Imagine That: Multifandom Part Two

the wrong prophecy | natasha romanoff

As soon as she saw me, she grabbed the nearest item – a tissue box – and threw it at me, bringing me back to reality.

"What the fuck?! Get out, you perv!" she shouted with full ferocity, and I widened my eyes, the effects of the dream partially wearing off.

"Oh my– s-sorry," I stuttered out quickly, immediately averting my gaze. Out of all the people to piss off, the Black Widow wasn't the one to go for.

I stumbled over my own feet as I backed up, leaving her room and slamming the door close behind me. My breathing evened out as I headed to the kitchen, but my heart was still pounding in my ears. I wiped the tears from my eyes and tried to focus on grabbing a glass and filling it with water, but it was hard to.

All I could seem to think about was Natasha in my dream. Was it a prophecy? Were we going to go on a mission where she would die trying to protect us? Or was it just my imagination conjuring up a dream that wasn't real? Either way, I would do everything in my power to prevent that from ever being a truth.

Long after I finished my glass of water, I stayed sitting at the island, lost in my thoughts and particularly thinking about how deep into shit I was after letting my emotions get the better of me. Bursting into Natasha's room like I had was definitely not a great first impression. Since I'd joined the Avengers, we'd barely had any conversations and, in all honesty, she scared me a little. I just hadn't got the chance to know her, and now I was certain I never would.

But if that was because of my concern for her, then so be it. I didn't regret checking on her like I had. I just had to know she was okay. My dreams felt so real sometimes, and this was just one of those moments where it was hard to separate dream from reality.

Too lost in my own head, I almost jumped out of my skin when a hand slammed on the counter before me. Looking up, I saw it was Natasha, now fully dressed but equally as angry as before. Her glare was fixated on me, daring me to give her a reason to shove my head into the blender or something.

"I don't give a shit if you're new or not, Y/L/N," she growled lowly, bringing her face closer to mine threateningly, "you don't just come into my room without an invite. You understand?"

I gulped nervously, wanting to move back and increase the distance between us, but I was kind of scared of what she'd do if I moved a muscle, so I simply nodded frantically and tried not to meet her gaze.

"Right, of course, sorry," I answered, a little feebly, but at this point, I didn't know her well enough to not be scared of her.

Her hand clenched into a fist in my peripheral, and she said, "Don't let it happen again," before moving away and storming out of the kitchen.

Once she was gone, I let out a shaky breath and sank my face into my hands, rubbing it gently. Not only did I have to figure out how to get over my nightmare, but I also had to get on Natasha Romanoff's good side. It wasn't exactly the day I'd planned, that's for sure.

——————————

I had thought that incident between Natasha and I would mean we'd forever be stuck on a bad note, but thankfully that wasn't the case. Two years later and it was soon forgotten about, neither of us ever bringing it up again and myself kind of forgetting about the dream altogether. It hadn't happened, so I placed it as a nightmare and left it at that.

During the time since then, I adjusted to being an Avenger and began to find my place amongst the team. The others and I soon opened up to one another, bonding over the little things once we grew more comfortable with each other, and it was the same with Natasha. She helped me to become a better fighter whilst I focused on bettering my powers for missions.