Ari

19 italy

[norwayromanoff]

Take a Look

masterlist

Bottom!NR x top!r

Word count: 2.3k

Summary: Natasha’s never quite seen herself like this before.

I almost managed to fulfill the entirety of the request, but alas… whoopsie

18+

Author’s note: Honestly? It's just porn. The word “cock” is used in reference to the strap.

It’s initially just black, darkness surrounding her, Natasha simply reveling in everything happening to her… until a sudden, sharp stinging is felt on the inside of her thigh, your hand coming down and making firm contact with the plushness there. Her eyes shoot open, a cry of surprise escaping her mouth that progresses into a high-pitched whine when the first thing she sees is herself reflected back at her in the mirror.

God, she looks absolutely pathetic right now—fucked out in a way she’s not used to seeing, never having been forced to watch herself before—and she closes her eyes again in an attempt to avoid the sight.

“Eyes open,” you tell her, “Eyes on you, unless… you want me to stop?” It’s teasing. You know very well what the answer to that question is, how much she currently needs you to keep going, for the pleasure you’re providing her with to keep sparking under her skin and firing up and down her spine until it settles back in her core.

But still, despite her desperation, she doesn’t reply to you.

“Use your words, Natasha,” you demand, punctuating your sentence by bucking your hips up to push into her a few times.

Your actions don’t make it any easier, and you smirk as she moans, loud and uncontrolled, echoing through the room and off the walls in the way that means she’s close. You’re lucky that Tony soundproofed your quarters after the first time your and Natasha’s romps were heard throughout the night, keeping the other Avengers awake with sounds that they never wanted to become familiar with in the first place.

“No, please, please don’t stop. I’m so close. Please,” Natasha then begs, her hips rolling with urgency, her body eager for you to keep relentlessly pounding into her, eager for the heat that being so completely filled by you brings about, for the ache from deep within her that only you can soothe to lessen.

“Already?” you ask even though you’re well aware of how near she is to tipping, how near the redhead is to falling into sweet oblivion. You know the signs of Natasha’s pleasure better than she does, able to recognize every expression that twists her face, able to decipher every jerk and jolt of her body, well acquainted with every potential reaction you could receive whenever you’re fucking her.

She just nods her head, struggling to find her voice. There’s too much input, too many sensations for her to process all at once.

“I said ‘words’,” you remind her, and you decide to let up, transitioning from harsh thrusts to languid ones in order to help her answer.

It doesn’t work.

“Can’t-” She almost doesn’t get the word out. “Fuck, can’t, can’t- so close, can’t, fuck-”

You hum, the noise more mocking than understanding. “Let me help then,” you murmur, reaching your hand toward the bedside table, grabbing at the vibrator you had left there beforehand. You switch it on, and the low buzzing that begins to fill the room makes a soft, helpless noise leave Natasha as she realizes just what’s coming.

You slowly skim the vibrator along her inner thigh, dragging it lightly across the sensitive skin there, a trail of goosebumps following the path it takes. It feels like it’s miles away from where she’s throbbing for it, so her back arches and her hips buck up in impatience, trying to make contact with the toy. She lets out an unfiltered whine as the strap shifts and reangles itself inside of her, falling forward, her hands landing on your knees.

She tries to catch her breath, but you don’t allow her to.

It’s at the lowest setting, but that doesn’t mean that the vibrator’s first touch against her clit doesn’t cause her eyes to roll back in her head, her hands quickly moving from your knees to scrabble at the sheets, grabbing hold of them and crushing them between her fingers. “Fuck!” she exclaims, startled by the suddenness. Her entire being is feverish, overheated, hypersensitive. There’s both satisfaction as the vibrations finally rack through her frame but also a burning need for more.

“Keep moving,” you demand when you notice her motions falter, when she starts to let the vibrator do all the work for her.

With difficulty, she begins pushing herself up before dropping herself down, resuming burying your strap deeply within her sopping hole. Her breasts jump with every movement as she continues to impale herself on the silicone, riding you like you requested, her fingers clutching at the sheets as she rocks weakly, overcome by the feelings that make her body twitch and writhe on top of you.

“That’s a girl,” you praise, “Bouncing so sweetly on my cock. Do you see yourself? Taking me so well?”

Natasha nods, her ability to speak having been stripped away by the almost unbearable sensation of you—the one hand holding her hip feeling like a brand, your strap stretching her cunt out deliciously, the vibrator pressed firmly to her clit to the point where she doesn’t know if it’s making everything better or worse at this point.

Her eyes are half-lidded, her mouth parted with irregular breaths as she takes in the sight of herself in the mirror again. She can see every piece of her—or perhaps pieces, as it feels like you’ve torn her apart bit by bit and left her scattered around the room—laid bare before her. Her skin shines with a thin sheen of sweat, her chest flushed a bright pink as she clearly becomes fatigued from all the exertion, but she stays determined, nonetheless. She can easily make out the sticky mess between her legs in the reflection; she watches how the silicone shaft glistens with her juices every time she raises her hips up and comes off its length slightly before sinking back down.

And she begins working faster, harder, grinding in needy, clumsy circles, as if seeing herself only furthers the fire she has building inside. Her dignity was abandoned somewhere along the way, and she can’t bring herself to care when you’re stuffing her full like only you ever can.

You notice her gaze drop to where you’re both connected, staring fixatedly at how the strap rhythmically plunges in and out of her hole, slick noises mixing with her moans.

“Just look at you,” you say, “You’re dripping, soaked. This pretty pussy was just begging to be fucked like this, wasn’t it?”

Natasha warms at the vulgar way you’re talking about her, blushing at your tone, at your words, but her body betrays her, and she clenches down on the silicone unconsciously.

A coy smile appears on your face at her bashfulness, at how she tries to hide just how much she’s enjoying everything. You can’t help but tease her further. “Say it,” you request.

When she doesn’t answer, shaking her head, too embarrassed to do so, you repeat yourself.

It’s a command this time—you’re no longer asking—and she knows that, so she takes a breath in preparation to echo the crude words back at you, but you don’t give her enough time, turning the vibrator up to the highest setting, the touch causing her entire being to thrum.

Natasha jumps as the sudden increase, the switch from the soft and steady vibrations to the severe ones jarring, you giving her no warning or chance to adjust. “My pussy was begging for it!” she cries out, “Fuck! It was begging! I’m begging!”

You hum again in satisfaction when she finally gets the words out. “That’s right,” you agree, “And begging girls don’t get to come.” You turn the vibrator back down, a chuckle leaving you when you see how her eyes widen in desperation. She’s trembling with the need to finally make it over the edge you’re keeping her on; you’ve been tormenting her by dangling her release just out of reach.

“No,” she pleads, “No, please, I’m good. I’m good. I’m not begging, I’m good.”

You just shake your head, tutting. “You just said you were begging,” you remind her.

Natasha whines. It’s true. She is begging, but she’s willing to say whatever it takes right now for you to let her to come.

“I’m good,” she tries to convince you again.

You then shush her, taking pity on the redhead that’s currently been reduced to a simple, babbling mess on your lap.

“I know you are,” you reassure softly, “My good girl, always my good girl.” And then you turn the toy back up, letting the vibrations resume their assault on her sensitive bundle of nerves in a way that you know will send her careening in just moments.

When she feels the intensity spike, Natasha stops remembering how to hold herself together; she doesn’t want to hold herself together. She’s falling with no desire to catch herself as everything overloads her system and takes her apart. Her release crashes through her and makes her forget how to breathe altogether, both her inhales and exhales stuttering to a stop in her chest before she remembers that she actually does need oxygen.

It’s the best form of torture when you continue to hold the vibrator directly against her clit, not giving her any respite, and her body shakes and shudders as the onslaught remains rushing through her.

“Wait, no more,” she chokes out, “Can’t- no more.”

“Someone just told me she wanted this. Now you’re saying that your greedy little cunt can’t take it?”

“No- no,” Natasha keeps protesting as you don’t let up, “S’too much-”

“You can do it,” you encourage, knowing her limits, knowing when to push and when to pull away, and right now, despite her objections, there’s no way Natasha truly wants you to ease up. She craves another climax; her body craves another climax. It’s blatantly telling you so as her hips still rock back and forth on your strap, as her walls clamp down tightly on the silicone as if trying to milk every drop of pleasure from you that she possibly can.

You start moving with her, hard and forceful snaps of your hips into her squelching cunt as the vibrator still buzzes against her causing her to gasp at the dual sensations.

A moan catches in her throat, her breath hitching, overstimulation warring with the euphoria that always follows an orgasm given to her by you. She goes to protest again but is abruptly stopped when you shove two fingers into her open mouth, effectively cutting the redhead off, preventing her from voicing anything further.

“Hush,” you murmur, your voice just a soft whisper against the shell of her ear, the brush of your lips along her skin making her shiver. Her tongue instinctively swirls around your digits before sucking on them gently, soaking them with her saliva, a trail of it beginning to dribble out the side of her mouth.

“There you go,” you praise, “Just stay quiet and let me play with you.”

This time, Natasha complies, focusing now on you in her mouth, on the weight of your fingers on her tongue, trying to distract herself from the unrelenting pressure of the vibrator and the wet slide of the strap inside her.

She can tell she’s quickly approaching another peak, and she wants to tell you, to warn you, but with your fingers pushed to the back of her throat, all she can do is whimper around them.

Fortunately for her, she doesn’t need to say anything. You can see it clear as day on her face in the mirror, see it in the way her head is lolling from side to side against your shoulder as her back leans heavily against your front. The vibrator is still at the highest setting, persistent and ruthless in its stimulation, and Natasha, even though she was just overwhelmed with ecstasy, is back to feeling starving for more, hips still working.

“One more,” you tell her before asking a question even though you know she can’t respond with your fingers caressing her tongue: “You can give me one more, can’t you? Just one more?”

She groans, eyes fluttering shut, trying to nod as she continues to suck and lick at your skin.

“Then come for me again,” you command, “I want you to come again all over my cock.”

Those words are all it takes, Natasha never able to disobey you, and she’s thrown into yet another climax after only just having recovered from the first, a loud, keening sound getting ripped from deep within her chest. She’s engulfed by it, drowning in it, the entire room feeling as though it’s spinning as she becomes dizzy with pleasure, unable to find her equilibrium through the vibrations that you still haven’t yet turned down. The only thing holding her together right now, the only thing grounding her, is the feeling of you, stable behind her.

After a few seconds of tension, of her muscles pulled taut, she drops limply against you, hips finally going still, too exhausted to keep moving. You gently pull the vibrator away from the apex of her thighs, switching it off, the sensations still there but now dulled to residual, phantom tingles that spread from her core outward to the rest of her body in waves.

You let her settle, Natasha very obviously spent, unable to take any more for the time being, and she curls into you, the strap still buried between her legs as she shifts to press her face into the crook of your neck.

You brush a light kiss to the crown of her head. “Is it safe to assume you can’t handle another?” you ask playfully.

Natasha just huffs out a tired laugh.

[redroomreflections]

Who Lives, Who Dies, Who Tells Your Story Chapter 5

Natasha Romanoff x Black!Fem! Reader

Note: This is a repost from my since deactivated account Natsxaddiction. I will be adding the shorter stories to here; 20 chapters or less - sorry TLH fans =(

Masterlist | General Masterlist

Chapter 5/20 (A completed story)

Summary: Natasha and Reader are married. They get into an accident where Natasha suffers serious injuries including amnesia. Natasha no longer remembers her life with reader and their children. All she remembers are her days loving Bruce.

W/c: 5.1k

The key to a good marriage is good communication. Not to go to bed angry with each other. Not to lie to one another. Don’t lie. That’s a big one and if anyone asked you would tell them that you don’t lie. Even then it’s only half the truth. You’ve been lying to people for as long as you can remember. You lied to Natasha for a long time. You’ve been lying to yourself even longer. You stand under the scalding hot water of the shower, trying to stand strong, as you think about all of the events of the past few weeks. Of all the reactions you expected from Natasha, her pulling out a knife was surprising. For years, she’s been your rock and you hers. Since Ultron physically hurting each other has always been off the list. Training sessions were a different platform and often your initial aggression towards each other was handled in the gym of the compound. Going from lovers to enemies to lovers again has been a whirlwind of emotions. Even though all your feelings for her haven’t changed, you can't help but have the tiniest bit of anger at her actions.  

There was a time when you remembered you were happy. Trips to the compound meant fun, joy, and love for your family. Other times it meant work but even then you were okay with visiting. Today, it means something different. You’re nervous about how Natasha will act in front of everyone else. You’re even more scared that Wanda will say something. You’ve already given her notice about Natasha’s attitude and you know she will be on edge about it. For Wanda is your protector, and you are hers. Ever since Pietro died it's a silent promise you made to each other. It’s comforting knowing that even if you’re at odds with your person you have another one in your corner. You can’t wait to hug her. Maybe you’ll get a moment alone to sit with her and tell her how you’re really feeling. Your mind keeps replaying the events of last night like a broken record. Seeing Natasha pull out that knife terrified you though you won’t admit it to her. She looked at you with anger you haven’t seen in years. As if she doesn’t know you. In her eyes, she doesn’t. You’re another stranger that’s lied to her and you understand that. You’re not expecting her to dismiss it. Her hurt is just as valid as it was all those years ago. 

You only wish you had a bit more time to tell her. Natasha’s never been a patient one. 

You step out of the shower, listening for the sound of the girls down in the living room before you walk to your closet. You’re not up to dressing in your usual dressy fits. Natasha used to tease you about how fancy you always looked. Every shirt or dress you touch holds memories. The black and white sweater dress. You’d worn that to a date night with dinner served on a rooftop. After the delicious dinner, Natasha took you home where you barely made it through the door before she was all over you. A silk blouse that you wore when you signed the deed for the house. All memories of the life you’ve been sharing with Natasha. 

You find your bearings, opting for a simple green oversized sweater, loose-fitting jeans, and white socks. You brush your hair into a messy ponytail before walking out of the closet in search of your shoes. A compound is a huge place and you’re going to have to keep both girls in check. You’re bent over your bed, a blanket tossed over the side, as you reach under the bed for your second sneaker. When you stand up notice it. Almost like a zoom lens, your eyes focus on Natasha’s wedding band sitting on its lonesome on her dresser. The responding EMTs gave it to you in a small Ziploc bag after the accident. You had been banged up and bruised but otherwise fine. You waited one long gruesome hour in your own hospital bed for them to tell you anything. No one had answers for you then and that only made things worse. Your mind went through every scenario where the doctor would come in and tell you she died. You remember the nausea that took over your body when you saw a representation of your love in such a careless piece of plastic. You walk over to the dresser, reaching above you to unclip your necklace, to add the ring to it. It slips on easily as you clip the necklace back around your neck. You inspect yourself in the mirror as you hold the ring between your fingers. It serves as a reminder to keep moving forward. 

“Mama, we are ready,” Olivia interrupts your thinking as she stands in the doorway of your bedroom. You give her a once over, noticing her shoes are on the wrong feet when you wave her over. You hold her around her waist, helping her over to the bed so you can kneel to help with her shoes. 

“I have to pack your backpack,” You inform her. “Is there anything you want to bring and show for Auntie Wanda?”

“I think my dolls,” Olivia nods. She raises her left foot for you to place it inside of her shoe. “Mommy, can I go to the doctor and get that thing on my arm like Mama?”

“What thing?” You ask absentmindedly. 

“On Mama’s arm,” Olivia gestures. “She said I can color on it.” 

“I don’t think those are for sale but I can buy you markers,” You offer, now understanding that she’s referring to the cast on Natasha’s arm. She seems satisfied with that answer. You finish strapping her shoes before patting her legs. “Go get your dolls.” You instruct and she toddles out of the room. 

You sigh, standing to your full height, before tucking your phone in your pocket. The next stop is the compound. You quickly pack the girls a bag filled with Lily’s diapers, a few snacks for them, spare clothes for both of them, and wipes. Lots of wipes. From past experiences, you know that's the number one thing you need. You reach the foyer where Natasha is waiting for the girls. Everyone has their shoes on, completely dressed, and jackets zipped. You go over to the key dish finding it empty. 

“I’m driving,” Natasha doesn’t leave much room for argument. 

“Natasha, that’s ridiculous,” You shake your head. “You have a broken wrist and ribs there’s no way you can drive. Top that with the medications you’re taking. It’s unsafe.”

“As opposed to driving with you?” Natasha argues. That’s a low blow. “We don’t all have a shield to keep us safe.” At your face, she continues. “I did notice it last night.”

You take a deep breath. “Nat, that is completely uncalled for and if you have questions I’m happy to answer them. I can cancel lunch and we can stay here. I won’t be doing this in front of the girls.” You gesture to Olivia whos watching both of you. “If you want I will order an uber and pay the insane fee for all four of us to drive or you will get in the car with me and just trust that I can get us there safely. Either way, I’m not going to let too many of those comments pass.” You speak firmly. 

There’s a moment of silence between you and you can see the wheels turning in Natasha’s head. She’s thinking about this and how far she wants to take it. You’re right. She doesn’t want to fight in front of the girls. She reaches into her pants pocket, tossing you the keys, and you catch them. 

“Thank you,” You nod. You pick up Lily and take Olivia’s hand as you all pile out of the door. You turn to lock the front door and show Natasha to the car. Olivia climbs into her own seat and waits patiently for you to strap her in. Next is Lily and you have a little more trouble as she mewls at the idea of being strapped in. Natasha watches you curiously. She wants to see how you’re going to calm her. You reach into the diaper bag, grabbing a sippy cup of frozen breast milk, and her eyes immediately light up. You’re on your last few frozen bags and soon you won’t have the small remedy. Lily takes the sippy cup with urgency, immediately bringing it to her mouth to drink. 

You round the car to get into the driver’s side, taking a deep breath, before buckling yourself in. Natasha climbs into the passenger side and does the same. “Look, Natasha, I understand you’re feeling conflicted and everything is confusing for you right now. I know I’m not your favorite person right now.” You look into the backseat where both girls are occupied. “I just don’t want to do any of this in front of the girls. That’s something we promised to each other.” You leave it at that. You start the car, making sure to check beside you before you drive off. 

The car ride is done in relative silence. Olivia asks a question ever so often, prompting either you or Natasha to answer, as you drive. Most of them Natasha can answer as they’re simple and general. Why is the sky blue? Why do people walk when there are cars? Why does that man lives on the street? Where does the subway sleep at night? Finally, she gets to one that stumps Natasha. 

“Mama, can we call Auntie Lena later?” Olivia asks. “I haven’t seen her in a long time.” 

Out of your peripheral, you can see Natasha tense. She’s trying to connect the dots and sure enough, she’s landing on Yelena. You can tell she hasn’t thought about Yelena during this time. Seeing Melina and Alexei was more than enough of a shock for her. It’s another piece of her life missing that she has to think about. Natasha’s mouth falls open like a fish out of water. She doesn’t have an answer. 

“Mama?” Olivia asks again. 

“I can call her for you later,” You answer for Natasha. Your eyes remain on the road the entire time. “I’m sure Auntie Yelena misses you. She’s in Rome right now on business.”

“Oh, she’s on business?” Olivia repeats as she looks out of the window. She’s pretty used to this sort of answer so she doesn’t ask for more than that. “Is she hungry?”

You smile at her curiosity. “I hope not. If anything we can send her some food.”

“Like spaghetti?” Olivia volunteers. 

“If that's what she wants we can order her spaghetti,” You laugh. Olivia quiets down after that. Besides Wanda, Yelena is Olivia’s favorite aunt to interact with. Laura is also high on that list. She’s come a long way from being the little girl that was afraid of pretty much everything and everyone. 

“Is her number inside my phone?” Natasha asks quietly. She folds her arms against her chest, a sign of nerves that you know well. 

“It is,” You answer. “I think she would enjoy hearing from you. She was pretty worried after the accident and everything but couldn’t come home in time.” You inform her. Natasha nods. “You two are pretty close. I’d think almost closer than Wanda and I.” You add. Natasha processes this in silence, turning so her body faces the door more, and that’s how you know the conversation has ended.

******************************** 

When you arrive at the compound you go through a series of security checkpoints. You offer your name, “Y/n y/l/n - Romanoff,” though no introduction is needed. You give them the names of everyone else in the car and with one look from Natasha, you’re allowed through. 

“This compound has been here for years and you’d think they would let me in on the first try,” You shake your head. You know the real reason behind the guards' hesitance. One that everyone else isn’t privy to except for Sam. He’s called on plenty of occasions for Tony to ask his staff to let him through. 

“Does that happen often?” Natasha asks and you nod. 

“Perks of the job,” You shrug. Being a superhero had its advantages but this was not one of them. You drive down the mile-long driveway to park in front of the compound doors just like always. You place the car in park, thanking the high heavens that you made it safely, while you relax in your seat.

“Mommy, potty!” Lily announces from her chair. In times like now, she’s good with announcing when she has to go but you’re not very expectant that she will. 

“Okay, I’ll hurry,” You call to her. “Nat, Olivia knows the way to the lounge, she will quite literally drag you to it,” You take the keys. You leave Natasha with Olivia while you rush Lily to the first bathroom you can. 

“Mama, are you ready?” Olivia asks from her seat. She’s so excited to see her Aunt Wanda and her uncles. 

“Yes, Myshka, I’m ready,” Natasha speaks quietly. She finds herself anxious but she’d never admit it out loud. Natasha finds that you were right about Olivia dragging her inside of the compound. She pulls her forward, almost into the plexiglass doors that slide open as if they were made in a grocery store. 

“It can see my face, Mama, and your face,” Olivia points to one of the security cameras on the wall to her left. Natasha tries to take in everything. From the high ceilings, the newly buffed floors, and the exorbitant displays of wealth that can only be Tony’s doing. “It’s cool right?” Olivia understands a little bit about Natasha’s ‘sickness’ by taking notes from you and your recent task of telling her everything. “We have to go through the doors. There are two. Then down a long, long, long hallway, and then we get to the ‘Venger’s lounge.” Olivia explains. 

Natasha is a little winded at the pace and distance they’re going and so she asks Olivia to slow down. 

“Oops, I’m sorry,” Olivia giggles. She walks slower, giving a leisurely pace, as she points to Natasha all of her favorite things inside the compound. Once they reach the lounge, Natasha is completely abandoned as Olivia spots her favorite cousin, Morgan playing with a set of blocks. “Morgan! Hi, Morgan.” Olivia greets her. They look to be around the same age though Morgan is a bit taller. 

Natasha is left to look around the place, finding the rest of the adults in the kitchen. She stands by the doorway, watching you come from another one with Lily on your hips. 

“Hello all,” You greet Pepper with a kiss on her cheek and Tony a slap on his back that almost makes him choke on whatever drink he’s drinking. Natasha snickers in the corner but she chooses to remain silent and watch. You give Sam a fist bump and Steve another kiss on his cheek. There’s a woman Natasha recognizes as Sharon Carter. Sharon takes Lily, tickling her, and causing her to laugh. 

There’s another woman that you greet that has Natasha’s blood running cold. You wrap your arms around Wanda, giving her several wet kisses on her cheek, and she proceeds to wipe them off. From the outside, it's an endearing exchange between sisters, but for Natasha, it only causes more confusion. 

“Mama, are we spying?” Olivia whispers almost startling Natasha. She looks up at her mother with pure mischief in her eyes. 

“We aren’t but I do have to say you’re a good spy, I barely noticed you,” Natasha chuckles. 

“There she is!” Tony cheers when he notices Natasha in the doorway. He rounds the counter to approach her, holding out his hand for her to shake, as he walks. “Hello, nice to meet you again, I’m Tony Stark. I don’t know if you remember me but I’m your very, very rich best friend.”

“I remember you, Tony,” Natasha rolls her eyes. “Best friend is pushing it.” She looks him over. He looks older and a bit more mature. Maybe Pepper has finally tamed the wild beast that is Tony Stark. 

“Ouch, you wound me,” Tony holds his hand over his heart. “Though I do understand the best friend title was transferred to Y/n a long time ago.” Tony gestures to you. He bends down to greet Olivia. “What’s up, munchkin, did you steal any hearts today?” 

Oliva laughs at Tony’s ridiculousness. “No, Uncle, I don’t steal. Mama says it’s bad.” 

“That’s right it is,” Natasha brushes down some of Olivia’s hair. 

“Come join the rest of the team,” Tony invites them further into the kitchen. “Did you meet Morgan out there?”

“She’s your kid?” Natasha’s eyes widen. 

“The one and only,” Tony nods. “Pepper carried her right in the oven here. I’m trying to get her to give me one more. A boy.” Tony wraps his arm around Pepper’s shoulder and she blushes. 

“That’s not happening,” Pepper laughs. She pushes Tony’s arm from her shoulder. “Hello, Natasha.” 

“Hello, Pepper.” Natasha gives her a small smile. 

“We missed you around here, Red,” Sam says from his chair. The sentiment is shared by everyone else in the room. Olivia goes around the room to give everyone a hug before she lands on Wanda. Wanda bends down to pull Olivia in her arms, taking her over to the stove where she shows her what she is cooking. Natasha doesn’t know if it’s a conscience move on her part not to introduce herself but she does it for her. 

“You’re Wanda right?” Natasha addresses her and green eyes raise to look at her. 

“Yes, I am,” Wanda nods. “We met a long time ago. I am y/n’s sister.” She introduces. 

“I remember how we met,” Natasha nods. “It’s amazing how much the team has changed.” You narrow your eyes, seeing the shade for what it is, but you remain silent. 

“Everyone has a past but we all joined the team to make the world a better place and wipe our ledgers,” Wanda offers and you pinch her side to get her to stop. You didn't bring Natasha here for them to argue. Wanda barely flinches but she does give you an annoyed look. 

“Who’s car did you drive?” Steve questions. He comes to stand beside Natasha. He gives her a smile.

“A rental,” You wave the keys. “The insurance companies are still investigating and we are going through everything. Our car was totaled.”

“If you need I can have another one to you by the end of this week?” Tony shrugs. He has connections in every single part of this country and others. You don’t doubt he could have you three new cars by the time he hangs up the phone. 

“We can talk later about it if that’s okay,” You nod.  You would rather not discuss the accident at this moment. 

“Can I sign your cast?” Sam holds up a black sharpie. 

“No, Uncle Sam, me first.” Olivia frowns. 

“Have at it,” Natasha holds up her arm and grins when Olivia comes to write her name. She hasn’t completely mastered it yet but she does get the letter O and a squiggly line to accent it. That’s when the rest of the team volunteers and one by one Natasha’s cast is filled with words of wisdom and love. This is the first time in days you’ve seen Natasha so relaxed. Finally, it’s time for you and Wanda to sign. Wanda gives a polite decline but you’re the only person that can’t give a simple no. 

“I think I’m going to give my own message later,” You give a coy smile. If anything you’re still a bit uneasy with Natasha and you’re sure she is with you too. 

“Oh boy, you know what that means,” Tony grumbles. “Don’t tell me you’ll need a babysitter tonight.” He jokes. 

“It has been a long week,” Sam joins in on the teasing, and Natasha’s brow furrows. She’s not dumb she can understand what they’re implying. 

“That’s enough,” You quiet them down though your tone never changes. “Are we going to eat lunch anytime soon or are we here to talk about very private things?” You ask. “I don’t know man,” Sam laughs, and before he has time to react you tap your fingers across the counter sending a surge of magic directly to his hands. He jumps back, giving a small ouch, as he shakes them off. 

“Lunch is ready,” Wanda turns off the stove. Sharon lets Lily down onto her feet and she begins to race around the kitchen with Olivia running after her. 

“Girls, be careful,” You instruct and they run from the kitchen out to where Morgan is still playing. Plates are carried to the big dining table and when Natasha doesn’t sit next to you everyone does take notice. No one is bold enough to speak on it. 

You sit next to Wanda, engaging in small talk with her, as the rest of the team converses with Natasha. Mainly it’s the men giving her a rundown of Avenger’s operations. She’s interested in everything that’s been going on. Lunch goes by without a hitch and you dismiss yourself to go and feed the girls. Truthfully, you need a moment without Natasha there. 

“Since the Accords, it’s been an uphill battle but saving the world isn’t some political minefield,” Steve shakes his head. 

“The Accords,” Natasha repeats. She sits up in her chair. “What are those?”

“Documents signed by about 100,” Steve begins. 

“117,” Tony corrects him. 

“117 countries to regulate the activities of enhanced beings,” Steve continues. “Basically the Avengers are no longer a private organization. Technically we are at the mercy of the government and everyone else.”

“And how did that come about?” Natasha wipes her mouth with a napkin. 

The table is silent for a second conscious of Wanda’s feelings about the situation. She was young and she’s still so young. The youngest in the group besides Peter.  

“There was an accident in Lagos, Nigeria,” Wanda is the one to speak. “There was a mission. A bomb. I did what I had to do and it hurt a lot of people.” She knows she’s dumbing it down but it’s really all Natasha needs to know. 

“So you’re solely responsible for it?” Natasha looks over at her with a challenge. “I’m not seeing how those powers are a help to the team. Or any of us. Really it seems they’re only there to serve the people that wield them.” 

“Whoa,” Steve says and Sam gives a low whistle. 

“My powers have their cons,” Wanda says. “Y/n’s though, she’s used them for plenty of times. Like saving your life.” 

“You mean the accident?” Natasha tilts her head. 

“No,” Wanda says. “I mean if you can look past whatever this is you have going on you would realize she loves you. A lot. You’ve been home two days and you woke up with your guns blazing. Not a real surprise for you but I won’t allow you to tear down her character.” Wanda stands to go and find you. 

The rest of the table sits awkwardly, no one daring to ask what that was about before Natasha stands too. She walks in the opposite direction in search of an exit. She needs a bit of air. Maybe she overstepped and crossed a boundary. Maybe she should have been a bit nicer. What she doesn’t regret is how she feels. In her memory, she met Wanda one time before this, which wasn’t a good meeting. The woman slipping into her mind caused her a lot of pain. It’s something that she counts as one of her worst experiences. 

“Hey,” Steve steps out onto the veranda to stand beside her. He’s holding two glasses of water, passing one to Natasha, and keeping one for himself.

“Hey,” Natasha breathes. 

“That was interesting,” Steve looks over the wooded skyline. “What was that about really?”

Natasha sucks her teeth but never gives him an answer. She doesn't want another one of his speeches about how she should be a good person or give anyone else a chance. 

“Did you know how we met?” Natasha asks. It's a rhetorical question. Yet she still wants an answer. 

“I did,” Steve nods in understanding. 

“And you were able to get past that?” 

“I was,” Steve shrugs. “I’m a pretty forgiving person. You on the other hand hold a grudge.”

“Didn’t seem to work if I’m married to her,” Natasha grumbles. 

“Ah,” Steve breathes. “She told you and what happened? You blew up?” At Natasha’s look, he chuckles. 

“Don’t pretend you know me, Steve Rogers.” Natasha sets down her glass next to her feet. 

“But I do,” Steve shakes his head. “You and y/n are a team. If you don’t listen to me maybe you can have Clint here to come and knock some sense into your thick head. He and y/n are like the only people you listen to.”

“Maybe I will give him a call,” Natasha relents. 

“You’re allowed to be angry, Romanoff, but if you don’t view her as your wife right now view her as your teammate,” Steve suggests. “I don’t know how that works for you but as your captain, I say get it together. I won’t have this on my team.”

“You can’t kick me off the team,” Natasha raises a brow. 

“I can’t,” Steve gives her that. “But I will be very disappointed if you don’t give yourself a chance. Memories or not. She’s there for you.” Steve leaves her to sit with her thoughts once again. Hopefully this time she understands that. 

****************************

Meanwhile, in the lounge, you and Wanda are sitting with the girls. Morgan and Olivia are having their own special tea party while Lily sits at your feet with a doll. You’re having a private conversation with her. Wanda recounted the conversation with Natasha to you. 

“I have no words,” You sigh. “I want to give it a chance. She hasn’t been home very long. I think with time maybe she’ll see?” You don’t say names and you don’t give many contexts in case the very attentive three-year-old across from you picks up on it. 

“I understand,” Wanda rests a hand on your knee. “Through all of that don’t hesitate to come to me.”

You nod silently. “I want to talk to Tony or someone about my powers.” You confess to her. You avoid her gaze before forcing yourself to look into her concerned green eyes. “The accident happened so fast and we both know my shield works instantly. It’s most of the time an unconscious fear thing but I’ve learned to control it since HYDRA.”

“What are you thinking?”

“Maybe it was the hormones?” You wonder aloud. You were preparing your body for IVF and it seems a bit farfetched but you’re not exactly sure. “I’ve kept her safe before and that’s the only thing that’s been different lately. I don’t understand?” You look down at your hands. “I know she blames me.” You lower your tone. “I don’t have answers for her either.”

“It’s called an accident for a reason,” Wanda reminds you. 

“Even still,” You can’t fathom any of it. “What if the girls were in the car? What if they were hurt too?”

“They weren’t and they’re both perfectly fine,” Wanda points over to Olivia who is pouring herself another pretend tea to drink. “You can’t keep thinking about what happened and beating yourself up about it.” 

“I know,” You nod. You can feel a familiar warmth through your body and you turn to find Natasha standing nearby. She’s been watching you. 

“I’m ready,” She speaks curtly. Truth be told you’re a bit surprised she wants to come home with you. 

“Yeah, yeah,” You look down at Lily. “Let me say goodbye to everyone else.” You stand to go and gather your things. You look back to Wanda. “Be nice.” You warn your sister. Wanda’s not one for confrontation but she’s also not one to stand down from a fight. They don’t speak until you leave the room. 

“What you said about her earlier,” Natasha raises her chin. “About saving me what did you mean?” 

Wanda stands, walking over to another side of the room, where the girls can't hear. She expects Natasha to follow and she does. Though she keeps a comfortable guarded distance.

“A couple of years ago,” Wanda says. “There was a mission you had in some part of Brazil.”

“What? The one where we got the girls?” Natasha questions. 

“That’s the one,” Wanda frowns. “It was another place like Hydra. Experiments and things. I don’t know the full details but you two along with Steve and Sam had been appointed to that area. Something happened and someone aimed some kind of magical weapon at you. It was supposed to kill you and instead, Y/n absorbed it. That’s when you found the girls and their mother. Y/n held on until you remained safe at the hospital. She passed out for a week after that.” 

This clearly makes Natasha uncomfortable to think about. 

“She’s cared about you for a long time, Natasha,” Wanda finishes just as you step into the room. 

“This makes me look like an asshole,” Natasha admits aloud.

“It does,” Wanda agrees.

“I have the car ready,” You pick up Lily before calling over to Olivia. “Morgan, we will set up a playdate with your mother soon.” You kiss the little brunette on her forehead. She waves you goodbye. 

