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just-aake · 7 months ago

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Everlasting Devotion - Part I

Pairing: princess!Natasha Romanoff x fem!reader

Summary: Sequel of Boundless Devotion Series. MedievalAU. With her coronation over, Natasha is now the queen of the Romanov Kingdom. However, the position comes with challenges from both old and new enemies as Natasha tries to maintain the peace while also navigating her relationship with you.

a/n : This is the sequel series of Boundless Devotion. If you have not read the first series yet, please read that first since there are spoilers in this first chapter.

Warnings: light angst, mentions of past abuse, fluff, hints of sexual tension

Words: 3257

Leaning against the doorway of the royal library in the castle, the newly crowned queen of the Romanov kingdom gazes quietly at the scene before her, a soft and fond expression on her face.

After months spent rekindling friendships, pretending to be a couple, foiling attempted coups, and uncovering hidden identities, such peaceful moments are a rare and cherished occurrence for the red-haired royal.

“I can feel you watching me,” you state plainly to your guest, your eyes never leaving the book in your hand as you casually flip the page.

Natasha Romanov’s lips curl up fondly at your words, pushing herself off from her position against the door frame and making her way over to you.

She had decided to drop by briefly before her first meeting with the council of high-ranking nobles began, but seeing you standing and reading by the window, your form bathed in sunlight and an ethereal glow, she couldn’t help but be distracted.

“Can you blame me?” Natasha asks as she stops in front of you.

Her finger gently hooks under your chin in a silent request, and you lift your head from your book to meet her eyes, tilting your head curiously.

Natasha leans in slowly until her face is a short distance from yours.

She whispers in a low, intimate tone, "You're breathtakingly beautiful when you read."

A tiny, amused smile forms on your face, unable to hide your reaction to her words as a familiar warmth spreads across your cheeks.

Natasha’s grin widens at the sight of your blush, causing you to roll your eyes slightly with an exasperated huff and playfully push her away with your book.

“Calling me beautiful anytime I do anything is going to lose its charm one day,” you warn teasingly.

"If that ever happens, I'm sure I could think of other ways to make you blush," Natasha teases back with a smirk.

You shake your head fondly at her usual confidence and teasing, a smile remaining on your face.

“Shouldn’t you be heading to the council meeting soon?” you chastise, moving to take a seat on a nearby cushioned settee.

Natasha follows closely, settling beside you and resting her head against her hand on the back of the seat in a relaxed position. Her eyes soften into a fond and adoring look as she gazes at you, her other hand falling atop yours and caressing it gently.

“I wanted to see you,” she answers, her voice soft and earnest.

The intensity of her gaze makes you duck your head slightly, choosing instead to focus on your connected hands between your bodies.

“You see me every day now,” you point out, your tone light and teasing.

“And yet it never seems to be enough,” Natasha quips back smoothly.

You let out a small laugh at her charming words, not disagreeing with her statement.

While your manor undergoes repairs from the damage caused by Dreykov’s explosive powders, and as your previous staff members gradually return and reacquaint themselves with their roles, you’ve been staying in one of the castle’s guest rooms at Natasha and her family’s insistence.

Despite her new responsibilities as queen, the constant time at the castle has given you and Natasha plenty of opportunities to be together, allowing you two to explore and enjoy this new level of intimacy in your relationship.

And even though you know Natasha honestly meant what she just said, you have a guess as to the other underlying reason she decided to check on you.

It’s been a couple of weeks since you recovered from your life-threatening injury from the fight with Dreykov, and although she tries to hide it, you sometimes catch Natasha giving you subtle looks of concern, likely haunted by the memory of how close you came to dying in her arms.

Looking back up at her, you easily recognize the slight pinch of worry in her expression.

You readjust your hand in hers, interlocking your fingers and giving it a gentle tug.

“What’s wrong?” you inquire.

Natasha shakes her head slightly, offering a reassuring smile, “It’s nothing.”

You give her a doubtful look, raising your brow expectantly.

She chuckles lightly at your stubborn expression before relenting with a slight shake of her head.

“I just wanted to see you…” Natasha admits, placing her other hand atop your clasp one and giving you a tiny smile. “…to remind myself that, if anything, I still have you by my side. Seeing you makes me feel stronger — like I can actually do this.”

"You can do this, Natasha," you reassure her. "Everyone knows it. Why else would your mother step down and let you reign if she didn't believe you would succeed?"

Natasha rolls her eyes exasperatedly at the mention of her mother.

"Maybe because she just wants to spend more time in that new, fancy lab of hers," she remarks, pointing a finger in suspicion. "I still believe she blew up the previous one on purpose during the ambush so that she could build this new one."

“It is a really nice lab,” you admit, recalling the countless hours spent assisting the previous Queen in setting up her new research and experiments wing in the castle.

Natasha chuckles knowingly at your comment in support of her mother, but then she releases a heavy sigh, her expression falling slightly.

“Is it wrong that sometimes…I wish we could go back to the simpler times when all I had to worry about was completing my studies so that I could spend more time with you?” she wonders wistfully.

“When we were just friends?” you ask teasingly with a raise of your brow.

“With the addition of our current relationship, of course,” Natasha corrects with an amused smile.

You give her a similar smile in return as you ponder her words and reminisce about your shared past and years of friendship.

A sudden idea comes to mind, prompting you to release Natasha's hand and gesture for her to turn around in her seat.

