˗ˏˋ romanogers oneshots ˎˊ˗

✧˖*°࿐ fires and trust

Natasha and Steve were engaged and due to be married. Were. That all changed when the Avengers disbanded in a disagreement over the Sokovia Accords. Natasha had taken side with Tony while Steve formed alliances with Clint. Friendships blew apart, trust was broken, relationships torn.

The last Natasha saw of Steve was when she had ultimately betrayed Tony by letting Steve and Bucky go. She later found Bucky in Wakanda, but there was no sign of Steve. No one had heard from him in two years. She began to wonder if something truly terrible had happened to him. She had seen reports in the news about a certain mystery man, matching his descriptions who had been accused of serious criminal offenses, from kidnap to arson. She didn't want to believe any of the rumors, but the fact that no one had heard from him added to her suspicion. As more reports piled up tarnishing his good name, the more she realized he wasn't as good as she made him out to be. Despite this, she longed to see him just one more time.

Her chance came when she unexpectedly ran into him in a motel in France, Paris. The city of love, of course. In some strange way that connected them, their minds and hearts were one, great minds think alike. Of course they would think of staying at the same motel. Their rooms were right next to each other, how convenient. During their stay there, they indulged in one another. And then they heard that another Avenger was in town and they fled, not seeing each other again until much later. But little did they know what they had left behind. His last words to her were after they had kissed: I will do that one last time. I promise. And they went their separate ways.

They saw each other again at a masquerade ball. She spots him from across the room and her heart flutters. She's sure he has spotted her too, but she doesn't know if he recognizes her. His eye catches hers and he walks over. For moment Natasha is frozen to the spot, not knowing whether to run or hide. She stands against the bar counter as he appears in front of her, leaning over the bar counter to get a drink while subtly brushing his hand across hers. Natasha holds a gasp and composes herself in her head. She hope that the layers in her dress and the low line of the cleavage was enough to draw anyone's attention away from her slightly swollen belly.

"Hey stranger," she rasps seductively, faking a French accent. He smiles back at her and reaches to brush away a strand of hair from her face. The red locks she once had were now dyed a light brown. But there was something about it that seemed so familiar to him, only he had done it with his lover. Her hair smelt oddly familiar, the same smell of vanilla that he knew all too well. And her seductive tone seemed familiar. That French accent, she had used it once on a mission but he remembered it clearly.

As he leans in against her, his legs pressed against hers, he smiles. The last time they had done that, they had just ran into each other at the motel in France and one thing led to another.

"Natasha, you smell so good. I want you. I want all of you," he had said with lust clouding his bright blue eyes, which had now turned a darker shade. She bit her lip and whispered his name.

"Steve..." she whispers. Oh crap, she had just voiced her thoughts out loud. He was probably reminiscing the same thing because he stops and looks at her.

"What did you just say?" he swore that he just heard her voice whisper his name.

She shook her head. "Nothing."

But it wasn't nothing was it? He heard her. Or maybe he just missed her too much he was imagining things.

"Sorry, I mistook you for someone else," he says.

She puts back her French accent ."All good stranger." he smiles and turns to leave. She slips him a small note. "Read it when you're alone, out of sight. "

And he disappears in the crowd.

When he opens the note, he is shocked to see a familiar handwriting. It can't be, he thought. The slant of her letters and the curve in g and y were too similar to hers. Or was that really her?

The night has a thousand eyes, and the day but one; yet the light of the bright world dies with the dying sun. The mind has a thousand eyes, and the heart but one: yet the light of a whole life dies when love is done.

Her favorite quote. It was definitely her. But she seemed different, unlike her usual cautious self. She looked different as well, and it wasn't her hair, it was something else that Steve couldn't put his finger on.

As he left, her heart was pounding rapidly in her chest. She instantly regretted slipping him that note. And had he recognized her, had he realized any differences?

She met him outside her hotel room halfway through the ball, in the same hotel the ball was held.

He pulls off his mask and runs his fingers through his hair. A moment of silence passed between them before she broke it. "They're all true aren't they? The fires and kidnaps, those were all you." Steve looks down and bites his lip. "You're a good man Steve, you're not wicked. So why are you doing this?"

"I had no choice." Steve mumbles without looking up. "I didn't mean to hurt all those people, I really didn't"

Natasha places her hands on Steve's shoulders. "It's not too late to change everything. You can do good again. You can come with me, we can make it work."

"How? I'm broken beyond repair. I can't be fixed, not anymore. Natasha you have to get out of here." Steve looks up and glances at her before looking down again.

Natasha knows that he has made his decision and nothing she says will change things. "You're not going to do that again, are you?"

"I have no choice." Steve says, looking up, hoping she understands.

Natasha shakes her head in disappointment and turns to leave.

"Please, you have to understand. I'm doing this for us." Steve begs, grabbing her hand and preventing her from leaving.

"Us? There was no us from the moment you lit your first fire. And there won't be us. Steve, you know this is wrong. Goodbye Steve Rogers. If fate allow it, we may meet again one day." With that, she grabs her bags and runs off into the distance.

He contemplates chasing after her but stays rooted in his spot, emotion coursing through he as he lights a lighter.

A/N: inspired by a series of unfortunate events. also whether they get their happy ending will be up to your own imagination. i might write a sequel if i get enough likes and comments for it so yeah. also this proves im incapable of writing happy stuff and can only ever write angst so yeah-