Natasha doesn’t give Wanda a goodbye or anything. She walks to the car in silence. She was sitting in the front seat with a frown on her face. 

How was she supposed to feel now? 

************************

When you get home, Natasha asks to see one of the family photo albums. You show her and give her time to absorb all of the information. She seems a bit overwhelmed by it all and excuses herself to her bedroom where she doesn’t come out for the rest of the day. 

You talked about a lot of things with her. The biggest shocker was that she had been breastfeeding Lily. It still seems surreal to her and yet it makes sense. The constant soreness in her chest is understandable. Even as she stands here in front of the mirror, looking at herself, inspecting the changes in her body. She still looks relatively the same. Save for the purple bruising around her ribs and the cast she looks the same. 

She slips off her bra, looking down at her breasts, noting the heaviness of them. She doesn’t know anything about breastfeeding. She also doesn't know how to express the milk for Lily to drink. She’s much too embarrassed and distrustful to ask you. Though she feels it would be a huge help to pump. Throwing on a shirt, she walks to your bedroom, where she finds the pump on her side of the bed. She grabs it. Rushing back into her bedroom, she closes and locks the door behind her. She opens her phone, finding a video to guide her through. 

“Position the breast shield over your breast,” The woman in the video gives clear directions. Natasha does as told, struggling with the right position before she feels she has it. She turns it on, groaning in shock when the suction is a bit more than she’s used to. She stops the pumping, noting that her sensitivity doesn't help, as she tries to prepare herself again. Once she feels that she is ready, she turns it on again, breathing through her nose, as the machine does what it’s supposed to. 

For a while, Natasha doesn’t see anything and she feels as if none of what you said is true. Until a small droplet of liquid gold drops into the bottle. Natasha can’t take her eyes off the machine as she watches more droplets, rather feels the warm, tingling sensation leave her breasts. Actual tears come to her eyes as she realizes this is something she’s been able to do for her baby. 

Damn the Red Room and damn Dreykov. 

Here alone in this bedroom, she realizes her life is vastly different than what she thought it would be. 

[redroomreflections]

Who Lives, Who Dies, Who Tells Your Story Chapter 4

Natasha Romanoff x Black!Fem! Reader

Note: This is a repost from my since deactivated account Natsxaddiction. I will be adding the shorter stories to here; 20 chapters or less - sorry TLH fans =(

Masterlist | General Masterlist

Chapter 4/20 (A completed story)

Summary: Natasha and Reader are married. They get into an accident where Natasha suffers serious injuries including amnesia. Natasha no longer remembers her life with reader and their children. All she remembers are her days loving Bruce.

W/c: 3.2k

“Is Olivia still sleeping?” You ask as you look to the open doorway.

“She is,” Natasha answers simply. She stands with her arms folded and her legs shoulder-width apart. Nothing about her body language is welcoming or loving. She’s uncomfortable with you. You know Natasha so well and she’s prepared herself for a fight. As if you’d take it that far. Not after all this time.

“Do you want to sit?” You know you’re stalling. It’s stupid. You’re nervous to tell your wife about how you met. You’ve both gone over that day plenty of times. It’s nothing new. Natasha doesn’t respond. “We, um, our meeting wasn’t exactly the best. I guess you can gather that. Who told you? Tony? Steve?”

“Bruce,” Natasha supplies simply and she can see the slight confusion on your face. “I called him earlier. I figured he wouldn’t lie to me. Would get straight to the truth.”

“And he told you to ask me, right?” You conclude and she tilts her chin slightly. “I was raised by Hydra.” You begin slowly. You don’t even look to see Natasha’s face. Reliving all of the painful memories of your childhood is never easy. “I wasn’t. I don’t know much about the entire process. My father was a scientist working for Strucker. They had been planning and doing experiments for years. I grew up in the lab. My mother, god knows where she is, but I didn’t really mind. I was always excited to go to work with my dad. The experiments were innocent at first. Started with me standing in the same room as the scepter. Then things progressed.” You shake your head. “My father died and by then I was old enough to make my own decisions. Wanda and Pietro, the twins, were fifteen when they decided to join. I stayed to keep them safe.” You look over to Natasha to make sure she’s still listening. “I’m not telling you this to pity me but I just think you need to understand the magnitude of what we were dealing with. What we all went through at the hands of that man. Things should have been different.” You whisper to yourself.

“Anyway, I was loyal to my brother and sister,” You speak with a bit of defiance. “I couldn’t just leave them. After so many years of brainwashing and…” You don’t finish. You think she of all people would understand. “We were doing what we thought was right. I remained in the shadows. Up until a few years ago, I didn’t exist in the world. I was just another lost kid. So, we had the twins approach the Avengers first. Anything to get to Tony Stark. Wanda can slip into people’s minds and make them see their worst fear. We just needed to figure out what those were. Now she doesn’t need to do that but then,” You realize you may be rambling and that none of this may make sense to her. You lick your lips, finding your mouth to be dry, as you continue telling the story. Your story. “Do you, um, do you remember Morocco? Just a year before Ultron.”

Natasha’s eyes widen in horror. She remembers that night like the back of her hand. She’s always remembered it and played it over and over again in her head. The night she fell in love with a stranger. A woman she danced with well into the night. A woman that she stupidly let her guard down with only to wake up in the morning to an empty bed. The only thing she kept was the memory of that woman and how she made her feel. That and a tiny scar just below her…

Natasha doesn’t even give you time to react before she grabs your chin to turn your head. Sure enough there it is. The scar she remembers oh so well. It’s placed low on your right cheek. Something she thought was a birthmark up until now.

“That was you?” Natasha’s grip tightens for only a second. She can’t believe what she’s seeing. After all this time. All these years making up different reasons you left in her head. Sometimes she thought she imagined it. Other times she couldn’t stop thinking about that woman. About you. Now you’re standing here before her telling her it was all a scheme to get close to her. You can’t read the expression on her face and that terrifies you. She drops her hand, searching your eyes for something you’re not sure of before she backs away. “H-how does any of that make sense? I don’t understand. Was that in your plan? To fuck me and get information out of me? Are you really that deluded?” Natasha can’t wrap her head around what she’s being told.

“It worked. It was the only way to learn your fears,” You respond with a shaky voice. “I, we, I didn’t plan to sleep with you. I was supposed to befriend you and that was it. You were the one to invite me back to your hotel.”

“That makes it so much better,” She says sarcastically.

“I was supposed to dance with you and drug you and Wanda was supposed to come in and slip into your mind,” You confess. “When I met you it was different. You were different. It was nothing like I imagined. For that one night, I felt something and I went against my orders to be with you, and I- just…”

The stakes were high. You had Natasha, the infamous Black Widow right where you wanted her. You had to think quickly on your feet. You had to do something. Anything to get her to trust you.

“You what? Fell in love?”

“It was the first time I’d ever been with anyone. It was completely my choice,” You confirm. “I had you right where I wanted you and I took what I could. I used that information so Wanda could get into your head. Same with Thor and same with Tony, and Bruce, and Steve.”

“And you slept with them too?” Natasha’s hand twitches.

“No,” You shake your head. “Only you. It’s always been only you.”

“And after Ultron? You saw me and thought what? That it would be a happy reunion. Did you not feel anything?” Natasha doesn’t know whether she wants to puke or cry or fight. Everything she’s known has been a lie and she allowed it. She let herself slip for one night only to realize it all was a farce. She was a pawn in some game she wasn’t even playing. How could she trust you after this?

“Did you feel anything when you were a Widow?” You ask rhetorically. You already know the answer to that. Natasha’s been on missions much like the one you did plenty of times.

“Don’t spin this on me,” Natasha raises a finger, poking you in your chest, her eyes showing no sign of recognition. “I was…” She can’t find the words she wants to use. She doesn’t have any excuses for her life either. Not that she owes one to you.

“When we met for a second time, during Ultron, we almost killed each other.” You keep going. “You recognized me immediately. I didn’t want to fight but it’s what I had to do. We almost killed each other.”

“What stopped me?” Natasha questions.

“Love,” You answer quietly. “I know it sounds horrible but I couldn’t hurt you. When we realized what Ultron was doing we changed our minds and we fought with you. We lost Pietro and it all seemed like the world was ending at once. We became Avengers and moved into the compound.”

“Unbelievable,” Natasha scoffs. “So, you’ve been painting our marriage as this perfect thing this entire time when it’s been based on nothing but lies? I married a liar. How do you live with yourself? Are you lying about the girls too? Did you take them from their mother? How do I know you’re not lying to them? How can I trust you with them.”

“Natasha, that’s not fair,” You become emotional. You would never do anything to hurt any of your family. As messy as your past is you have always worked towards righting your wrongs.

“What’s not fair is I have no memories after an accident that could have been caused by my lying, manipulative wife,” Natasha snaps. “And I’m here with you. Not understanding any of this and you tell me we’re happy and I don’t know how to believe you.”

“Natasha,” You take a step towards her but she’s fast and before you even know what she’s doing she has a knife pointed towards your throat. Your shield, a light purple, is the only thing keeping it from touching you. You don’t care when she’s looking at you that way. As if you killed her puppy. Natasha backs away, not giving you another glance, as she leaves to lock herself in the guest bedroom. Truth be told, you assumed she would have left the house entirely. You think the only reason she’s staying is for the girls and even then you feel that’s a bit shaky.

You don’t give yourself room to breathe, letting your shield down, as you reach for the bed blindly. The tears in your eyes blur your vision as you plop onto the mattress.

That went well.

**********************

Inside the guest room, Natasha is going through a myriad of emotions. She doesn’t know whether to laugh or cry at the absurdity of this situation. Out of the scenarios she played in her head she didn’t think this would be one of them. With the pocket knife still in her hand, she flips it over many times. Realizing the severity of what she almost did, she drops it onto the mattress beside her. How could any of this be true?

You’ve been in her life for even longer than she thought and she’s not sure she likes the idea of that. This is all too much for her to handle. She wants to run. She could do it. You probably wouldn’t stop her she thinks. Another part of her is curiosity. If the old her could get past it and forgive you what makes this different? In all of your interactions for the past few days, you’ve been nothing but genuine and gentle with her. How was she supposed to compartmentalize all of that? Your love was built on lies, pain, and everything Natasha told herself she wouldn’t do. When she was younger and allowed herself to think about having a family, which wasn’t often, she imagined healthy love. Someone who understands her and doesn’t care about her past. A person she could be completely herself with.

Was that you?

For now, she doesn’t know the answer to that question and she’s not ready to question anymore. She’s had enough of her past today. She lies on the bed, parallel to your position in the other room, as she replays what just happened in her head.

Natasha doesn’t come out of the bedroom for the rest of the night. When you find Olivia curled into her you don’t disturb them. You close the door behind them and go back down into your bedroom to make a call.

You hold the phone to your ear, breathing harshly, as you wait for an answer. Wanda picks up after the second ring. She speaks a bright Sokovian greeting but quickly changes her tune when she realizes it’s you.

“Y/n, is everything okay?” Wanda asks. She’s patient as she waits for you to gather yourself. You feel like your heart has been ripped out of your chest and haphazardly thrown back into your body.

“No,” You finally speak. “I told Natasha.”

Wanda asks knowingly. “I take it she didn’t receive things too well.”

“Not at all,” You wipe your face free of the tears running down your face. “Wanda, how am I supposed to do this? Maybe I’m way in over my head. It’s only been a few days but I’ve already managed to make her hate me.”

“I don’t think Natasha has it in her to hate you,” Wanda replies.

“This isn’t our Natasha, Wands.” You sigh. “She’s different. Combative.”

“I remember a time when you were the same way.” Wanda reminds you. “When we first joined Hydra you weren’t exactly the nicest to us.”

“I had to make sure you weren’t trying to kill me in my sleep,” You say. “You were strangers.”

“My point,” Wanda shakes her head. “I’m not saying it will be easy but stick around for her a little longer. She’s going through a rough time too. Would you take it well if everything you’ve known is different or changed?”

“No,” You grumble.

“Then have patience,” Wanda encourages. “Don’t let her walk all over you. You’re supposed to be the top.”

“Not funny,” You roll your eyes.

“I’m sorry, sestra.” Wanda giggles to herself. “I do think you should give her a chance.”

“Who made you the big sister?” You ask in annoyance.

“Sometimes it’s okay for the little sister to take over,” Wanda reminds you. “Come here tomorrow. Have lunch with us. I will make you something special. The girls can come to play and I can see you.”

“Yeah, that sounds nice,” You agree. “I can’t promise there won’t be tears.”

“From you or the girls?” Wanda jokes.

“Both,” You shoot back. “Do you have to hang up?” You ask as you look at the time. It’s getting pretty late.

“I can stay on the phone,” Wanda promises. “I was going to play a little guitar out on the balcony. Will that bother you?” She’s such a good sister. You don’t know what you’d do without her.

“No, go ahead.” You climb under the covers, propping the phone up next to you, as you drift off to sleep. Wanda’s soft playing and your exhaustion from the day allow you to fall asleep fairly quickly. Hopefully, tomorrow would be better.

***************************

It’s the next morning and Natasha is awakened by the sound of crying. She sits up, resting on her elbows, to see Olivia is still sound asleep beside her. There’s a sliver of light peeking from her curtains so she can deduce that it’s early morning. How long was she asleep? She pushes the covers back to go and investigate. She follows the sound of noise down to the girl’s bedroom. She finds Lily standing up in her crib, rubbing her eyes, as she calls out for both of you.

“Hi, sweet girl,” Natasha coos, signing hello, as she comes to stand closer to the crib. She looks over the bonnet on Lily’s head, finding it to be interesting before she looks down at Lily’s wide eyes.

“Up,” Lily begs and Natasha obliges. She scoops the little girl into her arms, feeling her bottom for a wet diaper before she walks over to the changing table.

“I know that was pretty uncomfortable huh,” Natasha speaks to her as she changes her diaper quickly. She has a bit of difficulty changing out of her onesie though this doesn’t deter her. She changes Lily’s diaper, deciding to dress her in a different outfit before she looks around the nursery. She hasn’t been in this room yet. It’s well done. The walls are muted pink with a rose gold decal. The dresser in the far corner of the room is white with rose-gold handles. There’s a rocking chair in another corner. Olivia’s bed, shaped like a proper princess’s bed is on the other side while Lily’s crib takes over the other side of the room. There’s a bookshelf full of children’s books. A baby monitor with a camera attached to Lily’s crib. Everything looked so well done and normal. Did you choose the decorations together?

“Ears?” Lily questions and Natasha is reminded of her cochlear implants.

“You don’t wear these at night? I guess that makes sense,” Natasha says as she attempts to put them on. It takes a few tries but eventually, she gets it right. Lily signs “on” giving Natasha a proud smile as they stand together in her bedroom. “Would you like breakfast?” Natasha asks.

“Food?” Lily tilts her head while rubbing her tummy. She sure could eat right now. “Mommy?” Lily asks. She’s looking for you.

“She’s probably still asleep. For now, you have me kid,” Natasha carries Lily down to the first floor. Despite the slight pain in her ribs, she feels a bit better. She’s not supposed to be carrying Lily but she’d be damned if she misses out on this very important thing. She would carry her baby forever if need be. She places Lily in her high chair, before walking over to the fridge to get breakfast.

“Go!Go!” Lily points excitedly. Natasha follows her line of sight to see a box of Yoplait Gogurt sitting on one of the shelves. She takes her time opening it before giving it to Lily. The toddler gulps it down as she watches Natasha. Natasha makes quick work of fixing a bowl of oatmeal. She helps to feed the toddler, finding that Lily is truly a happy baby, as she smiles through the entire meal.

Natasha is enjoying her morning breakfast when she hears footsteps coming down onto the first floor. She spots curls first before Olivia catapults herself into her lap.

“Olivia Jane, be careful,” You warn her as she jumps into Natasha’s arms.

“She’s fine,” Natasha rolls her eyes and you’re not sure exactly how to respond to that. So you ignore it. You walk over to the Keurig, finding your desired flavor, before turning the machine on. You greet Lily with a bunch of kisses to her face, almost turning to kiss Natasha too before you stop yourself. For a second you forgot.

“Mama, I slept in the bed with you,” Olivia reminds Natasha. “I didn’t kick you this time right?” Olivia questions as a bowl of warm oatmeal are placed in front of her. For her bowl, you cut up fruit to place inside.

“No you were a perfect angel,” Natasha assures her.

‘Why you didn’t sleep with Mommy again?” Olivia asks and neither of you knows how to answer that.

“Since Mama is still hurt we decided she needed a bed to herself,” You answer. Hopefully, that would make sense to a three-year-old.

“Oh,” Oliva nods in understanding.

“It’s too easy for you,” Natasha mumbles and you don’t bother to ask her what she means.

“What do you guys think about going to see Aunt Wanda today?” You ask instead.

“I go!” Lily grins. She loves Aunt Wanda and so does Olivia.

“Me too,” Olivia eats from her spoon. She manages to keep all of the oatmeal in her mouth and off the table this time around.

“Your sister?” Natasha questions. “Do you think that’s best?”

“Natasha, the girls have been around my sister from the day we brought them home,” You sigh. You pour yourself a cup of coffee, fixing it to your liking, before taking a small sip. Despite you feeling slightly threatened by her yesterday, you’re a tiny bit more optimistic today. She stepped foot outside of her room so you’re choosing to take that as a good sign. “If you don’t think it’s safe you’re more than welcome to come. Everyone lives about an hour away at the compound.”

“I think I will,” Natasha nods.

This should be fun.

----> next part

[redroomreflections]

Who Lives, Who Dies, Who Tells Your Story Chapter Three

Natasha Romanoff x Black!Fem! Reader

Note: This is a repost from my since deactivated account Natsxaddiction. I will be adding the shorter stories to here; 20 chapters or less - sorry TLH fans =(

Masterlist | General Masterlist

Chapter 3/20 (A completed story)

Summary: Natasha and Reader are married. They get into an accident where Natasha suffers serious injuries including amnesia. Natasha no longer remembers her life with reader and their children. All she remembers are her days loving Bruce.

W/c: 3.1k

When Natasha awakens she finds herself in an empty bed. She spreads her fingers out over the cool sheets beside her, it lets her know your spot has been empty for a while. She turns her head to see the first few rays of sunlight shining through the windows. She can hear the birds chirping as she closes her eyes again. She stretches all the while yawning. She pushes the sheets down towards her feet. Where could you be? Almost as if you read her mind, the bedroom door opens to reveal you in nothing but a plain white scoop-neck t-shirt that barely reaches your thighs and a plate of food and two cups in your hands. She has to wonder how you’re balancing all of this.

“You’re already awake?” You’re a bit surprised as you step further into the room. You set everything on the nightstand closest to Natasha. Before you have a chance to say anything else, her arms are tugging you to straddle her. She doesn’t mind the weight of you on top of her. In fact, she enjoys it. You struggle with where to place your hands so you opt to leave them by your side. Natasha on the other hand doesn’t.

“Hey,” She murmurs. She runs her hands over your bare thighs, as she finds the waistband of your panties. She pulls the elastic from your skin to snap it back. “You look good in my clothes.” She scrapes her nails down your thighs causing goosebumps.

“Hi back,” You lean down to kiss her lips. Realizing her fingers are traveling dangerously close to your center you sit up again. “Was last night not enough for you?” You smirk. “It’s never enough,” She returns her hands to a safe space.

“I’ll remember that,” You nod. “We have about a half-hour of silence before the girls are awake.” You reach over to the nightstand to take a piece of chocolate chip muffin for yourself. Breaking it in half, you push a piece between her waiting lips. “Good right?” You nod between chewing.

There’s a shared silence between you. You simply chewing while Natasha’s eyes have traveled elsewhere along with her fingers that are again tracing the outline of your center over your panties. She’s insanely horny this morning though you’re not complaining. Not one bit.

“I was on the phone this morning,” You begin and her fingers still. “With my doctor. Just routine stuff and I was asking her about the process of IVF and everything like that.” Natasha looks at you with an eager expression on her face.

“She said that everything looks healthy and we could start whenever we are ready,” You take a deep breath. “Nat, I think that I’m ready.” You finally get it out. She has this wide smile on her face. One that’s only reserved for you. It screams love and adoration. You let out a scream once you’re flipped over. Natasha is quick with her movements. She’s showering your face with kisses as you giggle under her. Finally when she feels like you’ve had enough she kisses you on the lips.

“We’re having a baby?” She questions. She leans over you as she slots herself between your legs.

“Well not at this moment,” You quip. “But yeah, we are.” You nod. Suddenly there’s a knock at the door. You look to the open door of the bedroom and then back to Natasha. “If we ignore it they’ll go away,” She groans. The knocking continues much to your chagrin.

“I don’t think it will,” You sigh. The knocking is louder. Just three taps.

Natasha is torn from her dream, opening her eyes to darkness, as she attempts to breathe deeply. The pain in her side shoots through her and she mutters a curse under her breath. Squinting her eyes, she reaches out for the nightstand finding what feels like a familiar piece of metal. Her phone. It’s new it seems. Not a crack or dent in it. Did you buy it recently? She presses the power button, flooding her eyes with light, to see the time. 9 am. Had she slept an entire day? Everything from last night is a blur. She remembers coming home, you carrying her up the stairs, and then falling asleep. Surely she wasn’t that tired?

Her stomach growls right on time. She has to find the bathroom and then the kitchen. She pushes herself to stand, ignoring every fiber of her being screaming at her not to open the bedroom door. She can hear the pitter-patter of tiny feet on the first floor. The girls are home. There’s another voice along with yours. Maybe a woman. She can’t tell. Deciding that her bladder could wait, Natasha walks over to the steps. She goes down each one getting to the bottom at the same time you close the front door.

You turn around to find her staring back at you. You would be a bit startled if you couldn’t feel her energy. It’s different and you hate to admit that it may have something to do with her memory loss. Either way, it’s not something to address right now.

“Natasha, you’re awake,” You breathe. She’s reminded of her dream and how happy you sounded when uttering those same words.

“I heard the door,” She nods towards the door.

“Oh, yeah, that was my sister bringing the girls home,” You walk over to her in case she needs help. “It’s time for your pain medicine,” You remind her.

“Why’d you let me sleep so long?” She questions as she helps herself to solid ground.

“You seemed tired,” You drop your hands to your side. “The girls are in the kitchen. They’re excited to see you.” You walk with her. You’re not really expecting a response. Natasha’s entire demeanor changes when she sees them. Which gives you a bit of happiness. Olivia and Lily are sitting on the floor, sharing cheerios, and passing the bowl between each other.

Lily spots her first. She abandons her food to toddle over to Natasha and hug her legs. She raises one finger, her sign for up, and you’re there to intercept. You scoop her into your arms to stand close enough to Natasha so that she can give her a kiss. Next is Olivia who’s content with a hug.

“Mama, you’re home from the hospital?” Olivia lifts her head to look up at Natasha.

“Yes, I am,” Natasha caresses her cheek.

“So you’re all better?”

“Not yet but I’m getting there,” Natasha says truthfully. You leave Natasha and the girls to make her breakfast. A simple coffee and pancakes that you’d prepared only twenty minutes earlier. When she’s sitting you hand everything to her along with the medicine bottle. “Thank you.” She says. She wants to talk more with you but the girls take her time. You don’t mind. You have a bit of laundry to do.

You leave the girls to compile everything before going down into the cellar for laundry. You take your time dividing, organizing, and setting the directions to what they need to be. You’re not purposely avoiding Natasha but you’re not in the mood. The past week has also exhausted you beyond belief. There’s been so much back and forth. Between you and Olivia’s school, you and the rest of the team, you and insurance, you and your lawyer, you and Natasha. For now, you’d just like to sleep and rest.

There’s a sharp pain in your stomach and you bend over to relieve the pressure. The stress of it all is becoming a bit much. You rest your hand on your arms, breathing in and out, as you listen to the hum of the washing machine.

“Is everything okay?” Natasha questions and this time you are startled.

You stand up straight, your hand resting on your hip, as you take another breath.

“Jesus,” You look over to her. “Do you need anything?”

“Nope, just taking a tour of the rest of the house,” She purses her lips. You guess that’s fine. Though you can tell when she’s lying. “I have a question and I want you to give me a straight answer.”

“Okay,”

“Are you pregnant?” She gets straight to the point. For a moment, you’re wondering if she’s remembering bits and pieces of life before. That would certainly explain the odd question.

“No,” You shake your head. “I’m not.”

Natasha swallows thickly before nodding.

“What gave you that impression?”

“Steve said something. Don’t worry about it.” She turns back to go upstairs.

“We were trying,” You find yourself explaining. Anything to get her to talk to you. You just miss her is all. “Before the accident.” You continue when she meets your eye again. “We both decided to try for a baby and I’ve been taking hormones and preparing for the first cycle. Our first appointment for insemination was the day after the, um, the accident.” You finish weakly.

There’s an awkward silence.

“I’m sorry,” Natasha apologizes. She doesn’t know what else to say.

“Don’t be,” You finish the folding. “It’s not your fault. It’s mine.” You regret saying that last part. Natasha is going to ask you to elaborate before Olivia comes to the door.

“Mama, Mommy, what you guys doing down there?” Olivia asks.

“Laundry, Mouse.” You answer. “Are you done with your cheerios?”

“Yep,” Olivia answers. “Lily says she has to potty. You have to come quick.” She urges and you know there’s no time to waste.

“I have to get them,” You point to the stairs where you scoot past her. “Explore more if you want.” You encourage. You leave Natasha on her own once again.

She doesn’t step further into the cellar. Instead, she follows the path you’ve taken up the stairs. She does a general sweep all the while listening to the noise the girls make as you help them with the bathroom. She searches the kitchen first. She kneels down, opening the cabinet that leads to the kitchen sink, reaching her fingers to find a locked box. She pulls it towards her, finding there’s a combination before she shakes it. What’s the pin? It’s easy for her really and it comes to her. Yelena’s birthday. 05-23-89. The box pops open to reveal a sleek back gun. A Glock 43x. She closes it quickly, hiding it once again to finish what she started. She finds several more guns scattered around the first floor. No doubt her doing. They’re all locked away in places the girls won’t find. The house is efficiently babyproofed and then some. Next, she checks the security system which is controlled from her office. It’s amazing what this thing does. She knows Tony may have had a hand in building it.

Everything here is so safe. So new. So domestic. From the toys on the floor, the pictures, the decorations. It’s all a bit overwhelming. She doesn’t move from her office chair, clicking out of the many applications she opened, to find a picture of her family as her screensaver. It’s a fall shoot. Had to be recent. You’re all dressed in various shades of brown. Your arm is wrapped around her waist, holding her close, as the girls run towards the camera. There’s pure joy on her face and yours as the photographer snaps a photo. She moves the mouse, scrolling through a few more files when she reaches one titled Top Secret - Do Not Open - Mission Only. Naturally, this piques her interest. She clicks on the file only to realize it requires a password. She attempts Yelena’s birthday again and it’s wrong. This only makes her want to enter it more.

“Mama, what you doing in here?” Olivia interrupts again. Natasha is a bit amused. She’s never had someone want to be with her 24/7. “Working?”

“No, I’m not working,” Natasha denies. “I’m trying to get this file open.” She pushes herself back enough for Olivia to climb into her lap. “You wouldn’t happen to know the password?”

“Um, I don’t know,” Olivia shrugs. “Try Mommy’s birthday. That opens the iPad. I not supposed to play the iPad though. It’s a secret.” She presses her finger to her lip.

Natasha smiles at that. “I won’t tell.” She promises. Natasha clicks through a few of her calendars to find your birthday. She returns to the file, opting to view it in front of Olivia since she can’t read, and low and behold the file opens. There’s a series of pictures and videos that are way too small for her to see. So she clicks on a random video. She and Olivia view it with interest.

It’s you stepping in front of the camera. You’re dressed modestly. A simple trench coat, your hair slicked back into a ponytail, and she can’t see your shoes. Natasha’s eyes narrow when you begin to unbutton the coat. If she were any less aware Olivia would be getting an eyeful as you drop the trench coat to reveal yourself in a thin piece of lacy black lingerie and no bra. Thanks to her quick reflexes she’s able to cover Olivia’s eyes while clicking out of the video.

“Mama,” Olivia whines at her lack of vision. Upon further review of the files, Natasha realizes a lot of these are sex tapes. Varying lengths and scenarios. She has to shoot down the arousal she feels in favor of cutting the computer off. Her snooping was done for the day.

“Liv, where are you?” You call out. Natasha pushes her chair out and away from the desk as Olivia slides down from her lap. You enter the office where you find both of them.

“Mommy, why you didn’t have clothes on?” Olivia asks and you look down at yourself.

“What? What are you talking about?” You ask and Natasha answers for her.

“Nothing, she just saw a random picture of you in a swimsuit I found on the computer,” She lies so easily. You nod though you’re not so convinced.

“I was going to take them on a walk through the neighborhood if you’d like to join,” You offer though you’re not really expecting her to say yes. “It’s just a couple of blocks and it won’t be too rigorous.”

“I think I’m going to hang back,” Natasha says.

“I want to stay with Mama,” Olivia adds and you’re a bit surprised at that. You look to Natasha for confirmation and she nods. It’s fine with her.

“Okay, I’ll be back.” You promise. You take Lily in her stroller, signing to her that you’ll be taking a walk before you head out. The walk is refreshing. You’ve been feeling a bit anxious all day and putting that energy into something that feels productive is best.

Lily seems interested enough. Her head turns every which way, and she waves at strangers, as you walk further into the neighborhood. You don’t have a particular destination in mind. All you know is that you needed to think.

**************************************

Back at home, Natasha is on her very first episode of Peppa Pig. She’s not paying attention. Not truly. It makes Olivia happy and that’s all she's really thinking about. She figures Olivia could be alone for a few minutes. She goes up to the second floor to search for one thing. She finds her phone right where she left it. This time there's no password. She scrolls through her contacts, finding the only one she’s been thinking about, to press call. It rings only three times before someone picks up.

“Dr. Bruce Banner,” He greets.

“Bruce,” Natasha breathes.

“Natasha,” Bruce says back. She can hear him rustling papers in the background. “Hey, how are you? I heard what happened? Is y/n okay? What about the girls?”

“They’re fine,” Natasha answers. “ How are you?”

“I’m good,” He says and Natasha figures there’s something about his tone that he’s not saying.

“Is this a bad time?”

“N-no, it’s just, Natasha you haven’t called me in years,” Bruce explains.

“Yeah, well, I lost my memories and everything went left. The last thing I remember is Ultron,” She shrugs to herself.

“Jesus,” He curses. “Nat, that’s, wow. Retrograde?” He guesses.

“That’s the one,” Natasha’s voice is lower. Like silk. “I was wondering if we could meet up. I figured you wouldn’t lie to me about everything that went down.”

“Why haven’t you asked your wife? She was there.” Bruce says instead.

Natasha furrows her brow. “She said we met during Ultron but she wouldn’t know about everything. Right?”

Immediately Bruce understands the details you kept out. It may be for her own good. Natasha is a lethal weapon. She also has a bit of a temper at times and he’s been on the receiving end of that once or twice.

“Look, Nat, it’s complicated.” Bruce holds the phone to his ear. “I’ll meet with you but I really think you should speak with Y/n first.” He tells her.

“Yeah, I will.” Natasha looks to the bedroom door. “I’ll give you a time and date later.” She hangs up without a goodbye. If you’re hiding things from her she’d like to know. Natasha returns downstairs to sit with Olivia. She’s curious now. She doesn’t like things being hidden from her. She has to know.

*************************

When you return you find what you consider to be the cutest sight ever. Natasha is lying on the couch, Olivia curled into her side, as Peppa Pig reruns play in the background. They’re both clearly tuckered out and you don’t want to interrupt them. Lily is sleeping in her stroller. You opt on taking her to her crib. Then maybe you can shower. Lily doesn’t stir when you set her down. Next is the shower. You strip slowly stepping under the water to allow the heat to ease your aching muscles. Maybe a visit to Wanda where you could cuddle with her was needed.

You close your eyes, leaning your forehead against the cool tile of the shower, and you think about everything that’s happened the past week. You picture yourself in the car, you see Natasha, the music, and the way the steering wheel feels under your hands. Everything feels like it’s right here at your fingertips.

You’re not able to control your breathing and it all becomes too much. You can see the purple forcefield surrounding you as you raise your hands and brace yourself for impact.

The sound of crunching glass is all you hear before you slide down the wall.

Was it all your fault?

When you finally remove yourself from the shower you feel refreshed. You’re dressing when Natasha steps into the bedroom.

“I want you to tell me about everything that happened after Clint’s farm,” She demands. Her voice is not what you’re used to. At least not when it’s directed towards you. She’s Black Widow right now and not any version of Natasha you know intimately. “How did we meet?” She demands.

You’re amazed she hasn’t put it all together by now. You grab your shirt from the dresser to pull it on. Here goes nothing.

----> next part

[redroomreflections]

Who Lives, Who Dies Chapter Two

Natasha Romanoff x Fem!Reader

Summary: Natasha and Reader are married. They get into an accident where Natasha suffers serious injuries including amnesia. Natasha no longer remembers her life with reader and their children. All she remembers are her days loving Bruce.

w/c: 4.9k

Another hour has passed when you notice Natasha shift in the bed. Lily is still curled into her while Olivia is sound asleep by her side. You’re sure Natasha has gone past the state of uncomfortable to full-on pain. You also know she won’t say anything if it means keeping the girls close to her. Even in her current state, her first priority is her children. Whom she just met. There’s clear adoration on her face every time she looks down at them. Every sniffle or subtle movement and she’s watching them like a hawk. Daring any hospital personnel to tell her she couldn’t have them here. 

For a moment you wish you were Wanda. You wish you could tap into her mind and figure out what she’s thinking. Unfortunately, that's beyond the scope of your abilities. You can feel the magic at the tip of your fingers, it's a low hum, only apparent as you’re stressed. You will yourself to calm down for the time being. You have to do this with a level head. Even when all you want to do is break down and never get up. 

“I can take them,” You offer. Alexei and Melina are most likely still in the waiting room. Since hearing about the accident they’ve been helpful. They kept the girls while you took the time to recover. They even kept them during your stay at Natasha’s bedside. “I’m sure you need to rest and stretch. Alexie and Melina are-”

“No,” Natasha frowns. Oh. You hadn’t expected this. “I don’t want them taking them.” 

“Natasha, the girls have been staying with them for the past week.”