Curious, Natasha raises a brow but fulfills your request, moving around so that her back now faces you.

She realizes your intention when your hands begin to run through her red hair, untangling it gently with your fingers.

It’s been a long time since you’ve braided her hair.

This simple yet cherished action has always brought her calm and comfort. After you had avoided her for the past year, she had forgotten how much she loved this sensation whenever you did it.

Instinctively, her body leans back, seeking your reassuring touch. Closing her eyes, she relaxes and releases the tension weighing on her.

After a moment, you finally break the silence, wondering the reason for Natasha’s previous wistful question.

“What are you worried about?” you question softly, your fingers deftly moving through her hair.

Natasha frowns lightly, her thoughts reemerging about her main concern over the past weeks.

Dreykov’s words to her during their last conversation in his jail cell still linger in the back of her mind, hinting at the possibility of an impending threat or trouble that she isn’t yet aware of.

Your touch brings her back from her thoughts, reminding her of what she nearly lost.

“I just need to be prepared for anything and not be blindsided like before,” she confesses vaguely, her voice barely above a whisper. “I need to be able to protect everyone I care about.”

Her words cause you to furrow your brows, sensing there’s something more she’s not sharing with you but you’re more concerned about the weight she’s placing on herself.

“You shouldn’t feel like you have to handle everything alone,” you tell her. “Whatever you need, I’ll always be here for you, Natasha.”

Briefly, Natasha’s mind flashes to the memory of your pale and almost lifeless body lying in her bed as she anxiously waited helplessly to see if you would survive and wake up.

She was unprepared and failed to protect you last time. She won’t make the same mistakes again.

“Natasha?” you call, snapping her out of her thoughts.

"I'm finished," you declare, lightly pressing her back to request her to turn around.

Turning back in the seat, she touches her newly braided hair in appreciation.

Focused on admiring your work, Natasha is surprised when your lips press against her cheek in a chaste kiss.

You linger for a moment before pulling away.

Natasha turns to you, slightly stunned. Her hand raises to her cheek where you kissed her, touching the area delicately.

“You’re going to be an amazing queen, Natasha,” you say confidently, echoing the same firm conviction and trust you've expressed every time before.

Natasha feels the pressure and worries momentarily dissipate at your words. Because, in that moment, nothing else matters.

As long as you believe in her, that’s all she truly needs.

With a soft smile, Natasha’s hand tenderly cups your face, and she leans forward to press a gentle kiss against your lips.

Instinctively, your hands find her shoulders as she leans in further, guiding you to recline on the cushioned arm of the seat, deepening the kiss.

Lost in the sensation of her passionate lips meeting yours, you moved your hands to the back of her neck, drawing her closer, feeling the heat emanating from her body, mirroring your own.

When Natasha pulls back slightly, her eyes are darkened with desire, and you're left flushed and breathless at the familiar, intense sight.

You become distinctly aware of her position above you: her chest hovering just above yours, her hand beside your head on the arm of the seat, and the other against the back frame, supporting herself up, with her leg between yours, not quite touching.

The two of you have shared many close moments over the past week, but nothing more than passionate kisses and innocent touches.

Right now, there’s an unspoken question in her longing gaze, and you find yourself nodding in silent agreement, your pulse quickening with anticipation.

At your permission, her hands instantly move to your waist, bringing your bodies together, her lips seeking yours again in a hungry kiss.

Once again, you feel yourself slowly getting lost in the dizzying whirl of her touch.

But then you remember the time.

“Natasha…”

She hums against you distractedly, trailing kisses down the column of your throat, lightly sucking at a sensitive spot on your collarbone, causing you to gasp in surprise.

“…y-your meeting,” you remind her, biting your lip to stifle the sounds she was coaxing from you.

Natasha pauses, her lips hovering over your skin, her warm breath teasing you, her hand lightly brushing against the exposed skin where your dress had ridden up.

For a fleeting moment, you wonder if she might disregard her responsibilities and continue. And if she did, you’re not sure if you could muster the willpower to remind her again.

Finally, after a silent deliberation, Natasha pulls back with reluctance, meeting your gaze with a mixture of disappointment and frustration, her fingers tracing lightly along your waist.

“If only we had gotten together when I was still just the princess,” she sighs wistfully. “Then I wouldn’t have to trade your presence for a bunch of pretentious, power-hungry nobles.”

Your expression softens with a sympathetic smile.

"Would you like to meet up by the lake after your meeting then?" you ask, trying to console her.

Natasha’s face brightens at the suggestion, a wide smile spreading across her lips as she nods eagerly.

“I’d love that.”

You gently brush a stray lock of hair behind her ear, your fingertips lingering on her cheek as you tease her gently.

“For the record, even if you are the queen now, I can still call you my princess,” you remark playfully.

Natasha chuckles softly, leaning into your touch with a contented sigh. Her eyes close briefly as she savors the tender moment.

“Yours,” she murmurs affectionately. “In everything.”

After a lingering moment, you both stand up, composing yourselves. You watch as Natasha smooths out her clothes and takes a deep breath, a determined expression settling on her face as she turns to you.

"Thank you," she says sincerely before a slight smirk graces her lips. "I told you seeing you makes me feel stronger."

You roll your eyes in disbelief, chuckling as you gather the scattered books.

"I should head back to your mom’s lab. She’s probably waiting for me to return with these books," you say.

Natasha’s hands are already reaching for some of the books from the table before you finish speaking.

“I can help you carry them,” she offers.

