wandasnatasha

[wandasnatasha]

Where the Hearts Are

Pairings: Wife!Natasha Romanoff x Fem!Reader

Summary: domestic life with Natasha and your daughter:

You have built a home and a family with your wife Natasha. Using terms of endearment for each other is common for you two. Hence why your 3 year old daughter thinks your name is "(my) love" and Natasha's name is "darling".

Word count: 2k

Warnings: you and Natasha have a kid (Anastasia/Ana), mention of sex at the very end if you squint.

Specks of dust float in a stream of light as the first rays of sunrise spill through the curtains, bathing two bodies in a warm golden glow. The clock on the bedside table shows you have a small window of time before a tiny, energetic human visits your bedroom, ecstatic to start the day way too early. Just five more minutes, you promise yourself, refusing to leave the covers just yet. You turn your back towards the morning sun, and you come face-to-face with love. Even after three years of dating and four years of marriage, you still pinch yourself every day to see if you’re dreaming.

Natasha is sound asleep next to you. She’s sprawled on her back with an arm above her head and her red hair spread over the pillow. Her face is slightly angled towards you, her expression calm and peaceful as quiet puffs of air leave her lips. You admire her little details, from her eyelashes to the beauty mark on her cheek adjacent to her nose. Your heart grows.

Things are very different now compared to when you first began spending the nights together at the start of your relationship. Natasha used to sleep on the edge of the bed as if she was afraid to take up space. Back then, she always felt far off from you, even if she was just an outstretched arm away. Seven years have gone by and Natasha’s definitely not afraid to claim her spot on your shared king-sized bed. She has the tendency to roll over in her sleep, abandoning her own side of the bed for yours. You have to fight her for bed space and you like to tease her about it. Luckily, her sleeping habits don’t take away from you getting a good night’s rest, and at least she miraculously stopped being a blanket thief. You fall asleep with a full heart every night knowing you can reach her easily and that her face will be the first one you’ll see in the morning.

Natasha stirs from her slumber when you nestle yourself into the crook of her arm, resting a hand on her chest. Your wife instinctively wraps her arms around you before drifting back off. Her steady heartbeat and slow breathing serve as a reminder that dreams do come true.

You went through the tiresome motions of life before you met Natasha, yearning for tenderness and love. You thought that coming across those things was something that only ever happened to other people. A part of you accepted that you would always be on the sidelines, a witness to others finding their person, but never yourself being the one to experience this deep emotional connection with someone. Natasha ended up proving you wrong. You've found what you were looking for, and infinitely more.

Five minutes turn into ten, and you reluctantly detangle yourself from Natasha’s embrace when you hear the expected pitter-patter of little feet rushing to your door. Anastasia - Ana, for short - the 3-year-old daughter you share with Natasha, is an early riser. She always runs to your room immediately after waking up, missing her parents after a whole night apart. She likes to wreak havoc on your sleeping schedules by jumping on the bed. You want to prevent that from happening today. Natasha usually wakes up before you to entertain the overactive toddler. The fact she’s still sleeping tells you she needs the extra rest more than you do this Saturday morning.

You press a featherlight kiss to Natasha’s nose before sneaking out of your warm, comfortable bed to meet your daughter halfway.

“Hi, love!” The 3-year-old in your doorway exclaims, thrilled to see one of her favorite people.

Her words pull a bright smile out of you.

Ana has brought her most beloved stuffed doll with her. It goes where she goes. Yelena had given it to her a few months ago, with a mischievous grin thrown Natasha’s way. It’s supposed to represent a miniature version of your wife, but everyone (except Ana) agrees that the manufacturer has done Natasha terribly wrong. Natasha has called it an insult to her existence on multiple occasions when Ana was out of earshot, even going as far as to say that farmers could use it as a scarecrow. She’ll deny it, but you’ve caught Natasha hugging the stuffed doll to her chest during the rare times she’s found it laying abandoned somewhere around the house, thinking no one was there to catch her in the act. She also can’t contain her fond smiles whenever she sees it tucked under Ana’s arms, which is often. Your daughter adores the toy because it’s her mama. Natasha knows this.

Ana is about to dart towards your bed to greet the real-life version of her Black Widow plushie, but you gently stop her before she can do so.

“Hi,” you whisper, putting your index finger in front of your lips. “No jumping on the bed today. We have to be quiet for mama, okay?” You point to Natasha, reminding Anastasia to be mindful of her sleeping mother.

Ana’s gaze lands on Natasha and her eyes grow wide. She gasps dramatically, bringing her hand to her heart. You’re certain she learned this from her uncle Tony. You chuckle at her antics and clearly Ana thinks you laugh too loud, because she copies your earlier gesture by pressing her own finger to her mouth as she lets out a quiet “shhh”, not wanting you to disturb her mama.

She recently entered a new phase. Her latest favorite pastime is mimicking those around her, imitating everything she sees and hears.

“Darling sleepy,” Ana frowns, referring to Natasha by using the same term she often hears you address the redhead with. 

“Yes, I think darling’s very tired,” you keep your voice low lest you face the wrath of Natasha’s fiercest protector yet again.

Ana beams back at you as you boop her nose before scooping her up into your arms.

“Let’s go brush our teeth and have breakfast. Pancakes sound good?“

Ana nods her head enthusiastically. 

“You can help me make mama’s favorite sandwich,” you add, making your way to the bathroom with Ana in tow.

“Yay!”

Natasha wanders downstairs, following the sound of idle chatter and the delicious aroma that makes her stomach growl. A pot of coffee is brewing, pancakes are served on plates alongside a bowl of freshly cut fruits; her favorite girls are waiting for her in the kitchen, and Natasha hasn’t flinched in years. She plays with the wedding band on her finger as she takes in her surroundings, looking in awe at her beautiful family existing within it.

Ana is poking a finger into a slice of bread, muttering "uh-oh” at the dent it leaves behind while you try, and fail, to twist open a peanut butter jar.

Sometimes it still feels surreal to Natasha that this is her life; that she can hold the world in her hands. 

