what words won’t say ♡
Natasha X reader ~angst & comfort
Sum: Natasha’s always there for you, at your best or worst
Warnings: descriptions of SH (self harm) mentions of depression, self hate, angst/comfort
WC: 1.1k
A/N: i’m really sorry for no fics lately
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Your head fell low as your eyes traced the small cracks littering underfoot, holding back tears with what little energy you had left.
The silent flight back from a failed mission, no one said it, they didn’t need to, it was your fault. You compromised weeks of work, put countless civilians in danger and let everyone down.
It was just one more reason, one more excuse to feel that emptiness, the weight on your chest that sunk lower the more you let your mind get to you.
Even now you felt it. Laying quiet covered by the warmth of Natasha nestled around you as she slept, soft snores tickling your neck and cold legs tangled with your own.You listened to her slow breathing for some time, the occasional snore, she would always deny and the rhythm of her heart beating in your ear.
You were alone in your head, she couldn’t hear your thoughts, no matter how dark, a part of you wished she would wake up and know how much you hurt, wrap you closer and whisper all sweet things.
The other part of you held on to every last mistake, letting in every thought that filled you with disgust, telling you everything you tried so hard not to believe, the mission really was all your fault, you were right not to tell Natasha about it. you were worthless, nothing more than a burden to everyone around you.
The thought settled in as your heart rate quickened, you didn’t matter, they’d be better off without you, everyone would.
You slipped out from the comfort of Natasha, careful not to wake her as you left silently and headed for the bathroom.
Your breath hitched as you shut the door and tried not to notice how your hands shook when you ran the tap, wetting your face with the cool water and staring blankly at your reflection in the mirror. You watched your eyes glaze back as tears threatened to run, every imperfection seemed to find you, filling your head and drowning you in it.
Useless, stupid, ugly…
It was suffocating. You need out, even just for a moment to feel something other than hate. Anything.
That’s how you found yourself, slouched against the wall on the bathroom floor with a blade in your shaking hand.
You’d been clean. You had, you’d tried so hard, the scars were fading, you were doing so much better, but now? you hated yourself for it. for everything.
You brought the blade to your skin, hesitating as you pulled in a breath-
it doesn’t matter
You ran the tip softly at first watching it mark, admiring the faint red for a moment, then again swiping it harder until a streak of red ran down your arm, again and again, you didn’t care anymore, you didn’t care at all.
You watched the blood spread down, beading on your skin and sticking to you like all the thoughts that pulled in your head. You hated that it felt so numb, that you felt so hopeless.
You didn’t stop until tears clouded your vision and your chest pulled tight, until your breath became unsteady and all you could hear was the pounding of your heart in your head.
Your eyes stung and suddenly the world was closing in, your hand clenched around the blade, still in your sweating palm, the stain of red imperfect against its metallic shine.
You didn’t look as you threw it in the sink, burying your face in your hands and not caring to hold back the tears as they streamed, running through the gaps between your fingers and down your neck as your chest rose and fell all too fast and the feeling of panic overcame you.
Why wouldn’t it stop, why couldn’t you just disappear, why-
“Y/N-”
Maybe you didn’t hear the soft knock, or the handle turn, or the door slip open but there was Natasha standing in front of you.
You could only stare at her through fearful eyes; she saw the blood smeared on your arm, dripping down in varying streaks staining your skin and her expression changed,
“Nat-” your voice broke and the guilt consumed you. “Nat! i’m so sorry I didn’t-”
Before you could say another word she was on the floor pulling you into her embrace, strong arms holding you tight as you sobbed between them, ‘I’m sorry’ spilling from your lips like a stuck record;
“I know love, I know. I’m so sorry, It’s ok, I’m here now, I’m here. You’re gonna be ok, Detka..”
You can hear the shake in her voice, she was there, pulling you closer smoothing your hair back and not caring for her clothing quickly being dampened by your tears.
The tightness seemed to calm, and your breathing slowed, it was still numb, that feeling, but it settled as she held you, tears slowed and it seemed to finally be quiet.
Natasha pulled back cupping your cheek, running her thumb to wipe stray tears as they ran; she took your arm softly with her own, you could feel it now, the sting of each cut. “Can I take care of this?” She asks, and you nod softly.
It’s delicate the way she holds you, concern deep in forest eyes as she brings a wet cloth to clean the blood, the sting of antiseptic making you wince, not that you minded, you listened to Natasha while she held your hand, running her thumb over your own and whispering softly, it distracted you for a moment, the comfort of her.
Placing the last bandage and smoothing her thumb gently across the edge, she leaned in to kiss the skin. “You don’t deserve to feel this way, you never do.” Her own tears stung, running down warm cheeks as she spoke. “Not you, never you, Detka.”
She’d never judge you for it. After all she had a past, she had demons and scars, she understood.
“sweetheart. I'm right here, always.”
.
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I think one of the worst, most uncomfortable and lonely feelings to experience is that of being tolerated.
Not hated outright, but not really enjoyed either, just people around you accepting your presence out of obligation. Nobody likes you enough to engage with you except out of politeness and when necessary, but they also don't dislike you enough to directly state they would rather not have you around.
You try to join in a conversation that by all signs seems to be welcome to input, and suddenly everyone goes a little quiet, forced smiles are given and the discussion fades out.
People make comments or a joke, and when you try to inquire about it are told 'nothing'.
And you know if you were to disappear somebody might make an offhand comment about it, but that's all the concern or consideration you'll be given.
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