You place a hand on her shoulder, stopping her, and give her a pointed look.

“No, you need to go to your meeting,” you insist firmly.

Natasha considers the time she has remaining before reluctantly relenting with a sigh.

"At least don’t let her work you too hard," she adds protectively.

“I’ll be fine, Natasha,” you reassure her, shooing her away with your hands. “Now, go before you’re late.”

Natasha catches one of your hands in hers, and with a graceful bow, she brings it to her lips, pressing a tender kiss on your knuckles. Remaining in her bowed position, her eyes lock onto yours with a deep intensity that makes your breath catch.

“I love you,” she murmurs softly, her voice filled with adoration.

The sincerity of her tone wraps around your heart, and a fond smile grows on your face as you respond just as softly, “I love you too.”

Your voice had a slight tremor, echoing the depth of your feelings for her.

Natasha straightens, her gaze unwavering as she presses one last fleeting kiss to your lips before turning to leave.

You watch her go with a mixture of disappointment and longing, wishing for just a few more moments with her.

Shaking off your reverie, you refocus on your original task. Gathering the books in your arms, you make your way through the halls to return to the lab.

Just as you turn the corner, another figure emerges from that direction, startling you.

You step back abruptly, causing one of the books to tumble from your arms and hit the ground with a soft thud.

The older lord bends down, retrieving the fallen book before handing it back to you with a slight nod of acknowledgment.

“Here you go, Lady Y/n,” he greets you formally.

You nod appreciatively, accepting the book from him.

“Thank you, Chancellor Ross.”

The man standing before you is Chancellor Thaddeus Ross, one of the kingdom’s highest-ranking nobles. His prominence rivals that of Dreykov, and his position as Queen Melina’s advisor grants him considerable influence over matters affecting the kingdom and the royal family.

Despite his absence for treatment overseas, he returned just in time for Natasha's coronation.

So far, your encounters with him have been polite but brief, lacking any substantial conversation.

"I'm glad to hear that your recovery is progressing well," you say warmly, genuinely concerned for his well-being.

"Thank you," he replies formally, his gaze steady. He assesses you critically, slightly unsettling you.

Glancing in the direction he had come from, you assume, "Are you heading to the council meeting?"

"Indeed, I am," he confirms curtly, his demeanor remaining impassive.

An awkward silence follows as you fail to come up with anything further to say. You offer him a polite smile and nod, moving to step to the side.

“Well, I should let you continue on your way,” you say. “It was nice speaking with you, Chancellor.”

As you walk past him, his following words stop you in your tracks.

“How long do you anticipate your relationship with the young queen will last?”

Turning back to face him, you furrow your brows in confusion at the unexpected question. The silence hangs heavy in the air, leaving you momentarily stunned as you struggle to comprehend his meaning.

"I'm sorry, I don't understand," you finally respond, your voice betraying your bewilderment.

He inclines his head slightly, fixing you with a scrutinizing gaze.

"My apologies for the directness, Lady Y/n. I'm merely trying to understand why such a match was approved during my absence."

His tone was measured, almost clinical, as if he was analyzing a political strategy rather than discussing personal relationships.

"I care deeply for Queen Natasha," you defend firmly, conviction lacing your voice despite the discomfort of the conversation.

"I have no doubt of that," he acknowledges. "You've always been a steadfast friend to Her Majesty, and it's clear to everyone just how much she adores you..."

Usually, comments of Natasha's affection towards you fill you with warmth and joy whenever mentioned by others, but for some reason, the chancellor's words now cast an unexpected shadow of shame and unease around you at the thought.

“...my question is — what more do you have to offer?” he concludes pointedly.

His words cut deep, challenging your value to Natasha beyond companionship.

“I…” you falter, searching for a response.

Involuntarily, his words trigger memories of Dreykov’s reprimands throughout your childhood in your mind, his voice echoing painfully in your ears.

“Pathetic…Disappointing…Worthless…”

Though you know now that Dreykov is not your real father, his cutting remarks to a young child have already left lasting scars on your self-worth and confidence.

Despite your efforts to move past them, the memories of his harsh and relentless belittling resurfaces, causing you to question yourself anew.

What more could you possibly offer Natasha?

Pressing on at your hesitation, Ross adds with a grave tone, "Are you confident that your love alone is sufficient to navigate the challenges and responsibilities she will face as queen?"

You clutch the books tighter against your chest, struggling to reply.

The warmth you felt from Natasha earlier has long vanished since the conversation began, leaving you reeling with doubt and hesitation.

You had always assured Natasha of your unwavering support, but had you ever considered whether your actions ever genuinely helped her?

Maybe that’s why she chose not to share everything that was troubling her earlier.

Because she doesn’t believe you can.

He’s right. You realize.

Loving her might not be enough.

Your silence prompts him to continue, his questioning relentless.

"Can you honestly say you are the right person to stand beside her?"

Still shaken from his intense scrutiny, your honest answer unconsciously escapes you in a soft whisper.

“I don’t know.”

Stepping back, Chancellor Ross regards you with a somber and grim expression, nodding curtly as he bids you farewell.

“Then I suggest you find out soon, Lady Y/n,” he advises with a sigh, turning to depart. His parting words echo faintly in the corridor, "For the sake of the kingdom's future. And the queen's."

You stand there, rooted to the spot, his words repeating in your mind.

Doubts swirl within you, intertwining with your love for Natasha and creating a storm of uncertainty.

