#wandanat are always the exception

[bishovapls]

Our Little One - Brats Don’t Get Soft, Brats Get Used.

Relationships: Natasha Romanoff & Wanda Maximoff & Reader

Summary: You’ve never been a brat before, but after weeks with Wanda and Natasha and Natasha still holding back, a nudge from your roommate Kate sets something in motion. What starts as a simple need soon turns into a dangerous game, and you’re about to learn what happens when the consequences catch up.

Warnings: 18+, Mommy kink, Daddy kink, age difference, older WandaNat/younger reader, BDSM, Dom/sub dynamics, spanking/lashing with a belt, punishment, smut, overstimulation, fingering, safe word check-ins, aftercare, minor angst.

A/N: Reader and Natasha’s first-time scene kept popping up in requests, so here we are! If I’ve replied to your other asks, those fics will be coming ASAP. If you’ve sent an ask and I haven’t responded yet, I promise I’m working through everything! Thanks so much for all your patience and love. Honestly, your asks, replies, and support for this series make me all warm and fuzzy inside 🩵

P.S. In terms of the timeline, this takes place after 'It Was Fate' and before 'You Make Such Pretty Sounds When You’re Sorry', both can be found in my masterlist.

Word Count: 14,578

NSFW below the cut, you can also read on AO3.

It had been a month since you’d stepped into the world Wanda and Natasha had so carefully, deliberately built around you, and though the shift had been gentle, almost imperceptible at first, you felt it now in everything. The change had crept in like water, soft and steady, reshaping the edges of your life without ever needing to crash through them. You hadn’t thought you needed structure. You certainly hadn’t expected to crave it. But once it was there, once their presence became a constant grounding force, you realised just how badly you’d needed to be held in place.

The rules didn’t arrive all at once. They were introduced slowly, one by one, always with a quiet firmness, never exactly forceful, but never optional either. And what surprised you most was how easily they slipped past the bedroom and settled into the rest of your life. They took root in the mundane, the overlooked, the messiest parts of your routine: your study habits, your sleep, your social outings, your tendency to forget yourself.

At first, you questioned the point of it all. Why they cared whether you skipped a meal or pulled another all-nighter. But it didn’t take long to understand. They were wholly, unflinchingly invested in you. In your well-being. In your peace. And in the simple, sacred truth that you were theirs.

It began with the essentials. Drink more water. Eat proper meals. Step outside and breathe. No more skipping breakfast or living on scraps between lectures. No more letting your body crumble under the weight of your own neglect. 

They didn’t leave it to chance, either. Wanda had set you up with a nutrition tracker, and Natasha synced it to a fitness app. Between the two of them, they monitored everything.

Then came the check-ins. If you weren’t with them, you were to check in twice a day: a brief morning text including how you slept, how you felt, and what was ahead for the day, and a call at night, no exceptions. You were to talk them through your day, tell them what had gone well, what hadn’t, and whether you needed anything, emotionally, physically, or otherwise. 

And college brought its own rules. You were to attend every class unless you were truly ill. And even then, they were to be informed immediately. Natasha had your entire academic schedule memorised, down to your deadlines and office hours, and if anything shifted, she expected an update. 

Your social life, limited though it was since you were far from a social being, had boundaries. You could go out, in fact, you were encouraged to do so, to have fun, to be young, to live, but never at the cost of safety. Drinking to excess was forbidden. Drugs and smoking, entirely off-limits. 

And you were not to be out alone after dark. If you did go out, it had to be with trusted friends. Your fitness tracker was to remain on, fully charged, and GPS active. That rule had been delivered with unflinching clarity. Natasha had stated it plainly, her tone leaving no room for argument. They needed to know where you were. That you weren’t walking alone, vulnerable and unseen. That if something happened, they’d know exactly where to find you.

To an outsider, it might’ve seemed overbearing and excessive. But to you, it was the opposite. It was everything. These rules weren’t restrictions, they were evidence, proof that someone saw you clearly enough to draw lines around your chaos and call it worth saving. 

And you wanted to be good for them. You lived for the quiet praise threaded through your evening calls, the warmth in Wanda’s voice when she told you she was proud, the low, satisfied hum Natasha would let slip when every rule had been followed to the letter. You craved their approval. Their attention. Their pride. Being obedient came naturally in most ways, and you basked in it. 

Except… food and water. That was the rule you just couldn’t seem to get right.

It wasn’t rebellion; not truly. Sometimes you simply didn’t want to cook, or the idea of eating twisted something unpleasant in your stomach. Sometimes coffee was just easier; it kept you upright, kept you moving. Other times, it wasn’t deliberate at all, just a blur of hours and tasks and noise. You got swept up in work, or you ate but forgot to log it, or maybe you downed nearly a litre of coffee before it even occurred to you that you hadn’t touched water. 

Whatever the reason, Wanda always noticed, calling with her voice full of concern. “When was the last time you ate?” she’d ask, and it wasn’t anger, it was disappointment, that would curl tight in your gut as you searched for a defence that never felt good enough.

The punishments for this were never too much, because they knew you were trying. But they were just enough to make you pause the next time your hand hovered over another cup of coffee and nothing else.

And part of you, ashamed as it was, needed that. Needed the accountability. The structure. The safety of knowing someone would catch you before you disappeared too far into yourself.

Still, even with all of it, the structure, the gentleness, the care stitched into every rule and ritual, something felt wrong. Not glaringly, not enough to shatter the sense of safety they’d built around you, but enough to unsettle, to gnaw at the edges of your thoughts when you were alone. It wasn’t the boundaries or the expectations, not the check-ins or the rules that governed your days. It was Natasha.

She was present and reliable in that steady, composed way of hers. She enforced the routine with silent efficiency, asked the questions that mattered, and made sure you kept your promises, to them and to yourself. But when it came to punishment, to intimacy, to that deeper level of connection you craved, she held back. And it wasn’t just that she didn’t discipline you, she hadn’t touched you. Not once.

You’d given yourself to them, inch by inch, until it didn’t feel like surrender anymore, but something closer to breathing. You’d let yourself fall, and Wanda had caught you. It was always Wanda.

It was Wanda who guided you, who punished you when you slipped, who praised you so sweetly your stomach turned to honey when you hadn’t. It was Wanda who took you apart in the dark, who knew how to coax you into obedience with nothing but a look, a sound, or a breath. Natasha either watched from the sidelines or, worse, left the room entirely. 

Last weekend was a perfect example. You knelt before Wanda, her voice calm and steady as she guided you through the mantras she’d been drilling into you. “I deserve to take care of myself… my body deserves fuel… my mind deserves rest…” You’d forgotten to eat again, too caught up in school, and so when you came to them, punishment was needed. But it wasn’t a punishment of pain; it was one of words and care that slowly cracked open your walls, breaking down the bad beliefs you’d carried all your life. 

At first, Natasha was there, quietly watching, even encouraging with small hums and soft smiles, but when your tears began to flow and your body shook, she left without a word. You didn’t know why; she never explained. Wanda shushed your whimpers, but it wasn’t enough, not when Natasha didn’t want you…again.

After the scene, when you dared to ask about it, Wanda’s answer only deepened the ache: “You’re just not ready for Daddy, malyshka (Little One).”

Those words echoed in your mind, not ready. As if Natasha was a threshold you hadn’t yet earned the right to cross. It made the ache of being good, of meeting every expectation, sting sharper. 

—

That’s why this week has been hard, with constant thoughts of Natasha swirling through your mind; each check-in only deepened your frustration. By the time Thursday arrived, your mood had darkened. The usual nightly check-in with the women went ahead, but beneath it all, you felt that familiar tightening in your chest, the heavy weight of the unspoken barrier still lingering between you and Natasha.

As always, you took the call just outside your dorm building, settling on the cold edge of the concrete steps beneath the weak glow of the overhead security light. The buzzing hum of it filled the silence between your own clipped replies and Wanda’s soothing voice, Natasha’s steadier one threading in near the end as she asked the usual questions about your meals, your steps, your classes. You answered them all. Obedient. Polite. But your tone was flatter than usual, each sentence a little shorter, and by the time you hung up, the tight coil of something unspoken was still sitting behind your ribs, refusing to unspool.

You pushed through the heavy dorm door and climbed the stairs two at a time, jaw tight, nails digging half-moons into your palms. When you opened the door to your shared room, Kate glanced up from her bed, where she sat cross-legged in an oversized hoodie, scrolling on her laptop. Her eyes caught your face instantly, her brows drew together, subtle but unmistakable, and the screen was forgotten within a heartbeat.

“Uhh… what’s up?” she asked, her voice cautious but laced with warmth, like she could sense your mood before you'd said a word.

“Nothing,” you muttered, too quickly, flinging your bag to the floor and flopping onto your bed with the kind of exaggerated indifference that only made your frustration more obvious.

Kate didn’t buy it for a second. She shifted to sit upright, her back resting against the wall. “Seriously?” she said with a small, incredulous laugh, but her eyes didn’t leave your face. 

You exhaled hard through your nose and rolled your eyes, reaching for your phone just to have something to fidget with. “You’re too nosy,” you said lightly, trying to deflect.

But Kate didn’t laugh this time. Her expression softened instead, concern overtaking the playfulness. “Maybe,” she said gently, “but I care, you know?”

The words landed heavier than you expected. You nodded once, a little jerk of your chin, your voice quieter when you finally said, “I know.”

“Then just talk to me?” she offered. Her hands were clasped loosely in her lap, but there was tension in her shoulders too, like she was trying not to push too hard, not to say the wrong thing, and watch you shut down.

You stayed silent for a moment, then sat up, legs pulled to your chest. You picked at a loose thread on your sleeve, not quite able to meet her eyes. “It’s… to do with the girlfriends,” you said finally.

Kate’s eyes flickered with interest, not curiosity in a nosy way, but a gentle attentiveness that said she’d been waiting for you to talk about them again. “Are you ever going to tell me who they are?” she asked, smiling just a little, trying to keep it light.

You smiled too, but it didn’t reach your eyes. Of course, you wanted to tell her. You trusted her. But Natasha’s voice echoed in your mind, cool and resolute, no one at college can know. Not even your roommate. She was right, of course. College gossip moved fast, and all it would take was one whisper in the wrong ear for everything to unravel.

“You know the rules,” you said, sharper than you meant to, and your jaw clenched as the anger returned, at the rule, at Natasha, at how far away she still felt even after a month.

Kate let out a quiet chuckle, raising a hand to trace a little X over her heart. “I do. But it could be our little secret. Cross my heart.”

You looked at her grin, and something in you softened, just a little.“Maybe soon,” you said, voice tight. “I don’t think it’ll be going on much longer anyway, so there will be no secret to keep.”

That hit her like a slap. Her eyes widened, her posture straightening instantly. “What? Wait, what do you mean?” she asked, voice sharp with shock, all traces of teasing gone.

You had told Kate about your situation with Wanda and Natasha pretty early on, after all, she’d pestered you half to death after your first night with them, all wide-eyed curiosity and relentless questions. You’d given her the basics: that they were your dommes, that it wasn’t just sex, not to them, not to you either. That they’d made it clear from the start that they wanted something more, something serious, something committed.

Over time, details had trickled out, mostly because they had to. The rules you lived by, the punishments you’d earned, the very explicit reasons you sometimes came home with marks so unmistakable they made Kate drop her fork. 

Kate never judged, never squirmed, or got awkward. It was embarrassing sometimes, yes, but it was also a relief to have someone who understood, who didn’t flinch at the language, at the power dynamics, at the weight of it all.

But you’d been careful, too. You’d kept their names to yourself, never once letting them slip. You hadn’t said where they lived, what they did, not even how old they were. You hadn’t even referred to them by title. It wasn’t mistrust, it was the rule. And more than that, it was something you instinctively honoured. Something Natasha had asked of you, and you hadn’t questioned it. You hadn’t wanted to.

Until now. Now, when everything felt like it was fraying. Now, when you couldn’t tell if you were still wanted, or just tolerated. 

And Kate was still watching you, her expression tight with worry, waiting for you to explain why you’d just said it might all be over.

“Hello? Earth to the emotionally tormented?” she teased softly when your silence stretched.

You blinked, snapping back to the moment, and let out a tired little laugh. “I’m here,” you muttered with a half-hearted shrug.

Kate raised one brow in that subtle, persistent way that said, Don’t even think about dodging this, her body leaning forward just slightly.

You sighed, pressing your fingers into your temples for a moment before finally exhaling the frustration that had been crawling under your skin. “It’s just… Domme Two, she’s got all these expectations,” you started, voice tight, like every word had to be pried out. “I try so hard. And still… she won’t touch me. She won’t see me. I’m so tired of it. I’m so tired of being good and getting nothing back.”

Kate’s expression shifted immediately. You’d mentioned Natasha’s distance once or twice before in passing, but it had never sounded quite like this. Back then, it was a curiosity, an oddity. Now, it was pain. Frustration.

“Still?” she echoed, disbelief softening into sympathy. “It’s been, what, over a month now?”

You nodded mutely, jaw tight. “Yup,” you said, popping the ‘p’ with bitter emphasis. “And I don’t know what I’m doing wrong, Kate. I try so fucking hard. I follow their rules, well, mostly,” you added with a dry, self-deprecating smile. “I give them everything they ask for. But when I ask…it’s always the same line: you’re not ready.” The words came out quieter, more vulnerable now, like they physically hurt to repeat.

Kate’s face twisted with something halfway between a wince and a thoughtful frown. “You know it might not be about you, right?” she said gently. “That maybe you are ready… but she isn’t?”

You scoffed, not unkindly, but with that weary kind of disbelief that comes from hoping for too long. “No, Domme One said, that I am not ready because Domme Two can be intense. That she is holding back so I don't get hurt.” You shook your head with a dry, humourless laugh. “But this hurts, too, Kate. Being held at arm’s length like I’m not worthy yet. And it’s not like I haven’t made it crystal clear that rough doesn’t scare me. Domme One and I have had scenes that I couldn’t even put into words if I tried.”

Kate stayed quiet for a moment, taking it all in. You could see the gears turning, the way she bit the inside of her cheek like she always did when she was trying to offer advice without sounding preachy.

“Well… if it’s eating at you this much, then I think you have to talk to them again,” she said eventually, voice calm but firm, the kind of tone she only used when she really meant it. “Like, properly. Not mid-scene. Not just after punishment. Really talk.”

“I have,” you snapped, your voice pitching higher than you meant it to. “I have talked. I’ve tried. I bring it up, and it’s just brushed aside like I’m being impatient.”

Kate sighed, but it wasn’t a condescending sigh; it was heavy, empathetic. You could see the careful way she was treading. She was always mature when it came to this, always level-headed when you weren’t, always calm when you were spiralling. 

“I get it,” she said softly. “I really do. But if something isn’t working for you, you have to keep pushing for a change. Communication’s everything, you know that.”

You slumped back against the bed, staring at the ceiling like maybe it would answer for you. “I’m just… tired of talking. Tired of giving my all and still being told I haven’t earned hers. I just wish there was something I could do.”

Kate was quiet again, but something in her posture shifted. Her lips twitched, just the faintest hint of a smirk tugging at one corner before she caught herself and quickly looked down, trying to hide it.

You sat up slightly, suspicious. “What? Kate. What is that look?”

She tried and failed to suppress a laugh. “Nothing. I just… shouldn’t say this. I definitely shouldn’t encourage this.”

You narrowed your eyes. “That’s never stopped you before. Come on. Spit it out.”

Kate hesitated, her smile turning fond now, as if whatever memory she was about to share brought her warmth despite the topic. “It’s just… I know what Yelena would do in your shoes.”

Your stomach flipped, your curiosity piqued. “Yeah? And what would Yelena do?”

Kate let out a slow breath. “Well, okay, so our dynamic isn’t like yours. It’s not built on rules and structure 24/7. But in scene, there are rules. And sometimes, when I’ve been… off, or distracted, or distant, because life, you know? Yelena will break a rule deliberately. Just enough to make me react. It’s her way of saying notice me, see me, feel something.”

Kate looked almost sheepish after saying it, like she wasn’t entirely sure whether she’d just offered you advice… or handed you a loaded weapon. But you heard it clearly.

A quiet rebellion. A strategic crack in obedience.

And the suggestion glittered in your mind like something dangerous and gleaming, like the glint of a match just before it hits the strike pad. It didn’t matter that it was reckless. All that mattered was that something inside you shifted, something coiled and bratty and starved for attention stirred, stretching awake for the first time.

You turned to Kate, an exaggerated gasp of mock offence on your lips. “Kate Bishop, are you suggesting I should be a brat?”

She laughed, the sound light and helpless. “I’m suggesting,” she said with careful precision, “that breaking a rule might actually get you the kind of reaction you’re craving. Especially if it’s one of Domme Two’s.”

Your brain had already taken off at a sprint, running through possibilities, rules, boundaries, hers, not Wanda’s. You grinned slowly, wickedly, a spark of something deliciously mischievous taking root. “You know,” you drawled, already shifting your weight like you were about to get up, “I’ve been thinking… a late-night stroll sounds like just the thing to clear my head.”

Kate blinked at you, her mouth opening slightly in disbelief before flattening into a line. “It’s midnight,” she said, deadpan. Her eyes narrowed a little as she sat straighter, arms folded, like she was already preparing to intervene. “Can you not pick a safer rule to break?”

You tilted your head and gave a lazy shrug, letting faux innocence smooth over your features. “It’s this, or smoking. Or, I don’t know… drugs.” You raised your eyebrows for dramatic effect.

Kate’s eyes widened in horror, her whole body recoiling like you’d just threatened to juggle knives in traffic. “Not. Funny,” she snapped, though the sharpness in her tone couldn’t quite hide the way her lips twitched at the edges.

Your grin only widened. “A little bit funny,” you said, voice dipping with smug satisfaction, because provoking her felt almost as fun as what you were planning.

Kate groaned and flopped back against the headboard, dragging a hand down her face. “Okay, but what about… I don’t know, don’t go to class tomorrow. Don’t message, don’t give an excuse. It’s safe. Passive-aggressive. You get to make a point.”

You wrinkled your nose, unconvinced, and gave a dismissive wave of your hand. “Too slow. I’m supposed to be with them tomorrow night anyway, and I want it sorted before then.”

Kate sat forward again, staring at you like you’d grown a second head. Her brows lifted with genuine disbelief, and she stared hard, like she was still holding out hope this was all a bit. “You are insane.”

You gave her a sly wink as you stood up, grabbing your coat and slipping it on. “No,” you replied, with a gleam in your eye and a dangerous lilt in your voice, “I’m just impatient. And possibly very, very stupid.”

Kate stood too, suddenly tense, hovering like she wasn’t sure if she should block the door or help you open it. “Okay, but please text me. Keep me updated. And when you inevitably get dragged back to wherever they live for the punishment of your entire life, I expect details.”

You paused with your hand on the doorknob, turning back with a wicked little smirk that curled slowly across your face. “I will. And hey, thanks for the advice,” you said, voice syrupy-sweet with mischief. 

Kate shook her head, muttering under her breath before sighing out loud. “God help you.”

And with that, the door clicked softly behind you, the hallway swallowing you up as you let the brat take the wheel, heart racing, nerves buzzing, a storm already forming on the horizon.

—

It took fifteen minutes of walking before your phone buzzed in your pocket. You didn’t even need to check the screen to know it was Natasha. The GPS tracker in your watch had no doubt lit up the moment you stepped beyond the perimeter she’d quietly defined.

You pulled the phone out, thumb hovering for a moment, then smiled, slow, sharp, and wicked, and let it ring out. One call. Then another. Then a third, her name flashing again and again like a warning light.

The next buzz wasn’t a call, it was your shared group chat, the one only used for schedules, check-ins, and rare moments of praise or correction outside sessions. 

D2: I thought you were staying home with Kate tonight?

You didn’t answer. Just opened it and continued walking, heading deeper into the park, where the glow of streetlamps filtered softly through leafless trees. The cold bit at your cheeks, but you welcomed it, anything that grounded you in the daring, dizzy satisfaction of rebellion.

D2: Why are you ignoring me? D1: Little one, are you okay?

That one gave you pause. You felt a flicker of guilt crack through the high of disobedience. This wasn’t about her. None of this was really her fault, yet you were treating her the same way, but you kept walking.

D2: You better be with Kate.

Her tone, even through text, was clipped, and you could practically feel her jaw clenched from miles away. Then another text came from Wanda, softer again.

D1: Please, let us know you are safe, Sweetheart. We’re worried.

That one stung. You hated that you’d made her worry, hated even more that it was necessary to make your point. You sighed and finally typed back, your fingers momentarily trembling from more than just the cold.

Me: I am safe. Going for a walk.

There were only a few seconds of silence before Natasha responded.

D2: Are you with Kate?

You stopped walking and stared at the message. This was it. The line you could still choose not to cross. The point of no return. You could lie. You could say yes and diffuse it all. But you didn’t want to.

You wanted to be seen. You wanted to matter. You wanted Natasha to stop treating you like a thing she could discipline from a distance but never touch.

Me: No.

You hit send before you could change your mind, before reason or fear could pull you back. Your heart was pounding, thudding against your ribs like it was trying to break free. This was what you wanted. This was the moment you’d imagined: the rule-breaking, the reckless defiance, the thrill of finally crossing a line that might force Natasha to stop keeping you at arm’s length.

But now that you were here, standing in it, the storm you’d so desperately wished for felt a lot less like a cleansing force and a lot more like a cliff edge you’d sprinted off without thinking.

Your phone buzzed.

D2: If I don’t see you turn around and walk back toward your dorm in the next five minutes, I will make sure you regret it.

You scoffed aloud, trying to laugh it off, even as a chill crawled up your spine. Just a threat, you told yourself. She wouldn’t actually do anything. 

Still, your fingers trembled as you shoved your phone back into your coat pocket. You found the nearest bench and sat down, hoping she’d see it as a clear fuck you. A message through the GPS tracker. I’m not moving.

You checked the chat again. Nothing.

Five minutes passed. Then six. Then ten.

You swallowed hard. The cold had begun to seep through your coat, and your heart had gone from hammering to something slower, deeper, more sickening. It wasn’t defiance anymore. It was dread.

You kept checking your phone, over and over, willing another message to come through, anything. 

But there was only that single, unanswered warning. Hanging in the chat like a blade. You shifted on the bench, suddenly too aware of the dark, too aware of the silence, and how very, very small you felt.

—

The cold had settled into your bones, your phone still lifeless in your hand as you debated if you should give up and go back. Every shadow looked like someone. Every sound made you flinch.

Then, suddenly, there was movement, footsteps crunching against the gravel path just behind you. You turned your head slightly, just enough to see the figure approaching, cloaked in shadows and the low light of the path. Hood up, head bowed, face largely obscured, their entire frame radiating purpose and rage.

A bolt of instinctive fear shot through your chest, and you shot to your feet, suddenly overcome with the sense that you were very much in danger. You began to move, your eyes flicking around for the clearest path out, but you didn't get far before the figure spoke. 

“Don’t walk away from me.”

You froze. Her voice was unmistakable, that distinct, deep coolness edged with steel, though this time it came layered with something that struck you harder than the anger. It was fear. 

You turned around slowly, your body betraying you with the smallest flinch. She walked straight up to you, steps tight and restrained, and you could see the way she was holding herself back, like she wanted to shake you, to shout, to do something, but instead she just looked. 

Her eyes swept over you with that terrifying, clinical intensity, checking for injuries, for damage, for blood. It was so fast and automatic that for a second you forgot how to breathe, caught somewhere between guilt and the bitter thrill of being seen.

When she was satisfied you were physically fine, she spoke again, her tone a mixture of disbelief and fury. “What the hell are you doing out here?”

The tone of her voice struck something inside you. You were still afraid, very much so, but the sight of her like this, eyes stormy and jaw tight, hit a nerve, and that tiny voice inside you, the brat, the desperate girl who wanted to be noticed, punished, wanted, made itself heard again.

You swallowed, lifted your chin slightly, and gave her a tiny, deliberate shrug.

Her nostrils flared, and she stared at you like she couldn’t believe the gall of you. You could feel the shift in her posture, that subtle straightening of her spine, the way her arms folded over her chest as if to stop herself from reaching for you. 

Then, slowly, her voice came again, firmer now. “I said, what…are you doing out here?”

You felt your heart hammering harder. She wasn’t yelling, but the low cadence of her voice, restrained and disappointed, pierced through your bravado like nothing else could. You knew she was giving you a chance. An opportunity to back down before this turned into something bigger. But some small, desperate part of you didn’t want to take it.

You shifted your weight from one foot to the other, chest tightening under the weight of her stare. And then, as if to keep yourself from unravelling completely, you shrugged again, a deliberately casual movement, bordering on insolent.

You didn’t look at her when you answered. “I told you, just going for a walk.” The words left your lips softer than you intended, but they carried that unmistakable edge, that deliberately sweetened defiance, like a dare dressed up in innocence. 

Her gaze dropped briefly to the ground, like she was swallowing a surge of something, rage, maybe, and when she lifted it again, her eyes were dark, unreadable, and burning. Then came her voice, thick with warning, the words precise enough to cut. “You know that’s against the rules, Little Girl.”

The title landed like a stone dropped in still water. Little Girl. Not Little One, not the soft name they called you during gentle praise, check-ins, or affectionate aftercare. This one was different, used only in the lead-up to punishment. 

Wanda was usually the one to wield it when you were truly in trouble. Hearing it from Natasha now made your stomach twist. Not with fear, not exactly, but with heat, with something volatile and reckless and stupidly brave.

And still, rather than shrinking under it, something inside you bloomed. The very thing you’d come out here chasing was now rising in front of you, and it made your pulse thunder. 

You lifted your chin, eyes blazing with defiance, and let the words fall, slow and deliberate, each one laced with venom. “You don’t own me.”

Her hand shot out and closed around your upper arm, not harshly, but with enough weight to send your heart racing. She was close now, close enough that you could feel her body heat, the cold in her breath, the rage simmering beneath her skin.

“Move.” The word wasn’t a request. Not a suggestion. It was a command, weighted with disappointment.

She didn’t shove, instead, she stepped closer, hand still curled around your arm before it slid, slowly, deliberately to the back of your neck. Her palm was warm against your skin, firm and unyielding, fingers splaying just enough to ground you, to remind you that you now had nowhere to go.

She turned you around with that grip, directing you out of the park and towards the car like it was the most natural thing in the world, like you were hers to move. 

You swallowed hard, trying to steady your voice. It barely came out. “Where are we going?” you asked, though the answer had already begun to form in your mind.

Her reply was flat. “Home. I think we need to talk. Don’t you?”

You didn’t answer. The silence pressed thick against your tongue, your mouth dry with the realisation of how far you’d taken it. 

The walk was silent, but inside your head, it was anything but. Regret bloomed, not just for breaking the rule, but for how deliberately you’d done it, for how you’d baited her. But it was too late now. You could feel her eyes on you in short bursts, reading your silence, calculating what to do with you.

But underneath the guilt, the fear, the cold anticipation curling in your gut… was something else. Something reckless and alive. Something that felt horrifyingly like satisfaction. Because for the first time in weeks, Natasha was fully focused on you

She was here. She was angry. And she was going to do something about it.

—

At home, Wanda was waiting for both of you, wrapped tightly in her dressing gown, the fabric clutching her as if it could shield her from the worry etched deep across her face. Guilt hit you like a punch to the chest. She must have been asleep, or at least resting, before you’d disturbed her with your behaviour.

“Malyshka (Little One), are you okay?” Wanda’s voice was gentle, almost trembling with concern, enough to make your defiance falter for a moment. 

But before you could answer, Natasha cut in sharply, her tone rougher than usual. “Don’t be soft with her. She’s fine. She’s just got an attitude.”

You rolled your eyes and let out a sharp huff, the brat inside you rising up despite the knots of fear and guilt tightening in your stomach.

Wanda stared at you, wide-eyed and clearly shocked. In all the time you’d known her, she’d never seen this side of you. 

“See what I mean?” Natasha sneered, gesturing with her hand towards you. 

Wanda simply nodded, the warmth in her eyes dimming, her disappointment unspoken but suffocating.

“Take off your shoes and coat, then go sit down,” Natasha ordered, her voice firm and unyielding.

You obeyed, more out of habit than willingness. The house was warm, too warm for your heavy coat, and it felt like a small relief peeling it off.

You settled onto the couch, feeling the soft cushions give beneath you. Both of them followed. Natasha perched on the coffee table across from you, her eyes sharp and unreadable, while Wanda settled on the far side of the couch. 

The distance stung. Wanda never sat so far away, never kept so much space between you. She was usually the one who reached out, always touching, always close. Tonight, that familiar comfort was gone, replaced by an uncomfortable void.

“You have one chance to explain yourself, Little Girl,” Natasha sneered, her voice low and sharp, each word weighted with warning.

“Why should I?” you shot back, the defiance bubbling up before you could stop it. Wanda’s eyes went wide again, her breath catching at seeing you push back like this. Natasha’s face, however, was unreadable.

Then, unexpectedly, she let out a dark chuckle and leaned in closer, her fingers curling around your jaw with a firm grip. “You know, I don’t think I like this side of you,” she murmured, her voice almost a threat.

You pulled away, pressing yourself back into the cushions, refusing to give her the satisfaction of your discomfort. “Well, you clearly don’t like the other side either,” you shot back, a sharp edge to your words. “So, two for two.”

A flicker of shock crossed Natasha’s face. “What? What the hell do you mean?” she demanded, the cool mask slipping for just a moment.

You shrugged, but this time the gesture was less about defiance and more about uncertainty. You genuinely didn’t know how to explain it, how could you say that she did everything perfectly, except for the one thing that tore at you the most, without sounding like some needy, whiny brat?

Natasha waited, her eyes locked on you. But when you stayed silent, her gaze sharpened, cutting through the heavy stillness like a whip. “Speak to me. Stop acting like a little brat,” she demanded.

You snapped back, frustration bubbling over. “Or what? You’ll just send me off to Wanda for a punishment?” Your tone rose, raw and challenging.

A guttural growl rumbled from Natasha, dark, fierce, edged with raw anger. “Is that what this is? You want punishment? You’re craving it? Is that why you’re acting like this?” Her voice sliced through the silence, thick with heat and frustration, scorching the air between you.

And that’s when it broke, because once again she was missing the point entirely. You shook your head, voice trembling under the weight of it all. “No, that’s not it!” Your breath hitched, tears beginning to spill down your cheeks as your voice cracked open. “I want you to believe I’m enough. I want you to need me the way I need you. I want you to be in this, like I am.” The words came out ragged, raw, breaking free with all the desperation you’d been holding in.

Wanda shifted beside you, her worry carved deep into her face, but your world had shrunk to Natasha’s gaze, searching, pleading, trying to find any flicker of softness beneath the armour she wore like a shield.

And then, something shifted. Natasha’s hard edges softened ever so slightly. Her hand reached out, landing on your knee. You jerked back, instinct screaming to retreat, but she held you firmly, grounding you in place. “You are enough,” she said, voice lower now, rougher with unshed emotion. 

She swallowed hard, steadying herself like she was forcing the words past a barricade. “Have I not shown you? When I drive you to school, and we sing like fools? When we curl up on the couch, just holding each other? When we sit and play your video game together? How is that not enough proof I’m in this?”

Her voice trembled, frustrated, wounded, desperate for you to see it.

“You don’t understand, Natasha,” you sobbed, your voice breaking under the weight of a thousand tangled feelings. “You don’t see what I mean.”

“Then tell me,” she whispered, voice cracked and almost desperate. “Please. Tell me what you want.”

You bit your lip, trying desperately to hold back the flood, but the dam finally broke. “I want more.” Your voice cracked. “I know it sounds selfish, needy, maybe even greedy. I love the tenderness, the quiet moments we share... but I want Daddy.” 

Your hands clenched into fists as the words poured out, raw and urgent, laced with a pleading edge. “I want you to touch me, to punish me, to let me please you. I want you with me in the scenes, not just watching, or walking away like you have been lately.” The confession hung thick and heavy between you. Your voice dropped to a whisper, barely steady. “When you leave... it hurts.”

Natasha’s shoulders sagged, the weight of your words sinking into her with visible force, dragging something raw and unguarded to the surface. Her gaze dropped to her hands, jaw clenched tight. “I just…” she began, the words barely above a whisper, “I’m scared, Little One. I don’t want to hurt you.” 

Her fingers twisted in her lap, restless, unsure. “I’m not used to being careful. You’re… you’re so soft. So good. And I look at you and all I can think is… what if I break her?” She paused, breath shaky, as if the confession itself wounded her. 

“And sometimes… sometimes it all gets too heavy, because I want it so badly, but I can’t push past the fear, so I pull away. That’s when I walk. It’s not about you. It’s me... I’m scared.”

You watched her closely, your own heart aching now, but not with shame or anger. Just understanding. “You told me you were done being scared,” you reminded her gently. “And I’m not scared, Nat.”

Her eyes finally met yours, glassy with hesitation.

“I know I’ve struggled to use ‘red’ before,” you admitted softly, your voice thick, “but I’m getting better. Wanda and I have had scenes way more intense than anything I could’ve handled before, and I’ve called red when I needed to. I’ve used yellow, too. I’ve communicated. I’ve grown.” You reached out, fingers brushing the back of her hand. “I need you to trust that. To trust me. The way I trust you.”

Natasha stared at your hand, at the quiet, open gesture you were offering her. For a long moment, the silence stretched between you again, thick, trembling. And then, slowly, she turned her palm up, lacing her fingers through yours with a quiet breath that sounded like surrender.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, her thumb tracing a circle over your knuckles. “You’re right. You’ve been growing into exactly what we asked of you. And I’ve been too scared to meet you there.”

You nodded, breath hitching as the last of your tears clung stubbornly to your lashes. “Then meet me now,” you whispered, voice small but steady.

Natasha stilled for a heartbeat. Her eyes found yours, and in them, something shifted, slow but undeniable. The fear didn’t vanish, not entirely, but it softened around the edges, tempered by something far stronger. Resolve. Acceptance. Want.

“Alright,” she said at last, voice low and certain. “No more running.”

She leaned in, her hand rising to your face, cupping your cheek with a tenderness that made your chest ache. Her touch was warm, grounding, but her eyes were lit with something far darker, deeper, a glint of control that made your pulse stutter.

“If we do this,” she murmured, her voice low and edged with warning, “we do it my way. You say you want the real me? Then that’s what you’ll get. Do you understand?”

You swallowed, nodded, lips parting as the weight of her words settled into your bones. “Yes, Daddy,” you breathed, the title wrapping around you like silk and steel all at once.

A flicker of a smirk ghosted across her lips then, subtle but deadly, the kind of look that promised things you’d only dared to imagine. 

“Good girl,” she said, and the praise sent a shiver through your entire body.

She leaned in just slightly closer, her voice dipping into that tone that curled heat low in your belly. “Go upstairs,” she instructed. “Take off your clothes. Wait on your knees.” She paused, her smile sharpening as her eyes drank in the way your breath caught. “And then we’ll see, won’t we, just how much you want your Daddy.”

—

You nodded with a single, frantic jerk of your head, too overwhelmed to speak, and then your body was moving on instinct, quick, almost clumsy in your desperation to obey. All you could focus on was the wild drum of your heartbeat and the racing thoughts that flooded your head like a storm surge. 

