nataliasquote

[nataliasquote]

Hi

Hello! 🤍

#kaya speaks!

[nataliasquote]

I have cowgirl nat thoughts about ur fic bae.

Them having to sit on Nat’s horse together bc readers horse is still at the stables. Just lots of tension all around.

Them wanting to hug(or kiss🤭) but their hats get in the way. This is just cute idk why.

Yk how Nat has the hourglass symbol on her hat? I think she’d put one on readers hat too so that no matter where they go, everyone knows they belong together.

Omg cowgirl Nat is back 🤠 I saw sparkly cowboy boots today and almost bought them 🤭

But oh my gosh yes! Going in for the kiss and the rims of their hats bump and it’s just soft giggles until Nat throws her hat off her head and pulls R in by the back of her neck 🫠

And omg they’d become a notorious duo with the hourglass symbols on their hats. If Natasha ever manages to break free from her life and gain freedom, they’d just travel from town to town with their matching hats 😫 ugh it’s perfect I love this SM!

#kaya speaks! #cowgirl natasha romanoff

[nataliasquote]

Five years since Endgame was released. 5 years since Natasha d**d. Real funny joke :) Bring her home pls :) I miss her

#kaya speaks! #natasha romanoff #avengers endgame #marvel

[nataliasquote]

Is it love? Or is it love? @katyaromanoffpetrova

#kaya speaks!

[nataliasquote]

Au idea hihi

I suggested a gym au before, imagine the gym girl is also a stoner🤭 getting in intense workouts and then in the evening just relax and smoke weed🫠

Well well well 👀 now THAT is something that really appeals to me. I’m adding to the list bc ☺️☺️ ugh I love it. It’s so hot

#kaya speaks!

[nataliasquote]

Too angsty ? :o can you tell us the plot pretty pleaaase ?

Ahh idk 😬 it’s probably going to be a Natasha only fic, bc somehow it feels so much more raw and it’s a challenge for me to write (which I love). But they all seem to be therapy fics (for me💀) so I kinda wanted to do one on like body image and incorporate Natasha into it. But knowing me I’ll get too into it and get too carried away, but we’ll see 🤷‍♀️

#kaya speaks!

[nataliasquote]

THANK YOU FOR THE ANSWER 💕

Good luck with the assignments you sound so cool to me right now.. 😔

You’re welcome! Oh I am the complete opposite of cool, but thank you 🤍 and yeah, assignments are kicking my ass but it’s my own fault for not starting them sooner 🤷‍♀️

#kaya speaks!

[nataliasquote]

GIVE IN THE URGE

And share with us :3

Hehe I will. But so far only one of them is half written and one other is possibly too angsty (kinda a therapy fic for myself 💀) so we shall see! But whatever I write, you will see 🤍

#kaya speaks!

[nataliasquote]

Heyyy i have a question, sorry if it was already asked but are you posting something for the "double trouble" au anytime soon ? I loooove this universe

Hey 🤍 I have a part of an instalment for DTT, but it will be delayed a bit. I’ve got 2 assignments due this week, so as long as I can get them done by Wednesday, I’ll finish writing that (hopefully) and get it posted

So I’m gonna aim for Saturday 🤞🏼

But thank you sm for loving it 🤍

#kaya speaks! #double the trouble au

[nataliasquote]

The urge to write 4 different angst fics at once is very strong rn 👀

#kaya speaks!

[nataliasquote]

👀 maybe um… breaking my promise about writing a happy fic 👀

anyone else think that "Who's Afraid of Little Old Me?" so Nat coded?! I legit can't stop thinking about it!

#kaya speaks!

[nataliasquote]

I have a question, "Is it all for nothing" a one shot or is it getting a part 2 because I would really like to see how it plays out after

It’s a oneshot! I wrote it whilst feeling angsty and needed to get my feelings out, and I don’t think I’d be able to get back into that mindset enough to give you a good enough part 2. And a general rule I like to keep with my angsty oneshots (unless I specify otherwise) is that they are oneshots bc it’s more powerful that way. I wouldn’t want to ruin the impact they have by resolving the angst, if that makes sense?

Basically, long story short, I leave them open so you can decide what happens next 🤍 I hope that’s helped

#kaya speaks!

[nataliasquote]

Hellooo

How did you come up with the name "Isla" i like it a lot and ive never heard of it before ☺️

Hey 🤍 honestly, I have no idea! I think I knew someone called Isla when I was younger, because that name has seemingly stuck in my head! But I’m glad you like it 🩷

#kaya speaks!

