#natasha romanoff

[romanoffshouse]

Natasha : *very seriously* You need to stop doing weird things to cope with the stress. Going outside might help.

Y/N: I went to the park today.

Natasha : There you go! I hope you got something from that.

Y/N: *opening their coat* This duck.

[wandasfifthwife]

such a bad girl ₊✩°｡⋆˚ ⁺

— wandanat x fem/afab!reader

༺ tw || SMUT MDNI, hot tub sex, dom!wandnat, sub!reader, top!wandanat, bottom!reader, threesome, making out in a moving car, mean dom!wanda for a minute, degration/praise, dom/sub relationship, reader is described to be wearing a scandalous bathing suit that’s easy for them to undo, mention that W has a glass of wine (no drinking description), r’s neediness changes her shy personality, fingering (v & anal ; r receiving), mention of oral if you squint, exhibition kink if you squint, grinding, orgasm denial, NOT PROOFREAD

༺ a/n || I’ve never personally been in a dom/sub relationship, so if I get things wrong that’s why! If you’re getting into one— don’t use this as a guide/reference

— 🌷masterlist ⁺˚⋆｡°✩₊ 3.9k words₊✩°｡⋆˚ ⁺ next part 🌻—

Their text coming in during your long shift was a savior because if not for it you would’ve collapsed. None of your designs were accepted. Each time it got rejected you felt your motivation slip from you, the negative tension in the building getting to you. That was until Natasha’s contact information came in. It was as simple as ever, but it made you smile. The text read, “pack a small suitcase and meet us at our apartment at 7PM.”

It sparked an interest in you to do your best despite the recurring turn out. The knowledge of a weekend trip with them was exciting, providing you with a sense of purpose to finish the day well. You pulled your suitcase out of hiding after arriving home, stuffing in whatever clothes looked most appealing.

Your phone then dings, home screen lighting up to show her second text reading, “pack a swimsuit.”

At the time you didn’t think much of it, packing whichever one was at the top and throwing it almost the other strewn together outfits. Once it was reaching the edges you shut it, dragging it behind you. Natasha was the first to see you, smiling up at you when you enter into their apartment room.

“Hi kitten—how was work?”

“Oh, it was fine,” you slide your shoes off, “where’s Wanda?”

“Working in our bedroom.”

Her words have you looking over to their room, finding the skinny white door shut. She pats the seat beside her on the couch, adjusting the laptop on her lap for you to see.

“Wanda has an event in the mountains and during her time there they’re paying for her stay at this cabin.”

Natasha flips through the pictures, stoping when you point out the hot tub, “is that why you asked me to bring a swimsuit?”

“Might as well take advantage of it seeing as we get it all to ourselves for a day.”

“How far is it?”

“About a two hour, thirty minute drive. I’ll be driving a majority of the time since Wanda will have to work.”

She shuts her laptop, setting it aside so she can guide you to lay your head on her lap. You shiver at the feeling of her fingers moving lightly around your neck, drawing chills down your back.

“Wanda has an important call to take during our drive—you’ll need to stay quiet for her, understand?”

“Okay.”

When she doesn’t say anything after you fear you’ve upset her. You crane your neck to look at her, finding her eyes set on yours. The expression on her face tells you what’s going unsaid.

“Okay, daddy.”

She hums, leaning to press a kiss to your lips. Neither of you wish to pull away after, enjoying the small moment of intimacy. Any chance to deepen the kiss flies out the window when Wanda returns.

She looks to her watch, “we have to leave now if we want to make it to the cabin before sundown.”

She greets you both with a quick kiss as she works to remove her work coat.

“Did you pack everything you need?”

“Yes,” you point to the corner of the room where your suitcase lies, “I packed everything you asked me to.”

Ans you had, everything that lied packed away in the suitcase was what they asked for you to bring. Everything was, but you’re unsure about the specific contents of the items mentioned—such as your bathing suit. You’re excited as well as nervous to see their reactions if you ever end up utilizing the hot tub.

Natasha took both hers and your suitcase to the car, denying you any chance of carrying it yourself. The garage is connected to their apartment complex. It’s a public garage, each spot set to each individual resident. Their car was left on third floor, to the right of the elevator.

“Where do you want me for the drive?”

Wanda looks up from her phone momentarily, “uh—I prefer it if you sit up front so I can set up in the back. I need to use the charging ports.”

Once Natasha’s finished putting the suitcases in the back she slides in the drivers seat. Her hand lies behind your seat so she can look behind, helping her back the car out from the spot.

“My meeting isn’t until four thirty. Once it’s over I’ll verbally say when you can begin to speak again,” Wanda says from the back, sounds of the keyboard clicking as she gets situated.

“How’re you feeling,” Natasha asks her, looking back at her through the rearview mirror.

“I honestly just want this to be over with, this company has miserable employees. Anything I send out they never respond until days later and then they blame us for the problems they’ve been coming up.”

“I’m sorry, that sounds rough,” you add.

“Not your fault,” she gives you a short smile.

Natasha makes short conversation with you, asking about random things and laughing at some of your answers. You keep looking back at Wanda, feeling guilty about the way her eyebrows are furrowed.

“Is there any way I can help you?”

“No,” she sighs, “I’m sorry, I’ll be a lot better tonight once everything is over.”

“Don’t apologize. I just wanted to ask, see if I can help in some way.”

Through the mirror the two make eye contact, one that you can’t decipher. It was too quick for you to come to terms with what was being discussed.

Thirty minutes pass, the countdown until her call coming closer and now is only twenty minutes away. Natasha’s pulled to get gas, wanting to fill up and not stop once you’ve reached the cabin. It was right after she had shut the door that Wanda had begun to speak again.

“Come sit in the back with me.”

It was simple enough. It’s only an invite to come sit with her, but you highly doubt it’s to cuddle. You grow nervous, glancing around at the people wondering about at the gas station. The gas station is large enough, decent amount of distance between each pump, but there were still people. You’re still in public.

“I—Wanda.”

“Wasn’t a question.”

You’re climbing out immediately, avoiding eye contact with anyone who may look over at you. Nothings happened but already you feel like it has, you feel that others could sense the tension arise and how your body’s burning with need.

You sit in the seat by her, separated by the drink console. Her laptop is set on top, the console being used as a makeshift table.

“Look at me,” she says, only continuing after you do, “do you think I want you to sit there?”

“Uh—no, sorry.”

“Then fix your mistake.”

She makes no effort to help and doesn’t look remotely concerned when you have to slide out of the car again to climb in where she’s seated. It’s uncomfortable at first, but you find a comfortable position straddled over her thighs, facing her. It’s a small fit, the positioning forcing you to be pressed up against her body. All it’s done is make you warmer, the heat between your legs growing as you eagerly wait.

“I don’t want a single sound from you,” is all the warning she gives as she begins to pull up the work call. It’s on zoom, and you begin to panic about the video screen.

“Wands, they’ll see—“

“They won’t see,” she says, turning her screen off, “but they can hear. Can you be a good girl for mommy and be quiet?”

You nod and she’s surging forward to connect her lips to yours. Her hands are under your thighs, using her grip to pull you closer onto herself. Wanda’s lips are smooth when brushing against yours, feeling better each time they come back against yours.

A breathy moan escapes when she flicks her tongue against yours, eyes open and set on you. It’s the only sound she allows from you as each one following earns a pinch to your thigh. You wonder if she’s paying any attention to the call seeing as she’s working her way around intentionally to make you squirm.

“—agreed. And Wanda do you have anything to add, you’ve been mighty quiet.”

The call goes silent, everyone shown to be focusing in on her screen for a response. Instead of responding she’s hiking your shirt up, lips glossing over the soft spot on your neck. There’s an attempt made to pull her back to reality, that being tugging at her shirt but it’s misunderstood. She takes it as continue, too far consumed with you to care about some boring work meeting. It wouldn’t go anywhere if she replied, so instead she’s putting in the effort on you—enjoying the way you try and hold back your sounds while the call’s still silent and waiting for Wanda’s reply.

“If you dont reply in the next five seconds we’ll be moving forward,” he says, but her attention is still fixated on you.

She continues her ministrations, playing mind games that get you heated but do not satisfy you. All of Wanda’s needs are met with your quieted reactions—pulling at her hair, gasping into her mouth, grinding your hips down on her thigh for some friction.

“Okay, moving on now—we have a short time together so I hope to see you at each event scheduled while we’re here.”

You’re incredibly thankful the call ends there because if not they would’ve all heard your choked moans—what’s worse is the screen would’ve showed Wanda’s in the middle exposing her. Yet it didn’t happen, you were safe now to whine when she rubs you back and forth on her leg, fingers teasing around your nipples from where they lie under your t-shirt.

Once she realizes the calls ended, she stops everything, pulling back to check her phone. She leaves you sitting on her lap, needy and waiting.

“Don’t be a brat,” she sighs, not looking up from her phone, “I never said I’d get you off.”

She clicks her tongue when you look back at Natasha for sympathy, her fingers gripping your chin and pulling you back to face her.

“She’s not going to do anything because she knows you’re in the wrong. I’ll repeat it again so your little dumb mind can understand—I never said I’d get you off.”

This side of her isn’t helping the heat burning within you, setting a blaze in how harshly she’s treating you. Shes right, and it’s turning your thoughts into nothing.

“Darling,” she says, tapping your cheek with her finger, “how’re you feeling?”

“Good—I’m good.”

She smiles at your confirmation before returning to where she was a second ago. You make a sound of protest when you feel her adjust you on her lap, motioning for you to slide into the seat beside her.

“Sit here and be a good girl for us until we arrive at the cabin.”

“But that’s so long.”

“If you continue to act up I’ll extend it until next week.”

You shut up. The sound of the AC whirring about and the smoothness of the car running lulls you to sleep, head resting against the window. It’s a deep sleep you realize once you’ve awoken to spot the red marks lining your arms. Wanda’s the one who wakes you up with a hand resting on your arm, rubbing the skin softly until she sees you stir.

“We’ve already brought your stuff inside,” she starts, slowing when she notices the slowness in your movements, “wanna be picked up?”

She laughs when you confirm your needs. Natasha comes behind the two of you to shut the front door, asking Wanda about her schedule for the rest of the day.

“There’s really only two today that are mandatory, every other one I can skip. With the others present on this trip, I’d rather stay here.”

Natasha hums, coming by to kiss Wanda quickly, “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” she says, laying you down on the bed, “it’s a part of life, can’t avoid stupid people.”

“Am I stupid,” you ask, eyes half open and blearily looking at her, “you called me stupid earlier—so mean.”

“You’re such a tease,” she leans to slap your thigh, smile widening at the sight of you moving away with a laugh.

Natasha sits beside you, watching Wanda wonder about the room. You’re still half asleep beside her, looking around the room but always trailing back to the two of them as they discuss a plan. So far it seems you’ll be staying at the cabin with Natasha until Wanda returns, then dinner, and then you have plans to relax here.

“I do have to leave now, but I’ll be back once it’s all over. I’ll send you a text,” is the last thing she says before the front door shuts.

You hear the sheets rustle, feeling Natasha get up. She hears you whine her name out, fingers still holding onto her wrist.

“Sorry,” she kisses your wrist before removing it, “I’m on strike with you too until she’s back.”

“She doesn’t have to know.”

“Still no.”

You groan, sliding off the bed and following suit, “then why, I’m-“

“Don’t care what you are. I’m also in charge,” she starts, rolling your suitcase a short way until it’s in front of you, “take this to our bedroom.”

She points you with a look when you cross your arms, standing stubbornly in your spot.

“Please take it to our room, I’m not doing anything in return. Either that, or I’m moving it to a week.”

“Just wanted a kiss.”

She looks suspicious, but leans in close despite it. She falls for you easily, both of you finding yourself pressing each other up against the corridor’s wall. The wall’s texture is almost engraved into your back with how close she is to you, breasts pressing against yours. You’re growing dizzy, tilting your head to kiss deeper. It’s when you moan that she’s moving back, slowing her movements.

“No!—daddy please, I’m so needy.”

“Later.”

She walks away, something she continues to do for the remainder of your time. You do spend some time together like making a late lunch and cuddling on the couch as Natasha reads a few emails.

The sun’s falling on the horizon when Wanda returns, flinging her high heels off, “sorry, I know I said I’d be here earlier. Have you guys had dinner yet? I already had gone ahead with the team and got some.”

“We made a late lunch, we’re fine,” Natasha responds from the living room. You remove yourself from her hold to find Wanda, hugging around her waist.

“Hi Kitten,” she mumbles against your skin, “how was your one on one time with Natasha?”

“Rude.”

“I’m not rude for sticking to a rule.”

Wanda coos, “needy still?”

Natasha responds for you, listing off your attempts at getting the attention you crave. From how it started in the corridor to where it ended in the kitchen, Natasha settled between your thighs. By now you’re dying, wishing for it to be over and for the two to cave in and sooth the ever growing need.

They don’t give any answer as to when, leaving you to be good despite such a vague answer.

What you hope to happen is a small miracle. There’s a reaction you wish to spark out of the two of them with an outfit packed away in your suitcase. You’re almost in your knees hoping it works. It wasn’t the original plan, the outfit originally was a last minute throw in but now it may be your saving grace. Twenty minutes have passed since Wanda’s arrival, and you’re growing restless. You feel greedy, bad almost to interrupt the two of them but the need has consumed almost every other thought, thighs rubbing against each other after being edged for hours.

The slightest thing is a trigger. Their hand resting on your thigh, seeing the two kiss lovingly, or noticing how the top buttons to Wanda’s blouse has been unbuttoned. It’s entirely possible that they notice the cloudiness in your eyes, your lust for them showing else than your thighs moving against one another.

“Mommy,” you whine, surprised the plea came out loud enough, “can we go in the hot tub?”

“Do you need help getting ready?”

Oh they know about how you’re feeling. The sympathetic expression and tone is welcoming, but it’s not what you’re looking for.

“No,” you state, getting up on shaky legs.

In the zipper compartment you find the swim suit you packed earlier in the day. The fabric left almost nothing to the imagination. It was small, showing more skin than necessary. Originally the outfit was bought with your friend years ago for a trip and since then you’ve not pulled it out as you felt it was too much for most pubic places. But tonight at a private cabin was perfect.

You slide the glass door, stepping out onto the back patio. The wind outside was a tad cold. You tried to warm up by wrapping your arms around the top half of your body. Wanda and Natasha had yet to come out, and you wondered momentarily where they were as you sunk down into the hot water. You sighed once inside, closing your eyes and letting your muscles relax. There were crickets in the back making an appearance.

It was dark save for the white lights in the hot tub, the glow reflecting on the roof above and creating a fun shaky pattern.

“You got ready fast,” Natasha states, keeping the sliding door open for Wanda, “how’s it feel?”

“Amazing.”

She makes her way in, moving at a quicker speed than you had been. After the water has reached past her shoulders, she stands to reach for her phone set on the side of the hot tub. You can’t help the way you watch her, eyes following the water droplet as it trails down her neck and between her breasts. It’s entirely attractive, reeling you over the edge.

“‘tasha.”

She hums, looking over from her phone when you’ve gone quiet. What she finds is a mess, eyes darkened and chest heaving air in. The moving jets create enough conflict in the water, the bubbles hiding the swim suit you have on. You’re just above the water for her to already notice how far down your swimsuit goes, cleavage already on show for her.

“Fuck what’re you wearing?”

“Why don’t you come over here and find out.”

Her eyes come to match yours. She’s shutting her phone off, moving towards you. With how you’re sitting she’s towering over you, using it to her advantage when she leans down to connect her lips with yours. You’re moving to lock your arms around her neck, hoping with every part of you that she’ll stay this time till the end. Her fingers trail down your chest, feeling until they bump against the small cloth covering your nipples.

“Could’ve just walked out naked,” she says, slipping it off you and pinching at your hardened buds. You gasp, chest pushing into her. Your movement exposes your neck, giving her room to press featherlight kisses.

“Please—I can’t wait anymore.”

“Need me?”

“Obviously,” you state, wincing after from the pinch she lands on your thigh.

“So mean. Who knew you had this in you.”

She shuts you up when she moves to kiss you breathlessly again. You could kiss her all day and never grow tired of the action, each time she does you feel you’re being poisoned with need. You’re pressing back harder each time until she’s grown tired of your attacks and completely takes over.

Wanda follows about later, closing the door with a huff, “you both let a few moths in.”

There’s a moment of realization. The wet sounds and gasps, also the image reflecting in the door all bring her to turn around and witness it in real time. She had been too focused on not spilling her wine she glazed over how the two of you were connected, wrapped in each other.

She sets her glass down on a table, rounding the hot tub to sit behind you. The wooden floor of the patio is cold, but it’s bearable with the bit of hot water splashed out from the tub due to the two of you. You gasp in Natasha’s mouth when she lifts you up, sitting you on the edge of the hot tub.

It’s overwhelming feeling the both of them touch you. Natasha’s hands slipping under your bottoms to push them off, Wanda spreading you open. You fluster, hands moving to cover yourself. Natasha shushes you, gentle removing your hands.

“You’re beautiful,“ is all she says, eyes focusing in on your cunt. It’s drenched, but it’s hard to tell seeing as you were just lying in the tub a second ago.

You’re resting back on Wanda’s chest, legs resting on either side of Wanda’s thighs. Your bathing suit top rests lazily on you, clothes moved to the side so both can see how puffy Natasha’s sucked and rubbed the skin.

Wanda leans in close to your ear, “what do you need.”

“You, both of you—”

“How?”

“Don’t care, please—oh!”

Natasha takes the ‘don’t care’ literally, finger moving to press and rub against your clit. After hours of being stimulated, just a bit of friction brings you into your heavy mindset. Natasha runs her fingers around your puffy lips, gathering the wetness there and pushing it up against your clit again. She draws her finger lower, confusing you for a second until it circles your other hole.

“Fuck wait—!”

It’s too late, her finger’s already pushing through. The size of her single finger already provided such a stretch. She wiggles it around, eyes entranced by how you pull her in.

“When did you last finger yourself here?”

You look at her, eyes teary and almost feeling guilty, “last night.”

