Number Neighbors- Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Chapter 8

After four months of texting, you'd decided Nat was officially your new best friend of all time. You wondered if she'd ever be open to the option of meeting up but considering her initial hesitancy to even text you in the first place you figured that option was faaar off of the table...at least for now anyway.

You'd grown used to texting her at least once a day, and spamming her on days she'd go silent.

You didn't know what she did for work but you understood a lot of jobs didn't allow you to be on your phones, although she sometimes wouldn't even respond during the night and it made you wonder if she worked some kind of occasional night job. It only helped solidify your theory that Nat was an FBI agent- or maybe a super spy.

It would give you exponential bragging rights if you got to say your best friend was a super spy- although she'd probably have to assassinate you for spilling her secret and that would not bode well for you considering you had plans to travel the world before you died.

Still- you had to admit the two of you were getting closer, and your conversations had become a wide range of you spilling your nonsensical thoughts and Nat growing increasingly more concerned for your mental health.

                   Nat🔪:

Y/n🍦:

Do you think because humans are full of water the same as cucumbers that we also have the potential to become pickled?

Nat🔪:

Your brain terrifies me

Y/n🍦:

When I die I don't want to be cremated

I want to be pickled

Nat🔪:

Wow.

That's...concerning

How have you survived this long?

You'd screenshotted the conversation and posted it on your story, to which your mother replied with apid curiosity about who you'd been texting. After explaining to your mother about your new budding friendship (leaving out the part where Nat was a complete and total stranger -your mother would freak) she expressed how excited she was for you to finally be reaching out and finding new friends.

She also expressed her relief that there was someone else in the world willing to put up with your otherworldly intrusive thoughts. So Nat was now mother-approved, you outwardly fist pumped the air in the middle of your kitchen, 'best friend status' has been upgraded

—----

Nat🔪:

Y/n🍦:

Natalee

I have a theory

Nat🔪:

If it's about my name I'm

just going to debunk it right now

Y/n🍦:

What if the shit-tauri from the

Battle of shitstorm didn't die

and they actually turned into the freakishly large

rats that live on the NYC subways?

Nat🔪:

Solid theory.

Any proof?