Black Widow X Female Reader - Blog Posts

Pretty Thing

pairings: Natasha Romanoff x Fem

context: After you refuse to give up any information, the black widow finds another way force it out of you

warnings: choking, fingering, forced orgasm, smut, corruption kink

At first you thought you had a chance against her, your plan was foolproof or so you thought. When you were told by your boss to take out the one and only Black Widow, you were terrified. But the plan your boss gave you installed confidence so you went. In the beginning you thought you could actually get her, breaking into her home unannounced.

But she heard you, she found you and she got you, I mean of course she did she was the Black Widow after all. She grabbed you before you could even register that she as behind you.

Now here you were sat on the chair, hands tied behind your back, legs tied to the chair and a cloth shoved in your mouth.

The read head walks around in a circle like a predator does its pray, her strong eyes watching every small move you make. She studies you trying to figure you out. Your big eyes stare back at her terrified, for all you knew she could kill you right now, she had a reason too after all you broke into her home trying to kill her.

Her eyes bore into yours as she bends down right infront of you “Now little thing did you really think you could get me?” she asks.

Not moving a muscle you stare back at her not daring to say a word, not that you could with the cloth in your mouth.

The widow smirks “I’ll make you talk” she says walking away from you. Her back faces you as you try to break free from the ropes tying you down. It goes to no use as she turns around blade in her hand “Now when I take this out of your mouth you better not scream or I’ll cut you” she threatens holding the knife to your throat.

Slowly she pulls the cloth out of your mouth throwing it beside her. You swallow your spit mouth dry as you cough slightly. Her eyes bore into yours as she pushes the knife harder into your neck, but not hard enough to draw blood “Now tell me suka, what were you trying to do?” she asks you her other hand coming to hold your jaw and make you look at her.

Staring into her green eyes you keep your mouth shut, staring at her blankly. You know if you have up any information they’d kill you on the spot.

“Oh no we can’t have you all quiet can we? Not at all now I’ll ask again, what were you trying to do?” Natasha asks her knife pushing deeper in your skin causing a few drops of blood drip down the knife.

Whimpering slightly you drop your eyes down to the floor still refusing to speak. Her mouth comes close to your ear her breath fanning the side of your face “Oh come on little thing speak for me, let me hear that pretty voice” she husks in your ear her hot breath on the side of your face.

Keeping your mouth shut, you can’t stop the heat the pools between your legs. Your thighs clench together at her voice and your eyes falter slightly.

She noticed and laughs “This turns you on pretty? Huh guess we could have fun” she smirks moving her lips to your neck kissing the side of it, moving the knife down onto the floor.

You stifle a moan as her free hand moves to your thigh rubbing up and down. Her hand moves higher and higher until it’s at the waistband of your pants “Pretty little thing arn’t you” she says moving away from your neck to look at your face.

Her face comes closer to yours her lips almost touching yours as she stares at you. Her hand moves into your pants, her fingers rub your folds above your panties “Your so wet you do like this don’t you?” she asks feeling the wet spot on your underwear.

She moves your underwear to the side slipping her fingers through your folds “F-fuck” you stutter your chests falling up and down as your breath heavily.

Her lips turn up into a smile “So you can speak dekta” she mumbles pushing her two fingers on your clit. Keeping pressure there she watched as your face starts to crumble “Come on speak for me and I’ll make you feel good pretty thing” she tells you pushing harder on your clit.

“What- what do you want me to say?” You ask her breathlessly.

Natasha brings her face closer to yours closing the gap between you two as she kisses your lips. She dominates the kiss pushing her tongue in your mouth exploring your mouth her fingers move down prodding at your hole.

Abruptly she pulls away from the kiss “Tell me what you want dekta” she commands her green eyes boring into your waiting for your response.

She didn’t think this was how things would have went between you both but she wasn’t complaining. In her eyes you were gorgeous and she truly did wonder why you tried to kill her knowing how strong she was. She liked your confidence and how hard you tried to stay strong but she needed to see you break, to crumble under her, for her to corrupt you.

“I-I want you to, make me feel good please Natasha— please” You beg her just wanting to feel good, the ache between your legs growing by the second.

The widow nods “Of course dekta I’ll make you feel good” she smirks shoving two of her fingers into you without warning.

Your jaw drops as you moan your body quivering slightly as her two long fingers stretch you out.

Her other hand comes to hold your neck, her fingers wrap around almost fully as she holds you in place.

Natasha’s fingers pump in and out of quickly as she squeezes your neck stopping the moans from leaving your lips.

“Come on pretty thing speak to me, tell me how I make you feel” She commands her fingers curling inside of you.

Taking in a deep strained breath with her fingers still around your throat “F-fells so good Tasha— so good” you tell her the best you could without whimpering.

Smirking she starts pumping her fingers deeper into you hitting that sweet spot that made you see stars.

Squeezing harder around your neck she stops your airflow. She watching as your wide eyes stare at her terrified, your hands trying to pull out of the restraints. Your mouth opens but nothing comes out for a second she stares at you before letting go.

Finally being able to breathe you suck in air, filling your lungs “W-why did— why did you?” you can’t even finish your question through your breathing.

“Because I like watching crumble under me dekta, just look so pretty like that” She whispers her fingers speeding up, her thumb comes to rub your clit quickly matching her thrusts.

Your walls squeeze around her fingers “Please, please let me cum” you beg her your breathing picking up once more.

Watching you for a moment she nods “Go on pretty thing fall apart on my fingers” she tells you pushing down on your clit.

You let go letting yourself fall apart as you cum on her fingers with a loud moan. Her eyes watch your face as your jaw drops eyes staring into hers.

Your juices cost her fingers as she slowly pulls them out of you before putting them into her mouth. She sucks your juices off of them moaning “Fuck dekta you taste so sweet” she tells you after pulling her fingers out of her mouth.

She slowly moved her face closer to yours once more her breath fanning your lips “Now tell me pretty thing, why were you here in the first place?” she asks you.

this story so damn good omg

Hotel California | Track 16 : Blurred Lines

Natasha Romanoff x fem!reader

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

W/c: 4k

Chapter 16/20

Masterlist | General Masterlist

Note: I hope y'all like it =)

Themes: love, fame, sex, drugs

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You smiled, sinking deeper into the water beside her.

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

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

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

She hummed softly, her fingers drifting along your back.

Your breath tickled her skin.

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

Natasha smiled.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Nobody's here," She murmured.

"What?"

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

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

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

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

You moaned softly, and you could feel her smile.

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

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

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

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

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

"Also, the guys are here."

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

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

"Look what Steve found!"

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

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

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

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

You wanted more.

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

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

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

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

You shot her a look, lips quirking.

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

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

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

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

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

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

You raised a brow, smirking.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Natasha grinned.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It wouldn’t stay a secret much longer.

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

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

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

“You sure?”

Natasha’s smile widened something almost giddy underneath.

“Absolutely.”

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

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

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

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

"Wherever the tour is," Steve offered.

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

Bucky was the first to stand up with a grin.

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

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

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

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

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

Natasha laughed and hugged her back.

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

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

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

"Where's the ring?" Wanda demanded.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You shook your head, still smiling.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Everyone laughed at that.

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

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

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

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

******

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

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

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

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

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

Her grin was instant. “Promise.”

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

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

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

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

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

She nodded eagerly, already rushing toward the checkout.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Thank you," she replied.

"Have a good day, you two."

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

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

Everything would be fine.

*******

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

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

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

Natasha: Miss you already.

Natasha: Counting down days till you’re back.

Natasha: I hope your meetings are going well.

You grinned and quickly typed out a reply.

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

You: And yes, I miss you too.

Natasha: <3

You were still smiling when another message popped up:

Natasha: BTW, what are you wearing?

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

"So, what are you wearing?"

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

"That's hot."

"Oh, yeah, very sexy."

"Are you alone?" She asked.

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

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

You scoffed.

"Don't be such a tease."

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

"You're insatiable, Romanoff."

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

You felt a warmth bloom in your chest.

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

"Any luck with the label?"

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

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

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

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

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

"It's been a few days already."

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

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

"I'll keep my fingers crossed."

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

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

"No? I thought you liked a party."

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

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

"What's Isabella up to tonight?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

*********

Tony’s parties never tended to be small.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Sure thing, Red," Bucky laughed.

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

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

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

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

"Go ahead," Natasha said, bracing herself.

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

"Don't forget the lime!"

"Drink it!"

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

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

"Nice try," Wanda laughed.

"Your turn," Natasha gestured toward her.

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

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

Steve grinned and shrugged.

"Why not," He walked toward her.

"Get it, Rogers!" Someone shouted.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Mia smiled.

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

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

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

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

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

It was for the best.

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

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

-----> next part

Hotel California | Track 16 : Blurred Lines

Natasha Romanoff x fem!reader

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

W/c: 4k

Chapter 16/20

Masterlist | General Masterlist

Note: I hope y'all like it =)

Themes: love, fame, sex, drugs

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You smiled, sinking deeper into the water beside her.

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

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

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

She hummed softly, her fingers drifting along your back.

Your breath tickled her skin.

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

Natasha smiled.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Nobody's here," She murmured.

"What?"

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

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

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

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

You moaned softly, and you could feel her smile.

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

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

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

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

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

"Also, the guys are here."

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

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

"Look what Steve found!"

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

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

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

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

You wanted more.

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

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

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

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

You shot her a look, lips quirking.

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

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

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

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

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

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

You raised a brow, smirking.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Natasha grinned.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It wouldn’t stay a secret much longer.

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

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

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

“You sure?”

Natasha’s smile widened something almost giddy underneath.

“Absolutely.”

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

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

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

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

"Wherever the tour is," Steve offered.

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

Bucky was the first to stand up with a grin.

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

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

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

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

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

Natasha laughed and hugged her back.

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

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

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

"Where's the ring?" Wanda demanded.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You shook your head, still smiling.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Everyone laughed at that.

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

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

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

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

******

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

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

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

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

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

Her grin was instant. “Promise.”

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

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

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

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

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

She nodded eagerly, already rushing toward the checkout.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Thank you," she replied.

"Have a good day, you two."

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

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

Everything would be fine.

*******

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

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

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

Natasha: Miss you already.

Natasha: Counting down days till you’re back.

Natasha: I hope your meetings are going well.

You grinned and quickly typed out a reply.

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

You: And yes, I miss you too.

Natasha: <3

You were still smiling when another message popped up:

Natasha: BTW, what are you wearing?

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

"So, what are you wearing?"

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

"That's hot."

"Oh, yeah, very sexy."

"Are you alone?" She asked.

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

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

You scoffed.

"Don't be such a tease."

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

"You're insatiable, Romanoff."

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

You felt a warmth bloom in your chest.

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

"Any luck with the label?"

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

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

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

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

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

"It's been a few days already."

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

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

"I'll keep my fingers crossed."

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

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

"No? I thought you liked a party."

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

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

"What's Isabella up to tonight?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

*********

Tony’s parties never tended to be small.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Sure thing, Red," Bucky laughed.

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

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

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

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

"Go ahead," Natasha said, bracing herself.

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

"Don't forget the lime!"

"Drink it!"

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

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

"Nice try," Wanda laughed.

"Your turn," Natasha gestured toward her.

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

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

Steve grinned and shrugged.

"Why not," He walked toward her.

"Get it, Rogers!" Someone shouted.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Mia smiled.

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

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

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

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

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

It was for the best.

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

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

-----> next part

Hotel California | Track 14 : Between the Stars

Natasha Romanoff x fem!reader

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

W/c: 5.7k

Chapter 14/18

Masterlist | General Masterlist

Note: This is a span of a couple days in their lives.

