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sweetromanova · 4 days ago

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Matching Napkins & Mixed Feelings🕊️

Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Summary: A story of a fake date with real chemistry and absolutely zero self control.

Word Count: 11k

Weddings were supposed to be happy.

Natasha Romanoff scowled at the cream-and-gold envelope like it had insulted her personally. Which, in a way, it had.

Natasha wasn’t sure what annoyed her more: the fact that everyone was going, or the fact that they were all excited about it.

The invitation had been couriered in a velvet-lined box, a typically extra touch from Tony, who had apparently gone full sentimental since his wedding to Pepper. Stark had insisted on hosting Wanda and Vision’s nuptials himself, at some sprawling manor house he owned in the Hamptons. Big enough to fit the entire SHIELD team, plus family, plus plus-ones.

That was the part Natasha kept getting stuck on.

‘You are warmly invited to join us for the weekend- rehearsal dinner Friday, ceremony Saturday, brunch Sunday. Formal attire. Plus-ones welcome!’

The words stared back at her from the heavy cardstock like a dare.

Everyone was talking about it. Clint was coming with Laura and their kids. Steve had RSVP’d “maybe” because apparently he was still awkward about parties and modern social norms. Sam had mentioned bringing a woman he’d been seeing, serious, apparently. Even Carol had raised an eyebrow and said, “Think I’ll ask Maria. She’s better at tuxes anyway.” And true to her word, the next time Natasha saw them they were planning on matching suits.

And Natasha? She had… no one. Which wasn’t tragic, just a little inconvenient. Because for all her sharp edges and hard-earned detachment, even she knew what it would look like when she showed up alone to a house full of love and champagne flutes. She didn’t need the stares or the nudges or the pity disguised as small talk.

Not to mention: if she had to listen to one more person ask. “So… who are you bringing?” She might snap.

⋆⋆⋆⋆

The next morning, she was more in her head than she liked to admit. Her boots echoed through the sleek hallways of Stark Tower, a bitter coffee gripped loosely in one hand, the other tucking her hair back absently. She hadn’t slept. Her thoughts spun circles, rehearsing excuses, brushing off questions, imagining herself at the rehearsal dinner with an empty chair beside her and a glass of vodka she didn’t want.

Which is probably why she didn’t see you coming.

You stepped out of a side hallway with a tablet in one hand, reading something intently, just as Natasha rounded the corner.

The collision was minor. The spill was not.

Splash.

Dark liquid sloshed across your blouse, splattering your chest and neck in one fast, shocking second.

“Shit-“

You froze, flinching at the sudden heat.

Natasha swore under her breath and reached instinctively for a napkin tucked into her jacket. “Damn it. I didn’t see you. I’m sorry.”

You blinked, not out of fear, just processing the impact. Your shirt was soaked and your tablet was now dripping and beeping sadly.

“Well...” You said after a pause, “I guess I’m awake now.”

Natasha looked you over quickly, assessing but not in a threat analysis way. You were younger than her, dressed in business casual with a lanyard tucked into your jacket. She didn’t recognize your face and she always recognized people in this building.

“Do you work for Stark?” She asked, brows drawing together slightly.

You nodded, still dabbing at your shirt. “Marketing. Technically Pepper’s team. I do a lot of the external communications stuff. Press kits, campaigns, corporate fluff.”

“Figured.” Natasha said. “I know every face in this tower. Yours isn’t one of them.”

You raised a brow. “I’m new. Just finished onboarding last week. I guess you really do know everyone.”

“I make a point of it.”

The way she said it wasn’t bragging, just fact. You tilted your head slightly, as if seeing her with fresh eyes. “That’s… a little intense.”

“I’m a little intense.”

You laughed, not mocking but genuinely surprised. “Good to know.”

For a second, neither of you moved.

You were standing in a puddle of cooling coffee, your blouse stained and your morning derailed. But you didn’t look angry. If anything, you looked curious like she had just disrupted your day in a way you hadn’t been expecting and maybe didn’t mind.

“I should sort this-“ You excused. “New shirt, coffee bath, and my calendar’s erased itself. Great day.”

“I can call down for dry cleaning.” Natasha offered, already pulling out her phone. “Or get someone from facilities to grab you a spare shirt from the merch room.”

You shook your head, still smiling faintly. “It’s fine. I was overdue for chaos today anyway. Seriously, I’ll be fine.”

Natasha wasn’t used to this. Casual ease. Civilians who didn’t flinch. You didn’t try to make conversation or ask for a selfie, you just were. Steady, warm, smart-mouthed. A weird comfort she hadn’t expected on a Monday.

“No, please. The dry cleaning downstairs can have it washed and dried in 30 minutes.”

“That’s impressive.”

“And needed.” Natasha eyed your blouse, the brown stain almost bleeding further across the stark-white material. “And I’ll buy you a coffee for the trouble?”

“Aslong as I don’t have to wear it this time.”

You laughed softly, trying not to fidget too much in your damp shirt and followed the redhead as she turned and led you toward the elevator. You tried not to stare at the way she moved, efficient, confident, like she was wired tighter than everyone else in the building. There was no wasted motion. No small talk, either. She held silence like armour.

“Stark really has his own laundry service in the building?” You asked after a moment of silence, trying to fill the quiet.

Natasha glanced sideways, a trace of amusement in her voice. “This building has a quantum-powered smoothie bar. Laundry’s not the weirdest part.”

“Right. Forgot I work in sci-fi now.”

She actually smirked at that.

The laundry room was pristine, tucked down a narrow hallway you were sure wasn’t on any public floor plan. Matte steel machines lined the walls, humming softly, nothing clunky or coin-operated about them.

Natasha tapped in a short code at the touchscreen console and one of the machines slid open like a bank vault.

“Drop it in.” She said, nodding toward the opening.

You hesitated, eyeing your blouse. “Right. Should probably take it off.”

Natasha, already crouched by the control panel, paused. “Yeah.”

You started to unbutton it slowly, aware of her presence, but doing your best to play it cool. The fabric peeled away sticky and cold from your skin. You folded the shirt and passed it to her, now left standing in your bra. lacy, a soft lavender and probably not entirely office-appropriate.

You could feel her glance before she looked back at the machine, slipping your shirt inside like it hadn’t just gotten a little awkward.

“Timer’s set for twenty-eight minutes.” She smiled, her voice steady. “You’ll get it back warm.”

“Great.” You said lightly. Then added: “Just one problem.”

Natasha turned. You were hugging your arms over your chest now. “I didn’t exactly plan on stripping in front of the whole of SHIELD today, so I don’t have anything else to wear.”

For a beat, she didn’t say anything.

Then without ceremony, she reached for the hem of her long-sleeve black shirt and pulled it off in one motion.

You blinked. She was already holding it out to you. “Here.”

“Are you-“

“I’ve got a sports bra on. You don’t.” Her tone was matter-of-fact.

You took the shirt, trying not to stare at her bare shoulders, the faint glint of a scar along one collarbone. Her sports bra was simple and sleek. Functional.

Natasha Romanoff was all sharp lines and quiet edges. And yet, somehow, she was handing you a piece of herself like it didn’t matter at all.

You pulled it over your head. It was loose, warm, smelled faintly like cedar and something darker like wind after a storm. It covered you down past your hips.

She looked at you, nodded once then leaned against the counter, arms folded.

“So.” You smirked, not quite sure what to do with yourself. “How many coffee related injuries do you cause per week?”

Natasha’s mouth quirked. “You’re the first.”

“Well.” You gestured at your borrowed outfit. “Glad I could make an impression.”

That pulled the smallest smile from her, a ghost of something wry and curious.

And just like that, the silence between you didn’t feel so heavy anymore.

“I still owe you a coffee.”

“Lead the way.”

Ten minutes later, you were seated across from her in the sleek Stark Tower café, far less flashy than expected, tucked into a glass alcove overlooking Midtown. It was quiet this time of day and your coffee order had come out faster than it should’ve. You suspected Natasha had something to do with that.

“You know…” You said, cupping your hands around the mug. “I expected you to be way scarier.”

Natasha leaned back slightly, one brow raised. “Disappointed?”

You tilted your head, teasing. “Not sure yet.”

She let out a low laugh, barely audible but real. “You’ve got guts.”

“And caffeine.”

“Same thing.”

There was a comfortable beat of silence as you sipped. You weren’t sure how this had happened, being here, sitting across from her but you weren’t about to question it. Not when the tension had softened into something almost easy. Almost fun.

Natasha was watching you. Not obviously, not unkindly but carefully. Like she was trying to figure out what box to put you in. You weren’t sure she’d found one yet.

“So.” She said finally. “What were you doing in that hallway anyway? Not just wandering around looking to catch flying coffee cups, right?”

You smiled. “Helping Pepper with some last-minute wedding planning.”

That earned a groan. You couldn’t tell if it was dramatic or genuine.

You grinned. “What?”

“She’s been in a spreadsheet induced spiral for three days.”

“Oh, I know. I’ve seen the color-coded seating charts.”

Natasha rolled her eyes. “Of course she color-coded.”

“She color-coded by personality type.” You added, with a smirk.

She stared at you, deadpan. “You’re joking.”

“I wish I was.”

You both laughed and for a moment it felt like you’d known her longer than thirty minutes.

“Why the face?” You asked, stirring your coffee idly. “You groaned at the word ‘wedding’ like someone was threatening you.”

She hesitated, just long enough for you to notice.

“It’s not really my thing.” She shrugged. “Big groups. Matching napkins. PDA. Plus-ones.”

You raised your brows. “Don’t like a good open bar?”

“I like vodka.” She countered. “I don’t like pity small talk from married people asking me why I’m alone.”

“Wow.” You said, deadpan. “Whoever asked you that must have a death wish.”

“They were brave. And drunk. Didn’t last long.”

You laughed, fully this time, a rich, bright sound that made her glance up again, this time without the usual walls behind her eyes.

“Well…” You said lightly. “I also hate matching napkins and PDA. I’m also being a loner this weekend and every other weekend.”

Natasha tilted her head, amused. “Are you offering to be my plus-one?”

You shrugged with a grin. “I mean, I wasn’t but I’d be happy to be of service. Besides don’t I owe you for the courageous offer of your shirt so I wouldn’t flash government officials.”

“Pretty sure I owe you.”

You sipped your coffee. “Exactly. I’m repaying a debt. Like some kind of marketing department damsel in distress.”

Natasha considered you for a long moment then set her cup down.

“…Alright.”

You blinked. “Wait. Really?”

“You basically offered.”

“Yeah but-“

“And I accepted.”

You opened your mouth. Closed it. “Wow. I didn’t think that would actually work.”

Her lips twitched. “You said it yourself, you’re free this weekend.”

You tried to look nonchalant and failed completely. “Guess I am.”

Natasha picked up her cup again. “Good. Then pack something formal. Stark weddings are never subtle.”

“Noted.”

Another beat passed. This time, the silence felt like static, charged, not quite flirty, not quite serious. You broke it with a grin.

“So… is there a dress code or expectations for being an Avenger’s fake date?”

Natasha didn’t blink. “Don’t die.”

You raised your cup in a toast. “I’ll do my best.”

⋆⋆⋆⋆

Your phone buzzed while you were packing.

Unknown Number:

Send a pic of the dress.

You blinked then stared at the text for a second too long.

Well, that wasn’t ominous.

You texted back immediately.

You:

Bold of you to assume I’d be into anonymous dress kinks.

But sure, what are you wearing?

It only took a second before a reply came through.

Unknown Number:

It’s Natasha.

Shut up.

You grinned, already halfway laughing.

You:

Ohhhh well in that case? Still no.

You’ll see it at the wedding. I like the dramatic reveal.

Three dots appeared… then vanished. Then again.

Natasha:

Why are you being weird?

You:

You asked for a picture of my outfit like a sugar daddy? What’s the protocol here?

Do I send you feet pics too?

Across the city, in her apartment, Natasha stared at her phone with the dead-eyed expression of someone questioning every decision that had led her here.

Then, finally.

Natasha:

Just tell me the colour.

You chewed your lip, fighting a smirk, then typed.

You:

Technically? It’s ‘shadowed evergreen with cool ash undertones and a satin twilight finish’

Ten seconds of silence.

Natasha:

What the hell does that mean?!

You:

It means it’s a very sexy forest🫶

Natasha:

That’s all you had to say at the beginning.

Also that’s not a colour.

You:

You asked.

Don’t get snippy just because you don’t understand fashion.

Another pause.

Natasha:

...Is it short?

You felt your heart skip once, just once then smiled as you typed back.

You:

Wouldn’t you like to know?

It’s fitted. High slit. Low back.

You’ll manage.

Natasha:

You’re enjoying this.

You:

You asked.

Natasha:

I regret it.

You:

You’ll regret it more when you see me.

Try not to let it become a problem.

Natasha:

What I regret not leaving you soaked in coffee.

You:

Two more days and you can have a do-over with champagne…

Three dots. No reply.

You pictured her somewhere in her minimalistic apartment, tossing her phone onto the couch and muttering something Russian under her breath.

It made you grin harder than you wanted to admit.

⋆⋆⋆⋆

The trees were thinning out ahead of them, tall pines giving way to the manicured gravel drive that wound toward Stark’s Hamptons estate. But the car ride still had time to stretch, twenty more minutes of shared space and too much quiet.

You shifted in your seat and glanced over at Natasha, arms on the wheel, eyes fixed on the blur outside the window. She looked like a statue someone had wrapped in black silk.

“We should probably get our story straight.” You commented, putting your phone down and turning towards her.

She blinked, just once then looked at you. “What story?”

“How we met.” You gave her a shrug and a crooked smile. “We’re supposed to be dating, remember? People are going to ask.”

Natasha made a face like she’d just remembered she agreed to something ridiculous. “Can’t we just say we matched on some app, I spilled coffee on you, which I did and kept it vague?”

“That’s your fantasy origin story?” You teased. “You spill coffee on my shirt and you’re like Better take this one to a wedding.’”

“I’ve done dumber things.”

You laughed. “Okay, fine. Let’s workshop it.”

She sighed and leaned back into the leather. “Alright. Shoot.”

You held up an imaginary notepad. “Option one: You saved my life during a corporate hostage situation. You fell for me literally, as crawled through the air vents.”

She looked at you flatly. “Pass. Also you work for Stark, I think he’d know if there was a hostage situation with his employees.”

“I work with Pepper and can say Stark doesn’t even know what time to shower unless Pepper tells him. Anyway, no problem.” You grin. “Option two. We were seated next to each other on a red-eye. You stole my pretzels. We fought. Then we made out somewhere over Nebraska.”

Her expression didn’t change but her lip twitched. “That one’s better.”

“Thought so.”

“But I don’t take red eyes. I have a quinjet.”

“Ok, show off.”

“What else have you got?”

“The boring kind. Meet cute in the supermarket? Friend of a friend set us up on a blind date? I stalked you like a weirdo fan.”

“The last one!”

“Of course you’d say that.”

“It’s realistic.”

“Not quite, I’m more of a Wanda fan.”

“She’s getting married, tough.”

“Only because she hasn’t met me yet.”

“You’re so-“

“I know.” Natasha went quiet, not in anger but admiration, she’d met her match.

She was quiet for a moment, then said. “So what’s your real type? Since we’re lying to each other.”

You looked out the window. “Hopeless romantic. The usual.”

“Fairy tales. Flowers. Making eye contact during sex?”

“Exactly.”

She snorted. “You don’t strike me as the hearts and roses type.”

You smiled, a little softer now. “I don’t believe in love. I just like pretending it’s real.”

That made her glance at you again, properly this time.

You added. “It’s like horoscopes. Bullshit but comforting.”

She didn’t answer right away.

Then: “I hate love.”

You arched an eyebrow. “Hate’s a strong word.”

“So’s ‘forever.’”

“Touché.”

“I like what love pretends to be.” She shrugged. “But love itself? Messy. Manipulative. Weak.”

You didn’t push. Just nodded. “So what do you believe in?”

Natasha stared out the window again.

“Control.” She deadpanned. “Chemistry. Sex.”

“Ah.” You said, biting back a grin. “The holy trinity.”

She finally smiled, crooked, deliberate. “At least I’m honest about it.”

You shrugged, settling into your seat. “Alright then. New origin story? We met at a bar. You said something cold. I said something stupid. Then we slept together. And just… kept doing it.”

“That…” Natasha said, eyes still forward, “…is the most believable thing you’ve said all day.”

⋆⋆⋆⋆

The car pulled up to the Stark estate, all towering stone archways and elegant glass, an estate that looked like it had been custom-built to host emotionally complicated billionaires and superhero weddings.

Natasha stepped out first, looking entirely unbothered. She wore a smart-casual line shirt tucked neatly into lightweight black dress pants, sleeves pushed just enough to show her forearms. Her sunglasses sat low on her nose, her expression unreadable.

Effortless. Controlled. Of course she looked good.

You followed her out of the car, brushing your palms over the fabric of your summer dress, a soft floral number, simple and light. It was the least daring of the dresses you’d packed for the weekend. You weren’t easing into things. You were pacing yourself.

Her eyes flicked over you, unreadable.But her fingers brushed your lower back as you stepped up beside her.

Instinct? Acting? You weren’t sure. Neither was she.

Inside, the front room was alive with voices, laughter, clinking glass and the full roster of Avengers in various states of casual travel attire. Sam, Carol, Maria, Clint, Tony, Steve and Bucky, all circling round the reception.

All eyes went to you and Natasha the moment the door closed behind you.

“Romanoff brought a date.” Sam said, mock-scandalised.

Carol blinked. “Wait, seriously? You weren’t kidding?”

Maria nudged her. “Let her get a drink first, damn!"

Natasha just raised an eyebrow like this was nothing new.

You smiled, stepped closer, and casually slid your hand into hers. She didn’t flinch or pull away. Just laced her fingers with yours like she’d done it a thousand times.

Pepper spotted you across the room and froze. “Wait- What?!”

