So, I had every intention of waiting a few more days until I posted again, but damn! You people are amazing, so I decided, why not? I'm bored, it's to hot to be outside all day and I have ideas... so many ideas...
Feminist time! Well, it's basically a Natasha-centric one shot to describe some of Natasha's not so bad-ass habits, including bubbles baths and fluffy socks. The next shall be Clint-central.
Thank you so much for reading, I can not describe how happy it makes me and please, please review, I love hearing people's opinions and I am open to suggestions for future chapters.
I own nothing, my cat even belongs to my mother, I ain't about to take over Marvel. Cheerio!
Natasha Romanoff had a certain reputation that involved an awful lot of seduction, murder and violence. That meant she spent a lot of her life in short dresses and high heels with a perfect manicure.
It was all a façade, a cover to provide some kind of intimidating status. No matter how fun it could be to dress up and look pretty, it was a whole different thing when she was being put on show, used to complete a mission in a way that was nothing but demeaning. After fifteen years of repeating the process, Natasha was used to it but hated it more and more each time.
That was the reason why her home life looked like utter chaos. Her outfits often consisted of leggings and sweatshirts, or track pants and a tank top. Her hair would never be in a fancy French twist, it would be scrunched up in a messy bun on top of her head or falling to her waist in a mess of un-brushed curls. High heels were swapped for ugg boots and flats, short skirts were replaced with ripped shorts. She ate her dinner on the couch and her breakfast cereal from the box and her lunch, not in a high end restaurant with comms. in her ears.
When Maria Hill first saw Natasha's apartment, she had not needed any explanation. A woman in their profession valued their down time, and the unorganised state which they were allowed. Sharon Carter had laughed and sworn that her apartment looked exactly the same, only with a few more clothes strewn around the floor. Chastity McBryde had expressed her newly expanded respect for Natasha, and Lana Bellesini, her neighbour, had laughed and called it neat.
Aside from her clothing habits and the dispersal of said clothing, Natasha had an affinity for bubble baths, fuzzy socks and wine. If one were to ask for her reasons, she would probably feed them some story about unicorns and be convincing enough that they would believe it. In all reality, it was because it was the only way Natasha knew who to embrace the 'girly' side without embracing everything she hated about herself, everything she did to seduce and kill. Clint was the only person in the world who knew that, both because they lived together and because he understood completely, more often than not sitting beside her as she watched Disney movies for the fifteenth time. It was something that Natasha was eternally grateful for, and she was fairly sure she had memorised every word to the Lion King and the Little Mermaid.
While Natasha had her moments of drinking beer and swearing like a sailor, but she enjoyed the simple elegance that came with summer dresses and sandals, bare feet on sand and hair blowing in the wind. If one was to ask Natasha what she loved most about her life, it would be free will, the chance to be whoever she wanted to be, wherever she wanted to be.
