I Wanna Date Someone That...

Built From Memories

Natasha x Reader, Yelena & Reader (Platonic).

Word Count: 4.5K

A/N: This is fluff I think. But it does include head trauma and a funeral. Part of a prompt off with @cuinaminute229 @writing-house-of-m and @wandsgale

Natasha died in May 2023. This is not a story about someone who died. 

She was your best friend. A fellow Avenger. Your favourite person.

That’s how you came to know her sister. 

Yelena had been snapped by Thanos. Missing for 5 years, when she came back her sister was already dead. Then, she wished she was too. 

You’d been to one to host a small memorial for Natasha in the Old Stark Tower. Noone had recognised the blonde girl who’d shown up, nursed a drink and kept her distance. This hadn’t been surprising, a lot of Natasha’s friends were mysteries to each other. 

It was only when the girl didn’t leave, staying past even Clint’s family, that you decided to speak to her.

Her Russian accent was obvious. Her grief was even more apparent. 

Eventually, you had the courage to ask. 

‘Who was she to you?’

Yelena started crying. The grief inside you came to the surface and you felt tears slide down your cheeks too.

‘My sister.’ She told you at last.

You watched Yelena crying, your heart twisting with memories of Natasha. Of a love that you didn’t know how to get rid of.

‘Oh.’ You said dumbly. ‘We’re like family.’

It made everything easier after that. Yelena came back to your house that night. You talked about Natasha for hours before she crashed on your sofa. 

Yelena looked at you like she’d finally found someone who understood grief. The world was in chaos with its suddenly doubled population. And here you both were, wishing only for the one person who didn’t come home. 

That night also gave you the chance to tell her about one more piece of Natasha.

Natasha had left her a house. Well, technically, Tony Stark had left a house to Natasha. But, May 2023 hadn’t been a good month for the Starks either. 

So, that meant it was Yelena’s.

You outlined what you knew. It was an older building, late 1800s. More a mansion than a house, it had been in the Stark family for years. Tony had told you once, that he’d spent summers there when he was a child. 

Yelena listened, her expression wary. You watched indecision battle on her face. 

‘Where is the house?’ She asked at last.

‘Ohio, I think.’ You answered.

‘I want it.’ Yelena decided, expression clearing into one of determination. Her hand gripped yours, almost unthinkingly.

Yelena seemed both strong and fragile in the same breath. You squeezed her hand back. You’d known someone like her before.

—---

A few weeks later, Yelena was still sleeping on your sofa. You knew she could afford a hotel. Technically, she had a Stark approved mansion waiting for her. You didn’t wonder why she preferred your sofa.

Yelena loved Natasha and that’s what made her family.

(Then, alcohol had bonded you like nothing else could.)

One morning, she’d disappeared into the chaos of a New York City with double the population. A solicitor had arranged to give her the new house keys.

That evening, you’d found her on your doorstep, already half-drunk. She was holding a bottle of vodka, a handful of keys and a determined expression. 

‘Fuck the house.’ Yelena told you drunkenly an hour later, shoulder clumsily bumping yours.

‘Fuck the house.’ You echoed, clinking your shot glasses and downing the drink. 

A blur of time later, you were standing in the middle of the room. Yelena was gripping your shoulders to stay steady. You could feel yourself swaying regardless.

‘Move in with me.’ Yelena suggested, eyes glassy.

‘Absolutely.’ You agreed enthusiastically, before stumbling to the ground. 

—---

You woke up miserably the next morning. You were sprawled on the sofa, Yelena’s legs were dangling across you. Your head pounded, your mouth was uncomfortably dry. Squinting, you surveyed the mess you’d managed to make.

Open suitcases littered the room. Heaps of your clothes were half deposited in. 

‘Where are we going?’ You croaked a minute later, covering your eyes with your hand.

‘Ohio.’ Came a faint groan in response. 

—-------

It took two days to get to Ohio. You still couldn’t believe it had happened.

After squinting at the mess in your apartment for nearly an hour, you’d gotten to your feet. With your pounding head, it had really just seemed easier to move.

The next day, as you drove cross-country with Yelena, you could admit that it was more than that. 

Noone knew Natasha like Yelena did. You didn’t want to lose that.

There was nothing left that you wanted. Not in this world. Being an ex-Avenger with no friends in a too crowded city seemed like the worst option. 

You knew Yelena was thinking about similar things. 

You talked for hours as you drove. It was easier to stare ahead at the road and say everything that was hard to say.

Yelena told you about a jacket that she’d given Natasha. She started to describe the green material and you’d finished her sentence.

‘I remember. She wore it a lot.’ You told Yelena carefully, watching the way her jaw tightened at your words. 

‘I didn’t know.’ Yelena said at last, her knuckles white on the steering wheel.

You felt sure then, that Yelena shouldn’t be alone either.

When you entered the state of Ohio. Yelena started to tell you about her childhood. About the mission that had made them sisters.

‘Why did you want to come back here?’ You asked at last.

Yelena looked at you. She gave you a half-hearted smile.

‘I’m tired of running from my past.’ She said simply.

Your heart stung with a memory of her sister. You nodded, too choked to speak. You turned to stare out the window, willing the overwhelming pain to lessen just a little. 

Sometimes, it was still hard to breathe without Natasha.

—-------

When you first drove up the long driveway to the Carbonell House, it felt like a journey’s end. Yelena got out of her truck and surveyed the front of her new property. 

You watched in amusement as she considered the exterior of the mansion thoughtfully.

‘Yes.’ She decided at last. ‘I think I could live here.’

You snorted, reaching into the back of the truck for some bags. 

‘What a relief.’ You commented sarcastically, throwing a heavy bag over to Yelena.

—----

The first few nights in the new house were a big adjustment. The house was coated in thick dust and the air was stale. Old fashioned furniture littered every room.

Yelena settled remarkably quickly, reminding you suddenly that she was an assassin with no previous address. You remembered the way Natasha would sit absurdly in a chair, unintentionally claiming any space she was in. 

You’d been impressed by her ability to make any place seem like her home.

Yelena had inherited the same trait.

She wandered around the dilapidated kitchens with the air of a professional chef in their high end restaurant. 

When she served up questionable mac and cheese, you smirked, realising her cooking talent was also shared with Natasha.

—----

It was a relief having someone else in the large, empty house. Little moments felt infinitely more comfortable. Working together on bigger tasks, making snarky comments at each other in passing, bringing each other coffee in the morning. The pair of you felt perfectly suited to being housemates. 

Every day, Yelena went out to explore the grounds surrounding the property. The Carbonell house was extremely private, thanks to the large gardens on all sides. Once in a while, you’d look out a window and try to imagine a young Tony Stark stuck here with only a nanny for company. 

Although, you’d quickly learned with your own explorations inside the house, that Tony had actually spent all of his time here in the basement.

You’d found a lab down there, a low tech version of the ones back in the Old Stark Tower. This lab was much more hyper-personalised to the interests of a 14 year old. There was even a faded poster of Ghostbusters on the wall, dating the set up perfectly to 1984. 

When you told Yelena about your discoveries, she snorted loudly.

‘What a loser.’ She commented, adding extra hot sauce to her mac and cheese.

It turned out Yelena had much more important plans on her mind.

One Tuesday, she left in her truck before the sun had even risen. When she returned, you watched her busy herself with a project in the grounds behind the house. 

You turned back to the lunch you were making. A pasta salad, the only thing you could make with the ingredients Yelena had bought from the grocery store, that wasn’t mac and cheese. 

Yelena came in for lunch. Dirt streaked across one of her cheeks, but her smile was beaming. She ate the pasta salad enthusiastically, ignoring your cringe when she added hot sauce.

After you’d stacked the dishes in the sink, Yelena took your hand.

‘C’mon.’ She urged you, with a glitter in her eyes. ‘I want to show you something.’

She led you confidently through the long grass to the cherry blossom tree, like she was walking a well-worn path. 

You stopped in your tracks as soon as you saw it.

The headstone underneath the tree was new. You knew what it would say before you were close enough to read it.

Natasha Romanoff, Missed always by those who loved her.

You hugged Yelena without warning. Holding her tightly as the feeling overwhelmed you. Yelena’s arms wrapped around you too. 

‘Thank you.’ You mumbled. A ray of sunlight fell across the garden and, for the first time in a long time, you felt warm. 

—----

You didn’t hate the house until after that.

It was an accumulation of little things that began to aggravate you. You hadn’t anticipated the realities of living in such an old house. 

The lights flickered almost every time you entered a room. You would grit your teeth, trying to stave off the rush of fear at the momentary darkness. 

Most nights, you’d hear strange noises outside. You’d peered out of every window, but there was never anything out there. You were starting to miss the luxury of sleeping through the night.

When you told Yelena about the strange noises, she’d explained to you in a purposefully patronising tone about the nature that existed outside of New York City. 

In fact, Yelena seemed to be flourishing more and more in this old space. 

You’d always wondered with Natasha, if she could ever feel truly at home, after a life as an assassin.

Yelena had begun to answer that question herself. 

A week after the gravestone’s arrival, you woke up again to the sound of Yelena’s truck driving away. You knew you should be frustrated by her abrupt departures. Strangely, you found yourself liking it. Sparks of spontaneity were something you missed the most from your life with the Avengers. 

She came back with a dog. Giant, fluffy and entirely impractical for the lifestyle you knew she’d been considering returning to.

‘This is Fanny.’ She told you proudly. 

‘Did she come with the name?’ You asked dryly.

‘No, she’s named after someone famous.’ Yelena answered elusively.

Your initial scepticism at your new housemate soon faded. There was no doubt that Fanny was saving Yelena’s life. 

You watched them training for hours at a time, in the meadow between the house and Natasha’s gravestone.

Some afternoons, you’d sit outside by the headstone and watch the latest display of obedience from Fanny. Yelena’s satisfaction and pride also made your chest feel warm.

One night, you heard Yelena crying. You paused by her bedroom door. She was mumbling in Russian, words you couldn’t piece together, except ‘Sestra’. Fanny whined slightly and Yelena responded. You felt the aching relief that Yelena had found someone she could cry with.

—--

Fanny’s only downside was her propensity to bark and howl. She’d fixate unexpectedly on different parts of the house, howling furiously until whatever invisible offender had moved on. 

Yelena seemed to have largely trained her out of the habit, except for the occasional early morning when you’d wake in alarm to manic barking at the foot of your bed. 

Despite the frustrating old house and the morning barking fits. You couldn’t help but feel that you were finally in the right place. 

Nothing had seemed to make sense after Natasha’s death. You’d been left with an emptiness that had never really left. 

Here in this new chaos, with Yelena and Fanny and a house to fix up,  breathing got easier.

—-----

A few months into your new life, Yelena announced at breakfast that she wanted to clear out the basement. You felt yourself getting defensive before she’d finished speaking. 

‘I like that he used to live here.’ You told her bluntly. ‘I like having those memories nearby.’

Yelena patted your arm. She’d started doing it ironically to calm you down, but now she did it so often it was second nature.

‘Don’t worry.’ She assured you. ‘We can box up the important stuff. I just want to see what we can salvage from the real tech.’

You nodded, relieved by her suggestion. 

‘Maybe, I’ll put the Ghostbusters poster on my wall.’ You decided with a smile. ‘What do you want with his tech anyway?’

Yelena looked at you, expression sober except for the tiny glimmer in her eye.

‘I want to clone Fanny.’ She told you seriously.

You rolled your eyes, fighting a laugh. ‘Uh huh.’

Fanny looked up from the wooden floor at the sound of her name. 

Yelena stood up, cupping Fanny’s face between her hands.

‘You’re so perfect, we need two.’ She told Fanny, who wagged her tail.

You started humming The Addam’s Family theme tune under your breath. 

Around lunch, Yelena called you from the basement asking for your help lifting something.

You were alarmed to find her holding a large steel beam. Her back was to you as you walked in. 

‘Isn’t that something important?’ You just about had time to ask, before Yelena turned around in surprise. 

The steel beam caught the side of your head, and before you knew it you were falling. 

Just as the hazy darkness fell, you heard a familiar voice.

—----

A week later, you were sitting in a hospital bed.

Yelena was complaining about hospital food and you were reminding her that she didn’t have to eat your leftovers.

It was strange to see the transformation in Yelena that had happened since your accident. You’d regained consciousness after a brief stint in a coma, and the first thing you’d seen was Yelena looking back at you, pale and sick with worry.