You grinned. “Hi, boss.”

“I- I- How did I not know about this?”

Natasha answered smoothly. “We’re very discreet.”

“I work with both of you.”

“Exactly.” Natasha added, stepping in close to your side, her hand still warm in yours. “She only visits me after hours.”

“Please stop.” Pepper muttered.

“We met after work.” You explained. “At a bar… we didn’t know at first. A few drinks and Natasha was all charming but just so so broody-“

“Then we slept together.” She finished flatly, cutting you off.

Sam snorted into his drink. “Okay. I like this story. Let’s go back, don’t spare any details.”

“We’ve been inseparable ever since.” You smile, cuddling up against her side like it was second nature.

Natasha’s arm instinctively wrapped around your waist.

She gave you a sideways glance, low and amused. “That’s funny. Because someone didn’t text me back for three days.”

“I was playing hard to get.” You said, nudging her. “You liked it.”

“You were ghosting me.”

“I was thinking!” You turned to Pepper. “She’s so clingy.”

“I left for a mission.” Natasha said, deadpan.

“Exactly. Clingy and mysterious.”

“Please. You begged me to take you home.”

“Well maybe because your flirting was so bad, someone had to do something about it!”

“Maybe if you weren’t so unemotionally available to talk to!”

“I was not!”

“No, she’s right. She wasn’t…” Natasha’s hand slid a little lower on your back. “She cried after sex.”

“I did not-“

Maria burst out laughing. Sam actually gasped. Pepper covered her mouth.

You gasped, indignant. “You said I was the best you ever had!”

“I say that to everyone.”

You slapped her arm lightly but enough to earn a subtle smirk in return.

“Can we get our keys before I commit a public murder?” You asked sweetly.

Pepper, still recovering, handed over a sleek black envelope. “Second floor. Shared suite. Far end of the east wing.”

“I hope the bed’s big, we need a big enough one to fit her ego.” Natasha said, locking eyes with you.

You didn’t blink. “So do I, you snore like a pig.”

Natasha just smiled. “You’ll be too busy crying after sex again to notice.”

The whole room groaned.

As you tugged Natasha toward the stairs, hand still in hers, you leaned in and whispered. “Bet you’re not used to being out-charmed in your own games.”

Natasha just squeezed your hand and muttered under her breath, low and amused. “Game’s still on.”

⋆⋆⋆⋆

The suite was exactly what you’d expect from a Stark estate, bigger than most apartments, with sleek wood floors, modern furniture and a full glass wall that overlooked the trees outside. One kingsized bed sat against the far wall, all clean lines and crisp sheets, like every other part of the estate, nothing out of place.

Natasha walked in first, tossing her jacket on a chair, already scanning the place like she was expecting it to self destruct.

You followed behind her and dropped your bag on the bed closest to the window.

“So.” You said, eyeing the space. “Do you want the side near the door so you can make a quick escape or shall I take that one and make things interesting?”

She glanced at you with that unreadable look. “You were projecting down there, you're the one who snores. I can tell.”

“Wow. Judgy.”

“You talk in your sleep too.”

“Oh so now you’re just fantasising.”

She let out a short breath, maybe a laugh, maybe a sigh. Hard to tell. Then she said: “Rehearsal dinner starts in thirty. Don’t be late.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Is that your way of saying you want to match outfits or?”

But she’d already disappeared into the bathroom, and the door shut behind her with a soft click.

⋆⋆⋆⋆

You changed into one of the nicer dresses you’d brought not the showstopper, that was for the ceremony but the second-best one. Fitted, with a complicated strappy back, a deep neckline and a stunning shade of red that didn’t just draw the eye, it demanded attention and held it hostage.

You were just putting in earrings when Natasha emerged.

She’d traded the linen for something sharper. Dark, tailored, open collar. A suit jacket this time, no tie. Hair in loose waves, something nobody saw often with a few braids scattered.

She stopped when she saw you. Just for a second.

And then she said. “That’s the second least daring dress you packed?”

You smirked. “I told you I was pacing myself.”

She tilted her head, eyes dragging over the length of you. “You pace like you’re trying to kill someone slowly.”

“And you look like someone who doesn’t believe in foreplay.”

“Only with people who’ve earned it.”

You stuttered out a laugh, caught off guard but you’d never give her the pleasure of knowing that. “Let’s go, there’s a champagne glass with my name on it.”

⋆⋆⋆⋆

The rehearsal dinner was already in full swing by the time you reached the main hall, tall ceilings, string lights overhead and a long banquet table running the length of the room. Waitstaff circled with trays of champagne and hors d’oeuvres. Soft jazz floated in from a live trio in the corner.

Wanda spotted you immediately and lit up. She hugged Natasha first, quick and surprisingly warm then turned to you.

“And you must be…” Wanda’s eyes sparkled.

“Trouble.” You finished, smiling.

Wanda laughed. “I like her.”

"How are you feeling?"

"Nervous, excited. The wedding is this easy part, it's keeping up wit this spectacle Stark forced on us."

You mingled easily. More easily than Natasha expected, judging by the way her gaze kept flicking toward you from across the room.

You weren’t loud. You weren’t fake. But you were good.

Polite. Political. Smart. The kind of person who answered nosy questions with grace and just enough mischief to keep them guessing.

“I work in marketing for Stark Industries.” Natasha overheard you say once, hand resting lightly on someone’s arm. “Which means I lie for a living but only beautifully.”

You handled Clint with charm, Bruce with kindness, and Carol with so much wit that Maria had to hide her grin behind a champagne glass.

You even made Tony pause.

“Who is she?” He asked Natasha at one point, halfway through a glass of scotch. “She works for me?!”

Natasha didn’t answer, just watched you from across the room.

You caught her eye once and held it. And smiled like you knew something she didn’t.

⋆⋆⋆⋆

Wanda stood near the fireplace, her glass of wine barely touched. She watched Natasha across the room, now alone, swirling a drink slowly in her hand. The corner of her mouth twitched.

She walked over.

“I like her.” She said softly, without preamble.

“She’s good at pretending.” Natasha didn’t look up. There was no point in lying to a literal mind reader.

Wanda smiled. “That wasn’t pretend.”

“She’s charming. It’s a skill.”

“Maybe. But she wasn’t the one pretending tonight.”

Natasha glanced at her then, sharp, neutral. “You reading me now Maximoff?”

“I don’t have to.” Wanda said, swirling her wine. “You wear it like perfume."

“Wear what?”

“The way you look at her.” Wanda said, her voice velvety smooth. “Like she’s a loaded weapon you’re hoping never gets aimed at you.”

Natasha raised an eyebrow. “She’s not a threat."

Wanda tilted her head. “Exactly.”

For a moment, neither of them spoke.

Then Wanda added, low and knowing, “She wants you. And you’re trying so hard not to want her back, it’s practically screaming.”

Natasha’s jaw flexed.

“I can help you lie to everyone else.” Wanda said gently, stepping back. “But not yourself.”

And with that, she slipped away, leaving Natasha standing in the amber-lit room, silent, glass still in hand.

⋆⋆⋆⋆

The rehearsal dinner had finally wound down, the last glasses of champagne drained and someone, probably Clint, caught trying to sneak dessert into a napkin for later.

The suite was dim when you returned. You kicked off your shoes, sighing like you’d just survived a battlefield. In a way, you had.

Natasha followed you in, quiet as ever, closing the door behind her.

“So?” You asked as you started to undo the copious amount of jewellery that adorned your body. “How did I do?”

There was a pause.

“You’re terrifyingly good at this.”

You grinned, stepping towards her and turning, gesturing towards the zip. “Told you I lie beautifully.”

Her hands shook as she pulled down the zip, watching more and more skin appear, the curve of a shoulder, the dip of her spine, each inch undoing her composure like thread unraveling in slow motion.

“Done.” She croaked out, immediately clearing her throat after.

“Thanks.” You smiled, holding up the dress with your left hand, disappearing into the bathroom, hearing a sigh of relief behind you.

When you came back out, you were in an oversized tee, bare legs, no makeup and smelling of a mix of vanilla and coconut. You looked casual but soft. Natasha had already stripped down to a tank top and loose joggers, sitting on the edge of the bed, scrolling through something on her phone like she wasn’t hyper-aware of you.

You walked over and flopped down beside her.

And the second your weight hit the mattress, her eyes flicked to yours. “I can take the sofa.”

“I think we’re a little past pretending we’re that polite,” You told her, pulling your legs up and stretching out beside her. “Besides, I don’t bite.”

Her lips curled slightly. “That’s disappointing.”

You raised an eyebrow. ��Didn’t say I wouldn’t if provoked.”

She didn’t look away. “Noted.”

And just like that, neither of you moved, the bed suddenly feeling too big and way too small at the same time.

You turned off the bedside light.

And in the dark, your voices felt quieter. Closer.

You rolled onto your side, your arm brushing hers. “Don’t worry. I don’t kick or snore or talk in my sleep. No matter how much you insist I do.”

“Great.”

“But I do cuddle.”

“Immediately no.”

“I can’t help it. I’m like a koala bear.”

“Yeah well I’m like a polar bear so don’t try it.”

“Yeah, yeah.” You mumbled tiredly. “Big, scary, dangerous assassin. I could do some damage too, you know?”

“Oh yes, I’m so scared of the biting, cuddle threatening koala that knows all things marketing, how will I ever escape colour coded files and manipulative email- OW.”

“I told you I bite.” You simply murmured, watching through lidded eyes as she rubbed her arm where your teeth sank.

“You are insane.”

“I must be to be here right now.”

“Go to sleep.”

“You really do have a thing about control.”

“And you really like pretending that doesn’t interest you.”

You smiled into the dark. “Just trying to understand the rules of the game.”

“There aren’t any.”

You let that hang between you for a moment, the silence heavier than it should be.

“Sweet dreams Natasha.”

She didn’t respond but she didn’t roll away, either.

⋆⋆⋆⋆

You felt her move before you heard her, the shift of weight on the mattress, the whisper of sheets, the near-silent sound of feet hitting the floor.

Natasha never really slept, not the way most people did. It was more like she paused… reset. Eyes still closed, you heard her zip something up, then the faint creak of the door opening.

Of course she would run more miles than you could count on both hands before a wedding like it was any other day.

You didn’t move. Just let the door click shut behind her and sank a little deeper into the pillow, the scent of her shampoo still clinging to the sheets beside you.

By the time she returned, you were out of bed, hair half-styled, robe cinched loosely at your waist, mascara in hand and one earring in.She stepped inside, sweat-slick and infuriatingly calm, like her pulse had never spiked.

Her eyes flicked over you, bare legs, flushed cheeks, one slipper on.

“Morning.” You grinned, like it wasn’t completely unfair how good she looked post-run.

She nodded once. “You start getting ready without me?”

“I figured you wouldn’t need help getting dressed.”

Her gaze lingered a second longer than necessary.

“You’d be surprised.”

You raised an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at your lips. “Is that a request?”

“Not yet.”

And just like that, she disappeared into the bathroom — leaving you there, smiling into your second earring like this wasn’t building toward something inevitable.

The sound of running water humming to life seconds later. You stared at yourself in the mirror, hair nearly finished, makeup done, skin still warm from the hair appliance and nerves.

Then you turned to the dress. That dress.

That deep shade of green, open back, structured yet slinky all at once. You’d worn it in theory before when you described it to her via text and she acted unimpressed.

But now it was real.

You stepped into it slowly, carefully adjusting the fabric where it hugged your hips, smoothing it over your thighs. The straps fell into place across your shoulders, fabric twisting at the bottom of your back in delicate, purposeful chaos.

The zipper was halfway up when the bathroom door opened

You didn’t turn around.

“Romanoff?” You called over your shoulder, playing it casual.

A pause, a few footsteps. She didn’t answer, not right away.

You reached behind you, fingers fumbling at the zipper.

“Can you help?”

A moment of silence followed before a few footsteps again. Slower this time.

She came up behind you, close enough that you could feel her body heat before she even touched you. You caught her reflection in the mirror, damp hair swept back, skin still flushed from the shower, eyes locked on the open expanse of skin down your spine.

Her fingers brushed the small of your back, just once. Then found the zipper.

She pulled it up slowly, carefully, dragging the fabric into place with the kind of precision that felt practiced. Mechanical. Except her touch lingered a second too long at the top, fingertips brushing your skin before dropping away.

You exhaled. “Thanks.”

Natasha’s voice came quiet behind you. “You were right.”

You blinked. “About what?”

She met your eyes in the mirror.

“That dress is a problem.”

“I could take it off if it’s going to cause problems.”

She didn’t flinch, just tilted her head, lips curving slightly. “You’ll have to behave yourself at dinner. We’re with the team.”

“Oh, I won’t.” You said, brushing past her on the way to the bathroom. “But it’ll look polite.”

⋆⋆⋆⋆

The ceremony was beautiful. Wanda glowed. Vision looked like he’d downloaded five separate wedding manuals and still managed to look overwhelmed.

You and Natasha sat close, too close in the front row. Her knee bumped yours once. You didn’t move. When the bride walked down the aisle, you leaned in just enough, your voice low, words almost too casual.

“Is it wildly inappropriate to admit I’ve been undressing the officiant with my eyes for the last ten minutes?”

Natasha choked on her breath and tried to cover it with a quiet cough.

“Unbelievable.” She muttered. “She’s at least double your age, if not triple.”

"She’s giving such divorced professor who teaches ethics but definitely doesn’t follow them energy.”

Natasha blinked. “What is wrong with you?”

You shrugged, sipping your drink. “Don’t worry. I’ve got a type. Emotionally distant women with sharp tongues and commitment issues.”

Her jaw ticked. “Charming.”

You glanced at her. “Takes one to know one.”

You’d never seen her look more alive than when she was trying not to smirk in public.

⋆⋆⋆⋆

Later, at the reception, the two of you drifted between conversations, hands brushing, fingers ghosting over the backs of chairs, subtle glances exchanged across champagne flutes. Your act was flawless. But something was cracking at the edges.

Natasha watched you laugh at something Sam said and looked away too fast.

You caught her watching and smiled like you’d caught her red-handed.

At one point, Tony stood up, scotch in hand, eyes already a little too glassy and tapped his fork against his glass like he was hosting an awards show.

“Alright, alright.” He grinned. “I’m invoking a sacred wedding tradition.”

Groans went up across the long room.

“Oh, shut up. I’m being romantic.” Tony insisted. “To celebrate love, passion, mutual tax benefits, all the lovers in the room, grab your partner and kiss ‘em.”

You and Natasha exchanged a look across your wine glasses, a perfect mix of horror and absolutely not.

Then, in unison, you both made a very quiet, very dry fake gagging sound. It was subtle. Synchronized. Discreet enough for dignity.

Until you looked up and realised everyone else was actually doing it. Lips meeting. Hands on cheeks. Some modest, some… very much not from those who had indulged in a glass of champagne too many.

You froze. Natasha went unnaturally still beside you.

And then, of course. “Don’t be shy, Romanoff!”

Sam called across the table, raising his glass with a grin. “We know it ain’t your first time.”

The whole table turned.

Carol looked way too amused. Bucky raised an eyebrow. Even Pepper was watching with the kind of polite curiosity that made it worse.

You turned slowly toward Natasha.

She didn’t say anything, just arched a single brow.

You cleared your throat, leaned in slightly. “Well…” You murmured. “…you did say we were committed to the bit.”

“I said I was committed, not an exhibitionist.” She gave you a once over, slow and unreadable. “Just keep your hands to yourself.”

“Where’s the fun in that?”

And then, with every eye on you, she leaned forward.

One hand rested on your thigh beneath the table, grounding. The other found the edge of your jaw, fingers light.

She kissed you.

Not quick. Not hesitant. Not entirely performative.

Just long enough to hush the room. Just slow enough to register.

And then she pulled back, face impassive like she hadn’t just lit your entire nervous system on fire.

“Better?” She said quietly, looking around the table.

Sam raised both eyebrows. “Well damn.”

You reached for your wine without a word, mostly to hide your smile.

Natasha’s thumb brushed your knee before she let go.

⋆⋆⋆⋆

After dinner, music picked up. Lights dimmed. Someone tried to drag Natasha to the dance floor. She muttered something about bruised toes and melted into the shadows, only to appear beside you five minutes later with two glasses of wine.

You took yours and clinked gently against hers.

“To fake love.” You said.

“To real chemistry.” She replied. You didn’t break eye contact.

And for a moment, nothing existed beyond the space between your knees brushing under the table, her gaze flicking to your mouth and that magnetic pull that had stopped being part of the performance sometime around… yesterday.

⋆⋆⋆⋆

You didn’t drag her to the dance floor. Not really.

You just walked up behind her during some slow jazz instrumental and held out a hand without looking like she’d already agreed.

Natasha gave you a flat look then sighed like it pained her and followed you out anyway.

She didn’t dance, not properly. She shifted her weight, let you twirl lazily in front of her, arms loose around your waist like she was making sure you didn’t trip. You teased her about her rhythm. She muttered something about ‘former assassins not being trained for ballroom etiquette’.

“Yeah but you’re holding me like you’ve done this before.” You said under your breath.

She didn’t deny it.

⋆⋆⋆⋆

You ended up back at the table after a few too many wedding cocktails. Natasha stretched out beside you, one ankle crossed over the other, wine glass spinning slowly between her fingers.

Bucky was mid story when you casually dropped. “Oh, Nat? She told me when we first met that she’d have left if I’d ordered a mojito.”

“She did what?” Clint asked.

“Swear to God.” You said. “It was the mint. Apparently it’s weak.”

Natasha didn’t blink. “You told the bartender you wanted a cocktail that ‘tastes like a vacation and a bad decision.’”

You nodded proudly. “And you stayed.”

“I was bored.” She drawled. “And you were wearing that backless thing. I was curious how it came off.”

Carol spit her drink.

You just raised your glass and said. “So I won.”