Upstairs, you fired off a quick text to Kate, fingers barely steady, then moved as if pulled by some invisible thread. Each piece of clothing came off with shaking hands, your breath catching as cool air kissed your skin. You folded everything neatly, placing the stack on the chair in the corner like a silent offering; a small, desperate proof that even if you’d slipped today, even if you'd been bad, you still wanted, needed to be good for them.

And then you dropped to your knees. The position was second nature by now, knees pressed into the carpet, thighs spread just enough, spine long and straight, shoulders relaxed but not slouched. Hands rested lightly on your thighs, palms down, fingers splayed slightly. Your head bowed low in submission. 

You didn’t dare fidget, didn’t shift or speak. You simply waited, every nerve on fire, every breath shallow, until finally the door creaked open behind you.

You didn’t flinch. You didn’t lift your head.

“She’s very well trained, my love,” Natasha said eventually, her tone cool and measured, discussing you rather than addressing you. “But she still made the choice to disobey.”

Silence followed, thick and weighted until Wanda finally spoke. Her voice was softer, edged with sorrow rather than anger, but the pain in it was unmistakable. “She scared me.”

The words sliced through the room like a knife, lodging somewhere deep in your chest. Yet you didn’t dare speak, didn’t dare interrupt.

“I know,” Natasha murmured, taking a slow step forward. The sound of her boots was almost echoing in the quiet. “She scared me, too.”

Then her hand was in your hair, threading through it from crown to nape in a way that was far from comforting. She gripped you just tightly enough to tilt your head upward, to force your eyes to meet hers. “Look at me.”

You did. You had no choice. Her eyes were fire and stone, and though the fury had dimmed, the disappointment was still there, etched into every line of her face. You felt like you might fall apart just from looking at her.

“We gave you rules,” she said, slowly, carefully, as if daring you to pretend otherwise. “And you broke them.”

Your voice caught in your throat, and all you could do was nod, shame coursing through you like poison.

“And now,” she said, as her presence shifted into something sharper, more commanding, “you’re going to show us exactly how sorry you are.”

Then came the sound, it was unmistakable, the low slide of leather slipping free from its loops. Natasha’s belt.

Your heart stuttered, catching mid-beat. The room was still, that single sound landing like thunder between the three of you. Her footsteps moved again, coming to a stop in front of you. 

“I’m not like Wanda,” Natasha said evenly, her gaze steady. “I don’t often give out spankings or lashings... but after today, I think you need that, don’t you?”

You nodded, throat too tight to speak.

“I’ll be using my belt,” she went on, tone clipped, precise. “You will count each strike. And you will thank me for it.”

Your mouth felt dry as dust; your hands trembled faintly where they rested, but when your voice came, it was steady, quiet, and certain.“Yes, Daddy.”

Natasha stood before you, quiet for a moment, the belt coiled in her hand like a promise. Her eyes searched your face. You could feel her gaze digging through the layers of your submission, past the trembling anticipation and the guilt still curling tight in your chest, looking for anything that might signal hesitation or fear you hadn’t voiced.

Then she knelt, and that alone made your breath hitch. You never expected her to kneel, not when she was in control. But tonight, she needed you to see her. Not as the distant, unreadable force you'd grown so used to. Not as someone just watching from the sidelines. She needed you to understand that she was here, fully and completely.

One hand lifted to cup your jaw, thumb brushing just under your eye where the dried tracks of earlier tears lingered. You leaned into it instinctively.

“Colour,” she asked quietly, voice low and deliberate. Her gaze was sharp but not unkind. “Right now. Speak it.”

You swallowed hard, your voice small but certain. “Green.”

“Good girl,” she said softly, but the weight of it sent a shiver down your spine. “You tell me if that changes. Understood?”

You nodded, then corrected yourself immediately. “Yes, Daddy.”

She rose in one smooth movement, the belt now unfurling in her hand as she stepped back around behind you. “You’ll take ten,” Natasha said, voice firmer again now. “Five for the disobedience. Five for the attitude.”

Your fingers curled slightly against your thighs, nails biting into your skin just enough to focus you.“Yes, Daddy.”

“Up,” Natasha said, and your body obeyed before your mind caught up. As you rose, Natasha glanced over at Wanda, giving the smallest nod. It was permission, an invitation to let her join in.

Wanda stepped forward, her touch gentle as she guided you to the edge of the bed. “Hands on the mattress, knees apart, back straight,” she whispered, her tone soothing yet firm.

You positioned yourself carefully, muscles taut beneath your bare skin, vulnerable and exposed as you bent forward at the hips. Your bottom lifted just enough for Natasha to take aim. The air between you thickened, every breath heavy with a charged expectation that made your pulse race.

Natasha gave a few slow, deliberate practice swings through the air, the belt hissing softly as it cut through the quiet.

Then she stepped closer, her hand gliding over your bare skin with a touch so gentle it nearly undid you, a final stroke of calm before the storm. “You ready?” she murmured, her voice low and controlled.

You nodded, already breathless. “Yes, Daddy.”

She hummed, almost in approval, and then the belt struck.

A sharp, clean crack shattered the stillness, the leather snapping against the curve of your right cheek with devastating accuracy. The pain bloomed instantly: white-hot, searing, a jolt that stole the air from your lungs and replaced it with fire. It rippled through you, lighting your nerves with something that felt just a hair’s breadth from too much.

You gasped, muscles tightening reflexively, heart pounding wildly. “One,” you whispered, breath trembling, cheeks flushed with a warmth deeper than the sting alone. “Thank you, Daddy.”

The belt snapped down again, landing clean against your left cheek with a cruel crack that made your whole body jump. This time, a soft whimper caught in your throat, the sensation sharper, deeper. But an involuntary shiver rippled through your body as pain began to mingle with an unexpected, tantalising pleasure.

“Two. Thank you, Daddy,” you breathed, voice breathy, almost lost beneath the rush of sensations flooding through you.

Three. Four. The belt traced searing lines of fire across your skin, each lash both agony and ecstasy, sending sparks through your muscles and igniting a blaze deep inside you. The heat spread, radiating outward, consuming and thrilling, your senses alive with every crack.

By the fifth strike, tears welled unbidden in your eyes. The pain was intensifying with every lash over the already tender skin; the pleasure was threatened, pushed to the edge. You were just about to call yellow when Natasha paused, pulling back slightly.

“You’re halfway there, Kotenok (kitten),” she said, her voice thick with pride and heat. “You’re doing so well.”

The brief reprieve and her gentle praise dulled the sting, and suddenly the ache softened. You felt steady again, caught between resistance and surrender, pain and delight, a heady cocktail that left you dizzy, breathless, desperate for more.

After a moment, the final lashes came faster, harder, each one a burning punctuation searing deeper into your flesh and soul. Your breath hitched in ragged gasps, low moans slipping free on the ninth and tenth strikes, before you finally whispered, “Ten, thank you, Daddy,” voice cracking as a shudder rippled through your body. Tears streamed freely now, pain fierce and unrelenting, skin flushed hot and humming with fire.

Behind you, Wanda’s hands were gentle and steady, soothing your trembling back with tender caresses that gradually melted the blaze to warmth. “Good girl, you did so well, baby,” she murmured, voice thick with affection.

You remained bent forward, breath shallow and ragged, every nerve alive and buzzing with a fierce, aching bliss. The pain had broken you open, cracked you wide, and beneath it all burned an exhilarating, desperate hunger.

Natasha lifted you carefully, mindful not to touch your sensitive skin, and eased you face down onto the bed, a soft pillow cushioning your head. Her fingers stroked the side of your face, warm and steady, before she pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead. “You look exquisite, Kotenok (kitten). Your ass is such a beautiful shade of purple and red,” she praised softly.

“That was the first time you’ve taken a belt, wasn’t it, sweetheart?” Wanda’s voice was filled with pride, gentle and amazed.

You hummed softly in response.

Natasha’s chuckle was low and indulgent, her eyes glinting with something between adoration and pride. “You knew you wouldn’t get off with just a normal spanking from me,” she murmured, tracing the outline of the belt’s work. “But you took it beautifully, Printessa (princess). You were perfect.”

You let out a breathy, dreamy little giggle, face half-buried in the pillow. Your body felt loose, heavy, but warm all over, floating somewhere between bliss and exhaustion. “Didn’t break,” you whispered, the words lilting with smugness even as your voice slurred just a little. “Told you, Daddy.”

Natasha smiled, slow and fond, brushing her knuckles along your cheek. “No, you didn’t. Tough little thing, aren’t you?” Before her hand drifted back down to gently stroke the heated swell of your ass. The touch still made you flinch, the burn raw and aching, but it was grounding, anchoring, laced with something that made your stomach flutter again.

Wanda returned with some lotion, her steps soft and measured. “Nat, you take the edge off, I’ve got this,” she said, nodding toward the bed. Natasha climbed up beside you, cradling your head in her lap, one hand carding through your hair while the other cupped your jaw.

“Lotion’s coming, baby,” Wanda murmured as she settled behind you, warming it in her hands. “Ready?”

“Mhm, yeah…” You breathed. Your hips twitched when the first touch landed, cool and tender, Wanda’s fingers expertly massaging the sting away. Your thighs parted instinctively, knees shifting wider for no reason at all, just a gesture of pure submission. Wanda said nothing, just smiled behind you, pleased by the automatic surrender.

Meanwhile, Natasha was stroking her fingers through your hair, whispering soft reassurances about how good you were. It made you smile, you felt held, so safe. “You can be soft,” you murmured, nuzzling into Natasha’s thigh with a sleepy grin. “You try to be scary, but you’re soft, Daddy. So soft.”

Natasha chuckled darkly. “You’ve got quite the mouth for someone still trembling and glowing red, Printessa (princess),” she murmured, her voice silky but edged with warning, clearly not thrilled that you were seeing her as soft after she’d just whipped your ass with a belt. “Maybe you need more, huh?”

You let out a soft, drowsy little laugh. “Nooo,” you groaned dramatically, drawing out the syllable with petulant flair. “I’ll be good now. Promise. My butt’s on fire…”

“Oh, you definitely earned that fire, Little One,” Wanda said, though you could hear the smile in her voice. “I’ve never seen you act out like that,” she added, continuing to smooth the lotion over your skin with slow, practiced care. Each gentle stroke sent a fresh, cooling wave over your burning flesh, only to leave behind a new warmth, softer, deeper, impossible to ignore, and your body gave a faint, involuntary shiver.

You turned your head slightly, cheek pressing against Natasha’s thigh, blinking at her through heavy lashes. “I’m sorry, Mommy,” you murmured, your voice syrupy and slow, thick with the weight of submission. “Didn’t mean to…” You trailed off with a pout, though your tone made it clear the apology wasn’t entirely sincere.

Natasha snorted quietly, amused, and her fingers slid through your hair, combing gently. “Don’t give us that act,” she said with that wicked little twist to her voice. “You absolutely meant to. You were poking the bear on purpose.”

You giggled again, dreamy and far too pleased with yourself, nuzzling into her hand like a kitten drunk on affection. “Okay… yeah, I did,” you admitted, cheek pressed to the sheets. “But I got what I wanted, sooo… clearly I should be a brat more often.”

Wanda let out a soft gasp of mock outrage and landed a light, open-palmed swat to your thigh, her skin still slick with lotion. The sensation made you jump, but not from pain. Your breath caught on a whine, your hips giving the smallest, shameless wiggle.

“Oh no, you don’t,” Wanda teased, palm pausing to stroke along the back of your thigh in lazy arcs. “You be our good girl, or you’ll be wearing welts like these every day of the week.”

“Mmm…” You squirmed again, an indulgent little sound escaping you, high and heady. “Maybe I liked it,” you whispered with a hazy smile, too dazed and floaty to even try masking the way your voice trembled at her touch. “Felt…good.”

Natasha leaned down slowly, her body brushing yours just enough to feel the weight of her attention, and you stilled completely, lips parting as her breath ghosted against your ear. “You’re lucky you’re adorable when you’re like this,” she murmured, voice a velvet growl. “Otherwise, I’d start again.”

The words slid down your spine like warm honey, thick and sinful, and before you could stop it, your toes curled tight and a soft, breathless moan escaped your lips, small and accidental, but full of exposed, aching need.

Wanda chuckled behind you, one hand still resting low across your backside, her thumb now stroking gently just under the curve. “Thought you said you didn’t want more, Little One,” she teased lightly, though her voice was already laced with something warmer, deeper.

“I don’t…” You mumbled, your face flushed, trying not to squirm beneath both their eyes. “No more hits anyway…”

Natasha tilted her head, her fingers slipping down to trace over your jaw with a feather-light touch. “Is there something you do want?”

You nodded, once, shy and breathless.

“Words,” Natasha said, her tone still wrapped in that low, velvety timbre, but sharpened with command. “Tell us what’s happening in that pretty little head of yours.”

You swallowed hard, struggling to gather your scattered thoughts as Natasha’s voice curled around you, turning everything inside into a slow, smouldering fire, and Wanda’s fingers traced their deliberate, torturous path across your skin, the soft pads gliding slowly over the raised, welted ridges. 

“Mommy’s hands…” You breathed, barely able to get the words out, your voice catching and cracking as your thighs trembled, your hips shifting restlessly beneath the weight of their attention, “they’re making me… everything’s so sensitive, feels good, Daddy… I wanna be touched…wanna cum…”

The last word left you on a broken whimper, fragile and pleading, not even a full breath of sound, but it was enough. 

“Who do you want, Little One?” Natasha asked, her voice was still on the gentle side, and you could feel her thumb brushing deliberately against your temple, grounding you, holding you, even as the rest of her loomed like a storm waiting to strike. “Me? Wanda? Or both of us?” she asked, and you could hear the smirk in her voice, the way she already knew the answer.

Your lashes fluttered, and your face burned, and you couldn’t stop the grin that pulled at your lips even through the haze, cheeky and unrepentant. “Both,” you mumbled, your voice thick with need, your whole body thrumming with it. “Wanna feel both of you…”

Behind you, Wanda chuckled, the sound low and indulgent as she let her nail trail with sudden, shocking pressure along one of the rawer welts across your ass. “Greedy little thing,” she purred. “Didn’t we just finish punishing you?”

“Mhmm,” Natasha murmured, her voice dark with amusement, and her grin only widened as she let your head slip from her lap and lowered it gently onto the pillow. “And now she’s begging for her reward like the little brat she clearly is.” She rose smoothly, her body uncoiling behind you with slow, predatory grace.

Wanda climbed fully onto the bed, her body close, her thigh pressing warmly against yours as she knelt beside you, a steady presence at your side. 

Natasha moved behind you, lowering herself until she could pry your legs open further. Her breath hitched as her gaze fell between them, and any lingering restraint she had vanished in an instant. 

You were drenched, unmistakably aroused despite the punishment, and the sight of it lit something deep and primal in her. “Look at you,” she said, her voice cold and amused, “So wet from being hurt.”

Her fingers finally made contact, just the barest drag of her fingers between your slick folds, slow and cruelly restrained. Your breath hitched hard, your body pushing backwards into her before her hand slammed down against your thigh with a sharp, stinging crack that echoed through the room and left your skin burning.

“Beg,” she ordered, and you whimpered, already on the edge of falling apart.

“Please…” you whispered, barely more than a breath.

Another slap came down, sharper this time. “Louder,” she demanded, her voice firm and unwavering.

“Please, Daddy,” you gasped, your voice hoarse and broken, tears stinging your eyes already. I want your fingers, need you so bad, please—”

“Better,” Natasha growled, and then she gave you exactly what you’d asked for, two fingers plunging into you with no warning, a raw yelp tearing from your throat as she pushed into you. Wanda’s nails raked down your spine again in long, devastating lines that made your whole body twist and writhe, pleasure and pain tangling so tightly you couldn’t tell where one ended and the other began.

“Brats don’t get soft,” Natasha snarled, her breath hot against your skin. There was no gentleness, just her fingers working you over, every thrust designed to split you open. “Brats get used.”

“And you love it, don’t you?” Wanda whispered against your ear, her lips brushing the shell of it as she slipped a hand beneath you, and to your chest, cupping your breast and teasing your nipple with her thumb.

You couldn’t speak. Couldn’t breathe. Natasha’s fingers were hitting deep inside of you and the mattress below you was just slightly stimulating your clit with each thrust, every nerve in your body was screaming, burning, begging for release already.

Clearly, Natasha could tell, too. “Hold still,” she barked, voice sharp and unforgiving. “Don’t move a fucking inch until I say. And don’t even think about cumming.”

Wanda’s hand was soft against your chest, a twisted counterpoint to the violence behind you, her touch gentle and slow, grounding you as your whole body trembled violently beneath them both.

You tried to obey her, to stay still, to keep your hips steady even as your body screamed with the effort, but you were falling apart, unravelling beneath their hands, beneath her voice, beneath the hot, wet drag of your own tears against your cheek where your face pressed into the sheets. 

The moans slipped out, soft and broken, catching in your throat like sobs, and your fingers clawed uselessly at the bedding, trying to anchor yourself to something while Natasha kept fucking you with those unrelenting, merciless strokes that hit so perfectly deep you could hardly remember what breathing felt like.

“Daddy,” you gasped, voice hoarse and shaking, “Please, Daddy. Fuck! Please—” You weren't exactly sure what you wanted, you think it was for her to never stop, to live inside you, but you couldn't be sure, considering your body was begging for release at the same time. 

Her grip on your hip only tightened, holding you exactly where she wanted you, making sure you couldn’t squirm away, couldn’t fuck yourself down harder to chase what she was refusing to give, and her other hand kept moving, curling inside you just right.

Wanda’s hand moved to your jaw, cradling it gently, her thumb brushing away a tear that had slipped free, her voice achingly soft by contrast, a warm thread through the storm. “You’re doing so well,” she whispered, her lips brushing your temple, “Let her hear it. Show her how much you need her.”

Your mouth opened again, but the words caught on a sob this time, raw and full of surrender, your chest heaving beneath the weight of everything you felt, need, shame, longing, adoration, so thick and tangled inside you it made your throat ache to speak.

Wanda watched carefully, ensuring you were both safe in this intense moment. Her fingers tightened around your jaw, holding your head still as she kissed your temple, again and again, whispering encouragement against your skin in a voice like balm, gentle, grounding, loving, everything Natasha was not in that moment, and it made the contrast all the more unbearable.

“That’s it,” Wanda murmured, her lips brushing your ear as Natasha’s rhythm grew more punishing. She knew you physically couldn't last much longer, after all, she had more experience with your body than Natasha did. So she gave you the permission you needed. “Come on, baby. Let go.”

And you did. You released around Natasha’s fingers with a raw, keening cry that spilled from your throat, your body convulsing with the force of it, the orgasm tearing through you like a wave too big to fight. 

Your whole body trembled under the weight of it, hips jerking, legs shaking, tears spilling freely now as Natasha held you steady and fucked you through it, relentless until your sobs turned into whimpers, until your cries dissolved into breathless, broken moans.

Even then, she didn’t stop.

You cried out, high and sharp, your thighs trying to close instinctively, but she forced them open with her legs, her breath hissing between her teeth as she leaned into you like a predator cornering its prey.

“Oh no,” she murmured, almost laughing, her voice husky and low, thick with dark delight. “You don’t get to run from it now. You begged for this, remember?”

And then Natasha leaned forward, her body pressing flush against your back, and the pace of her fingers changed again, faster, harder, brutal in their precision as they fucked into you with relentless, single-minded force, every thrust driving the air from your lungs and making your eyes roll back. “So now you’re gonna take it, shlyukha (slut). You’re gonna take everything I give you until I say you’ve had enough.”

You sobbed, unable to help it, your voice catching in your throat as your whole body jerked with the sensitivity. It burned, every nerve raw and open, as her fingers were working that throbbing spot deep inside you, dragging more pleasure out of you than your body could handle, pushing you toward a second high before the first had even finished crashing over you.

“I c…can’t,” you gasped, words broken by ragged breath, your hands scrabbling uselessly against the sheets as the pressure built again with terrifying speed. “It’s too much, Daddy! Please…please I can’t—”

“You can,” she snarled, cutting you off with a vicious curl of her fingers that made you scream into the mattress, your legs kicking uselessly as she pinned you down. “You will. If I want more, you will take more. Don’t care if you’re crying. Don’t care if you’re shaking. You either safe word, or you take it like the whore you begged to be.”

Her voice was steel, but Wanda’s hands remained soft where they cupped your face, her fingers stroking your cheeks, catching your tears as they kept falling, her thumbs brushing them away with unbearable gentleness. She kissed your brow, your temple, the tip of your nose, her voice a slow, steady rhythm of quiet reassurance in your ear.

“You’re okay,” Wanda murmured, again and again, her lips barely moving against your skin. “You’re safe. You can do this, darling.”

You were trembling violently now, sobbing openly, but you didn’t ask her to stop. You didn’t want her to stop. Not really. Somewhere deep beneath the overwhelm, beneath the overstimulation and the ache spreading through your thighs and belly and chest, was the desperate part of you that needed to be taken apart, to be used and ruined until there was nothing left.

Natasha added another finger, her fingers soaking wet as they filled you again and again, her palm slapping wetly against you with every thrust. 

“Pathetic,” she growled, mouth against your ear, teeth scraping your skin. “Fucking sobbing. Crying like you hate it, but you’re clenching around me like you’d die if I stopped.”

And she was right, you were so close again it hurt, so full of her, so overstimulated and desperate that every thrust felt like fire, like drowning, like you couldn’t tell where the pain ended and the pleasure began anymore. 

You screamed her title, a ragged, half-broken wail into the mattress, but Wanda’s voice answered yours like a balm. “That’s it, sweet girl,” she whispered. “Let it break you. Let her take you all the way down.”

Natasha’s fingers continued moving, curling and thrusting deep inside you, each movement sharper, harder, more demanding than the last, her grip on your hip like iron as she drove you closer to that edge where everything blurred and shattered at once. 

Your breath hitched, short and desperate, your body trembling so violently that your fists clenched the sheets until your nails bit into the fabric, white-knuckled and raw. “Please… please, Daddy…” you gasped, voice fading at the edges, “Please!”

Wanda kissed the crown of your head, her hands drifting over your back, tracing slow, tantalising paths along the scratches she’d left behind earlier.

“Hmm,” Natasha murmured, voice thick with amused cruelty. “You think you deserve a second, brat? After what you did today?”

You tried to steady yourself, to keep control, but your hips jerked involuntarily against her hand. Your voice was strained, trembling with a shameful desperation. “Please…”

Natasha’s voice was low, husky, with that unmistakable edge of command laced in every syllable. “Not good enough,” she said, her tone rough, dark with expectation. “Beg like you mean it. Like you’re begging for your life.”

You swallowed hard, cheeks burning with humiliation and want, eyes closing as the heat swirling through you turned into a frantic ache. Your voice broke, ragged and raw, spilling out all the trembling need you’d been holding inside. “Please, Daddy… Please let me come. I’ll be your good girl. I’ll do whatever you want. Please, I need you. Please…”

Natasha just chuckled, clearly not quite ready to relent just yet. Your body continued to tremble violently, every muscle pulled so tight it felt like you might shatter from the strain, every inch of you writhing under the pressure that had been building, aching, begging for release for what felt like hours. 

Your voice broke free again, hoarse and raw, a sob ripped straight from your chest, laced with helpless surrender. “I’m gonna…I can’t, Daddy, I can’t hold it, I’m sorry, I can’t, please—”

It had stopped being a plea altogether. It was more like a confession, you were going to cum whether you were given permission or not; you just desperately hoped that permission would arrive before you lost control.

The air went still, like the world itself was holding its breath. Then she leaned in again, breath hot and steady against your ear, her voice low and terrifyingly gentle. “Okay. Cum for me, good girl.”

The words struck like lightning. It was immediate, devastating; the second her permission registered in your mind, your body detonated. You shattered with a scream that tore straight through your throat, every muscle seizing in violent spasms as the orgasm ripped through you, too intense, too much, more than you’d ever felt or imagined. You couldn’t see. Couldn’t breathe. Your vision went white, then grey, then black around the edges as the release overwhelmed you completely.

Your eyes rolled back, your mouth open in a silent cry, and for a terrifying, beautiful moment, you felt yourself slipping under, deep and dark, the world narrowing to a pinprick of light before it vanished altogether.

Your limbs were limp and twitching in the aftermath, your face buried in the sheets as tremors rocked you. You were barely conscious, breath stuttering in shallow, uneven gasps. Your skin was flushed and fever-hot, soaked in sweat and tears, but your mind had gone blissfully quiet.

Natasha didn’t speak for a long moment; she just stayed with you, her fingers gentle now, drawing back from your trembling body with care, her presence still heavy and grounding. When her voice came, it was thick with pride, yet soft enough to make your chest ache.

“That’s it, krasivaya devushka (pretty girl),” she murmured, brushing damp hair from your face with slow, reverent fingers. “You did so fucking well.”

You couldn’t respond. You barely had the strength to breathe, let alone form words. Your body twitched again, the aftershocks still pulsing in deep, involuntary waves, and even those were almost too much. You whimpered softly, tears streaking anew from the corners of your eyes, not from pain, but from relief. From the sheer vulnerability of what had just passed between you.

Wanda’s hand found yours, her touch warm and steady, and you clung to it without even realising, your fingers weakly curling into hers as she whispered something soft in a language you didn’t understand, her lips brushing the crown of your head. 

The room around you was silent, save for your ragged breaths. The tension had faded. The storm had passed. Natasha moved first, slow and deliberate, every gesture measured as if the wrong angle might break you. She eased her hands beneath your slack body and gently coaxed you upright, murmuring soft nothings as she guided you with infinite patience into her lap. 

She avoided the welts with careful skill, her fingers splaying wide to support your back as she shifted you until you were curled against her, your thighs folded over hers, your cheek resting against the firm plane of her chest. 

Wanda was already there beside you, moving in tandem with Natasha, like this was something they’d done a hundred times before. Her hand brushed gently along your jaw, the backs of her fingers featherlight against your cheekbone, and her voice was barely more than a breath. “Little One… you’re so quiet,” she whispered. “Can you look at me, hm? Just a little?”

You didn’t. You couldn’t. Your eyes stayed half-lidded, unfocused, your mouth parted slightly as if words might try to come, but nothing did. You were weightless, full of warmth and pressure, and not a single coherent thought. You didn’t even know whose hands were where anymore, only that you were held, and the world outside their bodies didn’t matter.

Natasha shifted behind you, her arms curling around your middle, and she leaned in close, her voice low, coaxing. “You with me?” she murmured against your temple, her breath warm and even. “Need you to give me something, yeah? Nod. Blink. Anything.”

Silence. You blinked once, but it was slow, lazy, so drawn-out it almost didn’t count. Your body was limp in her arms, small twitches still ghosting down your thighs, but there was no tension, no fear. Just exhaustion. Deep, beautiful, bone-heavy exhaustion, the kind that only came when you’d given everything and there was nothing left but this.

Wanda’s hand paused, just briefly, her eyes flicking up to meet Natasha’s. Her tone stayed soft, but there was the barest note of surprise in it, and something warmer beneath that, something almost admiring. “I’ve never seen her this far gone before,” she said gently, brushing your damp hair back from your face with careful fingers. “Not like this.”

That made Natasha pause. You felt it in her breath, the faint hitch against your neck, the subtle stiffening of her muscles where they cradled your back. Her grip didn’t tighten, but her stillness said enough, that flicker of something sharp and anxious just beneath her skin.

“She’s too quiet,” Natasha murmured, and for the first time her voice held a sliver of unease, something she couldn’t quite mask. “She usually… I mean, even when she’s out of it with you, she—”

Wanda cut her off with a look, her voice calm and even, as grounding as the touch she kept smoothing along your jaw. “You know she’s okay,” she said, not a question, but a gentle reminder. “Look at her. She’s breathing slow, she’s not flinching, her body’s soft. She’s not gone. Just… deep.”

Still, Natasha looked down at you, searching for something, anything behind your eyes. “She didn’t even flinch when I moved her. Not even a wince.”

“She trusts you,” Wanda said simply, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “That’s not a problem. That’s a gift.”

Natasha let out a slow, quiet breath, one hand coming up to cradle the back of your head, holding you more tightly now, tucking your face into the crook of her neck as if the closeness might coax you back into the light a little faster. “She gave me everything,” she murmured, almost to herself. “I didn’t mean to take too much.”

“You didn’t,” Wanda said gently, but with absolute certainty, her voice calm and grounding. “She’s fine, Nat. I promise. You’ve seen me drop just as deep, you know this space, don’t start second-guessing yourself now. I was watching the whole time, making sure you both stayed tethered. No one went too far. It’s alright. Just breathe and be with her, yeah?”

Natasha exhaled slowly, the tension in her shoulders softening just a fraction, but not all the way. Her arms tightened around you instinctively, protective and quiet, holding you as if her steadiness alone could pull you back to shore. And then your fingers curled in the fabric of her shirt. A barely-there twitch, not even deliberate, but enough. Natasha’s breath caught, and something melted in her expression as she leaned down, pressing a kiss into your hair like a prayer.

“That’s our girl,” she murmured, voice low and rough, barely more than a breath, but full of fierce, aching relief.

You didn’t answer. But your cheek nudged against her collarbone, just a little, a lazy, dazed nuzzle, and Natasha exhaled fully, like she could finally breathe again. 

Wanda leaned forward, tucking herself in against your other side, her hand now holding one of yours, thumb brushing rhythmically along your knuckles. “Let’s let her drift a bit longer,” she whispered. “She’ll come back when she’s ready.”

And so they stayed like that, holding you between them. You didn’t know how much time had passed. It could’ve been minutes, could’ve been an hour, the soft thrum of Wanda’s thumb on your knuckles and the slow rise and fall of Natasha’s chest beneath your cheek made everything blur, timeless and quiet, like the world had narrowed to the exact point where their bodies cradled yours. 

Then, at last, something shifted. It started in your chest, a quiet ache of emotion that bloomed outward like warmth returning to numb skin. You blinked slowly, the world still soft and blurry at the edges. You made a small noise, mostly a whimper, and Natasha’s arms instinctively tightened around you, the motion firm but soothing.

“Hey,” she whispered, and the relief in her voice wasn’t masked. It wasn’t even tried. “There she is. That’s it, Detka (babe)”

You tried to speak, but your throat was too dry. You swallowed hard and tried again, your voice barely more than a rasp, a breath caught on the edge of tears. “I’m sorry…”

Natasha shushed you immediately, her hand smoothing down the back of your head, her other arm tightening at your waist, still careful not to touch the angry red welts across your backside. “You don’t need to talk yet,” she murmured. “You just rest. You’re safe, I promise.”

Wanda leaned in, brushing a kiss just above your brow, her hand never letting go of yours. Her voice was warm and low, like the first glow of a fire in a quiet room. “You came back really slowly, darling. Gave us both a scare, hm?” There was no edge to it, no reprimand. Only concern, soft and absolute. “I’ve never seen you drift that far before.”

A tiny breath escaped your lips, almost a laugh, though too fragile to shape itself. “Didn’t mean to,” you murmured, your voice brittle and fading.

“It’s okay if you’re a bit out of it,” Natasha said quietly, her lips brushing the crown of your head. “Daddy and Mommy have you, baby. You’re so good for us.”

You whimpered, barely a sound, your breath catching in your throat as the weight of it all pressed down. You’d been bad before, you remembered just how far you’d pushed. The guilt still pulsed inside you, raw and unsteady. You wanted to apologise, to fall to your knees and beg for forgiveness, but somehow… they were already offering it.

Being told you were still good, hit you like a balm, cool and sweet and stinging all at once. Your lip trembled, your voice breaking the silence in a small, uncertain whisper. “Still… Little One?” 

Even to your own ears, the question sounded fragile, wavering with that desperate need for reassurance that only they could offer. It wasn’t the first time you had asked that question, and it surely wouldn’t be the last.

Natasha’s breath caught faintly, and then she kissed your temple with aching gentleness. “Our Little One. Forever.”

Wanda’s voice joined hers, soothing and rich as she stroked her fingers through your hair. “You’re stuck with us now, malyshka. No escaping.”

You nodded faintly, eyes sliding shut again. The fog still clung to you; you hadn’t fully come back yet, but it didn’t feel frightening now. You were floating just beneath the surface, not lost, just… surrendered. And their voices tethered you. Their hands held you. You didn’t have to move. Didn’t have to think. Didn’t have to earn this.

A small silence followed, warm and deep, filled only by the sound of your breathing and the weight of being kept. Then Wanda stirred with a soft kiss to your shoulder. “I’m just going to get something for her,” she murmured gently. “Some water, maybe a snack.”

Natasha gave a small nod, her cheek still pressed to your hair, as if she couldn’t bear to lift her head. “Okay,” she whispered, her voice raw with gratitude. “Thank you.”

Wanda rose slowly, her fingers brushing over yours one last time before she left, a silent promise not to be long. Then the room was quiet again, just you and Natasha in the hush, her touch steady, grounding as she pulled a blanket over you.

When Wanda returned, it was quiet and swift, a bottle of water in one hand, a small biscuit wrapped in a napkin in the other. She knelt beside the bed, watching your face like she was reading something in the way your lashes fluttered.

Natasha adjusted you gently, raising you just enough to coax. “Alright, Detka (babe),” she whispered into your temple. “Time to try. Just a little something, and then you can rest again.”

You blinked slowly, the world still foggy and distant. But you let her guide you, let her bring the straw to your lips. Your lips parted slowly around the straw, the cool water slipping in like a balm against your dry throat. 

You sipped tentatively, eyes fluttering as the water trickled down. Natasha’s fingers never left you, her thumb brushing along your cheekbone with a softness that made your heart ache and your eyelids flutter heavier.

“That’s it,” Natasha murmured, her voice thick with pride and relief. “Such a good girl, taking care of yourself. I’m so proud of you.” Her words wrapped around you like a warm blanket, steady and unshakable, grounding you further into this moment. “You’re doing so well. You don’t have to rush.”

From beside you, Wanda’s hand slipped to your face, fingers tracing gentle circles over your cheek, cradling your jaw like you were the most precious thing she’d ever held. “Look at you, malyshka (Little One),” she breathed softly, voice low and filled with awe. “Such a perfect girl.”

You blinked again, the fuzziness lingering but softening, your chest rising and falling a little more evenly with each soothing stroke of Wanda’s hand. The biscuit was pressed lightly into your palm, warm from her touch, and with gentle encouragement, your fingers curled weakly around it.

“Try a little bite,” Wanda coaxed, her smile tender and patient. “Just a small one.”

Your jaw worked slowly, the crumbly biscuit breaking apart in your mouth, sweetness blooming faintly against your tongue. Natasha’s voice was a steady hum in your ear, praise threading through every word. “That’s it, just like that.”

You swallowed, the taste grounding you more than you expected. Your eyes drifted closed again briefly, your body sinking deeper into Natasha’s embrace, Wanda’s hand never leaving your face, their presence a constant soft anchor in the swirling haze.

Wanda offered the water again, and you took it without hesitation, the coolness soothing the ache in your throat and the exhaustion in your limbs.