Your face lights up when you become aware of Natasha’s presence, and Ana squeals in delight when she spots her, waving excitedly. Natasha returns the gesture with the same enthusiasm and her green eyes go soft when the 3-year-old offers her a chewed, mushy piece of pancake.

“Good morning, my love,” Natasha turns to you, taking the jar from you.

She gets this tiny smile she’s reserved just for you. It’s the same smile you can even hear through the phone whenever she greets you or says goodbye with a ‘love’ at the end. 

Natasha never thought she’d become the type of person to use terms of affection so easily. She’d always considered it somewhat cheesy whenever she heard people address a loved one in such a manner. That is, until years ago she started finding herself on the receiving end. It hadn’t taken Natasha long to realize that you embody the concept of love for her. Still, the very first “my love” she uttered to you had lingered in her throat for quite some time before she let it out. One day it had finally rolled off her tongue, and it hasn’t stopped since.

You bask in the small moment Natasha’s having with Ana. You notice how the lid turns easily, but Natasha pretends she’s having trouble with it. She makes the silliest faces and the most exaggerated noises, causing Ana to break out into contagious giggles.

“Thanks, darling,” you say when Natasha eventually puts the opened jar down.

“No, thank you.”

When Natasha kisses your forehead and lingers there briefly, you can feel her smile. She slips her arms around you and you nuzzle into the warmth of her neck. You’ve found the safest place on earth, wrapped in the arms of your wife. When Natasha pulls away, she holds your face in her hands to press her lips against yours. She hopes it conveys her gratitude. 

Without words, Natasha says, "Thank you for letting me sleep in, for breaking into a sweat just to make me a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, for cutting Ana’s pancakes into smaller pieces. Thank you for saying ‘yes’ on the day I got down on one knee. Thank you for getting annoyed, but not angry when I forgot the grocery list at home and returned with a lot of items missing yesterday. Thank you for sharing the responsibility with me of raising Anastasia, and for helping me give her the childhood I never had.”

Natasha feels incredibly fortunate to have found someone to love and to hold, a life partner who takes care of her and who she can take care of in return. She’s delighted that she gets to see the world in a different light through Ana’s eyes. She’s thankful for the pictures hanging on the walls of the house that you’ve bought and turned into a home together. She’s grateful for the warmth and the laughter that this family brings.

Her family.

Your family spends Saturday afternoon in the park, chasing after a cheeky Ana. You and Natasha plop down on a picnic blanket after ten minutes, trying to catch your breath. It's hard keeping up with a toddler who has more energy than the tesseract.

Your head is in Natasha's lap and conversation flows easily, the way it does when you've known someone a long time. You doze off with a familiar sense of happiness as she strokes your hair, keeping a close eye on Ana. When you wake up, it's to the sight of Natasha with daisies in her hair and Anastasia fast asleep against her. 

Natasha's eyes crinkle at the corners when she looks at you. She holds out a bouquet of the same tiny flowers that she has in her hair. And, uh, is that grass with the roots still attached?

"Ana made this for you."

On Sunday, Natasha makes love to you. She'll tackle the never-ending pile of laundry much later in the day. Having her name fall from your lips until you're too sensitive to continue, is far more important.

When Monday arrives, the Romanoff household will wake up before any alarm goes off. Anastasia will bounce onto your bed with glee, nervous, but excited to start her very first day of kindergarten. She can't wait to have 'homework time' like her friends Billy and Tommy. When you drop-off your preschooler, it'll be with her Black Widow doll in her arms. Natasha will fight back tears, not wanting to worry or upset Ana, but she'll reach for your hand as you walk back to the parking lot and she'll bawl her eyes out as soon as you reach your car. Natasha will wipe off the tears you've cried with her before going your separate ways to work.

As you close the front door behind you and take off your shoes after a long tiring day, Natasha waits with her arms wide open, ready to ask you about your day and to say:

"Welcome home, love."

[wandasnatasha]

If You Run, Run To Me (18+) PT. 2|2

Natasha Romanoff x Fem!Reader

Summary: It's been six months since you and your friend Natasha started sleeping together. When Natasha catches wind of your feelings for her, will she run?

Word count: 5.5K

Warnings: angst, a long emotional rollercoaster, smut (cunnilingus, fingering, strap-on).

A/N: Thank you for all the lovely comments, likes and reblogs on part 1! I haven't responded to every comment/reblog, but I've read them all and I appreciate it very much. 

Part 2 is the end of this little story and picks up where we left off in PART 1.

Crying is hard on the body. After Natasha had run out of your room, and once your emotions had left you completely drained and exhausted, you had fallen asleep. When you wake up the next day, you’re met with a minor headache, but your mind is clearer than yesterday. The whole situation seems more manageable now that you’re not in the heat of the moment. You know what you’re going to say to Natasha as you stand in front of her bedroom door.

The two of you can talk this out and work through this bump in the road or you can just forget about the whole situation if she wants to pretend it didn’t happen. You can return to normal, to friends with benefits. You can even settle for being just friends again. You could handle that… But if she wants to, and you really hope she does, maybe you can take her out on a proper first date, see where things go.

You hope a romantic relationship with Natasha is possible somewhere in the near future. There have been all these moments in the past six months - and possibly even before you started sleeping together - that suggest Natasha reciprocates your feelings.

You had caught Natasha staring at you from the other side of a room on more than one occasion. She was the one to initiate that kiss: the kiss that was the start of this whole ordeal. She had gone out of her way to learn how to make your favorite meal after that one time you had let it slip that you hadn’t eaten it in a while. She laughs way too hard at your jokes that aren’t even that funny to begin with. She sat through all of the seven seasons and 109 episodes of your favorite TV show with you. You don’t think she even likes the genre.

Natasha - the woman who hates it when people see her in such a vulnerable state; the woman who rarely asks for help - has let you clean her wounds and patch her up after rough missions. She hadn’t shied away from you then. And then there were those instances where she had showered you with affection and warmth, like when she washes your hair whenever you’re too tired to do it yourself, gently massaging your scalp because she knows it calms you down. She’d braid your hair afterward. She’d even sought out physical contact that hadn’t involved sex at all, like a brief touch to your waist, her hand on the small of your back, or her resting her head on your shoulder. 

