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Chapter Text

The Guardian of Vormir just watched as the two assassins fought each other to sacrifice themselves; he never saw in all those years two people willing to give themselves to save each other and also save all the lives lost to the Mad Titan. And when the woman made it, she made the necessary sacrifice to get the soul stone. After some time passed, he felt the weight of the universe getting back to the balance it was before the Mad Titan twisted, and his old arch-enemy showed up in the place he was.

"Oh, it is nice to see you again, Mr. Rogers." he says as he looks towards the blonde-haired man.

Steve looks at him perplexed, in all possibilities. He never thought that he would see his worst enemy there, being the guardian of the soul stone. How are you here? 

"Long story, that doesn’t matter," the guardian says and walks close to Steve. "So what’s brought you here? I feel that what you wanted to do with the stone worked, but I don’t understand the meaning of your return," the guardian says, standing in front of Steve.

Steve looked down, staring at his hand with an intensity that could burn entire galaxies. "I bring back the stone; we have no need for it now, and it is supposed to be back to where it belongs." Steve opens his hand and gives the yellow stone back to the guardian.

The guardian looks at it inquisitively, trying to understand why Steve is giving back the stone. "You going to give it back? Nobody has done this before. In all these years I have been guarding this place, this is certainly a new thing." Steve nods and tries to hide a sad smile. "I accept, but as the guardian, I have to make sure you giving this willingly." Steve nods again. "So that it is then, a soul for a soul." and the guardian turns around and walks into the dark, leaving Steve alone. 

Steve doesn’t know what that means, but he leaves that place and goes on his own time heist to deliver every stone and needed items the Avengers used to defeat the Mad Titan.

But in another place, most expecifically another reality. Our earth, with our own little conflicts and stupid wars that rich people make to have their own kind of twisted fun. Y/N is late, they are late for work; even when they are working from home, they are late. It was supposed to be a quick run into the market, get the stuff they needed, and then get back and be on time for their daily meeting. But no, nothing works out as they planned; they should know. As they keep running with the bags in hands trying to climb the stairs the fast as they could, one of the bags rip off, and drops the fruits they bought. "Another messy mess, yay!" they start to try to gather all the stuff while grumbling.

At the same time that happened to Y/N, Natasha feels herself feeling weightless, suspended between atoms, until she feels gravity hit her, but it is soft, not hard as she expected. She tries to open her eyes and blinks for a few seconds and notices she is in a room she doesn’t recognize, light blue and grayish walls, minimalistic furniture, and a huge TV mounted in the wall. She sat on the couch she was lying on. Looking to her right, she sees a small and cozy kitchen; on her left, there is a small corridor that has three doors, and at the end of the corridor, she sees a kitten, black with green-yellowish eyes, staring at her.

"Clint?" she whispered, her throat raw. No answer. Then she got up and walked towards the small kitten, trying not to scare it. She held the kitten and tried to look at the tag as she read it "Loki? What? Who names their kitten Loki?" as soon as she said that, the door creaked open. She turns around and sees a strange woman she doesn’t recognize.

Y/N turns around, trying not to drop the stuff they bought on the market, closing the door behind them "Loki, I’m home, I got your favorite snack…" and turn around, putting the stuff on the kitchen island and her eyes open wide "who the hell are you? And why Loki is your arms?" Y/N throws the rest of the bags on the kitchen island and pick the first thing that was next to them as a weapon to defend herself, a big spoon.

Natasha snuffle a laugh, a spoon? Is this woman really using a spoon to defend herself against the Black Widow? "глупый! Don’t kill me using that spoon!" Natasha says, faking fear. Y/N looks at it, feeling stupid, but doesn’t back down.

"Who are y… wait, no way… is this a kind of skit?" Y/N says as looking around trying to understand what’s happening. There’s Scarlett Johansson dressed as Black Window at her apartment, holding her cat. This must be a skit for TV; some of their neighbors should have helped them do that.

Natasha furrows her brows "What? Skit? What are you talking about? And where am I?" she says, putting the kitten on the ground. And he walks in fast pace to Y/N legs.

"So this isn’t a skit?" you ask, and Natasha nods "Okay, so you’re wearing a Black Widow outfit, you’re in my living room, and we are in Brooklyn. That’s not possible," you say and start to scratch your head trying to make sense of all of it. "Natasha Romanoff is here?" her eyes widen, and you continue rambling. "But it is not possible; you are a character, a comic book character."

