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maladaptive-ninja-returns · 5 years

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Natasha Romanoff x fem!Reader

Content: Fluff

Warnings: None

Request: Would you consider writing a Natasha Romanoff x female reader story?

Hello, for the female reader x Natasha can you do one where the reader is a barista and every time Nat orders something the reader writes a cute pickup line on the cup?

Okay, so I suck at pickup lines, to be very honest. So I tweaked it a bit and worked something with the barista setting. Hope you like it.

Word Count: I wasn’t able to meet my best friend today because health so that sucks. She’s going back and I won’t be able to see her any time soon :(

A/N: This is my first time writing for Natasha. I hope I did a decent job because I wanted to give them more than this scene. I wanted to see where they go from here. Let me know how you found it. :)

MASTERLIST

It is one thing to come by a superhero at the coffee shop you work, feeling lucky to have the universe bestow the honour upon you to serve the people who protect the city you live in. It is completely another thing to be transferred on special request by the boss- who you are sure just owns that one little cosy corner of business in the vast city- to the Avengers facility to be at the service of all those heroes. Why? Because one day Tony Stark landed in your workplace through your tiny café's window while fighting some really buff bad guys evidently using alien technology and you happened to have the vagina to get down on your knees near Iron Man and offer him your special work-shot for a bad day.

"Coffee, Mr Stark?" You had mechanically spoken. "On the house." Before putting it down on the ground next to him because you were no fool. You know that intellectual billionaire had a thing against being handed things.