“I meant to ask earlier…” Sam trailed off. “How hard were the new agents coming at you? Your arm is a mess.”

Natasha frowned, looking at where Sam had pointed and saw exactly what he meant. The smirk immediately appeared, her voice teasing. “That's not from the agents."

“Oh.” The fake couple saw the realisation set in. “OH!”

“Sorry.” You shrugged, brushing your knuckles against the blossoming bruise.

“You two are something else. Remind me to thank Pepper for putting my room the hell away from yours!”

⋆⋆⋆⋆

You volunteered to get the tequila. Seemed fair since Natasha had endured dancing, your relentless one-upping and two rounds of you using her as a human shield to avoid sentimental speeches. A round of shots felt like a peace offering.

The bar was busy. You leaned against the counter, waiting for the bartender, when someone slid up beside you.

Tall. Confident. Overconfident. Drunk.

You clocked the energy before he opened his mouth.

“Don’t think I’ve seen you around before.” He sneered, eyes flicking down your dress in a way that made your skin crawl. “You here with someone?”

You gave him a polite smile. “Yeah. My girlfriend.”

“Yeah?” He grinned. “Where is she?”

You resisted the urge to roll your eyes. “Somewhere very close.”

He laughed like that meant something else entirely. “You sure she wouldn’t want to share?”

You blinked. “I’m gay.”

He leaned in a little. “That’s because you’ve never tried me…”

You opened your mouth, not entirely sure what you were going to say when a voice slid in behind you, smooth and cold.

“She has.”

You turned slightly, and there was Natasha. Calm, unreadable, dangerous in that effortless way she carried herself. Her arm slid around your waist, her other hand casually taking the shot tray from the bar like this was all completely ordinary.

“She’s not interested.” She said, her voice low but sharp enough to cut glass.

The guy didn’t take the hint.

He gave her a slow once over, cocky grin in full force. “What, you speak for her now?”

Natasha’s smile turned razor edged. “When you stop listening? Yeah.”

He laughed, short and loud like he thought he was still in control. “You got attitude. Bet you’re a real bitch in bed.”

You felt Natasha’s body shift beside you. The hand on your waist tightened, just slightly, not for show this time but restraint.

She stepped in, slow and deliberate, her mouth right near his ear. “I’ve killed men for less than what just came out of your mouth.”

He pulled back, startled, blinked like he’d just realized he was speaking to the Natasha Romanoff.

“Now baby…” Natasha said, her voice smooth as silk but still humming with the edge that made your heart pound. “Are you ready to go back to the table?”

You should’ve said yes. You should’ve grabbed the tray of tequila and made a joke, rolled your eyes, kept the game going like nothing happened.

But you didn’t.

Instead, you stared at her, flushed, breath tight, stomach doing somersaults and before you could second guess it, you stepped in.

And kissed her. Not for show. Not for the team. Not to out-do anyone. Just because she was so hot it physically hurt.

Because her voice in your ear, her hand on your waist, the look on her face when she threatened that man like it was just another Tuesday, it short circuited your good sense. The kiss was firm, deliberate, a little reckless. You felt her inhale sharply through her nose, like you’d surprised her and maybe you had.

But she didn’t pull away or laugh or joke or make it part of the bit.

Her hand came up, thumb brushing your cheek as her mouth moved with yours, just once. And the team lost their minds somewhere in the distance.

“Holy shit.”

“Okay, damn.”

“YES, NATASHA!”

You barely heard them. You were too busy clinging to the edge of breath.

Then she pulled back, barely, her eyes somehow darker than before.

“Now I’m ready.” You breathed, pupils blown.

“Good girl.” She murmured quietly, taking your hand in her spare one and pulling you back to the table.

And just like that, you knew you were in trouble.

⋆⋆⋆⋆

By the time the last round of drinks hit the table, you were both quieter. Not tired but full of whatever this was now. Charged. Loosened. Buzzing.

The kisses, plural now, had come and gone. One from Tony’s toast. One you initiated because she’d said baby like that.

But neither of you had really recovered.

Natasha was sitting too close, thigh pressed to yours under the table, hand resting dangerously high on your knee. Her arm wrapped around the back of your chair and her fingers running up and down the skin of your arm. At one point, you leaned in to say something and didn’t pull back. Her lips brushed your jaw like it was an accident. It wasn’t.

You fed her a lime slice with your fingers. She licked the juice off and smirked when you stared.

You said goodnight to the team, barely got the words out between half-laughs and flustered smiles.

Natasha didn’t say anything. She just stood when you did and followed. Her hand landed on your lower back like it had every right to be there.

⋆⋆⋆⋆

The hallway was quiet, carpet soft beneath your heels and her presence behind you was heat.

You were laughing about something stupid, something she said in your ear that made you snort and nearly trip out of your heels. She caught your elbow automatically, steadying you, her fingers lingering. You didn’t step away.

“Stop looking at me like that.” You said without turning, your eyes a little glassy.

“I’m not looking at you.” She replied.

You could feel her looking at you.

“You’re bad at lying when you’ve had tequila.”

“I’m bad at pretending you’re not beautiful when you laugh like that.”

You stopped walking and turned to her.

She nearly ran into you, didn’t bother stepping back. Just stared down at you with that half smile, half dare playing on her mouth.

Your voice came out a little breathless. “This isn’t part of the bit anymore, is it?”

Natasha’s gaze flicked between your eyes, her voice low. Honest.

“It hasn’t been for hours.” And then she kissed you. Not careful or playful or performative for the others.

It started soft, mouths brushing, testing but there was nothing uncertain about it. Her hand found your waist, pulled you flush and your breath hitched as you reached for her shirt like it might ground you. She broke the kiss for half a second. Just enough to breathe. Just enough to look at you.

Then her body pressed forward, backing you into the hallway wall with a clumsy, desperate kind of precision. Her mouth found yours again, messier this time, deeper and needier.

One hand slid to the side of your neck, her thumb under your jaw, holding you there like she needed the contact. The other braced flat beside your head, trapping you in like she wasn’t giving you the option to think, let alone run.

You moaned into her mouth, surprised, maybe by how badly you wanted this. Somewhere between kisses, your hand fumbled for the key card. It slipped once. She cursed softly against your lips, took it from you and shoved it into the lock like she could break it open with willpower alone.

The door swung open. She guided you inside without looking. The room was dark, quiet, unfamiliar and none of it mattered.

You kissed her again, harder now. A laugh caught in her throat as you tugged at her blazer, fingers sliding beneath the hem. She turned you, walked you backwards blindly until your knees hit the edge of the bed.

Somewhere in the dark, her voice dropped to a whisper.

“Tell me you want this.”

“I do.” Your answer was instant. “I want you.”

And then her mouth was on your throat, your hands under her shirt, her laugh low against your skin as you gasped. All heat and grip and tension finally snapping.

Fingers tangled in hair, knees shifting on sheets, hands gripping thighs. You felt her everywhere, her hands skimming under your dress before she near enough ripped it off, her mouth dragging across your collarbone, her breath at your ear like a promise and a warning all at once.

You gasped something, maybe her name, maybe just a sound and she answered with a shiver, a press of lips against your throat, a whispered “I know.”

And everything you hadn’t said, written across skin instead.

⋆⋆⋆⋆

You woke first. Kind of.

Your eyes opened slowly, sunlight spilling across the room in quiet gold. The sheets were twisted around your waist. The air smelled like hotel linen and skin. Warmth bloomed behind you, a body, close, breathing even.

Natasha.

She was still asleep or doing a very convincing impression of it. One arm slung low across your stomach, her legs tangled with yours, her nose tucked into the back of your shoulder like she’d meant to keep her distance and just… hadn’t.

You stared at the ceiling, smiling like an idiot.

When she finally stirred, a soft sound in her throat, a stretch, a slow blink, her hand flexed where it rested on your ribs.

“Morning.” You said, voice scratchy.

She didn’t answer right away. Just looked at you, heavy-lidded and sleep-mussed and hummed like you were a warm secret she hadn’t meant to keep.

Then she flopped onto her back and muttered. “You snore.”

You gasped. “I do not.”

“You do.” She said flatly. “I knew it. Cute but loud. Like a small, overconfident animal.”

You rolled over and hit her with a pillow.

She caught it mid swing, smirking.

The sheets fell to her waist. You stared for a second too long.

She noticed but did nothing about it.

“You hungry?” She asked, casual.

“Starving.”

“I saw the menu for the brunch downstairs last night. It looks incredible, we should sneak down early to get the best stuff.”

You grinned. “Why sneak? We’re practically newlyweds now.”

She snorted. “Right. Mission complete.”

You blinked.

“Huh.”

“Mission complete.” She repeated. “One more day of fake hand holding and pretend kisses and you can go back to emails and tinder.”

Just like that, it shifted. She didn’t mean it cruelly. It wasn’t harsh. Just a throwaway comment. A reminder. That it was fake. That it was supposed to end.

“Right. Of course.” You nodded, quiet. "Mission complete."

She didn’t notice the change in your voice. Or she did, and ignored it. You sat up, reaching for your robe, trying not to show the sting.

Her eyes flicked to you. Opened her mouth. Closed it.

But she didn’t say anything.

⋆⋆⋆⋆

Brunch was already in full swing when you and Natasha arrived. She should have known the team would think the same as her and beat her to the good stuff. The sun was too bright, everyone a little hungover and louder than they should’ve been. Mimosas clinked. Chairs scraped. Someone cheered when you stepped onto the terrace.

“Look who finally emerged!”

“Hey, lovebirds! Rough night?”

“Hope the hotel charged double for damage.”

You smiled, barely but just enough to be polite.

While Natasha gave them a look. “You’re all disgusting.”

Clint wiggled his eyebrows. “You’re glowing, Romanoff. I’m just saying.”

You laughed, quiet and short, and reached for a glass of juice instead of champagne. Natasha followed you to the table, sliding into the seat beside you. Her hand found your thigh under the table, thumb brushing slow circles, familiar, casual.

You stiffened. Not entirely dramatically but just enough. Then, without a word, you crossed your legs and gently dislodged her touch.

Natasha stilled. Her eyes flicked to you, studying your face like a puzzle she hadn’t realised she needed to solve.

You didn’t look at her.

You were busy stirring sugar into your coffee, listening politely to Pepper talk about the speeches later, nodding along like you hadn’t been wrapped around Natasha Romanoff eight hours ago whispering her name against her skin.

She leaned in, voice low near your ear. “You okay?”

You didn’t look up. “Fine.”

Something inside her curled. Wrong. Tight. Had she said something? Had some done something? You were happy this morning, right? Even happier last night.

This was different. You were different.

Still warm on the outside, still smiling, still engage but that spark, that electricity she’d gotten addicted to overnight? Gone. Like you’d pulled it back behind your ribs where she couldn’t reach it.

And Natasha didn’t understand why it felt like a loss.

⋆⋆⋆⋆

Natasha didn’t push it.

She let you be, all through brunch, all the way to the car. No comments, no teasing. Just silence, stretched thin between you in the back seat.

She glanced at you as the engine started. “Want to talk?” She asked, voice low.

You didn’t look up from the window. “I’m just tired.”

And true to your word, you were asleep within minutes. Head tipped against the glass, arms folded across your stomach. The kind of sleep that only happens after emotional exhaustion, not rest.

Natasha watched you for a long moment before settling back, quiet. When the road curved, she took it slower than necessary. At one point, you shivered, even in the sun. She peeled off her hoodie at a stop light and carefully laid it across your lap, tucking it under your arm so it wouldn’t fall.

No one spoke the entire ride home.

⋆⋆⋆⋆

When they pulled up to the tower, she turned in her seat and touched your shoulder gently. You stirred, eyes slow to open, still soft from sleep.

“We’re here.” She said.

You blinked, sat up, then slowly started gathering your things. No words yet. No smile.

Just quiet.

And then at the curb, you turned to her, expression calm but something unreadable behind your eyes.

“This weekend was nice. Really.” Natasha opened her mouth but you kept going. “Thanks for inviting me. And… I hope you find what you’re looking for.”

She blinked. “Wait- Can we just-“

But you were already stepping out, already walking toward the elevators with that same gentle poise that had undone her all weekend. Not angry. Not cruel. Just done.

The doors slid closed before she could follow.

Natasha sat in the car a while longer, hoodie still warm from where it had rested against your skin and didn’t move.

⋆⋆⋆⋆

It was late afternoon when Natasha found herself standing in the common room, fingers curled loosely around a mug she hadn’t touched. She hadn’t meant to linger in the tower like a lost puppy but her legs didn’t take her anywhere else.

The doors hissed open behind her, soft heels and familiar energy.

“Hey.” Wanda said, breezing in with a duffel bag over her shoulder. Her hair was braided loose, the way she always wore it when she traveled. “I’m grabbing some things before we disappear. Don’t tell Tony or he’ll throw another brunch.”

Natasha gave a faint huff. “The last thing I need is to be sat on another table with all of them again.”

Wanda paused, looked at her properly and could sense the turmoil. “You okay?”

Natasha hesitated.

Then, finally and for once, honestly. “No.”

Wanda said nothing, just walked to the kitchen, poured herself a coffee and leaned against the counter, waiting.

“Don’t you have somewhere to be?”

“I’m right where I need to be right now.”

Natasha didn’t look at her when she started. “You know I invited someone to the wedding. And I know you know it was supposed to be a fake date. But it wasn’t fake. Not really.”

Wanda tilted her head, quiet.

“There was always something there.” Natasha continued. “We kissed, more than once. We-“ She stopped, swallowed. “Saturday night, we- It wasn’t pretend anymore. But I said something this morning about the whole thing being a bit, about it being over. And she-"

Her voice cracked, just slightly. “She just… shut off. And left.”

Wanda was quiet for a moment, sipping slowly. Then, gently. “So let me get this straight. You took a girl you really like to a romantic weekend with your entire found family, made her feel wanted, kissed her like she was yours, slept with her and then reminded her it was all pretend?”

Natasha winced. “It wasn’t like that.”

Wanda raised an eyebrow. “Wasn’t it?”

“She knew the deal. We were joking about it from the start.”

“And did you tell her when it stopped being an actual joke for you?”

Silence.

Wanda softened. “Nat… that girl looked at you like you hung the moon. I saw it. Everyone saw it.”

“She brushed me off.” Natasha said, quietly. “Didn’t even want to talk about it.”

“Because she was probably humiliated.” Wanda said, still kind but honest. “She gave you more than she meant to. And she probably thought you didn’t even notice.”

Natasha’s jaw tensed. “I did.”

Wanda set her mug down. “Then maybe it’s time to tell her.”

⋆⋆⋆⋆

You weren’t supposed to see her.

That was the whole point, sneak in, drop off the hoodie, grab Pepper’s flash drive and her backup files and get the hell out. You were already late, already unraveling.

Your bag felt like it weighed thirty pounds. You’d dropped your phone directly in some stupid water feature at the office and somewhere between your apartment and the security desk, your lanyard had vanished.

“Ma’am.” The guard said, definitively. “I can’t let you in without ID.”

“I work here.” You snapped, trying to keep your voice polite. “Well not here but for Pepper Potts so I kind of do! I’ve been in and out of this building for months.”

“And today…” He said, unmoved. “…you don’t have ID.”

“I just need to go up and drop something off. I’m not trying to hack the Pentagon for god sake-"

“I need you to calm down.” He interrupted, like it was a reflex.

You bit down hard. “I am calm.”

“Ma’am.” The lead guard said, clearly already bored. “We’ve been over this. No ID, no entry.”

“I’m literally on the list-“

“There is no list.”

“I’ve been here dozens of time-“

“And today?” The younger guard cut in, smug. “You’re not cleared. So either step aside or-“

“I don’t have time to step aside! Do you not understand I’m trying to do my job?”

The younger one moved. “And so am I-“

“No, you’re being unreasonable! Just call Tony Stark.”

“We will not be bothering Mr Stark!”

“Call any of them, they know me!” You almost begged now.

"Yeah, yeah, they always do." He laughed. "Why don't you call him?"

"I can't because my phone isn't working-"

"Convenient. If you continue to harass the Avengers or any SHIELD agents, I'm gonna have to take you into custody."

"Custody? I WORK HERE!"

“Look ma’am, I need you to calm down and come with us.”

“No.” You snapped, chest tight now. “I am not being manhandled because I can’t find my damn badge when I WORK here!”

Before it could escalate further, he moved again, grabbed your arm, too hard.

You yanked back instinctively. “Get off me-“

That was it. He spun you, fast, one hand in the middle of your back, the other twisting your arm behind you. The cuffs were on before you could catch your breath. Too tight. Metal biting into skin. The hoodie you had clenched in your fingers, her hoodie, that had been dry cleaned and ironed was down crumpled on the dirty tiles.

“I said stand down!” He barked, like you were some kind of threat. “Do you know how many stupid people I deal with a day? Pretending The Avengers know them?!”

“I do know them!”

The pressure on your wrist made your knees buckle. “Yes and I know Barack Obama.”

“No, wait- You’re hurting me!” You gasped, trying to squirm free, tears springing hot and sharp at the corners of your eyes. “What the hell is wrong with you-“

⋆⋆⋆⋆

“Security breach in the Lobby, Zone A.”

Friday's voice came through the tower’s comms, flat and automatic. Most people ignored it.

But Sam, glancing at the monitor, frowned. “What now?”

He tapped into the security feed, projecting it on the flat screen that hung on the wall in the common room and just as the camera came into focus. “Wait, is that-"

Natasha was already gone.

⋆⋆⋆⋆

You were still protesting when the elevator doors opened, his voice echoing in your ear, loud enough for Natasha to hear and to almost sprint over.

“Little girls like you need putting in their place, it’s all women’s rights these days and you think you can do what you want.” He sneered, tightening the cuffs. “You just need a firm hand like me to put you in your place.”

You didn’t see her at first. You were too busy trying to breathe, wrists burning, arm throbbing from where it had been twisted up too far. Your voice had broken halfway through yelling.