All that goes beyond lust and just friendship, right?

“Nat? It’s me. Can we talk?” You knock on Natasha’s door. 

You think you hear some shuffling coming from her room, but when you press your ear against the door, it’s silent. Maybe you’d imagined it? You wait a moment longer, but when nothing happens, you turn back around feeling somewhat deflated, but still hopeful. You’ll talk to her later.

Everything’s going to turn out alright!

Little do you know, Natasha is standing right behind that door with her hand resting on the handle. She decides against pushing it down.

Everything is fucked!

As a highly skilled assassin and spy Natasha can sneak in and out of just about any space and remain undetected. She knows how to easily disappear and how to make it difficult to be found. It’s glaringly obvious she’s been doing just that ever since the whole fiasco between the two of you occurred a few days ago. It’s also clear that Natasha has added avoiding you to the list of her capabilities, and just like everything else she’s great at, she’s exceptional at steering clear of you.

She doesn’t show up to your shared training sessions, she doesn’t hang out in the rooms where you would usually find her, and that one time you had found her preparing lunch in the kitchen, she was gone before you could even get a word out. The only proof that you hadn’t imagined her was the peanut butter and jelly sandwich she had left behind.

You haven’t caught a single glimpse of Natasha today, but there’s a scheduled team meeting and you hope you can talk to her after.

When you arrive in the meeting room, you greet the others and sit down in your usual spot. The seat next to you is still unoccupied. It’s where Natasha always sits. Running late for a briefing is unlike her. She’s usually in the meeting room well before you arrive.

“Has anyone seen Nat?” You ask, wondering if she’ll sit next to you or if she’ll take someone else’s seat to further avoid you.

“Romanoff left for a low-stake mission with Bucky earlier this afternoon. They’re retrieving some intel for Fury and myself,” Steve answers.

“I was supposed to join Bucky, but she offered to take my place instead. Said that I looked like I needed a break,” Clint chimes in. 

Clint looks well-rested. He looks like he’s doing fine.

“Do you know when she- when they’ll be back?”

“Not for a couple of days at least, maybe up to a week. They’re on their way to Europe.”

Europe…? She’s switched with Clint to put a whole ocean between you.

With your thoughts being elsewhere, you don’t catch much from the meeting once it starts, but you don’t miss the sympathetic smiles Wanda offers whenever your eyes meet.

“Y/N,” Wanda catches up with you after the meeting is over. “If you need someone to talk to or if you need a distraction, I’m here for you. You don’t have to go through it alone.”

“Thank you, Wanda.” It’s the first time you genuinely smile in days. You’re grateful for her kindness towards you.

During the first few days Natasha is away on her mission with Bucky, you decide against contacting her. Perhaps she just needs some time away to process everything. It won’t happen overnight. You understand. You can give her the space she needs. You’ll be here when she’s ready.

Usually, you and Natasha would try to stay in touch whenever one of you was away while the other stayed behind. That doesn’t happen this time around. There are no voicemails, no brief phone calls, and no texts. You would be worried about Natasha’s safety and well-being if it weren’t for the fact that when you open your chat with her, you see she’s left the one message you did send on read.

Are we still friends, at least?

You know things are complicated and that she’s busy with the mission. It still stings when you overhear Steve’s brief phone call with the redhead as she reports the details of her findings to him. You wish she would talk to you, too.

Your mind is plagued with doubts and anxieties. Maybe you had it all wrong. 

You shove away the voice telling you that maybe Natasha no longer wants you in her life, but it’s much harder to do that than it was yesterday.

When Wanda notices your somber mood, she asks if you want to join her for coffee. You take her up on her offer. You’ve never really been close to Wanda, but something is soothing about her presence. Confiding in her lifts some of the weight off your chest. Talking to her is easy, you realize.

On the other side of the world, Natasha sits on the edge of a small bed with her face in her hands. Her mind is racing a mile a minute. She’s lost count of how many times she reread your message and typed a response but then hadn’t pressed send. There’s someone who’s made her feel valued and safe in a way she’s rarely ever experienced, and here she is hiding from you like a coward.

Natasha can hardly keep up with her own emotions. It’s like she’s forcing her head underwater, making herself drown in both longing and fear. She’s fighting a battle against herself and she can’t tell which part is going to stay under and which part is going to rise to the surface.

She scolds herself for letting things get this out of hand, for allowing the lines to blur, for letting herself fall in too deep. She should’ve pressed her feet on the brakes when, three months after you first started sleeping together, she had caught herself imagining what it might be like to build a life with you. The world has always conspired against her, so why had she entertained the idea that such a future might be in the cards for her? After everything she’s done, can she even accept the love you’re willing to offer? Does she even deserve what you’ve already given her? Her mind screams at her that she doesn’t.

You had told her she was breathtaking. Natasha knows what you meant by it. You’ve made her feel loved way before you’d even alluded to feeling that way about her. Natasha just hadn’t allowed herself to think about it for too long. You being in love with her conflicts with everything Natasha believes about herself.

Natasha has found herself in many unsettling situations in the past, but she could always crawl her way out of those. She doesn’t know how to do that now. She doesn’t even know if she wants to. But she should! You deserve infinitely better than to be burdened by someone with so much baggage. 

Things have already gone wrong, but what if they get worse? There’s so much she stands to lose. Natasha’s terrified she won’t be able to live up to the person you see in her. She’s haunted by one too many “what-ifs”.

What if she puts her armor down and lets you in fully only for you to realize you were wrong? What if you stop loving her? What if you left her heartbroken? What if she’s incapable of ever being worthy enough to have the “good” kind of love? What if you get together only to break up? She will have lost both her partner and her dearest friend.

When the Quinjet finally lands back on American soil after nearly a week has gone by, Natasha makes a run for it as soon as the doors open. She needs a shower, her limbs feel heavy and she hasn’t slept properly in days, but she has only one destination in mind. She doesn’t know what she’s going to say or how she’s going to say it. 