Taking a deep, steadying breath, you return to your previous path, one step at a time, gathering your resolve until you are able to walk with some semblance of confidence again.

Though his words were harsh, they serve as a stark reminder of lessons ingrained in you during your upbringing in the home of Lord Dreykov. Lessons that had helped you endure and survive his torment and abuse through the years.

Lessons you had perhaps forgotten in the comfort and love you found by Natasha's side.

To strive harder. To be better. No matter the cost.

After all, that is the only way you could truly be of any worth to anyone.

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

a/n: Thank you for reading and for choosing to continue with this series. It’s exciting to be able to write in this universe once more. Again, updates may not be a frequent as before but I’ll try my best to not let the period in between chapters be too long. I did decide to split the first chapter into 2 parts, so luckily the next part will come out sooner than later.

Also, if I missed your request to be tagged in this series, please let me know.

Taglist: @midastouch013, @2silverchain, @dvrkhcld, @observeowl, @x-drowned-x, @fireandblood-3, @natsxwife, @leequifey, @blacklightsposts, @srt-sah, @scar-letwidow, @likefirenrain, @autorasexy, @natsbiggestfan1, @lex13cm, @iheartjohansson, @tofu9162, @nothanksbye07, @unexpected-character, @natashasilverfox, @acciowriting, @qtreesfanstuff

#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 #natasha romanov x reader

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just-aake · 1 month ago

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Everlasting Devotion - Part X

Pairing: princess!Natasha Romanoff x fem!reader

Warnings: light angst, fluff, sexual tension

Words: 4865

Natasha turns Yelena’s mask over in her hands, her fingers brushing the fabric absently as Yelena leads the way down a series of winding, dimly lit pathways.

Her gaze drifts to the strands of dark black hair peeking out from under Yelena’s hood, and a question that had been nagging at her finally slips out.

“What’s the point of hiding your hair color if you’re already wearing a mask?” Natasha asks, her tone tinged with exasperation.

Yelena scoffs, coming to a halt and crossing her arms over her chest.

“You and Mom always say, ‘Never be too careful,’ and now you’re lecturing me when I am?” she shoots back, raising a challenging eyebrow.

Natasha rolls her eyes at her sister’s typical snark.

“You wouldn’t need to be careful if you hadn’t come here in the first place.”

Before the tension can escalate further, you step up beside Yelena, gently taking a few strands of her hair in your hand.

Your touch and curious gaze defuse the moment with ease.

“Is this charcoal you used to stain your hair?” you ask, examining the texture with genuine interest. “That’s pretty creative, Yelena.”

Yelena’s expression shifts instantly, her face lighting up with pride.

“Thanks,” she says enthusiastically.

Natasha glances between the two of you, her lips pressing into a subtle pout at the fact that you had sided with her sister.

What bothered her more was the shift in your demeanor with her.

With Steve’s presence in the group, you had been keeping a polite distance, the casual intimacy you’d shared with her in the tavern now carefully concealed.

Yelena points her finger on the mask in Natasha’s hand, pulling her back to the present.

“With this and my hair changed, no one knows it’s me. I can do whatever I want,” Yelena explains smugly before continuing down the path.

Kate nods in agreement, adding, “We’ve never run into any problems because of our identities.”

Steve crosses his arms, his tone firm as he speaks.

“But you have run into problems.”

Kate chuckles nervously, rubbing the back of her neck.

“Well…yeah, technically,” she admits before hurrying to catch up with Yelena, their respective canines trailing after them.

Natasha sighs, her gaze returning to the mask in her hand. Her fingers trace its edges thoughtfully as the group moves forward.

Her eyes drift to your hand swinging by your side, and for a moment, she considers reaching for it.

As if sensing her gaze, you glance back at her and offer a small smile. With a subtle tilt of your head, you encourage her to keep moving before clasping your hands together behind your back, widening the distance between you again.

Natasha exhales quietly in disappointment before returning to the path ahead.

After a moment, Steve, walking beside her, nudges her shoulder to catch her attention.

“What?” she asks, glancing at him.

Steve points upward, and Natasha follows his gaze to spot a familiar falcon silently trailing the group.

“You still haven’t told her, have you?” Steve whispers accusingly.

Natasha turns to him with a raised brow.

“Are you really trying to lecture me right now?” she replies incredulously. “Without Redwing, I wouldn’t have even known Y/n was in there. Things could’ve gone a lot worse.”

Steve furrows his brows at her words.

“What exactly happened in there?”

Natasha’s lips press into a thin line as she remembers the glowing stone, the haunting memory it had pulled from her mind, and how close you had come to harm.

“Those strange weapons Rumlow had might be more dangerous than we thought,” she says quietly.

Her gaze flicks back to the falcon and then to you, walking just ahead and wonders aloud.

“How come Redwing didn’t tell you or Sam about Y/n being in that place?”

Steve hums in thought.

“Redwing’s good at spotting danger but also knows when to prioritize. He must’ve seen that friend of hers as someone capable of protecting her.”

Natasha’s thoughts shift to the stranger who had stepped in to intervene during the attack. The glove he’d used to block the cloaked figure had been eerily similar to the attacker’s.

However, based on your attitude towards him, besides simple annoyance, you don’t seem suspicious or wary of the person when the two of you interacted earlier.

“What do you make of him?” she asks.

Steve shrugs but doesn’t answer right away. His eyes narrowed in contemplation as though he was piecing together a puzzle.

