INFO ABOUT ME: my name is adele, im 23 and im very fruity (that´s basically the whole info lol), english is not my first language so bear with me, please, i´ve been on here for such a long time, but rn i have a little more courage to actually write something.
MY WRITING: i will write for any marvel girls (wlw), if it´s requested i can try write for someone else:) all characters in my fics will be portrayed as adults and 100% things are fictional! i can write everything even a smut and dark themes, but every story will have it´s own description.
I dont write anything with: rape, male!reader, if i think about anything else i will add it here.
ALSO! this is 18+ blog, minors do NOT interact, if you do so, you will be blocked, the same goes to everyone who doesn´t have their age on their profile.
pairing: marvel ladies x reader, (natasha x reader, wanda x reader, carol x reader, kate x reader, agatha x reader, rio x reader, yelena x reader)
summary: first episode of very dramatic and very gay dating show, with a lot of chaos, bad flirting and beautiful women.
word count: 2.8k
warnings: none just some flirting and a bit of drama (we´re staring slow)
an: first part of this fun series, wohooo, i truly hope you’ll like it! i’m super excited! happy Mother’s Day to all the mommies out there;) hit me up pls
"Welcome everyone... to the very first season of The Love Initiative!" The camera glides over sunlit villa, white walls, glass doors, pool that would be too big for twenty people and a lot of very pricey decorations, before settling on Sam Wilson, the host, standing in a custom burgundy suit.
"My name is Sam Wilson, I´ll be your host and before you ask... yes," he adds, smirking, "this is exactly what it looks like. Ten days. One villa. A group of very attractive, very single women... and one person who´s about to have their life turned upside down." He starts walking.
"Here´s how it works. Our contestants will be living together right here," he points at the villa, "bonding, competing, falling in love... or at least trying not to start unnecessary drama." Sam pauses, then shrugs, "actually, scratch that, there will definitely be drama." A quick glance at the camera, "you´re welcome."
Sam then gestures toward a seperate part of the villa, "and then there is the one and only. Our lead. The one making all the decisions. The one everyone´s here for." Sam smiles, "(Y/N)!"
"Now (Y/N) won´t be living with the others. They get her own private apartment, a little peace, a little quiet place to think... and to question every single decision they make over the next ten days."
"Each day, they´ll go on fun dates, face new challanges and get to know the women who are all here for one reason... to win their heart."
His tone softens just slightly, "and at the end of it all... they´ll choose one person. One woman to leave this villa with."
A beat of silence.
"No preassure, right?" Sam chuckles. "So get comfortable. Get emotionally invested. Maybe don´t pick favorites too early, trust me, never ends well." A pause, then a grin on his face. "because if there is one thing I can guarantee... it´s that sparks will fly!"
Right. So... this is really happening.
You stare at your reflection like it might suddenly give you an explanation how you got here. Here is a beautiful villa bathroom, that is definitely more expensive than your entire apartment back home, about to participace in what is essentially... a televised speedrun of your love life.
Which to be fair, needed help. A lot of help. Because if you´re being honest? Your romantic history could be summed up in three categories - almosts, what-ifs and that one time you thought girl was flirting and she was just cursing at you in another language.
You let out a quiet breath, leaning your hands agasint the sink. So the only solution to your problem is going on a fully televised dating show. Because if you were going to make questionable life choices, you might as well commit.
You straighten slightly, eyeing yourself in the mirror again.
Ten days. Ten days to meet a group of women who are all here for you. To go on dates. To figure out feelings. To... somehow choose one person at the end of it.
Your future girlfriend. Potentially your future wife. No pressure. None at all. Totally normal. This is exactly what well-adjusted people do. You huff out a small laugh, shaking your head. This is very normal gay experience.
The main hall is ridiculous in person. Beautiful ridiculous, to be specific. Warm golden lighting, tall windows, elegant furniture and at the center of it all is a stage framed by soft lights and large flower arrangements.
You stand just out of frame, smoothing your hands down the front of your clothes for what has to be the hundredth time, trying and failing to ignore the pounding of your heartbeat.
From somewhere beyond the cameras, Sam´s voice carries through the room, Unlike someone, he sounds very confident and overall effortlessly charming. "Now, before be begin, let´s talk about the person at the center of all this."
A large screen flickers to life. And suddenly you´re watching yourself. Pieces of you. Quick flashes of a life that feels oddly intimate, seeing it on the big screen now. Of course you remember them shooting it before you went to villa, but seeing yourself with friends in a coffee shop, or walking throught the city with headphones on, reading in your apartment or other candid moments where you look soft, free... it´s weird to see yourself through the eyes of someone else.
Sam narrates over it all, "smart, kind, funny..." he pauses, "questionable taste in food combos, according to production notes." A quiet laugh from the crew, "but most importantly? Someone who has a lot of love to give. And maybe, just maybe, is finally ready to let herself receive some back." The montage ends.
"And now..." Sam´s voice lights with very theatrical excitement. "Here they are- the one and only..." He grins towards the camera, "(Y/N)!"
Oh god.
That´s you.
That is, unfortunately, your cue.
You step out into the light, trying your best not to look like you´re internally screaming. The camera turn and everything suddenly feels very real. Sam meets you halfway, immediately offering the kind smile, that takes some of the edge off.
"Well," he says, gesturing toward you, "welcome in the villa, (Y/N)!"
"Thank you, it is very crazy to be here... in a good way, of course." You laugh, nerves making it come out breathless.
Sam chuckles, leading you toward the center of the room, both of you settling into the easy rhytm of conversation. "How are you feeling?" He asks, softer now, genuine.
You exhale a nervous little laugh, "honestly?"
"Please."
"Terrified. Excited, Slightly nauseous. But mostly excited."
Sam nods seriously, "that´s exactly how I feel every Thanksgiving with my family, so I´d say you´re doing great."
That pulls a real laugh from you, it definetly helps loosening up the nerves.
"Alright, but now the important question."
You immedietly narrow your eyes, "that sounds dangerous."
"It is," Sam folds his arms, "what is your type?"
You think about it for a second before shaking your head, "I... honestly don´t know if I have one."
Sam blinks, "no type at all?"
"No. I mean- obviously I find people attractive, but I´ve never really had a strict type. It´s more about the chemistry, I guess. Personality. Connection."
Sam hums, glancing toward the large closed door at the other end of the hall. "Well," he says, dragging out the word, "that´s actually great news."
You raise a brow, "oh?"
Sam smiles, mischievous, like he knows something you don´t, "because behind those doors..." he points dramatically, "we have plenty of types."
Your stomach flips, not in a bad way. Just in a holy shit this is happening way.
Sam catches your expression and laughs, "so... final asnwer," he turns towards you. "Are you ready for all the ladies?"
You glance at the door, at whatever, whoever is waiting behind them. You smile happily and nervously at the same time, "I am."
Sam claps his hands together, "that´s what I like to hear." He steps back, grin widening. "Then let´s meet your future heartbreaks- I mean..." A beat of silence, "... potential soulmates."
The door open, and the first woman steps through. Sam´s voice carries smoothly across the hall, "Natasha Romanoff!"
You forget how breathing works. She moves like she owns every room she enters, not arrogantly, but with a quiet certainty, that makes the whole space shift around her. Her blonde hair falls in a soft waves over one shoulder, she´s dressed in sharp black tailoring softened by silk. It looks expensive, that´s for sure.
Every detail about her feels unreal. Her gaze lands on you, unreadable at first, then softens, just enough to make your stomach completly betray you.
She steps close, offering a small smile, that already feels like a marrige proposal. "It´s lovely to finally meet you, (Y/N)."
Her voice is velvet and low and-
Right.
Words.
You should use words.
Preferably right now.
"Hi," you manage.
Excellent start.
Natasha´s smile curves slightly wider, amused and she brushes a loose strand of hair behind her ear before stepping to the side. Your heart is doing concerning things.
Sam leans closer, "you´re staring, (Y/N)."
"I know."
"Do you need a minute?"
"I want medical assistance," Sam laughs and so does Natasha.
Then the door opens again and Sam speaks up again, "Wanda Maximoff." As your eyes meet hers, somehow things get worse.
Or better.
Definetly worse.
Definetly better.
Wanda walks in like the wind throught tall grass, effortless, grounded. Her hair falls loose around her shoulders, slightly messy in a deliberate way and she´s dressed in dark jeans, boots, layereed necklaces and a worn flannel hanging open over a top, that reveals strong arms and sun-kissed skin.
You are immedietly in love with at least three things about her. When Wanda speaks it´s simple and casual, "hey you," but you nearly fold in half.
"Hi," you breathe, somehow even less coherent than before.
Wanda smiles and she joins Natasha. You look between them. Two most beautiful women, already devastating.
How many women are left? God.
Sam softly pats your shoulder and he chuckles, "you´re doing great."
"I´m fighting for my life."
"That´s good for the fans." He smirks, then he looks at the door again. "Another lady to the group, Kate Bishop!"
Oh.
This one looks like trouble.
Kate walks in like she´s entering a stadium tunnel before a championship game. Broad grin, shoulders back, confidence radiating off her in waves. She´s tall, athletic, dressed in jeans with sneakers and fitted blazer over a shirt. She absolutely knows she´s hot.
Which is horrible. She knows exactly what she does to people. Her eyes flick over you and brighten immediately, "well, hi there."
That grin becomes flirtatious in half a second, "you´re even cuter than production said." Heat floods your whole face.
Sam makes a delighted sound beside you, "oh, she´s fast."
Kate laughs, stepping closer to shake your hand, but her thumb brushes lightly over your knuckles, deliberate enough to make butterflies explode violetnly in your stomach. "It´s really nice to meet you, (Y/N)," she says, softer now. Then with a wink, "can´t wait to win."
She´s competetive, cocky, charming. You are so unbelievably doomed. Kate joins the other and you stare blankly ahead. Sam glances at you with a smirk, "how are we feeling so far?"
"I´ll tell you later, just keep them coming," you mumble out.
Sam laughs, "got it, lets tear off a band-aid. This is getting better and better, ladies and gantlemen. Welcome Yelena Belova!"
A blonde woman enters with the energy of someone deeply unimpressed by everything and somehow that makes her impossibly magnetic.
Lather jacket, dark shirt, rings on her fingers. Cool confidence worn loosely, like she´s not trying to impress anyone and somehow impresses everyone. Her hair is slicked back, her expression dryly amused, eyes sharp yet soft enough to hint at something warmer beneath.
She stops in front of you, looks you up and down and then she nods once, "good."
You blink, "good?"
Yelena shrugs, "you seem interesting. I was hoping for interesting." Then after a beat, "also pretty. Bonus." Sam physically turns away to laugh.
You feel your soul leaving your body, which makes Yelena smirk, "oh this will be so fun."
You´re still trying to recover from Yelena, when Sam straightens beside you and grin suspiciously. "Oh, (Y/N), you´re pretty much in gay heaven."
"Or hell, it´s hard to tell, to be honest."
Sam nods, with a chuckle, "very true. I´d say both is very entertaining." The doors open again and Sam´s voice rings out, "Carol Danvers!"