Yelena had told the hospital staff that she was your sister, so they’d let her stay. You thought about that a lot at night. You wondered if the shadow of Natasha would always sit between you and Yelena. If she’d be happy about the messy family you were beginning to form.

Yelena slept over in the hospital too. In fact, other than her regular checks on Fanny, she stayed entirely by your side.

You watched her, curled up in the fold-out bed provided by the hospital. She looked impossibly young when she was sleeping. Her hands twisted into the sheets. 

Part of you didn’t want to go back to the old house now. Not after the accident. Still, you knew you had to. It was home. It was where your family lived.

—----

Yelena supported your arm as she led you out of her truck.

Carbonell House stood grand and entirely unaffected by your absence. You could see the silhouette of Fanny, paws on the windowsill as she excitedly awaited your return.

Just as you reached the front of the house, you saw another silhouette appear behind Fanny. Natasha Romanoff stared back at you, eyebrows drawn in concern. You vomited into a bush. 

‘Dizzy?’ Yelena asked, worry obvious. 

‘Mmhmm.’ You mumbled, eyes stinging with tears. The doctors had said you may have some lingering symptoms. You prayed this wasn’t going to last long. 

Yelena walked you slowly to the living room, settling you into one of the old armchairs. She disappeared for a few moments, then returned with an old metal bucket. She placed the bucket on the floor and nudged it over to you with her foot.

‘Thanks.’ You mumbled, covering your eyes as you tried to breathe through the nausea. 

‘Hi Fanny.’ You heard a voice call a moment later. It took a half second for you to realise that it wasn’t Yelena speaking.

You gasped, hands falling from your face.

Natasha stood in the corner, talking softly to the akita. Her voice was low, and you recognised the familiar tone of her worry. 

Her head lifted at the sound of your gasp. Your eyes locked and you felt yourself begin to hyperventilate.

Gasping breaths racked through you loudly, startling Yelena entirely. 

‘What is it?’ You could hear her panic. Yelena’s hands touched your shoulders.

‘I can see Natasha.’ You admitted, with barely enough breath to speak. Natasha’s eyes widened, her hand touched her chest.

Yelena moved away from you.

‘Why would you say that?’ She whispered angrily. 

‘I think I’m hallucinating.’ You told her miserably, hating the absurd pain you must be causing her.

‘Stop.’ Yelena demanded.

Natasha was still standing by the door. You squeezed your head between your hands. 

‘I don’t know how.’ You whispered.

Yelena made a sound, and you knew she was crying too. Guilt rolled through you.

‘Don’t imagine something like that.’ Yelena demanded again, voice full of hurt. 

You didn’t respond, you stared at the ground, afraid to look up and see Natasha again. 

You heard Yelena leave the room, the soft trot of Fanny following behind.

You closed your eyes. It was easier to calm down without the hallucination staring back at you. You decided to take ten deep breaths before you opened them again.

You did, and Natasha was still standing across the room. Eyes wide, arms wrapped around herself. She stared at you.

With no other plan to hand, you closed your eyes and tried a hundred breaths this time.

—----

A hundred breaths later, you opened your eyes again. 

Natasha remained. She was sitting in an armchair across from you now. Her legs were sprawled familiarly over the side.

Your heart skipped a beat. She looked so real. How could this be built from memories?

You said her name and Natasha’s attention snapped to you. 

You stood up, hand shaking as you tried to touch her. You heard Natasha’s breath hitch too. Your fingers touched the worn fabric of the armchair beneath her. 

Definitely a hallucination.

You turned away, hoping to leave Natasha behind.

—-----

She followed you. 

In fact, Natasha followed you all day. You could hear Yelena crying in her room. You didn’t go in to apologise, knowing that you could only make it worse.

It was impossible to ignore your hallucination. Especially now that she was talking. 

Natasha spoke to you all day. Old memories and new commentary mixed together in her constant monologue. She stayed by your shoulder, asking questions about Yelena, about you, about life since the snap.

At first you tried pacing, walking laps through the house and trying to shake her off. 

When that didn’t work, you tried to distract your brain. You opened your laptop and scrolled through some current events, eventually playing a short news programme.

Your heart skipped with relief when silence fell. Then, you looked over your shoulder and saw Natasha right behind you, watching the laptop screen too. 

The hallucination held a sickening level of realism. Natasha touched her lip thoughtlessly, lost in concentration at the news. You snapped your laptop shut, unnerved. 

You took the medication for your head injury with religious devotion. You decided that if the hallucination was still there in the morning, you’d ask Yelena to drive you back to the hospital.

—--

That night, you stared up at the dark ceiling, willing yourself to get some sleep.

Natasha came into your room quietly. She knelt on the floor by your bed, her hand resting near you. You felt sick again.

You closed your eyes.

Natasha kept talking, her voice low.

‘I’m sorry you’re scared.’ She told you. ‘I promise I’m not in your head. I don’t know how you can see me, but I really am here.’

You screwed your eyes shut tighter. 

Then, Natasha told you some impossible things.

She told you about the way she felt. How she’d always hoped for something more than friendship with you. That she loved you in a way that never seemed to stop.

You could hear the tears in her voice. It cracked when she mentioned Yelena.

She talked about the family they’d never quite had the chance for. Could you tell her that Natasha loved her? That she was an idiot for naming Fanny after her old fake ID.

‘Please go away.’ You begged at last. ‘I know you’re not there.’

This time, Natasha left.

—--

You slept fitfully. When you woke, Yelena was lying next to you in your bed.

The first thing you saw was her wary stare looking back at you. You startled violently in surprise.

‘I thought you might actually have some terrible hallucination causing injury and then die in the night.’ Yelena told you bluntly, a slight waver in her voice giving away her worry.

You started crying again. Slow and silent tears slid down your cheeks. You hated the stress you’d caused for her.

You stared back up at the ceiling, remembering all the things that the hallucination had told you in the night. 

‘Please tell me that at least a part of it was real.’ You whispered to yourself.

‘What happened?’ Yelena asked after a moment. Her voice was weary, prepared for the pain of your broken imagination.

You told her everything, a miserable confession.

Yelena stiffened, sitting up in the bed as you continued to speak.

When you finished talking, Yelena was silent.

You forced yourself to sit up too. A sobering realisation hit you. You covered your face with your hands again.

‘Oh no.’ You groaned. ‘I’m falling in love with my hallucination. This is so fucked up.’

Yelena’s hand covered your arm. You turned to her when she started to grip it tightly.

‘I never told you about Fanny.’ She said quietly. 

Your head tilted automatically in confusion, you ignored the slight stabbing pain the motion brought.

‘She’s named after Natasha’s fake ID from Budapest.’ Yelena continued. ‘How could you know that?’

‘I didn’t.’ You answered, feeling alarmed. ‘It was just the hallucination.’

Yelena turned to you, her eyes wide.

‘What’s my favourite insect?’ She asked you suddenly.

‘How the fuck am I supposed to know?’

Yelena dragged you out of bed.

‘Where is Natasha now?’ She demanded.

‘Gone.’ You answered, scanning the room in relief.

Suddenly, Yelena whistled an unfamiliar sound. You briefly started to wonder if you were still in a coma. 

Natasha appeared suddenly through the closed door. She looked uncertain. She whistled softly.

‘Oh.’ You breathed, still floored by the sight of her. ‘She’s back and she’s making that same whistle.’

‘Fuck.’ Yelena whispered, eyes scanning blindly over the space where you were looking. ‘Ask her my favourite insect.’

You cleared your throat, ready to ask. But Natasha was already answering. 

‘Easy.’ She told you with a half smile. ‘Fireflies.’

‘Fireflies.’ You echoed. 

Yelena swore creatively.  ‘It’s her.’

‘You’re a ghost?’ You asked Natasha, not believing Yelena’s conclusion.

Natasha nodded.

‘I tried to get you to see me when you first arrived.’ She said quietly. ‘But nothing worked. It took weeks before I could even get the lights to flicker.’

‘You love me.’ You said dumbfoundedly, as the final pieces clicked together.

Natasha wiped silent tears from her cheeks.

‘Yeah.’ She answered simply.

‘I love you too.’ You told her, heart thudding in your chest. Natasha looked at you like you were a miracle. You knew your expression matched. 

Inside you, unbearable loneliness warred with a spark of hope.

‘How do we get you back?’ Yelena shouted blindly across the room.

You and Natasha both flinched at the sound. 

‘She still has her ears.’ You commented dryly. Yelena rolled her eyes. A small laugh of strange joy escaped her and you squeezed her hand.

Natasha cleared her throat and your attention returned to her.

‘Have either of you read Tony’s notebooks?’ She asked.

—---

Natasha explained everything as you walked down to the basement. She’d read through everything in the basement with painstaking slowness. It had taken the best part of a day to successfully turn each page. 

Tony’s Ghostbusters phase had been based, inevitably, in a lot of science.

The level of technological jargon from Natasha was soon beyond you, and so you became a vessel of communication between the sisters.

You narrated Natasha’s conclusions from Tony’s work, her ideas for altering the machines that Tony had built. Her plan to get home.

Yelena nodded as if it all made perfect sense.

She started taking apart the machines around you immediately, a look of absolute concentration on her face.

Yelena worked with a diligence that you had never seen before. You realised that she was someone entirely new when she had hope.

—--

It took Yelena over a day to build the machine. You stayed with her, as a means of communication and company, only leaving the basement to bring back hastily made sandwiches and to let Fanny run outside. 

As the hours passed, the sisters communication devolved into snarky comments, old in jokes and light teases. You realised with sudden clarity, just how familiar they were too each other.

You had known them separately, but they were not meant to be apart.

—-

At last, Yelena and Natasha both agreed that the machine was complete. 

Just as you began to prepare for attempting the impossible, Yelena started muttering about checking the calculations one more time.

Natasha's eyebrow raised in confusion and you knew that it wasn't necessary.

You watched Yelena's hands shaking as she scribbled a note and understood. You took her hands between yours, Yelena looked up at you, seeming younger than ever.

‘Hey, Dr. Frankenstein.’ You called carefully. ‘I think it's ready.’ 

Yelena gave a shaky breath and nodded. She squeezed your hands back.

Natasha moved to stand beneath the long crane-like arm of the machine.

You and Yelena stood behind a large screen as Yelena began to touch the carefully decided sequence of dials. At last, she pressed the final one.

A bright flash of light and Natasha was no longer there.

—---

Fear bubbled up immediately inside you. You exchanged a look with Yelena and saw the same panic in her eyes. You both hurried from the room. At a jog, you searched through the house, calling out Natasha’s name. A sick sense of hopelessness filled you.

Then, you heard the most beautiful sound in the world.

Fanny was barking outside. 

You forgot how to breathe as you ran across the meadow, Yelena by your side. 

—----

Natasha and Fanny were standing under the cherry blossom tree.

Natasha was smiling. Elation burned through your chest.

As soon as you were close enough, she dropped something into your hand.

The strange sensation threw you. You looked down at the earthworm squirming in your palm.

‘Thank you.’ You said stupidly.

‘I just picked that up.’ Natasha told you, eyes gleaming. 

Your mouth dropped as you understood her meaning. 

You reached out, and touched her shoulder.

Natasha died in May 2023. This is not a story about someone who died.

------

Tagging:

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@xxromanoffxx @b-5by5 @peggycarter-steverogers @iblameitonclint @red1culous @reminiscingtonight @mindofwesley @blackxwidowsxwife @wandaromanova @peabrain112 @theperfectlovestory @wellsayhelloaagin @owloftheshadows @strangegardentaco @hallecarey1 @marvels-writings @alexzz13 @ic-4u @007giuliastonem @natashabelovas @iliketozoneout @chasethemoon @p0orbaby @rightwereyouleftme @whataloadof @fxckmiup @women-am-i-right @pleasantbearscissorstoad @blackwidow-3 @nowthisisliving27 @wandastan-2 @jedi-luca @blackwidowismylove @i-wanna-be-a-deer

Why do you reblog your own fics so much?

Because someone might as well!? And look at this. Look. At. This.

Does this look right to you??

These are just the last three fics I wrote. I appreciate the likes, believe me I do, but you have to understand. Likes do nothing for content creators. It’s the reblogs. Because that’s how you find shit on your dashboard. Through reblogs. Not likes. This isn’t twitter or tiktok or instagram. This is a website that’s run by the reblog system.

