Supergirl Defender Of Love

Natasha Romanoff woke before the sun, as always. Years of training had made sleep a luxury she rarely indulged in. Even here, in the guest room that had unofficially become hers in Kara's home, her instincts never allowed her to fully relax. But this morning felt different. Her body was still humming from the events of the day before—the kiss, brief but real, still lingered on her lips. The taste of Kara. The touch of her skin. It had happened. Finally.

But alongside the pleasure was something darker. The memory of pressing a gun against Harry Osborn's skull, watching him tremble, hearing his breath hitch in fear. The high of control. The assurance that he would never bother Kara again.

It felt good. Too good.

She sat up, running a hand through her hair, breathing deeply to steady herself. This wasn't sustainable. There would always be another Harry. Another idiot. Another threat. She couldn't stand beside Kara forever with a gun in her hand.

Unless she changed the rules.

Natasha slipped out of bed, moving with silent precision into the kitchen. She brewed coffee, checked her S.H.I.E.L.D. notifications—routine at this point. But as she scrolled, her mind was racing down a new path. She had always been a tool—an assassin, a spy. But tools were used by others. She needed to be the one holding the weapon.

She needed control. Real control. Systemic control.

Over S.H.I.E.L.D. Over Fury. Over everything.

For Kara.

The thought hit her like a jolt of adrenaline. It was so simple. If she controlled the system, she controlled Kara's safety. No more threats. No more men. No more uncertainty.

She would reshape S.H.I.E.L.D. into what it needed to be—a wall around Kara. An army of loyal women. And Fury? He would be her face, her puppet. He could keep barking orders to the world, but the leash would be in her hand.

And Kara would never need to know. She would just be safe. Loved. Worshipped.

Natasha's lips curled into a faint smile as she sipped her coffee.

The first steps were simple. Small. Just enough to see if she could bend the system.

Later that morning, Kara stumbled into the kitchen, her hair slightly messy, wearing a loose t-shirt that exposed just a sliver of her toned stomach. She greeted Natasha with a lazy smile, her eyes briefly sweeping over her body in a way that made Natasha's pulse quicken.

"You're up early," Kara said, grabbing a mug.

"Habit," Natasha replied, setting down her tablet. "Checking assignments."

Kara smirked. "Always working. You're gonna burn out."

Natasha raised an eyebrow. "Would you miss me?"

Kara leaned against the counter, eyes narrowing playfully. "Who else would keep my bed warm?"

It was a joke—mostly. But Natasha's chest tightened. She masked it with a sip of coffee, but Kara's words stayed with her.

Warmth. Closeness. She wanted that. But first, she needed to secure it.

Natasha's first move was subtle. She sent a message to S.H.I.E.L.D.'s personnel division, requesting routine rotation evaluations for Kara's perimeter guards. On paper, it was a standard review—something no one would blink at. But Natasha had already decided the outcome.

Men out. Women in.

She personally selected the replacements. Women she had worked with. Competent. Loyal. Some had whispered admiration for her during missions. Some had even flirted. Natasha filed all of it away. Those were the agents she wanted.

She marked the first rotation "temporary" to avoid drawing attention. But it wouldn't be temporary.

Not unless someone forced her to change it. And no one would.

Not once she had Fury under her control.

Later that afternoon, Fury called.

"Romanoff, I saw the rotation request. You're adjusting Kara's team?"

Natasha leaned against the wall of Kara's guesthouse, gazing out at the trees—the same trees where several bodies were buried.

"Yeah. Some of the men were getting sloppy. I'm replacing them with more specialized agents."

Fury grunted. "Specialized?"

"Women. Highly capable. Trustworthy."

Fury was silent for a moment. He respected her instincts, but she could hear his hesitation. S.H.I.E.L.D. was a male-dominated machine, even if no one said it out loud. He wouldn't admit it, but he was wondering if she was leaning too far into favoritism.

"I trust you, Romanoff," he finally said. "Just keep me in the loop."

Natasha's lips twitched. He already trusted her more than he realized.

"Of course, sir."

She hung up, satisfied.

One step forward.

That evening, Natasha found herself sitting across from Kara at the dining table. They had ordered takeout—pizza, again. Kara loved it, and Natasha found herself caring more about what Kara liked than she ever expected.

They ate in comfortable silence for a while, before Kara broke it.

"You know," Kara started, "I really like having you around."

Natasha blinked. "What?"

"I mean it. I like this… you being here. It's nice."

Natasha felt heat rise to her cheeks, but she forced herself to stay composed. "I like being here."

Kara smirked, leaning closer. "You sure it's not just 'security protocol'?"

Natasha chuckled softly. "Maybe it's a little more than that."

Their eyes met. The air between them was heavy—charged with something new. Something dangerous.

Kara leaned back, satisfied. "Good."

That night, Natasha lay in bed, but she wasn't resting.

Her mind was mapping out the future.

Phase one: Control S.H.I.E.L.D.'s operations around Kara. Female agents only.

Phase two: Consolidate power under Fury's nose. Offer help. Handle his work. Make him depend on her.

Phase three: Puppet Fury. Natasha behind the curtain, pulling every string.

Phase four: Expand. Wanda. Gwen. They needed to be brought in—not as threats, but as allies. Together, they could ensure Kara's world was perfect.

The thought made her pulse quicken again.

A world built for Kara. By them.

Her hand drifted to her lips—the ghost of Kara's kiss still there.

She smiled.

One step at a time.

Elsewhere, Fury stared at his monitor, frowning at the personnel changes. Something about it didn't sit right with him, but he trusted Natasha. She was the best.

He leaned back in his chair, muttering to himself. "She's got it under control."

If only he knew.

Back at the guesthouse, Kara lay in her bed, staring at the ceiling. She thought of Natasha's flushed face that morning. The little cracks in her armor. The way her eyes softened every time their gazes lingered too long.

Kara smiled.

This world was perfect.

And Natasha? She was getting there but she wasn't ripe for the picking yet.

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