And another confidence walks in. Not the quiet kind, like Natasha´s. Carol walks in like she´s used to stepping into high-pressure situations and coming out on top. Tall, huge shoulders, strong arms that look sculpted by the gods themselves. She´s wearing tailored trousers and a fitted white button-up with sleeves rolled neatly to her elbows, showing toned forearms and a sharp watch at her wrist. Devastatingly attractive.
There´s a bomber jacket slung casually over one shoulder like she just stepped off a runway and a military base. Her blonde hair is swept back and her smile...
Her smile is trouble. Very cocky, yet very warm. Her eyes meet yours with immediate focus, it´s like she chooses what deserves her attention and right now, somehow, it is you and only you.
She steps close, offering her hand, "Carol." You take it and immediately notice two things, her grip is very firm, yet her hands are soft.
"It´s really nice to meet you," she says, voice smooth and sure. One of her corner of her mouth lifts, "I´ve heard there´s competetion here."
Your pulse jumps. Carol glances towards the lineup of women already gethered, sizing them up in one efficient sweep before looking back at you. "That´s alright, I like the competition."
Kate from across the room, lets out a small offended laugh, Carol only shoots her a grin. You can feel the instant competitive energy in the room.
Sam whistles, "looks like it´s hot and we barerly even started, that´s what we like to see. Just don´t fight yet, our medic is starting from tomorrow." He looks around, "just joking." Sam looks at the camera lenses and mouths "I´m not... anyway Agatha Harkness, everyone!"
This woman walks in like trouble has been flirting with her for years. Strong hands. Worn boots, that hit the floor with deliberate weight. Dark jeans, a white tank and a weathered flannel hanging open over it, sleeves rolled. Her hair is slightly messy, silver streaks catching the light in a way that makes her hotter. She looks older than the others.
Her whole energy says 'I know exactly who I am.' Agatha walks up to you with a smirk on her face, "oh," eyes dragging over you, "well done, producers."
You nearly choke, hoping that the medic is close, just in case. Sam laughs, "she likes you," he winks to the camera.
"I gathered," you mumble weakly. Agatha then steps close enough, that her woodsy and smoky cologne briefly wraps around you.
"Pleasure to meet you, sweetheart," she says with a teasing grin. "Let´s save everyones time and just-" she offers her hand, while Yelena snorts at her offer. Kate grins knowing exactly what is Agatha doing, while the rest just watches, hoping that you won´t fall for her tactics.
Before you can finish, Agatha´s expression changes, only slightly, but you see it. Her eyes cut sharply towards the doors and her jaw tightens. Like she suddenly senses something unplesant and Sam knows what the unplesant thing is. Or rather who. "Interesting," Agatha mumbles.
You were so deeply wrapped in Agatha´s cologne, you didn´t even realize, that the door openned one last time. Sam looks at the camera knowingly, "last but not least, Rio Vidal."
Rio moves calmly, measured and dangerous. Dark tailored slacks, black silk shirt with the sleeves rolled once at the wrist, rings on her long fingers and dark hair in a bun, showing her sharp cheekbones. She is beautiful in a way, that definetly feels intimidating. Like everyone instinctively makes room for her.
Then her gaze lands, not on you, but on Agatha. And slowly, very very slowly Rio smiles, "small world."
Agatha lets out a humorless laugh, which makes you confused, "you´ve got to be kidding me." You are glancing from one to another.
Wait, what?
Agatha measures Rio, but then she walks up to her spot, where other ladies are, some trying not to laugh, some smirking, knowing this will be a hell of a ride.
Rio finally looks at you and her entire expression softens by a degree. Which kinda makes it worse, because now all that intensity is directed at you. She takes your hand gently, brings it toward her lips, not quiete kissing your knuckles, but close enough, that your entire nervous system short-circuits.
"(Y/N)," Rio says, voice velvery smooth. "Pleasure."
"Oh, she is absolutely not using my dating moves on national television," Agatha mumbles so only Carol can hear.
Rio walks up next to Agatha, but she quickly changes with Carol, so she stands between them. You stare at the lineup and you swallow hard.
"These are our contestants and this is what we call premium television." Sam smiles, gesturing to the ladies.
Natasha elegant and unreadable. Wanda steady and wild. Kate grining at all the ladies. Yelena amused, but sharp. Agatha glaring like she is planing a murder. Carol as a big ball of confidence. And lastly, Rio pleased with herself.
Everyone one of them is impossibly beautiful and you feel so drawn towards them. Your stomach is doing crazy things, not only butterflies but a whole damn zoo. You lean towards Sam, "I think I´m in trouble."
Sam smiles, eyes bright with mischief, "oh, honey." He gestures towards the women, "you were in trouble the moment you walked in. At the end, you are in The Love Initiative!"
Hi! I have a question regarding the Love Initiative. Who will be the main couple? Like do you have planned who r will end up with?
Hi, thank you for your question!!
Since you, the readers, hold the ultimate power, you'll get to choose the main love interest! Right before the final part, I'll do a poll so you can vote for the character who has truly captured your heart.
summary: you get ten minutes with each of the girls, third is the nonchalant agatha harkness.
word count: 1.1k
warnings: bad flirting and pick-up lines as always
an: to the anon who requested agatha, don’t worry she is here!!:)
Natasha Romanoff has just looked directly into your sould, compared you to art and then walked away like she didn´t leave absolute chaos in your head. You stare at the ceiling, "what the hell was that?" You let out a big exhale.
You hear some muffle sounds from outside and the door slides open again, but it´s not another lady, it´s Sam this time. "Having fun?"
"I am," it sounds a little bit sarcastic, but Sam just smirks.
"Excellent," he winks at the camera.
"Natasha is very dangerous." Sam nods immediately.
"Oh, incredibly."
"Why would you let someone like that on this show?"
"We invited ten of them." Before you can recover from that statement, Sam walks back to the lineup of the ladies, waiting to capture your heart. And once again you feel the nerves coming.
"Alright," Sam chooses once again and his eyebrows shoot up. His eyes glances toward the girls, "I like this one. Agatha Harkness you´re next."
Agatha looks up and with a smirk, she says, "See?" She looks at others, "the universe knows quality."
Yelena groans, while Rio simply rolls her eyes, but Agatha ignores them all. With the confidence of someone who has never once second guessed a terrible idea, she starts walking toward the door, towards you.
When you meet her eyes, you can´t help but check her out once again. Rolled sleeves. Hands shoved casually into her pockets. The boots. The smirk... god she isn´t trying to impress you anymore, because she assumes she already has.
She stops in front of you. Looks you up and down, then smiles.
"Well," you immediately become suspicious.
"Well what?"
Agatha tilts her head, "I was worried Romanoff would´ve ruined my chances." Your face heats up and of course Agatha notices. Why are you so easy to read. God.
"That is very interesting."
"What is?" you blink.
"Nothing." Agatha sits down and you follow her. When you sit down, you notice that Agatha is relaxed, while having everything under control. Her hand is thrown over the backrest and one ankle resting on the opposite knee. You make a reasonable distance, but Agatha looks down, glancing at the gap, then at you and then back at the gap. You sigh and scoot slightly closer.
"There we go," you laugh at her words.
"You always get what you want, huh?" Agatha just smirks proudly and nods.
"That frequently?"
"When it comes to women? Absolutely." A grin tugs at your mouth, which makes her smile too, then she leans back. "So..."
You brace yourself, "so..."
"What do you think of me?"
You blink, "that is your opening question?"
She nods completly serious, watching you like a hawk.
"Oh my god, you´re actually waiting."
"Of course I´m waiting," she shrugs.
"Like 1-10 or you prefer different rating?"
"Whatever you prefer."
"That´s insane, you´re human being, not a product..." you slightly throw your hands.
"It´s television."
Okay, that is fair point.
You shake your head, "you´re confident..."
"I am."
"Very bold."
"Hm."
"A little dramatic."
Agatha presses a hand against her chest, "a little?" You laugh and she points triumphantly, "see? chemistry is already there."
"Me laughing doesn´t mean chemistry."
"It definetly is from my perspective." The conversation somehow spirals from there. Agatha tells stories, not all the way through, just halfway. Then gets distracted, then circles back. Then somehow lands the joke anyway. She talks a lot with her atractive hands. Every story sounds like she´s either about to solve a crime or start one. And the weirdest thing? You´re having a blast. A big one, actually.
Because beneath all the sarcasm and swagger, Agatha feels incredibly soft. At one point movie topic comes up and you share what your favorite movie is and of course Agatha judges you, affectionately.
Then you ask what she does when she´s not working, she shrugs. "Read."
"Really?"
"I know. Shocking," she rolls her eyes.
"I wasn´t going to say shocking."
"You were thinking it."
You were, to be honest.
"Maybe..." after a few seconds you smile, "do you have any cute reading glasses?"
"Just because my hair is a bit gray, you think I have reading glasses?"
"No... but if you read you do give a vibe of having the most cutesy reading glasses."
"Cutesy?"
"Yeah, cute ones, special ones, like not many people can see."
"You want to see my reading glasses?" Agatha tilts her head.
"I do. Because I know not many people have seen them."
And this time, it´s you, who got her, "they are red... with white dots." Before you can tease her more, she adds, "they are comfortable."
"Cute. But I still want to see them." You slightly lean into her hand on the back of the couch.
"Got it, anything else for you?" She smirks, playing this game with you.
"Uh huh, will I be the first to see them?" Agatha shakes her head.
"So Rio saw them?" The room goes silent, immediately.
"(Y/N)..." she starts.
Uh oh.
You want to apologize right away, maybe this was not the topic for a playful banter.
"You want to spend our precious ten minutes discussing another woman?"
"I-"
"Ouch."
"Agatha-"
"Ouch."
"Sorry, I was curious..."
"Devastating," she looks towards the ceiling, "I finally get alone time with a beautiful woman and she´s asking about Rio Vidal."
You laugh, not really defending your curiosity anymore. Agatha points at you, "this is emotional violence."
"Okay, I sincerily apologize, but you´re being too dramatic now."
"Correct," she doesn´t even deny it.
You stare at her, how her smile spreads across her face and suddenly you underestand why people keep getting pulled into her orbit. "You don´t have to answer, I was just... I heard the girls talk."
Agatha hums, "we dated."
"That´s it?"
"No."
You narrow your eyes and Agatha smirks, "we got history." The asnwer is simple, yet it´s enough. The moment passes, "enough about Rio..."
"Jealous?" Back into the playfull banter.
"Very," she says with a straight face, she scoots little closer, as she does, 10 minutes are over. "You´ve got to be kidding me..."
You both groan at the exact same time, that suprises both of you. And it also makes both of you laugh. Agatha rises from the couch, slowly, "well..."
"Well..."
She looks down at you for a second, little softer now than when she entered, less performace and more real. "You know," she says, shoving her hands into her pockets, "I was having a great time. But... you´ve got a terrible habit, you know that?"
"Oh?"
"You´re making people want another ten minutes with you." Your stomach immediately betrays you. Then Agatha leans slightly closer, "luckily for me, I´m very persistent."