She hums, already moving cleared with adding another finger. You take it easy, hole wrapping around her fingers. Wanda’s moving her left hand, fingers reaching your wet cunt to draw the wetness onto your clit, circling it to provide a stronger sense of pleasure as Natasha continues her ministrations.

You’re flinging your head back on Wanda’s shoulder, gasping, “ah! Oh—please! please!”

Wanda’s hesitant, fingers hovering over your entrance until you nod. The second hers slide in, the pleasure is melting you into the floor. Nothing but how good they’re making you feel flooding your mind. They both have two fingers in, pressing in hard and fast. You’re gripping Wanda’s hand, broken ‘ahs’ spilling from you with each deep thrust.

“Ah-ah! Feel so good, ah!”

“Needy slut,“ Natasha mumbles, pressing her fingers up so they collide slightly with Wanda’s.

They don’t string you high this time, leaving you alone with your near-orgasm. Wanda’s finger is moving fast, the added rubbing brings you to your orgasm faster. It was sudden, two thrusts later and you’re wetting their hands until it drips into the water below.

You pant, fingernails still digging into Wanda’s wrist as you come down from your first high of the night. Wanda’s frustration from work leads her to fuck you mercilessly in the shower after, energy and lust on similar levels to you. Natasha’s since passed out, snores sounding from her in the bedroom when you and Wanda creep back in.

“Moving forward, I’m adding a rule—in the morning we can confirm with Natasha if she wants to make a dual rule,” she whispers, chills appearing in your body from how gentle she rubs your shoulders.

“What is it?”

“Can’t touch yourself without our permission.”

“I didn’t do that today?”

“No, but it wasn’t specified so at the time you could’ve but you chose to be good and listen and wait.”

“Because I only want you, only you satisfy me.”

— 🌷masterlist ⁺˚⋆｡°✩₊ taglist below₊✩°｡⋆˚ ⁺ next part🌻 —

@simpforlizzie @maggieromanov @angelbeingatitspurest @cerberus-spectre @olicity-boo @huggingkoalas @wandasbunnyy @babykingslayer @marigoldenblooms @godhatesgoodgirls @evmaximoff @tobiaslut @lzzysfreak @caporaI-nino @mommysfavouritegirl @gemz5 @dorabledewdroop @foxherder @madamevirgo @natashaswife4125 @peaceitsnaee @radcherryblossompainter @sagesayshi

[rxmqnova]

Y/N: As a responsible adult-

Natasha: *chuckles*

Y/N: ... As a responsible adult-

[mariinaworld]

PORNSTAR

Pornstar! Natasha Romanoff x F! Reader

Summary: After a drunken night at a nightclub, you discover that you have signed a contract that will change your life.

WC: 6,2k (sorry)

Warnings: SMUT, masturbation, riding, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, unprotected sex. Nat has a penis.

MINORS DNI MASTERLIST N.R

English is not my first language, so I apologize for any spelling mistakes

A/n: I'm really thinking about writing a part.2. idk

Your head felt like it was going to explode, as you tried to take another breath without having the urge to stick your entire stomach out.

Why did you drink so much like that?

Nice question, Y/n, No good answers 

You open your eyes again, feeling the fluorescent light in the bathroom slowly burn your corneas. But it was necessary. You had already thrown out everything you had drunk the night before, an your stomach felt raw, your throat was burning and you were afraid that if you tried to vomit again, blood would start coming out of my mouth.

You slowly stand up and flush the toilet, looking in the mirror for the first time that day. Holy shit, you looked terrible! Your eyeliner and mascara had created a black bag under your eyes, your red lipstick was smeared around your mouth, making you hate this twenty-four hour crap.

Well, your appearance was shit both on the outside and inside, his whole life was shit.

“End of story for you, Y/n!” You mutter to yourself, looking in the mirror.

You decide to stand there, seeing the image of your own destruction, it wouldn't do any good. Then you remove all your makeup and brush your teeth. Soon after, she takes off the short dress she was still wearing and goes under the shower, feeling the cold water hurt every pore of her hot skin. But it was necessary, you had to get rid of that nasty hangover

After showering, you leave the bathroom, finding Wanda lying on the sofa in your room. She was as bad as you were, but that made you smile a little. You really had the best friend in the world

After getting dressed, you take two headache pills and head back to your room, refusing any thoughts of eating since your stomach was still wanting you to look like you were sick. You lay down on the bed and close your eyes, feeling the slow and steady throbbing in your head, as unconsciousness took over you again.

“Let’s wake up, Princess .” Oh no... Wanda was jumping on top of her bed, making her sleepy body bounce lightly on the mattress.Hurry up, Y/n, we have to talk about last night, you naughty girl.”

You open your eyes and look at her, you sit up and let out a long sigh, feeling your head throbbing much less than before.

“Naughty? Why?" You ask leaning against the headboard. She sat on the bed and looked at you, giggling. Okay, that was an inside joke and you were lost there. “Speak quickly, I don’t have my whole life!” You say feeling a little nervous. “Such a bad mood, dear... Is that because of the hangover?” Wanda asked, laughing. You just roll your eyes and wait. “Ah, be serious, Y/n... Are you going to say you don’t remember last night?”

“I remember, of course. I remember stuffing my face with everything alcoholic. In fact, never let me do that again, please!” You say, making a face as you have slight memories. “Okay, what about the rest?” “What’s left?” You ask again

She looked at me with her smile slowly fading.

“The contract and everything Y/n…”

“What contract?” Okay now you think things got confusing

Just as Wanda was about to open her mouth to respond, her cell phone rang loudly, making you both jump in bed. You picked up your cell phone from the bedside table, seeing the unknown number on the screen. With a frown, you answer 

Call on...

“Miss Y/n?” you hear a female voice. "Yes, who is it?" You ask with a frown.

“Hello darling, this is Carol Danvers from PornHub. Do you remember me?"

PornHub... What the fuck was that? Upon hearing her silence, Carol spoke again. “We met yesterday at the Dance Hot Club nightclub... You were accompanied by your friend and we talked for a few hours. Do you remember me now?”

“Um...I remember, of course.” You let your voice sound as polite as possible. But it was obvious that you didn't remember. "What do you want?" You ask feeling a strange feeling. “I wanted to know when we can meet to schedule your first scene.”

"My first... What?”

“Your first scene, baby. With our biggest star of the moment, Natasha Romanoff.”

“I don't... Who is Natasha Romanoff? Scene... I don't understand anything, Mrs. Danvers.” You say, just wanting to know what that crazy woman was getting out of that conversation.

“Just Carol, darling. Anyway, we signed a contract last night. You were so excited to record with Natasha. I don’t think you remember everything.”

You caught a glimpse of Wanda getting up and picking up the small wallet I had brought the night before. She took out a white paper from inside her, which was folded and crumpled, picked it up and opened it, pasting it in front of you.

“Um... One second, Carol!” you ask, taking the paper.

Okay, it really was a contract, you think to yourself. A contract with a porn film production company. It was written that the new hire would be paid for each scene, she would act with the actor/actress that the producer chose. Before each scheduled scene, a blood test would be done by both actors, and it was essential that the contractor had birth control and proved this to the producer. The contract had the duty to compensate both parties, if something went wrong, all labor rights would be fulfilled, as soon as the contract was signed by both parties (contractor and employee).

Everything became even more absurd when at the end of the sheet you saw Carol's signature as contractor and your signature as contractor. Wanda's signature was there as a witness to the deal.

“What the hell is that?" You think out loud. Hearing Carol's laugh on the other end of the line. She was having a lot of fun at her expense, it seemed.

“Honey, I see you’re a little confused. Dance Hot Club is my nightclub. She is linked to PornHub, which is my production company. Few people are aware of this connection, I believe you are one of the many people who didn't even imagine it. It turns out that I'm quite observant, I love seeing all my regulars and whoever I think has potential for a film, I call to talk to me. You have potential and I know it. I talked to you and you accepted. You signed the contract and now we have to schedule not only the scene, but also the blood tests to see if you have any STDs and the birth control test, which you said you have.”

Your mind stopped at the part where she said you had the potential to be a porn actress. Was that woman crazy?

“No fucking way!” You say it out loud, regretting it later. “I mean… I’m not going to make a scene!”

“Y/n, you signed the contract. I don’t know if you have it in your hands, but there is a point where it shows the value stipulated for breaking it.” she said in a serious tone.

You take the contract and search it from top to bottom, finding a paragraph that she had said. One hundred thousand dollars.

That was all you would have to pay if you broke the damn contract.

"You are crazy? One hundred thousand dollars in breach of contract?”

“It’s my rights, darling.”

"You can not do that! You... You took advantage of a moment when I was fragile and completely drunk! I can sue you, you know that?”

"Of course. Y/n, you might be a little high, but I have nothing to do with that, honey. The contract was signed and that's what matters. When can we…”

You hung up 

You wanted to kill yourself!

“Is there any way you can stop pacing from one side to the other? It’s making me dizzy.”  Wanda says 

“How did you let me sign such rubbish? You are crazy?" You say almost shouting. “How did you let me do that?!”

“Now, Y/n, it’s not the end of the world... It’s just a scene with the hottest star in the porn world!” You look at Wanda confused, you didn't imagine she would meet this Natasha and you have no idea who she is.

In the end, you and Wanda spend the rest of the day watching interviews, reading about life and the main thing, seeing how Natasha acts in front of the cameras and holy God, you freeze. She was nothing like you imagined, the redhead's beauty certainly exceeded any expectations you could create, one of them was, Natasha has a penis, It should really shock you but somehow you're more turned on by it. In the video you are watching now, Natasha punches another actress firmly, making her scream with pleasure while at the height of her orgasm, Since Natasha has already made her cum three times in the same video, is this possible? When the video ends, you release the breath you were holding during the entire video. Wanda looks at you with a “you lucky girl” look but also with a “I feel sorry for you this is over” look.

The only thing that goes through your head is that you won't make it. But you also think that a hundred thousand dollars is way beyond what you can afford, so there's only one option left. Picking up the phone again you dial the number that called you an hour ago.

“Hey Carol… Let’s get this over with.”

Time Skip

PornHub was located in a luxurious building in downtown Los Angeles and, from the outside, it looked like just another one of those steel and glass buildings. The atmosphere in the hall does not represent in any way what was happening inside those high floors and you admit that you were curious not to come across a screen with pornographic images, or with various sexual objects displayed on the walls.

A smiling blonde woman welcomed you and instructed you two catching the elevator and go straight to the twentieth floor, where Carol 's office was. Wanda was completely anxious and you were increasingly irritated as you pushed your sunglasses closer and closer to your eyes. You just wanted to get rid of the whole situation.

On the twentieth floor, another smiling blonde accompanied you to Carol's office, which was decorated entirely in shades of white and beige. Well, in her office reality hit her in the face, while several paintings with covers of films produced by the producer adorned the walls and some awards shone in shiny gold on the shelves.

“Y/n, it’s good to see you. I love punctual people.” she smiled and pointed to the chair in front of his desk. “Sit down, darlings. Would you like to drink something?”

You looked at Wanda and she shook her head, as did you. With a wave, Carol allowed the smiling blonde to leave her room.

“So... Did you bring everything I asked for?”

You, trying hard not to roll your eyes, opened your bag and took out the white envelopes you had brought with you. She took them and took their exams, calmly evaluating them.

“Perfect, Y/n, just like you knew it would be!” she smiled even more. “Honey, you used to be more talkative.”

“I’m mentally training myself to be able to moan enough in your film.” You say smiling ironically.

A loud laugh invaded the entire office, while a door on his right side opened. Natasha Romanoff.

She was beautiful…

“What an incredible sense of humor, Carol. I love girls like that!” Natasha said, without wiping the smile off her face. “I’m sorry, ladies, I was in the bathroom and I couldn’t help but overhear.” approaching, she stopped next to you and held out her hand. “Natasha Romanoff. It's a pleasure to finally meet you, Y/n. I was curious to know who the girl was that was giving my dear friend headaches.”

“Y/n.” You say shaking the redhead's hand quickly. But she surprised him by kissing his hand lightly. “It was not my intention to give anyone headaches. If your friend had followed my suggestion, none of this would have happened.”

She looked you up and down, a crooked smile taking over her lips. Her mouth suddenly went dry and, holy shit, you felt her intimacy throb.

“Good thing she didn’t follow your suggestion.” She smiled completely and turned around, stopping next to a completely open-mouthed Wanda. “And who would you be?”

“Wanda Maximoff, um... Just Wanda.” She said, giving a huge smile.

“It’s nice to meet you too, Wanda.” Natasha said and walked away, pulling out the chair and sitting next to you.

“Well, now that my two actresses are together, we can discuss everything more clearly.” She said, smiling slightly. “I know about Natasha’s objections, now I want to know your objections Y/n.”

“My... What?.” You ask confused.

“Objections, Detka... What do you accept or not do…” Natasha says looking firmly at you.

“Ahh…” you mumble.

What did you agree to do? What did you not agree to do? Damn, you didn't know how to do that!

"I will help you." Natasha said, catching his attention. “Anal sex?”

"Never did it. And I certainly don’t want to face a bunch of people!” You say, frowning. Just the idea made you feel sick.

“Okay, Carol is writing everything down.” She said, looking back at you. “Giving and receiving oral sex?”

Holy shit, what an uncomfortable situation you think.

You're not shy, but talking to a woman I've never met in your life about whether you give or receive oral sex is too much for you. But everything is fine… A single scene, and all of this would be buried deep in your memory!

"Yes." You mutter, wanting to look away, but simply not being able to, Natasha had you completely trapped.

"Excellent." she smirked, raising an eyebrow. “Any problems with touching your body or touching my body somewhere…?” You just shake your head no.

“Well, I guess that's all. Are you free tomorrow, Y/n?”

“To... record the scene?” Carol stated, shaking her head. "I am…"

"Perfect! Ten o’clock in the morning here, right?” You agree, letting out a sigh as you stand up.

You shake hands formally and before you can do the same to Natasha, she takes your hand and kisses it again. Come on, was she charming with all the women she worked with? You wonder.

Not that it was any of your business, of course.

“I'm looking forward to tomorrow, Detka." she smiled and shook his hand. "See you tomorrow"

"See you tomorrow " looking at her one last time, before turning your back and leaving her presence, which, in a way, tormented you and made your panties damp.

Natasha could define you in a single word: hot.

Beautiful, full mouth, a delicious ass and breasts that were certainly natural. Not to mention your charisma and incredible sense of humor.

Natasha was sure that you would make a great duo and I couldn't wait to be on the scene with you below her, or on top, any position 

Natasha parks her motorcycle in the company's garage.

“Fifteen minutes early? You’re always punctual Nat, but fifteen minutes early surprises me.” said Carol when she saw Natasha getting out of the elevator.

She had a smile on the corner of her lips and her eyebrow was arched. That woman knew Natasha very well and that was terrible.

“Don’t worry, darling, I’ll pretend I don’t know why you arrived early. Y/n is in dressing room number 8, just so you know.”

Carol winked at Natasha and walked away without giving the redhead a chance to respond. Natasha knew that you were a little anxious about the scene you were going to do in a little while, but what woman on earth wouldn't be? With a smile playing at the corner of her lips, the redhead heads to the dressing room and knocks on the door, receiving a "come in" in response.

You were wearing a white robe and your brown hair was loose, looking more casual. Natasha suppresses the urge to look her up and down and enters, closing the door behind you.

“I came to see how you’re feeling, Detka.” Natasha says, walking over to you and sitting next to her on the couch.

“How kind of you.” You rolled your eyes, making the redhead laugh. “I don’t understand the joke, Miss. Romanoff.”

“Just, Natasha, Y/n. And the grace is in you. Relax, okay? I don’t bite… Unless you want to, of course.” Natasha says, looking straight into her eyes.

You bit your lip, something Natasha is sure you at least knew you were doing. She affected you, and that made the redhead very happy.

"You are nervous. I want you to know that you don't have to stay. I know this is very new for you, I know you wouldn't want to be here, but now that you are, try to enjoy the moment.”

Natasha approaches you and takes your hands, kissing them one at a time. “I won’t leave room for you to think about where you are, or your surroundings, Y/n. When I'm inside you, or touching you, kissing you, there will be just you and me. You’re going to have to trust me.”

"Trust in you? I at least know you, Natasha.” You muttered, looking away from the redhead's.

“But this is the opportunity to get to know each other. Look at me, Y/n.” you turned and looked at her suspiciously and Natasha fought not to laugh. “You are a beautiful woman, sexy as hell and you will do great. Trust me and you will come out of here floating. I’m going to make you cum, babe… Countless times.”

You looked at the redhead intensely and soon after, a loud, sarcastic laugh escaped your lips, as you took your hands away from hers and placed one in front of your mouth.

“Are you going to make me cum? Seriously, Natasha! Do you really think that all women in the world are stupid enough to believe that a girl cums in a porn movie? Or to the point of believing what you said in that interview, that you always make a woman orgasm?” You shake your head, still laughing. “I'm not like your... Fans, or whatever you call women who almost lick the ground you walk on. I don’t believe this ridiculous story, okay?”

“Um... So you've been researching me?” Natasha asks, leaning back on the couch. “That's great, I really love acting alongside or meeting, girls who know who they're dealing with. This means, Y/n, that what you read is completely true. I have a lot of baby baggage and that baggage has brought me a lot, a lot of experience.” Natasha gets up, but before turning to leave, she stops in front of you and leans in, making you feel her breath on your face. “I'm willing to show you all my experience when you're beneath me, while I fuck you and make you moan my name loud and clear.”

The redhead felt you catch your breath and she knew at that moment that you weren't such an easy woman to look at. And all of this was only making the redhead's lust for you grow in a way that she couldn't control.

Natasha's words still echoed in your mind, as you looked at yourself in the mirror and felt a flash pop next to you. Photo after photo was taken of you, while wearing lacy shorts and a blue blouse, clothes that showed enough, and still left gaps and gaps for women's imagination who roamed the internet in search of explicit naughty.

There were only a few minutes left before entering the scene and you felt your skin crawling every second because of your nervousness that was exceeding all your expectations of remaining calm. 

“Y/n, are you ready?” you hear Carol's voice.

