Reallll

That was soooo good

Run, baby, run

Summary: Natasha is very competitive, and that includes your daughter.

Natasha Romanoff x F!R

Based on some real life events lol

Natasha was a lot of different things for many people. Depending on who you ask -friends, foes, family- she could be stubborn, deadly, relentless. To you she was kind, loving and supportive, in a way that no one else knew.

You would all agree on one thing, though.

Natasha was too competitive.

Being married for three years, you’d grown used to it. As a matter of fact, it could be entertaining especially if she was playing pool or darts against the boys.

But this morning, when she shows you the flyer, you actually have to look twice, sure that Natasha lost her mind.

“Baby crawl race?”

“Yeah, only for babies under one year. You know, they set a track and time them…”

“I mean, I figured. I just… why would we want Anya to do that?”

Your daughter perks up when she hears her name being called and you both smile.

Anya is ten months old, but she’s way advanced for her age. It must be Natasha’s genes, because you’re sure that before she turns one, she will be walking or even running after her other mother.

“It sounds fun”

“And winning has nothing to do with it?” you press, reading about the prizes. “Everything listed here are things we already have. A stroller, a crib… ooh, a formula machine, fancy”

“We can still register if we leave now” Natasha picks up Anya from her playpen, and the sight of their matching red hair melts your heart as usual.

“Fine. We better get going”

—

To your surprise, there are over a dozen babies registered to compete. Natasha takes care of everything as you walk around the store where they’re hosting the event.

She comes back with a smile and a little paper with the number 17 on it.

“Your lucky number” she smiles at you, taking Anya in her arms.

You both watch as other kinds play and stumble around the mat. Most of them seem younger than your daughter, and only a few look close to being one year.

“That one’s gonna be easy to beat” Natasha muses, looking at a small kid that can barely sit.

“Natalia” you slap her arm. “He’s a baby”

“No. They are all competition. And we have no mercy, right, detka?” Natasha insists, bouncing your daughter in her arms.

“Alright, I’m changing her diaper before everything gets crazier” you decide, noticing how there’s a crowd forming around the place where the kids will crawl.

You make small talk with some of the clerks, who seem excited at the prospect of a silly race that will entertain them in the middle of their shift.

By the time you return, Natasha’s quiet, looking at the parents and their children.

“Everything ok?”

“Perfect” she nods, taking Anya in her arms. “Now, kiddo, listen to me, we are Romanoffs. We are fighters and more importantly, winners. So go and make us proud”

Anya responds by giggling and pulling a strand of her mother’s hair. Natasha smiles, saying something in Russian and kissing Anya’s cheek.

The mat is split in half so only two kids can compete at the same time, a screen with a timer behind them.

As expected, some of the kids get distracted by their race mate or crawl around instead of going in a straight line.

“What did I tell you? We’re gonna crush the opponents” Natasha whispers and you slap her arm.

She’s taking this way too seriously.

As you stand next to some parents, Natasha sniffs around, speaking into Anya’s back.

“Baby, did you go potty?”

“I don’t think so” you know Anya frowns and makes a little grunt when she does number two and she’s been pretty quiet this whole time.

“Oh, never mind” she turns to the parents standing next to you. “Not ours, detka”

The parents hurry to the bathroom. There’s a nagging feeling at the back of your mind when you notice how quiet Natasha is. It increases when the parents miss the race because they were stuck chaning a diaper.

Your wife tries to hide her smile, but there’s no way she planned this. Just a coincidence.

Right?

“Babies 10 and 11” the organizer calls. You noticed the girl is older than the other kids, standing out because she can close the distance faster.

“Best time has been 55 seconds. This should be interesting” Natasha comments.

Sure enough, the kid is about to finish when a bright blue ball crosses her path, getting her distracted and making her return to the start line.

The parents try to guide her back but it doesn’t work at all.

“Oh, well”

“Try not to look so happy about it” you whisper, but Natasha just chuckles and places a kiss in your temple.

After a few more minutes, it’s Anya’s turn. You carry her to the start line and Natasha kneels at the end of the mat, keeping her eyes focused on your daughter.

“Three, two, one. Go!”

All Natasha has to do is place her open palm on the mat. Anya’s seen her do it so many times and knows it means one thing: as soon as she touches her mama’s hand, she’ll throw her in the air the way she loves to.

It takes Anya 15 seconds to get to Natasha. Your wife rewards her with her favorite thing, and if it were anyone less graceful and quick, you’d be unnerved by the sight of your daughter kicking her feet while being lifted off the ground.

“Nicely done, pumpkin” you join them, smiling as Anya jumps to your arms.

“A worthy adversary, at last” a man comments as he takes his son to the race. “Let’s see if we can do it better than you”

“Doubt it” Natasha glares but you elbow her, smiling at the man.

“She meant to say, good luck. You’ll do great, sweetheart” you smile at his son, who waves back at you with wide eyes. He’s incredibly cute.

“Fraternizing with the enemy” Natasha tsks.

“He’s a baby, Nat”

“I didn’t like the way the father was looking at you either” Natasha grumbles, leaning forward to kiss you.

Definitely not complaining about her competitive streak now.

As your declared enemy gets ready to race, the father frantically looks around for something lost on their backpack.

“Did you bring it?” his wife insists.

“Yes! The purple elephant! We were playing with it a second ago!”