“You’re doing so well,” Natasha whispered, voice soft and full of wonder. 

It took a little while to come back down, the world around you slow to settle. But once your limbs stopped trembling and your head stopped spinning, you turned into Natasha’s arms and curled there without hesitation, your voice quiet but full of truth as you murmured, “Thank you.”

She smiled, her fingers trailing lazy patterns across your back. “For what? The belt, or the orgasms that nearly killed you?”

You gave a tired, breathy laugh, hiding your face in her neck. “For listening. For wanting me.” You paused, then added with a grin. “And… maybe a little bit for the orgasms.”

Wanda chuckled behind you, pressing a soft kiss to your shoulder. Natasha huffed a laugh of her own, sounding more relaxed than she had all night. “Not too much?” she asked, a teasing lilt in her tone, though the question beneath was genuine.

You shook your head, smiling. “It was a lot,” you admitted softly, “but not too much. Just… I think I might need soft, sometimes, though?”

Natasha tilted her head, pretending to think. “Hmm… soft. I’ll need a manual for that one.”

You grinned. “You’ve got Wanda. She’s an expert.”

Wanda kissed your cheek and hummed, “Lucky for her, I take apprentices.”

Natasha rolled her eyes, but she was smiling too, warm and open in a way that made your chest flutter. “Well then,” she murmured, “I guess I’m all in.”

And that, more than anything, made you melt, safe and certain in the arms you’d craved for so long.

Eventually, Natasha and Wanda gently helped you up, guiding you carefully to the bathroom where they cleaned you with tender patience, every touch considerate of the welts on your skin. 

Once you were freshened, they dressed you in a soft, oversized T-shirt that hung loosely, deliberately leaving you without underwear or trousers to avoid anything rubbing or irritating your tender backside. They took extra time to apply more soothing lotion, their fingers slow and careful, lingering on every sensitive spot with quiet affection.

Afterwards, one by one, they each prepared for bed, never once leaving you alone, both silently ensuring you felt safe and held. Before long, the three of you were curled together, you nestled snugly in the middle, wrapped in a warm, protective cocoon of love and care. Your eyes drifted closed, sinking into a peaceful sleep, tired, a little sore, but deeply content and completely fulfilled.

—

Next part

Taglist: @angelicbrats @chansawrelier, @brooklyn-r-dawson (If you would like to be added to the taglist, please let me know!)

[spaghettiposts]

Window Crashin’

WandaNat x Spidey!Reader

Summery: Crashing into the wrong window at night proves to be the best mistake you’ve ever made.

Warnings: Very OBLIVIOUS reader, straight up stupid I can’t lie. Gay panics all around. Fluff

Word count: 1.6k

A/n: my first time officially writing for Nat and I think I’d like to continue so expect separate fics of her sometime soon.

Kraven had become an incessant thorn in your side, his relentless rampage ever since he announced “The Grand Hunt” in the heart of Central Park felt like a never-ending nightmare. One that persistently dragged on as the weeks floated by, each day a new form of tinnitus growing in your eardrums at the echoings of his horn. Falling once again into his endless game of cat and mouse.

Or in your case Kraven and Spider–with Kraven playing predator and you, the elusive Spider, trying to lure him away from innocent civilians roaming the streets of New York. 

Which wasn’t as easy as one would imagine, but you made do with what you had, brains over brawns. Clinging onto the hope that eventually, Kraven would grow tired of chasing and resign for the night, with the promise that he’d return. And so the cycle goes on. 

There were other options you could resort to, but those were last resorts, ones you only used if you were certain you couldn’t handle Kraven or in case of an emergency. In all honesty, you’re avoiding involving the Avengers, it’s really the last thing you want this to come to. A couple of broken ribs wasn’t an Avengers level threat.

You could handle Kraven by yourself perfectly fine, and nobody got hurt at the end of the day—except mainly your sleep schedule.

And now, as you swung through the thick chilling air on route to the compound; you were struggling to stay awake, the bruises littered across your body only making it harder to keep swinging. It wasn’t that sleep had ever been your strong suit, but now, it seemed like a distant luxury. The sacrifice of a hero came in many forms, and sleep deprivation was yours. 

Tony had sacrificed half his company in pursuit of a heroic lifestyle, hell, even Steve froze himself to save humanity. If humanity needed you to suffer from fewer hours in bed, then so be it. 

You fought relentlessly to keep your eyes from drooping and it only took the honking of a truck for you to jolt awake, merely missing out on the experience of being rammed by one. 

Shaking your head, you muttered words of encouragement to yourself, living on a prayer of making it back to the compound - in one piece. 

As the familiar building came into view, you let out a breath of relief you didn’t know you were holding. Taking a moment to gather yourself, you swung around towards the left block and homed in on your window, only to face-plant straight into it with a resounding thud.

You groaned against the pavement, pressing your hands on the wall to steady yourself before you could slide off. Silently thanking that radioactive spider for granting you the ability to stick to surfaces as you adjusted yourself, what the fuck?

A miscalculation on your part—or at least you pictured. Pushing yourself back from the wall, your eyebrows crinkled. Huh.

You always left your window open–had one of your teammates closed it off?

Assuming one of the guys must’ve closed it off, you didn’t question much, missing your bed and running on pure exhaustion to really assess the situation seriously. Gripping the sides of the window, you tried to pry from the outside, and after a couple of difficulties; you managed to unlock it, budging it open with a click. 

Finally, home sweet home. 

Your body toppled into the room first before the rest of your body crashed onto the floor, reaching an arm to shut the window behind you. With a sigh of relief, you picked yourself up, stretching your arms above your head, eliciting a satisfying ‘pop’ from your back, feeling all the pent-up tensions of the day leave your body. 

Pressing the button on your chest, making quick work of discarding your suit. You struggled more than you’d like to admit, having to hop on one foot to wiggle your feet out of the padding. 

Amidst your squirming, you failed to notice the crimson warps seeping from your bed, freezing mid-movement as the lights flickered on by themselves, looking like a deer caught in headlights. 

“Jesus fucking Christ!” You screeched, scrambling up to your feet, firmly clutching your uniform in a poor attempt to cover yourself from the two women on your bed, equally startled.

“Y/n…? What are you doing here?” Natasha says after a beat of silence, her eyes furrowing as she lowers her gun and the arm protectively wrapped around her girlfriend. Wanda mirrored her actions and let the red wisps fall before she turned to you disconcertingly.

You shrunk under their gaze, feeling your heart pick up. It was too late to salvage any attempts at running for it, so you turned away, ignoring how affected you felt by their disheveled appearances.

Instead, you focused on why they were inside your room in the first place. Not that you minded having two beautiful women in your bed but at this hour? 

“What are you doing in my room? I just got back, what’s…” Your voice trailed off, slipping on your suit, as you looked towards your dresser…was it always that color? And why was there a photo of Wanda and Natasha on your nightstand? Sure, you were hopelessly in love with the two but never to this extent.

Barely bordering on those lines. 

“Detka…this is our room,” Wanda said slowly, as to not startle you. 

You cursed under your breath, realizing your mistake. “Aw fuck, I must’ve crashed into the wrong—wall-side thing,” you explained messily, picking yourself up for what felt like the hundredth time tonight. 

“Crashed?” Both of the girls shouted and you winced, scooting off awkwardly to the side, feeling even more like an intrusion. 

“Yeah but it’s okay though, that’s nothing compared to Kraven's fists, trust me.” You meant to reassure them, but judging by the worried looks they exchanged, it had the opposite effect. Taking their silence as an opportunity to leave, you stepped back.

“Anyways, sorry for interrupting your night.” You mumbled apologetically, reaching for the window handle. “I’ll see y'all tomorrow— son of a bitch.” You grunted, banging your head against the glass for the second time this night. You were really starting to resent these things.  

And Wanda bit her bottom lip, “Malysh, it’s late and you’re…not doing well, why don’t you stay here tonight?” She suggested softly, her voice coming out as sweet as honey and you almost dropped dead there.

“Here?” You blurted out, feeling a mixture of surprise and uncertainty. “Like, with you and Nat?”

Natasha and Wanda shared an amused look, before nodding in unison. 

Your face crinkled, not really understanding what the looks were for but you assumed it was all in your head. Sparing one last glance at the two, you confirmed this was okay, searching for even the smallest bits of hesitancy or discomfort only to find nothing but welcoming smiles. 

With a small nod, barely audible, you murmured a hesitant “alright,” as you settled into the chair beside their bed, placing your feet on the small wooly ottoman.

Had your eyes been open, you might’ve noticed the way their faces dropped in disappointment. After months of obvious pining, not-so-subtle flirting thrown your way, you were choosing to sleep…not with them but on a chair.

A brief silence lingered, and you shifted in your seat. Even with your eyes closed, you could feel their eyes piercing and you were starting to sweat.

“Sorry,” You mumble, heat rising up your neck in embarrassment as you removed your feet off the ottoman, fearing you had overstepped. Still, their gazes remained unwavering and you rubbed your arm unsurely, “Is the chair off–limits too? I can take the floor if that’s better.”

“Dorogoy, we’re inviting you into our bed,” Natasha chuckles disbelievingly, fingers tracing the covers as to tempt you with the invitation. 

“Mhmm, yeah no. I’m not sure that’s a good idea.” You shook your head, stumbling over your words. “I don’t do well in confined spaces with pretty women, I mean— no wait you are, both are super pretty but that’s not—“ 

Thankfully, Wanda interjected before you could embarrass yourself further with a giggle. You swore your stomach flipped. “Cute, but won’t you get cold?” She suggested, Natasha nodding and lifting the covers, adding, “It’s much warmer over here.”

Again, you waved them off and they were starting to get fed up with your excuses. “Oh nah! My suit has thermal heating installed, pretty cool right? Tony helped me insulate it–”

“Y/n, just get in the bed.”

Before you could protest further, you felt those warm red tendrils wrap around you, coaxing you into their bed, and you couldn’t even remember why you were fighting this in the first place when their arms wrapped around you. Not when their sheets were so warm, and their bodies warmer. 

Resistance be damned, as Natasha's hand ran gently through your hair, you relaxed into it, and both girls smiled. This was how things needed to be, always. 

Still, your heart was beyond nervous to even enjoy the moment but they were pushing at your shoulders to tuck you in further, getting settled themselves. They tangled their limbs with your own and it was official; there was definitely no escaping this. 

Pressing a kiss to the corner of your mouth, Wanda murmured a couple of words and you felt more comfortable clothes encase you. Natasha pressed a tender kiss to the shell of your ear before bidding you a good night.

You repeat her words back and they tighten their grip, closing their eyes. 

With exhaustion finally catching up to you, your eyes drooped helplessly again, fluttering shut, bones begging for sleep, and you finally surrendered to its embrace. Allowing yourself a moment of rest with the two people you treasure most in the world. 

And suddenly, crashing into windows didn’t seem so bad after all.

[sweetlikelace]

MY HANDS ARE TIED, MY SLEEVES ARE TORN

PART FOUR | wandanat x reader

[part three]

paring(s): wandanat x reader, wanda maximoff x reader, natasha romanoff x reader

content warning: smut, exhibitionism, voyeurism, cunnilingus, mommy kink, daddy kink, breath play, praise, teasing,

word count: 2.3k

A/N: this was a little rushed toward the end, but i’ve been having such a hard time writing so hopefully it’s good enough for you

⋆⁺₊⋆ ━━━━⊱༒︎ • ༒︎⊰━━━━ ⋆⁺₊⋆

the soft morning light filtered through the curtains, spilling gently over the bed. the world outside was quiet, the birds chirping faintly in the distance. the air felt warm, cozy, like the kind of morning where you could sleep in just a little longer, bury yourself deeper into the covers, and forget about the world outside.

you were tangled in the sheets, nestled between natasha and wanda. the three of you had fallen asleep the night before in a mess of limbs. wanda's arm draped across your waist, natasha's chest pressed against your back. you were warm, comfortable, and, for once, everything felt peaceful.

when you woke up you were reluctant to open your eyes. wanda and natasha's duvet was the comfiest you had ever slept in, and the longer you spent with the couple the more often you found yourself waking up in their bed. wanda liked her space, usually facing outward when the three of your slept, while natasha ran perpetually hot. you, on the other hand, were a full-time snuggle bug according to natasha. always wanting to be near her, or on her. she loved it of course, except for when she was sleeping. but today was the exception. usually after a more spicy night, they'd give in to your extra clingy behaviour.

you stretch your arms out before nuzzling back into natasha's side, moving around a bit trying to find a comfortable position. as you stirred, your leg shifted, and before you knew it, your foot had made contact with wanda's side with a gentle thud.

"ow," wanda muttered groggily, squirming away from the unexpected hit. her voice was thick with sleep, and her hand instinctively reached for the spot where your foot had nudged her.

you froze for a moment, eyes still closed. "sorry," you mumbled, your voice muffled in the pillow. "didn't mean to—"

wanda nestles back into her pillow, closing her eyes when it happens again. another kick into her thigh. "what the-"

natasha lifts her head sluggishly. "what's going on?"

"tasha, control your woman." wanda mumbled with her eyes closed. you could feel natasha's arm sling across your waist. she whispered in your ear, her voice husky. "relax malyshka."

"I am relaxed." you mutter back, face still buried in the pillow. natasha hushes you and pats your hip. out of the two older women, natasha took every opportunity to sleep in if she didn't have to wake up early for work.

"don't 'shush' me." you protest causing wanda to release an exaggerated sigh. "you two are ridiculous." she climbs out of bed, wrapping her robe around herself and slipping on a pair of natasha's slippers.

you reach your arms out and let out a dramatic whine. "nooo stay!" you pout. wanda just stands with her arms crossed.

"it's already 9, detka, time to get up."

you let out a dramatic groan and fling your arm over your eyes. "fine. but I'm staying in my pyjamas." 

"you mean my pyjamas." wanda raises an eyebrow. for some reason it had always slipped your mind to bring extra clothes when you stayed over. the evenings always resulted in you drowning in one of their oversized t-shirts or crewnecks. you didn't mind it one bit, and neither did they. natasha found it to be extremely attractive, seeing you in her wife's clothes. “why are you even getting up this early? it’s not like you have work.” you roll over in the bed. natasha, who was trying to go back to sleep, reluctantly sat up too.

wanda opened the curtains, the sun reflecting through the vanity mirror. “oh it’s a hot one today,” she flicks her wrist, the windowsill hot from the sun. your eyes light up and you sit up. “can we go to the beach?!” you ask with a hint of excitement in your voice. wanda hated the beach, she didn’t love the idea of open bodies of water, and the sand, relentlessly finding itself in places sand shouldn’t be. you knew this of course, but it couldn’t hurt to ask.

natasha watched her wife’s reaction. the way she sighed, almost anticipating the question. “a beach day could be nice.” she says, her gaze flicking between you and wanda.

once natasha was on board you thought you might actually have a chance, your eyes snapped back to wanda’s. “pleeaaseee.” you push out your bottom lip.

wanda grabs clothes from the hamper and sighs. “a beach day could be nice…” she repeats. your face lit up as you push the floral duvet cover off your legs and jump out of bed. natasha’s lips twitched into a grin, mouthing a silent ‘thank you’ to her wife.

wanda had a way of making even the simplest of things feel planned. every detail, no matter how small, had to be perfect or it would throw off her whole vibe. it wasn’t that she was a control freak, but she could be meticulous at times. natasha was a lot more spontaneous. she often tried to push her out of her comfort zone, testing her limits without making her totally uncomfortable.

but when you came into the picture, natasha was no longer the one testing wanda, you did it perfectly. a natural type b personality, and how easily it could clash with the older woman’s.

wanda and natasha had a pool, so there was already a drawer filled with swimsuits in your size. you pick out a perfect baby blue bikini and slip on a crocheted dress over top.

natasha always wore the same black one piece with slits at the side, and wanda packed a yellow floral two piece.

it was hottest day this summer. the sand burnt your toes as you struggles to stay upright in your flip flops. you wait for natasha to walk ahead before jumping onto her back, causing her to tumble a bit. "a heads up would be nice." she chuckled, wanda shaking her head playfully.

"don't like the sand." you mutter into her shoulder. natasha always wore uggs on the beach for that very reason.

wanda finds an empty space and lays out a green gingham sheet she had found packed away in her closet. she takes out the sunscreen, tanning oil, and bottled water.

natasha drops you onto the sheet and you hurry toward the water.

"detka! come back you need sunscreen." wanda calls out after you, the warmth of the sun already making your skin tingle. Wanda's fingers brush against your back as she squeezes some sunscreen into her hands. You feel a little shiver run down your spine, her touch light but deliberate as she smooths the lotion over your skin.

her hands move expertly, spreading the sunscreen evenly across your back, working from your shoulders down to your lower back. the feeling of her fingers massaging the lotion in makes your muscles relax, and for a moment, you forget you're on a beach with the others. wanda is always so gentle, yet there's something reassuring in the way she takes care of you, like she's the one keeping the sun's harsh rays at bay.

natasha skipped the sunscreen and went straight for the tanning oil, wanda gave her a glare. once she finished up lathering the lotion onto your body, she moves beside natasha who was already laying on her stomach.

wanda pours a line of oil down natasha's back and gently massages it into her skin. your eyes lock onto the blonde's body, losing sight in her curves.

wanda's fingers find each inch of her wife's skin, deliberately teasing with the oil. natasha lets out a soft moan and your eyes immediately widen.

the motion of wanda’s hands becomes hypnotic as she moves down natasha’s back, her fingers light but deliberate. she massages the oil into natasha's lower back, her touch growing softer near the waistline. wanda's presence is soothing, like a safe harbor, and natasha seems to melt further under her touch. her hands linger just for a moment longer on natasha's back, almost as if she's reluctant to stop, but she does.

you blink a bit and tilt your head. "you're not coming in the water with me?"

natasha murmurs something you can't quite hear. you look out into the shoreline and decide to go yourself. wanda keeps a watchful eye on you like a mother would a child, while natasha sunbathes.

despite how hot it was, the beach was almost deserted. there was a family a few years down but not close enough where you could hear any of the kids.

the moment your toes touch the water, a soft shiver runs up your spine, the coolness of the sea contrasting sharply with the warmth of the sun still lingering on your skin. the sensation is freeing, as if the world outside of this little bubble doesn't matter for a while.

you look back to your spot on the beach. squinting your eyes to see the married couple close, closer than they were a few moments ago. you watch as wanda’s fingers slip inside the other woman, drawing out soft sounds that were muffled from the waves. you head snaps around quickly to see if anyone is watching, but it’s only you.

you slip further into the water, your nose just above as you watch wanda climb on top, tugging at natasha’s bathing suit. you felt the familiar tingling sensation between your legs. you didn’t know whether to stay put and watch, or interrupt them.

you watched natasha squirm beneath her, your eyes just watched her finish, her skin radiating afterglow.

you swallow the lump in your throat before slowly stepping out of the water and making your way back. you felt a little embarrassed watching, maybe a little bit of shame too.

when you return natasha is back to tanning on her stomach, wanda reading her book. you look between the two of them.

“how’s the water, malyshka?” wanda asks, her eyes glued to the page.

“cold.” you speak in a corse whisper. was she not going to acknowledge what you saw? “were you…”

“what’s the matter, baby? you’re shivering.” wanda hands you a towel and pats the spot beside her. you didn’t even notice the goosebumps covering your arms.

you shift beside her and watch as she continues to read. natasha laying peacefully in the sun, like she hadn’t moved in hours. “i saw you guys…” you confess.

“saw us what, detka?” wanda tilts her head.

you didn’t want to say it. it made your cheeks burn. “i saw you guys, you know…” it felt childish the way you couldn’t say the words.

“you mean you were being nosy.” natasha corrects you, lifting her head up.

you freeze at her words and look to wanda. “no it’s not like that.. i just… there’s people over there.” you stutter, causing the two women to exchange glances.

“you mean all the way over there?” natasha looks, resting her sunglasses on her nose. “don’t tell me you’re that shy.”

you felt small under their eyes. “i’m not shy, i just never…”

wanda lets out a taunting gasp. “you never been fucked in public, detka?”

that was the last of your composure. you tense up, pressing your legs together at the thought. that was never something that had crossed your mind before today. it would be a lie to say you didn’t enjoy watching them from the water, but a part of you was shocked. you’d never expect either of them to be into exhibitionism. before you could blink again natasha’s oily hand found your thigh and gave it a squeeze, while wanda tied your hair up out of your face. she kisses your cheek, and then your lips and you find yourself laying down against the sheet.

the oil smelt like coconut and pineapple, natasha smelt like coconut and pineapple. it was intoxicating. “she smells good, doesn’t she, baby?” wanda murmurs in your ear. “go on, tell tasha she smells good.” she slips her hands underneath your bikini top, massaging your breasts gently.

“you smell good, tasha.” you repeat quietly and natasha smiles and pours some of the oil into her hand rubbing it into your legs. “you’re gonna smell so good after this too, sweet girl.”

wanda traces patterns up your chest as natasha works the oil into your legs. natasha pours some into wanda’s hands and places them on your collar bone. she unties the bikini knot behind your neck, pulling it down completely.

her thumb circles your erect nipple, pulling soft moans and whimpers from your lips. “shhhh, my love, you don’t want anyone to hear what a naughty girl you are, hmm?”

natasha smirks and runs her oily fingers to your hips, dipping them into the straps of your bathing suit. she doesn’t take them off, just tugs enough so there’s room for her hand to slip in.

you squeeze your eyes as natasha uses the coconut oil to fill you up. her fingers exploring every inch of you. you squirm against the warm sheet as wanda holds you in place. “you’re doing so good for mommy and daddy, detka. almost there.”

natasha continues to work her magic, bring in you closer and closer to the edge. wanda’s hands find your breasts again, squeezing them between her palms.

you take a deep breath and hold it as the wave washes over you, natasha’s thumb pressing down on your clit, helping you ride out your orgasm. “breathe, baby.” wanda whispers, a soft reminder in your ear to ground you. you let out the breath you didn’t know you were holding and collapse onto the sheet.

wanda ties your bikini top back in place and pushes the damp hair away from your eyes, your skin still salty from the ocean.

“you know, i think i’m starting to like the beach.” wanda smiles.

tags: @ciaoooooo111 @htinha157 @milflovers4 @artemisarroxvolkov @ssasa-romanoff @angelicbrats @vyvvycg

[jpmarvel90]

Dont Belong Part 3

Masterlist Natasha Masterlist

Part 1 Part 2

Word Count: 7175

Relationship: Mother WandaNat x Daugher Reader

Summary: Y/n's infection is hitting her hard and she's still struggling with her feelings on her parents. Thankfully, Yelena is there to help cheer her up and she brings along a surprise that might just make everything feel better!

Nat: Mama Wanda: Mom

Y/n POV:

These last two days in the hospital have blurred together, a monotonous cycle of dull light and beeping machines. The weight of my infection drags on me, leaving me shivering one moment and sweating the next. I've spent far too much time staring at the ceiling, feeling trapped in this sterile room, yearning for the freedom of my life before the mission went sideways. The boredom is suffocating, and I feel like I'm losing pieces of myself with every passing hour.

I feel a constant gaze from my parents who rarely leave my side. It's strange to go from having them ignore you to being around all the time. Part of me feels like things were like they used to be when I was a full part of their family. The other part of me is screaming saying they don't mean it and will soon be gone again.

But today feels different, a whisper of hope fluttering in the air. I've been waiting for this moment, and when a familiar knock sounds at the door, my heart races with anticipation. "Can I come in?" Yelena's voice calls softly, and I can't suppress the grin that spreads across my face at the sound of her.

"Of course!" I call back, the eagerness spilling over in my tone. I sit up a little straighter, my heart pounding as I manage to prop myself up, using the button on the side of the bed to elevate myself.

The door swings open, and Yelena steps in, her expression a mix of relief and worry. Her golden hair catches the light, and I can see the telltale signs of sleepless nights etched under her eyes. "Y/n!" she breathes, rushing to my side, her voice trembling slightly as she takes my hand.

"Yelena! I'm so glad to see you." The words come out a little breathless, and I can't help the surge of emotion that washes over me. Just seeing her makes the room feel a little less confining, a little brighter.

"I can't believe you're awake," she says, her grip tightening around my fingers. "I was so scared. We all were. You had everyone worried sick." Her eyes shimmer with unshed tears, and for a moment, it feels like the weight of my situation lifts just a bit. I don't think I've ever seen Yelena emotional like this before and it helps me realise how bad this whole situation is. She would never allow anyone to see her this vulnerable except for Mama.

"Hey, I'm okay. Well, sort of." I gesture weakly to the IV drip, the hospital bed, and the machines that surround me. "Just a little out of commission at the moment."

Yelena's smile is tentative but bright, yet it's overshadowed by the concern etched on her face. "I just hate seeing you hurt like this. You're my niece and I thought I would always be here to protect you." She shares honestly.

I give her hand a squeeze and share a warm smile when she finally looks up to me. "I can't be protected forever. Besides, I need you now. This recovery is going to be shit and I need you to help me when it gets too much." I reassure her and she nods. "I'm not going anywhere. I'm here to help you through it all. Stark has even set me up on the same floor as you. So, I'll be there whenever you need me." She explains, making my heart warm with the thought of seeing her for a while to come.

"What about the widows?" I ask, knowing how much that means to her. "I've already been able to help so many. Now I need to help you. The others can wait. Besides, Kate can do the research on where we need to go next." She replies. "Who's Kate?" I ask, surprised to hear that she is working with someone else.

"Just a stray that Clint found. She's annoying, but oddly fun to be around. I think you'd like her. I'm sure she'll be around at some point to say hi." She explains with a shrug.

As the initial shock of seeing me seems to fade, I can see the corners of Yelena's mouth twitching upward, her eyes sparkling with mischief. It's as if she's flipping a switch, her demeanour transforming from worried auntie to the playful, teasing friend I know and love.

"You know," she starts, leaning back slightly and crossing her arms, "for someone who just woke up from a dramatic hospital nap, you look surprisingly like a zombie. I mean, I thought they had strict rules against bringing the undead into the hospital."

I let out a soft laugh, despite the ache in my chest. "Yeah, well, the food here isn't exactly helping my cause. I'm pretty sure I could survive off of those tasteless mushy meals for a week and still look better than this."

Yelena raises an eyebrow, clearly entertained. "Mushy meals? I'd expect you to be on some gourmet diet, considering all the special treatments they give you. I'm starting to think you should at least get some ice cream as a post-surgery reward." She chuckles. "Now that's the kind of thinking I can get behind. Have a word with Tony yeah?" I reply, feeling my spirits lift. "Ice cream sounds amazing. But what are the odds of that happening here?"

"Zero. But I'm prepared for this. I'll break you out of this place and take you for ice cream. You just need to give me the signal, and I'll burst in through the window like a stealthy ninja." She mimics a dramatic leap and landing in mama's pose. "See, I'll even do my best poser impersonation!" She playfully teases and she now starts to pretend to scale the invisible walls of my hospital room, her expression shifting to one of exaggerated seriousness. "You can count on me, Y/n. Ice cream shall be yours!"

I chuckle, the image of Yelena performing an acrobatic escape making the heaviness of the past days lift a little more. "What flavour are we talking here? I hope it's not vanilla. I have standards, you know."

"Vanilla? Please! I was thinking more along the lines of double chocolate fudge with extra sprinkles. And maybe a side of cherry sauce because why not go big, right?" She shares her thoughts whilst taking the seat next to me again. Her hand resting over mine. "Now you're speaking my language," I respond, shaking my head in mock seriousness. "If I'm risking a hospital breakout, it better be worth it." I laugh.

Yelena sits back in her seat, her chest still rising and falling as she laughs at her own hilariousness. She then looks back up at me. "But seriously, let's plan this for when you're feeling better. I'm not above a hospital escape." Her grin is contagious, and I can feel the tension in my shoulders easing. "Deal. Just don't forget the sprinkles."

As our laughter fills the room, I realize how much I've missed this lightness, this camaraderie. It's comforting to think about having Yelena by my side as I navigate the uncertainty of recovery and family dynamics.

But beneath the playful banter, there's an unspoken understanding between us, a bond that allows me to express my fears without words. With Yelena around, I feel like I can face whatever comes next, armed with humour and the knowledge that I'm not alone in this fight.

"Just promise me one thing," I say, my voice turning more serious again. "Anything," she replies, her gaze earnest. "Don't let me give up on the ice cream party, okay? No matter what happens."

"Never! I'll be your ice cream guardian," she declares, puffing out her chest with mock pride. "We will have that party, and it will be legendary. I will personally ensure that you have the sprinkles of life!"

With that promise hanging in the air, I know I can count on her not just for ice cream but for so much more as I navigate this complicated recovery. Even amidst the challenges, I feel a renewed sense of strength.

Though the playful atmosphere soon disappears as Yelena looks at me with a hurt look. "You know," Yelena begins cautiously, glancing around the room as if making sure no one else can hear, "I've been really worried about you. Seeing you like this. It's been hard. I didn't expect to walk in and see my Y/n looking so weak."

"Yeah, well, welcome to the aftermath of a bullet wound," I respond, a hint of sarcasm lacing my tone, but her expression remains sombre. "I mean it, Y/n," she says, her voice low. "I can handle all sorts of dangerous missions, but this... this was different. You're my niece. I've seen too many people get hurt, and it scares me to think about what could have happened if things went even more wrong."

"I know. I didn't want to worry you, but... it's not like I planned to get shot," I reply, my voice softening. "I was trying to do my best, and it went sideways."

"It's not your fault," Yelena reassures me, squeezing my hand gently. "But promise me you'll be careful. Don't rush back into missions. I can't go through this again. I thought I lost you."

"I'm not going anywhere yet. You've got me for a while longer," I say with a playful lilt, trying to lighten the atmosphere. Her smile falters, but she doesn't let go of my hand. "You have to promise me you won't get hurt again. I mean it. You don't have to be the hero all the time, you know." The gravity of her words sinks in, and I can feel a lump forming in my throat. "I thought I was doing well. I thought it was my chance to prove myself," I admit, my voice quieter now. "Prove yourself? You don't need to do that. You're already a part of this family," she insists, her voice firm but gentle.

But I can't shake the feeling of inadequacy, the bitter sting of doubt that lingers in the corners of my mind. "I don't feel like it," I confess, looking down at our hands intertwined. "Not after everything that's happened. My parents... I don't know. It's complicated." I begin tentatively, not sure how to express the turmoil inside me.

"They've hurt me for so long, and I'm still trying to wrap my head around why they suddenly seem to care. It feels like. I don't know, like they're trying to make up for lost time. They've been... around. Too around, if you know what I mean. They've been acting all concerned, but it feels more like an obligation."

I've felt torn about this since I've woke up. They're around all the time and trying to do everything that can to help me. But all I can think about is how much they have hurt me and if they would ever be able to make up for their past actions.

Yelena nods, her expression serious. "It's okay to be conflicted. They've done wrong by you, and you have every right to be angry. But if they're genuinely trying to change, maybe there's a chance for you to heal too." She suggests, similar to how Steve has these last two days.

"I don't want to forgive them just because they're here now. It feels disingenuous," I admit, frustration seeping into my voice. "I've been raised to believe that actions speak louder than words, and I need to see real change." I state irritated. "Then hold them to that standard," she urges, her voice steady. "Don't let them slide by just because they're your parents. You deserve more than that." She iterates.

"I guess I'm just afraid of being disappointed again," I whisper, feeling a shiver of vulnerability wash over me. It hurt so much when I slowly seemed to disappear from their lives. I don't think I could experience that again. "What if they go back to ignoring me once I'm healed? What's the point of this?" I share, tears stinging my eyes.

Yelena leans closer, her brow furrowing as she studies my face. "That's not fair to you. They hurt you, and it's okay to be angry about that. But you deserve to feel loved and cared for. You're so much stronger than you give yourself credit for." "Stronger?" I scoff lightly, but inside I feel a flicker of hope. "I barely survived my first mission and ended up in a hospital bed. That doesn't feel strong."

"Strength isn't just about fighting, Y/n. It's about surviving, too. You survived, and you're still here. You're still fighting." Her voice softens, and I can see her eyes glistening with tears. I nod slowly, her words resonating with me. "You're right. I just don't want to get hurt like that again. I thought joining SHIELD would mean I'd finally be seen, but now... it feels like a mess."

Yelena shakes her head, frustration evident in her expression. "No. You're not a mess. You're human. They need to step up and show you that you matter, but that doesn't mean you have to accept their love without question. You get to set the boundaries. You get to decide what you want from them moving forward. But I do believe that you have to give them a chance to show you that they've changed." She shares, taking me by surprise.

"It was years Yelena. How can I move to just forgive them for everything that's happened? Just because they're here for my recovery, doesn't mean it makes up for everything that they've done." I raise my voice getting frustrated that no one seems to understand the depth of how much this has affected me.

She thinks for a moment before speaking up. "I know I can't understand the pain they caused you. When I heard about what they did to you, I was ready to kick both of their asses. But I've seen this determination in them. Especially Nat. I just don't want you to let the anger eat you alive. You deserve more than that. You deserve to heal, not just physically, but emotionally, too." Her words resonate deep within me. I can feel the weight of my resentment pressing against my chest, threatening to suffocate me. "It's just hard, Yelena. I don't know if I can trust them again. What if they just go back to how things were?"

"That's the risk, but it's also a chance for something better. Maybe this could be the start of a new chapter for you all," she replies, her voice filled with hope. "I mean, how many people get a second chance to rewrite their story? You can make it count." She tries to reason with me. "Or I could just end up disappointed again," I say, my voice barely above a whisper.

"Hey, no one said life was easy," she counters, leaning forward, her tone shifting to a playful challenge. "You've faced worse. You survived a bullet wound, for Christ's sake! How about you take that strength and channel it into something more positive? Like confronting your parents." She suggests. "Confront them?" I echo, feeling a knot of anxiety tighten in my stomach.

"Yeah! You're a badass. You fought off those Hydra agents; you can fight for your own happiness." she encourages. "Don't let anyone else dictate your worth. Not your parents, not Hydra. No one."

"I'll think about it," I concede, knowing that deep down, she's right. Maybe facing my parents isn't just about them; it's about taking control of my own narrative, my own healing. "Good," Yelena replies, her smile brightening the room once more. "And remember, no matter what you decide, I'll be right here, cheering you on. We're in this together, ice cream and all."

As I gaze into her determined eyes, I feel the flicker of hope igniting within me. Yelena is right. I can't let the past dictate my future. Perhaps I can find a way to reclaim my voice, my choices. And with her by my side, I feel like I can face whatever comes next.

__________

The soft hum of the machines is a constant companion, a backdrop to the quiet conversation happening in the room. Mama and mom sit nearby, each offering their own version of silent support. Mama, with her usual calm demeanour, sits crossed legged in the chair near the foot of my bed. Her posture is relaxed, but her sharp eyes betray her constant vigilance. She notices everything, always has, and I can feel her observing me like she's looking for something beneath the surface. Mom on the other hand, has stationed herself at my side, like aways. She's less fussy, thankfully, but still has to be close, like I'm going to disappear if she's not.