And then. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

Everything stopped. Natasha’s voice cut across the lobby like a gunshot. The guards froze.

You turned, dazed. She was stalking toward you, red-faced, furious, lethal. She didn’t care who was watching.

“Take those off her. Now.”

The younger guard stammered. “Ma’am, she- she was uncooperative-“

“She works here. She’s cleared under Pepper Potts’ access and under mine.

He quickly worked to undo the handcuffs and it took one look at your face for Natasha to crumble. You knew you probably looked a mess, tear streaked cheeks, pouting with your arm held by your other, rubbing softly over where the pain was currently throbbing, drops of blood running down your arm from where he had inappropriately tightened the handcuffs.

Natasha was in his face now, pure venom in her voice. “She’s bleeding. She was detained over what? A lanyard and a bad attitude? You think that justifies twisting her arm? Do I look like I tolerate that kind of shit?”

No one answered.

“Did she ask for clearance?”

“She said to call you but- Ma’am- Agent Romanoff, a lot of people ask to see you. Fans and-“

“I’ve heard enough.” She silenced him, turning to you, hands already at your wrists.

Her fingers were feather-light as she ran her fingers over the marks the cuffs left, like even touching them hurt her more than you.

Your breath shuddered.

“Come on.” She said softly, eyes locked on yours now. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”

⋆⋆⋆⋆

Natasha didn’t say a word as she led you through the tower. No more guards. No apologies. Just her hand hovering close to your back, not touching but there if you needed it.

Her room was dark and quiet when she opened the door for you. Unfamiliar but predictably minimalist. The hoodie you’d meant to return was still clutched in your good hand, wrinkled and useless now.

She flicked the bathroom light on, rummaged silently through the cabinet and returned with a small kit.

“Sit.” She said, gently, nodding toward the bed.

You sat, too tired to argue, too raw to speak.

She knelt between your legs without hesitation, ignoring the squeeze in her chest. She didn’t say much, just moved with quiet purpose, opening the first aid kit, switching on a soft lamp. Her touch was gentle as she cleaned your wrists, one hand steadying you, the other dabbing antiseptic with controlled care. Almost too gentle. Like she was scared you might flinch away.

Her eyes kept flicking up to your face, trying to read you, trying to make sense of what she’d done, what she hadn’t said.

You flinched slightly when her fingers grazed a nasty spot on the inside of your wrist. “Sorry.” She murmured.

“It’s fine.”

“It’s not.”

“I had this dry cleaned and ironed but now-“ Your voice cracked as you placed the hoodie on the bed, the day weighing heavily. “Now it’s creased and he made me drop it.”

“Shhh.” She soothed. “It’s okay. It’s okay. They shouldn’t have hurt you.”

You didn’t speak, just looking down at her to finally meet her eyes.

“I hate that you got hurt.” She murmured, voice low. “I hate that it happened here, where you were supposed to be safe.”

“I’m okay.”

“That’s not the point.” And then she reached out, slow, careful and tucked a piece of hair behind your ear. Her hand lingered. Your breath caught. The look between you shifted, it was too warm, too familiar.

You didn’t know who leaned in first.

But suddenly, her mouth was on yours.

A kiss that meant too many things. And for a moment, just a moment, you self indulged and let you let it happen.

Until the weight came crashing back. You pulled away with a sharp inhale, standing too fast. “I can’t.”

“Wait-“

“I shouldn’t have come. I just- I need to go. Pepper is waiting and I-“

You turned, heading for the door but her hand caught your arm, not tight, just grounding. “Please.” Her voice was almost a beg. “Don’t go. Just… talk to me.”

You stopped. What did you have to lose anyway?

“The weekend wasn’t fake to me.”

She didn’t speak.

You turned back around, heart pounding. “I know it started out as just some fun but I didn’t pretend. I wasn’t acting. And you were- God, you were so there. And then the second it was over, it was like none of it mattered.”

Natasha opened her mouth but you kept going, hurt spilling out like a slow unraveling.

“You kissed me like you meant it. You held me like it mattered. And then you went back to pretending. You shut me out. You made me feel stupid for believing any of it meant something. And I shouldn’t be blaming you because I knew this was fake and I’m a big girl. It’s my fault if I felt something and you didn’t but I-“

Her eyes flickered. “I did.”

“What?”

“I did feel something- I do feel something.”

You hesitated. “Then why didn’t you say anything?”

“Because I didn’t know how.”

She stepped closer, carefully, like she was afraid of breaking whatever was left between you.

“You’re not stupid. You’re not overreacting. I hurt you, and I’m sorry. I should’ve said it then, I should’ve stopped pretending sooner. But it was real for me, too.”

You stared at her, trembling, still a little breathless.

“You’re not just saying it?” Your voice came out so small, it shattered Natasha’s heart just a little.

“I’ve pretended to be a lot of things but this? I never pretended to want you.”

And when she kissed you this time, it wasn��t desperate.

It was an apology and a new beginning all in one.

You let her guide you backwards, falling slow into the sheets, her mouth never leaving yours. Her hands moved with confidence now, familiar, dragging your jacket down your arms, fingers ghosting under the hem of your shirt like a promise.

You arched up into her, breath hitching when her mouth trailed along your jaw. She was just starting to slide over you fully, knee between your thighs, when-

Bzzz. Bzzz.

You groaned. “You have got to be kidding!”

Natasha reached over without looking, snatched the phone from the nightstand, glanced at the screen, and smiled. wicked, unhurried.

“It’s Pepper.”

You sat up halfway, flushed and disoriented. “Oh god- Just ignore it!"

But she’d already answered. “Potts, now’s really not a good time.”

A pause.

Then Natasha glanced at you, smile deepening as she looked you over, shirt half-off, lips kiss-bitten. She’s… extremely unavailable.”

You couldn’t hear Pepper’s reply but Natasha eye-rolled fondly. “Pepper, I will do anything you want me to do if you just give us 30 minutes-“ She smirked. “Make it an hour and then I’ll come over and help you myself.”

She hung up before Pepper could reply, tossed the phone somewhere behind her and leaned back down with a smirk.

“Now.” She murmured against your throat. “Where were we?” You laughed, breathless and buzzing.

And then you stopped thinking altogether.

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milaeryn · 8 days ago

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Happy Pride Month to Steve Rogers and Tony Stark because I'll always believe they are happily married 🌈✨

#stony #stevetony #super husbands #tony stark #iron man #steve rogers #captain america #marvel #mcu #steve x tony #robert downey jr #rdj #chris evans #avengers #marvel fanart #fan art #milaeryn #i feel nostalgic again #take me back to 2012

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buckyalpine · 2 years ago

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Pick Me

Bucky x reader

The new recruit has her eyes set of a certain set of super soldiers. Especially your super soldier.

warnings: jealously, Angsty bangsty, but also so fluffy fluffy and smutty, clueless Bucky, he really means no harm, go easy on him.

A/n - editing to add: when I first started writing this I loved the concept and wrote a large chunk but then I left it for months cause I struggled to actually finish writing it. This wasn’t even the original ending I had planned but I just wanted to finish it so yes Bucky should’ve done way more, pretend there was a time jump where he does a better job with earning forgiveness 🥲

“Everyone, meet Nicole, our newest recruit for the field agent training program” Tony walked into the common room where you were sprawled out on the couch with Nat, Sam and Wanda while a young woman walking confidently behind him. “She’s going to be staying with us for a couple of months to train before she goes onto the the field” Tony turned back to her, bringing her to his side.

“I’m sure you know everyone but let me introduce you to them anyway. This is the very Natasha, Wanda, Sam and y/n”

“Hey Nicole” You gave her a warm smile, happy to welcome her while everyone else also got up to greet her. “Nice to meet you”

“Oh, ew, just call me Nic! I don’t really go by Nicole” She scrunched her face at the sound of her full name, her eyes scanning the room, clearly looking for someone. “Don’t suppose the very Captain America and Sergeant Barnes are here?”

The hopeful uptick in her voice made it clear that’s who she’d been searching for. Right on cue, the two super soldiers walked into the living room on their way to the kitchen after a morning run.

“Speak of the devils and I do mean devils” Tony snorted beckoning the men to meet the new recruit. “Rogers, Barnes, this is Nicole, preferably Nic”

“Hello handsome” She gave Bucky a bashful smile before turning to Steve and batting her lashes, “and handsome”

“Nice to meet you” Steve reddened at the way she gripped onto his hand before slinking over to the brunette, purposely sticking out her left hand so he’d shake with his metal one. “And you Sergeant”

Bucky gave her a smile and quick shake, excusing himself to get some water while Steve quickly trailed behind him. Tony went on to take her to her room which was on the same floor as yours, all the other spare rooms occupied by a few others who had already started training. Nicole returned to the living room moments later with sweats and a hoodie, her hair tied up, plopping down onto the sofa beside Sam.

“Hey, were doing a girls night, movies, junk food, wine, you wanna join us?” Nat offered with a smile hoping to make the new recruit feel more welcome even though a part of her was wary.

“It’s a lot of fun, I was just about to get some snacks for tonight, let me know what you like” You add with a smile, only to be met with a scoff.

“Mmm, hard pass on that, wine isn’t really my thing, thanks though” She gave the group a tight lipped smile before turning back to the two super soldiers who had also joined at some point, scrolling through phones they finally knew how to use.

“What are you boys up to tonight” She threw them a smile while laying back on the couch and kicking her feet up, letting her hoodie ride up in the process.

“Bucky and I were actually just going get in a work out, nothing much tonight” He said with a smile, not noticing the way Nicole’s eyes lit up.

“Oh wow I actually haven’t been by the gym yet but I guess it’ll be where I spend most of my time for the program”

“You could join us if you’d like, we can show you around” Bucky offered, also missing the smirk that crossed her face, only seeing her bounce right up with an enthusiastic nod.

“Really? That would be great, I’d really appreciate it!”

“Of course, anytime. We’re just about to head down soon” Bucky stretched as he got up, along with Steve, waiting for her to change before heading down. She got up and went off to her room while you picked at the skin on your fingers. You felt a pang of something at the pit of your stomach at Bucky’s offer but you knew he was just trying to make the girl feel like she was part of the team. He knew more about feeling left out than anyone else; of course he’d never want anyone else to feel the same way.

Still.

Something was off.

You shook off the inkling of insecurity you felt, not wanting to over think his intentions. You and Bucky were not official yet but everyone knew there was tension and a clear unspoken dynamic between you both. It was just a matter of time. Unless he had his sights on the new girl...

No.

He wouldn’t do that.

Right?

*****

“She’s getting really comfortable around those two” Nat cocked an eyebrow watching Nicole have a field day sparring with the two men, throwing herself onto Bucky in particular, giggling when he’d help correct her stance or catch her before she slipped. Every since she joined them at the gym, she made a point to only work out when they were both there, finding excuses when anyone else would offer to help her train.

“I guess they are really experienced, so it makes sense...” Your voice trailed off, trying to reason why she was practically glued to their side, again ignoring the uneasiness you felt when Bucky picked her up with ease and set her back on her feet.

“Uh-huh, we’re all experienced” Nat rolled her eyes, plastering on a fake smile when the three finished up on the sparring mat, making their way over to the both you. “You three have a good workout?”

Steve blinked, noting the iciness In Nat’s voice though Nicole seemed unbothered.

“They’re great, can’t beat having the two best soldiers train me” She drawled out, giving them a wink. Bucky couldn’t help the blush that spread to his cheeks, not used to being praised and you couldn’t help the jealously that started to gnaw at you again.

No.

Relax.

“Anytime, Nic” He shrugged while Nat retched internally, deciding to cut through that conversation before it went further.

“You know, if you come by in the afternoons, Agent Hill hosts a great self-defense workshop for women, great way for you to do some networking as well” Nat gauged the way Nicole’s nose scrunched, shaking her head.

“Women’s workshop, sound’s like a drama fest waiting to happen, honestly most of my friends are guys, makes life easier, thanks though” her eyes didn’t leave the brunette, placing herself perfectly between both soldiers. “Besides, I’m pretty good with self-defense already, that's why I got these two helping me with a little extra”

“Anyway! Y/n and I were talking about the event Stark is hosting later night. You’re both coming, right?” Nat looked at the two men before her, purposely avoiding the Nicole but it didn’t seem to matter.

“Are you coming as well?” Bucky asked her, her eyes lighting up again, quickly recomposing herself after. “You could meet a few of the other agents too, get to know some more people”

“Uh sure, I could come by for a bit” She shrugged, coming off as indifferent while shaking with excitement on the inside. “Thanks, Sarge”

You sucked in a breath at the name she kept calling him, always dropping a suggestive tone in her voice. Or maybe you were over thinking it. It was perfectly plausible she was just being nice to the person who was making an effort to make her feel welcomed. Maybe she had bad experiences in other places that made her wary of women, hence why she only stuck to all the guys on the team. You tried to wrack you brain for answers that would make you feel a little better but came up short.

But you didn’t want to be petty.

You were more mature than this.

“We have plenty of dresses if you want to come by and get ready together” You offered again, mustering a smile, making a final attempt to befriend the new recruit but she didn’t even look your way, fully focused on the brunette.

“Uh- not really the dresses and heels type. I’m more of a sneakers girl to be honest” She tossed her pony tail over her shoulder, missing the way Nat’s eyes nearly rolled out of her head while you nodded, watching her sway her hips as she walked off. “I’ll drag myself over if I’m feeling it”

“Oh-okay, then we’ll just see you there!” You called after her while Nat dragged you off, uninterested in your constant attempts to be friendly.

“C’mon, lets get you ready. I’m going to make you look so hot, Barnes ends up on his knees” The red head smirked while you squeaked, feeling your face heat up. “We’re putting you in that red dress, the one that makes his pants feel too tight, don’t think I didn’t catch him adjusting himself the last time you wore it”

“Nat!” You hissed, hoping he didn’t hear, the both of you in a fit of giggles as you made your way to your room. “Oh my god” you hid your face while she dug through your closet, pulling out the tiny dress that hugged your body perfectly, the red color making you stand out in the best way possible.

“Go shower while I get all the make up out, I’m tired of miss pick me trying to get a buy one get one free deal with those two”

You snorted, hopping into the shower, letting the hot water destress your muscles, feeling a little more hopeful with the dress choice you were going with. Nat didn’t waste any time; as soon as you were out, your hair was styled, make up done and heels strapped. You knew you looked good when both Sam and Tony did a double take, letting their eyes shamelessly linger on you with low whistles.

“Y’know if you’re done playing games with terminator, I’d be happy to take his place” Tony wiggled his eyebrows while you giggled, taking a seat on the plush couch of the lounge where everyone else sat.

“What are you ladies drinking” Steve came over with a tray of drinks from the bar, already well aware of what each person liked to typically order.

“I’m good with a beer” Nicole shrugged, rolling her eyes when you took the pink drink from the tray, “Ugh, I don’t know how you drink those, they’re so sweet, do you even taste anything at that point?”

You shrugged, quietly taking a sip of the raspberry lemonade while she gulped her beer, signaling for another after slamming her bottle down.

“You guys took forever to get ready, this is why I can’t deal with makeup and dresses n’shit” she snorted, directing her comment mostly at you, “That’s a pretty bright color, I thought tonight was supposed to be lowkey?”

“Well I think you ladies look beautiful” Thor boomed, not catching the snark in Nicole's voice, his smile wide and voice completely sincere. “Especially you, Lady y/n”

“Thank you Thunder” You smiled, though the giddiness you felt initially had taken a second hit for the night. He beamed, setting down a bottle of Asgardian mead, searching for the two soldiers.

“Alright, where are the two that need this” He looked around for Steve and Bucky, since they couldn’t get drunk off of regular alcohol. Bucky strode in clearly dressed to kill, in all black from head to toe. Steve joined his side, their faces lit up like it was Christmas day seeing the crystal decanter in the God’s hands. Bucky’s eyes flicked back to you, his breath hitching in his throat, seeing you in his favorite dress.

“Fuck sweets, you look-

“C’mon Sarge, how about a little competition” Nicole nudged Bucky, cutting off the trance he had on you, her shoulder pressing into his, biting her lip and eyeing the alcohol, “Let’s see how many shots we can do”

“This might be a lot to handle doll” Bucky chuckled while you froze hearing what he called her. Her eyes lit up again, quickly glancing over to you, her eye brow quirking before leaning into him more.

Since when did he call anyone else doll.

You felt your stomach sink, taking another long sip of your drink instead, but nothing distracted you from the banter that was taking place before you.

“Ugh, finee, I’ll stick to regular vodka, c’mon Buckyyy, lets gooo!” She practically clung off him waiting for him to pour shots, inches away from crawling into his lap as he grabbed the bottles. You couldn’t tell if the flush from his cheeks was from the alcohol or the constant giggles Nicole made whenever he spoke but either way, you didn’t want to watch any longer.

“Where are you going” Nat grabbed your arm as you got up to leave, though you didn’t need to say anything for her to understand. Her green eyes glared at the tipsy solders who were now busy with a game of pool, surrounded by the rest of the team, Nicole practically crawling up Bucky’s legs each time it was his turn. “For fucks sake-

“They’re just having fun, don’t worry about it” You stopped Nat before she stormed over, shaking your head. As much as you wanted to red head to have her way with any of the three at this point, you couldn't be bothered. You were not about to fight for Bucky’s attention; if he wanted to give it to you, he would...

Right?

You thought things would go back to normal at some point. But it didn’t. Nicole made a point of training twice a day, anything to get her hands on the brunette. Anything to feel the cool metal of his hand on her. In fact she’d taken up most of Bucky’s time outside of just training, always finding ways to tag along with Steve as well, all while avoiding the rest of the team.

