Call me Crow. I'm a lesbian in her 30s and I've recently gotten back into the MCU, hence what I'm writing right now. This is an 18+ space as I tend to write smut so if you are not over 18, shoođ§čđ§čđ§č
âĄïž What I Write âĄïž
AO3 đ
Being a switch I will write both dom and sub reader. I'm currently working on a larger project involving WandaNat and a female OC called "In The Wake Of Fire," but I'm also experimenting with reader insert fic so there's that.
âĄïž Masterlist âĄïž
Series | Her Lovely Shadow - Wanda x F!Reader
Take Me Softly
An Absolute Menace
Dolls Are For Playing With - WandaNat x Reader onward
Thinking Is Highly Overrated
Series | Saltskin au - Wanda x F!Reader
You Remember How to Live, Don't You?
Crawling When You Ought To Walk
The Pieces That Fit Together
Darling, You Don't Have to Say It
Series | A Heart Full of Holes - Wanda x F!Reader
Masterlist
In The Wake of Fire AU
In The Wake of Fire - WandaNat x F!OC [Ao3]
- - - - - - - - - - - - CHAPTER INDEX - - -
Tradecraft & Sorcery - WandaNat spice [Ao3]
Answered Requests
âĄïž RequestsâĄïž
Willing to take requests related to Wanda, Natasha, or both, with or without a reader involved. I will NOT write male reader or bathroom stuff.
I've posted my thoughts about Steve's enhanced senses before, but I have to bring back one of my favorite funny thoughts regarding his sense of taste.
Steve taking up cooking in the new century, obsessed with all of these new flavors and spices that he finds. Adjusting recipes to his tastes, because for some reason, the amount of herbs and spices in these new recipes seems really overwhelming to his taste buds? So he has to find the perfect balance, of getting these wonderful flavors without overdoing it.
Eventually, he invites the avengers for a dinner party, excited to show off his cooking skills. Except, when they try these foods, they look at him in disbelief, as if he's ruined them. Because to them, his cooking is the blandest white boy food they've ever had. They need to introduce him to some spices.
But when they raid his kitchen, his spice cupboard is overflowing with flavors. So what the hell is going on?
Well, turns out Steve's enhanced taste buds can pick up flavors from miniscule amounts of spices, and the amount "normal" people add to their recipes, is, well, too much, and ruins the dishes for him.
It really makes them think about all of the other sensory enhancements he has, and how overstimulating the world must be for him.
Seeing a gorgeous, dominant, and divine older woman who also has a nurturing and gentle demeanor as a lesbian with mommy issues is genuinely like striking gold
Iâve read a ton of fics about wandanat x reader, and Iâve actually never encountered once when reader is taller than wanda and nat.. And Iâm quite curious what you would think it would look like in their relationship and/or before they start dating (hugging, intimate moments..)?
I kinda imagine reader being extra confident at the beginning because she thinks that since sheâs taller, sheâs the dominant one (non-sexual/sexual) buut wanda and nat have a different opinion on that..
(sorry if thereâre grammar mistakes, english isnt my native language)
I love your writings, love your energy and love your blog!
Have a nice one đ«¶
your english is amazing! đ€ and thank you for the kind words xx
yeah.. tall reader doesnât stand a chance against dom!wandanat. the reader could be physical bigger than them (either wider or taller) and it has no impact on their ability to dominate their lover đ
as soon as i read over your ask, i imagined wanda grabbing a fistful of whatever shirt/blouse tall reader was wearing, pulling her down eye level saying âlook at mommy when sheâs talking to you.â also i just *know* wanda would wear heels more often to be as tall or almost as tall as tall reader. i picture tall reader often forgetting her place because of her height.. but wandanat wonât let that happen!
natasha is also quick to correct any behavior like that, always telling reader to get on their knees and look up at their daddy.
Summary: You enter the basement in search of answers. You don't get all the answers you wanted, but maybe that's okay.