Sometimes, I find the silence unbearable compared to their constant and sometimes suffocating fussing over me. I feel on edge, like they're waiting for me to talk to them. I think back to what Yelena said about confronting them and doing it on my terms. But I want to do it in the right frame of mind, and at the moment, this infection is still kicking my ass.

Mama breaks the silence as her well trained eyes watch me for a while. "How are you feeling Y/n?" She asks, her eyes narrowing slightly as she studies me, as though she's trying to catch me out if I say the wrong thing. "A bit better." I respond with a slight nod, my words carefully measured. I don't want to give too much away. Not about how I'm feeling and especially not about the swirl of doubt that's been growing inside of me since the incident.

"Are you sure? You're sweating." She points out, sitting up. Mom goes to reach for my forehead, but quickly retreats her hand. She's been trying really hard not to be too much and I'm grateful for that. I should have known that she could see straight through me and notice the discomfort I'm in. "Just a little." I admit. "Is there anything we can do? Would you like some water? Or we could change the quilt for a blanket if that would help?" Mom suggests.

I think for a moment before giving in, knowing that I am burning up a little too quickly. "The blanket would be better if that's ok." I respond, earning a warm smile from mom as she stands and moves to grab the blanket as mama takes the quilt and folds it up. "Better?" Mom asks as the thin blanket now rests over my legs. "Yes. Thank you." I quietly respond.

"You're being strong, but you don't have to be." Mom says, her voice soft but persuasive. Her green eyes watching me too closely. "We're here for you." She states. Something I've heard more these last few days than I have in my whole like.

I offer a tight smile. "I appreciate that." I reply, but there's something hollow in my words, something they both notice. I see it in the flicker of mama's eyes, in the slight frown mom tries to hide. They want me to let them in, to trust them. But I can't. No right now.

The knock on the door interrupts the thick atmosphere. As we all look to the door, a smile grows on my face as Yelena pushes open the door, bursting in to the room with her usual energy. Her blonde hair bounces around her shoulders as she strides in, a smirk on her lips. She's a welcome distraction from the unspoken suspicions swirling in my mind.

Behind her, there's someone new. A brunette with wide eyes and a slightly awkward smile follows in her wake, holding a small bouquet of flowers in her hands. It's clear she doesn't quite know what to do with them as she shifts nervously, standing next to Yelena like she's trying to figure out how to fit in. "This is Kate." Yelena says with a grin, motioning to the brunette with a flourish. "Oh, right. The annoying stray Clint picked up." I reply with a grin, my eyes flicking between Yelena and the new girl. I feel a small flutter of nerves in my chest, but I push it aside, trying to appear casual.

Kate gasps dramatically, placing her hand over her chest as if wounded. "Annoying stray? Really? Is that how Yelena described me?" She shoots Yelena a mocking glare, then turns to me with a playful twinkle in her eyes. "Don't listen to her. I'm delightful, I promise." She smirks.

There is something instantly disarming about her. Her smile is infectious, and I find myself grinning back before I can stop myself. "I'll be the judge of that." I say, raising an eyebrow in challenge. Kate's laugh is light. "Well, I guess I better make a good impression then huh. I'm Kate. Nice to finally meet you."

As if she suddenly becomes aware of the other two people in the room, Kate suddenly becomes a lot more nervous as she steps forward, holding out the flowers a little awkwardly. "I, uh, thought some flowers might brighten up the place." She says her voice light but tinged with nervousness. "If you don't like them, I can... I don't know, take them back or something."

I can't help but smile at the sudden awkwardness, feeling some of the tension ease from my shoulders. There's something captivating about her, a clumsy sincerity that feels genuine. Like she's not trying to be anything other than who she is. If's refreshing, in contrast to the more guarded and calculated vibes in the room.

"No, no. They're nice. I love them." I say, accepting the flowers with a smile. "Thank you." I say gratefully. Mom steps in to help, taking the flowers from Kate and placing them on the beside table. She flashes Kate a smile, but I can't help but notice the way her eyes flick between me and Kate, like she's sizing up the interaction. Her protective nature is sweet, but right now it feels like an intrusion, like she's watching too closely.

Yelena of course, can't let the moment go without making it awkward. "Oh great. The two of you are already making goo-goo eyes at each other." She says with a snort, dropping herself into a chair next to mama with a dramatic sigh. "I should have seen this coming." She says to her sister. "Goo-goo eyes?" I sputter, my cheeks burning. "Yelena, we literally just met." Kate for her part, looks just as flustered, running a hand through her hair as she laughs awkwardly. "Yeah wow, not even five minutes in and I'm already being roasted. Thanks Yelena." Yelena has a mischievous grin as she gives Kate a thumbs up. "Hey, I call it like I see it." She shrugs.

I glance at Kate again, and despite the teasing, there's something about her that puts me at ease. Something feels unguarded in a way that I haven't felt around my parents lately. She seems real, no hidden motives, no unreadable layers. Just Kate, awkward and charming in her own way.

Mama raises an eyebrow at Yelena's comment but stays quiet, observing as always. Mom though let's out a soft chuckle, her eyes softening for a moment as she looks between Kate and me. "I think it's sweet." She says, but there's an undercurrent to her words. A subtle probing as if she's gauging how close I'm willing to let this new person get.

I shift uncomfortably in my bed, trying to shake off the unease. "Kate seems nice." I say, trying to keep things light. "But you don't need to start planning a wedding already." I joke, earning a loud laugh from Kate.

Yelena leans back in her chair, a satisfied smirk on her face. "Well, you're already doing better than most people who meet Y/n. She doesn't usually warm up to strangers this fast."

"Yelena." I mutter, shooting her a look, but the playful banter is enough to make me feel a bit more like myself again. Even if the tension with my parents still lingers beneath the surface.

Mama exchanges a glance with mom, and I can feel the weight of their unspoken thoughts. They're both protective, maybe even a little suspicious of the new dynamic. I know they're trying to look out for me, but their watchful eyes feel too heavy right now and to be honest, they don't have the right to have any thoughts on this right now. They've barely been my parents for the last couple of years. They don't suddenly have a say in who I'm friends with.

"Well, at least you brought someone who isn't here to lecture me about being shot." I tease, giving Yelena a pointed look. Kate grins clearly relieved the conversation has shifted. "I'm just here for the heist planning." She smiles, her tone light. "Whatever Yelena has you roped into, I'm in." I join in the joke. Yelena perks up at that. "Oh, you have no idea what you've signed up for Bishop. This one here," she jerks her thumb at me, "has a history with getting into trouble."

Kate moves to take the seat next to me as both my parents decide to give us some space and grab some lunch. I'm grateful for them being able to read the room, but I notice the observant and narrow gaze of mama as she passes by Kate. I'm pretty sure I see Kate gulp a little which makes me laugh lightly.

"So," Kate asks, crossing her arms. "what's the plan for today? Ice cream, hospital jailbreak or maybe both?" She smiles, making the butterflies in my stomach flutter. "Oh, Yelena's already promised me ice cream, but she keeps postponing the jailbreak." I tease, glancing over at Yelena who's pretending not to listen.

Kate lets out a dramatic sigh, shaking her head. "Typical. She makes all these grand promises, and then when it comes time to actually execute..." Kate starts teasingly before Yelena speaks up. "I'm literally right here." She complains, throwing her hands up in mock exasperation. "And for the record. I would have busted you out, but your mother threatened to remove all the mac and cheese from the building if I did." She admits with a child like huff.

"Still scared of mama huh?" I smirk, earning a harsh stare from my aunt. "No!" She defends loudly. "Well, maybe when it comes down to you." She admits quietly, making Kate and I laugh. "Well, well. I've finally discovered the one thing Yelena Belova is scared of." Kate torments Yelena. "Yeah, well don't forget that you're the one scared of me." Yelena points out giving her fiercest glare. Something that makes Kate shrink back into her seat. "Yep. You're right. Sorry." She apologises goofily, making me smile even wider.

There's a beat of silence, but it's not awkward. It's easy, comfortable, and I'm surprised at how quickly I've warmed up to Kate. She's sharp, funny and there's a confidence about her that makes me feel more at ease. I can tell she's someone who doesn't take life too seriously, but there's a genuine warmth underneath the sarcasm.

Yelena is watching us again, her arms crossed, and her eyebrow arched like she's trying to figure out how this is going to play out. "You know, I might actually enjoy watching this." She says, her voice laced with amusement. "You two are way too cute. It's like watching a rom-com in real time." She smirks

"Okay, enough of that." I say quickly, feeling my face begin to flush, this time not due to my infection! I glance to Kate who is grinning like she's in on some joke that I'm not, and I can't help but laugh. "Yelena, don't you have some Widow business to attend to?" I question hopefully. "Nope." She says cheerfully, popping the 'p' for emphasis. "I'm on babysitting duty today." She smiles proudly whilst I just roll my eyes. Maybe I do want my parents back right now!

Kate leans closer to me, lowering her voice conspiratorially. "Does she always talk like that, or is it just for us?" She questions. "Always." I whisper back, earning a glare from Yelena. "Alright, alright." Yelena says, pretending to be offended, but her eyes twinkle with amusement. "I can see when I'm not wanted. I'll give you two some space. Try not to flirt too much while I'm gone." She teases.

"And you," she stops in front of Kate, a stern look on her face. "If she so much as flinches you call the nurse. I will have your head if anything happens to her." She warns her lowly. Kate just nods, gulping at the threat. "P-promise." She stutters. "Good. Text me if you need anything. Now have fun being all awkward and flirty." She smirks as she saunters out of the room.

Suddenly, it's just the two of us, the room quieter but still filled with that easy, playful energy. I glance over at Kate, feeling a bit of awkwardness settle in. But it's the good kind that makes my heart race a little.

"So, what now?" I ask, trying to sound casual? Kate shrugs, a teasing smile tugging at the corners of her lips. "I don't know. I mean, we could plot that jailbreak. Or maybe..." She pauses, her eyes meeting mine. "We could just hang out and get to know each other a little better." She suggests.

There's a warmth in her gaze, something that makes my heart flutter, and for the first time in a while, I feel a sense of excitement. Not just for the ice cream or the jokes, but the possibility of something new. Something good. And maybe, just maybe, I'm ready for it.

Nat's POV:

My sharp eyes have always picked up on the subtle shift in a person's demeanour, the tiniest details that others overlook. Right now, I'm studying Kate Bishop. She's awkward sure. A little too wide-eyed and jittery, holding onto those flowers like she's afraid they might combust. There's a clumsy sincerity to her that I can't decide if I trust yet. Y/n though... Y/n is smiling. Laughing even, and I haven't seen that kind of lightness in her face in far too long. Still, I remain cautious.

I watch as Y/n teases Kate, the easy flow of their banter rolling off Y/n's tongue without the weight that usually accompanies her words. It's almost as if she's forgotten, if only for a few minutes, about the turmoil she's been going through. And while I want that for her, there's a part of me that can't let go of my protective instincts. That part that wants to dig deeper into who Kate Bishop really is, figure out if she's worthy of my daughter's trust.

Because Y/n doesn't let people in easily. Wanda and I have made that even harder for her now. To be able to trust is a difficult thing. I don't want to see her hurt more than she currently is. Not after everything that I've caused.

Wanda's voice pulls me out of my thoughts as she steps up beside me, her arms crossed but her expression soft, watching the interaction with a gentler gaze than I have. "She looks happy." Wanda murmurs. Her voice has that quiet thoughtful tone that always means she's been observing the situation for longer than I realised.

I nod, though I don't take my eyes off of Y/n. "She does." I admit reluctantly. Wanda notices this and quickly makes up an excuse of going to get some lunch and we quickly exit the room. Probably much to Y/n's delight!

"You don't like it?" Wanda asks, her lips twitching into a small smile. She can read me too easily, knows exactly what I'm feeling even when I try to keep it to myself. We hover in the corridor outside of Y/n's room as I sigh. "I didn't say that." I glance towards my wife, raising an eyebrow.

"No, but I know you." She chuckles softly, and it's a warm, comforting sound that cuts through the tension I've been holding in my chest. "Nat, you don't trust her yet." It's not a question, and I don't answer right away. Instead, I look back through the window into Y/n's room. My eyes falling to the pair of them. Y/n has leaned a little closer to Kate, her laughter soft, her smile genuine. Kate's making some grand gesture with her hands, her enthusiasm endearing in its awkwardness. Okay, I think. Maybe she's not so bad.

But still. "I just don't know her." I say finally, my voice low. Wanda hums in understanding, her gaze never leaving Y/n. "But look at her, Nat. She's the happiest we've seen her in a long while." She points out. I know she's right. Y/n hasn't had this kind of lightness in her eyes since the incident. Even in the days leading up to it, she was closed off, burdened by the trauma we had caused her. I couldn't do anything to help her, I couldn't fix what I had broken. And now here comes this Kate Bishop, breezing in like a ray of sunshine, making Y/n smile like it's the easiest thing in the world.

I sigh, crossing my arms tighter over my chest. "Maybe." I admit after a pause, my voice quieter now, more reflective. "Maybe Kate is what Y/n needs right now." Wanda turns her head to look at me fully, a surprised look on her face, but she soon gives me a soft knowing smile. "That's not easy for you to say."

"No, it's not." I say honestly. "But I can't ignore how she's acting. It's good to see her like this." I glance to Yelena who's still grinning like a proud instigator of all this chaos. Y/n has her laughing too, which is aways a good sign. "And Kate, she's not what I expected." I share.

There's an awkward clumsiness about the girl sure. But underneath that, there's a kindness in her eyes, something genuine that makes me reconsider my initial assessment. She's not just some reckless kid, despite the reputation. She cares and that means something.

Wanda places a gentle hand on my arm, squeezing lightly. "It's ok to let your guard down a little." I chuckle under my breath at her words. "I don't think I'm wired that way, Wanda." I reply. "I know." She laughs softly. "But maybe you can try. Kate isn't here to hurt Y/n. She's just, being a friend. Maybe that's exactly what Y/n needs right now." I nod, though my instincts still bristle at the idea of lowering my walls completely. "You're right. But I'm not going to stop being protective. Not after we failed her so badly." My gaze hardens just a fraction. "I can't."

Wanda's expression softens further, understanding in her eyes. "No one's asking you to stop protecting her Nat. Just, give this a chance. What ever it might be." She pleads. I look at Y/n again. She's relaxed in a way I haven't seen her in months. The tightness in her shoulders is gone, replaced by something lighter, freer. And I realise that I'm not the only one trying to protect her. Maybe, in her own way, Kate is too.

"I'll give it a chance." I mutter quietly. "But I'll be watching." Wanda smiles knowingly. "I wouldn't expect anything less." She says as both our gazes fall to our daughter. Just then, Kate says something that makes Y/n burst out laughing, the sound so full of life that it catches me off guard. My heart clenches that it's taken this long. That Wanda and I created an environment where she felt like she no longer belonged in this family.

I know it's going to take time for her to even consider forgiving us. But I know that it's important that she has other people around her that she can talk to and have fun with. If it's just Wanda and me she'll become completely closed off. Maybe being around Kate is exactly what she needs. It doesn't mean I'll let my guard down completely. Not yet. I will always protect her. That's what mother's do. Even if I haven't proven my right to that title in a long time.

_________

As Wanda and I step back into our home, the familiar chaos of our boys welcomes us like a warm embrace. The scent of something sweet wafts through the air, mixing with the sharp, clean smell of wood polish from our recent cleaning efforts. I can hear the muffled sounds of laughter and playful shouting emanating from the living room, and it brings a smile to my face despite the heaviness still clinging to my heart.

Tommy and Billy have been asking about their sister non-stop over the last few days, and every time, I see the worry deepen in their little faces. They've felt the weight of Y/n's absences as much as we have, maybe more.

"Hey, you two!" I call out, my voice breaking through the din. Almost immediately, Tommy and Billy come barrelling into the hallway, their faces lighting up like it's Christmas morning. They launch themselves at us, wrapping their arms around my waist and Wanda's legs in a tangle of limbs and giggles. It's a comforting noise, one that momentarily pulls me away from the weight of the world outside these walls.

"Mom! Mom! How's Y/n? Is she okay?" Tommy's voice rises with excitement, his wide eyes sparkling with a mixture of hope and anxiety. I exchange a glance with Wanda, who stands beside me, her own expression tinged with a protective softness. It's a moment like this that reminds me just how much the boys adore their sister.

"She's still unwell, sweetheart," I say gently, kneeling down to meet Tommy's gaze at eye level. "But she's doing better than she was. She'll be home soon." I try to sound optimistic, but the knot in my stomach betrays me. I know how much they want to see Y/n, and how hard it's been for them to understand why she isn't here with us.

"Soon? Like tomorrow?" Billy asks, bouncing on his toes, his dark hair flopping into his eyes. There's a slight hopefulness in his voice, and it makes my heart ache, knowing they're so eager for good news. Wanda steps in beside me, placing a hand on Tommy's shoulder, her touch gentle and reassuring. "She's going to need a few more days in the hospital, honey. She's got to rest and get better first." I watch the way Wanda's eyes soften when she speaks to the boys, how she has an innate ability to make even the hardest truths sound a little lighter.

"But her birthday is coming up!" Tommy exclaims suddenly, his expression shifting from concern to realization. "We have to make it special for her! Can we plan a perfect birthday for her in her hospital room?" His enthusiasm is infectious, and a flicker of warmth spreads in my chest at his determination. Billy nods vigorously, his face lighting up with ideas. "Yeah! We can decorate it and bring her cake! She'll love that!" The energy in the room shifts, and I can see both boys imagining the decorations they might hang, the cake they might bake, and the joy they hope to bring their sister.

"That's a great idea," I agree, feeling a swell of pride as I watch them brainstorm. "But we need to wait until she's feeling a bit better, okay? We don't want to overwhelm her." Tommy frowns slightly, his brow furrowing in thought. "When can we see her?" His voice is earnest, full of longing. I can hear the worry tucked beneath his words, and it tugs at my heart. "Yeah, we want to see Y/n!" Billy adds, his expression mirroring his brother's eagerness.

Wanda glances at me, and I can feel the weight of our responsibilities bearing down. "We'll take you to see her in the morning," I promise, seeing their faces light up with hope. "But remember, she might be tired and need to rest, so we have to be gentle with her."

"Yay!" Tommy cheers, his voice ringing through the hallway, and Billy joins in, practically bouncing on his heels with excitement. Their joy is palpable, a reminder of the happiness that can still exist even amidst uncertainty and pain.

Just then, Steve steps out from the kitchen, having been quietly observing the boys from a distance. His presence brings a calmness to the chaos, and I find comfort in knowing he's here. "Hey, how are you two doing?" he asks, his eyes twinkling as he takes in the scene of our little family reunion.

"Mama and mom just told us that Y/n is coming home soon!" Tommy exclaims, practically vibrating with excitement, his hands flailing as he gestures animatedly.

"Yeah, and we're planning the best birthday for her ever!" Billy adds, his voice bubbling over with enthusiasm, his cheeks flushed with energy.

"Sounds like you're all set for a celebration," Steve says with a smile, nodding approvingly. He leans against the wall, crossing his arms as he watches the boys with fondness. "I'll leave you to it. Just let me know if you need anything." He shoots us a knowing look, one that acknowledges the weight of what we're dealing with, before stepping back into the kitchen.

As Wanda and I stand there, our boys filled with excitable plans, I can't help but feel a mix of gratitude and dread. Gratitude for the moments of joy, the laughter that fills our home, and the love that binds us together. Sadness that our family isn't complete and dread for the challenges still ahead. We're still on shaky ground, still trying to piece together the remnants of our family after everything that's happened.

But for now, I push those worries aside. I take a deep breath, inhaling the comforting scent of our home, and look around at the smiling faces of my children. "Okay, let's start planning for this birthday celebration!" I suggest, my heart lifting at the idea of planning something special for Y/n.

"We need balloons. And streamers!" Tommy states excitedly, his eyes bright with ideas. "And cake!" Billy insists, his mouth already watering at the thought. "What kind should we get her?"

As we brainstorm, I can't help but smile. We'll take this one step at a time. Tomorrow, we'll bring the boys to see Y/n, and hopefully, we'll be one step closer to bringing her home where she belongs. Hopefully, she'll see that we plan to be the best parents to her and in time she'll forgive us. I feel a flicker of hope, ignited by the boys' excitement and determination to make their sister smile, to show her that she is loved and missed.

"Let's get started," I say, my voice full of warmth as I gather them into a huddle, my heart swelling with pride. Together, we can do this. Together, we can find a way to help Y/n heal, and maybe even begin to mend the cracks that have formed in our family.

Part 4

Taglist: @reggierizzoli @ordelixx @mousetheorist @oh-thats-cute @bstvst @waiqui @fxckmiup @kosmichs1 @theprincipality

[saphiccarma]

- The Red Means I Love You

Relationships - Mob Boss!WandaNat x Reader

Summary - Your father had always been a little wacky, always paranoid. He died a few months ago and you moved into abadoned apartment, but you never thought that he would be involved in a mob.

Warnings: Kidnapping (?), maybe the slightest bit dark Nat? Nothing serious today

Wanda Maximoff was well known for her cruelty. She was known to be harsh and unforgiving, a woman of power who made no exceptions. Anyone who dared to utter her name did so with respect, a reverence that was reserved for one other person. Her wife, Natasha Romanoff. She was known for being stern. A woman who commanded her people with an iron fist and didn't let mistakes slide.

They were two of the most famous mob mosses there was, with a few exceptions, and very few dared to cross their paths. It had taken them years to build their regime, to gather trusted members, and now that they had it, they weren't letting anything get in their way. They weren't letting even the smallest mistakes go.

Not that you knew that. When you had moved into your father's old apartment after he died, you thought nothing of it. At the time you were still living with your mother, fresh out of college, and needed a place to live. You applied to work at a hospital nearby and after being accepted, you moved into your father's place. It was a shaggy old apartment. Each shelf had a thin layer of dust, and you swear that the smell of cigarettes was permanent.

Digging around a bit, you had found a gun stashed under the bed, which was odd, and a knife hidden in the kitchen. Your father always had been a bit paranoid. Always muttering about how they were going to get him. Your mother had called him crazy which led to their divorce, but they had shared custody, so you still heard parts of his ramblings.

Your cheeks were a soft shade of pink from the chill in the air as you walked home. The blue scrubs you wore swished and crinkled and the gravel crunched under your feet. It wasn't the smartest idea, to be walking home late at night, but your phone was dead and you didn't have a car. You had also forgotten your pepper spray. Internally cursing yourself, you took a right, straight down the sketchy looking alley that smelled of alcohol and smoke. Inhaling sharply, you carefully began to scurry down it.

Before you had barely gone five steps, there was dull thud that you hardly registered in the back of your head. The world spun for a short moment before everything went black.

^__________^

A coppery tang filled your mouth, coating your cheeks and gums. Blinking blearily, you swiped your tongue along your teeth, distinctly tasting blood. Your entire body ached, a heavy weight pressing down on you. There were ropes tied around your wrists, you noted when you tried to move, and similar ones around your feet. You were sat on a wooden chair, one that creaked when you struggled.

The ropes dug into your skin, burning it and making the situation all the more uncomfortable. A distinct prick stung the back of your eyes as you glanced around the dark room. Water dripped lazily from the ceiling, falling in a repetitive pattern onto the floor. It matched the humid air that drifted around. Sweat formed on the back of your back and you could fell a small droplet drip down.

But there was no light. You could only hear the droplets, and despite being in here for a few moments, your eyes refused to adjust further than allowing you to see a door and the chair you were in. Twisting once more, you tried to free yourself from the painful restraints, but to no avail. They remained snug around your wrists and ankles.

The door swung open and lights were flicked on. You squeezed your eyes shut; the brightness surprising you. Faintly you heard footsteps along the concrete floor, and you forced yourself to look. A woman stood in front of you. Her hair was fiery red, a color that accented her green eyes, and it rolled down to her shoulders in perfect waves. She regarded you cooly, a look in her eyes that promised pain, yet devoid of any emotion.

"Ms. Y/L/N," she said lowly, huskily even, "I've wanted to meet you."

You flinched back when her hand came up to your face. Tears welled in your eyes. Gently, the tips of her perfectly manicured nails tapped the side of your face, tracing your cheekbone down to your chin. Just when you thought she would pull away, her nails dug into the sides of your jawline as she gripped your jaw. The force was painful. A small whimper escaped you as you tried to pull away. Key word being tried.

"Do you know who I am? I doubt your father ever bothered to enlighten you." She twisted your head side to side, her forest green eyes scanning you up and down as if you were a science experiment. "He spoke fondly of you."

A shaky breath was exhaled from your lungs as you tried to formulate words, "Who- Who are you?"

"Natasha Romanoff, your father's former boss."

Then finally, just as you thought she would draw blood, her hand released your cheek. Flexing your jaw, you stared at her oddly. She wore black combat pants with a matching skintight long sleeve shirt. There was a gun holstered to her thigh. Some things were clicking into place, like the gun you had found stashed in the apartment, or the giant pile of money, but the full picture hadn't come in yet.

"You have no idea, do you?" She was crouched now, her eyes level to yours as she leaned forward, "Your father was in great debt. It was a shame he was killed." Although her face showed pity, the jutting of her lower lip and the sad glimmer in her eyes, her tone held none. "But since he's dead, that debt has fallen onto you."

"How much did he owe you?" your voice was barely steady. It cracked every other word and made the tears in your eyes all the more prominent.

A small, amused, laugh escaped her. You wished to believe it was genuine, but it sounded nothing of the sort, "Oh he didn't owe me money. No, he owed me something much more valuable. He owed me time. Servitude. But he died before that could be filled out. You, however, are still alive."

"And if I can't?" The words were whispered softly as you kept your gaze to the ground. You could hardly hear Natasha's breath, your own overshadowing it. All that was audible was your own breath and the sound of your heartbeat in your eyes.

"Do you care for your mother?"

Her question sent a jolt of fear through you, one that sparked your veins and made you snap your head up.

"Don't hurt her!" you pleaded, tugging at your restraints, "Please, she did nothing."

The smile on her face could have been called sinister, "Oh darling," Natasha's fingers reached for your face again, ignoring your flinch, and gently tracing the side of your cheek, "I don't plan to. As long as you comply."

"I don't- I don't know how to do any of this stuff," you mumbled. You didn't want to do any of this stuff. From what you had gathered, Natasha ran a mob. Mobs hurt people. You had become a nurse to help people, to heal - not to hurt.

"I'll teach you," she said softly. For the first time in your interaction, her features lost a bit of their edge. It was hardly noticeable, just her lips loosening their frown and her jaw unclenching slightly. Out of the corner of your tear-filled eyes you saw her draw a knife from her boot. A violent flinch ran through you as you tried to squirm away. "Stay still," Natasha chided.

She sliced through your binds, the knife dangerously close to your skin. You didn't dare to move as she rose from her crouch, not until she gestured for you to follow. Frantically, you stood from the chair, wombling a bit due to the fact that your legs were asleep, and scurred after her. She walked with a certain air of confidence, one that had the guard outside the door saluting - even if it seemed slightly playful. The place she led you through was surprisingly nice compared to the room you were held in. The walls were a dark color, one that you would picture in medieval times, and it smelled of fresh wood and whiskey. Just the slightest bit.

Everything was utterly silent as you followed Natasha, your breath loud and obnoxious even as you tried to quiet it. Fear coursed through you, sparking every bit of you to life. You were still dressed in your scrubs, the comfortable material still holding up, but being rather loud as you walked. Leading you up to a set of doors, Natasha pushed them open, and you were met with a large set of mats.

Black mats were laid on the floor, a perfect square. A couple boxing bags hung in the corner of the room, dangling from a set of chains. There were a few times when your father had tried to teach you boxing, but he never got it stick. You had always been driven to help people rather than hurt. Even if it was self-defense.

As Natasha stepped onto the mats, waiting for you to do the same, you realized what was happening. Oh- she was teaching you now. Like now now. If you were scared before, you knew you were scared now, especially based on the way her fingers flexed and she smirked with her chin tilted up. Hell no. The most you knew about boxing was the stance and that was about it. A jab and backhand punch, maybe, but it had been so long ago when you learned.

"Come on," she encouraged, her voice laced with faux sweetness, "Let's go."

The words forced you into action, stepping onto the mat hesitantly, and attempting to match the stance she slid into. Yours was undoubtedly sloppier and way worse, but you were going to lose this fight anyway - there was no winning this one. Before you could even attempt to gain your bearings, Natasha's fist was in your face, pressing hard into your nose.

You stumbled back, faintly tasting blood as it dripped down to your lips. Squeezing your eyes shut you hardly noticed Natasha moving forward and her leg sweeping beneath you. A harsh thump echoed through the room as you fell onto the mat. The air in your lungs was forced out as you sharply exhaled, and the back of your head pounded with a dull pain.

With a small groan, you opened your eyes, only to see a disappointed expression. Natasha had her arms crossed, a firm frown settled on her face and her brows slightly furrowed.

Her foot nudged your side, "Get up. Again."

The two of you went at it for hours after that.

^___________^

You’ve worked for Natasha for about half a year now. It had become a routine at that point. You stayed at the base like everyone and worked hard, laying low and trying to blend in. For some odd reason, Natasha had taken a special liking to you. At least, that's what Bucky told you. Bucky was one of Natasha's oldest acquaintances, one of her most trusted people, and he oversaw some of your training.

"She likes you," he mumbled under his breath. You, covered in sweat and maybe a couple of tears, shook your head as you sat on the bench, denying the statement entirely. Based on the fact that Natasha beat you up for what felt like the thousandth time that month, she most certainly did not like you.

Natasha came onto the base every day aside from Sunday and would spend two to three hours training you. Whether it was teaching you how to shoot, how to wield a knife, or simple hand to hand combat. It was exhausting, training with her for hours until your entire body was sore and aching and then doing the same the next day. Slowly, it became easier, starting with simple things until you could feel the difference. Maybe you didn't sweat as much, or you didn't need to take long breaks, until you started noticing that you held up against Natasha longer than usual.

It still wasn't enough, based on the way she was perched atop you, her legs straddling your hips. Her arms were right by your head, muscular and firm, breath just the slightest bit heavy. You thought she looked beautiful. There was the slightest sheen of sweat coating her forehead, and a few loose curls that fell from her braid, framing her face perfectly. Her green eyes sparkled with amusement.

Natasha leaned down, her lips, perfect and soft, were ever closer to yours. Your heart skipped a bit as your lashes fluttered. That was another thing - you had a crush on Natasha. As childish as it sounded, you really did. The only thing stopping you was the fact that she had a wife. You had never met Wanda, but people spoke her name with reverence, always watching the way they spoke.

On the other hand, Natasha almost never spoke of her, just fleeting mentions to other people. It was the one thing that held you back from trying to go after Natasha. Well, that and the fact that Natasha was downright terrifying, and if you got rejected you weren't sure if you could stand it.

Before you had the chance to think about it more, to even consider pressing your lips onto hers, Natasha did it for you. Her lips, soft and gentle, pressed down on yours. For the briefest moment you were shocked, merely melting into her touch. It felt heavenly, to finally kiss her, and as her tongue pushed into your mouth, you tasted strawberries.

Then, just as Natasha tried to deepen it further, you pushed her off, staring at her with confused eyes. She was married, she had a wife who, supposedly, she loved very much. But the mob boss was only smirking at you, lips curling upward and her tongue flicking out to lick them. The sight sent a shiver down your spine and heat up your cheeks.

"Your- Your married," you murmured, the words breathy and light.

Natasha reached her hand out, brushing a hair away from your face, "I know. She knows." It was the most tender you had ever seen her, different from the harsh and cruel side. You liked it. "She wants to meet you. Wanda wants to meet the girl that captured my attention."

You were too surprised to form a response, merely sputtering as Natasha smirked down at you. Her wife was okay with it? Faintly you realized that meant Natasha talked about you, but that wasn't the main focus. Mainly, Natasha was okay to have a relationship with you. Well, you couldn't call it a relationship yet, she could just be wanting to fuck you. It was probably the latter.

"What-" you cleared your throat, gently pushing her off you and sitting up, "Would we be in a relationship? Or am I just a fuck toy?" Your harsh vocabulary drew a surprised laugh out of Natasha, and she threw her head back just the slightest bit to expose her neck.

"No, you would not be a fuck toy. Otherwise, Wanda wouldn't want to meet you."

Her words soothed the anxiety that had begun to bubble in your stomach. The last thing you wanted to be was just a toy she played with, something she used to release her frustrations. You didn't want to just become an object.

Natasha grinned at your baffled look, her smirk dimming, "Before you meet her though, you have your first job."

^__________^

It's meant to be simple. Natasha is meeting with an opposing mafia, one that had been her rival for a long while. You weren't meant to just stand there and look intimidating. In all honestly, you were the worst person to pick, maybe aside from Kate. But Yelena, Bucky, Clint and even Steve were all much more intimidating. Whether it was because they had a glare that could cut through the harshest materials or because the mere sight of them sent shivers down someone's spine. You were genuinely afraid to approach Steve when you first met him until you found out he was just a big teddy bear.

Even though you were perhaps the worst option, Natasha had chosen to bring you and Bucky. It may have been odd to you, but Bucky just rolled with it, driving the three of you to the venue. You fiddled with the gun strapped to your thigh. The safety was off already, so that you could just pull it out of the holster and shoot. You were still scared you would shoot yourself in the foot.

The pants you wore were tight against your legs along with the shirt, both perfectly outlining your frame. It made you slightly uncomfortable, however Natasha insisted you wear this and she was your boss, so you went with it. The car, a sleek black stingray, pulled into an empty parking lot, its tires crunching on the gravel.

You exited the car, closing the door softly, and inhaling the night air. It had been a few months since you went outside. The opportunity presented itself, but you never found the time. Either that or you were too tired to muster the energy. But now you realized that you had missed it. A cool breeze ruffling your hair and tainting your cheeks and tips of your ears a soft pink. The firm feeling of the ground beneath you.

An owl hooted above you, alerting you to its presence, and you glanced up to see it soaring in the sky. Your gaze traveled to the moon, which was still low in the sky, but high enough to shine a blue light down on you. Its dim light allowed the stars to shine, even if they were dimmed by the cities lights. Bucky's footsteps crackled the gravel as he stepped out of the car.

"You like the stars doll?" his Brooklyn accent slipped through as he said the pet name. He called nearly everyone that so you didn't think much of it, it just seemed to be his way of showing affection.

"Focus up," Natasha snapped, a whole new personality on her now. She was harsh and cruel before, but now it was different. There wasn't the slightest bit of softness in her features, no little hints that she cared for either of you.

She was also wearing a new attire, although similar to when you first met her. Sleek black pants and a long sleeve shirt that had gloves attached to it. The pants perfectly fit her frame, and you would be lying if you said they didn't show off her ass a bit and you didn't enjoy it. Her skintight shirt allowed you and everyone to see the muscles in her arms as she moved, each one flexing. It was a little hot, you weren't going to lie.

A car skidded into the gravel lot, its tires screeching and steam billowing out of the back. It was a sleek sports car that shimmered under the moonlight and a duplicate followed it, albeit a bit slower. Out of it stepped a man.