And with that she opens the door and leaves. Agatha leaves ou smiling so hard your cheeks hurt.
summary: you get ten minutes with each of the girls, second is the mysterious natasha romanoff.
word count: 1k
warnings: bad flirting and pick-up lines as always
an: slow start, but i promise, it will be worth it!!
The glass door slide open and Kate walks out looking entirely too pleased with herself. Sam takes one look at her expression and immediately smirks.
Kate points both thumbs at herself, "nailed it."
"You had ten minutes," Yelena mumbles.
"And I got a laugh at minute one."
"You are exhausting," Rio tilts her head with a fake smile.
"Thank you," Kate rejoins the others.
"You are acting like a kid," Carol shoots Kate a glare.
"I´m acting like someone who won´t give you a single chance to steal my girl."
"So it´s your girl now?" Carol steps closer to Kate from the line up, while Natasha just meets Wanda eyes.
Sam physically steps between them, "alright." He claps once, "ladies, before we descend into whatever this is," he gestures vaguely toward Kate, "... let´s remember that this is a classy and very serious program."
All the girls looks at Sam, after a while he nods. "Okay, nobody believed that. Fair." A few laughs ripple through the room. He reaches into the golden bowl once more. "Let´s see who fate has selected next." He smiles knowignly, "completly different vibe, just like I like it."
All ladies exchange curious looks, "Natasha Romanoff, you´re next." Sam nods towards the room.
Natasha simply lifts her gaze, smiles softly. Then begins walking towards you. No silly performance, no cocky smirks or crazy confidence. Just certainty.
As she approaches, you notice details you hadn´t fully processed earlier. The elegant cut of her fit. The delicate gold jewlery at her wrist. The subtle parfume that smells expensive without trying to. And the strong confidence, not too much, but you can tell it´s there.
Natasha stops in front of you, her expression warm. Like she has all the time in the world, even when the time is ticking. "Ready?" Her voice is low and smooth.
You immediately forget what your answer was supposed to be. "Uh, uh-huh."
Excellent. Nice one, really.
"That´s a promising start." Natasha´s smile deepens slightly. Heat immediately rises into your cheeks.
You sit across from eachother. For a moment, neither of you speaks. Natasha doesn´t seem bothered by that. She simply settles comfortably into her spot and looks at you. Not throught you or around you, at you. Like she is trying to figure you out.
And once again you become aware of every single thing you´re doing. Where your hands are. How you´re sitting. Whether you´re breathing weirdly. Just everything at once.
Natasha tilts her head slightly, "what are you thinking about?"
You blink, "right now?"
"Mhm."
"Honestly?" She nods.
You laugh nervously, "I´m thinking that eye contact should probably be illegal, because you´re definetly seeing right throught me."
That earns another small smile, "interesting."
"Is it? Or just lame?"
"You noticed my eyes before my question." Her eyes meet yours again.
You point accusingly, "see, that´s exactly what I mean."
"What?" Natasha tilts her head, her hair falling perfectly over her shoulder.
"You´re analyzing me."
Natasha shrugs, "I´m getting to know you."
You narrow your eyes, "that´s... the same thing. But- I guess... it´s kinda comforting from you."
"Is it?" She smiles more.
You nod, "you have this kind energy vibe going on."
Natasha chuckles, "I´ve been told, glad you think so too."
God. This woman.
Then Natasha leans back slightly, "tell me something."
"Okay."
"When do you feel most like yourself?" You pause. The question catchesyou off guard. Not because it´s difficult, maybe a little bit, but... because not many people asked you this before.
Natasha waits. No rush, no interruption, her whole attention on you. And for some reason im makes you feel so comfortable. So you answer her, and that somehow turns into another answer and another. Talking about people you love. The things you´re passionate about. The moments that make life feel bigger. The small things that make you happy. And through all of it... Natasha listens, really listens, ask questions, offers observations.
"I think that was the best day of my life," you simply state after a fun memory you just shared.
"Oh, yeah?" The cute smile on her face again, you just nod.
And thanks to that, you keep talking. Because she makes you feel like what you´re saying matters. It´s honestly unfair how easy this is to the other girls.
At one point you stop mid-sentence, Natasha raises an eyebrow, "what?"
You shake your head, "no, this is weird."
"What is?"
"You´re very good at this," you chuckle shyly.
"At talking?"
"At listening."
That seems to suprise her, a little. Natasha´s gaze softens, "I think people deserve to be heard."
Your heart immediately decides this is the hottest thing anyone has said tonight. Which is ridiculous, Kate literally called you pretty and somehow this feels... more. The conversation continues.
Before you know it, soft chime sounds.
No. Absolutely not.
Natasha glances towards the ceiling, then back to you. The smallest hint of disappointment crosses her face. Gone almost immediately, but you catch it.
"So that´s it?" you ask.
The words slip out before you can stop them. Natasha smiles. "Sounds like you wanted more time."
Your face instantly heats up, "I mean-"
Natasha laughs, the sound settles warmly in your chest. Then she rises from her seat, you do the same. And suddenly you´re standing much closer than before. Close enought to notice the tiny flecks of gray in her eyes.
"You know," Natasha says softly, "my favorite pieces of art are rarely the ones people understand immediately." You swallow hard, but she continues, "they are the ones that stay with you." Her gaze doesn´t leave yours. "The ones that reveal something different every time you look at them."
Oh.
You cross your arms, mostly because your hands have become unrealiable. "You like being mysterious, huh?" You tease.
Natasha considers that, then shrugs. "I like giving people a reason to come back."
Your brain completely stops working, Natasha notices. Of course she notices. The smile she gives you afterward is positively unfair. Then she leans in slightly, not enough to invade your space. Just enought to make your heart forget its responsibilities.
"Fortunately," she says softly, "I think we´ll have more than ten minutes." Then like she hasn´t just altered your entire nervous system, Natasha steps past you and heads towards the door. Leaving you standing there, completly still.
When the door closes behind her, your head falls back agasint the nearest wall. "Oh my god." Somehwere outisde, you can already hear Sam beginning his next introduction.
But for a moment all you can think about are her beautiful eyes.
summary: you get ten minutes with each of the girls, first is the cockiest out of them all, kate bishop.
word count: 1.3k
warnings: bad flirting and pick-up lines
an: thank you for all the support for this series! it is so fun and i´m very happy you all like it!
The main hall has been transformed while introductions wrapped, lights dimmed low, candles flickering. What was once a grand room meant for dramatic entrances now feels intimate. Comfortable actually.
At the centre sits a living room setup that looks straight out of a luxury magazine, plush sofa, two armchairs angles close enough for kneels to accidentally brush, a low table decorated with flowers and wine glasses. It looks like the perfect set to confess your deepest secrets. Or fall in love. Or both.
"Alright, everyone," Sam announces, hands clasped together, "welcome to the first official stage of The Love Initiative. Tonight, each of you will get exactly ten uninterrupted minutes alone with (Y/N). No interruptions, no sabotage-"
Agatha raises a hand, "what if sabotage is part of my game?"
Sam points at her, "especially you. No interruptions, no sabotage." He says firmly again, which makes Rio smirk beside her.
Sam keeps going, "ten minutes to make first dialog. Ten minutes to ask questions, flirt outragously, laguh... whatever feels authentic."
"What if authenticity is emotionally devastating?" Yelena deadpans.
Sam grins at that question, "then you´re doign great."
A small laugh ripples through the room, easing some of the tension, until Sam lifts a small gold bowl dramatically. As all the ladies watch him, camera taking their reactions. "Ah, yes. I´m choosing tonight´s order randomly."
Kate straightens, "no offense, but I should obviously go first."
Carol folds her arms, "based on what?"
Kate gestures broadly at herself, "charm. Athleticism. Natural star quality."
"So... annoying confidence," Yelena mutters.
"Not everyone can be as amazing as me, Belova." Kate shoots her a glare.
"As you? Thank god I´m not."
Sam chuckles, reaching into the bowl, "well... let´s see who fate chooses." He unfolds the first card, camera zooming in. After a dramatic moment, Sam smiles, "oh, this feels good." He looks up, "Kate Bishop."
Kate smirks and slightly throws both fists lightly into the air, "yes!" Then she points finger guns towards the rest of the women, "phew. Good luck catching up after me, ladies."
Carol laughs under her breath, Natasha arches a perfectly shaped brow. Wanda shakes her head, smiling softly. Agatha and Rio meet eyes, "insufferable" Rio mumbles. Yelena simple watches.
You sit on the couch alone now, trying not to pick apart your nails, legs crossed and uncrossed three times aready, because suddenly you have no idea what to do with your body.
Meeting all of them was one thing. But talking to each of them alone is entirely different thing. Your heart immediately starts beating faster as the door opens once again. Oh how much the door make you anxious.
As Kate walks through the door, she fixes the collar of her blazer, runs a hand through her hair, then flashes you a grin. Very cocky grin, to be specific.
"Well," she says, stopping in front of you, voice dropping softer, more intimate. "Looks like I´m first."
She offers you her hand and you take it. But of course she gently pulls you up from the couch instead of sitting immediately, stepping just a little closer than necessary. Close enough to smell the expensive perfume. Close enough that butterflies immediately riot in your stomach.
Kate leans in just slightly, speaking low. "Ten minutes?" Her eyes sparkle, "honestly, that´s all I need."
Your face becomes dangerously warm. In meantime Sam watches all of this, as he narrates what´s going on. "Oh, Bishop came prepared." He looks at the timer, "ten minutes starts now."
Kate smirks as she offers her hand, "come on, pretty."
She lets go of your hand after she spins you, kinda tragic, honestly, and then dramatially checks an invisible watch on her wrist. "Ten minutes," she says, very serious, "that´s six hundred seconds."
A laugh escapes you before you can stop it, "um... correct, yeah."
Kate immediately perks up, victorious. "Oh, nice. Got laugh in under thirty seconds."
"Are you timing my reaction?"
"I´m timing everything," she gestures at herself, "I´m competitive."
You smile, "I gathered."
Kate presses a hand to her chest in mock offense, "wow, you hear one tiny comment about me crushing competition and suddenly I´m getting profiled."
"One tiny comment?"
"Okay, maybe several huge comments."
You laugh again and some of your nerves begin loosening in your chest. That´s another thing about Kate, sure she is magnetic and painfully attractive, but there´s something underneath all the swagger, that´s bright and easy to be around.
Kate flops onto one side of the couch, spreading one arm across the backrest like she´s claming territory. Then she pats the seat beside her. "Sit. You standing over there like I´m interviewing for hand in marrige is making me nervous."
"You? Nervous?"
"Terrified, actually."
"You don´t look terrified."
"That´s because I´m brave."
You sit, turning slightly toward her, "you mean cocky."
Kate grins, "I prefer charmingly self-aware."
"I don´t think that´s what that means."
"I´m also humble."
You stare at her, Kate stares back, absolutely committed to the bit, then you chuckle again, rolling your eyes.
She lights up, "there it is."
"What?"
"The chuckle," Kate points, "it´s adorable."
