Reminders For Today:

Flustered Crushes

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x fem!reader

Summary: The Black Widow does not get flustered. So why is it that Natasha can’t seem to stop embarrassing herself in front of you?

Warnings: fluff

Words: 2795

At the edge of the bustling hangar bay, Natasha leans against the cold, metallic wall, her arms folded tightly, a faint frown etched across her brow as her sharp gaze observes the scene unfolding before her. 

Near the base of the Quinjet’s ramp, you are engaged in animated conversation with Carol Danvers, who happened to arrive at the compound for a quick visit precisely when you returned from your mission.  

You've been with the Avengers for a few months now, a former SHIELD agent seamlessly adjusting to the team dynamics. 

Over time, you've connected with everyone—including her. 

So, Natasha’s made an extra effort to help you feel welcome. 

Clint often teases her about her behavior, insisting her attentiveness borders on something more personal, something like a…crush. 

Natasha dismisses his comments each time with a roll of her eyes. 

She’s just being nice. 

After all, it's only natural to want a solid, dependable relationship with a new teammate, especially someone she'll be working closely with.

That’s the only reason why she came to greet you when you return from your mission.

At least, that’s what she tells herself as she stands there, alone, on the sidelines…not with you. 

Natasha watches Carol say something that makes you laugh, causing her faint frown to deepen.

The flash of amusement in your eyes as Carol grins back makes Natasha roll her eyes and look away, unable to take the sight anymore as a pang of irritation tightens in her chest.

She tries to shake it off, but it doesn’t disappear.

After all, it’s not like she got here an hour before your scheduled return and waited to see you…just to end up watching as the blonde space beauty swoop in, effortlessly captivating your attention.

Deciding she’s had enough, Natasha pushes herself off the wall, preparing to leave.

However, her abrupt movement catches others around her off guard, and she ends up bumping into a passing cart loaded with tools and equipment. 

A clattering sound echoes across the hangar as wrenches and bolts spill onto the floor. 

Natasha curses softly under her breath, a mix of pain and embarrassment coloring her cheeks as she drops to gather the scattered items, apologizing hastily to the technician she collided with before quickly exiting the area.

In her haste, she doesn’t notice your gaze, the subtle smile tugging at your lips as you follow her with amused eyes, tracking her every flustered move across the hangar bay, even as she slips away without a backward glance.

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

“So, how’s it going with your crush?” Clint asks, a playful glint in his eyes as he watches Natasha.

Natasha shoots him a warning look that would strike fear into the most fearsome of villains.

Without a word, she grabs the coffee pot, filling his mug before pouring some for herself. She replaces the pot with a decisive click.

“There is no crush,” she states firmly, taking a sip as though punctuating her denial.

“Are you sure about that?” Clint asks skeptically before continuing, “Whenever Y/n’s around, it’s like you lose all of your charm and coolness.” 

Natasha gives him an unimpressed glare. 

“Really? Coolness? That’s the best you’ve got?”

Clint smirks, raising his mug in mock salute.

“Ask me again after I finish this coffee.”

She rolls her eyes, holding her mug close, feeling the warm comfort seep into her hands.

Just as she brings it to her lips, the doors swing open, and Tony strolls into the kitchen, spotting them with their drinks. 

“Oh, coffee! Pour me a cup, Romanoff.”

“Pour your own,” Natasha mutters, savoring her next sip. 

Tony feigns hurt, pressing a hand to his chest in mock shock. 

“FRIDAY, remind me, who owns this building?” 

“You do, sir,” the AI replies smoothly. 

Tony gestures upward triumphantly at her before pointing towards the kitchen. 

“So, technically, that machine is mine, the beans are mine, and...oh, right, that pot of coffee is also mine.” 

Natasha rolls her eyes but eventually reaches for the pot, lifting it begrudgingly.

Tony holds out his mug with a victorious grin. 

But just as she hovers the pot above his cup, she stops short.

“A ‘please’ once in a while wouldn’t hurt.”

Tony’s eyes widen, and he gasps in exaggerated disbelief as Natasha raises a brow in expectation.

Huffing, he mutters, “Can I have some coffee, please?”

“See, that wasn’t so hard,” Natasha quips with a smirk, preparing to pour him his coffee.

At that moment, the elevator dings, and the doors slide open to reveal you, fresh from your morning workout, dressed in your training gear.

You walk by the kitchen, spotting the other Avengers gathered around. 

A delighted smile spreads across your face. 

“Ooh, coffee! Can I have some, too?” 

Natasha’s response is instant. 

“Sure, I’ll make you a new pot.” 

Her tone is warmer than usual, surprising even herself.

You beam at her, and Natasha feels herself pause, momentarily captivated by the sight. Distracted, she almost misses your following words. 

“Thanks, Natasha! Let me change, and I’ll be right back.”

You slip through the doors, leaving Natasha blinking, still trying to regain her composure. 

Tony watches with raised eyebrows. 

“Wait a second—she didn’t even say ‘please,’ and you’re making her a whole new pot?”

Natasha’s eyes narrow as she holds the pot just out of reach of Tony’s mug. 

“Do you want coffee or not?” 

Tony grumbles before muttering a grudging “Yes, please.” 

Satisfied, Natasha pours the coffee, keeping her focus steady. 

“Natasha?” your voice catches her off guard, and she glances up to see you poking your head back into the room. 

“Yes?” she replies a little too quickly, immediately focusing on you. 

Both Clint and Tony fall silent, watching the two of you with curious eyes. 

“Steve’s got a mission tomorrow,” you explain. “Would you mind if I train with you in the meantime?”

Natasha’s mind races for a moment before she steadies herself to answer.

“Uh—yeah, sure. Anytime you want.” 

“Great!” you say enthusiastically before glancing worriedly at the counter. “I think that’s enough coffee.” 

Natasha follows your gaze, eyes widening as she realizes Tony’s cup is overflowing, dark liquid pooling across the counter. She yanks the pot away with a muttered curse. 

“Oh sh—!”

Tony steps back just in time, glaring down at his soaked countertop.

“Really, Romanoff? This is a new suit!” 

Rolling her eyes, Natasha grabs paper towels, unruffled by his dramatics. 

“Calm down, it barely even touched you.”

You let out a small laugh. 

“I’ll be right back,” you say, shooting her a smile as you exit.

“Okay,” Natasha murmurs, her attention lingering on the door.

Clint chuckles as he takes another sip, eyeing her knowingly. 

“You’re right, Nat. It’s not a crush,” he says, leaning back with a smirk. “It’s way worse.”

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

Natasha flashes one of her most charming smiles, leaning just slightly forward as the receptionist fumbles through her files, cheeks tinged with a rosy hue under Natasha’s intense gaze. 

“Here you go!” the receptionist says, her voice soft as she hands over a key card. “I’m sorry again for the mix-up.”

Natasha’s fingers rest lightly over the receptionist’s hand as she accepts the card, her eyes warm and a playful smile tugging at her lips. 

“No problem at all,” she replies, her tone smooth. “I don’t mind the delay with such lovely company.” 

The receptionist blushes deeply, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear and giving Natasha a flustered smile. 

Natasha’s confident smirk grows as she watches her charms take effect. 

Quick and efficient, she slips the USB drive from the computer, seamlessly hiding it under her palm as it rests over the key card. For a moment, she feels pleased with herself, effortlessly pulling off her usual charisma.

See, she thinks to herself, Clint has no idea what he’s talking about—she’s got plenty of charm.

“Nice job, Natasha,” your voice suddenly crackles in her earpiece, startling her. 

Her hand slips in surprise, almost knocking over the items on the counter. She turns it into a casual adjustment, but not before the receptionist gives her a curious look. 

Natasha quickly smiles, grabbing the key card and offering a polite nod before walking away toward a secluded corner of the lobby.

Pressing a finger to her comms, she mutters, “Y/n? Where’s Clint?” 

“He had to step out for a minute,” you answer. “He asked me to take over. Is that okay?” 

“No–I mean—yes, of course,” Natasha says, the words tumbling out a bit too quickly. 

She straightens, running a hand through her hair as she tries to regain her composure. It’s not like she hadn’t expected you to assist with missions, but the thought of you watching her…

She tamps down the sudden flutter in her chest and forces herself to stay focused.

“Your next target is on the same floor as the key card you just picked up,” you continue, your voice warm and steady in her ear. 

“Got it.” 

“I’ll explain what you’re looking for.”

Natasha nods and begins striding toward the elevators, hoping her sudden focus will drown out the distraction of your voice in her head. 

She tells herself it’s just a mission—professional, routine.

But now, with you guiding her through the next steps, each word falling from your lips makes it harder for her to maintain her usually calm, steady demeanor. 

Her heart beats a little faster, and her cheeks feel a bit warmer than they should. She brushes off the thoughts and keeps walking, determined to stay cool and collected.

“Um…Natasha?”

She stops mid-step. “Hmm?”

“You’re…going the wrong way.”

Natasha freezes, blinking in surprise. She glances around, realizing she’s heading in the opposite direction from the elevators.

A wave of embarrassment sweeps over her as she lets out a quiet curse under her breath.

“Right,” Natasha says, turning with as much dignity as she can muster, her face heating as she finally heads in the correct direction.

Oh, she thinks to herself, she’s definitely going to kill Clint.

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

Natasha steps out of her room, her leather jacket slung over one arm as she adjusts the zipper. 

Your voice calls her name from down the hall, catching her off guard and making her slam the door shut in a startled motion. She spins to face you, only to be tugged back by an unexpected resistance.

Natasha looks down with a sigh, spotting her jacket sleeve caught in the door. Tugging at it proves ineffective, as it stays firmly wedged in place.

Hearing your footsteps approaching, Natasha hastily shoves the jacket behind her back, trying to appear composed. She leans casually against the door, hoping the awkward moment has gone unnoticed.

“Hey,” you greet with a warm smile as you reach her.

“Hey, Y/n,” Natasha replies, attempting a relaxed tone.

You eye her with a hint of curiosity. “Are you…okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine!” Natasha says quickly, forcing a casual smile. “Just, um, examining the door. Thought it could use a closer look.”

Your brows raise in amused surprise at her peculiar explanation, but you let it go. 

“Well, once you’re done with that,” you say, playing along, “I made a reservation at that new place downtown. I was wondering if you’d like to join me?”

“Just the two of us?” The words slip out before Natasha can stop herself. 

A flicker of excitement and amusement crosses your face as you nod. 

“Yeah, just us,” you say softly.

Natasha’s heart gives a small flutter, but she maintains her composure. 

“I’d love to,” she says, a smile slipping through despite her best efforts to stay calm.

“Great, it’s a date,” you say, grinning. “I’ll meet you in the garage.” With a playful smirk, you add, “After you finish your ‘inspection,’ of course.”

As you walk toward the elevator, Natasha watches you with a lingering smile.

Once you’re out of sight, she finally frees her jacket and heads to the garage a few minutes later, finding you waiting by her motorcycle.

You hop on behind her, wrapping your arms around her waist in a snug embrace. 

The warmth of your presence makes her feel a fluttering sensation in her chest she can’t shake. Distracted, Natasha blindly reaches for her helmet and slips it on—only to be met with complete darkness.

With a soft sigh, Natasha’s head drops to her chest, realizing she put it on backward. 

The chuckle that escapes your lips behind her is quickly muffled as you clear your throat, your hands reaching to help her. 

You gently remove the helmet, your fingers brushing her cheek as you pull it off.

When Natasha glances back, she catches the playful look in your eyes as you bite back a grin.

Seeing this, Natasha lets out an exasperated sigh. 

“Can we just pretend the last few minutes didn’t happen and start over? I swear, this doesn’t usually happen to me.”

You laugh, unable to hold back anymore. 

“Oh, I know all about the smooth and charming Black Widow,” you say, your gaze warm and teasing. “But I think this side of you is pretty cute too.”

A faint blush spreads across her cheeks at your words, and Natasha takes the helmet, this time slipping it on correctly, with a soft smile she can’t quite hide anymore.

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

It’s another one of Tony’s famous parties, where glittering lights reflect off polished floors and music pulses softly through the spacious hall. 

In the middle of the dance floor, beneath the warm glow, Natasha sways with you, her hands resting gently on your waist as you move together to the rhythm of the soft melody. 

You wrap your arms around her neck, leaning in and drawing her closer until your lips meet hers in a tender, lingering kiss. 

Natasha smiles softly against your lips, and as you pull back, she rests her forehead gently against yours, eyes half-closed in a moment of quiet contentment. 

Even as the music fades into the background, her hands remain firm on your waist, as if she has no intention of letting go.

“Why don’t we get something to drink?” you suggest, glancing over at the bar lined with sparkling glasses.

Natasha only pulls you closer, her fingers brushing lightly along the small of your back as she murmurs, “Or…we could stay right here and have another dance.” 

Her voice is a soft suggestion, and she leans in slightly, her green eyes filled with warmth and alluring charm.

You raise an eyebrow, a knowing smile spreading across your lips. 

“It’s cute how you’re trying to be smooth.”

Natasha’s expression shifts, feigning innocence. 

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” she says, though the faintest blush colors her cheeks.

With a playful glint in your eye, you tilt your head at her in challenge. 

“How long has your bracelet been stuck to my dress?” you ask, giving her a teasing look.

Natasha glances away, the blush deepening as she realizes she’s been caught. She’s spent the past few moments subtly trying to free her wrist from your dress, but to no avail.

“In my defense,” she murmurs, attempting to deflect, “you distracted me with how beautiful you look tonight.”

You chuckle softly at her excuse, reaching up to pull her even closer. With a playful grin, you press a gentle kiss to her lips before leaning in to whisper against her ear.

“Think of the bright side—if you can’t get it loose, I’m sure you could just rip this dress off me.”

Natasha’s breath catches, and for a split second, she’s utterly still, her mind stalling at the suggestion. 

You pull back just enough to watch her expression, and a delighted smile grows on your face as she stares at you, wide-eyed and flustered, clearly caught off guard.

It only takes her a moment to catch on, her eyes narrowing in realization as she shakes her head with a playful huff. 

“You’re trying to embarrass me on purpose,” she accuses, a hint of a smile breaking through.

Unashamed, you bite back a laugh and nod. 

“It’s nice to see the calm and collected Black Widow all flustered for once.”

Natasha’s lips curl into a smirk as she pulls you flush against her, her free hand sliding up your back, fingers grazing along your spine. She leans in, her lips just a breath away from yours, the warmth of her gaze intense.

“Only for you,” she murmurs, her voice a hushed promise before closing the distance, her lips capturing yours in a kiss that makes you forget the world around you, the room fading away as you melt into each other’s embrace.

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

a/n: just a short fluff with a soft Natasha that I had finished some time ago. after everything that has happened yesterday and today, I wanted to give some kind of happier distraction, even if it may be only a temporary escape from everything. I’m still going between disbelief, sadness, and anger myself about the situation while also trying to be prepared to continue on. But hopefully, this was able to bring some of you some sort of break from everything else.

do u ever get a comment on a fic thats just so sweet that ur like Maybe slaving over 24k of fanfiction was worth it for user SprinkleTrashcan2012 to leave a three paragraph comment

─── Ⅵ CHAPTER FOUR: FOR CUP'S SAKE

violet; 5,052 words; fluff, fake dating (is it tho?), situationship be situating, hockey!vi, figure skater!reader, miscommunication, vi is very bad at feelings, simp!vi, first date, powder being powder, mention of skating competition, wlw, no "y/n"

summary: in which you and vi go on a cupcake date for the ages. oh, and skate america happens too, i guess.

a/n: WOOP WOOP its finally first date time!!! lmao i won't say much more for now ;) read and find out!

< table of contents

─── Ⅵ YOU TRY NOT TO FEEL too self-conscious, fiddling with the sleeves of your baby pink sweater.

“Hey!”

“Oh — hi!” you jerk up, smiling as you catch sight of Vi, and your throat seizes — god, that’s not fair, you think as your eyes flicker down the shape of her, dressed in tight black jeans and a cropped leather jacket, beneath which you’re sure she’s wearing nothing except a light gray muscle tank. You swallow, clearing your throat.

“Y-you’re not cold?” you ask, cursing your voice for the way it cracks.

Vi grins, shrugging, “Nah. I run pretty hot.”

“Right. Hot. Yeah.” You tear your eyes away from the sliver of skin peaking out from under her tanktop and jerk your head towards the cafe entrance, “Shall we?”

Vi sweeps her arm across her front, “After you, princess.”

You drop into a little curtsey as she pulls open the door for you and you prance passed. You don’t notice the way her eyes linger just a second too long on the bare skin of your shoulders as you shrug off your coat, or the way she puffs out a breath as her gaze skates up the long column of your neck, buttercream and swansong, the way it slopes up so gracefully into the thin cut of your jaw.

She shakes her head, forcing her eyes away as you smile at the server at the front.

“Just the two of us,” you say, and Vi swallows around the skip in her heartbeat at the word us. As if it means something more than just the word.

“Ohhh,” the server girl says, looking between the two of you as she leads you to a small table tucked into a corner, “first date?” she asks, setting down the menus as you take a seat and hang your fluffy coat on the seat back.

You chew on your lip, glancing at Vi for a second before smiling back up at her.

“Something like that.”

Vi nods, “First one here, anyway,” she offers smoothly, even though she stomach is hanging somewhere, suspended by her ankles as she drops into the seat across from you, doing everything she can to keep from salivating at the way your off-the-shoulder sweater frames your collarbones. And for the first time, she thinks that Powder might be onto something there, what with her near religious appreciation of them.

She makes a note to text Powder about this later.

“Well then, you should know we have a discount for couples — you get a free cupcake if you let us take a picture of the pair of you together and post it on our socials. Your faces don’t have to be in it or anything! It can just be your hands or whatever, but yeah! If that’s something you’re interested in…” the server lets her voice trail off as she looks between the pair of you.

You lick your lips, glancing at Vi, only to catch her looking at you with just as much uncertainty.

You turn back to the waiter, “That sounds cool! Let us think about it.”

The server nods, rocking on the balls of her feet, and for a second, she hesitates, but then, she leans in and says —

“And — sorry of this is cringe or anything but — I love your skating — big fan. Good luck at Skate America this week!”

She scurries off before you can say anything. You blink after her, a plume of heat working into your cheeks as Vi’s eyebrows tick up.

“Wow… geez, princess. You like… famous, or something?” Vi asks, her voice lilting into a tease even as you bury your face in your hands with a soft groan.

“Just… don’t…”

Vi laughs, glancing down the menu, trying to tamp down the wildfire thrum that she thinks is her heartbeat. She can’t quite remember the last time she’s felt like this, heady and light with that stupid, fluttery, butterflies-in-the-stomach sensation eating at her from the inside out.

“Huh, so the Pina Colada flavor looks good…” she muses, glancing up to admire the way you crinkle your nose and pull at your own menu, your cheeks still tinted.

“Y-yeah, and the — I think the Espresso Martini flavor is the one Mel said was super yummy,” you say, fiddling with the corner of your menu, your eyes flickering over the page without ever really settling on one thing.

“Sounds like we’ll be needing that free-cupcake coupon,” she says, her voice low.

Your eyes flash up, wide and uncertain as you search her face for a hint of… something. She shrugs, leaning back in her chair, fighting tooth and nail to keep the heat from eating too high into her own cheeks.

“’S like that girl said — our faces don’t have to be in it or anything, right?”

“R-right —” but your voice is drowned out by the sound of the server welcoming another couple into the shop. Vi freezes at the unmistakable, accented voice.

“I’ve been meaning to come here for weeks,” Caitlyn says, tossing a strand of midnight blue hair over her shoulder as the server walks her and Maddie to a table a few down from yours. You can barely see them from the corner of your eyes, but from her seat, Vi has a perfect view.

You can see her fingers clenching on the table, her knuckles going white.

“Hey,” you reach out, pressing your hand over hers, sighing as Vi jerks out of her reverie to look back at you.

“Huh? Oh, sorry —”

“You guys know what you wanna order?” the server swings back by your table, and you flash her a camera-ready smile.

“Yeah! Can we get the Pina Colada and the Espresso Martini? And —” you glance at Vi before cutting back to the server, your fingers giving Vi’s hand a squeeze, “we’ll take you up on that free cupcake.”

“Fantastic!” the server says, seemingly overjoyed as she reaches down to take your menus. “The picture’ll be candid, so don’t stress out too much about it — just… enjoy your time here, and we’ll show it to you with your receipt. Okay?”

You nod, still grinning. You think distantly that, if for nothing else, at least your years of camera training as a kid is paying off now, as you watch the server bounce away from you, her ponytail swinging behind her.

You turn back to Vi, only to see her watching you with a strange look in her eyes.

“Vi?”

She shakes her head, “Yeah? Sorry —” she puffs out a soft laugh, “I’m… not being a very good date, am I?”

“It’s alright — ‘s not like I’ve had much else to compare it against.”

“Wait — what?”

You bite your lips, your eyebrows ticking up at the incredulous expression on her face.

“What? Is that so hard to believe?”

Vi blinks at you, her expression open and incredulous.

“Uh — yeah. I mean —” she gestures towards you, “you’re —” she casts about for a fitting word, puffing out a breath when she finally settles on, “insane.”

You let out a startled laugh, your head tipping back, and a few tables down, you see the faint figure of Caitlyn glancing over towards your table, her eyes sharp as she watches you and Vi.

“Wow, thanks,” you intone, rolling your eyes even as Vi sputters.

“No! I mean like — have you seen yourself?”

You nod, propping a cheek on your knuckles, “Sure have — more than anyone should have to, honestly,” you drop your eyes to the table, fingers drawing abstract patterns into the pastel napkins.

Vi’s hand appears in your field of vision, running a thumb over the back of yours before she tugs your fingers loose and laces her own fingers between them.

Your breath hitches as your glance up.

“I could spend entire days lookin’ at you and never get tired of it, princess.”

Your throat squeezes as she reaches up to run a thumb along your cheek, coaxing your eyes towards hers.

“Y-yeah?” you breathe.