Stark had given you one good look before picking up the coffee and gulping down the first shot, forcing an involuntary 'woah' out of him which, though you were quite used to, made you happy to have such effect on one of your favourite heroes. And between that day and today, someone had changed your fate with a galactic sharpie as you looked at the huge square space you were supposed to manage in the Avengers Facility's lobby. Decorating the white walls on the ground floor of the main building into a cosy corner was fun though you had your doubts if anyone from the team would actually be interested in spending time here when they practically had their own rooms-probably double the size of what you were working with- in the same building. Nonetheless, you fashioned the walls with wood wallpaper, stacked up old records for the jukebox- especially for your blue-eyed serum enhanced soldiers- set up your personal Spotify playlists for every mood for your customers, and brought in the coziest furniture you could find under the budget defined by your boss- though Stark had been more generous than that. It was just coffee, you would hear yourself say every time the realisation would dawn on you that you were miles away from home, inside the most secure grounds, putting final touches to the little abode you were about to open for the superheroes you could have only dreamt of meeting at one point in your life. . The first few days were the usual business. The enthusiasm of working right next to the Avengers diluted as the only crowd you would gather would be the staff, security guards and sometimes a visitor or two. All the orders would be to-go, that you let the new hires handle. It was nice to occasionally see Happy. He felt more of a friend than head of Stark's personal security detail. He would always compliment your custom coffee for him and often take one for the boss when he knew Tony would need it. Once Happy took a dozen orders, saying it was for the Avengers who were 'about to sit through one hell of a meeting'. Whether or not they'd liked the coffee you had made for them, you had no idea but your staff of two- a guy and a girl working under a scholarship program while interning at Stark industries- had loved to watch you work so diligently and were quite curious to know how you could know what to make and for whom. You promised to let them in on the secret but not till they had tried to do it at least once on their own. . Today had been one long day because the staff had been busy clearing off the aftermath of the latest mission the Avengers had come back from, buzzing in, out and about the grounds, the coffee pouring out like water every ten seconds for the people who were running purely on the beans now. You were into your second week and were now used to the volume that came in, working on the standard orders on the rhythm of the music of your choice. The interns had elongated their shift to help you out with the madding crowd. It had nearly been one on the clock of the deadly hour in the night when you'd forced them out and went back to cleaning up and readying the stack for the next morning. Next morning. Today. Just four more hours to go. Your apartment was basically on the other end of the grounds and it took thirty to forty minutes by foot to cover the distance between the two. A tired huff left you as you counted the time it would take you to go back, get ready for bed, get out of bed, and come back, realising you barely had any to sleep. Screw you and your coffee making skills. The windchime by the entrance clinked as someone opened the door, sending an irritating wave down your spine that you controlled before heading out. Your watch read five minutes to two. "I'm sorry th-" You stopped. So you thought did your heart. And every other thing in your vicinity. Natasha Romanoff, the world's deadliest assassin, stood in front of you in black Avengers Chibi pajamas. "Oh," a smooth yet raspy voice filled your ears, melting whatever frustrations lay in your mind, "I saw the lights on and thought you were open." The green in her eyes shone brilliantly under the golden lights; you were sure you had stopped breathing a long while ago. Before you could fully take her presence in, you saw her turn away. "No," you nearly shouted, making her turn back and giving yourself a chance to compose the elation building inside you, "not yet. What would you like to have?" You felt your ears heat up as she looked at you for a good moment before walking towards you with the grace of a ballerina and sitting down on the bar stool right in front of you. Be still, my fluttering heart. But the smirk at the end of her lips- that looked like carefully aged wine from grapes that was perfected under the scrutiny of the Gods themselves- sent all your logic through the window. "Tony said you are good at making a concoction for the moment," she cooed, almost making you let go of the reigns on your wavering breath. "I did like what you made me five days ago during our mission briefing." "You did?" You heard yourself say with a hint of pure joy, making her smile. Her smile! How could her smile leave you so week in the knees? That's it. That's how I want to die, you declared to yourself as you tried to hide the blush heating up your face by turning around and setting up the basic ingredients to start with. "So, Miss Romanoff," you announced, finally composing yourself a bit before turning back to her smaragdine eyes that were swirling with a light if their own inside them, "what is your need for the moment?" You realised the underlying meaning of your words after they left your tongue, trying your best not to give away on that. "Let's see," she put down her elbows on the counter top, her chin resting on her palm as she closed her eyes for a moment and you felt her movement send her intoxicating aroma towards you. Sweetness covered beneath a layer of something you would describe as a heavy whiff of the ocean in a storm, which itself was veiled under a citrus-y flavour. How could a scent be so complex yet so delicate to your senses? "So," the familiar coarseness brought you back to her sparkling emeralds, "I came back from a mission that drained me quite a bit. I would say I am in need of a good pick-me-up. In every sense of the word." You felt a smile creeping over your lips as you tucked back your hair behind your ears, nodded in confirmation and brought out a few more ingredients. Placing two decent pieces of dark chocolate over the kitchen board, you presented one