All she can think about is you.

Natasha spots you lounging in the common room with your eyes closed. She’s out of breath, but not because she sprinted here. 

You’re even more beautiful than the last time she saw you.

You’re humming along to music that comes from the TV speakers at low volume. She thinks the song might be Sokovian. It’s a language neither of you understands. It sounds similar to a song she’s overheard Wanda listen to frequently.

You draw a sharp breath when you open your eyes and become aware of Natasha’s presence.

“Natasha?” The way you say her name is filled with hope. She’s back home. You’ve missed her.

Your relief is quickly replaced by dread when you see Natasha’s body grow stiff when you move toward her. She’s right there, almost within reach, but she still manages to slip through your fingers.

Panic surges through Natasha and it seeps deep into her bones. It holds her rigid. It squeezes her throat shut. She can’t do it. Natasha turns away from you. She leaves you with your arms wrapped around yourself instead of being the one to hold you.

It’s one of Tony’s parties, but you’re not in a festive mood.

It’s one thing to be given the cold shoulder and to be pushed aside for four weeks straight, it’s another to then have that rejection rubbed in your face and shoved down your throat. You had been friends. As your friend, Natasha could have afforded you some common decency and respect. If things had to end, it could have at least ended on a better note than it did. A month ago she had still been a part of your life, and then she wasn’t.

It’s brutal to witness Natasha all over Bruce, her hand resting on his bicep, throwing her head back as she laughs at whatever stupid science joke he’s probably making. It’s the first time you can’t stand the sound of her laugh. You’ve never known Natasha to be cruel. Not to you at least. Not until recently. 

When did they get close? Has it always been like this? Did she go back and forth between the two of you? You never noticed. You have so many questions, but you’re too exhausted to even think about it.

At first, you thought it possible Natasha might reciprocate your feelings and give a relationship with you a try. For some reason, you had believed you were special to her. You had it all wrong. You were just a temporary indulgence, to be replaced when someone better came along.

You know when to give up. You know when you’re beat. You hope she's happy, at least. That's all you've ever wanted for her.

You want to hold on to the part of you that's angry. You want to replace your affection and hurt with that anger, but you can't. That would have made it easier to move on. You're mostly mad at yourself. If you could turn back time and take those three words back, you would do that in a heartbeat. You wish you had kept your mouth shut because now you have lost everything.

“I think you should have a little more faith than that, gorgeous,” Wanda comes to stand in front of you, obscuring the view you have of Natasha and Bruce. 

You’re not aware of it, but Wanda makes sure to stand in a way Natasha can still see what’s happening if she were to look in your direction. 

Someone needs to shake some sense into Natasha because this has gone on for far too long, and Wanda knows she can hold her own against the other woman.

You’ve grown a lot closer to Wanda these past couple of weeks. You hadn’t known it before, but now you know that Wanda has a great sense of humor. Her comedic timing is always spot on. You’ve enjoyed watching sitcoms with her and listening to the Sokovian songs she shared with you, her favorites. The songs make her feel like she’s back home. Talking about her brother is difficult for her, but she has told you stories about him anyway. She has become a pillar of support for you.

Wanda uses her thumb to wipe away a stray tear on your cheek. Your eyes close because for a fleeting moment it feels like you've stepped into a patch of sunlight. She doesn't remove her hand afterward. When you open your eyes and find Wanda watching you intently, you know she would have been able to sweep you off your feet if there was no Natasha.

Natasha stands motionless as she takes in the scene that's unfolding. She wants to look away, but her eyes remain laser-focused on your interaction with Wanda. Natasha wants to push Wanda to the side so that she can stand in her place instead. Bruce calls for her attention, but she doesn't hear him. She wouldn't have cared about what he had to say anyway. He isn't you.

“I have a feeling Natasha will come around. Don’t give up on her just yet.”

“How do you know?” You desperately want things to take a turn for the better, but you can't keep chasing after Natasha forever. She has to be the one to come to you. She has to stop running away. Right now, it appears she's already made her choice.

Wanda tilts your chin gently. You don't feel the need to pull away when she leans in closer to place a soft kiss on the corner of your mouth. She moves to ghost her lips over your ear, then she whispers, “I can read minds, remember?"

All Natasha can think about is how Wanda might discover the birthmarks on your skin. What if she already had? Has Wanda made you feel good? Better? Natasha can't stand the thought, but she can't get the image out of her head. First, it creeps up on her. Then it hits her with full force. Those unwelcome images merge with flashes of a future that leave a burning sensation in her chest. It makes her sick to her stomach. 

Natasha envisions a life where she will never place kiss after kiss from your forehead, to your cheek, to your neck. She'll become the forgotten part of a vague memory. She'll move to the quietest corner of your mind to make room for a different set of green eyes, a different shade of red hair. Natasha will be the bad experience you bring up when you're comforting a friend or a child who's going through heartbreak. You'll say: "Years ago I went through something similar. I thought I'd never recover from it. But I did, and so will you".  

"You'll be okay," Wanda reassures as she wraps her arms around you in a tight hug. It's nice to be held.

Wanda doesn't have to turn around to know Natasha is no longer focused on Bruce, but is glaring daggers into the back of Wanda's skull instead. Natasha's thoughts are thunderous. She wants Wanda to back off, but Wanda stays right where she is with you in her arms.

Natasha needs to understand that if she isn't prepared to step up then there is someone else willing to do so. If Natasha doesn't go after you to fix things, there will come a day when she'll look back on her life, and she'll think about all the mistakes she's made: losing you to someone else will be the one thing that stands out from all the rest. It will be her biggest regret.

“And hey," Wanda pulls back to look at you. "If I'm wrong and things don't work out. Well, you know where to find me."

That pulls a smile out of you. Your talk with Wanda hasn't solved any of your problems, but you do feel better than you did a minute ago.

"Thank you, Wanda. For everything." 

