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just-aake · 23 days

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Detecting Love

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x fem!reader

Summary: A person with the power to detect lies meets the spy who has been trained to lie her entire life.

Warnings: fluff, light angst

Words: 6169

You have the power to detect lies.

Now, it’s not exactly strong enough to be a hero, but you can honestly say that it has been useful in your life.

Sure, it gets annoying at times, but one of the many lessons you’ve learned is to ignore minor instances of dishonesty — white lies or small things like that — since it helps reduce unnecessary confusion or chaos with others.

People lie. That is an undeniable fact of life.

And while one may believe that being able to detect such things is great, the truth is there are times when you find yourself resenting your power.

Because, of course, everyone experiences moments when they wish that someone important to them isn't lying.

Like when your fiancée tells you she loves you.

There wasn’t really a malicious reason behind why a usually affectionate statement suddenly became so hurtful.

There was no cheating.

There was no fighting.

It was just another one of the many lessons you’ve learned in life.

That sometimes…a truth can also become a lie.

It’s just unfortunate that this lesson happened to you in such a way.

These kinds of moments make you wonder if maybe it’s better that people shouldn’t always know when someone is lying to them.

Then they don’t end up alone, drinking at a bar late into the night, trying to numb the pain of a broken heart.

You let out a heavy sigh as you stare at the pair of rings resting on the bar top, remembering the conversation that ended with one of them being returned to you.

It was a heart-wrenching discussion where your fiancée confessed her steadily changed feelings for you, leading to the resolution to remain friends.

And while neither of you is completely at fault for why things ended, you can’t help but blame your stupid power for putting you in the situation in the first place.

You sigh heavily once more before swiftly downing the glass the bartender had set in front of you.

At least your current attempt to drown your sorrow is going well, judging by how the rings start to blur in your vision.

With a sad sigh, you reach for the rings to put them away, but in your clumsy state, one slips from your grasp and tumbles to the floor.

Just as you move to retrieve it, a hand beats you to it.

Looking up, you find a red-haired stranger standing before you, offering the ring to you with a charming smile.

She looks familiar but the drunken haze in your brain makes it hard for you to remember where you’ve seen her before.

“Here, you dropped this,” she says, her voice low and smooth.

She’s beautiful and her voice sounds perfect. You think to yourself as you take the ring from her.

She chuckles lightly, “Thanks.”

Oh, did you say that out loud? You must be more drunk than you thought.

The woman offers her hand to you in greeting, and with a confident smirk, she introduces herself.

“My name’s Natalie. Natalie Rushman.”

Immediately, a red aura surrounds her, causing you to roll your eyes and return your attention back to the bar.

“Liar,” you mutter tiredly as you gesture to the bartender to close your tab, not really in the mood to deal with any more lies tonight.

At the corner of your eyes, you see the stranger give you a slightly impressed look.

Ready to leave, you stand up quickly from your seat.

However, the action makes the room suddenly spin in your vision, causing you to stagger backward.

A hand steadies you, resting gently on your back, and you unconsciously lean back against her surprisingly strong frame for support.

There’s a soft chuckle near your ear, sending a shiver down your spine.

“Let me try again,” she whispers smoothly, guiding you upright and turning you around to face her.

Offering her hand once more, she reintroduces herself.

“My name’s Natasha Romanoff. I’m here to recruit you to work for the Avengers.”

You blink slowly, trying to comprehend her words through your drunken haze. You wonder if the alcohol is affecting you more than you thought when no red aura appears this time at her words.

Chuckling to yourself, you shake your head in disbelief, unfortunately worsening the pounding in your skull.

Work for the Avengers? That has to be a lie.

Before you can think about it any further, you feel yourself falling once more, unable to remain upright.

Strong arms catch you, and as your consciousness fades, you see a blurry glimpse of her striking green eyes before succumbing to darkness.

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

You wake to the pounding in your head and the bright sunlight streaming through your window. Turning away, you groan into your pillow, remembering that your fiancée – your ex-fiancée – would typically close the curtains before leaving for work.

Now that she’s gone, you’re going to have to adjust to living alone once again.

A cup being placed on the nightstand startles you into sitting up, as you turn in surprise to find the beautiful red-haired stranger beside your bed.

“For your headache,” she explains, placing some medicine next to the cup.

Your mouth hangs open as you struggle to remember the events of last night, some of which are honestly a blur.

You examine yourself, checking your clothes and finding them unchanged from the previous night, and then you scan your surroundings again and realize in relief that nothing was out of place.

Well, except for the presence of this stranger in your home, who’s patiently waiting for you to gather yourself.

Searching through your drunken memories, you think you vaguely remember meeting her last night. She had mentioned her name was — Nata…?

“Natalie?” you ask with uncertainty.

At her raised brow, you quickly apologize, feeling bad for not remembering correctly.

“I’m sorry, I can’t seem to remember, but did we…did something happen between us last night?” you ask hesitantly.

Her face twists in genuine sadness and disappointment, causing a panic to run through you as you struggle to recall what could’ve possibly happened between the two of you for her to have such an expression.

“I’m hurt,” she finally says, placing a hand on her chest, “And after you even said that it was the best night of your life.”

Seeing the familiar red aura appear around her at her words, you let out a brief sigh of relief before realization sets in, and you give her a hard glare.

“You’re lying.”

Her hurt expression quickly morphs into an impressed look, and you are slightly startled at how effortlessly she was able to shift her emotions.

The woman straightens her posture and crosses her arms, adopting a commanding stance that seems more likely her typical demeanor.

“So it’s not just luck,” she remarks, studying you curiously.

At her words, you quickly rise from your bed in confusion.

However, the action causes you to wince in pain at the pounding in your head.

Shutting your eyes tightly, you hold your head in comfort and lean lightly on the nightstand for support.

As you do, your hand brushes against yesterday’s newspaper that you had been reading moments before your ex said those fateful three words that led to the heartbreaking conversation between the two of you.

When the pain subsides, you slowly open your eyes, catching a glimpse of the front page before doing a double take.

The front features an article about the opening of the new Avenger Compound, including a photo capturing the Avenger members posed in front of the completed building.

What catches you off guard is the uncanny resemblance between one of the Avengers in the picture and the woman standing before you.

Pointing at her in disbelief, you stammer.

“You’re…,” then, gesturing at the newspaper, you continue, “…her?”

She doesn’t respond to your question but instead nods toward your other room, inviting you to follow.

“Let’s talk,” she says, heading toward your door, then gestures at the medicine on your nightstand. “But drink those first.”

After freshening up in your bathroom, you take a moment to stare at your reflection in the mirror, noticing the remnants of last night’s tears in your slightly puffy, red eyes.

Sighing, you brush away the depressing thoughts of your failed relationship before taking the medicine and exiting your room.

You are greeted by the sight of your unexpected guest comfortably seated at your kitchen counter, flipping through a magazine with casual disinterest.

“You’re Black Widow,” you say confidently this time, positioning yourself on the opposite side of her.

She closes the magazine with a snap, placing it on the table before clasping her hands atop of it and meeting your gaze.

“It’s actually Natasha,” she corrects you, before nodding at you. “And you’re Y/n L/n.”

“How did you…?”

She holds up a wedding invitation draft, displaying you and your fiancée’s names printed in fine lettering.

Realizing that she must have been snooping around your things, you give her a disapproving glare, snatching the card from her hand and hastily stuffing it into a drawer.

Feeling a mixture of emotions—irritated, sad, hungover—you turn to the fridge, deciding to make breakfast to give yourself some focus.

After you retrieve the eggs and other ingredients, you heat the stove before glancing at Natasha briefly, asking, “So, what does an Avenger want from me?”

Out of the corner of your eye, you see her resting her head against her hand, watching you with interest.

“I told you yesterday,” she replies.

You roll your eyes, giving her a deadpan look, knowing she’s aware that you don’t remember.

“Remind me again.”

Natasha gives you an amused smirk, straightening up in her seat.

“Alright, I’m here to recruit you, more specifically for a sort of managerial position at the new Avenger Compound.”

Furrowing your brows, you question, “Why me? I don't have experience with that sort of thing.”

“But you can tell when someone is lying, can’t you?”

Pausing briefly in your cooking, you contemplate her words and its possible implications. Not many people know about your ability, and you don’t think you did anything to reveal it to the spy who’s currently staring expectantly at you.

So, in response, you shrug, replying as casually as possible.

“I guess you could say I’m good at reading people…psychology degree and all.”

A silence ensues, broken only by the sizzling of your cooking, until Natasha finally nods, seemingly accepting your explanation.

You breathe a silent sigh of relief, returning your attention to your current task.

But then she pulls out a folder filled with documents and places it on the counter, causing your nerves to rise again.

“Well, you’ve helped solve hundreds of cases with your interviews of the suspects,” she remarks casually, flipping through the folder before glancing up at you through her lashes.

“100% accuracy rate in the information that you provided to the detectives,” she continues, nodding at you in acknowledgment. “For a part-time profiler, that’s impressive.”

“Thanks,” you respond with a polite smile, but beneath the surface, a hint of suspicion creeps in as you begin plating the meal you made.

Natasha closes the folder with a definitive snap, making you look at her.

“You could say it’s almost impossible,” she muses, before a confident smirk forms on her face, and she tilts her head at you with a raised brow in challenge.

“Unless there’s some way you can guarantee that they’re telling the truth.”

Honestly, you should’ve known better than to think that the experienced spy hadn’t already completed thorough research and investigations into you and your powers before meeting with you.

If anything, this was likely just a test for her to confirm what she already knows about your abilities.

Sliding a plate across the counter to Natasha with a pointed glare, you relent, deciding there’s no point in denying it anymore.

“Fine, what do you know?”

Instead of responding, Natasha’s gaze lingers on the plate before her, a hint of confusion in her expression.

Her plate holds a fluffy omelette accompanied by a side of crispy bacon and a slice of golden-brown toasted bread.

As she glances back up at you with a questioning look in her eyes, you take a seat across from her, setting down a similar plate in front of you before also placing a stack of fluffy pancakes at the center.

“What’s this?” she asks, gesturing to the meal.

“Breakfast,” you reply bluntly, taking a bite from your plate.

Natasha raises a brow at you, remarking plainly, “It’s noon.”

“Brunch then,” you correct with a roll of your eyes.

Natasha's lips quirk up in amusement, and she shakes her head.

“Thanks, but I’ve already eaten.”

The red aura appears around her, and with your mouth full of food, you give her a pointed glare.

“Right,” Natasha says in realization, remembering what you can do. She pulls the plate closer to her with a soft thanks.

The atmosphere that followed was unusual but surprisingly not awkward. Despite being practically strangers, you find yourself slightly comforted by Natasha’s presence.

If she wasn’t here, you probably wouldn’t have dragged yourself out of bed today after what happened yesterday.

After a moment of eating, Natasha breaks the silence.

“So, how can you tell when someone’s lying?”

Pausing to contemplate your answer, you wipe your mouth with a napkin before responding.

“Well, when someone lies, there’s always this rush of chemicals that happens in their bodies,” you explain. “It ends up causing the typical indicators — things like fidgeting, sweating, or tone changes in their voice.”

“I didn’t do any of that, yet you still knew I was lying,” Natasha points out.

“No, you're right,” you admit, nodding. “You’re a perfect liar.”

From what you have seen so far, every expression and comment of hers appears genuine and honest, and if it was anyone else, they’d probably believe anything she says.

However, thanks to your ability, you know better.

Gesturing at her, you clarify, “You still give off the same chemical reactions though, and I have the ability to see that.”

Natasha leans back in her seat, crossing her arms as she processes your explanation.

“It’s mainly visual then,” she concludes before asking curiously. “You don’t even need to hear what they said to know that they’re lying?”

You nod, ruefully adding, “Yep, my world’s just filled with people glowing red at random.”

“And how long does this ‘glow’ stay around them?”

“Depends,” you reply with a shrug. “Usually not long, maybe a few seconds.”

Natasha hums in interest, tapping her chin, her brows pinching lightly in thought.

You can’t help but smile amusedly at the sight.

For a person who has such an intimidating reputation, the spy in front of you right now looks kind of cute rather than scary.

After a moment, you break the silence this time.

“So, what’s the job?”

Natasha’s eyes focus back on you at your question.

“Nothing too complicated,” she assures. “You’ll be in charge of interviewing the new employee candidates and conducting continuous reviews of the current ones.”

“You mean like screening them?” you ask, tilting your head in confusion, already aware of the rigorous and difficult process required to work at the Avengers buildings.

“Don’t you guys already do extensive background checks before hiring people? Why do you suddenly need me?”

At your question, a charming smile appears on her face, effortlessly shifting her expression like before, though now you understand she’s just hiding her true feelings about the situation.

“That’s confidential.”

You scoff in disbelief and cross your arms.

“You do know that just makes it harder to trust you, right?”

Natasha mirrors your posture, her pretty grin still in place, masking any other emotions.

“Fair point,” she admits. “But to be honest, you should never put your trust in people like me anyway.”

“People like you?”

“Spies,” Natasha clarifies as she begins to gather her empty plate and utensils. “Which is one of the types of people you’d be looking out for in this position. Their deception skills would be on a similar level to mine.”

You chuckle at that, causing Natasha to pause in her actions, raising a brow at you in question.

“Sorry, but everyone lies, whether you’re a spy or not,” you tell her, standing and taking the empty plate from her with a small smirk. “You’re just slightly better at it.”

A tiny offended look slips through Natasha’s expression at your little jab, her brow furrowing for a brief second.

Your grin widens at the sight of seeing a glimpse of her real self as you turn to place the dirty dishes in the sink.

Natasha quickly regains her composure, moving around the counter to lean back against the table next to you.

“In any case, the decision is still yours. I’ve already confirmed your abilities. It’s up to you to decide if you want to accept.”

At her words, you pause to consider your options.

A new job working with the Avengers is a great opportunity, but it would be a significant change in your life.

Then again, you’re already facing a huge change.

Your eyes unconsciously drift to the drawer next to where Natasha is leaning, where the wedding invitation draft remains, and your face twists in sadness at the memory.

You guess it wouldn’t hurt to add a career change alongside your new relationship status.

At least this way you can still earn a salary while also distracting yourself from the depressing thoughts of your failed engagement.

“Okay,” you decide, meeting Natasha’s gaze with a sigh, “I’ll take the job.”

“Great, I knew you would be agreeable,” Natasha remarks, extending her hand to you.

A red aura appears around her, causing you to huff and roll your eyes.

You take her hand in yours, giving her a tiny glare.

“Liar.”

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

“I don’t remember agreeing to this.”

You say that as you dodge another swing from Natasha, ducking under her arm to get behind her, only for her to twist her body around and deliver a kick that you narrowly block with your arms.

Still, the impact has you stumbling back.

“Really?” Natasha asks with an innocent tone as she circles you. “I thought I mentioned to you that training was a part of your employment.”

A red aura begins to appear around her, but you don’t have time to comment before she swings her leg at you again.

You catch it against your side with a small grunt of pain.

Having been a profiler for criminal cases before, you do have basic defense training, and you always believed that you could hold your own against most aggressors.

At least you used to.

This current fight is making you reconsider your skills.

With her off-balance position, you attempt to throw her to the ground, but Natasha swiftly regains her footing, catching herself on her hands and executing a fluid movement to flip upright. She then bends low, sweeping your legs out from under you.

You land on the mat with a groan, feeling the impact reverberate through your body. Another pained breath escapes you as Natasha expertly pins you down.

You catch the faint red aura fading from her before throwing your head back against the mat with an exhausted sigh.

“You’re such a liar,” you breathe out, your voice tinged with both exhaustion and playful accusation. Closing your eyes, you take a moment to catch your breath.

Natasha's laughter fills the air, resonating above you, her amusement infectious and drawing a small grin from you. You peek open your eyes, watching as she disengages from atop you and heads over to her water bottle at the side.

“I’m a spy. It comes with the job,” she says casually, taking a sip.

“Okay, and I’m basically just HR,” you counter, pulling yourself upright into a sitting position. “So how does combat training fit into that?”

Natasha gestures towards you with a sweep of her hand.

“You need to be prepared to defend yourself if you ever expose someone dangerous and find yourself without backup,” she explains.

“That’s unlikely considering I haven’t even encountered anyone suspicious since I started,” you remark with a sigh.

It's been a month already, and you're starting to question if your presence here is even necessary.

Before you can dwell further on your thoughts, the cold touch of a metal water bottle against your cheek startles you.

Recoiling, you look up to see Natasha holding it out to you.

Raising a brow, Natasha waves the bottle lightly in offer.

You snatch the bottle from her with a tiny glare, but she only smirks in response.

Apart from the new job, the other surprising addition to your life is your budding friendship with the Avenger.

After the whole recruiting ordeal, you honestly expected to only have passing encounters with her at the compound.

However, to your surprise, on your first day here, Natasha was the one who volunteered to give you a tour of the place, and in the days that followed, the two of you would often share coffee and chat before you had to head off to your respective jobs.

Those regular interactions with her also earned you a fearsome reputation among the other workers, which actually works out in your favor since they’re already nervous by the time you call them in for a review. This way they are more likely to slip up and reveal anything they may be hiding.

But, like you said, you haven’t found anything substantial yet.

With a heavy sigh, you pull your knees to your chest, resting your forehead against them, feeling the weight of failure bearing down on you.

Then you hear Natasha plop down beside you.

“Back when we met, you asked me why we needed you,” she begins.

Curious at her words, you turn your head slightly to glance at her, waiting for her explanation.

Natasha leans back on her hands, her gaze fixed on the ceiling as she continues to speak.

“A couple of months ago, our surveillance revealed that someone within the compound staff was plotting an attack during the opening ceremony of the new building. However, we couldn’t confirm who it was without risking exposing that we knew of their plan."

Your eyes widen in confusion at the revelation. From what you remember, the opening ceremony was a success. There hadn’t been any news of an attack that day.

“But you caught them, right?” you inquire.

“No,” Natasha responds, shaking her head before meeting your gaze. “You did.”

Surprised, you straighten up, giving her a questioning look.

Natasha offers a small smile, elaborating, “You had recently interviewed him as a suspect for another case, and in your notes, you labeled him as dangerous and untrustworthy, despite everything about him proving otherwise.”

“And you believed me?” you ask incredulously.

Natasha shrugs, “Well, I had no other leads at the time anyway.”

You scoff in exasperation at her teasing, playfully pushing her away.

She chuckles softly before adopting a more serious expression.

“Trust in your abilities, Y/n,” Natasha says with a genuine tone. “If it’s you, not finding anyone suspicious is a good thing.”

You watch her closely, waiting for the red aura to appear.

But as a couple of seconds pass and nothing changes, you tuck your forehead back against your knees, this time to hide the smile threatening to spread across your face.

“Alright, break’s over,” Natasha announces, giving your back an encouraging pat. “Let’s go again.”

You groan in reluctance, remaining in your curled-up position.

“Come on,” Natasha urges, her tone coaxing. “I’ll go easy on you this time.”

You don’t even need to look up to know the red aura is surrounding her.

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

“What’s this?”

Natasha's voice draws your attention away from the task of pouring cooked popcorn into a bowl.

She's sitting on your sofa, examining a small, elegant card that you had accidentally left on the table.

Widening your eyes in realization of what she’s found, you hurry over to her, but her narrowed eyes tell you that she has already read the names on the card.

“She’s inviting you to her wedding?” Natasha exclaims, disbelief coloring her tone. “It’s only been a year since your breakup, and now she’s already getting married?!”

Sighing in disappointment, you had hoped to keep this information from Natasha, who developed a strong dislike for your ex after you shared the details of your breakup during one of your girls' nights.

Placing the bowl of popcorn on the table, you take the invitation from her hand and head to the kitchen, intending to tuck it away in a drawer.

As you slide it open, you catch the sight of the old wedding draft buried at the bottom, which causes a tiny pang of sadness in your chest at the memory of that time, of how everything changed so suddenly.

You can't help but wonder how your life might have unfolded if your engagement hadn't ended.

Would you still have accepted Natasha's offer if you hadn't been seeking a distraction from your failed relationship?

“You’re not thinking about going, are you?” Natasha's voice interrupts your thoughts.

Glancing up, you notice a peculiar look in her eyes, though it quickly shifts to a neutral expression at your gaze.

After a whole year of spending time together, you could tell underneath her impassive expression that she was upset about something; though, you figured it was just outrage at the situation.

Tossing the invitation into the drawer and shutting it, you offer her a small reassuring smile before returning to your seat beside her to start the movie.

“No, of course not,” you tell her.

As the opening scenes play, you maintain a normal, nonchalant expression, aware of Natasha's gaze still lingering on you even as the red aura fades from around your body.

After a while, Natasha huffs in disbelief before finally settling into the sofa, pulling the bowl of popcorn into her lap.

“You better be sharing that, Romanoff,” you tease, your eyes fixed on the screen.

Natasha scoffs before tossing a piece of popcorn at you.

“Of course, I will.”

Just as you're about to turn your head to look at her and confirm her honesty, she swiftly shoves a cushion pillow to the side of your face, blocking your view.

After a few seconds, she releases it, fluffing the cushion casually before leaning her head against your shoulder and tossing another piece of popcorn into her mouth.

You chuckle at her antics, amused by her playful behavior, before returning your attention to the screen.

A few days later, you find yourself standing on the outskirts of the wedding area, observing as servers and workers hustle to complete the finishing touches.

A sad, bittersweet expression tugs at your lips as you recognize familiar details chosen by your ex, mingled with hints of a stranger’s preferences in the decorations.

To be honest, you don’t intend to stay for the wedding. You're just here to confirm something for yourself.

Taking a deep breath, you close your eyes, conjuring your ex’s face in your mind, and whisper to yourself.

“I’m in love with her…”

Opening your eyes, you exhale slowly, a content smile on your lips as you notice the red aura surrounding your skin. It's a relief to be able to find closure regarding your feelings for your ex.

“You know, I don’t need powers to know you were lying,” a voice remarks from behind.

Startled, you turn to find Natasha approaching.

She stops beside you, her gaze fixed at the scene ahead as she accuses, “Saying that you weren’t going to come here.”

You look at her briefly before returning your attention to the field.

“I got curious about something,” you admit. “Figured that this was one way to confirm it.”

Excited and happy chatter fills the air as your ex appears, surrounded by friends and family.

Suddenly, thoughts of what-ifs from the other night resurface, prompting you to ask out loud unconsciously before you can stop yourself.

“Do you think I should’ve just pretended that she was telling the truth at that time — when she said she loved me?” you ask Natasha. “Maybe it might’ve worked out between us if I just kept my mouth shut.”

There’s a beat of silence before Natasha finally responds, her tone tinged with wistfulness.

“From my experience,” she begins, “I can tell you that living a lie would not make you happy…no matter how much you wish for it to be true.”

You chuckle lightly, “You’re probably right.”

“Of course I am,” Natasha says confidently.

A comfortable silence falls between you as you both observe the preparations from a distance.

“She is a fool for letting you go, though,” Natasha suddenly adds, her tone casual.

You laugh softly, gently chiding her, “You can’t call the bride that on her wedding day.”

“Alright then,” Natasha concedes, turning to you. “You’re an even bigger fool for coming here by yourself.”

She returns her gaze to the field, muttering under her breath with a hint of irritation, “…still visiting the one who broke your heart.”

Amused, you tilt your head to catch her eyes, chuckling at her words, as you tease, “You know, it almost sounds like you’re jealous.”

When Natasha doesn’t respond or look at you, you raise a brow in surprise and poke her side.

“Wait, seriously, are you jealous?”

She swats your hand away.

“Stop that,” Natasha reprimands, before gritting out, “I’m not jealous!”

A small grin forms on your face as you notice the red aura appear, causing Natasha to roll her eyes and walk away.

“I’m leaving,” she declares firmly.

“Aww, come on, Natasha,” you call as you trail behind her.

Glancing back at you and seeing your pleased expression, she points at you in warning.

“That smile better be off your face by the time I pull up, or else you’re walking home,” she states before continuing on her way.

Watching her go with a fond smile, you find yourself softly repeating the words.

“I’m in love with her.”

Looking down, your smile widens when you don’t see the red aura appear, confirming what you already knew about your feelings for the red-haired spy.

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

As you sit in your office at the Avenger compound, you feel a sense of fatigue wash over you at your busy schedule of back-to-back interviews.

Across from you, the final candidate squirms in her seat, clearly nervous under your scrutinizing gaze.

A chill sweeps through the room, courtesy of the cold blast of air from the AC, and you can't help but regret your decision to have it set so cold, a choice originally intended to maintain an intimidating atmosphere during interviews.

With a sigh, you reluctantly pull your hands from the cozy warmth of your hoodie pocket and turn to the next page of questions.

"Let's talk about handling confidential information," you begin, your voice cutting through the tension in the room. "Can you share a time when you had to ensure the secure handling of sensitive data?"

The candidate responds with some slight hesitation, but you sense it’s more from her nerves than any dishonesty, so you continue, moving on to the remaining questions.

Luckily, the rest of the interview goes by quickly and smoothly with her answering the other questions without any problems.

However, now comes the final question of the interview.

“Among the Avengers, who do you consider to be the hottest?”

Clearly caught off-guard, she stumbles over her words, “W-what?”

Maintaining your serious demeanor, you repeat the question.

“Who do you believe is the hottest Avenger?”

After a moment's pause, she softly answers, “Black Widow..."

Setting your clipboard down, you extend your hand.

"Thank you for coming. It was nice meeting you," you say, signaling the end of the interview.

As she thanks you and leaves, you flip to the last paper on your clipboard, revealing a sheet with tick marks beside the names of your Avenger friends.

With an amused smile, you add another mark at the end of Natasha’s already leading line.

“I don’t think that last question was approved by Steve,” a voice accuses from the doorway.

Glancing up, you see Natasha leaning against the frame, her arms folded.

You shrug in response, “Makes it more interesting though.”

Natasha hums curiously before moving to your side, perching on the edge of your desk. Her narrowed eyes fix on you.

“Is that my hoodie?” she asks in suspicion as she tugs at your sleeve.

“Maybe,” you reply, hastily pulling the hood over your head to conceal your guilty eyes.

Natasha had left the piece of clothing at your place after her last visit, and given the chilly room, borrowing it seemed harmless enough.

“Don’t you have a briefing to get to?” you deflect, attempting to change the subject.

Natasha huffs knowingly before responding, "I had some spare time, so I came to bother you."

"I’m honored," you quip sarcastically, though inwardly your heart warmed at the fact that she thought of you.

Natasha chuckles lightly, then gestures towards your clipboard.

"Ask me some questions," she prompts, her tone playful yet eager.

Deciding to indulge her, you reach for your clipboard and adopt a serious demeanor.

“Name?” you begin.

Natasha shoots you a deadpan look, prompting you to show her the document with the question written on it.

“If they lie about their name, then that’s a red flag already,” you defend, giving her a pointed look.

“Natalie,” you mock.

Natasha chuckles, shaking her head at the memory before extending her hand.

“It’s actually Natasha,” she corrects, playing along.

Skipping past the other general questions, you delve into more targeted inquiries related to threat assessment.

“Have you ever been associated with any extremist or radical groups or organizations?” you ask.

“If you consider working undercover to gain intel on them, then yes,” Natasha responds without hesitation.

“Have you ever participated or been involved in any violent behavior where someone was hurt?”

This one makes her pause for a moment before she finally admits softly, "…yes."

As the questioning continues, Natasha's playful demeanor gradually fades, replaced by a rueful tone.

By the time you reach the final question, she places her hand on your clipboard, gently setting it down on the desk.

"Maybe these questions aren’t meant for people like me," she says sadly, her tone filled with regret.

Observing her disappointed expression, you scoot closer and rest your hand on hers to draw her attention.

“Do you still want to hear my final assessment?” you ask gently.

After a contemplative pause, Natasha nods, curiosity evident in her eyes as she gestures for you to continue.

“Well, based on your answers,” you say with a dramatic pause, flipping through the papers before shaking your head firmly.

“Absolutely not. Extremely dangerous. Definitely a high-risk candidate.”

Natasha huffs in disbelief at your teasing and gives you a playful push. As your laughter subsides, you soften your tone, meeting her gaze sincerely.

“But…I’d trust you,” you admit genuinely.

Natasha's eyes widen slightly before she averts her gaze, clearing her throat. Her fingers toy with the clipboard, flipping to the last page and seeing the score sheet, before chuckling in amusement.

Turning back to you, she tilts her head with a raised brow.

“I don’t get the special question?” she asks.

You take the clipboard from her, offering a knowing look as you begin to organize the documents on your desk.

“I think we both already know your answer to that question,” you reply.

“Then ask me another,” Natasha insists.