Vi nods, but before she can say anything else, the server bops back, with two massive cupcakes balanced on a pretty patterned plate. She sets it down between you, seemingly clueless to the way your hands have to jerk apart to make room for it. She giggles as she sets two miniature cocktail glasses on either side of the plate, tiny versions of the drinks the cupcakes are supposed to be emulating.

“And… here we are — the Pina Colada, and the Espresso Martini — the drinks are complimentary,” she leans down with a conspiratorial wink, “usually, they only come in pre-order packages but —” she lowers her voice, “I figured since it’s your first time here…” she lets her voice trail off, standing back up, looking mightily pleased with herself.

You flash her another bright grin, nodding, “Thanks so much! I’m sure they’re great.”

The server beams before she turns and flounces off to greet another set of guests.

Vi stares at you, a lopsided grin hung loose over her lips.

“Damn. I should come out with you more often, princess, if this is the kinda service you get.”

You laugh, “It’s usually not like this,” you say, “it’s a once every four years thing. When the Winter Olympics roll around and suddenly everyone remembers figure skating is, like, a sport.”

Vi chuckles, and it’s stupid, really, how easy it is to talk to you. How easy it is to tease you, how much she likes making you pout or squirm in your seat, how she’s hungry for the soft hitch in your breath, the part of your lips. How she can’t help herself when you lean forward and split one of the cupcakes with a plastic knife and push half of it towards her, pulling your finger back to lick the frosting from it, the way her throat bobs at the thought of reaching out to tug your finger into her mouth.

When you lean down to take a bite of your own half a cupcake, she licks her lips, thinking of the phantom taste of sugar on that might’ve lingered on your tongue.

“Wow —” Vi says, through a mouthful of cake, “this is good.”

You giggle, nodding as a crumb topples out of the edge of your mouth, “Mhm!”

And she’s so arrested by the sight that for a second, she forgets who’s sitting three seats from her, until she hears it — the loud, derisive laughter she’s come to know all too well.

Her head swivels towards the table before she can stop herself, and she sees Caitlyn smirking as she turns away, her eyes dark as she splits a cupcake in half with Maddie and pushes the larger half towards the ginger.

Vi swallows, the sugar in her mouth going ashy.

“Vi — you’ve got frosting all over your lips —” you say, laughing, your voice pulling her back as a soft finger runs across her lips and she’s left gasping at the sensation. She blinks, reeling ever so slightly as she watches you pull your thumb back and pop it into your mouth, your eyes sparkling.

A sharp spate of desire twists somewhere deep in her gut and Vi has to bite back a groan.

“You’re one to talk,” she murmurs, leaning forward to drag her thumb along the corner of your mouth, her heart thundering inside her chest as your bottom lip tugs open beneath her touch, easy as anything, and the hot kiss of your breath washes along her skin.

Sweet fuck.

The harsh tang of alcohol hits her tongue a second later, and her head spins to the sound of your breathy laughter. She watches you pick up the tiny Pina Colada glass in a sort of trance, your lips painted pink and perfect as you press them to the rim and take a sip.

Vi nods, her stomach flipping once, twice inside her as she reaches for your proffered glass.

She takes a sip without breaking eye contact, reveling in the way you flush three shades darker as she licks her lips clean of the foam.

“Yeah — whoa,” she clears her throat, “that packs a punch!”

You break into a fit of giggles so endearing Vi has to bite on her lips to keep from smiling too hard. And distantly, in the back of her head, a voice very much like Powder’s coughs up something like sounds suspiciously like pussy-whipped.

By the time you finish the second cupcake and the equally miniscule Espresso Martini, Vi is sure that she’s drunk, though perhaps not on the actual alcohol (of which she’s sure there was more than either of you had initially bargained for), but on the sound of your voice, on the way you tug on the ends of your hair when you’re talking, absently, and then how you flick them over your shoulder, the perfect bend of your collarbone dipping in the bright lights of the cake shop.

She’s drunk on the way your lashes flutter every time she makes you laugh, and god, does she really like making you laugh — she can’t remember the last time she’s tried so damn hard to be charming, pulling out all the stops (and on the first date?!) till she’s sure you’d have nothing else to talk about, but, despite that, the conversation flows, and flows.

“Wow, holy shit —” Vi leans back, running a hand through her hair as she checks her phone — 3:37PM. It’s been two and a half hours.

“Sorry, d’you have somewhere else to be?” you ask, and you sound so genuinely concerned, Vi has to laugh, shaking her head.

“Nope. Nowhere else but here, princess. Cleared my whole schedule for you.”

You flush, crinkling your nose, folding your napkin into progressively smaller and smaller bits.

“Oh. That’s…” your brows furrow as you stare down at the empty plates between you, “that’s really… nice of you.”

Vi clears her throat, her eyes catching on the shape of Caitlyn and Maddie as they stand up, Cait wiping her lips as she thanks the waiter with a tight-lipped grin.

She raises her voice just as Caitlyn walks by.

“Nothin’ less for my favorite ice princess.”

She leans forward to run a thumb along your cheek, but you stiffen as Caitlyn scoffs, brushing by your table with an upturned nose, Maddie following behind her, looking nervous as she glances between the pair of you.

You shrug off Vi’s hand as soon as they disappear, flagging down the waitress, flashing her another winning smile even as Vi curses beneath her breath. You’d put down your card before she can even fumble for her wallet, and you’d signed the electronic tablet faster than she has the time to wipe her mouth and stumble after you into the sunset street, a gust of wind picking up, whipping your hair into a silken frenzy around your cold-bruised cheeks.

“Hey! Wait up!”

You round on her, your eyes over-bright.

“Sorry, I forgot that this whole thing was just —” you suck in a long breath, eyes cutting away before they slice back to her, so sharp Vi almost winces at the contact, “a ruse for your ex.”

Vi gapes, her fingers digging so hard into her palms she thinks she might just draw blood.

“What? No! Oh, fucking —” she yanks you back as you try to turn away, and like this, with your windblown hair and the setting sun cast behind you, gliding the shape of you in gold, you look nothing short of ethereal. You swallow, curling your arms around yourself as the wind kicks up, your hair feathering around you like loose tendrils of sunlit silk.

“I —” Vi grasps for words she does not have, and you are so, so beautiful, even like this, even sad and wary, and bracing yourself against her, against the late autumn chill.

You lick your lips, “It’s okay, Vi… I knew what I was getting into when I —”

“No,” Vi says, so vehemently she almost startles herself. “That’s not — I mean — sweet fuck,” she swears, twisting around to rake both her hands through her hair, tugging harshly at the ends as she tries to center herself in the sting.

You stand there, watching her, holding yourself, the street behind you pooling with liquid gold.

Vi takes a deep breath, “I’m — I’m sorry. I didn’t mean — it was —” she pinches at her nose bridge, “I came here today for you,” she says, turning back towards you with an imploring look, hoping you’d understand. “Not for Cait, not for that new, ginger, button-cap mushroom girlfriend of hers.”

And at this, you let out a surprised laugh, shaking our head.

“Button-cap… mushroom?” you press a hand to your lips.

Vi grins, chuckling, “Yeah, sorry, it’s what my sister calls her —”

“Your sister… sounds like an interesting person.”

Vi rolls her eyes, “Interesting doesn’t even start to cover the basics with her —”

You laugh, and the sound is so inviting Vi almost groans.

“But… I — I mean it, princess. I came here today for you.”

“Yeah?” you sound so breathless, so disbelieving, that Vi almost tugs you to her, almost kisses you just to prove a point.

But she doesn’t, instead, she only nods, keeping her posture open as you look her over, and your arms loosen around your torso. You take half a step towards her, careful and a little hesitant.

Vi sighs, “Yeah. And… i-if you don’t believe me, I… I’d love to take you out on another date to prove it to you.”

You suck in a breath; your lashes flutter.

“Okay.”

Vi blinks, “Okay?”

You nod, “Yeah. Okay.”

“Yeah,” Vi echoes, feeling her heart thread up against her voice box as she nods, shoving her hands into her pockets, “okay.”

You laugh, shaking your head to free yourself from the tangle of hairs that had collected in front of your eyes. You brush them away and Vi feels her breath catch at the sight of you, your cheeks kissed pink by the cold, your eyes glittering with a promise of the days and nights to come, the street lamps around you flickering on one by one as the sun sinks beyond the far horizon.

“Then… I guess I’ll see you, Violet,” you say, smiling shyly up at her.

Vi nods, “Yeah. I’ll see you, princess.”

She watches as you take a few steps back, before turning to make your way down the street. Vi turns herself to head the opposite way, feeling a strange lightness in her steps, almost as if she were walking on clouds, as she fights down the urge to whoops and click her heels in the air.

Halfway down the block, she turns and shouts down the street, startling a good few passersby as she calls —

“Good luck at Skate America!”

You jump, twisting around to find Vi waving at you from nearly an entire block away, her hair a bright gash of pink against the dying light.

You curse yourself for the way your heart skips at the sound of her voice.

“Thanks!” you yell, waving back, “I’ll uh — call you after!”

Vi nods, “I’ll be watching!”

“Promise?”

“Promise!”

You give your hand another hard wave before turning down the corner, and letting the oncoming darkness swallow the shadow of Vi, still waving, behind you.

“Unless you’re calling to tell me that you’ve successfully laid some Olympic-level pipe, I don’t wanna hear it.”

“Powder, I think I love her.”

“Oh wow… first date went well, I see.”

“Powder, no — you don’t understand —”

“Actually, I think I might understand way better than you do —”

“She wore this pink, off-the-shoulder sweater —” Vi gulps in a long breath of the chilly air, squinting at her phone screen as Powder dabs electric blue dye into her roots.

“Oh, I knew I liked her.”

“No, like — this is insane.”

“Sis, I swear, if you don’t wife her up, I will.”

Vi frowns, “You’ve literally never met her.”

“Don’t have to. I’ve seen all her clips on Youtube. Hey, did you know she’s got one of those Vogue ‘What’s In My Bag’ videos?”

Vi stares, “Uh… no?”

Powder rolls her eyes, twisting a strand of dye-saturated hair up to pin it, “You’re missin’ out, sis! There’s an entire treasure trove of content relating to your little ice-cream sandwich of a girl-crush, and all you gotta do is search.”

Vi blinks at the Facetime call for three whole seconds before pulling up her Youtube app and searching your name, and sure enough, the first video that comes up is the Vogue What’s In Your Bag video with nearly half a million views.

She clicks into it, digging in her pockets for her earbuds, shoving one into her ear just as the ad finishes and the screen cuts to you sitting in front of a pastel blue background, waving at the camera, your voice soft in her ears as you say —

“Hi Vogue! Today I’ll be showing you… what I carry in my skating bag every day —” you laugh, crinkling your nose, and Vi’s heart skids in her chest.

“Yeah… anyways,” Powder’s voice cuts through the video; Vi almost drops her phone for the shock — she’d nearly forgotten she was still on a call with Powder, “I’ll let you… explore,” Powder finishes, grinning crookedly at Vi before dropping the call.

A second later, Vi gets a text that’s just a link to a playlist of 47 videos, detailing your greatest figure skating programs, interspersed with interviews you’ve done with a variety of fashion and lifestyle magazines, and then the line —

Don’t forget to take pee breaks!

Vi rolls her eyes, swiping out of Powder’s iMessage to the Youtube app again.

Vi re-clicks play on the Vogue video, sighing into the sound of your voice, grinning stupidly to herself, thinking that she’ll be locking in for a long, long night.

You don’t remember much of Skate America, only that Vi had sent you a quick text of — good luck, pretty girl, seven minutes before your short program, and you’d stepped onto the ice feeling weightless.

You remember Amara’s smiling face, Mel and Jayce’s excited expressions as you’d passed them on your way to the Kiss and Cry. You remember staring at the number on the megatron screen even as the crowd erupted into screams around you, Amara clutching your hands so tightly in hers you lose feeling into your fingertips.

A new personal best, and a World Record to boot.

You’d skated clean.

The days before your free-skate are a whirlwind of flashing cameras and early morning practices. Amara’s voice ever constant in your ear as she works you through your paces. You barely have time to eat and drink and shower before collapsing into bed each night, and before you know it, you’re stepping onto the ice again, the sweet chill of the rink greeting you like an old friend.

Four minutes and six seconds, exactly — Liebestraum.

You close your eyes as the music starts. A flash — the faint after image of a memory cast behind your eyelids — Vi watching you from across the hazy plastic as the rest of the hockey team jostles around her. But her, standing still, the only in-focus thing in a smeared rush of shapes and color.

You smile; your body moves without you ever having to tell it to.

You remember stepping off the ice, feeling the fire expanding in your chest, the soreness already tingling through your limbs. But Amara’s tugging you into her side, pressing her palms to your cheeks.

You remember glancing down at your phone to see a missed Facetime call from Vi, and a string of texts.

You smile, flicking open your screen even as you’re herded towards the Kiss and Cry booth. You barely have time to see all the exclamation marks before the announcer is calling out your scores. Amara lets out a pleased yelp, and the spectating audience roars their approval. You glance up at the numbers, the mental math you’d been doing since childhood stacking up as you realize, a little belatedly, that you’re in first place.

It isn’t till the afterparty, long after you’ve received your gold medal and posed for all the necessary podium photos that you finally come to, ducking out of the raucous party hall to give Vi a call back.

She answers on the second ring.

“Hey!” she sounds slightly out of breath as she fumbles with something in her ear. A second later, she settles on what looks like a bed, and it’s only then that you realize it’s nearly 11PM at night.

“Hi! Sorry — I know it’s late but — I saw you called —”

“Yeah! No that was my bad — I uh — I called you by accident while I was watching your stream —”

“You were?”

Vi laughs, “Yeah! Of course I was! I got a Peacock subscription and everything — and I promised I would, didn’t I?”

You lick your lips, feeling your cheeks prickle with heat. You lean back against the padded hotel hallway, silently thanking the heavens that you’ve only had two glasses of champagne.

“You — you didn’t have to do that.”

“But I wanted to! And holy shit! You killed it, princess! I mean — you skated totally clean!”

You nod, laughing, buoyed up by her excitement even as she grins at you through the screen.

“Yeah — I know! I haven’t done that since —”

“Your Chopin skate — and I mean — this time though, you were so —”

“Wait — how do you know about my Chopin skate?” you ask, cocking your head.

Vi stares, and then, a bright flush works into her cheeks, visible even in the dim lighting of her bedroom.

She chews on her bottom lip.

You hitch an eyebrow, “Vi… have you… been watching my skates on Youtube?”

Vi clears her throat, “Uh… I mean —“ you watch as she chews on her lip, the thin scar on her top lip made all the more obvious by the sharp light of the phone screen. “Is it really that strange to wanna watch the pretty girl you’re trying to date do the thing she seems to be put on this earth to do?”

You blink, “Trying to date?”

Vi purses her lips, “I — sorry if that’s weird — I know everyone thinks we’re already dating but…”

You shrug, staring at your own fingers, clutched around the phone, your baby pink nail polish a tad chipped at the thumb. You resist the urge to pick at it.

“We… we can take it slow, though… right?”

It’s Vi’s turn to blink, before a crooked grin splits her face.

“Yeah? I mean — yeah… we can.”

You smile, nodding as Vi fights not to do something stupid, like break into a riverdance right there in her bed, even though her limbs are trembling with the urge.

“Cool,” you say, glancing somewhere off screen, and Vi lets out a breath. A second later, light appears and you say something to someone who’s apparently come to look for you.

“Sorry,” you say, pursing your lips with an apologetic little smile, “I’ve gotta get back to the Gala party.”

Vi nods, “Go on then, pretty girl. Have fun. You… you deserve it.”

You flash her a grin that makes her heart crawl into the back of her throat.

“Thanks,” you breathe, and the phone screen wobbles, the camera flipping down as you fumble with it for a second, affording Vi a glimpse of the dress you’re in. And its nothing like the one you’d worn to sorority house party, but it still makes her mouth go dry.

“I’ll — I’ll text you after the party’s over then?” you sound unsure.

Vi grins, “Sure. I might be uh, passed out by then — early morning practice tomorrow. Gotta utilize the rink when all you figure skaters are gone, right?”

She winks.

You crinkle your nose and something in Vi’s chest stutters.

“Okay then — tomorrow?”

Vi blinks, “Huh?”

You laugh, color washing into your cheeks as you tug open a door and light floods your face, the unmistakable sounds of a party blaring into your mic. Vi gulps — like this, she can see the glitter you’d painted on your eyelids, the mascara on your curled up lashes. She can see the light sheen of highlight on your cheeks, setting off the pink of your blush, your hair a little messy, but gorgeous as it cascades around your shoulders.

“I’ll talk to you tomorrow?” you say.

Vi nods, “Y-yeah — right. Tomorrow. Good.” She feels the heat eating into her face even as she bites back the urge to smack her head against the wall. God, she sounds like a fucking idiot.

You giggle again, the sound shuddering straight through Vi’s stomach to coil somewhere low and heavy in her belly.

“Kay… gnight, Vi. Bye!”

“Yeah, bye Princess.”

The call drops and Vi lets the phone tumble from her fingers. Her head slumps back into her pillows and she’s left staring at the pebbled ceiling of her messy room, the far wall tiger-striped by the tremulous yellow streetlight peaking through her half-closed blinds.

She presses a hand to her chest, if only to feel the frantic thumping of her heart, to reassure herself that it really is still there and not somewhere in the vast metasphere, having leapt clear through her phone screen, just to try and get to you.

taglist: @traiitorjoe@rizzscary @wetcat020 @alex-thegiraffeboyy @nanasemo @saturnhas82moons @unear7hly@drsnowrose @grantaires-waistcoat @isab3lita @ally-all-around @starrysetup22@lipsent @lewd_alien @jack-frost-2010 @starsfortaylor @onesockcat @lesbian-useless@armins-slvt@lin-elizabeth @ryescapades @kingkamk @princesssmars @chobssss @mybelovedvi @bouqette @noietta @brooks-lin @ally-all-around @bunnyrose01 @stumpystump @lia-winther @folklore13lover @sawaagyapong @sevikas-whore @sunflowerwinds @taurtel @tourmalinetyrone @oidloid @marcylated @krisziepowlet @vikaswife @pa-co @devotedlyelectronicartisan @aliluvszs @elliecoochieeater

Hotel California | Track 16 : Blurred Lines

Natasha Romanoff x fem!reader

Summary: Natasha Romanoff, frontwoman of the punk rock band Velvet Rebellion, falls hard for a woman she believes is too good for her. Their intense relationship unfolds in the chaotic world of rock 'n' roll, where they struggle to balance fame, personal demons, and their undeniable passion for each other.

W/c: 4k

Chapter 16/20

Masterlist | General Masterlist

Note: I hope y'all like it =)

Themes: love, fame, sex, drugs

Keeping a secret from the rest of the band was surprisingly easy. With the pressure to continue touring and giving each show their all, it was something you enjoyed having between the two of you. The excitement and potential of marriage felt overwhelming—heavy in your chest but in the best way. You and Natasha had just hit the year mark and hadn’t even celebrated your anniversary yet. With the late-night shows and back-to-back rehearsals, there hadn't been much room to breathe, let alone plan something as big as announcing an engagement.

It had been a week since she proposed, and you were still on cloud nine. It felt like you floated through every conversation, every soundcheck, every hotel check-in. Something was glowing under your skin, but no one else could see it yet.

In the middle of the afternoon, the sun burned hot over Miami, the air thick with humidity. Natasha and the band had just wrapped up three nights in a row, and now you had a rare stretch of days off, an entire week to breathe. Tony had rented out some sleek little house away from the city, something with too many bedrooms and a private pool tucked behind high walls. Perfect for hiding.

You and Natasha hadn’t meant to be disgustingly in love, but here you were. Half-lounging, half-floating in the pool, a half-eaten plate of fruit on the edge, both of you laughing at something stupid she said. She’d pulled her hair up messily, sunglasses perched low on her nose, freckles peeking through after so much sun. No crew, no flashing lights. No schedule. Her legs tangled with yours underwater, her hand occasionally drifting to your knee like she couldn’t help herself.

This was the best version of you and Natasha, only you saw. The version no one else knew about.

You were happy. You were engaged. You were in love.

Natasha lazily ran her fingers along your arm, eyes hidden behind her sunglasses.

“You know,” she murmured, voice low and warm, “I kinda like having you all to myself like this. No cameras. No band. No one asking questions.”

You smiled, sinking deeper into the water beside her.

“Yeah, well,” you teased, “enjoy it while it lasts. Pretty sure once people figure out what’s on your finger when you wear your ring, we won’t get a moment’s peace.”

Natasha tilted her head toward you, smirking.“Let them talk. They’ve been talking about us since day one.”

You sighed, content, leaning closer until you rested your forehead against her shoulder. Her skin was warm from the sun, soft where your cheek brushed it.

She hummed softly, her fingers drifting along your back.

Your breath tickled her skin.

"I still can't believe it," You leaned back to study her face. "You're going to be my wife."

Natasha smiled.

"Yeah," she murmured, a quiet little sound. "I'm going to be your wife."

Your smile grew impossibly wide, the words sending a rush of warmth down your spine. Your heart fluttered in your chest.

Natasha reached up to trace the curve of your smile with her thumb, her smile growing. Her other hand snapped your bikini against your skin as she took advantage of your distraction. You squealed and tried to get away, but she was faster, her hands finding all the ticklish spots on your body. She pulled you into her, opening her legs to accommodate you, wrapping her arms around your body. You squirmed, laughter bubbling up from deep in your belly, and you could feel her smiling as she pressed a kiss against the side of your head.

You were still breathless when you calmed, and Natasha's fingers skimmed your bare sides, tracing over the wet skin.

"God, I love you," she murmured, and you felt your cheeks heat. She could be so intense sometimes.

You turned your head and kissed her. She tasted like sunshine and chlorine, the faintest trace of strawberry lingering on her lips. She kissed you back, her hands tightening against your hips. Your heart pounded.

"I love you," you whispered against her lips, and she hummed again.

"Nobody's here," She murmured.

"What?"

"The guys are still out. They won't be back for a while. Isabella is with Wanda."

You laughed. "We can't," You chided. "It's daylight."

