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natashas-girl · 2 years

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Nightmare

genre: angst/fluff

Summary: you have a nightmare that Natasha dies, and she comforts you after.

Your girlfriend hit you with that electric thingy and you fell to the ground. Struggling from the shock, you got up and ran towards the cliff.

Natasha will live Natasha will live.

Natasha tackled you, sending you both tumbling off the cliff. At the last minute you grabbed on to a tree branch (idk?) jutting out from the side of the cliff. Your other hand wrapped around Natasha's wrist.

"Natty- please," you said, tears running down your face.

"Y/n," she whispered calmly, "let me go,"

"No! N-natasha-" you sobbed, gripping her wrist tighter.

"I love you, y/n," she said, "but you need to let me go."

"Please." You met her eyes.

"It's okay," she whispered.

And then she fell.

-not a time skip but not not a time skip-

You shot out of bed, your heart pounding in your chest. It slowed a little when you realized that Natasha was next to you, still asleep and breathing.

You quietly snuck out to get a glass of water and clear your head, tiptoeing so you wouldn't wake Natasha. When you got back she was still asleep, her chest rising and falling rhythmically. You crawled into bed trying not to wake her up.

"Y/n?" You heard her say.

Shit.

"Yeah, Tasha?"

"Why are you up?" She asked, concern spreading across her face in the dark.

"I had a nightmare," you confessed.

"Do you wanna talk about it?"

"Well. . ." You took a deep breath, "there was a cliff and- we were there. And you- you. . ." You buried your face in her shoulder with a sob.

"Shh, shh. . . Its okay, y/n, it's okay." She hugged you. <3

"Tasha. . . I've had that same dream before. I could never, ever, ever . . ." You cried harder, "lose you."

"Don't worry, y/n" she said, "I'm not going anywhere. It wasn't real." She kissed your forehead, "it was just a dream."

You pulled the covers over you and Natasha's shoulders, suddenly cold.

"Just sleep, y/n. I'm right here, I'll protect you."

And your fell asleep with Natasha's arms wrapped around your shoulders.

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milli-moi · 9 months

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Natasha Romanoff on Sex Education: Or, how Aunty Nat would be awesome and Mama Nat would be a nightmare

Natasha would be a very different person to have in different roles when it comes to all things Sex Ed based. This might seem weird at first but let me explain.

Obviously Auntie Nat would be a great person to have on your side when it come to this stuff.

- She would be prepared, even though (depending on MCU or 616) she may not need them, she would always carry tampons and pads with her just in case someone needed them. She even keeps a couple tampons in one part of her tac belt and has helped out the team on various occasions.

- She wouldn’t judge. All the younger girls she has an impact on - in my head I think mostly of Wanda and Lila Barton here - know that if they have any weird symptoms and need to see someone, Natasha will find them the right doctor. They know if they need access to emergency contraceptives or abortion care then she’ll get them access.

- Natasha always has ALL the supplies. Due to the nature of her job there is nothing Nat doesn’t have if you give her a little notice. She’ll get you whatever contraceptive methods you need. spermicides? Yup, Lubricants?pick a flavour. Hypo allergenic condoms? Absolutely, any specific texture?

- In the same vein (pun not intended but I’m easily amused 😂) if it’s technique you want then she can give you tips on that too (jeez the puns… why…??) Natasha will talk to the point, blunt and without a hint of embarrassment. She will point out the problems with the banana-condom situation, explain toy sterilisation and pre or post- sex hygiene.

And these things would be great if she was your auntie, right? She would be someone to go to no matter what and without any judgement. I imagine she went to Wanda after a few weeks and dragged her to a pharmacy, getting her set up with contraception options as well as talking her through some of the products available, knowing that when she had first come to the US it had been overwhelming with so many new brands.

But then there is the other side, Natasha as a mother. Sounds awesome in a lot of ways, but…

(FYI: I always think of Mama Natasha as being very on the side that sex education should be mostly done before embarrassment sets in. She won’t risk her children being unable to say if something happened to them.)

- Instead of their two year old just being asked to explore those body parts privately Natasha explains what the clitoris is and why it exists.

- Being called into the class of your six year old to discover she had decided to explain to her classmates what sex is.

- Frequently reaching into the pocket of their jacket or bag as a teenager and finding a selection of different condoms.

- Being HORRIFIED to find the way the Black Widow is portrayed on the internet. The kids did not need to hear people talk about their mama like that.

- Having your mama just casually strike up a sex-based conversation with your friends if anything happens to bring the subject up.

- Thinking there are probably kids in your class who fantasise about your mama. Knowing they do when one of your friends discovers someone they know has black widow themed condoms.