Apparently, that was their only resource, because the timer starts and their kid is focusing on everything but them.

They manage to finish after two minutes.

“Better luck next time” Natasha comments as they leave, her hand going around your waist.

She’s being so ridiculous but somehow you love it.

The winners are announced, and you cheer when the first place goes to none other than Anya Romanoff.

“Yes, baby. We are the champions” Natasha sings, bouncing her around. Anya has no idea what’s happening, but she’s enjoying the moment.

“Very nice” you comment when the organizers hand you the prize. “Good work, Anya. Keep it up and maybe we won’t have to pay for college”

“Of course she’ll get a scholarship. Or become a professional athlete. Or become president” Natasha says, walking back to the car.

“Oh, those are a lot of things. Maybe she’ll want to focus on just one”

“Nah, she’s got it. She’ll do it all” Natasha kisses Anya’s head and you can’t help but melt.

“Best thing you ever won?” you ask Natasha as you drive back home.

“No, that would be you” she says. “Of course, I mean the bet I made with Tony that I’d get you to date me over him”

“Ugh, you’re so ridiculous” you roll your eyes.

—

The excitement of the race exhausts your daughter, and she’s fast asleep by the time you get home.

You know this won’t last long, so you prepare her clothes to run a bath once she’s up.

As you’re going through her bag, you pull out a toy that’s definitely not Anya’s.

A purple elephant.

“Natalia Alianovna Romanova!” you shout, looking for her.

“Oh-oh” Natasha mutters and clears her throat. “Yes, dear?”

“You took that baby’s toy!”

“I did not! Ok, I did. But look, I timed him when they were practising and Anya’s time was still better. I just really didn’t like the way he was staring at your boobs”

“Mhm, right. Winning was just a plus”

“See? You get me”

“That ball that distracted the other kid was not a mistake either, huh?”

“I don’t know what you mean, darling”

“And the parents that missed the race for changing the diaper?”

“Now, that was just a happy coincidence. The rest, yeah. Totally me”

“Evil! Stealing a toy from a toddler” you wave the purple elephant in her face. Natasha takes it and throws it over her shoulder, wrapping your legs around her waist in a swift motion. “What are you doing?”

“I got you that fancy formula machine, didn’t I? Where’s my prize?”

You laugh against her lips, but it soon turns into a moan, as you feel Natasha’s hands slide down your back to cup your ass.

“Anya's gonna wake up in thirty minutes or less. Can you handle that?”

“I do enjoy a good challenge” Natasha says against your lips, showing you how much she loves to win.

And honestly? After a mind blowing orgasm, you love it too.

#marvel incorrect quotes

Tony: Where is everyone?

Y/N: Steve had a nervous collapse, Clint is taking him to the doctor, Bruce went back to bed, Natasha is yelling at Thor, and I’m in charge.

Tony: … Fuck.

Y/N: I know, right?

Picnic (18+)

pairings: natasha x reader

word count: 900

cw: fingering, slight hair pulling, semi-public sex (?), making out, lmk if there is anymore.

minors dni please

The soft breeze flowed freely through the little summer dress you had on, white, floral, and frilly around the edges. Your hair flew whimsically behind your back. You sat facing the open fields, the sun mixing in with the sky and the few clouds, making the world look at peace, while you nibbled on a few pieces of fruit and sandwiches your girlfriend had picked for the two of you, enjoying your afternoon sitting under a tree. You heard her close her book and shuffle towards you. Smiling, you looked down at your fingers, playing with the fings on your fingers. Natasha’s hands, once occupied with the book she was reading, now made their way to your hips. You felt her tug you against her, your back coming into contact with her chest, you softly giggling at her neediness. The woman couldn’t leave you alone.

You were now situated between her legs, her arms worming their way around your torso, pulling you impossibly closer to her. You felt her nose trailing down your neck, then felt her lips press against your skin. Your hands wrapped around hers, holding her close to you. Tilting your head to the side slightly, you gave her more room to press her oh so soft kisses into you. 

“So beautiful, baby”, she muttered against your ear, littering the area with her lips. Your hands tightened around her arms, her hand worked free from your hold, and her fingers met the underside of your chin, turning your face towards hers. “So beautiful”, she whispered, your faces so close you could see the red tint of her lips of the berries she had eaten. 

You were the first to lose your composure and pressed your lips to hers, slightly turning your body to kiss her properly. Natasha’s hands slid from your front to wander down your sides to settle on your hips. Her touch left a trail of scorches reaching further than where she stopped to sink into your lower belly and rekindle a soft flame within you. 

Her tongue licked into your mouth, holding the side of your face so gently she feared you might crumble away with the faintest amount of pressure. Your hands wove into her hair, holding her close to you. Your fingers worked through the delicate strands of her hair as you faintly whined against her. 

You felt her smirk slightly against you, feeling her hand move to the inside of your thigh. Your hips jutted at the contact, and you heard her airy chuckle from behind you. “Sensitive are we, my love?” she muttered into your ear. “Please..” you whispered, feeling her fingers slide over your clothed cunt. 

“But what if someone sees us?” you knew she smiled against you, teasing you, leaning down to kiss your neck. “Don’t care, need you.” she moved your panties to the side and felt how much you needed her. “Oh baby, so wet for me”, she groaned, circling your clit, taking pride in watching you writhe against her. 