You look at her and nod quickly, following her to the film set. The scene would be "romantic". At least that's what Carol implied when she explained what would happen. Natasha and you would pretend to be a couple. They would be sleeping and then she would "wake up" and start touching and kissing you, until you woke up and the whole act would happen.

You were seriously considering the possibility of sleeping forever.

Before you got on set, Carol gave you a long-sleeved shirt to wear. The blouse covered your waist, but in the bust it was so wide that it almost left your breasts exposed. These typical pieces of cloth that actresses wear in pornographic films, not to say that they were completely naked.

When we finally walked onto the set, you looked around and saw that you were in an all-white room, decorated with little touches of brown and gold. There was a large queen size bed in the middle of the room, with a white comforter and pillows.

It looked like a normal room and you were relieved that you didn't have to record those scenes where you're a naughty secretary who has sex with your married boss.

You saw Natasha talking to a blond man on the other side of the set and Carol called her over. She was wearing white pants, a blouse that left her belly exposed and... That's it.

That was it and she was deliciously sexy.

She is very beautiful and for a moment, in all the anger and frustration of being there, you had forgotten about it.

“Are you ready, darling?”

“I'm always ready, you know.” Natasha smiled and came close to you, putting her arm around her shoulder. Her body was warm and she smelled incredibly. “And you, Detka... Ready?”

"No. But I have to do this, so…” You shrugged, trying to convey an indifference that you were far from feeling.

Natasha laughed and stood in front of you, while Carol spoke to her again about something that her mind simply didn't want to decipher. Your entire brain was commanding your eyes, and respecting her wishes, you took a good look at Natasha, looking for an erection that wasn't there.

I mean, don't porn actors come into the scene with hard penises? You think.

"Excellent!" Carol said louder, catching her attention. She turned to everyone and clapped twice, making the entire set go silent. “Guys, is everyone ready?” after a unison yes, she smiled. “Perfect, let’s get started!”

ACTION!!!

An instrumental song with a sensual rhythm began to play softly throughout the set, while you kept your eyes closed and felt Natasha's rhythmic breathing on your neck. Her fingers were intertwined with yours, while her hands rested on your stomach.

The two of you really looked like a couple and, with a lot of effort, you managed to stop the rapid beating of your heart. Everything was silent except for the music and a few minutes later, you feel Natasha move next to you. You feel the mattress sink a little and you think she sat up, while you struggled not to move your eyelids.

The redhead lifted your hand, intertwined with yours, and kissed it, before releasing it and began kissing your lap, moving up to your neck, where she gave it a lick that made you shiver.

“Open your eyes, Detka…” Natasha murmured so softly, you thought you were hearing things, before she bit your earlobe.

You wince all over because of the unexpected bite and open your eyes slowly, trying your best to convey that you were actually sleeping, when everyone else knew it was a lie.

Natasha's face hovered over you, and she rubbed her nose against yours before touching my lips gently, her hand caressing your entire face. It felt like a touch of pity on his lips, until she deepened the kiss, slowly slipping her tongue into his mouth. You feel every nerve ending inside you go on alert as you kiss back and thread your hands through her soft red hair.

You couldn't tell what was really happening, or answer why your body was responding to hers so quickly, because your brain made a direct connection with the lower part, while you felt Natasha's hands groping your breast through the thin blouse you were wearing. Your body was hot and her tongue circled your mouth in a hurry, giving you no chance to think about what was happening around you.

Or if there was someone around you.

With dexterity, she sat on top of you, at waist height and placed her hands open on top of your belly. Her gaze only left yours to follow the path your hands took, lifting your shirt until she quickly took it off you. You had to fight hard to suppress a sigh when she bit her lip with an explicit and naughty desire written in her expression.

“Beautiful…” moaned the redhead, as her fingers closed around your nipple and squeezed it making it hard for her.

With a smile on the corner of her lips, she passed the palm of her hand over her engorged peak and an eager moan escaped your lips, when the sensation made a direct connection with her clitoris. You weren't a virgin, by God, of course not! So why the hell was his body responding to a porn star's thrusts?

Why were your panties so damp, that the wet feeling between your legs was becoming agonizing? And she still hadn't done anything! Nothing compared to what your son-of-a-bitch ex-boyfriend had to do to get you aroused in the slightest.

You wanted answers, you really did, but at that moment it was impossible to find them. Especially when the redhead bent down and ran the tip of her tongue over your nipple, looking straight into her eyes.

“Look at me, Y/n... I want your eyes on me, I want you to watch me while I suck your divinely delicious breasts!” muttered the redhead softly again, and you squirmed as you mentally asked yourself why she spoke so quietly.

She smiled sweetly at you and bit your nipple hard enough to make the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. Holy shit, since when do the hairs on the back of your neck stand up? How damn hot was that?

A loud moan left her lips and she took the opportunity to suck your nipple hard and open your legs to place herself between them. Something hard, big and warm settled right over your clit, and Natasha moved, making you realize that all of it was her cock on top of you, covered only by the thin fabric of the cloth pants she wore. You feel your intimacy pulsate, as she cups your breasts in her hands and sucks them quickly, jumping from one nipple to the other, and moving on top of you, rubbing her member against your clit

Unconsciously, you began to move your waist, needing, needing just a little more friction. She smiled at you and nibbled on your breasts once again, before moving her mouth down your body, running her warm tongue over your belly, but you can't make a sound when you realize where it would go with all that descent down your belly, hips and waist.

With her lips moist and open, she walked along the inside of your thigh, while her ring finger touched you in circles on top of my mound of Venus. You close your eyes and feel two licks on your crotch, forcing you to take a deep breath. It was just going to be oral sex, you knew that, so why the hell were you so nervous?! And so damn excited?!

You didn't know how to answer.

I don't think you would even know how to respond to your name, when Natasha pulled your clitoris into her own lips with a single, precise suck.

An electric shock spread through your veins, while a rush of adrenaline made you jump onto the bed and look at her. Natasha had her green eyes glazed over your face, telling you with just one look to keep looking at her.

As if you were capable of doing anything other than watching her as she sucked your clit into her own mouth without any mercy towards you, spreading a hitherto unknown pleasure throughout your body. A loud roar escaped your throat as she released your pulsing nerve and circled your entrance with the tip of her tongue.

Your hips immediately began to match her rhythm, as loud moans escaped your lips. Everything was summed up in that moment. There was nothing around you, nothing capable of making you stop, nothing capable of making Natasha stop.

“Delicious... Completely delicious.” The redhead smiled, kneeling on the bed and reached out to you. “Give me your hand, hmm?”

You look at her and without even thinking twice, you extend your hand, placing it over hers.She leaned in just a little and licked the tip of her index finger, then lowered her hand and placed it on your mound of Venus.

“Touch yourself. I want to see your finger playing with that beautiful pussy, babe…” whispered the redhead 

Sure, it was obvious that you masturbated, but you did it in the comfort of your home, in the privacy of your room, on your bed. Not among a bunch of people, because touching your own body is something... Too intimate to be shared like that.

But you were so excited by her gaze, by the volume her erection was causing, that you only realized you had obeyed her when a moan escaped your lips, your index and middle fingers circled your clitoris with impressive speed, while Natasha looked at you fascinated.

“That…” the redhead said softly again, now pulling up her blouse and revealing her large, wonderfully juicy breasts and pulling the string that held her pants at her waist.

In less than a second, her giant erection was in front of you. Her penis was even bigger in person, it was really... It was really big. 

The redhead's member passed her own navel, the veins were fully dilated, the glans was red and shining with pre-cum liquid.

But Natasha had such great self-control, that at least it seemed like she was that excited.

“No, babe... Don't stop...” she murmured in a more audible tone, placing her left hand over her fingers, while her right hand began to touch her cock from top to bottom, slowly..

She made a face of pleasure and encouraged you to continue touching yourself. You were absorbed into your bubble again, forgetting the world around you. Your moans mixed and you felt your insides tighten, your orgasm close, your body screaming for release. You were almost there, when Natasha suddenly removed her finger from where it was and fell into your mouth, surrounding her clitoris and putting three fingers inside you opening, finding your G-spot in less than a second.

Holy shit, no one has ever stimulated you so much. You tried to hold on, to endure the pleasure, to make it last, but it wasn't possible. Your hips moved automatically, your cum being released one after the other to that strangely hot woman, who had given you the strongest orgasm of your entire life.

“I want more… Give me more.” Natasha roared with her mouth on your intimacy, going back to sucking you vigorously.

Could you even breathe, and did she want you to cum more? The worst part is that her body no longer responded to you, yes to her. Only to the redhead's stimuli. She spoke, sucked and you came again, your intimacy pulsing so much that it hurt, your clitoris sent electric shocks through your body, your leg squeezed it, because you wanted to close it and it just wouldn't let you!

“Natasha, please, please!” You whimper, squirming.

But she didn't stop. You feel and see her mischievous smile, her tongue out, just the tip, surrounding your clitoris with irritating slowness. Your body jumped off the bed and you came again, your liquid ending up directly on the older woman's tongue. Tears escaped your eyes and you were ready to beg her to stop, when she just placed a light kiss on your clit and hovered over you, touching your face with your fingertips.

“Oh, Y/n…” she murmurs softly, wiping away your tears. “Don’t cry, Detka… I still have more orgasms for you.”

You open your mouth to try to say something, but breathing was the only thing you knew how to do at the moment. Natasha smiled once again and brushed her lips over hers.

“Look at me and feel, just look at me.”

Even if you wanted to, you would never be able to take your eyes off hers. Natasha trapped you in a black captivity, and she kept you there, without showing anything, until you felt it. The tip of her member passed from your clitoris to its opening, the sex becoming luscious with the two liquids, then the glans began to make room. She was big, and she was gentle, coming in slowly, little by little.

You sigh with pleasure as she continued in her absurd self-control, totally focused on your gaze, thrusting and thrusting into you, stretching you so much that there was a point when you thought there was nowhere else for it to go. But she surprised you, rolling around and making you move with her, sliding further inside you until her pelvis touched your clitoris.

“Tight, hot, delicious... This pussy was made to be eaten by me, Y/n. Fate just gave us a little push.” murmured the redhead, starting to thrust into you.

Her member moved in and out at a pace that gradually increased. Her cock hit every tiny nerve inside you, never in your entire life had you felt so complete having sex with someone. No one had ever hit all those points she was hitting. Your pussy contracts around Natasha's cock, massaging her and receiving all the pleasure in return.

This woman was made to fuck you...

“Faster…” You ask in a moan, letting your hands run down the older woman’s back.

She smiled, and suddenly, turned around on the bed, leaving you on top. With my hands on your waist, Natasha started to push you up and down and soon found a rhythm that gave both of you pleasure. Your orgasm was close again, as you saw her bite her lips and let out soft moans. In this case, you were the scandalous one and your screams became louder when you came again, bouncing on the thick and oversized member, which occupied you completely.

Without letting you stop, Natasha pulled you by the back of your head and kissed your mouth, holding you with one hand. Supporting herself with her feet, she started to thrust inside you again, making you moan into her lips.

By God, you were too sensitive, and you were about to cum again.

“N-Natasha...I'll go again, I'll go...” you murmured against the redhead's lips, but your voice came out louder than a simple murmur.

“Come on then, Detka... Come for me.” Natasha practically growled, thrusting faster, tirelessly.

You let yourself go again, losing your ability to reason, while your body shook and your cum wet the redhead's dick inside you. You went too limp, as you only realized that Natasha had laid you down on the bed, when you saw her body hover over you again. With her lower lip between her teeth, Natasha rolled inside you, pulling you to an orgasm you could never achieve. Being a good connoisseur of the female body, she just continued to thrust, faster and faster, making you understand that she was in search of her own pleasure. You smile at her and touch her breasts, squeezing her tender nipples, making her throw her head back and moan loudly.

You missed touching a woman's body, it's much better than a man's. Smooth, soft, the most pleasant flesh to squeeze, the smell, the touch... Oh, especially the touch.

Romanoff moaned louder for the second time and thrust into you so hard that your lower belly wobbled.

“Fuck, Y/n...fuck me...like this!” she moaned loudly, still looking you in the eyes.

You tighten around her, putting pressure on her member and then, she came. Her hot, thick jets hit you with full force, wetting you all inside and she didn't stop. She continued to moan and scream and call your name like a clamor. After a few minutes, she calmed down and leaned closer to you, placing kisses on your breasts, your neck and finally, your mouth, as it comes out inside you and you feel your liquids spilling onto the mattress. You allow yourself to feel her tongue caress you tenderly, your hands roam her body and, for a moment, you imagine that you were a couple who had just made love…

CUT!!!

"Damn, perfect! Cut!”

And then, Carol's voice entered her ears. Natasha jumps away and everything around her gains image and sound, while reality takes over you again. 

Yes, you had just filmed a porn film with the most famous star of all time.

[incorrectquotesmcu]

Y/N: You’d do that for me?

Natasha: I’d do a lot of things to you.

Y/N: ... you mean ‘for me’?

Natasha: That too.

[munariplans]

forty, love | natasha romanoff

synopsis: winning was everything, and losing was a sin. unfortunately, you were on a losing streak, and natasha loved winning.

natasha romanoff x tennis player! reader

word count: 4.9k words

a/n: inspired by that one scene from challengers.

read part 2

masterlist

“slice forehand.”

thwock. 

“inside-out forehand.”

another thwock.

“move to the volley. hurry. your feet aren’t keeping up.”

despite the insult, the thwock lands. the ball bounces and hits right where you want it to hit. the singular drop of sweat that dripped onto the ground between your feet is not wasted, as you look up to your performance coach across the net, unamused sneer hidden behind his thick moustache. 

“not fast enough?” you quipped. 

he sighed, shaking his head. “don’t get ahead of yourself. you’re still number 2 in the state. if you want a shot at beating the princeton team, you’re still going to have to move much faster than that.”

you wiped the beads of sweat on your forehead, fixing the slightly loose hair tie, before nodding understandingly. still, you weren’t too happy at his latest onslaught of insults this past session. “you could have at least given me credit for the dropshot earlier when you came in. it was perfect.”

“perfect shots don’t get you the win. defeating your opponent does.”

he signalled that practice was over for the day, and you walked off court at the same time as he did to gather your things. the woman watching from the stands stood at that moment, and began her descent down to meet you in the locker room. 

natasha romanoff walked up behind you as you changed, the sudden feeling of her hands on your bare skin a welcomed intrusion, as you sighed into her touch. she let herself have her hands full for a minute, roaming over your muscles until she was satisfied, before settling them on the edge of your shoulders, massaging the tight knots out of them. you were still so tense.

she pressed her lips lovingly on a scar, waiting for you to finish panting at the feeling of where her hands had been. “you were great out there today.”

“coach said otherwise.”

“mm,” she let you put on your shirt, turning you around to kiss you after, “you were fighting him back just as hard. are you okay?”

you zipped up your bag then, taking a moment to avoid her question, before, “do you think i’m like what he says? what they all say…?”

natasha motioned for you to continue. “that i’m all bark, no bite, now? that i’ve lost my mojo?”

“baby–”

“–because you can tell me straight up. i can take it. you’re my girlfriend, you can tell me, i can take it.” the room had suddenly gotten tense, a stark drop to your composure that you had managed to hide so well on the court. in the locker rooms, you were angry again. you had been angry for a while now. 

“losing a few matches isn’t going to hurt your record, baby. you’re this college’s star player, you know this.”

“but losing four matches in a row is going to shatter my ego. my confidence. you of all people should know this!”

you had backed away from natasha, eyebrows raised, posture standoffish. she hated this. she hated seeing you like this. as bad as it was to say, she hated seeing you lose. it was the worst part of yourself that you let her see, when you lost. but what was she, as a partner, if not to stand by you through your career, your ups and down? she should be sharing your pain, taking some burden off of your shoulders, at the very least. 

“just last week, i let it go to break point, and i still fucking lost!” you had raised your fist at this point, nearly punching it at the steel frames of the lockers, when you reminded yourself of just the complications that could arise from shattered knuckles. your coach would never let this go. but still, the gesture was there, and the fire in your eyes remained all too dangerous. 

suddenly, you were pressed against the lockers, the weight of natasha’s body engulfing yours, as her arms came to hold you tight against herself. you were forced to embrace her back, despite your slight protests and pleas, but she was having none of it. she had wrapped you up in her tight, strong embrace, and her hands were finding themselves to bring your face towards hers, eyes boring into your own. 

“nat–”

“–last week, last week, you were against a professional, baby. a nearly retired one at that, but she was fighting for wins at the australian open not too long ago. she’s been doing this longer than you have even started learning how to hit the ball. don’t be so hard on yourself, will you? nobody, nobody else, could have gotten to where you were with her. break point is a feat in itself.”

you didn’t look convinced. but she didn’t need you to look convinced; she needed you to listen. “do you understand? you need to look at things from a different perspective, from my perspective. not your coach’s, not your teammates, certainly not that player’s fucking groupies, who were gloating about your loss all the way out of the stadium. you need to believe in yourself, as i have always believed in you. and you can’t keep going on like this. do you understand me?”

natasha’s eyes never departed from yours, her gaze firm. her hands were shaking, a little unsure of your reaction, because as far as she knew, you didn’t look like you were going to back down from a fight. either with yourself or her, she didn’t know. she certainly hoped it was at least the latter.

but then, your gaze cast downwards, you nodded ashamedly. sighing into the air, you pressed your face into the crook of her neck for a moment, the height advantage letting you lift her up, and she cooed as she let you gather yourself. 

“i understand.”

she patted the back of your head. like a mother would a petulant, but repenting child. “good. now let’s go get dinner, then a massage for your shoulders. then back to the gym first thing tomorrow morning.”

– 

natasha watched you push around your vegetables for nearly half of dinner. she knew the campus meal tickets didn’t exactly provide for five-star dishes, but she had never seen you so down like this before. it was almost as if you had become a ghost of yourself. 

“steve’s birthday is coming up soon.” she decided to change the topic, and hopefully, get your mind off of tennis for a minute. 

you gave a nonchalant grunt, finally stabbing the piece of broccoli. she steadied herself. “should we get him the pair of boots he’s always wanted? i figured we could pull in wanda and clint too, if we want to get him a bigger gift.”

your eyes were still unfocused. it was as if she wasn’t there at all. “baby.”

you looked up, half-expecting natasha to be pissed. but she only gave you a small smile. “steve’s birthday?”