Your cheeks are warm now, "you´re really ridiculous."
"And yet..." she leans slightly closer, "... you´re smiling."
Your stomach flips, Kate´s playful expression settles into something warmer, not so cocky. "I´m glad I got picked first," she admits.
That suprises you, "oh?"
"Yeah," her shoulders lift in a small shrug. "Everyone in there is... a lot."
You laugh softly, "that´s one way to put it."
"No, seriously..." Kate turns towards you fully now, knee brushing yours for a split second, accidentally or not, who knows. Suddenly your pulse is in your throat. "Natasha looks like she´d break my heart and somehow make me thank her. Carol looks like she´s been winning her whole life. Yelena scares me in a sexy way. Wanda has that mysterious hot gardener vibe going on. Agatha and Rio..." she pauses, "whole another level of sexual tension and emotional damage."
"That was... frighteningly accurate."
"I´m observant."
"You´re nosy."
"That too," her grin softens. "But I also figured... with all of that..." she gestures toward the door, "you might need someone normal at first."
You stare at her, then you tilt your head with a smirk, "normal?"
"... athletically normal?" Kate starts.
You laugh.
"Emotionally normal?" She tries again.
You fold your arms, making her keep going.
Kate leans back, "normal in a hot way?"
"That doesn´t make any sense," you´re not even sure, what was the starter of this conversation. But you know for sure, that you´re enjoing yourself. Cameras long forgotten, when you´re having great company.
Kate studies you for a moment, then asks quietly, "can I be honest?"
You nod.
"I came in planning to flirt hard, make a strong impression, maybe casually sweep you off your feet-"
"Simple goal," you mumble.
She points finger guns, "exactly." Then she smiles, "but you´re here... easier to talk to than I expected."
Your heart does a small, dangerous thingy in your chest, "what did you expect?"
Kate thinks, "someone intimidating."
You blink, "me?"
"Well, yeah." She says it like it´s obvious, "you´re the person every single woman here wants. That´s intimidating."
Before you can respond a soft chime sounds overhead. Kate groans dramatically. "No. Absolutely not. Rigged. Corruption. I demand overtime."
You laugh, "what, six hundred seconds wasn´t enough?"
She stands, placing a hand over her heart, "(Y/N), I had at least four more excellent jokes, two stories, that would´ve made you fall in love with me and one deeply impressive hockey anectdote."
"You can save them for next time," you smile softly.
Kate pauses, then smiles. "So there´s gonna be a next time?"
You smile back, "I hope so."
That answer clearly does something catastrophic to her cool composure. She recovers quickly, mostly. "Nice," she murmurs, "very nice."
Then she starts towards the door, only to stop, turn around and point at you dramatically. "One final thing," You raise an eyebrow, Kate clears her throat, "what do you call two bird in love?"
You blink, "... what?"
She shoots you a wink, "tweethearts."
You groan, "that was awful."
Kate points, "but you smiled, I saw that."
And with that, she disappears through the door, looking very pleased with herself. Leaving you smiling like an idiot on the couch, heart beating a little faster.
Hiiii any chance we could get that last option of the angsty fic? Hehehehe
hello again!!:)
that fic is all finished, but i will post it after The Love Initiative series. just to avoid mixing it all together. but it is done and it will be posted!!:)
Every few months I come back to re read this and I go holy shit. This was amazing. You really brought my vision and ideas to light and also elevated it to such beauty. Thanks for writing this :’)
hiii! so sorry for late respond, but thank you very much!
it truly means the world to me, especially when you come back every now and then to give me such a nice feedback. I´m kicking my feet as we speak haha
thank you and it´s always such a pleasure to write for people like you!<3
pairing: marvel ladies x reader, (natasha x reader, wanda x reader, carol x reader, kate x reader, agatha x reader, rio x reader, yelena x reader)
summary: first episode of very dramatic and very gay dating show, with a lot of chaos, bad flirting and beautiful women.
word count: 2.8k
warnings: none just some flirting and a bit of drama (we´re staring slow)
an: first part of this fun series, wohooo, i truly hope you’ll like it! i’m super excited! happy Mother’s Day to all the mommies out there;) hit me up pls
"Welcome everyone... to the very first season of The Love Initiative!" The camera glides over sunlit villa, white walls, glass doors, pool that would be too big for twenty people and a lot of very pricey decorations, before settling on Sam Wilson, the host, standing in a custom burgundy suit.
"My name is Sam Wilson, I´ll be your host and before you ask... yes," he adds, smirking, "this is exactly what it looks like. Ten days. One villa. A group of very attractive, very single women... and one person who´s about to have their life turned upside down." He starts walking.
"Here´s how it works. Our contestants will be living together right here," he points at the villa, "bonding, competing, falling in love... or at least trying not to start unnecessary drama." Sam pauses, then shrugs, "actually, scratch that, there will definitely be drama." A quick glance at the camera, "you´re welcome."
Sam then gestures toward a seperate part of the villa, "and then there is the one and only. Our lead. The one making all the decisions. The one everyone´s here for." Sam smiles, "(Y/N)!"
"Now (Y/N) won´t be living with the others. They get her own private apartment, a little peace, a little quiet place to think... and to question every single decision they make over the next ten days."
"Each day, they´ll go on fun dates, face new challanges and get to know the women who are all here for one reason... to win their heart."
His tone softens just slightly, "and at the end of it all... they´ll choose one person. One woman to leave this villa with."
A beat of silence.
"No preassure, right?" Sam chuckles. "So get comfortable. Get emotionally invested. Maybe don´t pick favorites too early, trust me, never ends well." A pause, then a grin on his face. "because if there is one thing I can guarantee... it´s that sparks will fly!"
Right. So... this is really happening.
You stare at your reflection like it might suddenly give you an explanation how you got here. Here is a beautiful villa bathroom, that is definitely more expensive than your entire apartment back home, about to participace in what is essentially... a televised speedrun of your love life.
Which to be fair, needed help. A lot of help. Because if you´re being honest? Your romantic history could be summed up in three categories - almosts, what-ifs and that one time you thought girl was flirting and she was just cursing at you in another language.
You let out a quiet breath, leaning your hands agasint the sink. So the only solution to your problem is going on a fully televised dating show. Because if you were going to make questionable life choices, you might as well commit.
You straighten slightly, eyeing yourself in the mirror again.
Ten days. Ten days to meet a group of women who are all here for you. To go on dates. To figure out feelings. To... somehow choose one person at the end of it.
Your future girlfriend. Potentially your future wife. No pressure. None at all. Totally normal. This is exactly what well-adjusted people do. You huff out a small laugh, shaking your head. This is very normal gay experience.
The main hall is ridiculous in person. Beautiful ridiculous, to be specific. Warm golden lighting, tall windows, elegant furniture and at the center of it all is a stage framed by soft lights and large flower arrangements.
You stand just out of frame, smoothing your hands down the front of your clothes for what has to be the hundredth time, trying and failing to ignore the pounding of your heartbeat.
From somewhere beyond the cameras, Sam´s voice carries through the room, Unlike someone, he sounds very confident and overall effortlessly charming. "Now, before be begin, let´s talk about the person at the center of all this."
A large screen flickers to life. And suddenly you´re watching yourself. Pieces of you. Quick flashes of a life that feels oddly intimate, seeing it on the big screen now. Of course you remember them shooting it before you went to villa, but seeing yourself with friends in a coffee shop, or walking throught the city with headphones on, reading in your apartment or other candid moments where you look soft, free... it´s weird to see yourself through the eyes of someone else.
Sam narrates over it all, "smart, kind, funny..." he pauses, "questionable taste in food combos, according to production notes." A quiet laugh from the crew, "but most importantly? Someone who has a lot of love to give. And maybe, just maybe, is finally ready to let herself receive some back." The montage ends.
"And now..." Sam´s voice lights with very theatrical excitement. "Here they are- the one and only..." He grins towards the camera, "(Y/N)!"
Oh god.
That´s you.
That is, unfortunately, your cue.
You step out into the light, trying your best not to look like you´re internally screaming. The camera turn and everything suddenly feels very real. Sam meets you halfway, immediately offering the kind smile, that takes some of the edge off.
"Well," he says, gesturing toward you, "welcome in the villa, (Y/N)!"
"Thank you, it is very crazy to be here... in a good way, of course." You laugh, nerves making it come out breathless.
Sam chuckles, leading you toward the center of the room, both of you settling into the easy rhytm of conversation. "How are you feeling?" He asks, softer now, genuine.
You exhale a nervous little laugh, "honestly?"
"Please."
"Terrified. Excited, Slightly nauseous. But mostly excited."
Sam nods seriously, "that´s exactly how I feel every Thanksgiving with my family, so I´d say you´re doing great."
That pulls a real laugh from you, it definetly helps loosening up the nerves.
"Alright, but now the important question."
You immedietly narrow your eyes, "that sounds dangerous."
"It is," Sam folds his arms, "what is your type?"
You think about it for a second before shaking your head, "I... honestly don´t know if I have one."
Sam blinks, "no type at all?"
"No. I mean- obviously I find people attractive, but I´ve never really had a strict type. It´s more about the chemistry, I guess. Personality. Connection."
Sam hums, glancing toward the large closed door at the other end of the hall. "Well," he says, dragging out the word, "that´s actually great news."
You raise a brow, "oh?"
Sam smiles, mischievous, like he knows something you don´t, "because behind those doors..." he points dramatically, "we have plenty of types."
Your stomach flips, not in a bad way. Just in a holy shit this is happening way.
Sam catches your expression and laughs, "so... final asnwer," he turns towards you. "Are you ready for all the ladies?"
You glance at the door, at whatever, whoever is waiting behind them. You smile happily and nervously at the same time, "I am."
Sam claps his hands together, "that´s what I like to hear." He steps back, grin widening. "Then let´s meet your future heartbreaks- I mean..." A beat of silence, "... potential soulmates."
The door open, and the first woman steps through. Sam´s voice carries smoothly across the hall, "Natasha Romanoff!"
You forget how breathing works. She moves like she owns every room she enters, not arrogantly, but with a quiet certainty, that makes the whole space shift around her. Her blonde hair falls in a soft waves over one shoulder, she´s dressed in sharp black tailoring softened by silk. It looks expensive, that´s for sure.
Every detail about her feels unreal. Her gaze lands on you, unreadable at first, then softens, just enough to make your stomach completly betray you.
She steps close, offering a small smile, that already feels like a marrige proposal. "It´s lovely to finally meet you, (Y/N)."
Her voice is velvet and low and-
Right.
Words.
You should use words.
Preferably right now.
"Hi," you manage.
Excellent start.
Natasha´s smile curves slightly wider, amused and she brushes a loose strand of hair behind her ear before stepping to the side. Your heart is doing concerning things.
Sam leans closer, "you´re staring, (Y/N)."
"I know."
"Do you need a minute?"
"I want medical assistance," Sam laughs and so does Natasha.
Then the door opens again and Sam speaks up again, "Wanda Maximoff." As your eyes meet hers, somehow things get worse.
Or better.
Definetly worse.
Definetly better.