Themes: love, fame, sex, drugs

You're sitting in the hair and makeup chair with Cece, your stylist, and a lifelong friend, and you’re kind of nervous. You thought you could handle things like this. After all, you’ve been around Hollywood’s elite for most of your life. You’re a decent performer, a great publicist, and you’ve always been good at working a room. Public speaking? No problem. Memorizing a script or delivering a speech? Easy. You’d probably do well at the whole celebrity thing. So, why does this have you on edge?

This press run has been something out of a dream—an opportunity for which you’re genuinely grateful. But still, your nerves buzz under your skin. You’d had a taste of fame before, back when you won that Grammy for songwriting, but this? This feels different. Your frontal lobe’s fully developed now. You’re painfully aware of every word, every glance, every judgment. And this time, the spotlight isn’t on your work. It’s on you—and something as personal as your relationship.

You try to focus as Cece chats about some new trend on a social media app you’re not even on. Her hands move precisely, sectioning your hair while Cole, your makeup artist, preps your skin. The two of them work in sync, and you feel utterly pampered. Every brushstroke and spritz is meant to make you shine. But even under their care, the knot in your stomach doesn’t unravel.

You smile at Cece’s story, pretending to keep up, but your mind wanders. You remind yourself you’re here for a reason.

Promote the single. Promote Velvet Rebellion's new album.

******

The softly lit studio is quiet and intimate. The setup is personal— a solid background, two chairs angled toward each other, and a table between them. Natasha is already sitting, effortlessly poised. She leaned back in her chair, the picture of laid-back confidence. Her faded red Rolling Stones shirt peeked out from under a well-loved leather jacket, paired with black jeans that clung just right and boots that had seen some stories. Everything about her was effortless, cool, and completely her. You couldn't hide your approval of the outfit as you complimented her.

"You look so good, baby," you cooed. "I love the leather."

She smiled at the compliment and watched as you sat down.

"Thank you," she said. "And you," she continued, "You look like a fucking dream. As always."

You wore a fitted button-down with rolled sleeves and wide-leg pants. There was just enough cleavage to be tempting, but it was the way the shirt hugged your curves and the pants draped around your ass that had her eyes glued to you.

"You know, we need to go shopping together more often," you said, "If you're going to show up looking this good."

"Well, it's not like you don't look good in everything." She paused for a moment.

"You're such a charmer," You laughed. "Shall we get into this whole interview thing?"

Natasha smirked, "Let's. Do you want to go first, or shall I?"

"Oh, you should start." You said. "Since you're the famous one."

Natasha let out a laugh, "Alright, famous one it is. " She shuffled her cards around. "Can your partner cook? What's their favorite dish?"

"Hmm, it's a little debatable whether or not you can cook yet," you answered. "You have some potential, but I don't think you've mastered anything."

"I'm getting there."

"Well, you've gotten a lot better. Anyway, your favorite is mac and cheese. Kraft, to be specific."

"It's comfort food."

"Yes, yes. I know," You looked at the camera. "She's lectured me on it a few times since I don't consider it a meal."

"And she's wrong," Nat said.

"Let's move on," You grinned. "What's their favorite TV show?" You took a moment to think. "Hmm, I think Natasha loves The Nanny. That's a classic, and we watch it together some nights. Right now, she's binging Sons of Anarchy."

"And what's yours?"

"Ooh, I'm a little embarrassed to say it. Mine's Pretty Little Liars. I know, I know. It's a bit juvenile, but there's no shame in guilty pleasure shows."

Natasha smiled, "I've seen an episode or two. Not my thing, but I can appreciate a good plot line."

"I guess the next question is," Nat continued. "Who's more likely to be late?"

"Natasha is."

"And Y/n is." She countered.

"Okay, okay. Maybe we're both a little late sometimes," You said. "Ohh, this is a deep one. How's your partner's relationship with their siblings? I guess we can answer for each other."

"You talk to your brother at least once a week, and I know you miss him," She tilted her head. "Your sister, you're quite close to her, too. I haven't met either of them yet, as they're both on opposite ends of the world."

"Yes, Chandra is in New York being her hot fashion model self," you nodded, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. "Michael is somewhere in Europe right now with his wife and kids. They're travelers. Natasha's pretty close to her little sister, too. I think we both have pretty solid family units."

"Next question," Natasha said, glancing down at her cue card with a playful smirk. "Favorite quality about your partner. This one's easy for me. Y/n is incredibly supportive and nurturing. She's also a little badass. It's a sexy combination. I love that she can go from a power suit and killer heels to leggings and a messy bun in minutes and still be the same beautiful, confident, and powerful person. When we got together, I was attracted to her confidence and brains. She's still the same person she was when we first met—no Hollywood surprises with her."

"Wow, Tash," you said with a smile that softened your entire face. "You're too sweet. I don’t know how you do it, but somehow, you always make me melt." You paused, glancing at Natasha with a quiet reverence. "For me, Natasha is kind. And I don’t just mean she’s a nice person. There are perceptions you have when dating someone of status—whether they're a musician, athlete, or executive. Natasha is not only kind and considerate, but she’s humble. She’s real. What I love most about her is how she makes me feel safe. Not just physically safe but emotionally. I know I can tell her anything, and she won’t judge me or hurt me. She’ll always be honest with me. I think that’s why her music resonates so much. Especially our single, Obvious."

The perfect tie-in to the song—a natural choice and one that felt authentic coming from you. It left Natasha glowing, her smile stretching just a little wider.

"You're making me blush," She teased.

"I'm not even done yet," You smiled. "Natasha is smart. She is not just book-smart; she has a way of reading people that I find fascinating. And she's thoughtful. She thinks about the little things—like getting me a drink or bringing me my favorite candy after a long day at work. Or leave me a little note with my coffee in the morning."

Natasha looked bashful for a moment.

"You're one to talk," she said. "Y/n is... she's everything."

She reached over and grabbed your hand, squeezing gently.

"I can't believe I'm so lucky to call her mine."

You gave her a wistful smile. "This whole interview is going to be a love fest."

"I don't mind," Nat grinned. “I’m sure the fans won’t either.”

"Me neither." You shuffled your cards. "I don't remember whose turn it is. What are your significant other's vices?"

"Oh boy," Natasha said. "She has a lot."

"I do not!"

"Okay, you don't. But let's see if we're talking about the good ones. She'll eat any sweets. Any. I'm surprised her teeth aren't rotten by now. And she can drink anyone under the table, no matter how hard they try."

"I've seen her get through an entire bottle of vodka and still sing the entirety of 'Total Eclipse of the Heart' perfectly," you said.

"Y/n doesn't have many bad habits. But, if I had to pick one, I'd say she likes to sleep in."

"I'd argue with that, but that's not a vice," You said. "My biggest vice is staying up too late. And sleeping in," You admitted, earning a laugh from Natasha.

"It's a miracle we get any sleep together," Natasha quipped.

"Alright, alright," You chuckled. "Favorite feature about your partner?"

"Oh, this is the one that made me pick these cards," She grinned.

"Is that so?"

"It is," Nat confirmed. "I don't know if I can pick a favorite. But if I had to choose, I'd say her smile. It lights up the room."

You were smiling, but not as wide as when she'd answered the question.

"That's sweet," You sighed. "I thought you were going to say my ass."

"I can't not say it, babe," Natasha said. "Your ass is... wow. It's a work of art."

"Well, I'll take that," You laughed.

"What's mine?" She asked.

"Easy," You replied. "Your eyes."

"Yeah?"

"Definitely. They're so expressive. Like, I can tell how you're feeling without even hearing you. And they're so green."

"That's the second time today you've made me blush," Natasha said with a small, sheepish smile, brushing a thumb over the edge of her cue card.

"Oh, there's a lot more where that came from," you teased, grinning as you shifted slightly in your seat. "We're only halfway through this interview."

"I'm not complaining," Natasha replied, the corners of her lips quirking up. She glanced down at the next question. "Next question. What is something your partner does that drives you crazy?"

"You know, it's funny," you started, tilting your head as you thought about it. "Natasha is so quiet at home. She's like a little cat that sneaks up on you. In another life, she could be a spy or something."

Natasha's laugh was warm and unguarded. "You know I've had a few offers."

"No kidding."

"No, seriously," she said, leaning forward slightly, her tone suddenly playful but sincere. "A few of my friends in the business have suggested it. But that's not something I'd do."

"Why not?" you asked, curiosity lighting up your face.

"Because I wouldn’t want to keep secrets," Natasha explained, her voice softening. "From you. From my family. Friends. I'm a pretty open book."

"Yeah, that's understandable."

The rest of the interview went smoothly, with questions and answers flowing easily. It was fun, and it was comfortable. By the time you finished, you felt more confident and at ease.

When the cameras stopped rolling and the lights were turned off, you stood, smoothing your shirt before contacting Natasha.

"Good job, babe," You said.

"You, too."

She hugged you, wrapping her arms around you and pressing her lips against your temple.

"Thank you," she murmured.

You closed your eyes and breathed in her scent, letting it wash over you, calming the butterflies in your stomach.

"What do you think?"

"I think we did well," Natasha replied.

"So, I did okay? My public speaking skills haven't gone completely out the window?"

"I was worried about nothing," Natasha said, a gentle chuckle escaping her.

"Oh, shut up," You rolled your eyes.

"I mean it. You did great."

"Thanks, Tash."

She smiled and leaned in to kiss you. You responded immediately, your lips parting slightly, letting her taste their sweetness.

"Hey," she murmured. "Let's get out of here. I want to spend some alone time with my girl."

You couldn't help the smile that tugged at your lips, and you squeezed her hand.

"That sounds perfect."

"Not so fast, you two," Mitch stopped the both of you. "I still have a few TikTok posts that our social media manager wants to do."

"Seriously?"

"Sorry, it's not that bad," Mitch said. "You know the drill, Natasha. Let's get this over with. Then, you can go home and enjoy the rest of your night."

"Alright," Natasha agreed. "I'm going to have a drink after this," She said, pulling out her phone. "Let's do this."

Back in the dressing room is where the magic began.

You leaned against the wall, arms crossed loosely, as Natasha rolled her eyes with good-natured exasperation. Mitch handed her the phone, already queued up with the latest TikTok trend featuring one of the songs from Velvet Rebellion's album.

"This one’s easy," Ellisa, the social media manager for Velvet Rebellion, said, demonstrating a quick series of gestures. Natasha raised a skeptical brow at Mitch, watching the screen like she was analyzing a mission briefing.

"I feel like I’m too old for this," she muttered, passing the phone back to Elissa.

"You’re not old, Tash," you teased. "You’re seasoned. There’s a difference."

She shot you a mock glare, but the slight smirk on her lips gave her away. "Careful, or you’ll be joining me in this dance."

You laughed and held up your hands. "No way. I’m just here for moral support—and to thoroughly enjoy watching you do this."

Natasha sighed dramatically but started moving, mimicking the dance as best she could. Her moves were precise but slightly stiff, her usual grace overshadowed by the awkward rhythm of trying to keep up with a trend meant for teenagers.

"Is this even right?" she asked, glancing at Mitch.

"Close enough," Mitch replied, barely holding back a laugh.

You couldn’t help it; you started giggling; the sight of Natasha—usually so calm and composed—fumbling through exaggerated arm movements and head bobs was pure gold.

"Stop laughing!" she said, her voice laced with amusement as she paused mid-dance to point at you.

"I can’t help it! You’re just… too serious about it."

She cracked then, laughing along with you. "I’m serious because I don’t want this to haunt me on the internet forever."

"Trust me, no one’s going to be laughing at you," you said, still smiling. "Except maybe me. Forever."

Natasha finally finished the dance, breathing a relieved "Thank God" as Mitch nodded in approval.

"Perfect. That’s a wrap," Mitch said, pocketing the phone.

Natasha walked over to you, shaking her head. "You enjoyed that way too much."