Her request makes you pause as you ponder what to ask. Only one thing comes to mind, the question you’ve been hesitating to ask her for a long time.

Meeting her expectant gaze, you find yourself wanting to know the answer, despite the fear in your mind at the possibility of causing another big change in your life again.

Summoning your courage, you face her directly.

“Would you…,” you start, faltering momentarily before gathering yourself with a deep breath.

“...would you say ‘yes’ if I asked you out on a date tonight?”

There's a moment of silence, and just as you consider retracting the question, Natasha reaches out and adjusts the hood atop your head.

Perplexed by her action, you watch her suspiciously. Then, in one swift motion, she pulls the hood down over your eyes, obscuring your vision.

“No,” her voice responds to your question.

Hearing her stand, you quickly remove the hood to see Natasha already making her way out of the door, but before she disappears from your view, you catch the red aura surrounding her slowly fading away.

As an excited smile spreads across your face at the revelation of her true answer, your phone on the desk pings with a new message. Glancing at the screen, you see a text from Natasha.

I’ll pick you up tonight.

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

a/n: Thank you for reading! I know I said I was going to take a little break, but I had some time so I ended up finishing this and decided to post it now instead of later.

#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff imagine #natasha romanoff x fem!reader #natasha romanoff fanfic #natasha romanoff x you #black widow x reader #natasha x reader #natasha romanoff

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just-aake · 1 month

Text

Boundless Devotion - Part XV (Final)

Pairing: princess!Natasha Romanoff x fem!reader

Summary: MedievalAU. Natasha is the eldest princess of the Romanov Kingdom. As the time of her coronation approaches, she is suddenly forced to make a decision – either find herself a partner or her parents will choose one for her.

Warnings: light angst, hurt/comfort, fluff

Words: 8179

It’s difficult to know how much time has passed when you’re trapped within your own mind.

One moment, you’re glaring at the one who you once believed was your father, wishing for his downfall.

The next, you’re falling into the eyes of the one who holds your heart, all while gripping a dagger aimed at hers.

The lost time spent drifting between reality and darkness always leaves you with a sense of helplessness, especially when you later awaken to discover the actions you took during that time, actions that still haunt you.

Your current condition feels similar to that feeling of being trapped, except, unfortunately, this experience is far more agonizing.

With each passing moment, every part of you aches, both mentally and physically.

The sensation only seems to intensify, worsening to where it feels as though your entire body is engulfed in flames, burning from the inside out. Even the simple act of breathing becomes a challenge, let alone attempting to move.

At times, the overwhelming agony drains you to the point where your weary mind is tempted to just surrender to the dark void at the edge of your consciousness, promising relief.

But then a voice breaks through amidst all of the pain, calling your name in desperate pleading.

Though your tired mind struggles to place the voice in the moment, it feels familiar.

There's something about it that warms your heart, making you forget about the pain even if only for a fleeting moment.

The devastation in their tone is the reason you find the sudden need within you to push through the agony, if only to help alleviate the sadness in their voice.

And so, that's what you decide to do.

You endure, and you stay.

Gradually, it starts getting better. The pain lessens along with fewer waves of feverish sensations coursing through your body.

Eventually, you hear other voices too, all familiar and all concerned for you. And as your mind slowly recovers from the fog of pain, it begins to piece those voices with their respective owners.

Wanda and Pietro

Yelena and Kate

Carol

Even Queen Melina

Ironically, the one voice you hear the most, always a constant source of comfort and peace at your side, is the one that proves the most challenging to place.

Frustrated at the mystery of this person, you eventually gather enough strength one day to will your mind to wake up, determined to finally discover their identity.

Slowly, your eyes open, and after a few blinks, your vision clears.

The first thing you realize is that you’re not in your room, but the surroundings look familiar. With a dull ache on your stomach, you opt to turn your head instead to survey the rest of the area.

As your gaze falls upon the sleeping figure by the window, illuminated by the afternoon sun casting a warm glow on her red hair, memories flood back, and you finally recall the owner of that elusive voice.

Natasha

With her eyes closed, the princess sits in her window seat facing you, her head resting on her hand against her bent knee.

The realization that she must have fallen asleep, likely exhausted from watching over you, causes a sad bittersweet feeling to form in your heart.

Glancing around once more, you take in Natasha’s bedroom, a place you haven’t visited in a while since before everything that had happened last year.

Despite subtle changes in details, everything remains mostly unchanged. Her swords and armor hang securely on the wall, and her shelves are lined with books and personal items that she treasured through the years.

On her desk, a small stack of papers awaits her attention, likely documents of the kingdom needing review, and adjacent to them sits a tray of obviously untouched food.

You frown at the sight, aware of Natasha’s tendency to neglect meals whenever she’s stressed or too busy.

Returning your gaze to her, you notice the dark circles under her eyes, deepening your frown and concern.

Intending to call out to her and urge her to rest in her bed, you open your mouth, but your parched throat betrays you, plunging you into a painful fit of coughing instead.

Natasha’s eyes snap open instantly, her body tensing in alertness as she searches the room, before locking onto you in realization.

She swiftly rises from the window seat and approaches the edges of the bed where you lie, her hand reaching out to comfort you but then she stops in hesitation just before she touches you.

As you regain your breath, you notice her hand clench with nervous energy before slowly withdrawing to her side.

Summoning your strength, you reach out and grasp her hand firmly, not letting her go far, as you intertwine your fingers and rest them atop the bed.

You nod toward the bed, silently urging her to stay by your side.

Natasha's tense posture relaxes at your gesture, and a faint, relieved smile forms on her lips as she takes a seat at the edge of the bed. She reaches for the cup on the nightstand, bringing it to your lips and helping you take a sip, soothing your parched throat.

In a whisper so soft as if afraid to break the moment with you, Natasha asks, "How are you feeling?"

“Sore,” you respond honestly, your voice still strained.

A flash of regret flickers across Natasha’s face as she looks towards your injury. Not wanting her to spiral into guilt over what happened, you tug on her clasped hand to bring her attention back to you.

“Can you help me sit up?” you ask, determination in your tone as you release her hand and prepare to push yourself upright.

“You really shouldn’t be moving right now,” Natasha cautions, her hands hovering tentatively in concern.

“I know, but I want to,” you insist.

The thought of continuing to lie helplessly on your back, a sight that likely tormented Natasha during your time of unconsciousness, doesn’t sit well with you.

You want to reassure her that you’re feeling better than your previously weakened state.

Natasha hesitates, torn between honoring your request or prioritizing your well-being. However, she comes to a decision when she sees the determined look on your face.

“You’re so stubborn,” she remarks with a gentle shake of her head, a hint of fondness in her voice, as her hands move to support you carefully in sitting up against the headboard.

“Takes one to know one,” you tease lightly, offering a small smile as you lean back, taking a moment to catch your breath.

A comfortable silence settles between you as you stare up at the ceiling, lost in thought.

Memories flood back, and you distinctly recall Natasha’s anguished face above you before darkness consumed your vision.

Your smile drops slightly at the memory, and with a tired sigh, you turn to meet her patient gaze, breaking the silence.

“How long was I out for?” you ask softly.

“Three days,” Natasha responds gently.

Processing the information, disappointment washes over you as you realize what was supposed to have taken place yesterday.

“Your coronation…I missed it,” you say sadly.

Natasha chuckles softly, shaking her head in disbelief at your priority.

“No, you didn’t,” she reassures. “I’m not the queen yet.”

At your confused expression, Natasha continues her explanation.

“I postponed it. And before you say I didn��t have to, you know that there was no way I would have gone through with it without having you there.”

“Besides,” Natasha adds with a playful smirk. “Staying by your side is always better than any kind of event, even if it’s my coronation.”

Her comment lightens the somber atmosphere, drawing a small laugh from you, which makes her grin in turn.

The action causes a dull ache to appear at your side, and unconsciously, your hand moves to brush against the bandages covering where the blade had pierced you, reminding you of your ordeal.

“So what happened after…” you trail off, unable to voice the memory.

Natasha's gaze shifts sadly to your wounded area as she begins to explain.

"Yelena arrived with the physician shortly after. They tended to Pietro and you," she recounts. "Meanwhile, Kate stayed at her manor to apprehend the attackers and helped Wanda to recover."

Concern flickers in your eyes, prompting Natasha to offer a reassuring grin.

"Don't worry, Wanda's fine. She just tired herself out when she took down Rumlow and his followers.”

At your puzzled expression, Natasha moves her hand pointedly, mirroring the similar action of Wanda’s whenever she uses her powers.

“Oh,” you say, at a loss for words in realization.

Natasha chuckles at your expression, raising her brows at you.

“You did say she had a special way with people.”

Sighing worriedly, you explain your reasoning for keeping Wanda’s abilities a secret.

“You know how some people are towards magic, Natasha.”

“Well, considering she saved our lives, I’ll make sure no one messes with her, though I’m sure she can protect herself just fine.”

You let out a small breath of relief at her reassurance before inquiring further, “What about everyone else?”

Natasha tilts her head in thought as she continues to recount the events afterward.

“Clint was able to warn my dad, Steve, and Carol in time to capture the ones under control here in the castle. And as for the ones that went after my mom…”

She lets out an exasperated sigh before continuing, “...let’s just say that they shouldn’t have attacked her in her lab when she was in the middle of mixing certain chemicals and powders.”

You chuckle lightly at the thought, knowing about Queen Melina’s tendency to cause explosions in her lab during her experiments.

However, the mention of explosions brings a grim reminder of another figure Natasha hasn't mentioned yet.

“And Dreykov?” you ask cautiously. “Did he escape?”

Natasha's hand clench into a fist at his name, her expression clouding with silent fury.

"No, he's currently in prison, awaiting trial. Along with the rest of the traitors," she responds, shaking her head with resolve.

Taking your hand in a reassuring grip, she adds, "But you don't need to worry about him. I won't let him hurt you ever again."

Natasha lifts your hand to her lips, pressing a gentle kiss against your skin.

“I promise.”

You offer her a grateful smile, relieved at the information.

However, a sense of resignation settles in as you prepare to bring up the next topic.

“I guess all that’s left is to decide what to do about me,” you say with a heavy sigh.

Natasha tightens her grip on your hand as she urges gently, "Just concentrate on getting better.”

You chuckle lightly before your expression turns somber as you clarify.

"No, I mean about me being the Stark princess."

An awkward silence descends in the air, both of you acutely aware of the weight of the decision looming over you.

As much as you dislike it, the reality of your identity remains, and you need to officially address its involvement in your future eventually.

“What do you want to do?” Natasha finally asks, breaking the silence.

You contemplate your options and remember your conversation with Bucky, finding that your feelings about your decision remain unchanged even now.

"Honestly, Natasha, I want to just leave it in the past," you admit. "Everything's relatively peaceful between the kingdoms at the moment. What's the point in bringing up troubling revelations from mistakes in the past?"

“Are you sure?” Natasha questions in concern before pointing out. “You’re essentially rejecting your title as a princess.”

You nod, giving her a content smile.

"I've never needed it in my life before,” you say as you tilt your head at her in question, a hint of warmth in your voice as you ask, “Besides, I already have a princess in my life, don't I?”

Natasha returns your gaze with an affectionate smile before intertwining your hands together.

"Yeah, I'm yours," she affirms softly.

Gradually, you feel more strength returning to your body as you remain awake, nodding confidently as you adjust your position carefully.

"I think I'm feeling better enough to go back to my manor this evening," you observe, suggesting, "If you could have the twins come and help me, then you can finally get a proper night's sleep in your own bed tonight."

Before you can sit up any further, Natasha’s hand moves to your shoulder, gently holding you in place, her expression filled with disbelief.

Glancing at her hand, you give her a questioning look, causing Natasha to shake her head exasperatedly.

"If you think you're going to leave this bed anytime soon, especially after being stabbed for my sake, you need to think again," Natasha says firmly, her tone leaving no room for argument.

Meeting her gaze, you both engage in a standoff, locked in a silent challenge. After a moment, Natasha raises her brow at you.

“If the situation was reversed, would you let me move?” she asks pointedly.

You open your mouth to reply before deflating in resignation, knowing you would do the same as her if you were in her position.

“Fine,” you concede, though a small pout forms on your lips, before adding, “But I should still return your bed to you and move into one of the guest rooms.”

Natasha tilts her head in thought as she traces a pattern on the blanket on your lap before commenting.

"Is that really necessary? It's not like we haven't slept in the same bed before," she reasons, her tone light.

Then, with a teasing smirk, she adds, "Unless this is your way of avoiding me after I confessed that I love you."

You pause, taken aback by her casual declaration, and you feel your cheeks heating up as you finally process her words.

When you see the victorious smirk on her face, you roll your eyes and shake your head, giving her a chatising look.

“You’re unbelievable,” you mutter, frustration evident in your tone, though there's a hint of fondness.

“I believe you’ve always called me charming,” Natasha retorts, her smirk widening.

Frustrated, your hands grip the collar of her tunic tightly, pulling her closer to you.

"Natasha Alianovna Romanov," you begin, your voice tinged with both exasperation and affection.

She smirks, amusement dancing in her eyes as she catches herself with her hands against the bed on each side of you, encasing you between her arms.

Gazing at you with a teasing expression, she prompts, "Yes?"

With a small smile, you finally gather the courage to voice the words you've been longing to tell her.

"I'm in love with you," you confess softly, your heart pounding in your chest.

"That's good..." Natasha replies, her voice tender as she leans in closer, "...cause I'm deeply in love with you too."

Her words brush against your lips softly, and without hesitation, you tug her closer, closing the tiny distance between the two of you.

The kiss feels both new and familiar, a perfect blend of passion and tenderness, as you lose yourself in the moment, savoring the warmth of her lips against yours.

Natasha is the one who pulls back first, resting her forehead against yours and letting out a happy sigh.

"You have no idea how many times I've wanted to do that," she admits, her voice filled with sincere longing.

Unconsciously, you lightly bite your lip to keep the warmth and feeling of her there for a little longer, before noticing Natasha's gaze drifting down to the subtle movement.

You recall the countless times you've witnessed that look of desire in her eyes, prompting a small chuckle to escape your lips as you pull her in closer.

"I think I do," you tease, brushing lightly against her lips. "You're not exactly subtle, princess."

Natasha lets out a tiny huff, her lips curving into a playful smile before she leans in for another kiss and then another, each one gentle and delicate, never leaving your lips for more than a second, as she steals your breath away and makes you melt against her.

Your hand, still lingering on her collar, instinctively seeks more contact, slipping beneath the thin layer of her clothing to clutch at her bare shoulder.

The warmth of her skin beneath your touch only intensifies the longing between you as you try to pull her closer.

As you go to deepen the kiss, the moment is suddenly shattered by an unexpected interruption.

“Oh my—Nat! Let her breathe! She just woke up!”

Startled, you pull back from Natasha, breaking the kiss, as your gaze shifts to the doorway where Yelena and Kate stand.

Natasha groans in frustration, her head falling against your shoulder.

Kate quickly steps in to cover Yelena's mouth, offering you an apologetic expression.

"Sorry! We just wanted to check on you two. We didn't mean to interrupt," she explains, as Yelena’s objection is muffled behind her hand.

Still pressed against your neck, Natasha responds in an annoyed tone, "Then leave."

Yelena rolls her eyes at her sister's bluntness, pulling Kate's hand away to respond, "Alright, alright, we get it."

With a warm smile directed at you, Yelena adds, "It's good to see you awake, Y/n."

"Yeah, we're glad that you're okay," Kate chimes in, relief evident in her eyes.

You offer them both a grateful nod. "Thank you two for coming."

“I guess we’ll visit you later then,” Yelena remarks, moving to take Kate's arm and guide her away from the door.

As Kate closes the door behind them, you catch snippets of their conversation.

"Should we really, though?" Kate's voice holds a hint of hesitation. "I don't want to interrupt them again while they're...you know."

Yelena hums thoughtfully before responding, "I mean it's a good thing we did this time, or else Y/n would have probably pulled out her stitches trying to undress Natasha."

Your face flushes with embarrassment as you instinctively cover it with your hands, feeling a wave of mortification wash over you.

Natasha chuckles lightly, adjusting her tunic as she shoots you a playful smirk, a teasing glint dancing in her eyes.

“Don’t even start,” you warn, noticing her mischievous expression.

Natasha holds up her hands innocently, adopting a nonchalant tone as she suggests, "I was just going to say we should have the physician come and check your condition."

She then adds with a teasing edge, "After all, you may have overexerted yourself from being so eager to kiss me."

You huff in disbelief, raising a skeptical eyebrow at her.

"I'm the eager one?" you ask, a hint of amusement in your tone.

Natasha nods with mock seriousness.

"If you say so."

Rolling your eyes, you playfully swat at her shoulder, then turn away with a small pout.

"In all seriousness, though, let me go get the physician," Natasha says, amusement evident in her voice at your behavior.

As she turns to leave, you call out to her.

"Wait, Natasha.”

She turns back to face you, curiosity in her eyes.

Leaning forward, you catch her off guard with a surprise kiss before pulling away.

"...okay, now you can go," you whisper against her lips.

Natasha's eyes fluttered closed at the unexpected contact, her tongue lightly tracing where your lips touched hers. When she finally opens her eyes again, they seem impossibly darker, filled with a mixture of desire and love that makes your breath catch.

“That’s unfair,” she breathes out, her voice husky with desire. “…doing that just as I’m about to leave.”

You pull away slightly, only for her to follow, not allowing the distance between you two to grow. A sly, knowing grin spreads across your face as you tease her.

"I just wanted to see who between us is actually the one who's more eager."

"I'm your princess, yet you're teasing me like this," Natasha says playfully, feigning disbelief.

"And you still love me anyway," you point out, a fond smile playing on your lips.

Natasha's eyes soften, and she closes the distance between you once more, whispering her next words against your lips.

“Yeah, I do.”

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

Upon hearing that you were awake, Wanda and Pietro arrived quickly just as the physician was assessing your condition.

Soon after, a request from her mother to speak with Natasha in private causes her to leave the twins in charge of watching over you at your insistence.

Now, Natasha stands in her private study, a deep frown creasing her forehead as she examines the letters that her mother had handed to her.

“What is this?” Natasha asks, her voice steady but laced with a subtle hint of anger as she reads the contents of some of the letters.

Melina lets out a heavy sigh, rubbing her temples as if trying to ward off an impending headache, knowing that her daughter won't take the news well.

“Many of the heads of the other noble houses in the kingdom are asking for Lord Dreykov’s release,” she reveals grimly.

“He tried to kill me,” Natasha states incredulously. “And yet they’re still defending him.”

“I warned you that Lord Dreykov is influential among the other nobles. You need strong evidence if you want people to turn their back on him,” her mother reminds her.

She then places a stack of documents on the desk, and Natasha quickly realizes that these are the results of Steve’s investigation.

Her mother continues her lecture, as Natasha skims the contents.

“The staff from the Bishop manor provided witness accounts of Lord Rumlow and the others' betrayal, but there were no witnesses at Dreykov’s manor besides you and Y/n.”

“What about his guards?” Natasha suggests.

Melina shakes her head grimly. “Found dead in their cells by unknown means.”

“What about Barnes?” Natasha points out the presence of the old captain.

Melina gives her a look of disbelief, raising an eyebrow.

“The other nobles are not going to believe the words of a known criminal.”

Frustration and disbelief cloud Natasha's expression as she processes the information. She searches for another angle, another way to bring Dreykov to justice.

“If we can’t prove attempted murder against me, then what about the fact that he almost killed Y/n?”

Melina grimaces, her reluctance evident in her expression as she braces herself to deliver the answer Natasha doesn't want to hear.

“What is it?” Natasha presses, her tone betraying a hint of impatience.

Melina taps the stack of letters pointedly before explaining, “Many argue that Dreykov’s actions against Y/n are akin to a father disciplining their child and is not a crime, especially considering she survived. They believe it's a family matter that should be resolved within the respective house and not involve any others.”

Natasha's frown deepens as she hears this, her hand tightening around the letters.

“I told you handling the relationships between the nobles of the court is delicate work,” Melina reminds her gently.

“Yeah, I’m starting to see what you mean,” Natasha concedes, her expression resigned in anger at the twisted parts of the kingdom.

Melina offers a comforting gesture, placing a hand on Natasha's shoulder and giving her a proud look.

“Don’t worry, Natasha. Lord Dreykov can still be forced to face trial if you want. And I’m confident that you can convince the others to be on your side. In this matter and the future.”

Her mother’s encouragement does little to ease Natasha’s mind of the difficult task ahead for her once she becomes the queen.

Despite the troubling news, Natasha still thanks her mother for the warning before taking her leave.

Returning to your side, Natasha finds you resting once again, exhaustion evident in your features. She watches you with a tender and affectionate gaze, remembering her promise to protect you from any further harm.

If there's one thing Natasha is certain of for the future, it's her unwavering commitment to fulfilling her vow to protect you.

With that resolve in mind, she later finds herself standing at the entrance of the most secure cell in prison, her arms crossed as she fixes a steely glare on the person seated in the shadows.

"Well?" Dreykov's voice cuts through the stillness of the chamber. “Is that girl dead yet?”

Natasha's jaw clenches at his callous words, refusing to be baited by his cruelty.

A click of his tongue signals his understanding before he speaks again, his tone laced with a hint of mockery.

“No, you wouldn’t let that happen. So, then, are you here to finish what you started?”

Dreykov's eyes finally meet hers, his form emerging from the darkness as he tilts his head, his injuries still evident in the flickering light.

His face bears the remnants of bruises, one eye swollen shut—a testament to the beating Natasha had inflicted upon him when she first learned of the severity and uncertainty of your condition from the physician.

Unconsciously, Natasha's hands clench into fists, the memory of her rage surfacing as she recalls the moment she unleashed her fury upon him, her knuckles bruising and bleeding until Yelena intervened to pull her away.

Dreykov catches her movement, a knowing glint in his eyes as a smirk tug at the corners of his lips.

“I see, so you’re mad because you can’t kill me,” he says confidently, accurately guessing her current predicament. “Tell me, how many of the other nobles have interceded for my release?”

Natasha grits her teeth in irritation at the extent of Dreykov's influence over the court and the fact he already knows that some nobles would rally to his defense.

“They’ll abandon you once they realize what sort of person you truly are,” she retorts, her tone firm.

Dreykov chuckles in amusement, unfazed by her words.

“Feeling pressured already?” he taunts. “It’s just going to get worse from here on. After all, I’m not the only one in this kingdom who wants a war.”

“And you already know that I would never let that happen,” Natasha counters, her voice tinged with resolve. “That’s the whole reason why you didn’t want me as the queen in the first place.”

Dreykov eyes her critically, considering her words before a smirk dances across his lips.

“Perhaps I was wrong about you. You have potential. You just need the right…” he waves his hand dramatically. “…motivation.”

Rolling her eyes at his attempt at manipulation, Natasha turns to leave.

However, before she can reach the exit, Dreykov's voice calls out to her, stopping her in her tracks.

“Do you know what causes war the most, Your Highness? More than greed or vengeance?”

Natasha turns back to glare at him, irritated by his continued insinuations.

At her silence, he answers his own question.

“Love,” he spits out the word in disgust. “Such a foolish emotion, but you’d be surprised at how much destruction it can cause.”

He raises his brow at her, gesturing pointedly. “And it seems you have plenty for that pathetic girl.”

Natasha slams her fist against the bars, anger erupting, as she glares daggers at him.

“You better hope you don’t get to leave this cell, Dreykov. Because if I ever see you free…” she pauses, her voice lowering to a dangerous tone. “…I’ll kill you myself.”

Despite her threat, a pleased smile forms on Dreykov’s face, as if her words confirmed something for him, infuriating her further.

Turning swiftly to the door, Natasha indicates to the guards to let her out, but Dreykov's voice interrupts her again.

“I do have one more question for you.”

The door opens for her to leave as he continues.

“If that girl ever ends up in the way of you and your so-called peace, would you still choose to avoid war then…or would you fight for her?”

Natasha clenches her hand, finding herself unable to respond, her mind consumed by the weight of his words.

With a determined look, she decides not to entertain his question further, swiftly leaving the cell and slamming the door shut behind her.

“I look forward to seeing what your choice would be when that time comes, Your Majesty,” Dreykov's voice echoes tauntingly down the corridor as Natasha makes her way back to you.

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

The unsettling exchange with Dreykov from that night a week ago still lingers in her mind as Natasha sits at her desk, lost in thought.

She ponders his cryptic words, bothered by his confidence that trouble was coming, and especially at the implication of having you in the middle of it all.

Her main concern is for your safety, prompting her to consider every possible scenario where you might be at risk.

After all, she had come dangerously close to losing you during the recent conflict, a thought that sends a shiver down her spine every time.

Leaning back in her chair, Natasha’s gaze falls on the small opened box resting on her desk, illuminated by the soft moonlight filtering through the window.

The red gemstone embedded in the golden band glimmers with a silent promise, one that she hasn’t dared to ask you yet.

Pushing aside the unsettling thoughts of Dreykov's words, Natasha closes the lid of the box with a gentle sigh, tucking it away in the drawer for safekeeping.

One day, she promises.

When she can guarantee your safety and ensure that she can provide you with a peaceful future, she’ll give it to you then.

A knock at her door draws her attention, and Natasha looks up to see you poking your head inside, a playful smile dancing on your lips.

"Don’t tell me you’re hiding already?" you tease, your voice laced with amusement.

Natasha's lips curve into a fond smile at the sight of you, her worries momentarily pushed aside by your presence.

Chuckling softly, she shakes her head before asking, “Did my mother send you?”

“She wanted me to make sure you wouldn’t be late,” you reply, walking over to her with cautious steps, mindful of your injury.

Leaning back against her desk, you give her a pointed look.

“After all, it’s your last ball as the princess before you become the queen tomorrow.”

Natasha smiles gently at the reminder before glancing down at the area of your dress where she knows the bandages are hiding underneath. Her expression softens with concern as she meets your eyes.

“How are you feeling?” she asks.

“Better,” you assure her. “I’ve been able to move around by myself without any help.”

Standing up, Natasha intertwines her fingers with yours, drawing you closer as she gazes at you.

“You look beautiful,” she compliments softly, her eyes reflecting genuine admiration.

“So do you,” you respond, your hand reaching up to gently brush against her cheek, slowly losing yourself in her gaze.

Then as if remembering your original goal, you clear your throat and nod towards the door.

“We should go. Your mother’s expecting us,” you remind her.

At your suggestion, Natasha moves closer to you, enclosing you between the desk and her body.

“I’m sure we can spare a couple of minutes, can’t we?” she asks, her voice lowering suggestively, caressing the air as she leans in.

Raising a brow skeptically, you tilt your head slightly, your lips barely grazing hers as you ask, “Only a couple of minutes?”

The moment your lips touch hers, Natasha's eyes darken with desire, her breath catching in her throat.

Absentmindedly humming in agreement, she whispers, “…yeah, just a couple…” before closing the distance between you.

Arriving at the ball later than expected, you and Natasha are greeted by her mother at the entrance, who gives you both a reprimanding yet knowing look.

“I’m sorry,” you apologize, offering her a genuinely apologetic expression. “We lost track of time talking.”

Melina raises her hand in a stopping gesture at your explanation.

“No, don’t apologize, Y/n. I’m sure I can guess what happened,” she says, shooting a pointed glare at her daughter before turning her attention back to you.

“Would you mind giving us a moment alone?”

You nod in understanding, softly excusing yourself.

Natasha brings the back of your hand up for a gentle kiss goodbye before releasing it, and you turn to leave the two women to their private conversation.

“Hold on, Y/n,” Melina calls out to you before you can go too far.

Stepping up to you, Melina carefully examines you before adjusting the strap of your dress on your shoulder slightly.

“Do try to direct Natasha to a less visible area the next time you two decide to ‘talk’,” she advises with a raised brow.

A flush spreads across your face in realization, and you quickly place your hand atop the area she adjusted, before giving a reprimanding look to Natasha, who looks away, barely concealing the satisfied grin playing on her lips.

You offer a quick, polite thanks before swiftly making your exit, eager to leave the embarrassing situation behind.

Turning back to her daughter, Melina meets her gaze with a raised brow.

“I guess it’s safe to say that your relationship with Y/n is still going well?”

Natasha smiles softly at her observation, her eyes still following you as you go to join the others.

“Yeah, it is,” she replies honestly.

“That’s good,” Melina comments, handing her a cup before taking a sip of her own. “It’s important to show the other nobles how good the two of you are together so that they can have more confidence in the future with you as the ruler.”

Natasha nods in understanding, taking a sip of her drink in preparation for another lecture from her mother.

“Even if your relationship started as a ruse in the beginning,” her mother adds nonchalantly.