"I don't care," She breathed, her nose nudging yours. "It's not like the neighbors are watching."

"You're incorrigible," You mumbled, but it was weak, her lips already distracting you. Your kiss turned slow and gentle, tongues tangling, her hand sliding to your neck.

You moaned softly, and you could feel her smile.

"Let me take care of you," She whispered, and you nodded.

Her hand trailed up your leg, slipping beneath the fabric of your bikini bottoms to caress your ass. You both were too distracted to hear the sliding doors open.

"Kid in tow," Wanda announced as she exited the house, "so no sex in the pool."

You squealed and ducked under the water, Natasha's grip loosening. When you surfaced, her arms had dropped away, and you were facing the pool's other side. You were a respectable distance apart, though the pink in her cheeks made her guilt obvious.

Wanda smirked, watching as you fixed your top, and sighed.

"Also, the guys are here."

"Damn," You muttered. "And I was looking forward to that."

Wanda snickered and settled onto one of the lounge chairs. Isabella came out a moment later with a pool floatie and a huge grin.

"Look what Steve found!"

"Wow," you cooed. "That looks awesome."

She nodded, dropping her towel before climbing into the inner tube. She pushed off, floating to the pool's center, and you couldn't help but laugh.

Natasha caught your eye and smiled, mouthing an apology, and you smiled back. You weren't angry, though you did want to know how long they were supposed to be gone.

You'd been so distracted by her touch, tongue, voice, body, and hands.

You wanted more.

"So," Wanda cut in, pulling you from your thoughts, "what time is your flight again?" She asked, directing her question to you.

"It's at 5 am," You informed her. "Gives us plenty of time to get home and rest."

Natasha groaned, dropping her head back dramatically against the edge of the pool.

“Way too early,” she mumbled. “You sure you can’t just skip it?”

You shot her a look, lips quirking.

“Tempting, but no. You know Sam—he’ll want every second he can get with Bella.”

Your eyes flickered toward Isabella, giggling in the pool, and your voice softened. “Besides, work’s piling up. It’s time.”

Wanda gave you a sympathetic glance over her sunglasses. "We're going to miss you gals around here. Isabella is my best bud."

"I have a lot of fun with you guys," Isabella smiled. "But I miss Daddy."

Natasha sighed, pretending to pout as she watched Isabella spin lazily in her floatie.

“I don’t know what I’ll do a whole week without you two,” she said, stretching her arms to pull you back. She rested her chin on your shoulder. “Might lose my mind.”

You raised a brow, smirking.

“You? Lose your mind? Never thought I’d see the day.”

“She’s already halfway there,” Wanda teased, earning a laugh from Isabella.

Natasha rolled her eyes but smiled softly, her gaze flickering between you and Bella. “Yeah, yeah. Laugh it up now. I’ll be counting the hours.”

You felt something warm settle low in your chest at how she said it—not overly dramatic, but honest enough to make your heart squeeze.

“Lucky for you,” you murmured. "I will be back before you know it."

"I know, I know," Natasha pouted, her lips brushing your cheek. "I still hate being away from you."

"Me, too," You admitted, turning to face her.

She leaned forward, pressing her lips against yours, and the sound of Wanda clearing her throat reminded you where you were.

Natasha grinned.

"Get a room, you two," Wanda called, her voice teasing.

"You see what I have to deal with?" Isabella rolls her eyes playfully.

Before you could come up with a snarky reply, the sound of the back gate clicking open pulled everyone's attention. Voices drifted through, easy and familiar.

"Hope you’ve got drinks left," Tony called out, sunglasses already perched on his nose as he strolled in like he owned the place—which, technically, he probably did. Steve followed right behind, carrying a cooler, while Bucky trailed last, towel slung over his shoulder and smirking at the scene in front of him.

“Wow, didn’t realize we were crashing a funeral,” Bucky teased, giving Isabella a little wave as she grinned at him from the pool.

Tony scanned the group, raising an eyebrow. “What’s with the long faces? Thought this was supposed to be a party.”

“It was,” Wanda shrugged, shifting her sunglasses up. “Until lovebirds over here started getting all mopey.”

Natasha shot her a look but didn’t deny it. Instead, her fingers brushed your hips. You could feel the gears turning in her head. You knew that look. She was thinking.

Bucky and Steve found chairs, cracking open beers while Tony immediately commandeered the Bluetooth speaker, flipping through playlists. It felt easy, loud, and comfortable in a way that only comes when everyone knows each other too well.

Natasha glanced at you, lips tugging in a small smile, and you already knew.

It wouldn’t stay a secret much longer.

She leaned in close, voice low so only you could hear.

“Maybe now’s the time,” she murmured, eyes flicking toward the guys. “Before someone else beats us to it.”

You gave her a look, half amused, half bracing yourself.

“You sure?”

Natasha’s smile widened something almost giddy underneath.

“Absolutely.”

"Hey, lovebirds, don't keep secrets from the rest of us," Tony said, pulling your attention.

You turned and saw his gaze on the two of you.

"It's not a secret, is it, babe?" You said, turning your gaze to Natasha.

"No, not anymore," Natasha replied. "Y/n and I wanted to know where you guys would be September 2nd?"

"Wherever the tour is," Steve offered.

"That's what we figured," You smiled. "We would like to invite you all to our wedding."

Bucky was the first to stand up with a grin.

"Well, hell yeah, I'm there." He cheered.

"You're serious?" Isabella squealed from her tube. She was inches from you in the pool now, sporting the biggest smile.

"Yes, princess, we're getting married," Natasha beamed, her arm wrapping around your waist.

Isabella squealed and jumped over the floaties and into your arms.

"I can't believe you're getting married!" She cried, and her excitement was contagious.

Natasha laughed and hugged her back.

"Can't believe it either, kid," she teased, and the others clapped.

"Well, I'm honored," Tony said, and he looked surprisingly genuine.

"Congratulations, you two," Steve smiled. "Can't think of anyone better suited for each other."

"Where's the ring?" Wanda demanded.

"Safely upstairs, of course," You informed her. "Can't kill it with chlorine already."

"Does this mean I get to be the flower girl? I could wear a cool dress," Isabella was already planning things, which warmed your heart when you saw her so excited.

"Of course," You grinned, pulling her close.

"I'm going to have two moms. This is awesome," Isabella grinned. "I can't wait to tell Lenny. She's going to flip."

"Actually," You exchanged a look with Natasha, who was smiling, too, and you took a breath. "We are hoping to keep our engagement a secret for as long as possible. Ideally, until after the wedding."

"Really?" Bucky asked. "Why? Seems like the kind of thing you'd want everyone to know about."

"Because," Natasha answered for you. "We've spent a lot of this past year under a microscope. We'd rather do this our way."

Tony shrugged. "Sure, I get that. Means I get to throw a helluva bachelorette party."

You laughed. "Of course, that's the first thing you'd focus on."

He shot you a wink. "I have my priorities."

You shook your head, still smiling.

"Thank you, Tony. All of you. For not making a big deal out of this."

"We've all known this was coming," Wanda replied. "Even if none of us had any idea it was happening."

Everyone began climbing out of the pool, toweling off, and grabbing whatever drinks were still cold. Steve was the first to lift his glass, catching everyone’s attention as they gathered around the lounge chairs.

He glanced between you and Natasha, a soft smile tugging at his lips. “I think it’s only fitting we make a toast,” he started, voice carrying just enough weight to settle everyone down. “To two of the strongest people I know. To finding something real and holding onto it.”

There were murmurs of agreement as glasses clinked together. Even Isabella, standing between you and Natasha, raised her glass of fruit punch high, beaming.

“To my moms,” she grinned proudly. “And to hanging out with all of you. Even if you’re super loud.”

Everyone laughed at that.

Natasha leaned down, kissing the top of Isabella’s head, her free arm sliding around your waist.

“Here’s to family,” Steve added, lifting his glass again.

You felt something settle deep in your chest at that—something warm, steady, and sure.

“Family,” you echoed, clinking your glass gently against Natasha’s.

******

Early morning departures were usually easygoing. Most people were too tired or in a rush to care about anyone else, which worked in your favor. You kept your head low, sunglasses on, one hand gripping the handle of your carry-on while the other held tight to Isabella’s smaller one. She walked beside you without a care in the world, her backpack strapped securely, as she chattered softly about how much she missed her bed at home.

For the most part, no one had bothered you; it was much too early, even if a few eyes lingered a little longer, a couple of people whispering. It was manageable. It wasn’t like walking out of a venue or some red carpet.

“Mom,” Isabella tugged at your hand, slowing you down. “Can we stop real quick? I wanna get snacks.”

You glanced at the little convenience store she was eyeing, debating. Normally, you’d say no. You'd packed her a few things already, but she looked up at you with that hopeful expression, the same one Natasha always teased you about caving to.

You sighed, leaning down a little. “Fine, but just a few things."

Her grin was instant. “Promise.”

A few minutes later, you stood near the back of the store, letting Isabella browse the candy aisle while you kept an eye on the time.

"Mom!" Isabella said a bit too loudly. Her squeal wasn't one of fear, though. It was more exciting. She quickly found you, and you realized what all the commotion was about. She held up a magazine cover of herself. The picture was of her as she stood beside you and Natasha on stage after one of the performances, smiling ear to ear. "I'm on a magazine. I'm only ten, and I'm on a magazine."

You smiled faintly, eyes flickering to the glossy cover she held up. There it was—your face, Natasha’s, and right in the middle, Isabella grinning, hands thrown up like she didn’t care in the world. Your stomach twisted slightly.

She was excitedly glowing, practically bouncing as she flipped the magazine to show you again. “Look! I’m on it! Can we buy it? Please?”

“If you want it, baby, you can have it,” you told her gently.

She nodded eagerly, already rushing toward the checkout.

You stood a beat longer, staring at the image on another cover. You and Sam had always kept a tight grip on Isabella’s exposure. Carefully curated appearances, blurred-out photos, no paparazzi access. But the tour, the shows—it was impossible to shield her completely. You knew that.

Now, seeing the evidence, you felt a twinge of regret. Was she being too exposed? Would this come back to bite you? Of course, no one knew much about Isabella. She wasn't in the spotlight often and wasn't being interviewed or questioned. It still felt like a risk. Something that always made you think twice.

"Mama, I'm ready to check out."

"Alright, let's go," you told her.

She skipped back to your side, magazine tucked safely under her arm and a few candy bars in her other hand.

You kept thinking about the magazine cover as you paid for the snacks. You had to call Sam and give him a heads-up if he hadn't already seen it. He'd have some thoughts, of course, and the rest of the PR team. It was unavoidable, a part of the life you chose. You couldn't help but wonder if it was a life she could choose for herself.

You sighed, trying to push the thought away as the cashier returned your card.

"Thanks, ma'am," the cashier smiled, and you nodded, grabbing Isabella's hand again.

"Thank you," she replied.

"Have a good day, you two."

"We will. Have a nice day," You smiled.

You had a flight to catch, and Isabella had a dad to see.

Everything would be fine.

*******

You were just sliding your laptop shut when your phone buzzed on the table. The meeting had run over, and now you were scrambling to wrap up the last of your work before you would go home and crash.

A few notifications flashed—one from the group chat about Steve and Tony arguing over where the band should get food.

But it was the string of messages from Natasha that caught your eye:

Natasha: Miss you already.

Natasha: Counting down days till you’re back.

Natasha: I hope your meetings are going well.

You grinned and quickly typed out a reply.

You: They are. Can't wait to tell you all about it.

You: And yes, I miss you too.

Natasha: <3

You were still smiling when another message popped up:

Natasha: BTW, what are you wearing?

You laughed out loud at that one. You stood up to close your office door before pressing the call button. She picked up on the first ring with a smug, satisfied tone.

"So, what are you wearing?"

"You're such a nerd," You said, shaking your head, the grin spreading wider. "And my work clothes, obviously."

"That's hot."

"Oh, yeah, very sexy."

"Are you alone?" She asked.

"I am, locked the door and everything." You entertained the idea. "You're not. Aren't you at rehearsals?"

"I am," Natasha nodded. "They won't mind."

You scoffed.

"Don't be such a tease."

"Who said I was teasing?" She countered, and you could hear the amusement in her voice.

"You're insatiable, Romanoff."

"Maybe," She conceded, and her tone softened. "I really miss you."

You felt a warmth bloom in your chest.

"I miss you, too," You admitted quietly, leaning back against your chair. "It's been a long week."

"Any luck with the label?"

"Not yet," You sighed. "The investors are hesitant, but they're considering. Having new clients suck sometimes."

"You'll get it," She replied, and you could practically see her shrug. "If anyone can, it's you."

"That's the goal," You nodded, shifting in your seat.

"And, hey," She added, voice dropping to a lower, almost conspiratorial tone. "It'll be nice when we can travel together again. Maybe have some fun in between shows."

"Gone a few days, and you're already feening for some action," You teased, and she chuckled.

"It's been a few days already."

You couldn't argue with that, not when it felt like ages.

"I'll see you next week," You promised.

"I'll keep my fingers crossed."

"What are you going to do tonight?" You asked. "Any plans?"

"Nah," Natasha denied. "The guys are thinking about inviting a few people over, but I'm not interested."

"No? I thought you liked a party."

"I'm not feeling it. I'll order something and relax."

"Good idea," You agreed. "I'm going to head straight home. Maybe order something and watch a movie."

"What's Isabella up to tonight?"

"Hanging out with Sam," You said. "He's been chill about everything that's going on. He's happy to see her so happy."

"Good," Natasha murmured, her voice a little distracted. "She's got a great dad."

"Yeah," You said, and then there was a knock on the door.

"Sorry, babe, I've got to go," You apologized, grabbing your bag. "Someone's here."

"Okay," She answered, a hint of reluctance. "I love you."

"I love you too," You said before hanging up. Another meeting. You groaned inwardly, wondering if your next vacation would have enough time to compensate for the overtime.

*********

Tony’s parties never tended to be small.

It was always a full house—sometimes even spilling into the yard with music that could be heard half a block down. This one was no different. Natasha found herself in a familiar position, a drink in her hand and a smile on her face as she chatted with old friends.

It was a nice night. Cool enough that the windows were open, the sounds of the city drifting in, and she took a sip of her beer, eyes wandering. Her night had started out simple enough. She’d danced with a few familiar faces, talked shop with Tony and Steve, and at some point, found herself caught up in a conversation with a girl who seemed too young for the party, but not by much. She was Mia and had that carefree spirit that Natasha was attracted to. Mia talked to her about the many tattoos on her body, and Natasha enjoyed the conversation.

"I'm thinking about getting another one," Mia nodded. "I'm addicted to the ink now."

"I love a good tattoo," Natasha smiled, taking a swig of her drink.

"Which one is your favorite?" Mia asked, her eyes trailing over Natasha's skin as they stood near the kitchen island, the loud music echoing through the room.

"I only have one," Natasha gestured to the tattoo on her back. "I've been meaning to get a few others, but I don't have the time these days."

"Oh, I have a few time savers," Mia smirked, stepping a little closer, her voice teasing as she leaned against the counter, her eyes not leaving Natasha's.

Natasha glanced around her, where Tony and Steve were still conversing about some tech gadget. The band was scattered, with drinks in hand, clearly enjoying themselves. She took a sip of her beer. She tried to make this less awkward for the girl.

"I'll have to remember that," Natasha replied, raising an eyebrow. She could feel the shift in the air, Mia's gaze now clearly focused on her mouth.

"Or I could give you my number, and we can discuss them sometime." Mia's voice dropped to a lower register, a hint of something else in her tone.

Natasha chuckled. "You're bold," she said, shaking her head lightly, but her tone was still playful. "But I'm not interested. I have a girlfriend."

"Ah, damn, and here I thought I was in luck," Mia smiled, not looking too put out by Natasha's confession. "She doesn't have to know."

"I know, and I'm not that kind of person," Natasha told her, keeping her voice low.

"Damn," Mia said, pushing herself off the counter. She walked away with a smirk, her gaze not leaving Natasha's, her body swaying as she went to find a new distraction.

Natasha shook her head and finished her drink. She'd been tempted, she could admit. It was the nature of her job, the attention, the constant attention of a crowd, the buzz of alcohol. She was human, and she had her limits.

"Time for body shots!" Someone called, and Natasha looked up.

Bucky and Wanda were entering the living room, the crowd gathering around. Tony was grinning, pulling out a bottle of tequila and a tray of lime slices.

"Come on, Nat, let's do this!" Wanda called.

Natasha sighed, knowing there was no stopping this train, and made her way toward them.

"You guys are insane," She shook her head. "There's no way we're still doing this like in college."

"Aw, come on," Tony teased. "Where's your sense of fun? Live a little."

"This is stupid," She rolled her eyes, but a part of her was curious, especially when a few people began cheering and laughing.

"It's harmless," Tony argued, holding up the tray of lime slices. "And no one will judge you."

Natasha looked around, saw the expectant faces of her friends, and gave in.

"Fine, one round," She said, walking to the dining table.

"Great," Tony grinned, motioning for the crowd to gather around the table. "You're going first."

"Of course I am," Natasha muttered. "If I have to, I'm choosing Wanda."

"Sure thing, Red," Bucky laughed.

"Don't mind if I do," Wanda lay on the table, lifting her shirt far enough to see her belly button.

Natasha stepped up, her gaze focused on her friend. She grabbed a lime slice and held it gently between her teeth.

"Let's make this quick," Natasha said.

"Don't be a baby, Natasha," Tony laughed. "Ready?"

"Go ahead," Natasha said, bracing herself.

The salt was poured onto Wanda's abdomen, right next to her belly button, and the crowd cheered as the music continued.

"Don't forget the lime!"

"Drink it!"

"One, two, three, go!" Tony shouted.

Natasha did what she did best, leaning down and licking the salt off of Wanda's stomach before reaching for the shot. She swallowed, grimacing as she reached for the lime, biting into it and sucking the juice out before tossing it to the side. The crowd cheered, and she stood up with a smug smile.

"Nice try," Wanda laughed.

"Your turn," Natasha gestured toward her.

Wanda nodded, her eyes scanning the room, landing on Steve.

"Rogers, what do you say? Ready for a little taste?" She winked.

Steve grinned and shrugged.

"Why not," He walked toward her.

"Get it, Rogers!" Someone shouted.

"You're next, Buck," Wanda added.

"Oh, I'm ready," Bucky smirked, and the crowd cheered.

"Alright," Wanda nodded. Natasha watched for a few more minutes, enjoying herself and the music. The last shot she'd taken had clearly been too much for her, and the room was beginning to feel a bit more warm. After a few more rounds of shots and playful banter, the buzz had worn off, and the noise was starting to grate on her nerves. She made her way to the stairs, trying to sneak away unnoticed.

She had one hand on the railing when she heard a voice behind her. “Leaving already?”

Mia was there, a little too close for comfort, her gaze lingering on Natasha with an intensity that made Natasha’s stomach tighten.

“Yeah, I think I’m done for the night,” Natasha said, keeping her voice calm but firm.

Mia stepped forward, almost blocking the path. “Mind if I join you? I could use a break from the crowd, too.”

Natasha hesitated momentarily, her eyes flickering toward her room at the top of the stairs. She knew what this was. She knew what Mia wanted. She didn’t have the energy for this tonight, not for someone who wasn’t what she needed.

Mia smiled.

"No," Natasha told her. "I'm not interested. This is my second time telling you tonight. You should just give it up. You're a nice girl. A beautiful girl that I'm sure could find someone here that would love to take you home."

"I'm not blind," Mia interrupted, her eyes narrowing.

"And I'm not interested. Go find someone else."

Mia opened her mouth to say something, but Natasha was already walking past her, climbing the stairs two at a time and disappearing into her room.

She sighed, closing the door behind her, letting the noise of the party fade into the background. She locked the door and turned on the lamp by her bed, casting the room in a soft, yellow glow. She looked around the room for her phone but couldn't find it anywhere. She didn't dare go back down to the party. She turned on the TV and decided to spend the rest of her night alone.

It was for the best.

Her head was still spinning slightly from the alcohol, and she was sure she was going to feel worse in the morning. The soft noise of the TV filled the silence, but the flickering of the light on the walls began to pull her into a sleepy haze. Her eyes fluttered closed, and within minutes, she was out.

It wasn't like Natasha ending a party so early, but she was a taken woman now. She didn't realize what she would wake up to. 

-----> next part

COUNTING HER FRECKLES

Vi x f!reader

Synopsis: Early in the morning, while Vi was still asleep and you had just woken up, you couldn’t help but notice the little constellations of freckles on Vi’s face.

The morning sunlight spilled through the half-closed curtains, painting the room in a soft, golden glow. The warmth of the blankets cocooned you, but it was the woman lying next to you that truly kept you rooted in place. Vi was sprawled out on her back, an arm slung over her head, her mouth slightly open as she snored faintly. A tiny trail of drool glittered at the corner of her lips, and you couldn’t help the smile that tugged at your own.

You rolled onto your side, propping your head up with one hand. Her freckled cheeks were kissed by the sunlight, and her crimson hair stuck up in every direction. Even like this,unfiltered, messy, unguarded, she was stunning. Maybe even more so.

Carefully, you reached out to trace the faintest of lines across her skin, stopping short of touching her. “One, two, three…” you whispered under your breath, counting the constellation of freckles on her nose. You had no idea how she got freckles with her pale skin and constant yet humorous scowl, but you were grateful for them.

“Mmm…” Vi stirred, her head tilting slightly toward the sound of your voice. Her lashes fluttered, though her eyes stayed shut. A soft, groggy smile tugged at her lips, and she slurred, “Y’doin’, babe?”

You bit your lip to stifle a laugh. “Counting your freckles. Shh, don’t move. You’ll mess up my math.”

“Math?” she mumbled, her voice hoarse with sleep. “It’s too early for math,” She cracked an eye open, peering at you with a mix of confusion and amusement. “Y’always this weird?”

“Always,” you replied, grinning. “You’re lucky you’re cute when you’re drooling.”

Her brows furrowed, and she quickly wiped at her mouth with the back of her hand, grumbling incoherently. “Don’t call it that…” Her pout was impossibly endearing.