"Every second of it," you admitted, still grinning. "But you looked adorable."

"Adorable wasn’t the vibe I was going for," she said, wrapping an arm around your waist.

"Well, too bad. It suits you."

*********

A simple coffee run wasn’t simple. Not when you were Natasha Romanoff. Even something as mundane as picking up her favorite drink from the shop down the street turned into an event. Cameras clicked. Voices called out. There was no privacy, no room for messy buns or sweatpants. Not when every step outside was under public scrutiny.

Natasha walked out of the little café with a drink carrier in one hand; her leather jacket pulled snugly against the chill. Her sunglasses shielded her eyes, but you could tell by the slight furrow in her brow that the swarm of paparazzi wasn’t something she could just shrug off today.

You stayed close, matching her pace, your hands tucked into your jacket pockets. Talking wasn’t an option. Not with the cameras so close, their lenses hovering like vultures. Still, the brush of her shoulder against yours was enough.

"Natasha! Over here!" One of them shouted, their voice cutting through the air. She didn’t turn.

Another chimed in, louder, more deliberate. "Natasha, how do you feel about Carol being out of rehab? Are you going to visit her?"

Natasha's jaw ticked, and you immediately knew it was a sore subject. You lead her over to her car, opening the door for her letting her duck inside while you tossed her things into the back seat.

You ignored them, keeping your focus on Natasha.

"They really can't help themselves, can they?" She muttered as you slid into the passenger seat, her gaze fixed on the window.

"No," You replied. "But you don't have to talk to them."

She let out a dry laugh, the sound hollow and bitter.

"Yeah, I know."

She took a long sip of her iced coffee to calm her nerves. Natasha shifted into drive, her jaw tightening slightly as she carefully maneuvered out of the café parking lot, avoiding one particularly bold photographer who refused to move out of the way.

You watched her grip the wheel a little tighter than necessary. "Tash," you said gently, glancing at the phone lighting up on the console. "Your phone’s ringing. It’s your mom."

She sighed, hitting the button to connect the call through the car’s speakers. Melina Vostokoff's familiar voice filled the car almost immediately.

"Too busy for your mother, I see," Melina teased.

"No, of course not, Ma," Natasha replied, shaking her head even though Melina couldn’t see her. "My schedule’s pretty clear for the next couple of days. We just have a couple more rehearsals later this week."

"Good, good," Melina said, and you could practically hear the wheels turning in her mind. "I’m calling because I wanted to ask about your new girlfriend. You didn’t tell me you were seeing someone!"

Natasha visibly stiffened, her eyes flicking to you for a split second before returning to the road. Meanwhile, you tried—and failed—to stifle a laugh, biting your lip as Melina’s voice continued, full of motherly curiosity.

"So, what does she do? Is she nice? Where did you meet her? Does she like borscht?" Melina fired off the questions with practiced ease, leaving no room for Natasha to respond.

You raised an eyebrow at Natasha, silently daring her to answer. Natasha sighed, rubbing the bridge of her nose.

"Ma, slow down," she said, exasperation laced with affection. "She’s—"

"Does she cook? Does she get along with you-know-who? Does she have any bad habits I should know about? Natasha, you know I need to approve!"

That did it. You couldn’t hold back the laugh bubbling up in your chest, which slipped out before you could stop it. Melina, of course, didn’t miss it.

"Who’s laughing? Natasha, are you with her right now?"

Natasha sighed again, with a resigned smile tugging at her lips. "Yeah, Ma," she admitted, glancing at you as you tried to compose yourself. "She’s right here. Sitting next to me."

Melina paused for half a beat before exclaiming, "Natasha! Why didn’t you say so sooner? Let me talk to her!"

Natasha groaned, leaning her head back against the seat for a moment. "Here we go," she muttered under her breath, shooting you an amused yet apologetic look.

You grinned, leaning closer to the speaker. "Hi, Melina. It’s nice to meet you... well, kind of."

"Ah, so this is the mysterious girlfriend," Melina said, her tone instantly warmer. "I have so many questions for you!"

"Okay, Ma, go easy on her," Natasha warned.

"Nonsense," Melina scoffed. "If I have questions, I want answers. Now, Y/n, tell me, where are you from?"

You took a deep breath and prepared yourself for the interrogation. "I was born and raised in Sherman Oaks, Los Angeles. Though I lived in Paris for a few years in middle school."

"Oh, wow, Paris," Melina said, sounding impressed. "How lovely. Did you live in the city, or were you more in the suburbs?"

"The city," you replied. "It was quite a change from L.A."

"And your family? Where did they go to school?"

"My parents both attended UCLA," You answered. "And my sister and I graduated from USC."

"Ah, a Bruin," Melina hummed, clearly pleased. "Very impressive."

"Thank you, ma'am."

"Please, call me Melina," she insisted. "Or Ma, like my daughter does. Do you have any children?"

"Yes, I do, one she recently turned 10," you replied.

"Ten years old?" Melina mused. "So, she's probably in school now, yes?"

"Yeah, she is."

"I've done some research on you," Melina said. "So I've known most of those answers."

"Really, Ma?"

"You'd be surprised by the things I can find out about people, Natasha," Melina replied, a hint of a smirk in her voice.

"I don't doubt that," You chuckled.

"Natasha has a tour stop where I'm living currently," Melina said excitedly. "Hopefully, you will be over soon. And you will bring the child, yes?"

"If my schedule allows," you promised.

"You’ll make it work," Melina said with certainty. "I’ll even cook. Natasha can tell you I make the best borscht."

Natasha groaned softly, but the smile tugging at her lips betrayed her. "Ma, don’t scare her off."

"Oh, please," Melina replied. "She doesn’t seem easily scared. I like her already."

You smiled, feeling a warmth in your chest as Melina’s approval seemed to settle between the three of you. Natasha glanced at you, her gaze softening momentarily before she refocused on the road.

"Well, it’s settled then," Melina added. "You’ll come, and we’ll have a proper family dinner."

"I’ll hold you to that," you replied with a grin.

******

Watching a movie in the middle of the day started harmless enough.

After a morning full of errands and lunch with your friends, you had returned home and decided to spend the rest of the day curled up on the couch. It was supposed to be a quiet, relaxing afternoon, but having Natasha so close did things to you. This time, you were the big spoon, lying behind her with your hand on her belly. The shared body heat made her warm, and it wasn't long before she'd pressed her ass into you. She could probably later say it was innocent. She was only trying to get settled. Your breasts pressed into her back was also an accident. She wasn't trying to rub her ass all over you. But the little sighs that were coming from her mouth were unmistakable.

"You okay?" You murmured in her ear, nipping at the lobe.

"Hmmmm," Natasha hummed, leaning back into you.

"What are you thinking about?" You asked, sliding your hand underneath her shirt, your fingers drawing patterns across the skin of her belly.

"Nothing, just nice having you here," She said. "We never spend time at my apartment."

"You're right," You agreed, pressing your lips against her temple. "It's nice."

Natasha tilted her head back, seeking your mouth. She sighed, the sound muffled as you kissed her, your hand traveling up her ribs. You were so tempted to slide your fingers higher, cup her breast in your hand, and feel the weight of her, but you knew that if you did, it would escalate quickly. And you didn't want to be caught up in the throes of passion, naked and writhing against each other on the couch with no warning.

"I like this," You whispered, your fingers tracing the underside of her breast.

"Me, too," She murmured. She seemed to not play into your games, only offering you a bit of leverage to lift her bra underneath her hoodie. Her eyes closed, and her breathing became heavier, her nipple hardening under your touch.

"You're so responsive," You mused, tweaking her nipple. "It's like you're just waiting for someone to touch you."

"Not someone," She replied, her voice low and thick with desire. "Just you."

Her hips moved again, a slow grind as she sought more friction. This felt like the perfect moment to get her hot and bothered. Both of you were fully clothed, and there was no pressure to have sex—just a bit of fun.

"You're such a tease," You chided, twisting her nipple. She bit back a moan, her eyes opening for a moment.

"So are you," She countered.

"What are you thinking about?" You asked again, sliding your fingers to her other breast.

"About what you're doing to me."

"And what am I doing to you?"

"You're getting me all worked up and then not going to do anything about it."

"Oh, I plan to do something about it," You nodded. Your hands trailed down from her belly, and you pressed your knee between her thighs to give you space. You could feel her wetness seeping through her leggings, and it was enough to make your core clench.

"Is that so?" She gasped, arching her back. You kissed whatever part of her body you could find as you rubbed her through her pants.

"Do you like when I do this?" You asked, pushing harder into her.

"Yessss," She hissed, her hips rising.

"Does this turn you on, Tash? Having me fingerfuck you while fully clothed?"

"Shit," She breathed out. "Yes."

"Yeah, me, too."

The material was thick, but you could still feel her body heat, her arousal seeping through. You found a steady rhythm, rocking against her as your fingers pressed against her clit.

"Fuck, that's good," She sighed.

"You're so wet," You marveled. "All from this."

"God, you have no idea," She whispered, her eyes fluttering shut as you kept going, her hips rolling with your movements. "It's so fucking hot." For the next few minutes, there was silence from both of you—the occasional moan from Natasha and groaning on the couch with your movements.

"I want to see how wet you are," You finally spoke, moving the elastic of her leggings. She didn't protest as you pushed them down, leaving her underwear in place. Her legs parted just enough for you to dip your fingers underneath the cotton and into her slick folds.

"Jesus, Tash," You breathed out.

"Don't stop," She begged. "Please."

"I've got you, baby," You promised, finding her clit. You stroked her, keeping her on edge, the wetness coating your fingers. She was practically dripping now.

"I want you to come," You whispered. "Come on my fingers, Tash."

Your words were her undoing. Her body shuddered, her mouth falling open as her orgasm rushed through her.

"Holy shit," She breathed, her voice hoarse and shaky.

"Was it good?" You asked, kissing her jaw.

"So fucking good," She nodded. "God, you're amazing."

"Glad I could help."

She smiled and turned her head to kiss you. "I think I need to repay the favor."

"I would love that," You said. Her kiss was slow and deep, her tongue sliding against yours as her hand snaked behind your head. "I can't believe I get to call you mine." You whispered against her lips.

"Me either," She grinned.

You were about to tell her how lucky you were when the sound of a door opening caused both of you to jump.

"Hey, guys," Wanda called out, strolling into the room with a teasing grin.

You scrambled to help Natasha tug her leggings up, your hands moving as quickly as possible. "Hi," you answered, trying your best to look innocent, even though the heat in your cheeks said otherwise.

"Sorry," Wanda said, holding up a couple of grocery bags as if to explain her presence. "I'm leaving again. Just stopped by to drop these off."

"Okay," Natasha replied, her voice a little too casual as she fought to keep her expression neutral. "Have a good time."

"I will," Wanda said with a smirk, her eyes narrowing slightly as she glanced between the two of you.

"We're not doing anything," you blurted, raising your hands to prove your innocence.

Wanda’s smirk widened. "Right. Well, don't have too much fun while I'm gone." She gave a knowing look over her shoulder as she left the room.

"Shut up, Wanda," Natasha called after her, rolling her eyes as the door closing signaled her exit. Natasha exhaled heavily, leaning back against the couch. "I really need to think about getting my place soon."

"Or," you countered, raising an eyebrow at her, "you could possibly think about spending more time at my house."

Natasha tilted her head, a small smile tugging at her lips. "Are you trying to tell me something, or is this just a clever way to avoid interruptions?"

"Maybe both," you teased, leaning in closer. "Think about it. We could have lots of privacy. Lots of time alone."

Natasha hummed thoughtfully, her lips hovering mere centimeters from yours. "I'm thinking about it."

"Yeah?" You grinned, your heart fluttering in your chest.