Natasha feels her stomach turn and twist. what the hell is happening, why she’s here "You must be joking, I’m pretty real, I need to contact the Avengers tower." she says as she walks towards you.

"There’s no Avengers tower here Ms. Romanoff,"Natasha freezes while you pick up your phone and start typing into it, and turn it around for her to see "See, here you are a fictional character from a movie or comic book. I don’t know how this happened and how you are here now, but there are no heroes, villains, or aliens here." you give the phone to her "What is the last thing you remember?"

Natasha takes a few minutes trying to digest everything that is happening, her brain is up to speed to try to make sense of all of it. None of this makes sense; none of these feels real. But there she is, in a place where everything she knows or knew is just fiction. And after these past few minutes, you are still staring at her with a sympathetic look on your face when she finally opens her mouth and says "Vormir."

Chapter Text

You couldn’t believe what you were seeing in front of your eyes, this must be a stress hallucination. You grab the first thing you can find into the grocery bag, a Pop-Tart —  staring at the Black freaking Widow — and starts to openning the package and nervously eating it and looking to the ground trying to process what’s happening.

“You eat these?” Natasha asks arching an eyebrow, and poking the frosted pastry “They’re like a atom bomb of sugar.”

You look up again after finishing the Pop-Tart, staring at the Widow's eyes. “They are comfort food,” you muttered as you crossed your arms, trying to hide your trembling hands. “Look, even if you’re her, let’s say that I’m not hallucinating or having a vivid dream, why are you here? In my apartment?” 

Natasha had no answer. The last thing she remembered was Vormir . Now, she was in a brightly lit, cluttered living room with you, who looked like a startled fawn. It made no sense. And she keeps the intense gaze on you. “I died. Sacrificed myself for the soul stone. Then I wake up here… so you tell me.”

Your stomach drops. Vormir . Oh God, does she think she’s dead? You start to overthink, trying to remember the ending of the Endgame movie to try to make a little bit of sense of what is happening right now. You’re supposed to go out, get groceries, get back, and finish your tasks on your work laptop, and then, maybe… maybe, play a little bit of Marvel Rivals with your friends. And now there’s this woman in your living room, dressed as Black Widow, saying that she is the freaking Natasha Romanoff, and have no idea how she appear here.

“Hey, are you still here?” She gets close and pokes you, and you look back at her with a concerned look. “You looked like you went for another reality.”

“Sorry, I just…” You take a deep breath. “I’m just trying to make this make sense in my head, and I understand that maybe you’re feeling the same.” You run your hands through your hair. “It’s just… just too much. But the last thing I know, it happened in the movie…” Natasha's eyes widened, and you notice, “Yeah, they made a movie here about the battle with Thanos. And after your death, Bruce and Tony managed to make another infinity glove, or more like infinity iron man glove” this made her chuckles a bit “and Bruce as Hulk, managed to snap everyone back to life, but not you. Thanos from another reality noticed this and came barging into Earth, trying to do this kind of twisted way of making the universe perfect again. The heroes united and defeated him.”

She looks at you with a relieved smile but notices that you aren’t relieved as supposed to be. “There’s a but, isn’t there?” her face frowns. 

You stare back to the ground and mutter, “Yeah, Tony sacrificed himself to defeat Thanos…” You look again into her eyes and see a tear falling, and you hold yourself to not raise your hand and clear it up or hug her. “But there’s another thing that happened: Steve traveled back into time and space to give back all the stones, and stayed with his girl Peggy in the past. He had a good life though”. You give her a sheepish smile. 

Natasha stood there still for a few minutes, holding her tears; now is her time to try to process everything you said to her. A lot had happened after her death, she kept trying to make sense of everything you said to her. If it is true, the events that happened in the movie of your universe are the facts that happened in hers. She whispers, “So they made it…” She looks at you, and you nod. “But Tony… oh my God, Morgan… she… is she…” Another tear escapes from her eyes; you can’t hold it anymore, and you close the gap between you two and hug her. But as soon as you hug her, you feel her stiffen and getting out of your arms as she turns around and walks to the balcony. You take a few steps back. “I’m sorry. But I can promise that Morgan is okay…” You pick Loki up in your arms, sit on the sofa, and start to pet him as he purrs.