“No,” Natasha shakes her head again. “I’m their mom right?” You nod. You can see her gain new confidence at your confirmation. “I don’t want them there. I don’t trust them.” She looks at you pleading with you to understand. You do. Natasha doesn’t remember her time in Budapest with Yelena or Melina’s farm or taking down the Red Room again. She doesn’t remember their reunion. You don’t think now is an appropriate time to say that Alexei and Melina have a home just outside of NYC that you visit frequently. 

“Okay, Nat, I understand.” You can see her visibly relax at your words. “I’ll call someone else.” You think. There’s no shortage of people who would come and get them at the drop of a hat. The girls are very popular amongst your friend group. Monica would come no questions asked. Though she might not be prepared to keep them for a couple of days. Wanda is the next on your list. She’s good with them. She loves them as if they are her own. You’d have to figure something out. 

You look at the time on your phone. Visiting hours would be over soon. 

“I have to talk to your parents,” You stand. She bristles at the title you’ve given them. “I can, um, find you something to eat if you’re up to it?”

“That would be great,” Natasha gives you that much. You leave the room with a mission in mind. First is the nurse's station where you ask for food for Natasha. It’s not the best but it would hold her over until you’re home. If she decides to eat. Next is Alexei and Melina who are sitting so patiently in a corner of the waiting room. 

“Hey,” You greet them with a sigh. “Look, I’m sorry about what happened in there. She-Natasha is. It’s so complicated.”

“She doesn’t have her memories?” Melina concludes. 

“No,” You break it to them gently. “She doesn’t know us. She doesn’t know who we are.”

“So back to square one?” Alexei asks. “We have to win her over again?”You can see the wheels turning in his head. He’s already planning something of how he will get her to speak with him. 

“The time that Natasha remembers,” You raise a hand to stop him. “Five years ago. Ultron. It’s when we first met. I don’t think she has any recollection as to how but she remembers battling him. Which means everything after that is iffy for her.” For just a moment you are grateful that she doesn’t remember you. Your meeting was less than fantastic or romantic. In fact, both of you were left with more than enough bruises and scrapes. Your time at HYDRA wasn’t your proudest moment. Somehow you think Natasha won’t be too welcoming of that. 

“She doesn’t know the girls,” Melina says lowly. 

“She’s Natasha through and through,” You sit beside them. “She doesn’t care if she doesn’t remember. She is their mom and she has her boundaries. She doesn’t want you guys to take them.”

“Then who will?” Melina doesn’t seem so surprised by this though Alexei has kept quiet. 

“Yelena is still in and out so it can’t be her.” You shake your head. “Wanda. She’s close. If Nat doesn’t remember much of me then…..” Her words come back to you. She knows. “God! This is so fucked.” You rest your head on the back of the chair to allow the rest of your body to slouch. There’s no way she’s letting the girls go with Wanda. So, Steve is the next option. She knows Steve. Trust him. He wouldn’t lie to her. “I’m, um, I’m going to go make some calls. I’ll be right over there. You guys can go home if you want. I’ll keep you updated.”

They nod, gathering their bearings, before standing to leave. 

“Take care of yourself, y/n.” Melina rests a hand on your shoulder. You nod. You’d try your best. Alexei bids you goodbye with a kiss on your forehead. You don’t move until they’re out of your sight. Suddenly it’s weighing on you how different life is about to be. 

You pull out your phone to facetime Steve. After a few rings, he answers. 

“Hey, how’s it going?” He asks immediately. There’s shuffling in his background and you can tell he’s moving over to his couch. He sets the phone down, making sure it’s at a decent angle, and it’s then the rest of the Avengers step into view. 

“Hi guys,” You greet. “There’s no easy way to say this. Natasha woke up. She’s stable. Talking and moving around. You know how Natasha does.” You shrug. 

“There’s a but in there,” Sam bends over the couch. 

“She has amnesia,” You tear the bandaid off. There’s no sense of sugar coating. “She hit her head pretty hard and things aren’t looking so good in that aspect.”

“How much does she remember?” Steve frowns. 

“Ultron,” The word sounds funny on your tongue. It’s still hard to even utter his name knowing what the aftermath was. You lost your brother. Wanda lost her twin. “She remembers being with Bruce and hiding at Clint’s farm.”

“Jeez,” Steve curses. It’s the closest he’ll get to a swear. 

“She wants one of you here. To speak to you,” You tell them. “Maybe you Steve? I need someone to keep the girls and you’re the only one she trusts.”

“I understand,” Steve nods. “Of course. Give me an hour and I’ll be there.” Steve promises. He’s always so trustworthy. 

“Thank you guys, again.” You sigh for what feels like the millitonth time. “Wanda I will call you later.”

“I’ll be here,” Wanda bids you goodbye. You hang up the phone feeling like a weight was lifted from your shoulders. You return to the hospital room to find Natasha sharing her lunch with Olivia. 

“Mommy, no peanuts in it.” Olivia informs you. You look over to the small meal. Green beans, mashed potatoes, a dinner roll, and pudding for desert. Peanut free. 

“She’s allergic she told me,” Natasha murmurs. She doesn’t take a single bite of food. “It’s a bad allergy right?”

“Life threatening,” You nod. 

“I should know more about them,” Natasha begins. “It’s important that I do.” She’s admitting to a new weakness.

“I will tell you everything you need to know when you are better,” You promise her. “For now you rest. Uncle Steve is on his way to take you home with him.” You bend down to look Olivia in her eyes. She’s too busy making a mess of the mashed potatoes on her face. “Are you okay leaving with Uncle Steve?”

“Yes,” Olivia nods. She always has a blast with him. There’s no reason for her not to be okay with him. You move to sit in your chair, content watching Natasha interact with the kids, as you think of everything that you have to do. 

She’s so good with them if a bit unsure of her position. Lily is still sleeping soundly, her face pressed against Natasha’s breast, as she breathes softly. Olivia is more active and has questions about everything. You don’t really pay any mind. Until she brings up her dance recital. 

“You didn’t go cuz you were in the car ‘ccident.” Olivia says so casually. “I danced at school.” Natasha looks over to you for answers. “Her dance recital. We were on our way when we got hit by a car,” You simplify it. There’s no need for a full blow explanation. 

“You didn’t have any injuries?” She scans you from where you’re sitting. Her tone is almost accusatory. You’re not willing to go there with her. 

“Just a few dings,” You shake your head. Suddenly there’s another knock at the door. You stand to open it, thankful for the reprieve, to reveal Steve Rogers in all his glory. 

“Unlce Steve!” Olivia grins. “You’re here to see Mama?” She questions.

“I am,” Steve steps into the room. He’s cautious. He comes to the side of her bed. Natahsa’s eyes never leave his. 

“You’re bulkier,” She comments. She takes note of his full head of hair and fully grown beard. Steve looks good. 

“I lift more,” Steve shrugs. 

“I’m going to take Liv to get cleaned up,” You offer to give them some time alone. You reach across the bed to take Olivia. You can see Natasha take a deep pained breath. You ignore it for the sake of not starting anything. 

You’re in one of the visitor bathrooms, cleaning up Olivia, when you realize you have to explain it to her. She’s three. She understands and picks up on more than what you think. Keeping things a secret from her won't bode over well in the end. 

“Have to dry my hands,” Olivia walks over to the automatic driers to hold her hands under them. She’s so smart and attentive. There’s no way she won’t notice. Once she’s done, you walk over to the visitor's room. It’s not the best place to tell her but she needs to know. Olivia sits in the chair, bouncing in place, as she waits for you to talk. She’s only half paying attention as the hustle and bustle of the room catches her eye. 

“Hey, Mouse, I need to talk to you about something important,” You start. 

“Important? Oh? What’s important?” She looks to you. 

“Remember how Mama and I got into the car accident and she bumped her head really hard?” You try to explain on her level. Olivia nods, picking at her sweater, as she tries to keep focus. For the most part, she’s doing quite well. “Well, when she bumped her head it did something. Her memories are gone. Which means she doesn’t know a lot of things that she used to.”

“Memories are gone,” Olivia repeats though you don’t think she understands exactly how any of this works. 

“Yes, her memories are gone,” You try to think of a better way to keep this process smooth. “Mama is sick. So for a little while we have to be patient with her.”

“Oh,” Olivia nods. “Give her kisses and hugs to make it better?”

“I think she would like that,” You are in agreement on one thing. If you know Natasha, and you do, she is going to want the girls there every step of the way. Not that you know what the next step is. Of course, things are a bit harder to gauge when you’re doing it alone and she doesn’t trust half of the people you interact with daily. You could only hope this would work. 

Meanwhile, in Natasha’s hospital room, she’s eyeing Steve with a guarded expression and curious eyes. She doesn’t hide her complete distrust for you and the entire situation. She needs to hear all of this from someone she knows. Someone from before. Steve wouldn’t lie to her. At least she hoped he wouldn’t.

“You’re still Avenging?” Natasha asks. She’s asking the easy questions for now.  

“I am,” Steve confirms. 

“The rest of the team?” 

“Scattered but still around,” Steve sits in the chair you abandoned. “Thor is with Jane. They have a baby boy. He’s the same age as your little one.” He gestures to Lily. “Clint and Laura are with the kids still on the farm. Tony is Tony. He has a little girl.”

“With Pepper right?” 

“Of course,” Steve nods. 

“And Bruce?” She tries to appear uninterested but Steve knows better. 

“Bruce is around,” Steve shrugs. “He’s here and there. Isn’t really an Avenger anymore.”

“There’s a story behind that,” Natasha prompts him to speak further but he doesn't.

“That is for another time,” Steve says. He bends until his elbows rest on his thighs. “You’re not supposed to be talking this much. Fractured rib. It has to hurt.”

“You know that’s not going to stop me,” Natasha attempts to take another breath though this time it’s too painful. She can’t even hide it. This leads her into a terrible coughing fit that has her clutching her side. Once she’s settled down, she lies her head against the pillows. “Turns out I have a wife now. I’m married.” She mumbles. 

“Happily,” Steve reminds her. She lets her head loll in his general direction before opening her eyes again. “You and Y/n are an example of a loving marriage. Don’t push her away, Nat.” 

“Who says I was,” Natasha presses her lips together into a thin line. She would like to drink a gallon of water right now. “She’s pretty.” 

“That she is,” Steve laughs. “Seriously, Natasha, that woman would go to hell and back for you. I know your spy training tells you not to trust her. Especially when you only remember you and Bruce. Let her in. You’re going to need the help.”

“I’ve never needed help,” Natasha is a bit snippy with that statement. 

“We both know that’s not true, Romanoff but I’ll let you have it,” Steve stands. “She’s raising and having your babies. Don’t write her off so soon. You may find that you’re in love with her all over again.”

Natasha remains mute at his words. Natasha Romanoff could never be in love. She’s never been in love. Love is for children. What she had with Bruce was…different. She can’t put a label on it. Not that she remembers anything that happened after her proposal at Clint’s farm. 

“I’m going to take the girls now,” Steve reaches over to take Lily in his arms. She cuddles up to his chest. “If I don’t wake her now she’ll be up all night.”

“You’re taking this Uncle Steve title seriously,” Natasha jokes. 

“I have to,” Steve bends to press a kiss to her forehead and finds himself explaining at her surprised face. Back then they weren’t so close. “I’ll be seeing you soon.” He leaves Natasha by herself for a few moments to come and find you. 

Natasha finally takes a much-needed deep breath, clutching her side again, as she tries to wrap her head around this entire situation. She’s married. She has kids. What did Steve mean by “she’s raising and having your babies.” Were you pregnant? No. You don’t look it. Maybe it’s just a throwaway line. A thing people say. He also said your marriage is a loving one. Natasha finds this entire thing hard to believe. This one doesn’t sit right with her. She can’t run. Not when those two little girls look up to her as if she means the world. To them she does. 

For them she’d stay. 

**************************

Steve approaches you in the waiting room with an unreadable expression. He’s carrying a now awake Lily in his arms. When she spots you she holds out her arms for you to take her. You sit her down in your lap, kissing the top of her head, knowing how clingy she is when she’s sleepy. 

“How was it?”

“She was fine surprisingly,” Steve admits. “No weapons to the throat or any of that.” He stands with his arms folded. “Are you sure you want her to come back home with you? Maybe it would be better for her to go back to the tower?”

“I’m sure,” You nod and speak past the lump in your throat. “If things change. If she expresses that it's what she wants then it’s fine. She can go back. We can arrange something with the girls and visit. Can we just play it by ear?” You pull your gaze from some random object in the room to Steve’s concerned eyes. 

“How are you feeling?” Steve uses that voice. You know the one. He’s so caring and compassionate and somehow always able to pull the truth from you. 

“I’m fine,” You have to be. There’s no other choice. “As long as she’s okay I’m fine. I think ask me in a few days. Maybe I’ll have a different answer.”

“Good,” Steve kisses your forehead much in the same way he did Natasha’s. “Now are you girls ready to go with Uncle Steve?” 

“Yeah,” Olivia nods. She signs to Lily whose eyes light up at the idea of spending the night with her uncle. 

“Don’t worry they’re safe,” Steve nods. 

“Is Mama coming too?” Olivia looks over to you. She thinks Steve is taking you home. 

“No, Mouse, Mama’s not coming,” You cringe at the trembling bottom lip and the sad expression. “Right now Mama has to get better in the hospital and then we can all go home.”

“To my house?” Olivia questions. She’s not liking this at all. 

“Yes, to our house,” You kiss both of her cheeks. “Uncle Steve will take you to Aunt Wanda if you ask and I’ll call you before bedtime. I have to stay here with Mama to make sure she’s doing all better. Is that okay?”

“Yes,” She answers reluctantly but for now a tantrum has been averted. She climbs down from the chair to take Lily’s hand. She’s so protective of her baby sister. You give them both a final kiss before you watch as they walk to the elevator. 

It’s then you stand to return to Natasha’s room. It’s time to face the music. You take several deep breaths, willing the magic to calm inside of you, as you walk back to her room. When you step inside, a nurse is checking Natasha’s vitals again. She’s just finishing up when you sit. 

The nurse works around the two of you before bidding you a good night. 

“Can I have a cot in here please?” You ask before she can leave. She nods before retreating. You turn back to Natasha who’s been watching you thus far. 

“You’re sleeping here?” She breathes slower this time. She shifts to get comfortable. 

“Yes, I’ve slept here every night since the accident.” You lick your lips.

“Have you eaten?” Natasha questions and for a second you’re hopeful. “Wouldn’t want you to pass out if you’re the one that’s supposed to be taking care of me.” Your face falls though you quickly hide it with something else. 

“I can take care of myself,” Your hand twitches. She’s been awakened for five hours and you have yet to kiss or touch her. It’s a bit unsettling. The nerves in your stomach have since turned into dread. There's a pregnant pause before she asks again. 

“Who is the woman in your phone? Brunette.” She doesn’t bother to look at you. “A mistress?”

You pat your pockets, wondering when she took the item before she lifts it with her good hand. 

“My sister, Wanda.” You answer with a bit of annoyance. Natasha doesn’t recognize her. Which you don’t know whether to classify as good or bad. 

“You have a sister?” She looks over to you. 

“I do,” You speak softer this time. “I’m not a cheater, Natasha. Whatever thing in your head you’ve thought of is untrue. If you have questions ask me.”

“How long?” Natasha looks up at the ceiling. “Have we been together?”

“Four years,” Her eyes flash to yours. “ Five years ago we met. During Ultron.” You lick your lips again. You don’t mean to leave out key details. It’s better if you do until later. “We moved pretty quickly. With everything that was going on. Marriage was. Is what we wanted in the end.”

“You’re an Avenger you said? How?” 

“I have powers,” You raise a hand to show the purple leaving your fingers. Her eyes widen and as quickly as you let it go you put it back. This may all be too much. “I joined around the same time as my sister. She’s an Avenger too. We dated for a while. Me and You. Wne on the run. Got married after. Found the girls.”

“Sounds like a bad movie,” Natasha quops and you snort. 

“It does but what can you do?” You shake your head. “For what it’s worth I love you, Natasha.” You try to gauge her facial expression. She’s always been so good at hiding it. “You love me too. Even if you don’t remember. I hope that with time you’ll allow me to show you.”

The conversation ends there. Natasha doesn’t bother looking at you. She sits with her thoughts. She’d rather be anywhere but here. You know her well enough to understand she’ll probably try to break out of here in the middle of the night. Under different circumstances, you’d let her. For the first time in a long time, you feel as if you’re looking at a stranger. 

A few days go by, and Natasha doesn’t attempt to escape, but you also don’t make any progress with her. She’s very distrusting of everyone around her/ Especially you. The only time she seems remotely happy is when the girls are around. They bring sunshine to her day and you wouldn't deprive her of that. For the sake of the girls, she pretends to like you. A part of you believes she’s not pretending. She’s trying and that's all you can ask. You rarely leave her side. She takes note of that. 

You finally reach a stump when she needs to shower. Natasha isn’t modest. She’s not shy about her body or anything like that. However, you do have to admit being naked and vulnerable isn’t something either of you is going to be able to work with. The nurse offers to help give her a sponge bath and you both practically gag at that. 

“Can we use a shower chair?” You offer and it’s accepted. 

“You’ll help?” Natasha trusts you more than the nurse apparently. You give her an enthusiastic yes. You help her stand, taking slow and steady steps toward the bathroom, where you turn the shower on. Your arms stay wrapped around her waist as you bend to turn the knob. You try to ignore how good it feels for her to lean on you.  You turn back to her, noting the apprehension on her face, as you realize something. 

“I have to undress you.” You shuffle from foot to foot. Natasha gives an imperceptible nod. You start with her shirt, keeping your gaze on her face, as you gently lift her arms high enough to slip them out of the sleeves. She’s not wearing a bra and though it’s nothing you haven’t seen before you are aware of how she feels about this entire thing. Next are her pants and panties. You toss them to the other side of the room. You have better ones for her. You look over to the shower, when you look down at your own clothes. You could leave your tank top and bra on and your underwear. You have to climb in with her. “I have to, um, take my-”

“Just do it,” Natasha looks away. She’s more embarrassed that you have to bathe her. You make quick work of stripping before you both step into the shower. She leans against you, her back to your chest, as she breathes hashyl. You sit her down in the chair, kneeling and not quite caring about the steaming water against your back, as you begin to wash her. You start with her shoulders, her chest, her stomach. She keeps her eyes on your face the entire time. You don’t bat an eye when you spread her legs just slightly to clean her there. She gasps though she doesn’t move. 

You realize quickly how you messed up. 

“Sorry, I should have asked first,” You move your hands to her thighs. You shake your head at yourself. 

“It’s fine,” She mutters. Though you can tell it’s anything but. You continue washing her with much more gentleness than before. When you’re done, you step out of the way to rinse her off. Natasha closes her eyes at the warm water hitting her chest. She enjoys the feeling of being clean. When you turn off the water you feel a bit better about everything. You don’t notice her eyes on your backside or the way she watches you as you reach for the towels. You’re half-naked and cold so you try to move quickly. You help her back into the room, dressing her with patience and love, as she lies into the bed again. She doesn’t take her eyes off of you even when you’re getting dressed yourself. 

“Why are you doing this for me?” Natasha breaks the silence. You look over from the spot where you’re drying your hair. 

It’s simple really. “Because I love you,” You answer before turning back to finish dressing. 

You love her with everything in you. 

A few days later, Natasha is discharged from the hospital. You'v ordered a few things to be delivered to your house to make her transition better. You pull around to the front of the hospital to the rental your insurance provided for you. You don’t feel particularly anxious until you’re driving away. It’s almost the exact same setup. Except you’re sporting a forehead scar that will fade and Natasha is suffering broken ribs. You hold your breath the entire time, your hands grip the steering wheel harder than necessary, and you’re more cautious the entire way home. 

Natasha doesn’t recognize the brownstone or the neighborhood. It’s all unfamiliar to her as she waits for you to park the car. Which you do with ease. Unit #137. That’s your home. Your neighbor, Martha, is outside of her home watering her plants. She greets you as you help Natasha out of her car. 

“Oh, you’re home.” Martha smiles. Natasha offers her a wave and a smile but nothing more. “Let me know when the girls are home so I can take them to the nursing home with me next time.” She makes you promise. Martha takes the girls to the nursing home every Wednesday to visit her husband. They love the girls and so does everyone else in the home. 

“Will do,” You say before helping Natasha up the stairs. You drop your bags by the front door. She eyes everything. It’s all decorated in varying shades of black and white. There are a few pops of color. Children’s shoes and toys lining the foyer. There’s a nice bench and hook where everything is hung up. Pictures are lining the walls. A grand staircase leads to the second floor. “I know you must be tired. The stairs might be a bit much but I can carry you.”

“You’re going to carry me?” Natasha questions. 

You raise your shoulder before dropping it. “The next best thing is the couch and I figured you would want privacy. Our bedroom is the first one.”

“Do we have other rooms?” Natasha looks up the stairs and you feel dumb for thinking she’d want to sleep in the same room as you. 

“We do,” You nod. “I can take you to one of them.” 

“Okay,” She prepares herself for you to pick her up and you do so with ease. You don’t have superhuman abilities but she doesn’t see you using your powers to take her up the stairs. You don’t strain or even grunt one time. You walk steadily up the stairs, turning to your left, to carry Natasha into the guest room. 

“I have to grab your nursing pillow,” You tell her as you help her onto the bed. You rush to your bedroom to grab it. “It’s for if you need to cough or anything like that.” You pass it to her. You stand there for a few seconds longer. “I am ordering takeout tonight. I would cook but it’s been a long few days.”

“When will the girls be here?” Natasha asks. 

“Tomorrow,” You clasp your hands together. “Steve is bringing them tomorrow.”

She nods at that. She looks as if she wants to be alone. 

“I will be up here for a bit if you need me.” You say awkwardly before stepping outside of the bedroom. You close the door behind you. On the other side, Natasha finally lets a tear fall. 

How could she forget all of this?

next part

[redroomreflections]

Who Lives, Who Dies, Who Tells Your Story Chapter 1

Natasha Romanoff x Black!Fem! Reader

Note: This is a repost from my since deactivated account Natsxaddiction. I will be adding the shorter stories to here; 20 chapters or less - sorry TLH fans =(

Chapter 1/20 (A completed story)

Masterlist | General Masterlist

Summary: Natasha and Reader are married. They get into an accident where Natasha suffers serious injuries including amnesia. Natasha no longer remembers her life with reader and their children. All she remembers are her days loving Bruce.

W/c: 4.2k

There was doubt in her face. You could see she didn’t trust you. As she blinked rapidly to adjust to the harsh lights of the hospital room you could tell something was wrong. Your heart ached at the way her hands gripped the ventilator down her throat. It’s been helping her breathe for this long. Her eyes widened in panic as she clutched at the offending object. You placed a hand on top of hers hoping your familiar touch would be calming. Instead, you saw her flinch as her eyes flew to yours. There was something there that you hadn’t seen in a long time, if ever. Natasha was scared. She was terrified even. She doesn’t know who you are.

“Natasha, baby, don’t rip it out.” You say softly to her despite the lump in your throat. She’s shaking. She stops to look at you for a second before attempting to remove the tube again. You sigh and press the call button for a nurse or doctor. Natasha shakes her head, her eyes pleading for you to help her, as she attempts again. There’s a panic rising between the both of you for many different reasons. She doesn’t know who you are or where she is. You are coming to the realization that your wife may not remember you. You’re going to need an explanation and fast.

There’s a knock on the door and then a nurse with a tight bun and scrubs is entering the room. She gives you a soft smile before it disappears. Natasha is awake. She’s awake and she’s scared. She walks over to the IV hooked up to Natasha’s hand and inspects it.

“Hello, Mrs. Romanoff, you’re in New York-Presbyterian Lower Manhattan, you were in an accident,” The older lady explains to Natasha. For a second Natasha relaxes before she glances at you. How does she know she could trust either of you? “You suffered from a few injuries. Nothing you won’t recover from. I know you want this out and the doctor will be able to do that later. Are you in pain?” Natasha hesitates like you know she will. You can see the imperceptible way her hand twitches. She nods reluctantly. The nurse, Alicia, nods and administers more of the pain medicine that would allow Natasha to sleep peacefully and pain-free. You both wait with bated breath for the redhead to relax. She finally does and you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding.

“She’ll be fine, Mrs. Romanoff,” Alicia pats your arm sympathetically. You nod. You’re not so sure if that’s true.

You don’t mention Natasha’s panic at seeing you. You don’t mention the distant look in her eyes when she looked at you. As if you’ve never met. As if she’s never loved you. The stinging tears it brings to your eyes make you wonder if it’s your mind playing tricks on you. When she wakes up later you’ll know the truth.

It’s been exactly a week since the accident. You remember it as if it were yesterday. An idiot drunk driver collided with your car on the passenger side. The one that Natasha was on. Your car was completely destroyed though you don’t really care. You could buy another one. You couldn’t get another wife. The woman lying before you was…is your everything. While you and the drunk driver left the accident with minor injuries Natasha wasn’t so lucky. She retained a traumatic head injury resulting in a coma, one fractured rib, and a broken wrist. Somehow you feel lucky that she even recovered.

You had been on your way to your daughter’s very first dance recital. It was her first recital before Thanksgiving break. You were running late, driving through the roads with care, but still excited to see your baby girl dance. Natasha was buzzing with excitement and pride as she toyed with the radio from her seat. She was a bit annoyed by your tardiness but hadn’t said as much. Nothing could ruin the night, well except almost dying in a car accident. One that’s seemingly changed your life forever. Now you’re here in a hospital room with your wife asleep in a bed not knowing what will happen next.

You pull your phone from your pocket to send Melina another text. She and Alexei are keeping the girls for you. They’re Natasha’s parents that she gained from her mission from The Red Room. You let her know Natasha woke up. She replies with praise before telling you they will come to see you both as soon as they can. The girls miss their Mama just as much as you’ve missed your wife. This past week has been hell. No one knew when Natasha would wake up. If she would wake up.

You could only hope to move past this now that she has.

You tuck your phone back into your pocket and pray that Natasha wakes up again.

*****************

You don’t realize you’ve fallen asleep until you hear the rustling of the bed. Natasha’s awake. Your eyes snap open to watch her. She struggles for a bit before dropping her hands against the bed. She’s given up on trying to take the tube out though you’re sure she could if she truly wanted. You lean over to put yourself in her line of eyesight.

“Natasha,” Green eyes meet yours. She furrows a brow. She clearly wants to ask you something. “Hey, I don’t know how much you remember about what the nurse told you but you’re in the hospital.” You gently tell her about what’s happened to her. She listens with rapt attention before her eyes scan the room. She lifts her uninjured hand to scratch at the tube before she drops it again. Her red-painted nails press firmly against the sheets. “I can call someone to take it out for you.” You don’t wait for an answer, not that she can. You grab the call button to press it. “Someone will be here soon.” You sit in silence until Alicia makes her appearance again.

Alicia slowly helps Natasha to remove the ventilator. Your eyes fly to the ground to avoid seeing her in so much pain. You can hear the small grunt of pain she emits though Natasha quickly tries to hide it. You glance up again to find that Alicia is putting Natasha through a swallowing evaluation. The water that’s been waiting by her bedside is given to her. Natasha swallows harshly before sitting back against the raised bed.

“Where’s everyone?” Natasha rasps. She clutches her throat again before looking around.

“Your throat may be a little raw, take it easy,” Alicia explains. “Your wife would be happy to tell you where everyone is. She hasn’t left your side this entire time.” Natasha glances at you. She’s sporting a look of confusion.

“Wife?” That one seriously hurts and she looks to the nurse for assistance. “I’m not married. Whatever sick joke this is I will find out.” There’s an edge in her tone. She’s almost menacing. “Who sent you?” Her next words are directed towards you. You’re aware she’s fighting the pain in her throat to ask you this.

“No one sent me, Natasha.” You say firmly. “I’m here because I want to be. I’m here because I’m your wife.” Natasha shakes her head. You raise your hand to place it over hers and she snatches it away as if she’s been burned.

“Where’s Bruce?” She asks. Bruce? You haven’t seen that man in years. Why was she asking about him? “Where’s Steve? Who. Sent. You?” She asks again. She’s not buying anything you’re telling her.

“Natasha-”

“How about we give Mrs- Ms. Romanoff a minute,” Alicia suggests. Something angers you about the slip-up. She’s asking you to leave the room. It’s clear Natasha needs a minute and as much as you’d like to stay you know you need one too. “I’ll be out there soon to talk to you.” You nod dejectedly. You rush out of the room to throw yourself against the wall. Your breaths come harsher as you try to figure out what that was in there. The look in her eyes. The way she talked to you. You’re almost sure if she had one there would be a knife to your throat.

You’re just about to send a message to Melina to tell her not to bring the kids today when Alicia interrupts you. You put your phone away before you can finish the message.

“It seems that Mrs. Romanoff doesn’t remember a few key details about herself,” Alicia informs you. “I’m going to have to call Dr. Brent in here to assess her further.”

“Does she have amnesia or something?” You question. Alicia frowns.

“I can’t really say but it may appear so.” She can see the scared look on your face. What would that mean for you? What would that mean for Natasha? For the girls? You let out another harsh breath.

You can tell Alicia wants to comfort you but you barely know her. Her job extends to Natasha’s care and she’s done that and more. You thank her. You wait for her to walk away before turning back to Natasha’s room. The doctor would be here as soon as he could. In the meantime, you have to try and deal with things.

You prepare yourself with a deep breath and a shake of your hands to rid yourself of the nerves. You almost felt ridiculous. This was your wife for goodness sake. The one you’ve spent six and a half happy years with. You knock gently, deciding against barging in when you’re surprised by the sight in front of you. Natasha is standing from the bed, and clearly in pain, searching for her clothes.

“Nat, I don’t think that’s a good idea,” You say. She doesn’t even bat an eye as she continues to put on her pants. You’re not sure how she’s even found them but that doesn’t matter now. You step a bit closer to her, bracing your hand behind her back in case she falls, and again you plead for her to sit down. “Natasha, you’re hurt.” You tell her.

“It would be better for you to let me leave now before the team finds you,” Natasha mutters. She’s in such a different headspace. One she hasn’t been in for a while and you’re a bit unsure how to get through to her thick head. Something angers you about the way she winces when she tugs the pants onto her hips. Her ribs haven’t healed yet and she shouldn’t be walking until the doctor assesses her.

“Natalia, sit down now.” Your voice is low and firm. It’s one you’ve only ever reserved for the bedroom but at this moment you know it’s gotten to her. She pauses to look over at you. You used her birth name. She eyes you and for a moment you think she’s going to listen.

“Who do you think you are?” She frowns.

“Your god damned wife, Natasha.” You say exasperatedly. Before she can protest you continue. “I’m not some spy sent to kill you. I’m not a member of the Red Room and I’m not working against you. I’m an Avenger. I’ve seen you through your worst and dammit it may be worse than this if you don’t sit down and allow your ribs to heal.” Natasha blinks slowly. You’re prepared to fight her on this. She sits slowly and you can see the pain etched across her features. There’s something akin to regret on her face as she tries to shift into a comfortable position. You move towards her without realizing it as your hands grip her hips to help her onto the bed. She doesn’t push you away this time but you can feel how she tenses under your fingers.

You move back to find she’s eyeing you questioningly.

“You don’t have to believe me but please, don’t hurt yourself trying to run away.” She’s shocked now. “I can call Tony or Steve if you want and they can come here.” You try again.

“And Bruce?” She asks quietly. You’d left his name out on purpose.

“And Bruce.” You sigh. You’re not really going to call him but you needed her to calm down.

Natasha’s forest-green eyes scan your face. She’s trying to remember you. She can’t and she’s frustrated by this. Despite your firmness, you’re being kind to her. She doesn’t know your angle or motive. You don’t move as she continues to rack her brain for memories of you. It’s painful to see that she can’t find a single one.

There’s another knock at the door that breaks her from her trance. Both of you turn to look at Dr. Brent as he enters. He’s 6’2, blonde, and blue eyes rivaling McDreamy’s. He comes into the room with a soft smile.

“Hello, Natasha, I’m Dr. Brent I’ve been the one looking over your case for the past week,” He introduces himself to her. “I am under the impression that you’re a bit unclear about what’s happened?”

“Bingo,” Natasha quips and you resist the urge to snort. Despite the situation, she’s resorting to her usual sarcastic nature.

“Okay, I’m going to run a series of tests to assess the situation for an answer.” He says. He puts on gloves and steps over to the opposite side of Natasha. You move to hold her hand only to stop yourself. Natasha hates doctors and needles and pretty much anything to do with hospitals. You know how stressful it can be for her but you’re not sure if you should touch her. You’re afraid of setting her off.

He assesses Natasha’s pupils, her heart rate, her ability to remember commonly known facts. When he asks her to repeat a series of words he asked her minutes ago she does so with a hint of boredom. You watch in trepidation as he moves on to asking her about the last thing she remembers.

“It was during Ultron,” Natasha says. “Some robot Tony created went rogue so we needed to hide out.” She’s keeping out a few key details.

You know from the times she’s told you that she and the rest of the OG members took cover at Clint’s farmhouse. It was there she also suggested to Bruce that they run away together. It wasn’t her finest moment though you doubt she thinks that now. Dr. Brent takes down a few notes and promises to take a look over her brain scans.

“What does it look like doctor?”

Dr. Brent glances at Natasha.

“Don’t hold back, Doc, she’s my wife, remember. Anything you say in front of her you can say in front of me.” You don’t like the way Natasha throws out that line so easily. Like she doesn’t believe it. Like she doesn’t care about your feelings at all. To her, she doesn’t.

“It looks like a form of retrograde amnesia. Usually this type is when you can recall recent events and not things from years ago. For Natasha, it seems that she can’t remember her life from the past few years at all. Her recent is not as we think.” He explains. Natasha frowns. She doesn’t believe any of this that’s going on.

“And when would she get her memories back?” You ask. You’re afraid of the answer.

“Only time will tell.” Dr. Brent informs you. “There is no cure. As her brain heals there may be memories that come back piece by piece or she may not get them back at all. What we can do is be patient. Remind her of the time, date, and place. Treat her with kindness.” You nod. You could do that.

“When can I go home?” Natasha asks loudly.

“Once we’re done running the tests I see no reason why you can’t go home in the next few days. For now, we need you to sit tight and allow your body to heal.”

Natasha Romanoff sitting tight? Ha! Natasha was a busy body. She was always on even when you weren’t. She rarely allowed herself to recover from her injuries and you’re sure this won’t be any different.

“Thank you, Doctor.” You say. This would certainly be a trying task.

The Doctor finishes up a few more tests with a promise to come back later to check up on both of you.