"Yeah." She nodded. "Though, how would Isabella feel? Or even Sam. With me being there so much."

"You're worried about how my ex-husband would feel with you moving into my house?" You raised a brow.

"Not necessarily," Natasha shrugged. "But I did mention Isabella coming on tour with us, and he wasn't open to the idea."

"You told him about that?"

"At her party," Natasha said, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

"Of course you did," you groaned, leaning back against the couch. "Nat, I love that you feel comfortable with him, but don’t tell him things before I’m ready."

"I thought you had, honestly," Natasha admitted, sitting up straighter.

"No, I hadn’t," you said firmly. "I wanted to talk to him about it first. Regarding Bella, we have a great agreement—50/50 custody, as you know. It works for us, but Sam can play hardball too."

"I know, baby," Natasha said softly, her hand reaching for yours. "I’m sorry."

"It’s fine," you exhaled deeply, the tension easing. "It’s just...a lot is changing. He hasn’t mentioned it to me yet, so at least he’s not against it, which is good. He’s chill. It’ll be a great conversation. And honestly, it’s football season—he’ll be working a lot. That’ll give me more time with her anyway."

Natasha squeezed your hand gently, her thumb brushing over your knuckles. "You’re right. And if it makes it easier for you, I’ll stay out of it. You take the lead with Sam."

"Thank you," you said, offering her a small smile. "I know you meant well. We’ll figure it out."

"We always do," Natasha replied, kissing your temple. "And hey, I promise to run things by you first from now on."

"Good," you teased, your smile widening. "Now, let’s talk about how you’ll make up for it."

Natasha grinned, leaning closer. "I’ve got a few ideas..."

********

The small bistro was quiet, the kind of place with soft jazz playing overhead and just enough tables to feel intimate. When you walked in, the faint clinking of silverware and the smell of fresh herbs greeted you. You scanned the room, noting how empty it was—a relief. This was the kind of conversation you didn’t want to be overheard.

Your eyes landed on Sam, seated near the window. He leaned back in his chair, an easy grin on his face as he chatted with a waitress. She laughed at something he said, her cheeks slightly pink as she poured more water into his glass. If you looked closely, she resembled you. Sam had a type.

You sighed and walked over, the heels of your shoes clicking softly against the tiled floor.

"Sam," you said, your voice cutting through their conversation.

He looked up, startled for a moment before his signature smile returned. "Hey! There she is."

The waitress stepped back, offering a polite nod. "Let me know if you need anything else," she said before disappearing behind the counter.

"Flirting already?" you teased, sliding into the seat across from him.

He shrugged, unbothered. "What can I say? She’s cute. Plus, it’s not like I’m the married one here anymore."

"You never could stop the wandering eye," you quipped, leaning back in your chair.

He raised an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at his lips. "I wasn’t the one with the side piece, though, was I—"

"No," You rolled your eyes. "you never had problems watching either.'

He held up his hands in surrender, clearly enjoying himself. "Fair point."

"I can't believe you're the one who picked this place," you mused, glancing around the small cafe. "A little too romantic, don't you think?"

"What?" Sam chuckled. "You know I like good food."

"Of course," you replied dryly. "I want to talk about bringing Isabella on tour with me for a few weeks."

His smirk faltered slightly, but he recovered quickly, leaning back in his chair. "Bringing her on tour? For a couple of weeks? Yeah, your girlfriend told me about it."

"Yes," you nodded, watching him closely. "I think it could be good for her. She’s curious about what I do, and it’d be a great opportunity for us to spend more time together. Plus, she’d get to experience something different."

Sam tilted his head, his brow furrowing. "It’s not that I’m against it, but are you sure it’s the best environment for her? I mean, all that traveling, the schedule, being around... well, Natasha."

You crossed your arms, not missing the way he hesitated. "Natasha is part of my life now, Sam. You know that."

"Yeah, I know," he sighed. "It's just when you fall in love with women, you fall pretty hard."

"And you don't think this is something different?"

"Honestly, I don't know," He said. "It's not my place to judge. My only worry is that Isabella won't be influenced by being with adults the entire time."

"That's why she'll be there, with me, her mother, for support," You argued. "I understand your hesitance, but I'm asking as a courtesy."

"A courtesy to me?" He frowned. "This isn't just about her coming along. This is about bringing people into her life with a reputation for being party animals. You can't blame me for questioning that. I'm not questioning your judgment. I'm judging theirs."

"If I had any sliver of doubt that she'd be exposed to anything we don't want her to, I will bring her home," You promised.

Sam sighed, toying with the gold ring on his finger. He seemed to consider your words momentarily, his gaze flitting over your shoulder. Then, his expression softened, and he leaned forward. "I can see how important this is to you," he said.

"It is," you confirmed, meeting his eye.

"You're a great mom," he went on. "The best, honestly. You're a great person. I trust your judgment."

"Thanks, Sam," you smiled, a weight lifting from your chest.

"But," he added, "if she's exposed to any of the bad shit, you'll bring her home. No questions asked."

"Deal," you agreed, holding out your hand.

Sam shook your hand, his grip firm and warm. "Alright then. We'll see what we can work out."

"You're the best," you grinned, relieved.

"I know," he said, his smirk returning.

You shook your head, biting back a laugh.

Hotel California | Track 13: Part Of Your World

Natasha Romanoff x fem!reader

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

W/c: 8.4k

Chapter 13/18

Masterlist | General Masterlist

Note: This was unnecessarily long.

Themes: love, fame, sex, drugs

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Sure," Natasha nodded.

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

"Tony," Steve sighed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Okay, maybe," Tony sighed.

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

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

"Wanda, please," Natasha shook her head.

"I'm just saying," Wanda shrugged.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"What do you mean?"

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

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

"Yet," Wanda grinned.

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

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

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

"Party pooper," Tony grumbled.

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

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

"Not like this," Natasha shot back.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"A pony," Wanda replied, shrugging.

"Maybe a dog," Steve suggested.

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

"Maybe a kitten," Tony suggested.

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

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

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

"Jewelry is good," Natasha nodded.

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

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

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

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

"See you later," Steve waved.

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

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

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

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

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

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

**********

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Purple,” Natasha answered without hesitation.

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

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

AJ frowned. “Okay, but—”

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

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

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

"But—"

"Inside," You insisted.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I've missed you," You whispered.

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

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

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

Natasha chuckled softly. “I’ll survive.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"You're still here!" He said.

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

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

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

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

"Oh really?" Natasha chuckled.

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

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

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

"Nooo!" AJ said.

"Yes," Isabella replied.

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

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

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

"Boy," Sarah scolded her son.

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

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

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

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

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

"Because you're mean," Isabella huffed.

"I am not!"

"Are too!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Nice meeting you," Natasha said.

"See you later, Sarah," You called.

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

"Were you nervous?" You asked her softly.

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

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

"Did she?"

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

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

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

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

********

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

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

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

Natasha stood in the doorway, leaning against the frame.

"Hey," she said, her voice low.

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

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

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

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

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

"Probably," She chuckled.

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

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

"Would that be so bad?"

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

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

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

"I want you to," You admitted.

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

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

"Hey," She grinned.

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

"I've missed this," She sighed.

"Yeah," You agreed.

"I've missed us," She added.

"Us?"

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

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

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

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

"Like what?"

"Here with me," You answered.

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

"Always, huh," You repeated.

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

"And when would that be?"

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

"You distract me just fine," You laughed.

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

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

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

"Or," You suggested.

"Or?"

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

"Sounds like a plan," She whispered.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I'd like kids," Natasha shrugged.

"With me?"

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

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

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

"Pickle ice cream."

"Pickle ice cream," Natasha repeated.

"And chocolate syrup," You added.

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

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

"Was she a picky eater?" Natasha asked.

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

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

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

"Really?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Oh yeah?" You chuckled.

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

"Yeah," You sighed.

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

"Really?"

"Really," She whispered.

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

"I'm a woman of my word."

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

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

"Maybe," You murmured.

"Maybe?" She frowned.

"Yes," You laughed.

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

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

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

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

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

"Well, not just that," You replied.

"Then what?"

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

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

"You sound pretty sure," You teased.

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

"And why's that?"

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

"So cheesy," You whispered.

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

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

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

"Scary movies, huh?" Natasha asked.

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

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

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

"You can stay with us," Natasha offered.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

*****

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"You know how to sew?" Natasha asked.

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

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

"Hey, Mommy," She grinned.

"Is that my niece?!" Kate called.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I'm glad I could make it," Natasha replied smoothly.

Sam's grin grew as he shifted his gaze between you. "So, how's it going with this one?" he asked Natasha, motioning toward you with a mischievous glint.

You rolled your eyes, already prepared for his antics. "Sam..."

"What?" Sam held up his hands in mock innocence. "Just curious. I like to keep tabs on who’s keeping you on your toes."

Natasha smirked, folding her arms. "I’d say we’re doing pretty well. She keeps me on my toes, too, though."

"Good," Sam said, nodding approvingly. "You need that. Trust me."

"Alright, cool it," you interjected, shaking your head but unable to hide your smile. "You’ve met her before, Sam. No need to grill her again."

"Hey, I'm just being a responsible ex-husband-slash-friend," Sam quipped, sipping his beer. "Besides, it’s nice to see you happy."

Natasha raised an eyebrow, watching the banter with interest. She could see it now—the ease with which you and Sam interacted, the unspoken understanding between you two. There was no tension, no bitterness. Just the comfort of people who’d once been something else but had figured out how to be something better for Isabella’s sake.

"How about you?" Natasha asked, surprising Sam. "You happy?"

Sam blinked, then let out a low chuckle. "I like her," he said, glancing at you. "Smart and straightforward. I can see why you’re with her."

"Don’t dodge the question," Natasha pressed, her smirk deepening.

"Fair enough," Sam said with a shrug. "Yeah, I’m happy. Life’s good. Got a great kid, a solid job, and I still get to hang out with my favorite ex-wife."

"Favorite?" you teased. "How many do you have?"

"Just the one, but you’re still the best," Sam shot back, making Natasha laugh softly.

"Well, I'm glad you two get along," You smiled. "I was a little worried."

"No need to worry," Sam said, his gaze shifting over your shoulder. "Here comes the birthday girl."

Natasha turned and watched as Isabella made her way over, followed closely by her cousins.

"Daddy, what color should I get my nails? AJ said pink is too girly." Isabella asked.

"AJ is a punk, and you know it," Sam said, a serious look on his face.

"Sam!" You scolded. "He's your nephew."

"Sorry," He said.

"You can get any color you want," Natasha offered.

"Any color?" Isabella looked at her.

"Any," Natasha repeated.

"Even black?"

"Black would be an interesting choice, but yes," You nodded.

"Can I get them with glitter?" She asked.

"Definitely," You laughed. "Go have fun. I'll get some snacks in a few."

"Thanks, Mama," She rushed off, her cousins behind her.

"They have a lot of energy," Natasha commented.

"You don't know the half of it," Sam sighed. "Those three could run a marathon. Now, Natasha, how much do you know about grilling?"

"Uh, a little," Natasha answered, slightly confused by the abrupt question.

"Great," Sam handed her his beer and started toward the grill. "I could use a little help over here."

"Okay, then," Natasha glanced at you with amusement.

You grinned and shrugged. "Good luck," you said, waving them off.

"The ex and the new girlfriend," Monica teased as she stepped up to you. "You, Sam, and another woman. Now, where have I seen that before?"

"In your grave, if you don't be quiet," You rolled your eyes at her.

"I'm not dead," Monica laughed.

"Not yet."

"Oh, come on, Y/N," Monica said. "Live a little."

"I've lived a lot already," You sighed. "This party planning drained me. Thanks for picking up the balloons."

"Anything for my goddaughter," Monica said. "Besides, it was on my way."