Reblogging helps content creators put their stuff out there. Why do you think so many people stopped writing fanfic and creating beautiful fanart and edits? It’s because they put in hours of work and don’t get nearly enough notes for their masterpieces. Yes we do this because we enjoy it but like...some validation won’t hurt. A boost of confidence here and there might be all someone needs to finish whatever thing they started and left.

Anyway, I’m still going to reblog my shit...

Things that I want to do sometime soon

good things: laughing about how awkward it is to take ur pants off boob hickeys tummy hickeys inner thigh hickeys grabbing their hair and pushing their head where you want it kissing while theyre fucking you swearing that picks up when theyre about to come

Hey y'all I just wanted to to notify all my followers that I will no longer use this blog I have a newer one in which I will be using. If you would want to follow the newer blog here it is @cat34p

OHHH MYY GAWDD help me I've fallen and I can't get up chileeeeee Vampire!Nat is ✨✨✨✨ but also 😈😈😈😈😈😈😈🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥 in the BEST WAY POSSIBLE.... PICK ME UP AND DOM ME MOMMY AWOOOGA

MIDNIGHT VISITOR - (Red-Stained Fangs 2)

Pairing: Vampire!Natasha Romanoff x Fem!Reader

Summary: What happens when a breathtaking, dangerous vampire realizes that she's obsessed with you? Nothing good.

Warnings: Dark!Fic ; Top!Reader x Powerbottom!Natasha Romanoff ; Strap-on use; oral sex ; oral sex on strap-on; Daddy kink; slight mommy kink? ; mentions of murder (no character death) ; heavy blood mentions/ blood drinking/bleeding ; toxic relationship ; dub-con elements ; possessive dynamics; manipulation

A/N: Ok besties this hoe is pretty dark so be prepared. I listened to the Killing Eve soundtrack while writing this so... I am claiming no responsibility for when your therapists ask you why you want Nat to murder you

Word Count: 6k

Dedicated to my bestie @twilight-99-tm for just bein the best and being so patient with my constant cursed ideas, and also betaing this monstrosity

I have sharp teeth inside my mouth,

inside my dark red lips,

And lacquer slickly hides the claws

In my red fingertips.

- Angela Carter ‘Unicorn’

Moonlight converges on Natasha in an alleyway in the city. A place empty, and hollow, with the deceptive echoes of voices nearby bouncing on the walls. The man she follows does not quicken his steps. He doesn’t even know he needs to. He is fatally unaware that he should be running.

No one suspects her. No one could ever think she was as dangerous as she was.

Or as monstrous.

Her beauty is a beguiling of the worst kind.

A gentle, innoxious beckoning.

The false promise of safety. The lamb in a snare, pleading for help. An innocent, lost and confused, and a stranger is her only hope of salvation.

Until she is not the lamb, but the wolf. She is not the innocent, but the danger. And before they can blink, she moves.

They never see it coming.

They only realise what she is when the ground turns red.

……….

The body beneath her twitched, the throes of death just past. If you saw her like this, you wouldn't recognize her. Red hair wild, unkempt from effort and scuffle, fangs sunken into flesh, irises a bloody crimson, a sinister shine in the moonlight. The threat of promised execution in the darkness.

Her fangs pierced deeper still, penetrating skin and tendon, muscle and artery.

And she drank.

Drank til her prey was dry.

Her body reacts despite itself, and the thought of you begins somewhere illicit in her mind.

A low thrum of anticipation settles in her core, thighs flexing as she stifles the ache, or hushes it, at least, until you were near.

To satisfy a hunger of a different breed.

Night always seemed the darkest when Natasha was heading home after feeding. Inky blackness above, a sky void of light, of all its stars, a cimmerian reflection of her soul. Of her thoughts. It’s not guilt. She has long since eradicated any semblance of that pitiful emotion over her eclectic appetites, the light in her preys’ eyes which once shone like a beacon in the back of her mind, now dulled to an imperceptible nothing. There is not a face, a soul she’s taken, that keeps her awake at night. She runs the tip of her tongue on her fangs, reminiscing in the fresh blood that covered them just an hour before. She is what she is, and she’s made peace with that.

What does give her pause though, is her immortality.

The slow, deceptive budding of a thousand years ahead of her, more even.

Days, months pass, and she figures herself normal. She lives like everyone else around her.

Then on occasion, she looks in the mirror and finds that she’s looked at the same face for five hundred years. She brings delicate hands to soft, cold lips, a face without flaw or wrinkle, eyes as green as the pines. Hair red, and full, never a sliver of grey, always resting under her shoulders blades since the rise and fall of the Tsars of Russia.

And suddenly, the budding sprouts, and she is being dragged under.

Infinity weighs on her shoulders. Time crests above her, seemingly endless, an ocean eternal. And the wave crashes and she fears she will drown in it. She fears that her life will go until there is no pleasure to be found in it, no pain, no sorrow, no happiness. The fear of emptiness. Emptiness disguised so wickedly as grandeur, as boon.

She hasn’t blinked in 4 minutes. Her fingers are crushing the steering wheel beneath her grip.

She is drowning in the wave.

And then her phone rings.

Baby❤ is calling.

The wave releases her, and she swims to shore.

“Hi, baby,” she breathes, an easy relief in her voice.

“Hey sweetheart.”

Though she tried to resist it, a smile bloomed on blood-stained cheeks, and she focused intently to the sound of your voice on the line. In this moment, nothing else mattered but you.

You, the one who was so achingly hers.

You continued, “I’ve been kinda missing you.”

Her brow ticks upward playfully, “Kinda? Excuse me?”

“Yeah, you know. Just a little.”

“And why should I not hang up on you?”

“Okay wait, wait, I wanna come over.”

Her smile widened, and she flexed her fingers on the wheel. Even after all this time, you still make her blush. Though she would never let you know that.

“I’ll think about it.”

“I’m coming over.”

She laughed, pulling her lower lip into her mouth, dragging her teeth on it. She put on the most teasing voice she could muster, “I can’t wait, Daddy.”

The anticipation began climbing in her lower stomach when she heard your low, wicked chuckle pour through the line.

“Good girl.”

Oh, it was going to be a good night.

Natasha barely had time to wash the blood off her mouth when your headlights flashed through the dark curtains of her house. Her thighs were already shaking, already fatigued from being so painfully clenched together as she tamped down her substantial arousal for the better part of two hours. She ran her fingers through her hair, taking a last minute check in the mirror when the doorknob turned.

She held her breath as the thrill of your nearness flooded through her. She was always excited to see you. Then you finally stepped through the doorway, and she was unaware of how unsteady her legs have been since you’ve been gone. How a slow, enduring coil that had been winding tighter and tighter suddenly released when she saw you.

Her breath left her in a rush, and she smiled at you as you met her eyes. You beamed, putting down your bag and stepping forward when you noticed that very new, very tight dress she was wearing. Dark grey, encasing her like a second skin, the fabric so thin that you could see the ripple of muscle in her thighs, and across her torso.

Natasha preened under your lascivious gaze, reading every thought, everything you wanted to do to her as it was being written all over your face. She gently pushed her hair over her shoulder, exposing the column of her neck, and that ocean of cool, creamy skin. No jewellery to interrupt the flow of the eye, to draw your attention to anywhere that wasn’t her. You watched as her breaths deepened in concealed excitement, and for a moment you were the predator and she was your prey.

As you took her in, openly admired her, all she could think about was how good your touch felt against her skin, and how she couldn’t wait for you to get your hands on her again, so she could drown in your caress, and lose herself in your ample, intoxicating affections. And no matter how good her skin felt under your grip, no matter the low blossoming excitement when goosebumps flourished on her skin at your touch, it always felt better when she was against your lips, against your mouth.

“I missed you, Daddy,” she whispered, a confession that had been simmering in her for hours, finally bubbling over.

That kindled something in you. Broke you from your trance and you met her eyes again. Her cheeks burned with arousal, and she fidgeted where she stood.

Nothing has ever had this effect on her. In over 500 years, nothing enchants her - possesses her - like you do.

“I missed you too. I’ve been thinking about you, baby.” You advanced, and that deep thrill in her core spiked.

She struggled to restrain herself, struggled to respond. Her voice was eluding her.

“What have you been thinking about?” she finally managed to rasp out.

“I’ve been thinking about fucking you. About how good you look when you’re bouncing on my lap.”

Nat ached so hard that it was almost painful, and she had the distinct feeling of emptiness between her thighs. Missing your length. Missing how perfectly you fit inside her. She swallowed, that familiar tension coiling tight in her gut. A warmth settled low, and she kept your gaze as steady as she could.

Until she noticed the telltale bulge under your jeans. It was ready and waiting for her beneath the fabric.

Her lips parted at the sight of it, a deep inhale building slow in her chest. She couldn’t take her eyes off it. She didn’t anticipate how badly she wanted it. How badly she wanted you.

…….

Two nights ago, you and Natasha didn’t even make it inside. You were standing outside her house, holding her leg up around your hip, your pants around your ankles, as you fucked her against the wall. Her arms wrapped like a vise around your shoulders, and her tongue was far down your throat as you thrusted frantic hips against her. She was whimpering at your appetence, your dominance, how you gripped her like there was nowhere you’d rather be, and nothing else you’d rather be doing.

Desperation escalated between you, the heat of your bodies pressed against each other in the cool night air. She remembered the thrill of it. The thrill of being caught. Of someone passing by and seeing you take her. Of someone knowing what you do to her, knowing that you own her, and she owns you.

She wanted them to see. She wanted them to see how good she was for you. How good she took your strap.

She remembered her high ascending, spilling over, and she pressed her mouth against yours hard, making you taste her orgasm, the way you made her feel. She remembered moaning into your mouth, clutching at your face so desperately as you made her cum around your cock.

The night didn’t end there.

…….

Your voice pulled her from her flashback.

You smirked at her. "I know that you're soaking through that pathetic excuse for underwear."

Her back straightened, and she flashed her teeth. "Who said I was wearing any?"

That perfectly aimed line did exactly what she wanted it to do. Your eyes darkened by shades, and you dragged them down from her face, to where her legs parted.

Her thighs flexed, heavy muscle clenching as you walked up to her. Her nerves were alight with excitement, every sense heightened as she tried to contain herself. To restrain what lurks. And soon, you were on her. Her legs parted on instinct, making space for you, letting you stake your claim on her body again, as you’ve done so many times already. In so many positions.

Strong hands reached down to cup her ass, and grip the considerable muscle, pulling her hips into you. You were teasing her. Making her chase your mouth. Making her grind her core on the strap concealed by your pants.

She was already hungry for it.

It was already too many seconds since you stepped through the door. It was too many hours since you last filled her. Too long since you pounded her into the mattress.

She was growing tired of the game.

….

2 years ago

The air was thick with spirits, and laughter, and cigarette smoke. Strobe lights and neon penetrated the darkness, and music pounded in her ears.

She remembers how oblivious you were. Sitting next to her in a grungy club, completely unaware of the fact that beneath that beautiful, soft pout, there were 2 inch fangs.

You didn't know that she could smell your blood as it rushed through your arteries. She could hear the sound of your heartbeat, of the way it picked up in pace when you looked at her. The way that despite the darkness of the room, she noticed every single detail on your face. Every detail down your neck.

You didn't even know creatures like her existed.

You were so naive. So delicious.

She couldn't wait to have you.

Her nails could be sharp, could slice into you, but she is a master of control. Of restraint. She rests her hand on your leg purposefully, gripping the heavy muscle and inching up, fragment by fragment to your upper thigh.

You followed the hand, and your heart pounded furiously. She was well aware. You made yourself look at her, and she poured desire into her expression.

"Take me home."

She knew this game too well.

…………

You couldn't help yourself. Her skin was an opiate against your lips, and she knew just how to combine the need and the pain to make you ravenous. You were starved for her, lips quivering with avarice.

She was pleading for your mouth, imploring for a taste of your tongue. And you granted it to her, slipping it between her lips and she sucked on you and moaned against you. Your reach descended, fingertips teasing low down that short, tight goddamn dress, and you slipped a bold hand between her legs.

Fuck, her arousal was dripping down her thighs.

You groaned at the feeling of it, and even more when she whined at your touch. You'd never wanted anyone more. Never wanted anything more than to make Natasha cum until her thighs were shaking and her voice was overused into nothing.

She clutched at your face with such desperation, grinding her front against the bulge of your strap hidden behind your pants. She was begging for it. Desperate for you. For that decadent, vulgar completion your strap offered.