You think that under different circumstances, or in another life, Wanda could have been your favorite redhead.

“I would have liked that,” Wanda beams.

"Me too," you say. "I'm not really in a party mood, so I'm gonna head out."

A beat goes by.  

"I'll be in my room if you-" You leave the rest of your sentence hanging in the air, but Wanda can fill in the gaps. 

She nods in understanding, "Maybe I'll see you in a minute."

She watches you walk away. Then Wanda twists her body around at high-speed. Two different shades of green cross from different ends of the room. Natasha is hit by the severity of the clear message - no, the warning - Wanda delivers. Natasha needs to run after you and grab this chance with both hands. She doesn't have many more left, if any, at all. But Wanda does, and you will not wait around for Natasha forever!

For once, Natasha listens to another fear than the ones that have been tormenting her.

Natasha runs in the direction you went, and she prays to whatever God that's listening, that you're willing to give her one last chance.

There's a sharp, urgent knock on your bedroom door. 

Your breath gets caught in your throat when you open the door and see a different face than the one you expected.

"Hi," she breathes out.

"Can we talk? Can I come in?" Natasha's fingers fidget with the silver-arrow necklace resting against her neck. 

You hesitate. But then you move aside to let Natasha enter your room. You close the door behind you before turning to face her, wrapping your arms around yourself. You both remain standing near the door. She will have to shove you to the side if she wants to make a run for it.

Natasha stays rooted in place.

You want to lunge forward and reach for her, but you don't. You won't be able to bear the devastation if she pulls away again.

Natasha looks down at her feet and she takes a deep breath. There's a list of things she wants to say. It's nearly overwhelming, but she knows she has to start somewhere. She looks you straight in the eye when she says the most important thing that comes to mind.  

"I'm sorry."

"You've hurt me," you respond, confirming what Natasha already knows. It's not your intention to make her feel guilty or to hurt her back, but it's the truth.

"I know I've hurt you and that I haven't been fair to you. I have no excuse for that. I'm sorry for making you cry and then just leaving you. I'm sorry for pushing you away and for treating you the way I did. You deserve so much better than that," Natasha voices her regrets. 

She understands that her apology doesn't make how she treated you okay. She won't hold it against you if you want nothing more to do with her, but she needs you to know how much she regrets her behavior. She would take it all back if she could, but she knows she can't.

"Thank you," you accept her apology. You still have an array of emotions you need to process on your own time, but her being here and apologizing, means everything to you. 

You still want Natasha to be a part of your life. There's just one thing you need to know, however painful the answer may be.

"Are you and Bruce- Did you-?"

"No! There's no Bruce and me."

A brief silence follows.

"Are you and Wanda?"

"No."

Natasha releases the breath she was holding, but anxiety rears its ugly head. 

"There are a lot of things I have to work through, Y/N, things that I struggle with. My past is ugly and I have a lot of… baggage. I don't want to burden you or disrupt your life."

There's no malice in your voice when you say, "You've already disrupted my life. You turned my world upside down when you came into my life. I like it that way. I can decide for myself what I want my life to look like, Natasha, and I want you in it. I want you to 'burden' me. I want to get to know you fully. If you ever feel ready to talk about your struggles or your past, I'm here to listen to the good and the bad. You don't have to be perfect. I'm not either and I don't expect you to be. If it's patience you need, I have a lot of that. I think I've proven that by now."

You continue, "Relationships aren't fairytales. Whether it's friendship or more, it requires work from everyone involved. I'm prepared to put in the work and fight for you. I'm prepared to show you how much I adore you. But when you feel the need to run, I need you to stand your ground and face your fears. I need you to talk to me and I need you to fight for me too. Can you do that?"

"I want to," Natasha steps forward. She reaches for your hand, lacing your fingers together. Her voice breaks when she speaks again. "I'm scared."

"I know you are," you squeeze her hand. "I can be just your friend if that's what you need, but please don't become a stranger… Where do you want to go from here?"

Natasha brings your hand to her lips. She kisses each knuckle one by one before placing a kiss on the inside of your wrist.

Where does she want to go from here? Natasha wants to wake up with you tomorrow morning and shower you with little kisses. She wants to confess that, ironically enough, she's actually afraid of spiders. She knows it will make you smile. She wants to take you to Ohio to show you where she spent three years of her young life; she'll tell you the story. She wants to stop running away from love.

"I want to take you on a date." There's no hesitation in Natasha's answer.

"I would love that," you smile. 

"And I really want to kiss you right now," Natasha adds.

Your gaze drops to her mouth. Her lips look smooth and well-moisturized, no doubt from the lip balm she's always applying. You wonder if it's the last lip balm from the set you gave her seven months ago, or had she lost that one like she usually does and bought a new set herself? Either way, you also want to discover this flavor directly from her lips.

"What flavor do you have?" You refer to her lip balm, still transfixed by her lips.

You swear you can feel the blood pumping through your veins as everything happens in slow motion. Natasha moves her tongue across her bottom lip. She fights back a smile. She puts a hand against your cheek. She moves a hand to the back of your neck. She pulls you in closer. The warmth of her skin gets nearer. Her lips brush yours. They are soft. Do you taste vanilla or coconut? You don't know. You can't think straight.

At first, Natasha kisses you like she's learning how to kiss for the very first time, like she's trying to savor every second of this moment and commit it to memory. 

Your back hits the door as the kiss turns from soft to frantic. Her lips are warm and demanding against your own. And God! This is a woman who knows how to kiss! She traces your bottom lip with the tip of her tongue, begging for entrance, which you eagerly grant her. Pleasure and arousal pulses through your bodies. The time you've spent apart makes you desperate for each other, like you're presented with a feast after starving for weeks. Every missed kiss needs to be made up for.

You only break apart when you desperately need to come up for air.

"Do you want me to stop?" Natasha pants hot air against your neck.

"No! I've missed you, Nat," you sigh when Natasha places open-mouthed kisses along your neck, sucking at that particular spot, hitting your pulse point with great precision. 