“Are you hungry?” You ask her. Natasha’s pout and folded arms don’t hide the fact that she wants to say yes. She shakes her head no. “Can you bring up the lunch meal?” You direct your question to Alicia. She nods and quickly exits the room. There’s a silence between the two of you. Natasha is watching the exit closely while you watch her. You’re not really sure what to do or say.

“You must be curious.” You break the silence.

“About?” Natasha tilts her head.

“Everything,” You wipe your sweaty palms against the fabric of your jeans. Natasha’s eyes rake your body in interest. Amnesia or not she’s attracted to you.

Natasha opens her mouth to speak but is interrupted by a swing of the door opening. You curse at the lost opportunity of her opening up. You panic when you realize exactly who has interrupted. All you see is a flash of brown hair as they whip past you. Before you can stop her, your daughter is climbing onto the bed to settle on Natasha’s lap.

“Mama!” Olivia cheers. She bounces in place as she inspects Natasha. “You’re not sleeping anymore.” Olivia smiles.

“Mama! Mama! Up.” The other little one is not too far behind as she walks into the room with Melina and Alexei hot on her heels. She races to the other side of the bed, raising her arms towards Natasha, and looks up at her expectantly. You can see the rising panic in the other woman as she places her hands against her chest to keep from touching Olivia. You don’t know if it’s more distressing for her to see her parents or her children. You choose to diffuse one situation before the other.

“We’re very sorry, Y/n, we tried to call you before but they were so excited to hear that she was awake.” Melina has the decency to look guilty.

“Why isn’t she talking?” Olivia asks. Her big brown eyes blink up at you. Natasha opens and closes her mouth like a fish out of water. You move swiftly to remove her from Natasha’s lap to place her on her own two feet.

“Liv, remember how Mama was hurt in the crash and she hit her head?” You kneel to be on her level. Olivia nods glancing at Natasha. “Well, she still has to get better so we need to give her a bit more time. I know you and Lily are excited to see her but it’s still a bit much for her.”

Olivia may be young but she’s not stupid. She nods dejectedly. She knows this means they would have to leave. You can see her bottom lip tremble as tears threaten to fall.

“Hey, hey, little mouse, it’s going to be just fine, we just need to give Mama some time.”

“But I miss her,” Olivia frowns. There’s going to be a lot of tears if you don’t think fast.

“They can stay,” Natasha is the voice to speak. You give her a surprised look before she nods. You thank her silently before turning back to Olivia.

“Mama says you can stay but you have to be gentle.” You tug a still excited Lily into your embrace so that she’s aware of what you’re saying. You move your hands in a series of motions. She still has a pacifier pressed into her mouth but she says a meek yes around it.

“They need to leave,” Natasha says. She says it with such finality. She’s referring to Melina and Alexei. You look over to them apologetically and Melina raises a hand. She knows it’s not the time to be pleading her case with Natasha. Not when she’s this delicate.

“I’ll bring them out to you when we’re done.” You inform them. They nod and leave the room.

Olivia turns back to Natasha. This time unsure of herself. Your heart breaks as you realize she doesn’t know what to do. Natasha has never reacted to them in this way. Everything is riding on her as she looks over to the girls.

“You can climb up here, Myshka.” Natasha encourages her. She’s caught onto the nickname you used for the little girl. Olivia looks to you for reassurance. You give her a nod. She slowly climbs into the bed and settles on Natasha’s side. Natasha is a bit out of her element but she doesn’t flinch away this time.

“Mama, you’re okay?” Olivia asks.

“I’m okay,” Natasha confirms. She’s a natural actress and can put on a front for the kids. Even if she doesn’t remember them she doesn’t want to hurt them.

“I thought you died and left us,” Olivia says. Natasha looks to you for help.

“Mama is fine,” You assure her. Olivia fiddles with her fingers before looking her over again.

“When can you come home?”

“After the doctor has checked her,” You say.

“Mama,” Lily whines from your arms. She gives you the sign for ‘want’ before stretching her arms out for Natasha. Natasha opens her arms and allows Lily to fall into them. She brushes a hand over her curls, exposing the cochlear implant, she inspects it before looking at you. You’ll explain it to her later. Lily settles in her arms happily. If Natasha is feeling any pain she hides it so she doesn’t startle them.

“We drew pictures for you,” Olivia informs her. “And we also stayed with Nana and Pop-Pop.” She begins to tell Natasha about her entire week. Natasha listens with rapt attention. Though she doesn’t remember them her motherly instinct is strong. It has always been.

“Oh yeah?” Natasha asks. She’s genuinely interested in what the little girl has to say. She’s somehow multitasking as she listens to Olivia while keeping Lily from pulling at the fabric of her gown. You cringe. In your haste to get them to settle for her, you weren’t expecting this. Lily is asking to nurse. Something you’re one hundred percent sure Natasha isn’t comfortable with. Natasha catches on, redirecting Lily’s tiny hand into her own.

Lily sighs, clearly frustrated, but resigns to laying her head against Natasha’s chest. It’s another hour before they fall asleep in her arms. Natasha hasn’t moved an inch since then. You’re sure this can’t be comfortable.

“Is it true?” Natasha asks. She sounds different. Not like earlier. She’s afraid of the answer. She wants to believe that the little girls in her arms are hers.

“Yes,” You confirm. “They’re yours. Ours.” You correct yourself.

She’s afraid to ask the next question but she finds her voice.

“How?”

“A human trafficking bust in Brazil,” You start. “It had been going on for years until we got to them. The only reason we were asked to step in was that the facility somehow kept going under the radar for S.H.I.E.L.D. They were using the kids for experiments and pretty much everything else.” You know she’ll understand the implications of that. You clear your throat. “Their mother, she was seventeen, had just given birth to Lily, and was holding onto a starving Olivia when you found her. It’s why she’s still so small.” Natasha brushes her fingers across Olivia’s now chubby cheeks. Olivia’s eyelashes flutter but she never opens her eyes. “You tried to save her too but she died before we could get her to a hospital. All of the other children were saved but you wouldn’t let go of these two. Lily was just a few days old and Olivia was just shy of her second birthday. You pleaded with me to keep them and we signed the adoption papers as soon as we could.” Natasha raises her head for the first time. Throughout the entire story, she’s been staring at them in awe. Like she doesn’t believe it.

“We found out Lily suffered from severe hearing loss due to an infection.” Natasha glances at her ears. “ I know it’s a lot to take in but I’m not lying to you. I wouldn’t. Not about this.” Her eyes shone with unshed tears that she quickly tried to hide.

“How old are they now?” She finds herself asking.

“Olivia is three almost four and Lily is eighteen months.” You inform her. They’re so young and not understanding of their world yet. Not understanding the gravity of Natasha’s amnesia.

“I don’t remember.” She frowns. “I don’t remember any of it.” She’s becoming upset.

“Nat, it’s okay, we can figure it out.” You try to keep her calm. “We can figure it out just please bear with me.” You plead for her. “You don’t have to believe I’m your wife. You don’t have to believe that any of this is real. Just don’t run away. Don’t hide.” Don’t try to find Bruce you want to add but you keep it to yourself. She nods tiredly.

“Melina and Alexei are here,” She says suddenly.

“They are,” You reply.

“I haven’t seen them since I was eleven years old,” Natasha whispers brokenly. She looks down at the girls sleeping peacefully in her arms. You say nothing. “I’m not leaving them.” She says resolutely.

You believe her. What does this mean for the future?

next part

[depsidase]

[thewitchandtheassassin]

Pavlov's Dick (Natasha Romanoff x Reader)

Summary: Natasha loved living with you, but some of your habits drove her fucking crazy... until Wanda mentions a solution that just might work for you both.

Words: 7161

Warnings: g!p ADHD!Reader, implied butch!reader, lawyer!Natasha (it's mentioned like, twice maybe?), use of (Y/N) twice (I think), smut, handjob (reader receiving), fingering (Natasha receiving), oral (both receiving), p in v sex, teeeeechnically manipulation but you both benefit from it, mentions briefly of hetero sex... uh, I dunno, man. Just use your own discretion.

A/N: It's an AU, obviously. Uh, and before anyone sends a message like, "Ackshually" when it comes to ADHD--I have it. And a lot of reader's issues stem from experience so...

-X-

Tucked in the back corner of the bar, sprawled out across the booth, Wanda’s head was tossed back in laughter as her friends stared at her in surprise. Her cheeks were flushed from the tequila, eyes twinkling in the low light as she smirked.

“You two keep staring at me like I just confessed to grand larceny.” She giggled, shrugging with faux-innocence. “It started as a total accident. Victor fixed the leaky faucet in the bathroom. Finally, after I’d been asking for, what, three months? I was so relieved I practically dragged him into the bedroom and blew him until he forgot his own name.”

Maria snorted into her glass, shaking her head. “Real romantic.”

“It was,” Wanda insisted, mock-indignant. “But then the next weekend he cleaned out the gutters without me saying a word. So I thanked him properly—let him eat me out on the kitchen counter until my legs stopped working.” She paused, savoring their reactions. “Two accidents in a row made me wonder. So the third time he took my car for an oil change and full wash? I rode him in the garage before he’d even put the keys down.”

Natasha’s brow arched, her fingers stilling around her glass. She didn’t laugh; she simply studied Wanda. “And he hasn’t caught on?”

“Not once.” Wanda’s voice dropped, the satisfaction clear as day on her face. “He just thinks he’s suddenly the world’s most attentive husband and the sex is better than it’s been since our honeymoon. Win-win.”

Natasha leaned in closer, cheeks a little warm from the vodka but eyes focused. “Walk me through the escalation. How do you decide what equals what reward?”

Tilting her head, Wanda set her margarita aside and leaned on her arms, giving Natasha her full attention. “You’re not just asking for gossip reasons, are you?” she teased, before it shifted into something almost conspiratorial. “You’re wanting to take notes.”

Natasha didn’t deny it, smirking as she waited.

Wanda exhaled a quiet laugh. “Fine. Here’s how I broke it down once I realized it worked.” She ticked off points on her fingers, deliberately. “Small stuff—trash out, dishes loaded and actually run, counters wiped—those stack. Three of them in a week? Handjob—it’s quick, simple, and most of the time, I get fingered while I do it, so we both walk away loose and happy.”

Maria whistled, mildly impressed by their friend’s cunning, but Wanda’s gaze never left Natasha.

“Medium jobs—vacuuming the whole house, doing laundry, changing the sheets, stuff like that? Things that genuinely shave real hours off my weekends?  He does two of them without me having to ask or without me having to explain what needs done? Oral. Either I blow him until he can’t feel his toes or he goes down until I can’t feel mine.”

Natasha’s fingers drummed along her glass as she took it all in.

“Now, the big stuff? Stuff that’s been genuinely dragging me down and grinding my gears? If he accomplishes those tasks, we have full, no-holds-barred, fuck-until-we-forget-our-names sex because once that weight is gone—once I don’t have that stress or irritation weighing me down? I want to climb him like a tree. Because suddenly I have the energy to want him. That’s the part he didn’t realize sometimes. Those little things added up and I didn’t want him as much because I was spending all of my time considering the mess around us.”

Wanda sat back, taking a healthy gulp of her drink before looking at Natasha seriously.

“It’s not some rigid contract and I don’t just… force it. Like, I want to because I’m not ready to strangle him anymore. I don’t have to nag, I don’t have to do it myself, and we’re having the kind of sex we had in our twenties. It’s fantastic.”

Natasha knew all about that frustration.

She loved you—god only knows how much she loved you—but you were notorious for your half-finished projects around the loft. A sink full of mugs you swore you’d handle “in a minute”, the boxes from where you’d moved in six months ago still scattered around the hallway and closet, laundry that always would be started until you forgot about it and it’d sit in the washer for three days…

She loved you—but the clutter was starting to feel like a third presence in your bed.

It helped that Wanda’s system wasn’t cruel; that’s the part that hooked her. It wasn’t punishment or nagging or begging or that cold score-keeping Natasha hated in other couples. It was motivation, turning your genuine desire to help into something that stuck. Something that rewarded the effort you were already putting in with something she loved giving you: herself. Her time, her pleasure, her love…

The truth was—she fucking wanted you. Constantly. But your sex life had started falling off a bit because she was frustrated. If this brought that back and solved ninety percent of the issues ailing your otherwise incredible relationship?

“I know you’ve been struggling with the same hang-ups, Nat,” Wanda murmured sympathetically. “She tries, we all know she does, but the energy fizzles out when her brain goes a little… haywire. It’s not about turning her into some obedient robot or prostituting yourself for clean counters. It’s just… giving the effort a little extra gravity to help it stick. It’ll just make her feel like you can’t keep your hands off her when she makes your life easier, which… let’s be honest, you already struggle with on a good day.”

Winking, Wanda finished her drink before growing serious.

“If it doesn’t work or it makes you feel weird, you stop. No harm. But if it does work…” she trailed off for a moment, “then you get help you need around the apartment and she gets the version of you that isn’t quietly burning with frustration—and you both get your wild, ‘don’t call us this weekend, we’re not leaving the bed’ sex life back.”

“Oh yeah, that’s what we need. More opportunities for us to walk in on them getting it on in a bathroom…” Maria grinned cheekily.

“Or the car…” Wanda chimed in.

“Or the bushes at Tony’s. Remember New Years?”

“Or—“

“Okay! I get it,” Natasha laughed, lifting her drink in a quiet salute. “But… you’re right. Might just be worth it.”

-X-

The smell of eggs and fresh coffee dragged Natasha into consciousness the next morning, eyes blurry and head pounding from the aftermath of too many shots last night. She knew she shouldn’t have accepted Maria’s challenge—

And her hangover was quick to remind her she wasn’t twenty-five anymore.

Wandering down the hall into the kitchen, wearing one of your oversized tees and a pair of silk sleep shorts you always teased her about, she froze in the doorway at the sight. You, in a tank top and shorts, plating eggs and bacon. But what surprised her most?

The kitchen wasn’t a goddamn disaster zone.

Countertops? Wiped off and sparkling (okay, maybe not sparkling but let a woman dream). Sink? Empty, besides the pan you had just set in there after emptying the contents onto plates. The trash bag? Sitting beside the door, tied and ready to go out to the chute. Dishwasher? Already humming as it cleaned the dishes from last night and this morning.

You’d cooked and cleaned up after yourself without her having to ask—

She pinched her hip just to make sure she wasn’t dreaming.

Crossing the space, she looped her arms around your waist from behind and pressed a sweet, lingering kiss to the side of your neck.

“Morning, chef,” she teased, voice husky and thick with sleep. Another soft kiss, this one grazing your earlobe as she stared at the breakfast on the counter. “You trying to spoil me before I’ve even had coffee?”

Her hands dropped to the waistband of your boxers, fingertips dipping just below to feel the soft skin beneath.

“I know you got in late last night, so I thought I’d make breakfast. I know how your ‘girls’ nights’ tend to go with those two,” you murmured, twisting in her arms until you could kiss her gently. “Morning, baby.”

She sighed happily into the kiss, letting it linger as her lips parted, tasting the too-sweet creamer from your coffee as she leaned against you. When you pulled back, she didn’t let you go far, palms sliding up over your ribs, thumbs brushing the undersides of your breasts through the thin material of your shirt.

“Yeah, we might’ve… tied one on last night,” she admitted with a sheepish grin. “Victor had to come outside to help carry Wanda into the house.” She cringed, remembering how… graphic Wanda had been when she draped herself across the blond man, “whispering” in his ear what she wanted him to do to her once they were inside.

“Whispering” of course equaling out to: Wanda having no idea how loud she was actually being and the Uber driver learning way too much about the Sokovian’s sex life.

Natasha made sure to give him five stars as an apology, and a decent sized tip.

“This is a nice surprise though.” Her hand slid up to rest over your heart, thumb drawing lazy circles. “I know it’s my turn to take out the trash but would you mind taking it to the chute for me? My head is still objecting to light and the hall is so bright…”

Her eyes were soft, almost pleading, but she couldn’t help herself. You’d unknowingly already done two things—two!—without her needing to ask (because not only had you made breakfast—something you often didn’t do because you forgot eating was a necessity—but you’d also cleaned up) and that… that alone made her thrilled.

You glanced over at the bag and nodded. “Oh, yeah, I can do that. Uh, hold on.”

Disappearing deeper into the apartment, you grabbed the small bags from the bathroom and office before tying them off and snagging the bag beside the door. It was a short walk, ten steps down to the chute, but for Natasha—

It was perfect.

You’d taken all of the trash—all of it—and somehow, that was hotter than lingerie. Because now things were cleaner, even if only slightly. But it was a goddamn start.

“Done and done,” you announced, nudging the door closed with your foot when you returned.

Natasha’s mouth curved in a warm smile as she closed the gap of space between you, hands trailing over your chest up to your hair.

“Good girl,” she whispered, dragging you into a deep kiss that made your toes curl against the tile. You could never really think when her tongue was in your mouth and her body was pressed tight against yours.

“Wow,” you exhaled as she finally pulled back, a dazed grin on your face. “That was…”

She didn’t wait for you to finish, wrapping her fingers around your wrist as she dragged you over to the couch and shoved you down. Your eyes went wide, a quiet huff escaping as you landed, but the feeling of her moving to straddle your hips cut off any moment of protest.

Her hands skimmed over the hem of your shirt, drifting under the thin fabric as they ghosted over your stomach, your ribs—

Before one diverted downward, snaking into your shorts.

Her mouth claimed yours in a hungry, languid kiss, teeth grazing your bottom lip as her fingers wrapped around your stiffening length. “You take such good care of me,” she whispered, releasing your lip with a quiet ‘pop’, “now it’s my turn to take care of you.”

A guttural, broken sound escaped your throat as her thumb swept over the crown of your cock and your hips jumped upward slightly.

“T-Tasha…”

“That’s it,” she cooed, leaning forward until you could feel her nipples, tight and pebbled, pressing against your own through the thin layers of your shirts. She kept her rhythm unhurried at first, long strokes from base to crown, watching every flicker across your face like she was cataloguing every twitch.

Every time her hand glided up your shaft, the world narrowed down to the feeling of her. Her touch, her warmth, her scent…

God, you were addicted.

One hand slid up her thigh, dipping under the leg of her shorts as your fingers found her slit, thumb brushing the swollen bundle of nerves you found there. “Nat…”

Her breath caught, a soft whine escaping her throat as your fingers parted her folds. She didn’t slow her hand; if anything, her pace grew steadily faster, her hips rolling instinctively into your touch.

“Fuck, just like that,” she murmured, grinding her clit against your thumb when she decided you were a little too distracted by her hand. “Just like that...”

You swallowed her moan as two fingers pressed into her entrance, the sounds of her cunt obscene as she rode your hand with abandon. Her tongue dipped past your teeth, hand stroking base to tip over and over until every fucking nerve ending in your body felt like it was on fire.

“You’re so fucking wet, baby,” you groaned between kisses, feeling the way her arousal soaked your hand with every thrust. Every curl of your fingers coaxing more from her.

“Because of you,” she gasped against your lips, voice cracking on the words. “Because you took care of me this morning.” Her cunt clenched hard around your fingers, fresh heat dripping down to your knuckles as she rode your hand shamelessly. “Keep going. Fuck, keep going…”

You bucked up into her grip, lips falling open as her hand stroked faster, her thumbnail teasing the head. Her shorts were so wet they clung to your hand as you fingered her, your cock throbbing almost painfully as the both of you neared your peak.

Minutes passed… or, you assumed it was minutes. It could’ve been seconds. All you knew was that your girlfriend was moaning desperately and your cock was aching so much you could feel it in your fucking teeth.

“Fuck, I’m so close,” she breathed, walls fluttered around your fingers.

Her hips jerked as you crooked your fingers, dragging the tips over that perfect spot inside her. Her breath fractured against your mouth, her hand clenching just right and—

“Fuck,” you groaned, spilling across her hand, head growing fuzzy as the pleasure washed over you in waves.

The sudden rush of your release in her hand and the way you kept working your fingers despite your own climax sent her teetering over the edge. She clamped down hard, riding out the ecstasy in shuddering waves. Her free hand gripped the nape of your neck, like it was the only thing keeping her tethered to gravity, her nails pressing crescents in the skin beneath her fingers.

“…fuck,” she laughed breathlessly, pressing an open mouthed kiss to your parted lips. “Look at you… making me come before breakfast.”

You offered a goofy grin, melting boneless into the soft cushions, completely oblivious to the way Natasha’s mind was racing.

The way she was planning…

-X-

The last few days had been… better. Not perfect—not by any stretch of imagination—but you were better about remembering the little things which, honestly, was making her life a hundred times easier.

Progress was still progress.

Nudging open the loft door, Natasha’s heels dangled from one hand, briefcase in the other. The day had been a marathon of back-to-back depositions, a client who lied to her face twice, and traffic that turned a thirty minute commute into an hour. To say she was tired was a fucking understatement.

She paused for a second when she realized you weren’t in the living room but she could hear sounds of something odd in the bedroom. Wandering down the hall, she exhaled as she stepped into the room, expecting the usual sight of your boxes colonizing the floor with your half-folded clothes draped over them like flags she wanted to burn—

But what she found knocked the breath from her lungs.

You were kneeling in front of a box—the only box not broken down and stacked in the corner—and your clothes were hanging on the rack or sitting folded in the open dresser drawers she’d cleared out for you. The same drawers you hadn’t used before now.

She leaned against the doorframe, her earlier exhaustion bleeding into genuine surprise. “Well… someone’s been productive today,” she said, her voice soft but undeniably thrilled.

“The cafe was dead so Steve sent me home early,” you explained, shrugging as you glanced over your shoulder at her. “I got bored so I started working on putting stuff away. Figured I should maybe start acting like I actually live here.”

Grinning cheekily, you tugged out the last pair of underwear from the box and folded them before setting them in the dresser.

She knew you were joking, but the fact you’d finally taken the step without her having to ask meant more than you knew. She’d joked about it a few times—that you lived out of those boxes like you were expecting to get thrown out—and to know you finally bit the bullet (so to speak) and staked your claim.

She crossed the space in three slow strides, her palms settling on your waist from behind as her fingers slipped under the hem of your shirt.

“Acting like you live here?” she echoed playfully, kissing the nape of your neck. “I like the sound of that.”

Her digits wandered downward, lingering just above the top of your shorts, her chest plastered across your back. She was taking it all in—

And fuck, she liked what she saw.

“I’m proud of you, malyshka,” she whispered, “finish up, then come find me.”

Your brow arched, but the last thing you were going to do was argue when she was looking at you like that. By the time you had the box broken down and the remaining empty hangers hung up, you were practically panting. Hoping desperately that you’d walk out there and see—

Stepping around the frame, your mouth was nearly watering at the sight that greeted you. Natasha, bare and spread on the bed, her fingers lazily teasing her folds. She parted them slowly, just enough to show you how swollen and ready she was.

“Come here, detka,” she murmured softly, smiling faintly. “Come make me forget everything but that pretty mouth of yours.”

You dove—really, there was no other word for it—onto the mattress, scrambling up the comforter until your mouth was level with her cunt. Her digits tangled in your locks, guiding your tongue to her wet heat, back arching the instant your lips sealed over her clit.

“Fuck, just like that,” she whined, hips rolling as she ground against your face.

Every lap of your tongue sent sparks of pleasure up her spine and when you flattened it, licking from her entrance up to her clit, her breath hitched so hard that it sounded painful. Her free hand massaged her breast, tugging at her nipple sharply, while her grip on your hair tightened.

“Don’t st—” her words dissolved into a needy moan as your tongue plunged into her heat, flicking and curling teasingly before returning to the swollen bundle of nerves. Her body went taut, hardly breathing as a symphony of moans and whimpers escaped her throat. “R-right there, detka. Oh god…”

Your hand left her thigh, pressing low on her belly and pinning her to the bed as your tongue worked relentlessly. She bucked hard against the pressure, a raw cry ripping from her throat.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck…” her hand yanked your head hard, dragging you as close as humanly possible.

When her thighs clamped around your head, all you could hear was the pounding of your own heart and the obscene sounds of her cunt beneath your tongue. It was filthy and desperate and fuck, you loved eating her out…

She came with a keening whine, hips grinding helplessly against your face, chasing the spasms that bordered on overstimulation by the time they finally ebbed. She was simultaneously nudging your head away with one hand, while the other kept you buried.

It was confusing if you were being honest but you were content to lap up her juices, claiming every drop until she finally pushed you away.

“Jesus, you’re too good at that,” she panted, dragging you up until she could crush her mouth against yours.

“…I really like eating you out. It’s a top tier delicacy,” you mumbled against her lips, smiling faintly.

She snorted, cheeks flushing red as she shoved your head back. “God, you’re incorrigible.”

-X-

Natasha… was concerned.

You’d been doing so good for the last few weeks, but this was a test she wasn’t sure would go the way she’d hoped. A handjob here and there, occasional oral… and you were actually managing to keep up with tasks around the loft without needing a reminder.

Sure, you still had mind-blowing sex often, but the truth was: Wanda was right. When she wasn’t wanting to strangle you or burn the loft down because of all the clutter, she wanted to fuck you stupid. Constantly.

The kind of sex you’d had during the first year of your relationship when you were both awful at keeping your hands to yourselves.

She loved it; organization and orgasms.

But now her family was here and you were in charge of finishing dinner while she caught up with her mom and sister. Granted, Alexei was in the kitchen with you, but that almost might’ve been worse because the two of you together were trouble.

She was lingering in the doorway, watching you both with a critical eye (if she was waiting for a fire to erupt because of Alexei and a “vodka sauce I made in the motherlands”, she’d never admit it), before Yelena’s hand was wrapping around her wrist and dragging her into the living room.

“The kitchen is fine. Papa and your girlfriend are bonding over meat,” Yelena said, steering her over to the couch and shoving her down. She claimed the other side of Natasha while Melina lounged in your usual chair. “Alright, spill: what did you do?”

“Yes, what has changed? The apartment looks like adults live here, you look like you’ve slept more than four hours, and now (Y/N) is finishing dinner alone without being asked. Explain.” Melina arched a curious brow.

Natasha exhaled through her nose, buying a second by smoothing nonexistent wrinkles from her jeans. “I started reinforcing positive behavior,” she said carefully. “When she finishes things that make my life easier, I make sure she knows how much I appreciate it. Very… personally.”

Melina’s head tilted, processing while Yelena’s eyes narrowed, then widened as horrified realization dawned on her.

“So… sex?” Yelena asked, bluntly, nose crinkling at the idea of Natasha having sex.

Natasha shot her a look. “Yelena,” she warned, but she was cut off Yelena’s laughter.

“Oh my god, you are bribing your girlfriend with orgasms.” Her amusement faltered as the words dawned on her, face scrunching in disgust. “Ew, please tell me your couch is still clean.”

“It was never clean,” Natasha muttered, smirking faintly when Yelena squealed in horror, practically throwing herself onto the other recliner, though her smile dimmed at the look in Melina’s eyes. “Mama… I’m not prostituting myself for clean countertops.”

Melina leaned forward, studying Natasha intently. “I only want to know that you are not forcing yourself to perform gratitude. You’ve been wound tight as a wire for months. If this… thanks is coming at the cost of your own comfort—”

“It isn’t,” Natasha cut in, meeting Melina’s gaze. She wasn’t defensive, just… hoping Melina would understand. “I… I want her constantly. I always have. The difference is that now when she finishes something that’s been bothering me, the want isn’t tangled up in resentment. There’s no mental block or voice in my head asking why she can… touch me but can’t put her damn socks in the hamper.”

Yelena’s playful squirming at the idea of Natasha having sex (gross!) faded into something more thoughtful as she studied her sister. It had been a while since Natasha had seemed so… relaxed. Calm.

“Good,” Melina finally replied, nodding once. “Then keep doing it.” She paused thoughtfully. “Maybe I should try something similar with your father.”

Yelena recoiled so hard she nearly tipped out of the recliner. “Mama, no. Hard no! I do not need that visual.”

Natasha groaned, burying her face in her hands. “God, please. Never again. We are not discussing your sex life with Papa. Ever.”

From the kitchen, Alexei bellowed—needlessly, because the fucking loft wasn’t that big, “Food is ready!”

Natasha and Yelena both scrambled up, grateful for the interruption, and Natasha nudged her sister as they walked into the kitchen.

“This is your fault.”

Yelena glanced at her father, then her mother, and cringed. “I have many regrets.”

-X-

The front door clicked shut behind Alexei’s final booming goodbye, leaving the loft suddenly quiet except for the low hum of the dishwasher finishing its cycle. Natasha slipped the deadbolt, leaned her back against the door for a beat, and let the silence settle. The apartment gleamed, counters wiped, leftovers neatly stacked in glass containers in the fridge, and not a single stray fork in the sink. You’d done it all, jumping up between courses to clear plates, wrapping foil over bowls, even sweeping the floor while she hugged her mother one last time.

“I am so tired I can’t feel my toes,” you groaned, sprawled out on the couch.

Natasha smirked as she walked over to you, taking a seat on the edge of the coffee table as she lifted your feet into her lap. Her palms slowly massaged from your ankles up to your calves. “My poor baby,” she cooed teasingly. “You were incredible tonight.”

Her hands slid up to your thighs, kneading the muscles with deliberate pressure.

“Every time I looked up, you were doing something else to make this night perfect,” she praised, the teasing softening into something genuinely appreciatively as she studied your face.

She set your feet down and stood, grabbing your hand as she tugged you up.

“Bed. Now.”

You blinked in surprise, but followed along like a diligent girlfriend. Usually when Natasha’s family left, she’d bathe for an hour to decompress, not… this.

(It genuinely didn’t click in your head that her lack of exhaustion came from you helping her take care of everything.)

Shoving you towards the bed, Natasha arched a brow. “Strip. I want you on your back.”

Laughing, you were quick to tug your shirt over your head and toss it aside, your jeans hurriedly joining it on the floor. “Yes, ma’am.”

Natasha’s eyes tracked every movement as you stripped, watching the way your stomach flexed, the soft weight of your breasts, the line of your hips as your boxers fell away. You could feel that green gaze sweeping over every inch as you flopped into the middle of the bed, cock already half-hard as you stared down the bed towards her.

When she was certain she had your attention—which wasn’t hard, honestly—she began to pluck the buttons of her blouse open, one by one, until it pooled around her bare feet. Black lace came loose with a single flick of her fingers and by the time she was standing naked at the end of the bed, a sight you’d never get tired of seeing, you were panting like you’d run a damn mile.

“Christ, Nat,” you breathed, cock flushed and twitching at the view.

She crawled up the mattress, palms gliding over your knees, spreading you wider as she settled between them. “You cleaned this morning without me asking. Helped prep dinner for five, finished it solo while I caught up with my mom and sister… and didn’t complain once.”

She leaned down, lips brushing the sensitive skin of your inner thigh, teeth grazing just enough to make the muscles beneath her mouth jump. Her hand wrapped lazily around your length, stroking slow and firm as she coaxed you fully hard with practiced ease.

“That’s not a small thing, detka. That’s huge.”

Her tongue traced a wet line from the base to the tip of you, swirling around the head before she took you into her mouth, throat relaxing as she swallowed you down until her nose pressing against your skin. She held you there, humming softly, before pulling back with a deliberate suction that left you slick and aching.

She sat up, shifting high enough to straddle your hips. Her palms braced against your chest, thumbs teasing your nipples as she rocked forward, her slick folds dragging along your cock.

“Just lay back and enjoy,” she whispered, guiding the head of you to her entrance, sinking down just enough to take the tip before stilling. “I want to show you just how thankful I am…”

Her hips rolled torturously slow, taking you inch by inch until she was seated on your lap, walls clenching tight around you. A shudder ran through her, head tipping back and throat flushed bright in pleasure.

“Fuck, you’re so deep, detka…” she moaned. “Tell me how you want me to ride you… tell me what you want…”

“Use me… I like it when you use me,” you admitted, hands surging up to grip her hips possessively. “When you treat me like I’m just a toy for your pleasure…”

Natasha’s breath hitched audibly, the words washing over her like rain. It wasn’t often that you let her take control, the two of you often playfully fighting for control, so to hear that?

God, she was going to savor every second of this.

Her nails dug slightly into your chest as her thighs flexed. She lifted so agonizingly slow, until only the head remained inside, before dropping back down in one smooth, hard motion. The slap of skin on skin was barely audible over the low moan that tore from her throat, her hips lifting and falling over and over as she set a rhythm.

She didn’t look at you right away. Her head was tipped back, eyes half-closed and lips parted as she rode you like the feeling of your cock inside her was all that mattered; like the feeling of you was the only thing that mattered in her world.

“Fuck, you feel perfect,” she rasped, leaning forward to nip at the expanse of your throat. “Stay still. Let me take what I want.”

The bed beneath you creaked as her pace quickened, her hands falling to your knees when she arched her back, breasts bouncing with every greedy rock of her hips. She was chasing her climax shamelessly, using you like a toy made just for her.

“God, baby… you look incredible like this,” you groaned, one hand leaving her hip to drop between her thighs, your thumb circling her clit roughly.

Her hips snapped down hard, grinding you as deep as she could go at the first touch.

“Detka—” the word fractured on a gasp, her nails scoring lines down your thighs as she leaned back farther. Every roll of her body felt like electricity in her veins until her thighs were trembling. She didn’t slow—couldn’t—riding you faster. It was brutal but you didn’t care; all that mattered was the woman above you looked ready to shatter and you were desperate to drive her over the edge.

When you pinched her swollen bundle of nerves gently, her entire body seized, the noise that escaped her throat making your cock twitch desperately inside her. Beads of sweat trickled between her breasts, occasionally glinting in the moonlight from the window, and she looked like a fucking painting. Like some art you’d find in an overpriced gallery.

“Tasha…”

She didn’t say a word, her cunt fluttering wildly as she slammed down on final time, the orgasm ripping through her. Her back arched to the point it honestly looked painful and you surged up, looping your arm around her waist as you helped her ride out every last wave of ecstasy. Your hips rocked to meet every trembling grind from Natasha, her arms lifting shakily to wrap around your neck as she buried her face against your throat.

“…holy shit,” she whispered against your skin, “I think I saw God… and she looked like my girlfriend.”

You laughed breathlessly, still buried deep in her cunt as her walls milked you with helpless clenches. “That so?”

She nodded wordlessly, mouth trailing over your neck as she slowly ground against you. “Uh huh… think you can hold out a little longer, detka? I’m not through with you yet.”

-X-

Two Months Later

Things had gotten so much better over the last two months. The loft was clean, the sex was better than it’d been in months, and Natasha was genuinely… happy.

On top of that, you’d actually remembered her birthday. Granted, both of you were horrible at remembering the important dates until the day of but you’d actually planned something. It was small—a day out for her with her friends—but it was still sweet that you’d managed to plan something.