Natasha chokes on her drink in surprise at her mother’s words, coughing lightly as she gives her an incredulous look.

Melina raises a brow at her in challenge, daring her to deny her claim.

Looking away, Natasha glances over to where you are, oblivious to you and her arrangement being revealed at the moment.

As if feeling her eyes on you, you glance up, meeting her eyes and giving her a soft smile. She returns it before returning her focus to her mother.

Knowing there’s no point in trying to convince her mother otherwise, Natasha asks instead, “When did you figure it out?”

“Oh, I’ve had my suspicions since the beginning,” her mother reveals, swirling the contents of her cup in thought as she recalls how the events all started.

“That morning, Y/n mentioned in passing about her meeting with Lady Maria as a potential partner, so I knew I had to do something to make you act.”

Natasha's brows furrow as she pieces together her mother's words with her own memories. She was right to think it was odd that her mother would suddenly take an interest in her love life, especially with such a ridiculous ultimatum given in such a short time.

“Wait, let me get this straight,” Natasha interjects, holding up her hand as she processes the information. “You're saying the only reason you pressured me to find someone was because you found out about Y/n’s date with Lady Maria?”

Melina nods before offering Natasha a sympathetic pat on her back.

“Let’s be honest, Natasha, you can be quite oblivious when it comes to your feelings for Y/n. I only pushed you to pay more attention to your love life because I didn’t want you to miss your chance with her.”

“No, you said that if I didn’t find someone, you were going to choose someone for me,” Natasha reminds her mother, her tone tinged with frustration.

Melina waves her hand dismissively.

“I was confident that you would come up with something before it ever got to that point, and you did. This charade that the two of you concocted worked out much better in the end, wouldn’t you agree?”

Natasha gapes at her mother, blinking in disbelief. She pinches her brows, feeling a headache forming at her mother’s antics.

“Please, go meddle with someone else's love life,” Natasha pleads, her patience wearing thin.

“Don’t be so dramatic, Natasha,” she says, chuckling, before pressing on, undeterred by her daughter's exasperation. “Now, tell me, have you thought of a plan on how to propose to Y/n yet?”

Meanwhile, after leaving Natasha with her mother, you join the pair at one side of the ballroom. Stepping in front of the twins with a warm smile, you admire their new formal clothing that you had arranged for them to attend the event.

“Well, don’t you two look beautiful and dashing?” you compliment, ruffling Pietro’s hair playfully. He swats at your hand lightly with a pout, then tugs at the collar of his shirt.

“I think you and Wanda are just trying to choke me in this,” he comments.

A red mist envelopes his topmost button and undoes it, granting him some relief.

“Better?” Wanda asks, returning her hand to cross her arms at her brother’s exaggerated behavior.

“Yes, I can actually breathe now,” Pietro responds with a teasing smirk, nudging his sister in thanks.

At the corner of your eye, you notice some nobles nearby shooting disapproving glares at your group, their attention mostly focused on Wanda, and then they begin to speak to each other, their voices intentionally loud.

“So disgraceful that they allow such people in here.”

“Did you see her eyes? They say it’s red like a demon.”

Pietro scowls at their words, moving protectively in front of his sister, but you stop him before he could confront them.

Then placing a comforting hand on Wanda’s shoulder, you check up on her. She gives you a reassuring smile, truly unbothered by their harsh words.

You’re glad to see her adjusting okay to the fact that her powers are now known by others in the kingdom.

Still, you will not stand idly and let them talk about people you care about like that. The twins may not be in a position to say anything, but you can always defend and protect them.

Before you can confront the rude nobles, however, they are suddenly pushed off balance, stumbling to the ground, as the pair of canines rush through their legs towards you.

Their respective owners follow swiftly after them, with the younger princess giving the people a glare and challenging look, causing them to avert their gaze in embarrassment, looking elsewhere.

Yelena turns to your group with a satisfied grin.

“Don’t mind them, Wanda. They’re always judging everyone,” she says.

Kate nods in agreement, adding, “Yeah, intolerant people like them are not worth your time. There’s plenty of people in the kingdom who already know you’re amazing.”

Pietro chuckles and places his hand atop his sister’s head teasingly, remarking, “Careful with the compliments now, we wouldn’t want her getting a big head.”

Wanda rolls her eyes in response, shoving his arm off and commenting pointedly, “Your head is already big enough for the both of us.”

As the four of them continue their playful conversations, your eyes spot a familiar face hovering in the shadows at the edge of the ballroom.

Excusing yourself, you make your way over to the lone captain.

“Not one for parties?” you ask as you step up next to Bucky.

He sighs and shakes his head as he observes the surrounding guests joyfully engaged in celebration.

“It’s been a while since I attended events like these, but then again, I’ve never enjoyed them before anyway,” he admits.

Curious about something that you’ve been wondering about him, you finally ask.

“Why did you decide to come to this kingdom? You know, after hiding away for so long.”

A silence follows, and just as you think he’s going to leave your question unanswered, he finally responds, nodding toward the distance.

“To visit a friend.”

You follow Bucky’s gaze and realize he’s looking at Steve, who’s currently in conversation with Clint and Maria.

As if feeling your eyes, Steve glances up toward your direction, giving you two a welcoming smile and waving his hand in invitation.

A small smile forms on Bucky’s face, surprising you, and you find yourself asking curiously, “Then why not just stay? Enjoy life without constantly looking over your shoulder for danger and having to run away.”

He chuckles ruefully, giving you a look of disbelief.

“I’m the most wanted criminal of the Stark Kingdom. Nowhere is safe for me or for those who help me.”

“Well, at least consider the option,” you say, nudging him gently and giving him a pointed look. “Because you do have more than one friend here.”

He examines you carefully before giving you a silent, noncommittal nod, and you understand that this will be the most you’ll get from him.

“Y/n!”

At the call of your name, you turn to see Carol coming towards you. As you turn back around to excuse yourself, you're not surprised to find Bucky has sneaked away.

Carol stops in front of you, the happy smile fading slightly into a serious expression as she examines you critically.

"How are you feeling?" she asks with genuine concern.

The familiarity in her question makes you laugh lightly as you shake your head.

“You and Natasha. Why do you two keep asking me that?”

Carol raises an amused brow at you.

"It's because we both care about you, Y/n," she answers softly before tilting her head in thought.

"Maybe the fact we both like the same things is why we're always competing with each other," she muses aloud before extending her hand in invitation.

"Speaking of, would you like to join me for one dance before Natasha decides to keep you all to herself?"

You give her a playful warning look, raising your brow at her.

"No extravagant twirling, lifts, or dips?" you ask, knowing her tendencies.

Carol nods in reassurance, answering firmly, "I promise."

As she leads you in a slow dance, keeping an easy pace to avoid tiring you, you seize the moment to ask her something.

“Are you leaving after the coronation tomorrow?”

Carol nods in confirmation.

“That’s the plan,” she responds. “I want to do as much exploring as I can before my own coronation.”

A tiny, sad smile forms on your face at Carol's words. You've honestly missed her since she started her travels. Poking her pointedly, you give her a serious expression.

"Still, you should come visit more often," you tell her.

Her eyes soften, and she gives you a small nod.

“For you, I will,” she says, a hint of affection slipping into her tone. "If you ever need anything, Y/n, just let me know, and I’ll have my ship practically fly back to you."

Her eyes glance at something behind you before she shrugs, adding with a sigh, “And I guess the same applies to Natasha if she ever needs my help again.”

“How generous,” Natasha remarks dryly, her voice tinged with sarcasm, as she comes to a stop beside you.

Carol gives you a small bow in thanks, her expression teasing as she remarks, “Looks like my time’s up.”

“Natasha,” she greets, giving her an acknowledging nod.

Natasha returns the sentiment, her demeanor cool as she replies, “Carol.”

Carol gives you one last smile, before pressing a chaste kiss on your hand goodbye and whispering sincerely, “Be happy, Y/n.”

As she leaves, you glance at Natasha and notice the small displeased pout on her face.

Unable to resist teasing her, you nudge her gently, remarking, “Jealousy looks cute on you.”

Natasha huffs in disbelief at your statement before offering her hand to you.

“May I have a dance?”

As Natasha leads you in a slow dance, you can’t help but feel nostalgic, leaning your head against her shoulder.

“This feels familiar, doesn’t it?” you ask softly.

Natasha hums in agreement and nods against you, responding, “Last time we danced like this, we decided to be a couple.”

You chuckle at the memory, reminiscing about how clueless you were back then, never imagining how things would turn out for the two of you.

The soft music creates a serene atmosphere, cocooning you and Natasha in your own world, away from everyone else.

Recalling the details of your original agreement, you meet Natasha’s eyes, a mischievous glint dancing in your gaze.

“You know, according to our deal, our fake relationship is supposed to end after your coronation tomorrow,” you point out.

Natasha raises an intrigued eyebrow, curious about your intentions.

“So, what should we do about that then?” she asks, her tone playful.

You tilt your head, pretending to ponder before flashing her a teasing smirk.

“Didn’t we agree that if anything were to happen between us, it would be the princess who confessed her feelings first?”

Understanding dawns on Natasha’s face, and she grins in agreement, a fond smile playing on her lips.

“Y/n,” she begins softly, her gaze filled with affection. “From the moment I met you, I knew you were amazing…then I learned that you were really stubborn.”

You roll your eyes at her teasing, but Natasha just chuckles before continuing.

“But you're also kind and smart. And truly the strongest person I know.”

She leans in closer, her breath mingling with yours.

“My heart and my life have always been yours, Y/n.”

You feel warmth spreading through your chest at her confession, and you can’t help but cup her face gently with your hands.

“You’re my best friend,” Natasha continues, her voice barely above a whisper as she covers your hand with hers. “But I would be honored if you are willing to have me as more than that.”

Your heart swells with love, and you nod happily as you respond.

"I want that too, Natasha," you whisper sincerely. “I want to continue to stay by your side and be yours too. Always.”

With those words of promise, Natasha closes the distance between you, her lips meeting yours in a tender kiss.

The sound of cheers and applause surrounds you, but you pay no mind, lost in the moment with Natasha.

You don’t know what the future holds, but you’re not afraid. As long as you’re together, you know you can overcome anything that comes your way.

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

Epilogue

In another kingdom, far away, inside one of the workshops of the castle, the king’s assistant waits patiently by the doorway for a pause in the king’s pastime of tinkering.

“What’s the matter, Jarvis?” Tony Stark asks without looking up from his careful concentration.

“A letter arrived for you, sir.”

“Is it about the next shipment of parts?”

“No, sir, this came from a nobleman in the Romanov Kingdom.”

“Oh…you can just toss it in the fire then.”

There’s an awkward silence as his assistant makes no move to do as he asked, causing Tony to glance up in question.

The assistant hesitates before explaining.

“Counselor Potts strongly advised us not to do that anymore, under the warning of severe punishment should she find out. Also, the messenger stressed that the contents pertain to an urgent matter.”

Tony stops and furrows his brow. After the war and the deaths of his whole family, he preferred to keep contact between the kingdoms to a minimum. Just because there’s a peace treaty between them doesn’t mean he has to like or care about anyone there.

On the other hand, facing the wrath of his most trusted advisor for ignoring this letter is not something he wants to deal with in the foreseeable future.

“Just leave it on the table then,” he sighs with a roll of his eyes.

If anything, it’s probably more news about the coronation of their upcoming queen. He’s already sent his decline to attend the event and a decent enough congratulations present that Pepper picked out.

He doesn’t understand why they can’t just keep the indifferent relationship between the two kingdoms as is instead trying to make them into something closer.

Shaking his head as Jarvis closes the door behind him, Tony attempts to return to his flow of concentration, picking up his tools as he continues to tinker with the parts in front of him.

Unfortunately, as time passes, his eyes keep glancing at the letter sitting in the corner, something about it gives him some sort of unnerving feeling.

Slumping with a resigned sigh that he can’t keep his focus anymore, he places his tools down again and swipes at the letter, sitting at the edge of the table.

Opening it, he skims the contents quickly before his posture suddenly straightens with tension, his expression turning serious.

The door of the workshop slams open, and Tony strides out purposefully, calling to his assistant.

“Jarvis!”

They are at his side in an instant, following him and listening for the next orders.

“Tell Vision to prepare the carriages and let Pepper know I’ll be away a bit for some business.”

“Yes, sir. May I ask where you will be traveling to?”

“The Romanov Kingdom,” Tony answers, glancing at the letter in his hand before tightening his fist, crumpling the paper slightly.

“Looks like it’s time to pay this new queen a visit after all.”

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

Series Masterlist : Boundless Devotion

a/n: Thank you to everyone for reading all the way to the end of this series! (especially this long chapter) It's been a journey, and I'm happy that many of you enjoyed it and showed up for every update (all of your comments and reactions are so sweet and fun to read and honestly helped to keep me motivated).

This is the final part of the series, but it's not the end yet. There will be a sequel for Boundless Devotion, and it's called Everlasting Devotion (title mention in prequel Fateful Encounter 🤗).

I’m still in the middle of working on it, so the first chapter is not going to be released right away since I also want to finish some other one shots that I‘ve been working on and maybe take a little break.

That being said, for those currently in the taglist for Boundless Devotion and anyone else who's interested, if you also want to be added in the taglist for when the sequel starts, please let me know. (I prefer to ask again just in case instead of just assuming and forcing you along on another series that you didn't sign up for)

Again, thank you to all of you for reading!

Taglist: @lightwhoranoutoflight, @taliiiaasteria, @romanoffprentiss, @canvascoloredin, @silentwolfsstuff, @blacklightsposts, @arcturusseer, @presser24, @dvrkhcld, @jujuu23, @screechcat, @vivs46, @cd-4848, @youneversawmehereooooooo, @pancakefan7529, @confusedspaceotter, @natbelovasblog, @izzy-b09, @iamheartless, @mrsrushman, @fxckmiup, @natty-taffy, @2silverchain, @traveler-at-heart, @autorasexy, @natsxwife, @mviswidow, @slut4johansson, @automaticdinosaurtaco, @jono723, @mousetheorist, @tofu9162, @natsbiggestfan1, @iheartjohansson, @nothanksbye07, @midastouch013, @dvrkhcld, @red1culous

#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x fem!reader #natasha romanoff imagine #natasha romanoff x you #natasha romanoff fanfic #black widow x reader #natasha x reader #natasha romanoff

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just-aake · 1 month

Text

Boundless Devotion - Part XIV

Pairing: princess!Natasha Romanoff x fem!reader

Warnings: angst, violence, blood, hurt/comfort, major injury

Words: 6283

In the courtyard of the Bishop manor, an arrow flies through the damp air, its trajectory slightly skewed as it lands off-center from the desired bullseye.

“You’re not accounting for the rain, Kate Bishop,” a voice remarks from nearby, the tone carrying a hint of amusement.

Drenched and disheartened, Kate hangs her head with a groan of frustration before trudging back towards the shelter of the small pavilion at the edge of the courtyard.

“I’m trying,” she mutters with a small pout. “It’s so much simpler without the weather working against me.”

Yelena, who was observing from under the shelter, pushes the plate of assorted pastries towards Kate.

“It takes practice. Now sit. Have a snack. It will make you feel better,” she suggests in her usual matter-of-fact tone.

Setting down her equipment nearby, Kate dries her hair with a previously prepared towel before joining Yelena at the table. She bites her lips lightly in contemplation, and then, leaning in with a conspiratorial tone, she begins to speak.

“You know, it’s been a while already. Maybe we should go over there and check on them.”

Yelena waves her hand in disagreement.

“I’m sure they’re fine,” she comments while reaching for a pastry. “If anything, they’re probably together right now, being all affectionate and in love with each other.”

She takes a bite and gestures pointedly, continuing.

“I mean, all that pent up tension between them has to spill over eventually.”

As she finishes off the treat, an upset expression crosses her face when she recalls the earlier encounter at Y/n's manor, and she slumps her cheek on her hand with a sigh.

"Plus, I don't think that snooty lord would let us in anyway,” she mutters dejectedly.

Hearing this, Kate frowns, crossing her arms and leaning back in her seat in thought.

“It’s so strange that you were turned away. I didn’t think he was so strict with Y/n,” she remarks before shrugging. “Then again, maybe that's why she always cancels our plans whenever he's around.”

"It’s weird, right?” Yelena exclaims in question at the situation.

She waves another pastry towards Kate pointedly, continuing.

“I say the sooner Natasha marries Y/n and gets her away from that man, the better. He gives me a bad feeling," she finishes, shuddering.

Kate nods in agreement before plucking the pastry from the younger princess’ outstretched hand, a playful glint in her eye as she enjoys her stolen treat.

Meanwhile, Yelena gasps dramatically, placing a hand on her chest and feigning shock at her action.

Rolling her eyes, Kate tosses another pastry at Yelena, who catches it easily, before moving her attention to the courtyard.

Her canine runs excitedly through the rain, but just as he starts to jump in the muddy puddles, Kate decides to call out to him, trying to limit the mess he’ll eventually bring into the manor.

“Lucky, come here!”

Responding to his name, Lucky bounds towards her, his tail wagging eagerly, but at the last second, he veers toward Yelena who waves a treat in his direction.

Giving him the treat, Yelena affectionately pets him and playfully squishes his face, while speaking to him with mock seriousness.

"Isn’t that right, Lucky? Lord Dreykov is a big jerk, isn't he?"

Lucky barks happily, as if agreeing, but then, with a sudden shift of focus, his head turns away from her, and he dashes off towards Kate's manor.

Yelena’s eyes follow him in confusion before noticing Natasha striding purposefully in their direction, her expression a blend of determination and barely concealed frustration.

“Oh, she does not look happy,” Kate observes.

“Nope, definitely not,” Yelena agrees, adding. “Looks more murderous than in love.”

As she draws near, undeterred by Lucky's playful antics of circling her, Kate greets her cautiously.

“Hey, Natasha, how did it go?”

“We have a problem,” Natasha answers urgently, her hand pulling Yelena up from her seat as she speaks.

“Wha—hey!” Yelena protests in surprise, taken aback by the sudden movement.

Sensing the seriousness of the situation, Kate quickly rises to her feet, concern etched on her face as she reaches for her bow.

“Did something happen with Y/n?” she asks.

Before Natasha can respond, one of the Bishop’s house guards approaches the pavilion, interrupting their conversation.

“Shall I arrange for more pastries for the princesses?” the guard asks, prompting a confused look from Kate.

“What? No,” she replies. “We’re actually about to leave soon. Have someone prepare our horses for us at the front gates.”

Beside Natasha, Lucky's playful demeanor disappears, replaced by a low growl as he fixes an intense gaze and threatening stance at the guard.

Suspicion creeps into Natasha's expression as she eyes the guard warily before moving towards the pavilion's exit with Yelena in tow.

The guard matches her step, blocking their path with a slight bow of his head, though his expression remains emotionless.

“I'm afraid the weather is still unfavorable for any travels, Your Highnesses.”

At his declaration, Yelena lets out an amused chuckle, pulling herself from Natasha’s grip and crossing her arms.

“It’s just rain. We’ll be fine—!”

Her reassurance is cut short in surprise as Natasha swiftly knocks out the guard.

“What was that for?” Yelena asks in astonishment, bending down curiously to inspect the unconscious guard.

“I’ll explain on the way,” Natasha says, pulling her sister back to her feet. “Right now, we need to move before they find us.”

“Um…did you mean them?” Kate asks, pointing in the distance.

Across the courtyard, Lord Rumlow leads a band of armed men towards them, a self-assured smirk on his face.

Among the group are mercenaries bearing the symbol of the Hydra Den, along with the escaped prisoners and several prison guards who wear the same emotionless expression as the unconscious one on the ground.

Yelena hums in realization, studying the scene with narrowed eyes before leaning in closer to her sister to ask with a sigh, “I’m guessing this is part of the problem?”

“Yep,” Natasha replies bluntly, her jaws tightening as she assesses the situation.

Rumlow and his men swiftly surround them, effectively blocking any potential escape routes.

Even with the three of them, a full-on assault would be a challenging battle, not to mention it would consume a lot of time. Time that would be better spent on going to help you than dealing with this traitorous lord.

As if sensing their predicament, Rumlow raises his head arrogantly, and his smirk widens.

“You’re outnumbered, Romanov,” he taunts. “Surrender to me now, and I’ll consider killing you all swiftly.”

Kate scoffs in disbelief at his audacity and steps forward, hands on her hips.

“You’re the one who’s trespassing, Rumlow. If anything, you and your little friends here will be apprehended by my guards soon enough.”

“That won’t be happening,” a voice cuts in from the manor’s door.

Lady Eleanor Bishop, accompanied by more guards from her household also wearing emotionless expressions, carefully observes the scene before walking to Rumlow's side with a grave look.

Kate's eyes flit confusedly between her mother and Rumlow, a nervous chuckle escaping her lips.

“Mom, what...what are you doing?” she questions, her voice tinged with apprehension.

Above them, thunder rumbles ominously, echoing the emotional turmoil forming in the tense atmosphere.

Stepping cautiously, Yelena joins Kate’s side, her hand hesitantly landing on her shoulder in comfort.

“I don’t think she’s here to help, Kate.”

Kate shrugs off Yelena's touch, her gaze fixed on her mom in disbelief.

"No, that’s ridiculous. You’re not…we’re not traitors," she insists, her eyes pleading. "Right, mom?"

“Kate,” her mother begins with a heavy sigh, “You need to come with me. It’s too dangerous to be involved with those two anymore.”

Unable to believe what she’s hearing, Kate furrows her brows in anger and confusion.

“How can you say that?” she exclaims in outrage. “Our family has been loyal to the Romanovs for generations, and now you want to betray them…for this guy.”

Her voice lowers into a small whisper as she looks at her mom with a betrayed expression.

“How could you?”

Rather than shame, a look of anger and anguish forms on her mother’s face.

“Because Kate…despite all we’ve done, in the end, we are the ones who lose more. Your father died protecting the royal family,” she reminds her, her voice laced with pain. “And now you want to become a knight too.”

Her gaze then hardens with a glare as she turns to look at Yelena and Natasha.

“I had hoped you would’ve given up by now, but the princesses keep encouraging you,” she accuses, resentment flashing in her eyes.

“They didn’t force me to become a knight,” Kate defends, clenching a hand to her chest. “That was my choice!”

With a firm shake of her head, her mother’s expression becomes serious and resolute as she makes her decision clear.

“It doesn’t matter anymore,” she states firmly, leaving no room for argument in her tone. “You'll realize eventually that this is for your own good. I won't allow my family to risk their lives any longer. Especially not for those two.”

Kate recoils at her mother’s words, her eyes widening in disbelief and hurt.

Unsure of what to do next, she instinctively turns to the other person in her life whom she trusts.

Yelena meets her gaze with a small, pained smile, then rubs her neck nervously — a familiar gesture that Kate recognizes as a sign of her discomfort.

“I told you she never liked me,” Yelena says lightly in a half-joking manner before adopting a more serious tone and giving her a reassuring nod, “It's alright, Kate. Whatever decision you make, I'll support you. This doesn’t have to be your fight.”

Kate’s frown deepens at Yelena’s last words, and her hand instinctively reaches out towards the younger princess.

“Enough!” Eleanor declares, commanding, “Come here, Kate.”

Ignoring her mother's demand, Kate fixes her gaze on Yelena for a moment longer before turning back to look at her mother.

With a deep breath, she takes a defiant step closer to Yelena, shaking her head.

“No,” Kate asserts firmly. “These are my friends.”

Determined and resolute in her decision, she tightens her grip on her bow, staring unwaveringly at her mother.

“I chose to become a knight to protect them. And that's what I’m going to do.”

Her mother stands frozen, stunned at her declaration, her mouth opening and closing soundlessly in a mixture of anger and concern.

The tense silence is suddenly broken by a slow mocking clap as Rumlow steps forward.

“Well, it sounds like she’s made her choice,” he declares, pushing Lady Eleanor back and gesturing to the Bishop guards to restrain her. They follow his silent command mindlessly, taking her arms.

“What are you doing? This is not part of our deal!” Eleanor exclaims in alarm as she struggles in the grips of her own guards.

Rumlow raises a brow at her before declaring, “You gave me your guards to be tested and controlled for my bidding, and I agreed that I would spare you and your daughter.”

Gesturing back to the three of them, he continues, “Now, if she wants to die with them, then let her. It’s not like anyone ever expected her to amount to anyth—!”

Rumlow abruptly stops and ducks, dodging an incoming plate thrown at him.

It shatters on the ground behind him, and he quickly straightens from his cowering position, pointing in outrage at the culprit.

“You insolent little…!”

Yelena steps forward with another plate in her hand, a subtle calm anger in her expression as she confronts him.

“What? You didn’t learn your lesson when I beat you during the tournament,” she taunts. “Finish that sentence, and I’ll remind you how hard I can hit,” she threatens, her hand preparing to throw the other plate.

Rumlow reacts swiftly, pulling one of his men in front of him, using their body like a shield.

Before Yelena can throw the plate, Natasha’s arm appears in front of her in a stopping gesture.

With a determined step forward, Natasha addresses him, intending to finish this as quickly as possible.

“You want the throne, Rumlow?” she challenges, her voice steady and commanding. “Then let’s settle this once and for all, just you and me.”

As expected, at her direct challenge to him, Rumlow’s eyes subtly dart around to look at his men, sensing the pressure of their expectant expressions.

With a forced clearing of his throat and an arrogant smirk, he pushes aside his human shield, standing tall before drawing his sword with an exaggerated flourish.

“Very well, Your Highness,” he answers, punctuating his words with a mocking bow before pointing his sword at her.

The steady patter of the rain on the ground echoes in the silence of the tense atmosphere filled with anticipation as an open space is created for the duel, and everyone around the two waits with bated breath for the fight to begin.

With a loud growl, Rumlow charges first, lunging with an onslaught of violent swings at Natasha.

The clash of steel fills the air as Natasha gracefully blocks and dodges every one of his attacks while studying his movements for weaknesses.

Soon, frustration and anger begin to appear on Rumlow’s face when none of his strikes land as intended.

On one particularly powerful swing, Natasha blocks it, but instead of recoiling, Rumlow keeps the pressure, pushing forward against her blade.

“You’re so weak!” he spits out with contempt. “What does Y/n even see in you?!”

Natasha’s eyes narrowed at his words, already knowing that he was just trying to provoke her, but still, her teeth clenched with silent fury at the audacity of him to even speak your name.

He intensifies the pressure, pushing her sword closer to her chest with each angry word.

“It’s all your fault! Always in the way, keeping her from me!” he sneers. “If it weren’t for you, she would’ve already belonged to me!”

Suddenly withdrawing his pressure, Rumlow pulls out a hidden dagger and swipes at Natasha from close range. Reacting swiftly, she twists out of the way to a safer distance, regaining her balance.

Despite her quick reaction, Natasha still feels a slight sting on her arm, and glancing down, she sees the small cut where his blade grazed her.

“You never were an honorable fighter, Rumlow,” she remarks pointedly before giving him a determined glare. “And you’re definitely no leader.”

Taking the initiative, Natasha lunges forward with calculated and precise attacks, forcing Rumlow to take a defensive position.

Frustration grows in his expression as he struggles to fend off her advance.

Seeing his wavering confidence and panic, Natasha continues her relentless attacks and raises her voice louder for the others to hear, intending to put some doubts in their minds about following someone like him.

“You never care about anyone but yourself. Do they know that you’ll just dispose of them once you’re finished using them, just like how you did with Lady Eleanor?”

“Shut up!” Rumlow grits out angrily, countering with a wide arching swing that Natasha easily ducks under, side-stepping behind him to deliver a hard kick to his side.

He stumbles a couple of steps from the impact but quickly recovers, regaining his balance.

In the corner of her eyes, Natasha can see the hesitation in some of his men’s expressions as they begin to whisper among themselves.

She returns her focus to the fight, determined to finish this quickly so that she can get to you.

Natasha smoothly parries the next strike that Rumlow swings her way, her grip tightening as she remembers what he said earlier about you.

“And Y/n,” her voice softens at your name, before giving him a harsh glare and punctuating each of her next words with increasingly powerful swings.

“She’s many things—amazing, wonderful things—but she does not belong to you!

With a final, thunderous blow, Natasha sends Rumlow crashing to the ground, his sword clattering from his grasp as he falls to his knees before her.

“And she is worth more than anything you ever deserve,” she declares, her voice ringing out with unwavering conviction as she stands over him.

With a burning glare, Rumlow sneers at her angrily, his hands clenching the wet ground at his clear loss.

“Give up and yield, Rumlow. You’re not going to win this,” Natasha says, offering him one last chance to surrender.

“Go to hell, Romanov,” he spits venomously at her in refusal.