Wanda walks in like the wind throught tall grass, effortless, grounded. Her hair falls loose around her shoulders, slightly messy in a deliberate way and she´s dressed in dark jeans, boots, layereed necklaces and a worn flannel hanging open over a top, that reveals strong arms and sun-kissed skin.
You are immedietly in love with at least three things about her. When Wanda speaks it´s simple and casual, "hey you," but you nearly fold in half.
"Hi," you breathe, somehow even less coherent than before.
Wanda smiles and she joins Natasha. You look between them. Two most beautiful women, already devastating.
How many women are left? God.
Sam softly pats your shoulder and he chuckles, "you´re doing great."
"I´m fighting for my life."
"That´s good for the fans." He smirks, then he looks at the door again. "Another lady to the group, Kate Bishop!"
Oh.
This one looks like trouble.
Kate walks in like she´s entering a stadium tunnel before a championship game. Broad grin, shoulders back, confidence radiating off her in waves. She´s tall, athletic, dressed in jeans with sneakers and fitted blazer over a shirt. She absolutely knows she´s hot.
Which is horrible. She knows exactly what she does to people. Her eyes flick over you and brighten immediately, "well, hi there."
That grin becomes flirtatious in half a second, "you´re even cuter than production said." Heat floods your whole face.
Sam makes a delighted sound beside you, "oh, she´s fast."
Kate laughs, stepping closer to shake your hand, but her thumb brushes lightly over your knuckles, deliberate enough to make butterflies explode violetnly in your stomach. "It´s really nice to meet you, (Y/N)," she says, softer now. Then with a wink, "can´t wait to win."
She´s competetive, cocky, charming. You are so unbelievably doomed. Kate joins the other and you stare blankly ahead. Sam glances at you with a smirk, "how are we feeling so far?"
"I´ll tell you later, just keep them coming," you mumble out.
Sam laughs, "got it, lets tear off a band-aid. This is getting better and better, ladies and gantlemen. Welcome Yelena Belova!"
A blonde woman enters with the energy of someone deeply unimpressed by everything and somehow that makes her impossibly magnetic.
Lather jacket, dark shirt, rings on her fingers. Cool confidence worn loosely, like she´s not trying to impress anyone and somehow impresses everyone. Her hair is slicked back, her expression dryly amused, eyes sharp yet soft enough to hint at something warmer beneath.
She stops in front of you, looks you up and down and then she nods once, "good."
You blink, "good?"
Yelena shrugs, "you seem interesting. I was hoping for interesting." Then after a beat, "also pretty. Bonus." Sam physically turns away to laugh.
You feel your soul leaving your body, which makes Yelena smirk, "oh this will be so fun."
You´re still trying to recover from Yelena, when Sam straightens beside you and grin suspiciously. "Oh, (Y/N), you´re pretty much in gay heaven."
"Or hell, it´s hard to tell, to be honest."
Sam nods, with a chuckle, "very true. I´d say both is very entertaining." The doors open again and Sam´s voice rings out, "Carol Danvers!"
And another confidence walks in. Not the quiet kind, like Natasha´s. Carol walks in like she´s used to stepping into high-pressure situations and coming out on top. Tall, huge shoulders, strong arms that look sculpted by the gods themselves. She´s wearing tailored trousers and a fitted white button-up with sleeves rolled neatly to her elbows, showing toned forearms and a sharp watch at her wrist. Devastatingly attractive.
There´s a bomber jacket slung casually over one shoulder like she just stepped off a runway and a military base. Her blonde hair is swept back and her smile...
Her smile is trouble. Very cocky, yet very warm. Her eyes meet yours with immediate focus, it´s like she chooses what deserves her attention and right now, somehow, it is you and only you.
She steps close, offering her hand, "Carol." You take it and immediately notice two things, her grip is very firm, yet her hands are soft.
"It´s really nice to meet you," she says, voice smooth and sure. One of her corner of her mouth lifts, "I´ve heard there´s competetion here."
Your pulse jumps. Carol glances towards the lineup of women already gethered, sizing them up in one efficient sweep before looking back at you. "That´s alright, I like the competition."
Kate from across the room, lets out a small offended laugh, Carol only shoots her a grin. You can feel the instant competitive energy in the room.
Sam whistles, "looks like it´s hot and we barerly even started, that´s what we like to see. Just don´t fight yet, our medic is starting from tomorrow." He looks around, "just joking." Sam looks at the camera lenses and mouths "I´m not... anyway Agatha Harkness, everyone!"
This woman walks in like trouble has been flirting with her for years. Strong hands. Worn boots, that hit the floor with deliberate weight. Dark jeans, a white tank and a weathered flannel hanging open over it, sleeves rolled. Her hair is slightly messy, silver streaks catching the light in a way that makes her hotter. She looks older than the others.
Her whole energy says 'I know exactly who I am.' Agatha walks up to you with a smirk on her face, "oh," eyes dragging over you, "well done, producers."
You nearly choke, hoping that the medic is close, just in case. Sam laughs, "she likes you," he winks to the camera.
"I gathered," you mumble weakly. Agatha then steps close enough, that her woodsy and smoky cologne briefly wraps around you.
"Pleasure to meet you, sweetheart," she says with a teasing grin. "Let´s save everyones time and just-" she offers her hand, while Yelena snorts at her offer. Kate grins knowing exactly what is Agatha doing, while the rest just watches, hoping that you won´t fall for her tactics.
Before you can finish, Agatha´s expression changes, only slightly, but you see it. Her eyes cut sharply towards the doors and her jaw tightens. Like she suddenly senses something unplesant and Sam knows what the unplesant thing is. Or rather who. "Interesting," Agatha mumbles.
You were so deeply wrapped in Agatha´s cologne, you didn´t even realize, that the door openned one last time. Sam looks at the camera knowingly, "last but not least, Rio Vidal."
Rio moves calmly, measured and dangerous. Dark tailored slacks, black silk shirt with the sleeves rolled once at the wrist, rings on her long fingers and dark hair in a bun, showing her sharp cheekbones. She is beautiful in a way, that definetly feels intimidating. Like everyone instinctively makes room for her.
Then her gaze lands, not on you, but on Agatha. And slowly, very very slowly Rio smiles, "small world."
Agatha lets out a humorless laugh, which makes you confused, "you´ve got to be kidding me." You are glancing from one to another.
Wait, what?
Agatha measures Rio, but then she walks up to her spot, where other ladies are, some trying not to laugh, some smirking, knowing this will be a hell of a ride.
Rio finally looks at you and her entire expression softens by a degree. Which kinda makes it worse, because now all that intensity is directed at you. She takes your hand gently, brings it toward her lips, not quiete kissing your knuckles, but close enough, that your entire nervous system short-circuits.
"(Y/N)," Rio says, voice velvery smooth. "Pleasure."
"Oh, she is absolutely not using my dating moves on national television," Agatha mumbles so only Carol can hear.
Rio walks up next to Agatha, but she quickly changes with Carol, so she stands between them. You stare at the lineup and you swallow hard.
"These are our contestants and this is what we call premium television." Sam smiles, gesturing to the ladies.
Natasha elegant and unreadable. Wanda steady and wild. Kate grining at all the ladies. Yelena amused, but sharp. Agatha glaring like she is planing a murder. Carol as a big ball of confidence. And lastly, Rio pleased with herself.
Everyone one of them is impossibly beautiful and you feel so drawn towards them. Your stomach is doing crazy things, not only butterflies but a whole damn zoo. You lean towards Sam, "I think I´m in trouble."
Sam smiles, eyes bright with mischief, "oh, honey." He gestures towards the women, "you were in trouble the moment you walked in. At the end, you are in The Love Initiative!"
If you take requests could I request a yelena fic where reader is seriously injured in a mission but yelena didn’t get the time to confess her feelings and thinks this is the end of whatever they had
Too late?
word count: 1k
warnings: injury, blood loss, near-death experience, medical trauma, panic
an: to the lovely person who sent this request, thank you so much and sorry for the wait!!!
The comms go silent before she hears your scream.
Just the burst of gunfire, the static crackle and then nothing. Not your voice. Not your breath. Not even the sound of you hitting the ground, though she swears she can still feel it.
Yelena runs faster than she ever has. Blood roaring in her ears, fists clenched tight at her sides. Her body moves on instinct, sharp and efficient, but her mind... her mind is chaos.
It can’t end like this. Not before she says it.
By the time she gets to you, the dust hasn’t even settled. You’re on your back, breaths shallow and quick, one hand pressed weakly against your ribs where the dark red spreads fast beneath your suit.
"No, no, no," she mutters, dropping to her knees. "Hey- hey, look at me."
Your eyes flutter open, unfocused, "Yelena?"
"I’m here. I’ve got you," her hands hover, not sure where to touch, where it hurts more or less. You’re pale. Too pale. Her voice cracks. "You’re gonna be okay, alright?"
You try to smile, "you always say that."
She laughs, but it’s short, broken, "because I’m right. Usually."
You blink slowly. She can feel you slipping.
"Don’t," she says firmly. "Don’t do that. Don’t close your eyes. We’re not done." But your eyelids are heavy. The kind of heavy that scares her.
"Shit!" Yelena snaps, one hand flying to her earpiece. "I need someone now! It´s critical, do you hear me? I need a med team here now!"
Static.
Then a voice, "ETA two minutes."
"Too long!" she yells, not caring who hears her panic anymore, "-hurry the fuck up!"
You go still in her arms. And it breaks something.
"NO. No, no, no- hey! Stay with me! Do you hear me?" She’s shaking you now, not violently, just enough to make you stay. "Don’t you dare pull that dramatic shit and leave me. We’re not done." The wind howls around her. "Come on," she begs, voice cracking. "You didn’t even let me say it. You don’t get to leave before I say it."
The world moves forward, but Yelena doesn’t. She’s all sharp edges in the sterile white of the hospital waiting room, pacing, growling at nurses, snapping at everyone who try to ask her about the mission. She doesn't sit. She doesn't breathe properly. When someone tries to offer her coffee, she shoves it away.
"No. I don’t want anything until (Y/N)´s awake. Not a damn thing."
She’d held your hand until they took you from her and even then she’d fought the medics for seconds she didn’t have.
Because the last thing she said to you wasn’t 'I love you.' It wasn’t even close. It was 'don’t you dare leave me.'
When the doctor finally appears in the hallway, she stiffens like a soldier, "they’re stable. But-"
She doesn’t wait for the ´but.´ She’s moving before she’s given permission, storming past nurses and down the hall until she finds the room with your name taped to the door like it doesn’t mean everything.
And when she sees you, eyes open. Breathing. Awake.
It all crashes at once.
She bursts in like a force of nature. "You-" her voice fails. Her chest heaves. "You idiot. You scared the shit out of me."
You blink at her, groggy, "... Lena?"
She’s at your side in two strides, grabbing your hand like she’s afraid you’ll fade again.
"You weren’t supposed to do that," she mutters. "You were supposed to stay awake. You were supposed to let me-" she cuts herself off, jaw clenching.
You squeeze her fingers, weak but steady, "I heard you… before. Sort of."