Her deft fingers trailed down the skin of your pussy, gathering your wetness before firmly pressing against your entrance, slowly pushing them into you. “Oh god, Nat!” you breathe, holding the back of her neck, watching her fingers work into you. Natasha continued to press soft kisses against your neck as you whined and moaned against her. 

Her fingers worked into you at an increasing speed, ever so slightly curling them to brush against the sensitive spot she knows all too well. Your head was thrown back, and you pulled her to your mouth, the kiss hot and needy, your tongue slipping across her lips, pressing into your mouth, prompting her to suckle your tongue. 

She brought her thumb to rub slow, agonising circles against your clit, completely contradicting the speed of her fingers, setting your nerves ablaze and your thighs to tremble. Your breathing turned heavy as Nat pulled away and littered your face with soft kisses. 

“So close, Nat, please”, you whimpered, bucking your hips to meet her hands, to which her arm encircled your waist, keeping you flush against her. “You going to cum baby? Huh? Make a mess on my fingers? Fucking do it.” she grunted, turning her head back into your neck, sucking on the weak spot in your neck, thumbing your clit at an increased speed. 

“Fuck! Yes”, you cried out, gripping her hair at the back of her neck, your body liquifying as a hot flush took over you. Your body turns molten, and your nerves shriveling up as Natasha bullies that spot inside you, making you reach the greatest heights. You felt yourself release, your body buzzing with adrenaline, shaking as she continued to work you through the throes of pleasure coursing through you. 

“So beautiful,” she muttered, her hand combing through your hair, lulling you back to her. You slowly turned into her side, breathing her in, the faint smell of tangerine and cut grass invading your senses. Your eyes fluttered shut briefly as she laid a soft kiss on your forehead.

“Nat?” you whispered to her throughout the silent field. “Yeah?” she muttered against your head. “Let’s go home”, you mumble to her. “Of course, baby, let’s go home,” she says to you. You quickly put the food into the bag you brought and folded up the blanket before retreating to the car to head home. 

First post, eek. Please let me know how i did.

My SHAYLAAAA 💕😭😭😭

"she killed people!" so? that's my baby girl

i love lesbians

+ close ups!!

Happy House | NR | I

Summary: Natasha suspects something is seriously wrong when you suddenly hand in your notice as a S.H.I.E.L.D agent

Word Count: 2.9k

Warnings/Content: Domestic Abuse / Verbal Abuse / Physical Abuse / Violence / Sexual Assault / Rape

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“Sorry to interrupt Director Fury, Hill said I should pass this on to you myself” you said as you snuck around the door to Nick’s office, surprised to see another agent with him. “What is it?” He said “My resignation sir” you answered, not missing the glance from the redhead at Nicks side “I’m sorry to hear that Miss Y/L/N, we will miss you in the offices” Fury sighed with full authenticity “Thank you Sir, I will work my weeks notice with the most attention” you spoke through small shakes. “Well I wish you all the best” Nick rose from his chair to shake your hand “Thank you Sir, Agent Romanoff, apologies for the interruption” you nodded to the agent and director “Not at all” you heard behind you as you closed the door. “What was that?” Natasha said the second the door was shut “what was what?” Nick questioned “you’re just gonna let her leave?” The redhead exclaimed “she’s handed in a resignation Romanoff, there’s nothing I can do” Nick said “she’s your best office agent! I mean her reports are superior not to mention her tech skills!” Natasha pleaded “Well I didn’t know you took such interest in every member of the office Nat” Nick teased with a suspecting look “shut up” Nat said as she smacked him lightly in the arm, also giggling.

You trudged home through the snow that night, having given up on your boyfriends lift home. There were no lights on, visibly from the outside of your small apartment, you hoped that Dylan would be sleeping. You crept in quietly, shaking off as much snow from your boots as you could. Walking silently through the hall you came to the living area, a sudden overhead light alerting you to someone’s presence “where have you been?” Dylan said, slurring his words “baby you scared me” you smiled, hoping to defuse the tension. “I said, where have you been?” Your boyfriend said again, rising to his feet on shaky legs “you said your shift finished at 4:30, and what time is it now?” Dylan asked “it’s 6, but you see I had to stay late there was so much to do and I-“ you began to mumble before Dylan cut you off “oh shut up!” He screamed as he launched his beer can towards your head. You managed to doge it at the last second “if I find out that you’ve been with that Romanoff, I’ll kill her, then you’ll realise what happens to bad little girls” your boyfriend raged as he closed the Space between you both. “No baby, I wasn’t” you mumbled, feeling the cold wall against your back “she doesn’t even know my name, but you know I did give in my resignation, just like you asked” you could smell the alcohol on Dylan’s breath as he leaned in to give you a harsh kiss. “Good girl” he grumbled “now why don’t you get dinner started, I’m starving” he finished as he finally backed away.