Recognizing that he won’t accept her offer, Natasha prepares to deliver the finishing blow when a sudden movement catches her attention, prompting her to pivot and block the incoming attack from one of the controlled prison guards who had come to Rumlow's aid.

She deflects their swing and pushes them away before backing to a safe distance.

An arrow streaks past her, piercing another guard who attempts to pursue her, knocking them to the ground.

“Of course, he would cheat,” Yelena remarks as she and Kate join Natasha’s side, weapons drawn and ready to keep the others at bay.

Some of Rumlow’s men move to help him up from the ground, but he angrily shakes them off, waving his hands wildly in frustration.

“Get off of me!” he barks, his face flushed with rage as he grabs someone nearby by their collar, shaking them violently. “Well?! What are you all staring at?”

He shoves them forward, shouting, “Kill them!”

Several of the men exchange hesitant glances before slowly advancing toward the three of them, weapons raised for battle.

“So, what’s the plan now?” Kate asks, moving closer to stand back to back with the two princesses.

“We fight,” Natasha responds, tightening her grip on her sword.

“That’s a terrible plan,” Yelena says with a sigh.

“Do you have a better one?” Natasha counters.

Before Yelena can respond with a sarcastic comment, a strong wave of energy, tinged with red, pushes the incoming assailants back, knocking most of them off balance and causing them to topple against each other.

Though the unknown force wasn’t directed at them, its widespread effect was still powerful enough to make Natasha’s feet slide against the ground, pushing them all back slightly.

Regaining her footing, Natasha looks towards the source, and to her surprise, she sees Wanda standing at the manor’s door, breathing heavily as she leans against the frame for support.

Her hand is still outstretched towards Rumlow’s men, the tips of her fingers swirling with remnants of the red energy, matching the glow in her eyes.

“You!” Rumlow exclaims, stumbling upright, his eyes crazed with vengeance as he points in realization at Wanda. “You’re that disrespectful little servant!”

A sinister grin forms on his face as he points his sword at her.

“You’re going to pay for how you treated me, and this time, Y/n is not here to protect you now.”

At his words, Wanda rolls her eyes and scoffs in disbelief, her expression shifting into concentrated fury and annoyance as she straightens.

She directs her hands at him, and Rumlow’s advance towards her freezes in place as red energy surrounds him.

“You insufferable idiot,” Wanda says with an angry glare before raising her hands. Rumlow’s body follows her movement, rising from the ground.

A panicked and struggling expression appears on his face as he stares at her in shock.

Wanda gives him a pointed look, ensuring that he understands her next words, “She’s the only reason why I didn’t do this to you before.”

With a flick of her wrist, she sends him flying across the courtyard, smashing into the wooden targets. The frames collapse around him as he remains unconscious and unmoving under the pile of debris.

A tense silence envelops the courtyard before slowly, fearful murmurs begin to rise from some of the recovering men at what they had just witnessed.

“W-witch! She’s a witch!” one of them cries out, his voice trembling with fear.

Those who were not knocked unconscious from the initial blast join in, their fearful shouts filling the air as they scramble and push at each other to run away.

Only when the remaining enemies have retreated does Wanda finally collapse to her knees, her breath coming out tiredly as the red glow in her eyes fades and the red mist around her hands disappears.

Footsteps rush to her side, and she feels a hand on her shoulder.

“That was amazing!” Kate’s awed voice praises before noticing Wanda's exhausted expression. Her voice lowers with concern as she bends down closer and asks, “Wait, are you okay?”

Wanda raises her hand in reassurance, though her breathing is still tired and unsteady.

“I’m fine, just…not used to doing so much in such a short time…I just need a minute, and I’ll be okay.”

“Hey, take your time. Breathe,” Natasha directs, kneeling beside her and patting her back gently in comfort.

Wanda shakes her head quickly in refusal.

“No, I can’t. Pietro’s hurt…he needs help.”

“I’ll go get someone,” Kate says, standing up urgently to go retrieve the physician in the manor.

“Take Lucky with you, and don’t trust anyone that he doesn’t,” Natasha instructs her. “We don’t know who else could be under Rumlow's control.”

Kate nods grimly in understanding, whistling to call Lucky to follow her as she rushes into the manor.

Yelena steps up closer to them, her brows furrowing as she comes to a realization.

“Wait, if you’re here, and Pietro’s hurt. Then where’s Y/n?” she asks, knowing how much you care for the twins.

Wanda looks down, hanging her head before replying, her voice filled with regret.

“Dreykov has her.”

Natasha’s eyes widen, feeling her blood run cold at the information. She stands quickly in alarm.

“We need to go,” she says urgently.

Wanda nods in agreement and attempts to stand too, but she stumbles on her feet.

Yelena catches her, providing support to keep her upright, but it’s obvious that Wanda’s energy still has not returned, unfit for further travel at the moment.

Yelena meets Natasha’s conflicted eyes and gives her a reassuring nod.

“Go,” she tells her, “We’ll follow as soon as we can.”

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

Riding through the pouring rain, Natasha’s mind fills with worry for you. The unnerving silence and emptiness of your manor’s grounds do nothing to soothe her racing thoughts.

If Dreykov had hurt you again, she was determined to make him pay, regardless of the consequences.

Rushing through your manor’s entrance, Natasha heads straight towards your wing. However, just as she’s about to run up the stairs to your room, your voice calls out from behind.

“Natasha!”

She stops and turns around, seeing you step out from the shadows toward her.

Without hesitation, Natasha moves quickly in front of you, her hand cradling your face as she examines you.

Your expression appears normal and calm, showing no signs of pain or panic, and it doesn't look like you are injured.

Still, Natasha asks worriedly, “Are you okay?”

“Of course. Everything’s fine,” you reassure her, taking her hands in yours and holding them between your bodies.

Something was wrong, Natasha realizes.

Despite your reassurance, an uneasy feeling washed over her the moment you touched her.

She stares down intently at your clasped hands, trying to figure out this unsettling feeling within her heart.

You tighten your grasp on her hands to get her attention, prompting her to return her gaze to yours.

Concern appears on your face as you observe her, while your thumb moves in a soothing caress along the back of her hand.

“You’re freezing, Natasha. Let’s go warm you up.”

You attempt to pull her in the direction of the stairs, but Natasha stands firm and unmoving, causing you to turn back around and tilt your head at her in question.

Natasha’s eyes observe your face carefully before glancing down again at your hand in hers.

Realizing that she is not going to follow, you move back to her.

“Come on, Natasha," you call, your voice lowering as you step even closer, almost pressing against her.

Natasha's eyes follow your actions suspiciously as your hands slide up her front to rest on her shoulders.

"We need to get you out of these wet clothes soon, or else you'll catch a cold. I can draw you a nice warm bath, and then maybe after…,” you continue, leaning in to whisper next to her ear, “…we can spend the remainder of the night together.”

Your suggestion hangs heavy in the air between the two of you for a moment before Natasha lets out a shaky breath.

Shaking her head, she pushes you away gently, holding your shoulders at arm's length as she meets your eyes with a sad expression.

“Wanda said that Pietro was hurt,” she reminds you.

“Don’t worry about him,” you reply, your tone filled with indifference.

The smile that remains on your face and your words confirm what she now realizes is wrong.

Natasha shuts her eyes briefly, her heart heavy at the painful realization. Hanging her head, she takes a deep breath to gather her resolve to confront you.

Your hands gently cradle her cheeks, coaxing her eyes back to meet your gaze, and you give her your usual soft smile.

“Hey,” you whisper. “Just be here with me.”

Your touch is delicate as you brush back strands of her wet hair from her face, a familiar gesture that she is used to from you.

Truthfully, Natasha wants nothing more than to fulfill that request of yours, but when she looks into your eyes, she can’t seem to find any of your warmth in them.

Taking a steady breath, Natasha grabs the back of your hand, halting its movement. She then presses a soft kiss to your palm before giving you a sad look.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers.

You chuckle, giving her a curious look.

“What are you apologizing for?”

“That you have to go through this pain again,” Natasha replies with regret.

Your expression remains unchanged, a reassuring yet impassive smile gracing your lips.

Natasha sighs sadly, releasing your hand and letting it fall to your side.

“I know this isn’t you, Y/n,” she reveals.

Your smile falters at her words, and your eyes search her face, seeking something before coming to a realization.

Twisting your lips into a disappointed pout, your fingers raise to toy with her collar.

“You could’ve just played along and had a good time with me, Natasha,” you say teasingly before resting your hand above her heart with a raised brow. “You know, before you have to die.”

Natasha presses her lips into a thin line, deepening her frown at your words.

“Is that what he told you to do?” she asks, anger rising at Dreykov. “Seduce me and then kill me after?”

You shrug indifferently, as if unconcerned about the implications of what you were about to be forced to do against your will.

“Well, it was either you or Rumlow, without the killing for him, of course,” you explain casually.

Natasha clenches her fist, seething at the thought of what would’ve happened had she not been the one to come for you first. She’s going to make Dreykov pay for controlling you like this.

“Is that all?” she asks calmly, swallowing her anger so it’s not directed at you.

“No,” you shake your head, giving her a pitying smile.

The cold, uncaring expression looks foreign on your face as you stare at her.

“You see, before I kill you, I was going to tell you the truth.”

You wrap your arms around the back of her neck and pull her closer. Instinctively, Natasha’s hand falls on your waist at the action.

However, the tender embrace brings no warmth or comfort to soothe your cutting words that follow.

“I never believed in you, Natasha,” you begin, your tone icy and ruthless. “You were never going to be a good queen, and it was delusional of you to ever think you could erase all the pain that your family caused.”

Natasha stays silent, letting you speak, as she keeps your gaze with a sad, understanding expression.

Your eyes narrow slightly at not getting the reaction that you expected. With a determined and cold look, you continue, “The truth is…”

You bring your lips closer to whisper the next part in her ear.

“…I've always hated you, Natasha.”

“No, you don’t.”

Your head snaps back in surprise at her immediate response, looking at her face in confusion before a huff of disbelief escapes you.

“There you go again," you say, rolling your eyes. "Thinking you know everything about me.”

Natasha can’t help but chuckle at the statement. She’s been wanting to know everything about you from the moment she met you.

Meeting your eyes with unwavering trust and certainty, Natasha responds confidently.

“You don't want to hurt me.”

There’s an unamused expression on your face now as you glare at her.

“And what makes you so sure?” you ask her.

“Because…” Natasha begins, reaching up to hold your face delicately in her hand. Her thumb moves gently across your cheek to brush away the stray tear that falls from your eye.

“…that's what you told me,” she finishes with a soft smile.

Your expression shifts abruptly, a whirlwind of emotions crossing your face in a split second. First shock, then a brief conflict, then a hard glare.

With a forceful shove, you push Natasha away, catching her off guard. She stumbles backward at your action, landing against the stairs.

Before she can recover, you move swiftly, straddling her and pinning her down as your hand descends towards her, a glint of steel catching the light as you swing the dagger.

Reacting with instinctive speed, Natasha catches your hand, halting its descent, just as the tip of the blade presses lightly at the space above her heart.

Under different circumstances, she would have complimented your skill in knocking her off guard to deliver a finishing blow.

However, from this position, the moonlight of the now clear night sky shines through the large glass windows, casting a soft glow over your features, and Natasha can't help but be captivated by the sight instead, momentarily forgetting her perilous situation.

She knows she should flip your positions and disarm you at some point, but she finds herself unable to break your gaze.

That's when she catches a glimpse of your usual warmth flashing in your eyes, where unshed tears threaten to fall.

Natasha always believed that you are the strongest person she knows, and this time is no different.

Slowly, her grip on your hands loosens, and as she expected, the blade remains in place, suspended just above her heart.

Instead of escaping, Natasha's hand moves to cup your cheek, her touch gentle and reverent.

At that moment, only one thought fills her mind as she gazes up at you, and with a soft exhale, Natasha finally says the words that she's been wanting to tell you.

“I love you, Y/n.”

At her breathless confession, your brows knit together in confusion as a series of conflicting emotions cross your face.

For a moment, there's only silence, broken only by the faint trembling of the dagger in your hand.

Then, with a final, decisive gesture, it slips from your grasp, clattering to the ground.

Immediately, you collapse against Natasha, wrapping your arms around her in a tight hug. A mixture of relief and disbelief fills your voice as your hand lightly hits her shoulder in reprimand.

“You’re unbelievable,” you murmur exasperatedly into the curve of her neck. “That’s what you say when I hold a knife to you?”

Her response is a soft chuckle, tinged with relief and amusement. She returns your embrace, holding you tightly, her next words muffled against your shoulder.

"It's the only thing that came to mind."

You huff at her reply, choosing to not comment further as your arms instinctively pull her closer.

In the safety of her embrace, you try to shake off the lingering sensation of feeling trapped within your mind, recalling the hurtful words you uttered to her.

Before you can gather your thoughts to apologize, a disdainful groan interrupts the fragile peace, drawing both of your attention upwards.

At the top of the staircase, Dreykov sneers down at the two of you.

"Pathetic," he spits out, shaking his head in disgust.

With a motion of his hand, he signals his guards, who materialize from the shadows and advance towards you both.

Reacting swiftly, Natasha pulls herself upright, positioning herself protectively in front of you.

As his guards launch coordinated attacks, Natasha moves with graceful precision, evading their strikes effortlessly.

With a powerful kick, she dispatches one assailant before engaging the other in a one-on-one confrontation.

Confident in her ability to handle them, you turn your attention back to Dreykov, only to see him attempting to flee.

However, he suddenly stops in his tracks, his path blocked by the unexpected appearance of Bucky.

Realizing it was just the old captain standing in his way, Dreykov sneers as he tries to push past him dismissively.

“Don’t just stand there. Go kill her—!”

His command is cut off abruptly as Bucky's hand closes around his throat before forcing him to the edge of the staircase.

Dreykov gasps for breath, a look of surprise crossing his face as he struggles against Bucky's tightening grip.

With one hand clawing at Bucky's hold, his other reaches into his pocket, pulling out an intricate container.

Black powder falls from one of the ends, creating a pile on the floor, as Dreykov’s finger fumbles for the latch at the top.

Spotting the danger and recognizing the substance, you call out a warning to Bucky.

"Watch out!"

Just as your words echo through the tense air, Dreykov flicks open the latch on the container, igniting a spark. With a swift motion, he hurls it to the ground, triggering an explosion of blinding light and billowing smoke.

Amidst the chaos, the clamor of bodies tumbling down the stairs reverberates through the haze, but the thick smoke obscures your vision, disorienting you as you struggle to make sense of the situation.

Coughing and gasping for air amidst the choking fumes, you stagger blindly in search of Natasha.

Your foot collides with something solid, and upon closer inspection, you realize it's the unconscious body of one of the guards, with another lying nearby.

A wave of relief washes over you at the realization that Natasha had won.

However, your relief is short-lived as the sound of steel scraping against the ground sends a shiver down your spine.

"Useless failures," Dreykov's voice echoes through the smoke, his position hidden in the swirling haze.

Frantically searching your surroundings, you strain to pinpoint his location, but the dense smoke obscures your senses.

"Y/n!" Natasha's urgent voice breaks through, sounding closer, and you immediately move towards her voice before finally spotting her silhouette in the distance.

As you go to approach her, another figure emerges swiftly from the shadows behind her, the glint of steel flashing through the smoke.

Without hesitation, you rush forward, pushing Natasha out of the way.

In the next instant, searing pain flares in your abdomen as the dagger plunges into you instead.

Dreykov's eyes widen in surprise at your unexpected presence before twisting in anger.

Ignoring the agony coursing through your body, you meet his gaze with a steely glare of defiance.

"I told you,” you utter through gritted teeth. “I'll never let you hurt her."

Summoning all your remaining strength, you deliver a powerful punch to Dreykov’s face, sending him crashing to the ground with a satisfying thud.

Gradually, the smoke begins to disperse, revealing Natasha on the ground nearby, her wide-eyed gaze locks onto you before drifting down to the blade still embedded in you, comprehension dawning on her features of what you had just done.

With each labored breath, you feel your strength waning from the injury.

Natasha's panicked voice pierces through the ringing in your ear, calling out your name in desperation.

Her hands catch you as your legs finally give way, her warmth enveloping you even as a coldness creeps into your bones.

Struggling to stay conscious, you gaze up at her, your vision blurring at the edges. Her lips move, but the words are now lost to you in the haze of pain.

Thankfully, however, you can still feel Natasha's gentle touch cradling your cheek, mirroring the tender gesture from earlier.

You regain a little energy as you remember that moment of her confession.

That’s right, you realize. Natasha has fulfilled her part of the promise to discuss your feelings, and now, here you are, leaving her without a response.

Determined to convey your feelings, you muster every ounce of willpower to utter her name, but a metallic taste floods your mouth, and you realize with grim understanding that you may not have much time left.

You must have succeeded in calling her though since her eyes immediately move from your wound to lock onto yours with fear.

Unfortunately, that's when black spots start to cloud your vision of her, and you find yourself losing the strength to speak any further. Despite your efforts, you feel yourself slipping away, the edges of consciousness fading.

As you slowly drift into darkness, the rapid rhythm of Natasha's heartbeat echoes against you, a comforting reminder that she's still alive and safe.

However, there is a pang of regret lingering in your heart that you weren’t able to speak the remainder of your words to her. You really wished you had a chance to express your feelings before you go.

To let her know how much you loved her.

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

a/n: Thank you for reading and for staying so long with this story! There is one more part left and that will be the final one for this series.

Series Masterlist : Boundless Devotion

#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff imagine #natasha romanoff x fem!reader #natasha romanoff fanfic #natasha romanoff x you #black widow x reader #natasha x reader #natasha romanoff

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just-aake · 2 months

Text

Fateful Encounter

Pairing: princess!Natasha Romanoff x fem!reader

Summary: MedievalAU. Natasha’s first meeting with you and the beginning of your friendship with her. Flashback to how it all started and a small prequel to events in Boundless Devotion.

Warnings: light fluff, light angst

Words: 3965

In the royal garden of the castle, Natasha sighs in disappointment when she comes up empty once again at another one of Yelena’s usual hiding spots.

Today is the celebration of Natasha’s 11th birthday, and the ballroom is already bustling with members of the noble families gathered for the event.

Her mother had asked her to watch her little sister for a moment, while she discussed some important matters with a noble who had recently returned to the kingdom from his travels.

Unfortunately, Yelena had slipped away when she wasn’t looking, so now she’s trying to find her and return to the celebration quickly before her mother discovers that they’re both missing.

As Natasha wracks her brain for another possible hiding spot, she catches the sounds of voices nearby. Curious, she decides to investigate.

Arriving at the small clearing, Natasha releases a small breath of relief when she spots Yelena. However, her relief quickly turns to protectiveness and anger as she notices the tears glistening in her little sister’s eyes.

“Give her back!” Yelena demands, trying to maintain a serious expression despite her tears, her small hands wiping them away.

Mocking laughter erupts from the others in the clearing, and Natasha recognizes them immediately.

Rumlow, accompanied by two other children of noble houses, chuckles as they toss Yelena’s favorite stuffed animal – a plush puppy Natasha had given her – back and forth.

Realizing what’s happening, Natasha moves to intervene, but a new voice interrupts with a chastising tone.

“Stop that, Lord Rumlow!”

Natasha pauses in her tracks, taken aback by the unfamiliar newcomer stepping in. She tilts her head curiously, trying to place you among the nobles’ children in her memory.

You appear to be about her age, but she's certain she's never seen you before – she would have remembered your face if she had.

Stepping up to the trio, you snatch the stuffed animal from Rumlow with a stern glare. He at least has the decency to look ashamed, though it's possible he's just upset at being caught.

“We’re just having some fun,” he defends himself, half-heartedly inviting, “You could join us if you want, Lady Y/n.”

Natasha makes a mental note of your name, softly repeating it to herself.

Your frown deepens, and you cross your arms, uninterested in his proposal.

“You’re being a bully. Now apologize.”

Rumlow makes a reluctant face, but he eventually looks away from your disapproving expression to Yelena, grumbling out an apology before nudging the others, who follow suit with their apologies.

Rolling his eyes in annoyance, he turns away with a disgruntled groan.

“Ah..I’m bored already. Let’s go.”

They head towards Natasha’s direction, but upon turning the corner, they freeze, eyes widening at the sight of her.

Natasha stands firm, arms crossed, glaring at them. With a curt gesture of her head, she silently dismisses them.

Rumlow scowls in irritation, but still, they all bow to her slightly before hastily scurrying off.

Returning her attention to the clearing, she observes you now bending down in front of Yelena, wearing a soft smile as you offer her stuffed animal back.

“That’s a cute puppy. What’s her name?” you ask gently.

Yelena sniffles, taking the toy from your hand and clutching it tightly to her side.

“Fanny,” she responds in a small tone, her sadness still evident.

Noticing Yelena's down-hearted expression, you pull some candy from your pocket, offering it to her.

“Hmm…would you and Fanny like some candy?”

Yelena's eyes light up as usual at the sight of the treats, and she nods eagerly, a smile quickly replacing her earlier sadness.

Natasha's lips twitch into a small smile, impressed by how effortlessly you comfort Yelena. Intrigued by you, she moves to step into the clearing, but a stern voice interrupts her.

“Y/n, where are you?”

Your head snaps up at the call, and you stand quickly, ready to leave. Before you go, you turn back to give Yelena a polite bow and a small wave.

“I have to go. But you should head back inside soon too, okay, Princess Yelena?”

Yelena agrees with a nod, and you swiftly depart in another direction, unaware of Natasha as she emerges from her hiding spot.

As Natasha watches you go with a curious tilt of her head and a hint of disappointment, Yelena rushes up to her.

“Nat! Look, I got candy.”

“That’s good,” Natasha responds absentmindedly, her gaze still fixed on where you left.

Yelena glances between her older sister and the empty space she's staring at, tilting her head in confusion. She tugs at Natasha’s sleeve to regain her attention.

“What are you looking at?”

Natasha snaps out of her reverie, looking down at her sister.

“Do you know that girl, Yelena?”

Yelena shakes her head.

“No, but she saved me and Fanny,” she says casually, offering a piece of candy to Natasha. “Want one?”

Natasha declines with a shake of her head, patting Yelena's head fondly before gesturing towards the castle.

“Come on, let’s see if we can convince mom and dad if we can get you a real Fanny to protect you from now on.”

Sneaking back into the ballroom without any incident, Natasha and Yelena seamlessly rejoin the celebration just as their mother finishes her conversation with the noble.

“Here they are,” Melina announces, nudging Natasha forward to greet the noble. “Natasha, this is Lord Dreykov. His house oversees our foreign affairs and relations.”

The man offers a curt nod of greeting.

“Hello, Princess Natasha.”

Natasha eyes him warily before offering her own greeting in return.

A faint smirk forms on Lord Dreykov's lips before he turns his attention back to her mother.

“Her eyes are filled with determination. That’s a promising trait to see in the heir of the kingdom,” he remarks.

“Yes, she’s always been like that,” Melina agrees before remembering something. “Ah, yes. You also have a daughter around Natasha’s age. Is she here with you?”

Lord Dreykov’s smile twitches down slightly, but he maintains a composed demeanor, responding in an even tone.

“She is. Although, I’m afraid that girl appears to have wandered off. Likely just exploring the grounds as usual,” he explains.

“Well, a curious mind is a great thing to have,” Melina praises.

“Indeed,” Lord Dreykov replies curtly. “If you’ll excuse me.”

With a nod of understanding, Melina lets him go.

Once he leaves, Yelena tugs on their mother’s dress to get her attention.

“Natasha says I can get a puppy!” Yelena announces happily.

“Did she now?” Melina asks, her eyes glancing at Natasha’s in question.

Natasha simply shrugs before tuning out her mother’s subsequent lecture to Yelena about the responsibilities of owning a dog. She turns her attention to the ballroom, her gaze searching for one person in particular.

Finally spotting you at the far corner, Natasha's excited expression shifts when she realizes something is wrong.

You are no longer smiling, and your head is slightly bowed as Lord Dreykov towers in front of you, clearly scolding you.

Understanding dawns on Natasha – you must be Lord Dreykov’s daughter, explaining why she hasn’t seen you until now.

As Lord Dreykov continues his reprimand, Natasha notices your hands clutching your dress, clearly upset by his words. A stern-looking woman behind you intervenes, placing a hand on your shoulder, prompting you to straighten up.

Feeling uneasy, Natasha instinctively moves to step toward you, but then another noble comes up to her mother, and suddenly, she’s being turned around to greet them.

After exchanging a quick greeting, Natasha discreetly glances over her shoulder at you, only to see the woman guiding you away through the ballroom doors, disappearing from view.

Disheartened, Natasha slumps in disappointment, turning back around and wondering when she’ll have the chance to see you again.

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

A week later, Natasha finds herself beneath the large tree by the lake, wincing in pain as she examines her injured knee.

She had sneaked out of the castle to relax by the lake after completing her studies, and an attempt to climb the tree ended with a painful fall.

Her hands are scraped with light red marks, but the real issue is the bleeding and throbbing in her knee, particularly when she tries to move.

“Are you okay?”

Natasha startles at the sudden voice, her eyes widening as she meets yours. Stunned by your unexpected presence, she could only stare at you blankly in surprise.

Receiving no response from her, you turn to the young boy and girl by your side.

“Pietro, Wanda, can you go get help?”

Natasha snaps out of her daze upon hearing your request.

Being caught sneaking out of the castle is one thing, but being caught injured while doing so would surely earn her a lecture from her mother.

“No, don’t! I’m fine.”

The two children glance between Natasha and you, seeking direction, and you gesture for them to go, disregarding Natasha’s protests.

“Tell them it’s Princess Natasha who’s hurt,” you add, much to Natasha’s irritation.

They hurry away while you approach the lake, bending down to wet a handkerchief in the water.

Natasha huffs in disbelief at you. This wasn't how she imagined meeting you.

Knowing she can't be caught here when those two return, her face sets with determination as she attempts to stand. But, just as she applies pressure to her injured leg, she stumbles to the ground with a small cry of pain.

“Stop moving,” you chastise, kneeling beside her.

Natasha is once again taken aback, particularly by your tone towards her. As the princess and heir to the kingdom, other noble children are typically more formal and cautious around her.

Meeting her widened eyes, you seem to recall her status, bowing slightly in embarrassment.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean—"

“No, it’s okay,” Natasha interrupts, offering reassurance.

An awkward silence follows, but then, you wordlessly gesture for her to show you her knee.

Natasha hesitates briefly before deciding to trust you, extending her leg.

As you clean her wound, Natasha bites her lip to suppress any sounds of pain, trying to be brave. However, a small hiss escapes her at one point, and she catches your eyes glancing at her before a tiny amused smile tugs at your lips.

Realizing that this may be your first impression of her, Natasha pouts. She got to see you be a hero to Yelena. Meanwhile, you probably think she can't even handle this small injury.

Finishing by wrapping a makeshift bandage around her knee with your handkerchief, you remark, “It’s not much, but that should hold for now.”

“Thank you,” Natasha says softly before adding, “And also for helping Yelena last week.”

At your surprised expression, Natasha elaborates.

“I saw you help her deal with Rumlow and the others. You didn’t have to get involved, yet you did anyway, so thank you.”

You wave your hand slightly in reassurance, shaking your head.

“Anybody would do the same,” you say casually.

Natasha smiles at your words before leaning forward curiously.

“How come I haven’t seen you around before?”

Your smile fades a little at her question, and you duck your head to fidget with your hands in your lap.

“I don’t usually go to events at the castle. Madam B. doesn’t like things like that,” you explain, looking up to see Natasha’s confused expression.

“Madam B’s my governess,” you clarify. “She takes care of me when my father is away.”

Natasha nods in understanding, recalling the woman from the other day and her mother’s mention of Lord Dreykov often being away to handle relations with other kingdoms.

After a moment, you speak up again.

“I’ve seen you before though,” you admit. “I visited the castle with my father this one time. You were on the training ground with the captain.”

“And what did you think?” Natasha asks curiously.

You tilt your head in thought before admitting, “It was impressive to see that you can hold your own against some of the knights in the Royal Guard.”

Natasha smirks proudly at your praise before wincing as she goes to adjust her leg’s position.

You raise your brows at her, letting out an amused chuckle.

“But I guess it’s also nice to see that you are not much different from the rest of us.”

Natasha huffs in amusement, “Are you teasing me?”

You shrug in a silent response, not denying her accusation.

Shaking her head in amusement at your actions, Natasha examines your handiwork appreciatively and lightly tests her leg. The pain has dulled to a low tingling sensation, much more bearable than before.

Determined, she prepares to push herself up to stand, but a firm pressure on her shoulder stops her before she can even attempt it.

You give her an incredulous look, your hand still on her shoulder.

“You can’t walk on that.”