She ran her hand down your shirt, hand flat against your stomach, instinct and hunger driving her direction. She found what she was looking for, fingers immediately gripping the dense length of the strap and enticing it from its concealment. You took her hands in yours, stilled their movement, and a low chuckle rumbled in your throat.

“Impatient thing, aren’t you, baby?”

“Shut up.”

Before you could retort, she pulled her hands from your grip, and was on her knees in front of you. Whatever you wanted to say died on your tongue. You don’t know how she kept eye contact with you as she undid your belt, giving you that look of pure wickedness, that corrupting, one-sided smile that could make you bring down the moon and give it to her. She knew what she was doing, too. Making a show of it. The teasing peek of her tongue through her teeth, before it slithered out, and wet those sinful, intoxicating lips.

Finally, she had the strap free, in her hands, and she kissed the tip of it. You didn’t know how your knees were still holding you up, but they did.

She took your strap into her mouth as far back as she could, her eyes twinkling like starlight from her position on her knees. You ran your fingers through her hair and she moaned for you, her hips starting a slow grind at your attention.

"You look so good like that, Nat."

Pointed nails dug into your thighs as she bobbed her head up and down the length of your strap, scraping down the back of your legs. She released it with a lewd pop, taking it in her hands, teasing, naughty, and slapped it on her tongue. You groaned, and that wicked smile returned on her face, the smirk of a woman who was getting exactly what she wanted.

You got her off her knees, and then, incensed in a moment of pure animal impetus, picked her up, and powerful legs immediately wrapped around your waist. She grabbed your face, kissing you, drinking your lust, and meeting your tongue with her own. With her arms wrapped around your shoulders, you pressed her back up against the wall, giving you leverage to position the toy that was in her mouth just seconds earlier.

“Do you like being a little tease, baby?”

Still supporting her with one hand, you took the other and rubbed the tip of the strap against her core, and her breath caught and fractured in her throat. She rolled her hips as hard as she could, anything to encourage your movement, anything to make you put it inside of her. Green irises blazed white-hot, boring into your eyes and she whispered against your lips.

“Please, Daddy. I’ll do anything. Just fuck me.”

Fuck, you could never say no to that.

“Is this what you want, baby?” You slapped the strap against her folds, and she winces and whines at its touch. "You think you deserve my cock?"

She whimpered, nails scraping through your shirt as she clutched at you.

"Yes, I fucking deserve it. Please-"

Without warning, a smirk plastered on your face and sated with her delicious begging, you slid the strap with tremendous ease into her, and she gasped against you, legs tightening like a vise around your hips. At your first thrust, her nails pressed harder and you heard the fabric of your shirt rip under her claws, but you were too occupied on the heaving breasts in front of you to care.

You craned your neck down, straining, desperate to bestow kisses onto her tits, and she pushed them up for you, as you licked and lathered the creamy, cool skin with your tongue. She mewled at the feeling of your mouth, overwhelmed with sensation, her whole body jerking with your thrusts, slow at first, and you switched your attentions to the side of her neck, licking up her throat, tasting the bare-metal hint of her sweat.

She was moaning now, whimpers from before stamped down to make room for the cresting pleasure in her dripping pussy. Your strap hammered in, deep, long strokes and Natasha couldn't hold on any tighter. She grabbed your face, wrenching you free from your attention on her neck and pressed her mouth onto yours, forcing her tongue between your lips.

Nat's moans muffled into your kiss, you held her tighter and thrusted harder, faster, till those moans turned into choked whines, and her body stiffened up, pussy clenching around your strap as you delivered her first orgasm. She released your mouth, pulling away in a silent scream, eyes shut tight as your thrusts started to slow.

"Fuck, baby," she hissed, kissing your shoulders and your neck, her legs relaxing by leagues as she panted.

"You took me so well, sweetheart," you whispered, holding her up again and walking her to bed.

You put her down on the bed gently, your precious thing, marvelling at the way her thighs shook, and the green returned to her eyes. She smirked at you as you undressed, moving to help you, but you laid a steady hand on her stomach.

"Oh no, love. You're going to get out of that tight little dress before I tear it off you. You don't want that, do you?"

She shook her head, obedient, and began to unzip the side of her dress as you had finally rid yourself of your own clothes.

You could see the anticipation in her fingers as they shivered, her eyes on you, watching your every movement, flicking between the mischievous grin that had found itself on your face, to the way the strap teased her as it sat attached to your hips.

Legs pressed against the mattress, you leaned forward, hovering over Natasha, both arms on either side of her. She held her breath, patient, waiting to see what you were going to do, eager to please. Eager to be used.

You bent lower, and pressed your lips to the skin between her breasts, kissing a line lower and lower until you were right above her mound. Her breaths were coming faster now, her hands clutching, knuckles white with her grip on the sheets. You looked up at her and tilted your head in faux question.

Her eyes flashed red, and you smirked.

"You know what I want, Y/N," she snarled, frustration swelling in her voice.

"And what's that?"

Defiance and need swirled in her eyes, and she raised her hand, reaching for you.

"To cum on your tongue."

Before you could respond, she clutched at you, grabbing your jaw, and you knew the powers had shifted in your encounter, as they always do. She held you firmly, demanding, and pushed you flat onto your back in the bed. Want is a powerful beast, and in Natasha, it was untenable. But God, you enjoyed it. You loved how much she wanted you. How much she desired you. How much you could see it in everything she did.

She loves you. So much so, that in the beginning, it scared you. But now, you’re drunk on her.

You grab at her hips, eager, excited, aching to put your mouth on her, and she glimmers at your anticipation. Straddling your torso, she inches up, and you can’t help the way your mouth waters. Your arms wrap around her thighs and you pull her down, so she can finally rest herself onto your mouth.

As soon as your tongue presses against her clit, she keens, and trembling fingers find purchase in your hair. Her hips buck wild, and your tongue flattens and rubs against sensitive flesh, too far gone to tease. Too hungry for dalliance. Your lips wrap around her clit and suck, gentle at first, and then harder, and she moans, eyes pinned shut, her body quaking above you. Strong hands steady her position and your eyes are locked onto that beautiful face, moaning against her pussy at the addictive, intoxicating taste of her.

“Right there,” she sobs out, and her hands grip harder in your hair, almost painful, as you continue your ministrations.

“Yes right there, Y/N, I’m going to cum,” she whines, and you feel the unmistakable twitching of her pussy against your tongue.

Nat’s body locks above you, her eyes blinking open and vermillion raging in her irises, and suddenly your tongue is covered in her, as she screams out. You chuckle against her core, and she moves downwards, bending at the waist so she can taste herself on your mouth. You happily oblige, and she smiles gently against your lips.

When she pulls away, she brings her thumb to your lips, and you kiss the digit, taking her hand in yours and bestowing another kiss on her soft, cool palm. She cups your face, inching down, and you know where she’s headed.

Holding herself up right above your strap, she keeps her gaze unwavering on yours, lining up the cock with her entrance. This woman was truly insatiable, you mused silently, smirking with wicked intention, and you moaned when she sank herself down onto you. Immediately you were aware of her cool, liquid arousal soaking onto your skin.

You reached for her, but she grabbed your hands and pressed them down above your head.

Her hips coiled and slammed down, over and over, too painfully slow for your liking.

You wanted to say something, but she beat you to it.

“You know that you belong to me?” she whispered.

Immediately, you nodded, avid and besotted. Yes, I belong to you.

Her head tilted, and a strange, disconcerting look crossed her face.

Natasha’s smile was different then.

There was something else rippling beneath the typical softness in her eyes. Something deep, and jagged. Something dark.

“I want you with me, always, Y/N.”

There was something about the way she pressed the word ‘always’ between her teeth. Sinking her fangs into it and bleeding it for every last drop of its meaning. You were mesmerized by her mouth when she said it, or when she said anything, honestly. But there was a strange undertone in this sound.

Always.

Always. Always. Always. Always. Always.

ALWAYS.

“I will be, babe, you know that.” You tried to appease her, to reassure her, but that glassy, distant look in her eyes focused on you. And hardened.

“Will you?” she asks. “Forever?”

You nod, sincerely, yes, but cautiously too. You’ve never seen this look on her face before. She studies you, and her mind turns and turns. You can’t tell what she’s thinking anymore. At this moment, she is a stranger to you.

A face of Natasha you do not know.

“How do you know that?”

Odd. Everything about this is odd. There was a misplaced causticity in the question. An undertone of veiled distress. You blink, try to find the right words in your mind, but you can tell that you’re taking too long for her to be satisfied.

Her head tilts, and you feel like you’ve failed to prove a very important point.

“Exactly,” she whispers, and the word skitters along your spine. “You don’t.”

She raises up, red hair falling down her naked chest. You never thought someone could look so intimidating while they were bare, but Natasha was a lot of firsts for you. She stares down at you, admiring your body, running her cool hands down your stomach. You feel a gentle tug on your strap as she sits herself down on your hips more comfortably.

She does not meet your eyes when she speaks next. It’s almost like she’s talking to herself.

“We have to make sure.”

You fight to understand. You don’t have the slightest idea what she means.

“Make sure of what, baby?”

She grips your sides, firmly, like she was about to tell you something consequential. Then when she looks at you, you realise that it is. It is very grave indeed.

“We have to make sure that you are gonna be with me forever.”

There was a haunting lilt to her voice, a wispy, lurking hiss that slithered into your mind. You chuckled awkwardly, a light sound, grating against the strange tension in the air. She smiled at you, her brow ticking up with cryptic amusement.

You decided to play along. Nervousness thundered through you, and the once delicious weight of her body sitting on your hips, paired with the grip of cold hands on your sides were beginning to feel heavier with every passing moment in the silence.

"How are we gonna do that?"

If you had blinked in that moment, you would have missed the almost indistinguishable flutter of her features. Her expression settled into a calm, gentle mask, and the iron hold on your sides released as she stroked her hands up to your chest, and across your shoulders.

"You're going to live forever. With me."

It took you a second.

Live forever.

Forever.

An echo, a gnawing thing, parasitic and invasive, found itself in your mind when she said it. Forever tasted the same way 'Always' tasted on your tongue. It only truly dawned on you when you saw that rogue ember of red spark in her eyes.

She was going to turn you.

You had never pondered the future of your relationship with Natasha. With this vampire that would possess and overtake you every night. And maybe that was to your own detriment. Where else would a love affair with an immortal predator go? Did you think she would just live with you until death and then move on to another love? Did you think the relationship would have fizzled before you even had the chance to find out?

Maybe this was your own fault. Being so goddamn reckless. Getting tangled into a vampire's web.

You try to plead, to convince her that you just want some time to think about it, but she just runs her thumb over your lips, and shushes you silently.

“We'll always be together, Y/N. It will be perfect. Just you and me, always.”

Her eyes ripple, pools of viridian green distorting and corrupting to a haunting, brilliant yellow.

That was a new colour on her, and suddenly your hair stood on end. Your gut began to roll and protest against whatever was about to happen, and an innate panic set in. You were going to become a vampire, whether you liked it or not.

And that yellow in her eyes, that burned so bright, blazed like the sun– you vaguely feel a sick familiarity in its hue. Your mind flashed back to months ago, you wanted to go see your friend Christine. Natasha wasn't having it.

You were adamant to see your friend. It had been months, maybe a year, since you last hung out. And it was innocent. But Natasha didn't like it.

I see the way she looks at you, she said. I trust you, I don't trust her.

You were ready to argue your point, to make her bend to this seemingly simple request, and you saw it then. A flicker of yellow in her eyes. You thought it was a trick of the light. A passing car. The TV.

And then suddenly, you changed your mind. In a split second, your solid decision didn't seem so solid anymore. You didn't really want to see Christine. You were just stir-crazy and needed to get out of the house. And Natasha smiled at your agreement.

But when you remember it now, it wasn't her usual smile. That gentle pull at the corner of those plump lips. This was different. A satisfactory gleam in her eye. Like she just accomplished something.

You see the look again now.

And that yellow drowned the green in her irises, flooding it completely. Her grip and press on your arms intensified like lead weights. You cannot move.

"Nat, please. Let's just think about this."

She tuts, as if you asked her the silliest question. "There's nothing to think about, sweet thing. You love me, don't you?"

You balk at her inference. "Of course I do, Nat. You know that."

"Don't you know I'm doing this for us?" Her brows knitted, and her eyes seemed to glisten on purpose.

Your choice, if you could call it that, slipped from your fingers.

"I- yes. I know you are, love."

