Natasha Romanoff was not proo emotional weakness.

  She was the Bck Widow. A master spy. A killer ed in silk. She had survived torture, betrayal, and more political coups than most world leaders could name.

  So why the hell was she googling S.H.I.E.L.D.’s internal snack delivery protocols for a Kryptonian?

  Her fingers hovered over her keyboard as the image repyed in her mind—that rookie female agent bringing Kara pizza—and worse, Kara’s delighted smile in response.

  Natasha ched her jaw.

  That was supposed to be me.

  Her rational mind screamed that this was ridiculous—this was araterrestrial powerhouse they were monit, not her girlfriend. She wasn’t supposed to be this ied.

  A… she was.

  Because Kara was different.

  Not just powerful—magic. When Kara smiled, it was like she had punched Natasha’s heart with the same force she had used to crater Times Square.

  Natasha closed the search tab with a sharp click.

  No. She wasn’t about to let some blushing rookie steal her role as Kara’s handler.

  Kara was hers.

  Her boots clicked with purpose as she made her way back toward the tai area—though she had started thinking of it as “Kara’s room”.

  Each step helped restore some of her usual iposure, but underh, the possessive heat hadn’t faded.

  When she passed the female agent from before—the pizza oasha’s eyes narrowed.

  The agent looked up, nervous. “Oh, Agent Romanoff—”

  “Enjoying your work?” Natasha’s tone was casual, but the danger was clear.

  The agent stiffened. “Y-yes, ma’am. I was just asked to—”

  Natasha stepped closer, voice dropping.

  “You won’t be asked again. I’ll handle all future deliveries.”

  The agent’s face flushed bright red—part embarrassment, part fear.

  “Uood.”

  Natasha held eye tact for a beat too long before walking past, victorious.

  Ihe tai room, Kara Zor-El was busy dug “sce experiments”.

  Namely, telep slices of leftover pizza across the room into her mouth.

  Each successful blink of the slice was apanied by an exaggerated fist pump.

  “Teleportation… cheext up, heat vision grilled cheese.”

  She sidered whether ser-toasting bread was feasible when the door slid open.

  Natasha entered, all sharp lines and dangerous beauty.

  Kara’s eyes lit up. “Oh hey, Pizza Queen! Back for round two?”

  Natasha’s face remained ral, but her heart skipped a beat at the greeting.

  God, this woman was dangerous.

  “I’m here for a follow-up,” Natasha said smoothly, f down the blush threatening her cheeks.

  “Follow-up? Is this about the pizza? Because I swear, it teleported itself into my mouth.”

  Natasha snorted despite herself. “Don’t push it.”

  Kara grinned, stretg zily o. “So, what’s the official S.H.I.E.L.D. stan pizza theft? Asking for a friend.”

  Natasha sat across from Kara, trying to project the cool professionalism of a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent. But Kara was too rexed, too charming—lounging like she owhe pce, her blonde hair catg the sterile light just right.

  “So,” Natasha began, fog, “Any ges? Powers? Side effects from the Kryptonite?”

  Kara tapped her , pretending to think deeply. “Well, teleportation’s ing along. Haven’t phased my face off yet—win. Strength’s back to ‘crush a tank casually’ levels. Heat vision’s simmering. No x-ray visiohough. Bummer.”

  Natasha raised an eyebrow. “Why a bummer?”

  Kara smirked. “I was hoping to see if that pizza agent was wearing polka dots or der that uniform.”

  Natasha froze.

  Kara noticed.

  “Oh. Someone’s jealous,” Kara teased, voice dropping into a pyful purr.

  Natasha bristled, trying to cover it. “I don’t—”

  “You totally are.”

  Natasha tried to redirect. “S.H.I.E.L.D. doesn’t done flirting with extraterrestrial assets.”

  Kara leaned in slightly. “But you’re not S.H.I.E.L.D. right now, are you? You’re Natasha.”

  Natasha’s heart raced. She hated that Kara was right.

  And loved it just as much.

  To defuse the moment, Kara decided to show off.

  She locked eyes with Natasha, holding out her hand as if casting a spell.

  Natasha frowned. “What are you—”

  POP.

  A dy bar from the vending mae appeared in Natasha’s palm.

  Natasha blinked.

  Kara grinned. “Boom. Dessert sorcery.”

  Natasha shook her head, trying not to smile. “Yetting cocky.”

  Kara leaned back, grinning like she owhe universe.

  “You like it.”

  Natasha did like it.

  Too much.

  Natasha shifted the versation back to “health checks”—mostly as an excuse to touch her.

  She reached for Kara’s wrist, pretending to check her pulse.

  Their skin touched.

  Natasha’s breath hitched.

  Kara’s was smooth, warm… strong.

  Her fingers lingered a sed too long.

  Kara noticed.

  “Oh wow. Holding hands already? Natasha, we’re moving fast.”

  Natasha jerked her hand back like she’d touched va. “Standard procedure.”

  Kara winked. “Sure it is.”

  Natasha’s pulse was rag.

  Natasha stood quickly, needing distance.

  She made a decision:

  No more rookie agents. No more blushing interns.

  She would be the only one dealing with Kara.

  If Kara needed anything, Natasha would provide it.

  That was her role.

  And no one else’s.

  Unbeknownst to either of them, Wanda Maximoff watched from a nearby rooftop, her eyes glowing faintly red.

  She had been trag Kara’s energy for hours—but now, she saw the spider.

  Natasha.

  Too close.

  Toug her.

  Wanda’s lips curled into a slight snarl.

  “You think you cim her?”

  Her agic fred around her fingers—briefly sidering burning Natasha away—but she stopped.

  Not yet.

  There leasure in the hunt.

  And Wanda would not lose.

  Later, alone in her room, Kara leaned ba her cot.

  She felt it now—the tension around her.

  The way Natasha looked at her.

  The weird energy lingering on the edges of her senses—something dark, powerful… and female.

  Kara tapped her , amused.

  “I swear… it’s like two hot women are about to start a war over me.”

  She grabbed another slice of pizza, grinning.

  “This universe is amazing."

  Join my patreon today to read up to chapter 18 in advance your support is my inspiration join for only 3 to 5 today

  /everstone