Content: Angst, verbal abuse, past parental abuse, bit of Dark!Wanda, brief torment of an elk, some emotional hurt/comfort
Word Count: 2,417
Masterlist Link
Taglist: @toe19 @imnotasuperhero @daniininouu @cate-chism @gumboug @absolutelyregal @deathbylesbianwitches @staytherewillbecakkes
The click of Wandaâs bedroom door sounded like an alarm to your ears.
You waited for another hour, trying to busy yourself by reading the blurb of every single book on the shelves in your room. No way would you be able to settle down enough to actually get into a story, so that was the next best thing.
When the risk of waking up Wanda felt low enough, you skulked out of your room, carrying the tray she brought up earlier.
A twinge of guilt ran through you.
Wanda gave you space, only coming up the once to bring you some dinner, a warm bowl of leftover roast and mashed potato, a bottle of water, and a little chocolate bar for dessert. She gently knocked the door and left it outside, not waiting to try and speak to you when the door opened, overstep the boundary you setâshe respected it. Respected you.
And she took your phone.
No.
With your jaw set and your stomach squirming like a sack of eels, you crept down the stairs, through the kitchen and left your empty tray by the sink.
The basement door wasnât locked.
Anxiety prickled its way down your spine like a spider made of ice, biting with every step you forced yourself to take, deeper, deeper, descending the stairs until you reached the bottom, the turn, the long stretch where the door to Wandaâs âworkshopâ loomed.
It wasnât locked either.
There would be no reason to, of course, she lived alone, isolated from passersby, and even if someone did come across her home with malicious intentions, if you were right and she was the Scarlet WitchâŠ
You froze with your hand on the door.
If she really was the Scarlet Witch, you were about to do something she expressly told you not to, and that should have terrified you, driven you away.
Your throat tightened.
You couldnât be blamed for wanting to feel in control for once, after weeks of what felt like bailing water out of a sinking ship, the blowout with Jennifer in front of your family, almost dying, the strange and comforting time spent with Wandaâit felt like you were in a tail spin. It felt like you were in a tail spin and you were about to crash with open arms into something irrevocable.
That was what terrified you.
So you moved.
You opened the door and your entire being revolted at the sight of that horrible book, eyes bouncing off it to focus on the dark glass of your phone beside it.
Signal wasnât a problem if Jennifer could still call, so you decided not to risk Wanda hearing you in your room.
Unsurprisingly, there were a lot of missed messages, and your heart sank just skimming the notifications. Texts from family, from Jennifer, ranging from angry, to confused, a little worried, then back to frustrated. Jenniferâs came to the closest to genuine concern, even if they never quite reached it.
âWhat are you doing, driving off like that?â
âYou canât just leave me here. We came in your car.â
âHow am I getting home after this? Where are you?â
âDid you find a motel or something? I donât see anything around you.â
âHoney. Your phone hasnât moved for two days.â
âPlease just call me when the storm is over.â
A leaden weight settled in your gut as you hovered over Jenniferâs contact information.
Calling her should have been easy, a familiar voice, something to snap your situation into focus and reinforce how insane it was to even consider staying.
And yet, you had to convince yourself to press call.
It only took a couple of rings before Jennifer answered.
âH-Hello?â
Her voice was thick with sleep, startled awake.
âItâs me.â
A soft gasp, a rustle of fabric like she was sitting up. âOh jesus,â she sighed, âyouâre alive, okay, good.â
âSorry for worrying you.â
âSorry? You ran out on me and disappeared for days! Did ignoring me make you feel better? Was this your idea of getting back at me?â
The words landed like blocks of ice in your gut. âNo. I justâI was overwhelmed. I couldnât think.â
âYeah, I could tell you werenât thinkingâ
âI wasnât ignoring you. I crashed.â
There was a pause, and Jennifer spoke with a little less edge to her voice. âWhat?â
âThe storm set in and I could barely see. Next thing I know thereâs an elk in the way and I try to avoid it. I crashed. It nearly killed me.â
A longer pause, the small utterances of someone starting to say something and rethinking immediately.