So when Wanda and Maria mentioned meeting you for dinner at the little Italian place she liked in Brooklyn, she hadn’t thought anything about it.

As Maria parked the car, Wanda slipped out first, wandering inside to check on “wait times”, slipping through the side door of the building left cracked open. She’d sent you a message five minutes ago, informing you they were two blocks out, so everything was set up and waiting.

Wanda peeked into the private room, beaming when she saw you standing awkwardly in the archway of the door. Soft lights were strung up around the room and everyone Natasha adored was crammed into the private space—her family, a handful of friends, and one already tipsy Tony who looked… unusually irate but there wasn’t time to question that.

“Show time,” Wanda whispered with a thumbs up before slipping out to meet Natasha and Maria at the entrance.

A few moments later, long enough to leave your heart pounding in your ears and the box in your pocket feeling like it weighed a thousand pounds, Natasha’s friends led her into the room and she froze.

Her eyes went wide as she took in the smattering of faces sprawled out around the room before her gaze met yours. You were wearing that suit she loved seeing you in, standing there with a bashful grin as you lifted your glass in a quiet toast and the others followed.

“Happy birthday, Natasha.”

A disbelieving laugh broke from her throat as she pressed a hand briefly over her chest. “You absolute sneak. No wonder you sent me out with Wanda and Maria all day.”

Grinning, you crossed the room to wrap an arm around her waist, tucking her into your side. “And here you thought your biggest surprise was gonna be me actually remembering to say ‘happy birthday’ this morning.”

“…who are you and what have you done with my girlfriend?” she teased, lifting her hand to brush over the buttons near your heart, her expression softened with wonder.

Alexei cut in before you could respond, voice booming far too loud in the tiny space, “She is good girl! Planned everything like a general. She—”

Melina lifted her hand, slapping it over Alexei’s mouth casually, like she’d done it a million times before while Yelena just shook her head and muttered, “Volume, Papa.”

“So, gifts first, then food. Because your sister and Clint got into a breadstick eating competition while we were waiting for you and I’m afraid if we feed them anything else right this second, we might actually have to carry them out in wheelbarrows.”

Leading Natasha over to the seat that was designated for her with a large BIRTHDAY GIRL sash around the back, you took the seat beside her as everyone started passing over boxes and envelopes.

A sweet framed photo from a barbecue over the summer from Steve (no, she didn’t tear up, dammit. The garlic in the air was just strong)! A coffee mug from Clint that read: World’s Okayest Lawyer.

One by one, the people who loved her showered her in gifts and every new, thoughtful or silly present left her smile just a little wider.

Finally the pile dwindled to the envelope you’d placed in front of her. A spa weekend voucher for her, Wanda and Maria to the resort upstate she’d mentioned once in passing. Natasha’s brows lifted high in surprise, genuinely touched. “You bought us a whole weekend?”

“I—well, Victor paid for Wanda, I paid for you and we split Maria’s. It’s a joint gift, from us,” you explained with a sheepish grin. “But… I do have one more gift for you that should make up for me pestering our friend.”

You stood, kissing her temple lightly as you shifted to stand in front of her. Her forehead scrunched a little in confusion when you didn’t move to grab anything, but that uncertainty quickly bled away as you squared your shoulders and the room went silent.

(You might have told them ahead of time what you were planning.)

“Natalia Romanova, you are my heart. My soul. You are sunshine on a rainy day and a fireplace in winter. Every moment of life with you has been a blessing and every fucking—oops, shit, sorry, Wanda told me not to swear during this,” you muttered, clearing your throat even as your hands trembled, “Every day, I fall more and more in love with you… and I want to spend every second of every minute of every day with you for the rest of our lives.”

You dropped to one knee, fumbling the box out of your pocket.

“Tasha, will you mar—”

“Wait.” Tony’s chair scraped across the floor as he rose, swaying slightly, face flush with indignation and too much whiskey. “You shouldn’t do this until you know what she’s been doing.”

Pepper hissed his name and reached for his arm but he waved her off.

“Wanda started the whole thing,” he slurred, gesturing vaguely towards the brunette. “Bragging about how she has Victor trained like some goddamn lab rat. Sex as a reward when he does something good.” He laughed, though it was strained. “Taught Pepper and Natasha the trick too. But I caught on when she tried those mind games with me. They’ve been manipulating you two idiots for months.”

Natasha’s face paled, fingers slipping from yours where she’d been reaching for the ring box and falling dully in her lap. Her eyes flickered to you, wide and mortified as she waited for the anger, the hurt… for you to take away the box.

The silence in the room was so awkward but even Yelena couldn’t bring herself to break it.

Clearing his throat uncomfortably, Victor leveled an unimpressed look at Tony. “Tony, I have known for months.” He shrugged. “It’s a good system. I pretend I don’t notice, Wanda is happy, our home is clean and the sex is… exceptional. Why would I blow up a good thing?”

You glanced up from where you were kneeling, smirking at Tony. “You… are a fucking idiot, Stark. Your wife was offering you sex for chores and instead you decided to try and ruin it for us?”

Tony’s glass froze halfway to his mouth as he gaped at you. “You… knew?”

“I’ve known for about a month,” you admitted, shrugging. “I vaguely mentioned it to Victor last month during game night, he explained the whole of it to me, and honestly, it’s a great way to get my dopamine kick.”

Natasha’s eyes snapped to you, but the fear on her face cracked away, replaced with stunned disbelief that hurriedly drifted into relief. You weren’t mad. You’d known for a while, but you were still doing the things that helped make her life easier…

Whatever guilt she’d felt about “tricking” you slowly bled out.

Tony sputtered. “You—you knew? Both of you? And you were just… fine with it?”

“Look, Tony, I like you… but your pride sometimes blinds you from the big picture. Nat’s happy and has a clean apartment, I get the dopamine and praise I crave, and we both get to come—uh, sorry.” You shot Natasha’s parents an apologetic smile before your attention returned to Tony. “Why would I willingly screw that up for myself? And instead of enjoying the benefits yourself, you’re sitting here calling us idiots for enjoying… some damn good rewards. Seems like we might be the geniuses here, Stark.”

Shrugging, your gaze shifted back to Natasha as you smiled softly.

“Now, before I was interrupted… Natasha, baby… will you marry me?”

Pepper gripped Tony’s arm and yanked him back into his chair, hissing something under her breath at him that made his ears go red with embarrassment, but no one was really paying him any mind, too busy watching you.

Natasha was nodding before the question even fully left your mouth, her hand reaching for the box. “Yes,” she whispered, voice shaky but so drenched in love it could’ve drowned you. “Yes, of course I’ll marry you.”

She tugged you forward, one hand landing on the box while the other cradled your cheek, pulling you into a deep kiss. Holding you close even as the table exploded into whistles and cheers.

“Give me that damn ring,” she mumbled against your lips, a stray tear or two streaking down her cheek.

“With pleasure.”

You pulled back just enough to flip the box open, hands shaking so hard you nearly dropped the damn thing in your haste, before carefully sliding the ring onto her finger.

“Your dad helped me pick it out,” you murmured, staring at the jewelry like it was the best thing you’d ever bought as you both stood up, admiring it in the light.

“…wait, you asked my dad to help you pick it out?” Her eyes filled with tears.

“She did!” Alexei practically shouted, throwing his arms around you both, “Asked your papa if she could have my blessing too! And I said of course! I tell her, “You make my Natalia happy? You take care of her?” and she says yes. I cry a little bit. Then we took celebration shots!”

You laughed despite yourself, shaking your head.

“…I might’ve thrown up in your mom’s roses. That shit tasted like rubbing alcohol,” you whispered, kissing Natasha’s temple while Alexei dropped back into an unoccupied chair.

Her shoulders shook with silent laughter as she leaned into your side, pressing her face against your neck. She thought she’d known what perfect was before she met you, but this?

This was perfect.

[thewitchandtheassassin]

Photographs (Natasha Romanoff x Reader)

Summary: Kate & Yelena show Natasha a TikTok trend she just can't pass up (or "this is my idea for the TikTok trend of wives giving their partners sexy photos on their wedding day")

Warnings: Sexual photos, mentions of sex, body parts mentioned but no actual sex? implied butch!reader

Words: 2770

A/N: So I haven't abandoned my multitude of series. But grief and depression make for strange bedfellows so this is me trying to get my brain creative again.

-X-

Standing on the terrace of Tony’s countryside estate, the air was still chilly from the night before as you stared out at the people trickling in. It was obvious that the notion of the Black Widow getting married had attracted quite a bit of attention from SHIELD agents, heroes and friends alike.

Adjusting the cuff of your suit for the third time—(you weren’t panicking, okay?! You were just… making sure you didn’t look like a total idiot)—your head turned towards the sound of approaching footsteps. Yelena was grinning cheekily at you as she walked over. Natasha had chosen black and red—an ironic nod to their upbringing—for the maid of honor dress but it looked good on Yelena.

(And thankfully, it made choosing Kate’s “best man” suit that much easier to narrow down.)

“Nervous?” Yelena teased knowingly, settling beside you. “You look like a crab realizing it is in a pot of boiling water.”

“I’m not nervous,” you insisted, though the slight tremble of your fingers stripped away the lie before it could form.

“Uh huh,” she cooed, staring at you with a patronizing little smirk that only made your face warm. “Anyways—” she pressed a small Polaroid photo into your hand, her grin all teeth, “—first installment. Do not open it until I’m gone. Or do. I’m not your boss.”

She winked and sauntered back into the house, leaving you to your… gift.

Carefully flipping it over, your breath caught so hard in your chest that you immediately let out a wheezing sound that would’ve been embarrassing if anyone had been around to hear it.

Natasha was staring back at you.

She was positioned on what looked like a vintage chaise lounge, wearing nothing but a white garter belt and stockings, her legs crossed at the ankle. One arm was draped over her head, the red hair spilling across the upholstery. Her eyes were half-lidded, looking directly into the camera with an expression that made your stomach flip. Her breasts were obscured artfully by her knees, and only the neatly trimmed red curls above her mound visible.

The angle was incredible—but so goddamn frustrating. She was posed perfectly; artistic enough for a gallery, explicit enough to make your blood rush south immediately.

On the back, written in black ink: "One of five. Try to keep your hands steady while you say your vows. - N"

Gasping when you finally registered what you were looking at, you slammed the glossy image against your chest, glancing around to make sure no one else was around before—

You peeked back down at it, mouth so dry that your tongue felt like it’d turned into sandpaper.

“…holy shit,” you whispered.

You didn’t know how long you were standing there, just gawking at the stunning photo you’d been gifted, when a familiar whistle brought you out of the haze.

“Easy there, champ. You look like me when I see a new arc reactor blueprint”

Tony leaned against the terrace doorframe, already in his tailored suit, sunglasses perched on his nose despite the overcast sky. He held two glasses of orange juice, one of which he extended toward you. “Hydration. Big day. Can’t have you passing out before you say ‘I do.’” His eyes flicked down to the photo you were clutching.

You tucked the photo into the inner pocket of your tux jacket, accepting the orange juice. “Thanks.”

Downing the drink in two heavy swallows, it did nothing to calm your racing heart or sweaty palms.

“You good? You’ve got that ‘I’m about to spontaneously combust’ look going on.”

Exhaling heavily through your nose, you announced with a strange—for you—seriousness, “I am marrying the hottest woman alive and her hotness is going to kill me before I make it to the altar.”

Tony grinned, clapping you once on the back. “That’s the spirit.”

Photo Two:

Thirty minutes later, you were mingling with a few people you barely recognized, a handful of SHIELD agents whose names you didn’t know. They were babbling on about something and you were proud to say your libido had calmed down enough for you pretend like you cared.

…mostly.

Making another lap along the transformed garden, you found Kate sitting on the gazebo’s bottom step, dressed in a black pantsuit that looked like she'd borrowed it from someone twice her age. She looked up as you approached, a wide grin spreading across her face.

"Okay," she said, standing up quickly. "I need you to not freak out."

She patted her jacket pockets, searching. "Yelena already gave you one, right? Good. Because I have photo number two and I have been waiting all morning to give this to you." She finally found the photo, holding it out like a winning lottery ticket, ignoring your hiss to ‘put it down, Bishop’. "Natasha made me promise I'd give it to you before you saw her in the dress. She was very specific about that."

Kate stepped closer, lowering her voice conspiratorially. "She was blushing. Like, actually blushing when she showed me. I've never seen her blush before. It was—" She shook her head, laughing. "She's so gone for you. It's actually disgusting."

Snatching it from her, you turned the photo around to face you.

Natasha was standing this time, her back to the camera, looking over her shoulder. She wore a leather jacket and nothing else except a pair of black lace panties that left absolutely nothing to the imagination. The shot captured her mid-turn, the curve of her spine barely visible, the muscles in her shoulders and arms defined and strong. Her red hair was loose, cascading down over the leather in a way that felt way too obscene for something so innocent. The panties sat low on her hips, and you could see the dimples of her spine, the slight definition of her thighs. She was looking back at the camera with half a smile, one eyebrow raised. The confidence was palpable; the dangerous kind that came from knowing exactly what she was offering.

On the back, in that same handwriting: "Two down. Three to go. Try not to ruin your tux before the ceremony. - N"

Kate was watching you with barely contained delight. "Your face right now is absolutely priceless," she whispered.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” you squeaked, shoving the photo into your jacket with the first, careful not to damage them. “…this woman wants me to have a heart attack. That’s what this is…”

Kate bounced on her heels, clearly riding the high of being part of whatever insane plan this was. "She's been in hair and makeup for two hours. I peeked in earlier and—" She shook her head, laughing. "You're so fucked. In the best way."

“Kate, I am already fucked. I… she…” you blew a short exhale, chuckling despite the ache tightening your lower belly.

Kate checked her watch. "Okay, real talk: you've got about forty minutes before you need to be at the altar. Tony's got the third one, but he won't give it to you until right before the ceremony starts. He's being dramatic about it."

She gave your arm a squeeze, her grip surprisingly firm and it was a reminder of how she’d earned her spot with Natasha’s team. "You've got this. Just don't pass out. Clint would never let you live it down."

Photo Three:

The altar stood at the edge of the estate's gardens, white fabric draped across a wooden arch wrapped in roses and baby's breath. The late morning sun cast dappled shadows through the canopy above, scattering light across the newly crafted stone pathway. Rows of white chairs stretched behind you, filled with faces you recognized and some you didn't—SHIELD operatives, Avengers associates, a handful of your own people.

Clint stood beneath the arch, wearing a charcoal suit instead of his usual gear. He looked almost dignified. He caught your eye and gave you a small nod, his expression warm and knowing.

Your hands were, in fact, shaking. You shoved them into your pockets to hide it.

"You look like you're about to storm a building." Tony materialized at your elbow, a slight smile playing at his lips. He was holding a champagne flute, still full, and in his other hand…

A Polaroid.

He didn't hand it over immediately. "She was very insistent that you get this one at the last possible second," he said. "Said something about 'peak anticipation.'" He handed you the photo, face down. "I've been sitting on this for an hour. It was physically painful not giving it to you early."

Turning your back to the gathering crowd, you glanced at the glossy image.

This time, Natasha was on her knees. The angle was from slightly above, looking down at her. She wore a white button-down shirt—you were fairly certain it was one of yours—unbuttoned completely, the fabric pulled off her shoulders so it pooled around her elbows. Her breasts were fully visible, her nipples hard and flushed. Her hands were resting on her thighs, hips thrust forward slightly.

The shirt was the only thing covering her, and it was barely doing its job.

Her face was tilted up, chin lifted, eyes locked on the camera with an expression that could only be described as desperate. Like she was worshipping whoever stood on the other side of the lens. Her lips were slightly parted, shiny with gloss, the corner of her mouth curved into the smallest smile.

She looked powerful and vulnerable at the same time, like a woman who could kill you with just her thighs but the kind of woman you wanted to kill you with her thighs.

On the back, the handwriting was messier this time, almost rushed: "I knelt for this one thinking about you on your knees for me. After the ceremony. After. - N"

You were so enamored with the sight, you didn’t realize your mouth was gaping… or that Clint was clearing his throat impatiently… or that the entire fucking wedding was waiting on you to turn the back around.

"(Y/N)," Tony stage-whispered from somewhere to your left. "You might want to pocket that before Clint shoots you with an arrow for making everyone wait."

Photo Four:

The walk back down the aisle was a blur of cheering faces, flying birdseed, and the heavy, intoxicating reality of Natasha’s hand in yours, walking with you—as your wife. The string quartet had seamlessly transitioned into an upbeat piece that felt more like a victory march than a wedding recessional, but honestly, they could’ve been playing Hot Cross Buns for all you cared.

You were fucking married!

The reception was set up on a sprawling terrace behind the main house, where a massive clear-top tent housed tables, a sprawling dance floor, and a bar that Tony had undoubtedly overstocked. Wait staff were already circulating with trays of hors d'oeuvres.

As soon as you crossed the threshold into the reception space, guests began to swarm, eager to offer congratulations. Wanda stepped through the gap of friends rushing to greet you both. She looked deeply amused, a knowing smile playing on her lips as she approached.

"Congratulations," Wanda said softly, looking between you with genuine affection. She’d been one of your biggest supporters throughout your entire relationship and this was the payoff she’d been hoping for. She embraced Natasha first, whispering something that made the redhead laugh, then turned to you.

She wrapped her arms around your shoulders for a brief hug and as she pulled back, you felt the distinct slide of a hand slipping directly into your outer jacket pocket. Her sleight of hand was flawless; no one else in the crowd noticed a thing. Or maybe it was magic. Truthfully, you had no clue anymore.

Wanda’s eyes flicked down to your pocket, then back up to your face. Her smile widened.

"Natasha said to tell you that this one requires... privacy," Wanda said quietly, ensuring her voice didn't carry over the music. "I would suggest the bathroom inside the house. I just checked. It is currently empty."

Natasha caught your eye from a few feet away, currently trapped in a conversation with Maria, but watching you with absolute knowing…and truthfully, you’d never felt more like a deer caught by a bear than in that moment.

Slipping away from the crowd, you wandered into the house and ducked into the east hallway. Tugging the photo from your jacket, you damn near swallowed your tongue.

Natasha was lying on dark sheets, completely naked, with her legs spread wide and knees bent. Her left hand was between her thighs, two fingers buried deep inside her dripping pussy. Thumb pressed against her swollen clit, you could see the way arousal clung to her knuckles, like she’d been touching herself for a while to get this shot.

She looked… hungry.

“Keep your hands to yourself during the speeches. - N” was scripted along the back of the photo, a warning and a tease all at once.

Photo Five (The Finale)

You didn’t remember dinner. Didn’t remember forcing down food you weren’t tasting while people gave speeches you didn’t hear. Why? Because you had four pictures of your gorgeous wife—the same gorgeous wife sitting beside you, one hand above the table, the other on your thigh—and one final one left.

When Natasha’s hand landed on your arm, you jumped. You’d been so lost in thought.

“Cake cutting time,” she murmured with a knowing smirk, arching a brow. “And don’t you dare smash it in my face.”

You chuckled, nodding seriously. “I know. You already told me we’d be getting an annulment if I do that to you.”

“Damn right. It’s archaic and stupid. I didn’t spend hours letting Wanda do my makeup just for frosting to ruin that.”

The cake was an ostentatious, three-tiered thing Tony had insisted on buying for the wedding and you’d just been so happy you were marrying Natasha that you never thought to question it. Both of you managed to cut a slice without a disaster—which, all things considered, that felt like a miracle—before Natasha’s hand touched your chest…

Sliding one final picture into your suit.

“Your final gift,” she whispered, pressing a kiss to your jaw. “Why don’t you take a look at it before the first dance? Because afterwards—” her hand smoothed over your shirt, “I want you to take me inside and fuck my brains out. Am I clear?”

Swallowing dryly, your head nodded so jerkily that you were fairly certain you looked like a bobblehead.

“…yes, ma’am.”

Turning your back to the room, you retrieved the pièce de résistance and shielded it with your body like it was a live grenade.

Natasha was straddling a black leather bench, her body slick with sweat. She was riding a massive, veiny silicone dildo, angle low and unforgiving, capturing the exact point of where it disappeared into her cunt. Her head was thrown back, red hair hanging in a messy tangle down her spine. One of her hands gripped the edge of the bench for leverage, knuckles white, while her other hand was clamped hard over her breast, her fingers aggressively pinching a tight, dark pink nipple. The sheer physical strain in her thighs and stomach made it clear she was driving herself down hard on the toy—

The noise that escaped your throat was inhuman. Like a pterodactyl getting shot out of the fucking sky. There was no way to describe the rush of arousal that rocketed through your veins.

“Like what you see?” Natasha teased, her lips close to your ear as she plastered herself against your side.

“…so fucking much.”

She laughed, the sound only spurring you on. “Come dance with me… then I’ll let you see that in person.”

Slipping the photo back into your jacket, you turned your head to look at your wife—this incredible, wonderful woman you’d never thought you’d deserved but somehow managed to keep anyways—and smiled. It wasn’t lustful or even heated, just… awed.

“I am so fucking in love with you, Mrs. Romanoff,” you breathed, cupping her jaw. “My sun and moon.”

Her expression softened as she leaned into your touch. “…my end and my beginning,” she answered just as quietly, eyes meeting yours. “Now, let’s have our first dance and then get the fuck out of here.”

In that moment, as great as the photos were, you knew there was never going to be anything better than the real thing—and now? The real thing was yours for life.

[dirty]

Hell is, loving you in my sleep and waking up alone

[skinny-dipping-sasquatch]

Reblog daily for health and prosperity.

[gluten-free-pussy]

I was high off my ass last night and had this dream where I was in this dense ass forest and sitting there was a tall woman. She was so tall I couldn’t see her face but she was wearing gold and I was like “uh…hi?” And she said “I made you, do you know that?” And I nodded and she was like “I hear your thoughts. Why do you hate my creation? Why do you try to destroy yourself? I made you perfect as you are. Please don’t break my heart”. Then she started crying and it flooded and I woke up with fucking heart palpitations like what does it Mean™️????

[animution11]

[royalhans]

polar opposite of this post

[hrmsketches]

inspiration struck and would not let me go until i drew this

[gluten-free-pussy]

This is really beautiful!!!

[tortillamastersblog]

Shadow After Light - Part 7 | Wednesday Addams

Pairing: Wednesday Addams x reader

Warnings: foul language

Summary: Wednesday continues to turn your world upside down.

Continuation of Where Light Bends Wrong

Previous Part | Next Part | Masterlist

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That's why we practice…

Easier said than done. It's been two days now and Wednesday and I have taken every opportunity we could find to practice. It's the only useful thing to do with our time besides attending class since the stalker's been quiet, Morticia won't give back Goody's book of spells, and there's been no more clues regarding Galpin's murder or the mysterious crow that seems to be connected to everything.

Every time Wednesday's close to me and touches my cheek or kisses me, I feel my insides melt. And then she nicks me with the dagger and I bleed.

I have no idea what my guard is, much less how to keep it up, which has been frustrating to say the least.

Wednesday is pretty adamant about my getting it, though, so she's making me practice over and over again.

The only thing that takes the sting out of my repeated failure is the fact that Wednesday's touchier than usual and I'm getting a lot more kisses.

I skip up the stairs, intent on going to Ophelia Hall to check on Wednesday and Enid since both of them didn't show up to dinner only to run into Bianca of all people when I round the corner.

"Sorry, my bad." I apologize with a soft smile.

"It's okay."

I'm about to move past her without another word when I feel overwhelming tension radiating off her. She just came out of Dort's office, so something must have happened between them. I don't want to pry too much, but checking in won't hurt so I ask, "You good?"

Her eyes widen slightly before she averts her gaze, chuckling miserably. "You know, I'm surprised I didn't figure it out sooner."

I raise an eyebrow. "Figure what out?"

"That you're an Ægiryn." She looks up and smiles sadly. "I always thought you were just good with people, even if you kept to yourself most of the time. But you can literally read minds, so —" "I can't read minds," I cut her off quietly, making sure no one's around who could have overheard her.

"Minds, emotions, intentions… It's all the same," she says, lowering her voice too.

I let out an amused breath and nudge her gently. "Not really, but anyway. What's going on? Are you okay? What were you doing in Dort's office?"

She promised not tell anyone what I am, and I still trust her, but it caught me off guard that she brought it up again unprompted.

"Yeah… Yeah, I'm fine. Just had a talk since he's appointed me the student liaison of the school's fundraising committee." Her smile turns bitter, and I know there's something she's not telling me, but I don't want to push any further than I already have, so I drop it.

"Oh, okay. Sounds like a big deal…"

She hums in agreement and I don't know what else to say so I just say, "Well, if you need any help come find me."

"Thanks, Y/N." She presses her lips into a thin line and squeezes my elbow in thanks before brushing past me.

I watch her go until she rounds a corner and make a mental note to check on her a little more often from now on before continuing my trek to Ophelia Hall.

When I get to Wednesday and Enid's room though, it's empty and I get the sinking feeling that something happened.

I pull out my phone and call Enid, but the call immediately goes to voicemail.

"What the…?"

I look around for any sign of where they could be, but there's nothing.

I frown and close my eyes, using my last resort in an attempt to locate them… Wednesday's heartbeat.

It's across the school and at first it's steady but then, out of nowhere, it jumps and my eyes fly open.

Something is going on.

Without thinking, I dart back out of the room and follow the heartbeat all the way to the destroyed clocktower on the other side of the school.

I hear shouting which sounds a lot like Enid and freeze for a second before deciding to take the stairs instead of the rusty old elevator.

I take them two at a time without breaking a sweat, only to freeze when I reach the top and take in the scene unfolding in front of me.

Lying on the metal-grate floor on one of the tower's walkways are Enid and Bruno, chained to each other, back to back. Suspended above them are a bunch of gleaming swords and knifes which are attached to a metal platform that is slowly but surely being lowered. There's almost less than a foot left between them and the piercing blades and I panic.

"Enid?!" I hurry onto the walkway and grab a hold of the edge of the platform, but it's too heavy for me to hold up all the way.

Enid's panicked eyes snap to me and Bruno, whose back is facing me, strains his neck to also look at me.

"Y/N!"

I grit my teeth at the wobble in Enid's voice and fail to bite back a sarcastic retort when Bruno whimpers, "Do something!"

"Are you blind? I'm trying!" I look around, panicking. "Where is Wednesday?"

Before either of the werewolves can answer, I hear the familiar tap of Thing's fingers and look down, spotting him and Wednesday through the holes in the metal grate on the level below.

They're surrounded by a bunch of books and Wednesday's scanning over all the titles, seemingly calm but her racing heart and palpable panic tell a different story.

There's also a typewriter on a small table between the stacks of books and I frown.

"What the fuck is going on? Why aren't you jamming the mechanism?" I shout.

The platform keeps lowering despite my grip on it and I groan in frustration. I can see the cogwheels connected to the platform's chains turning, but I'm too far away to jam them and I can't risk letting go of the platform even though I can't really hold it.

What is this? How did they get into this situation? Was this the stalker's doing?

"Wednesday!" I roar when she doesn't answer me regarding the mechanism.

She keeps looking at the book titles, and that's when I realize she's not doing it just for fun. She's trying to solve some kind of riddle, which I'm guessing is the key to stopping this whole thing.

"Enid, what's —" I pause and my hand shoots out abruptly when I sense something right next to me.

My fingers close around what feels like fabric and I look to my right, stunned when I don't actually see what I'm holding for a good few seconds before Agnes, the red-headed freshman who idolizes Wednesday, appears with wide eyes.

And then it clicks. She's the stalker. She's also a vanisher, which explains how she managed to evade Wednesday all this time.

"You," I seethe, holding onto her collar with one hand while keeping a hold on the slipping platform with my other. "What are you doing? Make it stop!"

I order, but she's frozen in shock and delight. The former being my fault and the latter being due to the tense situation since she seems to be einjoying it.

Wednesday's eyes flicker up for a moment, and I feel the surprise hit her, but then she refocuses on the books and a moment later she types something onto the typerwriter which actually makes the whole mechanism screech to a halt right as the tip of the longest blade grazes the lapel of Enid's uniform jacket.

Everyone except Agnes lets out a sigh of relief and I only hesitantly let go of the platform when it starts rising again.

I whirl around and glare at Agnes. "What the actual—" "Fuck!" Enid cuts in, breathlessly fighting against the chains.

Bruno tries to shrug them off, but it doesn't work, so I shove Agnes aside and help them get free.

Wednesday and Thing join us as I help Enid to her feet, letting Bruno get up himself, and then we all turn to Agnes who looks like she doesn't know whether to be smug or scared.

"Happy prank day, Wednesday," she says and I roll my eyes.

"I can't believe my crazed stalker is an invisible thirteen-year-old," Wednesday drawls in disbelief, stepping in front of me to face Agnes properly.

"We haven't been properly introduced," Agnes says, regaining some confidence and clasping her hands together in front of her. "My name is Agnes DeMille, your number one superfan."

Enid, Bruno and I stare at Agnes in a mix of fury and disbelief and while I can't see Wednesday's face I hear her exhale in exasperation. I also reach out with my powers to feel her anxiety and worry fading and turning into annoyance.

"You don't seriously expect me to believe you pulled off this elaborate prank on your own," she challenges which only makes the redhead to smile smugly.

"Of course not. I had a little help from some Davincis. After I blackmailed them with some inriminating Snapchat pics- Perks of being invisble. I knew that if I came up with the most twisted game, I'd get your attention.I hope it's lived up to your standards."

I cross my arms and glare at her. The audacity… And all in the name of what? Impressing Wednesday?

I stay quiet since this is clearly something Wednesday is capable of handling herself, but Enid scoffs and marches past us, bumping into Agnes on the way to the old elevator.

"You're such a psycho, you know that, right?"

Bruno, seemingly not knowing what to say, grimances and follows Enid.

I glance at the back of Wednesday's head, waiting for her to chastise Agnes for the stunt she just pulled, but she doesn't. Instead she says, "You almost burned my novel at the Founder's Pyre."

"That was just the appetizer. This was the main course." She gestures around with an almost manic look on her face and this time I can't help but scoff myself.

"Okay, that's enough. You sound like a James Bond villain." I draw myself up to my full height and level a withering glare at her. "If you ever pull something like that again…"

I trail off, figuring an open-ended threat will probably be more effective. But Agnes doesn't even look at me. She's still looking at Wednesday with wide, hopeful eyes.

Thing tugs on my pants and I give him a curt nod before he scrambles up my body to perch on my shoulder.

He's surprisingly calm considering the situation, which makes me take a steadying breath myself.

Agnes, despite being the stalker, is fairly harmless, and she has nothing to do with Galpin or Enid's prophecized death.

I focus on calming my still pounding heart only for my attention to snap back to Agnes when she pulls out Glapin's phone after clarifying she had nothing to do with his death and that she only ever wanted to be Wednesday's friend.

"I took this as a souvenir," she says, handing it to Wednesday who snatches it out of her hand. "I already scrolled thorugh all his texts and emails."

Wednesday eyes the phone for a second before eyeing Agnes suspiciously. "So if you didn't kill him, who did?"

Agnes shrugs and she tilts her head hopefully, admiration shining in her eyes. "I don't know, but I can help you find out."

Absolutely not.

I go to step forward but Thing tugs on my collar in silent warning to let Wednesday handle it.

I scowl but don't do anything, letting a heavy silence fall over us before Wednesday pockets the phone and wordlessly walks past her to join Enid and Bruno in the waiting elevator.

I follow her, not taking my eyes off of Agnes in case she decides she's not done impressing Wednesday yet, and squeeze in behind Wednesday, grazing my hand over her lower back where neither Bruno and Enid nor Agnes can see.

She leans into it almost imperceptably and that's enough to let me know she's fine before Agnes approaches the elevator too with a tentative smile.

"Got room for one more?" she asks and this time I don't stop myself from acting.

I huff and reach over Wednesday's shoulder to slide the old, metal grate door shut right in front of her face.

"Wannabes take the stairs," Enid spits and I agree with a quiet grunt

The elevator screeches to life and we descend with Agnes watching us with a dejected look that almost makes me pity her.

What the hell just happened?

It's late, but after what happened with Agnes earlier, I can't sleep so I sneak out of my room and make my way through the deserted school until I get to the moonlit courtyard.

It's pretty cold, the last warmth of the summer slowly but surely vanishing and making room for the chill of fall, making me shudder as I make my way across the courtyard unseen.

There's a howl in the distance and I freeze for a split second, focusing on any other sounds nearby, but my ears don't pick up anything else, so I refocus on the massive brick wall in front of me.

I reach up until I find a good hold and then start climbing.

Admittedly, it's not the safest way to get to Ophelia Hall, but I didn't want to risk running into any teachers after curfew. I also don't mind the fresh air and the little bit of effort it takes to climb the wall to their balcony.

My breaths are steady, even as I keep climbing, and I make it to the top in no time, dusting my hands off on my sweatpants as soon as I make it over the balustrade.

Wednesday's and Enid's room is dark, but as soon as I approach the round, spider-web window, a small light turns on and I can't help but smile softly when I see Wednesday sitting up in bed with a frown.

She looks around and at first her eyes sweep over me, uncomprehending, but then they snap back to me, shining with surprise.

She glances at Enid who's still asleep on her side of the room, and then swings her legs out of bed before padding to the window without making a sound and opening it for me.

Her hair is still in it's braids, but it's sleep mussed, and I'm surprised to see that while she stuck to her long, black silk pajama bottoms, she's wearing one of my plain gray shirts as a top instead of the matching silk button up.

It's a little oversized on her, but it looks great and makes my stomach flutter pleasantly.

"What are you doing?" she hisses, pulling me inside with her.

The room is warm and peacful and smells like a mix between Enid's bubblegum shampoo - that she swears is great for her hair and coat - and Wednesday's cedarwood bodywash.

"Sorry, I couldn't sleep," I confess, giving Thing a small wave when he sleepily peeks out of his little house on Enid's side of the room.

He wiggles his finger back in greeting before retreating again.

"So you decided to scale the school walls for fun?" she deadpans and even though the surprise on her face has been replaced by her mask of nonchalance, I can sense the slight worry swirling around inside her chest.

I shake my head and reach out to fix her messy bangs a little. "No. I just wanted to see after what happened earlier you without risking detention."

She glares at me and grabs my wrist, putting an end to my ministrations. "So you'd rather risk falling to your death instead?"

I just shrug even though I know the fall wouldn't have killed me, which makes her soften visibly.

She sighs and rolls her eyes, muttering under her breath, "How romantic…"

I grin and let her pull me toward her bed, making sure to keep quiet so as to not wake Enid who's still snoring softly.