“I don’t know,” he admits. “Nothing special, but…I feel like I’ve seen him before. Or at least, I think he looks like someone I knew long ago.”

He shakes his head slightly as if to brush away the thought and throws the question back at her.

“What about you?”

Natasha sighs, her gaze lingering on the back of your figure.

“If I didn’t already know she’d refuse, I would’ve had Clint return from his trip to fix that gate instead.”

Steve chuckles and pats her shoulder encouragingly.

“That’s progress. Respecting your ex’s decision is a good step in fixing things between you.”

Natasha rolls her eyes, groaning softly at the change in subject.

“Is that what you tell yourself?” she mutters.

“What?” Steve asks, frowning in confusion.

Natasha raises a brow at him before explaining.

“You’re giving Bucky space, sure, but how long will you wait to make a move or say something?” Natasha smirks, a teasing glint in her eyes, as she nudges him in a warning. “You keep meddling in my love life, Steve. If you don’t back off, I will start meddling in yours.”

Natasha huffs playfully, shaking her head. “Sometimes I think you’re worse than my mom. At least her meddling was discreet.”

Steve groans, rubbing the back of his neck in exasperation, but he lets the subject drop as Yelena stops ahead of them.

“Here we are,” Yelena announces, gesturing grandly to the weathered, run-down building before them.

The creaking gate swings open with a loud groan as she motions for the group to follow. Above the doorway, a broken and faded sign barely hinted at its original purpose: Orphanage.

Yelena pauses at the door, turning back to the group and glancing at her sister.

“You should cover up,” she says, her tone laced with pointed practicality. “Don’t want the others figuring out who I am because of you.”

“Others?” Natasha mutters under her breath, casting a questioning look your way.

You simply shrug, pulling your hood lower over your face. Natasha sighs and follows suit, adjusting her hood as they enter.

The scene that greets her is unexpected.

The inside of the building, though still bearing the marks of neglect and decay, was lively.

Children of varying ages laugh and play, their energy filling the space.

The repairs are evident—patches on the walls, sturdier floorboards replacing rotting ones—but it is clear there is still a long way to go.

As Yelena leads the group down a hallway, some children pause in their activities to wave at her and Kate, their curious gazes lingering briefly on the newcomers before they’re distracted by Lucky and Fanny, who prance over to join them in their games.

As she looked around, Natasha took in every detail, from the faint chalk drawings on the walls to the repaired furniture scattered throughout. Natasha was not aware that there was an orphanage in such condition in the kingdom.

“How did you find this place?” Natasha wonders out loud.

“Kate and I accidentally stumbled in here one day when we were running away from some trouble,” Yelena explains.

“Trouble?” Steve questions disapprovingly, but Yelena pointedly ignores him as Kate continues the explanation.

“The people here let us stay until it was safe enough to leave, so we’ve been trying to help them out too.”

Yelena’s hands run along the old walls as she leads them down the hall.

“I tried getting some money from the Treasury to fix this place up more,” Yelena explains before rolling her eyes. “But Ross won’t let me unless I fill out a mountain of documents for ‘approval’ first.”

“So you started playing cards to earn extra money,” you guess, your tone curious but free of judgment.

“Exactly,” Yelena confirms with a satisfied grin.

As they pass another room, Natasha pauses.

Inside, a group of older children is practicing sparring techniques with some weapons.

Some are clearly teaching others, though their movements are not exactly perfect either.

Yelena peers over her shoulder and adds proudly.

“I’ve also been teaching some of them how to fight for self-defense.”

Natasha raises an eyebrow, turning back to Yelena.

“So this is where all your weapons went.”

Yelena hesitates before nodding in response. Her attention drifts to the dagger at her side—the one you had gifted Natasha.

“You probably want this back, don’t you?”

Natasha glances at you, seeking your input. You give her a slight shrug, leaving the decision to her. She contemplates momentarily before removing the one at her side and offering it to Yelena in exchange, “Here, take this one instead.”

She’d rather keep your gift—a small piece of you—close to her side for right now, especially since you are still keeping your distance.

“Alright,” Yelena nods in understanding, clearly satisfied that she is not given any further reprimand or lecture than that.

Inside the training room, one of the older children spots them and waves the group over.

“We need one more for a sparring match. Any volunteers?”

Without missing a beat, Yelena grabs Kate’s arm and thrust it into the air.

“She does,” she says, grinning as Kate sputters in surprise.

“Wait, no, I don’t!” Kate protests as she is nudged forward toward the sparring circle.

“Consider this payback for earlier,” Yelena quips, ignoring Kate’s protests before turning to Steve. “What about you, Cap? It’s been a while since I beat you.”

Steve chuckles, crossing his arms. “You beat me once, and I was distracted.”

“Excuses,” Yelena teases. “Come on, one round.”

Steve sighs in amusement and nods.

“Fine, let’s go.”

Natasha lingers by the wall, her arms crossed as she observes the space.

Unconsciously, her lips press slightly into a thin line, a subtle tension pulling at her features. Her eyes moved from the sparring children to the repaired spaces and finally to Yelena, who was confidently instructing some of the older kids who had come up to her for guidance about a move.

Her attention is pulled away when there is a gentle tug on her arm. She turns to see you beside her, a finger to your lips as you silently ask her to follow with a tilt of your head.

Natasha glances at the others to ensure they are preoccupied before slipping away with you, her hand slipping into yours.