“we can get him the boots. i don’t mind paying for them. but i don’t think i’m going to his party.”

“why not? your match on that day ends in the afternoon.”

“yeah, but i think i’m going to be pretty tired.” not to mention if i lose.

natasha decided not to argue with you on it. she knew enough how touchy the subject of your career already was. instead, she jabbed the last piece of corn with her fork, and gestured for your mouth to open. 

the both of you left shortly after. 

– 

in a friendly match the next weekend with the neighbouring college, you were faced up against the top ranking player once more. being a finals round, you had imagined that the crowd would be roaring with applause for how far you’d come, but when the sets began to balance after your first few strong starts and the heat of the afternoon sun began beating on everyone’s backs, the crowd dwindled out one by one from boredom and, to you at least, the possible disappointment of you losing. 

it was only expected, from a disenchanted champion. the college’s once pride and joy, the one who was once regarded as a candidate with potential to win grand slams. unfortunately, people only really like you when you win. 

but natasha stayed. and so did her friends, and your friends that she had managed to force to stay. you had gestured that they could leave if they wanted to, during the breaks, but they were afraid to even nod, or make a move, lest they wanted to be subjected to natasha’s ferocity, sitting behind them. it was almost humiliating that they stayed only because your girlfriend was forcing them to, you thought. 

thwock. a missed shot from your end.

another thwock. “out!”

by your last mistake, the crowd had only left natasha, steve, and some die-hard groupies of yours that were slowly losing hope too. so when the final set was determined by your failure to execute a passing shot, and subsequently touching the net, the roars from the other side seemed almost mocking. you had lost. 

natasha rushed down to the locker rooms again, only this time, your friends followed, and the absolute mortification that you felt, along with the pure anger and frustration of losing, overpowered any remaining sense of decency you had left. 

the moment you spotted her coming in, then the company behind her, you almost felt like the first time the instinct to shatter your racket came to you. 

“out! all of you, out!” you had screamed, not caring to be decent even to your teammates. 

“come on, we just wanted–”

“–i don’t care, out! you’ve just come in here to humiliate me, haven’t you? gloating how i could lose, even in a friendly! how shit of a player i am, now!”

the people behind natasha grumbled, but one by one shuffled out. it was better to tell you about how unfair you were being another day, not when emotions were running so high. natasha was thankful they understood. but it didn’t make what you did any less unfair.

she sat beside you as you kept your head down. “that wasn’t very nice.”

“losing isn’t very nice.”

“they meant well, baby.”

“no, they don’t.”

“how many times do i have–”

“–a ton, okay, natasha?” you looked up, slamming your drink between the both of you. “a ton of times, you have to remind me. that my friends love me, that they’re here to support me. but how the fuck am i supposed to believe that when i don’t even have anything for them to support me for?”

“your friends don’t just love you because you’re good at tennis, my love. i don’t love you just because you’re good at tennis. this is ridiculous! i can’t believe we are arguing over this, i can’t believe you think of yourself so lowly like this.”

natasha was met with a deafening silence the moment she finished her last words, her chest heaving up and down from her own disappointment. the rest of the players had filtered out, upon hearing your argument, leaving only you and her there. like always. 

your hand rubbed over your face resignedly, hands covering the beautiful eyes natasha loved loves staring into. she wanted to reach out, to pull your hands away from yourself, to even get you to answer her, to let her know that you at least believed you were better than this. but she was afraid of the answer she was going to get. 

then, she heard a sniffle, and a small, choked sob afterwards. and that was it. 

you were up standing the next second, and slinging your racket bag over your shoulder. “i’m going to the gym. i know you have class after this. don’t wait up.”

she was left there alone, the dismay and disappointment of it all weighing down on her, the moment the doors to the locker room were slammed. 

– 

i’m sorry. i shouldn’t have lashed out on you like that, i apologised to my friends, now i want to apologise to you. i love you, i’m sorry. the words didn’t seem enough. the guilt that accumulated and eventually avalanched into your heart was almost insurmountable, after the incident with  natasha. you weren’t even sure you were worthy of being forgiven, you thought as you sat in your car later that night, still angry at her, but making sure that she was safe in the short walk home from her class to her dorm. 

which was why you found yourself in the florist off campus a few days later, asking the employee what flowers best represented i’m sorry for being such a terrible girlfriend, and which flowers were most likely going to help you be forgiven. the white and blue carnations reminded you of the colours in natasha’s room. 

“how much is it?” you asked, to which the cashier then showed you the till. you cursed internally, not even knowing flowers were so expensive nowadays.

checking the contents of your wallet for a minute, you cursed even louder at yourself at the emptiness that greeted you. losing matches meant losing money, that was for sure, and it wasn’t a secret that you were mostly funding your life with prize money won from big matches in the state, with college at least funded with the athlete’s scholarship. yet another reason why i can’t keep doing this, you thought.

it was between dinner for the next few days and gas for your car, and the flowers. fuck it, skipping dinners once in a while wouldn’t hurt, and you could walk from place to place. 

you handed over your card, and began the walk to natasha’s dorm. 

when she received you, natasha noticed you looked almost like a kicked puppy, none of the anger or smugness you carried with you on and off the court. no, with her, you were soft, and vulnerable, and all-too pitiful for her love. she knows the power she has over you. she never had to worry. 

so she brought you in, allowed you to apologise, to beg at her feet, and for her mercy and forgiveness. she allowed you to worship her, taking her to her bed and whispering how much you messed up to her skin, how much you loved her when you were making her see stars, how much you thought you would hurt yourself if she ever left you when she was chanting your name over and over again, begging you to let her come undone.

– 

steve’s birthday rolled around, and natasha was once again seated in the front row for you. she never missed your matches. 

you thought she should have missed this one, when the match reached a break point and you lost again. when you had gotten so frustrated, so furious, over a careless choke that you had, that you received a punishment for smashing your racket into bits as the opponent screamed in celebration. 

she came down to sit with you in the locker room after, but it was in silence. there was nothing to say, and nothing to be said. there were tears streaming down your face, dripping onto the floor. your vision was obscured by the tears, and you would have lost yourself if not for the hand that was holding your own, firm, steadfast. somewhere along the line, she was kissing you, then slowly pushing for you to get up, and bringing you to her dorm. you didn’t really remember anything more after that, busy curling into a ball and crying yourself to sleep afterwards.

when she woke you again to accompany her to steve’s party, you felt almost bad that the ringing in your ears hadn’t gone away, and so had your misery from the match earlier. but natasha needed a ride, and you weren’t going to let her drive back later if she had been drinking for the night. 

– 

you encouraged natasha to mingle around at the party, and to not worry about you, as you stuck around your few friends for a bit. she was unsure, but you were firm, and soon enough, she too had disappeared into the crowd.

your eyes never left her after you found her again, though, leaning back into a pillar as your friend sam went on and on about his own matches so far. you didn’t have the heart, or energy, to tell him that tennis was the last thing you wanted to talk about right then. 

she was by the birthday boy, his arm slung around her waist as the both of them guzzled down cups and cups of spiked punch. their circle was closely-knit, you had always known this, but somehow, the lingering touches, and his hand slowly travelling up and down her back, was ticking you off this time. you had almost half a mind to ask steve what he thought he was doing, but you knew natasha would get embarrassed, and upset. you knew you already made her upset enough today. 

but then, sam quipped, “they’ve been awfully close lately, haven’t they?”

he must have forgotten he was talking to natasha’s girlfriend, of all people, as he continued, “steve’s on a winning streak recently. on track to become valedictorian, potentially getting drafted by the top teams next season, it’s only a matter of time before he wants someone by his side to share it with too, huh?”

“...right.”

“you know how natasha likes winners,” he hit your elbow playfully, breath reeking of alcohol and other illegal substances, “she just loves the game. i bet that’s how you got her to fall for you too.”

“not my good looks, or horrible attitude to anything outside of tennis?” you tore your eyes away from natasha for a moment to glare at sam. he chuckled. 

“i’m just saying, better to keep your girl by your side, future federer.” he disappeared shortly after, and when you found natasha again, she was laughing and putting her head on steve’s shoulder. 

instead of feeling angry this time, you were dejected, and a little bit ashamed. of course. natasha liked winners. and you certainly weren’t one anymore. 

you bit back a harsh breath, and went outside to get some fresh air when steve stole a glance at her that was far too intimate to be one of merely friends. you should have known. if she wasn’t winning with you, she was winning with someone else, somewhere else. 

that night, for the first time in your career, and relationship, you thought about retiring.

– 

but when the competition season rolled around, and the WTAs approaching, you had managed to pull yourself up in the rankings enough to secure a spot at a challengers’ round to hopefully beat princeton and start a domino effect that could lead you to participating in a grand slam. 

natasha was walking beside you, struggling to keep up as she checked your schedule haphazardly. “the princeton girl, she’s on the other side of the roster. i doubt the two of you would be playing each other unless she reaches the finals too. which…at this point…”

you didn’t want to know if she meant that you wouldn’t stand a chance of reaching the finals, or that the princeton champion would be knocked out early. you were afraid you knew the answer. 

steve had dropped her off at the stadium when you went outside to pick her up, his smug smile as he waved her goodbye, and his eyes following yours, making you want to reach over inside the car and beating him with your racket. you had to arrive earlier to discuss strategy with your coaches, and while you were more than willing to pay for natasha’s ride in, she had mentioned that steve would be dropping her off. she sounded almost excited, so you dropped the topic and went back to your practice. like you have been doing for the past few months. 

turns out it wasn’t so hard to succeed, and win matches, when you were more or less resigned to your fate that nobody was ever going to expect anything more of you from your streak of losses all those matches ago, and you had effectively lost the love of your life to some football player who kept winning, and winning. 

you were at a challenger’s round this time, so you didn't need to worry. you won, and won, and won a little bit more. 

–

thwock. right over the net. the opponent misses and falls to her knees.

a serve that would have made williams roar in awe. thwock.

last one. the set was done if you landed this one. thwock. 

the ball landed inside the court, right by the opponent’s feet. and you advanced to the finals. 

you remembered natasha rushing down, not even waiting until you entered the locker room. she was running, running, and jumping into your arms, kissing you like her life depended on it. you spun her around, giving her a smug smile, trying to hide a bleeding heart that knew she too, was surprised that you ever stood a chance of winning. 

the crowd roared behind you. people were liking you again. but you had never felt worse. 

–

it turned out that the princeton champion had advanced to the finals, and would be playing against you, after all. there was no surprise for her, but certainly a surprise for you, as the newscasters and fans had aptly put, a grand shocker. they had all thought you had seen your glory days over. 

natasha caught you watching the latest telecast from the hotel’s television, gaze zeroed in on the anchor who was comparing your statistics over the last few games. almost perfect scores. leaving opponents with loves in sets. behind her, were the students of your college, decked out in the colour of the university and your face and initials printed on their shirts, caps, flags. all of it. they had never looked more proud. the college had even rolled out a banner in your name, in lieu of the upcoming finals. you knew natasha enjoyed all of it more than you did. 

when it came to the broadcast from princeton, the college’s president had come to give a special interview. he mentioned that he never doubted his champion from the start, unlike what your college had to go through with you. you found yourself wanting to spit at the television. 

but from behind, the sound of running water from the shower had stopped, and she had come out, in a robe and her wet hair in a towel. she saw the glazed look in your eyes, and promptly picked up the remote to shut the programme off. 

she settled into the spot beside you, nuzzling into your comfort. she had to pull your own arms off of the couch to wrap around her. you thought she must have known. she couldn’t be so stupid. she knew that you knew about her, and what she had always liked. 

but then you remembered, beyond the resentment, and grief, of the past few months, of just what she had been through with you. when you lost your very first match in college, natasha had been your friend, still. she was dating the captain of the basketball team, you remembered, but she had gone with you afterwards to walk the long way home, encouraging you and telling you that it would get better. it always would. you only half-believed her.

but then, you won. and won, and won, and won. by the tenth streak of winning, natasha had broken up with said boyfriend, and began hanging around your dorm, the tennis courts, even the cafeterias more often. she went where you went, showed up to most of your games, was the loudest one in the crowd when you secured sets. she would wait for you after your mini celebratory sessions with your teammates, and fans, and friends, all for a moment alone with you. then, she would bring you out for drinks, for dinners, sometimes the occasional walk down memory lane to her dorm. she was kind, she made you laugh, and you were on a streak. so what was there stopping you? 

you fell for her just as easily as you fell in love with winning.

to your surprise, she stuck around when you lost a few matches along the way, never letting it phase her, or you. to everyone else’s surprise, she stuck around when you twisted your ankle in your second year of playing. she had left a pattern in her wake, you see, of leaving all of her past lovers when the going got tough, or when they had simply stopped winning. it was inevitable, you thought. but no, not this time. when you fell to your knees during that tournament, screaming in agony as your ankle felt like it was folding in on itself, she was there. she was right beside the medical officer, holding you up as he inspected the injury, face looking even more panicked than yours as they wheeled you off to the hospital. 

she was there, as they wheeled you in for surgery, and wheeled you out to recover. she never left, even when the doctors told you it would take months to recover, let alone get back to playing on your level. she helped you recover, was the driving force in your physical therapy success, even became the sole reason that you returned to playing so quickly after your injury. you hadn’t wanted to disappoint her, much less lose her at all. you were too afraid of the possibility of her becoming someone else’s because of your failure in your sport.

natasha stayed through your losing streak. she never got mad, or lost her patience, with you. it had been three years now, with her. she had never lasted in a relationship so long, so had you. she had talked about getting married before, right after college, to which you had entertained, but still never gotten the full grasp of. how could she talk about marrying you, with such a reputation that preceded her? what if you had lost, would she have run off before the altar?

what if you lost tomorrow? you looked at her again, this time, and she was on her phone. she was texting your friends to make sure they came for your match tomorrow. you felt horrible.

“nat.”

she looked up. “yes?”

“tell me it doesn’t matter.” 

natasha sat up this time, her hand holding yours. she looked confused. “what doesn’t matter?” “whether i win or lose tomorrow.”

her face remained unchanged for a moment, but at the quiver of your lip, and the coldness in your hands, she broke her composure. she shook her head slowly, gaze steely. “no.”

“why not?” it was your turn to harden the look on your face. “why won’t you tell me at least that?”

“because,” she bit the inside of her cheek, “you’re the professional. you’ll tell me whether it matters or not.”

you sat up as well. “i just want to know that you’ll love me…no matter what…whether i win or lose tomorrow.”

natasha’s eyes suddenly couldn’t meet yours. she looked down, at your shirt, then away, but never back at you. you pleaded, “natasha, please.”

“no,” she remained firm, “no. i won’t tell you that, because i know you’ll beat her. you’ll win tomorrow. and you’ll go to the grand slams, you’ll be the best tennis player that’s ever played in them, and you’re going to win. every. single. one. of. them.”

“and what if i don’t? not even the grand slams, not even tomorrow? what if i come in second again, after all this time?” 

you were growing desperate, and she was growing distant. you suddenly thought that you would have done anything, absolutely anything then, for her to tell you what you wanted to hear. to tell you that she would love you no matter if you won or lost.

natasha watched as you dropped to your knees in front of her, eyes already teary. your hands scrambled to hold her shirt, her waist, any part of her. she held them back, but to stop you from reaching further. then, she held your face again, but this time, it was you that was begging for her. you looked downright pitiful.

she wiped the stray tear off your cheek. she knew what she was going to say would either make or destroy you. “i’ll tell you this instead.”

“please.”

“baby, if you lose the match tomorrow, i’m leaving you. for good.”

– 

thwock. thwock. thwock. 

princeton parried, the ball is sent to the line. you return it with ease. princeton flicks back, you work twice as hard to send it over.

your moves were clean, cleaner than ever before, aided by a brain filled with rage and a heart filled with fear. 

princeton served, out. you served, in. the advantage stood, and the crowd stood to cheer. princeton hit back, you hit harder. it was a game both colleges hadn’t seen in decades. there were talks of both of you dominating the grand slams, even possibly working together, even being the next best duo to ever hit the sport. 

break point. the ball whizzes. and finally…after all the pain, the fear, the lost matches and the weight of the world on your shoulders, it was over. 

you weren’t quick enough. princeton won. 

a/n: i just love pathetic, pitiful characters who are down so bad for natasha romanoff, is that so wrong?

[gyokujyn]

I commissioned @burninblood for this piece based on that one Twelfth Night promo photo (you know the one) and I absolutely love it. Look at Bucky's expression! And, Nat being, well, Nat! And, Steve leaning in for a kiss! The clean inking, the gorgeous coloring... I'm in love!

[yanaromanov]

rockstar nat headcanons 🎸

warning: contains nsfw content, minors dni

- rockstar!nat who takes you on tour with her and her band. each night after her show, she slips back into her trailer to find you waiting, always there for her to use.

- rockstar!nat who met you at one of her shows, spying you in the audience before tracking you down afterwards. she pinned you into the bathroom stall where she’d found you, spilling out confessions over your beauty and her attraction to you. despite being taken aback, you couldn't resist her charm or sultry looks so eventually let her trail you to a room backstage. after that first taste of you, natasha knew she was hooked.

- rockstar!nat who teaches you to play guitar in her trailer. standing so close you can feel her pressing against your back, her body curving into your own. of course she knows the effect this has on you, only teasing you further when she places kisses to your neck each time you play a chord correctly.

“you’re doing so good, angel. maybe you can join me up on stage one night.”

- rockstar!nat who dedicates the song to you on stage, calling out to the audience that this one is for the “pretty girl out there who’s listening”. a lot of the fans like to think she’s speaking to them but you know she means you.

- rockstar!nat who writes little songs for you, letting you sit at her feet as she plays them and you just stare back up, absolutely whipped for your talented girlfriend.

- rockstar!nat who gives you all of the flowers that are chucked on stage, collecting them and handing them over to “her perfect girl” because she claims she couldn’t do it without you.

- rockstar!nat who lets you sign her guitar and makes all of her fans start to speculate just who this person might be that is so close with their favourite band member.