"It wasn't, but whatever," You smiled.

"Mama!" Isabella called. "Come pick a tent."

"Duty calls," You shook your head. You followed Isabella into a tent where she would be getting her pedicure. You sat to her left while Lenny sat to her right. "So, do you like this party better than the spa we planned?"

"It's way better," Isabella grinned.

"What about the boys?"

"They're being dumb," She rolled her eyes. "But, the dance battle should be fun."

"Indeed it will be," You said as you chose a color.

*********

Natasha stood by the grill, the warm sun overhead and the aroma of sizzling meat filling the air. Sam was expertly flipping burgers, his demeanor relaxed and friendly. A few of his old football teammates stood nearby, chatting and laughing loudly. Natasha could tell they were sizing her up, even if subtly. It didn’t bother her; she’d been in enough social situations to roll with it.

"Natasha, this is my buddy Jordan," Sam said, nodding toward a tall guy with broad shoulders and a grin too charming for his good. "We played together back in college."

"Hey," Natasha said, giving Jordan a polite nod.

"And that's Chris," Sam added, pointing to a stocky man with a buzz cut and a hearty laugh.

"Nice to meet you," Natasha said, shaking his hand.

"And over there is Keith," Sam finished, motioning to a lanky guy with a lazy smile.

"Big fan of your band," Keith said, extending a hand. "I saw you play in Austin a few years ago. You crushed it."

"Thanks," Natasha replied, a small smile tugging at her lips. "Austin was a fun gig."

"So, Sam tells us you’re a rockstar," Jordan said, leaning on the counter of the grill station. "What’s that like?"

"Chaotic, but in the best way," Natasha said. "I get to travel, make music, and meet people. Can’t complain."

"Well, you’re in good company," Sam interjected, handing her a pair of tongs. "Think you can handle flipping some burgers, Rockstar?"

Natasha raised an eyebrow, accepting the tongs. "I think I can manage."

"Here’s the trick," Sam said, pointing closer at the grill. "You press down lightly on the patties, just enough to sear them but not too much—you don’t want to lose the juices."

Natasha mimicked his movements, flipping a burger with precision. "Like this?"

"Perfect," Sam said with a nod. He leaned back against the grill station, watching her work. "So, you’re really into this whole music thing, huh?"

"Yeah," Natasha said, glancing at him with amusement. "Is this your way of scoping me out?"

Sam laughed, shaking his head. "Nah, not really. If Y/N trusts you, that’s enough for me. She’s got good instincts."

Natasha tilted her head, studying him for a moment. "You two seem close. That’s rare for exes."

Sam shrugged, flipping another burger. "We’re a team when it comes to Isabella. She deserves the best from both of us. Besides, Y/N is one of my favorite people. It’d be dumb not to keep her in my life."

"That’s fair," Natasha admitted, handing the tongs back to him. "For the record, she’s pretty incredible."

"Don’t I know it," Sam said, a playful smirk on his face. "But, hey, don’t let me intimidate you. I’m rooting for you, Rockstar."

"Good to know," Natasha said, her tone light but her eyes sharp. She liked that Sam didn’t play games.

"Alright, let’s see if you’re as good with hot dogs as you are with burgers," Sam said, sliding a tray of sausages toward her.

"Bring it on," Natasha replied, rolling up her sleeves.

"So, y/n tells me you're going on tour," Sam began.

"Yes, it's June through October," Natasha nodded. "We start here in LA, go through the us and UK, and then end in Madison Square Garden."

"That's a pretty long time," He replied.

"Yeah, it'll be nice," She nodded.

"When does the tour start?"

"Next week," Natasha said.

"So," He paused. "Y/n won't be able to visit."

"Well, it's hard when we're touring," Natasha nodded. "Oh, she's coming with me. I figured she and Isabella could come to certain cities in the summer. Maybe even ride in the tour bus."

Sam raised an eyebrow, his tongs hovering over the grill as he flipped a burger. "The tour bus, huh? With a bunch of rockstars?"

Natasha smirked, picking up on his subtle unease. "It's not as chaotic as it sounds. We're pretty organized. And the bus is comfortable—lots of space, no wild parties with a kid around."

"Still," Sam said, rubbing the back of his neck, "having Bella on the road... That could be tough. She's got her routine—school, activities, seeing her friends. It’s not just about her, you know? Y/n too. I don’t want her feeling stretched thin trying to juggle everything."

Natasha tilted her head, acknowledging his concern. "I get it. It's a big adjustment, but it’s not like they'll be on the road the whole time. Just a few cities here and there during the summer when school’s out. Y/n’s already thought through the logistics."

Sam exhaled, his jaw tightening as he pressed on a patty with his spatula. "I’m not saying no. I know Y/n will figure it out—she’s always been good at that. I just... worry, you know? Bella needs stability. And if something goes sideways, I’d hate for her to feel stuck in the middle."

Natasha watched him for a moment, appreciating the protective edge in his voice. "I understand where you’re coming from," she said carefully. "And I know you’re looking out for her, which is good. But I also know Y/n. She wouldn’t agree to this if she didn’t think it was what was best for Bella, too. It's not my place to tell you how to parent, but I think it would be a great opportunity for her."

"I hear you," Sam said, the tension in his shoulders easing a bit. "But, I mean, a rockstar, right? That's kind of a big deal."

"It is," Natasha nodded. "But she's met everyone in the band. They all adore her and Bella. I'd never let anything bad happen to either of them."

Sam paused, studying her for a moment. "I like you Romanoff. You can flip a good burger."

Natasha knew it was the end of the conversation for the time being. Sam flipped a burger with practiced ease, his jaw tight as he stayed quiet for a beat too long. Natasha could sense his unease simmering beneath the surface, even as he kept his town.

“Look, it’s not like I don’t think Y/n’s thought this through,” he said finally, eyes fixed on the grill. “But Bella’s... she’s still a kid. And being on the road, in and out of hotels, buses—it’s not exactly a routine.”

Natasha adjusted her stance, leaning casually against the counter to match his energy. “It’s not a nine-to-five,” she agreed, keeping her tone neutral. “But it’s not like she’d be on her own. Y/n planned everything to ensure Bella’s comfort—schooling, downtime, and even the other band members. Everyone’s on board.”

Sam nodded slightly but didn’t look at her. “Yeah, well, it’s easy for everyone to be on board when it’s not their kid. I’m just saying... this is a lot to ask of her.”

Natasha resisted the urge to bristle. Instead, she tried to meet him halfway. “I get it,” she said softly. “You’re protective. You should be. But Y/n isn’t making this decision lightly. She’d never put Bella in a situation where she didn’t feel safe or secure.”

Sam flipped another patty, his movements sharp. “It’s not about Y/n. I trust her. It’s... it’s the whole thing. Bella deserves stability.”

“And she’ll have it,” Natasha said firmly, holding his gaze when he finally glanced at her. “Even on the road, she’ll have her mom, a schedule, and a whole group of people who care about her. Stability doesn’t always look the same for every family.”

Sam exhaled through his nose, clearly turning her words over in his mind. “I guess.” He paused, staring down at the grill. “Just... Y/n should’ve brought this up with me first. I feel like I’m hearing about it after it’s already decided.”

Natasha nodded, her tone softening. “That’s fair. If this hasn’t been fully talked through, you deserve that conversation. I’m not trying to overstep here. I just wanted you to know I’m in this too—for both of them.”

Sam gave her a long look, his expression unreadable. “You care about them, huh?”

“More than anything,” Natasha said simply.

He nodded, his grip on the spatula loosening. Sam nodded, picking up the spatula again. “Alright, Romanoff. I’ll talk to Y/n to ensure we’re all on the same page. But don’t expect me to go easy on you just because you flip a decent burger.”

Natasha chuckled, picking up her spatula. "Wouldn't dream of it."

***

The dance-off had been a success. Isabella and her cousins were exhausted but beaming with pride as the last notes faded. The party continued with food, laughter, and joy. The kids were excited to play in the bouncy house, and the parents were having a blast. Steve, Wanda, and the rest of the band came to celebrate, and it was a joyous occasion. Everyone coming together to celebrate Bella was beautiful, and you were grateful for your family.

It was time for you to make a small speech before you sang happy birthday to her. It was a tradition you'd started when she was little, and it was just the three of you. 

You stood before all the guests and ignored the photographer buzzing around you. These pictures and videos would only be for family mostly.

"It's Isabella's tenth birthday," You began. "I know it may seem dramatic for us to give speeches, but this is a big one. Our baby is growing up. But I am so proud of her. She's kind, smart, talented, and so much fun. We have a special girl." You motioned for Isabella to stand next to you.

"Mommy and Daddy love you so much. You are so special," Sam continued.

"We love you, princess," You grinned. "Happy birthday."

"Happy birthday, sweetheart," Sam echoed.

Everyone clapped as the birthday song was sung.

"You ready for your cake?" Sam asked.

"Yes," Isabella beamed.

"Okay," You laughed. You leaned over, taking a moment to swipe a piece of icing to tap on her nose. "I love you, baby girl." You kissed her cheek as Sam kissed the other side.

"Love you, Bella," Sam added.

"Love you, Daddy," Isabella giggled. "Love you, Mama."

"Okay, let's get this show on the road," You clapped.

The rest of the party went off without a hitch. Isabella opened her presents and was thrilled. She loved everything she'd received, which was so special to watch. Her cousins and friends stayed over to enjoy the bouncy house, and all the parents were having a blast. You had your arm around Natasha's waist as you watched Isabella continue to bounce. It was a great way to end the night. 

--->

Hotel California | Track 2 - Electric Desires

Natasha Romanoff x Fem!Reader

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

W/c: 7.2k

Chapter 2/12

Masterlist | General Masterlist

Note: Each chapter is hella long because I had time to sit and wait to release this one. Weekly updates might be the wave.

R and Nat will be moving quickly so if you like slow burn this isn't the story lol.

Themes: love, fame, sex, drugs

Natasha sat cross-legged on the worn-out couch in their cluttered studio: which was just Tony’s garage. The room buzzed with creative energy and the faint scent of old leather, a familiar combination that fueled the essence of Velvet Rebellion. She strummed her guitar absentmindedly, her fingers dancing over the fretboard, creating a gentle hum in the room. She was in her element in full force. 

Steve, Bucky, Wanda, and Tony were huddled around a battered coffee table, scraps of lyrics, and scribbled notes strewn about like confetti after a wild party. They were her bandmates, her comrades in music, and tonight they were deep into a songwriting session. Natasha enjoyed days like this the most. She often found the songwriting process frustrating but fulfilling, which is why they’re on hour four of this session with only the first verse written. It seems she’s not the only one with writer’s block. 

"Natasha, we need something here," Steve’s voice cut through the room's creative haze. He furrowed his brow, fingers dancing over the keys of a vintage synthesizer. "A melody to tie this verse together."

Natasha tore her gaze away from her guitar and glanced over at Wanda. Her fingers stopped mid-strum. She blinked; her thoughts momentarily disrupted.

"Nat, you with us?" Tony chimed in, his eyes darting between Natasha and his laptop.

A flush of embarrassment washed over Natasha. She'd been lost in thought, her mind wandering where it shouldn't have. She’d been thinking about you again. She couldn’t get you out of her head. There was a hint of exhaustion on her features as she sat her guitar next to her. She’d spent the previous night going down a rabbit hole of YouTube videos involving you. It seemed you’d understated how good of a musician you were. Natasha discovered you had a small fanbase with plenty of videos dedicated to your brief yet impactful career. Even if your resume included a lot of backup singing, she could see why there was a push for you to strive for something more. You were talented in every sense of the word. 

With a sheepish smile, she nodded. "Sorry, guys. Got a bit distracted there."