“You’re right,” you teased, brushing a strand of hair off her forehead. “It’s not drooling. It’s aggressive hydration.”

Vi snorted, her laughter muffled by the pillow as she turned her face into it. “Stop, you’re killin’ me,” she groaned, though her hand reached out to curl around your waist, pulling you closer. “Lemme sleep.”

“You’re already awake,” you pointed out, though you didn’t resist when she tucked you against her chest. Her body was warm, her heartbeat a steady rhythm under your cheek.

“Not awake,” she mumbled. “Just resting my eyes.”

You ran your fingers up and down her arm, tracing the scarred skin there. “Your snoring says otherwise.”

Vi groaned again, this time more dramatically. “Why do you hate me?”

“I don’t,” you said softly, pressing a kiss to her collarbone. “I like you like this. All soft and sleepy and human.”

“Not soft,” she muttered, though her grip on you tightened. “I’m tough. Real tough.”

“Sure, babe,” you said, hiding your smile against her skin. “Super tough.”

Her only response was a low, contented hum as she drifted back into a half-sleep. You stayed like that, counting her freckles in your head and savoring the rare moment of peace. The world could wait a little while longer. For now, it was just you and her, tangled together in the soft light of morning.

And honestly? You wouldn’t have it any other way.

A/N: I know this is extremely short but I found it in my notes and thought I should post it (just a cute one shot).

Hotel California | Track 13: Part Of Your World

Natasha Romanoff x fem!reader

Summary: Natasha Romanoff, frontwoman of the punk rock band Velvet Rebellion, falls hard for a woman she believes is too good for her. Their intense relationship unfolds in the chaotic world of rock 'n' roll, where they struggle to balance fame, personal demons, and their undeniable passion for each other.

W/c: 8.4k

Chapter 13/18

Masterlist | General Masterlist

Note: This was unnecessarily long.

Themes: love, fame, sex, drugs

The sun was setting below the city horizon when she called for a group meeting. Natasha paced in front of the rest of the band, her eyes scanning the notes on her phone. They were gathered in Tony's Malibu mansion, where the final preparations for the upcoming tour occurred in a flurry of activity. The energy in the room was tense, a mixture of excitement and exhaustion that only came in the final stretch before a major event.

“So, just to recap,” Natasha began, her voice steady but carrying a certain edge of anticipation, “we’re hitting a few smaller cities after the big shows in New York and LA. We need to ensure everything is in place, especially for the merch and the opening acts. I don’t want any last-minute hiccups.”

"You got it, Captain," Tony nodded as he cracked open a Miller lite. He sipped it loudly, grinning as Natasha rolled her eyes. "The merch is all ready. I saw some pretty cool T-shirts with my face on them. I think I look snazzy."

"You're such a narcissist, Tony," Steve snorted, shaking his head. He looked back at Natasha, giving her a nod. "Why aren't we going over this with Mitch?"

"Mitch is busy," Natasha shrugged. "I figured a group session without her expertise would be great."

"Oh," Steve blinked. "We’re good on the setlist, right?"

“Yeah, the setlist is solid,” Natasha answered. “But we need to tighten up a few transitions—especially that acoustic intro with Wanda’s solo. Let’s make sure we get through it a couple more times before the first show. We don’t want it to drag on, and we don’t want it to feel rushed either.”

"I've been working on that part; I'll have it down before you know it," Wanda grinned, leaning against the back of the couch.

"That's what I like to hear," Natasha smirked, returning to the phone. "We're doing a photo shoot with a magazine the day before the first show, so make sure you're in the city by then. But if anyone needs a break from the spotlight, just let me know. We can always switch things up. Any questions?"

"What about the hotel situation?" Bucky asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Hotel situation?" Natasha repeated, looking at Bucky. "What hotel situation?"

"Where we're staying," Bucky explained, rolling his eyes. "I hope it's nice. The last time I was in a shitty motel, I came down with a fungus."

"Oh, fuck, that was bad," Tony gagged.

"Our budget is a bit bigger this time, " Wanda said. "We have a tour bus for most of the U.S. Keeping in touch with our roots. Though for the venues with double nights, we have suites booked."

"I don't know why you all like to pretend I'm not rich," Tony shrugged. "I can cover any hotel bills we might incur."

"Thanks, but we don't need your money," Steve smirked, his tone a tad condescending.

"Hey, it's not charity, okay? It's not my fault I'm better than you," Tony replied, his gaze meeting Steve's.

"We're not arguing about this again," Natasha said, pointing at both men. "I don't have the energy, and we don't have the time. We'll talk about hotels later."

"I was just wondering," Bucky grumbled, crossing his arms.

"You don't have to worry, Buck," Steve smiled. "This will be the biggest tour the band has ever done, and I'm sure the hotels will be great."

"You guys can have a whole room if you want," Natasha said.

"I like the sound of that," Tony nodded.

Natasha exhaled, her shoulders loosening slightly as she stood at the head of the coffee table. "Okay, that’s most of it. I think we’re in a good place. We just need to keep the momentum going and stay focused. Remember, we’ve got a long haul ahead. But we can do it."

"Can we talk about other things?" Tony asked with a smirk.

"Sure," Natasha nodded.

"Who's gonna hook up with who first?"

"Tony," Steve sighed.

"What?" Tony scoffed. "C'mon, it's not a bad question."

"No, I don't think so," Steve argued.

"It's an important question," Tony pressed. "We can't have people getting weird and emotional."

"Well, considering three out of five of us are taken," Natasha rolled her eyes. "Besides, aren't you with Pepper?"

"I've been known to stray," Tony chuckled.

"No, I'm pretty sure she'd kill you," Bucky smirked.

"She'd kill you, and then she'd kill me for hooking the two of you up," Steve nodded.

"Okay, maybe," Tony sighed.

"Let's try and have some semblance of professionalism, alright?" Natasha said, her gaze scanning the room.

"But Nat, isn't this supposed to be fun?" Wanda giggled.

"Wanda, please," Natasha shook her head.

"I'm just saying," Wanda shrugged.

"Just because it's fun doesn't mean we shouldn't take it seriously," Steve nodded.

"Oh, c'mon, Steve," Tony groaned. "Don't settle down just yet. Who's going to be my wingman?"

"Not me," Steve replied firmly, folding his arms across his chest. "I’m not interested in being dragged into one of your antics."

"Well, that’s disappointing," Tony sighed, leaning back in his chair. "I thought we were friends."

"We are friends," Steve said. "But I also like my peace of mind."

"You’re no fun," Tony muttered. "What about you, Bucky? Feeling up for a little adventure?"

"Hard pass," Bucky replied, not even looking up from his phone. "You’re on your own, Stark."

Tony threw his hands up in mock exasperation. "What’s the point of being in a band if none of you want to help me live a little?"

"Tony, we’re in the band, not your personal dating service," Natasha said, pinching the bridge of her nose. "And frankly, your idea of 'living a little' usually ends in chaos."

"Chaos makes for great stories," Tony shot back.

"And headlines," Wanda added with a grin, earning a chuckle from Bucky.

"See, Wanda gets it!" Tony said, pointing at her.

"Don't drag me into this," Wanda replied, laughing. "I’m just here to keep the peace."

"Well, at least someone here knows how to have fun," Tony muttered, though his grin showed he wasn’t taking the rejection too seriously.

"Fun doesn’t mean reckless," Natasha interjected, her tone firm. "This tour is important. We’ve worked too hard to let anything—or anyone—jeopardize it."

Tony held his hands up in surrender. "Alright, alright, point taken, boss."

"Good," Natasha said, her gaze sharp. "Now, can we focus?"

"Fine," Tony said with a dramatic sigh. "But when this tour’s over, Steve, you owe me a drink. Non-negotiable."

Steve rolled his eyes but smiled faintly. "We’ll see."

"You should all be so lucky to get a drink with me," Tony huffed.

"Whatever you say, Tony," Natasha smirked, rolling her eyes. "Now, as much as I love your charming company, I have to go meet up with y/n. Her daughter's birthday is tomorrow, and I haven't seen either of them in a week."

"How's that situation going?" Tony asked curiously.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, with her having a kid," Tony elaborated. "I never took you for the stepmom type."

"We're not married," Natasha said a tad defensively.

"Yet," Wanda grinned.

"My money's on the next couple months," Bucky commented.

"I'll raise you to the second tour date," Tony said. They looked over to Steve expectantly to see what he would say.

"I don't get involved in bets, guys," Steve replied, though he was smiling.

"Party pooper," Tony grumbled.

"You guys can't keep betting on my love life," Natasha frowned. "It's rude."

"Rude? Really, Nat?" Tony smirked, though he backed off slightly at her tone. "I thought we were family. Families meddle."

"Not like this," Natasha shot back.

"Alright, let’s dial it down," Steve interjected, his steady tone cutting through the tension. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "Tony, Bucky—leave her be. It’s not about bets or jokes."

"Aw, come on, Rogers," Bucky said, though his tone was more teasing than serious. "You can’t tell me you’re not at least curious."

Steve shook his head with a faint smile. "I’m not getting involved in your nonsense, but... I will say this." He turned to Natasha, his expression softening. "Nat, I’ve known you for a long time. Longer than anyone else here. And if there’s anyone who’s got a shot at being the one for you... it’s Y/N."

The room grew quiet at Steve’s words. Even Tony seemed to consider them momentarily, his usual smirk replaced by something more thoughtful.

Natasha blinked, caught off guard by the clarity and sincerity in Steve’s tone. She opened her mouth to respond but found herself at a rare loss for words.

"She’s a good person," Steve continued. "And from what you’ve said, so is her daughter. You wouldn’t be putting in this kind of effort if it didn’t mean something to you."

Natasha swallowed, the lump in her throat forming before she could stop it. She nodded slightly, her eyes fixed on the table. "Yeah," she said quietly. "It does mean something. I've kind of downplayed it to you guys because I've been scared. She's special. Truthfully."

"It's okay to be scared, Nat," Steve said softly. "But sometimes the best things are worth the risk."

Natasha looked up at Steve, his blue eyes full of understanding and support. She gave him a small smile, her shoulders relaxing slightly. "Thanks, Steve. That... actually means a lot."

"Well, now we have to go and celebrate our future niece," Tony smiled. "What does she want for her birthday?"

"Honestly, what would you get a kid that has everything?"

"A pony," Wanda replied, shrugging.

"Maybe a dog," Steve suggested.

"Those are both animals," Bucky pointed out. "Many people don't do well with gifts like that."

"Maybe a kitten," Tony suggested.

"That's still an animal," Steve chuckled.

"I'm not getting her an animal," Natasha interjected. "Y/n would kill me. I'm trying to be a good influence, remember?"

"Alright," Wanda smirked. "What about jewelry? Isabella is a little diva. I think she'd appreciate a nice necklace."

"Jewelry is good," Natasha nodded.

"Or a guitar," Steve offered, looking over at her. "That's something that she'd like."

"Yeah, it would," Natasha replied. "Maybe a custom guitar. That way, it's unique."

"Now you're talking," Steve grinned. "That's a solid gift. Maybe I can help you out."

"I'll take the help," Natasha chuckled. "Thank you, Steve. I'll see you guys later."

"See you later," Steve waved.

As she walked to her car, Natasha shoved her hands into the pockets of her leather jacket, Steve’s words bouncing around in her head. Maybe the best things are worth the risk. She hated how simple he made it sound like it wasn’t a minefield waiting to blow up in her face.

Her boots scuffed against the pavement as she walked, the cool evening breeze doing little to settle the heat simmering under her skin. Love wasn’t new to her—she’d been there, done that, and watched it crash and burn. But this? This was something else. With you, it didn’t feel like walking a tightrope. It was steady, calm, and easy in a way that scared the hell out of her. She exhaled sharply, running a hand through her hair. Too easy. That’s what kept her up at night. She didn’t trust easily, not after everything she’d been through. Love like this had to come with strings attached, right? Some catch she hadn’t seen yet. It always did.

Still, there was no denying how her chest felt lighter when you laughed, how the world seemed quieter when Isabella would climb onto the couch next to her and chatter about her day. Natasha felt grounded for the first time in longer than she could remember. She wasn’t waiting for the rug to be pulled out from under her—at least, not yet.

Natasha felt it in her spirit—an unfamiliar steadiness that had replaced the restlessness she used to carry like armor. Long gone were the days of being a womanizer, of chasing fleeting connections that filled the silence but left her empty. Back then, she’d convinced herself that love was just another game she could play and win. But now? Now, it wasn’t about the chase, the thrill, or the control.

It was about how you looked at her as if she was more than the sum of her mistakes. It was about the trust in Isabella’s tiny hand when it slipped into hers. It was about the quiet moments she never thought she’d crave, where laughter filled the spaces she once kept guarded.

Natasha hadn’t planned for this—for you. But somehow, you'd carved out a place in her life, so naturally, it was as if you'd been there all along. It wasn’t just love anymore. Something deeper terrified her even as it anchored her in a way she hadn’t known she needed.

**********

She didn’t know what to expect when she pulled into your driveway. Another car was parked in front of your house, and she couldn’t help the flicker of curiosity that crept in. Who had stopped by this time? Not that she had any fundamental right to ask—not officially, anyway. The two of you didn’t live together. She didn’t own a stake in your day-to-day life outside of what you chose to share with her.

Still, the sight of the cars tugged at her. It wasn’t nerves, she told herself, just... curiosity. She exited her vehicle and grabbed the small bag from the passenger seat. She'd picked up crepes and coffee for the three of you, hoping for a quiet brunch. She knew Isabella's birthday would be a big deal, and she wanted to spend time with you without the pressure of guests.

Natasha rang the doorbell, adjusting her jacket and jeans. After a few seconds, the door swung open, but instead of you, Natasha was greeted by a boy—about ten years old, his dark hair cut into a low fade and his expression guarded. He looked up at her, sizing her up with the kind of scrutiny that made Natasha blink.

“Who are you?” the boy asked, his arms crossed over his chest.

Natasha tilted her head, trying to suppress a grin. “I could ask you the same thing,” she replied, her tone light.

“I live here for the weekend,” he said matter-of-factly. “I’m AJ. And you didn’t answer my question.”

Natasha raised an eyebrow. “I’m Natasha. A friend of Y/N’s.”

“A friend?” AJ narrowed his eyes. “What kind of friend?”

“The kind who brings crepes and coffee,” Natasha said, holding the bag.

AJ didn’t look impressed. “That doesn’t mean anything. Lots of people bring stuff when they visit.”

“Hmm.” AJ tapped his chin, clearly trying to decide whether she was trustworthy. “Do you know Isabella’s favorite color?”

“Purple,” Natasha answered without hesitation.

AJ’s eyes narrowed further as if he suspected she’d cheated somehow. “Favorite show?”

“Easy. High School Musical The Musical The Series.” She'd sat through a Friday night binging with Isabella. Thank you very much.

AJ frowned. “Okay, but—”

“Aj!” Your voice cut through the interrogation as you appeared at the door, an amused look on your face. “What are you doing?”

"Grilling the hell out of me, that's what he's doing," Natasha muttered.

"Go play," You shook your head at the young boy. "Come inside."

"But—"

"Inside," You insisted.

"Okay," AJ sighed, turning around and heading back towards the living room.

You let out a small laugh as Natasha stepped inside, the warmth of the house enveloping her.

"Sorry about that," you chuckled. "He's very protective."

"It's fine," Natasha smiled. "Who is he?"

"Sam's nephew," You answered. "They usually spend the night with Isabella before her birthday. Their mom is here doing her hair."

"Oh, cool," Natasha nodded. "I brought crepes."

"You didn't have to do that," You replied, leaning over to kiss her cheek.

"A kiss on the cheek is all I get?" Natasha joked.

"You're right," You laughed. You stepped forward, your kiss light. It could be considered a peck. But it still sent a shiver down her spine. It was over before either of you could savor it. Only neither of you was satisfied with that. A week without seeing each other made you feel deprived.

Your arms wound around her neck, your fingers sinking into the hair at the base of her scalp as your lips parted. Natasha hummed, her free arm pulling you flush against her, the bag forgotten in her hand.

You leaned into her, deepening the kiss. Her tongue was a welcome warmth, and the moan she elicited was enough to make your knees weak. When her hand traveled down to your ass, you pulled back with a giggle.

"I've missed you," You whispered.

"Missed you too," Natasha said, unable to resist planting another kiss on your lips.

The shout pulled you apart instantly. Natasha cleared her throat, a faint blush creeping across her cheeks as she glanced toward the source of the interruption.

“I’m sorry,” you muttered, smoothing your shirt and stepping back. “She’s been a bit of a birthdayzilla these days.”

Natasha chuckled softly. “I’ll survive.”

You led her toward the living room, where Isabella was perched on a chair, her legs swinging happily as a woman—probably the braider you’d mentioned—put the finishing touches on her hair.

“Natasha!” Isabella’s face lit up the second she spotted her. She squirmed in her seat, but the braider gently reminded her to stay still.

“Hey,” Natasha greeted, a warm smile spreading across her face. Her eyes widened slightly as she took in Isabella’s braids—a cute mix of pink and purple stripes woven in, subtle but striking. “Wow, look at you. These are so cool!”

Isabella beamed, clearly thrilled by the compliment. “Do you like them? Pink and purple are my favorite colors!”

“I love them,” Natasha replied, crouching down to get a better look. “You look like a rock star.”

“Like a pop star,” Isabella corrected with a giggle. “But thank you!”

“Big difference,” Natasha teased, giving her a wink.

You smiled at the interaction, leaning against the doorway as you watched them. It was still surreal to see Natasha with Isabella sometimes, how easily she fell into this role that neither of you had planned. Yet here she was, making your daughter feel like the most special person in the world.

“Almost done,” the braider said, securing the last braid with a little pink clip.

“Can I show Natasha my birthday dress after?” Isabella asked excitedly, already bouncing in her seat.

“Of course,” you said with a laugh. “But let Aunt Sarah finish first.”

AJ poked his head into the room, his eyes lighting up as he spotted Natasha.

"You're still here!" He said.

"Yup," Natasha replied, smiling down at him.

"Good," AJ said. "Cause we'll need an extra person for the dance battle."

"Dance battle?" Natasha repeated, her brows arching slightly.

"Yup," AJ grinned. "We're going to have a dance-off for Isabella's birthday."

"Oh really?" Natasha chuckled.

"Yup," AJ nodded, looking over at Isabella. "And we're gonna win! We need a referee. Can you be fair?"

"Well, I can try," Natasha said, unable to hide her smile.

"She's on my team," Isabella said with a giggle.

"Nooo!" AJ said.

"Yes," Isabella replied.

"But, she's the judge," AJ countered.

"And my mom's girlfriend," Isabella argued.

"Girlfriend?" AJ's eyebrows furrowed. "Does Uncle Sam know about this?"

"Boy," Sarah scolded her son.

"For your information, I don't need permission from your uncle Sam to date," You playfully rolled your eyes at the little boy. You knew he was mischievous and didn't take offense to it.

"Alright," Sarah said, clapping her hands. "She's ready."

Isabella hopped out of her chair, her skirt billowing as she rushed over to Natasha.

"I want her on my team," She pouted, her lower lip sticking out.

"Awww, why can't we be on the same team?" AJ whined.

"Because you're mean," Isabella huffed.

"I am not!"

"Are too!"

"I think," Sarah cut in, her hands on her hips. "We can have a boys vs girls competition."

"Okay," Isabella brightened. "Me and Mommy and Natasha!"

"Alright, tomorrow it will be settled," Sarah said. We may have more volunteers.

"Nice save," You grinned as the kids ran to the backyard. It's probably to terrorize Bear. "This is my girlfriend, Natasha. Natasha, this is my ex-sister-in-law, Sarah."

"Ex-sister-in-law," Natasha echoed, tilting her head curiously.

"It has a weird ring when you say it like that," Sarah chuckled. She reached out her hand for Natasha to take. "Nice to meet you, Natasha."

"Likewise," Natasha shook her hand. "You're good at what you do."

"Thank you," Sarah smiled. "The braids were all Isabella's idea. I just do the job."

"She has great taste," Natasha said, her eyes flicking to you.

Natasha glanced between you and Sarah briefly, wondering if it was awkward for her to meet your ex-husband's sister. It had to be strange, right? She hesitated, unsure if she should say anything.

As if sensing the unspoken question, Sarah laughed and waved her hand dismissively. "You’re wondering if this is weird, aren’t you?"

Natasha blinked but nodded slightly. “A little, yeah.”

“It’s not,” Sarah assured her with a warm smile. “Our family’s close enough to know when people need to move on—and to be happy when they do. Life’s too short to hold onto things that don’t work anymore.”

Natasha nodded slowly, appreciating the honesty. “That’s... refreshing to hear.”

“Besides,” Sarah added, glancing at Isabella, who was already halfway to the backyard with AJ on her heels. “As long as Isabella is happy and loved, that’s what matters. And clearly, she adores you.”

Natasha’s lips curved into a soft smile. “I adore her too.”

“She’s easy to adore,” Sarah said with a knowing grin, then looked back to you. “You picked a good one.”

You smiled, your gaze flicking to Natasha. “I know.”

Natasha rolled her eyes but couldn’t stop the smile tugging at her lips. The moment felt strange. Comfortable, even. Like Sarah’s words had peeled away the awkwardness Natasha had been bracing for and replaced it with something much simpler: understanding.

"Alright," Sarah said, grabbing her purse. "I've gotta run. I'll be here super early since AJ and Cass are staying here. I'll go and kiss them goodbye. Nice meeting you again, Natasha."

"Nice meeting you," Natasha said.

"See you later, Sarah," You called.

Natasha slipped her hand into yours as the door shut behind her, gently squeezing it.

"Were you nervous?" You asked her softly.

"Not nervous, per se," Natasha shrugged. "Just a little concerned. She's the first ex-family member I've met."

"You handled it well," You chuckled. "She liked you."

"Did she?"

"She wouldn't have given her seal of approval if she didn't," You smiled.

"Her seal of approval," Natasha repeated, her brows arching slightly.

"Yes," You replied. "Now come on. We've got a dance battle to prepare for."

"Right," Natasha chuckled, following you out to the backyard. "A dance battle."