- rockstar!nat who is covered in tattoos and lets you trace them with your fingers as you fall asleep together. you particularly enjoy the way her stomach always sucks in air as you trace over the legs of the black widow spider tattooed next to her hip bone.

- rockstar!nat who takes any opportunity to have you sat in her lap. whether it’s a band meeting, some sort of venue check, or simply just her hanging backstage with her bandmates, you’re always seated on her thigh with her hands wrapped possessively around your waist.

- rockstar!nat who winks to you on stage. whether you’re in the wings or the audience, she’s always looking in your direction to let you know she’s thinking of you.

- rockstar!nat who makes you wear her old red guitar pick on a chain around your neck.

“how else are they gonna know you’re mine, baby?”

- rockstar!nat who notices the way you stare when she plays guitar for you. eyes fixated on her fingers as they dance across the fretboard of her bass, consumed by thoughts of what else those fingers could be doing. it’s never long before natasha is able to read your thoughts and throws her guitar to the side, taking you into her lap instead as she makes you grind down on her hand, listening to the string of moans and whimpers that cascade from your lips.

- rockstar!nat who needs to fuck you after every new concert location, claiming you need to christen each new town or city you venture to.

- rockstar!nat who likes to fuck you in her favourite band tees. reading the tour dates as she pounds you from behind or pushing the fabric up past your tits as she eats you out, then leaving you in nothing more than the shirt one she’s done making you cum over and over.

- rockstar!nat who will let you apply her lipstick before she goes on stage, watching amusedly as your face scrunches up in concentration. without a doubt, she will always leave at least one red kiss mark against your skin before she ventures out for that nights concert.

- rockstar!nat’s calloused fingertips from years of playing guitar, that are always so perfectly hard as she plays with your clit, always eliciting such sweet noises from you as you melt like putty in her hands.

- rockstar!nat who makes out with you in the back alleys behind the venue. pushing you up against the wall and riding her hand up your skirt as she sings your praises from the heavens.

“god, you’re so beautiful, baby. just stand there like that for me, that’s it. 'atta girl.”

- rockstar!nat who fucks you in a bathroom backstage just before the show starts. management is searching for her everywhere, calling her to stage for final checks. you can hear them through the thin bathroom walls but natasha simply covers your mouth with her free hand as she continues to pump her fingers into your wet cunt.

“shh, now angel. you don’t want them to hear you now, do you?”

- rockstar!nat who takes you guitar shopping with her, asking your opinion on all of the models even though she knows your knowledge is very limited and you won’t choose based on anything other than looks.

“you like that one, huh? it is very pretty. though, nowhere near as pretty as you.”

- rockstar!nat who will shower you with gifts, pouring all of her extra income into expensive lingerie sets and new outfits just for you. (or maybe sometimes just for her)

- rockstar!nat who always let you parade about in her leather jackets. you think you are sneaky stealing from the redhead's wardrobe, but she knows all about your tactics and in fact, loves the way you walk around with a piece of her constantly attached, letting everyone see just how you are her girl. not to mention just how hot you look with the leather draped over your shoulders, sometimes just covering up the lacy bra nat had chosen for you to wear. whatever the circumstances, natasha watches you wear her jackets with a wide smirk on her face, simply set on the idea of fucking you later with the leather still clinging to your skin.

- rockstar!nat who loves giving you hickeys. not just on your neck but all over; your tits, your thighs, anywhere she can get her hands on. she loves the way you'll walk around practice the next day with remnants of her still clinging to your skin, even if some are in places only she would ever see. she loves the way her bandmates and management will trace their eyes over the bruises littered on your visible skin, smirking to herself as she sees just how unbothered you have grown to all of their stares.

- rockstar!nat who makes you eat her out before she goes on stage, riding your face as she tenses and moans above you. sometimes when she can’t find you, lost to the backrooms and twisting corridors of the backstage venue, she’s all the more worked up when she does eventually locate you. she'll force you into the closest empty space and slam the door closed behind her, just desperate to get some form of release before she has to go perform.

“hurry up, i’ve only got twenty minutes before final checks. get on your knees.”

- rockstar!nat who passes you the cigarette she’s smoking, encouraging you to take a drag knowing you always do it wrong and end up choking on the smoke. she simply chuckles to herself as she watches you cough, taking the cigarette back from you before taking a long draw, almost as if she’s mocking you. blowing the smoke back into your face and watching you cough more, natasha’s amusement only increases. she pulls you close as she gives you a bitter kiss and mumbles “too much for my little baby, huh?”, stroking your hair as you desperately try to rid the tickle in your chest.

- rockstar!nat who tells you she loves you every second of the day. whenever she gets the chance, she’s whispering it into your ear, nipping at the skin as she reminds you how much she just loves and needs you in her life.

“you’re so beautiful, baby. you know that? god, i love you so much. you’re so perfect for me. so, so perfect.”

- rockstar!nat who you get drunk with one night and finally agree to let her pierce your nipples. it hurts like shit but once they've healed, nat can’t get over how loud you whine whenever she pulls on them. at any chance she gets, she will accidentally brush up against them just to watch the way you bite your lip at the contact. then she'll mumble “something wrong, baby?” only to smirk back as she watches you shake your head in response.

- rockstar!nat who always tucks a pair of your underwear into her pocket before she goes on stage, claiming it’s her good luck charm. sometimes you even watch in horror as a lacy red thong slips slightly from her jeans, on show for anyone in the audience who might care to look for it.

- rockstar!nat who will sign her autograph on to everything you own, just as a reminder of how you're hers. “don’t want you to forget,” she’d murmur, pen cap stuck between her teeth, as she signed her name, handing your possession back with a wink before kissing you on the head and walking away to whatever she was doing before. you know she does it because it especially winds you up, claiming her ego was growing too big as her fame climbs, but there's no denying the small smile that grows on your face every time you see the redhead's small signature etched into everything you own, an everlasting reminder of your love.

[incorectquoteswlw]

Nat: I can't believe Yelena told me to 'keep an eye on you' it's so weird, you're an adult!

Kate: Yeah, I know, it's so weird! Hey, can you hold this?

Nat: Sure. Like, what is she worried about-? Kate, why did you give me an EpiPen?

Kate: (opening a jar)

Nat: What is that? Are those peanuts?

Kate: Yelena doesn't let me have them

Nat: Are you anaphylactic? Are you- don't eat the peanuts!

Miles away, Yelena gets a text. It is a photo of Nat and Kate in hospital, Kate giving a thumbs up, and Nat looking severely unimpressed.

Yelena: (heart reacting) Fucking peanuts.

[mamaspidershit]

*Natasha walking into the bathroom* Natasha: Can I get in here I need to—OH MY GOD!? [Peter is dressed in a Black Widow suit with his hair dyed red, Yelena is wiping her red stained hands on a towel] Peter, pointing at Natasha excitedly: It’s like looking in a mirror!! Natasha: No it isn’t Peter. Peter: Who’s Peter? Yelena, chuckling: I already can’t tell who’s who! Natasha: Take that stuff off. Peter: Ria! Get in here and settle this! Natasha: Don’t call your mother ‘Ria.’ Maria: What? Oh haha hey! Travel size Nat! Aw! Natasha: Maria, you’re encouraging this! [Clint comes in] Clint: I need the bathroom—woah this is confusing. Natasha: NO IT’S NOT!

[fandomnerd9602]

Y/N: baby?

Natasha: yeah?

Y/N: don’t be mad at me.

Natasha: what did you do?

Y/N: I adopted a baby

Natasha: what?!

Y/N holds up a little black kitten…

It meows at Natasha who begins crying…

Natasha: you’re forgiven!

Natasha kisses and cuddles her little kitten…

[unholyhelbig]

“You’re supposed to be dead.” was so strong felt like you hit me with that sentence I even forgot the title can’t wait for next part!!!

Center picture Cred: Jadiakallisti

Title: The Beast You've Made of Me [Part 3/7]

Ship: Female!Reader x Natasha Romanoff x Wanda Maximoff

Wordcount: 4,695

Summary: When reader wakes up in her own grave, she's suddenly aware of a past that spans lifetimes, but she's not the only one. Two Avengers are tasked with keeping readers past a secret, or at the very least, controlled.

Warnings: Blood, fatal injuries, mentions of death, containment, and horrible grammar because I don't proofread

[a/n: Sorry for the delay on this one. I promise I'll hit you guys with less tragic backstory and more plot soon! ]

[ Part one | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five | Part Six | Part Seven ]

Main Masterlist | Read my stuff on AO3 | Leave Requests

The word sounded foreign to you. Asgardian. The first syllable was doable, the start of something and the end of something in one fail swoop. It was the second syllable that threw you off. Guardian. That wasn’t something you had ever been, nor did you want to be. The two women that frequented your holding cell, now they were guardians.

You were never one of those superhero junkies. Not like the rest of the world. They were infatuated with the Avengers and even more so with the media coverage of them. The main six would do their due diligence and go in for interviews, the occasional ribbon cutting on new Children’s Hospitals.

It was the C and D list heroes that gave you the ultimate ‘ick’. There were reality television shows that highlighted their daily lives and social media accounts that reported on their flings and lack thereof. Of course, they’d home in on the Avengers too, but they circled like vultures, and it was the main reason you had seen the phrase ‘Asgardian’ in the first place.

Thors Summer Body.

Jesus Christ, they called it the Asgardian Abdominal Workout and you had scoffed at the stupid title and graphics on Instagram while you wiped the neon orange Cheeto dust from your fingers onto the front of your shirt.

You didn’t know what they meant for you, but you paced the length of your holding cell while you thought about it. It was day three and you were getting stir crazy. So much so, that when Natasha entered with your lunch for the day, you threw yourself against the glass.

Both of her eyebrows went sky high, grip tightening on the plastic tray. “Whoa, okay. Good afternoon to you too, Kitten.”

“Why do you do that?” You asked.

“Do what?”

“Act like you’re not intrigued by me.”

She was the only one who hadn’t resulted to the poking and prodding, and endless tests that had been run on you. Of course, Wanda was more likely to stick around for a conversation. She’d spend hours with you, just talking, staring at you while you slept. Your mind had chosen to be a challenge, and that excited her. It was more of an emotion than you pulled from her wife.

Natasha let out a sigh and clicked her way through the passcode. You had half the mind to shove past her, just to get out of this stale air. But, she was the Black Widow, and you knew your odds were slim. So, you stayed put, backing away to give her enough room.

She usually placed the tray on the table and then retreated with less than five words to you. But this time, she closed the door and turned towards you, arms crossed over her chest. The pure strength of her physic intrigued you, made a rosy color bloom against your cheeks.

“I would be lying if I told you I wasn’t.” She sounded out carefully. “Do you know Hawkeye?”

You nodded. He was the guy with the arrows, the only other person on the Avengers that had molded their skills instead of inheriting them. Jenn spoke fondly of him, had helped with a case a few years back that you couldn’t recall. You had been struck by the stomach flu and remember being particularly miffed that you hadn’t gotten to meet him.

“So did Loki. Briefly. He was the first big threat that we encountered as a team and he wormed his way into Clint’s mind, changed him because Clint was mortal, and Loki was a different kind of God. A trickster, and an Asgardian.”

“You’re… afraid of me?”

Natasha laughed and if you hadn’t been so wounded by the noise, you would have found it pleasurable. She closed the distance between you both. She smelled soft, floral. It was different from Wanda and from the nurse who had been in and out, growing bolder the more she worked on you.

“No, sweetie. But don’t be so offended, little intimidates me. I know that like our world, you come from one of your own. One with good guys and bad guys. I just hope that you know which side of the line you fall on.”

You stifled a groan. You didn’t even know who you were, much less if there was some malice deep down in your core. Right now, all you were was restless. While you were a homebody that usually extended to shitty television and greasy snacks. Neither of which was offered here.

Wanda brought you a novel to read, but it was in old English and hurt your head to squint at the words on the yellowed pages. You’d only gotten a quarter of the way through. The rest of your time was spent getting jammed with needles and staring at the blank ceiling.

“Hungry?” Natasha asked.

“Not particularly.”

“Alright then, come on.”

You blinked dumbly at her, narrowing your eyes. This could be some form of sadistic trap, but really, what did you have to lose? You were cooperative thus far. No matter where she led you, it would be better than here.

The floor was startling and cold against your bare feet, your jaw clenching in response to the change that hit your skin. Natasha watched you carefully, two steps in front of you but still with a keen eye.

The two of you took enough turns that you wouldn’t be able to find your way out of the compound, much less back to your holding cell, without her. The walls all looked the same, steel lock protected doors lining either side of the corridors. There were no discerning stock photos to spruce up the place, not even windows. If you knew any better, you would say that you were underground.

The elevator was warmer. Natasha used the keycard on her waist to operate it. You stared down at your feet. They were bruised from your excursion through the cemetery. Your hand reached out to the side of the elevator when it lurched forward, throwing you off your balance.

Natasha reached over and grasped your elbow, keeping you steady. Her warmth was domineering, running through you like a heated iron rod. You decided to change the subject for your own self-preservation. “What are we doing exactly? Because if you’re leading me to my demise, then you owe me a replacement lunch, first.”

She scoffed “Is food all you think about? From what I remember you were wolfing down week-old takeout when we met.”

“It’s not all I think about,”

At least, it didn’t used to be. Lately, you were starving at all times, thinking of your next meal directly after you’d finished your first. It was almost as if you were burning off more calories than you could consume. At first, you figured it was your body’s way to catch up after being buried alive- buried dead- but it persisted.

“uh-huh, you know my wife reads minds, right? Seems like all you think about is food and sex.”

“That’s not, I don’t-“Your cheeks heated up and you covered your face with both of your hands. God, this elevator ride was too long. You would be perfectly content digging another grave and laying in it.

“Relax. I’m teasing you.” She nudged you with her shoulder. “You and me, though, we’re going to be spending a lot of time together these next few days. Fury wants us to run more tests that don’t involve needles and EKG’s. That okay with you, kitten?”

You nodded, tongue officially tied. Each time she called you that, you felt arousal pool in your stomach that was quickly ebbed away by guilt. There was no way that you would allow yourself to be taken by the Black Widow. It was her job to be alluring.

And then there was her wife, the woman that you were equally infatuated with. She had a warmth that emanated from her, but a coldness that could wash over her in an instant. It scared you. It turned you on.

Not only could she hear your less than pure thoughts about Natasha, but she wasn’t shy about letting you know she could. The corner of her lip would quirk up, almost as if she wanted to tease you about the fact and not reprimand you.

The elevator doors opened directly into an atrium that was complete with lush green grass. You flinched, holding your arm in front of you to block out the sudden burst of sun. You’d been imprisoned for the past couple of days, and before that, you were in a different type of prison.

You took a deep breath of the clean air, letting it coat your lungs. Your skin instantly warmed. Natasha didn’t’ push you, instead she let you take in the square building around you. There were tinted windows that jutted out in a hexagon shape from the structure, long hallways that lead to move testing areas, living quarters, you were sure.

“I know you haven’t worked your muscles in a bit, but I have some obstacles for you, if you’re up to the challenge, that is.”

“You kidding? I aced gym. Bring it on.”

Natasha’s wolfish smile did nothing to aide your confidence. She led you into the center of the green and squared her shoulders. You didn’t see any equipment around: no vaulting bars, or weights. It was just the two of you and the nature that surrounded. It was only when she lifted up her hands, curling them into fists, that you truly understood.

The Black Widow wanted you to fight her.

There wasn’t much time to contemplate. She moved like lightening, and though you knew she was going easy on you, the crack against the center of your nose didn’t feel like it. You let out a groan, moving both your hands to your face as warmth gushed from the center.

“Jesus Christ, what the fuck!”

“You’re supposed to dodge.”

“You’re supposed to warn me.” You pressed your hands harder against the dripping wound “Oh, I’m going to die.”

Natasha scoffed and let her hands drop from their defensive position. She closed the distance between you and gripped your arm. You refused to budge, making a small noise at the back of your throat. “Oh, don’t be so dramatic. Move your hand, let me look at it.”

You leveled her with an apprehensive look but eventually conceded. Watery rust was against your palms, wicked into your lifeline that seemed oddly to stretch on for way too long. It had already dried, you were almost hyper-fixated on the blood. On it’s stain.

Natasha was impossibly close, you could feel her exhaling against your collarbone, her hand squeezing your face and pushing your head to the side to get a better look. Her eyebrows creased. You focused on the smattering of freckles against her nose and under her piercing eyes. You hadn’t noticed them in the fluorescents of the facility.

“Mm, well, you can heal on your own. Just like Thor.” She gave your cheek two pats and stepped back. “I didn’t hit you that hard.”

“I beg to differ,”

Natasha resumed her stance and you held your hand up as if taming a wild animal. As if that would stop her from advancing on you. From this view, you could see the blood that had slotted through your fingers and ran in interconnecting lines. It was almost like a system of roads, each leading to your wrist and drying in a strange pattern. Beautiful. Familiar.

Your hand was tingling viciously and the world around you had started to pulse. You steadied yourself, focused on the grass under your toes. The soil was damp and cold. The sun was hot and harsh. You knew exactly where you were, but the rushing sound past your ears seemed to want to change that.

“Y/n,” You heard Natasha softly. She sounded like she was suspended in air, or you in water. “Y/n, are you alright?”

1893, Chicago World’s Fair

“Miss, are you alright?” His voice filtered through your thoughts. It was smooth and amplified compared to the crowd that flitted around you. Bodies were slotted close together, different scents of spices and crushed florals mixed with the sweat of strangers.

“Yes, of course,” You assured him, seeing the worry drain from his stare. He held his prize in one palm, hard enough to morph the copper back into its original shape. “My apologies. I suppose the heat is getting to me. Please continue, Mr. Damm.”

He gave you a crooked grin. You’d stopped at his booth out of a version of pity. In truth, your eyes had locked with his across the crowded exhibition floor and you couldn’t pull yourself away. He looked like a nice enough man, standing next to a small box that was made of wood.

Glass was bordering the top half, giving the viewer a good look at the inside mechanics. There was a crank that jutted out of the side and a small slot that was in the center of the wooden base. In a room filled with ships, locomotives, and a real moving walkaway, not many people took interest in a simple party trick.