She fumbled to put her phone face down on the coffee table, hoping her bandmates hadn't noticed her constant glances at the silent screen. Natasha had been replaying every moment of your brief encounter at the party in her mind, questioning if she'd made a connection or if it was just another fleeting moment.

Steve’s fingers continued their dance on the synthesizer as he tried out different melodies, his voice soft, almost hypnotic. "No worries, Nat. Happens to the best of us."

But Natasha couldn't help but feel a pang of frustration with herself. She was the lead singer and lyricist and usually held everything together. Yet today, her mind was scattered, torn between music and an unexpected, lingering hope that her phone would light up with a message from someone she'd barely known.

Natasha's fingers deftly reached for her well-worn writing book, nestled among scattered lyrics and half-finished songs. Her eyes scanned the pages, searching for something that had evaded her for far too long. Her bandmates carried on their musical discussion, oblivious to her momentary distraction.

Finally, she found it—a scribbled idea that had haunted her thoughts for weeks but had remained unreachable, refusing to take a tangible form. Natasha's heart raced as she read the words, her handwriting staring back at her, challenging her to bring them to life.

"Guys, hold on a sec," she called out, her voice trembling with excitement. Her bandmates stopped their conversation, turning their attention to her. Natasha's fingers tapped the page she'd found. "I think I've got something."

Wanda leaned in closer, her eyes gleaming with curiosity. "What is it?"

Natasha cleared her throat and began to read the lyrics she'd unearthed, her voice carrying a hint of the sweet melody she envisioned:

"Underneath the city lights, I saw your face,

In the crowded room, you were my saving grace.

A glance, a smile, it all fell into place,

In that moment, I knew, love's tender embrace."

As Natasha recited the lyrics, Wanda's eyes widened, and she nodded appreciatively. "That's beautiful, Natasha."

Natasha couldn't help but blush at the compliment. She felt the lyrics were deeply personal, a reflection of the emotions she'd been grappling with. "Thanks, Wanda. But I think it's missing something."

Wanda leaned in closer, her fingers lightly grazing Natasha's arm as they huddled together over the writing book. "What do you have in mind?"

A spark of inspiration flickered in Natasha's eyes. "How about this? Instead of just a glance and a smile, it's about meeting someone and falling in love at first sight. The moment your heart skips a beat."

Wanda's lips curved into a knowing smile. "I like that. It adds depth to the story."

With renewed enthusiasm, Natasha began to sing the modified lyrics, her voice filled with emotion:

"In the heart of the city, I met your eyes,

In that instant, I felt my soul take flight.

Love at first sight, a sweet surprise,

Two worlds colliding, under starry skies."

The words flowed effortlessly, weaving a sweet melody that resonated with everyone in the room. Sitting behind his drum kit, Tony started tapping a rhythm, adding a pulsating beat to the song. Steve found his way back to the keyboard, his fingers searching for the chords that matched the melody.

The studio came alive with the energy of collaboration as they played off each other, improvising and experimenting. Wanda's voice dipped into low notes, adding a haunting harmony, while Tony began to find a mix to add to the music. 

It wasn't the final product but the magic of creation—their music taking shape from a mere spark of inspiration. Natasha couldn't help but smile as they continued to refine the song. 

Bucky sat down his guitar, a sly grin playing on his lips as the melody they'd created together hung in the air. He couldn't help but feel a shift in Natasha's usual songwriting style, one that intrigued him. "Nat, you're getting into writing love songs now?"

Natasha shot him a playful yet challenging look, her fingers still scribbling along the notebook pages. "Oh, please, Bucky. We had love songs on our first album."

Bucky chuckled, shaking his head. "Not like this. These lyrics, they're something else."

Natasha sighed, closing the tiny notebook again. She knew he was right, and she couldn't deny the shift in her lyrics and her emotions. "Alright, fine. Maybe I am writing a love song."

Bucky leaned forward, his gaze intense. "So, are you in love, Natasha?"

She met his gaze head-on. "No, Bucky. I'm not."

Bucky nodded in understanding, sensing the unspoken annoyance in her words. Natasha had always been guarded about matters of the heart, and they respected her boundaries. They returned to their instruments, each lost in their thoughts, letting the music speak the words that couldn't be said.

********************

The leotard store was an arrangement of colors, and Isabella, your spirited nine-year-old daughter, was bouncing between the racks, playing her own game of hide-and-seek with the endless collection of spandex. Her enthusiasm for picking out leotards rivaled her passion for gymnastics.

"Mama, check this one out! It's super sparkly!" Isabella shouted, triumphantly holding up a leotard adorned with sequins like a little treasure hunter.

You and Monica shared a knowing smile as you surveyed the options. "Great choice, Bella," you replied, trying to match her enthusiasm. "Let's add it to the pile."

Isabella nodded, seemingly satisfied, and skipped off in pursuit of her next leotard conquest.

As Monica and you continued your search, your mind drifted back to a conversation you’d had at Harley's party just a couple of weeks ago. There was a woman there, a stranger to you, who had engaged you in a conversation that had held your attention for longer than you’d expected.

"Hey, y/n" Monica began, her tone a mix of curiosity and amusement. She sifted through the clothes, trying to understand what she was looking for. Isabella had a very specific taste.  "Are you going to finally tell me about the woman from the party? You two seemed to be hitting it off."

You glanced at Monica, feeling somewhat caught off guard. "Oh, that? It was just a casual conversation. I doubt it's anything worth dwelling on."

Monica raised an eyebrow, clearly not satisfied with your dismissal. "Just a casual conversation? You looked pretty into her. What's her name?"

You sighed, knowing Monica wouldn't let it go quickly. "Her name is Natasha Romanoff. She’s the lead singer of that band. Velvet Rebellion. We talked for a while. But honestly, I haven't reached out to her or anything." You shrugged. 

Monica persisted, undeterred. "She’s cute. I’ve heard a couple of their songs in passing. Why haven’t you called her?"

You shifted uncomfortably, your fingers unconsciously fussing with a leotard on the rack. "Life's been hectic lately. I've barely had a moment to breathe, let alone call someone."

Isabella, who had overheard your conversation while meticulously assessing leotards with the discerning eye of a seasoned fashion critic, joined in. "Mom, you should call her."

You couldn't help but smile at Isabella's straightforward logic. "You focus on the leotards. You only need a few for now. You’re growing like a weed."

Monica and Isabella exchanged amused glances, both united in their disbelief. "The kid is right," Monica declared, her eyes dancing with mischief.

Isabella nodded in agreement, adding her hint of authority. "I’m just saying." She held up a pink leotard and you shook your head. The cut wasn’t appropriate in your opinion. She returned the leotard to the rack with a sigh and went to a new one. 

Monica's curiosity was relentless, and she wasn't about to let the topic of the woman from Harley's party go. As you continued looking through the racks with Isabella's energy bounding around you, she probed further.

"Come on, y/n, what's the big deal about calling her?" Monica inquired, a mischievous glint in her eye.

You sighed, trying to choose your words carefully. "Mon, you know their band's reputation. The tabloids haven’t been so easy on them. Especially with them being new. Trust me I’ve checked.” You shook your head. “And besides, Natasha used to date Carol Danvers. We’re not friends, but we’re not exactly enemies either. I’m not in the business of going behind her back. It was a bad breakup if it’s anything like the tabloids say and I don't want to risk the same fate."

Monica raised an eyebrow, her expression one of bemused disbelief. “You're not even dating this Natasha person yet. It could be a fun fling or something. You don't have to jump into a full-blown relationship. Also, you hate Carol Danvers."

“I don’t hate her,” You refuted her claims. “I simply enjoy spending my time in spaces that don’t have her in them.” You couldn't deny Monica's point, but the cautious side of you still hesitated. "Also, I know it doesn’t have to be more than what it is. But I've been down that road before, and it wasn't pretty. Besides, I don't want to have this conversation in front of Isabella."

You leaned down to pass a few leotards to Isabella and whispered to her, "Sweetie, can you go find some shoes that match these leotards? That would be a big help."

Isabella nodded enthusiastically, her focus shifting from the leotards to her newfound mission. As she scampered off in search of the perfect shoes, you turned your attention back to Monica.

Monica gave you an understanding look, her voice lowered. "Alright, I get it, y/n,  But don't let the past hold you back from something potentially great. You deserve happiness, too. Even if that means you fuck a few times and that’s it."

“Monica,” Your eyes widened, clearly scandalized by her bluntness. 

“Am I lying?” Monica held up a hand. “When’s the last time you had some? You don’t know do you?”

“I do know. It hasn’t been that long.” You considered her words. You thought back to the very brief casual sex thing you had with a woman around last year. Or was it two years ago? “You’re right I don’t know.” 

“See,” Monica leaned against a rack. “Ask her out to the party tonight. It’s a group thing. I get to vet her. You get to see her. We all win.”

“Fine, fine,” You shake your head. 

“Call her now,” Monica nodded. 

“Um, she’s probably busy.” You furrowed your brow. Another excuse from you. 

“She’ll answer,” Monica said assuredly. “Do it or I’ll dm her myself.”

“Don’t you dare,” You held up a warning finger to Monica. Sometimes your best friend’s forwardness wasn’t welcome. Even if she meant well. She raised a brow at you before pointedly looking toward your purse. “Fine.” You grumbled as you took out your phone. 

You walked to a quieter corner of the store, away from the bustle and the excited chatter of Isabella and Monica, who were now hunting for beam shoes. You scrolled through your contacts until you found Natasha's name. With a deep breath, you pressed the call button.

On the first ring, Natasha's voice came through, calm and confident. "Hello?"

You couldn't help but smile, though your attempt to sound equally composed might have come off as forced. "Hey, Natasha. How's everything going?"

“Oh, it’s you,” Natasha's tone change was evident. "Everything's good. I've been wondering when you'd call."

You felt a rush of relief hearing that she'd been waiting for your call. "I'm sorry it took me a while. Life's been crazy lately, and, well, you know how it is."

Natasha's tone shifted slightly, her voice carrying a hint of playfulness. "I do know. But you don't need to be nervous. It's just a call."

You chuckled softly, feeling a bit more at ease. "You're right. I've just been out of practice with this whole...courting thing."

“Courting? Is that what we’re doing?” Natasha's voice lowered, the flirtatious edge unmistakable. "Well, maybe we can help you get back into practice."

You couldn't help but blush, even though she couldn't see it over the phone. "That sounds like a plan."

Just then, you heard Isabella's excited voice in the background, likely showing off a pair of beam shoes she'd found. Natasha must have heard it too.

"Sounds like you've got company," Natasha noted. 

Just as you were about to respond to Natasha, Isabella's excited voice carried through the phone in the background. "Mama, look at these beam shoes! They're so cool!"

You grinned and chuckled softly. "That's my daughter, Isabella."

Natasha's voice held a hint of warmth. "She sounds like a lively girl."

“She is,” You nodded. You give Isabella a thumbs-up and a smile. "Listen, Natasha," you began, "there's something I wanted to mention. There's a party tonight at this great club called Heatwave. Have you heard of it?”

“Yes, I’ve been there once or twice,” Natasha replied.

“Well, I don't usually go out much, but I'll be there. It would be great if you could join."

There was a brief pause on the other end, and then Natasha's voice returned, filled with a sense of anticipation. "Heatwave, huh? I'll stop by."

Your heart skipped a beat at her response. It seemed that, despite your initial hesitation, the possibility of something exciting and new was on the horizon, and you couldn't help but look forward to seeing Natasha at the party tonight.

“What time should I be there?” Natasha questioned. 

“I like to put Bella to bed before going out,” You informed her. “My mother will be watching her, so I’d say around nine. Does that work for you?”

“That works for me,” Natasha agreed. 