********

Spending the day with three children was even more of a task than Natasha could have ever imagined. She'd grown up with a sibling, always just the two. They had their fights here and there, but nothing held a candle for the three children today. Isabella was the ring leader of the chorus, and her cousins did everything she wanted. Natasha sat back on the couch and watched them go over their routine. It was a little silly, but she was impressed by how quickly they had developed a set. They were quickly reprimanded if they got too rowdy or rough with each other.

She had never seen a more disciplined trio of kids in her life. She had expected chaos from the start, but they'd been very organized instead. She had to commend you for it. You had such a way with them.

Eventually, the night winded down, and you turned to your bedroom to check last-minute emails, your back propped up against the headboard. A yawn threatened to escape, but you stifled it, determined to get through just a few more messages before calling it a night. You'd promised to return to the living room with the rest of the family. Only, you had so much to do.

Natasha stood in the doorway, leaning against the frame.

"Hey," she said, her voice low.

You looked up from your screen, your eyes lingering on her longer than you'd intended. She always looked so calm in moments like this, and you found it grounding in a way you couldn’t explain.

"I thought I would head home now," She gestured to the car. "The kids are almost asleep. Though I think Isabella won't be there for a while."

"Yeah," You smiled. "It's always like that with her cousins."

"Yeah," Natasha laughed. "They're worn out."

"They're going to wake up feeling like zombies," You said.

"Probably," She chuckled.

"So," You put your phone down. "You're leaving?"

"If I don't, I might fall asleep here," She said.

"Would that be so bad?"

"You want me to with the kids in the house?" She questioned.

"I'll lock the door," You grinned.

Natasha smirked. "Well, if you want me to stay."

"I want you to," You admitted.

"Then," She smiled. "I'll stay."

"Good," You whispered. You closed your laptop and placed it on the nightstand. She closed the door behind her and locked it. She threw herself into the bed, crawling slightly until her head rested in your lap.

"Hey," She grinned.

"Hey," You chuckled, your fingers moving through her hair.

"I've missed this," She sighed.

"Yeah," You agreed.

"I've missed us," She added.

"Us?"

"You and me," She said. "Being able to be us without interruptions."

"Well, there's no interruptions here," You said. "You've really missed me during the week. You sure you're not having fun being a hotshot rockstar."

"You're a hotshot too, you know," Natasha joked.

"I guess I am," You said, a small smile on your face. "You look so pretty like this."

"Like what?"

"Here with me," You answered.

"And you," She said. "You're always gorgeous."

"Always, huh," You repeated.

"Even when I'm annoyed with you," She chuckled.

"And when would that be?"

"When you're doing your work thing and don't let me distract you," She said.

"You distract me just fine," You laughed.

"I'm sure I do," She smirked.

"Mhmm," You hummed. "We should probably head to sleep."

"Probably," She agreed, though neither of you moved.

"Or," You suggested.

"Or?"

"Or, we can stay here a little while longer."

"Sounds like a plan," She whispered.

"I have a few last-minute things to pick up for Bella's birthday. I think I'll have Monica do them instead." You began.

"You're a good mom," Natasha hummed.

"Sometimes," You said. "I only say sometimes because I can't give her what she's wanted the most for the past few years. A sibling. She won't let it go."

Natasha's smirk softened into something more tender as she watched you, her hand lazily tracing small circles on your belly. She could tell there was something more behind your words, a weight lingering in your voice.

"Do you want more kids?" Natasha asked, her voice careful, almost hesitant.

You shrugged, your fingers idly toying with the hem of her tank top. "I don't know," you admitted. "My first pregnancy... I was so young, Nat. Terrified. I didn’t know what I was doing. Half the time, I still don’t feel like I do."

"You’re doing amazing," she said quickly, her sincerity evident.

"Thanks," you murmured, your lips twitching into a faint smile. "But if I did have another, I’d want it to be different. I’d want to feel ready and enjoy it instead of being scared out of my mind every second."

"Makes sense," Natasha nodded, her hand sliding down to intertwine with yours. She was quiet momentarily as if weighing something over in her mind.

"What about you?" you asked, tilting your head. "Isabella grilling you on our Facetime call told me enough."

"I'd like kids," Natasha shrugged.

"With me?"

"Of course, with you," She laughed. "Tell me about your pregnancy. What was it like? Something good."

"Oh," You chuckled. "Well, there was a point when I was craving the strangest food."

"And what would that be?" She asked, a small smile on her lips.

"Pickle ice cream."

"Pickle ice cream," Natasha repeated.

"And chocolate syrup," You added.

"That's the oddest combination," She said.

"It was what she wanted," You laughed. "Also, I couldn't eat meat for about four months. I would just puke it all up."

"Was she a picky eater?" Natasha asked.

"Sometimes," You replied. "She's still picky."

"That's not surprising," Natasha smiled. "And what about her birth?"

"That part," You chuckled. "I don't remember much. I know the pain was excruciating."

"Really?"

"Yeah," You nodded. "I kind of dissociated after. I do remember just being so in love with her. Holding her. She was so tiny."

"Wow," Natasha whispered, her hand still tracing lazy circles.

"She was so beautiful," You whispered, a fond smile spreading across your lips.

"Did I ever tell you how much motherhood suits you?" Natasha questioned.

"Well, if I didn't know any better, I'd say you're trying to get me pregnant." You joked.

"If I could, you would be," Natasha said in such a tone that you believe her.

"Oh yeah?" You chuckled.

"I can't imagine anything more beautiful than a mini version of us running around," She continued. "Not to mention, the practice would be kind of fun."

"Yeah," You sighed.

"And," Natasha sat up. "I'd be right here with you through the whole thing. From morning sickness to picking out the most god-awful maternity clothes. Every single step. I'd be with you."

"Really?"

"Really," She whispered.

You took a deep breath. "You talk a good game, Natasha Romanoff."

"I'm a woman of my word."

"Oh, I'm aware." You kissed her.

"So," Natasha whispered. "Does that mean you'll have a kid with me?"

"Maybe," You murmured.

"Maybe?" She frowned.

"Yes," You laughed.

"That's a yes, then," Natasha said.

"Well, not right now," You laughed. "In the words of Beyonce... you have to put a ring on it."

"That's the rule, huh?" Natasha grinned.

"Yup," You said. "No baby, unless there's a ring."

"So," She leaned in, her lips a breath away. "If I put a ring on it, you'll have my kid."

"Well, not just that," You replied.

"Then what?"

"You're also going to be my wife," You whispered.

"Your wife," She echoed, her tongue clicking against the roof of her mouth. "Hmmm, sounds perfect."

"You sound pretty sure," You teased.

"Well, I know I'll marry you," Natasha smirked.

"And why's that?"

"Because," She said, her lips brushing against yours. "We belong together."

"So cheesy," You whispered.

Before Natasha could deepen the kiss, a soft knock sounded at the door. You barely had time to pull back before Isabella pushed it open, standing there with her hands on her hips and a pout on her lips.

"Mama," she whined, her voice tinged with frustration. "The boys are trying to watch scary movies, and I’m not down for it."

You exchanged a glance with Natasha, biting back a laugh at her dramatic delivery. Natasha leaned back against the headboard, her arms crossed, the picture of casual amusement.

"Scary movies, huh?" Natasha asked.

"Yeah! AJ said I’d get nightmares and cry," Isabella huffed, crossing her arms.

"That doesn’t sound very nice," you said, patting the bed beside you. "Come here, birthday girl."

Isabella climbed onto the bed, squeezing herself between you and Natasha. She leaned into your side, her tiny arms wrapping around your waist.

"You can stay with us," Natasha offered.

"Really?" Isabella’s eyes lit up, her earlier frustration forgotten.

"Of course," Natasha grinned. "We were just talking about super important stuff like... pancakes for breakfast tomorrow."

Isabella giggled, her nose scrunching up. "Pancakes aren’t important!"

"Excuse me," Natasha feigned offense, holding a hand to her chest. "Pancakes are very important."

"She’s right," you said, kissing Isabella’s head. "And maybe we’ll make them extra special since it’s your birthday weekend."

"With whipped cream and sprinkles?" Isabella asked, her voice hopeful.

"Absolutely," Natasha said without hesitation, making Isabella delightfully squeal.

As the three of you settled in, Isabella leaned into Natasha, chatting animatedly about everything she wanted to do tomorrow. And though the moment had shifted, you couldn’t help but smile, your heart full as you watched Natasha listen attentively to your daughter, already fitting into your little family as if she belonged there all along.

*****

Natasha whistled softly as she stepped out of the car, taking in the sheer size of Sam's house. She thought your place was impressive, but this? This was something else. Despite its grandeur, the sprawling two-story home had a warm, inviting charm, and the massive backyard—already filled with decorations—was a whole world of its own.

The scene in the backyard was almost magical. Mini tents were set up, each acting as a spa station with its themes—manicures, pedicures, facials, and even a hair-braiding corner. The kids were running around in coordinated pink, gold, and ivory outfits, looking like miniature royalty as they giggled and chased each other.

"Wow," Natasha muttered as she adjusted the gift bag.

You caught her staring and smiled, nudging her shoulder. "Told you, Sam goes all out. He doesn't know how to do small parties."

"Clearly," Natasha said with a chuckle. "This looks like something out of a Pinterest board on steroids."

"Right?" you laughed. "Isabella's been talking about this for weeks. She even picked out a special outfit just for today."

As if on cue, Isabella came running over, her pink and gold dress flouncing as she moved. Her braids were styled in two neat buns, each adorned with little golden clips that sparkled in the sun. She was practically glowing with excitement.

"Natasha! Mama! Look at everything!" she squealed, grabbing both of your hands and pulling you toward the tents.

"Wow," Natasha said, crouching slightly to meet Isabella's eyes. "You look like a princess. That dress is amazing."

"Thanks, it's custom-made," She beamed. "My shoes, too."

"Your whole outfit is custom-made?" Natasha gaped.

"Of course," Isabella smiled. "Auntie Kate is the best. She makes all my clothes and does the alterations. Do you want me to show you how she does it?"

"You know how to sew?" Natasha asked.

"Not yet," Isabella shrugged. "But I'm learning."

"She's a busy kid," You shrugged. You leaned down to kiss her as you hadn't seen her since Sam picked her up after breakfast. "Hi, Bella."

"Hey, Mommy," She grinned.

"Is that my niece?!" Kate called.

"Hey, Auntie," Isabella ran over and hugged her.

"Happy Birthday, Princess," Kate cooed. "Go play; the party's just getting started."

"Okay," She rushed off to join her friends.

"You do make the cutest things," You said, wrapping Kate in a hug. "The dress turned out so good."

"You're not wrong about that," Kate grinned, pulling back from your hug. "Isabella has the taste of a fashion mogul already. I’ll be working for her in no time."

Before you could respond, a familiar voice called out, breaking through the hum of laughter and music.

"Am I interrupting a love fest?" Sam strolled over with a wide grin and a beer in hand. His tailored shirt and casual slacks gave him a polished but laid-back look, typical Sam.

"Always," you teased, stepping back. "Natasha, you remember Sam."

"I do," Natasha said with a slight nod and a polite but firm smile.

"And, of course, I remember you," Sam said, his smile widening as he addressed Natasha. "Nice to see you again, Natasha. Thanks for coming. Isabella's been talking nonstop about you being here."

"I'm glad I could make it," Natasha replied smoothly.

Sam's grin grew as he shifted his gaze between you. "So, how's it going with this one?" he asked Natasha, motioning toward you with a mischievous glint.

You rolled your eyes, already prepared for his antics. "Sam..."

"What?" Sam held up his hands in mock innocence. "Just curious. I like to keep tabs on who’s keeping you on your toes."

Natasha smirked, folding her arms. "I’d say we’re doing pretty well. She keeps me on my toes, too, though."

"Good," Sam said, nodding approvingly. "You need that. Trust me."

"Alright, cool it," you interjected, shaking your head but unable to hide your smile. "You’ve met her before, Sam. No need to grill her again."

"Hey, I'm just being a responsible ex-husband-slash-friend," Sam quipped, sipping his beer. "Besides, it’s nice to see you happy."

Natasha raised an eyebrow, watching the banter with interest. She could see it now—the ease with which you and Sam interacted, the unspoken understanding between you two. There was no tension, no bitterness. Just the comfort of people who’d once been something else but had figured out how to be something better for Isabella’s sake.

"How about you?" Natasha asked, surprising Sam. "You happy?"

Sam blinked, then let out a low chuckle. "I like her," he said, glancing at you. "Smart and straightforward. I can see why you’re with her."

"Don’t dodge the question," Natasha pressed, her smirk deepening.

"Fair enough," Sam said with a shrug. "Yeah, I’m happy. Life’s good. Got a great kid, a solid job, and I still get to hang out with my favorite ex-wife."

"Favorite?" you teased. "How many do you have?"

"Just the one, but you’re still the best," Sam shot back, making Natasha laugh softly.

"Well, I'm glad you two get along," You smiled. "I was a little worried."

"No need to worry," Sam said, his gaze shifting over your shoulder. "Here comes the birthday girl."

Natasha turned and watched as Isabella made her way over, followed closely by her cousins.

"Daddy, what color should I get my nails? AJ said pink is too girly." Isabella asked.

"AJ is a punk, and you know it," Sam said, a serious look on his face.

"Sam!" You scolded. "He's your nephew."

"Sorry," He said.

"You can get any color you want," Natasha offered.

"Any color?" Isabella looked at her.

"Any," Natasha repeated.

"Even black?"

"Black would be an interesting choice, but yes," You nodded.

"Can I get them with glitter?" She asked.

"Definitely," You laughed. "Go have fun. I'll get some snacks in a few."

"Thanks, Mama," She rushed off, her cousins behind her.

"They have a lot of energy," Natasha commented.

"You don't know the half of it," Sam sighed. "Those three could run a marathon. Now, Natasha, how much do you know about grilling?"

"Uh, a little," Natasha answered, slightly confused by the abrupt question.

"Great," Sam handed her his beer and started toward the grill. "I could use a little help over here."

"Okay, then," Natasha glanced at you with amusement.

You grinned and shrugged. "Good luck," you said, waving them off.

"The ex and the new girlfriend," Monica teased as she stepped up to you. "You, Sam, and another woman. Now, where have I seen that before?"

"In your grave, if you don't be quiet," You rolled your eyes at her.

"I'm not dead," Monica laughed.

"Not yet."

"Oh, come on, Y/N," Monica said. "Live a little."

"I've lived a lot already," You sighed. "This party planning drained me. Thanks for picking up the balloons."

"Anything for my goddaughter," Monica said. "Besides, it was on my way."

"It wasn't, but whatever," You smiled.

"Mama!" Isabella called. "Come pick a tent."

"Duty calls," You shook your head. You followed Isabella into a tent where she would be getting her pedicure. You sat to her left while Lenny sat to her right. "So, do you like this party better than the spa we planned?"

"It's way better," Isabella grinned.

"What about the boys?"

"They're being dumb," She rolled her eyes. "But, the dance battle should be fun."

"Indeed it will be," You said as you chose a color.

*********

Natasha stood by the grill, the warm sun overhead and the aroma of sizzling meat filling the air. Sam was expertly flipping burgers, his demeanor relaxed and friendly. A few of his old football teammates stood nearby, chatting and laughing loudly. Natasha could tell they were sizing her up, even if subtly. It didn’t bother her; she’d been in enough social situations to roll with it.

"Natasha, this is my buddy Jordan," Sam said, nodding toward a tall guy with broad shoulders and a grin too charming for his good. "We played together back in college."

"Hey," Natasha said, giving Jordan a polite nod.

"And that's Chris," Sam added, pointing to a stocky man with a buzz cut and a hearty laugh.

"Nice to meet you," Natasha said, shaking his hand.

"And over there is Keith," Sam finished, motioning to a lanky guy with a lazy smile.

"Big fan of your band," Keith said, extending a hand. "I saw you play in Austin a few years ago. You crushed it."

"Thanks," Natasha replied, a small smile tugging at her lips. "Austin was a fun gig."

"So, Sam tells us you’re a rockstar," Jordan said, leaning on the counter of the grill station. "What’s that like?"

"Chaotic, but in the best way," Natasha said. "I get to travel, make music, and meet people. Can’t complain."

"Well, you’re in good company," Sam interjected, handing her a pair of tongs. "Think you can handle flipping some burgers, Rockstar?"

Natasha raised an eyebrow, accepting the tongs. "I think I can manage."

"Here’s the trick," Sam said, pointing closer at the grill. "You press down lightly on the patties, just enough to sear them but not too much—you don’t want to lose the juices."

Natasha mimicked his movements, flipping a burger with precision. "Like this?"

"Perfect," Sam said with a nod. He leaned back against the grill station, watching her work. "So, you’re really into this whole music thing, huh?"

"Yeah," Natasha said, glancing at him with amusement. "Is this your way of scoping me out?"

Sam laughed, shaking his head. "Nah, not really. If Y/N trusts you, that’s enough for me. She’s got good instincts."

Natasha tilted her head, studying him for a moment. "You two seem close. That’s rare for exes."

Sam shrugged, flipping another burger. "We’re a team when it comes to Isabella. She deserves the best from both of us. Besides, Y/N is one of my favorite people. It’d be dumb not to keep her in my life."

"That’s fair," Natasha admitted, handing the tongs back to him. "For the record, she’s pretty incredible."

"Don’t I know it," Sam said, a playful smirk on his face. "But, hey, don’t let me intimidate you. I’m rooting for you, Rockstar."

"Good to know," Natasha said, her tone light but her eyes sharp. She liked that Sam didn’t play games.

"Alright, let’s see if you’re as good with hot dogs as you are with burgers," Sam said, sliding a tray of sausages toward her.

"Bring it on," Natasha replied, rolling up her sleeves.

"So, y/n tells me you're going on tour," Sam began.

"Yes, it's June through October," Natasha nodded. "We start here in LA, go through the us and UK, and then end in Madison Square Garden."

"That's a pretty long time," He replied.

"Yeah, it'll be nice," She nodded.

"When does the tour start?"

"Next week," Natasha said.

"So," He paused. "Y/n won't be able to visit."

"Well, it's hard when we're touring," Natasha nodded. "Oh, she's coming with me. I figured she and Isabella could come to certain cities in the summer. Maybe even ride in the tour bus."

Sam raised an eyebrow, his tongs hovering over the grill as he flipped a burger. "The tour bus, huh? With a bunch of rockstars?"

Natasha smirked, picking up on his subtle unease. "It's not as chaotic as it sounds. We're pretty organized. And the bus is comfortable—lots of space, no wild parties with a kid around."

"Still," Sam said, rubbing the back of his neck, "having Bella on the road... That could be tough. She's got her routine—school, activities, seeing her friends. It’s not just about her, you know? Y/n too. I don’t want her feeling stretched thin trying to juggle everything."

Natasha tilted her head, acknowledging his concern. "I get it. It's a big adjustment, but it’s not like they'll be on the road the whole time. Just a few cities here and there during the summer when school’s out. Y/n’s already thought through the logistics."

Sam exhaled, his jaw tightening as he pressed on a patty with his spatula. "I’m not saying no. I know Y/n will figure it out—she’s always been good at that. I just... worry, you know? Bella needs stability. And if something goes sideways, I’d hate for her to feel stuck in the middle."

Natasha watched him for a moment, appreciating the protective edge in his voice. "I understand where you’re coming from," she said carefully. "And I know you’re looking out for her, which is good. But I also know Y/n. She wouldn’t agree to this if she didn’t think it was what was best for Bella, too. It's not my place to tell you how to parent, but I think it would be a great opportunity for her."

"I hear you," Sam said, the tension in his shoulders easing a bit. "But, I mean, a rockstar, right? That's kind of a big deal."

"It is," Natasha nodded. "But she's met everyone in the band. They all adore her and Bella. I'd never let anything bad happen to either of them."

Sam paused, studying her for a moment. "I like you Romanoff. You can flip a good burger."

Natasha knew it was the end of the conversation for the time being. Sam flipped a burger with practiced ease, his jaw tight as he stayed quiet for a beat too long. Natasha could sense his unease simmering beneath the surface, even as he kept his town.

“Look, it’s not like I don’t think Y/n’s thought this through,” he said finally, eyes fixed on the grill. “But Bella’s... she’s still a kid. And being on the road, in and out of hotels, buses—it’s not exactly a routine.”

Natasha adjusted her stance, leaning casually against the counter to match his energy. “It’s not a nine-to-five,” she agreed, keeping her tone neutral. “But it’s not like she’d be on her own. Y/n planned everything to ensure Bella’s comfort—schooling, downtime, and even the other band members. Everyone’s on board.”

Sam nodded slightly but didn’t look at her. “Yeah, well, it’s easy for everyone to be on board when it’s not their kid. I’m just saying... this is a lot to ask of her.”

Natasha resisted the urge to bristle. Instead, she tried to meet him halfway. “I get it,” she said softly. “You’re protective. You should be. But Y/n isn’t making this decision lightly. She’d never put Bella in a situation where she didn’t feel safe or secure.”

Sam flipped another patty, his movements sharp. “It’s not about Y/n. I trust her. It’s... it’s the whole thing. Bella deserves stability.”

“And she’ll have it,” Natasha said firmly, holding his gaze when he finally glanced at her. “Even on the road, she’ll have her mom, a schedule, and a whole group of people who care about her. Stability doesn’t always look the same for every family.”

Sam exhaled through his nose, clearly turning her words over in his mind. “I guess.” He paused, staring down at the grill. “Just... Y/n should’ve brought this up with me first. I feel like I’m hearing about it after it’s already decided.”

Natasha nodded, her tone softening. “That’s fair. If this hasn’t been fully talked through, you deserve that conversation. I’m not trying to overstep here. I just wanted you to know I’m in this too—for both of them.”

Sam gave her a long look, his expression unreadable. “You care about them, huh?”

“More than anything,” Natasha said simply.

He nodded, his grip on the spatula loosening. Sam nodded, picking up the spatula again. “Alright, Romanoff. I’ll talk to Y/n to ensure we’re all on the same page. But don’t expect me to go easy on you just because you flip a decent burger.”