She climbs back into bed and sits back agains the headboard, crossing her legs, while I take a seat on the edge, pulling one of my legs up to sit on my ankle.

The low light of her bedside lamp casts shadows across her face, making her look tired and I can't help but tug on the fabric of her pants to get her attention.

"Are you okay?" I ask quietly which makes her frown.

"Why wouldn't I be?"

I sigh and rest my hand on her calf. "Well, you know, because of that little stunt Agnes pulled earlier."

She scoffs and looks at her folded hands in her lap "I've been buried alive before, which was quite enjoyable, might I add... It would be an insult to even attempt to compare what Agnes did to that."

I shuffle closer and dip my head to catch her eye. "Maybe, but she endangered Enid, not you. That's different."

Dark eyes meet mine and I know I hit a nerve because she looks away again a second later, one of her hands reaching up to touch the ring on the necklace around her neck.

It's the Stillmark I gifted her for Christmas- the one Crackstone stole from that Ægyrin boy all those centuries ago.

"I know you're worried about her because of your vision. I am, too," I whisper. "But I will do everything in my power to protect her- And you, of course. I promise. Nothing will happen to you two."

She looks up again with her guards fully down and I turn my hand on her calf over when I feel her pinky brush against my knuckles so she can slip her fingers between mine.

"It's immoral to make a promise you can't keep," she says, her voice cracking in an uncharacteristic way and her worried eyes flickering to Enid's side of the room.

I smile softly and run my thumb over hers. "It's a good thing you don't care about morals then."

Her eyes snap back to mine but despite looking like she wants to refute my point, she drops it because she knows I'm right.

I mean, she does care about morals, just not the ones society tells her to care about.

She's also finally gotten it through that thick skull of hers that we're in this together and that I'm with her no matter what.

Silence settles over us and I continue to hold her hand, enjoying the soft contact after everything that happened earlier because while I was worried about Enid - and Bruno, but only because Enid seems to have taken a liking to him - I was also sick to my stomach worrying about her.

After all, she wasn't in her room when I went looking for her and I thought something had happened to her before I tracked her down by her frantic heartbeat.

Enid lets out a sleepy hum and I freeze when she shuffles around. She doesn't wake up, but it makes me check the time on my phone and I realize I've already stayed longer than I'd planned.

"I should probably get back to my own room," I mumble, moving to get up but Wednesday stops me by tugging on my hand.

"I'd rather push you off the balcony myself than watch you climb back down in the dark."

I raise an eyebrow. "So, what do you want me to do? If I leave through the door I'll get caught by a teacher."

She shakes her head and lets go of my hand to get under the comforter again. "No. They only patrol the hallways until two in the morning. After that they go to bed as well."

"It's still three hours until then though," I argue quietly.

What does she expect me to do? Just hang around?

I'm tired and I actually do want to go to bed myself. After everything that happened today—

My eyes go wide when Wednesday lifts the comforter and says, "Well, what are you waiting for?"

She wants me to sleep in the same bed as her?

I swallow thickly, trying not to think about all the serious consequences this couls have.

It's not like we'd be doing anything inappropriate, and it wouldn't be the first time we're sharing a bed, but Enid is right there and if a teacher catches us…

I must have wordlessly stared at Wednesday for a couple of seconds too long because she sighs and shoots me a pointed look. "I'm starting to wish I had just pushed you off the balcony."

I exhale sharply, half amused, half annoyed, and decide to just go with it. Consequences be damned.

Wednesday isn't one who insists on closeness unless she's actually shaken, even if she'd never admit it, so I slip into bed behind her and wrap my arm around her once she's leaned forward to turn off the light.

She's a bit stiff for a few moments, but then she settles back against me and even holds onto my forearm that is slung around her.

"You have to be gone before Enid wakes up tomorrow," she warns which makes me smile against the back of her neck.

"I will be. Don't worry. Now go back to sleep."

She kicks my shin non-too-gently and says, "Don't tell me what to do."

I supress a chuckle and hold her tighter, pressing a light kiss to the soft skin right behind her ear. "Sorry. It won't happen again."

She grumbles something that sounds a lot like "It better not", but she's already half asleep and I draw circles onto her ribs with my thumb until I drift off myself.

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I'm sorry it took me so long to update this story, guys, but as I've mentioned before, life is pretty chaotic at the moment.

I hope you still enjoyed it though. <3

Tag list: @sunshinez4 @protozoario @automaticpatroltragedy @mamas-evil-hag @theallseer97 @hellenheaven @iwshemj2 @jizzuo308 @trashcannotbealive @gloriousvariant @brocoliisscared @1863rdorv-reader @fck-this-name @iamprodigious @kiwidreamersstuff @rillylogers @pansexual-and-eating-pancakes @aka-persephone @superrslut @immadowhateva @ulicebld @idgaf-nr @fck-this-name @ortegalvr @footballforliferr @lovelyy-moonlight @vinvinvin-who @whyamihereidkanymore @xxxieli @spacing-out-101 @hellokittyloverrxox @kaylakyr @thelonewriter247 @paladinncleric @aaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhh

[ilovemarvel97]

The Heir’s Secret - Chapter 12

Birthday

Wanda Maximoff x Reader

Summary: Y/N was no longer the cold, distant prince, but a kind, loving person who cared for Wanda deeply. And with his birthday approaching, Wanda wanted it to be the best day he ever had.

Word Counter: 11k+

Warnings: Fluff, Mention of trauma, mention of smut.

Series Masterlist || Main Masterlist

---

Two Months Later

The afternoon sun painted the garden in a soft golden glow, the scent of blooming lilies and roses drifting lazily through the air. Wanda sat beneath the same oak tree she had grown fond of — the one that used to be the late queen’s favorite spot — pouring another cup of tea for Lina. The young girl’s laughter filled the air as they chatted about harmless little things: the palace cats, the stubborn peacocks that refused to leave the courtyard, and the pastries Lina had sneaked from the kitchen.

Wanda was just beginning to tell her about a new book she’d started reading when a familiar voice interrupted from behind the hedges.

“Now this looks suspiciously like a secret meeting,” Y/N said, stepping into view with a teasing grin. His cloak was half-fastened, his hair slightly disheveled — telltale signs that he’d left his duties in haste.

“Brother!” Lina squealed, jumping up from her seat.

Wanda turned, raising an amused brow. “Aren’t you supposed to be in the council hall right now?”

“Supposed to,” Y/N admitted shamelessly, walking over. “But then I remembered two of my favorite girls were enjoying tea without me. Couldn’t let that happen, could I?”

Before Wanda could scold him, he bent down and pressed a quick kiss to her lips — gentle, familiar, and utterly unbothered by the way her cheeks instantly flushed pink. Lina giggled, covering her mouth with both hands.

“You always do that!” the little girl laughed.

Y/N grinned, then turned to her. “Do what?”

“That!” she said, pointing accusingly before he swooped down and kissed her cheek, too. Lina squealed again as Y/N’s hands darted to her sides, tickling mercilessly until she was shrieking with laughter.

“Y-Y/N, stop! I’ll spill the tea!”

Wanda laughed softly, watching the scene with warmth blooming in her chest. It had been a long time since she’d seen both of them this carefree.

When Y/N finally let Lina go, she flopped dramatically onto the grass, still giggling. He stood tall again, brushing off his cloak, and turned to Wanda with that boyish grin of his — the one that could melt her annoyance in an instant.

“You’re so naughty,” she said, trying to sound stern but failing as her lips curved into a smile.

“Maybe,” he said, reaching out to take her hand and kiss her knuckles. “But you love me anyway.”

Wanda rolled her eyes but didn’t pull her hand back. “You do realize His Majesty is going to be furious when he finds out you ran off again?”

“I’ll take my chances,” Y/N said lightly, sitting beside her on the bench and pouring himself a cup of tea. “It’s worth the trouble.”

Lina climbed back into her chair, cheeks flushed from laughter, and looked between them.

Wanda gave him a knowing look as Y/N reached across the table, shamelessly swiping one of the cookies from the plate before she could stop him.

“Y/N,” she said, half scolding, half amused.

“What?” he replied with mock innocence, taking a bite. “I’m just ensuring these aren’t poisoned. Safety first, my love.”

Lina burst into laughter, clutching her teacup with both hands. “You always say that when you steal cookies!”

He grinned, eyes sparkling. “And it’s always worked, hasn’t it?”

Wanda shook her head, hiding her smile behind her teacup. For a few moments, it felt peaceful again — just laughter and sunlight, just the three of them beneath the late queen’s garden trees.

But the peace didn’t last long.

A voice called from the garden’s archway, polite but firm. “Your Highness.”

Y/N froze mid-bite and slowly turned. Ser Rogers stood there, tall and composed in his armor, though his expression carried that familiar look of long-suffering patience.

“Ser Rogers,” Y/N said flatly, lowering the cookie. “You dare step into my mother’s garden without permission?”

The knight sighed quietly, clearly used to this routine. “Forgive me, Your Highness, but the council is asking for you. Again. And it’s nearly time for sword training.”

“I was never here,” Y/N muttered, sinking back in his seat as if that would make him invisible.

Rogers raised an unimpressed brow. “Your chair, Your Highness, has a rather noticeable occupant.”

Lina giggled again, and even Wanda had to bite her lip to keep from laughing outright.

“Traitors, all of you,” Y/N grumbled good-naturedly as he stood, brushing off his cloak.

“You’ll be late if you keep pretending to sulk,” Wanda teased.

He leaned down, pressing a quick kiss to her hair before turning toward the knight. “Fine, fine. But only because you look like you’ll faint if I don’t.”

“I’ll consider it an honor,” Rogers said dryly, stepping aside to let him pass.

Y/N looked back once more — at Wanda smiling softly up at him, at Lina waving both hands — and the faintest sigh left his lips. “I’ll be back before supper,” he promised.

“You’d better,” Wanda said. “Or I’ll send Ser Rogers after you again.”

Rogers smirked faintly. “That’s a threat I’ll happily enforce, My Lady.”

Y/N shot him a glare over his shoulder as he walked away, muttering, “I liked you better when you were scared of me.”

Wanda and Lina’s laughter followed him all the way down the garden path.

As Y/N’s figure disappeared down the garden path, the sound of his boots fading into the courtyard beyond, Wanda let out a quiet sigh and settled back into her chair. Lina was still giggling, covering her mouth as if trying to hide it, though her bright eyes betrayed her amusement.

“You two are so silly,” she said between laughs. “Y/N always acts so serious around everyone else, but with you he’s different.”

Wanda smiled, setting her cup down gently. “He’s been different lately, hasn’t he?”

Lina nodded eagerly, her braids bouncing. “Yes! He laughs more now.”

That warmth bloomed in Wanda’s chest — soft and bittersweet. She looked toward the archway where Y/N had gone, her mind still replaying the easy grin he’d worn earlier, the way his eyes softened whenever he looked at her. For all his strength and stature, there was a tenderness in him that she knew few had ever seen.

“Do you think he’s happy?” Lina asked suddenly, tilting her head.

Wanda blinked, taken off guard by the question. “I think…” she began slowly, “he’s learning how to be…”

Lina looked thoughtful at that, then smiled — the kind of smile only a little sister could give, full of faith and love. “You make him happy,” she said simply.

Wanda’s cheeks flushed softly. “I hope so,” she admitted. “He deserves that, at least.”

They stayed like that for a while, enjoying the gentle hum of the garden — the rustle of leaves, the chirp of birds, the faint laughter of servants passing in the distance. Eventually, when the teapot had gone cold and the cookies were nearly gone, Lina was called away by her tutor.

Wanda walked her to the path, watching as the little girl ran off, her laughter echoing faintly down the corridor. When she turned back toward the empty garden, the stillness settled around her again.

Her gaze fell to the seat Y/N had occupied earlier — his cup half-finished, crumbs still left on his plate. She reached out, brushing her fingers over the rim of the cup, and smiled faintly to herself.

It’s been eight months since she had first stepped foot into Virelia’s palace, and she had seen Y/N in many forms — the composed prince, the quiet scholar, the careful husband — but lately, she was seeing the real person beneath it all. The one who teased his sister, stole cookies, smiled at her like she was the only thing that made sense in his world.

And she loved that person more than she’d ever thought possible.

She whispered softly to the wind, as if sending the words after him:

“Come back soon, my love.”

Little did she know, at that very moment, in the training yard across the palace, Y/N was trying — and failing — to focus on sword drills, his mind still replaying the way Wanda had smiled up at him in the garden.

---

As Wanda turned the corner of the marble corridor, her steps slowed at the sight of King Alaric standing ahead — tall, imposing, with his usual air of arrogance. His cold blue eyes traveled over her like she was something to be assessed, not respected.

“Your Grace,” Wanda greeted softly, bowing her head out of courtesy.

The king’s lips curved, but there was no kindness in it. “Ah, Lady Wanda. You seem to be enjoying your stay rather… thoroughly,” he said, voice dripping with mockery. “Tea in my late wife’s garden, laughter echoing through the halls — quite the charming sight.”

Her fingers tightened slightly against her skirts. “It’s a lovely place. I’m honored that your son allows me and his sister to visit it.”

“Of course,” Alaric murmured, stepping closer — too close. “My son is generous to a fault. Always giving away what should be guarded. Always soft with those who learn how to please him.”

Wanda’s breath hitched, her body tensing as she met his gaze. “If you have something to say, Your Majesty, please do.”

The king chuckled, leaning in just enough that she could smell the sharp scent of wine on his breath. “I wonder what it is you give him, Lady Wanda. To make him so… distracted. I’ve never seen him this enamored — not with diplomacy, not with his duties, not with anyone.”

Her pulse quickened, but she kept her composure. “He is your son. If he has found happiness, that should please you.”

“Please me?” Alaric sneered. “A foreign woman whispering into my heir’s ear — do you think I’m pleased by that?”

Wanda swallowed hard, her chin lifting just slightly. “I think he is a better man than you will ever understand.”

For a moment, silence fell. Then, Alaric’s smirk returned — dark and cruel. “Careful, Lady Wanda. You’re in my palace. My mercy keeps you here.”

Her eyes didn’t waver, though her heart was pounding. “Then I’ll thank you for it… while it lasts.”

He stepped aside with a low hum, eyes lingering far too long before he finally turned his back to her.

Wanda walked away, her breath trembling, but her steps steady. Once she reached the safety of her chambers, she pressed her hands to her chest, whispering as if to banish the chill his words left behind:

“Come back soon, Y/N…”

---

Later that evening, the long table in the royal dining hall felt strangely peaceful without the King’s presence. His chair at the head of the table remained empty, and the absence of his heavy stare made it easier for everyone to breathe — especially Wanda.

Y/N, sitting beside her, noticed the faint calm in her shoulders as the servants cleared away the last of the dishes. “You’re smiling again,” he said quietly, leaning close enough that only she could hear.

She looked up at him, eyes soft. “Am I?”

He nodded, teasing gently, “It’s nice. You should do it more often — at least when I’m around.”

Her lips curved. “I smile plenty when you’re around. You just don’t notice because you’re too busy stealing cookies from Lina’s plate.”

Y/N grinned, his laughter low and warm, echoing softly in the hall. Across the table, Lina rolled her eyes with the exaggerated annoyance of a little sister used to their banter. “You two are hopeless,” she declared, though her smile betrayed her fondness.

When supper ended, Y/N offered his hand to Wanda, and together they walked with Lina through the lamplit corridors back toward her chambers. The castle was quieter now, the soft sound of footsteps on marble blending with the distant hum of guards changing posts.

At Lina’s door, Wanda knelt to hug her goodnight. The girl wrapped her arms tightly around her neck, whispering, “Goodnight, Sister Wanda.”

“Goodnight, little one,” Wanda said, kissing her forehead.

Y/N tousled Lina’s hair affectionately. “Sleep well, troublemaker. Don’t let the maids catch you sneaking pastries again.”

Lina gasped. “You promised you wouldn’t tell!”

“I didn’t,” Y/N said with a smirk, “but I might.”

Her playful glare made both adults laugh before she closed the door behind her.

Then, as the laughter faded, the quiet of the corridor settled between them. Y/N turned toward Wanda, his expression softening. “Come,” he said, offering his hand again. “Let’s get you to bed before you fall asleep in the hall.”

Wanda chuckled, slipping her hand into his. “And what about you, my prince? Don’t you have training at sunrise?”

“I do,” he admitted, leading her toward their shared chambers, “but for now, I’d rather spend what’s left of tonight with you.”

As they entered their room, the flickering firelight greeted them — soft, golden, intimate. Wanda exhaled, letting the day’s unease melt away.

For the first time that night, she truly felt safe.

---

At night

Wanda’s fingers drew slow, soothing circles over the center of Y/N’s chest, feeling the gentle rise and fall beneath her palm. The warmth of Y/N skin grounded her, a quiet reminder that she was here — alive, safe, hers. The firelight flickered across the room, painting soft shadows over Y/N face as her eyes fluttered shut.

Y/N had taken the bandages off earlier before coming to bed. It still amazed Wanda how naturally she did it now — how much trust there was in the simple act.

Her gaze lingered on Y/N profile, her heart tightening with tenderness as her thoughts drifted.

It had only been two months since Wanda learned the truth, Y/N had begun to open up to her in ways she hadn’t dared hope for. In the quiet moments — when the palace was asleep and they lay tangled together like this — Y/N spoke to her in pieces, soft confessions that broke and rebuilt her heart all at once.

She told Wanda about her childhood. How, when she was little, everyone thought she was just a boy because that’s what they saw — but deep down, she had always felt like something else too. A girl, somehow. Both, yet neither. She hadn’t had words for it back then. Only feelings. Only confusion.

And when she’d told her father — when she’d tried, with a child’s innocent honesty, to explain that she didn’t understand why she felt different — King Alaric had beaten her.

She was three.

Wanda’s breath caught quietly, remembering the way Y/N’s voice had trembled when she said it. The way her eyes had gone distant, as if reliving every strike.

Y/N told her that was when her training began — brutal lessons meant to turn her into the perfect heir, the obedient prince. And every time the King raised his hand, Y/N’s mother would step between them. She’d take the blows instead, shielding her child without hesitation.

Wanda remembered how Y/N’s voice had broken when she said, “I swore I’d protect her after that… but I couldn’t. She died giving birth to Lina.”

A lump rose in her throat now. She blinked back tears, resting her cheek against Y/N’s chest as if to keep her close enough that the pain couldn’t reach her anymore.

Y/N stirred faintly, half-asleep, her arm tightening around Wanda.

“Wanda,” Y/N murmured, voice rough with drowsiness.

Wanda looked up, brushing her lips against Y/N collarbone. “Sleep,” she whispered. “You’re safe.”

Y/N hummed softly, the sound low and warm in her chest. Then she shifted, turning toward Wanda, the sheets rustling quietly between them. Y/N’s nose brushed against hers in a gentle nuzzle, a faint smile tugging at her lips.

“Can’t sleep?” Y/N asked.

Wanda’s heart fluttered. She smiled, her breath mingling with Y/N’s. “Just thinking,” she whispered.

Y/N opened her eyes slightly — heavy-lidded, soft with affection. “About?” she asked, pulling Wanda a little closer, her hand sliding around Wanda’s waist.

Her fingers found their way to Y/N’s cheek, Wanda’s thumb tracing the faint line of her jaw. “You,” she said simply. And before she could respond, Wanda closed the distance, pressing her lips to Y/N.

The kiss started tender — unhurried, sweet. But when Y/N’s hand moved up Wanda’s back, and her fingers tangled in Y/N’s hair, something deeper stirred between them. Their breathing quickened, lips parting and finding each other again with more urgency.

Y/N’s body reacted before her mind could catch up — the way Wanda’s warmth pressed against her, the way Wanda sighed softly into her mouth — it was overwhelming. Too much, too soon.

Y/N broke the kiss, breath uneven, her forehead resting against Wanda’s.

“Wanda…” she whispered, eyes squeezed shut. Her voice trembled with restraint. “We should stop.”

Wanda blinked, still dazed from the heat of the moment. “Why?” she asked softly, not in protest but in concern — sensing the conflict in Y/N.

Y/N pulled back just enough to look at her, Y/N hand cupping her cheek tenderly. “Because if I don’t, I might forget everything I promised you,” she said quietly. “And I’ll never do anything you’re not ready for.”

Wanda’s breath caught. The sincerity in Y/N’s voice made her heart race, but so did something else — the warmth between them, the tension that hadn’t faded, only deepened. Her cheeks flushed, and for a moment, she couldn’t look away from Y/N’s eyes.

She could feel Y/N — the steady, restrained tremor of Y/N’s body, the heat of Y/N’s skin, and the unmistakable hardness pressing faintly against her thigh even as Y/N tried to pull her hips back, giving Wanda space. That tiny act of control, that instinct to protect her even now, only made her chest tighten with emotion.

Her fingers slid into Y/N’s hair, curling at the nape of Y/N’s neck, drawing her just a little closer until their foreheads touched. Wanda’s voice was barely a whisper, trembling but sure.

“What if I am?”

Y/N froze — her breath catching, her body going utterly still. Then the color rose sharply to her cheeks, painting them deep red. Her lips parted, but no sound came out at first; she could only stare at Wanda, eyes wide with shock and something like awe.

“Wanda…” Y/N managed at last, her voice rough, uncertain. Her throat worked as she swallowed hard, struggling to find words while her heart pounded so loud she was sure Wanda could hear it.

She smiled shyly, eyes soft but unflinching, her thumb brushing over Y/N’s jaw. “You’re always so careful with me,” she murmured. “But I trust you.”

Y/N’s resolve wavered, torn between the fire in Wanda’s words and the promise she’d made — not to rush, not to take without certainty. Her hand trembled as she cupped Wanda’s face again, her breath unsteady.

“Don’t say that unless you mean it,” Y/N whispered, her forehead pressing against Wanda’s.

Wanda’s breath trembled, her eyes never leaving Y/N’s. For a long moment, neither of them moved — caught between longing and restraint, between what they felt and what they knew.

Then Y/N slowly shook her head, the faintest, aching smile curving her lips. “No,” she whispered, voice barely more than air. “Not yet.”

Y/N pressed her forehead to Wanda’s, their noses brushing as her hand slid to the back of Y/N’s neck, holding her there gently. Y/N’s heart was racing; Wanda could feel it beneath her palm, pounding against Y/N’s ribs.

“I want you to be sure,” Y/N murmured, closing her eyes as if the effort of control itself hurt. “When it happens… I want it to be right. Not because we got lost in the moment.”

Wanda’s chest tightened at the tenderness in Y/N’s words — the way she spoke as if every part of Wanda mattered. Her fingers loosened in Y/N’s hair, then she tilted Y/N’s head down and kissed her softly. A whisper of a kiss, warm and lingering, full of quiet promise.

“I understand,” she said against Y/N’s lips. “And I’ll wait… until you’re ready too.”

Y/N let out a shaky breath, relief and love tangled together in that sound. She rested her forehead against Wanda’s again, eyes fluttering open just enough to meet her gaze. “You make it very hard to be patient,” she admitted with a small, sheepish grin.

Wanda giggled softly, brushing her thumb over Y/N’s bottom lip. “Then it’s a good thing you’re very stubborn.”

Y/N chuckled lowly, the tension melting into something gentler, and she pulled Wanda into his arms. Wanda nestled against Y/N’s chest, feeling the steady rhythm of her heartbeat beneath her ear. Y/N’s hand came to rest on her back, tracing slow, calming circles.

“Sleep,” Y/N murmured. “Before I forget how to think.”

She smiled against Y/N, closing her eyes. “Goodnight, my prince.”

Y/N pressed a kiss to her hair, whispering just as sleep began to take them both.

“Goodnight, my heart.”

---

The next morning, Wanda found herself blushing every time her eyes met Y/N’s.

She couldn’t stop thinking about what she’d said the night before — those quiet, trembling words she hadn’t planned to say. What if I am?

She hadn’t even known she meant them until they were out of her mouth.

It wasn’t that she didn’t know love before. She had loved Jarvis — in her own way. He had been kind, gentle, someone she had grown up with and trusted. But that love was calm, familiar… never burning. It never made her heart race or her skin tingle from a single touch.

What she felt for Y/N was different. Deeper. Wilder. Real.

She loved Y/N — she already knew that. She loved him?…her?…them so much in the way she missed them when they left for council meetings, or how her heart always softened when they smiled at their little sister.

But what she’d realized last night — as they held her like she was something fragile and sacred — was that she wanted to be theirs completely.

Not because she had to. Not because it was expected of her as Y/N’s wife.

But because she wanted to.

She wanted to feel Y/N’s touch, their warmth, their heartbeat against hers — to give herself to them fully, with trust and love and no fear between to two of them.

As she watched Y/N now, dressed for duty, hair slightly tousled, smiling softly as they poured her tea first, her chest tightened with a rush of emotion so strong it almost hurt.

She wasn’t just ready to be with Y/N.

She was ready to belong to Y/N — in every way that mattered.

---

A Week Later

As the day went on, Wanda began to notice a different kind of energy in the palace — a restless hum that filled every corridor. Servants hurried past with arms full of linens and polished silverware, florists carried baskets of blooms through the great hall, and even the guards had exchanged their usual attire for their more formal uniforms.

It was clear something grand was being prepared.

By the time afternoon came, Wanda was seated by the window with a cup of tea when Lily entered, a soft smile on her face and a tray balanced perfectly in her hands.

“My lady,” Lily said as she set the tray down, “the royal dresser will be arriving shortly to show you the designs for the new gowns.”

Wanda looked up, blinking in mild confusion. “New gowns?” she asked. “For what occasion?”

Lily tilted her head slightly, as though surprised by the question. “For the celebration, of course.”

“The celebration?” Wanda repeated, her brows furrowing.

Lily hesitated, realizing her lady truly didn’t know. “His Highness’s birthday, my lady. The Crown Prince’s. The festivities will take place in three days.”

Wanda’s lips parted slightly. “Y/N’s birthday?” she whispered.

“Yes,” Lily said with a small nod, setting the tray down on the table as she began pouring Wanda’s tea. “Every year, the celebration is… grand. The biggest event of the season, some might say.”

She straightened, her expression growing a touch more animated as she went on. “All the nobles from the provinces will be arriving — dukes, lords, their families, even foreign dignitaries. The palace hosts a great ball, and the capital itself turns festive. The commoners hold their own merriments in the streets — music, dances, stalls with food and lanterns. It’s as if the entire kingdom celebrates His Highness’s birth.”

Wanda blinked, surprised. “All that for him?”

Lily’s smile faltered just a little. “Well… it is meant to honor him, yes. But truthfully, my lady, it’s also meant to remind everyone of the King’s strength — of the royal family’s prosperity. The crown spares no expense for this day.”

Wanda’s lips pressed together, her thoughts flickering back to Y/N — to the quiet, selfless person who never once mentioned their own birthday. It was difficult to imagine them enjoying such a spectacle when they so clearly despised their father’s games.

Lily continued, lowering her voice a bit as she poured more tea. “The whole palace will be filled with guests. The preparations take days — flowers from the southern gardens, silk from the east, musicians from across the realm. His Majesty insists on perfection.”

Wanda gave a faint nod, her fingers tightening around her cup. “I see…” she murmured, though her tone was distant.

Lily looked at her curiously. “Has His Highness not mentioned it to you, my lady?”

Wanda forced a small smile. “No,” she admitted softly. “He hasn’t.”

Lily’s eyes widened slightly. “Oh. I—perhaps he wished to surprise you?”

Wanda smiled again, this time more gently, though her heart ached a little. “Perhaps,” she said, though she knew better.

They didn’t tell me because they don’t see it as something to celebrate.

As Lily bowed and left to fetch the royal dresser, Wanda sat back in her chair, the hum of activity echoing faintly through the hallways beyond.

Four days.

Four days until the palace would be filled with laughter and music — and Y/N would be forced to stand beside the man who had stolen every reason they had to smile.

She glanced toward the gardens, the soft wind carrying the scent of roses through the open window.

“If it’s meant to be their day,” she whispered to herself, “then I’ll make sure it truly is.”

---

That evening, when the palace quieted and the last rays of sunlight spilled across the corridors, Wanda found Y/N sitting by the window of their chambers. Y/N was half-dressed down from their formal clothes, sleeves rolled up — just them, relaxed and unguarded for once.

She crossed her arms, leaning against the doorframe with a playful frown. “So,” she began, voice teasing but edged with mock irritation, “is there something you forgot to tell me?”

Y/N looked up, puzzled for a second. “Hmm?”

“Your birthday,” she said, narrowing her eyes just enough to make her point clear.

Realization dawned, and a small, sheepish smile tugged at their lips. “Ah… that.”

“Yes, that,” Wanda huffed, stepping closer, pretending to scold them. “Everyone in the palace seems to know except me. There are servants scrubbing every corner, the cooks are already planning feasts, and Lily nearly fainted when I said I didn’t know what was going on.”

Y/N chuckled softly, leaning back in their chair. “It’s nothing, Wanda.”

“Nothing?” she repeated, raising a brow. “They’re preparing for days, and you say it’s nothing?”

They shrugged lightly, trying to brush it off. “It’s just another event. My father likes to make it grand — to remind everyone of the crown’s strength.”

She tilted her head, still mock-offended but now curious. “So, not even a word to your wife?”

Their smile faltered for a second, replaced by a softer look. “I didn’t think it mattered,” they admitted quietly. “It’s never really been my day.”

Her expression softened at that. She stepped closer, resting a hand on their shoulder. “It matters to me,” she said, voice gentle now. “You matter to me.”

Y/N looked up at her then — truly looked — and their faint smile returned, tinged with warmth and something unspoken.

“Well,” she said, letting her fingers trace lightly along their collar. “Since it’s your nothing, I suppose I’ll just have to make it something.”

They chuckled, shaking their head, the tension in their shoulders easing. “I don’t doubt you will.”

---

Two days later, Wanda had already chosen her dress for the celebration. And now she sat across from Y/N, spooning a bit of honey into her tea while they lazily buttered a slice of bread.

“I’m going out today,” she said casually, glancing up at them through her lashes.

Y/N raised a brow, swallowing their bite. “Out? Where to?”

“Into the capital,” Wanda replied, taking a sip of her tea. “Lina and I thought we might do a little shopping.”

At that, Y/N’s expression brightened immediately. “Then I’ll come with you,” they said, already pushing their chair back. “It’s been a while since I—”

“No.”

They blinked. “No?”

Wanda smiled sweetly, setting her cup down. “You’re not coming.”

Y/N leaned forward slightly, pretending to be offended. “And why not, my lady?”

“Because,” she said, arching a brow, “it’s for your birthday. And I can’t very well buy your gift with you hovering around.”

Realization hit them, and the teasing grin tugged at the corners of their mouth. “Ah… so that’s your plan.”

“It’s a good plan,” she replied, feigning a stern look. “And you’re going to ruin it if you come.”

Y/N chuckled softly, shaking their head in defeat. “Fine, fine. But you’ll at least take someone with you.”

“I will,” Wanda said, rising from her seat. “Ser Barnes will accompany Lina and me. You trust him, don’t you?”

“I do,” they admitted, though they still gave her a mildly pouty look.

“Good.” She walked around the table, resting her hands on their shoulders before leaning down to press a kiss to their lips — soft and quick, but full of warmth. “Try not to miss me too much,” she teased.

Y/N caught her hand before she could step away, their thumb brushing over her fingers. “I already do,” they murmured with a smile.

She laughed softly, heart fluttering, before gently pulling free. “Then I’ll bring you something you’ll love,” she promised, her eyes glinting playfully.

They tilted their head, watching her as she gathered her cloak. “You already have.”

---

Y/N walked with them through the palace courtyard, the morning air still cool and crisp. The carriage waited at the end of the stone path, polished to perfection, the royal crest gleaming in the sunlight.

Wanda was already helping Lina up the small step when Y/N reached them, their cloak brushing against the gravel. “Are you sure you don’t want me to come?” they asked, trying once more, a hopeful glint in their eyes.

Wanda turned to face them from the carriage door, her smile patient but teasing. “Positive,” she said. “If you come, you’ll see what I’m buying — and that ruins the entire point.”

They sighed, running a hand through their hair in mock defeat. “You’re cruel, my lady.”

“Only to you,” she replied, her grin widening.

They crouched a little to meet Lina’s gaze inside the carriage. “And you, little one — behave for your sister-in-law, alright?”

Lina puffed her chest proudly. “I will! I’ll make sure she doesn’t get lost in the market!”

That made both Wanda and Y/N laugh. “Good,” Y/N said, reaching out to pinch her cheek lightly. “You’re my brave little guard, then.”

Then their tone shifted, soft but serious, as they turned toward the knight standing beside the carriage. “Ser Barnes,” Y/N said firmly, their princely tone slipping into place. “You stay with them at all times. Do not leave their side for any reason.”

Ser Barnes placed a fist over his chest and bowed his head. “You have my word, Your Highness.”

Wanda rolled her eyes fondly. “You’re acting like we’re going to war, not shopping.”

“Sometimes the markets are a battlefield,” Y/N said with a small smirk, stepping closer to her.

She laughed, but her smile softened when they reached up and brushed their thumb against her jaw. “Be safe,” they murmured.

“I will,” she promised.

They pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead before stepping back as the footman closed the carriage door. As the horses started to move, Wanda leaned out the window for one last look. Y/N stood there, hands behind their back, watching the carriage roll away — their usual calm expression betraying the faintest trace of longing.

---

The city was alive that morning — the streets bustling with laughter, vendors calling out their wares, and the scent of baked bread and wildflowers drifting through the air. It was one of those rare, golden days when the capital felt almost peaceful.

Lina clung to Wanda’s hand as they stepped down from the carriage, her eyes wide with excitement. “It’s so busy! Look, Wanda! They’re selling ribbons! And sweets!”

Wanda chuckled softly, adjusting her hood as she glanced around. “We’ll see everything, little one. But first, we need to visit the jeweler, alright?”

“Alright!” Lina said eagerly, skipping a few steps ahead until Ser Barnes gently reminded her to stay close.

The jeweler’s shop was nestled between a flower stall and a tailor’s. Its windows sparkled with tiny displays of gemstones that caught the morning sun. Inside, the air smelled faintly of polished wood and lavender oil.

The shopkeeper, a plump woman with kind eyes, immediately recognized them and bowed low. “Your Highness, Princess Lina — what an honor.”

“Please,” Wanda said gently. “No formalities today. I’m here to find something… special.”

The woman smiled knowingly. “For His Highness, then?”

Wanda’s cheeks warmed, but she nodded. “Yes. His birthday is near.”

Lina leaned against the counter, her eyes sparkling. “Something shiny, maybe? He likes simple things, but he deserves something beautiful.”