“Okay then, Natasha,” You smiled, wondering if she could hear it in your voice. “I’ll see you then.”

“Great, see you then.” Natasha mirrored your excitement. You hung up the phone and tucked it into your back pocket. You walked back over to Monica, trying to hide your excitement, but she noticed immediately. 

She gave you a silent questioning look and you give her a thumbs up in return. This should be fun. 

***********************

Back inside the recording studio, the band was wrapping up what turned out to be a successful recording session. They’d written one song so far and revised a few Natasha had in her back pocket for times like this. Which was the most progress they’d gotten in a year. Either way, it was a session that left them fulfilled. Natasha stood in front of the microphone, her voice still echoing in the room. She exchanged satisfied smiles with her bandmates before returning her wired headphones to their stand. 

As they wrapped up their belongings Steve spoke up, "Alright, Natasha, we nailed it today. What's the plan for tonight?"

Natasha leaned back against the soundboard, a wry smile playing on her lips. "Oh, you know me, Steve. I'm a creature of habit."

Steve chuckled, "Yeah, we all are, aren't we? It's one big codependent family."

Natasha nodded, her red hair cascading around her shoulders. "True, but you guys like it that way."

Steve smirked, "And you do too."

Natasha sighed playfully, "Alright, you caught me. I have a thing."

The moment she mentioned 'a thing,' the rest of the group became intrigued. Tony, Bucky, and Wanda started bombarding her with questions, eager to know more. They were known for their tight-knit bond, often spending their evenings together.

Tony asked, grinning, "What kind of thing? Spill the beans, Red!"

Natasha tried to deny it, but under the pressure of their excited curiosity, she finally admitted, "Okay, okay! I'm going to Heatwave, a club downtown. I'm meeting up with a new friend."

Immediately, it was settled - if Natasha was going out, they were all going out. Tony's eyes gleamed with mischief, "Sounds like a party! Can we come too?"

Natasha hesitated for a moment, thinking about the guys' tendency to get a little rowdy. Then she relented, "Alright, fine. We can all go."

Steve high-fived Tony, and Bucky and Wanda exchanged excited glances. "This is gonna be awesome!" Steve exclaimed. Though he wasn’t much of a partier he loved exploring new places. 

Natasha couldn't help but grin at their enthusiasm, "Yeah, let's hope it's good, then."

With the decision made, the band members packed up their instruments, ready for another night on the town. 

*****************

As you stood before the bathroom mirror in your finest party outfit, face and hair all done up, the room around you painted a stark contrast. The soft notes of Beyonce’s “Yes” played in the background as you prepared for your night out. The bathroom was a chaotic scene, messy and disheveled, with makeup and hair curlers scattered haphazardly. Clothes lay strewn on the floor and over the edge of the bathtub. The countertop was cluttered with various cosmetic products, their caps discarded carelessly.

A hairbrush, half-buried under a pile of clothes, seemed to have given up on its role in maintaining order. The floor bore the evidence of spilled powders and makeup brushes discarded in haste.

Isabella, standing in the doorway, disapproved of this sight. Her usually tidy nature couldn't help but frown at the disarray. With her wide, disapproving eyes, she silently conveyed her thoughts to you. “Why must it be so messy in here?”

“Must? I knew I was creating a bougie child,” You laughed to yourself, applying the final remnants of your makeup.

“I’m not bougie. I just go to a good school,” Isabella quipped. She stood with her arms folded her expression showing her unhappiness with the looks of your room. 

"I know I pay the high tuition bill remember?" You mutter. Sierra Canyon was a school worth every bit of the $35,000 tuition. Even if it did hurt you to sign that check every year. “Well, I’ll pay you twenty dollars to clean it up,” You offer.

“Forty and we have a deal,” She counters. 

“Forty?” You asked incredulously. 

“Inflation, Mama,” Isabella explains as if it’s obvious. “My favorite toys aren’t cheap anymore.”

“I see,” You mumble. “You drive a hard bargain, but you have a deal.” You turn back to the mirror. 

You did a spin to get Isabella’s final say. You wore a black backless draped split dress that reached mid-thigh, perfectly complemented by your sleek, hair slicked into a bun with two small bangs framing your face. The finishing touches of makeup were precise, accentuating your features with a subtle, smoky eye and a deep red lip. 

“You look really good,” Isabella nodded. 

“Not too trampy?” You asked and she shook her head. 

“Not,” Isabella said. 

“You know that was kind of a test and you failed?” You sighed. “Your dad lets you watch reality TV at his place again?”

“Maybe,” Isabella pretended to zip her lips and throw away the key. She was not one to tell. 

You couldn't help but smile. You bent down to Isabella's level and planted a series of gentle kisses all over her cheeks, as she mostly wiped them off with a giggle. 

“Oh, Isabella Marie, my little artist," You chuckled, feigning scandalization. "You've ruined my masterpiece!"

Isabella just laughed, her eyes sparkling with admiration for you. She reached up to touch the necklace you were wearing, a subtle gesture of appreciation.

You took Isabella's hand and said, "Come on, it's time for bed."

“I really should try to convince you to let me stay up later,” Isabella commented as she allowed you to drag her out to the living room. 

You made your way to her bedroom, where you tucked her in with great care.

“Did you brush your teeth?” You asked as you rearranged her pillows. 

“Yep,” Isabella nodded. “And I washed my face.”

“Good girl,” You praised her. 

As you smoothed the covers over Isabella and adjusted her stuffed animals, Isabella reminded you with a bright smile, "Mama, remember, I have Lenny’s skating birthday party tomorrow. You said we'd go together."

You leaned in and kissed Isabella's forehead, making sure to wipe her face free of your makeup, as your heart warmed by your daughter's excitement. "Of course. We’ll be there. Now sleep, I love you.”

“Read me a story?” She begged in anticipation of your answer. 

“One story,” You warned her before walking over to her bookshelf. You grabbed Hair Love by Matthew Cherry, one of her favorites these days. You sat beside her, offering her your best voice as you began to read to her. Isabella leaned into your body. When you were done, her eyes drooped with drowsiness as she whispered a contented, "Goodnight, Mama.”

“Goodnight, my precious girl. Sweet dreams." You turned off the bedside lamp, leaving the room in a warm, cozy darkness. With one final kiss, you left Isabella to her dreams. 

With your preparations complete, you rushed out of Isabella’s bedroom and headed for the kitchen. Time was of the essence. In your hurry, you grabbed your purse and a bottle of water from the fridge. With a sigh of relief, you twisted open the cap and took a long, refreshing sip.

As you did, your mother entered the kitchen, her gaze appraising your outfit with a discerning eye.

"You're going out looking like that?" Her mother's tone was a mix of concern and disapproval.

“What don’t you like my outfit?” You turned to face her with a determined look. Your mother sighed but said nothing. "Yes, Mom. I've already put Isabella to bed, and I'll be back by two at the latest."

Your mother's expression softened, but she couldn't hide her worry. "Y/n, you know I worry when you go out so late."

You smiled reassuringly. "I know, Mom, but I never go out anymore. It’s all mom's life and work. I just want to have some fun with friends tonight. I promise to be careful."

“That only makes me feel slightly better,” She shook her head. 

"I'll leave my phone on in case of an emergency, okay?" You promised her. 

Your mother nodded; her eyes filled with maternal concern. "Alright, but you better answer if I call."

You laughed softly and hugged your mother. "I promise. You can count on me."

With a final smile and a quick kiss on her cheek, you left the kitchen, hoping to catch your Uber before it was too late. 

************

As Natasha and the rest of Velvet Rebellion arrived at Heatwave, the vibrant thump of bass and the lively chatter of the crowd spilled into the street. The atmosphere was electric, and it was clear that the club lived up to its reputation. There was a line wrapped around the entrance, everyone attempting to get to the same point. 

Natasha was sure they would be able to get in unscathed. However, as they approached the entrance, it became evident that someone had tipped off the paparazzi about their plans. As soon as they exited the car, flashbulbs began to pop, and reporters shouted questions. Natasha and Wanda, not yet accustomed to such situations, swiftly made their way inside, their confidence unshaken.

The boys followed closely behind, with security personnel discreetly positioned around them. However, the security was mostly unnecessary. Velvet Rebellion wasn't a superstar band, and they had no intention of acting like one. They were here to enjoy the music and the vibes, just like any other patrons.

Once inside, the pulsating rhythm of the club enveloped them. Heatwave was a mix of hip-hop, reggae, rock, and everything in between. The diverse crowd danced and mingled, creating an intoxicating blend of cultures and energies. The dimly lit club was a sanctuary for adults, a place where the music was loud, and the energy was contagious.

Natasha and her bandmates moved deeper into the club, losing themselves in the music and the seamless fusion of genres. The vibes were indeed immaculate, and they were ready to savor every moment of the night, leaving their fame behind for a while and simply being themselves - music lovers enjoying a night out.

Wanda, swept up in the excitement of the club's atmosphere, leaned in closer to Natasha and shouted over the thumping bass, "Hey, Nat I'll find us a booth! Tony's going to grab drinks for everyone!"

Natasha nodded and gave her a thumbs-up before deciding to excuse herself to the bathroom. The path to the restroom was a maze of dancing bodies and neon lights. A few girls recognized her and attempted to approach her for autographs or selfies, but Natasha simply smiled and waved, preferring to do things in peace. She could feel the presence of her security guard, Mike, behind her as she stepped into the bathroom. He waited outside of course. 

After freshening up in the bathroom, Natasha emerged and found herself back in the crowded club. As she navigated the sea of people, she accidentally bumped into someone. Before she could react, her security personnel stepped forward, ready to intervene. However, Natasha recognized the person she had bumped into and quickly raised a hand to stop her security detail.

“Mike, it’s okay,” Natasha nodded to him. 

It was you.  A hint of amusement danced in your eyes as you noted the security presence. You couldn't help but think of the time when you, too, needed security. Back when your father was at the height of his career. Now not so much. 

Despite the loud music, you managed to engage in a conversation, leaning close to hear each other over the thumping bass.

Natasha, with a playful smile, observed you, her eyes raking over your bad in a way that sent chills up your spine. "You look stunning tonight. That dress suits you."

"Why, thank you, Natasha. You look great too.” You lightly touched her arm. “I’m glad you could make it.”

“Me too.” Natasha shouted over the music. "Life's been busy."

You nodded in understanding, "Tell me about it. It's been a whirlwind."

Natasha's eyes sparkled with curiosity. "What's new with you? How have you been?"

You leaned in closer, your lips almost brushing against Natasha's ear as you shouted above the music. "Lots of work, but tonight, I'm here to let loose. What about you? Any new songs in the works?"

Natasha nodded with a grin. "Always working on something.”

“That’s good then,” You smile back. You blink at her through your thick lashes before your eyes scan the room. “I see you brought your friends.”

“I have,” Natasha stepped a bit closer, though it was subtle, and you didn’t notice. You liked feeling the warmth radiating from her. “They wouldn’t let me come alone.”

“Gotta love them,” You joked. “Care to dance?” You ask. 

“Lead the way,” Natasha takes your hand as you drag her onto the dance floor. She pretends she’s not checking out your ass but when you look back you nearly catch her. Funny. 

Just as you and Natasha hit the dance floor, the DJ transitioned into a surprising mix of "What Is Love" by Haddaway and "In Da Club" by 50 Cent. The blend of the '90s dance classic and the early 2000s hip-hop anthem was unexpectedly catchy, and the crowd roared in approval.

Natasha was a fantastic dancer, her movements fluid and precise. You were equally impressive, managing to keep up with Natasha's rhythm effortlessly. Your bodies moved in perfect sync as you joined the sea of people on the dance floor.

The atmosphere was lively, energetic, and incredibly fun. Laughter and cheers filled the air as the club-goers embraced the unexpected combination of music with enthusiasm. The dance floor seemed to vibrate with the collective joy of everyone present.