“I think I know what I’m capable of,” Natasha responds, lightly pressing the back of her hand against your wrist in an attempt to push it off.

You maintain your position firmly, not budging.

Natasha glares at you, a look that usually intimidates people, but you return her stubborn stare with one of your own.

The two of you engage in a silent battle for a moment before Natasha eventually relents, impressed.

“Not bad,” she admits. “You are probably the most stubborn person I’ve met, maybe even more than me.”

You roll your eyes and shake your head at her words, removing your hand from her shoulder and moving to lean against the trunk of the tree.

Carefully scooting to sit beside you, mindful of her leg, Natasha leans her head back against the tree with a sigh.

“I guess we’ll be waiting here for a while.”

“What makes you say that?” you ask.

“You sent two kids who look around Yelena’s age to find somebody they consider to be responsible. They’re bound to get distracted,” Natasha points out.

You shake your head in disagreement.

“I don’t think so. Pietro is fast, and Wanda will keep them focused.”

“If you say so,” Natasha says skeptically.

You gesture to her knee, changing the subject.

“How did you get hurt anyway?”

Natasha lifts her finger to point at the branches above.

“I fell from the tree,” she answers plainly.

“What were you doing in the tree?” you ask curiously.

In response, Natasha leans her shoulder against yours, directing your attention to a small cluster of scarlet flowers at the end of one of the highest branches.

“I was trying to get those,” she explains, “They bloom every year around this time, but people rarely see them since they’re hidden so high up.”

Your eyes remain fixed on the flowers, admiring them.

“They’re pretty,” you comment, prompting Natasha to grin triumphantly.

She nudges your shoulder gently.

“What about you? Why are you here?”

You show her the book at your side, placing it in your lap as you answer.

“I come here to read sometimes.”

Recognizing the cover, Natasha frowns in displeasure.

“That’s my mom’s book. Wouldn’t you want to read something more interesting?”

You chuckle at her expression, insisting, “This is interesting to me. I like reading about the queen’s experiments and research.”

Natasha observes you curiously before resting her head back against the trunk with a huff of disbelief.

She has to listen to her mother’s experiments unwillingly every day, and here you are, reading about it for fun.

Trying to continue the conversation, Natasha recalls her mother’s recent work.

“You know, I think she’s working on something new right now. She mentioned it was inspired by something she learned from the Starks,” she offers, turning to look at you.

To her surprise, your face grimaces at her words.

“I’m not really interested in anything connected with that kingdom,” you reply.

Natasha tilts her head, leaning in curiously.

“Do you hate the Stark Kingdom?”

You raise a brow at her, answering. “Don’t you? They killed a lot of our people.”

“So did we,” Natasha counters.

You fall silent at her point, lips twisting in thought.

Noticing your consideration, she presses on.

“From what I learned, the war hurt everyone, and we can’t change what happened in the past.”

Nodding in determination, Natasha gazes out at the calm lake, imagining a peaceful future.

“But we can try to make it better. That’s why when I become queen, I want to fix the pain that the war caused. For everyone here…and everyone in the Stark kingdom.”

Turning back to you, she finds you staring at her with wide eyes.

Feeling suddenly shy under the intense admiration in your gaze, Natasha rubs her neck awkwardly and looks down, mumbling softly, “Or something like that…”

In the momentary silence, the rustle of branches fills the air before you finally speak.

“That’s a lot of work for one person,” you remark. “Why would you want to take on all that pressure to help people you don’t even know?”

Natasha smiles gently, meeting your gaze with a raise of her brow.

“Anybody would do the same,” she repeats your words.

You huff in disbelief, but a smile tugs at your lips as you continue.

“You would need a lot of support.”

“Yeah,” Natasha sighs, already aware of the challenges ahead.

Changing minds and hearts is never easy, and finding genuinely good people to help her will also be difficult.

Her eyes drift to the makeshift bandage you made for her, and an idea forms in her mind.

Turning to face you, she asks eagerly, “Would you be my first?”

“What?” you ask, puzzled.

“You said I needed support,” Natasha points out, extending her hand to you. “Would you like to be my first?”

Your eyes observe her carefully, considering her offer, before drifting to her outstretched hand. Finally, you close your hand around hers, giving her an amused smile.

“Well, I guess someone has to help you whenever you decide to fall out of a tree again,” you tease.

Natasha’s smile widens, and she chuckles.

“Then I guess I'll be in your care from now on.”

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

Natasha blinks her eyes open, waking slowly from her nap. Rays of sunlight filter through the branches of the tree, casting dancing shadows on her face. Her gaze then drifts to the scarlet flowers, now in full bloom, just like that fateful day fifteen years ago.

“Don’t even think about it.”

At your voice, Natasha turns her head slightly from her resting position on your lap to look at you in surprise.

You don’t even look up from your book, flipping the page casually as you continue.

“You’ve climbed this tree too many times already for that flower and have gotten hurt each time, Natasha.”

Natasha hums and shakes her head in thought.

“I don’t know. I think I can get it this time.”

Your hands shut your book with a firm thud, giving her a reprimanding look.

“You can’t get injured right before your birthday ball tomorrow. Your mother would kill you.”

You look up at the branches with a sigh.

“Why are you so obsessed with trying to get that flower anyway?” you ask her.

In response, Natasha takes your hand in hers, raising it towards the direction of the flower.

“Did you know it symbolizes everlasting devotion?” she asks before continuing. “They say if you give it to someone when it’s in full bloom, your bond with them will never break.”

Natasha had come across the information accidentally in the library when she was retrieving some books for you.

You chuckle, removing your hand from hers as your fingers move to play with her red hair before tossing a strand at her face and commenting teasingly.

“Such romantic words. No wonder everyone falls for the charming princess so easily.”

Natasha rolls her eyes at your teasing.

“Very funny,” she says, adding, “You already know that I just like the challenge of getting it.”

“You could just shoot the branch down, or ask Kate to do it. Her aim has gotten a lot better,” you suggest.

Natasha shakes her head resolutely in determination.

“No, I want to get it with my own hands.”

A sudden silence follows, making Natasha turn her head to look at you curiously.

You’re not looking at her, instead staring intently at the flowers above.

“Is there someone special you are trying to keep by your side?” you finally ask.

“Not really,” Natasha answers honestly, believing you are referring to the vast amount of courting requests she’s been receiving from the other noble families and other kingdoms. She’s denied most of them so far, not interested in looking for anyone romantically at the moment.

“Plus, I don’t need a flower for that,” Natasha states confidently, adding, “I mean, it’s been years, and I still have you by my side, right?”

You laugh lightly at her words, and Natasha's smile widens at the sound.

“I don’t know. Supporting you all these years has been tiring,” you say exaggeratingly.

Hearing this, Natasha raises a brow and moves to push herself up from your lap to stand.

“Maybe I should get the flower, after all,” she says jokingly.

But suddenly, she’s pushed to the ground with firm hands on her shoulders, and your face appears above hers with a raised brow.

“Stop moving,” you tell her firmly, mirroring that moment years ago.

But this time feels different.

Natasha blinks in surprise, feeling her breath catch as she stares up at you, the sunlight forming a soft glow around your face.

She’d always known you were beautiful, but for some reason, Natasha swears she felt her heart skip for a slight moment just now.

At your expectant look, she wordlessly nods in acknowledgment, unable to find her voice.

You give her a satisfied grin before picking up your book and relaxing back against the trunk of the tree.

Natasha sits up slowly and raises her hand to her chest, gently resting it there as she tries to figure out what that feeling was.

Coming up with nothing, she brushes the thoughts away, shaking her head as she turns to you curiously.

“You’re coming tomorrow, right? To the ball,” she asks.

Your posture deflates as you give her an apologetic look.

“I may have to arrive late. Madam B. wants to review something with me before then.”

Reaching out, you touch her hand, reassuring her. “But I’ll be there.”

Natasha sighs in disappointment, hanging her head.

“I don’t even like these events anymore. They’re more political than celebratory these days.”

You give her a sympathetic look, your thumb caressing the back of her hand comfortingly.

“Well, with your coronation set for next year, you’re going to be even busier with these sorts of things.”

Natasha stares at your hand above hers in contemplation, turning it around to intertwine them together.

“You’ll still support me?” she asks.

You give her a reassuring smile, tightening your grip on her hand.

“I’ve been by your side for this long, Natasha. I’m not leaving anytime soon.”

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

It’s been months since you were last by her side, ever since the incident at her birthday ball.

Standing underneath the tree, Natasha stares sadly up at the branches. The scarlet flowers have yet to bloom, still a couple of months away.

With a regretful twist of her lips, she wonders if attempting to retrieve the flower at that time could have prevented this distance between you two from ever happening.

Sighing in disappointment, Natasha hangs her head and turns away, intending to return to the castle. She plans to train some more, hoping to distract herself from thoughts of you.

Unaware that later on this fateful day, an ultimatum will soon be presented to her, one that will eventually bring you back to her side again.

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

Series Masterlist : Boundless Devotion

a/n: Thank you for reading! I'm still working on the last two chapters of Boundless Devotion, but this ended up being finished first, so I decided it should be fine to post since technically it's a prequel/side story. Also, I’m not sure if those on the main story tag list wanted to be tagged on side stories like this. I’ll do it just in case, but if you don’t, just let me know.

#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff imagine #natasha romanoff x fem!reader #natasha romanoff fanfic #natasha romanoff x you #black widow x reader #natasha x reader #natasha romanoff

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just-aake · 2 months

Text

Boundless Devotion - Masterlist

Pairing: princess!Natasha Romanoff x fem!reader

Warnings: This series does contain mentions of violence, abuse, blood, panic attacks, mind control, and deaths.

Chapters:

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 |

Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 |

Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 |

Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 |

Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15

Side Story:

Fateful Encounter (Prequel)

#masterlist #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff imagine #natasha romanoff x fem!reader #natasha romanoff x you #black widow x reader #natasha x reader #natasha romanoff fanfic #natasha romanoff #boundless devotion masterlist

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just-aake · 2 months

Note

Hii, do you have AO3?

Hello! I do, here you go: AO3

#ask answered

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just-aake · 2 months

Text

Boundless Devotion - Part XIII

Pairing: princess!Natasha Romanoff x fem!reader

Warnings: angst, violence, blood, hurt/comfort, abuse, panic attack

Words: 7627

The clash of swords echoes in the corridor of the dungeons, accompanied by occasional grunts and thuds of fallen combatants.

After several minutes of seemingly never-ending waves of assailants, Natasha is growing more and more frustrated.

Her current attacker lunges at her with a swing, but she smoothly parries the weapon out of their hand, countering with a swift and hard kick to their midsection, causing them to crumble to the ground.

After defeating some already, Natasha quickly recognized who they were.

Dreykov’s soldiers

The person she just defeated was the same one who had refused her access to see you earlier at the gates of your manor.

At the thought of you, her eyes glance over worriedly to the wall where you had disappeared behind.

When she recovered from being knocked back and realized that the man had you in his grip, she rushed to you, but the trap door closed before she could reach you, slamming shut in her face.

Before she could even attempt to find the switch, the sound of the door breaking from above, followed by several rushing footsteps, propelled her into this current fight.

“Natasha!”

Clint’s warning abruptly pulls her from the memory just in time to dodge a swing from another attacker.

They suddenly cry out in pain when an arrow pierces their shoulder from behind, and with a quick sweep from Natasha, they fall to the ground.

Another person falls unconscious nearby, and Natasha directs her attention to the other person helping in the fight.

The old Stark captain now stands free from his restraints after insisting to her that he could help.

Bucky notices her glare and then glances towards where you were taken before returning his attention to her.

“I’m sure she’s okay,” he tries to reassure her.

But his comment just makes her clench her teeth in anger, seeing how he’s part of the reason you decided to come here in the first place.

Now she’s separated from you and uncertain of your current condition.

Natasha turns away from him, directing her anger to the rest of the attackers in the room instead.

“This is going on for too long,” she determines, her hand tightening around the hilt of her sword.

In the next moment, the corridor echoes with the impact of bodies hitting the ground one after the other. A web of lightning-fast strikes incapacitates the remaining members of the ambush, leaving them sprawled across the floor, defeated, until only one remains.

With the final assailant rushing at her, Natasha swiftly evades his attack, grabbing his arm and expertly flipping him over her shoulder before slamming him to the ground with a resounding thud.

As the dust settles, Natasha stands and sheathes her sword before swiftly moving back over to the wall to search for the trap door switch.

Clint makes a sound of amazement behind her as he steps around all of the unconscious bodies to reach her.

“Glad to see your skills are still as impressive as ever, Your Highness,” Clint compliments as he approaches her.

Natasha doesn’t respond. Instead, she focuses intently on searching the wall, her hand running quickly along the grooves of the cold stones.

After finally finding a small loose stone, she presses it in, but nothing happens.

Frowning, Natasha tries again, harder this time.

Still, nothing moves.

Frustration rises in her, and she slams her hands against the wall in anger. The sting of pain on her palms does nothing to distract her from her racing thoughts of concern for you.

She needs to figure out how to open this stupid door quickly before anything bad happens to you.

“There should be another switch on the ground that needs to be pressed at the same time,” Bucky’s voice calls from behind.

Natasha turns her head slightly to him before quickly refocusing her attention on the stone floor. Her foot sweeps along the surface until a loose stone caves slightly under her pressure.

Looking up, Natasha narrows her eyes at Bucky in suspicion.

“How did you know?”

Next to her, Clint raises his bow, pointing an arrow at the old captain, waiting for his response.

Bucky raises his hand in innocence before shaking his head lightly in confusion, appearing slightly unsure himself.

"I don't know. It’s…just that I’ve seen this before, I think," he replies, grimacing before giving her a genuine look. “I swear I’m not trying to trick you.”

Natasha shoots him one last suspicious look before gesturing to Clint to stand down. She then returns her focus to the trap door — getting you back safely is her priority before worrying about anything else.

With one foot on the stone on the floor and a hand on the one on the wall, Natasha presses both of the switches simultaneously.

A distinct clicking sound echoes as the wall begins to turn.

Rushing through the opening, Natasha enters the dimly lit space, calling your name.

“Y/n?!”

Immediately, Natasha notices the subtle change in the room's pressure when she takes a breath. Something in the air feels heavy, and a light wave of dizziness seems to cloud her thoughts for a brief moment.

Shaking off the feeling, Natasha concentrates on searching her surroundings and finally spots you standing at the far wall.

She immediately moves to run towards you.

“Stay away from me!”

At your shout, Natasha slides to a sudden stop, hearing the fear in your voice.

As she processes your words and realizes that it was indeed directed toward her, she feels her heart tighten painfully in her chest.

Then she watches as you step back and press yourself further against the wall behind you as if you’re trying to be as far from her as possible, and her heart breaks even more.

“Just…stay away…,” you plead, your voice comes out in a shaky whisper.

Recognizing your panicked expression—the same one as your panic attack at the cemetery— Natasha quickly brushes off her feelings of hurt and composes herself so that she can concentrate on helping you.

She takes a moment to examine you for any injuries before her eyes drift down to the ground where two bodies lay nearby.

Seeing their identities and conditions, understanding fills her mind as she returns her attention to you, meeting your eyes with a gentle reassuring look.

But you immediately break from her gaze, looking down at your bloodied hands, trembling.

“I-I didn’t…” you say unsurely, your breathing increasing rapidly.

“Y/n, look at me.”

Her words don't seem to reach you since you don’t make any movement, your gaze fixated on your hands as you continue to mumble under your breath.

Natasha’s brow pinch in concern and she tries again, louder this time.

“Y/n!”

Your head snaps up and meet her eyes in shock as if remembering her presence.

“Just…focus on me,” Natasha says gently, making a show of taking a few slow deep breaths.

After a hesitant moment, you begin to copy her, inhaling and exhaling shakily.

Nodding in encouragement, Natasha takes a tiny step towards you.

Your eyes watch her cautiously, but you don’t tell her to stop this time.

She takes another step.

Then another.

Again and again.

Until she stands just an arm’s length away from you.

Seeing your fearful expression, Natasha wants nothing more than to wrap you in her arms and comfort you, but she understands that’s not what you need right now.

Instead, she extends her hand out towards you in invitation.

You glance at her outstretched hand, patiently hovering between the two of you, and then at your own, trembling at your side.

The sight of the dark red remaining on your palm causes you to instinctively clench your hand in an attempt to hide them.

Returning your gaze hesitantly to Natasha, you check to see if she has noticed them too, but her expression shows no change from before.

There’s just warmth and trust in her eyes.

Warmth and trust.

And something more.

You finally recognize that unspoken emotion that fills her gaze now and all the times before – an overwhelming and unwavering boundless devotion towards you.

With that realization, you bring your hand slowly to hover above hers, and with one last glance at her for assurance, you close your eyes and let it fall.

Natasha’s hand closes around yours without hesitation, wrapping it in her warmth.

A moment passes with no movement or sound, even the whisperings of Madam B’s voice seem to disappear from your mind.

Your eyes snap open when you realize that nothing else happens, and immediately, you rush into her arms.

Natasha wraps her arms around you, enveloping you in her embrace.

With your head tucked into the crook of her neck, you begin to explain frantically against her skin.

“S-She said she was going to make me do it again. To kill you.”

But your words don't scare her away.

Her concern is only on one thing at the moment.

Natasha’s hand moves up to hold your head tightly against her as she releases a breath of relief.

“You’re okay…thank god, you’re okay,” her lips whisper against your head.

Natasha feels you still trembling slightly in her arms as you murmur something repeatedly against her skin.

“I don’t want to hurt you…I don’t…”

Hearing this, Natasha tightens her arms around you in response and tilts her head down next to your ear, whispering reassuringly, “I know.”

She continues confidently, “I told you, Y/n. I know you would never hurt me.”

You shake your head slightly against her, still unsure, but you don’t say anymore, choosing to focus on the comfort of her warmth instead.

After a few minutes of silence, Natasha presses a light kiss on your head to get your attention before telling you gently.

“We need to get out of here. There’s something in the air.”

Raising your head from her in confusion, you concentrate on the atmosphere in the room.

Only then did you notice the subtle shift in the air, like something pressing down in your mind. You’re sure you didn’t realize this at first due to the shock of Madam B’s unexpected presence.

At the reminder of the woman, your gaze shifts to the bodies on the ground, lingering on the one whose actions hurt you the most.

You never had the chance to confront her for betraying you last year. She was already exiled by the time you recovered.

Looking at her lifeless eyes, you can’t help but feel a pang of sadness even though you know she was only using you.

Madam B. had been a constant presence in your life since you were young, strict and harsh at times, but still, at least she was there, always by your side.

Now she’s gone.

You want to look away from the person she has revealed herself to be and leave with the few good memories of her that you have left, but you find that you can’t bring yourself to move.

Thankfully, you don’t have to.

With her arms still around you, Natasha maneuvers her position, shielding you from the grim scene, and her concerned gaze silently asks if you are okay.

The sight of her reminds you of what it truly means to be by someone’s side.

To actually care for someone.

And the bitter truth is Madam B is not one of those kinds of people in your life.

Maybe she never was.

With a small, sad smile, you give Natasha a reassuring nod, allowing her to guide you towards the opening of the trapped door.

As you move with her, something catches the corner of your eye – a drip from one of the torches on the walls.

Curious, you pull away from Natasha to investigate, her footsteps following close behind.

“Y/n?”

Another drip falls slowly, creating a small puddle on the ground.

It's unusual; torches typically burn the oil that coats its end. They shouldn't drip like this.

Taking a breath, you realize that the air around the torch feels significantly heavier too.

Intrigued, you catch the next drop on your hand, examining it carefully – you know you’ve seen this before.

“Come on, Y/n. Let’s get out of here.”

Natasha takes your other hand and guides you the remaining distance out of the Red Room as your mind races with realization.

Once in the dungeon corridor, you show Natasha the substance.

“This is your mom’s serum,” you exclaim in disbelief at the existence of the supposedly banned substance.

“What?” Natasha asks in confusion. “How did she get it?”

The memory of Madam B's words emerges in your mind of how you were molded to be her spy, and a sense of shame forms in you.

“It was me,” you reveal sadly, looking down in regret. “Your mom showed me the formula once. Madam B. must have gotten it from me.”

Before you can fall into your feelings of self-blaming guilt, Natasha tilts your chin up to meet her eyes, offering a reassuring grin.

"All I hear is that my mom showed you the formula before even me," she teases lightly, trying to lighten the mood. She lets out a tiny amused chuckle, “I told you that you’re her favorite.”

You give her an exasperated look and shove her lightly for her teasing during this dire situation.

She catches your hand, keeping you close, her expression turning serious.

“You’re not at fault for any of this,” Natasha states firmly. “Madam B. is the one who used the serum, not you.”

Glancing back to the Red Room, you begin to piece together what Madam B. meant by her new quick method of control.

“If she was dispersing the serum into the air, then breathing this in would bring it directly into a person’s system, making them susceptible effectively in a short amount of time,” you explain to Natasha before your eyes widen in realization. “That’s how she could implement control on many people so quickly.”

Alarm and question fill Natasha’s expression at your words.

“Which people?”

“Like Oksana,” you explain, recalling another piece of information she mentioned before urgently continuing.

“Natasha, there are more like her. Madam B. said that some lord came here earlier and took everyone.”

"I know who," Clint interrupts, emerging from the Red Room with documents in hand.

He hands them to Natasha with a serious look.

"The idiot signed his name and everything."

Natasha skims the contents of the note on the top.

Prepare the rest of the subjects. I’ll use them to take care of the princesses outside. Everybody else is in position at the castle.

~Lord Rumlow

“Well, it doesn’t get more incriminating than that,” Natasha comments with a roll of her eyes, passing the paper for you to see.

"That traitorous little…he’s trying to go after you," you exclaim in outrage.

Natasha nods in acknowledgment, connecting together all the new information.

“So, some of the kingdom’s guards are being controlled. And with the security meeting happening soon, they’re now inside the castle, unknowingly waiting to be a part of an ambush on my family.”

You give the note back to Natasha, continuing her train of thought.

"Except Rumlow must have found out that you snuck out, so he came here to pick up more people to go after you."

“And Yelena,” Natasha adds, frowning slightly.

Clint waves his hands in disbelief.

"Wait, Yelena’s outside the castle too? Where is she now?"

You give Natasha a knowing look, already guessing the answer without her help.

“Kate’s manor,” you respond. “That’s not going to be hard for anyone to figure out soon.”

Natasha sighs in agreement before straightening confidently, her demeanor shifting to one of determined resolve.

"Okay, then. Clint, you head to the castle to warn Steve and my parents. Also, see if you can find Fanny to help identify the controlled soldiers among our own," Natasha commands.

“Yelena’s dog?” Clint asks incredulously.

Natasha nods.

“She was able to sense people being controlled before. There was the time with the man in town and then again with Oksana at the festival.”

“And with me,” you add in realization, giving Natasha a confirming glance, amazed at her deduction.

“If you say so,” Clint says, shrugging before nodding at Natasha.

“What about you two?”

“We’ll go get Yelena and regroup with you back at the castle afterward to help.”

Clint grimaces at Natasha’s response.

“I’d rather you find someplace to hide until this is over, but I know you won’t.”

Natasha smirks, about to respond, when you touch her arm to get her attention.

From the regretful and determined look on your face, she already knows she won’t like what you’re about to say.

“Natasha, I have to go back for the twins.”

“You can’t,” she denies, her head already shaking vehemently in refusal during the middle of your sentence.

She gestures to the unconscious people on the ground around her.

“His guards weren't even afraid to attack me. Who knows what he’ll do to you if you go back.”

“She’s right. Dreykov is most likely a part of this or at least knows about the plans. Going back to your manor now is dangerous,” Clint warns.

“Which is why I can’t just leave them there,” you argue.

“Then I’ll come with you,” Natasha insists.

You shake your head firmly.

“There’s not enough time. You need to get to Yelena first.”

Natasha’s expression twists in conflict as she tries to come up with a solution to ensure the safety of everyone she cares for.

You watch as her brows pinch further in turmoil, and you know that the both of you know the inevitable truth – there's no other option.

Gently cradling her face in your hand, you lock eyes with her, silently urging her to listen to your next words carefully.

“This is what I was telling you before, Natasha. You can’t choose me this time,” you remind her softly, each syllable heavy with the weight of the decision.

Her features contort with a blend of anguish and realization as the harsh reality sinks in that she can’t always protect you.

“I’ll go with her,” Bucky's voice breaks the tense silence as he steps forward from the entrance of the Red Room.

Natasha whirls around to face him, suspicion evident in her gaze as she responds firmly.

“Absolutely not, you’re not getting anywhere near her.”

Bucky's lips quirk into a wry smile.

“No offense, Your Highness, but I am not exactly under your command.”

“We could just lock you up again,” Clint interjects.

Undeterred by the threat, Bucky's gaze remains on her, unwavering as he counters, “Do you really want her to return to him without any backup?”

Natasha's fists clench in frustration, but you intercede, taking her hand in yours to soothe her rising anger and return her attention to you.

“It’s fine, Natasha. Let him help,” you reassure her, your tone calm yet insistent.

“I don’t trust him,” Natasha says, her voice tinged with apprehension as she leans closer to whisper to you. “He was acting strange earlier.”

You steal a glance at Bucky, recalling Madam B’s cryptic words about how she had dealt with him earlier. With that information, you understand and also share Natasha’s reservations about his current state of mind.

However, these guards must have been sent here for him which suggests that Bucky may be expected back at your manor eventually. At least by keeping him close, you can monitor his actions and be prepared in case anything does happen.

Besides, Madam B. did teach you one final important piece of information before she passed that may be able to help you.

With this confidence, you offer Natasha a reassuring smile.

“I have an idea if something happens,” you assure her.

Natasha's expression remains hesitant and apprehensive, prompting you to gently clasp her hands together in yours.

Bringing them up, you place a delicate kiss on her fingers before meeting her gaze with pleading eyes.

“Trust me,” you implore softly.

A flicker of worry crosses Natasha’s face as she looks at your serious expression before she slumps with a resigned, heavy sigh.

“Okay, okay,” Natasha relents reluctantly. “I trust you.”

Resting her forehead against yours, she gives you a determined look.

“But after I get Yelena, I’m coming for you right after,” she declares firmly.

Brushing her nose gently against yours, she whispers the next words against your lips in a promise, “And afterward, we’re finishing that conversation between us, without any more interruptions.”

A small smile forms on your face as you gaze into her eyes and see the unwavering certainty of her words.

“Okay,” you breathe out. “It’s a promise.”

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

The hurried ride back to your manor was spent in relative silence with only the patter of rain and the rhythmic beat of hooves to accompany your journey.

It is only when the two of you arrive at the gates of your manor does Bucky speak.

“How are you holding up?” he asks as the two of you dismount your horses.

You give him a questioning look, prompting him to clarify.

“It’s not every day one finds out that she is a missing royal.”

Irritation rises in you when you realize he was bringing up the topic that you wanted to ignore.

Dealing with being kidnapped as a baby and a lying, false father aside, you honestly have no desire to involve yourself with any of the specifics of your real identity.

“There’s nothing to discuss,” you state plainly in an attempt to end this topic quickly. “Dreykov will get what he deserves for what he did but after that, I have no desire to reclaim any title.”

Bucky regards you with an unreadable expression before remarking calmly, “Nonetheless, it’s still a part of your birthright that he took you from. Whether you like it or not, you are a Stark royal by blood.”

He pauses and then adds with a grim look, “You don’t belong here.”

His last words make your hands clench into fists as you grasp the implications.

However, accepting the reality of being a Stark, being the rival of the Romanov kingdom and the past enemy of Natasha’s family – that is not a role that you want.

“I don’t want to talk about this anymore,” you declare resolutely.

There’s a beat of silence before Bucky responds.

“As you wish.”

His formal response makes you frown in annoyance, and you turn to him with your arms crossed.

“Are you just saying that because of who I am or because you want to?” you ask accusingly.

“I thought you didn’t want to talk about the subject anymore,” Bucky says, giving you a pointed look.

You let out a small frustrated sound at his deflection by throwing your words back to you.

“Listen, I know you’ve served the Starks all your life, but like I said, I am not your princess that you need to obey,” you assert firmly.

He observes your serious expression for a moment, as if in thought, before giving you an acknowledging nod.

Seeing that you won’t get another response, you refocus your attention on your manor.

It looks different than ever before, devoid of staff and now most of the guards. The once homey space appears haunted as the two of you enter through the gates.

Bucky walks ahead of you, searching the area for any potential threats.

“We’re looking for that boy from before, right? The one that defended you,” he asks over his shoulder.

You hum in acknowledgment, adding, “And his sister.”

After checking that the entrance is clear, Bucky moves to open the door.