Natasha chuckled, picking up her spatula. "Wouldn't dream of it."

***

The dance-off had been a success. Isabella and her cousins were exhausted but beaming with pride as the last notes faded. The party continued with food, laughter, and joy. The kids were excited to play in the bouncy house, and the parents were having a blast. Steve, Wanda, and the rest of the band came to celebrate, and it was a joyous occasion. Everyone coming together to celebrate Bella was beautiful, and you were grateful for your family.

It was time for you to make a small speech before you sang happy birthday to her. It was a tradition you'd started when she was little, and it was just the three of you. 

You stood before all the guests and ignored the photographer buzzing around you. These pictures and videos would only be for family mostly.

"It's Isabella's tenth birthday," You began. "I know it may seem dramatic for us to give speeches, but this is a big one. Our baby is growing up. But I am so proud of her. She's kind, smart, talented, and so much fun. We have a special girl." You motioned for Isabella to stand next to you.

"Mommy and Daddy love you so much. You are so special," Sam continued.

"We love you, princess," You grinned. "Happy birthday."

"Happy birthday, sweetheart," Sam echoed.

Everyone clapped as the birthday song was sung.

"You ready for your cake?" Sam asked.

"Yes," Isabella beamed.

"Okay," You laughed. You leaned over, taking a moment to swipe a piece of icing to tap on her nose. "I love you, baby girl." You kissed her cheek as Sam kissed the other side.

"Love you, Bella," Sam added.

"Love you, Daddy," Isabella giggled. "Love you, Mama."

"Okay, let's get this show on the road," You clapped.

The rest of the party went off without a hitch. Isabella opened her presents and was thrilled. She loved everything she'd received, which was so special to watch. Her cousins and friends stayed over to enjoy the bouncy house, and all the parents were having a blast. You had your arm around Natasha's waist as you watched Isabella continue to bounce. It was a great way to end the night. 

--->

Hotel California | Track 2 - Electric Desires

Natasha Romanoff x Fem!Reader

Summary: Natasha Romanoff, frontwoman of the punk rock band Velvet Rebellion, falls hard for a woman she believes is too good for her. Their intense relationship unfolds in the chaotic world of rock 'n' roll, where they struggle to balance fame, personal demons, and their undeniable passion for each other.

W/c: 7.2k

Chapter 2/12

Masterlist | General Masterlist

Note: Each chapter is hella long because I had time to sit and wait to release this one. Weekly updates might be the wave.

R and Nat will be moving quickly so if you like slow burn this isn't the story lol.

Themes: love, fame, sex, drugs

Natasha sat cross-legged on the worn-out couch in their cluttered studio: which was just Tony’s garage. The room buzzed with creative energy and the faint scent of old leather, a familiar combination that fueled the essence of Velvet Rebellion. She strummed her guitar absentmindedly, her fingers dancing over the fretboard, creating a gentle hum in the room. She was in her element in full force. 

Steve, Bucky, Wanda, and Tony were huddled around a battered coffee table, scraps of lyrics, and scribbled notes strewn about like confetti after a wild party. They were her bandmates, her comrades in music, and tonight they were deep into a songwriting session. Natasha enjoyed days like this the most. She often found the songwriting process frustrating but fulfilling, which is why they’re on hour four of this session with only the first verse written. It seems she’s not the only one with writer’s block. 

"Natasha, we need something here," Steve’s voice cut through the room's creative haze. He furrowed his brow, fingers dancing over the keys of a vintage synthesizer. "A melody to tie this verse together."

Natasha tore her gaze away from her guitar and glanced over at Wanda. Her fingers stopped mid-strum. She blinked; her thoughts momentarily disrupted.

"Nat, you with us?" Tony chimed in, his eyes darting between Natasha and his laptop.

A flush of embarrassment washed over Natasha. She'd been lost in thought, her mind wandering where it shouldn't have. She’d been thinking about you again. She couldn’t get you out of her head. There was a hint of exhaustion on her features as she sat her guitar next to her. She’d spent the previous night going down a rabbit hole of YouTube videos involving you. It seemed you’d understated how good of a musician you were. Natasha discovered you had a small fanbase with plenty of videos dedicated to your brief yet impactful career. Even if your resume included a lot of backup singing, she could see why there was a push for you to strive for something more. You were talented in every sense of the word. 

With a sheepish smile, she nodded. "Sorry, guys. Got a bit distracted there."

She fumbled to put her phone face down on the coffee table, hoping her bandmates hadn't noticed her constant glances at the silent screen. Natasha had been replaying every moment of your brief encounter at the party in her mind, questioning if she'd made a connection or if it was just another fleeting moment.

Steve’s fingers continued their dance on the synthesizer as he tried out different melodies, his voice soft, almost hypnotic. "No worries, Nat. Happens to the best of us."

But Natasha couldn't help but feel a pang of frustration with herself. She was the lead singer and lyricist and usually held everything together. Yet today, her mind was scattered, torn between music and an unexpected, lingering hope that her phone would light up with a message from someone she'd barely known.

Natasha's fingers deftly reached for her well-worn writing book, nestled among scattered lyrics and half-finished songs. Her eyes scanned the pages, searching for something that had evaded her for far too long. Her bandmates carried on their musical discussion, oblivious to her momentary distraction.

Finally, she found it—a scribbled idea that had haunted her thoughts for weeks but had remained unreachable, refusing to take a tangible form. Natasha's heart raced as she read the words, her handwriting staring back at her, challenging her to bring them to life.

"Guys, hold on a sec," she called out, her voice trembling with excitement. Her bandmates stopped their conversation, turning their attention to her. Natasha's fingers tapped the page she'd found. "I think I've got something."

Wanda leaned in closer, her eyes gleaming with curiosity. "What is it?"

Natasha cleared her throat and began to read the lyrics she'd unearthed, her voice carrying a hint of the sweet melody she envisioned:

"Underneath the city lights, I saw your face,

In the crowded room, you were my saving grace.

A glance, a smile, it all fell into place,

In that moment, I knew, love's tender embrace."

As Natasha recited the lyrics, Wanda's eyes widened, and she nodded appreciatively. "That's beautiful, Natasha."

Natasha couldn't help but blush at the compliment. She felt the lyrics were deeply personal, a reflection of the emotions she'd been grappling with. "Thanks, Wanda. But I think it's missing something."

Wanda leaned in closer, her fingers lightly grazing Natasha's arm as they huddled together over the writing book. "What do you have in mind?"

A spark of inspiration flickered in Natasha's eyes. "How about this? Instead of just a glance and a smile, it's about meeting someone and falling in love at first sight. The moment your heart skips a beat."

Wanda's lips curved into a knowing smile. "I like that. It adds depth to the story."

With renewed enthusiasm, Natasha began to sing the modified lyrics, her voice filled with emotion:

"In the heart of the city, I met your eyes,

In that instant, I felt my soul take flight.

Love at first sight, a sweet surprise,

Two worlds colliding, under starry skies."

The words flowed effortlessly, weaving a sweet melody that resonated with everyone in the room. Sitting behind his drum kit, Tony started tapping a rhythm, adding a pulsating beat to the song. Steve found his way back to the keyboard, his fingers searching for the chords that matched the melody.

The studio came alive with the energy of collaboration as they played off each other, improvising and experimenting. Wanda's voice dipped into low notes, adding a haunting harmony, while Tony began to find a mix to add to the music. 

It wasn't the final product but the magic of creation—their music taking shape from a mere spark of inspiration. Natasha couldn't help but smile as they continued to refine the song. 

Bucky sat down his guitar, a sly grin playing on his lips as the melody they'd created together hung in the air. He couldn't help but feel a shift in Natasha's usual songwriting style, one that intrigued him. "Nat, you're getting into writing love songs now?"

Natasha shot him a playful yet challenging look, her fingers still scribbling along the notebook pages. "Oh, please, Bucky. We had love songs on our first album."

Bucky chuckled, shaking his head. "Not like this. These lyrics, they're something else."

Natasha sighed, closing the tiny notebook again. She knew he was right, and she couldn't deny the shift in her lyrics and her emotions. "Alright, fine. Maybe I am writing a love song."

Bucky leaned forward, his gaze intense. "So, are you in love, Natasha?"

She met his gaze head-on. "No, Bucky. I'm not."

Bucky nodded in understanding, sensing the unspoken annoyance in her words. Natasha had always been guarded about matters of the heart, and they respected her boundaries. They returned to their instruments, each lost in their thoughts, letting the music speak the words that couldn't be said.

********************

The leotard store was an arrangement of colors, and Isabella, your spirited nine-year-old daughter, was bouncing between the racks, playing her own game of hide-and-seek with the endless collection of spandex. Her enthusiasm for picking out leotards rivaled her passion for gymnastics.

"Mama, check this one out! It's super sparkly!" Isabella shouted, triumphantly holding up a leotard adorned with sequins like a little treasure hunter.

You and Monica shared a knowing smile as you surveyed the options. "Great choice, Bella," you replied, trying to match her enthusiasm. "Let's add it to the pile."

Isabella nodded, seemingly satisfied, and skipped off in pursuit of her next leotard conquest.

As Monica and you continued your search, your mind drifted back to a conversation you’d had at Harley's party just a couple of weeks ago. There was a woman there, a stranger to you, who had engaged you in a conversation that had held your attention for longer than you’d expected.

"Hey, y/n" Monica began, her tone a mix of curiosity and amusement. She sifted through the clothes, trying to understand what she was looking for. Isabella had a very specific taste.  "Are you going to finally tell me about the woman from the party? You two seemed to be hitting it off."

You glanced at Monica, feeling somewhat caught off guard. "Oh, that? It was just a casual conversation. I doubt it's anything worth dwelling on."

Monica raised an eyebrow, clearly not satisfied with your dismissal. "Just a casual conversation? You looked pretty into her. What's her name?"

You sighed, knowing Monica wouldn't let it go quickly. "Her name is Natasha Romanoff. She’s the lead singer of that band. Velvet Rebellion. We talked for a while. But honestly, I haven't reached out to her or anything." You shrugged. 

Monica persisted, undeterred. "She’s cute. I’ve heard a couple of their songs in passing. Why haven’t you called her?"

You shifted uncomfortably, your fingers unconsciously fussing with a leotard on the rack. "Life's been hectic lately. I've barely had a moment to breathe, let alone call someone."

Isabella, who had overheard your conversation while meticulously assessing leotards with the discerning eye of a seasoned fashion critic, joined in. "Mom, you should call her."

You couldn't help but smile at Isabella's straightforward logic. "You focus on the leotards. You only need a few for now. You’re growing like a weed."

Monica and Isabella exchanged amused glances, both united in their disbelief. "The kid is right," Monica declared, her eyes dancing with mischief.

Isabella nodded in agreement, adding her hint of authority. "I’m just saying." She held up a pink leotard and you shook your head. The cut wasn’t appropriate in your opinion. She returned the leotard to the rack with a sigh and went to a new one. 

Monica's curiosity was relentless, and she wasn't about to let the topic of the woman from Harley's party go. As you continued looking through the racks with Isabella's energy bounding around you, she probed further.

"Come on, y/n, what's the big deal about calling her?" Monica inquired, a mischievous glint in her eye.

You sighed, trying to choose your words carefully. "Mon, you know their band's reputation. The tabloids haven’t been so easy on them. Especially with them being new. Trust me I’ve checked.” You shook your head. “And besides, Natasha used to date Carol Danvers. We’re not friends, but we’re not exactly enemies either. I’m not in the business of going behind her back. It was a bad breakup if it’s anything like the tabloids say and I don't want to risk the same fate."

Monica raised an eyebrow, her expression one of bemused disbelief. “You're not even dating this Natasha person yet. It could be a fun fling or something. You don't have to jump into a full-blown relationship. Also, you hate Carol Danvers."

“I don’t hate her,” You refuted her claims. “I simply enjoy spending my time in spaces that don’t have her in them.” You couldn't deny Monica's point, but the cautious side of you still hesitated. "Also, I know it doesn’t have to be more than what it is. But I've been down that road before, and it wasn't pretty. Besides, I don't want to have this conversation in front of Isabella."

You leaned down to pass a few leotards to Isabella and whispered to her, "Sweetie, can you go find some shoes that match these leotards? That would be a big help."

Isabella nodded enthusiastically, her focus shifting from the leotards to her newfound mission. As she scampered off in search of the perfect shoes, you turned your attention back to Monica.

Monica gave you an understanding look, her voice lowered. "Alright, I get it, y/n,  But don't let the past hold you back from something potentially great. You deserve happiness, too. Even if that means you fuck a few times and that’s it."

“Monica,” Your eyes widened, clearly scandalized by her bluntness. 

“Am I lying?” Monica held up a hand. “When’s the last time you had some? You don’t know do you?”

“I do know. It hasn’t been that long.” You considered her words. You thought back to the very brief casual sex thing you had with a woman around last year. Or was it two years ago? “You’re right I don’t know.” 

“See,” Monica leaned against a rack. “Ask her out to the party tonight. It’s a group thing. I get to vet her. You get to see her. We all win.”

“Fine, fine,” You shake your head. 

“Call her now,” Monica nodded. 

“Um, she’s probably busy.” You furrowed your brow. Another excuse from you. 

“She’ll answer,” Monica said assuredly. “Do it or I’ll dm her myself.”

“Don’t you dare,” You held up a warning finger to Monica. Sometimes your best friend’s forwardness wasn’t welcome. Even if she meant well. She raised a brow at you before pointedly looking toward your purse. “Fine.” You grumbled as you took out your phone. 

You walked to a quieter corner of the store, away from the bustle and the excited chatter of Isabella and Monica, who were now hunting for beam shoes. You scrolled through your contacts until you found Natasha's name. With a deep breath, you pressed the call button.

On the first ring, Natasha's voice came through, calm and confident. "Hello?"

You couldn't help but smile, though your attempt to sound equally composed might have come off as forced. "Hey, Natasha. How's everything going?"

“Oh, it’s you,” Natasha's tone change was evident. "Everything's good. I've been wondering when you'd call."

You felt a rush of relief hearing that she'd been waiting for your call. "I'm sorry it took me a while. Life's been crazy lately, and, well, you know how it is."

Natasha's tone shifted slightly, her voice carrying a hint of playfulness. "I do know. But you don't need to be nervous. It's just a call."

You chuckled softly, feeling a bit more at ease. "You're right. I've just been out of practice with this whole...courting thing."

“Courting? Is that what we’re doing?” Natasha's voice lowered, the flirtatious edge unmistakable. "Well, maybe we can help you get back into practice."

You couldn't help but blush, even though she couldn't see it over the phone. "That sounds like a plan."

Just then, you heard Isabella's excited voice in the background, likely showing off a pair of beam shoes she'd found. Natasha must have heard it too.

"Sounds like you've got company," Natasha noted. 

Just as you were about to respond to Natasha, Isabella's excited voice carried through the phone in the background. "Mama, look at these beam shoes! They're so cool!"

You grinned and chuckled softly. "That's my daughter, Isabella."

Natasha's voice held a hint of warmth. "She sounds like a lively girl."

“She is,” You nodded. You give Isabella a thumbs-up and a smile. "Listen, Natasha," you began, "there's something I wanted to mention. There's a party tonight at this great club called Heatwave. Have you heard of it?”

“Yes, I’ve been there once or twice,” Natasha replied.

“Well, I don't usually go out much, but I'll be there. It would be great if you could join."

There was a brief pause on the other end, and then Natasha's voice returned, filled with a sense of anticipation. "Heatwave, huh? I'll stop by."

Your heart skipped a beat at her response. It seemed that, despite your initial hesitation, the possibility of something exciting and new was on the horizon, and you couldn't help but look forward to seeing Natasha at the party tonight.

“What time should I be there?” Natasha questioned. 

“I like to put Bella to bed before going out,” You informed her. “My mother will be watching her, so I’d say around nine. Does that work for you?”

“That works for me,” Natasha agreed. 

“Okay then, Natasha,” You smiled, wondering if she could hear it in your voice. “I’ll see you then.”

“Great, see you then.” Natasha mirrored your excitement. You hung up the phone and tucked it into your back pocket. You walked back over to Monica, trying to hide your excitement, but she noticed immediately. 

She gave you a silent questioning look and you give her a thumbs up in return. This should be fun. 

***********************

Back inside the recording studio, the band was wrapping up what turned out to be a successful recording session. They’d written one song so far and revised a few Natasha had in her back pocket for times like this. Which was the most progress they’d gotten in a year. Either way, it was a session that left them fulfilled. Natasha stood in front of the microphone, her voice still echoing in the room. She exchanged satisfied smiles with her bandmates before returning her wired headphones to their stand. 

As they wrapped up their belongings Steve spoke up, "Alright, Natasha, we nailed it today. What's the plan for tonight?"

Natasha leaned back against the soundboard, a wry smile playing on her lips. "Oh, you know me, Steve. I'm a creature of habit."

Steve chuckled, "Yeah, we all are, aren't we? It's one big codependent family."

Natasha nodded, her red hair cascading around her shoulders. "True, but you guys like it that way."

Steve smirked, "And you do too."

Natasha sighed playfully, "Alright, you caught me. I have a thing."

The moment she mentioned 'a thing,' the rest of the group became intrigued. Tony, Bucky, and Wanda started bombarding her with questions, eager to know more. They were known for their tight-knit bond, often spending their evenings together.

Tony asked, grinning, "What kind of thing? Spill the beans, Red!"

Natasha tried to deny it, but under the pressure of their excited curiosity, she finally admitted, "Okay, okay! I'm going to Heatwave, a club downtown. I'm meeting up with a new friend."

Immediately, it was settled - if Natasha was going out, they were all going out. Tony's eyes gleamed with mischief, "Sounds like a party! Can we come too?"

Natasha hesitated for a moment, thinking about the guys' tendency to get a little rowdy. Then she relented, "Alright, fine. We can all go."

Steve high-fived Tony, and Bucky and Wanda exchanged excited glances. "This is gonna be awesome!" Steve exclaimed. Though he wasn’t much of a partier he loved exploring new places. 

Natasha couldn't help but grin at their enthusiasm, "Yeah, let's hope it's good, then."

With the decision made, the band members packed up their instruments, ready for another night on the town. 

*****************

As you stood before the bathroom mirror in your finest party outfit, face and hair all done up, the room around you painted a stark contrast. The soft notes of Beyonce’s “Yes” played in the background as you prepared for your night out. The bathroom was a chaotic scene, messy and disheveled, with makeup and hair curlers scattered haphazardly. Clothes lay strewn on the floor and over the edge of the bathtub. The countertop was cluttered with various cosmetic products, their caps discarded carelessly.

A hairbrush, half-buried under a pile of clothes, seemed to have given up on its role in maintaining order. The floor bore the evidence of spilled powders and makeup brushes discarded in haste.

Isabella, standing in the doorway, disapproved of this sight. Her usually tidy nature couldn't help but frown at the disarray. With her wide, disapproving eyes, she silently conveyed her thoughts to you. “Why must it be so messy in here?”

“Must? I knew I was creating a bougie child,” You laughed to yourself, applying the final remnants of your makeup.

“I’m not bougie. I just go to a good school,” Isabella quipped. She stood with her arms folded her expression showing her unhappiness with the looks of your room. 

"I know I pay the high tuition bill remember?" You mutter. Sierra Canyon was a school worth every bit of the $35,000 tuition. Even if it did hurt you to sign that check every year. “Well, I’ll pay you twenty dollars to clean it up,” You offer.

“Forty and we have a deal,” She counters. 

“Forty?” You asked incredulously. 

“Inflation, Mama,” Isabella explains as if it’s obvious. “My favorite toys aren’t cheap anymore.”

“I see,” You mumble. “You drive a hard bargain, but you have a deal.” You turn back to the mirror. 

You did a spin to get Isabella’s final say. You wore a black backless draped split dress that reached mid-thigh, perfectly complemented by your sleek, hair slicked into a bun with two small bangs framing your face. The finishing touches of makeup were precise, accentuating your features with a subtle, smoky eye and a deep red lip. 

“You look really good,” Isabella nodded. 

“Not too trampy?” You asked and she shook her head. 

“Not,” Isabella said. 

“You know that was kind of a test and you failed?” You sighed. “Your dad lets you watch reality TV at his place again?”

“Maybe,” Isabella pretended to zip her lips and throw away the key. She was not one to tell. 

You couldn't help but smile. You bent down to Isabella's level and planted a series of gentle kisses all over her cheeks, as she mostly wiped them off with a giggle. 

“Oh, Isabella Marie, my little artist," You chuckled, feigning scandalization. "You've ruined my masterpiece!"

Isabella just laughed, her eyes sparkling with admiration for you. She reached up to touch the necklace you were wearing, a subtle gesture of appreciation.

You took Isabella's hand and said, "Come on, it's time for bed."

“I really should try to convince you to let me stay up later,” Isabella commented as she allowed you to drag her out to the living room. 

You made your way to her bedroom, where you tucked her in with great care.

“Did you brush your teeth?” You asked as you rearranged her pillows. 

“Yep,” Isabella nodded. “And I washed my face.”

“Good girl,” You praised her. 

As you smoothed the covers over Isabella and adjusted her stuffed animals, Isabella reminded you with a bright smile, "Mama, remember, I have Lenny’s skating birthday party tomorrow. You said we'd go together."

You leaned in and kissed Isabella's forehead, making sure to wipe her face free of your makeup, as your heart warmed by your daughter's excitement. "Of course. We’ll be there. Now sleep, I love you.”

“Read me a story?” She begged in anticipation of your answer. 

“One story,” You warned her before walking over to her bookshelf. You grabbed Hair Love by Matthew Cherry, one of her favorites these days. You sat beside her, offering her your best voice as you began to read to her. Isabella leaned into your body. When you were done, her eyes drooped with drowsiness as she whispered a contented, "Goodnight, Mama.”

“Goodnight, my precious girl. Sweet dreams." You turned off the bedside lamp, leaving the room in a warm, cozy darkness. With one final kiss, you left Isabella to her dreams. 