#black widow #natasha romanoff #natalia romanova #marvel #buckynat #winterwidow #marvel headcanons #headcanon #mama spider #Natasha style sex Ed #Aunty Nat vs mama Nat #brain rambles #thoughts #character thoughts

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diaryoflife · 1 year

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[A normal morning at the Avengers compound]

Y/N, walking to the dinner table where the whole team is having breakfast: I just kissed a married woman!

Natasha, walking in right after Y/N: That’s because I’m your wife… you can’t keep saying that every time we kiss!

*the team laughs*

#comfort character #marvel cinematic universe #marvel #natasha romanoff #natalia alianovna romanova #black widow #natasha romanoff x reader #incorrect marvel quotes #natasha romanoff x gn!reader

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milesasinmorales · 2 years

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My coping mechanism is making my fav characters on picrew

1. Laura Kinney

2. Natalia Romanova

3. Wanda Maximoff

4. Emma Frost

5. Kitty Pryde

6. Yelena Belova

#actually autistic #marvel #marvel comics #xmen comics #picrew #laura kinney #natasha romanoff #natalia romanova #wanda maximoff #romani wanda maximoff #emma frost #white queen #kitty Pryde #shadowcat #yelena belova #favorite characters #wolverine #x23

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banabotch · 2 years

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Burn - N.R

This is a Natasha Romanoff x Fem!Original Character AU. !(WIP)!

*Not my gif*

Description- Life without purpose is something often seen in the eyes of humanity, but for some, it is the purpose they are given that is tearing them apart. In the eyes of one person, subjected to the hell of the KGB and Hydra’s collaboration, it is purely usage that drives the rage of revenge. When it seems as if nothing could put an end to the death and destruction following their path, a red headed assassin steps up to the plate. Will things change for the vengeance-fueled experiment, or will it be yet another trap that ends in agony?

Gender: OC is a woman with a vag

TW: WIP, 18+, Blood, Violence, Fire, Arson, Murder, Abuse, Angst, Experimentation, Human/Child Trafficking, and anything else you’d see in the MCU.

This is an introduction alone. A prologue, if you will. The following chapters will likely be longer. However, I literally spent MONTHS perfecting this fic so idk when I’ll update it. Hopefully you love this as much as I do! Stay safe!!

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•

Naivety is known to offer a face of oblivion, sheltering with its vile deceivance. As age wilts within the mind, it seems to release a sense of perception that once had been out of reach.

The moment when the world changed is unrecognizable for most, but the difference still holds great definition. No longer does the sun set with ease, filtering away the cruelty of its presence, but instead, the warmth fades and brings forth a cold challenge: A warning. The sky burns black and the scenery changes. Shadows creep out of hiding and shatter the safety of sight. Every 24 hours cycles through an all too familiar game of hide and seek. The day becomes nothing but a bad hiding spot. A ripped safety net.

Reality steps in.

Heavy footsteps thump down the hallway, the soles of the boots dragging against the cold concrete, creating a screeching echo that bounces off the cracking drywall.

It was unsettlingly uncanny: the affect of the darkness. The way the pounding steps send ripples of vibration, consuming all with its intention. A small candle, perched up on the window sill, provides just a flicker of light, casting an eerie glow against the rotting tile. Leaves scratch against the thin glass, wind howling as the small shadows dance against the dried blood crusted to the floor.

Each thundering step elicits a slight twitch of the candle, the shaking wax working to cover the wick, to drown the light. It’s only a matter of seconds before the door is blown off its hinges and he finds his prized possession. Until then, his object sits, staring into a void of nothingness that had swallowed its mind.

The door snaps and cracks with the force of a blow. The quivering wax flicks over the burning braided cotton, sending an eerily soft flush of smoke into the air. Almost as if on cue, the nightmare begins. The door splinters with the weight of his fist, his fingers curling as they push through the wood, reaching for the handle.

Perhaps the possession should care, maybe even open its eyes. The blood curdling screams aren’t coming from the throat of the item, but they should be. Hot red liquid pools at his feet, satisfaction lining his eyes. Death would not disappoint. Except, death was not present in the eye of the item on this cruel night. Figuratively, sure; something in the item died this night. Whether that be its heart or its mind, nobody can really know for certain.

One final crack of its jaw and the life is seemingly gone. A soft thud interrupts the shallow song of ragged breathing, the malnourished corpse hitting the floor with sickening ease. Grey water splashes against the leather boots, matted hair soaking in the puddle. The peace of unconsciousness drowns the object, merely the exact moment the cage bursts in black flames.