“Natasha come on” Clint groaned “you said you’d be done with the report by now” he said. “I am done with the report” Nat said, her eyes still glued to her laptop. “So what are you doing?” Clint asked, “I’m just… looking into some of our agents” the redhead said. Clint came to his best friends side hovering over her shoulders “and why would you be doing that?” He asked. Natasha paused for a moment, debating if she should tell Clint the real reason she was looking over your file. “There’s this girl, from the offices downstairs, and something just seems off” the redhead said. “How do you mean?” Clint said with intrigue. “She’s been with shield for 5 years and last week she handed in her resignation. I’ve only spoken to her a few times but she seems so dedicated like she really loves it here. She’s never had a sick day she’s always in early but in the last few months somethings changed.” Natasha explained. “How so?” Clint asked. “She’s sheepish, tired, frail. She’s different” Natasha said, keeping some of the information from her own eyes to herself. “So what are you thinking” Clint asked as he eyed the laptop screen. Nat pointed towards your relation details “she updated her profile 6 months ago, added some boyfriend as her emergency contact” the widow said. “It’s the only noticeable change along with her personality” she finished. “You think there’s something wrong?” Clint said. “Maybe” Nat sighed.

You were backed into your bedroom as Dylan walked towards you. “I told you, you’re not going out tonight” he said as he continued to stomp at you. “I got tonight off work so we could be together” he said, faux sweetness in his voice. “I know” you whispered “but my friends they wanted to throw me a leaving party” you said. “What friends?” Dylan asked as he took hold of your shoulders. “My work friends” you whimpered as his grip tightened. “Romanoff?” Dylan shouted as he twisted in his stance and threw you against the bedroom wall “I thought I told you what would happen if you went mingling with that freak” he hissed at you. “No no it’s not her, just my friends from the office” you said through shaky breaths “friends?” Dylan scoffed “who’d wanna be friends with you?” He laughed. Dylan trailed his hands down your body and pushed his fingers into your hips pinning you against the wall “I thought we’d stay here and… you know” he said as he lent forward, his breath got against your face. “Dylan I’m gonna be late, everyone’s waiting for me at the restaurant” you whispered “you are not going anywhere” your boyfriend said as he gritted his teeth. Dylan took a step back and slowly walked towards the door, pushing it shut and locking it “get on the bed” he instructed. You knew better than do disobey him.

Clint put the car into park and leaned over to stop Natasha from climbing out “I don’t think this is a good idea” he said “we can’t just crash her leaving party” Natasha shrugged “we’ll just say it’s a coincidence” she said, opening the door and jumping out before Clint could say anything else. Of course Natasha had this planned out, she had called the restaurant this morning and booked a table so it was no trouble when she walked right in dragging Clint behind her. The two were sat at a small table near the back of the small restaurant, and it didn’t take long to find out where your party was sitting, the only problem was, you weren’t there. “She’s probably just stuck in traffic” Natasha heard one of your coworkers say “no she only lives round the corner she’d usually walk” Sarah, another of your coworkers, said. Clint flashed Natasha a worried glance, having been listening in to the conversation as well.

You rolled slowly over to your side of the bed, your thighs sore and your hips throbbing. “See that wasn’t so hard was it?” Dylan said as he leaned over to kiss your cheek “it’s always best when you listen to me” he said. You pulled the duvet up above your shoulders as Dylan got up out of bed “right I’m going out” he huffed “and you are staying here” he said as he pulled the duvet off your bruised body “make me something nice to eat” he demanded. You stayed frozen as you listened to Dylan shuffling through your apartment, flinching suddenly when the front door slammed shut. You pulled your legs up to your chest as you sat up, bringing your hand up to cover your mouth as you cried. There was no way out of this hell, you’d tried again and again. Taking a job at S.H.I.E.L.D was supposed to be your ticket out but when you were passed over for a promotion to field agent you knew it wouldn’t be that easy.

On his way out, Dylan took a look at your phone and found the name of the restaurant your co workers were at. He made his way down the apartment building stairs and onto the street, taking a short walk around the corner to the restaurant. He strode through the doors and brushed off the waitress flashing him a kind smile. “Dylan!” Sarah, your colleague called “what are you doing here where’s y/n?” She asked “oh she’s not feeling well, she sends her apologies and sent me along to make sure you were all having a good time” your boyfriend said as he pasted a smile across his face. “The boyfriend?” Clint quietly asked, Natasha nodded her head yes as she watched Dylan from the corner of her eyes. “Oh that’s such a shame!” One of your colleagues said as she moved to hug your boyfriend. “Somethings not right” Natasha said having been tuned into the conversation “she wouldn’t miss this, she’s too much of a people pleaser” she said. “Sounds like someone else I know” Clint remarked, attempting to defuse Natasha’s tension. The widow glared at him with a hint of humour before an idea came to her mind. “Let’s go” Natasha said as she stood up “go where?” Clint asked. “Well if Dylan’s here and y/n’s not then I have a pretty good idea where she might be, and she’s there alone” the redhead said as she stealthily made her way towards the exit.

You hobbled around the kitchen slowly, a slight limp in your steps. The room was filled with the sizzling of the steak atop the pan, you moved around on auto pilot cutting up vegetables for a salad. You focused on the throbbing pain in your hips and watched as a small purple bruise began to form along your arm. You were used to this by now, completely alienated from your body as you recovered until the next time. The kitchen fell silent as you took the steak off the heat, reminding you of the presence of the ticking clock on the wall. Too focused on the thoughts circling in your head, you failed to notice the gentle click of your front door and the almost inaudible squeak of its hinges. You winced as you opened the freezer door with your sore arm, cursing under your breath at your own stupidity. You reached for the frozen vegetables when a voice from behind startled you. “Y/n?” you spun round in shock and your eyes met the same redhead you admired so much. “Natasha?” You asked with wide eyes “what are- how did you get in here?” You stuttered as your breathing picked up a rapid pace. The widow took in your dishevelled appearance and the smudged mascara underneath your eyes. “Did he do this?” She said as she reached out for your bruised arm “what?” You shrieked as you pulled away from Natasha “who? What are you talking about?” You asked as you felt the panic rise into your chest. “Dylan” Clint said, speaking up from behind the concerned redhead. “How long has this been going on?” Natasha asked as she took a sceptical step towards you. “I don’t know what you’re talking about” you said dismissively.