“Wait just a moment,” you stop him, getting his attention as he turns to look at you in question.

“Before we go in, there is one thing I need to ask of you.”

He stares at you intently in silence, waiting for you to continue.

You don’t know what lies beyond this door, but one thing is for certain.

“If it ever comes down to a choice between me or either of them, I need you to help them first,” you tell him, your tone serious.

His eyes scrutinize you, contemplating his response before asking plainly.

“Is this an order?”

“A request,” you state firmly, giving him a slight glare. “Those two are innocent, just caught up in the middle of my problems. That’s why, no matter what happens to me, they come first.”

You wait as Bucky stares at you in silence, his expression unreadable. Eventually, he gives you a nod as if coming to a conclusion.

“Understood. Then you have my word.”

His formality causes you to grimace in displeasure.

“Your word as the previous captain of Starks?” you ask bitterly.

“As a friend, Lady Y/n,” he corrects gently, his tone a touch warmer and more genuine than before.

You blink in surprise before giving him a slight nod.

“Thank you…Bucky.”

As you two step into the manor, an eerie and unnerving silence greets you.

Undeterred by the ominous atmosphere, you take the lead, swiftly moving through the halls towards your room.

You hope that Pietro and Wanda are safe and waiting for you there, and perhaps, Wanda has regained enough strength by now to move.

Peeking around one corner, you feel a wave of relief when you spot the familiar shade of dark brown hair.

Wanda tiptoes down the hallway, with her back to you, her movements purposeful and stealthy. She checks each room of the manor with care, gently opening doors and peeking inside before continuing on her search.

Emerging from the corner, you begin to approach her.

However, at the sound of your footsteps, Wanda whirls around in alertness.

For a moment, you catch a flash of red in her eyes before they quickly return to their normal color once she realizes it is you.

“You’re back!” Wanda exclaims in a hushed tone, her posture relaxing as she closes the distance between you.

Fussing over her, you gently hold her face in your hands as you examine her.

“Are you okay? How are you feeling?”

“Better,” she responds honestly, gently stopping your fussing by holding onto your wrists.

You nod and release her face, instead grasping her hands for assurance of her safe condition.

“That’s good. Because we need to leave soon. Where’s Pietro?” you ask, searching the area for any signs of the other twin.

Wanda shakes her head, giving you a worried look.

“I don’t know. He never came back. I was just looking for him.”

You frown at her words, about to question her further when her eyes shift warily to some movement behind you.

"Who's he?" she asks cautiously.

Turning, you see Bucky standing there, patiently waiting.

Recalling the idea that you formed from Madam B’s information, you call out to him.

"Bucky, can you go and search ahead?"

He nods in acknowledgment and quickly leaves to scout the halls, disappearing around the corner.

“The criminal, I presume,” Wanda states with a small frown.

She didn't agree with your initial decision to meet with Bucky, and seeing him free beside you now only adds to her disapproval.

Unfortunately, you don’t have time to change her distrust at this time, so you nod in confirmation before changing the subject.

“Do you remember all the research I’ve been doing this past year?” you say urgently.

Wanda nods. "Yes, for a cure to prevent you from being controlled."

"I have an idea, but I need your help," you say, raising her hands in yours before continuing, “I need you to use your powers on my mind.”

"What? No!" Wanda pulls her hands away, hiding them behind her back.

"Wanda, please.”

She shakes her head.

"I don’t have much practice using my powers like that," she insists, her voice filled with uncertainty.

"Then this is a good opportunity for you to try," you urge.

"Y/n, be serious,” she chastises, fidgeting with her hands nervously, “It could be dangerous. I don't know if I can control it."

You reach out to grasp her hands firmly, reassuring her, "You can do this, Wanda. You are a lot stronger than you think.”

Wanda gives you a disbelieving look, but you return her gaze with one of confidence and trust.

"I believe in you," you say honestly.

After a hesitant moment of contemplation, Wanda eventually slumps in resignation.

“What am I supposed to do?” she asks.

“Search my subconscious. See if you can find something that feels out of place – invasive. Then try to form a barrier around it,” you explain your idea.

“Like blocking it from being active?” Wanda questions.

“Or stop it completely,” you say hopefully.

Wanda nods in understanding. She then takes a deep breath, closing her eyes.

When she opens them again, they glow red, mirroring the light mist that forms around her hands.

The mist drifts slowly towards your head, before stopping suddenly a small distance away. Wanda's expression shows a mix of concentration and concern as she stares at you.

“You’ll tell me if I’m hurting you?” she asks cautiously.

“I promise,” you reassure her.

She swallows nervously, relenting with a soft, "Okay.”

Her power continues on its path, finally touching your head, and a warm and gentle pressure enters your mind as Wanda's essence envelopes you completely.

There's no resistance from you as she searches your subconscious.

After a moment, she finally speaks again, her face pinched in concentration.

“I think I almost have–”

A sudden shout of pain reverberates through the halls, causing your eyes to snap open in panic, the connection between you and Wanda interrupted, fading until it disappears completely.

Your heart races as you recognize the source of the sound: Pietro.

Without hesitation, you dash towards the sound with Wanda following close behind.

Arriving at the staircase leading to your floor, you are frozen in shock at the sight before you.

There, lying at the base of the stairs is Pietro's familiar form, his silver hair now streaked with specks of dark red.

“Pietro!” Wanda's panicked cry breaks the silence, propelling her past you towards her brother.

Her call snaps you out of your daze, and you rush to Pietro's side, kneeling beside Wanda as she cradles his head in her lap.

A groan escapes Pietro at the movement, a sign of consciousness, but the sight of his battered face and body extinguishes any relief you might have felt. Bruises, already darkening, cover his features, and dried blood coats his skin.

You reach out to touch his face gingerly to examine his wounds, but he winces away in pain. One of his eyes is swollen shut, while the other struggles to open, half-lidded as he gazes at you.

Despite his injuries, he manages to muster a weak attempt at his usual playful smile when he sees your pained expression.

“I’m…fine,” he coughs out, his breath shallow.

“Pietro, you can barely open your eyes,” you whisper in horror.

“Ha…am I still good-looking?” he teases, though his voice comes out more strained than playful.

Wanda lets out a disbelieving huff, tears glistening in her eyes.

“You look terrible.”

A pained smile flits across his face as he closes his eyes to take in a shaky breath.

“Careful, Wanda, your face is the same as mine.”

“Pietro, what happened?” you ask, needing an explanation.

“Dreykov’s men caught me…they tried to get me to tell them where you had gone,” he says with a wry chuckle. “Guess they didn’t like my sarcastic answers as much as you do.”

You hold back a wave of emotion and guilt as you gently brush his hair back from his face.

“You should have just told them what they wanted to know,” you chastise, “Then maybe Dreykov wouldn’t have hurt you this badly.”

Pietro lets out a tiny scoff, shaking his head slightly.

“As if. The bastard didn’t even have the guts to hit me himself,” he reveals before succumbing to fits of painful coughs, blood trickling from his mouth.

Panicked, you look to Wanda, telling her urgently.

“Wanda, he needs help!”

She shakes her head helplessly as she examines his condition, her hands clenching and unclenching with uncertainty.

“There is no one else here. The closest person to a healer is at Lady Kate’s.”

You glance back down at Pietro, his breathing shallow and labored and his eyes closed. He's in no condition to move, and without medical help soon, you don’t know how much longer he can survive.

Running through the options in your mind, you realize there is one way you can give both of them a chance to be safe.

“You need to go, Wanda,” you decide firmly.

Wide-eyed, Wanda stares at you, bewildered.

“What?”

“You need to go, now,” you repeat urgently, gently taking his head from her lap to cradle in yours. “Get to safety and send help back for Pietro.”

Wanda rises slowly at your command, but she doesn’t leave, torn by indecision as she gazes at the two of you, unwilling to abandon you.

As you’re about to desperately plead with her to leave quickly, a reprimanding voice booms from above, sending a shiver of fear running through you.

“This wouldn’t have happened if only you had just listened to me.”

You turn and lift your gaze to find Dreykov standing at the top of the staircase, his eyes filled with disdain as he stares down at the three of you.

Gesturing to the guards beside him, he adds, “I thought I told you to finish off the boy.”

At his words, the two guards start to descend towards you, and you instinctively tighten your hold on Pietro’s body.

Rage boils within you as you glare at the approaching figures, likely the culprits behind Pietro’s condition.

“Don’t you dare!” you threaten, your voice laced with an angry intensity that startles even the guards, who hesitate and look to Dreykov for further guidance.

Using the momentary distraction, you turn to the frozen twin behind you.

“Wanda, go!” you exclaim urgently.

Your command snaps her out of her daze, and she begins to back away.

“Grab the girl,” Dreykov orders with a bored wave of his hand.

As his guards continue their descent, you brace yourself to intervene, but suddenly, a cry pierces the air from behind.

“Let me go!”

Whirling around in surprise, you see Wanda trapped in a chokehold, not by one of Dreykov’s guards, but by Bucky.

His eyes now stare blankly ahead, devoid of emotion, as he maintains a tight grip on Wanda. It’s clear that the person in front of you is no longer in control.

“Finally, someone who listens to my commands. I should’ve just done the same thing to you imbeciles,” Dreykov comments, his footsteps echoing down the steps, followed by the sound of consecutive slaps, likely aimed at their heads.

Wanda continues to struggle against Bucky’s hold, but his larger form keeps her in place, squeezing the breath from her throat.

“Wanda!” you call out urgently, catching her attention. With a meaningful look, you mouth to her, “He’s like me,” hoping she grasps your implication.

Understanding dawns on Wanda’s face as she turns her head as much as possible to study Bucky, her own eyes beginning to glow red.

A rough hand suddenly seizes your hair, yanking you upright and forcing you to face Dreykov as Pietro rolls from your lap with a small groan.

His guards flank you on both sides, holding you in place.

Meeting his gaze with a harsh glare, you notice a flicker of surprise in his expression.

“Now when did you develop the courage to have such a fierce and hateful look in your eyes?” Dreykov asks curiously.

His gaze shifts down to Pietro on the ground, and a satisfied smirk creeps across his face.

“You really should’ve taught your pathetic servants to follow orders better. I never understood why Madam B. let you keep two of them.”

He nonchalantly extends his foot to move Pietro’s face in examination. The disrespectful action further increases your anger as you struggle against the guards' grips.

Pietro grimaces in pain, prompting Dreykov to shrug indifferently before refocusing on you.

“Well, I guess you’ll only have one soon enough.”

Suddenly, a groan of pain erupts behind you, and you turn your head to see Bucky doubled over, clutching his head, while Wanda staggers on her feet, free from his grip and staring at her hands in shock.

You lock eyes with her, giving her a proud expression and an urgent nod to go.

With one last worried glance at Pietro, Wanda gives you a reassuring nod and quickly disappears into the halls.

One guard releases you to chase after her, but you swiftly trip him with a well-placed foot. The other guard, caught off guard by your sudden movement, loses balance, allowing you to push him away while also grabbing his dagger at his side. You rush to Dreykov, bringing it to his neck.

As you hear the guards behind you begin to recover, you demand angrily, “Tell them to let her go.”

Dreykov meets your gaze with an unbothered expression, his demeanor unaffected by the threat against his neck.

After a pause, he rolls his eyes and issues a command to his guards.

“Leave her. She can’t do anything. Just another orphan to add to the streets that will die sooner or later,” he dismisses callously.

He then looks down at the dagger in your hand and raises his brow to you.

“Now, is this any way to treat your father?” Dreykov reprimands.

“You don’t get to call yourself my father!” you exclaim vehemently, your voice filled with contempt.

There’s a tense pause as his eyes narrow at your words before his expression relaxes into a smirk.

“So, you finally found out the truth,” he remarks, raising a finger at you.

“You know, there were moments I doubted whether you really were their child. I thought the Starks would have had a more intelligent offspring, something similar to that first prodigal child of theirs.”

His words sting as usual but not as much now that you know how truly evil the man before you can be.

“You’re despicable,” you seethe with disgust. “What kind of person kidnaps a baby from their parents?”

Dreykov's smirk widens, reveling in your anger.

“Consider it a consolation to me for their part in choosing peace and ending the war. They got what they deserved,” he says without any remorse.

You tighten your grip on the dagger in anger at how he callously dismisses the deaths he caused. But then you realize, that no matter how hard you try to push, the blade doesn’t move any closer to him, as if an invisible barrier is keeping you away.

“You feel it, don’t you?” Dreykov taunts knowingly. “I’m sure you’re clever enough to guess by now that Madam B isn’t the only one who can control you. After all, the Widow operations are my creation. Why would I ever allow anyone under my control to be able to hurt me?”

His words hit you like a blow, confirming your worst suspicions, but you refuse to show fear and weakness to him, not anymore.

“You’re a coward,” you spit out, glaring at him. “The only thing you know how to do is manipulate others. That’s why you lost the war.”

Dreykov's smirk falters, replaced by a flash of displeasure, and his demeanor shifts, darkening with a hidden temper before he regains his composure.

With calculated calmness, he takes the dagger from your hand, your fingers releasing the weapon to him involuntarily.

He inspects it thoughtfully for a moment before swiftly backhanding you across the face with the hilt, the vicious blow knocking you to the ground.

“I haven’t lost anything,” he sneers at you angrily.

Pain radiates through your cheek as blood trickles from your split lips, but you refuse to give him the satisfaction of hearing your pain.

You wipe the blood from your lips and stare back defiantly at him, causing him to regard you with a mocking pity.

“Oh, don’t pretend to be brave now. You’re nothing more than a tool in my revenge against the Romanovs and Starks,” he spits out in disdain. “I have no obligation to treat you any better than the dirt beneath my feet.”

As Dreykov moves to strike you again, a feeble hand grabs his foot, stopping him.

Glancing down, you see Pietro’s face contorted with fury as he desperately clings to Dreykov, attempting to protect you.

Dreykov, now visibly irritated, rolls his eyes and with a disgusted expression, easily breaks free from Pietro’s grasp. He then delivers a harsh kick to his abdomen, causing Pietro to gasp and groan in pain.

“Annoying brat,” Dreykov sneers before pointing at his guards. “Remove this pest from my sight and dispose of him already,” he commands coldly before muttering with disdain, “I’ve always hated that one more than the other.”

In a panic, you seek out Bucky and are relieved to find his gaze full of life and awareness as he assesses the situation.

He meets your eyes, and you hope he understands the silent plea in your gaze, asking him to remember his promise to you.

With a slight grimace in understanding, Bucky steps forward, blocking the guard's advance toward Pietro.

He then moves to support Pietro, draping his arm over his shoulders, and shoots you a reassuring glance before dragging him away, seemingly complying with Dreykov's orders.

As they disappear from view, you release a breath of relief before quickly refocusing on Dreykov, who didn’t seem to pay much attention to Bucky's intervention, too preoccupied with brushing off the spot where Pietro had touched him with evident irritation on his face.

Your glare doesn't escape Dreykov's notice though, prompting him to return his attention to you with an indifferent shrug.

“Everything comes to an end sooner or later, especially the things we love," he remarks casually.

At the mention of everything you love, you think of Natasha and what she’s facing right now, the thought of her giving you strength to press further for answers.

“Then the ambush to kill the Romanovs today. Is that your plan for revenge?” you question, your tone accusing.

Dreykov raises a brow in slight surprise at your knowledge but then waves his hand dismissively.

“Your vision is as small and insignificant as ever,” he insults before continuing. “Killing the Romanovs only solves half of my grievances. There’s still another Stark breathing, after all. And what I need to take him down is the very thing that was taken from me in the first place: my victory in war,” he states with chilling conviction.

You can’t help but scoff internally at his ego-driven goal, but you stay quiet, allowing him to continue with his monologuing.

Dreykov’s voice drips with disdain at his next words.

“My initial plan was to use you to convince that foolish princess of yours to eventually start a war with the Starks. But it became apparent that when she takes the throne, she would never consider that option, no matter how many loving glances you throw her way.”

With a mocking gesture, he reaches out to pat your face before continuing with a smirk.

“Luckily, she’s not the only one infatuated with you.”

You furrow your brows, already knowing who he’s referring to.

“Rumlow,” you answer, piecing together the information.

“He came to you for help to take the throne. And you agreed,” you assert, recalling the time Rumlow had mentioned meeting with Dreykov, which had led to him boasting about a possible union between you and him.

You give Dreykov a look of disbelief, continuing, “You revealed information about the Widow operations to him so that he can gather soldiers to control and kill the Romanovs for you while pursuing the throne.”

Dreykov chuckles darkly in amusement.

“And once he becomes the new ruler, I’m sure it would take less than a day to convince him to declare war on the Stark kingdom. Especially, if I give him you as his reward for succeeding,” Dreykov admits, his eyes gleaming with malice.

"I would never agree to that," you declare firmly.

But Dreykov remains unfazed, his gaze cold and calculating.

“You will do whatever I tell you to do: seduce him, marry him, or even just be his plaything,” he threatens.

You let out a disbelieving scoff, shaking your head.

“Natasha won’t lose to someone like him. She’ll stop the ambush and everyone involved,” you declare confidently.

“And then she’ll come for you…is that correct?” Dreykov asks, a sinister smirk playing on his lips.

Your resolve wavers for a moment, the weight of his words and their implication hangs heavy in the air, but you try to push back your nerves, pressing your mouth shut.

“Don’t forget,” Dreykov continues, his tone dripping with arrogance, “I was the kingdom’s greatest tactician during the war. I always have a contingency plan.”

He raises the dagger in his hand, scrutinizing his reflection in the blade before pointing it menacingly at you, the tip stopping just short of your chest.

“How ironic that her devotion to you will be the very thing that leads her to her downfall,” he says with a menacing grin.

A tiny shiver of fear runs through you but you manage to muster some confidence to reply to him.

“I’ll never let you hurt her,” you say, determination burning in your eyes.

But Dreykov's smirk only widens as he flips the dagger in his hand, offering you the hilt with a chilling grin.

“Then it’s a good thing that I won’t be the one who does.”

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

Series Masterlist : Boundless Devotion

a/n: Thank you for reading! Also, I’m sorry if it was kind of long…but I didn’t want to split it up 😬

#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff imagine #natasha romanoff x fem!reader #natasha romanoff fanfic #natasha romanoff x you #black widow x reader #natasha x reader #natasha romanoff

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just-aake · 3 months

Text

Marry Me? Part 2

Pairing : Natasha Romanoff x fem!reader

Summary : Different times Natasha asks you to marry her, now if only you would believe that she was actually serious.

Part 1 | Love in Red

Warnings : fluff, light angst, hints of sexual themes

Words : 1455

“Marry me?”

Your feet stumble on the treadmill, startled by Natasha’s unexpected question.

It has been a few days since the doctors discharged you from the medical bay, and now that you’re feeling better, you decided to do some training to regain your strength.

Recovering your composure, you turn off the machine, slowing to a stop before looking to where Natasha was previously training against the punching bag.

You had offered to hold the bag for her earlier, but she quickly declined and directed you towards the treadmill for a lighter training session instead, citing your still recovering condition.

At the sight of her in her black tank top with a sheen of sweat on her body, you go to take a drink for your suddenly dry throat and stall your response as you try to understand what she meant.

“Oh, I get it. Is this because of what I said before, during the mission?”

You remember how you had lightly hit Natasha’s hand and remarked about it during your last moments of consciousness, referencing her previous statement to you when you had uttered those two words to her before.

“Don’t worry about that, Natasha. I know you were just kidding.”

Giving her your usual convincing smile, you begin to gather your things, feeling a little worn out from the training and the painful reminder of the type of relationship you have with her.

You turn towards the exit with a small wave.

“I think I’m going to stop for today. I’ll see you later.”

With your back to her, you miss the way Natasha’s shoulders slump and her hands fall to her sides as she stares at your retreating back in disbelief.

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

“Marry me?”

You let out a slight chuckle in between the bites you are taking.

“Hey, that's my line,” you say jokingly with a slight bittersweet tone, oblivious to the soft look Natasha is giving you.

Your focus is currently on the array of dishes in front of you. The candles and flowers at the center of the table bring a warm and pleasant atmosphere to the dimly lit space around you.

A hand wipes at the corner of your lips with a napkin and offers you a glass of wine, and you take it gratefully, turning to face the redhead.

“Seriously, Natasha, you didn’t have to do all of this and make all of my favorites. It’s not like we’re celebrating anything.”

Natasha shakes her head slightly and lets out a huff of disbelief, but still, her lips quirk up into a fond smile as she listens to you talk about your day.

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

“Marry me?”

The words were whispered so softly against your bare shoulder that you almost missed it, distracted by the gentle kisses that followed.

After the time she just spent making you scream her name, your mind is too blissfully dazed to process anything, much less what she just said to you.

A brief moment of serene silence follows before you suddenly feel her hand move from innocently caressing your hips down across your stomach towards where you know she intends to begin another round.

You tap her lightly in exhaustion, letting her know that you don’t think you can keep going. For some reason, Natasha has been insatiable this night, bringing you to the point of pleasure so many times that you’ve lost track.

Understanding your action, Natasha returns her arm to wrap around you instead, pulling you close to her in a warm embrace.

This feels different.

That was the last thought you had before you drifted off to a peaceful sleep.

When you wake up, you are surprised to see Natasha still beside you, instead of the usual empty space, and of course, she is already awake. Her head rests on her hand as she watches you slowly blink yourself awake and give her a confused look.

“Don’t you have to get to your morning run?”

Natasha shakes her head.

“I’d rather stay here with you.”

Your heart warms slightly at her words, but you quickly brush off the feeling, knowing better than to get your hopes up. Defaulting to your usual methods of coping during these kinds of situations, you tuck your face against the crook of her neck to hide your expression as you joke against her skin.

“Last night was that good, huh?”

You don’t see Natasha roll her eyes fondly at your teasing or throw her head back with a silent sigh, but you do feel her tighten her arms around you and place a soft kiss on your head.

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

“Marry me?”

Earlier, you received a sudden request for you to join her on the rooftop of the Avengers Compound.

That’s how you found yourself at this point, standing with Natasha under the night sky as she says those two words to you again.

Well, you are standing.

Natasha is on the ground in front of you.

On one knee.

With an elegant little box in her hands.

“Y/n, I’m serious,” she says genuinely.

Your mouth hangs open in disbelief as your eyes shift back and forth between Natasha’s earnest face and the beautifully crafted ring in her hand.

Behind you, by the rooftop doorway, you can hear the whispers of the other Avengers watching.

“I think Nat broke her,” Clint says.

“Shush, just give her a minute to respond,” Wanda whispers.

“You know, in Asgard, one must battle other suitors and show their strength before they can propose,” Thor points out.

“I told her. She should have just used my drones,” Tony remarks.

“This is a private moment. Everybody, leave. Now,” Steve orders firmly, shutting the cracked opening of the door.

Hearing their words and now understanding what is happening, you return your attention to Natasha who is now rubbing her head exasperatedly at their behavior.

Shaking her head, Natasha bites her lips nervously before releasing a shaky breath and meeting your eyes.

“I know I’m not the easiest person to be with. I’ve put you in situations that have not been fair to you. But despite all of that, you still stayed by my side, and in return, I kept you at a distance.”

Your arms instinctively wrap around yourself in comfort at the thoughts of all the times you've felt hurt, patiently waiting for her.

Natasha's hand moves slightly as if she were about to reach for you, but she holds herself back, giving you a sad expression.

“I don’t have a good track record with those who stay around me. They get hurt, always do,” Natasha admits, her eyes drifting down to where the bullet had pierced you. Her lips twist regretfully, “I can’t promise that you will have a safe life with me. And honestly, you deserve better.”

She meets your eyes again with a small, hopeful smile, her own gaze reflecting her vulnerability.

“But one thing I can do is promise that I will do everything I can to give you the happiness you deserve. I want to be with you, Y/n…if you’re still willing to have me?”

With those final words, Natasha waits with a bated breath for your response. You observe her carefully.

The wind blows her auburn hair softly behind her while the rooftop lights cast her face in a scarlet glow, and her ruby lips are caught between her teeth in anticipation.

You can't help but think you were right before.

Red is a beautiful shade of color on her.

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

“Hey, Natasha…” you call for her attention among the joyous voices of your friends celebrating.

She turns her head to you, just as you put some of the wedding cake frosting on her cheek.

“…you have something on your face,” you say teasingly.

Natasha raises an unamused brow at you, but you spot the glint of fondness and love in her eyes.

As she goes to wipe it off, you catch her hand, stopping her, and lean in to kiss the frosting from her cheek.

Before you can pull away too far, Natasha takes your chin in her hand and presses her lips to yours.

With your small gasp of surprise, she deepens the kiss, entering your mouth to taste the frosting that you had just removed from her.

Sounds of cheer from everyone erupt around the two of you, and Natasha pulls away with a small smirk at your flushed expression.

Wrapping your arms around her to hold her close, you brush your lips lightly against her again before deciding to ask her one last time.

“Marry me?”

Natasha’s grin widens happily, leaning in closer to whisper her response proudly against you.

“I finally did.”

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

a/n: thank you for reading!

#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff imagine #natasha romanoff x fem!reader #natasha romanoff fanfic #natasha romanoff x you #black widow x reader #natasha x reader #natasha romanoff

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just-aake · 3 months

Text

Love in Red

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x fem!reader

Summary: The color red means something different when it is about Natasha.

a/n: Not exactly a sequel but this short fic is related to Marry Me.

Warnings: light angst/fluff

Words: 482

The color red is not associated with good things. In society, it can be used to mean caution, alarm, or danger.

The red sirens on police vehicles and ambulances indicate trouble.

The red brake lights on cars warn you to slow down and stop.

The red words on the emergency exit signs tell you to leave.

Red is a warning.

But with Natasha, it becomes something more.

Red can be beautiful.

Especially on her.

The light crimson tint on her cheeks that is always followed by a roll of her eyes every time you shower her with flirty compliments.

The scarlet lipstick on her lips whenever they curl into her usual confident smirk right before she pulls you close and kiss you breathless.

The bright ruby symbol of the signature hourglass on her belt which your hands quickly remove from her body.

The dark auburn hair flowing through your fingers as she brings you to the highest points of pleasure and bliss.

The deep burgundy marks that she leaves all over your body after spending yet another night together.

Then she slips away without a sound.

Leaving you alone.

You should know better.

It’s as you said at the beginning.

Red is not associated with good things.

Like the way your faces grow red with frustration when you both argue about the other person’s safety.

Like the red dot that appears on your body during the mission before a burst of pain suddenly shoots through your stomach.

Like the red of your blood on her hands as she applies pressure while crying out your name.

No, the color red has always been a warning.

A warning that you always ignore.

A warning of the dangers that come with being near a woman like her.

A warning of the way she only allows people to get close up to a certain point.

A warning of the work and effort it takes to build a relationship with her.

Any sensible person would give up and leave.

That was the whole purpose of the color.

To warn you away from her.

The next time the color red appears, it is behind your eyelids from the bright medical bay lights shining above you.

Opening your eyes slowly, you see the lovely color again.

The auburn strands of her hair fall over her sleeping face laying beside you on the medical bed, a light rosy flush on her cheeks from the cold air in the room, and the crimson on her knuckles as her hand holds tightly onto yours.

Red is not supposed to be good.

Yet whenever you look at Natasha, the only thing you can see is how beautiful all of the different shades of red appear on her.

To you, red is not a warning.

It is a reminder to have patience.

After all, someone like Natasha is someone worth loving.

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

a/n: Thank you for reading!

#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x fem!reader #natasha romanoff imagine #natasha romanoff x you #natasha x reader #black widow x reader #natasha romanoff fanfic #natasha romanoff

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just-aake · 3 months

Text

Hello! I just want to say for all those of you who sent me asks in the past expressing your feelings about my writings, thank you so much for the kind words! I loved hearing your reactions to my stories (I just wasn't sure how to respond since just saying thank you seemed like a small response compared to the things and excitement you all wrote) But I do want you all to know that I appreciate you for taking the time to tell me how you felt about any of my fics, and if you don't see me respond to it publicly, just know that I do still keep it in my messages and I often reread them as support and reassurance to keep writing.

#ask #thank you for reading #the last part also applies to any of your replies/comments on my fics

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just-aake · 3 months

Note

Do you have plans for other long series after boundless devotion is completed? The amount of talent you have to be able to come up with that whole story is crazy 😭

Thank you for the compliment! Sometimes I also get surprised and worried at how the story ends up playing out (I keep making so many changes which is partially why I can't seem to know how many chapters are left 😅) so it's really reassuring that you like it and think it's good. As for possible other long series after boundless devotion, I want to say that I do have three? ideas: I know one of them is related to my other fic chasing shadows (but I don't know if it's a long series like this one or more of a three part series like red room sacrifice) and the other two I'm still working on so I'm not sure if it's going to be as long yet either. The current length for boundless devotion was definitely unexpected though. When I made the rough outline of the story, it was supposed to be finished in 10 chapters, so something was definitely miscalculated at that time 😬 When it does finish though, I do want to put out some oneshots first before I start another series. Thank you again for reading, and I hope you enjoy the rest of the story!