“Have you ever put a penny on a train track, miss?”

“Yes, of course.”

He grinned harder “Well, that’s a good way to lose a limb, if I do say so myself. Now, I have all ten fingers and all ten toes but there are plenty out there who are risking their lives for something that you can now get with convenience. Do you have a penny, miss?”

With heat rising to your cheeks, you fished into the damp area between your breasts and pulled out a coin, making sure it was dry. You couldn’t hide it’s warmth, but the dress you’d chosen to wear on your mothers’ recommendation was much too tight fitting to carry anything in a proper place.

Mr. Damm did not seem to mind, he simply placed the penny into a small slot on the side of the machine. “I’ve spent years crafting a rolling mill that presses designs into soft metals. Not only that, but it elongates them as well. A penny had tremendous value, but wouldn’t you sometimes prefer something more?”

“I suppose I’ve never thought about it before.”

“Ah, well, come here. Crank this lever and watch.”

You glanced at him for reassurance before doing as you were told. It put up more resistance than you were expecting, but eventually you watched two metal rollers press the copper into a longer, oblong shape. You had to admit, it was a cool sight, especially with your ability to control the speed.

Eventually, your coin popped out of the slot in the wood and it looked like anything but the penny you had provided. It was stretched and the words ‘Columbian 1893 exhibition’ were impressed into the metal. He placed it into your palm, still warm from the process.

“Very good, Mr. Damm. But, does it still hold it’s value?”

“Of course, Miss! First thing I made sure of. Though, I suggest you keep this. One day, they’ll be worth millions.” He tucked his thumbs proudly into his suspenders “I’m headed to New York City in a few days to patten this machine, here.”

You returned his smile, words caught in your throat when a hand started against one side of your waist and trailed along your back to rest on the other. The rosewater scent that accompanied Helia. She was a few inches taller than you and hugged you close to her pale form.

There were dark circles under her sunken eyes, her hair a jet black. She often captured the eyes of anyone in the room. But in a room with so many wonders it was hard to notice her among them. People often thought of her as sick. But you knew better. Helia simply mirrored a specter. She was filled with a sharp kindness that was preceded by her excitement.

“Sister, what have you got there?” She plucked the coin from your hand and ran her pale finger over it “Very nice! This is fantastic, sir. Really amazing. I hope you don’t mind if I steal y/n away from you.”

“Not at all,” Mr. Damm gently took your hand and placed a dry kiss on the top of your hand. “It was fantastic to meet you, miss. Enjoy the fair.”

Helia had pulled you away by the waist before you could respond. You wiped the top of your hand against the rough fabric of your dress, suppressing a chill. He was nice enough, an average looking guy. Deep down you knew your mother only let you attend to see if you could attract some type of man.

She’d long ago deemed you feral, her wild-child that held the beauty but none of the grace to settle down with an acceptable husband. You wore Helia’s dress because she would have left you to rot in the hot motel room if you hadn’t at least attempted to look presentable.

“Mother is going to be so upset with you,” You tsked, “pulling me away from a possible suitor.”

“Oh, the inhumanity. We have to hurry. Jorell has been holding the same spot in line for the Ferris Wheel. We simply must join him. I don’t have the patience to wait another day.”

“At least you are one to admit your flaws.”

“Hush, walk faster.”

You felt incredibly stiff in the dress but followed her a quicker pace. Your brother had sacrificed his entire day to make sure the three of you could rise high above the fair. You’d long given up on your own ability to stand in a stretching line and you’d had to keep him waiting even longer.

A light drizzle had begun to fall from wispy grey clouds, instantly cool on your skin. Helia hugged you closer, silently pleading for the ride to still be operational. There was no electricity crackling through the sky, nor a worried look on a single patron’s face.

Jorell waved the two of you over, boots splashing against the cobblestone. His hair was damn, inky and falling into his ghostly stare. His shirt was soaked through at this point, the white outlining the curves and dips of his stature. The strong, protective man that had yet to find a suitor either. Though, mother was much less persistent when it came to her only son.

“Where did you find her?” He smirked.

“Playing with coins.”

“I wasn’t playing with anything. If you must know, a very nice man was giving me a demonstration of his invention.”

Helia nudged him in the ribs, “She took pity on him, like she does all helpless creatures.”

You suppressed a groan. Certainly, you were deemed to softest of the three siblings, though you knew when it was necessary to put a thing out of it’s misery. You’d bring home stray cats and then make excuses for the parasites that were attached to it.

“Come on, we’re next!”

Helia grabbed your hand and gave it an excited squeeze. There were two metal steps leading up to the boarding area. A man stood next to a gally of machinery, and unlike Mr. Damm’s penny pressing box, you couldn’t see inside of it. He held a black umbrella up to protect the panel from the weather.

He grunted out “No single riders, only two to a car. One of you will have to sit this out.”

It would be fair to let Jorrell and Helia take the helm. You weren’t much of a fan of heights anyway, and the diming in your sisters’ eyes at the news was enough to break you. “You two go on ahead.”

“You’re sure?” Jorell asked, lifting a dark eyebrow.

“I’m positive, go! I’ll be waiting right here.”

Maybe you did take too much pity on the beasts around you. They certainly stuttered to find kindness, as did you in moments. But at the base of the worlds first Ferris Wheel you would have done any kindness for the strangers that flitted around you. Especially for your own family.

You watched as they boarded the cart closest to the bottom, the last riders until a chain was slipped across the front, blocking the rest of the patrons. Bad weather. You heard the man mutter, but paid no mind. He certainly wouldn’t let them ride if the conditions were too dangerous.

They grew smaller and smaller as the monolithic machine carried them to the very top of the loop. You craned your neck, having to look away as harder rain blurred your view. It was unladylike to wipe at your eyes, but you hadn’t given a care. Unladylike or not, you’d give anything to see Helia and Jorrell in this moment. Joy swelled in your chest.

Then, the Ferris Wheel lurched to a stop. Strangled cries of shock floated down to you. This must be part of the exhibition. It was a naïve thought, but one that carried you for a moment more of bliss before pure terror. The next noise was grinding metal against metal, shaking that jostled many of the riders.

The speck of Jorrell had slid from his seat, the metal much too slippery from the rain. He held on to the edge, the crowd letting out sounds of distress. One woman screamed. You felt damp and useless, hand covering your mouth.

Helia gripped at the fabric of his shirt desperately trying to keep him afloat. And you believed whole-heartedly, that if the machine hadn’t lurched again, she would have been able to maintain her grip.

New inventions were faulty. They malfunctioned in different conditions. The rain had not been anticipated and neither had the harsh winds that made Chicago damp and freezing. Another sound of metal crunching and a scream that was masked within a sea of people already beginning to plan how to cope with tragedy.

You may have screamed to, but you had a feeling the noise got stuck in your throat. Jorrell had tried to grip the bars on the way down. They bit into his fingers, water making it impossible for him to swim.

He was crushed in an instant between the gears that you could see, and this time, you did cry out. You figured your legs unable to work, knees nearly hitting the cobblestone. In that moment, you thought about how it would dirty your dress.

An arm was there to steady you, grasping onto your elbow and pulling your eyes away from the scene. You were pliable in this moment, unable to question who had grabbed you. There was the scent of metal and strong cologne. They emanated comfort, tucking your head into the small of their neck to pry your eyes away from the mechanical mauling.

“Look away,” Mr. Damms voice was muffled against your ear, filling his chest cavity. “This isn’t something a lady should see, miss.”

The scream tore through your chest with a visceral pain. Your nails were digging into the soft soil, heels pushing against what you could only recognize as grass. You’d come to in a state of fight or flight. Adrenaline coursed through your veins, breath refusing to catch.

“Hey, hey, you’re alright.”

It took you a moment to realize who was in front of you. The world was dripping with color, the rushing sensation fading from your ears. Instead, it was replaced by the sound of birds, the scent of nature, the warmth of the sun. You were still outside, lying on the ground and blinking up at the crystal blue sky. No rain. No water.

Natasha was knelt next to you, a look of worry flooding her expression. She had one hand on your chest, and the other was cupping your cheek. She was checking your vitals, you were sure, because you had most certainly lost consciousness.

“Breathe in for six seconds through your nose. Good… now hold it. Only breathe out through your mouth when I tell you to.”

Your chest had started to ache when she finally gave you the nod to release the air you had greedily drawn in. She stayed with you, repeating the process three more times before you finally felt the blades of grass tickle your palms, the slight breeze touch your skin. Natasha brushed a strand of sweat-soaked hair behind your ear before she flopped back into a sitting position.

“Want to tell me where you just went?”

“Chicago,” You grunted out.

Natasha got this adorable crease between her brows, but she didn’t’ push any further. You squinted up at the clouds and stretched your arm out, enjoying the prickly sensation of the grass.  

“Sometimes… I get these nightmares. Most of the time I don’t remember my dreams but when these happen, they feel so real. Almost like I was there myself, which is impossible because they were decades, centuries ago.”

“What are they like? Your dreams?”

“Volatile. They all follow the same formula. A life that I couldn’t have had, an older brother who dies by water and a younger sister who just… dies. One of them meet a violent end before I can wake up, and they’ve never repeated themselves. It’s just new tragedy after new tragedy.”  

You’d always thought the dreams were weird. But, chalked them up to being related to stress. When you were a kid, it was stress about starting a new school, soccer try-outs or midterms. Then as you got older you pinned it on college admissions and failing the bar twice before submitting to be a paralegal instead.

But then, Jonathan died. Drowning just as every other version of him had.

 You’d never told anyone about the dreams and now you were sounding them out with a near-stranger who you were pretty sure used to be a villain. You’d read that on the back of a cereal box once while it tore up the roof of your mouth with its sugary edges. You didn’t’ put much faith in the trivia.

“That must be scary,”

You pulled yourself up, resting your arms on your knees. You were sure you looked disheveled, but she gazed at you with something of admiration and a recognition of pain.  She’d pulled a blade of grass from the earth and was shredding it in a nervous habit.

“Chicago, huh?”

“The Worlds Fair, actually. I got a penny.”

“Oh?” She gave you a small smile “My, well, aren’t you rich.”

The two of you laughed, a small moment that filled you with content. It seemed to fill the crater that had just opened up in your soul. If it even was your soul to fill. It eventually flickered out, silence washing over you.

“Natasha?”

“Yeah, y/n?”

“Are you going to figure out what’s wrong with me?”

Your voice broke and you were tempted to muffle it with a cough. You didn’t’ want to show weakness. It was a golden rule in your family. The embarrassment of your actions in the dream still lingered on your tongue. Falling into the arms of Mr. Damm and his listless invention.

“Why can’t I die if everyone around me dies too easily?”

You all but whispered the words, and a soft, pitying noise came out of Natasha that you weren’t expecting. She clenched her jaw and unclenched it as if she was afraid to mince her words. There was almost anger, no, frustration, with herself behind her stare.

“Nothing is wrong with you, y/n. According to your bloodwork, you’re extraordinary. Growing stronger and stronger every day. You’re an enigma, even by Asgardian standards. But you’re not impossible to solve. We’ll figure you out.” She glanced down at the grass between her fingers, shredded another green strip. “No one deserves to live with that much pain.”

With a nod, you wiped away the tears that escaped with the base of your palms, careful to avoid looking at the blood. You’d never passed out like that, had a vision, a memory, forced upon you with the pull of a trigger. You didn’t want to risk it.

“Let’s get you a shower, yeah?” She stood and reached out her arm before hoisting you to your feet.

“Are you saying I stink?”

“I thought I was being very direct about the fact. Besides, I may have hit you a little hard, kitten.”

“I knew it!”

She grabbed you by the hand and pulled you along, as if she didn’t trust you on your own feet. Her grip was reminiscent of Helias, strong and consistent and filled with nothing but care. You let her lead you, hoping the blood wasn’t the only thing the shower would wash down the drain.

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[imaginedanvrs]

when the world stands still

part 1 l masterlist

natasha romanoff x reader

word count: 3.6k

warnings: explosions, manipulation, coercion, descriptions of stage 4 cancer, character death, grief

“I don’t like her,” Natasha said to her friend freely from where they sat at the bar, the Russian’s eyes focused on the woman in question.

  “I know,” Wanda replied, glancing briefly at the small crowd gathered on the opposite side of the room. “She seems better than Ross though.” Natasha scoffed lightly. 

  “Doubtful. If he practically gave her his old job then they’ve got to have the same agenda,” Natasha theorised. “Doesn’t this worry you?” She asked, turning to the younger redhead with a furrowed brow. She had more reason for concern than the Russian did.

  “Of course, but it’s nothing that we can control or even have a say in. It’s best if we just try and stay on her good side,” Wanda explained. “I doubt we’ll ever see a Secretary of State that actually likes the Avengers. They don’t like what they can’t control.” The mentor didn’t respond, still examining the newest political figure Tony had invited to his party, most likely having the same thinking as Wanda. 

  “Krasnyy,” Wanda muttered. “Don’t give her reason to make things difficult for us,” she said with a slight plea. 

  “I’ll play nice,” the older woman assured with a teasing smile that didn’t help put the Sokovian’s mind at ease. She hummed and followed Natasha’s gaze to where it had travelled to the spacious balcony outside. There were few people scattered around on the other side of the closed doors to keep out the evening autumn breeze that proved to be too much for most of the guests. They retreated back into the warmth, leaving you to stand alone. 

  “You don’t like her wife either?” Wanda queried.

  “Fiance,” Natasha corrected. “Of two years,” she added with a knowing smirk over the tip of her glass. 

  “Spreading gossip about them is the last thing you should be doing,” Wanda scolded lightly before taking her own sly glance in your direction. Your back was to the party, the city beyond captivating your attention instead. You had dutifully shown your face by your partner’s side at the start of the party but apparently hadn’t felt the need to mingle like most did at such an event. “Two years?” Wanda asked as though it only just clicked. Natasha chuckled with a small nod. “Well I suppose they must be quite busy.” 

  “Too busy for a lot of things I bet,” Natasha continued. 

  “Tasha,” Wanda warned again, unable to hide her smile this time. “It’s my turn to escape early,” she said as she stood up. The brunette had a mission early the following morning, a card Natasha had been able to play at the last few events. It wasn’t that either of them disliked Stark’s parties, they were infamous for a reason, but nights like that one didn’t compare when there was a clear political motive and the heroes were paraded around like trophies that could perform tricks. 

  “Tell me what I miss when I’m back,” she said, leaving the spy to her own devices at the bar where her attention soon flickered back to you. 

  Play nice, she reminded herself as she started towards the balcony. You didn’t turn around when the door opened behind you, taking another drag from the glowing cigarette as your gaze remained fixed on the night life below. 

  “I’m glad someone can admit how tedious these events can be,” Natasha called out, putting several paces between you as she leant over the railing next to you. You glanced her way in acknowledgment but gave no indicator if you were pleased or irritated by the company. 

  “This is the third one this week,” you told her simply. 

  “Just don’t laugh too much at the unfunny jokes or they won't leave you alone,” Natasha advised. “Oh and pretend you don’t find them incredibly irritating,” she added. You took another steady drag as you eyed the Avenger, unsure what her angle was with you. Most of the guests at such parties that approached you on your own just wanted some gossip about your personal life. Vultures.

  “Is that what you do?” A genuine smile crept through Natasha’s strategic features that you apparently saw through better than most.

  “And find the right people to pass the time with. I suppose your fiance is preoccupied though,” the redhead stated as she peered back at the party. You didn’t reply, nor did you show any interest in what you were missing behind you. “If you can stick it through, it gets better once people get drunk,” the spy continued, set on getting some kind of reaction or exchange from you. 

  “They’ve got the right idea,” you muttered as you crushed the cigarette but under your heel and finally peered back at the party. Your fiance was still immersed in conversation with Steve, one of the few heroes that was willing to converse with her for so long. Natasha’s eyes twinkled in a way she knew Wanda would disapprove of. Regardless, she opened an invitation to you. 

  “Not many people know this, but I’m a pretty great mixologist,” she told you. You considered her for a moment before turning back to the party you had no interest in attending. Might as well enjoy the free drinks, it’s the only perk this new lifestyle seems to come with.

  “Screw it, why not,” you shrugged, allowing the Avenger to lead the way back inside and to the edge of the bar where she and Wanda had sat, out of the way of the main events. “How often does Stark throw these events?” You asked as Natasha began pouring from bottles you didn’t know the names of. 

  “Not as much as people think,” she told you. “And there’s usually less people.”

  “Is it better that way?” You asked out of your own sheer curiosity. 

  “Much,” Natasha admitted. You had to give her credit for her honesty. “Events like this just feel like a show.”

  “For my fiance?”

  “Who else?” The redhead placed a martini glass on the bar and pushed it gently towards her. You thanked her and briefly glanced back in the direction of the main party, seeing the guest of honour still mingling with Steve. “Now that bit isn’t an act. They’re talking shop because he’s the only one who can make it seem so harmless at these events,” Natasha continued. 

  She didn’t stop there. As the evening became night, the redhead analysed everyone in the room to you as she continued to push more drinks. You weren’t entirely sure why she was doing it, but it did make the event more interesting to know the unkept secrets about some of the other guests who had appeared. It was also helpful. The gist of it was, none of them were as powerful, generous or influential as they believed themselves to be. 

  Though as enlightening as Natasha’s tale’s were, you couldn’t sit at the bar and listen to her all night, as reminded to you when midnight came around as indicated by the chime. The Avenger was about to pour from another bottle when you stopped it all, the content smile remaining on her imperfect features. 

  “Stop,” you muttered under your breath. 

  The world obeyed. 

  You examined Natasha for a moment, noting the lonely stillness that had fallen over her features and that of everyone else's in the world and briefly wondered if it would ever stop feeling so isolating. You couldn’t ponder on it, even if you did quite literally have all the time in the world, because you had a job to do. 

  Begrudgingly, you stood up from the bar stool and leisurely made your way across the grande room with a slight intoxicated sway to your step, passing by every statue without a second glance. You always felt guilty when you saw all their oblivious faces. 

  You had never uttered that magic word after a drink before and you could feel yourself having less of a control over keeping everything still than you usually did. You were playing a dangerous game, resuming everything too soon could have endless consequences that you weren’t planning on exploring. She certainly wouldn’t be happy. 