He had sunglass perched atop his nose, tinted glass perfectly obscuring his eyes. A goatee coated his lower face, the scruffy hair not prominent, but noticeable all the same. He wore a fine suit that looked like it fit him and his air of confidence.

"Romanoff!" He cheered, his voice arrogant and flamboyant, "It's nice to see you again." Although you hadn't known this man for long, you could tell that it was fake. His arms spread out as if going for a hug, but he dropped them before even getting close. Behind him stood a dark-skinned man who wore a suit and had his hands folded in front of him. There was a young boy who had brown fluffy hair and wide brown. The man whistled lowly, "I see you've got a new...thing." He said the word with intent, wiggling his brows suggestively.

You tried not to visibly recoil, even if the words reminded you that Natasha could just be using you.

"Stark," Natasha's voice held a warning, one that promised pain, "We're here to discuss business."

Stark waved his hand with a scoff, pulling his glasses down to make eye contact, "I don't have your money Romanoff. I don't owe you any."

"You blew up one of my buildings," she snarled. Her tone sent a shiver down your spine. In all honestly you had no idea how Stark didn't crumble right then and there, Natasha was scary when she wanted to be.

"On accident, and I didn't even do it - it was an acquaintance."

Natasha scoffed, "Oh please. You hired Danvers to do it. Listen, Stark - I'm giving you until the end of the month, 30 days, to get me the money for blowing up the building."

The man had a deep scowl on his face as his eyes bore into Natasha. They briefly flickered over to you, his brown eyes tracing your face and your features. You felt a bit self-conscious, the suit you were wearing was particularly tight and framed every bit of you. Then, he smirked, his gaze going back to Natasha.

Tipping his head slightly in goodbye, Stark spun around, heading towards his car while the other two went to their own. The three of you stood there until they left, and only then did you see Natasha soften.

"I hate him," she grumbled, marching towards the car.

Bucky started the engine as you climbed in, "I know," he soothed, "It'll be over soon."

Natasha sighed, the sound heavy and laced with annoyance. She turned to face you sitting in the back, the slightest smirk on her face, "Ready to meet Wanda?"

[electric-guillotines]

Dolls Are For Playing With

WandaNat x Female Reader

Summary: You flushed lightly, blurting out, “I think I really like Tasha.”

A mischievous light entered Wanda’s eyes at that and she leaned forward, lowering her voice to something teasing and conspiratorial. “Oh, Tasha? Is that what we call her now?”

Content: 🔞 Fluff, light angst, praise and degradation, mommy kink, Dom/sub, enchanted strap, dumbification, Natasha is "Auntie Tasha" during playtime, mild age play if you squint, aftercare

Word Count: 5,856 Also available on [AO3]

Part 3 of "Her Lovely Shadow" series

Ever since the two of you settled in Sleepy Hollow, Wanda began hosting get togethers for her female friends, most of them people you at least knew in passing, and all of them rendering you helplessly outnumbered by a pack of dommes who loved nothing more than flustering you with playful banter.

More often than not, those evenings left you feeling small and pliant, and Wanda didn’t discourage you from feeling that way, at least when it was appropriate. She made sure you knew it wasn’t to be expected of you just because you were, for the most part, a submissive. Your boundaries were paramount. But if you happened to feel softer and quieter around those friends that wasn’t anything to feel guilty about.

It took a while to get used to others playfully teasing and cooing over you like an adorable treat, so at odds with your own self-image no matter how beloved Wanda made you feel. Now, you looked forward to seeing them, happy to soak up the attention.

Pepper was almost always the first to show up, elegant, put together, and relieved to truly relax for once. She was the most like Wanda with you, sweet and doting, but always conscientious about touch and what you were comfortable with.

Next was usually Natasha, confident and casual, already familiar. She was comfortable, safe, and yet a source of increasingly confused feelings, the one Wanda gave the most slack when it came to you.

Maria tended to arrive with or just after Natasha. Quieter than the others, she seemed to take the most joy in catching you unawares with a sly comment.

Carol was always last, making up for any tardiness with a platter of baklava after learning it was your favourite. She would wink as she handed it over, like she was sharing a secret with you.

Despite the collective teasing it often brought, you enjoyed the gatherings not only because the company was great, but because the atmosphere of understanding and acceptance put you at total ease. No one batted an eye if you felt the need to snuggle in Wanda’s lap, and if they did comment it was out of affection, sending your Mommy knowing smiles or cooing over your clinginess.

For the most part, it didn’t go further than teasing remarks. If it did, Wanda wasn’t above getting territorial, touching you with deliberate, bruising purpose that left your knees weak and your cunt dripping, all the while her eyes were fixed on the offending individual. You flushed red whenever it happened, yet you couldn’t help but feel giddy over it, and there were never any hard feelings when all was said and done. It was just easy , and while you’d grown comfortable with all of them you were especially fond of Natasha.

Natasha who happened to be the exception to that territorial response, who could get away with familiar touches, hugs, and even a cuddle if Wanda was dealing with something in the kitchen.

It occurred to you that perhaps, at some point along the way, certain wires had gotten crossed in your brain, and the moment it occurred to you was during a particularly frustrating session in the gym.

The problem started when you shared feelings of discontent with your fighting techniques one evening. The last mission had seen you forced into a close quarters brawl and though you survived it wasn’t without significant bruising both to your body and your pride.

Wanda had smoothed her hand across your brow, tucking some loose hair behind your ear.

“Oh, dorogaya (darling), you know Natasha would help if you only asked her. She hated seeing you like that as much as I did.”

The suggestion was so simple you felt a little embarrassed for not thinking of it sooner.

Truthfully, the thought had occurred to you, swiftly shanked and stuffed in a closet by the aforementioned bruised pride. But Wanda was right, for all her worry and fussing on the way home, Natasha was eerily quiet, checking you for breaks with the utmost care, her gentleness catching you off-guard.

Of course, when you approached her Natasha was more than happy to help work on your weak areas and you trusted her. She was a teammate and a friend, it just made sense to feel comfortable around her, defer to her superior rank and knowledge, follow her lead—it’s what you did on missions when paired and it’s what you did in training.

Embarrassing was the only word for it as you hit the mats with a damp thud, your legs swept out from under you in a move you should have seen coming.

With an annoyed huff, you sat on your knees, hands clenched in your lap as you replayed the last few seconds in your mind and immediately noted at least three things you’d done wrong.

“That’s alright,” said Natasha, a little breathless. “Take a minute to breathe.”

She was so certain, standing over you in the same tight fitting gym clothes as you with every perfectly sculpted muscle glistening in sweat and looking so much more at ease, so much more capable .

Your stomach curdled with something sour.

The voice of your old ‘instructor’ back in Hydra flitted through your mind, as harsh and unforgiving as his boot on your neck, berating your mistakes, your shortcomings, how pathetic and embarrassing you were for not meeting their standards.

With no small amount of effort, you pushed the memory down.

”I’m not getting this,” you sighed, picking at the hem of your shorts. 

Natasha shook her head. “You know improvement doesn’t happen overnight,” she said, measured and understanding. “It takes time, malen’kiy prizrak (little ghost.)“

The moniker was meant to soothe, to mollify, yet it only highlighted how useless you were being.

How pathetic, to need such coddling over a mistake you shouldn’t have made to begin with.

Worthless .

Bitterly, you muttered, “and I am a waste of yours.”

Warm fingers lifted your chin, holding you like steel wrapped in velvet, immovable and gentle at the same time, and found yourself staring up at Natasha with a look you had never seen on her face before.

Her jaw was tight, the line of her lips flat and humourless and her eyes were sharp and bright, piercing like a scalpel poised against the jugular.

It made your spine straighten.

She searched your eyes, letting you sit in the sudden heaviness wrapping around you. “No,” she said, low and firm. “No, you aren’t. I never want to hear you say that again, do you understand me?”

The words caught in your throat.

It wasn’t suffocating, the weight, rather it felt grounding, like being held from all angles, fixed to this point in time and space. Everything else fell out of focus, leaving only the warmth where her fingers held your chin and the intensity of her eyes.

Natasha’s brows raised. “I said, do you understand me?” She repeated, still in that hard, quiet tone of voice that should have made you cower if not for the obvious tenderness behind it.

Swallowing thickly, you wet your lips and answered her with a soft, “yes.”

When she continued to stare, you spoke again, louder. “Yes, I understand.”

Natasha searched your eyes again, scrutinising, looking for a sign you didn’t mean it. You did, you didn’t want to upset her, and on some level you knew what you said was both unwarranted and cruel.

Finally, Natasha relaxed and the piercing steel of her eyes softened. She brushed her thumb across your chin, a small gesture of affection. ”You’ll get it right, it just takes time. Now, are you going to behave?”

With a hasty nod, you tried to hold on to some kind of coherent thought and Natasha pulled you to your feet. The rest of the session passed in a mild haze you didn’t fully shake off until you hit the showers, and Natasha was never far, only leaving you to your own devices once she was sure you’d had something to eat and drink.

She squeezed your shoulder, smiling apologetically as she encouraged you to head home. “You did good today.”

You murmured a thank you and watched her leave, the lingering warmth of her touch curling in your chest.

---

Upon returning home, Wanda seemed more attentive than usual, like she expected to find you out of sorts.

Sitting down with you at the kitchen island with a fresh pot of tea, she laid her hand over yours, brushing her thumb across your knuckles.

“How was your session with Natasha?” she asked gently.

Her eyes were warm and soft, yet intense in a way that made you want to melt into her presence.

“It was…good,” you said, a little lost. “Nat was good with me. Patient.”

Wanda hummed encouragingly.

Taking a breath, you tried to articulate yourself better. “I got frustrated with myself and she corrected me,” you said, meeting Wanda’s understanding stare. “She was gentle. Held my chin and told me to stop beating myself up.”

She tilted her head slightly, stroking the back of your hand in slow circles. “And were you okay with that, malysh (baby)?”

Rather than rush to answer, you took a moment to consider how the interaction had made you feel. Not negatively, you knew that much, quite the opposite and that brought with it a wealth of other feelings.

Taking a breath, you nodded. “Yes. I felt safe.”

Wanda smiled, eyes sparkling with pride as you gave yourself space to think it through. “I’m glad you felt safe, thank you for telling me.”

You flushed lightly, blurting out, “I think I really like Tasha.”

A mischievous light entered Wanda’s eyes at that and she leaned forward, lowering her voice to something teasing and conspiratorial. “Oh, Tasha ? Is that what we call her now?”

Blushing, you looked away and started chewing your lip.

Wanda lifted her hand to your jaw, thumb brushing across your chin. “Tch, none of that,” she chided gently. “Look at me.”

You met her gaze without hesitation, making her smile, a little smug. “Tasha is very pretty, isn’t she, dolly?” Wanda teased, adoring the way you squirmed.

Helplessly, you nodded.

Wanda grinned like a fox who’d caught the hens. “How would you feel if she could see what a good little toy you are for me?”

The thought was like a pulse through your body, making your heart jump and an ache settle between your shifting thighs.

A tiny whine escaped your throat.

Chuckling, Wanda slid from her chair to move closer, pressing light kisses across your brow, your cheeks, your nose. “Words, baby,” she urged quietly, “how does that thought make you feel ?”

You wet your lips, trying to filter out the fuzz rapidly building between your thoughts. “Excited,” you whispered. “Nervous. Shy. Wet.”

Wanda leaned back enough to meet your hazy stare, her expression softening. “Then we should talk about this when you’re feeling a little more grounded,” she said, cupping your face with a care meant for spun glass. “What do you need from me, sweetheart?”

Feeling a little restless, you bunched your hands in the soft fabric of her blouse. “Jammies in the den?”

She laughed softly, kissing your hairline. “And all the cuddles you could ever need, malyshka (little one .)”

---

You did talk about it, of course, thoroughly, and you knew Wanda discreetly discussed the matter with Natasha.

That didn’t make you any less nervous the next time Wanda hosted, welcoming everyone in for a night of movies, wine, and decadent snacks.

While the den was a preferred location, it was small and cosy, and the living room was much more practical for an entire group to comfortably fit, not that it stopped Wanda from trapping you between her and Natasha. You half expected to be teased within an inch of your life only for Natasha to flash you a soft smile and Wanda to casually lay her arm around your shoulders, both actions anchoring you to the immovable fact that you were genuinely cherished.

After that, the rest of the night was easy as you relaxed, snuggling between them, enjoying the atmosphere as jokes and commentary flew at the film's expense.

Eventually, the evening wound down and as guests began to leave you took the opportunity to go to the bathroom, saying your goodbyes as you passed.

The cold water on your face was a relief, bringing back some clarity for the conversation you knew was going to happen.

Wanda had already spoken to Natasha separately. Doubtless, Natasha would be the last to leave tonight.

If she left at all.

Heat bloomed low in your stomach.

Taking a grounding breath, you finished drying your hands and stepped out into the hall.

You found them in the kitchen, standing close enough that they looked positively conspiratorial , like they were scheming together, and that thought sent a heady shiver down your spine.

Wanda spotted you first and made a ‘come hither’ gesture, her smile so disarming that you almost forgot your nerves.

“There you are,” she murmured. She slid an arm around your waist and kissed your brow. “It’s time for that talk, malysh (baby.) ”

You glanced up at Natasha to see a gentle look on her face you’d never seen before, open and warm in a way that immediately put you at ease, soothing the butterflies in your stomach.

“Okay,” you said.

Leading you into the den, Wanda sat down and pulled you into her lap so you were sitting sideways, easily able to see Natasha at the other end of the corner couch and allow Wanda to stroke your back.

“Firstly,” Natasha started, “thank you for trusting me, both of you.”

You nodded, as did Wanda, and she continued, “secondly, I want to be clear that whatever way this goes, it’ll be done at the pace you’re comfortable with. And, if you decide this isn’t what you want, there will be absolutely no awkwardness or hard feelings. Your comfort is paramount.”

A small smile turned your lips. “Thank you, Tasha.”

Her brows raised ever so slightly at the name, and she smiled.

Wanda smirked, brushing some hair behind your ear. “Now is that the name you want to use?” she teased.

You shivered, shyly ducking your head. “Thank you, Auntie Tasha,” you mumbled, heart pounding against your ribs.

Wanda gently forced your head up. “It’s rude not to look at someone when you address them,” she whispered, her warmth breath on your neck making you twitch.

The heat in your belly was warm and thick like honey as you raised your eyes to look at Natasha properly again. “Thank you, Auntie Tasha,” you said without looking away, loud enough to be heard clearly.

Natasha didn’t look surprised in the slightest, the smile on her face shifting to a playful smirk. “Of course, kukolka (little doll) ,” she purred, a hint of condescension dripping into her raspy voice, “Mommy’s polite little girl, hmm?”

Swallowing thickly, you tried to keep your thoughts somewhat coherent and looked at Wanda.

She tilted her head at your imploring expression. “What is it, malyshka (little one )?” she asked warmly, running her finger down the bridge of your nose in a gesture that immediately soothed you.

Gathering yourself, you glanced across at Natasha. “Can Auntie Tasha stay tonight?”

Wanda and Natasha shared a look, before Wanda asked, “would you like that?”

You looked at her and nodded firmly, feeling a little bolder. “Yes, Mommy,” you said, and turned your head to give Natasha your best doe eyes, “I want her to see you fuck me.”

There was a sharp intake of breath, from Wanda or Natasha you weren’t sure but it was probably both of them, the tension in the room suddenly feeling like the jaws of a beartrap about to snap shut, and you were quite happily poking the trigger, willing it to close on you.

Natasha’s eyes darkened, locked onto yours with a hunger you hadn’t seen before.

Warm lips brushed your throat. You shivered, clutching at Wanda tighter, your hips jolted in search of friction. The tingling between your thighs had become a persistent ache.

Pulling herself away from your neck, Wanda asked, “boundaries, malysh (baby.) Do you only want Natasha to watch us?”

You shook your head. “No.”

Wanda rubbed at the small of your back. “I know you have an idea in that adorable little head of yours,” she said encouragingly. “Let us hear it.”

You hurried to speak before your nerves could get the better of you. “I want Auntie Tasha to warm me up before I ride you, Mommy. Want to kiss her while you fuck me.”

Heat burned its way up your neck as the words escaped. “W-would you like that?” you asked quickly.

Wanda hummed with satisfaction. “Oh, I would, dolly , I would,” she husked.

Natasha leaned forward on her knees, her dark eyes more intense than ever. “Dirty girl,” she said, her tone somewhere between teasing and ravenous, “I would love that.”

Carefully grabbing your chin, Wanda brought your eyes back to her. “You remember what to do if you want to slow down or stop?”

Nodding, you answered firmly, “traffic lights, and my safeword is Basilisk.”

It was a word you could never forget and even saying it now made your shoulders tense, bringing a shot of clarity to your thoughts. The codename Hydra used for you when you were still just a weapon, an experiment. No one but the people involved in your rescue had that information, the public knew you by the alias ‘Revenant,’ so this was the only time you would hear it. Cold, startling, and immediately anchoring.

Wanda’s expression softened, like she was looking at something impossibly delicate, held you like something delicate, and kissed the tip of your nose. “Thank you, dorogaya (darling).”

A warm feeling fluttered through your chest, light and soothing, easing the tension in your shoulders. You pressed close, kissing Wanda properly, sliding your hands up her neck and into her hair, sliding your tongue between her lips and drawing a low moan from her.

After a moment, Wanda broke the kiss and smirked. “Now, now, dolly,” she said, “you wanted Auntie Tasha to get you ready for me didn’t you?”

Blushing, you looked over at Natasha, who was now reclining, watching the two of you with a mix of amusement and desire.

She lifted her chin with a smirk and made a ‘come hither’ motion. “Come here, printsessa (princess.) ”

The command hooked somewhere low in your stomach, Natasha’s voice low and coaxing, like honeyed smoke, and you easily got up from Wanda’s lap to stand in front of Natasha, unsure if she wanted you in hers or standing.

Natasha held out her hand like she was offering to help a princess down from the carriage.

Taking her hand, you sank down and straddled her. It wasn’t a new experience to be so close after training and fighting alongside her, that wasn’t what made your heart flutter, it was the way her eyes dropped to your lips.

Her hands slid confidently up your thighs and pulled you closer by the hips, slipping over your waist, the dip of your spine—the firm pressure of Natasha’s hand on the back of your neck almost made you go limp. Instead you leaned in and kissed her, grasping at her leather jacket.

Natasha kissed you at an indulgent, unhurried pace, taking the time to savour this new experience. She slowly kneaded at the back of your neck, helping you relax against her.

You couldn’t help your soft moan at her touch and the moment it escaped her tongue slipped between your lips, the silky sweep of it sending your thoughts into a tailspin.

Just as you began to need air, she pulled back, briefly catching your bottom lip between her teeth. She dragged them down the line of your jaw, nibbling and kissing her way to your throat.

You whined, sliding your hands into her hair so you could pull her against you.

She nearly growled, making you tremble. “Oh, I would mark you, kotenok (kitten,)” she sighed, “but your Mommy would be very upset with me. You don’t want that do you?”

Looking over your shoulder, you were met by the sight of Wanda casually lounging in lingerie, faint red wisps lingering around her body, and your cunt throbbed. The lingerie was sheer and silky, the black material stark against her pale skin, and your eyes were immediately drawn to the scarlet strap-on jutting between her thighs that almost seemed to pulse with its own unearthly light–you knew immediately what she’d done.

Gracefully, she rose from her place on the couch and leaned over you, trapping you between their bodies as she pulled Natasha into a fiery kiss.

You couldn’t tear your eyes away from their lips, watching Wanda plunder Natasha’s mouth with such ease that you briefly imagined Natasha on her knees for your Mommy. Wanda casually resting a hand on Natasha’s throat only reinforced that particular little fantasy.

Pulling away, Wanda smiled down at Natasha, who looked more than happy with her position. “You are both very overdressed,” Wanda husked, “shall we change that?”

You and Natasha hurried to agree, and in a sweeping rush of red energy both of you were rendered naked.

A shiver of delight ran through you feeling Wanda pressed against your bare back and Natasha’s breasts against your own, your thoughts scattering as they caught up with the sight of her naked body beneath you.

You whimpered, squirming between them. “Please,” you begged, “need you both.”

Natasha chuckled softly. “It’s okay, kukolka (little doll) . Mommy will take care of you soon,” she soothed, slowly moving her hands down your body, teasing your breasts and rubbing your nipples in slow circles with her thumbs. “We just have to make sure you’re ready for her don’t we?”

Nodding helplessly, you whimpered and moaned as Natasha pinched your nipples hard enough to make your spine straighten. One hand she returned to your neck for stability, the other slid further down, skating across the lithe muscles of your stomach and finally meeting the soaking heat between your thighs.

Her fingers slipped through your folds, gathering your wetness and rubbing it over your throbbing clit. “Oh, your little dolly is very needy, Wands,” Natasha crooned. “Her pussy is just begging for Mommy’s cock.”

The words made you flush all over again and you whined, hips rocking in search of more relief.

Natasha grinned, pressing harder on your clit in slow, rough circles that made you tremble between them, arousal starting to drip down your thighs.

Wanda’s hands moved down your shoulders and the slope of your back, nails dragging against your skin just hard enough to raise red lines in their wake. You relaxed at the warmth of her palms sliding into place around your waist, holding you steady just as Natasha leaned in to kiss you again.

With the two of them on you you couldn’t decide where to focus your attention, pulled between the newness of Natasha and the comforting familiarity of Wanda, it was making your head spin. Not that you could do anything about it—you didn’t want to.

Something big and firm pressed between your thighs, making you squeak and cling to Natasha. You canted your hips and felt a pleasurable rush down your spine when Wanda chuckled darkly, murmuring praise you heard as intent more than words, your thoughts becoming loose and soupy.

Wanda slowly rocked her hips, grinding the strap against your slick cunt, the ridges catching against your swollen clit and making you moan into Natasha’s mouth.

Breaking off, Natasha trailed kisses down your jaw and softly bit at your ear. “Hold still, kotenok (kitten) ,” she said, sliding a hand into your hair and gripping just hard enough to keep you in place as she lavished your tender neck with attention.

You trembled but did as you were told, trying not to squirm and buck and whine for them to fuck you already. You knew if you were good you’d get what you needed, and you so desperately wanted to be good for them, even if it meant fighting your own body so you didn’t try to take Wanda’s strap before she decided to give it to you.

Wanda laughed, leaning close so her lips were next to your ear. “You’re trying so hard, dolly,” she teased, all faux sympathy, “what a good little slut you are.”

Heat rushed to your face. Your thoughts were so easy for her to hear in this state, but you trusted her completely, you knew you were safe, so all you had for her was love.

With a telling softness, Wanda kissed your temple. “I love you too , ” she whispered.

Straightening up, Wanda slid her hands down to your hips, kneading appreciatively at the swell of your ass before she carefully guided the strap to your dripping entrance. It slipped in easily, stretching you open in one long, slow push that left you trembling in Natasha’s lap, whimpering when Wanda finally bottomed out.

Natasha smirked at the slack look of pleasure on your face. “Oh, does that feel good, printsessa (princess) ?” she purred, lazily toying with your clit.

You could barely find the words to answer her and Wanda didn’t give you the chance, withdrawing only to thrust back inside hard enough to force a keen from your lips.

Her pace was steady and forceful, your eyes beginning to roll back each time she plunged into you, hitting a spot that had you clenching hard around her. Wanda growled at the sensation, pulling you back to meet her thrusts, the smack of skin on skin easily filling the small space of the den.

At a tug on your hair you refocused to find Natasha staring at you mesmerised, a lazy smile on her face. “Is Mommy making you feel good?” she teased, sweet and condescending at the same time. In a clearer headspace you might have assumed Wanda told her what effect that tone had on you, as it was all you could do was nod dumbly, whimpering and moaning as Wanda fucked every last thought out of your head.

Natasha chuckled. “Are you gonna cum on Mommy’s cock like a good little slut?”

The tightening in your belly certainly said so, but you knew better than that, quickly babbling, “please may I cum? Mommy, can I cum, please, please, please?”

Wanda dug her nails into your hips. You could hear the smirk in her voice when she said, “I don’t know, dolly. What does Auntie Tasha think?”

Desperately, you wrapped your arms around Natasha’s shoulders, doing your best to focus and look at her pleadingly.

Natasha cupped your face in her hands, staring at you like an intricate treasure she could spend hours appreciating.

The tension in your belly was only getting worse. “Please, Auntie Tasha,” you begged, “please may I cum?”

She pretended to think about it, watching every little twitch and shudder as you got closer to falling apart between them despite your best efforts to hold on. “Of course you can, kukolka (little doll),” she purred, “give me a show.”

And you did, babbling your ‘thank yous,’ your eyes rolling back, your spine arching, and the tension in your belly finally snapping, rippling through your body from head and curling toes like fire in your veins. Wetness gushed around the stretch of Wanda’s cock, your walls milking her length and making her groan, her hips stuttering against you.

Growling, Wanda fucked you harder, prolonging your orgasm while she chased her own, hissing what a filthy girl you were, so desperate for Mommy to fill you.

Natasha echoed the sentiment, “the little whore wants to feel Mommy’s cum dripping out of her needy cunt, doesn’t she?”

You keened, unable to find the words, clutching Natasha’s shoulders like an anchor in a storm.

Finally, Wanda bottomed out with a snarl, rocking into your ass as her cock throbbed inside you, spilling silken heat against your fluttering walls until it started to leak, glassy and shimmering.

You had a moment to breathe, sagging against Natasha who stroked up and down your back, kissing the top of your head soothingly. “You’re so beautiful when you fall apart, printsessa (princess) ,” she murmured.

Wanda gently pulled out, rubbing your hips when you whimpered at the emptiness. “You did so well, malysh (baby).”

A single coherent thought passed through your head and you grabbed it immediately, looking over your shoulder at Wanda. “Mommy, can Auntie Tasha fill me too?” you asked, far too innocently for what you were saying.

Both women inhaled at that, a beat of silence passing between them.

Natasha raised a brow at Wanda, silently deferring to her, and Wanda smirked. “Of course she can, sweet girl,” she said.

They easily manoeuvred you between them, Wanda reclining in the corner of the couch with her thighs spread and you nestled between them, her hand in your hair as she brought your mouth to her cock.

She smiled sweetly at you, “you made such a mess of Mommy, malyshka (little one), it’s only right that you clean up after yourself.”

You were more than happy to open your mouth for her, letting her slide her cock passed your lips and set the pace as you diligently licked and sucked all traces of yourself from the warm silicone.

Wanda lifted her free hand, scarlet energy snaking across her fingers.

Behind you, there was a brief flash of red and your heart jumped, moaning around Wanda with excitement.

She chuckled, staring down at you with adoration and just a hint of sadism in her eyes. “Yes, dolly,” she said, adjusting her grip on your hair. “Auntie Tasha is going to fuck your needy little cunt now.”

The head of Natasha’s strap found your entrance, soaked and still dripping with the syrupy magic Wanda left behind. She found no resistance when she started to push, slipping inside you so easily that she bottomed out in one swooping motion.

Both of you groaned and some distant corner of your mind wondered if this was the first time Natasha got to feel it, but now wasn’t the time for thoughts, quite the opposite.

With your hips raised and a cushion placed beneath them, you relaxed completely with Wanda’s hand in your hair and Natasha’s on your waist, both of them moving you as they wished, using your body for their pleasure.

Wet, muffled noises escaped you as she guided your head up and down her cock, sucking at the tip and rubbing your tongue against the underside when she had you all the way down. All the while she cooed at you, equal parts mocking and sweet, “aw, is dolly’s head all fuzzy?”

Words were impossible so you hummed in agreement, staring up at her with glazed, adoring eyes.

Natasha growled a quiet curse in Russian, thrusting with a steady, pounding rhythm that had the heat in your belly stoked higher and higher. Even with the new sensation, she was careful, methodical, paying attention to every shift of your body, any cues from Wanda that this was too much, only getting rougher when you canted your hips so she could fuck you harder.

Wanda smiled darkly, giving your hair a light tug and sending a tremble through your body. “Are you just a mindless little slut for us?” she teased.

You moaned loudly at that, sucking harder on her cock and making her breath hitch.

Panting slightly, Wanda held your head still and began rocking up into your mouth. “She’s such a pretty toy, isn’t she, Nat?” she hissed, her lips curling in a satisfied sneer, her eyes glowing with a faint red light you wanted to lose yourself in.

Natasha wrapped her arms around your waist, leaning down until she was flush against your back as she drove her hips into you. “ Prekrasnaya printsessa ,” she said raggedly, “ ty sozdana dlya nas (beautiful princess, you are made for us.)”

Whoever came first it didn’t really matter, one set off another, and another. All you knew or felt was a bone melting heat rushing through your body, happily swallowing what Wanda gave you, feeling Natasha throb inside you and fill your cunt with more pearlescent cum. Every nerve felt electrified and you shuddered between them, loose-limbed and hazy without a single clear thought passing through your mind.

When it finally calmed, you went slack, utterly worn out.

If they spoke you didn’t notice, all you really paid attention to were the gentle touches, the soft, soothing tone they spoke with to you as they gently extricate themselves from your body and began to take care of it. Soft, slender fingers stroked through your hair, and firm, calloused hands slowly rubbed up and down your back.

The second pair of hands withdrew when you responded to a question with a hum, recognising the intent rather than the words themselves.

A warm damp cloth began to wipe the sweat from your skin and you whined when you were encouraged to roll onto your back, clinging to Wanda whose lap you were in.

She leaned down until her hair fell in a red curtain around your faces, touching her nose to yours. “You did so well for us, sweetheart,” she said warmly, “you were perfect.”

You jumped slightly when you felt the cloth gently clean the slick mess between your thighs, whimpering from the sensitivity.

Wanda hushed you softly, kissing your brow. “It’s okay, malysh (baby) , just Tasha taking care of you just like I do.”

You blinked sleepily, looking down to see Natasha doing exactly that. When your eyes met she smiled so kindly it made your heart flutter, her stare utterly disarming like she was looking at a tired kitten.

Natasha set the cloth aside and leaned down to press a chaste kiss to your stomach. “All done, malen’kiy prizrak (little  ghost) ,” she said fondly.

Lifting your arms, you made grabby motions at her, prompting her to glance at Wanda who just grinned. “I should have warned you,” she said with no trace of apology, “aftercare cuddles are mandatory.”

Natasha rolled her eyes with a laugh. “Alright, just let me grab us some water and snacks first,” she said, smiling down at you, “can you be a good girl and wait a little longer for me?”

You pouted but let your arms drop, grumpily twisting to hide your face in Wanda’s stomach. “Okay,” you mumbled.

Natasha got up on slightly unsteady legs and disappeared to the kitchen.

Glancing up at Wanda, you found her watching you with amusement twinkling in her eyes. “Did you have fun, malyshka (little one)? ”

You nodded vigorously. “Yes! Did you, Mommy? Did Tasha?"

She smiled, scrunching her nose at you as she leaned down to kiss your brow again. “I did, malysh (baby)," she said, "and why don't you ask her when she comes back? But I think you know the answer already."

[idkwhatever580]

You Like Me?

Pairings: WandaNat, WandaNatxreader (eventually)

Prompt: I decided to pair this prompt and this prompt together to create one big mess :)

Warnings: Poly couple, swearing, Nat being kind of a bitch, crying, a wee bit of angst I assume, fluff, soft Wanda, suggestive tones, shit writing, really im serious this writing is so shit, lmk if I missed any!

A/N: I really hope I did y'all justice because this is my first time writing WandaxNatxreader so please bear with me as I probably write a trainwreck of a story @sxlfishbrokenheart

Also don't ask what is going on with the povs I am clearly struggling throughout the whole damn thing T-T

Natasha's thoughts = Red

Wanda's thoughts = Orange

Y/n's thoughts = Purple

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Movie night at the Avengers' tower means cry night for you. Everyone in the tower has strict assigned seating so that nobody gets in a fight, even though it doesn't always keep the peace.

Everything seems to be great except for the fact that you have to sit beside Wanda and Natasha. Which isn't a problem for everyone else right? Wanda, Nat, and Y/N the towers' favorite trio...

Bestie trio, that is.

While Wanda and Nat are the perfect power couple, you're left as the third wheel that also happens to be pining for the both of them. So, while everyone thinks you love sitting with them on movie nights, you sit in agony while watching them out of the corner of your eye.

Sometimes Wanda, who sits in the middle of you and Nat, will pull you into her and claim that it's just what besties do. You of course, can't say no to her, so you end up running back to your room after most movie nights to cry about your wishful thinking.

You honestly can't even remember a movie night where you actually watched the movie. You usually just fall asleep in their arms trying to soak up the affection while you can.

But your dynamic has changed in the past few months...

Wanda is still super lovey and always pulls you in, maybe even more so than before, while Nat has become meaner and ruder towards you. So, you really feel like you're impeding on their relationship, which makes you get into your head.

Maybe Nat is being mean to me because she is jealous. Of course, she has a right to be jealous when Wands has been really close with me. I don't want to ruin their relationship. I'm not even trying anything. Maybe it is because they can sense that I like them. Oh my gosh, it is... Of course! Wanda is being extra nice because she pities me, while Nat is being mean because she is blunter and more obvious that she doesn't like me. I need to leave them alo-

You are cut out of your thoughts when a hand is placed on your thigh. That hand is none other than Wanda's, she leans in and says, "Hey, you alright?"

You quickly nod your head, and she visibly relaxes, but she continues, "Are you sure? Because we haven't even started watching anything and you look like you're zoned out on the tv that isn't even on."

This conversation peaks Natasha's interest, so she leans forward so she can see you past Wanda with an eyebrow raised. She is clearly waiting for you to conjure up an answer.

You quickly stutter out, "Oh- yeah, um, I am fine, I just- I just zoned out for a sec, you know how my ADHD can be."

Wanda squints her eyes and exchanges a look with Nat, but they let it slide. You still decide that you need to pull away from them, you can't be pretending like they are yours to love when they aren't.

So, you scooch over to the other side of the couch you three share, which isn't too far considering there is almost no wiggle room between the three of you. It still saddens Wanda regardless, but you don't see that it also saddens Nat.

The movie starts and Wanda tries to pull you in again, you consider letting it happen, but today is different. Today you pull away again, but the look of hurt that flashes over Wanda's face hurts you more than any sort of cuddling could ever.

Her expression pains you so much in fact that you get up and go to run off. Nat grabs your hand to try and catch you and see what is going on with you, but you are somehow swifter, so you just pull your arm away from her grasp and walk off.

Nobody saw you run off because your couch is in the back, but Wanda and Natasha exchange each other's glances and immediately jump up to go comfort you.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Wanda's pov

Y/n just ran off after I tried to cuddle with her, so Natasha and I are currently going to find her.

We are standing in the elevator waiting for it to go to our floor which is also Y/n's.

"Wanda, why did she run off like that?"

I look over at Nat and shrug with wide eyes, "I don't know, she doesn't normally do this. She pulled away earlier before the movie started but I didn't think anything of it. Oh God she didn't want to cuddle today, and I did it anyways I totally made her uncomfortable!"

Natasha cuts me off, "Hey! You're spiraling, clearly Y/n needs us to be there for her, so we have to stay calm. I am sure there is a very good explanation as to why she didn't want to cuddle tonight."