#ask #ask answered

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just-aake · 3 months

Text

Boundless Devotion - Part XII

Pairing: princess!Natasha Romanoff x fem!reader

Warnings: slight fluff, angst, violence, blood, panic attack, death

Words: 6103

The prison looms ahead, enclosed by its imposing stone walls and large wooden gate at the front. The mid-afternoon sky has also darkened with the coming weather, and an unsettling tension fills the air as a light drizzle begins to fall.

As the three of you approach the prison’s entrance, Natasha stops, hands on her hips, and surveys the area with a frown.

“Clint,” she addresses him calmly, but there’s a hint of exasperation in her tone. “Where are the kingdom’s guards?”

The retired knight, who was also searching for any familiar faces, shrugs when he finds no signs of activity on the outer walls either.

“Maybe they’re taking shelter from the rain,” he suggests, though his tone didn’t sound convincing.

At that, Natasha rubs her head exasperatedly in an attempt to alleviate the small headache forming and the unease surrounding the situation.

She then turns to you with a resigned look, already knowing your response before she even asks.

“Any chance you changed your mind about going to the castle?”

You raise your brow at her in disbelief and cross your arms, silently answering her question.

“Yeah, I thought so,” Natasha says with a small sigh, looking back at the entrance. “Stay close to me, then.”

Natasha leads the way through the gates into the outer courtyard, followed by you and then Clint guarding the rear.

Like the entrance, the usual patrol of guards in the courtyard is noticeably absent, creating an eerie silence and a still atmosphere.

Turning back to Clint with a raised brow, Natasha remarks pointedly, “Still think they’re hiding from the rain?”

“I didn’t believe myself either when I said it,” Clint admits with a sigh, preparing his bow for the obviously troubling situation.

Natasha rolls her eyes and shakes her head slightly in disbelief before turning to you in concern.

“Maybe you should take my sword again, just in case,” she says, reaching for the weapon at her side.

You place your hand atop hers, stopping her and shaking your head as you decline.

“We would probably be safer with it in your hands than mine,” you remark confidently and then give her a slight shrug. “Besides, I think I still need some more practice before I’ll be of any good.”

Natasha chuckles lightly at your words before giving you a teasing smile and nudging your shoulder playfully.

“Well, I’d say you fought pretty well in that last fight…the fierce look you had on your face was especially cute.”

Your face warms at the unexpected compliment, causing Natasha’s smile to widen at the sight of your reaction.

Before you could respond, a light awkward cough gets your attention as you turn to the other member of your group.

Clint holds out a dagger in offer to you.

“Here, Lady Y/n, you can have this.”

You pause in surprise at the gesture, hesitating, before Clint gives you a reassuring nod.

“I’m more of a bow and arrow guy,” he says, raising the weapon in his hand confidently.

“Thank you,” you say appreciatively, accepting the knife and securing it at your side.

He gives you an acknowledging nod before continuing.

“Once this situation is settled, I can make you a sword of your own if you’d like,” Clint offers.

“Oh, you don’t have to do that,” you begin to say, but he waves away your refusal.

“It’s no bother. Besides, you can consider it an early wedding gift, you know, whenever the princess here decides to find the courage to propose,” he teases, giving Natasha a pointed look, gesturing with his head meaningfully towards you.

“Clint,” Natasha says in a warning tone.

She may be used to Clint's usual teasing about marriage, but she doesn’t want you to feel pressured or embarrassed by the sudden topic.

Laughing lightly at her reaction, you place a reassuring touch on her shoulder and give Clint a firm nod, answering.

“In that case, I’d love that.”

At your response, Natasha snaps her attention to you in question, taking your hand gently from her shoulder into hers and tilting her head curiously.

“Wait, which part are you referring to? The sword or…,” she pauses at the thought of the other option, her thumb unconsciously tracing the empty space on your hand.

“…me proposing?”

In response, you hum as if in contemplation for a brief moment before leaning in slightly closer to her.

“I guess we’ll find out whenever you decide to take the next step,” you challenge with a small teasing smirk.

Natasha huffs lightly in disbelief and amusement at the reminder that you are still waiting for her to give in first.

The thing is she would readily give in right now and tell you how much you mean to her, but with you so close, she can’t seem to concentrate enough to find the right words.

Instead, she feels herself getting lost in the moment with you, caught in your expectant gaze and the thought of you being by her side, not just as her friend but also as her partner.

When your lips part slightly with a small exhale against hers, Natasha’s eyes dart down at the movement, wanting nothing more than to save the words for another time and just pull you in close so that she can finally lean in to kis—

An awkward low whistle breaks Natasha’s train of thought and the intense stare between the two of you, also causing you to pull away, much to her displeasure.

“Now I understand what Kate meant about being the third wheel around the two of you,” Clint remarks playfully.

Remembering that you two are not alone, Natasha clears her throat and refocuses on the current situation at hand, deciding the sooner this is resolved the sooner the two of you can have a chance to talk about your future.

Hopefully without any more interruptions.

“So, what do you think happened to all of the guards?” she asks for your thoughts.

You think about possible reasons for their absence before recalling Natasha’s schedule for the day.

“The security meeting for your coronation is starting soon,” you remind her. “What if they went to the castle for that?”

“Maybe, but there should still be at least a couple of them left behind…And there’s another pressing issue,” Natasha states with a deepening frown.

Clint nods in agreement to her concern, also frowning with caution, before stating aloud.

“If the guards are gone, what about the prisoners?”

Leading the way to the cell blocks, Natasha and your group enter through the doorway into the dimly lit corridor. She gets the answer soon enough as her eyes dart from one empty cell to another.

As you all continue to descend the steps deeper into the prison’s depths, leading to the dungeons reserved for the most dangerous of criminals, she eventually reaches a cell that isn’t empty.

The dim light from the torches on the stone walls flickers, casting dancing shadows on the ground, and in the far corner of the cell sits a lone figure who slowly looks up as your group approaches.

“It’s you,” Barnes’ gravely voice breaks the eerie silence of the prison.

His focus is solely on you, ignoring the other two in your company.

Noticing his gaze, Natasha moves slightly in front of you, her arm outstretched protectively as she watches the old captain cautiously.

He shifts his attention to her at the action.

The slight widening of his eyes is the only indication that he recognizes who she is. He then observes her alert stance and looks between the two of you curiously before an understanding crosses his expression.

“Relax, Your Highness,” Barnes addresses Natasha, raising his hand to show the metal cuffs and chains on his wrist.

“I'm not going to do anything to you…”

He then looks at you solemnly, continuing, “…or her.”

To her slight surprise, Natasha finds that she believes him, sensing the sincerity in his words, though she still doesn’t move from her position as she recalls your words of your earlier encounter with him.

Deciding to confront him about it, Natasha begins to ask, “If that’s true, then why did you attempt to take Y/n—”

The sudden touch of your hand on her arm stops her, and she turns to cast a questioning glance at you before noticing your eyes glance over hesitantly at the other member of your group, who has been silently observing the interaction.

Understanding your apprehensive expression, Natasha addresses him with a meaningful tone.

“Clint, could you check the guard’s quarters for any clues of where they might’ve gone?”

After a firm look from Natasha, Clint casts one last curious glance at the man in the cell before he eventually nods in acknowledgment of her words and heads back up the steps.

“Y/n…,” Barnes repeats to himself and then focuses on you again with an almost sad expression. “So, that’s your name.”

Natasha turns her attention back to him, but before she can respond, you give her arm a small squeeze in appreciation before stepping forward yourself.

You give him a single nod in acknowledgment, replying.

“It is, and you’re Captain—um—Sir Barnes…?” you end unsurely at the correct way to address him.

He chuckles half-heartedly under his breath, commenting.

“You can just call me Bucky. It’s not like I have any title or status anymore after all.”

You pause as you take in his appearance, now noticing newly formed bruises and dried blood on his face. He looked worse than when you saw him earlier, causing you to frown at the idea that he was beaten after his encounter with you.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t stop them from taking you away,” you apologize for your inaction at that time.

“No, you did the right thing,” Bucky says firmly before giving you a serious expression. “Dreykov is not someone you should cross.”

You remember their interaction with each other earlier, especially Bucky’s intense hatred and anger at the appearance of your father.

“Is that what happened between the two of you in the past?” you ask curiously, “You crossed my father—?”

“He’s not your father!” he shouts angrily, his fist slamming against the metal bars of the cell. The rattle of the chains and the impact echo in the corridor before fading back to a tense quiet.

Natasha had immediately pulled you back to her side at his action, but as she processed his words, her eyes widened in confusion, turning to look at you.

Your expression is not as surprised at his outburst as she is, your brows just pinched in thought as if trying to solve a mystery.

After a moment of silence, you finally continue.

“You said the same thing earlier. Back at the manor,” you pause, your hand clench and unclench nervously, unsure if you want to pursue the answer to the question that’s been on your mind since the first time he said those words to you.

A warmth envelopes your hand as Natasha intertwine hers with yours gently. You turn to see her giving you a reassuring expression.

Taking a deep breath and tightening your grip on her hand for support, you ask the question.

“What do you mean, Dreykov is not my father?”

“He’s not,” he asserts firmly.

“But how do you know?” you argue, “We’ve never met before until just recently. And the only thing you’ve told me is that I resemble some woman who you say is my actual mother.”

Natasha raises her brow at that information and gives Bucky an incredulous look before speaking up.

“You’re basing this on the fact that she looks similar to someone else that you knew. That’s not exactly proof of anything,” she points out.

Bucky lets out a rueful chuckle, before replying confidently, “I trained and served in the Stark Guard for almost all of my life. I’m sure I can recognize a member of their family.”

There’s a tense silence at his implication.

“Y-you can’t possibly be suggesting—,” you scoff in disbelief.

“You are not Dreykov’s daughter,” he interrupts firmly, looking at you with a serious expression before continuing without a single doubt.

“Lady Y/n, you belong to King Howard and Queen Maria — the princess of the Stark kingdom.”

Your hand falls limp in hers, almost slipping away from her grasp, as many conflicting emotions cross your face.

Natasha tightens her grip in an attempt to get your attention, but you remain unresponsive and silent, lost to your thoughts.

Natasha gives one more concerned glance at you before confronting the old captain.

“The Stark princess was killed after the war ended, along with the king and queen.”

Bucky lets out a wry chuckle, turning his attention to her, “And between you and me, who was actually there at the incident, Your Highness?”

Natasha frowns at his point.

Seeing her doubtful expression, he continues.

“If you don’t want to believe my word that the princess was still alive at that time, you can go ask your captain, seeing how he was the one to stop me before I could harm her.”

“Steve was there?” Natasha asks in surprise.

Bucky nods firmly before continuing, “And some people from the shadows appeared shortly after too. They took the baby princess and set fire to the carriage as Steve was fighting with me. When I finally did regain my senses, I was never able to track her down.”

He slams his fist against the ground in anger at the memory.

“It was just supposed to be a simple trip back to our kingdom. I didn’t expect—” he hung his head regretfully, “I couldn’t do anything to stop myself.”

You recognize the feeling of guilt, his words and expression snapping you out of your thoughts.

“Because you were controlled, right?” you finally find your voice, deciding to focus on your other suspicion that you had wanted to ask him.

His eyes widen slightly in surprise at you.

Meanwhile, next to you, Natasha tries to catch your gaze to check on you, but you avoid her eyes.

You don’t want to think about the topic of your possible identity any further. You’d rather focus on something familiar—something you know is true—the subject you’ve been researching these past months.

“Back at the manor, you blamed my fa—” you pause, closing your eyes briefly to push away the thought before continuing, “You said it was his fault for what happened to you...”

You look at him with a sure expression. “...which means you know about the Black Widow operations too, don’t you?”

He examines you with an impressed look, nodding his head in confirmation.

“Not many people are supposed to know about that,” he says, giving you an appraising look. “You’re resourceful, reminds me a little bit like your older brother.”

Feeling frustrated at the repeated reminder that your entire life may have been a lie, you step forward in anger, your hand slipping from Natasha’s grip.

“Stop saying that! I’m…I’m not—”

A manic laughter from a cell at the far end of the dungeon’s corridor interrupts your denial.

Turning to the source of the sound, you see a figure emerge from the shadows, approaching the door of his cell.

Gripping the bars tightly, he presses his face against them to look over at you.

You recognize him as the man from the cemetery who attacked you and Natasha. He is still cackling maniacally as he observes you.

“Ha…I knew I didn’t fail! I made sure that bastard’s wife and child burned to death,” the man exclaims gleefully, his eyes seeming more crazed than before as he focuses on you.

“Now I understand why that woman was so intent to get you.”

His last words catch your attention, and you furrow your brow in confusion, moving to step closer to him to question him further about who he is referring to, but Natasha’s hand on your shoulder stops you.

Standing behind you, she leans in close to whisper urgently into your ear.

“Don’t listen to him, Y/n. Let’s just go. We can investigate all this further another time.”

You turn your head slightly toward the sound of her voice, comforting and warm—real.

As you go to agree with her, the man calls out to you again tauntingly.

“You’re like me. Just another one of Dreykov's tools, princess.”

“Don’t call me that!” you exclaim, your mind reeling in sudden anger at the title.

You quickly make your way to the front of his cell, Natasha’s hand falling from your shoulder at your unexpected and swift movement.

“Wait, Y/n, stay back! Don’t get close to him,” Natasha calls out as she goes to follow you.

“We’ve got company!” Clint's alarmed voice sounds immediately afterward from above, causing Natasha to pause and look back.

With her momentarily distracted, the man pushes his cell door open violently, knocking into you and Natasha, causing her to stumble back away from you while he slams you against the wall nearby.

Your head pounds at the impact, but through the pain, you hear a distinct click, and the wall behind you begins to turn as the man roughly pushes you through the opening.

You faintly hear Natasha’s voice calling your name in panic before the trap door closes shut.

Reacting blindly, you quickly shove the man away, the force causing you to also fall to the ground as you try to regain your senses.

Pulling yourself to your knees, you cough at the kicked-up dust around you, and your vision clears slightly, though the torches on the walls don’t provide much light in the strange new area.

“Well, this is a pleasant surprise. It's been a while, hasn’t it, my dear?”

Your body freezes at the voice, eyes widening as you swallow nervously. You keep your gaze on the ground, as a familiar shadow appears in front of you.

“Now, don’t tell me you forgot all of my lessons already,” the voice chastises.

When you don’t move, the person makes a sound of disapproval before firmly ordering, “Look at me when I’m speaking to you, Y/n.”

You flinch at the harsh tone, and slowly, you raise your head to look at the figure standing before you.

“There, that’s better,” Madam B says with a satisfied expression on her face before continuing. “What’s the matter, no greeting for your dear governess?”

“You shouldn’t be here,” you manage to mutter.

She makes a show of looking at the surroundings before tilting her head mockingly at you.

“No? Well, I did help your father create this place during the war, so there’s that.”

She claps her hand once, the harsh sound causing you to flinch unconsciously.

“Oh! Or did you mean how I’m supposed to be in exile for taking responsibility for the actions you committed?”

Widening your eyes at her words, you begin to defend yourself, “I—I didn’t—”

“You poisoned the princess, didn’t you?” she cuts you off with an accusing glint in her eyes, daring you to deny the claim.

You look away at the familiar feeling of guilt forming in you, and you see your hand trembling slightly.

You clench your hands in an attempt to stop the movement, trying to remember Natasha’s comforting words from before, though it is difficult to think of anything comforting with the presence of the person in front of you.

Wanting to change the subject, you decide to ask instead, “Where am I?”

“I’m sure you can figure it out. After all, you’ve put so much effort into learning about it,” Madam B says mockingly.

Her hand harshly grabs your face to bring your eyes back up to her as she gives you a sinister smirk.

“Welcome to the Red Room, Y/n.”

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

You are in a state of shock as you survey the area you’ve been researching for the past months.

Stone walls enclose the room on all sides, revealing no windows or exits. Shackles and chains adorn one wall with dark stains of dried blood coating the stones and ground.

In the corner, a small desk displays meticulously organized tools and papers.

A sudden movement behind you catches your attention, resembling someone stumbling upright.

“There! I did what you asked. I bought you the girl. Now it’s your turn to fulfill your part of the deal,” the man exclaims.

Madam B’s expression turns downward at the reminder of his presence, her eyes rolling as she lets go of your face and stands up to face him.

“You think you still deserve anything from me after how you failed the first time?”

“That wasn’t my fault!”

He clutches his head with a frantic expression.

“When I heard that she was Dreykov’s daughter, my mind just went crazy. The voices, the commands, past, present, everything kept mixing together.”

He points at her accusingly, shouting in a desperate plea, “You said you would fix me if I got her to you!”

Your eyes widen in realization that he was also trying to find a cure like you, and you turn your attention to the person who he believes has it.

Madam B stares at him with a bored expression for a moment, before straightening with a sudden thought. Her expression shifts into a familiar neutral look that makes you feel uneasy.

“You’re right. A deal’s a deal,” she says in a seemingly genuine tone.

From one of her pockets, she retrieves a small vial and offers it to him.

“This should make those voices stop and clear out any commands stuck in your mind.”

He takes it from her quickly, and suddenly, you recognize the vial in his hands.

“Wait, don’t!” you exclaim, but it is too late.

He has already downed the entire contents of the vial.

You slump defeatedly and watch with wide eyes as he begins to cough uncontrollably, falling to his knees as blood pours from his mouth.

Madam B moves to stand over him with an indifferent expression as he coughs and groans.

“You really should’ve just left with the others when that lord came for them,” she chastises, shaking her head.

You furrow your brows in suspicion at her words, trying to figure out what she meant.

Someone else came by earlier?

You are brought out from your thoughts when the man cries out painfully.

Looking back toward him, you see that Madam B is now pressing the heel of her shoe against his body. She tilts her head casually, observing his reactions before commenting.

“The pain is mostly in the beginning,” she states casually as if she was just reading from one of her lecture notes. “In a few minutes, you should feel your body weaken as your organs slow, one by one, until eventually…everything stops.”

He groans and glares at her, "Lying, vile wench..."

She sneers at him, pressing down harder, “You wanted those voices to disappear? Then this is the cure that I can give to you.”

Once he begins to convulse, she removes herself from him with a satisfied expression, deciding to leave him to his impending end, and turns her attention back to you, giving you a pointed look.

“Take note, Y/n. That is the proper way to administer the full dosage of a poison,” she lectures.

Stunned, you are unable to respond.

She observes the horror on your face and then comes closer, bending down to eye level with you.

“Don’t feel bad for him, dear. He was a failure from the start, one of the first few subjects of the Black Widow operations,” she clicks her tongue in disappointment.

“Not surprising — failures are to be expected when one experiments on the complex minds of people.”

Madam B continues, her hand reaching out to touch your face.

“No, unlike him and those other disappointments, you are my perfect subject.”

Pulling yourself together, you smack her hand away and scramble back to your feet before pulling out the dagger at your side and pointing it at her in a warning.

“Don’t call me that! I’m not yours,” you exclaim.

“Oh, Y/n,” she says sympathetically, but you can detect the insincerity in her tone. “You've always been mine — mine to raise, to teach, to experiment...to control.”

As she straightens, she casually waves her hand in the air as she explains.

“You see, we couldn't use the original method on you since the scars and wounds from the torture would raise suspicion, especially after you befriended the ever-observant princess.”

You glance at the man curled up on the ground, still trembling in pain, and see the multiple faded scars on his exposed skin as she described.

“Then there’s that disgraceful conditioning method that I had to create for that arrogant lord,” she scoffs derisively, shaking her head. "Of course, I wasn't going to give him complete control, just something temporary. A quick shortcut method for larger batches of subjects to be controlled in a short period of time."

Your brows furrow at the mention of this other lord again, but then you realize what she means by temporary control.

"Oksana's attack in the tournament," you say, "...that was you."

Madam B tuts in denial at you, waving her finger in reprimand.

"I just provided the resources, my dear. Whatever happens afterward is not my concern.”

She waves her hand dismissively.

“No, none of that compares to the years I dedicated to you — molding you into my perfect little spy.”

Her words cause you to deepen your frown and swallow nervously as you argue, “I haven’t done anything like that for you.”

"Oh?” Madam B says, raising an amused brow.

“Then explain how I knew about you researching the Black Widow operations and the Red Room despite not being near you this past year,” she challenges.

You hesitate, your confidence wavering as you try to come up with an explanation.

Madam B seems to notice your uncertainty, a knowing smirk appearing on her face.

Her hands cross behind her back, in the same manner that she always does before beginning any of her lessons with you. She begins to walk towards you slowly, unbothered by the weapon you have pointed at her, as she continues.

“That’s right, Y/n. Whether you remember or not, you’ve always given me any information that I requested and then some.”

As she moves closer to you with each step, you find yourself also stepping back to maintain your distance while she continues to speak.

“I know all about your search for a cure. Your interactions with the royal family. Your little charade with the princess. Oh, and my favorite…”

She stops and gives you a menacing grin.

“...how is that magical servant of yours faring these days?”

Your eyes widen in shock at her question, and you stumble, your back hitting the cold stone wall.

The hand holding the dagger lowers slightly in disbelief.

Taking a moment to take in the fear on your face, Madam B grins with satisfaction before waving her hand dismissively.

“Don’t worry. Her true nature and your correspondence with me with me are my secrets alone. Your father is not aware of anything I don’t want him to know.”

Her words provide a slight relief, knowing that Dreykov does not know about Wanda.

However, the mention of him leaves an uncomfortable feeling in your chest, reminding you of the unsettling revelation from earlier.

“He’s not my father,” you find yourself muttering unconsciously under your breath.

At that, her eyes glint in interest, and she gives you a slow and deliberate clap.

“Clever girl, now when did you learn about that?” she asks with intrigue.

Her nonchalant response to your revelation fills you with dread about the validity of the information when you realize she is not fazed or surprised at all.

The uncomfortable feeling in your chest intensifies, and you've never wished for Natasha's comforting presence more than now.

Unconsciously, your eyes glance at the opposite wall where Natasha and the others are located.

Madam B follows your gaze and then makes a sound of understanding, assuming you were answering her previous question.

“I see…that old captain is resilient; I give him that. I was sure he would be unconscious for much longer after I had finished with him.”

Horrified by her words, you recall the new injuries on Bucky.

“You’re the one who did that to him?” you ask.

Madam B makes a bored sound, rolling her eyes, “Don't concern yourself over him. He's just another brute soldier in Dreykov’s collection. You, however, are much more interesting — my proudest creation.”

Disgust crosses your face at the possessiveness of her words, but then again, you would rather have her focus remain on you than harm anyone else in your life.

If she truly knows every secret of yours, then you and the twins are not as safe as you previously thought.

“If you’re just interested in me, then leave the twins out of it. They are not a part of any of this,” you reason, raising the dagger threateningly at her.

Madam B scoffs, letting out a mocking laugh.

“Please, the most that the boy is useful for is running simple errands.”

Your glare intensifies at her dismissal of Pietro, but she brushes it off.

“As for the actual special one, as much as I would love to pick apart that girl’s mind, she can’t be a part of the operations,” she reveals.

Furrowing your brows at the information, Madam B sees your questioning expression and continues lecturing haughtily while she returns to making her way closer to your position.

“People with innate magical abilities tend to be…” she pauses and frowns as if remembering an unpleasant thought. “...stubborn. Some sort of strong mental barrier that protects their mind. There are even a rare few stronger ones who can affect the minds of others.”

You adjust your grip on the handle of the dagger nervously, recalling Wanda using her powers against the guard’s mind earlier.

But that was the first time you ever witnessed her use her powers in such a way, which means Madam B doesn’t know the extent of her abilities yet.

Distracted by your thoughts, you're surprised to find Madam B now standing in front of you, the weapon in your hand still positioned between the two of you.

“Nevertheless, weak or strong, having a sorcerer by your side is always useful. And if I can’t control her,” she reaches out toward your face possessively, “then I might as well control the person who she will follow.”

You take in a shaky breath through your clenched teeth.

For some reason, the air in the room seems to be getting heavier, and your body and mind slowly feel more sluggish.

“It’s not going to work,” you manage to mutter out, each word taking much of your strength to say.

“You failed the last time you tried to control my actions.”

“Did I?” she asks mockingly.

You don't respond, finding it difficult to open your mouth against the heavy air.

Madam B raises her finger to her chin as if in thought at the memory.

“That was the first time I attempted to extend my control beyond having you collect information. Dreykov didn’t believe that aspect of control would work for you, but I knew you would follow my command.”

She gives a nonchalant shrug, “And you did, albeit half-heartedly. Unfortunately, that cunning action of yours that saved the princess led Dreykov to force me to take the fall as punishment for attempting it without his permission.”

She then focuses on you with a thought, examining you with interest.

“Perhaps, telling you to poison the princess was not specific enough. I wonder…if I tell you to stab her in the heart, would she survive then?”

Her words send a jolt of fear through your body.

Glancing down at the dagger in your hand, you see that the tip of the blade is positioned at her heart.

If you just force your hand forward, you can stop this—stop her—from making you do such a thing to Natasha.

“You’re not going to do it,” Madam B states confidently, easily reading your thoughts.

“Despite all my attempts, you don’t have it in you to kill anyone. That’s why you need me. To help you do the things you can never bring yourself to do.”

You shake your head slightly, but you know she’s right. Whether from your own hesitance or the heavy air, you can’t seem to move your hand at all.

“Now, shall we try to kill the princess properly this time?” she asked with a menacing smirk, placing her hands on your shoulders tightly.

“Kill her and become my perfect subject, Y/n.”

“Don’t,” the pleading whisper falls out of your lips, even as you begin to feel a fogginess and harsh ringing begin to pierce your mind.

“Remember what I’ve taught you, Y/n. About loyalty, compliance, and devo—”

A sharp gasp escapes from Madam B's lips, interrupting her.

Your eyes had shut closed from the pain in your mind, but slowly, it began to fade.

You shake your head, attempting to clear your senses, but Madam B's voice seems to echo in your clouded mind, even though you don't actually hear her anymore.

When you finally open your eyes again, the first thing you notice is something wet and red on your hands.

Is that…

You turn your hand slowly as you examine them.

…Blood?

You recoil back against the wall in shock and realization. Panicked, you look up from your hands and take in your surroundings.

You are still in the Red Room.

Looking around, a silent gasp escapes your lips when you spot Madam B’s body lying on the ground in front of you, a small pool of blood forming under her, and the bloodied dagger at your feet.

You try to remember if your hand had reacted and moved during the process, but the only thing that fills your mind is the feeling of being frozen and the fogginess as whisperings of Madam B's voice linger repeatedly in the back of your mind.

A painful cough catches your attention, and you look toward the sound, only now noticing the man from before lying a short distance from Madam B’s body.

From his position, you realize he must have gathered enough remaining strength to sneak behind Madam B and push her into the dagger.

His eyes are half-lidded and tired as he stares at you, a small smirk on his bloody lips.

“There…now the voice will stop…for both of us…” he ends with a soft exhale as his eyes finally close shut.

The quiet and stillness of the air in the room is suddenly disrupted by the sound of labored breathing.

Your still-cloudy mind searches your surroundings for the source when you realize that it is coming from you.

Each breath you take feels more suffocating than the last.

Realizing you are in a state of panic, you instinctively bring your hand to your chest in an attempt to soothe your rapid heartbeat, but the sight of the blood on your hand causes you to freeze instead.

I did this

As you look at the bodies at your feet, the terrifying thought and guilty feelings returns to your mind, repeating as if in reprimand.

The sound of a click interrupts your spiral, causing you to look up as the trap door opens again.

In the next moment, Natasha comes rushing in, calling your name.

Her voice is muffled against your ears, but the sight of her brings you a tiny feeling of relief in your mind.

You open your mouth to call for her when Madam B’s voice suddenly appears in your mind.

If I tell you to stab her in the heart, would she survive then?

You freeze in fear, and her name gets stuck in your throat.

Natasha spots you near the far wall and begins to swiftly make her way over to you, causing your eyes to widen in panic.

You quickly raise your hand out in a stopping gesture at her, panicked words falling from your lips.

“Stay away from me!”

Natasha stops in her tracks, halfway across the room from you, and a flash of hurt crosses her face at your words.

Through the slight pounding in your head, you feel your heart break at her expression, but still, you make yourself take a step back away from her, pressing further against the wall behind you to increase the distance between the two of you.

Your voice shakes fearfully as you repeat your words to her.