Avoiding eye contact with the concerned avengers you continued to potter about the kitchen. “I think you should leave, Dylan’ll be back for his dinner soon” you said. “What, he’ll be back from your leaving party” Natasha countered as she followed your footsteps. “Yeah, I’m not feeling great so I sent him along by himself” you grumbled in annoyance. “Oh right but you’re well enough to cook him a steak” the widow said becoming increasingly more angry. “What are you implying?” You asked “I’m not implying anything, I’m telling you that I know what’s going on” the furious redhead said. “Nat” Clint warned at his friend’s increasing temper. “Nothing is going on! Get out!” You yelled “y/n look at yourself!” As she took the empty plate from your hands. “Natasha” Clint sighed as he stepped forward “how did you get that bruise?” The widow asked “and before you lie, remember what it is that I do” she said. “I…I fell over the other day” you stuttered. Natasha let out a frustrated sigh as she turned away from you, not wanting to hear anymore lies. “Y/n that’s a recent bruise” Clint said calmly. “No it’s not” you argued “and the limp? You’re gonna tell me you got that when you fell over too right?” Natasha said as she twisted around to face you again. “Ye-yes…I…tripped on the stairs” you said anxiously. “Liar!” Natasha yelled.

The room was silenced when the front door slammed with a large bang; Natasha didn’t miss the way your body flinched. “Y/n?” Dylan said as he stomped into the kitchen “what’s going on?” He asked with faux sweetness. “Sorry, I’m Clint from S.H.I.E.L.D” the archer said as he extended his hand “we just wanted to see if y/n here would consider extending her notice. She’s an exceptional agent and will be a huge loss for us” Clint said. “Well I think she’s made up her mind, right honey?” Dylan nodded as he slipped his hands back into his pocket “yeah” you huffed quickly “yeah that’s right”. Natasha watched closely during this exchange, eyes running the length of Dylan’s hand to examine them for any signs of harm. “Okay” Clint sighed “then we’ll get out of your hair” he smiled “keep in touch okay kid” he said to you as he handed over a card with his phone number. Dylan stepped aside as the two agents headed for the door “goodnight y/n” Natasha said as she turned back to you, a sad smile pasted on her face. “Goodnight” Dylan said for the both of you, silencing your words and ending the conversation. You watched as red hair cascaded down the corridor, you wondered if that would be the last time you saw Natasha.

You avoided Dylan’s gaze as you began serving up his food “dinner’s ready” you said “do you want a beer? Or is water fine?”. Your boyfriend eyed you suspiciously as you frantically ran around the kitchen. He reached for your arm as you passed him, using his fingers to dig into the fresh bruise on your skin “I don’t remember saying you could have guests over” he spat at you. “They…they were ju-just” you stuttered nervously “yeah yeah they were just asking if you’d extend your notice” Dylan said, annunciating each word with his harsh voice. “They just showed up I didn’t know they were coming” you whimpered as his grip began to hurt you. “Do you honestly think I would believe anything you say?” Dylan asked calmly, alerting you to what was coming next. “You are nothing but a lying, selfish little slut!” He suddenly screamed, releasing you from his hold but using that same arm to batter you in the stomach with each of his insults. “You were whoring yourself out to that fucking redhead weren’t you? But she didn’t want you so you invited that prick over too!” He yelled “what was the plan? They were gonna fuck you while I was out? Cause it’s all you’re good for bitch!” He continued to shout as his fits became rougher, knocking the air out of your lungs.

You managed to shuffle backwards away from your boyfriend “it wasn’t like that I swear!” You pleaded as you held your arms up in surrender, giving Dylan perfect access to wipe you out with a simple kick to your legs. You hit the floor hard, the room was starting to spin as you felt yourself being dragged across the cold tiles. This was it, he was finally going to do it. “You are the most worthless piece of shit on this planet!” Dylan spat as he placed his weight on top of your sore ribs “you know I only kept you around because you were a good fuck. I would’ve killed you a long time ago if you didn’t have anything to offer” he said as he roughly placed his hands on your chest. You had to get out of here, and not in a body bag. Your boyfriend became overwhelmed with his sexuality, lifting his weight up to lean down to your neck and litter it with harsh kisses. It was the fastest decision you ever made, but you knew it was now or never. Using all your strength you flipped your body to one side and used Dylan’s surprise to push him away. The hallway was small so it didn’t create much distance and he was sure to be even more mad at the way he hit the wall.