  More than that, you had never performed the task on a building with such impressive technology either. What if you were finally caught? It couldn’t have worse outcomes than the only other time you had been found out. For you. Someone else would pay that price though and you weren’t ready to deal with the debt that would follow, ironic for someone with your abilities. 

  Even though you had tried your best to memorise the route to the control room prior, you still found yourself getting lost numerous times on the way. It didn’t help that such a large tower only had two sets of stairwells for you to use because Stark apparently had too much faith in his building's ability not to catch on fire and render the elevators useless. You couldn’t use them yourself, having to be sure that everything was left in place when you resumed the world. 

  Finally, you found the main control room and didn’t waste any time placing the small chip under the nearest surface. It was hard to believe what it was supposedly capable of, but you had no doubt that their plan was flawless, it always was. 

  Just like that, your work was done and you returned to the party, feeling far heavier than you had when you left from the guilt that was already weighing on your shoulders. It wasn’t the first time you had done something like that, but you were sure this deed was going to have a worse impact than any of the prior ventures. 

  You let go of your hold on the world’s time so that the chaos could resume. The midnight chime ended and was replaced with another sound, one that was far grander. 

  The explosion shook the building, startling every guest that looked to each other for solace and guidance with terrified expressions. Alarms blared, people screamed, orders were yelled from the building’s AI and heroes. “Stay here,” Natasha ordered as you painted your features with the same fear that everyone else carried. 

  “But Cecilia-” you started, because anyone would be first concerned about their lover, right? Amidst the chaos, you really couldn’t see her. 

  “Wait!” Natasha repeated, springing over the bar and starting down the hall you had come from as the AI reported where the explosion had started. Steve rushed off after her, then Tony, then a few others. Then the next alert came. 

  “Security breach within the mainframe!” The robotic voice alerted. 

  You were so focused on watching the crowd panicking around you that you didn’t even notice the presence behind you until her body crashed into yours, supposedly to embrace you in a blaze of panic and relief. “Are you okay?” Your fiance asked as she examined your features carefully, playing the role without fault. 

  “Yeah, I’m okay,” you told her, staring long enough into her features to give the nonverbal answer she was looking for. She hardly needed it, the scenes unfolding around you were evident that you had done as she instructed. 

  “Good,” she exhaled, pulling you flush against her into a tight hug that gave her enough cover to whisper into your ear. “Good girl,” she praised, maintaining that fake worry as she pulled away. You felt sick. People were crying around you. God, you hoped no one was hurt. 

  The situation was handled with impressive ease and it wasn’t long before everyone was being evacuated from the tower. Despite yourself, as you followed the crowd out of the building, your arm protectively around your fiance’s waist, your eyes drifted back in hopes of catching a glimpse of the redhead that had entertained you for the last stretch of the party. Part of you actually wanted to thank her for making the tension you had been feeling lessen, but that couldn’t happen, so you carried on. 

  The moment you were in the car together with the driver speeding off to your home, Cecilia was on the phone to her team. “Did you get it?” You didn’t hear the response, you didn’t want to know. Still, her chuckle told you it had. They had hacked the Avengers and retrieved whatever files they were looking for. You weren’t sure which ones, all you knew was that you had been able to damage the controls enough to provide a window for them to enter and take what they pleased. 

  “I don’t know what you’re looking so down about,” Cecilia sniped when a silence fell over the vehicle. “You know the deal, your sister gets more treatment now,” she said simply. 

  Yeah, she will. That’s all that matters. You nodded. “Thank you,” you muttered. “Can I see her?” You asked, hoping you could make a stop to visit her before you were taken back to the house. 

  “She’s already in surgery,” she told you with a smile. You returned it politely, willing yourself not to argue that that meant you really should have been taken to where she was so that you could wait for her, so that you could be there in case… Fuck, you didn’t even know she needed another surgery. They never told you anything. 

  You fought back tears, adamant that you wouldn’t show weakness in front of her, especially when she was on a power trip of success. She had the job, she had the files, she had you. To her, everything was working out perfectly. To you, it was all falling apart. 

*

“What files were accessed?” Tony asked, feeling an uncertainty arise within his chest. No one had ever hacked him before. No one had ever successfully attacked the base. What was worse, there were still no answers as to how it had been done. He sighed, running his hand through his hair as he gazed at the monitor that offered no comfort. 

  “Just under half of all existing documents. Displaying now.” Files streamed onto the screen on cue, all ranging in dates and topics. 

  “Anything?” Steve and Natasha entered his space cautiously, knowing that the billionaire was stuck in his own head that was no doubt flooded with anxiety. 

  “No, keep the tower shut to all other personnel until we know for sure that there are no more bombs.” 

  “They’re already gotten what they want,” Steve said. 

  “We can’t know that for sure,” Natasha input, leaning over to examine the different documents that were presented and trying to pinpoint any recurring themes or patterns. “We don’t even know who they are.”

*

  Gently, you ran your fingers over the skin where your sister’s hair should have been. You always used to do that when she was sick, from her fevers as a baby to the start of her diagnosis, you were always there to provide her with whatever comfort you could. Getting her the medical help she needed had been a long, greying, journey that you had never for one moment considered might not lead to the destination you wanted. It had been difficult for you both, but you had never dared let her in on what you had done to get her there. 

  It wasn’t a hospital by any means, yet the equipment they carried in the building was far superior. There was a team of professionals that were so highly trained in their respective fields, you had to wonder how much they were being paid to treat your sister and the other unknown patients. It was certainly money that you had never handed them, but you had worked for it. It wasn’t the personnel that had drawn you to the facility, it was the medicine they used. It wasn’t from Earth. 

  You had seen first hand the miracles that occurred on the hostile city streets, the last place anyone would expect to find them. Sicknesses being rid of, disabilities being lessened, burdens released from those who could never have afforded lesser help from elsewhere. All they had to pay with was their services. Thieves, thugs, gangs, dealers, the skills that flourished in the city’s underbelly were revived and given the chance to be used in ways they never could have imagined. 

  Once those rumours fell on your ears, you thought you had found the solution to your problems and that if you gave yourself to the ones pulling the strings behind the curtain, you could save your sister's life. Even as you gazed down at her pale features, you refused to believe your efforts were in vain. 

  Footsteps broke you from your trance as they thudded into your space. You knew who it was, she had a habit of interrupting what little time you had with your sister, as though she was genuinely jealous that your attention was on someone else. Cecilia was hardly in love with you and your relationship was purely for the convenience of getting you access to restricted events and places, but her possession was fierce. She was adamant on knowing where you were at all times and who you were with, preferably being the one to send you to those specific places. You kept to the diet and workout plan she set for you and never let you sleep in a different bed to her. You didn’t understand her insistent dictatorship over your life that was already in her hands, you just knew to obey it. 

  You didn’t react when she pressed a kiss to your neck and snaked her hands around your waist to peer over your shoulder at your sister. She didn’t comment on her declining condition, instead, she brought up the absolute last thing on your mind. “I’ve finally decided on a venue,” she informed lightly, humming into your neck. You could have slapped her. You didn’t want to think about the goddamn wedding. “You’re gonna love it,” she added when you remained silent. 

  “Can you ask the doctors what they’re gonna do next?” You asked. They never told you, too busy to make conversation with someone that didn’t matter to them. You felt your fiance exhale against your skin. She was frustrated, as though your little sister’s cancer was an inconvenience. 

  “She’s dying,” she said bluntly. You stiffened and hoped she didn’t notice. You weren’t in the mood for a fight. 

  “Not yet.” Cecilia kept her hands on your waist as she moved around to your front, placing a fresh kiss to your cheek that you refused to let be stained with tears in front of her. 

  “I love that stubbornness,” she told you with a small smile. “There’s so much fight in that heart of yours,” she added, trailing her finger over your chest to where your organ was thumping. “So much strength.” Her hands threaded around your neck. “It’s why you’re my favourite,” Cecilia said fondly, kissing you once more before finally leaving you be. 

  Your sister died a week later. 

  The only comfort you were able to take from it was that you were by her side when she took her final breath. You were there to tell her that she didn’t have to hang on for you, that she could rest, go be with mum and dad, be without pain. You told her that you would be okay on your own, even though you knew you wouldn’t. You held her hand and felt her give a final squeeze of recognition, of comfort. Her silent goodbye. 

  Just like that, you were left alone. 

  Your sobs could have been heard throughout the entire building. You were inconsolable, grasping onto your little sister’s lifeless body like it would keep her around. You begged for her to take you with her, to let you join them and come home. You begged for an ending. You cried so much your throat felt as though it had been ripped out, torn to shreds from the source. They only intervene when you tried to draw out your time with her. 

  “St-” you couldn’t complete the desperate command because hundreds of volts were sent through your body. You convulsed and collapsed to the floor in a defeated heap, unwilling to ever get up again. What was the point if you didn’t have her to fight for? 

  “Shh, it’s okay,” Cecilia cooed as she pulled the taser clips from your back and pulled your head into her lap. She cradled you, offering her solace for something that never concerned her. She was probably happy your sister was gone. She finally had you all to yourself, even if you were hardly present. “We’ll make it better. You’ll do your best work without the distraction, get you training more.” You weren’t listening, too engaged with setting your eyes on the opposite wall. You didn’t care for her plans for you. 

  “She never would have died if you had been given more help,” she explained, catching your attention. “But no one cared, not the government, not the people, not the Avengers. They just kept you away from us until it was too late.” You didn’t entirely believe what your fiance was telling you, but your mind was so fractured you were desperate for some kind of explanation and someone to blame. 

“Humanity cannot be trusted with its own freedom. We fail time and time again because we aren’t led in the way we should be, the way we can be. Help us change that, y/n.” Dutifully, you sat up and nodded.

“We’re the only ones that looked after you and we’re the only ones that ever will,” she explained. That was true. You had no more foundations or life beyond the commands you were given. No one else could give you a future. 

  “What do you say?” Cecilia asked. You moved to kneel in front of her, features dead straight and eyes as dull as your sister’s behind you. 

  “Hail Hydra.” 

[upat4amwiththemoon]

hii i love your writing especially the wandnat fics 😭 can i request a pt. 3 or just something with “the blip” universe where r wakes up after spending the night at her moms and when she doesn’t find them in their room she starts panicking and it takes her back to when they blipped (but they find her and help her thru it)

The blip | 3

Summary: Broken families take time to heal.

Pairing: WandaNat x daughter!reader

Warnings: some angst, panic attack-ish

Word count: 1283

a/n: I added some things, hope you don’t mind! I think I’m going to make a 4th part too🫢

Tags: @thought-of-you-and-me @rafecameronswhore @emsmultiverse @natashamaximoff69

masterlists | guidelines

Previous parts: part 1, part 2

The little while Y/N was supposed to stay with her moms turned into a week, then two more, a month, and another one. However, Wanda and Natasha have not minded it at all, they’re over the moon to spend more time with their daughter.

They don’t live at their old apartment anymore, having decided it’d be too overwhelming for Y/N to go back there. Instead, they live in a house further away from the city and the noise. It has three bedrooms, one for guests, one for Wanda and Natasha, and one for Y/N.

It’s perfect for the three of them.

Of course, Natasha and Wanda aren’t pressuring Y/N into moving in with them permanently, which is why she is still paying rent on her crappy apartment, but their hope is high.

Y/N paces around in the living room, wearing her best clothes, which weren’t that good with her minimal income as she refused to let her mothers use too much money on her.

“She’ll be here soon.” Wanda sets her hand on Y/N’s shoulder, giving her a comforting smile. “You don’t need to worry.”

“I know, I just-“ she takes a breath, “I haven’t seen her since that day.”

Natasha steps inside the room. “She won’t blame you for that. She’ll understand why.”

Staying quiet, Y/N stares out of the window, waiting for a car to drive into their road. Her hands are shaking, so she keeps playing with the rings on her fingers. Wanda keeps staring at the rings with a small smile, happy to see her daughter wearing her old rings, but missing the times she used to play with her hands when nervous.

A black car with tinted windows drives to the front of the house. Kat’s breath hitches, seemingly unable to move before Natasha gives her a small nudge. “Go on.”

Y/N walks to the porch and down the few stairs on it, her moms behind her. Maria is standing by her car. “Hey, bug.” She has a smile on her face, but she looks afraid. Y/N is pretty sure she has never seen Maria afraid.

“Hi, aunt Maria.”

With that, Maria, who brides her ability to keep her emotions in check, starts crying.

Y/N’s eyes widen. It takes her a moment to react, but when she does so, she walks straight to Maria and hugs her. Her arms wrap around Maria’s neck, while the woman’s arms go around Y/N’s waist tightly.

They stare for a moment, both crying, before Maria pulls slightly away to wipe away the tears. “I’m so sorry, I really am.” She sniffles, moving her hands on Y/N’s cheeks to lift her head up to face her. “I’m sorry I left you alone in there.”

Y/N shakes her head, her lower lip quivering at her honorary aunt’s words. “It wasn’t your fault.” Her voice is quiet, almost a whisper.

Maria smiles, appreciating the words though she doesn’t fully believe them. One of her hands moves to the side of Y/N’s head, petting her hair softly. “You’re so grown now. You’re not fourteen anymore.”

“I’m not fourteen anymore.”

“You don’t need your aunt to guide you anymore.” Her voice is soft, but it has bitterness in it. She’s angry at the world, and herself, for missing out on the rest of Y/N’s teenage years.

“I do.” Her words are quick. “I need you, just like I still need my moms.” The last words come out quieter than the rest, just so Wanda and Natasha can’t hear her. It was always easier to reveal certain things to Maria rather than her moms.

Maria glances at the two other women patiently waiting for them by the porch. She gives them a smile. “Let’s go inside, yeah? we have all the tome in the world now.” Her hand rests on Y/N’s shoulders as she starts leading her towards the house.

Maria stayed in the Maximoff-Romanoff household until four in the morning. They spent all the hours catching up, though Y/N wasn’t too keen on talking about her life alone too much, but she shared the important details.

The clock strikes 12:30 when Y/N finally manages to wake up, still tired from staying up so late. It takes her 20 minutes to actually get out of bed.

She stands up, stretching her whole body and yawning, which causes her to get a short dizzy spell. With tired movements, she walks into the empty kitchen.

Y/N frowns, usually her moms are already up and making breakfast at this time. Her heart gets a heavy feeling, but she pushes it away, making her way to the main bedroom. She knocks on the door. When there’s no answer, she knocks again, harder this time.

“Mom? Mama?” She’s not afraid to call Wanda mama anymore.

Once again, no answer.

Her breathing picks up. This isn’t the blip, this isn’t the blip. She says the sentence over and over in her mind, but it’s getting swallowed by her panic. She opens the door and steps inside the empty bedroom, her dread growing by the second.

“Mom!” Y/N starts walking in and out of all the room, checking every possible nook and cranny. “Mama!” She quickly makes her way to the living room. Her shaky hands grab the remote control and turn on the television. The channels change quickly as she searches for the news channel.

Before she can fully try to listen to the news anchor, the front door opens. Her moms walking in, both of them holding grocery bags.

“Where were you?” Y/N shaky words make the two women set the bags down, frowns on their faces as they see the disheveled state their daughter is in. “I- I thought you were gone again. Why would you leave like that? You can’t just-“ the words are coming out quickly.

“Hey, hey,” Wanda sits on the couch, pulling Y/N right next to her, “we’re here and we’re okay.”

Natasha walks into the kitchen, picking up a note they wrote from the floor. It was taped to the fridge so Y/N would see the written We’re grocery shopping, will be back soon! easily. “I’m sorry, kрошка.” She sets the paper on the counter before joining the two on the couch. “The note fell.”

Y/N sniffles, trying to keep her sobs at bay while she fully leans into her mothers’ embrace. “I thought you left me again.”

“No, no.” Natasha and Wanda sandwich Y/N in their embrace. “We will never ever leave you again, and I know-“ Natasha continues talking before Y/N can say anything, “I know it’s hard to keep that promise, and it’ll take you time to fully trust us again. That’s okay. You just have to know, that we’ll do everything in our power to keep you and us safe.”

Y/N sniffles, her head in the crook of Wanda’s neck and her hand holding onto Natasha’s hand tightly. “Okay,” her voice is quiet as a whisper, “you won’t leave without telling again?”

“No, baby.” Wanda kisses the top of her head, keeping her face there, taking comfort in her scent even though it’s not as familiar. “We won’t leave without making sure you know exactly where we are.”

Y/N nods. She pulls away and rubs her eyes, clearing them from the tears. “What’d you get from the store?” She changes the subject, feeling slightly embarrassed of her panicked state.

Her moms make no comment of it, they go right into telling Y/N about their plan of the day to cook and bake together.

[munariplans]

forty, love | part 2 | natasha romanoff

part 2 of forty, love synopsis: winning was everything, and losing was a sin. unfortunately, you were on a losing streak, and natasha loved winning.

natasha romanoff x tennis player! reader

word count: 4.6k words

a/n: did y'all think i would leave you hanging just like that? come on now, i would never do that :D

masterlist

for the few seconds after the match, as the umpire announced the score officially, and declaring princeton as the winners, you were numb. there was nothing but ringing in your ears, no emotions, no feelings. you had simply laid your racket down on the court then, walking off with nothing but the ringing, and numbness, within. 

you almost couldn’t remember anything during the prize-giving ceremony. how you stood on a podium only slightly shorter than the winner, how you were handed a silver trophy instead of a gold one, how the organisers smiled at you warmly, still managing to utter a “congratulations”. you didn’t remember if you even bothered smiling in the photographs they took.  

then came the low hum. it sounded almost like white noise, but it was there. a low hum of something whirring around you, it could have been your coach, or your teammates, or even people squeezing in to try to get an autograph from you as you made your way to your dressing room. none of it mattered. it felt like you were walking on clouds, almost weightless as your feet carried you automatically to where you needed to be. you swiped your card against the door, and entered. it locked with a click after.

hunched over and your head in your hands was how natasha found you. she had begged the guards to let her into your dressing room when you had refused to open the door for anyone else, and reluctantly, knowing who she was to you, they had let her. the room was silent when she entered, you almost looked like a statue.

it was her turn to drop to her knees, facing you and trying to coax you to look at her. natasha managed to lift your head enough to see you, but not enough to look at her. she thought it was best to just lay your head on her shoulder, rocking you in comfort, in that position for a while. there were no tears against her shirt this time, strangely. 

five minutes passed. she knew it would possibly take longer, but then your hands were on hers, tearing yourself away from her touch. natasha wanted to smile as she saw the beautiful hue in your eyes again.

but then, you said, “you should leave.”

natasha didn’t even feel like she deserved to feel used, because she had done this to herself. she had asked for this, she had threatened to leave you first. she bit her lip, and shook her head slowly. “no, no, no.”