Her expression changes like someone turned off a light switch, and her smile stretched across sharp teeth.

Suddenly, she is a predator.

A vampire.

And now you truly understand what that means.

You felt her shift above you, and she leaned forward. She brushes her tongue against your lips, and you can't believe you still give in to her mouth. Her tongue slipped between your lips, and you would never deny her a moan at the taste of it. She inched closer, her lips on yours as grinded against you, feeling the flex of those smooth, cool thighs as she rolled her hips, coating you in arousal, pumping down on your strap as it plunged in and out of her.

This was exciting her.

Her hair brushed against your shoulders, feather light, and everything of hers that touched you set you on fire. She intruded you and encompassed you, her whimper chasing the bite of your teeth on her lips. Your bodies rocked, entangled and entwined together in your bed, and your mind began to empty.

Her kiss was effortlessly comforting, and you suddenly started to forget what you were afraid of. All you were thinking of now was how badly you wanted her to cum again. You couldn’t think about anything else, until you realised that you had started to forget… almost everything. The kiss was a slow erasure, a treacherous sleight of hand as you abandon everything. Everything that wasn't her.

You want to be with her always.

ALWAYS.

The thought of that word started to uproot you from the moment. Ripping you out like a weed.

But every time you refocused on Natasha, paid attention to her on top of you as she rode harder, pulling away from your kiss for a moment so you would surrender to the amber in her eyes, your conscience wiped clean. How could you feel afraid about something that felt so good? Could you feel fear for enjoying her moan when your tongue brushed against hers? When you swallowed her every inhale and her nails pressed into the skin on your shoulder, pink crescents blooming on you every time they dug in harder. She bounced on your strap harder now, shaking the bed beneath you as she muffled her moans into your mouth.

“That’s it, baby. Make me cum for you.”

ALWAYS.

“Yes, Y/N, fuck…”

You felt her fangs as they grazed against your tongue.

No. This can't be happening.

ALWAYS.

"Just let me in, baby."

You felt afraid.

ALWAYS.

"Let me in."

FEAR

ALWAYS.

"Yes… that's it."

Love.

“You’re mine.”

LOVE.

WANTING.

NATASHA.

Always.

Your mind blanked for a split second, emotions dulled like a blanket of Novocaine. Your fear vanished, traceless, never there and nowhere to be found again. But your lust for Natasha, and the deep love, ever-pervading and transfixing, was being wrenched to the front of your mind, and suddenly… You knew nothing else. All you knew was Natasha. Your emotions amplified stronger and sharper than you've ever felt them, their vague shapes now a well defined form, specific and tangible.

Love and lust and wanting and eternity was all you felt and all you wanted to feel.

Everything you felt, smelled, tasted was her, the redheaded siren who was whimpering at your every touch, who was gripping your arms so hard that they bruised as she approached her orgasm, her hair wild across her chest. You were acutely aware of this brutal overtaking, and yet, you couldn’t get enough of it.

Natasha dominated your mind, and every thought now was red.

She gasped then, cumming all over your cock, her wetness dripping down your thighs and drenching the bed below you. A wicked chuckle fluttered in her chest.

"Mmmm… my sweet, sweet thing," she whispered, and your smile, intoxicated and hazy, widened at her words.

You were too out of it to notice her fangs lengthen.

Didn't know they were unsheathing from where they hid behind her soft, deceiving lips.

And then she bit you.

You felt the puncture in your artery, cold teeth piercing into your skin. You felt the heat of your blood pour from you, felt her lap at it with her tongue.

It was flooding the sheets.

And still, she was all you could think about.

She moaned at the taste of you, whimpering, her noises rumbling her fangs as they pushed deeper. Her hips started to pump onto your strap once more, hunger escalating, and you felt her wetness coat your lower stomach. She rolled your hips against you, pressing downwards, pushing your cock deeper and deeper. You heard the bed crack under her force.

Her moans muffled into your neck, as she stifled the sound and drank.

And drank.

Your hands grabbed onto handfuls of her ass, and you pressed her harder onto you. The sheets beneath you were soaking through, crimson dampness smearing onto your skin. You knew Natasha would lick you clean.

You could feel yourself draining. Feeling your head get lighter and lighter. She pulled off your neck for a moment, staring into your eyes.

"It'll be alright, my love. I love you so much, you're doing so well. You just need to rest."

You nodded and she kissed your mouth so tenderly that you couldn't take it. Her fingers threaded into your hair, and you tried your best to focus on her, only barely registering the way that crimson covered her mouth. Your eyes felt impossibly heavy.

"Just let it overtake you, baby. Mommy will take such good care of you."

She licked your lips, kissing your jaw, her eyes intently focusing on yours. The way they sparked red.

Your eyes finally closed, the last thing you saw was Natasha kissing your lips as you faded.

…..

In the slow blooming light, your body felt different. But that didn't matter as much as when Nat got out of bed, and you watched her hips sway, as she crossed the room to pull heavy metal shutters low.

You remember the way sunlight burned, reddening your skin for a split second before the sun was extinguished behind the shutters and the curtains. You remember the way the white sheets beneath you were now crimson, blood soaked.

Natasha returned to your arms, and you enveloped her, kissing soft red hair. She tucked her head under your chin, and held you tightly, nuzzling into your chest. The smell of jasmine and bergamot mixed pleasantly with the metallic tang of blood in the air.

You remember being able to feel Nat's heartbeat slow down as she relaxed her body atop you. You wrapped your arms tighter around her and she moaned gently in contentment.

“Mine,” she whispered.

You kissed her forehead.

"Always."

don't look at me

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All Roads Lead To

Natasha Romanoff x fem!reader

A Family of Her Own Series

8/10

Masterlist | General Masterlist

w/c: 4.1k

Summary: After the fall of the Avengers, Natasha Romanoff returns home to her secret family—a life she's carefully hidden away for years. Struggling to balance her role as a mother and wife while avoiding the dangers of her past, Natasha is forced to make difficult decisions that impact her loved ones.

This Chapter: Thanos has too much power in his hands and changes the world with a simple snap of his fingers. Set during Infinity War

There’s something about the way Natasha kissed you. Her lips were always soft and warm, moving slowly as if savoring every second. She trailed her fingers along your hip, her touch gentle and reassuring. You were both tangled up in the sheets, nestled close, listening to the quiet rhythm of each other’s breathing.

When the need for air became too much she pulled back just a little, her forehead resting against yours, her thumb tracing gentle circles over your side. Her eyes were soft, carrying that familiar look of quiet affection.

“Stay a little longer?” You asked softly, reaching up to brush a lock of red hair from her face. "In bed with me. The kids aren't awake."

Natasha smiled, her hand covering yours. “I can manage that,” she whispered, her voice barely above a breath. For a moment, the world outside didn’t exist. It was just the two of you, wrapped in warmth and each other.

Her hand slipped under your shirt, her touch trailing lightly over the skin. The two of you shifted just enough to remove the clothing, leaving you bare before her. She kissed your neck and collarbone, her hand resting over your heart.

Natasha's lips met yours again, her teeth scraping against your lower lip. You let out a gasp when she nipped your skin, your nails digging into her shoulder. She soothed the small bite mark with her tongue before kissing her way down your chest.

Your breathing quickened when she reached the swell of your breast. Natasha looked up, meeting your gaze. She waited, and when you nodded, her mouth descended, her tongue drawing a circle around your nipple.

You arched up towards her, a breathy sigh escaping your lips. Natasha sucked the sensitive bud, her free hand sliding over your skin, tracing patterns across your body. She's so gentle, treating you like you're precious.

The sensation is overwhelming. It's not just the physical pleasure. There's an emotional connection, a closeness that feels almost too much. The two of you were connected, bodies and minds intertwined, and she knew exactly how to touch you. This was the longest period Natasha's been home in a long while. You didn’t know how long she'd be able to stay. You couldn’t think about that then. Not with her lips on your skin, her fingers dipping between your thighs, teasing and exploring.

You tugged her closer, desperate for the feel of her against you, and Natasha responded eagerly. She slid a leg between yours, her thigh pressing against you. You whimpered and ground against her, seeking out more.

"I love you," She whispered into your skin.

"I love you too." You kissed her again, your hands sliding down her sides.

Natasha rolled her hips against you, and your breath hitched. You clung to her, letting her lead. Just as Natasha leaned in to press another kiss to your lips, her phone buzzed on the nightstand. The unexpected sound cut through the calm, and she sighed, her expression shifting.

"Ignore it," She mumbled.

It wasn’t a difficult request. You wanted to. But even as Natasha's lips returned to yours, her hand slipping between your thighs, the phone buzzed again. And again.

Natasha cursed under her breath, pulling away reluctantly. She picked up the phone, glancing at the screen, her shoulders tensing.

"What," She snapped. You almost felt sorry for the person on the other end of that call. As she listened, her eyes darkened, and the relaxed warmth she wore moments ago vanished. You watched her face change, the worry becoming unmistakable.

"There's a threat," Steve's voice crackled over the line, his words heavy. "Wanda and Vision are in trouble."

She sat up, her expression unreadable. Her hand dropped from its place on your thigh to the bed. You scooted out from under her to sit up.

"Nat? What is it?" You asked. 

"Edinburgh is about two hours away from here by car," Natasha held up a hand. "I wouldn't make it to them in time."

"What's happening?"

"Wanda and Vision need backup. There's a group of people, they're... enhanced or aliens. Not sure. They're going after Vision, they think he's some kind of threat. They're trying to destroy him." Natasha gave you the cliff notes version. She's been keeping track of this ordeal for the past few days.

"So what's the plan? What are we going to do?" You questioned.

"There's a black car pulling up in less than five minutes," Steve informed her over the phone. "I have a jet."

Natasha’s hand closed around her phone. She muttered another curse under her breath as she shifted into a more upright position, the intensity in her eyes returning. You moved to sit beside her, instinctively reaching for her hand.

"Nat? What’s going on?” you asked again quietly, but the gravity in her expression told you more than words ever could.

She squeezed your hand, looking at you with an apologetic half-smile. “I have to go." Natasha’s eyes softened at your response, even as her body tensed with the need to act. “Steve’s sending someone to pick me up. They’ll be here in less than five.”

“Of course he is,” You said with a sigh, giving her hand another squeeze. Despite your hangups, you knew her team needed her too. “You’ll make it in time, right?”

She looked away for a second, her jaw set. “I hope so." Natasha’s voice was calm but edged with a tension you rarely saw—one that always appeared when it was about someone she cared for. She glanced out the window, her fingers tapping absently as if counting down the seconds until the car arrived.

"You're waiting for me to say yes," You realized. Natasha remained silent. "Would you stay if I said no?"

"I would," She replied. "But I have to go anyway. If you didn't want me to."

"That's not fair."

"I know," Natasha replied softly. She didn’t look at you.

The silence stretched. It was not an uncomfortable one, but it did leave plenty of room for thought. You took her hand again. "I love you, Nat."

"I love you too," She leaned forward to kiss you. It wasn’t rushed. Her lips were gentle against yours, and her free hand caressed your cheek. She broke away first, resting her forehead against yours. "I have to get dressed."

You nodded. "Yeah. Yeah, okay. I'll be here when you get back."

"I'll be back soon." Natasha pressed a soft kiss to your forehead before getting out of bed. She moved swiftly but with purpose. She headed to the bathroom, brushing her teeth with quick, practiced motions, her mind already a step ahead, planning her next actions. A pair of sweatpants, a t-shirt, and her sneakers were on in seconds; her real gear, she’d change into on the jet. She spared a glance toward the bedroom, where you sat watching her.

"I'll take them home," You told her. "Back to Missouri." It's where they would be the safest. Where you would be the safest.

"I'll call you," She promised, her voice low. Her phone vibrated again, and her brow furrowed. "And I really have to go."

You nodded, a lump in your throat. "I'll see you when you get back."

The corner of Natasha's lips twitched up in a tired smile. "Take care of yourself. Stay safe."

With a final look, Natasha turned to head out but paused in the doorway. A small smile crossed her face as she tiptoed down the hall, slipping into the room where your two little ones were fast asleep.

First, she leaned down to press a soft kiss on Stella’s forehead. The three-year-old stirred slightly, murmuring something before settling back into her dream. Natasha brushed a stray lock of hair away from Stella’s face, her heart tightening with a love so fierce it ached. She moved to Nicky’s crib, watching the one-year-old sleep peacefully, his tiny hand curled around his favorite blanket. Natasha leaned down, pressing a light kiss on his cheek.