Natasha untucks your blouse from your pants. She moves her hands under the fabric to grope at your breasts through your bra. "Oh, I've missed you too. Very much."

Suddenly, buttons fly around your room as Natasha rips open your blouse. She crashes her mouth against yours before you can comment on her actions. Before you know it, your blouse and bra drop to the floor. Your head falls back against the door as Natasha catches a nipple between her teeth. She alternates between kneading each breast, drawing circles around your nipple with her tongue, leaving goosebumps across your skin. She wants to worship you like you deserve. She wants to taste and rediscover every inch of your body, and that's exactly what she's going to do. The little sounds you make only spur her on further.

Natasha makes quick work of unbuttoning your pants as your lips melt together in a searing kiss. You gasp into the kiss when she slips a hand inside your panties. She doesn't have much room to move her hand, but she manages to glide her fingers between your legs. She smiles proudly against your lips as she feels how soaked you are for her. She's dripping for you, too. 

You let out a whine when she breaks the kiss and stops her movements after a few strokes. All your complaints are forgotten when Natasha looks you straight in the eyes as she guides two of her wet fingers into her mouth, sucking and moaning at the taste of you.

She's driving you crazy, and she knows it. 

Natasha slips your pants and underwear down in one swift motion, dropping to her knees to help you step out of the items. She looks up at you from her position on her knees. Her lips are swollen from kissing you. The sight of her nearly makes your legs give out. Natasha feels a flush creep up her body as she watches you drink her in.

"Bed!" God, you would love for Natasha to fuck your right here against the door, with her on her knees, but you wouldn't be able to hold yourself up.

With Natasha back on her feet, you waste no time undressing her as you stumble your way to the bed. You are the one on your back for a change as Natasha kisses her way down your torso to the inside of your thigh, sucking on the sensitive skin. Her warm breath moves to hover over your center for a moment, and then she leans in to run the flat of her tongue between your folds, sending a wave of pleasure through your body. 

Natasha coats her fingers with your arousal. You clamp down on her finger when she slides her middle finger inside you, curving upward, moving at a slow, tortuous pace. Once she's sure you're used to the sensation, she starts pumping the single digit in and out of you. Her index finger joins a moment later. When Natasha looks up, she sees you have your eyes closed, chest heaving. She's enthralled by the way your body reacts to her, moaning in pleasure, taking her fingers so well as your juices drip down her wrist.

You look ravishing.

Natasha dives in to circle your swollen clit with her tongue, sealing her lips around it and sucking it into her mouth. In mere seconds you're a writhing, moaning mess. You grab a fistful of her hair, grinding against her face, causing Natasha to moan against you. Your thighs tighten around her head instinctively. She carries on, alternating between sucking and licking your clit. 

It isn't long before your back arches and your entire body shudders, calling out her name while you come on her tongue and fingers. She continues her ministrations as your orgasm spasms through you.

"Fuck, you're good at that!" You finally speak, opening your eyes.

Natasha peppers kisses all the way up to your neck. She looks at you with a twinkle in her eyes, pleased with herself.

"I want to ride you," Natasha admits eagerly. 

She's going to be the death of you.

"Of course you do," you chuckle. Some things never change. "Do you remember where I keep the strap-on?"

"Nightstand. Right side of the bed. Bottom drawer."

You give her a peck on the lips, humming in confirmation, "Go grab your favorite toy."

Once Natasha has grabbed the lube and strap-on, and you've put the harness on, she quickly finds herself on your lap. You spend the next few minutes making-out sloppily, your fingers thrusting inside her.

"Ready?" You inquire.

"Hmm," Natasha hums in response.

You take your fingers out of her, grabbing a hold of the dildo. You rub the head through Natasha's folds and against her clit several times before you position it at her entrance. She lets herself down, slowly, moaning and whimpering at the feeling of being thoroughly filled. Not for the first time do you wish you could physically feel how her walls grip around your strap. 

She begins to move in a slow rhythm, alternating between rolling her hips and sliding up and down the base of the toy. You grab a handful of Natasha's ass. Your free hand cups her breast, and she puts her own hand over yours as she throws her head back, helping you squeeze and roll the tender flesh. Beads of sweat drip down the valley of her chest, and you can't help but lick the salt from her skin. Her moans get louder when your fingers find her center, and when you thrust your hips upwards, hitting her at a different angle.

Loose strands of red hair fall onto Natasha's face, sticking to her forehead. There are signs of your own arousal on her chin and shallow breaths escape from her parted lips. She sinks her teeth into her bottom lip every so often. You're at a loss for words as you look at Natasha, taking in every detail of her face as she bounces on top of you, working herself into a frenzy. 

You know Natasha's peak is mounting with each desperate roll of her hips, and when she finally gets the release she craves, it's with your name falling off her lips, your favorite sound in the world.

Natasha wraps her arms around you, embracing you, holding you close. 

"Y/N?"

"Yeah?" You ask, pressing a small kiss against her neck.

"You are breathtaking."

[wandasnatasha]

MASTERLIST

NATASHA ROMANOFF

Where the Hearts Are

If You Run, Run To Me (18+): 1, 2

In The Mood For Love

WANDA MAXIMOFF

[wandasnatasha]

If You Run, Run To Me (18+) PT. 1|2

Natasha Romanoff x Fem!Reader

Summary: It's been six months since you and your friend Natasha started sleeping together. When Natasha catches wind of your feelings for her, will she run?

Word count: 1.7K

Warnings: angst, smut (thigh riding, fingering)

Natasha. Natasha. Natasha.

All your senses are taken over by the woman moving herself back and forth on your bare thigh.

The sound of Natasha's labored breaths reaches your ears. They turn into soft sighs and moans whenever her body meets yours at just the right angle, offering her the perfect amount of friction. She lights your skin on fire. You feel her everywhere. You feel her in the warmth of her skin against yours and the wetness she spreads across your thigh. You feel her between your legs from when - not even less than five minutes ago - she relentlessly pumped and curled her fingers inside you. You feel her in the grip she currently has on your shoulders.  