A few more minutes passed, and she finally turned around with a weak smile. She came close and sat next to you on the sofa. “So… Steve finally got his girl, right?” You give her another nod. “That’s good.” Both of you stay in silence as Loki keeps purring like a goddamn tractor, which made both of you share a genuine laugh, she reaches her hand to pet Loki and look up to your eyes. “Why name him Loki? He’s a villain.”

You hold your laugh. “If you stay here with me, I can show you more stuff that happened after the final battle, if you like to… and you will understand why this little guy got named Loki.” You hope she says yes; it would be nice to have a roommate again. And give her a shy smile.

She nods. “Deal, but I might steal that hoodie you left at the kitchen chair.” Your eyes widen up. She’s not talking about my limited edition Zelda hoodie, right? Oh no, she is . You see her getting up and picking up the hoodie and putting it on. “Do I look cute?” she says, teasing. You couldn’t hold yourself as your face burned up. Nope, I’m not blushing… not at all.

Later that night, you wake up to the sound of gunfire and shouting. You walk up to your office room, now an improvised bedroom for Natasha, and find her playing Marvel Rivals on your computer. She looks concentrated, and she’s playing… of course, with herself. You give a small knock on the opened door. Who dares to make an assassin scared? Me never. “Since when do you play games?” You ask as she gives a quick look at you.

“Since always. Barton and I had a good old long rivalry of which was the best in Mario Kart and shooter games.” She share a warming laugh as she whipped the entire team. “Nice rig, but maybe you need a new one, so I can take you from this elo hell that is gold”. 

You give her a shy laugh and lean against the wall. “You’re… you’re adjusting weirdly well to all of this.”

As you look at her screen, you see it pop up with vibrant colors as it says that she had a victory in the match she played. “What’s the alternative? Panic? Cry? I’ve already done that. It didn’t help."

You take a deep breath and gaze at her again. “But you lost everything. I wish I could do more to help you.”

“Not everything, and you are already helping.” Natasha glanced at her, green eyes unreadable. “I’m here. I got another chance. That’s a start.”

Your chest tightened. Dangerous. Your heart beats faster. Stop it.

“I’m going back to bed,” she mumbled. You take it as a hint to give her space and start to walk back to the corridor.

“Y/N.” You froze. Natasha’s voice was softer now. 

You turn around and look at her again. “Yeah?”

“Thank you. For not calling the cops.”

“You’d have escaped in five minutes anyway.”

“One,” Natasha corrected, smirking. You roll your eyes, but a traitorous smile tugs at your lips.

Chapter Text

The initial shock of Natasha's arrival slowly began to fade, replaced by ongoing wonder and a gnawing sense of displacement. And for Y/N, the initial confusion and terror started to turn into a strange, almost sort of protective curiosity. The woman in your office, who was quickly rigged up as a bedroom, spoke with a nearly military precision and moved with a silent grace that contradicted your state of confusion. She is your favorite Avenger; it was like the comics and the movies turned to life, and she was standing there in front of you, as confused as you were.

Two weeks have passed since Natasha Romanoff arrived in your world. Two weeks since your routine completely changed, the mood in your household has changed too. Loki now spends more time with Natasha than with you, and no more naps near you while you're working. Natasha, on the other hand, was adapting fast to this new world, at least, it was she tried to show you when you were around. 

Some nights when you’re having a hard time sleeping, you catch her playing games, others she’s researching world news and historic events, or standing on the balcony looking at the city life. She never catches you finding her doing this at night, maybe she just ignores you as you won't pose a threat. 

One night, she finally acknowledge your presence, as you kept observing her with a mixture of fascination and apprehension, she was standing by the window gazing out at the mundane street below - the slow crawl of traffic, blinding lights of the cars as they go their way, people walking with their dogs, and people walking drunkenly speaking loudly and having fun. There was a longing in her posture, subtle tension in her shoulders that spoke of a world far more dangerous and dynamic than this quiet neighborhood in Brooklyn.

“It’s… different,” she says without taking her gaze from the window, her voice low as she watches a group of young adults laughing on the sidewalk. “So… quiet.”

You walk closer to her and look at the life that’s happening through your window. “Is that bad?”

Natasha turned, her gaze intense on you. “Bad? No. Just… unfamiliar. Sometimes this” She points at the window. “looks so much like home, but it was never so quiet like this.” A shadow passes over her face, a fleeting glimpse of all the battles she fought and the sacrifices she made to make sure her world was safe.

Y/N, despite her introverted nature, felt a pang of sympathy. She couldn't fathom a life constantly on the brink of global catastrophe, but she could sense the weight of it on Natasha.