The elevator dings and we rush over to Y/n's room and before Nat bangs on the door, I lean up and hear her sniffles.

Nat hears this too and loudly knocks on the door.

I say, "Y/n? Honey? Can you let us in?"

She lets out a sob, but doesn't answer, and I am concerned for her safety, so I say, "Okay, I'm going to come in now."

I carefully pry open the door and see her sitting on her floor in tears, so I quickly make my way over to her and sit down next to her, "Darling can I hold you?"

She shakes her head, so I sigh and stay seated next to her. Eventually though, she ends up leaning into me and I wrap my arms around her. Once her tears cease, I softly say, "Can you tell us what's going on?"

She looks up at Natasha and gets scared and shakes her head. Natasha tries to ask, "Why did you run off Y/n?"

I know that she means well when she asks this, but the way it comes out is really harsh and Y/n starts crying a little bit again, and just starts shaking her head, so I hush her and lean into her ear to whisper, "Do you not want to say in front of Natasha?"

Y/n thinks about it and softly shakes her head.

I sigh and say, "I can send her out if you'd feel more comfortable."

She stays silent for a moment, and right when I think she is going to start crying again, she nods her head into my shoulder, so I lift my head up and use my powers to silently conversate with Nat in her head.

"She wants you out..."

"What?! Why?"

"Not sure."

"Then why do I have to go?"

"I know you don't get it, but she needs to feel comfortable and if that means that you have to leave then you need to go, please, I love you baby, but we have to get to the bottom of what is going on. I'll let you know after."

Natasha huffs and nods her head without another word, and she leaves the room to presumably go lay in our bed waiting for me to come and give her an update.

Once Nat leaves I go back to tending to Y/n. "Do you want to go on your bed? This floor might hurt your back."

Y/n nods softly and I pick her up and carry her to the bed. When I set her down, she sits up, so I know she is ready to talk. "Alright, what was that whole thing about? You never leave a movie night early, and you definitely don't run off crying... Right?"

The defeated look Y/n sends my way makes me realize this crying is a normal thing for her, "Oh dorogoy, why do you do this? Why don't you come to me or Nat?"

She sighs and says, "I can't go to you because- because... I- I can't tell you."

This hits me kind of hard, I don't want the woman that we love to feel like she can't come to us for anything. "Why do you say that?"

She gets frustrated and just blurts out, "Because Wanda! I-" Her face contorts to surprise at her outburst, and she quickly tries to cover it up, "I said I can't tell you for a reason."

I sigh and secretly read her mind, She is struggling because she thinks Natasha hates her.

All I see when I subtly read her mind are flashes of Nat being a complete and utter bitch to her, and that is all it takes for me to realize that she thinks Nat totally hates her guts.

I nod and say, "Okay, well I will let you figure it out, since you seem to want to be by yourself. We're always here if you need us. I am gonna go to bed I guess, Nat is waiting in our room, are you alright on your own?"

She simply nods and I ask another question, "You'll come to us if you need anything?"

She nods again and we say our goodbyes.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I almost run to my shared room and immediately start telling Natasha everything. "Natasha, she does like us!"

Nat furrows her eyebrows, because I only use her full name when I am mad at her. So, she looks at me and says, "That's old news, but are you mad at me? And it also doesn't explain why she was crying."

I sit down on the bed and tell her, "Nat, I am not mad at you, you are just dumb."

Her jaw drops a bit, and she says, "I'm not stupid!"

I laugh when her subtle Russian accent comes out, (she's been hanging around Yelena way too much recently, but I like it) and say, "I called you dumb, not the same thing as stupid. Anyways, Y/n was crying because she likes both of us, and she is scared she is going to split us up because you don't like her."

She frowns and retorts, "but- I do like her?"

I glare and say, "I know that, but Y/n thinks you hate her because you are mean to her! You know she is a sensitive soul; you have to try a different approach than what you did with me."

The crease across her forehead never goes away, if anything, it gets bigger, "But I am only flirting with her, you know that is how I flirt."

I laugh and say, "Oh Natty, I knew you liked me because I can read minds, Y/n cannot do that, so she can't tell that you like her if you are a bitch to her, no offense."

She looks down and realization washes over her, so she says, "So what do I do? She barely talks to me anymore, and she definitely won't let me in her room right now."

I sigh and say, "you'll have to figure it out somehow."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

idk pov (guys I can't- I seriously don't know right now)

It has been a few days since the day you locked yourself away from everyone, and you have been avoiding both of them since.

You have locked yourself up in your part of Tony's lab and you just can't bring yourself to face them. You also skipped movie night last night and everyone was trying to see if you are okay, but you just told FRIDAY to let them know you are fine.

You are tinkering with one of your suit pieces when you realize you need a tool that you don't have, but you know Tony has it on his work bench.

So, you walk over to his side of the lab and of course none other than the Natasha Romanoff is sitting at his bench looking for something. You sigh and contemplate waiting for her to leave, but you really need this tool, and you see it right on a shelf above his desk. So, you sigh and make you way quietly over to the desk, but while you reach out to grab it, Nat also reaches up for the same tool and you bump each other's hands.

Within the blink of an eye, three things happen; Nat and you bump hands, you end up hitting the shelf, and one of Tony's weird gadgets fall onto your wrists effectively locking around your wrists and binding you together.

You groan and Nat says, "Shit, I didn't see you."

You shake my head and turn away as much as you can, and you say "It's fine, I should have made my presence known."

She starts looking at the gadget and you take a second to examine it closer and say, "Oh. My. God."

Natasha furrows her eyebrows in confusion and says, "What is it?"

You groan and say, "These are the vibranium tondricuffs Tony has been working on."

She rolls her eyes when you don't explain and says, "And what does that mean? I might be a spy, but I don't know this sciencey shit you do."

You shake your head from the soft thoughts of her perfect lips and say, "Oh- uhh it is just what he calls them, but when I say he is working on them, it means that he hasn't figured them out yet and I don't think he knows how to unlock them."

Nat takes a deep breath and says, "So, you're telling me, that since Tony can't seem to put away his stupid toys, we are locked together for the foreseeable future?"

You sigh and nod your head, dropping it the second you feel heat rising to your face at the thought of all the things you might have to do with Nat. "Who do we tell? Isn't Tony on a mission?"

Nat groans even louder at the realization and says, "I guess we should go tell Wanda, and then she will help make a plan right?"

You bite your lip at the thought of facing her, and Nat sees your hesitation, "Hey, what's up with you lately? You always want to see Wanda."

You make brief eye contact with Nat and quickly look away until she puts her fingers to your chin and pulls you to look at her. She looks deep into your eyes and says, "You've been distant, ever since..."

You sigh and say, "Sorry, I guess I don't like when people see me cry."

Nat furrows her eyebrows and says, "You're a terrible liar."

You look at her with shock and say, "I am not lying!"

She laughs and says, "Oh really?"

When you nod your head she smirks and says, "If you really didn't like when people see you cry, then why did you never shut us out before? You have cried in our arms before, and you have never done something like this."

You sigh and say, "Okay, well- maybe I have changed."

Nat rolls her eyes as you decide to continue your work on your suit, effectively dragging Nat along wherever you go, not that she minds. She keeps pressing even though you clearly want to drop the subject, "You're hiding something."

"Am not."

"Are too."

"No. I'm. Not."

"If you weren't hiding anything then why don't you tell me why you couldn't face me the other night? And why you can barely look at me today?"

This seems to break you, her constant nagging is really pissing you off and you just slam your tools on the work bench and say, "Alright fine! You really want to know why I have been avoiding you?"

She nods her head, "yes please do enlighten me."

You groan and turn to her completely and just blab everything, "Because! You clearly see that I like Wanda and you are mad so you have been really mean, which is understandable, because she is your girlfriend, but what you don't know is that I like both of you and I know you probably hate my guts even more than before, but I really needed to get that off of my chest and-"

Before you can let any more word vomit fall out of your mouth Natasha's lips are on yours in an instant. They shut you up really well.

Your eyes widen and you push her away as much as you can, given the fact that you're still handcuffed together.

"Nat what are you doing?!"

She looks at you, "Is that not what you wanted this whole time?"

"Well, yes, but what about Wanda?"

She realizes that you don't know that she and Wanda knew, "Oh! Right! Wanda knows you like her. And I knew I just didn't know how to flirt. I am apparently a really shitty flirt when I am being genuine. I can fake flirt, but when I have a real crush, I turn into an asshole. It worked for Wands, but I realized it didn't necessarily work for you huh?"

You shake your head with wide eyes. Still trying to wrap your mind around the fact that both of your crushes like you back. Before you can fall deeper into your thoughts, Nat asks, "Wanna continue what we were doing?"

All you can do is nod, but her lips are immediately locked on your own. The feeling burns but it burns so so good. You two continue to swap spit until you hear someone speak, "Am I interrupting something ladies?"

You both pull away and look to see Wanda standing in the doorway. You freeze, still unsure if she is okay with you kissing her girlfriend, and she starts to step towards the two of you.

Once she gets up really close to you, she gives you a soft look and walks by you to kiss Nat pulling away to say, "Hi baby."

They exchange some small talk, and you are really uncomfortable because you have no idea what to do. They are just acting like you're not there and that you and Nat weren't just kissing.

Then, they both turn to you and Wanda leans closer to you, "Tell me Natasha, was it your intention to keep this sweet thing from me?"

Your eyes widen as Nat shakes her head aggressively letting out a soft 'no'.

Who knew Natasha was a bottom... they even acted like she was the top around me. Impressive.

Wanda lifts your chin a bit to look at her and she smirks, "What is going on in that pretty little head of yours, y/n/n?"

You snap out of it and whine a bit, and Wanda smiles and says, "Do you want a kiss too?"

You nod your head.

"Words sweet one."

"Y-yes please."

She smiles and looks back at Natasha briefly saying, "This one has good manners. She knows her place well. We've known her for all this time and yet we're just finding this out. Oh, we're going to have so much fun with her Natty."

Nat nods her head, and Wanda turns back to you to say, "Now... about that kiss."

She leans in, and you meet her halfway to interlock her delicate lips together with yours. It is likes soft pillows meeting sparkling fireworks.

You get lost in the kiss and try to push a little more for a deeper one, but Wanda pulls away with a soft smirk. As much as you want to pout for losing contact with her, all you can do is send a dopey smile her way.

Wanda exchanges looks with Natasha and they both look back at you. Nat speaks first, "So, now that we have that out of the way, Wands and I were wondering if you wanted to be our girlfriend?"

Your eyes widen and Wanda speaks up a bit, "Don't feel pressured to give us an answer right now. We understand it's new, and you might be feeling overwhelmed, we just want to put the offer on the table."

Then she leans closer to you and speaks in a low tone, "Although we don't like to be kept waiting."

Her silky voice makes you blush a bit, but you clear your throat and say, "Date both of you? At the same time?"

They both nod their heads and you say, "Yes! A thousand times yes!"

They both smile as you kiss each of them multiple times.

Natasha sighs and says, "Alright, what do you want to do as our official girlfriend now?"

You smile and say, "As much as I would love to go watch movies to make up for the last two movie nights that I missed, I really would like to get this thing off."

You hold up both Natasha's and your connected arms up to show Wanda the tondricuffs.

Wanda's eyebrows raise, she's probably wondering what happened to get that locked onto you. Natasha sighs in defeat and says, "Oh, right... that." You softly grab Nat's hand.

Wanda is about to ask questions, but you cut in and say, "Ask questions later, find Tony now. Please."

Safe to say there was a lot to discuss, but it will all work out now that you have your girls.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N: I'm so terribly sorry for how long this took me to write... I genuinely thought it would be quick and easy, but college is kicking my ass, and I really didn't want to leave you with nothing. So, it's a little shitty, but it's something!

Masterlist

Taglist

@ilovesnat @ihartnat @marvelnatasha12346 @moistblobfish @justarandomreaderxoxo @lovelyy-moonlight @symp4nat @ale-estrabao @mrsrushman @kkreader78o @cheekysnake

[whisperofaflame]

Sneak Peak

I promise I am writing Chapter 16 of Collision Course, but I've also been working on a few other pieces for the series – including something based on the many asks I've received about reader hearing/interrupting Wanda and Natasha getting busy in the bedroom...

It's not finished yet and I think I'd rather release it as part of the main story, but I thought I'd give you a little spoiler now (from the rough draft -- so this is very much subject to change).

Pilates [working title]

WandaNat x [innocent, clueless] Reader

A/N: Reader is in her 20s and perfectly capable/cognisant... except when it comes to certain social cues.

Natasha is in the kitchen, chopping tomatoes on the island countertop. You grin and bound up to her, glad she has returned.

“Nat! You’re back!” 

“Back?” Natasha replies, looking confused. Wanda positions herself at the corner between you, ringed fingers clutching the marble.

“Yeah — I was looking for you earlier when Wanda was doing a workout, and I couldn’t find you,” you explain, frowning a little at her lack of understanding.

“Oh, I wasn’t gone,” Natasha clarifies bluntly. “I was in the bedroom too.” Wanda turns to her then, giving her a look you can’t see. Natasha’s eyes widen ever so slightly, and she adds a little extra detail, her words a little stilted. “I was… also doing Pilates.”

“Oh.” The realisation makes you feel a little sad, in truth. You’d assumed it was something Wanda preferred to do alone, but if she was happy to do it with Natasha too… was it just that she needed time away from you? 

Wanda studies you, looking a little concerned. Maybe you should be honest. That’s what they’re always asking you to do. Just say what you want, what you need. 

“Um, maybe next time… could I join too, please? I’d like to learn Pilates.”

Wanda’s face pales, and she doesn’t meet your eyes as she speaks the now familiar phrase, the one that is beginning to infuriate you. 

“Maybe when your arm is better, darling.”

Perhaps Natasha sees your face crumple, because she jumps in lightly, a small smirk tugging at the edges of her lips. 

“I dunno, Wanda… I’m sure we could figure something out.” There’s something a little playful, a little implacable in her tone, but Natasha’s words suggest she’s on your side, so you smile shyly at her, grateful for the intervention. 

“Nat,” Wanda growls lowly. Again she’s turned away from you, so you can’t see the expression she sends to her wife. One of Natasha’s eyebrows raises slightly, but after a moment all evidence of a smirk has vanished. Natasha turns away, occupying herself with the dishwasher. 

“Darling, would you help me set the table, please?” Wanda asks you, her voice sweet but carrying a clear directive to move on. You obey, frowning a little at their strange behaviour and the new addition to the ever-growing list of things you can’t do because of your injury. 

Reader missing the point cracks me up so much (partly because I can unfortunately imagine this happening to me lol) 😅

[lanaroff]

Is it too late?

Paring: WandaNat x Daughter Reader

***************************************************************

It had all started as an impulse.

Y/N had always been a good kid. Straight A’s, a solid friend group with Peter, MJ, and Ned, and a happy life with her mothers, Natasha Romanoff and Wanda Maximoff. They were her everything—Natasha, the strict and disciplined ex-Black Widow, and Wanda, the soft, nurturing stay-at-home mom. Despite their differences in parenting styles, they both loved Y/N more than anything.

But something had changed the day she found out Peter Parker was Spider-Man.

It wasn’t just the shock of realizing that one of her best friends was out there risking his life to save people. It was the realization that she, too, could do more. She had potential—potential she was wasting by just going to school, studying, and hanging out. She was the daughter of two legendary heroes, and yet, she was doing nothing while people out there needed help.

That night, she made a decision. A reckless, exhilarating decision.

She snuck into Natasha’s weapons stash, her hands trembling slightly as she carefully picked up a pair of old batons and a small knife. They felt foreign but also... right in her grip. Her heartbeat pounded in her ears, a mix of fear and excitement making her breath quicken. She wasn’t planning on killing anyone—just scaring the bad guys away. And so, with adrenaline rushing through her veins, she snuck out into the city, searching for trouble.

It didn’t take long before she found it—a couple of guys trying to steal a car. With her heart pounding, she stepped forward.

“Hey!” she shouted, gripping her weapons tighter. “Step away from the car.”

The men turned, laughing when they saw her. “And what are you gonna do about it, sweetheart?” one of them sneered.

Y/N didn’t hesitate. She charged, using her mother’s training that she had picked up over the years just by watching. Her movements were raw, unpolished, but effective. The fight lasted less than five minutes, and when she stood over the groaning, defeated criminals, she felt something she hadn’t before—power. The thrill, the rush of stopping them, the knowledge that she had done something good—it was intoxicating. So she kept doing it. Night after night, sneaking out, fighting crime, helping others.

But she told no one. Not Peter, not MJ, and certainly not her mothers.

At first, it was easy. She balanced school, family, and her secret life. But as the weeks passed, the exhaustion started creeping in. Her grades slipped. She became irritable, snapping at her friends and avoiding her mothers. Family time, something she had always cherished, now felt like an obligation. And her mothers noticed.

The next day, at dinner, Wanda finally spoke up. “Y/N, is something going on?” her soft eyes full of concern as she sat across from her daughter at the table. “You seem distant lately.”

Y/N barely looked up from her plate. “I’m fine, Mom. Just tired.”

Natasha, sitting beside Wanda, exchanged a glance with her wife. Her sharp instincts told her Y/N wasn’t telling the full truth. “Tired from what?” Natasha pressed, her voice calm but firm. “You’re not in any sports, and school’s never drained you like this before.”

Y/N sighed, forcing her frustration down. “MJ and I had an argument,” she lied. She could feel the weight of their stares on her, the concern in Wanda’s gentle eyes, the suspicion in Natasha’s narrowed gaze. “It’s nothing, really.”

Natasha wasn’t convinced. She had spent years detecting lies, and her daughter wasn’t as good at hiding them as she thought. One afternoon, while cleaning Y/N’s room, she found something troubling—her daughter’s latest math test, covered in red ink. Y/N was exceptional at math; there was no way she would fail a test unless something was very wrong.

That night, Natasha confronted her.

“What’s going on with you?” Natasha asked, stepping into Y/N’s room and holding up the test. Her voice was measured, but there was an undeniable sharpness to it. “Your grades are dropping, you barely talk to us anymore, and now you’re lying? This isn’t like you.”

Y/N clenched her fists. “I’m fine, Mom. I’m old enough to make my own decisions. I know what I’m doing.”

“No, you don’t,” Natasha snapped, stepping closer. “You think you do, but you don’t. And whatever is happening, it’s affecting you. We’re worried about you, Y/N.”

Wanda, who had been watching from the doorway, stepped forward, her voice softer but no less concerned. “Sweetheart, we just want to understand. Please, talk to us.”

Y/N’s frustration boiled over. “There’s nothing to understand!” she shouted. “I’m not a little kid anymore! You don’t need to control every part of my life!”

Natasha’s jaw tightened, but it was Wanda’s wounded expression that made Y/N’s anger falter for a second. Still, she couldn’t back down. She couldn’t tell them. So, instead of staying home and dealing with it, she did the only thing that made her feel better—she went out to fight.

That night, long after Y/N had gone to bed, Wanda and Natasha lay awake in their room, both lost in thought. The soft glow of the bedside lamp illuminated Wanda’s worried expression as she turned to her wife.

“She’s not okay, Nat,” Wanda said softly, her fingers absentmindedly tracing patterns on the blanket. “I can feel it. Something’s wrong, but she won’t tell us.”

Natasha sighed, staring up at the ceiling with a deep frown. “Yeah, because she’s lying,” she muttered. “That whole thing about arguing with MJ? I don’t buy it. I saw them together yesterday, laughing like nothing happened.”

Wanda bit her lip. “Maybe she just doesn’t want to talk about it yet. She’s seventeen, Nat. Teenagers go through things.”

Natasha shook her head, sitting up slightly. “This isn’t just a phase, Wanda. Her grades are slipping, she barely looks at us at dinner, and she’s exhausted all the time. I know Y/N. She’s not like this.”

Wanda reached for Natasha’s hand, squeezing it gently. “You think she’s in trouble?”

Natasha hesitated, glancing toward the door as if expecting their daughter to suddenly appear. “I don’t know,” she admitted. “But I know she’s hiding something.”

Wanda sighed, leaning her head against Natasha’s shoulder. “I hate this. She used to tell us everything.”

“She used to be a kid,” Natasha murmured. “Now she’s trying to be independent. But if this keeps up, we’re going to have to push her to talk.”

Wanda nodded, her heart heavy with worry. “I just hope we’re not too late.”

However, what Wanda and Natasha missed was that Y/N was not asleep, and that she was not at their house. She wa doing the one thing she thought was good for her. And she failed torealize how reckless she was being. She didn’t notice the men she picked a fight with were more than just common thugs. She was outnumbered, outmatched. And before she could react, a sharp pain erupted in her side, followed by another blow to her head.

For the first time since she started, she realized just how dangerous this was. Just how much trouble she was in.

As she collapsed onto the cold pavement, the world around her blurred. The last thought in her mind wasn’t about winning the fight or proving herself.

It was about her mothers.

And how much she wished she had listened to them.

[hard-core-super-star]

OWN MY MIND [wandanat]

pairing: top!wanda maximoff x bottom!natasha romanoff

summary: wanda's crush on natasha has grown to nearly unbearable levels. instead of pining after her, she decides to do something about it during a party.

warnings: SMUT, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT! -> porn with plot; wanda has a crush and she's about to make it EVERYONE'S problem; semi-public sex; slightly obsessive wanda go brr; so much teasing; the clothes stay on because i say so; thigh-grinding; fingering [nat receiving]; neck kisses; i got hooked on the idea so there's a lot of expostion; shitty dirty talk; so much bickering

wordcount: 3.8k

a/n: I'M ALIVE! i did not mean to disappear again but life had other plans 😅that being said, I'M OKAY! i survived a very stressful january and my writer's block seems to be easing somewhat. every year i say i'll be more active on here and it doesn't always work very well BUT i'm trying! anyway, i hope you guys are doing well, my askbox is always open for you all. that being said, i hope you enjoy <3

[part two | part three]

* * * * * * *

There wasn't much Wanda was sure of anymore.

At some point, she'd been sure her and her family were going to be safe. She'd been proven wrong the day a Stark Industries missile crashed into her living room, sending all her childish hopes of safety with it.

After that, she'd been sure she'd never leave her brother's side, even agreeing to become an experiment for HYDRA to guarantee their safety. Their powers had helped and even when Ultron appeared, she was sure they'd figure things out together.

That dream had instantly been shot down, along with Pietro and the remnants of her home, after Ultron's attack.

She hated thinking about it. About everything she lost. About the dreams she'd held onto for most of her life that were meaningless now. That didn't serve any purpose other than reminding her she was alone.

Sure, she had the Avengers now but...they didn't understand her. Not the way her brother had.

Clint tried his hardest to be there for her before he left to be with his family, do doubt feeling guilty over something that wasn't his fault. He wasn't to blame for Pietro's sacrifice and they both knew blaming him wouldn't bring the speedster back anyway.

In a weird way, though, the archer was the only one who truly understood her grief so when he left...Wanda did what she had always done. She retreated into herself, ignoring the looks of the rest of the team and Vision's borderline annoying insistence that she talk to someone.

She didn't need to talk about anything. There was nothing to talk about. Nothing that could change the pain she carried every day.

Nothing...except Natasha Romanoff.

Their friendship hadn't come out of nowhere despite how hard the older woman liked to act otherwise. Even without her powers, she knew Clint had been the one to push Natasha in her direction. It was also obvious that the Widow had no idea what to do.

It was weirdly charming.

Despite how hard she tried to act like she cold and heartless, Natasha cared. She cared a lot more than she wanted to. Especially about Wanda.

So, when the older woman started appearing outside her door at ungodly hours of the night, seemingly unaware of the tear that stained the witch's cheeks, and inviting her to train with her...Wanda decided trusting her wouldn't do any harm.

That much was true. No real harm came from getting close to Natasha. If anything, she helped more than anyone at the Tower had even tried. She didn't care that Wanda didn't want to talk about what happened in Sokovia, that her inner demons showed their face every night and left her with nightmares too intense to ignore, that her powers grew stronger every day.

The Widow didn't seem to care about the details. She simply cared enough to be there. Sometimes she showed up earlier, before any nightmares could haunt her dreams, other times she showed up later and with a tea in hand that she quickly offered to her. There were no words exchanged but she knew.

And that meant more to Wanda than she could even put into words.

Those feelings, though, quickly grew out of her control. It happened almost on accident, practically without thinking. All she knew is that one day she felt...drawn to Natasha in a way she hadn't noticed before.

To the curve of her neck, the flex of her biceps, the tension in her jaw when she throws a punch. All the little details came together and left her feeling far too confused for her liking.

Confused and yet far too in control.

And to say Wanda was slowly becoming obsessed with control would be an understatement.

This flurry of thoughts is what leads her to do something too far out of her comfort zone. It's a shitty idea, she knows that, but when Vision off-handedly tells her of the party Tony will be throwing later that day, a plan slowly starts forming in her head.

A plan that involves a certain redhead and the confusing feelings that settle low in her stomach when they're alone together. Of course, she's not a stranger to desire, she knows what her feelings really are, but that doesn't mean she's exactly okay with them. With the suddenness and the intensity of her thoughts. Of the fantasies she longs to make a reality.

She's just as patient as she is stubborn, though, so she waits. Waits until the party is in full swing, until she's all dolled up in her favorite dress, paired with the leather jacket she never gave back to redhead, and then she strikes.

It must look weird. It certainly feels weird, stepping out into the crowd instead of avoiding everyone in her room. She has to step out of her comfort zone if she wants to go after what she wants, though, and she's determined to sink her teeth into Natasha before the end of the night.

Thankfully, she doesn't have to wait long for her opportunity.

As soon as she makes her way into the bustle of the party, she scans the room for the Widow. She finds her by the bar, chatting with Tony and Rhodey with a drink in hand.

Even though she wants to waste no time, she decides to linger. To let the anticipation build and see how long it'll take Natasha to bite. It's both torturous and enticing. A borderline perverted mix of longing that makes her heart threaten to burst out of her chest.

When Natasha's eyes finally meet her gaze, she sends a soft smile her way before pretending to be incredibly interested in her drink. It's a cheap strategy, she knows that, and yet it's one that works in her favor.

She only has to wait a few more minutes before the Widow untangles herself from Tony's drawn-out (although probably annoyingly entertaining) story and makes her way over to her.

"I didn't take you for a beer girl," she says, raising a perfectly trimmed eyebrow at her.

"There is a lot you don't know about me," Wanda replies, her accent coming out strong. It's half on purpose and half on accident. It tends to slip out easier when she's around people she's genuinely comfortable with.

And Natasha is right at the top of that list. Even if she doesn't fully know it.

The Widow lets out a soft huffing sound in response. It's not quite a laugh, but there's an edge of fondness to it that neither of them can fully ignore. It's not every day she allows herself to be so unguarded.

"You're pretty and witchy, what else is there to know?"

The teasing remark only makes the younger woman's smile grow wider. "Does that mean you think I'm pretty?"

Wanda accompanies her question with an alluring tilt of her head, watching in amusement as Natasha takes a long sip of her drink to avoid answering. Even if she doesn't say the words, she's been caught red-handed and the witch couldn't be happier about it. Maybe her sudden desire for the woman isn't as one-sided as she'd allowed herself to believe.

"What are you even doing here?" Natasha asks, her tone far too casual for the intensity in her gaze. "You hate Tony and you hate parties."

The witch in question simply shrugs. "I was tired of sitting on my ass."

This time, the Widow actually laughs. "Clint should have never taught you that phrase."

"I don't know, I think it's quite fitting." She pauses for a moment, letting the air between crackle with a hard to define energy. One just as powerful and unpredictable as her own powers. "You seem to like looking at my ass."

The older woman's eyes widen before quickly darting around them. Sure, they're leaning up against the ridiculously placed bar but no one around them is paying attention. Tony and Rhodey left to find someone else to bore with their competitive stories and everyone else is scattered around the room, too engrossed in their conversations or their drinks to pay them any mind.

Not to mention, Wanda would never allow them to notice them. It's not mind control, not really, which means she feels no guilt at manipulating reality for a few moments.

"Since when are you so bold, Maximoff?"

"Since I decided to start going after what I want." 

This time, she pairs her words with a subtle step forward. It's not enough for their bodies to press together, but the intention is more than clear. It's a hint and a warning all wrapped up in one. One the Widow could easily ignore if she wanted to.

Wanda almost expects her to, considering how shifty her eyes are. How her attention seems to bounce around the room more and more. She's sure she's never seen the older woman so nervous before. It's as cute as it is enticing.

Finally, Natasha relents. She lets out a long sigh, her gaze shifting back to Wanda's. "You couldn't find a more appropriate time for that?"

The younger woman's smile turns into a smirk. Her free hand reaches out, manicured fingers running down the length of the redhead's arm. "We could always...sneak away, just the two of us..."

Natasha lets out a soft chuckle at that, her resistance clearly wavering, even as she tries to hold strong. "I don't think that's a smart idea, princess."

Wanda's pout is almost enough to make her melt. Almost.

"Why not? Aren't we on the same page about this?"

"It's not that simple."

The witch knows she should at least ask why. That she should pretend to care about the hesitations she knows are swimming around in Natasha's head. She doesn't need to read her mind to know what they are, why they matter. But it's hard to think straight when her advances aren't being rejected. When she's so close to getting what she wants.

So, instead of doing any of the rational things the Widow seems to be struggling with, she wordlessly grabs her hand and leads her away from prying eyes. They're a few ways away but still near the hustle and bustle of the party. Far away to fully hear each other but close enough to be caught if someone decided to wander around.

She's not fully thinking about that possibilty, though. All her focus is on Natasha and getting her to admit how much she wants her. How much she needs this too.

Without thinking about the consequences, she pushes the older woman up against the wall, their eyes meeting once more. The bright green flecks of Natasha's eyes seem to sparkle almost dangerously. Unfortunately, Wanda is too far gone to heed the warnings.

"Wanda, we can't." There's no real discomfort in the Widow's voice. No real attempt at getting the younger woman to stop.

So, she doesn't.

Wanda merely lets out a soft hum but makes no attempt to step away or fully listen to the older woman's complaints. Instead, she leans in more insistently, her lips trailing up Natasha's neck and leaving heated kisses on her skin.

The redhead wants to pull away. To tell Wanda to stop and let her walk away before they do something they'll regret. It's impossible to fight against her, though. Especially when her hands join the slow exploration.

"Why can't we?" The witch asks, her hands settling on Natasha's hips. "Why do you want to pretend like you don't want me?"

The sound the redhead makes is somewhere between a huff and a groan. "That's not what I'm doing. I'm just trying to be smart about this." 

"There's nothing smart about this," she replies. "But I want you and you want me. What more do we need?"

Natasha opens her mouth to answer but Wanda doesn't give her a chance. In one swift move, she hooks the redhead's leg around her waist before pressing herself against her, drawing a soft gasp from her parted lips.

"You were saying?"

"You're so annoying, little witch."

The teasing nickname makes Wanda huff. Sure, it also makes her heart skip a beat but mostly, it annoys her. "Then tell me to stop, 'Tasha."

"Just shut up and kiss me already."

There it is. The permission she'd been waiting for. The clear admittance that their feelings were the same. That the sparks of desire she'd been feeling during training weren't one-sided delusions.

The witch wastes no time in connecting their lips once the realization hits her. Despite the intensity of their desires, the kiss is surprisingly soft. 

It's still more than a little desperate and yet there's an edge of affection that makes them melt. That leaves them craving more.

Thankfully, they both have more than enough ideas on how to fix that craving. The youngest of the two takes the leap first, though, not one bit embarrased of showing how desperate she is for more.

 Wanda grinds her hips up against Natasha's, slowly hiking her dress up to reveal the smooth skin underneath the fabric. There's something about both the setting and their outfits that drives them both mad. Something about being so exposed and yet so composed at the same time. Something about the matching black fabric of their dresses that turns them on more.

Her lips leave the Widow's just to trail down her jaw, her hands moving down her body with purpose. She grips her hips hard enough to move the older woman against her as she easily slots one of her thighs between her legs, giving her the perfect surface to grind against.

"You're so quiet, 'Tasha," the witch teases, unable to stop her flourishing dominant side for rearing its head.

Natasha knows she's allowing herself to slip. That she shouldn't be letting her guard down like this. Shouldn't be giving Wanda this much control over her.

It's not like she can help it, though. There's an intensity behind the younger woman's movements that she doesn't want to fight against. She wants to let it consume her until there's nothing left. No trace of her fears or hesitations.

She's not about to admit that any time soon, though. Even as her bucking hips give her away.

"That's because we're in public," she replies, keeping her voice as even as she can. "I can actually control myself unlike some people."

Wanda chuckles, keeping up her slow movements. "That's not what your hips are telling me."

"You're the one moving them," she shoots back.

The witch leans back slightly, a smirk forming on her face and pairing beautifully with her dialated pupils. "Is that so? If I move my hands away, you'll stop trying to hump my leg?"

Without waiting for an answer, she moves her hands away from the redhead's hips, allowing her fingers to trail up her torso toward her chest. She keeps her touch light and teasing, using it to further draw out the other woman's desires.

"That's not fair," Natasha huffs, her cheeks flushing a light shade of pink as the attention piles on. "You're the one that started this, you have to finish it."

"But we haven't even started yet, have we? You still have too many clothes on."

Wanda's fingers linger on the strap of Natasha's dress, sliding it down just enough to allow her lips to connect to the exposed skin. She focuses her attention on that spot just enough to make the older woman's hips buck against her.

"Fuck," she groans. "This is so unfair."

"I think it's more than fair. I can feel how much you want me. You're soaked, aren't you?"

Her question is met with another groan, this one in a sightly higher, more desperate, pitch. The witch is right, of course. She's already drenched and all she's done is lazily grind against her thigh.

It's practically impossible to stop her body from responding to her, though. Even without reading her mind, she knows her cues all too well after spending so much sparring with her.

Then again, she's pretty sure she wouldn't mind allowing her to invade her thoughts. Something about the lack of control makes her gush.

The low chuckle Natasha's thought is met with makes her eyes widen in response, her hands coming up to grip the younger woman’s shoulders. “Are you seriously reading my mind right now?”

Wanda knows the redhead is trying to sound intimidating but she’s far too breathless, far too wet against her thigh, for her to feel anything but satisfaction. “I couldn’t help it, your thoughts are so loud.”

The response is exactly what she had been expecting and all she can do is huff. “Don’t make it a habit.”

Her words only make Wanda bolder. With her words, her touch, her unbearable need to make the other woman fall apart just for her. “I thought you wanted me in your mind, ‘Tasha?”

The Widow knows she's been caught. That even if the witch didn't spend much time in her head, she knows how much she loves this. How much she wants this. This back and forth dance that will no doubt end with her on her knees.

And still, she's far too stubborn to admit it.

"Shut up." It's a weak remark but it's the only one she has. The only two words she can coherently form as her hips roll against the hard muscle pressing so insistently against her heat. "If you wanted to talk so much, you should have taken me on a date."

"If you don't like me talking so much, why are you so wet?"

It's infuriating. For every snarky response she can form, Wanda has two more waiting for her. It's like she knows exactly how to work her up, exactly how to meet her where she's at instead of trying to change her. It's more than infuriating, it's...it's sweet. In its own complicated, slightly fucked up way, the witch is being sweet.