Natasha lets out something akin to a whine when you pinch an erect nipple one last time before you move your hands away from squeezing her breasts. She craves and needs your touch on every single part of her body, but she particularly enjoys the attention you always give to her breasts. Taking your time, you trail down the path from her chest to her waist and the curve of her hips until both of your hands reach their destination. When you grab a handful of her ass, Natasha doesn't remember what she was complaining about.

You gently knead her skin before you start helping Natasha with her movements. Backwards. Forwards. Slower. Faster. Repeat.

"I want-" Natasha almost loses her balance, lost in the chase of the pleasure that's been building up, both threatening and promising to overflow. You don't let go of her. You keep her in place as her nails dig into your shoulders. It's only in moments like these that the redhead truly allows you to steady her, and that she allows herself to hold on to you.

You like to think you know Natasha well, but you don't know her fully. You wish you did. You have gathered bits and pieces of her here and there, but there are many parts of herself she tries to keep hidden. Naively enough you hope she'll let you uncover them all one day. You do know her body, intimately. If you were to trace a finger from the spot right beneath her shoulder blade to her lower back, it would send a chill down her spine. You do exactly that, and she shivers.

It takes some maneuvering, but it isn't long before Natasha finds herself on her back. You crash your lips against hers and she lets out an appreciative grunt. You taste a hint of yourself and the sweetness of her strawberry-flavored lip balm. You fight back your smile as your fingers go from between the valley of her breasts to her navel. The taste on her lips is a reminder of what led you here.

Something you do know about Natasha is that she always loses her lip balm before she can finish it. She either misplaces it or she forgets to take it out of a pocket before doing laundry. Back when you were still just friends, and not yet friends who regularly make out and sleep together, Natasha had frequently complained your ears off, annoyed at having chapped and dried lips because she lost her lip balm yet again. After her umpthieth complaint, you'd gifted Natasha a multipack with 10 lip balms to put her out of her misery, each a different flavor. She'd have a back-up now for at least a little while. Natasha's eyes and mouth had perfectly captured the joy she felt while accepting your gift. In that moment she had appeared so unlike the Natasha she presented to the world. But she let you see.

You run two fingers through her wet folds, coating them with her arousal. Natasha gasps into your mouth when you easily slip those same fingers inside her. You know what makes her tick. You know that if you twist your fingers just so, she'll get louder. Her volume increases slightly. If you were to apply the same amount of pressure to her center that you would when snapping your thumb and middle finger together, she'd silently throw her head back further into the pillow. You're filled with pride when Natasha exposes her full neck to you, her lips forming a quiet "Oh".

You could get her to a point of utter desperation if you wanted to. Natasha Romanoff begging, nearly sobbing, pleading with you to give her the release she craves. You've done it quite frequently, actually. You don't want to do that today. You don't want to make her wait. You decide to give her everything she wants as you increase the motion of your fingers. 

Natasha willingly sharing any part of herself with anyone is like winning the lottery, and you might have hit the jackpot. During the course of your friendship you've seen different versions of her she rarely shows. The woman who scarcely complains about anything, not about her aching muscles after training hours on end, and never uttering a word about her exhaustion after returning from a mission, did voice her irritations about minor inconveniences to you. Maybe if she were anyone else, you'd consider it barely a small gesture. But with Natasha, it means the world, and you love her for it. In fact, you love many things you've noticed about her. 

You love how Natasha can command a room with her mere presence, how she seems to tower over men triple her size, how she's the one to calm down the team when your voices rise during heated discussions, how she stands up for what's right. Her selflessness. You love how sometimes she surprises you with an even lewder joke than Tony Stark himself could come up with. You love how she passes you by in the kitchen only to abruptly turn around with a cheeky grin as she dares to steal both the spoon and the pint of Ben & Jerry's out of your hands, leaving you speechless. You love how she quietly recites the lines during every James Bond movie and how her cheeks turn pink after being caught. You love how none of that timedness was present when she ripped open your present, immediately trying one of the flavored lip balms. You watched on as she had licked her lips. She had looked back at you unwaveringly.

"What flavor do you have?" You had asked her. Without uttering a single word Natasha had told you to see for yourself when she had grabbed the front of your shirt and crashed her soft lips against yours. That was nearly six months ago now. Since then you've tasted 9 out of 10 flavors directly from her lips.

You release your mouth from Natasha's pink nipple with a pop. Her chest rises and falls rapidly. You thrust your fingers upwards, continuously hitting the spongy spot inside her. The bedsheets are curled in her tight fists as the noises she makes continue to fill up the room. She thrusts her hips up every so often. You feel her clench around your fingers. When you return your thumb to rub her center, her body tenses briefly, and then you watch how her face contorts into pure bliss as she's finally rewarded with the waves of pleasure washing over her. Your fingers don't seize their movements, slowly helping her ride out her high.

You move away the hairs that stick to her forehead as you wait for her to come back down to earth. You gently rub the frown between her brows, eventually resting a hand on her cheek.

Maybe this is your favorite Natasha. No, you don't necessarily mean the one that's thoroughly fucked, although it's a close second. You mean the Natasha who gives herself the permission to let go, to just be. The Natasha who isn't so hard on herself, who's not weighed down by the responsibilities of saving the world or buried beneath the guilt and shame she feels when she thinks she has let others down. It's the version of Natasha that you desperately hope exists: the one that despite normally believing she's undeserving, hopefully asks herself, what if just maybe she does deserve tenderness and all things good? You believe she's in there.

Natasha is present in every corner of your mind, and maybe that's why you speak without thinking.

"You are breathtaking."

The whisper leaves your mouth before you can even consider the consequences, before you can guard its meaning and keep it close to your heart. You curse yourself the moment you realize what you've done. You hope the words haven't reached her. But Natasha has heard you. You know this by the way her body grows stiff. Her relaxed expression is replaced by something else. Panic? Anger? At you or at herself? You don't know.