A few more days passed, bleeding into a week, and on another night, you found her looking so concentrated on the screen of your computer, and you noticed that she had finally decided to research her actress in this universe. You take a deep breath and give a small knock on the door. 

“Hey, so you finally dug into Scarlett Johansson.” She turns to look at you with an unreadable expression. “How are you feeling?”

She stands from the chair and walks towards you. “It’s strange, she looks exactly like me… But at the same time, doesn't” She turns around again, facing the screen. “We share the same face, same body… but my mannerisms make me so far from her.”

You watch her, a knot forming in your stomach. “It’s… a performance. They tell stories.”

Natasha lets out a short, almost humorless laugh, the sound tinged with a bitter irony. "Stories," she murmurs, her gaze fixed on the glowing screen. "So, my life, everything I've been through... it's just a story to them?" She gestures dismissively at the comments and articles. "And this... this actress just plays it?" A slow shake of her head conveys a profound disconnect. Her eyes then soften as they meet yours, noting your downcast expression and the wheels visibly turning as you search for comforting words. In the short weeks you've shared your life with her, she's already come to recognize your unwavering efforts to ensure her peace and security. A dejected smile touches her lips. "Well," she says, a hint of dry humor coloring her voice, "at least they got the suit right."

After that night, their interaction slowly became less stilted. Y/N, emboldened by Natasha’s lack of hostility and the glimpses of vulnerability she occasionally showed, started to ask more questions, although being careful not to step too far. She learned more about Natasha’s missions and how her relationship with Clint started after being recruited for S.H.I.E.L.D., and how Clint became her brother, and their gaming rivalry began. The experience of being an Avenger, having to deal with Stark being pompous bitch (her words).

Natasha, in another way, started to observe Y/N more closely. She noticed the way Y/N’s brows furrowed in concentration when she was trying to solve a problem with coding, the genuine delight when she could solve it fast and get to enjoy the rest of the working hours studying or asking her more questions about her life. The way you get all happy and giddy when you start to talk about a book, movie, or a TV show, the quiet acts of kindness you extended without expecting anything in return. She perceived that you are a creature of habit and comfort, your world being contained within the walls of your apartment and the glow of the screens. Yet, there was a hidden depth to you, one that she hadn’t quite figured out yet.

One evening, Y/N found Natasha in the living room, staring intensely at a news report on the TV. It was about a local political scandal, a far cry from alien invasions or rogue AI.

“Does it bother you?” You asked softly, sitting beside her on the worn couch. “That’s this is the biggest problem we have here?”

Natasha sighed, running a hand through her two colored hair. “Part of me? Yes, my entire life was about fighting, doing my missions with perfection, and saving the world.” She let out a rough breath. “To be in a place where… this is the biggest crisis… it feels so unreal.”

You give her a nod. “I understand how you’re feeling, but for us, it’s not so insignificant…” You countered gently. “Our lives are affected by this. Our world is this.” 

Natasha looks at you, a flicker of understanding in her eyes. “You’re right…” she conceded. “I… I’m just so familiarized with all the world-ending events that my perception got skewed.”

You give her a shy smile. “Yeah, I get it… sooo… let’s stop watching and getting upset with the news…” she arches an eyebrow at you. “Let’s find ourselves a new thing to watch.” Natasha was taken aback a bit, but nodded, and you started to go through the channels.

At a certain point in going through the channels, you stumble upon the Scott Pilgrim movie going on, and the scene is the one with Lucas Lee fighting Scott Pilgrim. You couldn’t keep your smile as you turned around to see Natasha's face clouded with confusion and amusement.

“What am I watching?” she says without taking her eyes off the screen. “And what about the eyebrows?” You could hear the confusion in her voice.

You just laugh and try to compose yourself. “Well, this is the Scott Pilgrim movie, a movie about a guy falling in love with a girl and having to fight her exes to be with her.” You take a deep breath to control your laughter and continue. “And there’s Chris Evans, the actor for Lucas Lee, and well, you know… Steve Rogers.” She looks at you with a dumbfounded look. “Aaaaanddd… if you wait for a bit, you're going to see Captain Marvel singing.”

“Whaaat?” This is all she could process and express.