[nataliasquote]

this is beautiful 🤍

i love you like the ocean loves the moon,

sometimes as harsh and torrent as the open storm, where waves feel like the furious page turns of the anxious reader;

as cold and depthless as the deep unknown, its hidden darkness a secret only a machine would know;

chasing after the rippling reflection of its silver face, and it is high tide that floods the connection between two points once connecte-

the ocean loves the moon.

i love you like the ocean loves the moon.

there are gentle waves, tonight.

[nataliasquote]

Welcome To My Head At Midnight | n romanoff

Summary: Natasha Romanoff is her own worst enemy and maybe this fight isn’t one she’s so sure she can win.

Warnings: more depressing stuff, mentions of anxiety, panic attacks, isolation, depression, overall angst

wc: 2k

note: inspired by ‘Midnight’ by Bow Anderson. I listen to it too often so why not write a one shot about it to fuel angst. I’ve worked on this in small bits for a few nights now, and it’s not a fic exactly, but anyway, here it is :) enjoy

-⧗-

They say the brightest smiles hold the darkest secrets, their shimmering landscape a disguised war zone of trepidation. And those who dared tread there risked mutilation of their closest loved ones in exchange for the truth. No one came out of there unscathed, but perhaps the one who could never leave had it the worst.

Natasha knew how to keep herself occupied. Her work was her top priority, not having a secure bond with family nor friends to latch onto in her darkest hours. She threw herself into whatever she could, often picking up extra should she find simply a few spare minutes in her day.

But those hours weren’t taken for the hell of it. Her body wasn’t driven into the ground and her knuckles weren’t battered and bruised just for the fun of it. She needed solace, but nothing was ever strong enough to keep the lid on the overflowing terrors in her mind. She never would be strong enough, for this kind of pain was never made to be handled alone.

But the Black Widow, a feared warrior, would only ever be alone. Her hand crafted smile was simply a ruse but no one seemed to see through the cracks in her mask, no matter how large they felt from the inside. Her master manipulation worked a little too well, her silent cries for help falling upon deaf ears.

Among all of this, she couldn’t slow down. Just a momentary standstill had her grip on her emotions slipping, one by one her fingers losing contact with the sheer cliff face she found herself hanging from. Natasha may fight assassins and aliens with a fearless prowess, never batting an eyelid or showing a flicker of terror.

But the same could not be said for her own mind. The part of her that formed her every thought and controlled her every movement was simultaneously destroying her from the inside out. Her thoughts paralysed her, a punch to the gut when her guard was at her lowest. But no hours of running would ever let her escape these violent clutches that her fears had on her. She was trying to lose her shadow, an impossible fight.

She was always two steps ahead of both her enemies and her anxieties. The faintest lurch of her stomach or tightening of her chest had her appearing at Fury’s door in a breathless stupor, voice icy as she demanded an immediate mission. Her superior had his skepticism but always agreed, sending her across the country at the drop of a hat. Natasha never cared where she went; frankly, she never noticed. She would go anywhere, do anything.

But even she was forced to have days off. They felt like a fever dream, and Natasha found herself unable to partake in the excitable chatter rumbling among her friends at the prospect of their weekend plans. She could barely muster a smile, never mind a verbal reply whilst her hands began to tremble and her eyes turned glossy. Dread sank into the depths of her stomach like a stone - a day off meant isolation, it meant fighting her battles by herself - a death wish. Relaxation would never come, yet she braved a smile and lied through her teeth to dodge the inevitable questions.

Lifting her aching body out of bed was an impossible task. Her pillow was often soaked with tear stains but she barely noticed as her cool palms hit the wet fabric. The heavy curtains that fell to block out the world never twitched, and sunlight never got the chance to kiss her pale complexion. She didn’t want a reminder of what the day was like for everyone else. She remained a victim to the darkness, both inside and out.

There were no interruptions, why would there be? What little sleep she got was plagued by nightmares and she still shook from the aftermath as she shuffled to the bathroom, legs shaky and cheeks damp. The harsh reflection in the mirror only highlighted her anxious state, so she ignored it, too scared to be faced with what she knew would stare back at her. Mirrors across her room were covered up- she’d go crazy if they weren’t.

Natasha hated this side of her. Where was the tough woman she was supposed to be? How could she feel this much emotion when it had been beaten out of her since she could walk. How did any of it still remain? Nevermind enough to debilitate her and curl itself around her windpipe, slowly crushing her from the inside out and forcing every last piece of hope out.