Yelena blinks, then swallows hard, "what did I say?"
You tilt your head, "you didn’t say it."
She stares at you. And then sighs, "no. I didn’t." She leans in, pressing your hand to her cheek, "so let me fix it."
She looks you straight in the eye this time, "I love you. I should’ve said it before. I was stupid, and scared and slow. But I’m here now. And you’re awake. So I’m saying it."
You give her the softest smile she’s ever seen, "finally," you whisper.
Yelena blinks, "finally? What do you mean finally?"
You blink back at her. Very slowly, "you always looked at me like you wanted to say it," you mumble, words slurring just slightly. "You’d do the stare thing. The intense Russian gaze. And then say nothing. Every time."
She narrows her eyes, "you are so high right now."
You grin, "super high. Like... floaty cloud level."
Yelena exhales through her nose, but her lips twitch at the corners, "they gave you the good drugs."
You nod solemnly, "probably because I died a little bit. That gets you a free upgrade, I think."
She gives your hand a small squeeze, "don´t joke about that."
You squeeze back, "´m sorry. Just trying to lighten the mood."
"You already did," she murmurs, "you woke up."
Your eyes flutter closed for a second, then open again, hazy but full of something warm.
“I love you too," you say, soft and certain. "Even if I´m like 80% drugs right now."
Yelena bites back a laugh, then leans down and presses her forehead gently to yours, "jesus." She stays there, forehead to forehead, hand wrapped around yours.
You blink at her again a little unsure, "you love me, right? You said it. You know you can´t take it back now."
"I did," she whispers. "I do."
"Cool, just checking," you murmur. "We should kiss when I’m less dying."
Yelena lets out a small, shaky laugh and brushes her thumb over your cheek, "I´m in."
i´m not going to dramatically overexplain my accidental disappearance, but let´s just say my time management has been very fictional at best. truly one of my greatest enemies. however we are BACK!!!
and this time i actually have a plan! (good one i would say)
this upcoming week i´ll be posting the requests i´ve had sitting in my drafts for far too long, especially for the sweet anons who sent them months ago (thank you for your patience and i´m very sorry!)
anyways starting next sunday, we begin a silly little summer series called "The Love Initiative" - something like a bachelor, but with beautiful marvel women fighting for your heart.
im ridiculously excited about it and i hope you are too!!
thank you for sticking around and i´ll respond to everyone as fast as i can, thank you thank you!! love you all <3
-a
little sneak peak of all the ladies from the series!:)
hiii, so if this is too ahead just ignore it!! but i was thinking maybe u could do like a nat or yelena one shot where the user kinda struggles with words after a long day and has oral fixation so....yeahhhh THINK ABOUT IT AND LET THE IDEAS FLOW IF URE UP TO DOING IT
an: I really hope you enjoy this one! thank you so much for your request:) and thank you for being patient with me!!!
You’re quiet.
Not the peaceful kind of quiet that Natasha has grown to appreciate, when the two of you share space, wrapped in the warmth of each other’s presence. This is the heavy kind. The kind that drags on your shoulders and stiffens your jaw. The kind that says too much without saying anything at all.
She notices it the second you walk through the door. You're not just tired. You're drained.
You toss your bag to the side and sink into the couch with a groan, pressing the palms into your eyes like that might stop your brain from buzzing. Natasha watches from the kitchen doorway for a moment longer than you realize, fingers curled around a mug, her favorite tea forgotten in her hand.
"Long day?" she asks gently.
You nod. Words are slippery in your mouth tonight, thoughts tangled and frayed. You want to tell her everything and nothing. You want to explain why your tongue feels too big for your mouth, why speaking feels like wading through wet cement and why you want nothing else, than just disappear.
But all you manage is a small nod and a whine on top of it.
She doesn’t push. She never does. Just pads barefoot across the room, sets the mug on the coffee table, and sinks down beside you. Her presence is immediate and grounding. Warm. Safe.
You tilt your head to rest against her shoulder, your hands twitching slightly in your lap. The need is there again - quiet and familiar. Your mouth feels restless, hungry for something, not food exactly. Just stimulation. The comfort of sensation. Of grounding yourself in something tangible.
Natasha notices.
"It´s okay," she murmurs, brushing a thumb over your knuckles. You glance at her, uncertain, a little embarrassed, but she just shifts to face you more fully. "Talk to me without talking," she offers.
That’s all the permission you need.
You shift slightly, still not sure, if you´re not asking too much. But Natasha´s thumb move from your cheek to your lower lip, slightly brushing, soft and quiet confirmation, that it´s truly okay. You open your mouth and let her thumb in. It´s comforting, more than you thought. She lets out a slow breath, her other hand sliding up to tangle in your hair.
"This helps, doesn’t it?" she whispers.
You nod.
And then Natasha puts her index and middle finger into your mouth, watching you, not like a hawk, no... more with softness and love, she has for you. You take what she gives you. Not greedy. Not desperate. Just present. Here. With her.
Her hand starts stroking down your back, "It´s okay, detka."
You hum, the sound muffled with her fingers in your mouth. It’s not about desire right now. Not entirely. It’s about anchoring. About feeling something that isn’t exhaustion or static or the weight of the day.
She reads you like a book she’s already memorized.
So she just keeps holding you, letting you take what you need. No judgment. No pressure. Just the quiet understanding between two people who don’t always need words to say everything.
After a minute, Natasha shifts, brushing her thumb slowly over your bottom lip again, dragging it just enough to leave a little sheen behind.
"Pretty," she murmurs with a small smile, inspecting her work like an artist.
You let out a quiet, content noise and she smiles wider.
"C´mere," she says, gently guiding you down so your head settles in her lap. Her legs are warm beneath you, the fabric of her sweatpants soft against your cheek. Her fingers find your scalp.
The tension in your chest starts to unwind, little by little. Then you shift. Just a little. Turn your head and catch her hand again and this time your teeth graze her skin, barely more than a nibble.
She raises an eyebrow, "are you biting me?"
"Mmhmm," you hum softly, not bothering to stop. Your teeth gently explore the curve of her hand, her knuckles, the solid muscle of her forearm. Never hard. Just... a little bite.
"This is new," she teases, voice playful as she watches you chomp lightly on the meat of her thumb.
You grunt, too cozy to be bothered by her sarcasm and you just keep going, like a sleepy, affectionate little animal gnawing without purpose. But you want more... more of her. More of your comfort.
"God," she chuckles, "you’re biting my bicep now. What is this? Is this payback for me waking you up early this morning?"
You mumble something incoherent against her skin, but whatever it is makes her laugh again, low and warm in her chest.
Eventually, you pull back just a little, eyelids drooping, and glance at her arm. You blink. There are marks. Light, but there. Tiny indents, like you’ve stamped her with a row of gentle crescents.
Your eyes widen slightly, but before you can say anything Natasha notices, as always.
"Hey, hey," Natasha cuts you off before the panic can take root, thumb brushing over your cheek, "you’ve got sharp teeth, is all."
You blink at her, half-apologetic, half-embarrassed.
She leans down, kisses your forehead, "I like the marking," she murmurs, "makes me feel... chosen."
You exhale. The panic fades into something soft, weightless. Her hand returns to your hair.
"Don’t worry about it, baby," she says, running her thumb gently across your temple, "you’re allowed to need things. Even this."
You nod, lips twitching into a quiet smile and close your eyes again. Safe. Held. No words needed.
summary: natasha offers you a new job, you take it and have fun.
warnings: power dynamics (sugar baby/sugar mommy), bratty reader, dominant natasha, smut without plot, spanking, fingering, dirty talk, i think that´s it:)
word count: 5.2k
an: of course everyone wanted smutty natasha (👀 i can´t really blame you tho), so enjoy you horny freaks:P also it´s very old draft so keep that in mind pls hehe, thanks!
The door of the Blue Moon creaked open and you look up from behind the bar just in time to see Natasha Romanoff stride in. You can´t help but smile, her visits always brought a certain excitement to your evening. Natasha, the CEO whose name commanded respect across the city, had a way of brightening your night. Not to mention, her tips are always more than generous.
You reach for the bottle of Chateau Margaux, already knowing her preference by heart. As she makes her way to her usual seat at the bar, you start pouring the rich, velvety liquid into a glass. Natasha's eyes meet yours, and a subtle smile curves on her lips.
"Evening, miss Romanoff," you greet warmly, sliding the glass towards her.
"Good evening, (Y/N). How's the night treating you?" she asks, her voice smooth and commanding, yet with a hint of warmth that always makes your heart flutter.
"It’s been slow," you admit, a shy smile playing on your lips, "but now it's better."
Natasha's eyes sparkle with amusement as she takes a sip of the wine. "I'm glad to hear that," she replies, her gaze never leaving yours.
The subtle connection between you and this powerful woman makes these moments feel special. Or maybe it´s just all in your head and she is this nice to everyone else.
You looked down as you take some wet glasses to dry them off, "how are you doing, miss Romanoff?"
Natasha exhales dramatically as she sips her red wine, her voice low and teasing. "I've been alright… Would be better though if I wasn't called 'miss'."
You chuckle softly, feeling a bit more at ease with her teasing tone. "My apologies, Natasha," you reply with a playful glint in your eyes. "Force of habbit, I guess. But I'll try to remember that for next time." You give her a genuine smile.
Natasha chuckles, waving her hand dismissively, "It´s okay."
As the tension grows bigger you can´t sort your thoughts, but thankfully you notice the almost empty glass infront of her, "would you like another one?"
Natasha hums, nodding while looking you up and down. Her eyes linger a little longer on your figure before she looks back into your eyes. She smirks at you and glances towards the wine bottle you hold in your hand. "Pour me another glass and one for yourself sweetheart," she says, motioning towards the empty chair next to her.
You bite your lip, feeling a flutter of excitement, but shake your head with a regretful smile. "I can't. I'm still at work," you reply softly, the thought of sitting next to her was undeniably tempting.
Natasha smirks, rolling her eyes as you pour her another glass. She takes the full glass, swirling the red liquid in her hand for a little before taking a sip. "Aww… such a good little employee… Wouldn't want to get on your boss's bad side, huh?"
"More like I need the paycheck," you chuckle at your own words.
Natasha chuckles as well, raising a brow playfully. "Oh, I understand that… Those pesky bills, they just keep stacking up, don't they? You must be feeling the pinch every month."
You laugh lightly, nodding in agreement, "you have no idea," you said with a sigh. "But I guess that's just part of the job. Gotta keep the lights on somehow, right?" you smile at her, appreciating the banter.
She sips her wine and set the glass back on the table, her eyes locking with yours. "Maybe I could offer you a little extra cash on the side… help with those bills. And you wouldn't have to deal with your boss."
You blink, momentarily taken aback by her offer. Her intense gaze make your heart race. "That's very generous of you, Natasha," you reply, your voice slightly unsteady. "But I'm not sure I can accept that. I´m still just a bartender," you give her a shy but appreciative smile, trying to mask the turmoil of emotions.