You lead her down a quiet hallway, your footsteps soft against the worn floorboards.

Finding a secluded room, you gently pull her inside and shut the door with a soft click. Natasha turns to face you, her eyes questioning, but before she can say anything, you step closer and cup her cheek, tilting her face toward yours.

Your lips brush hers in a soft kiss, and Natasha’s eyes flutter closed. When she instinctively leans in to deepen it, you pull back, leaving her slightly breathless.

“What was that for?” she murmurs, her voice low.

You smile faintly, brushing your thumb gently against her bottom lip.

“You’ve been pouting since we got here.”

Natasha scoffs lightly, shaking her head.

“I wasn’t pouting.”

You raise your brow in clear disbelief. Your other hand raises to rest above her heart, your touch comforting.

“It’s okay to admit you’re impressed. Yelena’s working on something incredible here.”

Natasha’s lips unconsciously twitch into a slight pout at your praise, and you chuckle softly before capturing her lips in another brief, tender kiss. When you pull back, Natasha’s eyes open, meeting yours with a mix of vulnerability and curiosity.

“You’re doing a great job as queen too, Natasha,” you say with a knowing expression, your tone gentle yet firm. “Your progress isn’t as visible as hers, but it’s just as important.”

Natasha’s shoulders relax visibly, her lips parting slightly as she releases a shaky breath. As always, you had a way of finding the words she didn’t realize she needed to hear.

“Thank you,” she whispers, her voice sincere. Her hand rests over yours at her heart, a small, faintly bashful smile gracing her features.

The moment hangs between you, warm and tender, but when your thumb grazes the edge of her lips again, there is a sudden spark in the air, an undercurrent of tension shifting into something else.

The vulnerability in Natasha’s expression is quickly replaced with a glint of something more heated—a flicker of unspoken longing that makes her inhale just a touch sharper.

Catching her slight reaction, a mischievous expression flashes across your face.

Without hesitation, you lean in, closing the distance between you. The warmth of your breath caresses her skin, but instead of meeting her lips, your touch takes a different path.

You ghost along the corner of her mouth, featherlight and teasingly brief, before drifting down to her jawline.

Natasha’s breath hitches ever so slightly beneath your touch.

Still, you continue your deliberate trail, letting your lips barely graze the sensitive spot just below her ear. She exhales sharply, her eyes fluttering closed as the sensation sweeps over her.

Meanwhile, your fingers trace a slow, deliberate path down her arm. The lightness of your touch is maddening, igniting a fire that seems to burn with every inch you cover.

Then, with calculated timing, you pull back just enough to meet her gaze. The faint, infuriating curve of your lips signals your intent, the challenge clear in your eyes.

“What’s wrong, Natasha?” you ask, your voice low and smooth, your expression all mock innocence. “You look a little flustered.”

Natasha exhales a steadying breath, realization dawning on her as she feels her cheek warmed from your actions. Her eyes narrow, but a smirk tugging at her lips betrays her amusement.

“You’re being a tease,” she accuses, her voice dropping to a husky pitch.

You tilt your head innocently. “How so?”

Her gaze sharpens, and the corner of her lips quirks in response. She raises one hand to rest on the door behind you, leaning in as she steps closer. Her other hand lifts, her fingers catching your chin lightly and holding you still.

“Because you know we can’t stay here long,” she murmurs, her voice carrying a dangerous edge of both warning and desire. “Not before the others start wondering where we are.”

“Hmm,” you hum, leaning in slightly, just close enough for your lips to brush hers without committing to the kiss. “And?”

“And,” Natasha continues, her voice soft yet laced with unmistakable longing, “you’re tempting me to forget about this charade of ours and let everyone know I’m still in love with you.”

Her confession sends a spark of heat through the moment, but you keep your composure. Your smile turns wicked as your hands rest lightly on her hips, drawing her just a breath closer.

“Are you admitting you can’t keep up?” you murmur innocently, your tone dripping with playful innuendo.

Natasha rolls her eyes, but the flush creeping up her cheeks betrays her. She doesn’t pull away, her proximity daring you to push further.

“You’re playing a dangerous game, Y/n,” she warns, her voice barely above a whisper. “Remember, this was your idea. I’d gladly end the act to have you.”

The sheer honesty of her words makes your heart skip, and a slight flush appears on your cheeks, but you refuse to lose after successfully affecting her to this extent.

You lean in again, your lips brushing hers so lightly it’s maddening.

You see the exact moment Natasha’s composure fractures.

Her eyes darken, a storm of longing and frustration swirling within them, and she steps forward, erasing the remaining sliver of space between your bodies. One of her legs slips between yours, pinning you firmly against the doorframe.

Her lips hover near yours, their tantalizing proximity sending shivers down your spine. Her breath, warm and unsteady, mingles with yours, and for a heartbeat, the tension threatens to snap, and you almost consider surrendering to the pull of her presence.

But just as her lips are about to claim yours, you smirk, tilting your head back ever so slightly, your hands slipping from her hip to press against the door behind you.

The deliberate motion creates just enough distance to leave her chasing the moment.

“We should probably head back,” you say, your tone light and nonchalant, breaking the tension as though it didn’t threaten to consume you both.

Natasha’s frustrated exhale and groan only deepen your grin.

“You’re such a tease,” she mutters, her voice low and rough, tinged with both irritation and undeniable want.

“And you love it,” you counter, stepping just far enough to the side to give her space but not enough to cool the fire simmering between you.