It took all her strength to pull away. She slipped out of the room quietly and headed to the front door, where the black car waited in the early dawn light. Natasha took a deep breath before stepping outside, casting one last glance back at the home she was leaving behind—for now. This time on the run with you, she'd figured out what was important to her. Not that she'd ever forgotten. She'd been stubborn to think that she could live these two lives.

You watched her from the window as she headed to the car, her posture tense, her head bowed. You wondered if you should stop her. You could have. She'd stay, and you'd talk her down and keep her safe.

But that wouldn't be fair. You've had this conversation a hundred times. You've talked until you're blue in the face. The world is still a dangerous place, and she would never turn her back on that.

A sudden, sharp cry echoed from the hallway. Nicky was awake. You had a job to do also.

********

Being in the quinjet felt nostalgic. It felt like home. Sam sat in the co-pilot's seat, his fingers deftly navigating the controls while he glanced back at Natasha and Steve, who were securing their gear.

“ETA fifteen minutes,” Sam announced, his voice steady but laced with an underlying tension. “We’ll be touching down just outside Edinburgh.”

“Got it,” Steve replied, checking the straps on his shield before looking over at Natasha, who was securing her holster to her thigh, the familiar click echoing in the confined space. She looked up, her expression focused.

“Banner filled me in on what he and Tony discussed,” Steve said, leaning against the wall of the cabin. “Thanos is coming for Vision. If he gets the Mind Stone, it’s game over.”

"And this Thanos..." Natasha questioned.

"Bad news," Steve sighed. "He's an alien warlord from the planet Titan, and he wants the Infinity Stones. If he gets his hands on them, the universe is screwed."

"What are the chances we win?"

"Well, considering we're the good guys, we should have the odds on our side."

"Yeah, well, you're Captain America," Natasha shrugged, securing the last buckle. "If anyone can beat the odds, it's you."

"And if I fail?"

"Then the rest of us will pick up the pieces and try again. That's how this works." Natasha smiled at Steve. "And I'll be right beside you, whether you like it or not."

"Thank you," Steve replied, his expression serious.

"Hey, what were you doing on this side of the world anyway?" Sam asked from his seat. Flashes of the past eight months came to her. You and the kids, the house, the simple life, the love.

"Just checking in with some old friends," Natasha smiled, but it was a thin, forced one. Steve gave her a knowing look.

"You've got friends?" Sam grinned. "Other than us I mean."

"Don't sound so surprised, Wilson."

"We'll have time for catching up later," Steve reminded her, looking at Natasha. "When this is all over."

Natasha nodded, but the words hung in the air, and her eyes betrayed her uncertainty. She took a deep breath, trying to push the doubts away, to focus on the mission.

***********

The atmosphere in the Avengers Compound was tense and she needed a moment to be alone. After saving Wanda and Vision and flying back to New York she needed time to breathe. She decided on the courtyard. The cool breeze blew through her hair, a slight chill in the air. Her arms crossed, gazing out at the horizon as the sun dipped below the trees. She could hear the distant chatter of the others as they strategized, but her mind was elsewhere.

"Hey," Steve approached her. "Am I interrupting?"

"No, I'm fine." Natasha shook her head. "Just needed a moment."

"Everything alright?"

"It's fine, Cap," Natasha replied. "Don't worry about me."

Steve's expression softened, and he hesitated, looking out at the sunset. "Do you ever wish things were different?" He asked.

Natasha let out a humorless laugh. "All the time."

"I'm sorry," Steve said."How are y/n and the kids?"

"They're okay," Natasha's lips tugged upward at the thought of you. "They're probably on a plane back home now. Safe."

"They'll be glad to see you when we're done."

"If we get out of this."

"We will," Steve reassured her. "I promise. We'll go through everything we can find, and we'll figure it out."

"You don't know that."

"Maybe not. But I can hope."

"Sometimes I wonder why I bother coming back," Natasha said softly. "Every time I walk through the door, there's a chance it'll be my last."

"Why do you?"

"Because it's worth it," Natasha said simply. "It means something."

Steve nodded, understanding. "You don't have to come back."

"I can't just walk away."

"Why not?"

"Because someone has to be there." Natasha's voice was quiet. "Someone has to fight."

Steve nodded. "You've got a family. And they're waiting for you."

"I know," Natasha's voice was softer, her gaze dropping.

"I'm not gonna force you to go," Steve continued. "But it's not gonna be the same without you. So think about it. We could use your help."

"I'm in," Natasha decided, meeting his gaze. "I'm here aren't I?"

"Yeah, you are," Steve smiled.

"What's our plan?"

"I don't think we have one," Steve admitted.

"You're the tactician, Rogers."

"So are you," Steve pointed out.

"You're better at it," Natasha insisted.

"I'm not."

"I am," Natasha replied, the two of them grinning.

"Okay, fine," Steve laughed.

*********

The car rumbled down the paved road, the trees lining the way to home as you glanced in the rearview mirror. You didn’t expect her to be awake but Stella's eyes looked back at you through the mirror.

"Hi, baby," You cooed at her. “We’re almost home.” 

"I'm not a baby. I'm three," She held up three fingers.

"Of course, you're not."

"Where's Mama?" Stella asked.

"She had to go away for a bit," You told her.

"But she'll come back?"

"Yes," You nodded, turning down the long driveway.

"Okay," Stella sighed.

You pull up next to the house, killing the engine.

"Can you call her and tell her we're at this house now? So she doesn't forget," Stella asked.

"Sure thing," You nodded. Truth is you'd tried calling Natasha several times in the past day. As you sat in the driver’s seat, the knot in your stomach tightened, overshadowing the comfort of home.

“I don’t want her to forget us,” Stella said, her small fingers twisting in the hem of her shirt.

You turned to face her. "She won't forget us," You reassured her. "Your Mama loves you so much. And she's going to miss you every minute. Now how about we go inside and cuddle? Me, you, and your brother?"

"I want a cookie," Stella said.

"After dinner."

"Okay," She bounced.

You stepped out of the car and opened the door for her. She slid out, running toward the house, her small legs carrying her across the lawn. She stopped at the door and turned back to wait for you. You carried Nicky, following her into the house.

"Can I watch a show?" Stella asked.

"Just one."

"Thank you," Stella grinned and rushed off to the living room.

You took the moment of peace to lay Nicky down and give him a bottle. Your mind wandered to the last time you were home. Almost nine months ago. Being on the run you'd spent your time in different places, different cities, but none of them felt like this home. This house you'd picked out furniture with your wife. A few hours ago, Natasha had been holding the kids. The thought of her being gone already stings.

You pulled out your phone, sending a quick text.

Hey. We're home. Miss you already. Call when you can.

You put the phone on the counter and walked back to the living room. Nicky was still asleep. It's amazing what he could sleep through.

"TV's not working," Stella announced.

"I'll fix it after dinner," You assured her.

"And I can have a cookie?"

"After dinner," You said again.

Stella sat cross-legged on the couch. "Do you think Mama's okay?"

"I do," You nodded.

"But she's not here," Stella pouted.

"She wants to be," You replied. "And she's gonna come home soon. Okay? Do you trust me?"

"Yeah," Stella nodded.

"So, let's make a list of everything you want to do with Mama when she gets home."

"We can go to the park?" Stella offered.

"Absolutely. That's a good one. What else?"

"Um..." Stella thought. "We can play dolls?"

"She'd love that."

"And have a tea party."

"Oh, that's a good idea."

"And make cookies," Stella suggested.

"Yes, we can make a lot of cookies."

"And have a sleepover."

"Mama would like that," You nodded. "She will be home soon."

***********

The Quinjet touched down with a quiet thud, the engines winding down as Natasha stepped out onto the grassy field. The air was still, heavy with a silence that felt almost surreal after the chaos of the last forty-eight hours. She had left the remaining Avengers behind, her heart pounding with urgency as she stole away in the jet. The world was in turmoil, but all that mattered now was getting back to her family.

As she scanned the familiar landscape, her heart raced. The truck sat parked in the driveway, just like always. The sight filled her with a false sense of hope—a flicker of normalcy amid the chaos. Maybe it was just another day. Maybe Stella was inside, and Nicky was playing with his toys, waiting for her to come home. Maybe she would find you with your glasses perched atop your nose, reading some book you'd found on Reese Witherspoon's book club list.

Natasha climbed the porch steps, her body feeling like lead, exhaustion setting in as the adrenaline rush faded. She opened the front door quietly, stepping inside the darkened house.

"Y/n?"

Her voice echoed through the stillness. There was no reply.

Natasha's heart sank. It was just as empty as it had been before. No sounds of Stella's laughter or Nicky's cries. No sign of life. The familiar scent of home was still there, but it felt hollow. No laughter echoed through the halls, no little feet scampering to greet her. The stillness was suffocating.

She walked into the room, taking note of the obvious signs of you being there before. Stella's stuffed shark was on the floor, and Nicky's blanket was thrown carelessly on the couch. Thanos snapped his finger and everyone was gone. Right before her eyes her friends, her family, and her people disappeared. Now she's come home to an empty house, the only proof that any of you ever existed.

You were gone.

Natasha sat on the couch, the weight of the realization crashing down on her.

Her hand moved instinctively to the ring hanging from a chain around her neck.

"Y/n?" She called again, hoping against all hope that you would appear out of thin air and hug her and everything would be fine.

"Hello?" She received a response back. It caused her to jump to her feet. She rushed toward the front door and her heart almost fell out of her chest. Standing before her was your neighbor from the house down the road, Mabel. She had a shocked expression on her face but it wasn’t about her. It was about the tiny boy in her arms. Nicky was cradled on her hip, tears hanging at the tip of his lashes, and his eyes red.

"Nicky," She breathed, disbelief flooding her senses as she pushed open the screen door and rushed to Mabel's side. "I can't believe it. You're okay."

Nicky looked at her for a second, his eyes widening in recognition and then he let out a shriek.

"Mama!" He cried, stretching his arms towards her.

Natasha didn't hesitate. She scooped him into her arms, holding him close, feeling his tiny heart pounding against her own. “Mabel,” Natasha said, her voice trembling. “What happened? How do you have him?"

Mabel’s expression shifted from shock to sympathy, her lips pressing together in a thin line. “I came to check on you all after… well, after everything,” she said softly, her gaze dropping to Nicky, who clutched at Natasha’s shirt, still sobbing quietly. “I could hear crying. I had come for help. I peeked inside that window over there and saw him alone in his pack-and-play. I had to break the window." She raised her hand to show off her new injury wrapped in gauze.

"How long had he been here?" Natasha asked.

"I came maybe an hour after the dust took Roy," Mabel answered. "I knew your family was back in town and..."

The room spun for a moment as the reality of it all crashed over Natasha. The thought of her son being alone, frightened in the house, sent a cold wave of dread through her. “He was alone for an hour?”

“I got here as soon as I could,” Mabel reassured, her eyes filled with concern. “He’s okay, just scared. I held him until you came home.”

"Thank you, Mabel. You have no idea."

"Well, he's such a sweet little boy. It was my pleasure."

"Are you sure he's okay? I can take him to the hospital," Natasha offered.

"No need. He's a bit shaken, but otherwise, he's fine. And I was a paramedic remember? I know a thing or two."

"R-right, thank you," Natasha sighed, her relief mingling with her fear and exhaustion.

"Any time. If there's anything else, just holler," Mabel said, stepping off the porch. "I'll leave you all be."

"Wait, are you going to be alone?"

"No, no, luckily my sister lives in the next town over. She's alright and she's on her way."

"If you need anything, please don't hesitate to call," Natasha insisted.

"I will. I promise. You take care of that boy and yourself, okay?"

"I will."

Mabel hugged Natasha, a tear rolling down her cheek. "Take care, Natasha."

"You too."

As the door clicked shut behind Mabel, silence enveloped Natasha and Nicky. It all settled heavily on her shoulders, and she glanced down at her son, who was still nestled against her. His small frame seemed fragile in her arms, and she felt a rush of protectiveness flood her heart.

“Okay, little guy,” she murmured, trying to muster the strength she knew she needed. “It’s just you and me now.” Nicky’s bright eyes searched hers, and she could see a flicker of confusion and fear within them. “Mama’s here. I’m not going anywhere. We’re going to be alright.”

She took a deep breath. “We just need to take it one step at a time,” she told him softly. “That’s what we’ll do, okay? Just one step at a time.”