You couldn't help but enjoy having Natasha so close. Her skin against your fingertips felt like heaven. The way her hands rested gently against your back. It was intimate, warm, and sensual despite the tempo of the music. 

As the music continued to pulse through the club and once you were all danced out, bodies slick with sweat, you led Natasha to a booth where her bandmates were already seated. Their faces lit up with excitement as they spotted Natasha. It’s then you noticed Monica was already sitting amongst the rockstars somehow having made it past security. 

“There you are,” Monica smiled sweetly. “You two were on fire out there. I was just making friends with our new family.” She said despite the quizzical looks. You reciprocated her hug as you whispered low into her ear. 

“I hate you so much,” You growled. 

“I love you too,” Monica laughed. 

"Natasha, this is Monica," you said, introducing your best friend to the redhead. 

Monica extended a friendly hand and smiled, though there was a hint of suspicion in her eyes. "Nice to meet you, Natasha."

Natasha returned the smile warmly, "Likewise, Monica."

As everyone settled into the booth, the conversation flowed effortlessly. Monica was cautious but kind, warming up to Natasha as they chatted about various topics. The club atmosphere had a way of breaking down barriers, and it wasn't long before they were all laughing and enjoying each other's company.

Somewhere along the way, the group decided to order a mix of different foods and drinks, sharing bites and sips as the night wore on. On the booth, Natasha sat next to you, the two of you sharing a closeness that was hard to ignore. During the lively conversations and the infectious rhythm of the music, Natasha couldn't shake the feeling that someone in the crowd had their phone out, possibly recording you. The thought bothered her, but you kept her engaged and distracted, your charm and energy captivating.

There was a break in the peace Natasha felt as her sharp eyes caught sight of her ex-girlfriend, Carol Danvers, making her way towards the booth. Natasha knew that this could potentially lead to a problem, so she decided to intercept Carol before things escalated. 

“Excuse me for a moment,” Natasha sighed. She was not expecting this to happen tonight of all nights. You watch the two of them walk away before turning your attention back to the group. It was none of your business. "Carol, hi, let me talk to you.” Natasha wanted to take action before the mess. The last thing she needed was a problem when there was none. 

She gently guided Carol to a more private corner where the music was lower, allowing them to have a conversation without distractions. As they stood facing each other, Natasha's demeanor was polite but distant. She wasn't fond of talking to Carol but wanted to ensure she was okay.

“I see you’re having fun,” Carol rubbed her sweaty hands against her jeans. Her eyes looked a little bloodshot, the deep bags being covered by concealer and heavy makeup. In all honesty, Natasha could tell Carol was not in her correct frame of mind. Whether that was due to lack of sleep or something else wasn’t her responsibility.  Carol's voice quivered with emotion as she spoke, "You look good."

“Thank you,” Natasha sighed and shook her head, her expression a mix of sadness and resolution. "Carol, it's not worth it. We've been through this."

“I know,” Carol nodded. “I just wanted to say hello.” 

Natasha found Carol’s meek demeanor unsettling. It was so unlike her. Again, not her problem. 

“Look, it was good to see you,” Natasha peaked back at the booth to see you were laughing with Monica about something. “Take care of yourself.” Natasha rubs a hand over Carol’s arm before walking away. She was not in the mood to be dealing with this right now. When she sits down again, it takes a moment for her to reacclimate with the group, her feelings of dread and the aftermath of the breakup all taking over again. 

You noticed the change in her demeanor and decided to check in on her.

With genuine concern in your eyes, you asked softly, "Natasha, is everything okay?"

Natasha tried to feign a smile, "Yeah, I'm fine. Just... old memories, you know?"

You nodded, understanding that sometimes the past had a way of sneaking up on you. You decided to lift the mood by embracing the party spirit. As fans approached you for pictures, only allowed with the say-so of security, you graciously obliged, even though you weren’t used to so much attention. Having a famous family meant everyone assumed you were someone to know too.  The smiles on their faces and their gratitude brought a spark of joy to the night.

However, Natasha's mood didn't seem to improve. You could see the lingering discomfort on her face and sensed that Natasha might need a change of scenery. You leaned in closer to Natasha and asked, "You sure you're okay, Natasha? If you want, we can get out of here."

Natasha appreciated your concern and gave you a small, genuine smile. "Isn’t this your friend’s party?”

“Alicia? She’ll understand,” You grinned. “I’m a mom.” You shrug. 

“How many times have you used that excuse?” Natasha questioned. 

“Once or twice,” You laughed. 

“I think that might be a good idea then." Natasha leaned over to whisper to Wanda that she was leaving. Wanda narrowed her eyes between the two of you but ultimately said nothing. 

“Monica, I’m leaving with Natasha,” You informed your best friend. “I love you.” “Love you too,” Monica smiled briefly. “Call me tomorrow and tell me everything.” She said a bit lower. 

“I will,” You roll your eyes. 

As you made your way towards the exit, Natasha felt grateful for your understanding and support. As you neared the club's exit, you leaned in closer to Natasha and suggested, "Let's use the back exit. It's a quicker way out, and we can avoid the paparazzi."

Natasha nodded in agreement, appreciating your thoughtfulness. She followed you towards the inconspicuous back exit, with Mike, Natasha's security guard, close behind. The corridor was dimly lit, and the sounds of the club faded away with each step.

Walking side by side, you and Natasha found a comfortable silence between you. Natasha appreciated the quiet respite after the club's raucousness. 

Then, without hesitation, you reached out and gently took Natasha's hand. It was a bold move, and Natasha's heart skipped a beat. The connection felt warm and reassuring, 

Natasha looked at you, her eyes softening with gratitude. Your fingers entwined, as you continued down the dimly lit sidewalk together, taking comfort in the simple act of holding hands, a gesture of comfort and support.

“Downtown Los Angeles is not exactly the safest place to hang out at night,” You point out. 

“Did you have anywhere in mind?” Natasha questions. “I’m not really ready to go home yet.’

“How about here?” You point to the restaurant just across the street. It was settled. 

You and Natasha walked into the small Japanese food restaurant and were greeted by a soothing ambiance of sleek and modern dining. The interior featured clean lines, polished wooden tables, and elegant, dimmed lighting that created a cozy yet sophisticated atmosphere. The walls were adorned with tasteful Japanese-inspired artwork, adding to the restaurant's aesthetic appeal.

Despite the late hour, they were still open, and there weren't many people left in the restaurant. The subdued chatter of a few diners in hushed conversations added to the tranquil atmosphere.

The restaurant staff welcomed you and Natasha with warm smiles, happy to accommodate your late-night visit. You were ushered to a well-appointed table with comfortable seating, creating a sense of intimacy in the otherwise empty space.

Once seated, you took the lead in order, your familiarity with the menu evident. You chose the baked crab hand rolls, a delectable choice known for its rich flavors and delicate textures, and edamame with a sprinkle of salt for a simple and satisfying appetizer.

Natasha decided to indulge in a sushi sampler, intrigued by the restaurant's offerings. She also ordered drinks for you to share, wanting to continue the evening in a relaxed and enjoyable manner, free from the distractions of the outside world.

As you waited for the food to arrive, you turned your attention to Natasha, your expression carrying a hint of concern.

"Natasha, "You began hesitantly, "Can you tell me more about Carol? Should I be worried about her showing up like that?"

Natasha sighed, recognizing the need for honesty. She leaned in, speaking softly, "Carol is my ex-girlfriend. We used to be really close, and she was a good person, but lately, she's been caught up in the wrong crowd. I've been trying to keep my distance from all of that."

Caught up in the wrong crowd could mean a host of things in the industry. Drugs were usually the most common. Though you didn't press for her to elaborate.

You listened attentively, her concern deepening. "Do you think she's going to be a problem?"

Natasha could see your question for what it was. Was she going to be a problem in whatever potential the two of you could have? 

Natasha shook her head, her gaze reassuring. "No, nothing like that. She's just... lost, for now. I don't want you to worry about it. I'm doing my best to stay out of any trouble, especially now."

You nodded, appreciating Natasha's honesty and the effort she was making to ensure your time together was free from complications. You reached out and gently squeezed Natasha's hand, silently conveying your support. 

You leaned in closer and admitted, "I understand, Natasha. My ex and I co-parent Isabella, and it wasn't always easy either. But we've found our way." You shrugged. 

Natasha appreciated the understanding and felt a connection with you as you shared your experiences. 

Then, the conversation took a different turn, and Natasha's curiosity got the better of her. She leaned in with a playful glint in her eyes and said, "Alright, enough about my drama. I want to know more about you. You downplayed your singing career at the party. Backup?”

“You’ve done your research,” You chuckled at the playful teasing but then became more serious as you responded, "You're right. Singing has always been my love, my passion. But the demanding career and the lack of privacy that comes with it gets to you after a while. That's why I love being a publicist. It allows me to stay in the industry that I adore but from a different angle, more behind the scenes. It gives me room to breathe and a sense of control over my life."

Natasha nodded in understanding, appreciating your candor. She could see the sincerity in your eyes as you spoke about your career and the choices you had made. It was clear that you had found a balance that worked for you, and Natasha respected you for it.

When the food arrived, you immediately dug into your meal. Your curiosity got the better of you, and you asked Natasha, "Do you and your band have a publicist or a manager?"

Natasha smirked playfully, a hint of amusement dancing in her eyes. "Is it that obvious? I guess it's the many times Tony's been arrested.” Natasha began to list. “Or the time I punched paparazzi for trying to take a picture at an awkward angle.” She grimaced. 

You couldn't help but laugh at Natasha's observation. "Well, those incidents might have given it away a bit."

Natasha's smile faded slightly as she confessed, "Honestly, I know we need someone to manage us, but I've never felt entirely comfortable with the idea. It's like giving up a piece of our freedom and creativity. We've managed so far, but I know it can't go on like this forever."

You nodded in understanding, recognizing the challenges that came with managing a successful music career independently. You asked, "Do you have anyone in mind for the role, someone you might trust enough to bring into the fold?"

Natasha thought for a moment, her gaze thoughtful. "Possibly. It's a big decision, and I want to make sure it's the right fit for us, you know? We've been doing this our way for so long that it's hard to let go."

“Well, when you’re ready, I’m your gal,” You offered your services. “I also may have a few wild cards that would work perfectly.” 

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Natasha sips from her cup. 

As the night drew to a close, you found yourselves waiting on a quiet street corner for your Uber to arrive. The bustling energy of the club was a distant memory, replaced by the calm of the late-night city.

Natasha looked at you with a genuine smile and said, "I had a lot of fun tonight, y/n. Thank you."

You returned the smile, your heart warmed by Natasha's words. "I did too, Natasha. It was great getting to know you."

The streets were mostly empty, and the city was bathed in the soft glow of streetlights. There was a moment of silence as you stood together, the unspoken tension of the night hanging in the air.

Then, as if guided by an invisible force, Natasha leaned in and softly pressed her lips against yours. It was a gentle, lingering kiss that sent shivers down your spine. Your cheeks flushed, but you couldn't help but smile.

Breaking the kiss, you teased, "Well, that's a surprise ending for the night."

Natasha chuckled and replied, "I couldn't resist."

“Don’t worry, I liked it,” You grinned. You leaned forward, kissing Natasha again, lingering when your lips pressed before you pulled back. 

The distant sound of the approaching Uber pulled you back to reality. Your ride had arrived. You exchanged one last lingering look, a silent acknowledgment of the connection you had shared that evening.

With a soft goodbye, you climbed into the waiting car, and Natasha watched as it drove away into the night. As she walked away, Natasha couldn't help but smile, feeling grateful for the unexpected and unforgettable night she had just experienced.

---> next part