Maybe it's that realization that makes her melt. Or maybe she's just too pent up to care anymore. She knows what the answer is, but she ignores it in favor of gripping Wanda's wrist and guiding it between her legs.

"I'd prefer it if you stopped talking and started doing, princess."

The witch's body tenses for a second, almost like her brain is struggling to catch up to reality, but then her fingers are working their way into Natasha's underwear and they both let out twin moans at the feeling.

Instead of taking a moment to tease her, Wanda dives right in, her patience fading with every buck of the older woman's hips. She sinks two fingers into Natasha's aching cunt, barely reminding herself to take it easy. To draw her pleasure out until she's writhing and groaning.

"Is this better for you, 'Tasha?" She asks, her lips making their way to Natasha's neck once more. She knows better than to leave too many marks behind, but she can't help her urges and she sinks her teeth into the side of the older woman's neck.

Natasha's walls clench around her fingers, nails digging into the witch's jacket as sparks of pleasure shoot up her spine. She arches her back into her touch, her hips bucking a little too wildly for her taste. It's not like she can help her movements. Not when it feels so good.

"Wanda," she moans, her cheeks heating up as she realizes how desperate she sounds. "Fuck, don't stop."

If Wanda was slightly more sadistic she would push her to beg. As enticing as that sounds, she'd much prefer to show her how good she can make her feel instead.

"I won't," she says as her thumb finds its way onto Natasha's swollen clit. "Not until you fall apart for me. Until you admit how good I make you feel."

Her pride seems like a small price to pay for the pleasure that's turning her brain to mush. She opens her mouth to stroke Wanda's ego some more when the younger woman speeds up her movements, her fingers curling just enough to leave her gasping.

She pushes her hips into her fingers with every thrust, looking far more needy than she ever allows herself to be. "Right there, fuck, feels so good."

Natasha's never really been one for talking during sex, far too accustomed to selfish lovers who don't need her approval to feel like they're doing things right. It's different this time, though. Not just because she genuinly feels good, but because it's so clear that Wanda feels good. That this is what she wants. Touching her, pleasing her, driving her to the brink of madness. The witch has never looked more comfortable, more in her element, than she does right now.

"You gonna cum for me already?" The witch teases, pretending she's not doing everything in her power to make the older woman fall apart. "Here? Where anyone could see you? See how desperate you are for my fingers?"

The slight degradation shouldn't turn her on more, but it does. It makes her head fall back as an incoherent string of curses leave her lips. She knows she should at least feel a little emberrased but she can't. Can't think about anything except Wanda's fingers pistoning in and out of her wet pussy.

"Yes," she replies breathlessly. "I need- need to cum."

Wanda doubles her efforts as soon as she hears Natasha admit how close she is. Her thumb presses down on her twitching clit, rubbing fast circles against it until the Widow's walls are spasming around her fingers. 

"That's it, let go for me, 'Tasha. Make a mess on my fingers."

She doesn't have to be told twice.

The coil in Natasha's stomach snaps almost instantly, leaving her clinging to the witch as the pleasure crashes into her all at once.

Wanda watches her with wide eyes, greedily drinking in every twitch of her face, every desperate sound she can't hold back. She's sure she's never seen anything so breathtaking in her life.

All it does, though, is make her realize how much more she wants. How badly she needs Natasha. How her mind has filled up with fantasies she's not sure she can live without.

After losing everything she's ever had, she has to have the older woman.

That will come later, though, right now, she has more important things to focus on. Like making sure Natasha can walk long enough for them to retire to her room for the night.

* * * * * * *

taglist: @boredandneedfanfics

[a-spes]

| THE PLACE WE'VE BEEN DREAMING OF - Imagine (1,109 words).

| Summary - when Natasha enventually gives in, and accept her wife's demand to adopt a pet.

| Tags & warning - Men & Minors DNI, soft dark!wandanat x R, not really pet play but R is reffered to as one (stray/mutt/it), a man being mean, mentions of death, hints of (past) abuse, pure fluff/comfort.

| Author's note - I wrote that quickly because it has been on my mind for so long, and I definitely needed to share it with the world, but hope you'll enjoy it anyway! I'll definitely write a longer version of it when I've time, but for the moment, here goes the first introduction to The place we've been dreaming of alternative universe (and it's only the beginning because i've so many thoughts to share about it) <3

| MASTERLIST — ✧ — TO SAY SOMETHING

it was wands' idea. she had begging nat for years, talking about how good it would be to have a pet, just to bring a bit of life in the household.

and that's exactly what natasha feared. because she likes how quiet, and tidy, her house is. she likes the routine she built with her wife over the years, and she is reluctant to bring another piece in her house.

but how could she deny her wife when she begs her with those puppy eyes?

so she eventually gave in, and they went into a place that's only known by the richest persons. it's kind of a shelter, but instead of animals, human being are sold.

they walked in, wands looking in the cages while nat roll her eyes everytime she tries to have her opinion. "did you find what you want?" the seller asked, and nat looks at her wife that seems to hesitate. "what's over here?" she asked back, pointing to a noisy alley that constrats with the quiet one they've just travelled.

the sellers just dismissed her question, "they're unfit" he just replied, "they're going to be send off tomorrow". "where?" wands asked. "to be killed", he replied, but when he tried to get the conversation back on his best goods, wanda ignored him: she wanted to see these ones. nat isn't surprised, her wife always having a thing for saving broken being, but she still roll her eyes, thinking about the additionnal trouble it'll bring.

so, before the man could say anything, they walk in the alley. the ambience is different. yells, cries, and dark glances greet the women, while in the first alley, everyone's was perfect. nat cringes while her wife walk around, until she crouches in front of a cage that, at the first sight, appears to be empty.

except that, that you are here. in the back of the cage, hiding where the light can barely find you, trying to forget where you are. the noise is frightening you, but your hands covering your ears isn't enough to reduce it. the yells from the other still bugging you.

you've no idea for how long you've been here, but it felt like an eternity. you've been sent back here by your previous owner, it was your last chance, you've been told, and you don't know what's going to happen. when the door clicked, you thought your hour had come, and it only made you curl up further.

but the hand that came for you wasn't harsh. it hasn't tried to grab you. when you eventually open your eyes, your met by the sight of a woman, that's trying to get you to come to her. her voice is sweet. she doesn't yell as you thought she would when you didn't move at first.

the men had to bang against the walls to get you out, which earn him a glance from both of the women. he ignored them. "this stray has one of the worse behavior. she bites, is noisy, messy, agressive, ..." but wanda isn't listening anymore. she is just looking at you, sitting in front of her, unable to ignore the look on your eyes. the fear, and the exhaustion.

you didn't bite. you didn't made a noise. you didn't try to run away.

you only flinched when she reach out to stroke your cheek, but a second was enough for you to lean into her contact. it was so sweet. so gentle. and, for the first time, it felt genuine, and even the slap or the harsh grip you were waiting for never came. she was looking at you with pity, and something you couldn't name yet.

"... she couldn't behave even to save her life, we've tried everything. she's trouble", he adds, still talking even if none of the women is caring about his opinion, "believe me, she'll be better dead", and nat muttered something how he should be the one to die, while wanda didn't listen at all to his speech, all her attention being on you right now.

"you're sure that's the one you want, wands?" she asked, but she already knew her wife would nod, and she is definitely not going to fight her, especially when she sees how attached she already seems to be.

she looked at her while she take a biscuit out of her pocket, just to give a bit to you, but ends up giving you everything when she notices how you inhaled it. her brows furrowing together, but she doesn't say a word. she knows it would be useless to start a scene right now, this man perfectly knowing how bad he is treating you, and everyone else here. or maybe he doesn't, and doesn't realizes, thinking you deserve it, and then it would be pointless to argue with him. in that instant, she wishes she could take them all home, and if she can't, she can at least save one life.

"we didn't even bring her home yet that you're already spoiling her" nat complained, rolling her eyes. a whispered, "she deserves it", is muttered under her breath while the man seems annoyed, "if you're too lenient, you're going to regret it. you need to be firm with these things, you know." "and how would you know?" nat would ask, "apparently it didn't work well, from what you said earlier" and she smirks when she notices he starts to loose his temper, his voice being harsh when he replies, "then do not even think about taking her back when you'll realize how bad she is," just to nat to assure him that he "doesn't need to worry about that".

she isn't found of her wife's choice. she would have prefer it if she choose one of the perfect pet from the first alley. one of the one that wouldn't disturb her peace. but obviously her wife had to go for a stray, a mott, and a broken one by the way. but if there are two things she enjoys it's seeing her wife smiling, and pissing off men that thinks they know everything. if adopting that one allows to do it both at the same time, then she's all for it. a part of her wanting to prove the man that he is just wrong, and is the problem in that story.

[dahlibae]

OUR ETERNAL SUNSHINE.

wandanat x female!reader 🌞 𐙚₊˚⊹♡

summary – You noticed her in the quiet of the library: mysterious, magnetic, and seemingly lost in a world of romance books. What began as a fleeting curiosity quickly spirals into something deeper when you cross paths once more. But just as you begin to imagine the possibilities, you learn something unexpected: she’s not just unavailable – she's already married. To another woman.

warning(s) – none: slow(ish) burn, this chapter is just rlly setting the pace!

word count - 4.3K

CHAPTER 1 - intro (end of the world)

The weekends are never free.

You work those two days at the local library. It’s a quiet, well-kept branch tucked between the city’s community centre and an old record shop that nobody other than the elderely frequent. It doesn’t get much foot traffic except on rainy days and school holidays. You like it that way. The silence helps.

Shuri works here too. She's the one who got you the job. You’ve been friends since undergrad, when the two of you ended up as lab partners in an elective you barely remember registering for. She talks fast, moves faster, and always seems to know what she’s doing. When she found out you needed a weekend job to stay afloat between lectures and placements, she cornered the head librarian and handled it. That’s just how she is.

And Shuri’s graduating this year. Engineering major, already accepted into MIT for grad school. You’re not surprised. She’s been designing micro-robotics in her free time. You’re in a different lane entirely – currently in your second year of law school.

You transferred from your hometown university last year to pursue a better legal program. Born and raised in a little city on the West Coast, the kind of place that never really felt small until you left it. Your family’s still there – your father, who works in accounting, and your younger sister, who’s finishing highschool. Your mother’s out of the picture. She left when you were eleven. The need for freedom had outweighed her love for you and your sister. You don’t talk about her much, but you remember that year like a turning point. That’s when you started thinking seriously about what justice means – what it looks like when someone walks away and no one holds them accountable.

You don’t come from money. Your tuition is covered by scholarships, student loans, and part-time work. You’ve never minded working. Law is expensive, but the work feels worth it.

The library job is manageable. You clock in on Saturdays and Sundays, help with cataloging, and shelve returns. Between that and your classes, your schedule is tightly packed, but routine keeps you focused. Besides, it’s peaceful here. Predictable. That’s not something you get a lot of as a law student.

Shuri calls it your “mental detox zone.” She’s not wrong. And when she’s working the same shift, the two of you make time pass quicker. You argue about your favourite movies, and alternative endings. You quiz each other on useless trivia. You swap snacks behind the desk. You wouldn’t trade it for anything.

This morning, she corners you behind the returns trolley.

“Don’t bail tonight.” She says without preamble.

You glance at her over a stack of fiction. “On what?”

“My brother’s housewarming party. I told you last week.”

You pause. “Thought that was just a small thing.”

“It is. Small enough that you can blend in. Big enough that you’ll meet some interesting people. A few new lawyers from his firm will be there.”

You shake your head. “I have readings – ”

“No,” she interrupts, “you have excuses.”

She gives you a pointed look, like she already knows you’re not saying no for academic reasons. “You’re always saying you want to get your foot in the door. How hard it’s going to be for you to succeed because of your background. My brother has the door. And the house the door is attached to. Go talk to people. Make a contact or two.”

You sigh, but you’re listening. Because Shuri’s been trying to help you since the day she found out you were serious about law. She keeps pushing you in T’Challa’s direction – panel discussions, court hearings, networking mixers, anything that might be useful.

“You’re lucky.” She tells you. “Most people don’t have a direct line to someone already working in their dream field.”

She’s not wrong. But you’ve never been great at the social side of this. Networking feels like performance. You prefer doing the work, not selling yourself.

You don’t give her a firm answer, which means she’ll bring it up again by the end of the shift.

You look at the clock above you.

It’s around 11:10.

Almost time.

For the woman.

Blonde. Tall. Usually dressed in casual layers – sweaters, cardigans, jeans, boots. She carries herself like she has somewhere else to be but chooses to be here instead. Sometimes she’s with another woman, blonder, smaller, serious-looking. Other times she’s alone.

Today, she’s alone.

You notice the titles she picks up. Always romance. Sometimes older classics, sometimes newer ones. She lingers on pages. Reads the back covers. Often sits by the windows with one or two open in her lap but doesn’t always check them out. She seems to read for comfort, not completion.

You don’t know her name. You haven’t said a word to her. But she’s been showing up regularly, and her presence hasn’t gone unnoticed.

When she’s here with someone else, you keep your distance. When she’s alone, you find ways to be nearby. Pretending to sort paperbacks in the next aisle. Adjusting spine labels. You haven’t crossed the line into conversation, but you've come close. You’re curious.

Shuri caught you looking once. She didn’t tease. She just said, “You should probably say something before she catches you checking her out while alphabetising.”

You still haven’t.

…

It’s another Saturday. The weather is a little colder. Still temperamental between the shift from Spring to Summer.

Shuri isn’t working. She texted earlier - family stuff. Earlier this year you found out that they’re not happy Shuri has decide to pursue engineering instead of following her brother’s footsteps into the legal world. Her brother sticks up for her but their mother still disproves.

You’ve got the shift with Mrs. Harkness, who’s perched at the front desk wearing a fitted purple blazer, hair wild, and her signature dark lipstick.

You pause when you see her outfit.

“You’ve got plans?” You ask.

“Date at two.” She says, adjusting her glasses. “Rio’s back.”

From what little you knew about the woman, she was the only lesbian in town. Her girlfriend - well on and off girlfriend - is Rio Vidal, who you were pretty sure was married to a man a few years ago. She was in the miliatry and was always stationed overseas. She was not much younger than Mrs Harkness, but she radiated very childish energy whenever you saw her. Her and Mrs Harkness constantly argued, and no one ever knew if it waa serious or not.

Clearly not if they're still together.

“Still going strong?”

She shrugs, ruffling her hair out once more. “Not really. But the sex is amazing.”

With that, you leave her to her own devices – it only takes one person to work the counter anyways – head toward the back shelves. The library is slow today. Midday sun filters through the front windows. You’re in the aisle near the romance section, moving slowly through a restock.

Then you hear the familiar sound of the front doors opening.

You glance up. She’s here. Alone again.

You turn back to your cart, pretending not to notice, but your focus is gone. You restack a few books that don’t actually need restacking. As you reach to put one on the shelf, it slips from your hand and drops to the floor with a solid thump.

You stoop to grab it, but a voice beats you to it.

“So…” she says, calm and deliberate, “are you finally going to come talk to me, or should I drop one too?”

You freeze, slowly straighten up, and look at her.

She’s standing a few feet away, arms folded loosely, watching you.

You try to say something coherent. “I didn’t mean to – I wasn’t – uh – “

She gestures toward the reading nook near the back window. “Come on.”

You follow.

She takes the seat near the window, legs crossed. You sit across from her, still trying to decide how to play this. You couldn't gage if she was bad or upset with you.

“I’ve noticed you.”

You look up. “Uh?”

“You hover. Rearranging books that are already in alphabetical order.”

You give a small nod. “That obvious?”

She shrugs. “A little. But not in a bad way.”

She leans back, then introduces herself. “I’m Wanda.”

You give her your name in return.

That seems to be enough to start.

She asks about your job. How long you’ve been here. Then your studies. You explain that you’re in your second year of law school. She doesn’t seem surprised. She asks what kind of law interests you. You say civil rights, maybe criminal defense. She listens, asks a few practical questions, none that raise your suspicions, doesn’t offer advice unless prompted.

She doesn’t offer much about herself, only that she works downtown. Her job keeps her busy. A few notes about her school days, and that, she used to come here with someone, but that changed. She leaves it there, and you don’t push.

It’s a calm conversation. No pressure. She speaks with the sort of confidence that doesn’t need to announce itself. You’re still surprised you’re sitting here at all.

Then her phone buzzes.

Wanda glances down, then stands. “I have to head back.”

“Back where?” You ask.

She adjusts her bag. “The office.”

You frown slightly. “You work weekends?”

She nods. “Work doesn’t really stop when you’re a lawyer.”

That catches your attention. “You’re a lawyer?”

“Mhmm.” She gives a small smile. “Didn’t expect that?”

“Not really.”

“I don’t usually advertise it.” She laughs, glancing around the library. “But yeah. I’ve been practicing a few years now.”

You nod slowly.

“Well,” she says, stepping back, “it was nice to finally meet you, little librarian.”

And with that, she turns and walks out.

You remain where you are for a moment.

It’s not exactly a conversation you expected to have today. But it happened.

Next week, you’ll probably still be behind the romance shelves.

You hope not just watching.

…

Next Tuesday, you arrive at T’Challa’s new house just after 8 p.m. The place is sleek – glass and concrete, warm lighting through tall windows, filled with quiet music and well-dressed people holding glasses of wine. You feel a bit out of place in your kitten heels and messily-ironed silk dress, but Shuri gives you an approving nod when she sees you.

She’s holding two drinks when she meets you at the door. “Good. You made it.”

You smile faintly. “Yes. Unfortunately a car didn't run me over on the way as I so wished for.”

She ignores your annoying sarcasm. “Well, this is how you build your future,” she says, handing you one of the glasses. “You meet people. You show up. You don’t jump into oncoming traffic.”

You follow her through the house. The crowd is mostly professionals – people who talk fast and laugh quietly. You recognise two professors from your legal ethics class. Mr Killard and Mrs Bernard. Strict professors. You try to avoid eye contact.

Shuri weaves through a group near the kitchen, waving at her brother.

T’Challa sees you both and steps away from his conversation. “Ah! You must be the infamous law student friend of my sisters, who’s apparently always got her head in a book.”

You shake his hand, trying not to sound nervous. “Yes, ha! Thanks for having me.”

“I’ve read your paper on civil reform through municipal courts.” Your hand is still holding his. “Shuri forwarded it to me. You’ve got a sharp mind.”

You blink. “She did what?”

Shuri sips her drink, smug.

T’Challa laughs. “Don’t worry. I trust my sister. She’s a good judge of talent. You’re welcome here anytime.”

Before you can respond, a voice calls out from the entryway.

“T’Challa!” It’s a woman – familiar, confident tone, sharp heels clicking on hardwood. You turn and watch as two women approach from the hallway. One is a lean redhead in a tailored black suit. Hugging all curves as well as exaggerating the bulge of her built muscles. The other—

You freeze.

It’s Wanda.

She’s in a dark grey dress, elegant but simple, her long hair usually flowing in waves over her shoulders is now sleeked back into a ponytail and her messy bangs now parted in the middle where they sit unshaken. She looks nothing like she does at the library – all sharp and rough angles – and yet she’s unmistakable. Your heart lurches unexpectedly.

She’s smiling at T’Challa, standing beside the redhead as they greet him affectionately.

He turns down the hallway, back to where the rest of the party remain. “Ah! Everyone – meet the newest senior partners at the firm. Mrs Natasha and Wanda Maximoff. As of this week, they’re officially ours!”

The announcement draws claps and scattered murmurs of approval. Wanda and Natasha both nod politely to the room. Wanda smiling more brightly than the redhead. Her hand rests lightly on the small of Wanda’s back.

Wait. Mrs? They’re married?

Shuri leans in. “That’s her, isn’t it?”

You’re still staring.

“I knew it! She says, eyes wide, louder than you’d like. “She’s the library girl.”

“Her name’s Wanda.” You mumble.

“Okay… Wanda. She’s a partner now? Damn. She must be good.”

You nod faintly.

You hadn’t expected to see her here. Definitely not like this.

Standing in a room full of high-profile legal professionals…

Introduced as a senior partner…

With someone on her arm…

It almost hurts how attractive Natasha is. Of course Wanda would be with someone like her.

Shuri nudges you. “Go talk to her.”

You shake your head. “She’s… with Natasha. They’re married.”

“How do you know? They could be sisters…? And you know what they say, ‘don’t let your wife stop you from meeting your girlfriend.’”

You glance again, ignoring Shuri altogether. The way Natasha’s hand lingers. The way Wanda leans into her slightly. The way they exchange a look when someone jokes about work-life balance. You don’t know for sure. But it’s enough to make you stay where you are.

They’re definitely not sisters.

They’re definitely together.

You keep your distance the rest of the night. Wanda never spots you – you hope. You watch her from across the room for a few minutes, then slip out early, telling Shuri you’re tired, and to thank her brother once more for the invite.

She doesn’t stop you.

…

Another week or so passes. The rhythm of lectures, late-night reading, and outlining arguments continues. Your calendar is full, your inbox overflows with reminders and reading lists, and the only place that still feels manageable is the library. Your father and sister have been trying to facetime you for the past week or maybe longer, and each time, you’ve been busy catching up on sleep or working.

And you've not had much time to think about the blonde woman, about Wanda. Any and all thoughts lead you back to that night at T’Challa’s. The hand around her waist. The dazzling wedding bands you managed to miss initially – you’d argue due to shock – around their fingers.

Back at the library, the romance section looks the same. The shelves are still in perfect order. The same sunlight pours through the largewindows.

Although, something feels different.

Shuri doesn’t work today. You’re alone at the front desk, catching up on reading. Around 11:15, you hear the front door open.

You don’t have to look. You already know it’s her.

She moves with the same quiet ease, dressed casually in jeans and a long coat.

You don’t approach. You don’t acknowledge her. You don’t shelve books near her like you usually would. You stay at your post and keep your head down.

She makes her way through the library like always, stopping in the romance aisle, waiting for your arrival.

After a few minutes of waiting, she walks toward the front, pausing a few feet from the desk.

You glance up.

She meets your eyes. “Hi.”

You nod once. “Hey.”

She tilts her head. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah.” You say, quieter than intended.

She waits, like she’s deciding whether or not to say something else.

Then: “I didn’t expect to see you at the party.”

You blink.

So she had noticed you…

“Uh yeah, I didn’t expect to see you there either.”

“How do you know T’Challa?” She asks curiously.

“I’m a family friend.” You answer without hesitation.

Wanda’s expression doesn’t shift much. But she seems to register the tension.

There’s a short pause. She starts to say something, then changes her mind. “Well… I’ll be around.”

You nod again. “Have a good morning, Mrs Maximoff.”

She gives you a faint smile that doesn’t reach her eyes. Then walks off toward the far side of the library, leaving her usual seat empty. Leaving the safety of the romance section.

You’re not sure what you feel. Just that something that felt simple now feels complicated. And you’re not ready to step back into it yet.

…

Saturday rolls around again. Another week of avoiding your family’s calls, of avoiding Shuri pulling you into another of her brother’s event. The next even more extravagant than the last. You vowed you wouldn’t be going into any more situations where Wanda and her wife would be.

But, of course, you manage to forget about the library.

Your job.

Where you can’t avoid her.

It’s mid-morning. You’re seated behind the desk once again, half-reading another case file you don’t have to finish until Monday, when the door creaks open.

You look up out of habit.

Wanda walks in – alone again.

She hesitates this time. Not much. But enough that you notice it.

Her eyes scan the room. She spots you. Pauses.

And then she walks toward you – directly, slower than usual. More cautious. Like she’s not sure if she’s welcome.

You close your book quietly.

“Hi.” You beat her to it this time.

“Hey.” She stays standing a few feet from the counter, hand loosely twirling her hair. “I wasn’t sure if I should come today.”

You meet her eyes. “Why not?”

“You seemed… done with me. Last time.”

You shake your head, exhaling through your nose. “I wasn’t done. Just... thinking.”

She gives a small nod, accepting that. Her gaze lingers on you, searching for a signal. Anything.

You give her one.

“You want to sit?” You ask, nodding towards the back reading nook.

Relief moves through her, quiet and clear.

“Yeah.” She says. “I’d like that.”

…

“You ever get tired of this place?” She asks, gesturing faintly around the room. The nook of course empty except for you both, occupying each side.

“Sometimes.” You admit. “But it’s predictable. And easy for now. I like that.”

She tilts her head. “You don’t strike me as someone who likes predictable.”

You smirk faintly. “Oh? What gave you that idea?”

“The fact that you’ve been giving me this look for two months and only talked to me after I practically backed you into a corner.”

You try to look unbothered, but she’s not wrong.

“You were intimidating.”

“I was reading Persuasion in sweatpants…”

You shrug. “Still counts. You’re like 6 foot tall. And really pretty.”

That earns a soft laugh. Her eyes linger on you a little longer than necessary.

Blushing, you change the subject. “So… what made you finally pick law?”

She stumbles uncharacteristically, not expecting your question. “I – uh – what?

You chuckle at her. “Why’d you switch from psychology?”

Wanda blinks. You weren’t supposed to know that.

“You mentioned it.” You remind her. “Our first conversation. The one thing you had actually told me about yourself.”

“Oh. Right.” She rests her elbow on the armrest. “Well, I loved psychology. Still do. But at some point I realised I didn’t want to study behavior. Instead, I wanted to change the systems that shape it.”

You nod, quietly impressed. “That sounds like a very Wanda Maximoff answer.”

She gives you a curious look. “You say my full name like you’ve repeated it in your head a few times.”

You raise an eyebrow. “And you say mine like it’s a secret.”

She laughs, fully now, hands up in surrender. “Okay. Truce. No more calling each other out for the rest of the conversation.”

“Deal.”

You both settle into a steady rhythm. The conversation turns lighter. Books, favourite cities, law school horror stories. Wanda tells you about her first deposition and how she accidentally said ‘we object’ instead of just ‘objection’ because she got flustered by the opposing counsel’s cologne.

You don’t realise how long you’ve been talking until the light in the windows starts to shift. No one else has seemed to step in the library. If they did, neither of you noticed.

At one point, you shift slightly in your seat and she watches you with a subtle smile, eyes following the motion. She’s leaning in more now. Not physically – but her energy is tilted toward you again.

Familiar. Intentional.

“Do you do this with all the women in the romance aisle?” She asks casually, folding one leg under the other.

You raise an eyebrow. “What? Talk to them?”

“Sit with them. Ask about their careers. Quote Austen to them when you think they’re not listening.”

Your mouth curves. “Only the ones who hover too long on Brontë.”

“Mm. Dangerous category.”

“You think?”

She leans forward a little, voice quieter now. “You tell me, little librarian.”

The silence after that isn’t awkward. It’s quiet. Interesting.

Wanda glances toward the desk, her phone lighting up at the exact moment, then back to you. “How long until your shift ends?”

You check your watch. “About twenty minutes. I’m closing today.”

“I can wait.” She says.

“For what?” You tilt your head subtly.

Wanda finds it adorable.

“Let's go for a walk near the park across the street.”

And twenty minutes later, you’re walking out the building. She holds the door open without saying anything, and you step through, turning to lock up.

The air outside is cooler than expected. It smells faintly like pavement and fresh rain.

When did it rain?

“You ready?” She asks.

You nod, before heading across the road towards the park entrance.

…

You walk side by side down the edge of the pavement, neither of you in a rush. The streets are quiet. Just a few parked cars and the occasional distant bark of a dog within the park.

Wanda tells you she grew up near a forest, which you somehow believe immediately. She says her family moved around a lot when she was younger, and that she didn’t really know stability until law school forced her to stay in one place. You can tell she is speaking much more freely with you now. No longer guarding her replies. A foreign accent slipping between the lines of her words.

At one point, she glances at you from the corner of her eye. “You always think this much?”

You give a half-smile. “You always talk like you already know what I’m thinking?”

“No,” she says, “but I’m usually close.”

That gets a small laugh out of you. Then the conversation shifts.

You don’t plan to ask. The words just arrive.

“So… how are you finding it? Being a partner now?”

She looks ahead, hands tucked into her coat pockets.

“It’s good. Busy.”

“That’s it?”

Wanda exhales slowly. “It’s a lot of pressure. I mean, being a lawyer is always pressure, but there’s a different kind of expectation when your name’s next to the firm title. There’s less room to mess up. Less room to breathe, sometimes.”

You nod. “I imagine it’s intense. Especially with someone like T’Challa.”

“He’s fair.” She says. “Smart. Trusts his team.”

“Still. That’s a big adjustment.”

“It is.”

She doesn’t mention Natasha.

You don’t ask.

The name hovers there – unspoken but present.

Neither of you go near it.

You keep walking, turning down a quieter street shaded by rows of trees. A few brown leaves scatter across the sidewalk. The silence between you now feels heavier. Not awkward still – just fuller. Like there’s something there neither of you wants to admit you’re walking toward.

Eventually, Wanda slows, and you both come to a stop at a quiet corner. There’s no one around. No traffic. Just the wind nudging branches overhead.

She turns toward you, one hand still in her coat pocket, the other brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. Her expression is softer now, more private.

“You know,” she says quietly, “this has been the best part of my week.”

You feel it in your chest before you can respond. A quiet, nervous twist. “Yeah,” you murmur, “mine too.”

You’re both standing a little too close now.

Close enough that if either of you moved even an inch forward…

Wanda shifts her weight slightly. Her voice drops, nearly a whisper. “I’ve been thinking about you more than I should.”

You swallow. “Wanda –”

Her hand brushes lightly against your sleeve. Her gaze flickers down to your mouth, just for a second, then back to your eyes. You feel everything tighten – lungs, throat, heartbeat.

The space between you thins to nothing.

She leans in, just enough that you can feel her breath on your skin.

Then you say it.

“Wanda,” you breathe. “You have a wife.”

The words land like a thread snapping in the air.

Wanda stops. Pulls back – not harshly, but all at once.

Her eyes flicker, just for a moment, like she wasn’t expecting you to say it out loud. Like she wanted to believe that, if you didn’t say it, maybe it wasn’t true here. Not in this moment. Not outside this library, not on this quiet street.

She looks away.

“I know.” She says. Quiet. Measured. Not defensive.

Neither of you moves.

The silence is different now.

You step back half a pace – not because you’re afraid of her, but because you need the room.

She straightens slightly. Clears her throat. “It’s complicated.”

You nod once, “But still. I’m not going to be the other woman.”

She lingers another second, another flinch. Then walks close once more, coat catching the breeze. “It’s – it’s not like that.”

She looks so unravelled, so unlike her.

“It’s not like that.” She repeats quietly. “What we have – it’s complicated, but it’s not what you think.”

You hesitate, still caught in the weight of her words.

What does she even mean?

How could it be complicated?

Wanda takes a slow breath. “Look… if you want, come by our place sometime. Meet Natasha. See for yourself.”

You blink, caught off guard. That was not what you was expecting her to say.

She gives a small, hopeful smile. “No pressure. Just… maybe it’ll help clear things up.”

You nod slowly, unsure what to say.

With that, she passes you her phone, and asks you to put your number in. “I’ll text you later. We’ll set up something, okay?”

Once that’s done, she steps back, offering a last, quiet smile before bidding you goodbye, and turning down the street.

You watch her go, your mind racing.

What have you got yourself into?

[lowkeyerror]

The Family Business Ch.1

WandaNat x Reader

Word Count: 3.2k

Ch Notes: Minor character death, Near death experience, Parental Neglect/Abuse, Graphic descriptions of violence

Summary: The passing of your older brother forever changed your relationship with your parents. After a particularly brutal incident with your mother, the Maximoffs welcome you into their home.

An: It's been a minute, but I said I was coming back with a vengeance. I've already got multiple chapters of this drafted so be ready for weekly releases. Thanks for sticking around and I hope you enjoy this series!

Series Masterlist | Masterlist

Often the word delicate is used interchangeably with fragile. The only main difference is an obvious and inherent beauty that comes with something delicate. Something fragile on the other hand is viewed as predominantly breakable. Glass is fragile while a flower is delicate. Some items have a duality to them like a vase or feelings.

You were fragile.

Not entirely frail, there was some strength to your bones. It was more so from your unwillingness to be perceived as weak than anything else that kept you semi-strong. You were aware that life could be unkind, but also knew that it took pity on no one. There would be no exceptions made for you, no matter how much your mind craved it.

You were young when you learned the cruelty of life. The memory lives in your mind as clearly as the day it happened. It was summer, the sun was high in the sky, beaming down ferociously on your hometown. It was well over 90 degrees, the perfect weather for swimming. Your parents suggested that you and your brother get in the pool to cool off.

Lucas was wearing blue trunks while you had on a black and white one piece. He was 12 and you were 8, merely children. Left unsupervised, you played in water as you always had with each other.  You couldn’t swim so you always stayed on the shallow side of the pool.

After spending the majority of the day in the pool, you wanted to get out. You hoisted yourself out of the pool by the side, instead of going to the steps. You were successful in getting out of the pool. It was walking along the side of the pool that made you slip. Your head hit the cement and you felt your body hit the water.

You couldn’t recall much from there. The rest had been recounted to you more times than you could remember. You sank 12 feet to the bottom of the pool. Lucas hadn’t noticed immediately but once he did, he sprang into action.

He could swim, but he wasn’t a strong swimmer. Regardless he swam to the bottom of the pool to retrieve you. He found you there unconscious blood surrounding the water by your head. On the darkest days you speculated about the moment he knew that he was losing air.

He was only 12, but he used his strength to get you out of the water. You had laid on the cement unconscious, while your brother passed out in the pool water. By the time your parents decided to check on you, your head was resting in a puddle of its own blood on the concrete and your brother was face down in the pool.

They called 911 and by some miracle, you had survived. Lucas didn’t make it. You could never forget the look on your parents’ face when they told you. The pity in your father’s eyes and the hatred in your mother’s.

You could recall nearly every time your mother said you killed your brother. It was her favorite thing to throw in your face. She said it so much that it was hard not to believe it.

Your father would argue with her for talking to you this way. It never led to anything other than a screaming match between the two. It only took a few months for divorce papers to be filed. With the divorce papers came a nasty custody battle. The courts decided on 50/50 as your mother became the actress of the century claiming that she couldn't stand to lose another child.

Handling her cruelty forced you to toughen up. The words she spoke to you were nothing compared to the violence she inflicted against you. The bruises were endless with her. Even when you grew taller and stronger than her, she'd taken to throwing things at you.

When you were with your father things were calmer, but he worried a lot. So, you spent a lot of time alone when you stayed with him. It was better than your mother's and you were always grateful for that even though you wished he was more present.

The only thing that helped soften your reality was your friend Pietro. You met him in high school. He knew about everything. He was your only friend, the only person who had taken a liking to your semi-stoic personality. You were by no means an open book, but Pietro showed that he could be trusted. So, you found yourself telling him about your life.

He hated the way you lived. Any time he could, he’d invite you to his place to remove you from your situation. You gladly took his house as a safe haven. His family was affluent. He lived in a home with too many rooms to count. It was a stark difference from either of your parents homes. His family was also the most caring group of people you had ever known. It was evident after the first few visits that they had taken quite a liking to you.