“Just…stay away…”

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

Series Masterlist : Boundless Devotion

a/n: Thank you for reading! Sorry about the long break, but hopefully, the next one should not take too long to complete.

#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff imagine #natasha romanoff x fem!reader #natasha romanoff fanfic #natasha romanoff x you #black widow x reader #natasha x reader #natasha romanoff

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just-aake · 4 months

Text

Chasing Shadows

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x fem!reader

Summary: A sudden mission on New Year’s Eve brings Natasha face to face with someone from her past.

Warnings: light fluff, light angst

Words: 1410

11:55 P.M.

Surrounded by the lively atmosphere of Times Square, Natasha glances at her watch to check the time before looking around at the excited crowds of people, all waiting for the annual New Year’s Eve Ball Drop to start.

Laughter and cheers fill the air as she withdraws to a more secluded spot, raising her hand to her earpiece to speak through the comms.

“I’m at the location.”

SHIELD had intercepted a suspicious encrypted message a few moments ago, indicating that something was set to happen in the area tonight. Being the only one available nearby in such a short time, Natasha took on the assignment.

After a brief static pause, Maria's voice comes through the comms.

“It’s a shame that this had to interrupt your holiday evening.”

Taking a moment to scan her surroundings, Natasha replies nonchalantly, “I could say the same for you. Besides, it’s fine. It’s not like I had any plans.”

A curious hum comes in response before Maria asks, “No special someone to begin the new year with?”

At her words, the face of someone from years ago unexpectedly crosses Natasha’s mind, accompanied by flickers of memories recounting moments filled with late-night escapades and adrenaline-filled touches.

One particular memory stands out–of a night similar to tonight, atop a rooftop, shielded from prying eyes.

Two people shared a rare moment of vulnerability, and against her better judgment, she wished life had played out differently for them—an unrealistic hope.

11:56 P.M.

“No,” Natasha replies to Maria’s question as she pushes away those thoughts and refocuses her attention back on the crowd.

Amidst all the joyous people, Natasha finally spots the individual they were seeking—a slippery criminal with a history of working for a notorious crime family that once controlled these streets.

The members of that family were taken down and arrested by an undercover SHIELD operation years ago, leading many of their associates to either scatter or continue their own shady activities in the city.

This particular individual belongs to the latter group and has proven to be very elusive, successfully evading capture from SHIELD multiple times.

“I’ve got eyes on the suspect.”

As she utters these words, the man locks eyes directly with her, as though she is the intended target instead.

Discreetly, he reaches into his coat, revealing a mysterious device with an ominous, glowing red button at its center. He briefly flashes it at her before tucking it away and swiftly turning around to disappear into the crowds.

11:57 P.M.

Immediately, Natasha gives chase, her eyes fixed on the suspect darting through the masses of people. With adept skill, she effortlessly maneuvers through the crowds, rapidly closing the distance.

As the suspect pushes through the final layers of people, Natasha spots another figure emerging from the shadows toward the suspect.

In a swift and seamless exchange, the mysterious device changes hands from the original suspect to the newcomer.

Natasha’s eyes narrow suspiciously at the action when suddenly, the two figures split off in opposite directions, causing her to realize what that means.

Either she continues chasing the elusive criminal they've sought for so long, or she goes after the person now in possession of the unknown device, which may pose a potential threat to everyone in the area.

Without missing a beat, Natasha alters her course to pursue the newcomer. Surging forward, she vaults over one of the crowd barriers, tackling the figure mid-stride, and sending them both crashing to the ground.

The impact elicits gasps of shock from the few people nearby as Natasha swiftly recovers, pinning the suspect to the pavement.

The newcomer wears a mask over their eyes, concealing their identity from anybody who looks at them.

Not from her though.

Natasha is taken aback as her lips part in surprise. She easily recognizes those particular sets of eyes, especially when accompanied by the knowing smirk forming on their face in response to her reaction.

11:58 P.M.

Natasha is still rattled by the revelation of the figure before her, allowing them to seize the opportunity to escape from their pinned position, forcefully knocking the Black Widow aside before swiftly resuming their sprint.

Partially recovering from the shock, Natasha's instincts kick in, and she rushes to pursue, her mind still grappling with disbelief.

It can't be. That thought repeats in Natasha’s mind as she follows the figure into a condemned building site.

She recognizes the structure immediately, both from that particular memory of the past as well as its status as an old building that fell victim to one of the Avengers' numerous battles.

Natasha enters the ruined building through the recently shut side door, finding herself in the emergency stairway that miraculously remains intact.

Glancing up, she spots the suspect running up the stairs, quickly ascending to the higher levels of the building.

11:59 P.M.

The anticipated event unfolds outside as the ball at the top of the Times building starts its descent, marking the last minute of the year.

Amidst the beginning of the countdown chorus from the crowds outside, Natasha also starts running up the stairs.

The echoing footsteps of the other person above her drive her to accelerate to catch up, sprinting up the stairs two at a time.

11:59:30 P.M.

Natasha’s heart beats painfully in her chest, and she’s not sure if it’s from adrenaline or from the overwhelming sight of seeing you again—maybe it’s both.

After all, you’ve always had that effect on her.

“Three!” - 11:59:57 P.M.

Bursting through the roof door, Natasha slides to a sudden stop at the edge of the dilapidated floor. Dust rises at her movement, and small rocks roll and tumble over the edge, falling into the gaping hole.

“Two!” - 11:59:58 P.M.

On the opposite side of the large chasm, balancing precariously on the rooftop edge, the suspect stands, hands clasped behind their back, awaiting Natasha's arrival.

“One!” - 11:59:59 P.M.

With her attention now fixed on them, the figure removes the mask covering their eyes with a dramatic flourish, letting it drift off in the wind and fall gracefully towards the cheering crowd below.

12:00 A.M.

The night sky explodes in colorful lights, illuminating your silhouette.

Natasha stands frozen, mesmerized by the sight of you again, with your Cheshire smirk firmly in place as the remnants of the fireworks rain behind you.

It's a perfect reminder of who you are—beautiful yet dangerous.

In one of your hands, you teasingly wave the device with its ominous red glow at Natasha, while your other hand raises to your lips, playfully sending a mock kiss her way.

With a mischievous wink, you suddenly toss the device toward her, the gentle force of your action causing it to barely reach over to her side.

Reacting quickly, she stretches her arm to catch it before it can fall down the hole, pulling herself safely back from the edge once it is in her hand.

Regaining her balance, Natasha's gaze shoots back to you, or where you should've been, but now there's only dust kicked up by the cold wind. Furrowing her brows, she scans her surroundings again but finds no traces of you anywhere.

You've slipped away.

Returning her attention to the device in her hand, Natasha turns it around, removing the back covering.

Now knowing who she is dealing with, she is not surprised when she finds no activation triggers or wiring—just a battery-powered red LED bulb and a piece of paper folded inside.

Natasha raises her hand to her earpiece, activating the comms.

"Hill, the device is a fake. It was all just a wild goose chase."

"And the suspects?"

"Escaped," Natasha replies regretfully, looking back at the empty rooftop space.

"From you? That’s impressive."

Again, Natasha isn't surprised; time in prison clearly hasn't dulled your skills. Though, now, she needs to consider the implications of your unexpected and sudden return to the city.

"Can you check something for me?" Natasha asks into the earpiece.

"Sure, what is it?"

"The confinement statuses of all the members of the L/n family."

Maria lowly whistles before commenting, "Haven’t heard that name in a while. Isn’t that the crime family that you took down during your first solo undercover mission?"

12:01 A.M.

Natasha remains silent at that, her eyes fixated on the piece of paper in her hand. The fireworks illuminate your familiar handwriting periodically against the darkness of the night.

Happy New Year, Natasha Let’s play again soon 🤍

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

a/n: Thank you for reading, and an additional special thanks for all who have read any of my other writings this year. I really appreciated all the likes, reblogs, and comments that you have given me (many of you are so sweet and kind for reading most or almost all of the things I wrote). Thank you again, and I hope you all have a happy New Years!

#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff imagine #natasha romanoff x fem!reader #natasha romanoff fanfic #natasha romanoff x you #black widow x reader #natasha x reader #natasha romanoff

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just-aake · 4 months

Text

Boundless Devotion - Part XI

Pairing: princess!Natasha Romanoff x fem!reader

Warnings: light angst, light fluff, slight violence

Words: 4350

The distant rumble of thunder causes your horse to fidget nervously as the two of you press on along the trail from the manor.

Your gaze shifts from the darkening skies to the princess, riding slightly ahead of you.

Since leaving, a heavy silence has hung between the two of you with the both of you choosing to focus on the path ahead or, in Natasha’s case, glaring into the distance.

You can easily read the tension in her body from her stiff back, letting you know her current feelings.

Unable to stand the quiet anymore, you decide to call out to her.

“I can tell that you’re still upset, you know.”

At the sound of your voice, Natasha relaxes her posture slightly, slowing her horse to ride alongside you.

With a tired sigh and a slight bow of her head, she grumbles under her breath.

“Not at you,” she clarifies before her hands clench the reins in anger, and she grits out. “Just this situation.”

You sigh sadly at her explanation, looking down at your hands in disappointment. This is precisely what you had hoped to avoid — adding more stress to her mind.

Noticing your expression, Natasha's hand reaches out to rest on your shoulder, drawing your attention.

Her eyes soften when they meet yours with a knowing look.

“Hey, I’m serious. This is not on you,” she stresses before continuing with a pleading tone, “You’re my best friend, Y/n. I just want you to be safe.”

Her proposition from earlier reappears in your mind. The offer was kind and generous but accepting it would create too many complications, especially for Natasha.

Breaking away from her intense gaze, you look down to focus on your horse instead, finding small comfort in stroking its mane gently before quietly telling her your answer with a resigned sigh.

“I can’t stay at the castle, Natasha.”

“Why not?” she asks with a frustrated sigh.

Returning your gaze to hers, a sense of nostalgia washes over you as you look at her.

Despite growing up together, you’re still amazed at how she still manages to maintain the same determination and compassion that you’ve always seen in her since you were young.

Rather than responding directly to her, you ask a different question.

“Do you remember what you told me the first time we met?”

Natasha tilts her head in confusion, but still, she decides to go along with it anyway, curious about the point of your abrupt change in subject.

“I remember saying that you were the most stubborn person I’ve ever met," she recalls with a pointed look in her eyes.

Amused, you let out a small laugh and shake your head lightly.

“Says the one who wouldn’t stay still after she fell out of a tree.”

Natasha rolls her eyes, but a tiny smile forms at the corner of her lips at the memory of her first official meeting with you outside of royal events.

Your mind also drifts to the past, recalling the state of the kingdom at that time when you were still children.

Even after years had passed, people were still recovering from the effects and loss of the war.

After a brief moment of contemplation, you continue.

“During that time, even with the peace treaty, there was still some resentment between our people and the Stark kingdom.”

“Yeah, I remember,” Natasha sighs solemnly in recollection before giving you a small teasing smile. “Even someone as kind as you didn’t like them back then.”

That was true.

At that time, the twins had recently entered your life after the devastating loss of their parents to some Stark stragglers in the kingdom. With that incident as well as Madam B’s constant comments throughout your childhood of how the Stark kingdom should’ve lost the war, it’s understandable why your sentiments towards the other kingdom weren't exactly favorable.

However, your perspective changed on that fateful day when you stumbled upon the injured princess at the base of the tree by the lake.

Pulling yourself from the memory, you nod your head in acknowledgment of her words about you before commenting.

“You could say almost everyone in the kingdom had some animosity with the Stark kingdom.”

Your eyes then drift to Natasha, looking at her with admiration.

“But not you,” you say softly.

When Natasha tilts her head curiously, still confused at your point, your hand reaches for hers, and she gives it to you without hesitation, intertwining your fingers.

Despite the slight roughness on her skin, a result from years of training, you only feel the warmth of her palm spreading to you and the gentleness in her grasp.

For a brief bittersweet moment, you can’t help but think about how her hand fits perfectly in yours.

Shaking away the thought, your thumb instinctively caresses the back of her hand as you explain to her.

“You have a kind heart, Natasha, always wanting to protect and care for everyone.”

Pausing your movement, you remember her words from years ago.

“Back then, you told me that when you became the queen, you’re going to heal the pain that the war had caused. For everyone. For both kingdoms.”

A small smile plays on your lips as you reminisce about the memory.

“That was the moment I knew you would become a great ruler.”

Looking up into her eyes, you tell her earnestly, “I still do, which is why I decided that day to do everything I can to help you accomplish that future you envisioned.”

Giving her a small smile, you end with a soft tone, “Because I believe in you, Natasha.”

Natasha’s eyes widen, and her mouth opens in surprise, stunned speechless at your words.

After a moment, your smile fades as you glance back down at her hand in yours before releasing it with a resigned sigh.

“But that means you can’t keep trying to protect me from every bad thing. Not when you need to focus on the entire kingdom soon.”

“I can do both,” Natasha asserts with a frown.

Determined, you shake your head in refusal.

“No, you need more allies among the other nobles than just me. When you become queen, you’ll be working with the heads of the houses, not their daughters or sons who are already charmed by you.”

Natasha huffs in annoyance at the mention of the older nobles, recalling their greed for power and favor.

You shoot her a knowing look as you point out.

“You know that bringing me into the castle will show favoritism.”

Natasha huffs in disbelief before arguing, “First of all, you are my favorite, and second, everyone already thinks we’re together.”

“But we’re not going to be for much longer,” you remind her, repeating her words from this morning. “After your coronation, you and I don’t need to be in a fake relationship anymore.”

“I didn’t—that was before—,” Natasha groans, rubbing her forehead in frustration.

You are right concerning the situation with other nobles. Navigating and balancing the political scene has always been a challenging task, even for her parents.

Once she takes the throne, all of those nobles’ scrutinizing eyes will turn to her, and they will ruthlessly pick apart every action she takes.

Bringing you in will just put you in the forefront of their attention.

Natasha drags her hand down her face tiredly, giving you a conflicted look.

“That still doesn’t make what your father is doing right,” she says.

“No, but it is my problem to worry about, not yours,” you assert firmly.

Natasha starts to argue, but you interrupt, emphasizing your point.

“As queen, you will have to choose your battles, Natasha,” you stress, giving her a serious look. “Even if it means you don’t choose me.”

Her expression twists in displeasure at your last words, a sentiment she finds difficult to accept.

However, confronted by your unrelenting and expectant gaze, Natasha sighs in frustration, shaking her head in disbelief.

"You know, I feel like you got those words from one of my mother’s lectures," she says, slightly exasperated.

Her tone eases the tension in the air a little.

“Maybe,” you reply with a small laugh.

Natasha watches you with a resigned expression.

While she doesn't entirely agree with your point, she’s not going to force you into something you don’t want.

“I still don’t like the idea of you going back to him,” Natasha remarks.

You sigh, admitting, “Well, as long as I follow his orders, he usually just leaves me alone.”

Her expression twists unhappily at that information, prompting you to place a reassuring hand on her arm before continuing.

“I do have a plan so that I can leave eventually, Natasha. Until then, I can take care of myself.” You give her a reassuring smile. “And I’m not alone. I have the twins.”

“You also have me,” Natasha says earnestly, covering your hand with hers and squeezing it gently.

“Whatever you need, the castle is always open to you.”

“I know,” you say appreciatively. “Thank you, Natasha.”

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

After reluctantly accepting your decision, Natasha and you continue until the two of you reach a fork in the path.

Natasha slows her horse to a stop, looking to you for direction as she realizes that she doesn’t know your intended destination. In the back of her mind, she recalls Pietro mentioning something about you finding answers.

“So, where are we going?”

“The prison,” you respond to her casually, already urging your horse in its direction.

Natasha raises a brow, an unsettling feeling creeping in as she remembers Clint’s message to her on the day of the festival about the stalled interrogation of the man from the cemetery attack.

“Who are you going to see?” she asks hesitantly, catching up beside you.

“Captain James Barnes,” you reveal.

Natasha lets out a small breath of relief at your answer, her body relaxing momentarily before tensing up again as she recognizes the name.

“As in Stark’s old captain?” she questions.

At your nod, she asks in surprise, “What is he doing there?”

You pause for a moment before answering, humming a little in thought.

“My father assumes it was an assassination attempt, but when I met him, he suddenly tried to take me away,” you explain nonchalantly before noticing Natasha’s shocked expression and quickly continuing to reassure her.

“Pietro stopped him, though, and he was captured before he could do anything else.”

Natasha raises her hand in a stopping gesture as she tries to process the new information, pinching between her eyes in exasperation at you before taking a deep breath.

“So you’re telling me…you were almost kidnapped by this known criminal, and now we’re on our way to the prison to talk with him?”

You nod, confirming her words.

Natasha stares at you in disbelief for a moment in silence before quickly turning her horse around and grabbing your reins.

“That’s it, we’re going back to the castle,” she declares firmly.

“Natasha, we just talked about this,” you say, pulling your reins back from her grip.

“No, this involves a war criminal. I think I have some power over the decisions in this case,” Natasha says with a pointed look.

Despite her serious expression, you return her stare with an all-too-familiar pleading look, causing Natasha to quickly turn away, refusing to maintain eye contact with you.

It was already difficult to refuse any request from you when you look at her with that expression, but with the recent realization of her feelings, she knows she stands no chance right now.

“Natasha, please.”

She groans internally at the sound of your voice, taking a deep breath before giving you a tiny glare, which you return with a slight tilt of your head and a small pout.

Immediately, Natasha’s head falls to her chest in defeat. She can already hear Yelena’s mocking voice in her mind about how easily she gives in to you.

In a final attempt to see if you may change your mind, Natasha gives you another hard look before ultimately relenting with a sigh.

“Okay, fine, but I’m staying beside you the entire time, and you can’t get too close to him.”

When your face brightens with a satisfied smile in victory, Natasha huffs and shakes her head in disbelief.

Despite her reaction, though, a warm feeling spreads in her chest at your happy expression, reminding her of the original reason she had come to see you.

As the two of you ride side by side on the path, Natasha decides to take this opportunity to continue the conversation that was previously interrupted.

However, before delving back into that discussion, there was another topic concerning something from earlier that she wanted to ask you about first.

“Y/n, back at the manor, when I was climbing to your window…,” Natasha starts, causing you to look at her curiously.

“I overheard some parts of your conversation with the twins,” she admits.

With a desire to confirm her suspicion based on the fragments she heard, Natasha presses on with her question when she notices your surprised expression.

"When you told me that you liked someone…you didn’t mean Carol, did you?"

Natasha observes as your eyes widen and your lips part in surprise before you quickly shake your head to get out of your shocked state.

“Oh, that’s—uh, I mean, Carol’s…great. Anybody would like—um…” you wince slightly at your loss of words.

With a raised brow, Natasha waits as you stumble over your words before you finally confess under your breath with a sigh.

“...no, I wasn’t talking about her.”

A sense of relief washes over Natasha at your words before she questions you with an amused smile.

“Why didn’t you just tell me?”

You respond with a disbelieving huff.

“Well, why did you assume it was her?” you counter.

“The two of you seemed so close during the festival, and at the bonfire, you were blushing a lot with her,” Natasha points out accusingly.

“That’s because she was teasing me about y—” you shut your mouth, stopping yourself before you finish.

In the heat of defending yourself, you nearly revealed that all of your flustered reactions at that time were about Natasha.

Glancing over at her to see if she noticed your slip-up, you groan internally when you recognize her pleased expression.

Natasha is grinning widely at the revelation, her eyes lighting up happily as if she's finally solved a mystery.

When your hand covers your face in embarrassment, she knows you also figured out that she has already guessed what you meant to say.

At your slight blush, she can’t help but want to tease you a little bit more, tilting her head to try and catch your attention.

“You know, I think I heard you mention my name too. What were you about to say about me before I appeared?”

You purposely avoid meeting her eyes, wishing the ground would just swallow you up already.

Having Natasha suspect that your feelings for someone were actually for her was not something that you had expected to happen, especially considering how your previous discussion this morning ended.

Choosing to ignore her question, you point to the distance ahead and try to divert the conversation.

“I think we’re nearing the prison. We should probably concentrate and focus our attention on what we’ll do when we get there.”

Natasha's grin widen at your flustering and poor attempt to change the subject.

As you prepare to urge your horse forward, her hand reaches over to hold your reins again, stopping you.

Done with all the teasing, Natasha decides to reciprocate some vulnerability, understanding that you might be feeling exposed at the moment.

She nudges your arm gently to get your attention.

Once your eyes reluctantly meet hers, Natasha begins softly.

“Remember how I said I realized something? Turns out I'm facing a similar problem to what you had this morning.”

Confused, you furrow your brows, prompting Natasha to smile fondly at you. She takes a deep breath before admitting with a happy sigh.

“Apparently, there is someone I like, but I don’t know how they feel about me,” Natasha echoes your words from this morning before tilting her head meaningfully, adding, "She’s one of my closest friends too."

Your eyes widen in surprise and uncertainty as you try to come up with a response.

That warm feeling returns to your chest, but you try not to let that hope grow too fast.

At your silence, Natasha presses on, asking, "What should I do?"

Clearing your throat nervously, you finally find your voice as you repeat the response she had given you.

“Well, you said you would’ve just asked them directly about how they felt about you.”

“I did, didn't I?” Natasha says in contemplation. She pauses for a second before a small smirk forms on her face, and she focuses her intense gaze on you.

“So, Y/n, how do you feel about me?”

Your eyes search hers in disbelief at the implication of her question towards you. You try to spot any signs of her usual teasing, but there is only genuine anticipation and hope in her expression.

Caught off guard by the sudden realization, you stammer, “I—um…”

As Natasha waits for your response, the sound of rustling and footsteps from the shadows of the trees catches her attention, setting her instincts on edge.

Her body instantly straightens in alertness as she observes the surroundings.

At the faint sound of a mechanism engaging and then a quiet click, Natasha quickly grabs you, pulling you off your horse and onto the ground just as a heavy net shoots out from the trees.

Your horses whine in panic as the net soars past them, where it would have caught you and Natasha if the two of you hadn’t moved.

Instead, the complex mesh of thick ropes and weighted edges lands with a resounding thud on the ground, ensnaring nothing but air.

Natasha and you landed in a tangled heap, her hands instinctively shielding your head and body as the both of you roll to a stop.

The surrounding area seems to hold its breath for a second before the sound of hurried footsteps causes the two of you to rise quickly to your feet.

Three menacing men emerge from the trees, each brandishing a weapon as they advance toward you and Natasha, undeterred by the failure of their initial trap.

Natasha pulls her sword from its sheath and hands it to you with a smirk.

“It’s a good thing we practiced this morning, huh?” she teases lightly.

You roll your eyes exasperatedly as you take the sword.

Natasha is more than capable of taking on these ruffians, but knowing that you are not defenseless will probably help her concentrate more on them than having to also worry about you.

The attackers quickly rush at the two of you, and Natasha immediately engages in combat with two of them simultaneously while the third one dodges her attacks and goes for you.

You raise the sword in defense as it clashes against his before the two of you engage in a fight.

He was bigger than you, but luckily, that just means that you are faster than his movements.

You find yourself dodging and parrying his swings, but his experience with a sword allows him to defend from most of your attacks easily.

Seeing no way to break through his defense, you spot a large tree nearby and come up with an idea.

While dodging his attacks, you discreetly move toward its direction, leading him closer.

Right as your back hits the trunk of the tree, a particularly powerful swing knocks the sword out of your hand.

The attacker grins victoriously, thinking you are cornered, and lunges forward with a powerful thrust.

Swiftly ducking out of the way, you cause his sword to impale deep into the tree instead.

With him stunned at his stuck weapon, you knock his arm away from the sword and then swiftly hook your leg around the back of his knee, sweeping it out from under him.

Before he can recover, you quickly pick up your fallen sword and slam its hilt against the back of his head.

Catching your breath, you let out a breath of relief when you see that he is unconscious.

Next thing you know, your body is pulled away from the man, and Natasha’s hands are moving gently across your face as she examines you.

Seeing that you are okay, she glances at the man on the ground before giving you an excited smile in realization.

“You were watching me that day,” Natasha points out happily.

That last action that you just performed was almost exactly the same as her finishing move during her spar with Steve.

Based on your evasive behavior toward her at that time, Natasha had thought that you were avoiding her to the point where you didn’t even want to watch her train anymore.

You offer her sword back to her with a small roll of your eyes.

Behind her, you see the other two attackers already on the ground, subdued.

“You already know that I’ve always liked watching you train," you remind her.

Instead of taking the sword, Natasha wraps her hand around yours and pulls you a step closer to her, bringing your body and face near hers.

She playfully tilts her head at you with a teasing glint in her eyes.

“Weren't you just about to tell me about something else that you like before we were interrupted?” Natasha challenges.

You huff and shake your head in disbelief, realizing her intention.

Refusing to be the first to give in, especially with her confident and charming smirk in place, you decide to lean in even closer instead, bringing your face just a breath away from hers.

“I don’t know, Natasha, is there something you want to tell me?” you whisper challengingly, lowering your tone.

Natasha’s smirk widens in amusement as she maintains her position, seemingly unaffected, but looking closer, you notice a slight change in her eyes as they darken and briefly dart down to your lips.

Understanding dawns on you as you recall all the times you’ve seen that look on her before.

A charged tension fills the air as both of you stubbornly await the other to give in.

After a moment, Natasha finally releases a shaky breath and leans her head against yours, unable to resist anymore with you so close to her.

However, before any word can escape her parted lips, the tranquility is shattered by the sound of an arrow being released and a grunt emanating from the trees.

Turning in unison, you and Natasha witness the hidden attacker tumbling from the tree to the ground.

Your gaze then shifts to the source of the arrow, revealing a familiar figure behind the bow.

“Clint,” Natasha greets before complimenting, "Nice shot."

He puts away his bow and approaches both of you with a raised brow.

“You two are adorable, but next time, please check your surroundings again before running into each other’s arms,” he advises.

Feeling a bit embarrassed, you clear your throat awkwardly and take a step back from Natasha.

However, her hand catches your side, keeping you close.

“Where are the two of you going? And without an escort, at that,” he ask, with the last part directed pointedly in reprimand at Natasha, who responds with a slight roll of her eyes.

"To the prison," you answer him.

"What about you? What are you doing running around with your bow again?" Natasha asks curiously.

Clint gestures to the attackers, unconscious on the ground.

“These men are from the Hydra's den, which happened to be suspiciously deserted when I passed by this morning,” he reveals with a serious tone.

Natasha frowns upon hearing the information.

The central area where mercenaries usually occupy being suddenly empty is never a good sign.

“Rumlow?” Natasha asks in suspicion.

This behavior is too unusual for the noble known for his affiliations with such groups to deny any knowledge of what is happening.

Clint shrugs unsurely, grimacing, “He’s not at his manor. My informant didn’t arrive at the usual meeting time either, so I came to investigate.”

He gestures towards you and Natasha.

“If you two are also heading to the prison, then it's better if I stay with you, especially after this ambush. I’m assuming you're taking Lady Y/n to see…,” Clint trails off when he sees Natasha discreetly shaking her head, signaling him to stop talking, but it is too late.

At his words, you quickly turn to Natasha with suspicion, raising your brow.

There’s no way Clint would know about Barnes so soon, so he must be referring to someone else at the prison, and judging by Natasha’s reaction, she knows exactly who he meant.

Natasha shoots a glare at Clint, who has suddenly taken an interest in looking up at the skies. She winces slightly when she glances back at you and sees your accusatory stare.

With a resigned sigh, she reveals, “There may have been a request…by that attacker from the cemetery to speak with you before he would answer any of our questions.”

“Natasha!” you exclaim in reprimand for keeping such information concerning you a secret.

She raises her hands in defense, arguing, “He’s a threat against the kingdom, which means I can make decisions concerning him about you.”

“You can't use that excuse every time,” you tell her, poking her in the shoulder pointedly at her attempt of creating a loophole to indirectly protect you.

Natasha responds with an amused smile, catching your hands and interlocking them together. She raises her brows and remarks teasingly.

"Yes, I can. I'm still your princess, remember?"

Rolling your eyes at her usual teasing reminder, you shove her lightly in response with your clasped hands, which elicits a chuckle from her.

Clint lets out a smile as he observes the close interaction between you and Natasha, commenting with an assuring nod, “Yeah, you two really are adorable together.”

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

Series Masterlist : Boundless Devotion

a/n: Thank you for reading! I may have been delusional saying that there would two/three more parts left of this series two parts ago, but it should be around two parts left after this one (i think).

#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff imagine #natasha romanoff x fem!reader #natasha romanoff fanfic #natasha romanoff x you #black widow x reader #natasha x reader #natasha romanoff

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