"Ah, don't sell yourself short sweetheart… your drinks delicious and you have one hell of a smile too." Her eyes gleam mischievously as she leans forward in her chair, lowering her voice to a seductive whisper. "And I can think of a few things you could offer me… Besides drinks."
You feel a blush creeping up your cheeks, her words sending a shiver down your spine. Swallowing hard, you manage to keep your composure, though your heart was pounding. "Thank you, Natasha," you reply softly, your smile shy but genuine. "I… I'm interested. What exactly do you have in mind?"
Natasha smirks, her fingers still gently tracing patterns on the glass. She leans in even closer, "oh, well, it's a somewhat… unconventional job… Let's just call it 'discreet personal services.' You'd attend to my… needs and desires, while being generously compensated for your… services."
"Like an assistant?" You ask, heart pounding fast.
Natasha chuckles, her smirk growing wider at your adorable innocence. She takes a long sip of her wine before answering. "You could say that… an 'assistant' is certainly a part of the job. But it's more… intimate than a regular assisting job. You'll be meeting all my… needs, doing whatever I ask of you. In return, I'll take care of you, sweetheart."
Oh.
You look at her, being so glad that you´re not in a rush. "So… sugar baby type of a thing?"
Natasha nods. She can practically see the wheels turning in your head as you absorbed what she had said. She smirks as you go quiet, patiently waiting for you to process everything. After a few moments, she speak up once again, her voice soft and commanding. "Take your time, darling. Think it through."
"I think I have a few questions," you mumbled, while your thoughts were running in your head.
This is dream come true… some poeple dreamt of being a princess, or a president or an astronaut, but you? You dreamt of a hot smart and powerfull woman to take care of you.
Natasha raises a brow, a small smirk still on her face. She gestures for you to ask your questions, her eyes never leaving yours. "Of course, darling. Ask away. No question is too silly, I assure you."
Reassuring is nice, very nice. Especially from Natasha.
"I don´t have a car, so… is that a problem?" you don´t really know how this is the first question you asked her.
"Not a problem at all, darling. I have people that can drive you wherever you need to go when you're… busy with me. It's all part of the package."
You smile, "I like the package," you nod. "And what if I have to deal with something… or have a doctors appointment, or something?"
"Darling, I admire your thought process," she remarks with a playful glint in her eye. "Let me address your concerns." She takes a sip of her wine before continuing, her demeanor confident and relaxed. "Your schedule is whatever suits your life… I'm not going to ask you to skip school or your important appointments. If you're free, you're mine. If you have school or other commitments, thats fine. I'll work around your schedule."
You nod, taking all the the information in.
Natasha's smile softenas she raches out to gently touch your hand. "There won't be additional responsibilities beyond what we agree upon. Your comfort and boundaries are important to me, (Y/N). If you ever need to reschedule or cancel, just let me know ahead of time."
Her touch send a jolt of warmth through you, and you can´t help but feel a flutter of excitement mingled with nervousness.
"I appreciate your honesty, Natasha." You stay quiet for a little bit, enjoying her hand on yours.
"I know this seems straightforward, but… I have bills to pay, rent, and other expenses, and honestly, I'm just not making enough here." You shift uncomfortably, nervous about broaching the subject but unable to ignore the reality of your financial situation.
"Ah, the money. I'm glad you brought that up… I promise you sweetheart, I'll pay you more than enough to cover your rent, bills, and more. You won't have to worry about money ever again. You'll be well taken care of… if you decide to accept this job, of course." She squeezes your hand, which instatly makes your worries go away.
You nod few times, "and you're not planning to… you know, hurt me or anything? You're not like, a serial killer?"
Natasha chuckles softly, a genuine amusement dancing in her eyes at your question. "Darling, if I had any intention of harming you, it would have been done already. We wouldn't be sitting here having this conversation," she reassures you with a hint of playful sarcasm.
The financial relief it promised was undeniable and being by the side of THE Natasha Romanoff, there is not a single thought in your head that would think this is a stupid idea. After a brief pause, you look up at her with a determined yet slightly anxious smile.
"Okay," you said finally, your voice wavering slightly. "I'll do it."
Natasha grins, pleased with your response. She speaks in a low, sultry voice. "Good girl, but before you agree, there's one more thing you should know. This job comes with… specific rules that I expect you to follow. Understand, sweetheart?"
"I- uh yes, I do."
Before Natasha can elaborate further, a customer at the bar waves to catch your attention. You give Natasha an apologetic look. “I’ll be right back,” you promise softly before hurrying off to handle the order.
For the next few minutes, you were busy serving drinks and chatting with the other papeople, though your mind stayed firmly fixated on Natasha. When you finally turned back toward her table, your heart sank slightly, she was gone.
But as you move to clear the table, you notice something unexpected. Sitting beneath the empty wine glass was a small folded napkin with a neat scrawl of handwriting, her number.
As you stared at the number, you can´t help but smile. She left it for you.
When your shift ended, the napkin with her number still sat securely in your pocket. You paced nervously in your tiny apartment, debating whether to call her. Was it too late? Would she even answer? What if she thought you were being too eager? The anxiety got the better of you, and instead, you tucked the number away, deciding to wait until morning.
The next morning, you sit on the edge of your bed with your phone in hand. After a deep breath, you decide to play it safe and text her instead.
Good morning, Natasha. This is (Y/N) from the bar. I hope this isn’t too early, but I just wanted to reach out.
You hit send and barely have a moment to exhale before your phone buzz in your hand. She is calling you.
"H-Hello?" you are caught off guard by how quickly she responded.
"Good morning, darling," Natasha’s voice is smooth, "I was hoping you’d reach out. Are you free to meet me at my office today? I think it’s time we finalize the details of our arrangement."
You blink, stunned by her decisiveness, "uh, yes, of course! What time?"
"Come by at noon. I’ll have someone waiting to bring you up."
Arriving at her sleek, towering office building later that day, you are escorted to the top floor where Natasha’s private office is. The space is as commanding and refined as the woman herself, the place offers a breathtaking view of the city and her desk sat in the center like a throne.
Natasha stands when you enter, a pleased smile tugging at her lips. Her presence is magnetic as she extends her hand.
"Amazing," she says, her tone warm yet commanding. "Let´s have a longer talk, hm? "Sit," she instructs.
You obey, though your pulse quickened under her unwavering gaze. She moves with deliberate grace, circling around her desk like a predator making sure you feel the weight of her presence.
"Let’s not waste time, darling," she says, settling behind the desk. "You agreed to this arrangement, which means you follow my rules. Clear?"
You nod quickly, then bit your lip, "yes, Natasha.”
She smirks, "good girl. Rule number one, when we’re in private, you call me ma’am. Or mistress, if you’re feeling brave."
Your eyes widen slightly, heat creeping up your neck, "...mistress?" you say, half-shocked, half-thrilled.
Her smirk widens, "you’ll get used to it."
Natasha leans back in her chair,, "rule number two, I’ll work around your school or anything you need to do, but when I call, you answer. Understood?"
You raise a brow, leaning back just enough to show a flicker of attitude, "what if I’m busy?"
Her eyes meet yours, that predator’s smile returning, "then you’ll explain to me why whatever you’re doing is more important than me. And trust me, sweetheart… you won’t win that argument."
Your stomach flipat her bluntness, but a spark of confidence lit in your chest, "maybe I like arguments," you tease.
Natasha chuckles lowly, the sound rolling through the room."“Oh, I know you do. And I’ll enjoy every second of breaking that bratty streak of yours."
Your mouth goes dry, but you manage to meet her gaze without flinching. That earns you another approving look.
"Rule number three," she continues smoothly, "discretion. You don’t tell anyone about this arrangement. Not your coworkers, not your friends."
You nod, nerves tangling with excitement, "okay… I can do that."
"Rule number four," she says, her tone dropping lower, more intimate. "You will tell me, if you´re not happy with something."
You swallow hard, your breath shallow, but something bold slipped out before you could stop it, "and what if I don’t?"
Her smirk turns sharp, dangerous, and intoxicating, "then I’ll make you wish you had."
You shift in your seat, both nervous and impossibly turned on, the push and pull between you sparking like electricity.
"Any questions so far, darling?" she asks sweetly, like she didn´t just rattled off rules that made your head spin.
You blink at her, trying to catch up, "um… just one. Do I at least get a safe word, or…?"
That makes her laugh outright, rich and throaty, "oh, you clever girl. Yes, of course. We’ll decide on one later."
Your chest puff slightly at the compliment, the nervousness giving way to something more daring. You lean forward just a little, matching her gaze, "okay, mistress.”
Her eyes turn dark with a hint of approval. The air is so thick with tension it was almost dizzying. Then Natasha tilts her head slightly, her smile softening just enough to throw you off balance.
"Do you have any experience with what we’ve talked about so far?"
You hasitate, then squared your shoulders, feeling a rare rush of confidence. "Not the sugar baby thing," you admit honestly. "But… other than that? Yes, pretty much."
For a moment, the only sound is the faint hum of the city beyond her windows. Then Natasha’s smirk widens, a spark of genuine delight lighting her eyes. "You?" she says, incredulous, as if you being anything other than innocent would be the funniest joke. "You look like you’d get nervous ordering coffee."
You bite back a grin, "appearances are deceiving, ma’am," you say, voice steady.
Her laugh is short and pleased, "good. I like the idea of surprises." She leans forward, fingers drumming once on the desk. “Tell me one thing, what have you done that’s relevant? Just enough to make me not underestimate you.”
You keep eye contact, letting the little thrill of being read and still chosen swell inside you. "I can take direction, I´m pretty good at that, some uh.. kinks and stuff and I know how to push, too. Sometimes I like being the one who pushes."
Natasha’s eyebrows lift, "you push," she says slowly, tasting the word. "That’s very good. I hate boring."
"Then I’ll try not to be," you answer a flash of defiance dancing at the edge of your smile.
Her smirk becomes a smile that means trouble, in the best possible way. "Perfect. I don’t want someone who folds the second I look at them. I want a game. A brat I can break and then watch obey."
You swallow, oddly proud, "I can be spoiled, or I can be clever. Depends on the mood."
She stands, pacing once like she’s checking you over again from across the room. "We’ll iron everything out. Schedule, boundaries, financials, emergency contacts, safe word, expectations, how public you can be, who you can tell. There will be check-ins. You will not be left in situations that make you uncomfortable and you will not..." she stops and her voice softens just enough to make the promise feel warm, "...you will not be taken advantage of. Ever."
You nod, grateful and a little dizzy with relief and the dizzying proximity of her power, "that… sounds fair."
She returns to her chair and sits, folding her hands on the desk like a judge delivering a verdict. It takes the two of you probabbly around two hours to go over everything she talked about. To make sure both of you understand and know what is okay and what is not. You don´t really mind it took you so long, but your inner brat is tired and bored. And of course Natasha can tell, so after few seconds of analyzing you once again, she speaks up.
"Let´s test the waters, shall we?" your eyes perk up, "kneel."
You freeze. Your brain scatters a million thoughts, oh my god, holy shit, is this real? but the bratty half of you wants to flash that spark in her eyes.