With your preparations complete, you rushed out of Isabella’s bedroom and headed for the kitchen. Time was of the essence. In your hurry, you grabbed your purse and a bottle of water from the fridge. With a sigh of relief, you twisted open the cap and took a long, refreshing sip.

As you did, your mother entered the kitchen, her gaze appraising your outfit with a discerning eye.

"You're going out looking like that?" Her mother's tone was a mix of concern and disapproval.

“What don’t you like my outfit?” You turned to face her with a determined look. Your mother sighed but said nothing. "Yes, Mom. I've already put Isabella to bed, and I'll be back by two at the latest."

Your mother's expression softened, but she couldn't hide her worry. "Y/n, you know I worry when you go out so late."

You smiled reassuringly. "I know, Mom, but I never go out anymore. It’s all mom's life and work. I just want to have some fun with friends tonight. I promise to be careful."

“That only makes me feel slightly better,” She shook her head. 

"I'll leave my phone on in case of an emergency, okay?" You promised her. 

Your mother nodded; her eyes filled with maternal concern. "Alright, but you better answer if I call."

You laughed softly and hugged your mother. "I promise. You can count on me."

With a final smile and a quick kiss on her cheek, you left the kitchen, hoping to catch your Uber before it was too late. 

************

As Natasha and the rest of Velvet Rebellion arrived at Heatwave, the vibrant thump of bass and the lively chatter of the crowd spilled into the street. The atmosphere was electric, and it was clear that the club lived up to its reputation. There was a line wrapped around the entrance, everyone attempting to get to the same point. 

Natasha was sure they would be able to get in unscathed. However, as they approached the entrance, it became evident that someone had tipped off the paparazzi about their plans. As soon as they exited the car, flashbulbs began to pop, and reporters shouted questions. Natasha and Wanda, not yet accustomed to such situations, swiftly made their way inside, their confidence unshaken.

The boys followed closely behind, with security personnel discreetly positioned around them. However, the security was mostly unnecessary. Velvet Rebellion wasn't a superstar band, and they had no intention of acting like one. They were here to enjoy the music and the vibes, just like any other patrons.

Once inside, the pulsating rhythm of the club enveloped them. Heatwave was a mix of hip-hop, reggae, rock, and everything in between. The diverse crowd danced and mingled, creating an intoxicating blend of cultures and energies. The dimly lit club was a sanctuary for adults, a place where the music was loud, and the energy was contagious.

Natasha and her bandmates moved deeper into the club, losing themselves in the music and the seamless fusion of genres. The vibes were indeed immaculate, and they were ready to savor every moment of the night, leaving their fame behind for a while and simply being themselves - music lovers enjoying a night out.

Wanda, swept up in the excitement of the club's atmosphere, leaned in closer to Natasha and shouted over the thumping bass, "Hey, Nat I'll find us a booth! Tony's going to grab drinks for everyone!"

Natasha nodded and gave her a thumbs-up before deciding to excuse herself to the bathroom. The path to the restroom was a maze of dancing bodies and neon lights. A few girls recognized her and attempted to approach her for autographs or selfies, but Natasha simply smiled and waved, preferring to do things in peace. She could feel the presence of her security guard, Mike, behind her as she stepped into the bathroom. He waited outside of course. 

After freshening up in the bathroom, Natasha emerged and found herself back in the crowded club. As she navigated the sea of people, she accidentally bumped into someone. Before she could react, her security personnel stepped forward, ready to intervene. However, Natasha recognized the person she had bumped into and quickly raised a hand to stop her security detail.

“Mike, it’s okay,” Natasha nodded to him. 

It was you.  A hint of amusement danced in your eyes as you noted the security presence. You couldn't help but think of the time when you, too, needed security. Back when your father was at the height of his career. Now not so much. 

Despite the loud music, you managed to engage in a conversation, leaning close to hear each other over the thumping bass.

Natasha, with a playful smile, observed you, her eyes raking over your bad in a way that sent chills up your spine. "You look stunning tonight. That dress suits you."

"Why, thank you, Natasha. You look great too.” You lightly touched her arm. “I’m glad you could make it.”

“Me too.” Natasha shouted over the music. "Life's been busy."

You nodded in understanding, "Tell me about it. It's been a whirlwind."

Natasha's eyes sparkled with curiosity. "What's new with you? How have you been?"

You leaned in closer, your lips almost brushing against Natasha's ear as you shouted above the music. "Lots of work, but tonight, I'm here to let loose. What about you? Any new songs in the works?"

Natasha nodded with a grin. "Always working on something.”

“That’s good then,” You smile back. You blink at her through your thick lashes before your eyes scan the room. “I see you brought your friends.”

“I have,” Natasha stepped a bit closer, though it was subtle, and you didn’t notice. You liked feeling the warmth radiating from her. “They wouldn’t let me come alone.”

“Gotta love them,” You joked. “Care to dance?” You ask. 

“Lead the way,” Natasha takes your hand as you drag her onto the dance floor. She pretends she’s not checking out your ass but when you look back you nearly catch her. Funny. 

Just as you and Natasha hit the dance floor, the DJ transitioned into a surprising mix of "What Is Love" by Haddaway and "In Da Club" by 50 Cent. The blend of the '90s dance classic and the early 2000s hip-hop anthem was unexpectedly catchy, and the crowd roared in approval.

Natasha was a fantastic dancer, her movements fluid and precise. You were equally impressive, managing to keep up with Natasha's rhythm effortlessly. Your bodies moved in perfect sync as you joined the sea of people on the dance floor.

The atmosphere was lively, energetic, and incredibly fun. Laughter and cheers filled the air as the club-goers embraced the unexpected combination of music with enthusiasm. The dance floor seemed to vibrate with the collective joy of everyone present.

You couldn't help but enjoy having Natasha so close. Her skin against your fingertips felt like heaven. The way her hands rested gently against your back. It was intimate, warm, and sensual despite the tempo of the music. 

As the music continued to pulse through the club and once you were all danced out, bodies slick with sweat, you led Natasha to a booth where her bandmates were already seated. Their faces lit up with excitement as they spotted Natasha. It’s then you noticed Monica was already sitting amongst the rockstars somehow having made it past security. 

“There you are,” Monica smiled sweetly. “You two were on fire out there. I was just making friends with our new family.” She said despite the quizzical looks. You reciprocated her hug as you whispered low into her ear. 

“I hate you so much,” You growled. 

“I love you too,” Monica laughed. 

"Natasha, this is Monica," you said, introducing your best friend to the redhead. 

Monica extended a friendly hand and smiled, though there was a hint of suspicion in her eyes. "Nice to meet you, Natasha."

Natasha returned the smile warmly, "Likewise, Monica."

As everyone settled into the booth, the conversation flowed effortlessly. Monica was cautious but kind, warming up to Natasha as they chatted about various topics. The club atmosphere had a way of breaking down barriers, and it wasn't long before they were all laughing and enjoying each other's company.

Somewhere along the way, the group decided to order a mix of different foods and drinks, sharing bites and sips as the night wore on. On the booth, Natasha sat next to you, the two of you sharing a closeness that was hard to ignore. During the lively conversations and the infectious rhythm of the music, Natasha couldn't shake the feeling that someone in the crowd had their phone out, possibly recording you. The thought bothered her, but you kept her engaged and distracted, your charm and energy captivating.

There was a break in the peace Natasha felt as her sharp eyes caught sight of her ex-girlfriend, Carol Danvers, making her way towards the booth. Natasha knew that this could potentially lead to a problem, so she decided to intercept Carol before things escalated. 

“Excuse me for a moment,” Natasha sighed. She was not expecting this to happen tonight of all nights. You watch the two of them walk away before turning your attention back to the group. It was none of your business. "Carol, hi, let me talk to you.” Natasha wanted to take action before the mess. The last thing she needed was a problem when there was none. 

She gently guided Carol to a more private corner where the music was lower, allowing them to have a conversation without distractions. As they stood facing each other, Natasha's demeanor was polite but distant. She wasn't fond of talking to Carol but wanted to ensure she was okay.

“I see you’re having fun,” Carol rubbed her sweaty hands against her jeans. Her eyes looked a little bloodshot, the deep bags being covered by concealer and heavy makeup. In all honesty, Natasha could tell Carol was not in her correct frame of mind. Whether that was due to lack of sleep or something else wasn’t her responsibility.  Carol's voice quivered with emotion as she spoke, "You look good."

“Thank you,” Natasha sighed and shook her head, her expression a mix of sadness and resolution. "Carol, it's not worth it. We've been through this."

“I know,” Carol nodded. “I just wanted to say hello.” 

Natasha found Carol’s meek demeanor unsettling. It was so unlike her. Again, not her problem. 

“Look, it was good to see you,” Natasha peaked back at the booth to see you were laughing with Monica about something. “Take care of yourself.” Natasha rubs a hand over Carol’s arm before walking away. She was not in the mood to be dealing with this right now. When she sits down again, it takes a moment for her to reacclimate with the group, her feelings of dread and the aftermath of the breakup all taking over again. 

You noticed the change in her demeanor and decided to check in on her.

With genuine concern in your eyes, you asked softly, "Natasha, is everything okay?"

Natasha tried to feign a smile, "Yeah, I'm fine. Just... old memories, you know?"

You nodded, understanding that sometimes the past had a way of sneaking up on you. You decided to lift the mood by embracing the party spirit. As fans approached you for pictures, only allowed with the say-so of security, you graciously obliged, even though you weren’t used to so much attention. Having a famous family meant everyone assumed you were someone to know too.  The smiles on their faces and their gratitude brought a spark of joy to the night.

However, Natasha's mood didn't seem to improve. You could see the lingering discomfort on her face and sensed that Natasha might need a change of scenery. You leaned in closer to Natasha and asked, "You sure you're okay, Natasha? If you want, we can get out of here."

Natasha appreciated your concern and gave you a small, genuine smile. "Isn’t this your friend’s party?”

“Alicia? She’ll understand,” You grinned. “I’m a mom.” You shrug. 

“How many times have you used that excuse?” Natasha questioned. 

“Once or twice,” You laughed. 

“I think that might be a good idea then." Natasha leaned over to whisper to Wanda that she was leaving. Wanda narrowed her eyes between the two of you but ultimately said nothing. 

“Monica, I’m leaving with Natasha,” You informed your best friend. “I love you.” “Love you too,” Monica smiled briefly. “Call me tomorrow and tell me everything.” She said a bit lower. 

“I will,” You roll your eyes. 

As you made your way towards the exit, Natasha felt grateful for your understanding and support. As you neared the club's exit, you leaned in closer to Natasha and suggested, "Let's use the back exit. It's a quicker way out, and we can avoid the paparazzi."

Natasha nodded in agreement, appreciating your thoughtfulness. She followed you towards the inconspicuous back exit, with Mike, Natasha's security guard, close behind. The corridor was dimly lit, and the sounds of the club faded away with each step.

Walking side by side, you and Natasha found a comfortable silence between you. Natasha appreciated the quiet respite after the club's raucousness. 

Then, without hesitation, you reached out and gently took Natasha's hand. It was a bold move, and Natasha's heart skipped a beat. The connection felt warm and reassuring, 

Natasha looked at you, her eyes softening with gratitude. Your fingers entwined, as you continued down the dimly lit sidewalk together, taking comfort in the simple act of holding hands, a gesture of comfort and support.

“Downtown Los Angeles is not exactly the safest place to hang out at night,” You point out. 

“Did you have anywhere in mind?” Natasha questions. “I’m not really ready to go home yet.’

“How about here?” You point to the restaurant just across the street. It was settled. 

You and Natasha walked into the small Japanese food restaurant and were greeted by a soothing ambiance of sleek and modern dining. The interior featured clean lines, polished wooden tables, and elegant, dimmed lighting that created a cozy yet sophisticated atmosphere. The walls were adorned with tasteful Japanese-inspired artwork, adding to the restaurant's aesthetic appeal.

Despite the late hour, they were still open, and there weren't many people left in the restaurant. The subdued chatter of a few diners in hushed conversations added to the tranquil atmosphere.

The restaurant staff welcomed you and Natasha with warm smiles, happy to accommodate your late-night visit. You were ushered to a well-appointed table with comfortable seating, creating a sense of intimacy in the otherwise empty space.

Once seated, you took the lead in order, your familiarity with the menu evident. You chose the baked crab hand rolls, a delectable choice known for its rich flavors and delicate textures, and edamame with a sprinkle of salt for a simple and satisfying appetizer.

Natasha decided to indulge in a sushi sampler, intrigued by the restaurant's offerings. She also ordered drinks for you to share, wanting to continue the evening in a relaxed and enjoyable manner, free from the distractions of the outside world.

As you waited for the food to arrive, you turned your attention to Natasha, your expression carrying a hint of concern.

"Natasha, "You began hesitantly, "Can you tell me more about Carol? Should I be worried about her showing up like that?"

Natasha sighed, recognizing the need for honesty. She leaned in, speaking softly, "Carol is my ex-girlfriend. We used to be really close, and she was a good person, but lately, she's been caught up in the wrong crowd. I've been trying to keep my distance from all of that."

Caught up in the wrong crowd could mean a host of things in the industry. Drugs were usually the most common. Though you didn't press for her to elaborate.

You listened attentively, her concern deepening. "Do you think she's going to be a problem?"

Natasha could see your question for what it was. Was she going to be a problem in whatever potential the two of you could have? 

Natasha shook her head, her gaze reassuring. "No, nothing like that. She's just... lost, for now. I don't want you to worry about it. I'm doing my best to stay out of any trouble, especially now."

You nodded, appreciating Natasha's honesty and the effort she was making to ensure your time together was free from complications. You reached out and gently squeezed Natasha's hand, silently conveying your support. 

You leaned in closer and admitted, "I understand, Natasha. My ex and I co-parent Isabella, and it wasn't always easy either. But we've found our way." You shrugged. 

Natasha appreciated the understanding and felt a connection with you as you shared your experiences. 

Then, the conversation took a different turn, and Natasha's curiosity got the better of her. She leaned in with a playful glint in her eyes and said, "Alright, enough about my drama. I want to know more about you. You downplayed your singing career at the party. Backup?”

“You’ve done your research,” You chuckled at the playful teasing but then became more serious as you responded, "You're right. Singing has always been my love, my passion. But the demanding career and the lack of privacy that comes with it gets to you after a while. That's why I love being a publicist. It allows me to stay in the industry that I adore but from a different angle, more behind the scenes. It gives me room to breathe and a sense of control over my life."

Natasha nodded in understanding, appreciating your candor. She could see the sincerity in your eyes as you spoke about your career and the choices you had made. It was clear that you had found a balance that worked for you, and Natasha respected you for it.

When the food arrived, you immediately dug into your meal. Your curiosity got the better of you, and you asked Natasha, "Do you and your band have a publicist or a manager?"

Natasha smirked playfully, a hint of amusement dancing in her eyes. "Is it that obvious? I guess it's the many times Tony's been arrested.” Natasha began to list. “Or the time I punched paparazzi for trying to take a picture at an awkward angle.” She grimaced. 

You couldn't help but laugh at Natasha's observation. "Well, those incidents might have given it away a bit."

Natasha's smile faded slightly as she confessed, "Honestly, I know we need someone to manage us, but I've never felt entirely comfortable with the idea. It's like giving up a piece of our freedom and creativity. We've managed so far, but I know it can't go on like this forever."

You nodded in understanding, recognizing the challenges that came with managing a successful music career independently. You asked, "Do you have anyone in mind for the role, someone you might trust enough to bring into the fold?"

Natasha thought for a moment, her gaze thoughtful. "Possibly. It's a big decision, and I want to make sure it's the right fit for us, you know? We've been doing this our way for so long that it's hard to let go."

“Well, when you’re ready, I’m your gal,” You offered your services. “I also may have a few wild cards that would work perfectly.” 

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Natasha sips from her cup. 

As the night drew to a close, you found yourselves waiting on a quiet street corner for your Uber to arrive. The bustling energy of the club was a distant memory, replaced by the calm of the late-night city.

Natasha looked at you with a genuine smile and said, "I had a lot of fun tonight, y/n. Thank you."

You returned the smile, your heart warmed by Natasha's words. "I did too, Natasha. It was great getting to know you."

The streets were mostly empty, and the city was bathed in the soft glow of streetlights. There was a moment of silence as you stood together, the unspoken tension of the night hanging in the air.

Then, as if guided by an invisible force, Natasha leaned in and softly pressed her lips against yours. It was a gentle, lingering kiss that sent shivers down your spine. Your cheeks flushed, but you couldn't help but smile.

Breaking the kiss, you teased, "Well, that's a surprise ending for the night."

Natasha chuckled and replied, "I couldn't resist."

“Don’t worry, I liked it,” You grinned. You leaned forward, kissing Natasha again, lingering when your lips pressed before you pulled back. 

The distant sound of the approaching Uber pulled you back to reality. Your ride had arrived. You exchanged one last lingering look, a silent acknowledgment of the connection you had shared that evening.

With a soft goodbye, you climbed into the waiting car, and Natasha watched as it drove away into the night. As she walked away, Natasha couldn't help but smile, feeling grateful for the unexpected and unforgettable night she had just experienced.

---> next part

Caitlyn and Vi, but after Caitlyn and Ambessa fight and Caitlyn is really hurt

Title: Atonement

Ship: Caitlyn x Vi

Wordcount: 3772

Summary: Caitlyn is lying on the battlefield after her brutal fight with Ambessa. She's ready for everything to end, but the familiar footsteps of someone she cares immensely for pulls her out of it.

Warnings: Cannon typical violence, blood, not waking up after injury, shooting, eye injury, prison violence, pre-mature death, mentions of not waking up after injury, possible suicide (Not really though, it's complicated, just not wanting to wake up after getting hurt idk), horrible grammar, I don't beta read.

[A/n: This is dedicated to the lovely @ittynyte who saw this fanart by @qvert and wanted to see something like this written. Hopefully, I did it justice. I absolutely faded out in the end.]

Main Masterlist | Read my stuff on AO3 | Leave Requests

It was quite unbefitting of a battlefield to be empty. Caitlyn had never concerned herself with the cleanup of something so morbid. It wasn’t in her nature, something that didn’t cross her mind. The battle itself had always weighed so heavily on her armor-clad shoulders that what happened after, if there was an after, did not warrant energy.

Her blurred gaze stared up at the clear blue sky now. The audacity it had, to be so beautiful. It was nearly cloudless, the sun just out of her periphery. She considered this a mercy. There was a thick, warm smattering of blood that had crusted over her left eye, and she was sure the right one was as unfocused as her mind. Clear. Sky blue. Unmoving.  

There were injuries to tend to. Armies to direct. Where had the wolf stalked off to? So many questions that lingered at the back of Caitlyn’s mind that couldn’t push through the fog. She needed to move. Had to get off the dirt ground that she lay upon in the center of chaos.

Noxian soldiers scattered and still, she was frozen in time. They must have thought her dead. She was not opposed to the idea. It was easier this way. A body among the others. The great commander Kiramman fallen and turned the powdered dirt to that of metallic mud.

Her breath had tethered into something slow and tacky. One lift of her hand and whoever was in charge of cleaning up the mess they had made would rush to her side with a medic. But this was enough for now. For a long agonizing moment.

A punishment. Atonement.

She should apologize, she was sure. 

The crunch of dirt under steps that were much too frantic, much too heavy-footed, caught her attention. Caitlyn’s body thrummed in pain with each slow beat of her heart. The scrambling belonged to someone who cared too much for someone who deserved to die where she lay.

A bleeding heart, some would say, and boy, did she bleed. Her wounds spurted even as she sprinted from her own true demise. She skidded when her knees hit dirt, her shins taking the brunt of the slide. The overwhelming warmth of her made Caitlyn want to turn her head like a flower-seeking sun.

Her mouth was too dry, her heart beating too slow, breathing much too shallow. Now that she wanted to move, had that fire spark in just the right way, she couldn’t. Trapped within herself and the very blood that gushed from her eye like one of those chocolate fountains at her parents galas waved as if it were a personal white flag.

“Fuck,” Vi’s hurried whisper came out cracked. She’d been screaming. Wailing, really. Cait had never heard her broken like this. She sounded as if she had swallowed gravel, tongued it until it filled her lungs and her stomach and found a permanent home there. “Fuck, fuck, fuck”

A large hand was suddenly gripping at Caitlyn’s breastplate, another cradling the back of her head, threading through her sweat-soaked hair as if she were the most precious thing in the world. Not the scum that had put Violet here in the first place. She didn’t deserve to be coddled. She should be the one mending the heart on Vi’s sleeve.

“You’re not allowed to die on me, Kiramman. You piece of shit.”

That damned temper of hers. It was fierce and endearing all the same. Caitlyn pushed any oxygen she could from her lungs, a pathetic-sounding whimper punctuating the effort. It was enough for Vi to call out with enough force to set things into motion. Her calls echo off the cement structures that surround them.

The hand on her chest brushed gently against the curve of her Caitlyn’s features. She wanted so badly to lean into that touch. The kiss the inside of her palm, taste the ashen skin calloused from years of pain and exhaustion that had worked into her bones.

“Hold on for me, sweet girl.” Vi choked out in a whisper. “Hold on.”

Solid ground was no longer under her. There was the spiced scent of Vi’s body wash as Caitlyn’s head lulled into the small of the woman’s neck. She’d bought that soap at a local market when pushed by the seller. She hadn’t expected the herbs to cling so heavenly to her, but in the darkness, she was thankful for them now.

That was months ago. When her mother had died, and her father was locked away in the recesses of the Kiramman manor. Caitlyn was numb, but functional, not yet spurred on by her bitterness. She bought the soap because it was something to do. She’d let a shop keep lead her through dozens of scents, and yes, that does smell exactly like the love of my life, thank you, sir.  

Was that before or after she shoved the blunt end of the rifle into the soft spot of her abdomen? Things blended quite wickedly, now. The heat had gotten to her, and so had her dripping wounds. Ambessa kept her blades sharp like her tongue. They carved her like the star of a Christmas feast.

“Drop what you’re doing.” Vi’s voice was stern, a low grumble. She rarely got this way. Only when it came to Caitlyn. “This is your Commander.”