Her lips curve into a subtle pout, her expression caught somewhere between indignation and desire.

The sight draws a quiet chuckle from you, and before she can recover, you lean in and capture her bottom lip in a slow, deliberate kiss. The contact is soft and tender, carrying an unspoken apology for pushing her to this edge—though you both know you’re anything but sorry.

Before she can do anything further, you pull back just as quickly, the ghost of your touch lingering.

Natasha is left in the wake of the moment, her breath shallow and her gaze unfocused, as if still processing the sensation of your lips against hers.

Your hand lingers on the door, pushing it open slightly as you glance over your shoulder with a playful tilt of your head.

“Have you regained your composure yet, my queen?”

The use of her title catches Natasha off guard, her lips parting slightly in surprise. She doesn’t respond immediately, taking a steadying breath instead. You don’t miss the way her fingers twitch at her side as though fighting the urge to pull you back in.

Finally, she shakes her head, a soft chuckle escaping her as she steps forward to catch the doorframe, pushing it open further.

“Tease,” she mutters under her breath, the word carrying more warmth than accusation.

Her eyes follow you as you slip out into the hallway, a satisfied grin on your lips. Natasha lingers for just a moment, steadying herself before following with a fond huff of laughter.

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

When Natasha returns to the room, she spots you now seated beside Kate, who’s holding her head in mock agony, clearly nursing the aftermath of her sparring match. You’re comforting her with a soothing pat on the shoulder.

At her arrival, your gaze lifts, and Natasha catches that faint teasing smile across your lips again.

Before she can react, though, your eyes dart meaningfully to the other side of the room, gesturing subtly with a tilt of your head.

Following your cue, Natasha’s eyes land on Yelena, who stands near the window, arms crossed and staring out into the dimming horizon.

With a soft sigh, Natasha walks over to her sister.

As she approaches, Yelena speaks up without turning.

“I know what you’re going to say—‘Yelena, this is irresponsible. You’re in over your head,’” she mocks, her tone a blend of her own sass and their mother’s disapproving voice.

“But this,” Yelena continues, gesturing vaguely around her, “this was something I decided to do myself. It’s not an obligation or some royal duty. It’s not an order from you or Mom. It was my choice. So…yeah…” Her words trail off, hesitant, as she finally turns to Natasha, searching her sister’s face for judgment.

Natasha raises an eyebrow, her expression unreadable.

“Are you done?”

Yelena narrows her eyes suspiciously.

“Are you going to tell on me and make me stop coming here?”

Natasha sighs, crossing her arms and leaning casually against the wall beside her sister, mirroring her stance.

“No, I’m not going to say anything.”

Yelena blinks, taken aback, before jabbing Natasha’s arm lightly, her skepticism evident.

“You’re in a surprisingly lax mood. What? Did Y/n make you feel that good when the two of you sneaked away earlier? Don’t think I didn’t notice.”

Natasha swats her sister’s hand away, rolling her eyes in exasperation.

“That is none of your business,” Natasha retorts firmly, her voice carrying a hint of embarrassment. Wanting to avoid further prying, she quickly redirects the conversation.

“I’m just saying you’re old enough to make your own decisions about what you want to do in your life.”

She gestures to the room around them, to the orphanage and its lively energy.

“And whenever you feel ready to share this with others, I’ll be there to support you.”

Yelena tilts her head, her confusion evident. “Support me?”

Natasha lets out a long-suffering sigh as though summoning patience.

“What I’m trying to say is…I’m proud of you, Yelena.”

For a moment, Yelena simply stares at her, processing the rare sentiment. Then, a small grin creeps onto her lips.

“You’ve gotten soft, sis.”

“Shut up,” Natasha scoffs, flicking Yelena on the forehead in reprimand.

The younger princess laughs but doesn’t pull away. Instead, she surprises Natasha by wrapping her arms around her in a tight hug, trapping Natasha’s arms awkwardly at her sides.

“Thanks, Nat,” Yelena says, her voice softer now, more genuine.

Natasha lets the embrace linger, her lips curving into a small smile. After a beat, she manages to free one arm, playfully pushing Yelena off her.

“Alright, that’s enough of that,” she teases.

Yelena chuckles, her grin widening as she glances back out the window. Her humor dims slightly, replaced by curiosity as she motions toward the gate.

“Speaking of shady characters,” she says, squinting through the broken shutters, “there’s one that’s been lingering by the gate for a while now.”

Natasha frowns and steps closer to peer out the window beside her sister.

Yelena tilts her head thoughtfully. “He looks familiar, though. Doesn’t he?”

Natasha’s eyes lock on the figure lingering outside the gate, and recognition flashes across her face. Without hesitation, she calls for Steve as she makes her way outside, with the rest of you following curiously.

The moment she steps outside, the figure, who was looking up at something in the sky, turns to her, his expression a mix of surprise and confusion as he offers a casual wave at the group.

“Didn’t expect to see you all come out of there,” Sam remarks, his tone light but his eyes flickering nervously toward Steve and Natasha.

Kate steps forward, tilting her head curiously at the knight.

“Who were you expecting, Sam?” she asks in confusion, understandably since the identities of her and Yelena were unknown by the people here while the rest of you had just learned about this place.

Sam freezes at the question, his posture stiffening. His eyes dart to Natasha, whose narrowed gaze silently warns him to tread carefully in his answer, and then over to you, your expression curious as you step up beside her.