"Um," you start, cheeks warm, eyes wide. Then you square your shoulders, as if answering a challenge, "yes, mistress."
You stand, take a deliberate step forward, and lower yourself to your knees. It’s slow, careful, theatrical. You keep your eyes locked on hers the entire time, letting your lashes drop then lift, making the movement a show. Your hands settle lightly in your lap, fingers flexing as if to emphasize control, not submission.
Natasha watches every inch of you, that smile curling in a way that tells you she’s pleased... very pleased. You feel heat bloom there, not just from the room, but from the power play unfolding, your defiant confidence against her composed command. You hold her gaze, slow and steady, because you know exactly what you’re doing and she knows it too.
"Look at you," she purrs, voice dripping with amusement. "Already on your knees for me. I didn’t even have to raise my voice."
You tilt your head, still kneeling, letting the brat peek through. "Maybe I’m just polite," you say lightly. "Doesn’t mean I’ll stay down here forever."
Her brow arches, "polite?" she repeats, as if tasting the word. "No, darling. That was not polite. That was deliberate. You wanted me to watch you take your time. You wanted me to see how bold you could be."
You bite back a grin, heat pooling between your legs, "and did it work?"
"Oh, it worked," Natasha says, walking toward you, her heels clicking against the polished floor. She stops just in front of you, looking down with that predator’s calm, "but it also told me something."
Your lips part, "what’s that?"
"That you need someone to make you behave," she reaches out, her fingers grazing your chin, tilting your face up. Her touch is feather-light, but her gaze pins you like a knife. "And lucky for you, I’m very good at that."
You laugh softly, nerves and thrill mixing, "oh are you?"
Her smirk grows, dangerous and delighted, "uh-huh."
There’s a beat of silence, just her eyes locked on yours, and then you test the waters, tilting your head against her hand, "you really think you can handle me, mistress?"
The way her eyes flash tells you you’ve struck gold. Natasha chuckles, low and throaty. “Handle you? Darling, I’ll have you begging before you realize how easy it was to unravel you."
A shiver runs through you, but you force a playful grin, "I like begging."
Her laugh is short, sharp, delighted. She crouches down so her face is level with yours, her hand sliding from your chin to the side of your throat, never pressing, just reminding you it’s there. "Then we’ll both have fun, won’t we?"
You swallow, nerves buzzing, but your bratty streak pushes forward, "you talk big, mistress. I’ll believe it when I see it."
"Oh, you won´t just see it," she promises, voice husky, steady. "you´ll feel it. And remember it."
Your breath stutters. You try to play it off with a teasing smirk, "sounds like you’re already planning to ruin me."
Natasha leans closer, her lips brushing the shell of your ear without touching. “Oh, darling,” she whispers, sending goosebumps racing down your arms.
You freeze, pulse spiking, caught between nervous laughter and a moan, "holy shit," you whisper, your bravado slipping for just a second.
She pulls back just enough to see your expression, clearly savoring the crack in your armor, "what was that?"
You snap back quickly, smirking even as your cheeks burn, "I said, good luck."
Natasha’s smile is pure sin, "luck has nothing to do with it. You and I?" She gestures between you, her tone steady and confident. "We already fit. You don’t even realize it yet, but you will. Two pieces, clicking into place."
Before you can fire back with some witty retort, she bends to youand kisses you, slow at first, testing. Her lips are soft but commanding and when she nips your bottom lip just enough to make you gasp, she takes the opportunity to deepen it. Her tongue slides against yours, controlled and purposeful and you lose your balance for a second, hands clutching at your thighs to steady yourself on the floor.
By the time she pulls back, you’re breathless. She tilts her head, eyes sharp, "what happened to all that bratty confidence, hm?"
You swallow hard, trying to rally, "it’s… still here," you manage, but your voice cracks.
Her smirk is devastating, "is it?" she traces her thumb over your lips. "Because from where I’m standing, you’re already trembling for me."
You open your mouth to deny it, but she presses her thumb inside, against your tongue, silencing you, "shh. Don’t argue."
Your whole body buzzes as she watches you, eyes dark, thumb holding you open like she owns every part of you already.
When she withdraws her hand, she wipes her thumb deliberately against your chin, marking you faintly with her touch. "Kneeling looks very good on you," she says, her voice low, measured. "Better than I imagined. But I think you need reminding why you’re here."
You breathe out shakily, daring yourself to keep up, "to… follow your rules?"
Her smile deepens, predatory, "exactly. And what was one of the rules?
Your cheeks flush, "my body… is yours when we’re together."
"Very good, darling," she leans forward again, lips grazing your ear, "then open your mouth and let me in."
You do, instantly, without thinking, and her fingers slip past your lips, two sliding over your tongue with a deliberate slowness that makes your head spin. She watches your eyes the entire time, smirking as you gag softly, testing your limit, then withdrawing just enough.
"Mm. That’s it," she murmurs approvingly. "You follow so beautifully when you’re not pretending to be a brat."
You whimper, hating and loving how easily she’s dismantling you. When she pulls her hand free, she tilts your chin up again, "on your feet."
You stand shakily, legs buzzingand she takes her time circling you, the way she did when you first entered the office, but now her hand trails across your hip, down your thigh, up your side, claiming you piece by piece.
She stops behind you, her breath hot against your ear. "Still think I can’t handle you?"
Your inner brat slips away, replaced with a shiver, "…no, mistress."
Her laugh is rich and satisfied, and her hand slides lower, teasing just above where you ache most. "Hm,now, let me show you just how easy it is to take that bratty little streak of yours… and turn it into begging."
You don’t even realize you’ve moaned until she chuckles again, already knowing exactly what to say, what to do, and exactly where to push.
Her hands move with expert confidence, mapping you, hip, waist, the small bundle of nerves, where your need aches the most. She angles you forward agaisnt her table, whispering, "move your legs-" before she can finish it, you do and that makes her chuckles, "good girl."
She pulls your pants and panties down, and you immedietly feel the cold, that makes your nipples perk up. She doesn´t really wait and thanks to you being so needy, sliding those long fingers in is more than easy.
You try to keep the brat alive, to pull back agaisnt her, to press some spark of control into the moment, "Is that-" you gasp, "is that all you’ve got?"
She hums against you, amused and more than a little fond. "Oh baby," she says, "I haven’t even started. But it looks like you´re almost finished."
Natasha pushed another finger inside of you, other hand squeezing your hip, hard and claiming. Her touch is dominating, her fingers relentless and every time you attempt to push or pout or spit a sassy line, she answers with a new angle, a palm at the small of your back to keep you bent, a whisper in your ear that makes your knees tremble, a command that has your body obeying before your brain catches up.
You’re both playing, but the game is changing. You meant to be the provocateur, the tease, but she’s an artist in control, and her art is undoing you slowly, lovingly, with deliberate cruelty. You find yourself folding around her, the brat still there, but smaller, coaxed into giggles and soft confessions.
"Say it," she orders suddenly, voice a velvet whip.
Your mouth is dry, the truth slipping free on a breath, "I want more-" you whisper, "please.- Please mistress."
Her smile is everything, but most approval and hunger. "Good girl," she says, her hands slows down, but thrust into you harder. After few seconds of pure torture you lose track of how you’re being undone, by her mouth, her hands, the way she orders you and then cradles you after each small collapse.
When you finally come apart, it’s jagged and sudden and utterly hers. When she eases off, you’re a raw. She rests a palm at the small of your back, keeping you there, keeping you close, as if you might float away otherwise.
"Not going anywhere," Natasha says, voice low and more tender than it was minutes ago. She slides an arm beneath your shoulders and lifts you with surprising gentleness, hauling you up and half-dragging you toward the couch like you’re both treasure and trouble. The leather welcomes you, she eases you onto it and tucks a cushion behind your head, hands still warm along your skin.
You stare at her, "what about y-you?"
She smiles, a slow, soft curve that melts the last of your defenses, "you don’t have to worry about anything."
"You’re sure?" you ask instead.
"Very," her thumb draws lazy, possessive circles on the back of your hand. She watches you like she’s memorizing you. "I’m satisfied. That’s not a debt to be repaid, darling. It’s an investment." There’s amusement in the way she says the last word and it sends a fresh bloom of heat right to your core.
That makes you smile, weak and stupid and delighted. The bratty part of you tries to flare, because old habits die hard. "You paid for me already," you murmur, half a challenge, half a dare.
Natasha´s hand lifts, the motion slow and deliberate. Without breaking eye contact she brings her palm down across your thigh in a sharp, measured smack. The sound is small in the quiet office, but enough to make your breath hitch. She smirks at your startled face, clearly amused by your flinch. "You’re needy," she says, fond and not unkind. "And bratty. Those two things make my life interesting." Her fingers trail up to cup your jaw lightly.
You bite your lip and try to pull the brat back on, because pride is stubborn, "Too bad I like being spanked," you say, half-sultry, half-defiant.
Her chuckle is low and affectionate, "of course you do." She bends, kissing your forehead with the same tenderness she used to dominate you earlier. " I like that you keep me entertained."
You gape at her, feeling seen and toyed-with and worshipped all at once. The brattiness melts into a grin, small but victorious, "so you’re saying you enjoy my chaos?" you tease.
"Don’t test me," she replies, amusement dancing in her eyes. Then, softer, "but yes. Your chaos is very nice... in a way," her thumb returns to absently trace the curve of your wrist.
You let the rest of your guard fall. She sits beside you on the couch now, still close enough that you can feel the warmth of her thigh against yours. Her hand tucks a stray strand of hair behind your ear. "Aftercare," she murmurs, as if reading from a list, and then actually begins the ritual, water poured into a cup, a damp towel to clean you up, steady words grounding you.
"You did very well," she says, voice steady and real.
You feel both small and enormous at once, and the mix makes you dizzy. "Thank you,"
Her fingers find your knee, squeezing with a possessive gentleness. "Now, tell me what hurt, where to press less, where to press more. We fine-tune. This is a partnership, in our own glorious way."
You think of all the ways she’s already taken care of you today, the careful attention to your limits, the fierce way she claimed you, "It was good, like really good. Maybe don’t let me get too cocky or I’ll try to steal the remote."
She laughs, the sound bright and pleased, "noted. Remote privileges revoked until further notice."
Bratty impulses rise again, small but stubborn. You attempt a tiny show of rebellion, a mock pout, a hand sliding in a teasing way across her knee. She catches your wrist with a gentle clamp and looks at you with a face that’s all approval and promise.
"You try that again and I’ll do it properly," she warns, but there’s no threat in her tone. Only a delicious certainty that she will, and you will love it. The word 'properly' hangs between you like an invitation.
You grin. Oh the brat is back in the game.
The rest of the hour is quiet rehearsing- directions whispered, boundaries confirmed, coins of intimacy traded, kisses, touches, jokes. She checks your breathing, presses a cool palm to your forehead and when you fall into a dozy half-sleep on the couch, she tucks you and rests beside you, still awake long enough to make sure you are safe. Two pieces, indeed, clicking into place, one curious and bratty, the other steady and indulgent. Both content, both wanting more, both dangerously, deliciously certain this is only the beginning.