After the movie ends, and you both share a good and fun time, enjoying this small moment, your and Natasha's dynamic shifts. She starts to see the value in the ordinary of this new world, the importance of the seemingly small struggles and dumb movies that make up a normal life. It contrasted with what she lived; there were no cosmic-scale problems to solve, no world-ending events to stop, and just a calm and boring life to rest and relax. It was an opportunity to have a life that she never dared to dream of, but she was sure that she would grip on to it with her second chance to live.

As they spend more time together, the initial awkwardness and confusion begin to dissipate, being replaced with a comfortable familiarity. They start sharing meals, having the weekends to watch movies of the known faces Natasha knows, some nights, Y/N keep listening to the stories Natasha is willing to share. But never touching the subject of Budapest, of course.

Humor became a bridge between them. Natasha's dry wit, often unintentional in its delivery, would elicit soft giggles from Y/N. And Y/N's nervous ramblings and occasional clumsy moments would draw a rare, genuine smile from Natasha.

One evening, Y/N tripped over a rug, sending a stack of books and comics tumbling to the floor. Natasha, without a word, knelt and started helping her gather them. Their hands brushed, and a spark of something unexpected flickered between them. Y/N’s cheeks flushed crimson, and Natasha’s gaze lingered for a moment longer than necessary before she looked away.

It was a moment that neither of them dared to talk about, in your case, afraid of overstepping or seeing more than things that maybe it was just a normal thing that happened. And Natasha just stayed quiet, digesting whatever that moment was.

On Thursday morning, Natasha decided to go out and grab both of you something to have for breakfast. She dressed one of you big hoodie and used a shade to cover most of her face. When she arrived at the coffee shop, most of the people didn’t care who she was, which was a relief for her. She grabbed some pastries and coffee and left the coffee shop.

After a few minutes, as she arrived at your apartment, you were already waiting for her in your kitchen with your phone in hand and with a slightly panicked face. She arches an eyebrow at you and asks. “Everything is alright?”

You just put your phone in her hand. “You’re trending… Scarlett Johansson was spotted grabbing coffee and pastries in a nearby coffee shop. Red hair is back, is Natasha Romanoff back for the Doomsday era?” You sit in defeat as she starts to read the articles and comments.

Natasha snorted, taking a sip of her black coffee. “So, they think I’m her?” And pick up a small croissant and start eating.

You couldn’t believe that she was so calm in this situation. People are going to be apeshit trying to find something to leak about the new movie. Hell, even the big guys from Marvel are going to be mad trying to understand why Scarlett is looking like Natasha. This certainly could turn to be a big mess. “They are sure you’re her! And with the new big movie starting to begin shooting, they're gonna seek and try to find anything or anyone that gives them likes.”

She calmly puts her coffee cup down. “I think is time to change my appearance again to be less noticeable. Do you have any hair dye?”

You shake your head. “No, but I’m going out and buying some for you. Until then, I think is best for you to stay hidden.”

"Exactly my thoughts," Natasha said, a thoughtful look finally replacing her initial amusement. "Perhaps a drastic change is in order this time. Something... less 'Black Widow chic'." She gestured vaguely at her red and blonde hair.

You nodded quickly. "Definitely. The internet moves fast. This 'Scarlett sighting' is already spreading like wildfire. The longer you stay looking like this, the higher the chances of someone recognizing you ." You ran a hand through your hair, a knot of anxiety tightening in your stomach. "The studio is going to have a meltdown. Imagine the leaks, the speculation..."

Natasha leaned against the counter, finishing her croissant. "Alright, no need to panic. We'll handle this. While you're out getting the dye, I will start going into these threads and comments and make people think it's just a publicity stunt."

You grabbed your keys and purse. "Sounds like a plan. What color do you think? Back to blonde? Or something completely different?"

Natasha shrugged. "Surprise me. Something... unremarkable. The goal is to blend in, not stand out." A small, wry smile touched her lips. "Though, I have to admit, not that this never happened to me in my world, but it's fun to see people mistaken me for an actress."

You managed a small smile back, despite the underlying worry. "Just try not to cause too much chaos while I'm gone, okay?"

"Wouldn't dream of it," Natasha replied, her eyes twinkling mischievously. "Just a quiet morning in, avoiding the paparazzi that think I'm a famous actress."

You shook your head, a mix of exasperation and affection swirling within you. "Be careful," you said as you headed for the door.

"Always am," Natasha called after you. As the door clicked shut, she walked over to your laptop, a determined glint in her eyes. Time to disappear again. This time, with a new hair color and hopefully, a little less unwanted attention.