Jennifer let out of a long sigh. âChrist,â she muttered. âHow bad?â
âMy arms were hurt and I was a few inches away from getting skewered. A stranger came across me just in time, Iâd be dead if they hadnât. Iâve been staying with them until the storm ends.â
âAnd the car?â
You stumbled, something sour crossing the back of your tongue.
Clearing your throat, you pushed through it. âUh, I donât think itâs going anywhere anytime soon, itââ
Jennifer snapped. âAre you fucking kidding me?!â
You flinched, and she filled your silence with venom. âSo you totalled the car. Are you serious? You get fired, you embarrass me in front of your family, and now this?â
âI told you what happened at work, it wasnâtââ
âGod, your mother was right.â
The rush of blood filled your ears, a fast, heavy throb against your ribs warning you against speaking another word that you foolishly ignored. âWhat?â you muttered, tongue thick in your mouth.
A scoff, punctuating her cold tone. âShe said you were lucky to have me, because you had nothing else to offer.â
Her words stole the strength from your legs. Your knees hit the floor and your knuckles went white, heart jerking in your chest like a rabbit kicking in the snare.
Your motherâs words burned in your chest, spoken in the middle of a lecture when you were between jobs years ago, and dared to use some of your carefully preserved savings on a slightly above average bottle of sweet wine.
âYou bring no value to the world!â
Someone who couldnât pay for their own keep or contribute to bills was worthless, of course. It didnât matter that you offered, and she refused, putting on that affectionate mask you fell for every time as she told you not to worry about it. It didnât matter that you did almost all the housework so you still contributed something.
No, your entire worth narrowed down to plain, pitiless finance, if you didnât have a job you were a waste.
Worse than a waste, you were pointless.
Unnecessary.
Jennifer continued to talk, words lost even if her tone remained crystal clearâresentment.
The words tumbled out of you, âI wish Iâd never met you.â
You ended the call before she could respond, the phone dropping out of your hand with a clatter on the stone floor.
Tears barely had time to gather in your eyes before you noticed a soft red glow filling the room from behind you.
âPoor Little Bird, digging where you shouldnât.â
You spun around, scrambling to your feet as your heart jumped into your throat at the sight of Wanda standing in the doorway, wearing regalia of such a dark red it was almost black.
A crown of woven metallic threads framed her face, her eyes glowing like embers, abyssal black pupils ringed by sanguine light, and the shadows played strange games on her face. She looked hollow and otherworldly one moment, and full of life the next, the only thing that didnât change were the eyes, smouldering with unreadable emotion.
There was a pressure to the air, the sweet, metallic smell of blood and ozone washing over you in a cold wave.
And her eyes didnât change.
Wanda looked at you not with anger or disappointment but sadness. A soft, broken sort of understanding that almost dragged a whimper from your throat.
You fought the urge to run to her, to sink into her arms and apologise.
Swallowing hard, you forced the words out, âwhy were you keeping my phone?â
Wanda slowly tilted her head to the side. âWhy didnât you ask if I found it?â
The words caught in your throat.
You could have asked. At any point, you could have asked if she found your phone, if she retrieved anything other than yourself from the crash, and you didnât.
Wanda had no trouble answering for you. âYou were relieved,â she said simply, an edge of pleading to her tone. âYour car wrecked, your phone missingâsuddenly the people who hurt you the most couldnât reach you.â
She slowly moved closer, descending the steps and approaching you like a frightened bird. âI know how much pain you carry, how hollow it makes you feel.â
Before your brain could supply a response, Wanda was in front of you. She gently took your hand and brought it up to her chest, placing it over her heart where cracks seemed to radiate outwards over her regalia, as if it exploded.
The tips of her fingers were black, like she dipped them ink, hardened, almost chitinous, and colder than anything youâd ever felt.
But she was gentle.
She was so gentle, so careful in the way she held you, aware of how easy it would be to hurt something so painfully mortal.