Your heart pounds in your ears. You should've known better. Natasha doesn't say anything, but her silence speaks volumes. It's not what you said that ruins everything. You've called her beautiful and given her compliments on multiple occasions, albeit under different circumstances. She doesn't mind it. It's the way you'd said those words that bothered her. Like you meant three different words entirely. 

Natasha is spent, but she always has a fight left in her. You hold back your tears, knowing that you love that about her too, even if now, she uses it against you. Natasha pushes you off of her, and you have to keep yourself from landing on the floor. You sit up straight, desperately wanting to reach for her, but you look on as Natasha gathers the clothes scattered around. She's in such a hurry that she puts on her shirt inside out.

All your senses are overloaded by Natasha. She is everywhere. She's here in her touch you crave and the absence you know she'll leave behind instead. Your lips still taste of strawberries. The pillow behind you probably smells of her shampoo. The grief of losing something you never even had puts a weight on your chest that makes it impossible for you to catch your breath. You want to lie to her and tell her that you didn't mean it like that. You want to tell her the truth by saying you would gladly take whatever she was willing to offer. You wish to grab her by the shoulders, look her square in the eyes and say, "You don't have to love me back and you don't have to accept my love, but you deserve to be loved, Natalia Romanova."

Sobs shake your body before you even see Natasha run out of your room. It's over.

PART 2

[wandasnatasha]

In The Mood For Love

Pairings: Natasha Romanoff x Fem!Reader

Word count: 1K

After growing up in the Red Room together, you and Natasha both eventually defected to SHIELD and became founding members of the Avengers. Protecting people from the many dangers of the multiverse is now something you both do on a daily basis. It's a path the two of you decided to walk willingly in the hopes of wiping out all the red in your ledgers. 

Saving the world together is a fulfilling occupation. It allows you to help others and to atone for your own wrongdoings. But being part of Earth's mightiest heroes comes at a personal cost. You're always on edge, keeping an eye and ear out for the newest threat, whether it's another organization bent on world domination or another alien invasion. It's tending to each others' cuts and bruises. It's broken bones and aching bodies. It's kissing each others' tears away when you couldn't save a life, and it's learning to cope with the fear that, even though you and Natasha are one of the most skilled spies and assassins, one of you might not make it back to the other after the next mission or after the next fight.

Some evenings you're too restless to sleep, afraid of what the future might bring or take away. Natasha wraps her arms around you even tighter then, chasing away your worries. Sometimes Natasha shoots up from your shared bed in the middle of the night, drenched in sweat, haunted by your shared past. After recognizing her surroundings, she lays her head back on your chest as your whispered reassurances and steady heartbeat lull her back to sleep. 

Sometimes, however, there is no room to fret over what-ifs, maybes and might-have-beens. This weekend has been filled with those cherished moments. Tomorrow's the last day of your well-deserved long weekend off with Natasha, but you refuse to think about that yet. 

The past few days you've replaced your living quarters at the Avengers Compound for one of Tony's secluded lake houses that he's made available to you. You're surrounded by water and forest. The world is quiet here and the air is fresher. You can breathe clearly. You can breathe easily.

Like every day since you've been here, you and Natasha slept in today until late in the afternoon. You spent the rest of the day holding each other's hands, taking quiet walks around the property and lounging on the dock, taking in the serene lake view. 

Every afternoon the sun makes Natasha's hair shine an even brighter shade of red. Sure, the scenery is beautiful, but it's Natasha who takes your breath away. You can't keep your eyes off of her. When she catches you staring, her cheeks match her hair and she offers you a sweet smile she's reserved only for you. She tucks her hair behind her ear before crashing her lips against yours. It's a lazy afternoon well spent with the woman you love. 

Later in the evening, you and Natasha sit pressed together with a blanket draped over your shoulders, basking in the glow of the bonfire, enjoying the dinner you've prepared together. When the fire dies down and the two of you move back inside to the living room, you show Natasha just how much you adore her. You place gentle kisses on her scars and on all the parts you know she sometimes feels insecure about. Natasha forgets why she didn't like those parts of herself in the first place.

You fall asleep on the couch together afterwards, and when you open your eyes a few hours later, the moon is half way up in the sky. You yawn away the remnants of sleep and you stretch your arms above your head. Your body feels light, like you could float away with the softest breeze. You hope to have more of these happy, slow days.

You miss the warmth of your favorite redhead who had woken up before you, but she's not far away. You find her in the kitchen brewing a pot of tea. The kitchen lights are dimmed, leaving the room in a soft, warm glow. 

Natasha sings along to a song you recognize as I'm In The Mood For Love by Julie London. Natasha's raspy voice blends beautifully with that of the artist. You feel so special knowing that you get to observe these moments where there seems to be no weight on Natasha's shoulders. 

"Nat," you say softly, making your presence known, not wanting to startle her.

Why stop to think of whether This little dream might fade? We've put our hearts together Now we are one, I'm not afraid

Natasha's green eyes meet yours. She abandons the task at hand, moving towards you, continuing her singing. 

You meet her halfway. She takes your hand, moving it above your head in a small circle as she slowly twirls you, making you laugh. When you're face-to-face again, Natasha brushes gentle fingers against your cheek.

When Natasha interlocks her fingers with yours and your palms meet, you lay your head on her shoulder and wrap your other arm around her waist. Natasha's other hand moves to the small of your back, drawing you even closer to her.

"Hi," she whispers in your ear. 

"Hi," you smile against her neck.

You follow Natasha's lead as you sway together in the kitchen. Natasha feels like she's holding the world in her hands. When your lips brush hers, you fall in love all over again. The world comes to a halt. Thoughts of whatever might go wrong in the future leave your mind, and Natasha doesn't think about the troubles of the past.

It's just you and her at this very moment. Happy, safe and loved. It's everything you've both longed for ever since you started your journey together, from your Red Room days and being on the run together, to climbing the ladder of SHIELD and joining the Avengers. This here, with Natasha, means absolutely everything to you. You've grown up together and you wish for nothing more than to still have these moments with Natasha when your hair thins and your skin sags.

If there's a cloud above And it must rain, we'll let it But for tonight, forget it I'm in the mood for love