You scrambled to your feet as Dylan groaned on the floor. Sprinting through the house, you didn’t bother to grab anything before heading straight to the door. Your boyfriend was on his feet now, he was going to catch up unless you stalled him. When you passed through the doorway you turned on your hells and dragged down the tall cabinet leaning against the wall. It came crashing down and blocked the only exit from your apartment. You decided to take the stairs, not the elevator, there was no way you could stop now, your adrenaline wouldn’t let you stand still for one second. You finally made it to the lobby of your building and hurried straight past all the concerned faces looking your way. You came out into the cold night, wearing nothing more than shorts and an oversized shirt. You didn’t have a plan. You didn’t know where you were going. You just knew you had to run. So that’s what you did. Ran. You just ran.

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A/N: If this story has affected you in anyway please know you can always message me if you want to! Equally, there are so many resources available if you need support🤍

I’m an asshole for leaving you all with this cliffhanger before I take a break, see you in February hehe

- Astara Bell

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[Taglist]

@saraaahsstuff / @dannipotatoo / @tobiaslut / @nev-valkyriesdottir / @marvelnatasha12346 / @yelenasdiary / @mousetheorist / @ashadash0904 / @strange-night-owl / @acciowriting / @hatergirl-69 / @lovelyy-moonlight

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it's a NEEED

LEMME RIDE THAT NOSE VI PLEASEEEEE

WAAAAAAAA I looooooooovvveeee 🫶🏼🫶🏼🫶🏼🫶🏼

𝐇𝐎𝐑𝐒𝐄𝐒 & 𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐄

summary : raised in the heart of the countryside, you, Y/N Langford, has always known the rhythm of ranch life—early mornings on horseback, sun-drenched vineyards, and a quiet kind of freedom carved into the land passed down through generations. however, your father's recent colleague is interesting enough.

genre : country!au, wlw, countryside life.

warnings : beefy!nat, top!nat, sub!reader, age-gap (r is 24 and nat is 32).

words count : 2.6k

𖦹 part one 𖦹

HORSES & ROMANCE :

— Baked Goods & Conversations

📍Langford's Estate,

Clare Valley, Southern Australia

The sun rose slow over the rolling hills of Langford Ranch, lighting up the sea of golden grass and rows of early-spring grapevines like it had every morning for as long as you could remember.

It painted the landscape in brush strokes of amber and coral, and even though you'd seen it a thousand times before, it never lost its magic.

You leaned against the fence post, one boot perched on the lower rail, the familiar weight of your cowgirl hat tipped just enough to shield your eyes. The morning breeze brought with it the scent of hay, dew, and something sweet—probably the peach trees blooming behind the barn.

Your mare, Alba, huffed behind you, nudging at your shoulder with the soft impatience only a horse could get away with.

"Alright, alright," You chuckled, patting Alba's muzzle. "You'd think I forgot breakfast was a sacred ritual around here."

The sound of boots on gravel made you turn. Your father, Georges Langford, was walking up from the lower fields with his usual purposeful gait— sun-baked, worn-in, and always moving like the land wouldn't let him sit still for too long.

The man was the backbone of Langford Ranch and he looked it —broad-shouldered, silver at the temples, with lines carved deep from years of working under sun and storm alike.

"Mornin', sunshine," He greeted, pulling off his hat to wipe his brow.

"Mornin', Dad. Thought you were checking fence lines today?"

"I was. Had Carter do the west end. That post by the creek needs more than nails—it needs a prayer."

You grinned. "Doesn't everything out here?"

You both stood in comfortable silence for a beat, eyes drifting across the property. The vineyards curved along the hills like ribbons, and the stables were starting to come alive with movement—hooves on wood, snorts in the air, Carter hollering something at the barn cat.

Georges cleared his throat, one hand resting on his belt.

"By the way," he began, in that tone he used when he was about to drop something mildly important but wanted it to sound casual, "We've got someone movin' into one of the guest houses tomorrow."

At the news, you arched a brow. "Oh, yeah? One of the hands?"

"No. She's not a ranch hand. She's a colleague, technically. Been working in livestock management and field logistics the past few years—real sharp, real quiet. Does good work, and I could use the extra brain with the contracts we've got coming up. She'll be helping out part-time on the cattle rotation too."

"She?"

Georges gave a grunt of acknowledgment. "Her name's Natasha Romanoff. Comes with strong references—worked some rough terrain in Texas and Idaho. Kept to herself but got a rep for being dependable. Heard about her through Greg Havens. You remember him, used to run those horse clinics down in Abilene?"

"Sure. He's the one who taught Brandy how to sit for carrots."

You replied casually, looking over at Alba as you fed her a carrot. She gruffed quietly, then you ran you other free hand over her muzzle to soothe whatever was threatening to upset her.

Georges nodded, chuckling. "Same guy. He vouched for her, and that's good enough for me."

You bit the inside of your cheek thoughtfully.

New faces weren't exactly common out here—Langford Ranch didn't have a revolving door. People came, worked, and stayed for seasons, sometimes years. Others never left. So someone moving into one of the guesthouses —someone your father trusted enough to share work and land with— wasn't something you could ignore.

"She know what she's walking into?" You questioned, "This place isn't exactly a weekend retreat."

Georges smirked, the kind of smile that meant he was already ten steps ahead, patting Alba's head in a gentle manner. "She's got boots older than Carter. She'll manage."

A low whistle went past your lips. "Well, damn. Guess we'll see."

He started walking back toward the barn, calling over his shoulder, "And don't scare her off before she even unpacks."