Wanda looked at her with a fond smile. “You’re right. Something simple, but meaningful.”

After browsing trays of rings, brooches, and cufflinks, her eyes finally landed on a brooch. It was elegant — a silver crest shaped like a hawk in flight, resembling the symbol of Virelia, with a tiny ruby at its heart. Strong, but refined.

“This one,” she whispered.

The shopkeeper nodded approvingly. “A perfect choice for our prince. It can be inscribed, if you wish.”

Wanda hesitated, her thumb brushing over the metal. “Yes… could you inscribe it with the words ‘To the heart that protects mine’?”

The woman smiled softly. “Beautiful.”

While the pendant was being prepared, Lina tugged at Wanda’s sleeve. “Can we get him something from me too?”

Wanda knelt to her level. “Of course. What would you like to give him?”

Lina thought for a moment, tapping her chin with a tiny finger before gasping. “A quill! He likes to write in his books!”

Wanda grinned. “Perfect idea.”

And so their next stop was the stationery shop — where Lina proudly picked out a quill with a deep blue feather and gold detailing.

By midday, their carriage was filled with little parcels — a pendant, a quill, and a few extra items Wanda couldn’t resist picking up: new gloves for Y/N, a small book of poetry she thought they’d love, and sweets for Lina.

As they rode back toward the palace, Lina leaned against Wanda’s arm, nibbling on a piece of honey biscuit. “He’s going to love it,” she said sleepily.

Wanda smiled, brushing a strand of hair from the child’s forehead. “I hope so,” she murmured. “He deserves something made from love, not duty.”

Ser Barnes, riding beside the carriage, caught the soft expression on her face through the window — and smiled quietly to himself.

---

When the carriage finally rolled through the palace gates, Wanda could already see Y/N waiting for them near the grand steps. Their arms were crossed, the faintest trace of a pout on their lips, though their eyes softened the moment they saw her.

“You’re back,” they said, stepping forward to open the carriage door themself. They offered their hand to Wanda first, then helped Lina down. “Did you two have fun conspiring without me?”

Lina giggled, clutching her small parcel tightly behind her back. “Maybe!” she chirped, eyes twinkling.

Wanda smiled, slipping her hand into theirs as she stepped down. “You’ll see soon enough.”

Y/N raised a brow, pretending to be suspicious. “That sounds dangerous.”

“It’s not dangerous,” Lina said quickly, puffing up proudly. “It’s a surprise!”

Y/N blinked and looked between them. “Ah, I see. So even my little sister is keeping secrets from me now.”

Wanda only grinned, tugging them gently toward the doors. “You’ll survive the suspense, I’m sure.”

They laughed softly, shaking their head. “We’ll see about that.”

---

That night, the two of them lay in bed together, the candlelight flickering softly across the room. The day’s warmth lingered between them — Wanda’s head resting on their shoulder, Y/N’s arm draped protectively around her.

For a while, neither spoke. It was the kind of quiet that felt full rather than empty — filled with small breaths, the gentle rhythm of the rain outside, and the soft beat of Y/N’s heart beneath her ear.

Then, breaking the silence, Y/N tilted their head slightly. “So,” they began, voice low and teasing, “are you going to tell me what you and Lina bought today?”

Wanda smiled against their chest, eyes still closed. “No.”

They blinked. “No?”

“It’s a secret,” she said simply, the corners of her lips curling into a smirk. “You’ll find out on your birthday.”

Y/N let out a soft huff that sounded half like a sigh, half like a laugh. “You’re going to drive me insane,” they murmured.

“Maybe that’s part of the gift,” she teased.

They chuckled quietly, then tilted her chin up with gentle fingers, their touch feather-light. Their eyes met — hers amused, theirs warm with affection. For a heartbeat, the world around them felt perfectly still.

Then Y/N leaned down and kissed her.

It wasn’t hurried or demanding — just soft, tender, lingering long enough for Wanda’s breath to catch. Her hand found their jaw, thumb brushing against their skin as she smiled into the kiss.

When they finally parted, she whispered, voice barely above a murmur, “You’ll just have to be patient, my prince.”

They rested their forehead against hers, their smile small and full of quiet adoration. Their breath brushed her lips as they whispered back, “For you,” — their voice low, steady, full of something deeper than they could ever name — “I can do anything.”

Wanda’s heart fluttered at the words, warmth spreading through her chest as she gazed at them. She reached up, brushing a loose strand of hair from their face, and whispered fondly, “Careful, Y/N. I might start believing you can.”

They chuckled quietly, pressing one last kiss to her forehead before murmuring, “Then I’ll just have to prove it.”

---

The morning of Y/N’s birthday dawned soft and golden, sunlight spilling through the tall arched windows of their chambers. The warmth of it stretched across the silken sheets, tracing over Wanda’s face as she stirred awake to the faint sound of birds outside.

When she opened her eyes, Y/N was already awake — propped on one elbow beside her, watching her with a tender, half-sleepy smile. Their hair was tousled, and the faint morning light made their features look even softer than usual.

“Good morning,” they murmured, their voice low and warm.

Wanda smiled, her own voice still thick with sleep. “Happy birthday, my love.”

Y/N’s smile widened, shy but full of quiet joy. “Thank you,” they said softly, leaning down to kiss her — slow and gentle, the kind of kiss that felt like home.

They lingered like that for a while, exchanging lazy kisses and quiet laughter before finally pulling themselves out of bed. Breakfast had been brought to their chambers: warm bread, fruit, and a bowl of Y/N’s favorite stew — something the kitchen staff had been preparing since dawn.

They ate together near the window, the morning air drifting in through the slightly parted curtains. Wanda poured them tea, and Y/N, with a teasing grin, insisted on feeding her small bites of fruit.

“You’re in a good mood,” she said, amused, brushing a crumb from their lip.

Y/N’s hand stilled midair, their heart giving a soft, unexpected flutter at her words.

They smiled at her — not the polite, princely smile they often wore for others, but the real one, the quiet one that reached their eyes. “Because this year,” they said gently, their voice carrying that familiar warmth that always melted her, “I have you.”

Her lips parted slightly, caught between a breath and a laugh. “You make it sound like I’m a gift,” she teased, though her voice trembled with something softer.

“You are,” Y/N said simply. No hesitation. No teasing in return. Just truth.

Wanda’s cheeks warmed, her eyes dropping briefly to her cup of tea before lifting again to meet theirs. The affection there — raw and unguarded — made her chest tighten.

She leaned forward and pressed a tender kiss to their lips, whispering, “Then I hope I’m a gift you’ll never grow tired of.”

Y/N smiled against her lips, murmuring, “Never.”

They groaned softly when Wanda pulled back from their kiss, their hand still resting at her waist. “So,” they murmured, eyes gleaming with playful curiosity, “when do I finally get to see my gift?”

Wanda’s lips curved into a secretive smile. “Tonight,” she said, brushing her thumb along their jaw. “After the celebration.”

“Tonight?” they repeated, feigning disappointment. “You’re really going to make me wait all day?”

Her laughter was soft and melodic, the kind that always managed to ease something heavy inside them. “Patience, my prince,” she teased, leaning in to kiss their cheek before she reached for her tea again.

But their quiet bubble shattered a moment later when someone knocked at the door.

“Your Grace?” Lily’s voice came from the other side of the door. “May I begin preparing you for the day?”

Wanda sighed, exchanging a knowing look with Y/N. “Of course, Lily,” she said kindly.

Y/N stood, straightening the cuffs of their shirt with a quiet sigh of their own. “Duty calls, it seems,” they murmured, casting her one last smile.

She reached out and tugged lightly at their sleeve. “I’ll see you later.”

Y/N bent down, pressing a fleeting kiss to her forehead. “You’d better,” they said softly before leaving the chambers, the faintest hint of excitement — and longing — in their eyes.

---

Lily and another maid worked quietly around Wanda, their practiced hands moving with delicate precision. The air was filled with the soft scent of rosewater and lavender as they helped her bathe and slip into her gown. Her hair was brushed smooth, then styled into elegant waves, small jeweled pins glinting between strands.

“Almost finished, Your Highness,” Lily murmured, adjusting the final pin.

Just as she stepped back to admire the result, there came a knock at the door. Wanda’s head lifted immediately — she didn’t need to be told who it was.

“Come in,” Lily said, glancing toward the entrance.

The door opened, and Y/N stepped in.

Wanda’s breath caught.

His hair was neatly styled back, revealing the sharp lines of his face, and his attire — dark blue and gold with a regal white cape draped over one shoulder — made him look every bit the prince he was. The intricate embroidery shimmered faintly under the light, each detail echoing quiet strength and grace.

Wanda could feel her heartbeat echoing in her chest, far too loud, far too quick.

He didn’t say anything at first — his expression calm, controlled, a perfect mask for the sake of propriety with the maids present. But his eyes… his eyes gave him away. There was a flicker of warmth, pride, and something deeper that made her pulse stutter.

Lily glanced between them and smiled knowingly. “We’ll just tidy the table, Your Grace,” she said softly, gesturing for the other maid to follow her out, though she took her time doing so.

Wanda’s fingers fidgeted against the folds of her dress. “You look…” she started, her voice softer than she meant, “…beautiful.”

Y/N’s mouth twitched — the faintest curve, the ghost of a smile meant only for her. “So do you,” he murmured, voice low and full of meaning.

Something inside Wanda shifted — a warmth that started in her chest and spread outward, quick and consuming. For weeks, she had been certain of what she wanted, but now, seeing him like this — regal, composed, impossibly handsome — it struck her with a force she hadn’t expected.

Every inch of him called to her. The calm strength in his posture, the quiet tenderness in his eyes that only she was allowed to see. It made her heart race and her breath catch.

She wanted him — not just to hold or to kiss, but to finally bridge the quiet ache that had been growing between them. And she knew, with an unshakable certainty, that she was ready.

Y/N tilted his head slightly, studying her expression. “What is it?” he asked softly.

“Nothing,” she said too quickly, though her cheeks betrayed her, flushed with warmth. She smiled, a little shy, a little flustered, her voice barely a whisper. “Just… you.”

And though they both knew the maids could return any second, neither moved for a long, suspended moment — caught between duty and the quiet, burning pull that neither could resist for much longer.

Then, the moment broke — soft as a candle flicker.

The door opened quietly, and Lily stepped inside, her hands careful as she carried a velvet tray. Resting upon it were two crowns — gleaming gold and silver filigree, inlaid with sapphires and pearls. They caught the morning light like fire.

“The crowns, Your Highness,” Lily said with a respectful bow. “His Majesty insisted they be worn for the opening of the celebration.”

Wanda’s heart gave a small, involuntary twist. She knew what it meant — another show of power. Another reminder that this day, no matter how it had begun between them, wasn’t truly Y/N’s.

Y/N’s jaw tightened slightly, though his voice remained calm. “Of course, he did,” he murmured, more to himself than anyone.

Lily hesitated only a second before stepping closer, gently lifting the smaller crown from the tray. She placed it atop Wanda’s head, adjusting it until it sat perfectly among the intricate braids she had just finished.

Y/N watched her — his expression unreadable, but his eyes softened when they met Wanda’s again.

When Lily moved to set the other crown upon his head, Wanda noticed how still he stood, shoulders squared beneath the weight of royal expectation.

For a moment, she wanted to reach out, to take his hand — to remind him that, even in this world of control and ceremony, there was one thing that was truly his: her.

But she only smiled faintly, her voice quiet. “You wear it well, my prince.”

He looked at her, the faintest trace of warmth returning to his eyes. “It’s lighter knowing you wear one too,” he said softly.

---

The grand hall was a sea of light and color.

Hundreds of candles glowed from golden chandeliers, their warm light glinting off the crystal goblets and polished marble floors. Velvet banners in royal blue and silver — the colors of the kingdom — hung from the high arches, and the scent of blooming roses and fine wine filled the air.

Music swelled from the far end of the room, where a string ensemble played a soft waltz. Nobles in their finest attire turned as the heavy double doors opened. The herald’s voice rang clear:

“His Royal Highness, Crown Prince Y/N Dragna of Virelia Kingdom. And Her Highness, Crown Princess Wanda Dragna of Virelia Kingdom.”

The moment they stepped inside, all conversations ceased. All eyes turned toward them.

Y/N walked tall and regal, his hand resting lightly over Wanda’s as they descended the marble steps. His navy uniform gleamed with gold embroidery and jewels, his hair catching the light — every inch the prince the kingdom wanted to see.

The celebration unfolded in a dazzling show of opulence — chandeliers ablaze with light, golden drapes framing the ballroom, and a sea of nobles gathered from every corner of Virelia and beyond. The air shimmered with perfume and chatter, violins humming in graceful harmony as servants moved between guests with trays of wine and sugared fruit.

From his high throne, King Alaric stood and raised a jeweled goblet.

“My son,” he proclaimed, his voice carrying across the marble hall, “the crown prince, and heir to this great kingdom. Today, we celebrate his twentieth year.”

The nobles rose, glasses lifted high.

“Happy Birthday, Crown Prince Y/N Dragna!” they shouted in unison, the sound echoing through the vaulted chamber.

Y/N inclined his head with practiced grace, his expression calm — almost distant. But his hand, hidden between the folds of his cloak, never left Wanda’s. His thumb traced slow circles on her skin, a silent tether grounding him in the midst of spectacle.

Before the nobles could begin their long parade of greetings, a smaller, softer voice piped up from the front of the dais.

“Brother!”

Lina, dressed in a pale pink gown dotted with tiny pearls, curtsied as she had been taught — her little hands trembling slightly as she tried to be formal. Her dark curls were crowned with a tiny wreath of flowers, her eyes shining with pride.

Y/N’s face softened immediately, warmth flickering through his controlled expression. “Come here, little one.”

The nobles chuckled fondly as Lina hurried up the steps, skirts gathered in her fists. She stopped before the dais, standing tall for her six years.

“Your Majesty,” she said, glancing nervously toward her father, “Your Highness.” Then her eyes darted back to Y/N — and she whispered, “Happy birthday.”

Y/N’s lips curved into a real smile this time. “Thank you, Lina.”

Alaric gave a dismissive nod, his jeweled hand flicking through the air as though brushing away a fly. “Proceed,” he commanded, his tone clipped and regal.

Immediately, the herald at the foot of the dais raised his staff and struck it against the marble floor — three sharp echoes signaling the start of the procession.

One by one, the nobles of Virelia began their slow advance toward the throne. The air filled with the rustle of heavy silks, the gleam of jewels, and the low hum of rehearsed flattery.

The first to approach was Lord Rennick of Eastvale, a man whose pride was as weighty as his belly. Two servants followed behind him, struggling to carry a large chest gilded in bronze and engraved with the Dragna crest. He bowed deeply, his voice booming with oily reverence.

“Your Majesty, Your Highness,” he began, addressing first Alaric and then Y/N. “Eastvale extends its loyalty and prosperity to the Crown. Inside this chest, you will find the rarest sapphires from our mines — a humble token of devotion to the future of our great kingdom.”

Alaric’s lips curved faintly, pleased by the display of wealth. Y/N only inclined his head, his polite smile perfectly measured. “Your generosity honors the realm, Lord Rennick,” he said smoothly, though his tone carried none of his father’s hunger for riches.

Next came Lady Mirelle of the Southern Coast, draped in sea-green silk that shimmered like water. Her gift was a pair of white horses from the coastal stables — their manes braided with silver ribbons. “For the royal carriage,” she said with a coy smile, eyes lingering on Y/N for a moment too long. “Strong and loyal creatures, just as our Crown Prince surely is.”

Y/N managed not to grimace, offering another courteous nod. Wanda, seated beside him, caught the woman’s tone instantly — her jaw tightening in the faintest twitch.

Then came nobles from allied territories — dukes, lords, and foreign dignitaries, each bearing a display meant to outshine the last: gold-encrusted chalices, rare spices from distant lands, scrolls of allegiance sealed with wax.

Their words all blurred into one.

“May your reign be long and prosperous.”

“Virelia’s strength is unmatched, my prince.”

“A token of our undying loyalty.”

Each phrase was as hollow as the last.

Behind his calm exterior, Y/N’s stomach churned. These weren’t gifts — they were transactions, each one a bid for favor, a reminder that even on his own birthday, he was a pawn in his father’s theater of power.

Still, he endured it all with grace, his hand brushing Wanda’s every so often, grounding himself in her presence. She met his touch quietly, her expression poised yet warm, her gaze softening each time his fingers found hers.

At the highest throne, Alaric reclined with satisfaction — the corner of his mouth twitching as he accepted bow after bow, his eyes gleaming with the pleasure of control.

The music swelled, the lights brightened, and the hall echoed with polished voices and the clinking of gold. The kingdom’s elite danced their carefully practiced steps, unaware — or uncaring — that for the young prince sitting beside his wife, the grandeur felt more like a cage than a celebration.

The final nobles made their approach, each presenting their elaborate gifts with polished smiles and practiced flattery. The last chest, the most ornate of all, was set before the throne with a ceremonious flourish. Alaric’s eyes gleamed, satisfied at the display, while Y/N offered his usual courteous nod, hiding the weight of fatigue behind a polite smile.

At last, the procession ended. The rustle of silk and the shuffle of feet faded into the gentle hum of conversation, and the musicians shifted seamlessly into the opening strains of the ball. Candles glimmered in the chandeliers above, casting a soft glow over the polished marble floor as the first couples took to the dance. The room had transformed — from a hall of formal obeisance to a glittering sea of movement and music, swirling gowns and glinting shoes catching every flicker of light.

Y/N let out a quiet sigh, barely audible above the gentle melody, and leaned back slightly in his seat. His gaze found Wanda instantly. She was poised and radiant, a picture of calm elegance amid the whirl of nobles and glittering finery, and yet her eyes held a spark that seemed only meant for him.

A faint, almost wistful smile tugged at the corners of his lips. He stood, smoothing the folds of his uniform, the subtle weight of his crown a reminder of the duties he bore even in this fleeting moment. With a graceful bow, he extended his hand toward her.

“May I have this dance?” he asked, voice low, meant for her alone, a subtle warmth threading through the formal tone.

Wanda’s smile softened, her fingers brushing lightly against his before slipping into his hand. “You may,” she replied, a teasing lift in her tone that made the corner of his mouth twitch in response.

Y/N led her to the center of the hall, and the orchestra swelled as the first notes of a waltz wrapped around them. As they moved together, Y/N’s hand rested gently at her waist while she let hers glide along his shoulder. Their steps were measured, elegant, but there was an unspoken ease between them, a quiet intimacy that made the dance feel like their own world.

The nobles’ chatter dimmed as heads turned. Many offered polite bows and smiles as the crown prince and his wife took the floor. Some ladies whispered behind delicate fans, and Wanda’s eyes caught a few glances that lingered too long — envious, almost sharp. They weren’t looking at Y/N — they were looking at her, at the effortless grace with which she moved, the subtle spark in her eyes, the way her hand rested in Y/N’s as though claiming her place beside him. Wanda met a few of those gazes, raising her chin slightly, her smile polite but unwavering, letting them see that she was unbothered, untouchable, and entirely his.

Y/N noticed, too, and a faint warmth brushed across his cheeks. Not from vanity — from pride. She was his, and no whispered envy in the grand hall could change that.

They glided across the floor, the rhythm of the waltz pulling them together and apart in perfect harmony. Each turn, each pivot was smooth, practiced yet effortless, and the crowd watched, captivated by the sight of the young prince and his wife. Mothers nudged daughters, whispering lessons about composure and elegance, while young nobles stared with wide-eyed awe, hoping to emulate such poise one day.

Wanda’s gaze never left Y/N’s face. She noticed the subtle tilt of his lips as he focused on her, the warmth in his eyes that contrasted with the formal mask he wore for the rest of the court. With each step, she felt the quiet power of their bond, a tether that held them above the expectations, above the jealousy, above the grandeur that threatened to swallow them.

As the music swelled to its crescendo, Y/N twirled her lightly, fingers brushing along her back, and she spun with a soft laugh escaping her lips. The room seemed to hold its breath, the nobles caught between awe and envy, the candles reflecting off their swirling forms. For a fleeting, perfect moment, the ball wasn’t about crowns, or gifts, or flattery — it was about them, and the quiet triumph of a dance shared in unspoken understanding.

When the music softened again, he drew her close, forehead resting against hers, breath mingling in the soft candlelight. Wanda’s smile was tender, proud, and triumphant. The whispers of envy around the hall couldn’t touch her — she was where she belonged, and Y/N’s hand over hers was all the proof she needed.

---

As the music faded and the applause filled the grand hall, Y/N gave Wanda’s hand a gentle squeeze before leading her back toward their seats. Yet before they could reach them, a group of nobles approached — eager, smiling, and already talking over one another.

“Your Highness, your dance was truly splendid—”

“I must say, Your Grace, I’ve never seen such grace in movement—”

“You and Her Highness are quite the pair, if I may—”

Y/N smiled with quiet restraint, offering polite nods and small words of thanks. He had learned long ago how to navigate these moments — to be courteous, to seem approachable, yet to keep himself guarded. Still, it didn’t stop the stream of nobles, advisors, and ambitious young lords from pressing forward, each one trying to catch his attention with a compliment, a rumor, or a calculated question.

Wanda stayed beside him for a while, hand resting lightly on his arm, but she soon noticed Lina tugging gently at her gown. The little girl looked up at her with wide eyes, cheeks rosy from excitement.

“Can we see the sweets now?” she whispered hopefully.

Wanda chuckled softly. “Of course, dear one. Let’s see what they’ve prepared for you.”

They moved toward the long banquet table, where trays of fruit tarts and honey-glazed biscuits awaited. Wanda helped Lina pick her favorite, smiling as the child beamed up at her. From their spot by the window, Wanda could still see Y/N surrounded by people — nobles, courtiers, and a few young ladies who were far too bold for her liking.

One of them, dressed in pale gold, leaned closer than necessary, laughing at something Y/N said. Another brushed her curls back in a way that was too deliberate, eyes fixed on him as if she could will his attention her way.

Wanda felt her stomach twist. She told herself she shouldn’t be jealous — not when she knew better than anyone how Y/N truly was. But still, seeing them hover so close, their painted smiles and fluttering lashes, stirred something hot and possessive in her chest.

Y/N, ever polite, didn’t notice. Or perhaps he did and simply didn’t care to respond. He stood as he always did — calm, regal, distant. Yet Wanda knew him well enough to see the faint tension in his jaw, the way his eyes softened whenever they flicked toward her, searching for her in the crowd.

Still, the sight made her lips press into a thin line. She looked down at Lina, who was nibbling a small tart, utterly oblivious to the silent battle of glances across the ballroom.

“Lina,” Wanda said softly, kneeling beside her. “Would you do something for me?”

The little girl tilted her head, curious. “What is it?”

“Go ask your brother to dance with you,” Wanda said with a gentle smile, smoothing a strand of hair from her face. “I think he’d like that.”

Lina’s eyes sparkled. “Really? Me?”

Wanda nodded. “You’re the only one who can steal him away.”

With a delighted giggle, Lina hurried off, her small shoes tapping against the marble floor as she crossed the hall. The crowd parted easily for her — no one dared stop the young princess. She tugged on Y/N’s sleeve, and when he looked down, her voice rang clear and sweet:

“Brother! Dance with me, please?”

A ripple of surprise moved through the gathered nobles. The prince, known for his cold reserve and stoic composure, blinked in surprise — and then laughed, the sound soft and warm, catching several by surprise. He bent down and offered his hand to his little sister.

“How could I refuse?” he said, smiling fondly.

As the music began again, Y/N led Lina to the center of the hall, his hand steady around her small one. The orchestra played a gentler melody this time, and the two began to sway — Y/N guiding her carefully, making sure her tiny steps matched his. The entire hall seemed to melt at the sight.

Wanda stood watching, the jealousy easing from her heart, replaced by something warmer, fonder. The whispers around her confirmed what she already saw in their faces: surprise.

“So gentle…”

“I never thought—”

“He’s nothing like the king…”

For all their assumptions, the nobles now saw something they hadn’t before — not the cold, distant heir they imagined, but a man capable of tenderness. Wanda smiled to herself, pride swelling quietly in her chest.

Lina’s laughter echoed through the hall as Y/N twirled her carefully, his usually guarded expression softened with affection. And when his eyes lifted again, they found Wanda’s across the room. He smiled — small, subtle, but entirely for her.

She returned it, her jealousy now long forgotten. After all, none of those women could ever touch what she had — because when Y/N smiled like that, there was no doubt in the world who truly held his heart.

---

Later

When the last guests had finally departed and the echo of music faded from the grand hall, the palace settled into a soft hush. Maids moved quietly through the corridors, collecting empty goblets and extinguishing candles. The faint scent of wine, perfume, and wax still lingered in the air — a gentle reminder of the evening’s splendor.

Wanda had long since retired to their chambers, the weight of her gown replaced by the comfort of a silk nightdress. Her hair was loose, tumbling softly over her shoulders as she sat by the window, the moonlight painting her skin in pale silver. From where she sat, she could still faintly hear the distant bustle of the staff cleaning the last remnants of celebration.

The door opened quietly, and Y/N stepped inside. They were already dressed for the night — dark sleepwear loose over their frame, their hair slightly tousled, the regal composure of the evening now replaced by something softer, calmer. Despite the long night, there was a spark of warmth in their eyes when they saw her.

Wanda turned at the sound, smiling faintly. “You look tired,” she murmured.

They chuckled under their breath, closing the door behind them. “Tired, yes. But happy.” They crossed the room to her, gaze softening as they stopped in front of her. “Though I believe there’s still one thing missing.”

She arched an eyebrow, amused. “Oh?”

“My gift,” they said simply, that small, teasing smirk tugging at the corner of their mouth.

Wanda laughed quietly and shook her head. “You truly are impatient.”

“I’ve been told so,” Y/N said, voice light. “But I’ll remind you it is my birthday.”

Rolling her eyes playfully, Wanda moved toward the small table beside their bed. From one of the drawers, she pulled out a small velvet box wrapped with a thin silver ribbon. Her fingers lingered on it for a moment before she turned and held it out to them.

“It’s nothing grand,” she said softly, almost hesitant. “But… I thought of you when I saw it.”

Y/N took the box carefully, as though it were something fragile. Undoing the ribbon, they lifted the lid — and froze for a moment. Inside rested a brooch made of silver, shaped like a hawk in mid-flight. Its wings were finely detailed, each feather carefully crafted, and at the heart of the bird glimmered a tiny ruby — small, but vivid and deep in color.

For a long moment, Y/N only stared at it. Then, slowly, their lips curved into a tender smile.

“It’s…” they began softly, their voice almost reverent. “It’s like… our Kingdoms combined.”

Wanda nodded, her voice quiet. “Yes. The hawk for your house, and the ruby for mine. The jeweler said it represents strength and loyalty… and I thought it suited you.”

Y/N’s chest tightened at her words. They brushed their thumb over the brooch, tracing the smooth metal and the glimmering gem. The piece was elegant yet simple — and somehow, it felt more meaningful than any treasure they’d received that day.

They looked up at her, their expression unguarded now. “This… Wanda, this is perfect.”

A soft blush colored her cheeks. “I wasn’t sure you’d like it.”

They shook their head immediately. “Like it? I’ll treasure it.” Their voice dropped, quieter, sincere. “This is the first gift you’ve ever given me. I’ll keep it always.”

Her eyes softened, warmth blooming in her chest at the quiet certainty in their tone. Y/N closed the box gently, still holding it in one hand as they reached out with the other to cup her cheek.

“Thank you,” they whispered, their thumb brushing her skin. “Truly.”

Wanda smiled, leaning into their touch. “Happy birthday, my love.”

They smiled back, leaning forward to press a tender kiss to her lips — slow, grateful, full of quiet affection. The kind of kiss that spoke more than words ever could, melting away the weight of the day until only the warmth between them remained.

When they parted, Wanda’s breath brushed softly against their lips. “I have another gift,” she whispered, her voice low and warm.

Y/N blinked, a curious smile tugging at their mouth. “Another one?”

She only nodded, her eyes glimmering in the dim light. Without a word, she took their hand and gently pulled them toward the bed. They followed easily, still holding her gaze as she lay back against the soft sheets, her hair spilling like dark silk across the pillow. Y/N braced their hands on either side of her, the quiet rhythm of their breathing filling the space between them.

Wanda reached up, her fingers tracing their jaw tenderly before resting against their chest. Her eyes searched theirs, soft yet sure, her voice barely above a whisper as she said —

“Make love to me.”

---

Are they…? 🤔🤭

[henstomper]

[anarchistmemedistro]

[littlepinksapphire]

It’s hilarious when I see people say that they “don’t see the chemistry” between Michaela and Francesca. Like yeah, we know your straight asses can’t see it. People will assume two women being affectionate are sisters before they assume they’re fucking. Men hit on butches and think when women make out in public it’s for them. Lesbianism was never criminalized the way being gay was because people just assumed women didn’t care about sex or something.

And they were roommates.

Straight people don’t know what it looks like when two women want to fuck each other. Straight women view other women as competition before anything else. That’s why we kept seeing people assuming Michaela was into John, yes her cousin John, before assuming she might have a crush on her cousin’s wife. People will literally assume incest before queerness.

Hannah and Masali have delivered such rich and nuanced performances this season. The people who claim they can’t see the chemistry are simply blind to it. That, and they’re being contrarian haters.

[ilovemarvel97]

Marked By You - Chapter 6

No Way Back

Wanda Maximoff x G!P Wolf Reader

Summary: It’s been a month since Wanda broke up with Vision. Things were going well until it wasn’t…

Words: 10k+

Warnings: Fluff, Angst, Soulmate AU

Series Masterlist || Main Masterlist

---

---

The days after Wanda broke up with Vision were… tense.

At first, the compound felt like it was holding its breath. Vision moved through the halls with his usual precision, but something colder sat beneath his calm now. He spoke little unless necessary, and when he did, his tone was clipped and professional.

Wanda kept her distance.

If they crossed paths, the silence between them was heavy enough that even the others noticed. Steve attempted to mediate once, but Wanda shut the conversation down gently.

“I’m not ready to talk about it,” she told him.

And Steve respected that.

Y/N Tries to Stay Away

For the first few days after the fight, Y/N tried to give Wanda space. She volunteered for missions, patrols, recon assignments—anything that kept her out of the compound for long stretches.

But the imprint didn’t care about her intentions.

No matter how long she stayed away, she could still feel Wanda. Not physically, not exactly, but the pull was constant—like gravity, like a compass needle that refused to point anywhere else.

She would find herself drifting toward Wanda’s floor of the compound without realizing it, pausing outside the hallway and turning back before she reached the door.

It was exhausting.

Nat noticed almost immediately.

“You’re pacing,” Nat said one evening in the training room.

Y/N blinked. “What?”

“You circle the same hallway three times a night,” Nat replied casually, stretching her shoulders. “Like a wolf guarding territory.”

Y/N didn’t answer.

Nat studied her for a moment.

“…Ah,” she said quietly.

Y/N’s jaw tightened. “Don’t.”

Nat raised both hands in surrender. “Didn’t say anything.”

Wanda Notices Too

Wanda noticed something was different.

Y/N wasn’t avoiding her—not really—but she kept a careful distance. When they were in the same room, Y/N was attentive without hovering, quiet without disappearing.

And yet Wanda always felt… watched.

Not in a threatening way.

More like a presence.

Like someone making sure she was safe without stepping into her space.

Once, Wanda woke up in the middle of the night and stepped into the hallway for water. Down at the far end, Y/N sat against the wall outside the stairwell, half asleep in wolf form.

Guarding.

When Y/N realized Wanda had seen her, she stood immediately and muttered something about “fresh air” before disappearing outside.

Wanda didn’t comment.

But she didn’t forget.

---

The rest of the Avengers adjusted to the new dynamic slowly. Vision worked mostly with Steve and Tony on strategy and planning, while Y/N spent more time training with Nat, Bucky, and Sam. Wanda floated between both groups depending on the day.

No one said anything outright—but the fracture inside the team was obvious.

Only Nat occasionally poked at it.

One afternoon in the gym, she tossed Wanda a towel. “You know the big wolf practically orbits you, right?” Nat said casually.

Wanda frowned. “She doesn’t.”

Nat just hummed.

---

Despite everything, Y/N still gravitated toward Wanda without realizing it. Not deliberately—just instinct. After a mission where Wanda pushed herself too hard, Y/N silently placed a protein bar and water beside her before walking away.

Another night, Wanda fell asleep reading on the couch. The compound had gone quiet hours ago, the lights in the common room dim, the television still playing some muted documentary no one had been watching. Wanda had curled into the corner of the couch with a book in her hands, intending to read a few pages before bed. She never made it past the third chapter.

Y/N noticed first. She had been sitting on the floor near the window, pretending to scroll through something on her phone while actually listening to the steady rhythm of Wanda’s breathing. The moment it deepened—slow and even—she glanced over.

Wanda was asleep.

The book had slipped halfway down her chest, fingers still loosely holding the edge of the page. A strand of hair had fallen across her face, rising and falling gently with each breath.

Y/N stared for a long moment, then sighed softly. “…You’re going to wreck your neck like that,” she murmured under her breath.

Carefully, she stood. The movement was quiet, deliberate. She approached the couch like she was stepping into fragile territory.

“Wanda,” Y/N said gently, nudging the book away.

No response.

Her eyes softened. “Alright,” she muttered.

With slow, careful movements, Y/N slid one arm beneath Wanda’s knees and the other around her back. She lifted her easily. Wanda stirred faintly but didn’t wake, her head instinctively settling against Y/N’s shoulder. The warmth of her breath brushed Y/N’s neck.

Y/N’s steps slowed for a fraction of a second. The imprint tugged hard in her chest.

Steady, she reminded herself.

She carried Wanda down the hallway, careful not to bump the doorframe as she nudged it open with her foot. The room was dim, the soft glow of the bedside lamp the only light. Y/N crossed the room and lowered her gently onto the mattress.

She was just about to pull her hands away—

When Wanda moved.

Her eyes opened halfway, hazy with sleep. Before Y/N could step back, Wanda’s hands lifted and curled loosely around the back of Y/N’s neck, stopping her from pulling away.

“Stay,” Wanda murmured sleepily.

Y/N froze. Her breath caught.

“Wanda…” she said quietly, unsure.

Wanda blinked a few times, waking a little more. Her hands were still resting behind Y/N’s neck, fingers loosely threaded in the short hair there.

“You’re leaving again,” Wanda said softly.

Y/N hesitated. “…You were asleep.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

Wanda studied her face now, more awake, the sleep fading slowly from her expression. There was something searching in her gaze.