Nicky blinked up at her, his little brows furrowing in confusion. He didn’t fully understand what had happened, and the thought tightened Natasha’s chest. “I know it’s scary right now,” she continued, stroking his hair gently. “But we’ll find a way through this. We’ll be okay. I promise you.”

Her mind raced with the uncertainty of the future. You and Stella were gone, lost to the Snap. Natasha’s heart ached at the thought of you, and the crushing reality that she might never see you again weighed heavily on her. “I’ll get them back,” she whispered to herself, her voice breaking slightly. “I have to. I can’t let this be the end.”

Nicky squirmed in her arms, a tiny whimper escaping his lips. “Mama?” he called out, his small voice tinged with uncertainty.

“I know, sweetheart, I know,” Natasha said, her heart breaking a little more with each passing second. “But I’m right here. You’re safe with me. We’re going to figure this out together.”

She pulled him closer, feeling the warmth of his body against her, and took another deep breath. “Let’s start with something simple, okay? How about we get you a snack? I bet you’re hungry. You always are.” She tried to inject some cheerfulness into her tone, hoping to distract him from the confusion surrounding them.

“Snack!” Nicky echoed, a touch of excitement flashing in his eyes.

Natasha gave him a weak smile.

She made her way into the kitchen, Nicky still clutched tightly in her arms. She could see the remnants of the family left behind. A half-finished coloring page, a forgotten sippy cup, and a few crayons scattered across the floor.

She placed Nicky in his high chair, her eyes brimming with tears. He reached out, grasping at her shirt, and she took a deep breath, trying to steady her emotions. He was afraid she’d disappear again. 

"It's going to be okay," She told him, her voice shaking. "We're going to be okay. I'm not leaving. I promise."

"Why do I need a babysitter?!?! I'm 19!"

"Why do I need a babysitter?!?! I'm 19!" Tommy whines as he and his brother follow you and Wanda to the living room - after you opened the door for your neighbor, Agatha. 

“Agatha is not your babysitter, honey.” Wanda comments naturally, checking her documents inside her purse, and you smirk teasingly as you adjust your tie. “Yeah, she’s the jailer.”

The teasing makes the older woman chuckle lightly, and your two teenage sons roll their eyes. “Don’t give us that look, now.” Wanda scolds with a pointed look. “None of this would be happening if you hadn't messed up the last time your mother and I went out.”

“It was just a stupid party!” Tommy argues about the warzone he made on the house last time you and Wanda went out on a date night. Billy, by his side, crosses his arms. “And Tommy threw it, why am I being punished too?”

“It wasn’t a stupid party, you and your caveman friends turned the house upside down and almost broke your mom’s Hanukkah menorah. You know how important it is to her.” You rebuke him sternly, and the boy looks away in shame. “And you, young man, weren't home to keep an eye on your brother as we had discussed.”

“I was with Teddy, as I said I would.” Billy hits back, a bit annoyedly, and this time Wanda steps in. “You said you were going out with him, not that you were going to sleep at his place. We all know what that means and we didn’t have that conversation yet.”

“So what? You and mom slept together long before you were 19.” The boy's argument makes your wife look at you wide-eyed. “You told them about that?!” You stutter on your words for a while before giving up, pointing at the twins as you state, “I’m not the one in trouble here!”

“Right, right.” The redhead agrees, blinking to recollect her thoughts. “The mistakes your mother and I made are not the issue here. The point is that you lied to us. And you blew up our house.” She says as she points to each child, and Agatha steps in with an amused smile. “Therefore, the jailer.”

“Thanks again, Agatha.” You say with an honest smile, receiving one of her own as she shakes her hands dismissively. “Oh please, it's no problem at all. Besides, I love annoying teenagers.” Her last sentence is humorous and, as you and Wanda share a giggle, the boys share a disgruntled grumble.

“We should get going now, or we'll lose our reservation.” You comment as you check your wristwatch. “Of course.” Wanda says as she distractedly drapes the strap of her purse over her shoulder, casting the boys one last stern look as she says, “behave yourselves.”

“Goodbye.” You say in a sing-song voice, clearly having a good time with the situation. After saying goodbye to Agatha again, you and Wanda leave the house. And as you approach the car, you let out a teasing smile. “So, you think it was a mistake to sleep with me in high school?”

“Absolutely not.” She has a smirk on her lips as she answers easily, pulling you closer by the tie to kiss you on the lips. But before you can deepen the kiss, she is pulling away and moving to the passenger seat, and you catch yourself admiring her figure, wondering how the hell you’ll be able to survive dinner without touching her properly.

💯😁😍

MAGGIE NELSON | STAN LEE PRESENTS: MOSAIC (2007)

˚ ₊ ♡ ‧ ₊ girlfriend!maggie — headcanons x gn!reader. reblogs are greatly appreciated! ˚ ₊ ♡ ‧ ₊

Born in the year of 1990, Maggie Nelson, an aspiring teenage actress who dreams of making it into Broadway, gains incredible chameleon like powers after she is caught between an ancient Rune stone and a electrical storm accident.

Our heroine maggie's full name is margaret nelson. She's a beautiful seventeen year old student attending the highschool of dramatic arts in New York City. She is an adventurous and extremely happy spirited girl who's confident that she can do and accomplish anything. She's upbeat, quick witted, and high spirited but well grounded when dealing with important issues.

( p.s you can watch the full movie here via youtube but there are flashing lights involved, if you'd prefer to avoid that, check out this film review. )

↳ girlfriend!maggie — who always knew you had a crush on her long before the moment you worked up the nerve ask about being study buddies and started exchanging and comparing notes for an upcoming test of Shakespeare's classics like "Romeo and Juliet" and "Hamlet" and decided to make the move to ask you out during another lunch study in the library.

↳ girlfriend!maggie — who is more than happy to spare some extra time on line rehearsals for those big and upcoming performances you've had your heart set on acting in despite the clear stage fight. She even gives you kisses of good luck for a better boost but makes sure that you know where you need to improve on while welcoming the fun of improv.

↳ girlfriend!maggie — who wants the both of you to step out of your comfort zones when it comes to personal fears and social gatherings together but knows not to push things when it comes to you and doesn't mind being patient because she treasures you to the word and back.

↳ girlfriend!maggie — who is your biggest hype girl with all of her extroverted and contagiously giddy energy, even when your not the brightest person in the room. She wants to find any way to see that precious smile of yours but knows how to give you the well needed comfort when the moment calls for it.

↳ girlfriend!maggie — who treats you out to your favorite bakery and coffee shop in town for the weekend mornings despite the fact that she's been expanding her cuisine palette and improving on her cooking skills but is holding out for either your one year anniversary as a couple or your birthday.

↳ girlfriend!maggie — who is adamant about you getting your bed rest when your sick and in no condition to be attending school. She appreciates the tenacity but your sick butt is staying in bed and that's final. Leave it to her to whip you up a warm meal and to put on some romantic comedy produced films from Hallmark or rent a few movies from block buster so that she can snuggle up close with you under the warmth of a blanket with a trusty ice pack for your fever.

↳ girlfriend!maggie — who explicitly claims to not be the Regina George type and wouldn't get jealous easily over small things or even petty but you see it despite the denial. Despite maggie's emotional and mental maturity is compared to most teenagers, she's still just a teenager and there's no exception to jealousy, especially when it comes to you.

↳ girlfriend!maggie — who ultimately reveals she has superpowers and opens up about this whole world saving adventure she went on in only three days after delivering that bravado of a performance on Friday before returning to school and getting that A+ on Hamlet that Tuesday morning. You are the only one she can really trust right now since her father, the infamous interpol agent Nathan Nelson, would never be able to look at his own daughter the same way ever again -- at least that what she fears. You promise to keep her secret and she knows you mean it.

HELL YESSSSSSS!!!!!

So i have some thoughts for some future fics...

Succubus!Nat

Werewolf!Reader

Demon!Nat

SeaSiren!Nat

Ummm... I have questions that needs to be answered. This was beautifully written. I'm heartbroken and now I'm left questioning everything. I need help..... Also is Natasha going to attack us since she's in the 'familiar' apartment or is she going to listen to us.... Furthermore wtf I- I wonder what's going to happen now. Yelena is off trying to kill Clint so how will it be impacted. How is it going to work out.

What If...? (Part Two)

Thanks @rebeliz777 for asking me to write part two, dream come true to work with one of my favourite authors.

Make sure you go check out part one here before reading this part.

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x f.reader

Request: A Natasha variant (preferably the one in What If.. who was a survivor of the Ultron apocalypse and then moved to a different timeline where the Avengers Initiative failed) arrived in the ‘canon’ timeline and then meets the reader who happens to be the wife of the ‘canon’ dead Natasha and reader also happens to be dead on Natasha variant’s own different timelines.

Am I making sense? Lol. Anyway, basically, the multiverse is in complete chaos here and different variants arrive in different timelines and Natasha and the love of her life meet each other again in the midst of all chaos. It would also be cool if Natasha variant gets shocked that her wife reader is in fact close to her Russian family. Would also really love Yelena to show up in this fic.

Words: 3.6k

What If...? is a collaborative writing project. Each chapter will be written by a different author but will follow the same storyline based on the request. Each author will add to the story until the request has been fulfilled.

Part Two

The past few hours had been a whirlwind. Yelena had taken you to a small private airport on the outskirts of the city where she led you to a light aircraft. You shouldn’t have been surprised when she had begun to set up for take off, Natasha was able to pilot most aircrafts so it made sense that her sister, a fellow widow, would possess the same skills.

You had strapped into the remaining seat in the cockpit, a wave of nostalgia washing over you as you recalled the countless times you had been a co-pilot for your wife. The memories of the easy smiles she would give you from the pilot's seat, headset resting atop her red locks as she looked over at you with nothing but love and adoration causing your heart to constrict painfully.

You turn away from Yelena, not wanting her to see the tears that were beginning to well in your eyes. You press the heel of your hand to your eyes, rubbing at them to try and get your emotions under control.

Yelena begins to nudge the small plane down the runway, the wheels lifting from the ground as the two of you become airborne. You adjust the headset over your ears, the noise from outside dulled by the noise suppression as your sister-in-law adjusts the dials on the control panel as you reach the desired altitude.

“So where are we going anyway?” you ask, your voice crackling through the headphones. You hadn’t thought to ask before now, too caught up with Yelena’s sudden appearance in your life and the prospect of meeting the rest of Natasha’s family.

She doesn’t even glance at you as she answers, her eyes fixed on the sky ahead as the plane glides through the air.

“Ohio.”

//

Thankfully the flight wasn’t long, an awkward silence filling the cockpit for the entire duration. You had so many questions but you were unsure how to bring them up, not wanting to dredge up any unpleasant memories for the woman who was clearly still struggling with the loss of her sister.

Instead, you watched the clouds as they rolled by, the sky a bright blue backdrop to one of the strangest days you had experienced in a long time. You hadn’t really done anything since Thanos, spending your days in your small apartment lost in the memories of happier times. The life you once led, days filled with missions and time spent training for the next threat were long behind you. You doubted you would ever be able to go back to it.

Not without Natasha.

When you land, the sun is high in the sky but the heat barely cuts through the late November chill. You’re glad you thought to bring your coat with you, wrapping it tighter around you as you climb down from the plane.

You’re surprised when you see the vehicle that Yelena is leading you towards, a blue pickup is not what you would have expected the blonde assassin to be driving. You don’t say anything as you clamber inside and neither does Yelena as she starts the car and begins the journey to your destination.

After ten minutes of driving, you can’t take the silence anymore and you reach for the radio. You thumb through the stations, trying to find a song that you recognised and smiling when the familiar notes of American Pie float through the air.

You close your eyes as you remember the look on Natasha’s face every time it would come on, the serene smile that would cross her face as she would close her eyes and sway gently to the beat. She never mentioned it but you knew it was one of her favourites and you were glad that the memory didn’t bring with it the usual wave of grief.

The music cuts off abruptly and your eyes fly open, looking over at Yelena and seeing the scowl across her features as she stares at the road ahead.

“No.”

She doesn’t offer any explanation and your stomach lurches as you realise that the song must be tied to one of her childhood memories with Natasha. Why else would the song elicit reactions from the both of them?

You turn your head to the window once more, watching as the truck navigates through the town. You pass shopfronts, football fields and rows and rows of houses; the neat, manicured lawns reflecting the ideal suburban life. You watch kids running around their yards, their laughter ringing through the air.