Was she? She’d failed at that too. Yet, here was Violet, parading her around as such. She supposed it wasn’t up to her. Her mouth was still filled with sand and what little strength she had still clung to Vi’s breastplate as she was pulled away. She whimpered in protest, had to have her fingers pried away with small admonishments by either a doctor, or Vi herself.

Caitlyn couldn’t see the sky from where she was now, nothing but a burlap tent. Her vison was fading, flickering at the edges and pounding along with the thrumming of her heart. If she were succumbing to her wounds, she wanted to be outside. She wanted to be on the battlefield, even if it was empty. It was a mercy, she knew, she didn’t rightly deserve.

Her father had worn the same brand of deep red saddle shoes for as long as she could remember. Caitlyn would buy him two custom pairs for Christmas each year because he wore them out like clockwork by the time spring rolled around, and once more when the air grew a stark type of cold. He’d need them once more when the annual Snowdown gala was in full swing.

He’d shake the meticulously wrapped box with a glint in his eye and a devilish smile that reflected the flicker of the fire in the hearth. They rattled around like wooden dice and he boomed ‘I wonder what these are’ from the time that Caitlyn was six all the way until she was an adult and well past her enforcer exams.

She humored him every time, and he loved the gift every time. This year, they hadn’t had a Christmas, and while she still purchased the shoes to give the cobblers some sense of routine, to give themselves something, she had just placed them at his door and waited for him to find them.

His breakfast tray that morning had been deposited with two bites taken out of plain toast, but the shoes were also pulled in, so she figured that was a good sign.

Right now, she could hear his familiar click and clack as he paced with fervor. Anyone at the Piltover Institute of Medicine and Teaching could tell where Doctor Kiramman was by the sound of his red leather saddle shoes, gifted by his very own daughter.

Caitlyn’s fingers twitched. Her toes too, and it was agonizingly painful. Everything was. She figured that she suffered a concussion from the way each step drove through her temples like an icepick. Most of her unconsciousness was marred with darkness but there had been gruesome flashes of her long brawl with Ambessa.

The knife in her gut. A blade through her eye. She’d been chewed up and spit out. Her tendons were shredded, and bullet was nearly lodged in her neck. She could have been paralyzed. She should have been left to bleed out at the hand of the traitors Maddie Nolan. A turncoat that hadn’t warmed her bed but had made it colder.

Another set of footsteps had entered the room, halting her father’s. Much too heavy-footed. Caitlyn swallowed around the knife in her throat, she couldn’t’ even cultivate a whimper. However pathetic the noise, she wanted to do something to call out to them, to let them know that she was here. Fuck her pride. She had nothing left to hold onto.

“Sir,” Vi’s voice was soft. “Please,”

This wasn’t begging, this was something akin to pleading. There was a pregnant pause before Caitlyn registered the sound of porcelain shaking and then steadying just a moment later. Tea. She was bringing him something to drink. Forcing him to take care of himself.

Vi and her father did not have a relationship. The Kiramman estate was large enough to harbor them as strangers. There was staff to separate them, and Caitlyn had long assured that they would never have more than tense eye contact. Especially after the blood relation of Cassandara’s slayer.

Not something that Violet could control.

Tobias forgave too cleanly and Vi loved too heavily. Here they both stood. Vi, leading her father to one of the chairs in front of the fire, her taking the other one and forcing the drink back into his hand, intent on him finishing it. Neither had slept. She could hear it in their voices.

“I was sure that she would wake.”

“Yeah, well… She’s stubborn. You take good care of her, doc. She’ll come around.”

“You speak with such assuredness.”

“If she wasn’t up for the fight, she would have given up by now.”

A stillness fell over the room, the sound of the fire eating away at the logs and Caitlyn’s own stilted breath took away some of the quiet. Vi was right. She was still here. She didn’t know why. Hell, she was so ready to give up on the battlefield. She had caused so much carnage by balling up her grief. Weaponizing it. Pushing she people she loved away.

Yet here she was. Sharing tea with her father, large, bandaged hands dwarfing what she imaged to be the only porcelain cups they owned. Little white things with purple flowers painted along the delicate features. A gold rim that her teeth would clink against because at the last minute, she would grow too eager.

“Did Caitlyn ever tell you about her hunting dogs?”

She could hear the grin in Vi’s voice. “No, sir, I don’t believe she has.”

There was oil paintings scattered around the house of the dogs. She was certain Vi had seen them. The brawler wouldn’t’ admit to it, but she had a curiosity that was unmatched. Caitlyn had caught her taking books from some of the hidden nooks in the home, flipping through them and mouthing the words.

She would stop and run her calloused fingers over the plagues that were bolted under cement busts, or slow when they passed an informational booth in the center of Piltover. The history of things caught her attention. She’d ask questions, and Caitlyn would answer them by a fault.

“Cassandra bought two of them as puppies, small things that she took an instant liking to. Her mother was convinced that they were outdoor dogs meant to work. That’s how she was raised out in the country, and that’s how these dogs were going to be taught. But not if Caitlyn had anything to say about it.”

Tobias chuckled, a low and rustic sound that blanketed Caitlyn in warmth. She fisted her hand, ignored the pain that came with the action. She wanted to reach out to them, to curl up between them with a blanket. To be apart of the moment.

“She started to sneak them into the house at night, and for awhile it worked. Cassandra and I worked late hours so she got away with the puppies sleeping in her bed. Trained them real nice too. Got them to sit, stay, heel. Better than any hunting dog that I’ve ever seen.”

Vi was laughing, a genuine one that came from the belly. “How’d she get caught?”

“During a hunting trip,” Tobias scoffed “We took all of our business partners, including Sheriff Grayson and the dogs out. Caitlyn insisted on going and I saw no issue with it. Even though she was young, she was as skilled as any shooter as I’m sure you know.”

“Of course,”

“It was just before dusk and we had one of the largest bucks I had ever seen in sight, but one of the dogs, Razi, caught wind of Caitlyn. Let out the most excited bark I’d ever heard and bounded over to her before knocking her off her feet, the other dog Rilo following soon after.” He’d dissolved into full giggles at the memory “I’d never seen those dogs in any mood other than stoic. For a few seconds I thought she was getting attacked, but she was laughing.”

Vi was laughing too, the only happy sounds to fill the Kiramman manor in months, perhaps a year at this point. Her chest ached and her jaw too. She wanted to smile, wanted to stir herself from this hellish purgatory from which she resided.

“I’m guessing you didn’t get that buck?” Vi asked, breathless.

“We didn’t,” Tobias huffed “but we got a hell of a story out of it. Grayson took an instant liking to Caitlyn after that, spent the whole weekend helping her perfect her shot. We never knew she had a soft spot for dogs.”

The laughter faded out into the same disquiet that had engulfed the room before. The clattering of porcelain rose to Tobias’s lips and then back to the coffee table. Caitlyn tried to expel the same breath that produced a miniscule sound on the battlefield. But nothing came out.

I’m here damn it. I’m here.  

She felt the silk under her fingertips and the scream that was lodged in her throat. It refused to bubble up. Naively, she wanted her father. The same dad who stared in disbelief as Razi and Rilo licked at her face in the cold of winter before breaking out into the most genuine smile she had ever seen.

She wanted Vi, who at first, she had despised. It had only taken a few hours to endear her. The moment she sloppily ate some type of seafood soaked in broth in the undercity was when she truly softened. Her nerves were running high and the stench was one like no other, but there was a look in Vi’s eyes, something of unbridled relief and happiness that was unmatched.

“What if she stops fighting, Violet?” Tobias asked.

“We’ll uh,” Her voice cracked, something sullen and shattered “We’ll have to be prepared for that too.”

The room was bathed in pale moonlight when she willed herself to stir. Fire had long since been snuffed out and the tile floor brought on a familiar chill to her childhood bedroom. She brought in a stifled and sore breath, staring up at the canopy above her, small holes poked in the fabric when she was a child to mimic the constellations.

Her bones felt like mush, functional eye blinking listlessly before she clenched and unclenched her fist. There was a splay of air against her cheek, a scent that was spiced. She dropped her head to the side carefully. Violet.

Her form was taut, curled up on her side on a mountain of pillows. She was as close to Caitlyn as she could be, lying on top of the duvet with her chest moving up and down in soft breaths. Her boots were on, as if she had just gotten to sleep, as if she were ready to spring into action at any moment. How long had it been since she had truly slept?

Her skin was nearly as pale as the moonlight that flitted through the window and her scarred lips parted, letting out little snores that were nothing short of endearing. Caitlyn wished she could fight the urge to press her fingers against them. But she couldn’t. She was used to taking what she wanted.

It took some shaky effort, but she gently pressed the pad of her thumb to the small scar that had been cemented into Vi’s expression. There was a downturn of her lips, and then a quick intake of air before a large hand was gripping tightly onto Caitlyn’s wrist.

She wanted this. The security. The urgency. There was no easy way to awaken Vi. She always startled unless it was by the hand of the sun. Tired gray eyes widened with a heavy inhale. The grip loosened as quickly as it had tightened and Vi shot up with such urgency that she must have seen as many stars as Caitlyn manufactured as a child.

“Fuck, what the fuck?” She whipped her head to the side, blinking rapidly to level Caitlyn with a stare as if she had arisen from the dead. “Cait? Are you… Jesus Christ”

Vi rubbed a large hand across her face and flicked on a light, making them both flinch before she hurriedly turned back to Caitlyn who blinked at her dumbly. She hadn’t tried talking, didn’t really know what to say, was waiting for Vi to ask her a real question and not just sputter at her.

She didn’t. Instead, she busied herself by pouring a glass of water and guiding a straw that was obnoxiously green to Caitlyn’s lips. She’d always had the ability to read what wasn’t overtly there. She had been a caretaker all of her life and Caitlyn greedily swallowed as many gulps as she could.

“How do you feel?” Vi eventually dared, setting the glass down and pulling her knees to her chest. She peered at Caitlyn like she was a puppy, a steel-toed boot shoved into her ribs, but patient all the same.

“Like I got hit by a Disc-Runner.”

Her voice came out scratchy, almost like air being let out a of tire. But it was her voice, and she was hearing it for the first time in what felt like an eternity. Vi let out a long sigh of relief and her shoulders dropped from right below her ears as if she had the same exact sentiment.

Vi’s fingers tightened around her pajama pants, decorated with little Runeterra Raptor logos stilted in a sea of cobalt “We didn’t think you were going to wake up. It’s been weeks, your dad has been pacing a hole in the floor.”

“Just my father?” Caitlyn scoffed weakly and a beautiful pink blush colored Vi’s cheeks.

“Well, me too. I should probably go get him, but I think it’s pretty late. Or early.”

“Violet it’s fine, really.” She reached out and took a hand that was too afraid to reach out first but held on with such ferocity. “That can wait.”

“He’s been keeping a log of all of your vitals, you know? You’ve been out long enough to heal. We’ve just been waiting for you to wake up.” Vi frowned and started to play with Cait’s fingers, suddenly filled with so much warmth and life. She never wanted to let them go.

Caitlyn felt her cheeks dampen, using her heels to push herself into a sitting position with some difficulty. Vi watched her with almost vigilant curiosity. Caitlyn grasped at her t-shirt, pulling her close. She needed to feel her close, it had been long. Too long.

“You don’t have to treat me like I’m broken,” Caitlyn purred, pulling Vi’s nose into the small of her neck, reveling in the way the woman clung to her, drooped her arm over her now-healed-mid-section. “I know I am.”

“Cait, you’re not broken, you’re healing.” Vi whispered, held her tighter. Her voice was marred with emotion and Caitlyn’s own shirt was sodden with tears. She felt Vi’s shoulders tremble and wondered how long it had been since Vi allowed herself to cry, allowed herself to be held instead of doing the holding.

Caitlyn started to card her fingers through the small hairs on the nave of Vi’s neck, scratching at the skin there, feeling every shiver and breath the woman took. She craved this, needed this. It was all she had wanted during the pain staking moments when she had been there, but hadn’t been. That hellish time when she couldn’t’ scream loud enough to be heard. She’d taken this for granted.

“I didn’t think you were going to come back.” Vi’s fingers curled into the silk of Caitlyn’s shirt.

“I almost didn’t.”

“What do you mean?”

Vi gazed up at Caitlyn with an almost childlike wonder, hand moving down to a pearl button each exhale brought goosebumps to her skin. She traced patterns on Vi’s upper back. “On the battlefield, before you were there, before you found me. I was ready to give up.”

She ran her thumb over the cross stitching on the button, around the edges, but didn’t say anything. Not for a few moments, just listening to the crackle of Caitlyn’s lungs. “Every single day that I was in Stillwater, I thought the same thing. I’d wake up and keep my eyes closed for as long as I could because sometimes that darkness was better than whatever would be waiting for me when I opened my eyes. Sometimes… sometimes your body knows that you need to stay where you are to keep you from where you think you need to be.”

“Did you ever feel guilty?”

“About not wanting to wake up? No, Cupcake. Not then.” She shifted so she was hovering over Caitlyn, careful not to jostle her too much, one hand resting above her shoulder. “Now though, I’d claw my way back from the depths of hell to get back to you.”

Caitlyn cupped her cheek, pulled herself forward and pressed her lips tenderly to Vi’s. She tasted sweet, of mint and of the slightest bit of bourbon. Violet sighed into the embrace, careful not to melt entirely. They broke apart, Vi’s fingers brushed across her jaw.

“Thank you,” Caitlyn whispered against her lips. “For waiting for me.”

“I’ve got all the time in the world, cupcake.”  

Saturday Snippet!

New update coming tomorrow besties :D

Quietly, Natasha put the food down on the island counter, keeping her movements practiced and measured. Then, walking around the couch, a tender smile settled on her lips at the sight in front of her, providing an explanation as to the shadowed room, only offset by the wide, open windows, and the still, withdrawn atmosphere.

Truth was sleeping. Her long legs stretched out on the couch, covered by a fuzzy black and orange blanket that definitely had an image of some sorts on it, but it was impossible to discern with it ruffled up, stopping just at her waist. Her right arm was bent at an angle by her head, skewing the headphones that sat over her ears, bunching up her hair, while the other dangled over the couch, leading one to believe that the sketchbook and graphite pencils scattered on the floor had once been in use before she’d succumbed to her exhaustion.

The gradual rise and fall of her chest coupled with the serene, unfettered expression, completely at peace, filled Natasha with a warmth so strong it almost burnt within her chest, the sight pleasingly familiar what with her prior duties of watching over the assassin in those few crucial hours after dressing and cleaning her wounds and getting her into bed. While that had been a time of uncertainty and worry, harried by frequent nightmares and terrors, there had also been times of tranquility and calmness. She remembered the feel of threading her hands through thick, soft waves, gentle noises of content, and small smiles whenever the woman curled her body closer, searching for comfort.

Something within Natasha surged up again at the sight of her so defenseless, completely at ease. For some absurd, ridiculous reason, she wanted to hold her again, protect her from the lingering shadows, to ensure her peace wouldn’t be disrupted.

But, that would be…unwelcome, no doubt. It wasn’t Natasha’s place to do that anymore—hell, there was no reason for her to want to do that at all. Truth was fine where she was and, if anything, she probably wouldn’t appreciate her intruding into her space, even if Natasha ever convinced herself that it was acceptable to do so.

Sitting on the floor between the couch and the table, resting her chin on her knees brought up to her chest, Natasha debated her options. For a moment, she admired her effortless beauty. Her hair carried a grace that Natasha felt she herself lacked in the sometimes unruly, almost bland curls that she didn’t know what to do with half the time. Her waves were ethereal where Natasha’s curls were wild. They told a story with how they framed her face, a couple strands falling over her nose in a way that was almost purposeful.

Speaking of, her nose was quite literally perfect—not perfect in the way that it held no flaws, but perfect in that it suited her face perfectly. Coupled with long, curved lashes, meticulously curved brows, pretty full lips, and a slender jawline, she was just so…utterly stunning. It was the tone of her skin, a beautiful brown, golden as a blotch of filtered sunlight shone on her exposed torso, the dark birthmarks scattered like paint on a canvas disappearing past the fabric of her grey camisole. Natasha’s eyes followed the pretty assortment of marks along her unusually bare arms, wondering how something so…random and unique could come off as purposeful and artistic.

Natasha could’ve sworn that she’d never seen someone more gorgeous, inside and out.

She was so, so pretty, it almost hurt.

oh my god I know you only posted that mechanic vi thing 6 hours ago but PAPA ME WANT MORE MOVIE 🤬🤬🤬 you have GYAT to extend it by like vi introducing us to vander or like idk like im tweaking like

🏃‍♀️🏃‍♀️🏃‍♀️

dont worry anon im right there with you ive spent nearly my entire day just maladaptively daydreaming about mechanic!vi

sfw; car mechanic!vi cinimatic universe continuation of this hc post

it is not the most formal of introductions -- but by the time you make it downstairs to the kitchen, swimming in one of vi's thrifted band tees and jogging shorts, tamping down your hair, vander's already on his second cup of coffee.

"well, well, if it ain't the red corvette with the busted radiator," vander says, grinning wide as you fight the urge to duck behind vi like an antisocial child.

"h-hi -- morning..." you mumble, even as vi chuckles and pours you a glass of orange juice.

"heard you guys went to jericho's diner last night," vander says, looking between you and vi as you slip onto one of the mis-matched bar stools sat against the tiny kitchen island.

"yeah! the banana split almost did me in though," you say, reaching for the tall glass of juice.

vander laughs, "yeah, those are famously impossible to finish, though from what i heard, you made a very diligent effort." he shoots you a wink even as vi elbows him in the side.

"i -- we --" you stutter, your cheeks flooding with color. vi rolls her eyes and scoops two perfectly poached eggs out of a pot, placing them on two slices of toast.

you blink as vander nudges the salt and pepper shakers towards you.

"how... how'dyou know i like my eggs poached?" you ask, looking between vi and vander. they share a knowing look; vi shrugs, grinning.

"lucky guess."

you tuck into the eggs and toast, humming happily around the golden yolk as it bursts in your mouth. vi watches you with soft eyes and vander's smile stretches wide as he leans against the counter.

"so. seems like your daddy's got good taste," he says, a soft laugh rumbling through him, deep and thick as thunder. you glance up, cocking your head. vander puts his coffee mug in the sink.

"he might not remember me but couple years ago, he brought over the most beautiful gullwing -- mercedes, from the 50's --"

"oh yeah!" vi says, her eyes brightening as she rinses out the breakfast things "that was a sick car."

vander nods, humming, "one o'the first luxury cars post-war... and one of my personal favorites. some people say it's a bit tacky but --" he shrugs, laughing, "i've always had a soft spot for it"

vi scoffs, "better than all the db5's we see people bring in."

vander laughs then, a loud, uproarious sound. you swallow over another bite of toast and egg, content to watch him and vi banter.

"yeah, but you know why people like it --"

vi sighs, her eyes rolling so hard they might fall out of their sockets as she replies, "the james bond car, yeah yeah, whatever -- still tacky."

you slice into the second egg and watch as the yolk spills molten gold over the toast.

"that reminds me though, i've gotta order the parts for the crossflow radiator --" vi says, putting the pans in the sink as well, wiping off her hands before she rounds the island to lean up against your chair. she slips an arm around your waist, resting her chin on your shoulder.

you load a bite of toast with egg and yolk, sprinkle the top with salt and pepper, holding it out for her to eat. she leans forward, mouth open as you feed the bite to her.

she groans around the bite, nodding appreciatively, even as you reach out to swipe a bite of yolk from the corner of her lip, popping your thumb into your mouth with an indulgent smile.

"'ow'dyou know i'd like more yolk than egg?" she asks, turning to pin you with a look.

you flash her a cheeky grin.

"lucky guess," you parrot her words back at her, setting down your fork.

across the island, vander watches the pair of you with soft eyes and a knowing smile.

"right, well -- i've gotta get to the bar. your uncle silco'll be mad if i --" he breaks off, running a hand through his hair.

vi waves him off, "go, we've got it here."

"text benzo if you need help with the parts --"

"yeah, yeah -- he already sent me the link for where to order the parts," vi answers.

vander chuckles, nodding. he reaches over the island with a large hand.

"it was lovely to meet you," he says, taking your hand and shaking it firmly; his palm is warm and callused, and you feel yourself sinking into the solidness of his touch even as he pulls away.

"keep an eye on 'er for me, wouldjya?" he says, winking, jerking his chin towards vi. you giggle, nodding your head.

"sure, i'll try."

"and you make sure to treat her and her car well, y'got that?" he turns his gaze towards vi, who blushes, a scowl knitting her brows as she sighs.

"what'dyou think i'm trying to do -- geez --" she huffs.

vander laughs, a big, booming, belly-full sound.

"that's my girl," he says, flashing you and vi one more wink before ducking out the garage door.

vi sighs, "sorry, i know he can be a lot..."

you smile, shaking your head, "he reminds me of you."

vi's cheeks darken as she looks you over, her eyes startlingly bright in the mid-morning light, her hair a blaze of pink as the sunrise paints her shades of orange and gold.

"he -- he's a good dad..." vi says, finally, her voice a bit rough.

you nod, dabbing at your lips with a napkin.

"he is. and you're a good daughter."

vi swallows, tugging you towards her till she's slotted between your legs. you, poised on the edge of the bar stool, your arms looped around her shoulders, her palms laid flat against your thighs, inching up beneath the hem of her jogging shorts.

"y'know sweets, you can't just say shit like that to me --" she murmurs, leaning in just close enough to ghost her words along your lips.

"and not expect me to do something about it..."

your breath hitches, a delicious, gasping sound even as vi digs her nose into the hollow of your throat with a thick groan, pressing her lips to your collarbones.

"v-vi -- the dishes --" you hiss, but vi's already pulling you forward, hoisting you over her hips and carrying you towards the stairs back up to her room, her fingers digging into the meat of your ass as she kicks open her door and lets it slam shut behind her.

"the dishes..." she says, her voice breathy as she sets you down on her bed and crawls over your body, the shape of her caging you beneath her.

she leans down to trail her mouth along the bend of your neck, humming against your skin --

"... will still be there later."