She knew she was a failure, but not to this extent. Despite her success, she was fucking up her life and the demons in her head screamed this to her over and over. There were so many little girls who looked up to her. They admired the strength she had and her resilience and she wished she could tell them to stop when they uttered the words she was scared to hear.

“When I grow up, I want to be just like you.”

No you don’t. You really don’t.

Because they never got that insight into how she really survived each grueling day. They never saw the way her legs gave way the moment she stepped through the door, or how her hand clamped so tightly over her chapped lips her sobs were muffled. No one saw how many times she’d had to sweep pieces of shattered glass from her floor after her shaking hands had lost their grip on a cup, or the state of her nails after she’d picked them to death in an attempt to calm herself.

Everyone only saw what they wanted to see; the good. They didn’t want to know the bad. But Natasha had no choice, she had to live this nightmare. Her whole life had been spent running and she was exhausted from the fear that was always moments away from drowning her. It rested in her stomach like a grenade, the slightest movement could jostle and be fatal. But sometimes it felt more like the lingering touch of a ghostly figure, slowly dragging a nail down her back and igniting all her nerve endings so her body was on fire.

This ever-tense state that she had found herself in was exhausting and Natasha was tired. Simple tasks had become a chore and even small trips to the grocery store would result in a sudden, debilitating wave of tears and laboured breaths. A box of cereal still in hand as she kneeled on her kitchen floor, forehead pressed against the cupboard as she cried a silent scream. Anxiety hit her like a truck completely unexpected, snuffing any hope she had of a ‘good’ day.

But the worst times were the silent days. She had no tears to cry out, no thoughts to tumble into a panic attack about. She was just floating somewhere between wake and sleep, a hazy mess of a woman with no life behind her eyes.

There truly was no one who was worse of an enemy that she was to herself. She wasn’t afraid of death - no one was able to kill her.

No one but herself.

No one could love a killer like her. All the lives she had taken without a single drop of remorse, moving through crowds with a holstered gun like a goddamn machine.

Shoot, reload, repeat. Shoot. Reload. Repeat.

Where did ‘cry’ fit into this? Where did ‘self loathe’ fit into this? Where did ‘drown inside your own mind’ fit into any of this?

It didn’t. It shouldn’t.

Silence wasn’t a word in Natasha’s vocabulary. Screams rang in her ears like tinnitus, although she probably had that too.

‘No one’s going to love you’ she would mutter as she obsessed over her reflection with burning red eyes. Not with those scars. And certainly not when she was so fucked in the head. Who would want to love someone who spent the whole day smiling only to come home, flick off the lights, crawl under the covers and completely break down?

She hated that she craved someone’s touch, the coldness of her pillow failing to replicate the comfort a human would bring. But she was nothing if not a living, painful contradiction. Natasha never let herself get close to people, too scared they’d see the horrors she had to endure. So the chances of ever having someone to hold her at night was becoming slimmer by the day. But it was all the broken little girl inside her wanted. To hear someone’s comforting voice whisper in her ear that she wasn’t a monster. She wouldn’t believe them, her anxiety would fight against it, but to not go through this alone? It hurt her more than she’d ever admit.

The waves got stronger throughout the day until midnight hit and Natasha felt as though she was suffocating, water flooding her lungs as the monsters in her mind finally crawled out of their caves. It was just her in this lonely fight, weakly holding her weapons only to find them clattering to the ground in a matter of minutes.

She was tired, so tired of constantly fighting. She wasn’t born to be a soldier, she was born to be a lover, to be loved. But her trembling lip and curled up body tightened as she wrapped her arms around herself in a grounded effort to ease the pain.

As she silently shook in her bed and finally gave into the horrors, allowing them to submerge her under for another night and drain her energy and desire to live, there was one underlying question that felt heavier than everything else.

Was this her life now? Would she ever win? Or would the end of Natasha Romanoff come not from a wound gained out on the battlefield, but rather from one that had festered inside her for years, slowing growing and expanding until it consumed her in her entirety.

Was there anything worth living for anymore?

#3am

[nataliasquote]

When is this next dtt chapter coming out im exited now 👀👀

Depending on how much of my college assignments I can get done this weekend, it might be during next week. If I still procrastinate, then after next friday 😬

I have such bad motivation issues it’s not good. Fr I need help 😭

#kaya speaks!

[nataliasquote]

‘But Daddy I Love Him’ is so cowgirl Nat coded I might scream

#kaya speaks! #the tortured poets department #but daddy i love him #natasha romanoff