to your guest, who gladly took it from your hands, her cold fingers sending a spark through yours on the lightest touch. "Were you the one who drew a black widow with a Halo and googly eyes on the coffee cup for me?" The knife in your hand slipped a bit, stabbing the chocolate, sending the chunk flying to the jukebox. Natasha clearly suppressed her laugh as your heated fingers tried to put rest of the chocolate back in its place. "Y-Yeah. I uh ahem tried to mark the cups for everyone." "Clint liked his Hawk with goggles by the way. I think he still has the cup lying somewhere." She took a crackling bite of her chunk between her teeth, making you steal a look at the way her flaming tresses curled at the ends and allowing your mind to pass through a dim corridor to wonder what it would feel like to explore the fiery strands between your fingers. "Would you like something to help you sleep as well?" You asked abruptly, dropping the knife- clearly not ready to handle two dangerous things at once- and moving up another board with lemon slices, mint leaves and some spices. "Not if there's good company," Natasha suggested matter-of-factly with a tilt of her head. Clearly not making this any easier, darling. "To be served or to go?" The barista in you came up when everything else was beginning to swirl inside your head. "To-go," came the quick reply, pinching you a little in your heart. You were clearly expecting her to stay till the drinks ran out. A little disappointed in yourself, you mentally stroked your sullen heart and proposed it to make the best drink she had ever had so she would come back for more. Switching on the 'Oh involuntary thought of mine' playlist and tying your hair back, you got down to business, placing two cups- one for a hot drink, one for cold. The clear spherical ice cubes adjusted themselves in the transparent cup with the lemon and mint finding their space between them and a slowly heated mixture of spices cooled to a thick consistency drizzled all around them generously before the tea came and coloured the ingredients in the nest golden hue. "Have this first while I prepare your other drink," you asserted, placing the finished part of your heart's work in front of her before turning to ready the coffee. "Two?" Natasha questioned as she picked up a straw from the holder and took a whiff of the cold drink, ending in a spontaneous smile, making the just built up wall inside your heart crumble a little. "Couldn't decide on one." I'm trying to flirt with you through my tea and coffee skills with zero ideas whether you are into someone like me, so, yeah! Couldn't decide on one! But that's not the only reason. "Oh, God!" Came a moan from behind you, inviting a smirk on your lips. That. That was the real reason. You shifted back to her, catching her with her eyes closed as she was letting the cold mix work through her entire body, the spices hitting her right where you wanted them to. Her muscles visibly easing themselves as the curing heat worked its way through her. You did this to the most lethal assassin on this planet. You made her moan, undoing her knotted muscles right in front of you. Watching her come down from the mini high she'd just felt gave you a sudden surge of confidence. "There's more where that came from," you suggested as you mixed few of the chocolate chunks into another spice blend. "What was that?" The assassin exclaimed in sheer amusement going back to taking one long sip; she did not even wait for you to answer, making you giggle at the child-like sparkle in her green tourmalines. "Can't tell you. It's a secret." You winked at her, making her cock her brow at you, her lips never leaving the straw. "You do know I can get it out of you without breaking a sweat right?" "Mhmm," you bit your lip before tilting your head, "all I can see right now is you nearly to the point of begging me for more." The straw made the slurps louder as she gulped down the last drops, her eyes not leaving yours. "You'll eventually tell me," she stated with a sly smile. "Make me," you retorted, enjoying the cheesy exchange till the ring of someone's cell phone brought both of you out of the beautiful trance. "That's my rooster's call," Natasha mentioned as she slowly got up from her seat, returning the sinking feeling in your chest. "Here," you presented her the hot beverage, ready to go, "drink it after thirty minutes. Let the cold one's magic work through you first." "Thanks," you heard her say as you switched off the music, the machine, and moved the unused, unsoiled ingredients back into their places. Natasha was already out of the café, her figure jumping under the dim ceiling lights, when you came out from the back to switch off the lights, take your jacket and lock up the place. The security personnel at the three am shift was having a hard time absorbing the Black Widow in PJs nearly making you laugh at the shock on his face. Checking the door with one final nudge, you tucked the keys in your jacket pocket and turned to go towards the entrance of the building nearly walking into Natasha. "Come on," she stated with a tilt of her head quite casually. "What?" "Come on," she said again, "you're not walking back to your place at three in the morning. You're staying over at mine." You- and definitely the guard eavesdropping into the whole conversation- stood there in shock for a moment. "I meant it when I spoke of good company." That wall that was building up somewhere again inside you just got blasted to smithereens. "Um, excuse me, ma'am," the guard brought your attention to him, "you don't have clearance for the upper levels." You were about to apologise when Natasha cut him right there. "Don't I look like clearance enough, Dawson?" She looked right into his eyes with a blank expression, not really sure to you what she was thinking at that moment. "Now, excuse me while I take her home." "Yes, ma'am," the guard responded sheepishly. "Wow, woman, buy me coffee first," erupted out of you from nowhere, your nerves heating up from head to toe. "Oh I plan on getting us dinner," she asserted, her hand coming for your arm, sending sparkles down your skin, "you clearly deserve more than just some ordinary coffee." "Huh," you heard yourself in between your unsteady heartbeat as you stepped into the elevator, "I wonder what it was that did it for you." "I'm not sure," she said, scrunching her nose and biting her lips, "I stopped evaluating after you gave that chocolate wings."

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