The fire is alive and unrelenting, consuming everything blocking its path of destruction. There is no light. Smoke covers the moon, leaving a just transparency of the object’s ending. The crackling flames don’t touch the possession, but they don’t need to. As consciousness seeps back into the item, a sick grin fills its features. Bones grind and pop in retaliation as the object moves to stand. The warehouse is in ruins, broken shards of glass breaking through the calloused skin of the possession as it stumbles forward. The scent of dust and burning flesh sizzles in the air, welcomed by a surge of unraveled pride.

Each faltering step gains distance, moving the object through the raging heat. Colorless liquid drips down its body in allusion to the previous events. Its mind runs freely with no emotion pulling on its power. There is no longer an ounce of trepidation, only the smirk of vile revenge as the flames wrap its failing limbs. With each spark of hunger, the fire reverses a painful memory. No longer was the possession in usage, nor would it cower to the hand of a man. The flares of angst only grow hotter, burning with rage.

Man would crumble to fire. The very flames that lick the wounds of the object would skin the walking corpses of those that were deserving. Each step away from the warehouses burning walls led a trail of charred grass and dirt. The maddened object would halt for nothing. Only time could tell the objects future. What would become of the vengeance lacing its veins is unknown. Crackling black smoke hides the object from a glance of light, from a glimpse of what would become. In some sick twist of fate, the darkness had already consumed the object. The very hate that had torn the soul to its death had watered the seed of its revenge.

Naivety is long gone. The sun only illuminates pretenses of innocence. Darkness would prevail. The object has come to its senses. It’s name is no longer wrapped by the cruelty of possession, but born with the flame of resurrection. It’s name, her name has found meaning yet again.

~•~•~•~•~•~•~~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

“Her name is Xelvakna. That’s all we’ve got on the girl.” Fury sighs, tossing the empty file on the round table. The presence of the director was not one often found in the Avengers compound, save for the occasional end-of-the-world threat, so you could say the 6 superhero’s were more than attentive to his presentation.

“You mean you’ve been looking for her for how long and all you’ve got is a name?” Tony chortles, spinning his chair like a child. Contrary to popular belief, the billionaire did not have a lack of respect for the director in front of him, but rather, something he would not dare admit: fear. Majority of the group had associated the Director with the news he brings. None of which, had ever lead to something good.

“She wasn’t a priority. We had worse to deal with.” Fury retorts. It had become quite his thing to be such a secretive descriptor but nobody was in the mood for it. This Xelvakna obviously had more to her than this if Nick Fury, of all people, had come to inform the team of her.

“What exactly are we dealing with?” Steve asks, tapping his foot against the floor with a rhythmic beat. The old song wasn’t one of great popularity in the current era, but it held a sense of welcomed familiarity that the elderly man couldn’t seem to rid himself of. Music had been a helpful tool in terms of grounding himself, especially in moments like these.

“A mass arsonist. 2 years she’s been at it and she’s killed over 8,000 so far.” Fury answers, clicking through a holographic slide show of “bombings” and “gas leaks” throughout a number of countries, all within the time frame. With each picture came a new establishment burnt to a crisp. No flames, no evidence, just ashes and smoke.

“How is that not top priority?” Steve stands, obviously offended at the amount of lives S.H.I.E.L.D has let her take. The man was known for his traditional moral and majority of the time, it came with tickling remarks, but in this instance, no person could muster a word. The battle of New York, unfortunately, came with a death count and the numbers weren’t pretty. To be blunt, there wasn’t a thing any of them wouldn’t do to make up for the irreparable damage they’d done. Adding more to the list of guilt wouldn’t help anybody.

“It wasn’t civilians she was killing, Rogers. She’s going after Hydra and as of a few weeks ago, the KGB.” Fury snaps, causing the room to fall into silence until the next person speaks. The situation would have been a lot less complicated if it were as simple as a sadist on a rampage.

“So why is she priority now?” Clint speaks up, drawing attention to his side of the table. The archer was not known for a talkative nature, but no good agent would leave questions unanswered.

“She’s going after Alexi Bruskin next. Her perfect opportunity is at this gala tomorrow night. It is for the KGB elites and their families. My guess is she’s going to light the place up. You are going to stop her.” Fury responds, flipping through the slides of the event. Several well-known faces of public figures and communists arose on the holograph, but only one agent was painfully aware of their hidden obsessions.

“Why are we stopping her?” Natasha questions, all eyes snapping to the introverted redhead. The assassin trusted the director more than she let on, but she was nowhere near a blind follower. Those people had every reason to be set ablaze and she, personally, didn’t see why she would care to delay their karma.

“I wouldn’t normally mind if a few got lit up, but they won’t be the only ones there. Innocent people, children, will be there…I need you to stop her and bring her back in one piece. Clear?” The director finalizes, sighing in satisfaction at the submission of the group before exiting the room.

“Wheels up in 60.”

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