"No promises!" You hollered back, grinning as you turned to your horse. "What do you think, Albs? Sounds like trouble to me."

Your chestnut mare whinnied, flicking her tail like she agreed.

The sun kept rising, golden over the fields, and you found yourself staring in the direction of the empty guest house—the one with the white porch swing and the wraparound view of the west hills.

You had no idea what this Natasha Romanoff looked like. But something in your chest shifted—a quiet hum of interest, like the first stirrings of wind before a storm.

Not that you minded a little storm now and then.

Especially if it came with sharp eyes, rolled-up sleeves, and a story worth unfolding.

🎀 ✈︎ 𖦹 ✈︎ 𖦹 ✈︎ 𖦹 ✈︎ 𖦹 ✈︎ 𖦹 ✈︎ 🎀

The vineyard stretched endlessly, rows upon rows of grapevines curling around the earth like veins of the land itself.

The estate had been in the Langford's hands for generations, a legacy carried through the years by blood, sweat, and a relentless passion for the soil beneath their feet.

To those who visited, it was a picturesque sanctuary, a symbol of hard work and perseverance. But to the Langford's, it was everything—family, history, and identity.

Natasha had been in the business of wine for a while now, though her path to the Langford Estate was as unconventional as she was. A successful winemaker in her own right, Natasha was known for her larger-than-life presence, a woman whose strength was both literal and figurative.

With arms built from years of physical labor and a back as strong as any farmer's, she was an imposing figure, even among the burly, weathered men and women who worked in the vineyards.

She was no stranger to hard work, though her reputation often preceded her—a reputation built on an iron will, business acumen, and a certain raw magnetism that pulled people in, even when they weren't sure they wanted to be.

The guest house she had been owning for almost a day sat on ten acres of mostly flat earth. It had a porch that creaked under her boots and a wind chime made of spoons that clinked gently in the breeze. It was a fixer-upper. Natasha liked fixing things.

The redhead stretched her arms above her head, boots scuffing against the wood of her porch as she eyed the grass lining the front.

Her flannel clung lightly to her frame from the morning work, sleeves rolled up, exposing strong forearms. She had been there all of twenty minutes when she heard the distant sound of an engine, then a dog barking. She glanced toward the road and there you were, driving a red ford pick-up truck, the golden retriever settled in the passenger seat.

Natasha leaned one shoulder against the porch column as she watched you cut the engine, arms crossed, eyes scanning with interest. Not even trying to hide it. 

"You must be the new neighbor," You spoke up, stepping out of the vehicle before letting your dog out. "Heard from my father that someone finally brought the Cross property."

The elder woman's lip curled. "Is that what they call it?" 

"Sure is," You held up the basket of warm goodies you held in hand. "I brought you some cinnamon rolls. Freshly homemade from this morning."

She raised an eyebrow, stepping down to meet you. "Cinnamon rolls? Are you trying to seduce me already?" 

You smirked, "Damn, you catch on fast."

The redhead smirked, taking the basket from your hands. Her fingers brushed yours, rough calluses meeting warm skin. If Ethan Langford was a great co-worker to be around, she was sure she'd appreciate his daughter's company, maybe a little too much. "Name's Natasha."

You introduced yourself next, and she let the name roll around in her mind, pairing it with your smile. It suited you. There was a light to you -- an ease. Nat hadn't felt ease in a long time. 

You tilted your head, gaze sweeping over her like you were sizing her up. And who wouldn't? Biceps under sun-kissed skin, a scar just over her eyebrow, so faint that you would've missed it if you didn't look so closely, and the kind of posture that said she didn't run from anything. You chewed on the inside of your bottom lip and cleared your throat. 

"You're planning on staying around more often?" 

"Depends," Natasha replied, eyes steady on yours. "You planning on bringing me baked goods every day?"

You shrugged. "Maybe. Depends on if you're worth the flour."

She laughed as you turned to go with a smirk, your dog trailing behind. You called out while walking back to the pickup. 

"Nice meeting you, Natasha." 

"Believe me," The redhead called back, watching the sway of your hips. "The pleasure was all mine."

🎀 ✈︎ 𖦹 ✈︎ 𖦹 ✈︎ 𖦹 ✈︎ 𖦹 ✈︎ 𖦹 ✈︎ 🎀

The scent of warm earth filled the air as midday settled across Langford Ranch.

The sun rode high above the valley, glinting off metal fence posts and the waxy leaves of grapevines stretching in neat rows as far as the eye could see.

Georges Langford’s voice cut through the quiet as he stood beside Natasha Romanoff, gesturing out over the vast spread of land like a king showing off his kingdom.

“This vineyard’s been in my family for four generations. My great-grandfather planted the first vines himself back in the early 1900s. Clare Valley wasn’t what it is now. Just dry heat and stubborn soil.”

Natasha listened, eyes scanning the curves of the land, the way each line of vines bent gently with the slope. “You’ve made something out of it.”

“We didn’t have much choice,” he replied with a chuckle. “We were Langfords before we were winemakers. And Langfords don’t quit easy.”

They paused at the vineyard’s edge, where symmetrical rows of early-season vines curled along the gentle hillsides like organized chaos. The sun cast their shadows long between the rows, and Georges ran a hand along a twisted vine like it was part of his body.