*****

“What's wrong sweets” Bucky could tell something was on your mind while he stroked your back, his body still warm from the way he took you apart at least 3 times before filling you up till you were dripping and soaking his sheets. He had finally gotten an afternoon off, tossing you over his shoulder when he found you in the kitchen, not letting you get a word in as he shut the door behind him. You wanted to argue back that he couldn’t just have access to you any time he felt like according to his convenience, but as soon as his soft lips were on you, you melted, turning into a moaning mess seconds later.

“I feel like I haven’t seen you in ages” You shrugged, toying with the corner of Bucky’s blanket, starting to feel more like you were just a body to warm his bed than someone he actually wanted to be with. “We haven’t really hung out recently”

You had let yourself relax into his hold only for him to curse under his breath a second later after he noticed the time. He shifted you off him, making his way over to the closet to pull over his jeans and Henley before scrambling around for his wallet and keys.

“Bucky, what are you-

“Sorry doll, I forgot I promised to take Nicole to the corner diner, showing her around a little bit cause she’ll be staying for a few extra weeks”

Fantastic.

“You spend a lot of time with her” You didn’t want to come off as jealous, keeping your voice even, though you were close to tearing someone's head off. Bucky didn’t seem to notice, humming in agreement while sitting at the edge of the bed to pull on his socks.

“Yeah, she’s fun!” Bucky said casually, which only made the weight in your stomach feel heavier. “She almost beat Steve in MarioKart, just when he thought he was unstoppable”

“Hm” You didn’t bother saying anything else while Bucky threw on his jacket, patting down himself to be sure he didn’t miss anything. He caught the way your face had fallen, his cool metal fingers slipping under your chin to tilt your face up.

“How about we hang out after? Around 7, we’ll watch a movie together, okay? I’ll grab dinner for us. Promise doll” He kissed your forehead before jogging off, closing the door behind him.

You were ready by 6, too excited to wait till 7, having showered and changed into something comfy, laying out Bucky’s favorite snacks and adding a few more soft pillows to the bed. You knew it was still early so you didn’t mind lounging around for a bit, anxiously checking the time as it neared closer and closer to when he was supposed to show up.

An hour later, it was 7.

Then 7:30.

And then 8.

By 9, you had left everything as is, blinking back the hot tears that wanted to spill, retreating back to your own room, not wanting to see him at all, even if he did have a good excuse for not showing up, which was highly unlikely. You shut the door, throwing on an oversized t-shirt and crawling into bed, burying yourself under the covers, no longer bothering to hold back the tears that began to soak your pillow.

****

Bucky cocked his head curiously, seeing his bedroom door left ajar, wondering why it was open when he definitely closed it before leaving. As soon as he stepped in, his heart dropped to his stomach seeing the pillows that were propped up against the headboard, his favorite snacks piled on the fluffy blanket, your fuzzy bunny slippers left behind beside his bed.

He cursed under his breath when he realized the time, remembering his promise to you, running straight to your room, only to find it closed with the lights turned off. He tried knocking only to be met with silence, carefully turning the handle and letting himself inside.

“Doll?” He felt his heart break further seeing the small lump under a mountain of blankets, curled up into a ball “Oh, doll” He strode over, sitting at the edge of your bed, careful not to wake you if you were asleep, his hand gently tucking a strand of hair from your face.

“What” Your voice cracked, hoping he’d think its from sleep and not the fact that you had been crying.

“I’m so sorry sweets, we lost track of time, we went out to grab food and then Sam suggested we check out that new arcade just down the street”

We were supposed to do that you thought to yourself, swallowing down the lump in your throat, refusing to let your emotions get the better of you.

“And then Steve and Sam had to leave half way cause they had a mission early in the morning. Nicole wanted ice cream so we went by Carla’s before coming back-

“You took her to Carla's?” You cut Bucky off, your heart breaking further. That particular ice-cream shop always felt like something special you shared with Bucky, the place he took you to when neither of you could sleep. It was the place you shared your first kiss with him, the place where he said he felt something between the two of you. It’s not like you owned the store but it felt like the final straw, your resolve finally breaking.

“Yeah, I-

“Just go Bucky” There wasn’t a hint of iciness in your voice; just disappointment and defeat, both far worse than you being angry. Bucky froze, pulling your blanket away from you, only for you to push his hand away, burying yourself further into the sheets.

“Doll?”

“Don’t call me that” It was the indifference in your voice that left him hurt and confused, mouth opening and closing, “Please leave”

“Sweets, I can make it up to you, I promise-”

“It’s fine James” You shrugged, pulling the sheets higher up, not willing to speak anymore, knowing you’d burst into tears again if you did. Bucky reluctantly decided to let you sleep, figuring you’d hear him out the next day but no.

How wrong he was.

You avoided him in the morning.

And the day after that.

Nearly a week had gone by and you didn’t spare him a second glance, always finding an excuse to evade him whenever he trailed behind you. It didn’t help that Nicole attempted to stay glued to his side, not giving him chance to get you alone.

*****

“What’s with you” Sam watched Bucky slump down onto the sofa, where everyone else lounged around, his face sullen from a lack of sleep, grumpiness amplified because why were you avoiding him so much?

“Y/n isn’t talking to me” He shrugged, while Nat glared at him.

“I wonder why” the red head mumbled, rolling her eyes at his confusion.

“When was the last time you guys spoke” Steve inquired, equally concerned about why you were ignoring his best friend. Bucky was the last person to share stories about his love life but at this point he was desperate. He recalled the events of the last time he spoke to you, promising a movie night, going out with Nicole, taking her for ice cream, running late, apologizing to you afterwards, where did he go wrong?

“I didn’t mean to forget-

“Bucky!” Nat slapped him upside the head while he yelped, looking at her with puppy eyes.

“What did I do?”

“Barnes, you absolute doorknob, you took her to all the spots you take y/n to, you’ve been spending all your time making little miss I’m one of the guys feel comfortable, you’ve made y/n seem invisible and you’re wondering why she’s not talking to you?” Bucky blinked while Nat continued, her annoyance only growing when she saw a message from Nicole pop up on Bucky’s phone.

“You treat Nicole like your girlfriend. Imagine some new guy joins us, makes a point of eye fucking y/n the entire time, finding ways to constantly flirt with her and touch her, you’d be fine with it? Imagine he avoids hanging out with the guys but makes all the time in the world to chase after anything with breasts. On top of that, how would you feel if y/n went out of her way to make said guy feel more welcomed when he clearly just wants to get into her pants. You’d be fine with it?!”

Bucky shook his head, though still not fully understanding because Nicole was just a friend, not someone he’d even be into. Plus, its not like she was into him like that, right?

“But Nicole doesn’t want to-” Bucky started, shutting his mouth when Nat nearly hissed, staring at him while he did the mental math, “Nicole wants to get into my pants?” Bucky looked at Nat wide eyes, ducking the cushion she was about to whack at his face, all the pieces finally clicking together. He groaned, running a hand over his face, realization hitting him like a ton of bricks. Just as Sam and Steve were about to hum in agreement with Nat, she glared at them, their eyes growing wide.

“And you” Nat turned to glare at Steve, his shoulders slumping when he realized he wasn’t in the clear. He squeaked when Nat pulled his ear, giving it a squeeze, “What were you thinking. You didn’t once think it was weird she only trained with you two? Haven’t any of you noticed Nicole doesn’t hang out with any of us, Just you?” Nat waved her hand at the men that sat before her, their dumb stuck faces only adding to her annoyance. “Idiots”

As much as Bucky wanted to hit his head onto a brick wall, he didn’t have time to waste, immediately springing up from the couch to look for you. He checked everywhere he could but you were nowhere to be found. He was so desperate, he found himself shuffling outside of Tony’s lab, hoping FRIDAY would give him your location.

“You’re asking for a lot Barnes, y/n might add my name to the hit list if I tell you where she is”

“Please” Bucky was ready to beg on his knees while the billionaire huffed, watching the former assassin look like a lovesick puppy. He cocked an eyebrow, noting the glassiness of Bucky’s eyes on his desperate face, nodding before calling for FRIDAY to look for you. “Also, I need another favor...”

****

“Y/n, babygirl” He’d never felt such relief before, seeing you make your way to your room, coming back from your hiding spot from the roof, the scowl on your face clearly showing you weren’t trying to talk to anyone one your way over.

“Oh, I’m babygirl now? Has doll now been reserved for Nicole” You couldn’t hold back the sneer in your voice, walking away faster, ignoring his calls.

“Baby, please!”

No.

“Baby, wait!” Bucky chased after you, not willing to let another day go by without you knowing exactly how he felt. He managed to get hold of your hand, gently tugging you towards his chest and spinning you till your back was against the wall, his chest nearly pressed to you. “Please, I-I need to talk to you, tell you how I feel”

“There’s nothing to talk about”

“Yes there is” His voice was earnest, baby blues searching your downcast eyes, his finger tilting your chin up to look at him, “There’s so much to talk about, I adore you”

“Do you also adore Nic?” You scoffed, while Bucky’s cheeks warmed with embarrassment, the pink spreading up to his ears.

“There’s no Nic or Nicole, theres just a y/n, my y/n, only you doll” You rolled your eyes at his response, trying to move away but Bucky wasn’t having any of it, keeping you pressed against him, “I’m sorry darling, I didn’t realize what she was doing or get her intentions. I thought she just wanted to get to know the team better”

“Wow” you huffed under your breath, wishing you had the space to flick the super soldiers forehead.

“I know, I’m an idiot, and I’m an even bigger idiot for not making it clear I’m so utterly and desperately in love with you” Bucky bit his lip as soon as the words left his mouth, he’d said everything under the sun except those words before. But they were true and he’d kept it inside long enough. “I love you, I love you, fuck, I love you”

You squeaked in surprise when he scooped you up in his arms, tossing you over his shoulder, walking over to his bedroom, smiling when he felt your small fists hitting his back, your butt wiggling to be put back down.

“Barnes, put me down, you can’t just say you love me and then carry me away like a complete ogre!” He set you down, kicking the door shut behind him before wrapping his arms around you tightly again, falling more in love with your irritated pouty face.

“I love you sweet girl. God, I’m so in love with you”

“You’re an absolute idiot”

“An idiot who is in love”

“You’re so cheesy” You willed yourself not to smile, ignoring the butterflies that fluttered at his words and love struck eyes. “you’re still a dick”

“I know. M’sorry angel, I didn’t realize what I was doing, I never wanted to hurt you. I should’ve known something was up when all she wanted to do was train 24/7 but I guess I misunderstood her intentions cause I didn’t see her as anything else. I’ve only ever had eyes for you baby, you have my heart. You always will”

“Where is she right now anyway?” You melted into his chest, closing your eyes at the feeling of his lips pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “Isn’t she supposed to be leaving soon?” Bucky didn’t respond, his hands starting to wander your body instead, slipping up your shirt, rubbing soft circles on your hips. Without warning, he picked you up again, tossing you on the bed and pouncing on you, peppering your face with kisses.

“Bucky what are you doing” You giggled feeling his beard tickle your skin as he started to trail kisses down your neck.

“I may have requested Tony to have her stay an extra night” Your face twisted in confusion at his words but the devious look on his face made your tummy flutter.

“And he happily agreed because...”

“Because...?”

“I want her to hear how good I can make the girl I picked feel” Bucky smirked as he crawled off you, stripping his clothes off before tearing yours off immeitedly after. “M’not gonna waste another second, gotta let the whole compound know who my best girl is”

****

“OH G-GOD J-JAMES FUUCCCKKK”

“That’s it pretty princess, that’s it, cum on my dick baby, my good girl, fuck you’re so good to me, look at that, God you’re soaked baby”

“Jesus Christ” Nicole huffed, no longer able to ignore the moans coming from Bucky’s room while the rest of the team pretended to be none the wiser, your loud love making carrying all the way down the hall. Bucky happily disabled the sound proofing in his room before pushing his cock in as deep as it would go, railing you into the mattress.

“Baby you look so pretty when you’re all stretched out like this, c’mon you can take more, spread those legs for me baby, open up, c’mon, lemme in”

“HNG PleasepleasepleaseJames”

“So perfect when you beg, cock’s all yours mama, m’all yours, go on and use me, that’s it, ride this dick, you own me”

“Bucky, gonna-c-cum, gonna-cum!”

“Cum for me princess, God I love you”

“You want a snack?”

“Nick?”

“Uh-Nicole?”

“Huh?” Nicole whipped her head around to where Steve was innocently holding out the bowl of popcorn, while Sam stood up to grab more snacks before the movie started. She stared at everyone surrounding her acting as if they couldn’t hear the way you were screaming your vocal chords raw, the super soldier moaning louder than you, “N-no, I’m fine”

Tony cocked an eyebrow at the way her jaw clenched, mindlessly scrolling through her phone while Bucky’s thrusts punctuated with each word.

“Y’feel so. Damn. Good. baby, could spent my whole life like this making love to you”

“Fuck, I love you James”

“Ugh- they’re so loud” Nicole rolled her eyes again in hopes that someone would feel the same but all she got were blank stares back.

“I mean, terminator is practically in love with her” Tony shrugged while the others nodded in agreement.

“They’re cute. It’s about time they made it official, don’t you think?” Nat asked sweetly staring directly at her while Steve tried to chime in as well, his cheeks burning hot pink between the sounds of skin slapping and moaning.

“They sound so happy together” he stuttered out while Sam snorted, choking from laughter.

“Oh God, oh god, fuck-Jamie-JAMIE”

“Yup, real happy”

“I-I think I’m actually gonna call it at early night, stay at the recruiting center tonight instead” Nicole headed straight to the main doors without looking back, the rest of the team giving each other satisfied smirks.

Bucky collapsed beside you, panting, his short locks clinging to his forehead, a thin sheet of sweat covering his body. He truthfully stopped caring about what Nicole could or couldn't hear half way through, meaning every single word he said as he took you apart over and over again. You giggled at his shy smile when he pulled you into his chest, pulling the sheets over you both, kissing your forehead.

“I love you pretty girl. I love you so much”

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bandsofmarv · 7 months ago

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Mine to keep

Bucky can no longer hold in his jealous and possessive side and finally claims you.

TW- Heavy smut, bucky angst , jealousy, possessive behaviour. Kinda long.

Side note // I’m also take requests of any character / theme.

Bucky’s blood had been boiling all night. Steve, the perfect All-American golden boy, basking in your attention, your laugh lighting up every damn corner of the bar. And Steve wasn’t even trying—he never had to. But that didn’t make it easier to watch.

Bucky’s drink sat untouched as he leaned against the bar, his jaw tight and his metal fingers twitching with restraint. He couldn’t take his eyes off you, couldn’t stop the jealousy crawling up his spine every time you smiled at Steve.

When Steve finally stepped away to grab another round, Bucky didn’t hesitate. He pushed off the bar and cut through the crowd, his determined strides carrying him straight to you.

“Hey,” you greeted, your voice light and playful.

Bucky didn’t return the smile. His eyes were dark, fixed on yours as he crowded into your space. “Having fun?” His voice was a low growl, sending a shiver down your spine.

You tilted your head, confused by the tension radiating off him. “Uh, yeah? It’s been nice to catch up with everyone. Steve’s been—”

“Yeah, Steve’s been the life of the party,” Bucky interrupted, his voice tight.

Your brow furrowed. “Are you jealous?”

Bucky’s jaw flexed. “Damn right I am.” His metal hand curled into a fist against his thigh. “Watching him make you laugh like that? Watching you light up for him? You’re mine.”

The intensity in his voice sent a bolt of heat straight through you, your stomach flipping at the raw emotion behind his words. You opened your mouth to respond, but before you could, Bucky leaned in, his lips brushing against your ear.

“Let’s go,” he growled.

————————————————————————

The second your apartment door shut behind you, Bucky had you pinned against it. His lips crashed onto yours, hungry and demanding, his metal hand gripping your hip to hold you in place.

“You’ve been driving me insane,” he murmured against your lips, his voice low and rough. “Sitting there looking so goddamn perfect, laughing at his jokes like you don’t know you belong to me.”

“I—” Your protest was cut off as he kissed you again, his tongue sweeping into your mouth to claim you. His flesh hand slid down to your thigh, hitching it around his hip to grind his hard length against you.

“You’re mine,” he rasped, pulling back just enough to look you in the eyes. “Say it.”

“Yours,” you gasped, your voice trembling with need.

His lips curled into a dark smirk as he lifted you off the ground, carrying you to the bedroom. He laid you down on the bed, his hands already tugging at your clothes with a mix of urgency and reverence.

“Bucky,” you murmured, your breath hitching as his hands—both flesh and metal—explored your body, pulling away your layers one by one.

“Shh,” he whispered, pressing kisses to your bare skin as he worked. “I’ve got you. Just let me show you.”

When he finally had you naked beneath him, he sat back for a moment, his eyes raking over you with undisguised hunger. “Look at you,” he murmured, his voice thick with desire. “So fucking beautiful. All mine.”

He didn’t wait for a response. His mouth found your neck, his teeth grazing your pulse point before he kissed his way down your body. His lips and tongue left a trail of fire in their wake, his hands gripping your thighs to hold you open for him.

“Bucky,” you whimpered, your fingers tangling in his hair as he kissed the sensitive skin of your inner thighs.

“I want to hear you,” he said, his voice dark and commanding. “I want everyone to know who’s making you feel this good.” And then his mouth was on you, his tongue sliding against your heat with practiced precision. You cried out, your hips bucking against him as he licked and sucked, his metal hand pinning you to the bed while his flesh hand teased your sensitive bundle of nerves.

The pressure built quickly, your body arching as his tongue drove you higher and higher. Just when you thought you couldn’t take any more, he slipped two fingers inside you, curling them to hit that perfect spot.

“Bucky!” you gasped, your body shattering around him as waves of pleasure crashed over you.

He didn’t stop, working you through your orgasm until you were trembling beneath him. Only then did he pull back, his lips glistening as he smirked down at you.

“You’re not done yet,” he said, his voice rough with need.

He stripped off his clothes, his muscular frame glinting in the low light of the room. His cock stood hard and ready, and your mouth watered at the sight of him.

