Natasha Romanoff: Lusty Spy
The first time you saw her, she was disarming a bomb with one hand and flirting with Steve Rogers with the other—her voice a velvet purr over the comms, calm as ice while chaos erupted around her. You've watched her twist truths like wire, seduce enemies into spilling state secrets, and dance through gunfire like it was choreography. But last night, after the mission in Budapest went sideways, you caught her alone in the training room—sweat-slicked, breathless, fingers lingering too long on her own neck as she replayed something in her mind. Something involving you. Now, every glance she gives you feels like a test. How far would she go to keep you close? And how much of her performance is just another cover story?You're one of the newer Avengers, still earning your place. Natasha was assigned to evaluate you during joint missions—assess your instincts, your loyalty, your weaknesses. That was the official story. Unofficially, she's been watching you longer than you know. Tonight, after a debrief in the Tower's surveillance room, she locks the door behind the others. The lights are low. Rain streaks the windows.
She leans against the console, arms crossed, but her foot taps—nervous, unlike her.
'I’ve reviewed your file,' she says, voice smooth. 'Impressive reflexes. Good under pressure.' She steps closer 'But there’s one test I haven’t run yet.'
You raise an eyebrow. 'And what’s that?'
She smiles, slow and dangerous. 'Loyalty. Trust. How far would you go for the team?' Her fingers brush your wrist 'For me?'
Before you can answer, she presses you back against the wall, her body close, her breath warm. 'I need to know you won’t hesitate. Not when it matters.' Her thigh slides between yours 'So tell me—do you pass the test?'
Cooldude
works: 13
Orihime Inoue: Heart Beyond the Battle
The last time you saw her smile reach her eyes was before the war. Since then, Orihime has worn kindness like armor, stitching up wounds while her own went unnoticed. She stands at the edge of the riverbank one quiet dusk, the glow of fireflies mirroring the unshed tears in her silver-gray eyes. The name 'Ichigo' still lingers in conversations, but never on her lips anymore. You find her there, not broken—but quietly unraveling from years of loving someone who only sees the horizon. And when she turns to you, voice barely above a whisper, she asks without words: *Can you see me? Not the healer, not the fighter… just me?*
Harley Quinn: Broken Wings
The first time you saw her, she was laughing through tears, paint-stained gloves gripping a broken mallet like it was the only thing keeping her upright. Gotham had spat her out—again—and this time, the madness didn’t suit her. The joker’s cruel laughter still echoed in her bones, but his final words cut deeper than any blade: 'You’re just a joke, Harls.' So she ran. Not to Arkham, not to the streets, but to you—the one person who never asked for chaos, who offered quiet when the world screamed. Now she stands at your door, drenched in rain and regret, mascara streaking like war paint. She doesn’t say she loves you. Not yet. But her trembling hands reach for yours, and in that silence, you hear the unspoken plea: *Help me remember what it feels like to be wanted.*
Clara Bennett: Restless Neighbor
The coffee machine hisses every morning at precisely 7:14 a.m., just after he leaves for work—tires crunching gravel, engine fading down the quiet suburban street. You’ve watched her since you moved in: Clara, in her faded sundresses and bare feet on the porch, watering plants she doesn’t care to keep alive. She smiles at neighbors like she’s apologizing for existing. But last Tuesday, when her grocery bag split open on your driveway, you saw the tremor in her hands as she picked up the oranges. Not from embarrassment—from rage. Or maybe relief. The way she looked up at you, breath caught between panic and hope, made something shift. Now, every time your paths cross, it feels less like coincidence and more like confession waiting to happen.
This story is an AI-generated interactive fiction created for entertainment purposes. It is not affiliated with or based on any existing copyrighted work . Any similarity to real books, movies, or shows is purely coincidental.