And through all the turmoil thrashing inside you, you could feel the deep seated anguish roiling inside Wanda just the same. It crawled up your arm and twined with your own agony like a long lost lover, familiar and desperate for that remembered comfort.
A whimper snagged in your throat.
Wanda smiled sadly at you. âMaybe hollow things have a way of finding each other, hmm?â
Tears welled in your eyes. âDid you make me dream about you?â
Wanda blinked, brows twitching up. âNo,â she said firmly, ânot intentionally. Anything you dreamt about me would have beenâŠunconscious on my part. That is just one of the reasons I live here, no one for miles.â
She looked away from you then, jaw tensing. âWere they bad?â
âNo.â
âGood. I would hate to inflict my nightmares on someone else again.â
You swallowed hard, fighting the swirl of conflicted emotions inside you as you reached with your free hand and placed it over Wandaâs.
She looked at you, eyes dark and searching.
With no small amount of trepidation you asked, âwhat do you want?â
A sad smile crossed Wandaâs face. âTo be a mother,â she said, voice wavering just a little. âBut that didnât end well for me.â
She moved close enough to prop her brow against yours, bringing with her a faint smell of amber and almonds. âNow, I just want someone I can pour all of that love into, and have them love me just as much,â she whispered, her breath fluttering across your cheeks, âwonât you be my baby? Wonât you let me love you, little one?â
The words squirmed out of you. âWhat arenât you telling me?â
There was a pause.
Another sad look from Wanda, whose eyes glowed brighter as she said, âlet me show you.â
Like an oyster being shucked, you were suddenly out of your body and riding shotgun in someone elseâs.
A snow laden forest, the beginning of the storm, the dark setting inâan elk darted between the trees. Wanda was chasing it. She could have overpowered it with a wave of her hand, had the thing walk home with her, entirely calm about its impending demise.
The chase soothed something in her, a boiling mass of anger at the world and what it took from her that she knew, she knew she couldnât let run away from her or she would render it all to ashes.
And then what would Natasha have died for?
So she chased the elk herself, watched it stumble, listened to itâs fearful calls and grunts, allowed herself a moment of darkness where everything that had ever hurt her was contained in a single animal whose blood she could smell on painfully frigid air.
It burst out between the trees and stopped, caught barely a few feet from the road as scarlet light enveloped its tired body, panting great puffs of white into the wind.
Wanda approached it slowly, lifting her hand as she prepared to break its neck.
Like a needle in the spine, she felt a surge of anguish wash up against her senses, caustic and bleeding, a gaping chasm in the flesh tearing open before her eyes.
In the isolated woods, when all sane people were hunkered down to weather the coming storm, she didnât have her guard up for once, and she heard every dark and terrible thought rattling around your head.
It made her heart lurch in her chest, begging to reach out and soothe, to stop you and make it better because she knew what that felt like, it writhed inside her like a squid fighting to get out.
And for just a moment, caught in that vicious maelstrom that felt so, so familiar, Wanda lost her concentration.
The elk slipped free.
You crashed.
It took Wanda a moment to find you, guilt and horror sitting like hot lead in her chest. She told herself she was going to fix it, return everything to normal and send you on your way as if nothing happened, a strange little hiccup on your journey. But then she felt all the hurt pouring out of you again, under the fear and shock of the crash, and she made the decision to bring you home, to take care of you, to see if there was anything she could do.
Wandaâs voice brought you back to your body, âand you were perfect.â
You stumbled backwards, knocking into the altar and leaning on it for support.
She didnât follow you. She just watched, sad and ashamed, and pleading, silently pleading for you to look at her and not see a monster.
Perhaps you should have. Maybe you should have been more horrified, angrier, even afraid of her, but all you could really feel was exhaustion
You were tired.
Tired of always being on edge, of fighting for attention and love, never feeling secure in your relationship with others.
With tears drying on your face, you pushed away from the altar, closed the distance, cupped Wandaâs face, and kissed her.