“natasha, please leave.”

“i hadn’t meant what i said, i wasn’t…baby, i’m not leaving you.” suddenly, the truth of what she had said had become too terrifying to confront. of course she hadn’t meant it. of course she didn’t intend on leaving you. not like this. not just for something as stupid as this. how could she leave you just because you had lost on a single point in a match? didn’t you know her better than this? 

natasha scrambled to her feet when you stood first, face devoid of any emotion. she thought it was less scary when you at least cried after losing. you made your way over to the trophy resting atop the vanity table, picked it up and shoved it towards natasha, and spat, “you didn’t have to say it out loud to mean it.”

then, natasha watched as you collected the rest of your items, and approached the door. she was still in shock, and remorse, but she knew at least, that if she allowed you to walk out this time, she would possibly never see you again. and so she gave chase, and before the door could unlock and you could step out, her arms were around your waist, her front pressed to your back, begging you to stay. 

“wait, wait, please. you have to listen to me–”

“–there is nothing to listen to,” you didn’t understand why she was even trying to hold on, “we’re done. it’s over. i lost, you will leave. you made it very clear, and i have accepted this fate even before you said it out loud. we both know we’re done, so can you just make it easier and let me leave?”

“no, we were o-okay, we were good. why are you suddenly…?” 

then, you turned to face her. “were we? tell me you see this playing out any better than it did today. tell me you would have really stayed.”

at her stunned silence, you took it as your confirmation. unlocking the door and pushing her off of you, you spared one last look at her, tears streaming down her cheeks and a hurt expression you would have killed to apologise for in the past, and said, “i hope you find someone better. someone who would always win for you.”

when natasha returned to your shared hotel room later on, she found that you had packed up all of your things and checked out early. your coach was kind enough to tell her that you had returned back to your dorms first. then, he gave her a sympathetic look, and told her that she shouldn’t try to find you, because you had advised your building security not to let her in. 

– 

a week after the match, however, natasha received a call from you. she was in the middle of waiting for the results of a scholarship interview, but it didn’t stop her from racing down the stairs, bursting out into the open lawn, and praying for complete silence so she could hear your voice better.

“hello…?” you realised she sounded hopeful, almost happy that you called. 

“hi, natasha. can we meet?”

you were to come over to her dorm later that evening. you wanted to discuss some things, natasha heard it as you wanting to give your relationship a second chance. you offered to bring her dinner as a peace offering, she heard it as your invitation for a reconciliation date. she declined and told you she would be cooking for you both. you ended the call with a noncommittal grunt. she felt like the heavens had blessed her with a second chance.

when she went home, she deep-cleaned her room, went out to get a bouquet of your favourite flowers, and even enlisted the help of her friends to help cook and set up a candlelit dinner for the both of you. she made sure everything was perfect, down to a T, and she was going to make sure that you wouldn’t regret giving her a second chance. 

you arrived ten minutes late in a t-shirt and jeans, and looking around at the setup of the room, the dim romantic lighting and the steak dinners on the makeshift table in her corner, it was then that you noticed natasha too, was in a dress that you always told her made her look like a million dollars. 

she was moving on fast, you thought. a dinner date right after your unloading of the last of her things? perhaps the natasha you knew was not really the natasha that was in front of you then. you couldn’t control the annoyance, “guess you’ve moved on, then?”

the sneer on your face disappeared the moment you looked back at her. she was staring at the box full of her things that were cradled in your arms, tears threatening to fall from her eyes at the sight of it all. that’s when you realised. it was all for you. 

you almost backed out. almost put the box down, shoved it back to where it belonged, strewn about your room and laying with your own belongings, and dropped to your knees in front of her. almost began repeating your usual i’m sorry, i’m sorry, forgive me, i love you in a million different ways, almost asking her to rethink all that had been done in the past week altogether. you almost went right back to her arms, wiping her tears and apologising for making her cry.

but you couldn’t do it. not anymore. natasha wasn’t yours now, and you were nothing to her. you needed to move on, you needed to be strong. so you gripped onto the box harder, and got on with what you wanted to say. 

“i’m sorry i ended things that way…in such a crude manner…during the finals. you didn’t deserve that, and i was so vexed and caught up in the heat of the moment. our separation…it should’ve been done better.” 

natasha didn’t know how else it could have been done better. how else you could have broken up with her that didn’t involve her getting her heart ripped out. 

but you were steady, the words memorised and practised over and over in your head, natasha knew. “i came here, not to fix things or to try again at something we both know isn’t going to work. i’m sorry if i gave you that impression. but i want us to remain cordial, at the very least, and not hate each other. not that i could ever hate you, because…” you cleared the lump in your throat at natasha beginning to weep, “...because you were my best friend, my motivation, my…everything, for almost all of my college life here. so, i think we deserve it, we both deserve at least remaining friendly with each other, for the past 3 years we have shared. i don’t regret it, and i hope you didn’t either.”

natasha was choking up with tears by then, the makeup on her face running down her cheeks as she desperately tried to hold herself, to stop the goddamn tears from flowing like a river. it was so embarrassing. your lips were bleeding with how hard you were biting them, but you remained strong. you wanted nothing more than to beg for her forgiveness, for her to take you back, to tell you that you were wrong and that she loved you despite it all and that she was never going to leave you ever again, but you couldn’t. you had to harshly remind yourself that she had moved on, and you should too. 

you gently laid the box by her bed, your shirt that had become hers over the years at the top of it, the only thing that you found hardest to let go of. it was yours, but you thought it was only fair that she had it. natasha sat on the bed, watching you stare at the shirt for a minute wistfully.

when you managed to pull yourself out of it, you turned back to her, the silent question ringing in the air. “you can um…keep my stuff. or throw it in the trash, burn it, give it away, whatever. it’s okay, you don’t need to return it back.”

natasha already knew she would be keeping all of it, for at least years after this. 

you prepared to leave, taking one last look at the room you had spent so many nights in, made so many happy memories in, and smiled softly at natasha. she tried to mirror one back, but another tear fell, and she gave up altogether. she didn’t get up from her spot on the bed.

“what are you going to do now…?” her voice was shaky, afraid. 

you shrugged. “the same things i have always done. tennis, college, aiming to win a grand slam. nothing much changes.”

except everything else had changed.

– 

when you started performing considerably better, returning to the winning ways that everyone doubted you could ever get back to, you noticed more of your critics keeping their mouths shut, and more of the college’s funding being used to support your career. you were handpicked to represent the school for matches, and nobody had to worry about making a bad investment. nine times out of ten, you won. and when you lost, the audience noticed that no rackets were smashed anymore, no longing looks to the first row of the crowds in embarrassment and worry. you simply shook the bad result off, and returned the next round even stronger. 

it was almost like a whole new player had been unveiled from the cocoon of what was shrouding her potential.

one night, hours before a match with a veteran player, you were up late in your room throwing a tennis ball against your door and catching it continuously, unable to sleep. it had been exactly six months after your breakup, and you rarely saw natasha around in school. you had heard from one source that she was back with her ex from the basketball team, then another that she was with someone else, then from another that she was with steve rogers, still. it didn’t matter; natasha never had an issue with finding suitors. 

you would be lying if you didn’t miss her. some days, you stared into the empty space in your bed that you would often wake her up in on game days, and she would coax you to sleep in on bad days. you missed having someone to celebrate your wins with, even someone to encourage you when you were losing sets and games after. sometimes, you missed her so much that you wondered if it was worth it to even break it off at all, and if you would be happier if you had let her stay by your side.

thwock. distracted, your ball misses the target of your door, and hits the hinge. it ricochets off, and rolls underneath your dresser. you sighed, getting up to retrieve it back. as you bent down to the gap between the dresser and the ground, however, something else greeted you first. 

it was a framed photograph of you and natasha, the last one that you had forgotten to pack and return to her. the both of you were at a new year’s eve party, kissing just as the ball dropped for the new year. a tight, restrictive force had found its way around your throat, as you flipped the dusty frame over to find out wishes you had written together to achieve in the new year. 

yours had been a stupid one liner: To win a grand slam soon! 

natasha’s handwriting was beautiful. your thumb grazed over it lovingly. her wish had made you shut your eyes for a minute after, choking down the feelings it evoked. 

To love my girlfriend through it all. 

her contact number was left on your phone’s display that night, as you finally fell asleep after contemplating calling her for another hour after that. 

– 

somewhere between graduation and your career flourishing, you qualified for the Australian Open, and was steadily moving up the rounds. by the time graduation day rolled around, the whole college inevitably knew who you were, and the bright future that awaited you.

natasha watched as you were given a minute or two to thank the college and its tennis department for their support for the past four years. her gaze twinkled in wistful remorse as she clapped the loudest within her section when you thanked the school one final time, and bowed upon receiving your degree. 

there was even a mini autograph session at the end, as you laughed bashfully when a group of students crowded around you for pictures and autographs in view of your success in the games. natasha, watching from afar, realised that this was the happiest she had seen you in a while, and swallowed the bitter confrontation that she was not there to be happy with you. 

she paced back and forth for a while, contemplating if she should do it, if it was worth it for her to try, but eventually, she worked up the courage to queue a little behind the other students, in hopes of saying a final goodbye to you. it was hard to find an opening, even harder to swallow her jealousy when she sees a girl slipping her number into your gown pocket after taking a picture with you. 

but then you saw her, at the back of the crowd, pacing nervously, and your eyes locked. you thought she still looked so cute in her nervousness, and a little sad at seeing her in a gown mirroring yours, but not saying goodbye to college together. you wanted to put the pen and tennis ball you were signing down, and run up to her to scoop her in your arms to tell her you were sorry, and that you wanted her to take you back, but you couldn’t. you couldn’t do any of the sort, not anymore.

instead, natasha then saw you shake your head ever-so-slightly, telling her a silent no. you were telling her not to come any closer, and although she was holding onto something you couldn’t see that she tried to raise up, to tell you that she had wanted to give it to you, you still didn’t have the willpower to let her come over. if she did, it was over for you. you would have folded so easily.

natasha had no choice but to back away. on her way home, she threw the letter she had handwritten over sleepless nights and eyes full of tears, to wish you good luck and goodbye for the last time in your lives, into the trash can by her dorm. 

– 

game, set, match. and she advances!

incredible, what this player, who, not too long ago, was in the danger zone of not even qualifying for local challenger rounds, is now beating the likes of one of the greatest talents in our generation! 

simply amazing. she’s booked herself another round.

you had beaten nearly all of your childhood idols at that point, when the magazines began painting you as tennis’ new prodigy and opponents began asking you to go easy on them before matches. people you never even dreamt of meeting, and then playing against, coming to shake your hand as you beat them round after round. to say you were overwhelmed, and eternally grateful, was an understatement. to become tennis’ next big thing at that stage in your career was something you could have only dreamed of. your career was taking off and the money was rolling in, and naturally, all eyes were on you.

however, the success and fame in your professional career didn’t necessarily translate to one in your personal one, when you found yourself still swiping through potential matches on dating apps, while waiting for your own date in the bathroom. when she returned, she steered the conversation to what you were doing for a living, and you caught yourself from rolling your eyes at the question. 

i’m an accountant. i work in real estate. occasionally, you told them, a big data analyst. not a tennis player, never a tennis player. you refused to make the same mistake in your college years over again; you refused to reopen and revisit the scars that natasha left you years ago. 

you told this one you were a data analyst, and she had bought it wholeheartedly. but when your drinks finished and more people returned after their days away to the hotel bar, a fan in a cap designed with your initials as the logo audibly gasped when he saw you, and naturally approached for a photo together. your date was taken aback, but you didn’t give her much time to react, placing your arm around her waist and walking the both of you out, under the guise of wanting to walk her home.

it turned out to be an even worse plan, however, when right around where she lived, was the biggest billboard you could have possibly gotten for your campaign with a luxury watch company. your face plastered right where she could see in plain view, she took a moment to look at it, then at you, then at it, then gasping too. you bit your lip and cringed. 

“why didn’t you tell me?! god, i’m going out with a celebrity!” she was more ecstatic than you had been after beating your opponent in the round last week.

you shrugged. safe to say there wasn’t a second date after that one.

–

ranking in the top ten of the US Open by then, you were often asked about your relationships and your personal life. it frustrated the media to receive the answer that you were incredibly private, and constantly refused to divulge anything about it.

natasha was watching you on the television one day, and the question arose again. the interviewer had asked who you would credit as the reason for your success after all this while. she must have been in the universe’s favour, or the stars had aligned right at the perfect time, because she caught the very telecast that caught you cracking the little bit of the facade you had built up after college.

you gave the interviewer a polite smile, and she looked like she was ready to give up, prepared to hear about your evasion of the question and request for another. but this time…this time, you indulged, and said, “my ex-girlfriend, from back in college.”

natasha’s world stopped. she immediately screamed for her roommate to stop her singing in the shower, and turned up the volume of the television. the interviewer asked for more details about natasha, you were kind enough to tell her that you didn’t know if natasha was comfortable with being made public, and in respect of her privacy, that she be kept anonymous. the ones who knew, would know.

“and where is she now…? this, wonderful, ex-girlfriend of yours. why is she no longer a girlfriend anymore?”

you looked down for a moment, smiling sadly. “um, i don’t know, honestly. we don’t keep in touch anymore, but i hope that wherever she is, she is happy. and i want her to know that i will always be thankful for what she’s done for me, and that i loved her very much.”

the telecast cut to shots of you signing more caps and tennis balls shortly after. natasha didn’t even realise the steady stream of tears that had been flowing down her cheeks. 

she screamed in frustration, and sadness, as she threw the remote forwards, knocking over a row of memorabilia and your tennis merchandise. there were rows and rows of tennis balls, caps, and little racket figurines purchased from your team that natasha had embarrassingly collected, as if having even small, tiny pieces of you was better than having none of you at all. the tennis balls were signed, but bought from resellers that natasha paid too much for, all while glowering with envy that these people, of all people, had the chance to meet you, talk to you, and get a hand-signed ball that they only intended to ever make a quick buck off. 

steve had made fun of her once, that instead of spending hundreds for some marker ink on a ball, that she could have picked up the phone and just called you for one instead, but as she told him off for being so dismissive of her feelings, and yours, he quickly cowered in fear after. she didn’t want to disturb your peace, and winning streak, and had unfortunately settled for loving and supporting you from afar.

–

at the final round of the US Open, natasha’s employer had noticed her eyes poring over the office’s large-screen coverage of the grand slam for the past few weeks, and took pity on her, giving her passes to cover the finals on behalf of the company as a reward for all of her ground-breaking pieces for the year. in all of the years natasha had worked there, she had never felt so insurmountably happy, yet bone-crushingly nervous, upon being informed of the news.

it didn’t help that up from where she was, in the tiny box that was her luxury hospitality suite, she had practically a front-row view of your entire match. her eyes followed your hands, as they first shook hands by the net with the opponent, the reigning champion of the previous US Open, as they tightened your laces and prepared themselves for the gruelling match ahead, as they finally picked up the racket. 

the last time natasha had watched a game of yours in person was in college. and right then, she was suddenly overwhelmed, with the nostalgia, and awe, that you carried yourself with, upon coming onto the court. your gait and waves had been the same, but the expression on your face, a little older, a little wiser, was now more polite, and less smug, no doubt hammered up by the tons of media training that you had been put through. your stance was even more fierce, and confident, than ever before. and when you played, oh boy, when you played, natasha, much like everyone else, was in a trance. they knew they had just bought tickets for a thriller, whenever you played.

college you and professional you were two different persons on two different sides of the same coin.

thwock. “in!” you dominated the first set.

the ball soared, and soared, and landed. the way you hit it back over the net activated the sensors, even though natasha was confident that her own two eyes saw the ball go over it. the umpire told you that you had touch the net, the crowd booed in disapproval, and you tried reasoning back. his word was final, and natasha had expected you to retort back even more fiercely, with an insult for him at the tip of your tongue, or a spiteful you don’t know how to play tennis that you would spit at him, but there was none of it. 

natasha should have known, from all of the matches of you she watched. you had grown up, and matured. and this time, you simply kept your head down, nodded, and returned to position. the point was not yours.

but you dominated the second set. the opponent took the third. and the fourth. it was the last set then. 

natasha’s hands were pressed up on the glass, watching you serve. it hit within the line by a few millimetres, but the opponent was just as quick, whacking it straight back, forcing you to a volley. but your feet recovered, and soon enough, you were controlling the pace and momentum of the game. it became apparent who was going to be the clear winner of the day.

thwock. when the final serve, the serve that mattered most to the both of you, and was a match point, was raised, natasha felt her eyes widening as it hit the racket, and travelled incredibly slowly to your side of the court. you raised your racket, expression set to hit it back, when suddenly, she saw it. the crack of a smile.

you lowered the racket. the ball was out. you had officially won the US Open. 

natasha remembered screaming, jumping, pumping her fists in the air. she must have looked like a mad woman, being the only journalist to be celebrating like a diehard fan up in that box, but she didn’t care. none of them knew you like she did, none of them would ever know you like she did. 

she thought that for a moment, you had looked up to her then, finding her in the crowd and making eye contact. her breath caught in her throat, but just as quickly, you looked away, and allowed the crowd to sing in your praises. it must have been a figment of natasha’s imagination.

a/n: sorry it got a bit too long, i might just consider a part 3 now hehe. but it looks like R is not the only one down bad for the other. who do you think has it worse for the other between these two?

[incorrectquotesmcu]

Natasha: If I'm extra sarcastic with you it probably means I'm flirting with you or you really annoy me and I can't handle your crap... have fun figuring out which one.