He climbed over you, his hands bracketing your face as he kissed you deeply, letting you taste yourself on his lips. “Turn over,” he ordered, his voice leaving no room for argument.

You obeyed, rolling onto your stomach as he positioned himself behind you. His hands gripped your hips, pulling you up onto your knees before he slid into you with one smooth thrust.

The stretch was perfect, and you moaned loudly, your hands fisting in the sheets as he set a punishing pace.

“You feel so good,” he groaned, his metal hand sliding up your back to grip the nape of your neck. “So tight, so perfect. All mine.”

“Yours,” you gasped, the word spilling from your lips like a prayer.

He leaned down, his chest pressing against your back as he whispered in your ear. “I’ll never let you forget it.”

His thrusts grew faster, deeper, his cock hitting that perfect spot with every stroke. Your pleasure built quickly, and you felt yourself spiraling toward another release.

“Come for me,” he growled, his teeth grazing your shoulder. “Let me feel you.”

The command sent you over the edge, your body clenching around him as your second orgasm tore through you. Bucky groaned, his grip tightening on your hips as he buried himself deep inside you, his own release following moments later.

You collapsed onto the bed together, your bodies slick with sweat and your breaths coming in ragged gasps. Bucky pulled you into his arms, his lips pressing soft kisses to your temple.

“You’re mine,” he murmured, his voice softer now but no less certain.

“Always,” you whispered, your heart full as you melted into his embrace.

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imyourbratzdoll · 4 months ago

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𝒔𝒉𝒆 𝒘𝒂𝒔 𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒑𝒓𝒆𝒄𝒊𝒐𝒖𝒔 𝒍𝒊𝒕𝒕𝒍𝒆 𝒔𝒘𝒂𝒏

🕊️a whore's fairytale masterlist🕊️

summary - you come to find out that the man you grew up alongside isn't the same after the royal ball.

warning - smut, dub-con, death, violence, creampie, kidnapping, slight stockholm syndrome, swearing, obsession.

18+ only please, the gif and headers I use aren't mine.

Warnings and Reminders - Please do not plagiarise, copy, repost/republish, adapt, or translate any of my work on any social media platforms, apps, or third-party sites. The only platforms I post my work on are: Tumblr and Wattpad. I do not own any character of any franchise (Marvel etc.) All my works are fiction and may be dark or triggering content: READ ALL WARNINGS BEFORE PROCEEDING.

Y/n-Odette and Steve had known each other since she was a baby. Upon Steve meeting her when she was born, their parents had been planning Steve’s marriage to Y/n-Odette. Over the years as the two grew, they despised each other, causing their parents to worry which they would then be forced to be together every summer.

You had been dreading today. You wished to stay home but your father would not allow it. You sat in the carriage, staring out at the scenery, hoping you could distract your mind from having to see Steve again.

Steve squirmed impatiently, thinking of anything that wasn’t you. A stupid, silly girl. Steve groaned quietly as he went to meet you in the ballroom until he stopped, his heart began to thump. Your smile made him feel weak in the knees. You had the same face, hair and eyes as Y/n-Odette but seemed to be someone quite different.

“Hello, Steve.” You speak, smiling softly.

Steve couldn’t speak, he wondered if you were the same girl he had grown up with. He returned your smile, holding out his arm for you to take. He felt his heart skip as you accepted, taking his arm and together you walked onto the dance floor as the music began to play. Steve felt so happy, like he was dancing on air.

After that night, you and Steve had spent the rest of the summer together. Steve dreamed of you, he awoke each morning eager to see you. When he was with you he felt overjoyed, but he was also tongue-tied and could not tell you how he felt. Steve couldn’t imagine living without you, it was almost like an obsession had begun to grow within him.

The summer had come to an end and it was your time to leave. You and Steve decided to dance all night at the royal ball, love burned so bright that the whole ballroom could practically feel it. You smiled up at the handsome prince but inside you could feel a tug of sadness. You couldn’t bear to leave him, he had given you so much love over the summer but he had never declared it. You hoped he would finally tell you how he felt tonight.

As the music came to a stop, so did you and Steve. You both shared a long glance, waiting, searching, hoping.

Steve suddenly turned to the guests with a giant grin. “Arrange the wedding!”

The noise around you suddenly stopped, everyone was speechless.

“Wait!” You called out.

“What is it?” Steve pleaded, “You’re all I ever wanted. You’re beautiful!”

“Thank you,” You replied, “But… What else?” You knew deep down in your soul that Steve loved you as much as you loved him, so surely he wanted you more than your beauty? You just needed him to say it.

Steve stared blankly, he really had no clue. “What else?”

Your heart dropped. “Is beauty all that matters to you?” You asked, your father and his mother stood dumbfounded, they were so close.

Steve swallowed hard. “I… Er… What else is there?” He asked.

Your heart sank even further. You had been wrong, Steve did not love you at all. You turned and swiftly exited the ballroom, taking the hopes of two kingdoms with you.

You and Steve barely said goodbye as you left. He watched as you departed with shock and bitter disappointment.

Steve sits as Lord Rogers paces the royal sitting room. “What else is there?” He mockingly spoke. “She says, ‘Is beauty all that matters?’ and you say, “What else is there?!”

“It was dumb, I know.” Steve replies, hanging his head as he tries to think.

The weather outside was not helping his mood. It seemed to match the sadness he felt deep within.

“You should write a book.” Rogers continued. “How to Offend Women in Five Syllables or Less.” Rogers leans forward, flicking Steve’s forehead. “Think!” He urged. “You must see something other than Y/n-Odette’s beauty!”

“Of course I do, Rogers!” Steve begins to stumble as he thinks. “She’s… Well, you know. And then, well… Er…”

Lord Rogers rolled his eyes.

“Oh, I just don’t know how to say it!” Steve finally blurted out, and then he added. “I know, I’ll prove it to her. I’ll prove my love!” He nods to himself before muttering. “I’ll make her mine. I’ll make her see how I see her.” Steve stands, swiftly exiting the room as he begins to form a plan.

Meanwhile inside the carriage, your father shakes his head sadly. “I just don’t understand.” He looks at you, watching as you continue to look out and into the forest. “What else did you want him to say?”

You bite your bottom lip softly before letting it go as you turn to look at your father. “I just need to know that he loves me.”

Suddenly the horses whined and bucked, causing the carriage to stop. “What on Earth–?” King William, your father turned the door handle and stepped out. Beyond the horses, a large man was blocking their path. Although the man stood in the shadows, King William recognised him instantly. He had watched him grow from a small child but he could feel something was off and with one look at you, he orders. “Stay inside, Y/n-Odette.” He closes the door and takes a step forward, his guards moved to encircle him, spears drawn.

“Steve, what are you doing out here so late? How did you get here?” The King had never felt this kind of fear before, it was as though something had possessed the man before him. He looks around, brows furrowed as he sees no way for Steve to have gotten there without them noticing. “You must be cold, my boy. Why don’t you hop inside our carriage and we can take you back to your mother. I am sure she’s worried.”

Steve chuckles and the sound causes The King to stumble, it sounded so dark, so chilling. “I can’t have you do that, sir.”

The Kind and Steve’s mother had always wanted the two of you together but at this moment, he didn’t know this man. At this moment, King William would do anything to protect you. He could feel strong amounts of power radiating off of Steve, darkness he had never felt before. King William steps back towards the carriage, his guards moving forward slightly, protecting him and you.

Steve’s eyes sweep over them all, causing a shiver to run through their bodies. “Why are you scared?” Steve takes a small step forward, his foot sinking into the soil beneath him.

King William clears his throat, straightening his back. “We are not scared. Why don’t you come back with us? Then we can take you back in the morning.” His head whips around as he hears you scream, his eyes widen as he sees Steve’s best friend pulling you from the carriage.

Thumps can be heard and The King whips back around only for his eyes to widen as Steve stands toe-to-toe with him and his guards lay dead around them. “I said, I can’t have you do that, sir. I want Y/n-Odette and as long as she has you, she will never fully devote herself to me.” Steve towers over the short King, making him seem as tiny as an ant. “I may have screwed up this evening but she will be mine.”

“S–Ste–” King William is cut off by Steve’s hand gripping his throat, his eyes bulged and skin begins to turn purple.

Everything had turned black after you were pulled from the carriage, unaware of what had happened with your father. You woke up surrounded by water but you felt weird causing you to look down, shock and fear shoot through you as you see white. You were no longer in your body, instead of a human body it had been replaced with that of a swans.

“Y/n–Odette.” Hope ran through you as you heard Steve’s voice, your eyes darting around until they landed on his large figure. “You’re finally awake, my little swan.” That hope that had built inside of you had come crashing down once you realised that he wasn’t there to save you. Your body moves, gliding across the water, distancing yourself away from the man you thought you had known. “Don’t let the small spell make you sad, Y/n–Odette. It doesn’t last the whole day, as soon as the moon comes up…”

Steve didn’t need to finish, creeping across the lake the moonlight touched your wing. Water began to swirl from below, your swan-like self rose upward in a shimmering golden-grey light, transforming you into your human form.

Steve grins. “That’s how it will be until you are mine, Little Swan.” He said as you landed gently on the shore. “You have to be on the lake, of course and when the moonlight touches your wings, you’re human!”

You turned away from him, betrayal blossoming within you. Your thoughts went to your father. “My father… Is he okay?”

“Define okay…”

You spun around, eyes wide and full of tears. “What did you do to him?!”

Steve merely shrugs. “I may have killed him.”

You gasp, reeling back as the tears begin to slowly fall. “Y–you…”

Steve moves closer, his hand reaching out to touch your cheek but you move your head. His brows furrow as anger seeps in but he shakes it off, allowing you this. “Killed him, yes. I had to, otherwise I couldn’t have you, Y/n-Odette.”

“You can’t have me now, Steve! You killed my father! You kidnapped me and trapped me at this lake forever!” Your eyes meet his, so many emotions swirl around behind them. “I could’ve gotten over you only liking me for my looks but this… This is too much. You’re not the man I thought you were. The man I grew to love…”

“Now, don’t speak like that, Y/n-Odette. Sooner or later you are going to cave into being mine. You’ll learn to love this version of me.” He grabs your chin, ignoring how you fight against his hold and places a gentle kiss on your forehead. “Don’t fight it, little swan. You’ll be mine soon.” And with those words, he leaves. Leaving you alone and broken, your body hits the ground as sobs break free, your pain filling the forest around you.

Days, weeks, maybe even months go by without you giving into Steve and his advances. No matter what he did, you remained silent and distant. You began to enjoy your swan form, using it as an excuse to escape your human problems.

On the other hand, Steve was slowly losing it. He began taking his anger out on everyone else, those who loved and admired him, now feared him. His mother thought that it had something to do with your disappearance and your father’s death. Only if she knew the truth would she hate the man her son became.

Steve grew impatient, he didn’t understand why you weren’t his already. Why did you have to be so stubborn? Did you not see how much he loved you? “What else do I have to do, Buck? She’s supposed to be mine.” He put his head in his hands. His best friend watched him from the doorway, arms crossed.

“I don’t think you’re being rough enough. You’re being too sweet on her, Steve. A woman like her needs rough handling, someone to dominate her.” Bucky pushes off of the wall and moves closer to his friend. “You need to stop playing Mr. Nice guy.”

Steve nods, standing and patting Buck’s shoulder with a smile. “You’re right, Buck.” His smile slowly turns into a smirk. “I guess it’s time to go get my girl.” And with that, he walks out of the castle and into the woods.

Steve reached his destination the moment moonlight shone on the lake, watching golden-grey swirls appear as your form changes from swan to human. He grins, sauntering straight towards you. “Little swan. As beautiful as ever.” He shakes off the strange feeling that appears when you brush off his words, already ignoring and moving away from him. Too bad Steve had already reached you before you could distance yourself further.

He pulls you closer to him, gripping your chin roughly as he forces you to look him in the eyes. “I don’t appreciate this attitude, Y/n-Odette. You’re mine and I am going to make you see that whether you like it or not.” You shiver under his hold as he growls. Steve pulls you over to a tree and pushes you up against it, your dress bunching up against your hips as he lifts you, wrapping your legs around his waist.

Your pulse quickens and your eyes widen, you push against his shoulders with poor attempts. Deep down you wanted this, you just didn’t like the person he became. “N–no, no. Steve. You… You can’t do this. Please.”

Steve caresses your cheek, smiling almost too sweetly at you. “You don’t have to pretend anymore, Y/n-Odette. You’re mine. We’re meant to be together.” His hand moves, gripping your chin with his thumb. His eyes fall to your lips as your mouth opens slightly. “I’m going to make you my wife, my Queen, little swan. Then you will bear my children.”

You shake your head, ignoring how you throb at the thought. “I’m done waiting for you to give in, Y/n-Odette. You need to understand that you’re already mine.” Steve presses against you, feeling you throb against his clothed cock. “You feel that? That’s what you do to me, little swan.” A small whine slips through your lips. “Just give in. Let me make you feel good.” You gasp as he pulls you into a kiss, all thoughts leaving your mind as his lips begin to move, pulling you deeper into his hold. Steve nips your bottom lip, sliding his tongue inside as a moan escapes your mouth.

You barely notice as he frees himself, sliding his hardened cock between your lips. Your grip tightens on his shoulders, pulling away slightly. “S–Steve…”

His hand moves, caressing your cheek. “Shh, little swan. It’s okay.” Your mouth drops and eyes roll back as he slides into you, filling you to the brim with one thrust. “That’s my good girl, feel so good for me.” Steve grunts, pressing you into the tree harder while he holds back from roughly fucking into you. You go limp in his arms, never having felt this amount of pleasure before, not even the times when you had touched yourself.

“O–oh… Steve…”

Steve smirked to himself, “Is that all you needed, little swan? My cock? If I had known all I had to do was fuck you to get you like this, I would’ve done it along time ago.” You want to argue back, huff and disagree with him but he was right, you couldn’t think when he was inside of you. His grip on you tightens before he suddenly begins to fuck you, slowly pulling out only to roughly thrust back in. Your moans trapped in your throat and your back arches, pressing close to his.

Steve grunts, his eyes locked on your face. He felt smug that the pleasure you were feeling was caused by him. He changes the angle of his hips, his cock sliding deeper inside of you, hitting spots you didn’t even know existed. Your hands grip Steve’s back, nails clawing into any skin you can find.

Steve’s hand moves up, his thumb swiping the necklace that lay around your neck. His hips not stopping as he stares deep into your eyes. “The moment I gave you this necklace, Y/n-Odette was the moment you became mine, there was no stopping this fate. You’re stuck with me, little swan.”

Your walls clench around him as he claims you. His thrusts pick up as he begins to pound into you, chasing his release. He grips your hips and neck, pulling you into a deep kiss. The moment his lips meet yours, it feels like your mind has become cloudy, unable to think about anything other than the feeling of him inside you. You didn’t know how someone’s lips had the power to wipe your mind clean of any thoughts.

Steve shoves a hand between your legs, his fingers finding your swollen clit and immediately pressing on it. Rolling it between his fingers before stroking it while his cock continues to hit deep inside. “Cum for me, little swan. Let me feel you milk my cock.” Steve groans, pressing closer to you as he whispers against your lips.

Your head falls back against the tree, feeling your cunt pulse and throb as Steve continues to rub your swollen clit and thrust against the sweet spot deep inside you. “Go on, little swan. Cum for me.” Your eyes cross as Steve buries himself deep inside of you, your toes curl as you squeeze him. You feel your orgasm ripple through you, your moans echoing throughout the forest.

“My good little swan.” He growls out as he fucks into you before his cum shoots out, painting your walls a pretty white. As Steve softens inside of you, he pulls back to look at your face and grins almost evilly, the back of his hand stroking your cheek. “You’re going to make such a pretty Queen, little swan.”

You would learn that you may think you know someone but everyone has a little bit of darkness lurking within and you just happened to be the target.

thank you for reading!

feedback and reblogs are greatly appreciated.

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lizziehernandez · 1 year ago

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Go to therapy or read another fan fiction of your favorite fictional character?

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aberrantcreature · 10 months ago

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New brain rot. ❤️💙

#fanart #fan art #mcu #marvel mcu #stony #stony fanart #tony stark x steve rogers #digital sketch #digital art

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dameronology · 5 months ago

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marvel men + love languages

steve rogers - physical touch + words of affi

the sacred combo!! steve is a clingy mf - either always having his arms wrapped around his s.o, a hand on their leg or on their waist, and if he's not with them, he'll be texting you all day, asking how you are and just chatting. steve has had to learn to live every day like it's his last, so he'll never go to work, bed, or even to the shops, without telling you he loves you. it's just part of his routine, really.

bucky barnes - acts of service

bucky is not very good with words, or with expressing himself. even before hydra, it was something he struggled with. so, acts of service are his main love language. it can be little things - making coffee in the morning, putting the laundry away when he knows you're busy - or bigger things, like taking your car into the shop when you forget, or building new furniture, or shaking down your weird co-worker who was kinda mean the other day. he finds so much purpose in just making your life easier (in a healthy way!!).

sam wilson - quality time

sam is a man of quality time. he has to work away quite a lot and is always on the go with work and his tasks, but when he does see you - and he makes sure it's a fair amount - he tries to make it count. hell, it doesn't even matter what you do, as long as he's with you. sam does try to make sure you're always having a good balance of chill time and fun activities though, so he always plans the best day.

frank castle - words of affirmation + gifts

aight this might seem weird bc frank is not very good with words (try and make him form a sentence without a swear word or abbreviation, i dare you) but the ones he does say, he always means. especially when he says that he loves you and would probably kill for you. but, it's frank's famously bad way with words that make you realise how much he loves you - because you're the only person he will verbally open up to and be a complete and open book with. as for gifts, every single one he has ever bought you has been the most thoughtful, sweet things; stuff you wouldn't even think to buy yourself. it's just a testament for how well he knows you.

matt murdock - physical touch

this one feels fairly obvious tbh, because alongside his hearing, matt's touch is his the sense he relies on most. he loves your voice and the way you sound but most of all, he loves the way you feel. whether it's the feeling of your skin against his, your fingers all tangled up, or when you kiss him, he just fucking loves it. physical touch is matt's favourite way of knowing you.

