I guess,” you say. “Oh look!”

You point to the first meteor falling. Nat watches with bright eyes. You can’t drag your eyes away from the way she glows in the night light. Her green eyes are illuminated by the scene happening in the sky.

Natasha turns her head to the side and catches you staring.

“I’m sorry,” you mumble, looking away a bit.

“Don’t be,” Nat says. “But you are missing the show up there.”

“It’s fun to watch you watch it,” you say. “You’re beautiful, you know?”

Natasha definitely blushes at that. Her hand finds yours between the two of you. You’re it sure who leans in first, but you end up just centimeters from her lips.

“Can I kiss you?” Natasha asks.

“Please,” you reply.

The distance is shattered between the two of you. Natasha’s kiss is soft, but firm. Her intentions are clear as she moves her perfect lips over yours.

“Now we’re both missing the show up there,” Natasha jokes when she pulls away.

“So worth it,” you say.

You kiss Natasha again. And again. And a few more times before you decide to go back to the house.

“I’ll see you in the morning?” You ask her once you’ve walked up to the front door together.

“Yes,” Natasha says. “Thanks for tonight, y/n. I haven’t enjoyed myself this much in a long time.”

“Anytime, Natasha. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight,” she says.

You hug her for the first time and love the way she feels in your arms. It’s like she is perfectly shaped to be in your grasp.

You share a brief kiss before you let her go inside. As you walk back to the truck, you can’t help but do a little happy dance. Natasha watches through the window and laughs.

This is the start of something amazing. You can feel it.

You’re falling for her faster than the meteors fell in the sky. Little do you know, she’s falling for you in the exact same way.

#natasha romanoff x reader

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