It took you a long time to understand just how much the Maximoff’s cared for you. There was one instance that solidified how much you meant to them.

“Y/n, come over later tonight. Mama misses you, she said she'd make your favorite,” the then 16-year-old Pietro commented as you exited school grounds.

“I’ll try, but this is my mom’s week.”

Pietro frowned, “That just means you should come over earlier.”

You gave him a sad smile, “You know I want to, it’s just- you know how she is.”

His jaw clenched, “Abusive.”

Your gaze lingered on the floor. You heard him sigh loudly before you felt his arms wrapped securely around you. His chin rested on top of your head as he hugged you like you were going to disappear. You fight the urge to say that you were sorry, he hated when you apologized for no reason.

“I’m sorry, you know I just don't want you getting hurt,” he mumbles into your hair.

“I know,” your voice was smaller than you liked it to be. Pietro always found a way to show your more vulnerable side.

He released the hug and looked at you with soft eyes, “Be safe, Y/n.”

You nodded curtly, “I will.”

The walk home was as anxiety provoking as it always was. Dread filled your body as you approached the run-down apartment complex. You tried to be quiet as you entered your mother’s apartment.

“Well, where have you been all day?” You knew that tone indicated that your mother was already drunk.

“School,” you answered shortly, attempting to continue to your room.

“Don’t walk away when I'm talking to you,” her words made you freeze in your tracks.

There was venom in her glare as she looked at you, “Lucas would've been in his second year of college this year, if you weren't so fucking careless.”

You inhaled slowly, knowing there was nothing you could respond to her with.

“Probably would've been top of his class. He would've had friends and a girlfriend, but because of you he's been rotting in the ground for 8 years because of you.”

You balled up your hands into fists, digging your nails into the skin of your palm. You needed something to ground you, to keep you from crying as your mother continued to speak.

“If he could see you now, he would regret saving your life. You’re stupid, you’re ugly, and you’re disgusting. Still dressing like a little boy at your age, like the sinner I know you are.”

You couldn’t hold your tongue, “He wouldn't even recognize you, you drunk piece of shit.”

She slapped you, “Don’t you dare speak to me like that.”

Your cheek stung and your gaze hit the floor.

“You should've died instead. You’re hardly even a girl, we could've had another daughter.”

You couldn't take it anymore. Walking away from her, you went to your room.  She followed you, but that didn't deter you from throwing all of your things into a duffle bag.

“Where do you think you're going?”

You ignored her and continued to grab the things you cared for.  She screamed more as you packed but you didn't give her an answer. Once you were done, she was stood in your doorway with a wild look in her eyes.

“Leaving,” is all you said as you roughly pushed past her.

“Did you just put your hands on me?”

Her tone was hysterical. You kept moving through the apartment calmly.  It wasn’t until she threw a glass bottle at the wall near you that you flinched. It shattered right by your head. Glass shards flew towards your face, and you felt one slice through your cheek.

You weren’t stunned by her actions. She had done this before in her drunken rage. The glass shattering was just what she needed to get within arms reach of you. Her bony fingers wrapped around your wrist tightly. You hissed at the feeling, knowing there would be bruising.

“You aren’t going anywhere,” she attempted to pull you back, but you were stronger than her.

You pried her fingers off of your wrist. The freedom didn’t last for long as she grabbed a fistful of your hair, using it to slam you backwards onto the ground. While you were on the ground, she kept one hand wrapped in your hair as she started to stomp and kick you.

The pain was immense. You struggled against her, trying to find her hand that was holding your hair. When you found it, you grabbed her arm similarly to how she had grabbed yours. You squeezed as hard as you could, and you heard her shriek. Her grip on your hair dropped and as soon as it did you pushed the woman away from you.

“No one wants you; no one cares about you. You don’t even have anywhere to go, you worthless fucking murderer,” your mother stood still where you pushed her to. She tried to bluff you and you knew it.

“Anywhere is better than here,” you rushed for the door.

She threw one more bottle near the exit and you felt a sharp pain in your side, but you kept moving. Your entire body was burning, but you didn’t stop moving.

You let your feet carry you until you realized you were standing in front of the Maximoff’s house. Usually, you'd text Pietro and he'd get the door for you, but instead you rapidly knocked on the door before ringing the bell.

You didn't wait too long before the door swung open, revealing Pietro’s older sister, Wanda. She looked happy to see you until she noticed your state.  She gasped silently before gently pulling you into the house. You could hear the light family chatter happening in the dining room.

Wanda took your bag from you and led you to the rest of the family. Fear coursed through your veins as your heart started to pick up speed. You didn’t want them to see you like this. Wanda sensed this shift in you and spoke.

“We’re going to help, I promise,” her words were few but there was a conviction in them.

You took a deep breath and let her take you into the room with the others. When they saw you, the chatter stopped. Your eyes locked on to Pietro’s. There was a fire in his eyes as he looked at you.

His voice was shaky as he spoke, “She did this to you?”

That’s all it took for you to burst into tears. You collapsed into Wanda’s arms, and she held you upright.

“Wanda, Flora, take her upstairs get her cleaned up and prep a room for her. Pietro, come with me,” Dragos softly ordered his wife and kids.

Without much effort Wanda picked you up and carried you to the upstairs bathroom, her mother trailed behind her. Wanda sat you on the bathroom counter before rummaging through a few cabinets.

“Mama, I can patch her up while you get the room ready,” Wanda said, already prepping to help you.

Flora left the room, leaving just you and Wanda. You were hardly there; your eyes were cloudy as Wanda looked into them. She could tell you were far away.

“Y/n, I need to know where you’re hurt. I see you’ve got a cut on your face and some bruising on your arm, anything else sweetheart?”

You were hesitant and Wanda saw you fiddling with the end of your shirt. Her hands were delicate as they rested on top of yours, “You’re hurt under there?”

You nodded slightly.

“Can I take a look?” Her eyes looked into yours begging for permission.

You lifted the shirt up not only to reveal a bruise forming but a shard of glass sticking out of your side. It was like seeing the glass triggered something in you as more tears began flooding down your face.

“I’m going to fix it ok, sweetheart. You can trust me. It might hurt a little, but you’ll feel loads better after.”

The most painful part was Wanda removing the glass. Your hands gripped the counter until your knuckles were turning white. The red head talked you through everything she was doing, which gave you a little comfort. She also praised you for being as still as possible as she knew how much this was hurting. Though she imagined it wasn’t worse than the wounds being inflicted.

Once she was done, you felt a lot better. You could tell that she wanted to ask you something by the way her eyes wouldn’t leave your figure.

“Y/n?”

Your eyes locked on to her eyes. They were a soft green tone; they held a certain warmth to them. It was easy to get lost in them.

You hummed in response to her.

“Can I ask, what happened?”

Your thumb tapped the pads of your fingers and you focused on them as you answered Wanda, “My mom got mad at me because I wanted to leave. “

You saw Wanda’s jaw clench and it was almost identical to Pietro’s from earlier in the day, “She’s never going to lay a finger on you again.  We’re going to protect you.”

Leaning forward slightly you rested your head on her shoulder. She smelled good and it calmed your nerves. She let you stay in that position until there was a knock on the door.

“I brought some pajamas and towels for a shower. Do you think you'll need help or can I steal this one for a moment,” Mrs.Maximoff peaks through the door.

Wanda looked at you for an answer, “I can do it myself.”

The older woman sent you a small smile, “Very good dear. Just holler if you need anything.”

Wanda paused before she exited the bathroom, “After your shower I'm going to bandage your torso, ok? Be gentle around the tender areas.”

“Thank you, Wanda,” she smiled at your words and left at that.

When you were finally alone with your thoughts, your tears began to fall again. You let the hot water of the shower cascade down your back. The stinging sensation felt good on your skin. The words your mom said were echoing through your head. You knew they wouldn't be going away any time soon.

While you showered Pietro gave his family some insight into your life. He had told them your brother died in an accident and your mother blamed you. He spoke briefly about your father’s busy working schedule but went into details about your mother’s abuse.

Even the short version of events was heartbreaking to the family.

Flora met her husband’s eyes, “She can’t go back there Dragos.”

He nodded his head in agreement, “She’s not.”

There was a dangerous look in Wanda’s gaze, “What’re we going to do about that bitch?”

Dragos looked at his daughter with a slight smile on his lips, “We’re going to take care of her. She’s not going to bother Y/n, ever again, unless she's got a death wish.”

“If she’s going to stay here, she needs to know the truth,” Pietro said looking down at the table.

“What good would that do her? She’s already had enough,” Wanda defended.

Pietro’s glare matched Wanda’s, “She’s my best friend and we all know there’s a danger that comes with being in this household. If she’s at risk to be hurt, then she deserves to know, and I will tell her.”

“We can keep her safe without her knowing,” Wanda argued back.

“I am not lying to her,” Pietro said with finality.

Wanda scoffs, “You have for all this time, what’s the difference?”

Pietro slammed his fist down on the table, “I would’ve told her from the start if it was an option. She has barred her soul to me, entrusted me with her deepest fears and secrets, you don’t know her like I do.”

“I know she came here barely able to talk, a piece of glass lodged in her side, a cut under her eye, her entire midsection is a bruise. “

“That doesn't mean she doesn’t deserve to know the truth.”

Neither of them was backing down.

“The truth about what?”

The family shifted their attention to you. Pietro crossed his arms over his chest while looking at his family expectantly. Wanda turned her attention to her father to see what he would do.

It was actually Flora who spoke, “Y/n if you’re going to be staying with us there is something we must tell you dear.”

Pietro started, “Remember when you saw my house for the first time and asked what my parents did?”

Wanda rolled her eyes at Pietro’s prolonging of the situation, “Y/n we’re a part of a crime syndicate.”

Dragos quickly corrected Wanda, “We aren’t just a part of it. I’m in charge of it. We aren't so bad either, we do a lot for the community.”

You wanted to laugh, but they looked so serious. They were waiting for your reaction, but you were still processing. This clearly wasn't a joke.

“Ok,” was all that you could muster up.

“Do you get what we’re saying dear?”

You nodded slowly. “You’re criminals,” your eyes cut over to your best friend, “All of you?”

Pietro tore his eyes away from you.

Wanda saw the hurt in her brother’s eyes and tried to take over, “Beyond criminals, Y/n we’re the same Maximoff family that you know. We care about you and your safety. We would never let any harm come to you.”

“Do I have to be involved with that stuff?” You questioned.

The family all eyed Dragos, seemingly searching for an answer of their own. His eyes met yours, “I will never make you do anything you don't want to do. However, if this is something you're interested in all you have to do is ask.”

You took in a deep breath, before exhaling, “Thank you for letting me stay.”

Flora shook her head, “You’re family Y/n.”

For once that night you held back the tears. You let Wanda redress your wounds and then went to bed. Sleep came easier than it should’ve, you believed the Maximoff's when they said you were safe. That was the first time in your life where you felt delicate and not fragile. However, things change consistently, and life moves fast, even faster when you’re entangled with the biggest crime family in New York City.

[sweetlikelace]

MY HANDS ARE TIED, MY SLEEVES ARE TORN

PART ONE | wandanat x reader

pairing(s): wanda maximoff x reader, wanda maximoff x natasha romanoff, natasha romanoff x reader

content warning: talk of smut, legal age gap, praise, reader is a brat but what’s new

word count: 2.1k

A/N: happy easter !! here’s a bit of a backstory on the readers relationship with natasha and wanda! i’m not sure how long to make each part?? so if you guys want longer content let me know!! i’m hoping to have the next part out within the week

⋆⁺₊⋆ ━━━━⊱༒︎ • ༒︎⊰━━━━ ⋆⁺₊⋆

you were officially a graduate. a career-ready member of the workforce. except... ready for what? that's the question that screams in your head every morning, louder than any alarm. what are you even ready for? and more importantly, what do you even want? your friends seem to have it all figured out, meanwhile, you're sitting here, staring at your inbox, which is a graveyard of rejection emails and vague LinkedIn invitations. "we appreciate your interest, but..." has become your new mantra.

you feel like you've been playing a constant, losing game of job application bingo, desperately searching for that one magic phrase that'll unlock the door to your future. it's isolating, this feeling of being lost at sea, surrounded by giant, confident cruise liners sailing towards clearly defined horizons. we spend four years being told what university would prepare us, that it would open doors and pave the way for success. and for some maybe it has, but more you, it feels like its just presented you with a bewildering array of choices, all equally terrifying.

part of the problem is the pressure. the unspoken expectation that as a young woman, you should be carving out this perfect, instagrammable life. you should be ambitious, driven, and know exactly what you want to achieve by twenty-three. but the truth is, you barely know what you want for dinner tonight, let alone the next five years of your life.

your mother keeps suggesting you to come home, stay with them for a while. its a tempting offer, a safe harbour in this storm of uncertainty. but the thought of retreating, confirming her silent worries about your "unrealistic dreams," makes you want to run away even further.

maybe that's why you were so attracted to the idea of natasha's offer. it was something you hadn't thought to try before, but the idea of giving yourself to them completely sounded more and more appealing each day.

you were currently working as a barista at buzzy brews, and it wasn't uncommon to see the older woman stop in weekday mornings. that's how you had gotten to know natasha in the first place. she'd order a nitro cold brew and always tip generously. it was no secret to you or your coworkers that she was wealthy.

for weeks, your interactions were purely transactional. but something about her calm demeanour and the thoughtful way she seemed to absorb the world around her piqued your curiosity. for natasha, it was the subtle blush that would appear on your cheeks the moment she came in, the way you would subconsciously hum along to whatever music was playing on the radio.

she began bringing wanda to the coffee shop months later, who also seemed to take a liking to you. when the older women told you about their offer, you were intrigued to say the least. both women could be intimidating, and part of you feared the experience, but an even bigger part of you was jealous at the idea of them presenting this proposal to someone else. you agreed almost instantly.

you spent most of your time with natasha. it was her you had grown closest too. from the moment you met wanda, there was an unmistakable aura of dominance about her. it wasn't arrogance, exactly, more like a quiet confidence that commanded attention. she didn't have to speak loudly or make grand gestures, in fact she was often the quieter of the two. the way she held herself, the directness of her gaze, it all spoke volumes. it was a captivating quality you found yourself drawn to.

initially that attraction seemed to be reciprocated. the day natasha brought her in, she was engaging, genuinely interested in what you had to say. it felt easy and natural. that's why the subsequent shift was so bewildering. the more time spent with natasha, the frequency of your conversation with her wife diminished. the warmth that had initially radiated from her seemed to cool, replaced by a polite, but detached manner.

natasha tried to explain that it wasn't that her wife disliked you. it was quite the opposite. wanda had spent so much time around chaotic and headstrong personalities, she became accustomed to a certain dynamic, or in other words, brat taming was her specialty. "you're far too sweet, she just doesn't know how to handle you." natasha would say before kissing your cheek. although you didn't really believe her. you may have been gentle, and 'too sweet for your own good' at times, but you were determined to win over the affection you craved so much from the sokovian.

you arrived at the romanoff-maximoff household earlier than expected, and natasha's meeting was running later than even she could anticipate. she stayed locked in her at-home-office while wanda tidied up the house. you sat on the on sofa watching tv, and patiently waiting for natasha to finish up her call. 

"turn the volume down, detka. natasha's in an important meeting." wanda spoke clearly as she wiped down the coffee table. 

wanda always seemed to find something to complain about. the tv volume being too loud, or your jacket not hung up properly, but tossed onto the floor. you thought if you had to wait all evening for natasha, then why couldn't you at least enjoy your time waiting? especially since natasha's meetings were becoming more frequent and you hated having to wait for her attention. with a frustrated sigh, you turn the volume down. your sigh did not go unnoticed by the older woman, but she chose not to press. 

wanda went back into the kitchen, turning on the faucet to clean the dishes you had left previously in the sink. their home was quite big, which is why each clatter of the dishes scraping together echoed directly back to the living room. you roll your eyes and grab the remote, turning the volume up even higher than before. you don't even hear the sink turn off and wanda rushing back into the living room.

she grabbed the remote from beside you and instead of turning the volume back down, she turned the tv off completely. "hey!" you sit up.

"what did i say? natasha is in a meeting. you can earn back your tv privilege when you start showing some respect." the brunette held her arms across her chest, the remote still in her hand.

"my 'tv privileges?' i'm not a child." you scoff, crossing your own arms. 

wanda shakes her head, "you're acting like one." with that, wanda takes the remote and returns to the kitchen, leaving you alone in the living room. once she was out of sight you lean over, punching the pillow she had just fluffed. maybe it was slightly childish behaviour, but you were irritated. 

when natasha did eventually finish her meeting, she came down the stairs and greeted wanda first. you could hear their muffled voices from the other room and it piqued your curiosity and excitement. you sit up straight and eager for the older woman. 

she came around the corner and you immediately stood up with a smile. natasha was always happy to see you after her long work days, you were a breath of fresh air after dealing with incompetent employees nonstop. she greets you by pushing your hair behind your ears, she hated when you'd hide behind your hair. "hi sweet girl." she sighs contentedly. 

"I missed you..." you say with a soft pout, a part of you wanting her to feel guilty for making you wait. "I missed you too, you little troublemaker." catching you by surprise, she met your gaze, her eyes soft but direct. "wanda told me you've been pushing her buttons today." she said, her eyebrows arched. 

"no..." your voice hinted with guilt.

natasha's lips twitched with the hint of a smile, amused by your feigned innocence. she didn't believe you for a second. "mhm." she hummed, her hands starting to gently trace patterns on your hips. "wanda said you've been acting like a brat. is that true?"

you shake your head. her grip on your hips tightened. "you know you can't lie to me, sweetheart. wanda said you've been testing her patience. now tell me the truth." 

you chew on your cheek shyly. "maybe...maybe a little bit."

natasha's smirk widened a bit at your admission, her hands still tracing circles on your hips. she didn't seem angry, more amused than anything. "a little bit, huh?" she repeated, her. tone slightly teasing. she pulled you closer, so you were practically pressed against her. "and why were you testing wanda's patience, sweetheart?"

you shrug, sinking further down in her lap. 

wanda's expression darkened a little from the doorway. "natasha asked you a question, and we expect an answer. you're a big girl, use your words." wanda spoke firmly, and hearing her scold you made your heart sink.  natasha smirked slightly at your expression, knowing exactly what you were thinking.

"just relax for me, princess." she murmured. she leaned down, her voice soft. "wanda won't bite, trust me."

you weren't exactly afraid of wanda, or were you? she was just a lot harder to read. you didn't want to apologize, but you didn't want to keep having this conversation either. you turn to look at wanda, who was leaned against the doorframe. 

"I'm sorry for being a brat, miss wanda." you speak so softly she can barely hear you, but natasha flashes a satisfied smile. "we forgive you, solnishko. thank you for apologizing." the older woman kisses your forehead and you smile proudly. although wanda was not very pleased. 

"tasha..." she gave a hinting tone, looking past you and directly at her wife, but natasha only shakes her head. 

she runs her hands through your hair. "she had a long day, isn't that right, baby?" natasha coos at you and you nod, leaning your head into her chest. she twirls a strand of your hair between her fingers before standing up and reaching out her hand. "you did so well waiting for me today, I know it wasn't easy to be that patient." 

wanda sighs, pushing off the doorframe and retrieving back to the kitchen. you shoot her a glare, but natasha's hand on your chin squeezes lightly, bringing your attention back to her. "easy, darling." your eyes relax once they land back on the blonde. her expression softens as she runs her thumb over your lower lip.  

"what do you need, baby?" she whispers.

"you..." you say, looking up at her with big, doe eyes. 

"on your knees." she said, calm and assured, like she already knew you'd obey. and of course you did. 

you moved across the room quietly, kneeling in front of her like muscle memory. your eyes didn't quite meet hers - at least not at first - but she waited, saying nothing until your gaze slowly drifted up to hers. "already so good for me."

her hand moved to your cheek, thumb brushing over your skin with a kind of reverence that made your chest ache. her touch wasn't hurried, nothing about natasha ever was. she liked to take her time. and with you? she always did. 

her words sent a shiver down your spine. your breath caught, but you didn't move. natasha smiled, clearly pleased. "you love when I take control. when I remind you who you belong to," she whispered, her fingers slipping through your hair, gentle, deliberate. 

"yes," you breathed, voice quiet. 

she saw the way your lips parted slightly, the way your knees shifted just a little closer. her hand dropped to your shoulder, coaxing. "up here," she said, patting her thigh. "come sit. let me feel you."

you claimed into her lap carefully, your body fitting against hers like puzzle pieces long since matched. she pulled you in, arms wrapping around your waist, mouth ghosting over your neck. natasha shifted on the sofa, parting her legs slightly so you could kneel closer between them. her fingers trailed down your neck to your shoulder, the touch featherlight, like she was learning you all over again. 

you weren't sure how long you could stay patient. her touch was maddening, never enough. she cupped your cheek with one hand, the other gently tilting your chin up. "eyes on me." 

you held her gaze, even though it made your breath catch. natasha's eyes were dark with need, but still so soft. she was in complete control. it was effortless to her. "you want me to touch you?" she asked, even though she already knew the answer. 

"yes," you whispered.

"I know you do, sweetheart." she leaned down, her mouth barely grazing your ear. "but I like making you wait."

tags: @ciaoooooo111

[gingiesworld]

We Are Bonded

Wanda Maximoff x Werewolf GN! Reader

Warnings: Fluff

AN: This is a one shot I am thinking of making a story for. Except it may be longer than my Nat x Werewolf reader fic. Please let me know if it is something you will want :)

Taglist : @natashamaximoff-69 @canvascoloredin @wizardofstories @louxbloom @wandanats-goodgirl @the-ox-fan20 @ladyqueenxoxo @aemilia19 @wandaromamoff69 @mfd-101 @dorabledewdroop @marvelogic @dopeyouth @karsonromanoff @bimad (if you want to be added to my taglist, please DM me or comment)

18+ MINORS DNI

It was no secret that Y/N had an attachment to the witch, although she had something with Vision, who disliked Y/N’s need to be near her. He would scowl everytime the two would cuddle, Wanda loved to run her fingers through their hair and even scratch behind their ear.

“It’s not right Wanda! This moronic claim they have on you is wrong!” He yelled as Wanda was preparing dinner, slamming the knife down as she turned to face him.

“There is nothing wrong with it!” She told him angrily. “Y/N and I are friends! And guess what? Friends cuddle all of the damn time!”

“Wanda.” Vision took a deep breath. “Y/N is a mongrel.”

“I’m a what?” Y/N questioned, hurt laced in their voice.

“Y/N.” Wanda tried as Y/N shook their head, walking away from the witch and Vision. Wanda glared at Vision before speaking. “We’re done.” She told him firmly.

“You can’t be serious?!” He yelled as she nodded, pursing her lips as she looked in his eyes.

“You have disrespected my closest friend.” She told him. “I can’t be with anyone who would hurt them.” Wanda turned away to look for Y/N.

“What about dinner?” He asked her as she turned back to him.

“You’re all knowing. I’m sure you can figure it out.” With that she left the room, wanting to find Y/N as she searched the compound, only coming up empty. She moved to search outside, where she bumped into Natasha.

“Are you ok?” She questioned the witch.

“Have you seen Y/N?” She asked her, ignoring her question.

“No, why?” She asked her, her brows furrowed in confusion.

“Vision and I got into an argument.” She started.

“About Y/N I presume.” She said as Wanda nodded.

“Then they overheard him call them a mongrel, then they left.” She told her.

“Ok, let’s find Y/N before I kill Vision.” Natasha told her.

“I’ve already searched inside the compound and they aren't there.” Wanda told her.

“Ok.” Nat nodded as she led Wanda towards the lab. “Tony, we need to search for Y/N.” She explained everything that Wanda had just told her, the two of them watching as he searched for them.

“They left at around 3pm.” He pointed at the screen showing them leaving. Moving onto another camera to see Y/N get tranquilized and put into the back of a waiting van.

“Do you think you can find them?” Wanda asked, worry laced in her voice.

“I can try to narrow it down to possible locations, but that was hours ago. It can take a while.” He told her.

“Just do it.” Nat told him. “I’ll tell the others we have a situation.”

As soon as everyone was notified of the situation, everyone started to make preparations and plans for when Tony has a location.

“Their ring.” Maria blurted out as everyone looked at her confused. “I gave them a ring, they always keep it on and it has a tracker.” She moved towards one of Tony’s computers as everyone watched as she typed away. “So they are now in Virginia.”

“It looks like an old abandoned factory.” Tony pointed to the screen. “So, I should be able to get the blueprints.” He mumbled as he typed away himself. Soon enough everyone was on the jet and going over a plan. “You are staying on the jet Vision.” Tony stated as they neared the location. “We can’t trust that you will make sure Y/N is safe.”

“You can’t be serious?!” He yelled as Wanda laughed.

“It appears that is your favourite sentence.” She mumbled as she moved to stand beside Nat.

“We’ll get them back.” She reassured the witch who just nodded, ready to rain fire if anyone had harmed a hair on Y/N’s head. Once the jet landed safely, everyone ran towards the base, taking down anyone who stood in their way. What they never expected to see was Y/N being tortured in their human form.

“Y/N!” Wanda yelled as she heard them yelp as a whip came down on their bare back. She used her powers to throw the agents as far away from them as possible. “Hey, it’s ok.” She cupped their tear stained face. “You’re safe now.”

“Wanda?” They whispered unsurely. “Are you really here?”

“Yes.” She told them. “Let’s get you home.” She helped them to their feet, with the help of Steve, they hobbled their way onto the jet. Wanda came straight to them with the first aid kit.

“Just give it a moment.” They whispered as Wanda tilted her head in confusion.

“They will heal in a moment.” Maria informed her. “They heal faster than Steve and Bruce, but not as fast as the werewolves heal on those TV shows.”

“Oh.” Wanda was shocked, her eyes watching as the wounds slowly healed before her eyes.

Once everyone was back at the tower safely, Wanda made sure to stay with Y/N, waiting as they showered. Sitting on their bed as she stole one of their hoodies.

“Hey.” Y/N greeted her as they left the bathroom. “What’s on your mind?” They asked as she looked at them confused.

“Since when are you a mind reader?” She teased as they dried their hair.

“I guess I can sense your emotions.” They told her nervously. “I feel when you are happy or sad, I can sense when you are angry or calm.” They threw the towel in the hamper. “I don’t understand this connection we have, I haven’t really come across another of my kind to even learn more of who I am.” They sat beside her on the bed. “But I know I am drawn to you, like we are bonded in some way.” Wanda took a deep breath before looking into their eyes.

“I feel that too.” Wanda admitted. “I just, it’s this feeling I just can’t shake.” Y/N watched her intently as she spoke. “I loved Vision, before you came along, I really did but.” She took a deep breath before continuing. “You have changed something in me, like I feel for you what I felt for him, and I don’t know what to do.”

“We don’t have to do anything.” They spoke softly. “Not if you don’t want to.”

“But I do.” She told them. “I am just not ready yet.”

“That’s ok.” They smiled as they wrapped their arms around her. “I will wait as long as I need to.”

[kaziee2]

A Day with Mama Nat

Summary: Natasha gets a new surprise with her day out with you Warning: None Pairs: [Wanda x Natasha] [mom!Wandanat x baby!reader] [platonic] Words: [1.7k] [Masterlist] [Chapt 1]

It's been exactly 2-months since Natasha saved you from the Hydra facility and since her and Wanda have fully adopted you into the family. It was a rough start at first seeing that Natasha and Wanda didn’t even know how to care for an out-of-world baby. 

It seemed the first problem they had to face related to the newly adopted baby wasn’t even you being a handful, it was Tommy and Billy. Both of them were so happy to have another sibling, and upon learning that you weren’t human, they both fought one another for holding, playing, and trying to test out your cool abilities, they wanted their own time with you and grabbed you any chance they got. 

And those times meant hearing one of them always whining and the other snitching. 

“MAMA! Tommy took (Y/n) out in the backyard when you said not to!” Billy was known for being a snitch and betraying Tommy if it meant being able to play with you. Immediately Wanda called out for Tommy to get back inside.

And with his twin brother being scolded by Wanda, he took this opportunity to snag you and bring you upstairs to your room. With already getting used to this happening almost every other week. You just enjoyed being in any of their arms. 

The second problem that they encountered was the ever annoying bothersome S.H.I.E.L.D scientist. A nuisance they wished they could ignore, questions being asked, testing every ability they could find, prodding you every chance they get to look for any kind of violent reaction for as they call “research” purposes. 

One instance that made Wanda almost go Scarlet Witch on them was most definitely when they requested Fury to do a surgical dissection on you for them to study. They insisted that with more in-depth research they can learn what species you're from or planet/world you came from. And understand how your abilities work. 

Natasha had to physically hold Wanda back from literally pouncing on them, luckily Fury disagreed, he couldn’t fathom the thought of a baby (alien or not) to be treated like an object to study. And so S.H.I.E.L.D placed an agreement to conduct more thorough experiments when you are at an older age. Natasha and Wanda seemed apprehensive at first but soon relented if it meant you were not to be disturbed in your early years. 

They didn’t want your early memories with them always going to the doctors for “check ups”, they wanted you to live a normal life until you were ready to make your own choices. You were their baby, genetics be damned.

----

And now you’ve officially been with the Romanoffs-Maximoffs for 6-months and the family couldn’t be happier. 

Their lives seemed to have gotten brighter ever since you came along and the boys couldn’t be anymore happy to call you their sister. You spent day and night playing with them and just enjoying their company. 

Tommy loves when you would hold onto his back while he super speeds around the neighborhood, making sure you were hidden from any watchful eyes. 

Billy on the other hand loves to levitate you off the ground and make you fly around the house, he just loves to see you smile and laugh while thinking you were supergirl (who is your recent favorite after Tommy showed you his comic collections), always trying to pose like she would while she flies. 

Though recently Both boys had to go back to school and both of them couldn’t be any more sadder than you, when you couldn’t play with them as much as before since they spent half of the day in school and when coming back home, they would do their homework (with the exception of Tommy who skips it, to play with you), who is then forced to stop playing by Natasha. 

Now is another day and Natasha decides to bring you into the tower, since she can’t leave you alone in the house. It’s been at least an hour and you’ve been eerily quiet for a baby like you and to make sure you weren’t causing any trouble, she went out to check on you, only to find you… missing!? 

She bolts out of the room and starts calling out for you, “(Y/n)! (Y/n)! Where are you, honey?! Please come to mama,” 

Figuring you must’ve teleported your way out of the room since she didn’t notice you sneaking away. Now she was running around the compound main area like a mad-man trying to find you. She didn’t want to worry Wanda, she knew if she called her regarding you, she would instantly drop the mission she is currently on. 

“Sweetie, if you come out right now, I promise we can play your favorite game,” she hopes you actually don’t come out now, even when she was desperately trying to find you. She can’t handle another spontaneous game of millisecond teleports from you, which you define as “fun”. 

Not a second after her bidding request, she spotted you floating (?) near the ceiling. She looked around to see if this was Billy doing it, but it couldn’t be him, he was at school and wouldn’t be back for another hour. And now she feels terrified, not only would this mean you have another ability, it meant much worse– and not a second later does she see you floating away and going through THE GODDAMN WALL?! WHEN COULD YOU DO THAT?!!

Natasha feels undeniable dread come over her, only now realizing she lost you again! She bolts out of the room, practically pushing anyone in the way, she listens in to your cooing and giggling to follow where you’re floating about. 

“(Y/N)! Come to mama, honey, uhh..float to mama-…maybe? I know you can do it. You don’t want mommy to see you floating about do you? And you know mama definitely doesn’t want mommy to find out too!” Natasha desperately calls, she might have to sleep on the couch if Wanda sees the predicament she’s in. 

In a sad desperate attempt she calls you again, “You don’t want to see me sleeping on the couch do you?” but your giggles fade within the building walls, her ultimately losing you. It feels as though your giggles were evil– at least in her head it sounded evil. She stopped and slumped herself against the wall ‘Oh god! What am I going to do?! How am I going to find her?! OH WHAT IF SHE HURT HERSELF!!’ Natasha’s thoughts spiraled with scenarios. 

“Well isn’t this sad sestra(sister), you lost my favorite niece,” a teasing voice is heard.

Natasha looks to her left and sees Yelena, her annoying (loveable) sister staring down at her with a sly smile, “what do you want? Can’t you see I’m wallowing in pain right now,” Natasha grumbles pulling her knees to her chest. 

Yelena doesn’t say anything but stares into the hallway, whistling like she would call Fanny. Natasha recognizes it and chastises her, chastising her about how you are not a dog to be just called like that. Soon enough though, Natasha hears your giggling and cooing, she sees you floating towards her, she reaches her arms out ready to cradle you in her arms– until you completely went past her and landed on Yelena’s arms. You coo and grab her hair playing with it. 

Natasha stares at her sister –completely baffled by what just happened– but she couldn’t stay shocked forever, in that moment, she stood and plucked you out of Yelena’s arms faster than the speed of flight. Checking you over, making sure that you weren’t hurt anywhere while at the same time happy tears were cascading down her cheeks. 

“Oh my sweet baby, don't you ever do that again,” your mama scolded you softly, but even then you continued to coo and babble at her occasionally grabbing her hair and tugging at it (to which she grunts but smiles anyway), not really aware of what was going on, you were just happy to be with your mama. 

Natasha continues to envelope you in her loving embrace, giving butterfly kisses and hugging you ever so delicately (even though she knows you can massacre the whole team). She adjusts you cradling you in her arms, ready to put you back in her office, “We don’t want mommy to find out that I lost you alright? And you definitely don’t want mama sleeping on the couch,” she says in a baby voice, not realizing that Yelena had slipped away when she noticed a second shadow coming up behind her sister. 

“What don’t we want mommy from finding out, hm?”

“Eep!” Natasha squeaks, terrified of looking behind her. 

“Natalia? What don’t you want me to find out?” a sharp edge to her voice, very much a contrast from her usual sweet loving voice. 

‘Oh shit first name basis, she’s dead’, “You will be dead if you don’t start facing me!” tapping one foot impatiently.

Natasha finally finds the courage to turn around to face her wife, you still continue to babble not minding the shift in the atmosphere, “My sweet love, Wanda, you’ve returned from the mission, how are you?” she tries to ease her fuming wife (feeling sweaty from how nervous she is), “Would have been doing fine, if I didn’t hear from Stark about a floating baby,” Wanda glares daggers at her, “you wouldn’t happen to know anything about that would you?” she raises her eyebrow. 

Natasha thinks of trying to play like a fool, but she knows she'll never get away with it, “A floating baby? Hmm…not that I know of.” she’s dead, why did she still bother trying. 

Wanda looked at her incredulously and before she knew it, you were out of her arms and into her wife’s; she then walked away. She couldn’t tell if she got away with it or not, but on the look on Wanda’s face it seemed maybe she got a pass. So she walked up beside her, silently following her home.

Bonus:

It was not alright, coming home and getting ready for bed, she thought it was fine, but… it wasn’t the moment she tried to get into bed, Wanda told her to sleep on the couch before kissing her goodnight and closing the bedroom door…with her outside of the bedroom…

Tags: @leftbailiffpeachkid @fayhar @