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somanywords · 4 months ago

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once again wishing bucky barnes a birthday of sunlight and warmth and good food and peace and hugs

#bucky barnes #stucky #stevebucky #steve rogers #captain america #marvel fan art #my art #digital art #cassstuff #happy birthday bucky!

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capibuck · 7 months ago

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Steve loses his mother

Steve can no longer pretend that he doesn't hurt, one rainy afternoon he just breaks down crying with the only person who always supports him. That day Bucky stayed at Steve's house, the next day too, and the next. Bucky promised him that he would never leave Steve alone, 'till the end of the line.

🧡 Patreon | Ko Fi | Commissions 🧡

#stucky #bucky barnes #steve rogers #fan art #stevexbucky #captain america #chris evans #sebastian stan #fanart #marvel #prewar #pre serum steve #pre serum stucky #myartwork

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sweetromanova · 12 days ago

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Crisis Management: Part Two🖤

Natasha Romanoff x PR Handler!Reader

Summary: Your assigned to make Natasha Romanoff more ‘relateable’. Somewhere along the way you forget your job was to fix her image, not fall in love with it.

Chapter Two

The problem with press events wasn’t always the press.

It was the people.

All polished smiles and curated soundbites, the room filled with the kind of performative charm that could make even Tony Stark look humble. You’d been to enough of these events to know the drill, gloss over the truth, glam up the heroes and sell the illusion of unity over entrees and expensive champagne. They were less about valour and more about vanity. Tonight was no exception.

Or at least so you’d thought.

This one had started with a glimmer of hope and just a flicker of change.

Natasha Romanoff had shown up in heels, willingly and in a floor-length dress that she hadn’t threatened to set on fire. A slinky, dark crimson number that shimmered under the lights like wet blood and fit her like it had been tailored by a spy with too much time on their hands.

Another notch of progress.

But hope has a short shelf life when you're dealing with assassins and political theatre.

“Try to keep the murder-eyes to a minimum.” You’d whispered as the two of you stood at the entrance, side by side beneath the glow of a chandelier that probably cost more your whole apartment building.

She turned just enough to give you that same dry, flat look, equal parts boredom and threat. It said No promises louder than words ever could.

She was supposed to be the guest of honour, ‘hosting’ the pretentious elite of the Upper East Side. You almost laughed when at first invitation, she refused to ‘host’, the word that here meant playing diplomat, smiling just enough to be disarming, shaking hands with people who funded wars in countries she’d once bled in. It was a performance, one she hadn’t signed up for but couldn’t quite walk away from.

You watched her scan the room with that calculating stillness, the same kind she used before a mission went sideways. Something in her expression told you the evening was already unraveling. Or maybe it never even stood a chance.

After an hour of polite smiling and whispered profiles, you’d left her alone with some congressman that had brought his daughters, teenagers that looked at Natasha like she hung the moon. She’d smiled politely, engaged in conversations about academic interests like she’d ever even been to high school.

After a quick dismissal, you’d gone to get some water, leant across the bar to take it in and before you could think about what and where you needed to show her off next, you caught her eye.

The congressman and family were still stood with her, joined by another older couple with kind eyes but her eyes were locked across the room. On you.

You didn’t notice at first. The intensity had made goosebumps appear and you turned away for a brief second to catch your breath when a body almost slammed into yours.

“NO WAY! Oh my god, it’s you!” Catching a glimpse of the person who just body checked you into the bar, you almost rolled your eyes at your new companion. Emily Martins, a reporter that had begun her career around the same time as you and nearly tanked you both in the first week. You had been assisting in a press conference for some young influencer that was about to break out into the music industry, given the important job to brief the press on what questions were appropriate and what questions were going to get both of your necks on the chopping block.

She was the second person to put her hand up eagerly once it had commenced and the third person to ask her question. A question that had been forbidden by yourself.

So it took exactly 30 seconds for the influencer to stand up and walk off the stage and leave you with the fall out. She was the last person you wanted to see ever again.

“Emily. It’s… surprising to see you.” You politely smiled, stiffening as she’d hugged you warmly, like it was familiar.

“You look good!” She smirked. “Running PR for the Avengers is really paying off, huh?”

You grimaced. “In migraine and stress ulcers, mostly. But sure.”

She laughed and you thought maybe she had changed. The industry of journalism was cut throat, maybe she had shaped up. She looked a hell of a lot healthier than she did fresh out of college. Her eye bags were non-existent, her hair looked like she’d spent the better half of the day getting styled and her dress was flattering, hugging every curve like a second skin.

You couldn’t deny she was attractive, in that natural kind of way. Soft jawline, warm eyes, the kind of girl who didn’t have to try. She just had a calm, easy presence that drew people in without saying much.

What you didn’t realise was that somewhere across the room, Natasha Romanoff was gripping her wine glass like it was a live grenade.

She should’ve been circulating. Instead, she stood in the corner like a living security breach, every muscle tense, like she was calculating exactly how many steps it would take to cross the room and ‘accidentally’ spill red wine on her dress.

“So, what are you up to nowadays? Apart from babysitting Earth’s mightiest egos?”

You coughed up a laugh and smiled. “Honestly not much. All work, no life.”

“Nothing’s changed then.”

“I guess not. What about yourself? Still entertainment reporting?”

“Yeah, I’m good. Actually, I’m an editor now. It’s different but it means I don’t have to stand on red carpets for six hours in 7 inch heels and a corset.”

“Editor? Nice. Anything else on the cards?”

“Well I’m learning to balance it. Every friend I ever had I college became my adversary in the industry but I’m trying.” She jokes, leaning in just a little closer. “If you ever wanted to learn a bit of work-life balance then I’m sure we could arrange-“

You felt her presence a second a second before she spoke. “Hi.” All threatening eyes and an even more threatening posture.

“Hi! Natasha, right?”

“You’re standing in my way.”

You and Emily both blinked, caught off guard. “Uh- Nat-“

“Yes! Yeah, sorry!” Emily excused, stepping aside to let the redhead come directly between you.

“Don’t apologise.” She simply uttered, her shoulder brushing yours as she turned her back completely to Emily.

You stared at her. “Natasha, this is-“

“I know who she is.” She still didn’t look at her.

Emily looked between you, confused and more than a little awkward. “I was just saying hi to an old friend. But it’s great to meet you, Natasha. Thank you for your service.”

Natasha’s mouth curled, not in a smile. “Did you say hi?”

“Sorry?” Emily questioned.

“You said you were saying hi, did you say hi?” Emily glanced at you, her eyebrows knotted in confusion as she now tried to avoid the redhead’s gaze.

“Yeah-“

“Then what are you still doing here?

“But-“

“Natasha!”

Emily exhaled, almost a scoff as her cheeks flushed. “Emily, I’m sorry-“ You attempted to apologise but the damage was done, she simply gave you one sold nod and quickly retreated into the crowd.

Then you turned to her.

“What the hell was that?”

She didn’t flinch. “You don’t need to waste your time on people like that. A reporter? Seriously?”

“People like what? She was an old friend, not even that. You were supposed to be hosting, not playing bodyguard.”

She didn’t answer, just scanned the room again, jaw tight.

Then someone called her name, a panelist for the charity presentation. You’d agreed on it earlier. Easy lines, rehearsed points. She just had to show up and say the words.

She walked up to the mic like she was walking into a battlefield.

“Hi.” She spoke. No warmth. No inflection. “This organisation does… good work. With kids.” Pause. “Or gardens. I don’t know.”

You closed your eyes, the anger seeping through your skin.

“Anyway…” She continued. “It’s all very... important. Give them money.”

Someone near the front coughed. The host smiled too tightly. You wanted to disappear.

By the time she walked off-stage, you were already waiting for her.

“We’re leaving.” Your voice was sharp and quiet.

She shrugged. “Fine.”

⋆⋆⋆⋆

The car was silent at first.

Then she spoke. “I don’t get it.” Natasha said, voice low and dangerous. “You say you want me to be real. To be myself. But the second I stop playing nice, you act like I’ve gone rogue.”

You exhaled, slowly. “What you did tonight wasn’t ‘being yourself.’ It was sabotage.”

“Oh, I’m sorry.” She snapped. “Was I supposed to just stand there doing everything while you’re stood making heart eyes at Ms Hollywood reporter?

You turned to her, eyes blazing. “You are the person of interest so YES! You were meant to be working the room. I stepped away from your for ONE second. I wasn’t making heart eyes at anyone. That was a conversation. You know, those things normal people have?”

Her laugh was humourless. “Right. Normal people, with normal pasts, normal trauma, normal ways of pretending to be someone they’re not.”

You looked at her then and under the anger you felt, the anger she was also expelling, you saw it. Not jealousy or pride.

Fear.

“Natasha.” You sighed, softer now. “I don’t want you to fake anything. I don’t want a script. I want you. But I need the version of you that tries. Not the one that pushes people away just to feel safe.”

Her jaw clenched. “You don’t get to tell me how to protect myself.”

“I’m not. But you don’t get to burn the place down and call it a security system either.”

She turned away, toward the window. Her reflection was stark against the glass, sharp cheekbones, haunted eyes, a woman built to disappear.

You didn’t speak again.

But as the car turned toward the Tower, you caught her hand twitch slightly between you on the seat.

Wanting to reach you but not quite ready.

As the car pulled into the assigned space, armed guards already waiting to escort you both inside, you felt the gentle press of fingertips on the back of your hand.

“I’m sorry.”

⋆⋆⋆⋆

The next morning, you knocked on her door at exactly 9:00am sharp.

No tactical gear. No detailed briefing. Just your well-worn jeans, your favourite shirt that smelled faintly of coffee and a little checklist with directions folded into your back pocket.

When she opened the door, barefoot and wearing a simple black tee, suspicion etched across her face, you raised your phone like a peace offering.

“What’s this?” She asked, eyeing the screen warily.

“Itinerary.” You said with a grin. “Today’s mission? Deep infiltration into New York’s worst influencer trends.”

Natasha blinked slowly. “This is a joke.”

You shrugged, unfazed. “If I’m going to manage your image, I figure I should at least know what people think ‘normal’ looks like these days. Plus, you still owe me for threatening Emily with those infamous eyebrows.”

She smirked, a flash of amusement softening her guarded expression. “They’re very expressive.”

“And yet, surprisingly not listed as a weapon. That’s what gets me.”

Her gaze lingered on you for a moment longer, assessing. Then she relented, voice clipped but willing. “Fine. But if I end up on someone’s Instagram wearing a flower crown, I’m going to need bail money.”

⋆⋆⋆⋆

The cafe felt like choreographed chaos, walls sheathed in fake grass, neon signs buzzing with relentless brightness and at least three ring lights stationed on each table. It felt more like being sat at an interrogation desk than a marble counter where the drinks names were longer than the street addresses.

The barista behind the counter had a nose ring, half a dozen bracelets jingling on her wrists and the kind of energy that suggested she could recite your entire birth chart before asking your name.

You pointed at the menu with uneasy smile. “We’ll take one... iced matcha-lavender-oat-milk-foam latte with the edible flower garnish.” You could feel Natasha’s eyes looking at you like you’d just chanted a witches spell. “And one upside-down dirty chai, extra espresso, vegan whipped cream, shaken, not stirred latte.”

Natasha’s eyes narrowed. “You’re making that up.”

“I wish I was.”

When the drinks arrived, Natasha stared at the green foam like it might lash out. “What’s the garnish for?”

“How do I know? Drama?” You guessed.

Snatching up the straws, you led her to a corner booth, half hidden behind a towering ficus. She leaned in, watching you snap a picture of the drink with a look of concern.

“Why post it if you’re just going to drink it?” She asked.

“Well what else am I supposed to do with it? It won’t stay pretty forever.” You said. “Anyway, real influencers don’t even drink it. They just tilt their heads and act mysterious.”

She rolled her eyes but took a tentative sip of the matcha, immediately grimacing. “That tastes like a garden and regret.”

You choked back a laugh. “That’s the lavender.”

She scrunched her nose. “Who decided flowers belong in coffee anyway? What’s next, a rose petal cappuccino?”

“Look at the third item under seasonal drinks on the menu. It’s already there.”

She gave you a sideways glance, passing you the next drink to try. “If I wanted to drink sadness and dirt, I’d stick to my morning kale smoothie. At least that doesn’t cost $10.”

You nodded solemnly. “I’m not mad at the chai though.”

She stared at the cup like it might bite back. “Promise me we’re not doing any beetroot lattes next.”

“Scout’s honour. Unless it’s trending.”

For the first time in days, she looked lighter like she’d momentarily shrugged off the weight she always carried. The door chimed once more, letting in a tidal wave of meticulously styled mayhem, all matching pastel sweat sets, cheeks flushed with heavy blusher and three girls leaning in close, whispering into their phones as they recorded an ASMR coffee review.

You both watched quietly.

Then Natasha leaned in, voice low and amused. “Which one do you think would cry first if her phone battery died?”

You pointed without hesitation. “Middle one. Definitely middle one.”

She smirked. “I was going to say left. The fake lashes scream ‘emotional fragility’.”

You sipped your ridiculous drink and sank back into the booth. “This is the happiest I’ve seen you all week.”

“I like judging people. It’s relaxing.”

“Noted.”

⋆⋆⋆⋆

Next, you stepped into a pop-up installation that felt like a haunted version of TikTok’s algorithm meets Stranger Things. Neon lights flickered overhead, casting strange shadows as cold fog swirled around your ankles. Broken mirrors lined the walls, reflecting twisted, stretched versions of your faces. In the corner, oversized inflatable props lay half-deflated, their warped shapes looking more like creepy creatures than anything playful.

Natasha eyed a giant swing, complete with plastic tentacles, with a deadpan stare. “Is this supposed to be a sex thing?”

“No. But I’m sure someone’s turned it into one. You muttered, walking a little closer to her than necessary.

She didn’t smile but suddenly shoved you in to the swing. The air turned inexplicably colder as she pulled out her phone, the screen casting a ghostly light across her features. She snapped a quick photo, catching your wide-eyed expression against the flickering background. “NATASHA!”

“Sorry.” She said, utterly unapologetic, smirking away at the photo.

In the mirror room, she struck a mock dramatic pose beneath a sputtering neon sign that buzzed ‘I am the vibe’, the letters glitching like a dying transmission from another world.

You leaned in, voice low. “That’s definitely going in our next press kit.”

She groaned but her eyes kept darting to the shadows, ever-alert for the jump scare she knew was coming “Let’s get out of here.”

You didn’t even acknowledge it, just turned and started walking, a little too fast until a prickle of instinct made you glance over your shoulder.

She wasn’t there. “Nat?”

A cold breeze swept through the corridor of floating bubbles, each one bursting with a hollow pop that echoed too loud in the silence. You froze for just one second.

Then you bolted.

You just made it to the exit before a figure lunged from the darkness, fingers curling around your arm as you jumped a mile into the air.

“Gotcha!” Natasha grinned, voice low and teasing but with just enough menace to make your stomach drop.

“NATASHA!”

Once your heart stopped trying to beat its way out of your chest, you both doubled over in laughter, though your nerves still buzzed, raw from the eerie atmosphere that clung like smoke.

As you stepped into the harsh light outside, Natasha tried to play it cool, hiding a shiver behind her usual smirk.

She failed spectacularly

⋆⋆⋆⋆

“It said it was a walk. A moderate walk. This is not a walk.” You gasped, clutching your chest. “This is an incline from hell.”

“It’s barely a slope.” Natasha said, unfazed, striding ahead with her hair now tied up and sunglasses perched on her head, untouched by the exertion that was killing you softly.

You collapsed dramatically against a tree stump. “I’m filing a formal complaint.”

She glanced back, smirking. “Want me to carry you?”

“Want to be stabbed with a compostable straw?”

“I don’t think you brought one.”

“Don’t test me, Romanoff.”

Eventually the incline flattened and the city skyline stretched before you, all shimmering glass and fading sunlight, hazy and golden.

You stood side by side at the lookout’s edge. Natasha’s eyes followed the shifting light, watching people slow down to snap selfies. “I’ve never understood that.” She murmured.

“What? Sunsets?”

“No. The need to prove you were here.” She nodded toward a girl fiddling with her phone’s timer. “To capture a moment instead of just living it.”

You met her gaze, steady and thoughtful. “Maybe it’s not about proving it.” You said after a moment. “Maybe it’s just wanting to remember who you were in the moment, who you were with.”

She didn’t say anything but her eyes lingered on yours a little longer than necessary.

You held up your phone. “Let’s take one. Just for us.”

Natasha raised a brow. “Did you hear me say I don’t get it?”

“Exactly. So let’s try, for science.”

With a dramatic sigh, she leaned in. You both fit awkwardly into the frame, your heads tilted together as the fading sun lit your faces in warm gold. You snapped the photo then grinned at the screen.

“It’s good.” You said, surprised by how much you meant it. The colours in the background bled together, creating the perfect lighting for the both of you. Natasha’s face held a soft smirk, even softer eyes as you smiled next to her.

“Let me see.” She reached for the phone, studied the image. “Not terrible.”

Then after a pause, quieter. “Let me take one of you.”

You blinked, a little caught off guard. “Seriously?”

“I want to see something.”

“See what?”

“Just let me. Please?”

With a huff, you agreed and awkwardly posed in front of her. You stood for a second. “Did you take it yet?”

“Hold on, it’s a little bright.”

“When did you turn into a photographer?”

“Just be patient and smile.”

“Take the photo already!”

With a laugh, you reached out for the phone in her hands and pushed it down. “Times up!”