“Uh…” Sam stammers, clearly caught off guard.

As if to make matters worse, Redwing chooses that moment to swoop down and land on his shoulder. The bird chirps, its eyes flicking between Natasha and you.

“Is that your falcon?” you suddenly ask, stepping closer to observe the bird, who leans toward you before fluttering over to your shoulder. It lands gently, its head tilting in what seems like fond recognition.

Sam blinks in surprise at the bird’s action but nods. “Yeah, his name’s Redwing.”

Humming in acknowledgment, you reach up tentatively, your hand hovering near the bird’s head. Redwing tilts its head, brushing against your fingers as you pet it lightly.

At the sight, Fanny and Lucky begin prancing excitedly around you, tails wagging as they jump and bark at the bird.

You chuckle softly, the corner of your lips lifting in amusement as you remember the earlier moment outside the tavern between them.

“I think we’ve met a couple of times already,” you comment, your tone light but thoughtful at all the times you’ve spotted the bird around you.

Then, your hand pauses mid-pet.

Your smile fades, and your brows knit together as a sudden realization hits you. Slowly, your eyes narrow, and you turn to Natasha with a pointed, accusing stare.

Standing off to the side, Yelena winces audibly for her sister while Kate awkwardly averts her gazes, clearly guessing the situation too. Steve heaves a quiet sigh, his expression one of resigned sympathy for Natasha. Sam, meanwhile, rubs the back of his neck awkwardly, avoiding your piercing gaze.

“Natasha,” you say slowly, your tone calm but unmistakably sharp. “Who exactly would he be expecting to see here?”

Natasha winces visibly, her lips pressing into a thin line. She knows you’ve already pieced it together.

“Does it help if I admit this arrangement was made before we talked about me being overprotective?” she offers, her tone almost hopeful.

Your deadpan look and exasperated huff quickly dash any optimism she might have had.

Shaking your head, you turn your attention to Steve and Sam, who both straighten at your sharp gaze. Your hand gestures toward Redwing, who chirps innocently on your shoulder, tilting its head as if it had no part in the situation.

“Whatever this was, it ends now,” you say firmly, your tone leaving no room for argument.

Steve raises his hands in mock surrender, nodding quickly. “Understood.”

Sam steps forward, raising a hand as if to defend himself.

“If it’s any consolation, Lady Y/n,” he begins, his voice steady but sincere, “I wasn’t directly assigned to follow you. I was actually tracking Lord Sitwell when I spotted Redwing.”

Natasha’s head snaps toward him, her narrowed eyes now alight with suspicion.

“What is Sitwell doing in a place like this?”

Sam’s expression darkens slightly, his tone growing more serious.

“From what I observed, it seems like he’s running. The lord looked panicked all morning before rushing here. I lost him a few minutes ago nearby.”

Natasha’s gaze sharpens as her mind races. “Running from what?”

“That’s what I’m trying to figure out. Since Redwing was nearby, I was hoping to have him take a look around for me,” Sam explains, gesturing toward the falcon, which flutters back over to him.

Steve nods grimly before giving her a serious look. “Something has Sitwell scared enough to come to a place like this. That alone is worth investigating.”

Natasha nods in agreement.

“We need to find out what,” she states, motioning to Steve and Sam to prepare to leave.

Before she can take another step, your voice cuts through the moment.

“Great, let’s go.”

Natasha freezes mid-step and turns to you, surprise flickering across her face at your self-invitation to the search. Her eyes note your stance and expression—arms crossed, brow raised slightly, and a look of determination that she knows all too well.

It’s that same look you wear when you’ve made up your mind, daring her to challenge you.

Natasha glances at Steve and Sam, silently seeking backup, but both men conveniently avert their gazes, one studying the sky while the other examines the dirt. Clearly, they aren’t getting involved in the apparent tension between the supposed exes.

From a few feet away, Yelena leans closer to Kate and whispers with barely concealed amusement, “This ought to be good.”

Natasha throws her sister a quick glare before turning her attention back to you with a soft sigh.

“Are you sure you don’t want to stay here with Yelena and Kate until we return?” she asks, her voice hopeful but already knowing the answer.

Your eyes narrow slightly as you step closer, your stance unyielding.

“I’m sure,” you respond plainly before poking her in warning. “Anything else you want to ask, Natasha?”

Natasha opens her mouth to respond, but the resolve in your expression makes her hesitate. You’re challenging her in a way only you can, your words striking at the core of her protective instincts. She exhales slowly, rubbing her temple as she tries to reason with herself.

After a moment, she sighs in defeat, her shoulders slumping slightly.

“Fine,” Natasha concedes, though her tone carries the weight of reluctant acceptance. “But you stay close to me the entire time.”

“Deal,” you reply with a small smile, knowing you’ve won this round.

Yelena’s barely concealed whisper emerges again. “Totally called it.”

Steve steps forward before Natasha can react to her sister’s teasing.

“I’ll stay back with Yelena and Kate, just in case Sitwell circles around in this area.”

Natasha nods in agreement.

When she turns back to you, you brush past her pointedly and head for the gate, taking the lead. She sighs silently before following you.

Sam nods a goodbye at Steve before shaking his head lightly at the sight near the gate, watching as Natasha trails and calls after you in an apparent attempt to appease you.

A small sigh escapes from him as he remarks sarcastically, “Well, this is not going to be awkward at all.”

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

a/n: Thank you for reading!

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