Yelena turns down a side street and you spy bikes resting against houses, trampolines standing tall in backyards and you even spot a tire swing hanging from one of the many trees. The houses are more spread out here, surrounded by trees and bushes and creating an almost magical, forest feel.

“This is where you grew up.” You don’t pose it as a question, not even looking to Yelena for confirmation.

Natasha had mentioned her time spent in Ohio, a wistful look on her face as she described the idyllic life she was able to lead for those few short years. Your heart had broken for her, knowing that the majority of her childhood had been filled with fear and pain. But you were glad she would always have the memories of her perfect life in the suburbs, even if it was all for show.

Yelena doesn’t respond, pulling into a driveway on the street and cutting the engine of the truck. She sits there for a moment, hands resting on the wheel as she gazes at the house before her. You catch the shimmer of her eyes and you know that the house represents more than you could ever imagine for her.

“C’mon,” she begins after a moment, reaching for the door handle. “Better not keep them waiting.”

She doesn’t wait for you, opening the door and exiting the vehicle. You watch her walk up the driveway, her plaid, yellow coat swaying as she moved. You take a deep breath, steeling your nerves as you follow suit.

Yelena is already waiting at the door by the time you catch up to her, the sound of the doorbell echoing from within the house. You hear footsteps moving closer and before you have time to worry about what awaits you on the other side, the door swings open and you’re face to face with a tall, middle-aged man whose wide smile you can only just make out through his thick beard.

“Lena,” he exclaims, wrapping the blonde in a tight hug. “Your mother said you were coming but I didn’t believe her. You haven’t been to see the house since we moved in.”

Yelena pushes herself from his grasp trying to act annoyed by his attention but you catch the smile tugging at her lips. You realise this must be Alexi, the pseudo father that Natasha had told you about. She had always said he had a way of putting his foot in it despite his good intentions and you could see what she meant.

But still, the way he looked at Yelena, you could have sworn he was her biological father.

“And you’ve brought a friend?” His attention was now turned to you and you fight the urge to shrink under his gaze, despite the friendly look on his face.

“No, she’s not a friend,” Yelena answers him, her tone leaving no room for argument. “She’s family.”

You turn to look at her but she’s already pushing past Alexi to walk inside the house, leaving the man standing there looking at you dumbfounded.

“Well,” you say after a few moments of awkward silence, “this wasn’t how I expected to meet my in-laws.”

//

After the initial shock had worn off, Alexi had ushered you inside. You had followed him through the house to a small kitchen at the back where you saw Yelena being embraced by an older woman with dark hair. As they parted, the woman cupped Yelena's face in her hands while smiling down at her and you knew that it had to be Melina, no one else would look at her with such motherly affection.

Alexi cleared his throat and Melina’s attention fell to you, her smile faltering for only a second before she took a step toward you.

“And this must be Natasha’s wife, I’m so glad to finally meet you.” Her hand was stretched out toward you and you took it in yours, trying not to react to the grip so similar to your wife's’.

“Wait, you knew?” Alexi cut in, the outrage clear on his face.

“Of course I knew,” Melina rolled her eyes as she guided you to the table nearby, her hand gently gripping your elbow. “I knew our Natasha was in love the second I saw her again at the Petersburg house. Plus, she’s still wearing her ring”

You sit at the table, Yelena taking the spot across from you and looking at you with an unreadable expression. Melina moved back to the kitchen, busying herself with arranging food onto dishes and bringing them to the table. Alexi sat down at the head of the table, eyeing you warily as he methodically buttered a roll that Melina had placed in front of him.

“She never really talked about you,” Melina continued as she worked, her eyes flitting to you, “but I wouldn’t take that personally, dear. She was still so guarded around me, even after we took down the Red Room. I don’t blame her, we lost so many years together and I betrayed her trust.”

“She talked about you,” you say after a beat, Melina's eyes flicking to you hopefully. “She had a lot of things she kept secret, it was hard for her to open up, even with me. But sometimes she’d mention something from her time in Ohio and she always seemed happy when she was remembering her time here.”

You feel a warm weight on your hand and your gaze travels from Alexis hand resting over yours to see his eyes shining with emotion. You offer him a smile in return, realising how loved Natasha truly was.

You just hoped that she realised it too.

Melina placed the last dish on the table and the tension is broken as Alexi clears his throat and begins to pile food onto his plate. The rest of you follow suit and soon the room is filled with cutlery clinking against plates and the satisfied sounds of people eating.

“So,” Melina turns to you after a few minutes, “tell us about your Natasha.”

You pause, finishing the food in your mouth before you begin. Once you start, it's hard to stop. You share stories about your time with Natasha, talking about how you first met all those years ago. You share details of missions with her, how proud she always made you, how she always made sure to keep you safe.

It wasn’t all one-sided though. In between your stories, the others would share their own anecdotes about your wife. It was nice to see her through their eyes and to know that the strength she radiated around you was noticed by others.

As emotional as it was, it was nice to be able to talk about her with people who really knew her. They were her family and talking to them made you feel connected to her, something you hadn’t felt for many months. They were all you had left of her and you were glad they had welcomed you so openly.

The food was long gone, the remnants of lunch littering the plates as you all continued to talk. You laughed as Melina told the story of Natasha dying her hair blue when she was younger, an act of rebellion on her part. You even caught Yelena smiling a few times, something you were sure she was incapable of from the solemn attitude she had presented up till now.

“You should go visit her,” Melina says and you catch Yelena stiffen beside you.

You’re confused, unsure exactly what Melina’s words meant, your gut telling you that Yelena’s reaction wasn’t a good sign.

“Visit who?” you question quietly, the light atmosphere that had settled around the table now thick with tension once more.

“Natasha,” she answers you and your breath catches, hope filling you for the briefest of moments. “There was no body to bury but we had a gravestone made and placed nearby. Yelena can take you to see it if you want.”

You try not to let the disappointment show on your face, of course Natasha wasn’t still alive. If she had been, she would have found you before now, she wouldn’t have let you suffer in your grief all those long months.

You can sense from Yelena’s posture that she isn’t thrilled with the idea and to be honest neither are you. You don’t want to be faced with yet another reminder of your loss, of the fact that you were all alone in this world. But Melina’s offer didn’t really leave much room to decline the invitation and you had just found this piece of your wife to cling onto, you didn’t want to ruin your relationship with them before it had really begun.

“Okay,” you agree, trying to return Melina’s smile.

//

The blue pickup rumbled down the road, the crisp November air swirling through the open windows of the cabin and filling your lungs.

Yelena doesn’t talk and neither do you, the two of you sitting in silence once more as she drives to your destination, every second that passes filling you with dread. The truck turns off the main road, following a dirt track carved out between the trees.

Suddenly, Yelena stops the pickup, the engine idling for a moment before she turns the key and the air is silent around you aside from the sound of birds nearby. You take a deep breath, eyes darting around trying to find what you had come here for.

Your heart clenches as you spot it, a small collection of stones at the end of the path. You don’t have to ask which one is Natasha's, even from where you sat you could make out the Black Widow symbol, her gravestone littered with flowers and other small tokens. You weren’t sure who had put them there but you knew that even though they didn’t know what had happened exactly, the world was thankful for all that she had done for them.

If only they knew what her sacrifice meant, how responsible she was in bringing everyone back.

“Are you ready?” Yelena’s voice catches you off guard, tears springing to your eyes at the thought of leaving the car.

“I can’t do it,” you reply, your voice trembling as you shake you head. “Even though she’s not really there, I just- I can’t.”

Yelena just nods in response, her hands tightening on the wheel for a moment before she reaches over to open the door.

“Come on, Fanny,” she grunts as she steps down from the pickup, the tan dog that Yelena had retrieved from the house following her out.

You smile as a memory of Natasha flashes to your mind, her complaining about one of the aliases she had been given and how ridiculous the name was. You were once again reminded how much Natasha’s legacy was interwoven in other people’s lives, not just your own.

You were glad that you weren’t the only person who was fighting so hard to keep her memory alive.

You watch Yelena as she walks up the path towards the headstone, sitting solitary under a tree. She crouches down for a few minutes, tidying up around the stone. You see her fingers tugging at the weeds that were growing there, adjusting the items that had been placed in Natasha’s memory.

She moves to the side of the headstone then, pressing her head against it and you have to look away, not wanting to intrude on such a private moment of grief. You had lost your wife but Yelena had lost her sister. You were lucky that you had the last five years with Natasha, time was something that Yelena never got.

She rises after a moment, walking to stand in front of the gravestone. You watch as the bottom of her yellow coat sways with the breeze, the cool air whipping through the still open window and making you shiver. You reach over to wind the glass up and by the time you look back to Yelena, she’s no longer alone.

A lady in a black coat is now standing beside her, the two of them seeming to be engaged in a conversation. You wonder if Yelena knows this person, the stiff set of her shoulders radiating annoyance.

The mystery woman reaches into her bag, handing something to Yelena. They talk for a few more minutes and then Yelena is walking back toward you, leaving the woman standing over Natasha’s grave.

Yelena opens the door, ushering the dog inside before climbing in herself. You want to ask about what you just saw but you don’t know if you should, or if she would answer your question anyway.

“I need to go back to New York,” Yelena tells you. “I have something to take care of there.”

It’s the only explanation you get.

//

It had been a few weeks since your trip to Ohio. November had ended and the days were getting colder. You found yourself dreading the upcoming Christmas, not wanting to spend yet another holiday without your wife.

You hadn’t seen Yelena since she dropped you back home but you had heard from her a few times. You didn’t want to ask how she had acquired your number but every few days she would send you a message checking in, or a random memory of Natasha to share.

The two of you had started to form a tentative friendship but you still had no idea what it was that she had to take care of in the city. Anytime you brought it up she would just brush it off, saying she was getting ready for a job.

You had no idea what she even did for work and to be honest, you were too scared to ask.

//

Things had been strange in the city the past few days.

Some strange creatures had been spotted around, destroying buildings and terrorising the people of New York.

You had thought about helping whatever team was left but Strange had been in contact with you, telling you he had it all under control for now and that he’d let you know if he needed help. You were fine with that, not really wanting to get caught up in all that craziness again.

Last night had been the worst of it, the sky had lit up across the city, looking like it was about to crack open. You had no idea what it all meant, but by the time you had woken up this morning, things had looked like they had settled down.

There were no more sightings of giant lizard men or people dressed in green suits flying around and dropping explosives. You hoped that Strange had fixed everything, you knew that he had the potential to do some wild things with his magic and you wondered what exactly he had gotten himself into.

You spent the day wandering the city, the biting cold distracting you from your thoughts as you walked. The closer it got to Christmas, the more you were thinking about Natasha and all the traditions you usually shared with her.

You thought about reaching out to Wanda, but you hadn’t heard back from her in months and you figured that she didn’t want to be contacted. So instead you let your feet carry you through the city, the snow falling around you as you shoved your hands deeper into your pocket to try and fight off the cold.

The sky was beginning to darken, so you decided to return home, not wanting to get caught outside at night in the snow. You trekked the familiar path to your apartment, admiring the lights of the city along the way.

You had to hand it to New York, they certainly knew how to celebrate Christmas.

You step off the elevator, walking towards your apartment door. You’re almost there before you notice it, the flicker of a shadow underneath your closed door. Your breath stops short, someone was in your apartment.

You figure it must be Yelena again and you vow to have a talk to her about breaking into people’s houses instead of knocking but just in case, you retrieve the gun hidden in the vent across from your door.

You unlock the front door, opening it slowly and stepping into the dark entryway. You flick the light on, gun raised as you move inside. The door clicks behind you and you strain to hear any kind of movement but all you’re met with is silence.

You decide to do a sweep of the apartment, maybe you had imagined the shadow but your years of training wouldn’t let you rest until you had checked every room.

Taking a deep breath, you turn the corner with your gun still raised and you’re met with another gun pointing back at you.

Your instinct tells you to pull the trigger but you hesitate, the flash of red hair behind the gun stopping you in your tracks.

You take in the intruder. Her hair was shorter than you remembered, her green eyes looking more haunted than they had before the Time Heist but it was her. Or at least a version of her.

You see her falter as well, her gun lowering slightly as she looks at you in recognition and disbelief. She whispers your name, your chest constricting as you hear her voice. Something you never thought you would hear again.

Your voice sounds choked as you reply, your whole world shifting in one moment.

“Natasha?”

Onto part three, take it away @vancityfire13 ! I can’t wait to see where you go with it ❤️