“You totally ruined the shot!” She groaned but with a smile, opening the photo. The photo did look like something pulled straight from Tumblr circa 2012. Soft edges, motion blur, an almost dreamlike quality. You were mid-laugh, hand stretched toward the camera like you were reaching for her.

“You look beautiful.” She said, quiet again.

You looked up, only just registering how close she was now. The moment held for a second, you both enjoying the quiet.

Until… “Oh my god! So cute! Slay queens.”

You turned to find a young couple, both dressed in pastel pride jackets and sparkly eye makeup, grinning at you like you’d just won a reality show. One of them clutched a bedazzled tote that said ‘Gay Rights Or Else’.

“You two are adorable!” The taller one gushed. “Like peak sapphic excellence. Want us to take one of you together? We’ll get your good sides. Promise.”

You hesitated for half a second but Natasha was already nodding slowly, eyes narrowed in confusion. You were in a state of shock as she pulled you next to her, positioning you just a little in front of her.

Natasha suddenly held up her hand. “Wait. Sapphic, what?”

“Slay. Gay rights. Love to see it!” The shorter one added, positioning Natasha with the skill of a seasoned director. “Okay, just like that! Gaze longingly. Soft but powerful. Beautiful but not trying. Ok, put your hands around her!” Kill me now.

Natasha surprisingly did as she said, wrapping her arms around your shoulders from behind and resting her head on to the top of yours. “Oh my god, so perfect! Sapphic queens!”

Click.

They handed the phone back with theatrical bows and a chorus of compliments before flouncing off into the sunset like a rom-com ending you hadn’t asked for.

You glanced over at Natasha, who was still staring after them, slightly stunned.

“What just happened?” She asked.

“I think we were blessed.” You commented, looking at her with wide eyes.

She blinked. “By the queer pantheon?”

“Exactly.”

⋆⋆⋆⋆

For the final act of the day, you entered a tall building, buzzing with neon signs and clusters of teenagers loitering around the entrance.

Because if you were going to commit to irony and indulgence, why not end the night on a rooftop, playing glow-in-the-dark mini golf and sipping neon-blue alcoholic slushies that looked like they might permanently dye your tongue?

You high-fived her after she sank a hole-in-one.

“Damn it!”

“You’re doing good!” She laughed.

You were definitely not doing good. You hadn’t finished a single game yet without being at least two over par.

Leaning closer, you whispered. “Let me win and I won’t make you do a TikTok for the rest of the week.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Tempting. But I get so much more enjoyment watching you pout.”

“I don’t pout!”

“You do.”

“Do not!”

“Take your shot!”

You laughed, trying to line up your shot but completely distracted. “You like this, admit it.”

She watched you for a beat. “I like you like this,” She said quietly, honestly.

Then just as casually, she took another sip of her radioactive slushie, like she hadn’t just lit your entire nervous system on fire.

⋆⋆⋆⋆

The elevator ride back to the Tower was wrapped in the kind of warmth that made your bones soft. Laughter still buzzed in your chest, cocktails lingering on your tongue and Natasha’s low voice echoing in your memory. ‘You’re actually not bad at mini-golf. Don’t let it go to your head.’

You’d leaned into her somewhere between floors fifteen and thirty, a little too tipsy to realise. She didn’t pull away, she didn’t even shift.

When the doors slid open, you expected the usual, silence, the faint hum of late-night electronics, maybe a half-eaten pizza slice left to fossilise on the coffee table, courtesy of Stark.

Instead…

“And here they are!” Tony’s voice rang out like an announcement at a red carpet premiere, arms spread like he was presenting a scandal and thoroughly delighted about it.

You blinked.

The common room was full. Steve, Bucky, Sam, Clint, Wanda and Pepper were clustered around the massive screen, which had been paused mid-scroll on a random assortment of screenshots.

Instagram posts.

X threads.

Reddit conspiracies.

Tumblr GIFsets with aggressively emotional fanfic tags already stacked like a digital shrine.

And there, in perfect, high-definition clarity on each them.

You and Natasha.

Everywhere.

“I- What the hell?” You half-laughed, half-choked, stepping into the room like you were about to be interrogated.

Clint leaned over and tapped the screen. “Turns out your little day out was the world’s most successful soft launch.”

“Soft what?” Natasha deadpanned, crossing her arms.

Wanda beamed, leaning forward like she was discussing her favourite ship. She was. “It’s like a tease of a relationship before the people actually announce they are in a relationship. I read that earlier!”

Bucky piped in, dry as ever. “Someone made a thread claiming you’ve been secretly married since Budapest 2019. Then some say you’ve been dating since Nat was papped leaving that hotel at like 4am.”

Steve looked genuinely baffled. “I thought it was just a coffee run.”

Clint, practically vibrating, added, “There was sunset lighting. That’s like…. digital intimacy.”

Tony clicked through the evidence like he was presenting a case to a jury, all candid photos that you had no idea were being taken displayed.

A photo of the two of you at the cafe, Natasha holding a drink out to your, steadying the same straw you had your mouth around. A blurry video of you in the tunnel installation, your laughter echoing with Natasha’s arms loosely round you after she’d made you jump. A snapshot halfway up the hike, Natasha gripping your wrist, steadying you over a rock like she’d done it a thousand times. The sunset photo. You hadn’t even known it was taken. Silhouettes framed in fading light, shoulders touching, her head tilted the slightest bit toward yours. And finally the rooftop golf shot. Her arms around your waist, helping you line up the putt, your grin wild, hers softer than anything she’d ever shown in combat.

You turned, baffled. “Who even took that one?”

Tony smirked. “Drone. Probably. Or a very determined member of Gen Z.”

Natasha leaned in, studying the screen. “Why does this one have three hundred thousand likes?”

Sam answered with zero hesitation. “Because the internet’s never seen you smile like that.”

A silence settled, you glanced at her, expecting some dry deflection, maybe a sarcastic ‘it was fake’ and a storm-out.

But instead she tilted her head slightly. Eyes focused and narrow. “I don’t smile.” She said at last, voice low and unreadable. “That’s Photoshop.”

Clint let out a dramatic groan. “No, no, this is full ‘I’d kill for her and also bring her flowers after’ energy. Like, peak sapphic.”

Steve actually choked on his water. “Sapphic?”

“Why does everyone keep talking about ‘sapphic’ today?” Natasha groaned.

Tony looked far too satisfied. “They said it. Not me.”

You groaned and dragged both hands down your face. “I hate all of you.”

“No, you don’t.” Wanda said sweetly, giving your arm a pat.

“Can we delete these?” Natasha asked but there was no real bite in it. “They’ll never leave us alone.”

Tony just shook his head. “Too late. They’ve been reposted, TikTok’d, translated into at least three languages and someone made a Spotify playlist already.”

Pepper held up her phone. “It’s called ‘SpyPR Agenda: Enemies to Lovers.’”

You looked at Natasha.

She didn’t roll her eyes. She didn’t frown. She didn’t escape through the nearest window.

Instead, she looked at you.

And she said, voice quiet like it was just for you. “People can think what they want. They always do.”

But the way she looked at you then, unblinking, curious, soft, said something else entirely.

Let them.

⋆⋆⋆⋆

The next morning had all started with a bet.

Or maybe it was a dare. You couldn’t quite remember but by 9:14am, Natasha was standing in your borrowed room at the Tower, wearing grey sweatpants that looked too soft to be real, a hoodie three sizes too big and that blank, almost haunted expression of someone who’d been dragged far outside her comfort zone. You knew, without a doubt, that this was going to be fun.

You were already nursing an iced coffee, mostly oat milk, barely any caffeine, she eyed it like it was a suspicious potion.

“This is cold.” She gagged, not even taking the drink from your own hands, just pulling the straw towards her to take a sip.

“It’s supposed to be.”

“Why? Why do you want to drink something this cold on a morning?”

“Because it’s comforting… and trendy.”

She took another cautious sip. “Tastes like vanilla and weakness.”

You grinned, savouring the victory. “Just wait. We’re only getting started.”

Not ten minutes later, you were stood in the bathroom, opening bottles of glass and plastic, looking very pleased with yourself. You handed her a neatly wrapped headband, complete with tiny, perky cat ears.

She held it like it might explode in her hands. “I’m not wearing this.”

“Yes, you are.”

Natasha sighed but after a long pause, tied it on, the ears standing at strict attention. You pulled out your phone and against all odds, she let you snap a picture. You even caught the faintest twitch of a smirk.

Then came the serums, the facial mist and the gua sha tool, which she immediately wielded like a weapon.

“Stop looking for arteries!” You warned.

She muttered something sharp in Russian and began delicately patting on hyaluronic acid with all the enthusiasm of someone defusing a bomb except the bomb was sparkly. “Okay, moisturiser next.” You said, pointing at a pink tube promising ‘dewy goddess energy’. She was still rubbing in serum.

“Why is this so wet?!” Natasha murmured. “I’ve killed people with less effort.”

“Exactly. This is effort. Discipline. Self-care.”

She glanced in the mirror. Her skin was glowing, annoyingly perfect for someone who’s actual skin care routine consisted of ‘soap’.

“I hate how good this looks.” She muttered.

Next, you settled her at the kitchen island, laying out a spread that could have been ripped from an Instagram influencer’s morning story. Avocado toast with chilli flakes and a bright squeeze of lemon zest, a mason jar of overnight oats dotted with chia seeds and a perfectly ‘Instagrammable’ iced coffee.

She took a bite of the toast, chewed thoughtfully. “…This is good.”

“Thank you.”

“I still hate the headband.” You laughed and took your matching toast to the couch. Natasha followed, stretching out beside you, a sigh escaping her that could have melted the ice in your coffee.

For a long moment, the apartment held peace, warm sunlight pouring through the windows, lo-fi beats humming softly from your speaker and Natasha Romanoff, legendary assassin, curled up beneath your throw blanket like a cat who’d never taken a life.

“This is what you do every morning?” She asked.

“Yep.”

She blinked slowly, contemplative. “I think I get the hype.”

You smiled, resting your hand on her knee. “Everybody deserves to have peace in the morning.”

Without a word, her hand found yours and squeezed lightly, like she was saying ‘thank you’.

⋆⋆⋆⋆

Regret set in the instant you opened your eyes.

“Up!” Came her voice, sharp as a blade and way too awake for 5am.

You groaned. “It’s still dark. That means it’s illegal.”

“Illegal is subjective. Come on.”

She’d stood over your bed, fully reclaimed, she was dragging you into hell.

You stumbled out of bed, barely awake. She was already in full gear, sports bra, compression leggings, hair braided back with terrifying efficiency.

She tossed you a set of clothes. “Wear that. We run in fifteen.”

“Run what?”

“Your dignity into the ground.”

The workout started with a bodyweight circuit so merciless, it should’ve been banned by the president herself. It was borderline torture tactics.

Push-ups, lunges, Russian twists, which felt almost like a personal attack and something ominously named ‘core obliteration’.

You collapsed, face pressed into the mat. She stood over you, sipping water like it was the blood of her enemies. “You lasted ten minutes.”

“I have a desk job, Natasha.”

She raised an eyebrow. “You have no excuses.”

Then, she made you run five miles.

Five.

Miles.

You begged for mercy. She gave you one deal, if you didn’t puke, she’d carry you home.

You barely dragged yourself up the last incline, feet like lead.

She jogged backward, grinning like a menace. “This is fun for me.”

“You’re evil!” You wheezed.

“You agreed.”

“While vulnerable and emotionally compromised.”

“Still counts. Come on, get on.” You tried not to lose your head when her hands wrapped around your thighs as she piggy backed you on the way home.

Back at the Tower, Natasha tossed you a towel, grinning. “Sparring.”

You blinked. “I can’t feel my legs.”

“Then you won’t feel the pain when I flip you.”

And flip you she did.

Every time you thought you had leverage, she slipped out like water and turned it back on you. You were pinned in seconds, again and again.

“Is this a dominance thing?” You panted, letting her help you up after she pinned you for the third time.

“No.” She smirked. “This is foreplay.”

You completely short-circuited and she took the opportunity to swipe your legs out from under you. “Come on. Time for breakfast.”

Breakfast, Natasha explained, was black coffee, a hard-boiled egg, oatmeal without sugar and fruit measured out to precise macros.

You stared at your plate. “Where’s the joy? The zest?”

She gestured at your battered, barely standing body. “You already had it.”

You glared. “I hate you.”

She took a sip of her coffee then leaned over just slightly, tapping your spoon with hers. “But you survived.”

⋆⋆⋆⋆

It was rare to have the Tower so quiet. After you spent the morning being tortured trained by her, you needed a massage, a vacation and at least a 10% increase on your pay for every time you were taken down during sparring.

Natasha was tucked away behind closed doors with Maria Hill, discussing whatever high-level, confidential and likely mind-numbingly dull intel they had received. You, on the other hand, were curled up on the common room couch with your laptop balanced on your knees, a glass of iced coffee within reach, and your favourite playlist humming low through the speakers.

For a few golden minutes, it was peace.

Then the door opened.

Sam walked in first. Then Bucky. Then Clint, followed by Tony, already sipping something suspicious from a monogrammed tumbler.

You didn’t look up but you did lower the volume. “This smells like a trap.”

Clint flopped into the nearest chair with all the energy of someone who knew exactly what he was doing. “Relax. We just came to talk.”

Bucky raised an eyebrow. “And observe.”

“And probe your emotional weaknesses.” Tony added, far too cheerfully.

You blinked. “Was there a memo I missed? I thought this was ‘sit quietly while your terrifying Russian Assassin shadow does Important Spy Things’ hour.”

Sam smirked. “Speaking of terrifying shadows… how’s that going?”

You tried for casual but the pause before your answer was just a little too long. “Fine.”

Tony narrowed his eyes. “‘Fine’? You’re going with fine?”

You sighed, nudging your laptop shut. “We’re getting along. She’s… warming up. We’ve managed to turn the horror show of her press image into something halfway human. It’s actually kind of fun.”

“Fun?” Clint repeated, incredulous. “You just described working with the Black Widow as fun?”

“She’s got a sense of humor!” You defended. “You just have to dig past the murder stares and death aura.”

Bucky leaned forward, teasing. “And do you… like that death aura?”

You shot him a look. “Absolutely not.”

“No to the aura?” Sam asked, feigning confusion. “Or no to the liking?”

“I am not doing this with you guys.”

“Oh but you are.” Tony said, settling beside you. “Because we’ve seen the photos and the videos and the body language. She let you put glitter on her face?!”

“It was part of the skincare.” You defended, turning slightly away so they wouldn’t see the blush rising in your cheeks..

Tony grinned. “She let you touch her face. You do understand she once shattered a man’s wrist because he offered her sunscreen, right?”

“She was exfoliating.” You pouted. “And glowing.”

“And glowing.” Clint echoed with a dramatic hand to his chest. “God, she’s so gone for you. I can’t wait to tell Laura this!”

You tried to hold firm but your expression was already cracking. “You’re all absolutely unhinged.”

“Maybe.” Bucky said, with a shrug. “But we’re not wrong.”

You leaned back, groaning softly. “We’re working closely, that’s all. I’m good at what I do. Making her look human, even likeable, is the job. If we get along? Great. It makes things easier.”

There was a beat of silence.

Then from behind you, a voice chimed in, quiet, amused but impossible to ignore. “But do you like her?”

You turned, startled. Wanda had somehow appeared without you noticing, her arms folded, head tilted like she already knew the answer. Of course she knew the answer, her eyes fading from that scarlet red told you enough.

You sighed. “You’re not even supposed to be here. You have a livestream to do!”

She smiled. “You didn’t answer the question.”

Tony leaned in, resting his chin on his hand like he was front row at a drama. “Come on. You can tell us. It’s just the entire Tower watching you unravel like a 2000’s rom-com.”

You opened your mouth and faltered.

Because now all you could think about was her. You were remembering her giving you her hoodie when you shivered at mini golf, blinking at an iced coffee like it was alien tech, her fingers brushing yours under a blanket, her hands wrapping around your waist when she tugged you back into her when she knocked you on your ass for the sixth time. Her laughter, rare and genuine, when read a stupid comment about one of the guys online.

“She’s-" You swallowed, voice quieter now. “She’s complicated.”

“She’s got you.” Bucky teased, softly.

You looked at him, the vulnerability obvious to everyone in the room.

“And you’ve got her.” He reassured. “Even if neither of you are ready to admit it yet.”

This time, no one laughed. The teasing faded into something quieter, there was no smugness now.

Clint finally broke the silence. “We’re not judging you. If anything, we kind of love it. She’s less terrifying with you around. And you? You’re way more fun when you’re not alphabetising press kits by tone.”

“I’ve always been fun.”

“You once laminated a media itinerary.”

“I still do!”

Sam grinned. “Yeah but now you do it while in sweatpants while flirting with assassins. That’s called growth.”

You didn’t have time to retaliate.

The elevator chimed and everyone turned at once.

Natasha stepped out, jacket slung over her shoulder, eyes immediately scanning the room. When she found you, her expression softened.

You straightened up without thinking, flashing a soft smile back.

She crossed the room with quiet, purposeful steps, pausing beside the couch. “Everything okay?”

Everyone tried, and failed, to look casual.

You nodded. “Yeah. Just… talking.”

Her eyes flicked to the others. “Interrogating?”

They all smiled a little too innocently.

She turned back to you. “Did you survive?”

“Barely.”

“Then I taught you well.” Natasha studied you for a moment longer. She breathed out a sigh, her eyes flashing to the watch on her wrist. “Ok I’m going to get a quick workout in.” Casually, she reached down and brushed a strand of hair from your face, her hand then falling to your shoulder with a soft squeeze.

The entire room froze.

“I’ll be in the gym.” She said simply, already turning to go. “If they bother you anymore, come get me.”

Once the doors closed behind her, Tony exhaled like he’d been holding his breath the whole time. “That was so intimate.”

You buried your face in the throw pillow and groaned. “I hate every single one of you.”

But you were smiling.

Because maybe they weren’t wrong.

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