#hahaha Ohh Shit 😂😂

🤌😏

Wild Ride Part 2

Y/N and Alexia texted for weeks after the event. Their schedules were all over the place, especially after Alexia received her second Ballon d'Or. On a random evening, Alexia took advantage of her afternoon off and FaceTimed Y/N out of the blue.

The midfielder, happy that she could see Y/N's face for the first time in a week in something else than an Instagram post or from a news outlet, waived to her favourite racing driver "Hiiii" she exclaimed. Shocked as she realised Y/N was still in bed and appeared to be topless. "I caught you in a bad time huh" she laughed nervously. "Um... no I just woke up don't worry" the driver laughed rubbing her eyes in an attempt to wake up "Oh I gotta get ready to catch my flight actually" the driver added.

Alexia, who started to pout, tried to keep the driver on FaceTime for a little longer "Aw really? And you are going to leave me here all lonely with nothing to do?". The driver, who had gotten to know Alexia's mischievous side quickly realised what the midfielder was implying "If you want my media team to get a show go right ahead hottie" she teased sending the midfielder a wink. "There is someone there with you?" Alexia asked worried at the possible answer Y/N could give her "What!? Nooo" the driver laughed before she changed the topic "I'm sure I'm getting a room for my home race in a couple of days ya know" she started "You could make that room feel a little less lonely" the driver added inviting the midfielder.

Alexia started to blush "Oh- Actually I already have tickets for the race" she bragged as she recomposed herself "There is some hot driver racing for a team I'm ambassador for" she added teasing the driver back "Hot you say.. now would you introduce me to said driver?" the driver played into Alexia's teasing.

The driver got ready for her flight as she chatted to the Barcelona midfielder on FaceTime making sure she got her to sit in the VIP stands of the Cupra team.

Being their home race, the Cupra team got the race track all to themselves the night before race day, so as per Cupra tradition, the team rode their bicycles for a whole lap, talking about possible strategies. Y/N, who had invited Alexia out on track opted to walk "Why are we the only ones walking" asked the midfielder clearly confused "Well you just started your recovery for your knee" the driver replied "I didn't want you to force it for a silly ride out on track" she added. The midfielder was stunned at how considerate Y/N was "So you decided to break your team's tradition" she teased "Hey-" the driver replied giving Alexia a slight nudge "I could just leave you out here alone in the middle of the night and ride with them" she added.

The two of them kept joking around as they made their way around the track, when they got back to the pits, Y/N was called to their team's dinner "You hungry?" Y/N asked the midfielder leaning her phone away from her mouth. The midfielder nodded "Add one more to the table please" Y/N said before she hung up. "We shouldn't make them wait long" the driver said "They are like gremlins when not fed" she joked leading Alexia to the elevator.

The elevator stopped abruptly making Alexia scared "WHA- what is happening" the midfielder grabbed onto the drivers arm "Don't worry" Y/N tried to calm the midfielder down, bringing the Barcelona player closer to her body, "There is an emergency line for a reason" she added. "Hi- um we are stuck in the elevator" the driver talked to the emergency line "Yes, remain calm, help is on their way" the caller replied making small talk with the two stars.

Alexia, who was still scared, held on to the driver harder. "So... does the elevator have cameras?" Y/N asked the emergency line, the voice on the other side of the call laughed "No, no we aren't allowed to film inside the elevator" they replied. "Great! Well we will leave you to you other emergencies" the driver joked, politely insinuating that they wanted to be left alone.

"She was flirty huh" Alexia mumbled, her neck buried in Y/N's neck "I sense some jealousy coming from somewhere" the driver joked "I- I just can't point at the source" she added as she grabbed Alexia's face. Pointing to her cheek "From here? I don't think so" she said, looking at Alexia's eyes "Nope not from here either" she added before she placed a finger on the midfielder's lips "Oh maybe-" the driver kissed Alexia as she pulled away the midfielder replied cheekily "Looks like we'll be trapped for a while..." she pulled the driver in for another kiss "Might as-well make the best of it" she added.

Wtf is the trash HUHHH the gall of this woman is appalling

Harry Potter and the Audacity of THIS BITCH:

17. (they/them) chicanx, intersectional feminist, and aspiring activist. avid bee lover and ant enthusiast. wannabe thottie

I don’t really respond to tumblr messages so.. sc://lifeaschicanx twitter @/ lifeaschicanx ig://life.as.chicanx

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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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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 ❤️

Let's chat

I'm all alone with no one to to talk or cuddle with if you're up to the challenge of changing that then hmu

💯😁😍

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.

Should I post a face reveal so that you all know what I look like.

Hi guys please be aware. It's not me that is sending those ridiculous messages. I'm trying to fix the issue as we speak. I've already changed my password. Otherwise I will deactivate this account and create a new one. Thank you to those who brought the issue to me.