“These grapes—Shiraz, mostly—go into the reserve reds we bottle each March. We sell local, export some to the States. My wife—God rest her soul—used to say you could taste the earth in every drop.”

An old well house nearby that had been converted into a wine cellar, its stones weathered by time, came into view.

He pointed out the fermentation shed, the mechanical harvester they only used in a pinch, and the solar panels that lined the western slope.

“Hard to imagine this place any other way,” The Russian admitted.

“That’s how you know it’s in your blood,” Georges said, glancing sideways at her. “You start seeing it not just as land, but as story. As legacy.”

He paused to pick up a handful of dry earth, let it sift through his fingers.

“You got family, Natasha?”

She hesitated. “Not in the way most people mean it.”

He didn’t press further. Just nodded like he understood and changed the subject.

They continued past the cattle paddocks—wide, open pastures edged with eucalyptus trees—where Georges pointed out the rotational system they used for grazing. Natasha absorbed every detail, asking questions here and there, sharp and precise. She didn’t talk much, but when she did, it was clear she’d done her homework.

When they came up the path near the back stables, Georges paused, brow furrowing slightly.

“There she is,” he said, and the redhead followed his gaze.

You were across the field, just beyond the fence, seated effortlessly atop Alba. The mare’s coat shimmered like brushed copper under the midday sun, and your posture was easy, confident. One hand rested lightly on the reins, the other lifting to wave when you noticed them.

The wind lifted your hat slightly, sending loose strands of hair brushing across your face. Romanoff’s eyes lingered.

“Y/N grew up in that saddle,” Georges said with a hint of pride. “Taught her how to ride before she could tie her own boots. Girl’s got her mother’s balance and her own kind of grit.”

Natasha didn’t answer immediately. She watched as you guided Alba into a smooth canter, posture fluid, in perfect rhythm with the horse. You rode like you belonged there. Like the land bent to you out of love, not force.

Georges watched his daughter for a beat, pride softening the lines of his face.

“She grew up on that horse,” he said, his voice quieter now. “Alba was born the same spring Y/N turned three. They're a pair, those two. I swear that horse listens to her better than most people.”

“She’s got good instincts,” She finally murmured, her eyes locked on your figure.

“That she does,” Langford agreed. “She knows this land better than anyone alive. And don’t let her fool you—she acts like she’s all mischief and cinnamon rolls, but she’s got steel under all that charm.”

Nat smirked faintly. “I noticed.”

You trotted over, reigning Alba in just a few feet from the fence. You slid off

the horse in one smooth motion, boots landing in the dust with a satisfying thud. The redhead watched the way you walked—loose, unhurried, confident.

“Everything alright with the tour?” You asked, brushing dust off your jeans.

“Your dad runs a tight ship,” Natasha said. “Impressive place.”

You nodded, offering a small, proud smile. “It’s home. And a hell lot of work.”

There was something in the way you said it—not arrogance, but ownership. Natasha respected that. She respected people who didn’t just show up, but showed up for the land, for the animals, for the legacy.

You scratched behind Alba’s ear, then looked at Natasha again. Your voice quietening but also softening as you spoke.

“You settling in okay?”

She nodded, “Starting to.”

“Well,” You began, “if you ever need anything...wine, fence wire, conversation—I’m usually around.”

The way you said conversation was light, but it wasn’t nothing. The Russian caught it, held it for a second, then let it pass.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” She said, voice low.

Your father cleared his throat, clearly sensing something unspoken pass between the two of you. “Alright, I’ll leave you two to flirt while I go pretend I’ve got paperwork to do.”

“Dad,” You said flatly, cheeks blooming a hint of color.

Natasha just chuckled, deeply amused. “Thanks for the tour, Georges.”

"And also, we always have dinner out on the porch around six-thirty. Nothing fancy, but real food and even better company. You’re more than welcome, Red.”

“I'll keep that in mind.” She tilted her head for a nod.

He tipped his hat. “Try not to let her talk your ear off.”

And with that, he walked off toward the barn, leaving the two of you standing under the shade of the gum trees, horses grazing nearby, breeze rustling through the dry grass.

Natasha followed the curve of your form as you walked—long legs, dust on your boots, and a playful tilt to your hips that didn’t feel like an accident.

You glanced back at Natasha, a lopsided smile playing on your lips. “So,” you said, brushing back a windblown strand of hair, “You going to take the dinner invite?”

“Maybe.”

You looked her up and down, not shy. “I’d recommend it. My grandma’s lasagna recipe still makes grown men cry.”

Natasha huffed a quiet laugh, her expression unreadable. “You always this charming?”

You leaned against the fence casually. “Only when I know it works.”

For a moment, the wind quieted. The dog—Cooper—came loping up the trail behind you, flopped down in the dirt, tongue out and panting.

Natasha looked down at him, then back up at you. “Guess I’ll see you tonight.”

With a nod, you concluded, “Looking forward to it.”

And somewhere deep inside Natasha, something settled—like boots finding firm ground.

She hadn’t come here looking for anything beyond work and quiet. But life, like land, had a way of growing things you didn’t expect.

➪ next part.

to say this edit makes me feral is a gross understatement

APPRECIATION POST FOR ALL OF NAT’S DIFFERENT HAIR STYLES CAUSE GOD DAMN

(Her curly hair moments will always be my favs)