“Why are you being distant?” she asked quietly.

The question hit harder than Y/N expected. Her shoulders tensed slightly.

“I’m not.”

“You are,” Wanda replied gently. “You don’t sit next to me anymore. You leave rooms early. You keep volunteering for missions.”

Y/N swallowed. Her eyes dropped briefly to the mattress beside Wanda before lifting again.

“…Because it feels like it’s my fault,” she admitted.

Wanda frowned slightly. “What is?”

“You and Vision,” Y/N said, voice quieter now. “Breaking up.”

The words hung heavy between them.

Wanda stared at her for a moment. “Y/N,” she said softly.

“You don’t have to pretend,” Y/N continued quickly. “I know I made things complicated. I kept showing up, sleeping outside your door, being around all the time—”

“Hey,” Wanda interrupted gently.

Her hands tightened slightly behind Y/N’s neck, keeping her from pulling away.

“I already told you,” Wanda said, her voice steady despite the softness of it. “You were not the reason.”

Y/N shook her head faintly. “It didn’t help.”

“Maybe not,” Wanda admitted. “But the decision was mine.”

Her thumb brushed lightly against the back of Y/N’s neck without her realizing it.

“I didn’t break up with him because of you,” Wanda continued. “I broke up with him because he didn’t trust me.”

Y/N held her gaze, conflicted.

Wanda sighed softly. “You listen to me,” she added. “You respect my boundaries. When I ask you to stop, you stop.” Her eyes softened. “That matters.”

Y/N’s chest tightened.

For a moment neither of them moved.

Then Wanda shifted slightly on the bed, still holding Y/N loosely. “You’re not allowed to disappear because you think you ruined my life,” she added quietly.

A faint, surprised huff escaped Y/N. “…I wasn’t planning on disappearing.”

“Good.”

Wanda’s lips curved faintly, though her eyes remained serious. “Because I’d notice.”

The imprint in Y/N’s chest twisted painfully at that.

She exhaled slowly. “…Okay.”

Wanda’s hands finally loosened around her neck, but neither of them moved away immediately. The room was quiet—comfortable, complicated.

Wanda studied Y/N for another second, her hands still loosely resting at the back of her neck. Then a small smile tugged at the corner of her lips.

“…Now come on,” she said softly.

Y/N blinked. “What?”

Wanda’s smile widened just a little. “You know.”

Y/N hesitated.

Then she understood.

A quiet breath left her as she stepped back from the bed. The shift came easily—bones stretching, muscles reshaping, heat rippling through her body in a familiar wave. In seconds, the massive wolf stood where she had been, fur catching the warm light of the bedside lamp.

Wanda’s face lit up immediately. “There you are,” she murmured.

She reached forward without hesitation, both hands sinking into the thick fur around Y/N’s head. Her fingers ruffled through it affectionately, scratching behind one ear before sliding down along the side of her neck.

“That’s my little wolf.”

The words were soft. Fond.

And they hit Y/N like a lightning strike.

Her heart skipped so hard it nearly made her dizzy. Overwhelmed by the warmth in Wanda’s voice, Y/N leaned forward and—without thinking—licked Wanda’s cheek.

A full, unapologetic wolf lick.

Wanda squeaked.

Then she burst into laughter.

“Oh my—!” she gasped, wiping at her cheek while Y/N pulled back slightly, ears flattening in immediate embarrassment.

Wanda shook her head, still giggling, and wrapped her arms around Y/N’s massive neck, burying her face briefly into the thick fur. “You’re unbelievable,” she murmured, voice warm with amusement.

Y/N huffed quietly, clearly apologetic.

After a moment, Wanda pulled back just enough to look at her properly. Her smile softened, something more serious settling into her eyes.

“Hey,” she said gently.

Y/N’s ears twitched forward.

Wanda’s fingers slid back into the fur at the base of her neck, steady and grounding.

“Don’t do that again.”

Y/N tilted her head slightly.

Wanda sighed softly. “Don’t pull away like that,” she clarified. “Don’t distance yourself because you think you’re the reason things ended with Vision.”

Her thumb brushed slowly through the thick fur.

“I meant what I said earlier,” Wanda continued quietly. “You didn’t cause that.”

Y/N let out a soft huff, acknowledging her words even if the guilt hadn’t fully left.

Wanda smiled again, softer now. “Good,” she murmured.

Then, without overthinking it, she leaned forward and pressed a gentle kiss to the top of Y/N’s muzzle.

Y/N froze instantly.

Golden eyes widened, heart hammering in her chest as if it might burst.

Wanda didn’t seem to realize the effect she’d just had. She simply settled back into her pillows with a small, content sigh, one hand still resting in Y/N’s fur.

“Goodnight, my little wolf,” she murmured sleepily.

And Y/N stayed right there beside the bed long after Wanda drifted off again—heart still racing from a single, innocent kiss.

---

Morning came slowly to the compound.

Soft sunlight spilled through the tall windows of the living area, catching dust motes in the air and warming the polished floor. The kitchen was already alive with quiet morning sounds—coffee brewing, a pan sizzling faintly on the stove. Steve sat at the table reading through a tablet, glasses low on his nose. Bucky leaned against the counter with a mug in hand, while Sam rummaged through the fridge like it had personally offended him.

Nat noticed the footsteps first and looked up just as Wanda appeared at the top of the stairs.

Wanda looked… better. Still a little sleepy, hair loose around her shoulders, but the tight tension that had clung to her the past few weeks had softened.

And right behind her—Y/N.

In human form this time, hands shoved awkwardly into the pockets of her sweatpants, trying very hard to look like she wasn’t instinctively staying half a step behind Wanda.

Nat’s brow lifted slightly.

Well.

That answered a few questions.

“Morning,” Wanda said as she stepped into the room.

“Morning,” Steve replied, glancing up.

Sam leaned around the fridge door. “Hey, sleeping beauty—”

He stopped mid-sentence.

Because Vision had just walked into the room.

The android froze the moment he saw them: Wanda standing in front, Y/N just behind her, close enough that it was obvious they had come down together. Something flickered across Vision’s face—too fast for most people to catch.

But Y/N saw it.

And Nat definitely did.

Vision’s gaze moved slowly from Wanda… to Y/N.

Then back again.

The silence stretched.

“Good morning,” Vision said finally. His voice was calm.

Too calm.

“Morning,” Wanda replied, equally neutral as she moved toward the coffee maker.

Y/N followed automatically—until she realized what she was doing and stopped a few steps away instead. The habit caught up with her too late. She froze mid-step, shoulders tightening as she forced herself to stay where she was. Old instincts tugged at her chest, urging her to stay close, but she clenched her jaw and held her ground.

Space. Give her space.

She started to step back—

But Wanda turned.

Before Y/N could retreat, Wanda reached out and took her hand. The contact was warm and natural, like it wasn’t something she’d even thought twice about. Wanda gave a small tug, pulling Y/N forward toward the kitchen.

“Come on,” she said casually.

Y/N blinked, caught off guard, but allowed herself to be pulled along.

Behind them, Sam’s head slowly emerged from inside the refrigerator again.

Wanda didn’t seem to notice the room watching. She guided Y/N up to the counter, finally letting go of her hand only once they reached the kitchen island.

“What do you want to eat?” Wanda asked, glancing toward the cabinets.

Y/N stared at her for half a second like she’d just been asked a trick question.

“…Food?” she offered.

Nat snorted from the table.

Wanda rolled her eyes faintly but smiled anyway, opening the fridge. “Very helpful.” She pulled out a carton of eggs and a container of fruit. “Do you want eggs?” she asked over her shoulder.

Y/N nodded once. “Yeah.”

“Scrambled or fried?”

“…Yes.”

Bucky huffed into his coffee.

Wanda turned to look at Y/N, one eyebrow lifting. “You are absolutely useless in the morning.”

Y/N rubbed the back of her neck, slightly embarrassed. “I didn’t know there would be a quiz.”

Wanda shook her head with a quiet laugh and started cooking anyway.

Across the room, Steve tried very hard to pretend he wasn’t witnessing the entire exchange. Nat leaned back in her chair, watching with open amusement.

And down the hallway—

A door shut harder than necessary.

Y/N’s ears metaphorically twitched at the sound, but when she glanced toward the hall, Wanda simply slid a plate in front of her.

“Eat,” Wanda said.

Y/N looked down at the food, then back at Wanda.

“…Thanks.”

Wanda shrugged lightly, leaning against the counter beside her.

“No problem.”

---

One Month Later

The Quinjet hummed steadily as it cut through the night sky, city lights far below reduced to scattered constellations.

Inside, the mood was focused—quiet but alert.

Steve stood near the center console, holographic blueprints projected in front of him. The warehouse district flickered in midair—loading docks, entry points, security grids.

“This is a retrieval,” Steve reminded them, voice calm but firm. “Same group as last month. They kept a backup copy of the intel. We go in, secure the data drive, and get out. No unnecessary engagement.”

Nat leaned against the wall, cleaning a pistol with absent efficiency. “Perimeter cameras show light rotation. Eight to ten guards. Mostly small arms.”

“Copy’s supposedly in the lower archive room,” Bucky added from his seat, metal arm resting against his knee. “Concrete walls. One main stairwell. Two emergency exits.”

Wanda stood beside Y/N, arms crossed as she studied the hologram, faint red energy flickering lazily at her fingertips while tracing a possible entry route. Y/N sat on the floor near the ramp with her back against the wall, one knee raised, eyes closed—not asleep. Listening.

Wanda glanced down at her briefly, almost unconsciously checking on her.

Steve noticed. “Y/N.”

Her eyes opened immediately.

“You good?”

She nodded once. “Yeah.”

The Quinjet began its descent.

Landing gear lowered with a mechanical whine as the abandoned industrial zone came into view—dark buildings, rusted fencing, empty lots. The jet touched down two blocks from the target and the ramp lowered slowly, cold night air rushing inside.

Immediately something felt wrong.

Nat’s posture shifted first. She didn’t move forward, simply scanning the empty street.

“…Too quiet.”

Bucky stepped down beside her, metal hand flexing once. “Yeah. No patrol movement.”

Steve frowned. “Thermal?”

“Minimal,” Nat replied. “Which doesn’t match what we saw an hour ago.”

Wanda stepped down next, Y/N following close behind. The second Y/N’s boots hit the pavement, her expression changed. She inhaled deeply. The air tasted wrong. Heavy. Metallic. Her head tilted slightly as she focused, filtering past wind, distant traffic, and the low electrical hum of streetlights. Then her eyes opened.

“There’s more,” she said quietly.

Steve looked at her. “More what?”

Y/N’s gaze sharpened toward the warehouse. “Heartbeats.”

Wanda stilled beside her.

“How many?” Bucky asked.

Y/N focused harder. “…At least thirty.” Silence settled over the team.

Nat swore under her breath. “We were told ten.”

“They’re not moving much,” Y/N added. “Spread out. Elevated positions too.”

Steve’s jaw set. “Ambush.”

Wanda’s red glow brightened faintly as she stepped a little closer to Y/N without thinking.

Steve made the call quickly. “We don’t abort yet. Move slow. Tight formation. Nat, left flank. Bucky right.”

His gaze shifted. “Wanda, stay with Y/N.”

Neither of them argued.

They advanced toward the warehouse, boots silent against cracked pavement. Every shadow felt heavier. Every window darker.

Halfway to the entrance, Y/N stopped.

Her nose lifted again. Her eyes widened.

“…They know we’re here.”

Right on cue—The warehouse lights snapped on. Gunfire erupted from the rooftops. The first bullets hit the pavement before the echo of the gunfire finished bouncing off the buildings.

“MOVE!” Steve barked.

They scattered in practiced formation.

Nat rolled behind a rusted delivery truck, returning fire in sharp, controlled bursts. Bucky spun right, metal arm snapping up to catch a bullet mid-air before he hurled it back toward a sniper nest. Concrete exploded a heartbeat later.

Wanda lifted her hands, scarlet energy flaring outward into a defensive shield as rounds ricocheted harmlessly off the barrier.

Y/N didn’t shift. Not yet. She sprinted forward low, weaving between debris, dodging incoming fire with almost unnatural timing. A gunman dropped from a fire escape ahead of her—she closed the distance in three strides, driving her elbow into his throat before sweeping his legs out from under him. He hit the ground hard. She didn’t slow.

“Rooftop—two more!” she called, already pivoting.

Bucky’s rifle barked. One dropped.

The second threw a flash grenade.

“Down!” Nat shouted.

Y/N reacted instantly. She grabbed Wanda by the arm and yanked her behind a concrete barrier just as the grenade detonated. White light swallowed the alley, ears ringing.

But they didn’t lose formation.

Steve charged straight through the smoke, shield slamming into a cluster of armed men rushing from the warehouse entrance. He moved like a battering ram—precise, controlled, overwhelming.

“We push inside!” he ordered. “Open space out here favors them!”

It made sense.

Too many elevated positions. Too many angles.

They advanced toward the warehouse doors under covering fire. Y/N ducked under a baton swing and drove her knee into the attacker’s ribs. Another came from her blind spot—she twisted, catching his wrist and slamming him face-first into a steel container.

Her senses screamed.

More movement. More heartbeats.

“They’re repositioning!” she shouted. “They’re funneling us!”

“Inside!” Nat snapped. “Now!”

They breached the warehouse doors together. The moment they crossed the threshold—The gunfire stopped. Silence swallowed the space. The interior was cavernous: stacked crates, overhead catwalks, dim industrial lights flickering weakly across concrete floors. Too still.

Wanda’s gaze swept the rafters. “I don’t like this.”

“Keep moving,” Steve said, advancing cautiously.

They moved deeper inside.

Then—Metal shutters slammed down behind them with a thunderous crash.

“Trap!” Bucky shouted.

Overhead lights flared blindingly bright. Figures emerged from behind crates, from catwalks, from hidden doorways.

Not ten.

Not thirty.

More. 

Heavily armed. Organized. A voice crackled over the loudspeakers.

“Avengers. Thank you for entering the containment zone.”

Y/N’s stomach dropped. This wasn’t random. This was designed.

“They wanted us inside,” Nat muttered.

Gunfire erupted again—this time from every direction. Wanda threw up a shield, scarlet energy flaring outward as bullets hammered against it in rapid succession. The impacts vibrated through her arms, forcing her to brace her stance as the pressure mounted.

“Move!” Steve shouted. “Stairs—north side! Roof access!”

Y/N didn’t hesitate. She darted forward, cutting through the line of attackers with controlled brutality—disarming one, dropping another with a crushing elbow before pivoting to intercept a third. She moved like a blade: precise, efficient, no wasted motion.

But for every body that dropped, two more stepped into place.

“They’re rotating squads!” she called. “This is organized!”

Nat picked off a sniper on the catwalk while Bucky laid down suppressive fire. Steve smashed through a barricade, carving a path toward the metal staircase leading upward.

They made it halfway across the loading bay when—

A mechanical click echoed beneath their boots.

Y/N’s head snapped downward.

“Don’t—”

The floor gave way.

A rectangular section of reinforced steel dropped open beneath Bucky’s feet.

“Barnes!” Steve shouted.

Bucky fell.

Wanda reacted instantly. Scarlet energy snapped around his torso mid-air, halting his descent inches above the darkness. He slammed against the side of the shaft, teeth gritting as he tried to find purchase.

“I’ve got you!” Wanda strained, pulling him upward—

Then another click. Y/N’s stomach dropped. The floor beneath her shifted. She barely had time to look up before the metal panel under her boots split apart. She fell.

“Y/N!” Wanda screamed. Without thinking—without hesitation—Wanda released Bucky.

Nat lunged forward, catching Bucky’s arm just as Wanda launched herself into the open shaft.

“WANDA!” Steve roared. But it was too late.

Both of them vanished into the darkness below. The trapdoor snapped shut again with a brutal clang. Silence swallowed the loading bay for half a heartbeat. Then the gunfire resumed.

Steve turned, fury flashing across his face. “We regroup! NOW!”

But beneath the warehouse—Wanda fell through blackness.

And far below—Y/N hit the ground hard.

Wanda’s scream echoed through the shaft as she dropped into pure darkness. Instinct kicked in. Scarlet energy flared around her body, slowing her descent—but the fall had already disoriented her. The shaft was tight, metallic, the air thick with dust.

She couldn’t see.

“Y/N!” she shouted into the void.

No answer.

Her boots hovered inches above what she thought might be the floor—

Then something collided with her.

Strong arms wrapped around her waist midair. A solid body braced beneath her.

They hit the ground together, but not violently—Y/N absorbing the impact and rolling so Wanda landed against her chest instead of concrete.

The air left Y/N’s lungs in a rough exhale.

Wanda gasped, gripping the front of her shirt. “Y/N?”

“I’ve got you,” Y/N said breathlessly in the dark.

For a split second, Wanda didn’t care where they were.

She clutched tighter.

Then reality rushed back in.

Above them the trapdoor had sealed completely. No light. No sound from the battle anymore. Just the faint hum of distant machinery.

Y/N shifted beneath her, rising carefully while keeping one arm around Wanda’s waist.

“You okay?” she asked quietly.

Wanda nodded before realizing Y/N probably couldn’t see it. “Yeah. You?”

“Fine.”

A lie.

Wanda heard the strain in her breathing, but there was no time to argue. Scarlet light bloomed faintly in her palm, illuminating the space around them.

They stood in a long, narrow corridor—reinforced concrete walls, industrial piping running along the ceiling. No visible exits except the shaft above.

Which was now sealed.

Y/N scanned quickly. “That wasn’t random.”

“No,” Wanda whispered. “It wasn’t.”

The floor beneath them vibrated faintly. A distant clang echoed down the corridor. Wanda’s light brightened instinctively, shadows stretching along the concrete.

Y/N’s head tilted slightly—not toward the sound, but toward the glow.

“Turn it off,” she said quietly.

Wanda blinked. “What? We can’t see.”

“I can.”

Something in Y/N’s voice had changed—lower, steadier. Focused.

Wanda looked at her properly. In the dim red glow, Y/N’s eyes weren’t Y/E/C anymore. They were gold. Bright. Reflective.

Wanda’s breath caught. “Oh.”

Y/N gave a small nod. “They’ll see you before you see them if you keep that on.”

Another metallic clang echoed, closer now. Wanda swallowed and let the light fade. Darkness swallowed them whole.

For half a second panic surged—her human eyes useless in the pitch black. Then Y/N’s hand found hers. “I’ve got you,” she murmured again. And this time, Wanda believed it.

Metal boots scraped somewhere down the corridor.

“They’re coming from both ends,” Y/N said quietly. “About twelve. Maybe more behind them.”

“How do you—”

“I can hear their gear shifting. Heartbeats.”

Wanda’s pulse jumped at that.

Y/N exhaled once.

“Hold on.”

The shift wasn’t explosive this time. It was controlled—bone reshaping, fabric tearing softly as her body expanded into muscle and fur.

In seconds the massive wolf stood where Y/N had been.

The corridor suddenly felt too small.

Golden eyes glowed in the darkness like twin embers.

Wanda felt rather than saw the transformation—bones shifting, fabric tearing, the corridor filling with the sheer presence of something ancient and powerful.

On, Y/N thought loudly.

Wanda didn’t argue.

She climbed onto Y/N’s back in one smooth motion, fingers tangling into the thick fur at the base of her neck. The wolf adjusted instantly, lowering slightly to steady her before rising again, powerful muscles coiling beneath Wanda like restrained thunder.

Y/N’s tail flicked once—a grounding gesture.

Hold tight.

Then she moved. Not reckless. Not wild.

Precise.

Her paws struck the concrete silently despite her size, claws finding grip where human boots would slip. She chose the darker end of the corridor—the direction with fewer heartbeats.

Gunfire erupted behind them as someone caught the faint outline of movement. Bullets sparked against metal piping.

Wanda instinctively raised a small shield behind them, just enough to deflect the nearest rounds without lighting up the corridor.

Left in six steps, Y/N thought sharply.

Wanda trusted her.

At the sixth stride Y/N veered left into a narrower passage just as armed men flooded into the corridor they’d abandoned. The wolf accelerated. Air rushed past Wanda’s face as Y/N moved faster than seemed possible in such tight quarters.

A soldier stepped into view ahead.

Y/N didn’t slow. She leapt.

The impact was brutal and efficient. The soldier slammed into the wall and dropped unconscious before he could cry out.

More ahead, Y/N warned.

Wanda closed her eyes briefly, reaching outward with her mind instead of her sight. She let her awareness stretch past the darkness and concrete, brushing against the sharp edges of foreign thoughts—fear, adrenaline, clipped orders over comms.

“They’re trying to herd us,” Wanda said—but the words weren’t spoken.

They echoed directly inside Y/N’s mind.

Y/N stumbled for half a stride, startled.

You’re in my head.

Only a little, Wanda replied, focused. Left corridor is blocked. They’re funneling us toward something bigger.

Y/N’s ears flattened as she ran.

Like a containment room.

Another cluster of heartbeats pulsed ahead—tight, waiting.

“Don’t go straight,” Wanda murmured aloud this time, tightening her grip in the fur at Y/N’s neck. “There’s something at the end.” Gunfire erupted again behind them, closer now.

Y/N made a split-second decision. She accelerated—not toward the corridor, but straight at the wall.

Wanda barely had time to react.

Y/N lowered her shoulder and slammed into the concrete. The wall cracked.

Again.

Concrete splintered under the third impact. They burst through into an adjacent chamber, dust exploding into the air behind them. Shouts echoed from the corridor they’d abandoned.

They didn’t expect that, Y/N thought grimly.

Wanda flashed a brief pulse of scarlet light across the room—quick, controlled.

Industrial generators. Maintenance ducts. No guards.

For now.

“They’re redirecting,” Wanda warned, feeling confusion ripple through nearby minds as it shifted into pursuit.

Y/N’s breathing had deepened, but remained steady.

Which way?

Wanda reached out again, brushing against thoughts more carefully this time.

“There’s an external access hatch two levels up. Fewer minds that way.”

Y/N didn’t question it.

She found a vertical maintenance shaft and leapt, claws digging into metal rungs as she climbed with Wanda still on her back.

Below them, boots thundered into the broken chamber. Spotlights cut through the dust. Orders were shouted.

“They’re sealing exits!” Wanda warned.

Then we don’t use doors.

Y/N reached the next level and barreled forward, ignoring the corridors entirely. She smashed through a ventilation barrier instead.

Cold night air hit them seconds later. They burst out onto the side of the warehouse structure—Into open space.

Searchlights snapped on instantly, blinding white beams sweeping across the rooftop before locking onto them. “There!” someone shouted from below.

Gunfire followed.

Y/N lunged forward across the rooftop without hesitation, claws scraping gravel and metal as bullets sparked around them. Wanda clung tighter, one arm buried in thick fur while the other rose instinctively.

Scarlet energy flared outward in controlled bursts—not attacking blindly but deflecting, redirecting. A line of incoming rounds twisted midair and scattered harmlessly off course.

“Helicopter, three o’clock!” Wanda warned.

Rotors thundered overhead as a mounted gun pivoted downward.

Y/N veered sharply left just as a spray of heavy rounds tore through the rooftop where they’d been. Concrete exploded behind them.

Wanda reached for the comm in her ear. “Steve! Status?”

Static.

“Steve, do you copy?”

Nothing.

Her chest tightened.

“Nat?” she tried.

A beat passed.

Then—

“Go,” Nat’s voice crackled through the comm, breathless but steady. “They’re focused on you two. Don’t double back. We’ll find our own exit.”

“What about Steve?” Wanda demanded.

“Barnes has him. We’re moving. Just go!”

The line cut out.

Wanda swallowed. “They’re clear,” she told Y/N quickly. “Nat says run.”

Y/N didn’t need to be told twice.

She sprinted.

The rooftop ended abruptly in a wide gap between buildings. Three stories below, armed men swarmed the street.

Y/N gathered herself.

Hold tight.

She leapt.

For a massive creature carrying another person, the jump was impossibly graceful. They cleared the gap, landed hard on the opposite rooftop—and didn’t slow.

More gunfire. More shouting.

A second helicopter dipped lower, its spotlight tracking them like prey.

“They’re herding us toward the river,” Wanda realized, sensing the shifting movements below.

Good, Y/N replied.

Wanda blinked. “Good?”

Open space. Fewer walls. I can run faster.

Y/N reached the edge of the final building and jumped again—this time dropping straight to street level. They landed in an alley, concrete cracking beneath the impact.

Sirens wailed somewhere in the distance while searchlights swept overhead.

“Left!” Wanda called, sensing a thinner patrol grid.

Y/N pivoted instantly and accelerated—faster, faster, her paws barely touching the ground. Gunfire faded behind them as helicopters struggled to track their path between buildings.

Moments later Y/N burst out of the industrial district and into the trees lining the riverbank. Darkness swallowed them.

The rotors overhead faltered. Searchlights lost lock.

Branches whipped past as Y/N plunged deeper into the forest without slowing. She didn’t follow trails or clear paths—cutting through dense brush, leaping fallen logs, splashing through shallow water to break scent and sound. Every few minutes she changed direction sharply.

Behind them the helicopters circled once. Twice. Then drifted farther away.

Wanda kept one hand threaded in thick fur while the other hovered low with faint scarlet light—just enough to sense approaching minds. Nothing close. Only distant confusion.

Y/N ran another mile. Then another. Only when her lungs began to burn did she slow to a fast trot. Then finally— She stopped.

The forest was deep here. Thick canopy overhead. No city glow. No engine noise. Just wind moving through leaves and the distant rush of water. Y/N stood perfectly still, ears flicking, head tilting as she listened in every direction. Heartbeats. None but Wanda’s and her own.

After a long moment her thoughts came quieter.

I think we lost them.

She turned her massive head carefully to glance back at Wanda on her back.

Are you okay?

Wanda’s fingers were still gripping fur, but her breathing had steadied. Adrenaline hummed in her veins, though the panic had faded.

“I’m okay,” she said softly. “You?”

A short pause.

Fine.

Another lie—but smaller this time. Y/N lowered herself slightly so Wanda could slide off. Wanda did, boots touching damp earth. The forest felt enormous. And very, very empty.

Y/N shifted her weight, scanning the trees again.

We shouldn’t stay in one place too long.

Wanda nodded. “Agreed.”

Y/N’s focus sharpened.

We find shelter. Something covered. High ground if possible.

She started forward at a slower pace, weaving through the trees but still alert.

Wanda walked close beside her, occasionally brushing her hand against the thick fur at Y/N’s side—like she needed the reassurance that she was real.

Behind them, the city lights were gone. The team was gone. The compound was gone. It was just them. The forest. And whatever this ambush had truly meant.

They moved deeper into the forest. The darkness here was different from the city’s—alive, layered. Every rustle sounded louder, every shadow closer. Wanda kept glancing over her shoulder, nerves still humming from the chase.

Y/N noticed. She slowed, then lowered herself without a word.

Up, she thought gently.

Wanda hesitated for half a second before climbing onto her back. The warmth of thick fur under her palms steadied her instantly. “Thank you,” she murmured.

Y/N huffed softly and resumed moving. They climbed gradually into rougher terrain, trees thinning as rocky outcroppings appeared. The air grew colder. After another careful stretch, Y/N stopped. A cave entrance opened between two jagged rocks—partially hidden by brush, angled upward so rain wouldn’t collect. She approached cautiously, sniffing the air.

Empty.

Old animal scent, nothing recent.

This works.

She stepped inside. The cave wasn’t deep, but it was sheltered from the wind and dry, the ground mostly stone with patches of packed dirt.

Y/N lowered herself so Wanda could slide off. Wanda stepped down carefully, arms wrapping around herself as the chill finally caught up now that the adrenaline had faded. The cave was cold.

Y/N stepped back toward the entrance and shifted. Bones compressed, fur receded, and the air shimmered around her. Seconds later she stood in human form, barefoot on the cold stone. Her boots had torn apart during the earlier transformation, and her clothes were stretched and ripped at the seams—still covering her, but barely. She didn’t seem to notice.

“I’m going to look for branches,” Y/N said quietly. “And food if I can find it.”

Wanda frowned. “You don’t have shoes.”

“I’ll be fine.”

It wasn’t bravado. Even now her skin radiated faint warmth, the cold barely touching her.

Y/N glanced toward the dark forest outside, assessing. “You stay here,” she added. “Don’t use your powers unless you have to. They might still be scanning.”

Wanda nodded slowly.

Y/N hesitated for a moment, then stepped closer and brushed her fingers lightly against Wanda’s arm. “You’re safe here,” she said.

Then she turned and disappeared back into the forest—barefoot and silent despite the rocky ground.

Wanda stood alone in the cave. The silence pressed in. For the first time since the fall through the trapdoor, reality settled fully.

They were cut off.

No compound.

No team.

No idea what had just happened.

Just forest, cold air, and the distant sound of wind through the trees.

She wrapped her arms around herself and waited.

---

The cave grew colder as the night deepened. Wanda tried to keep moving—pacing a little, rubbing her hands together—but the stone floor leached warmth from her bones. Without adrenaline to keep her warm, the chill settled in fully. Her teeth were starting to chatter when she finally heard it: footsteps. Soft. Controlled. Familiar.

Y/N stepped into the cave entrance in her human form, barefoot but steady despite the rough terrain. A thick fallen log rested across one shoulder; tucked into the torn fold of her shirt were gathered wild fruits, and in her free hand she carried a freshly hunted rabbit. The moment her eyes landed on Wanda, she froze.

Wanda was shivering.

Y/N dropped everything immediately. The log hit the ground with a heavy thud. Fruits rolled across the stone. The rabbit landed beside them.

“You’re freezing,” Y/N said, crossing the cave in two quick strides.

“I’m fine,” Wanda tried—but her voice shook.

Y/N didn’t argue. She knelt and moved quickly, snapping the log into smaller pieces with efficient strength and stacking them in the center of the cave. The thinner branches she’d collected were arranged underneath. No lighter. No matches.

She looked at Wanda. “Just a spark,” she said softly.

Wanda crouched beside her and extended her fingers, keeping the glow small. A thin thread of scarlet brushed the dry bark. It caught immediately. Flames licked upward.

Y/N fed the kindling gradually until the fire took hold, warm orange light filling the cave and pushing back the darkness and cold. Without thinking, she shifted closer. “Here,” she murmured.

Y/N sat behind Wanda and gently pulled her back against her chest, wrapping her arms loosely around her shoulders—not trapping her, just anchoring. Her body was warm, almost unnaturally so. The difference was immediate.

Wanda sighed softly as heat seeped back into her skin.

“I told you I’d be fine,” Y/N said quietly, a faint edge of self-reproach in her voice.

Wanda leaned back into her without hesitation. “I wasn’t doubting that.”

The fire crackled softly between them. For a while neither spoke. Eventually Y/N reached for the rabbit and began preparing it with quiet efficiency, movements careful and practiced.

Wanda watched the flames.

Slowly, the shaking stopped.

---

The fire grew steadier, casting flickering gold across the cave walls. Y/N worked in silence, skin glowing warm in the firelight as she cleaned and dressed the rabbit with practiced movements. The urgency of battle had faded; only quiet focus remained.

Wanda leaned back against her, still wrapped in Y/N’s arms. She hadn’t realized how much she needed the contact until she had it again. The cave smelled of smoke, earth, and something grounding.

After a few minutes Y/N skewered the meat onto a sharpened branch and held it over the flames. “You should eat,” she said softly. “You burned a lot of energy tonight.”

Wanda hummed in acknowledgment but didn’t move away.

“Are you hurt?” she asked after a moment.

Y/N hesitated. “Just tired.”

Wanda tilted her head slightly. “That wasn’t my question.”

A pause.

Then, quieter: “I’m fine.”

Wanda didn’t push. Instead she shifted slightly, resting one hand over Y/N’s forearm where it wrapped around her.

“I’m glad you caught me,” she said softly.

Y/N’s grip tightened just a fraction. “I wasn’t going to let you fall.”

The rabbit began to cook, its scent slowly filling the cave. Wanda watched the flames for a moment before speaking again.

“They knew,” she murmured. “About the backup intel. About us coming.”

Y/N nodded against her hair. “Yeah.”

“They wanted us separated.”

“Yeah.”

The weight of that settled between them. This hadn’t been random. It had been surgical. And it had worked.

Wanda swallowed. “Do you think Steve and Nat are okay?”

Y/N’s jaw tightened slightly. “They’re not easy to kill.”

Not reassurance. Just truth.

The fire crackled as wind shifted outside the cave. For the first time since the fight, the quiet didn’t feel tense. It felt… isolated.

Wanda finally leaned forward enough to glance back at her. “Thank you,” she said softly.

“For what?”

“For not leaving me.”

Y/N blinked once, almost confused by the idea. “I wouldn’t,” she said.

And she meant it the way gravity meant falling.

Firelight danced in her golden-brown eyes.

And for now—

That was enough.

---

The fire burned down to a steady glow by the time they finished eating. Wanda had insisted Y/N take more than half the rabbit. Y/N had pretended to argue but ate it anyway. The fruits were divided quietly between them—simple, grounding.

For a few minutes afterward they sat shoulder to shoulder, listening to the forest breathe. Y/N’s posture hadn’t relaxed once. Her head tilted subtly now and then, listening, mapping the night, measuring distance between sounds.

Finally she spoke.

“We should sleep.”

Wanda glanced at her. “You can rest first. I’ll stay on guard.”

Y/N shook her head immediately. “No.”

“Y/N—”

“It’s okay,” she interrupted gently. “We can both sleep.”

Wanda frowned. “What if someone finds us?”

“If something gets within half a mile, I’ll hear it,” Y/N said calmly. “If it gets closer than that, I’ll smell it. And if it steps within a hundred meters…” She tilted her head faintly, almost playful. “It won’t get that far.”

Wanda studied her face. “You’re sure?”

Y/N nodded once. “Wolf instincts.”

No arrogance—just certainty.

After a quiet beat, Y/N stood and stepped away from the fading firelight. She shifted. The transformation flowed smoothly—bones lengthening, shoulders broadening, fur cascading outward until her massive wolf form filled nearly half the cave. Golden eyes flickered in the dim light as she lowered herself near the warmest part of the cave wall.

Her thoughts brushed gently against Wanda’s mind.

Come here.

Wanda’s lips curved. She stood and walked over without hesitation.

Y/N shifted slightly to make room, curling her body into a protective crescent. Thick fur brushed Wanda’s legs.

You’ll stay warm, Y/N thought quietly. I run hot.

Wanda knelt and lay down carefully, settling into the space between Y/N’s chest and belly. The fur was impossibly soft and warm, the steady rise and fall of breath beneath her cheek grounding in a way she hadn’t expected.

Y/N’s tail wrapped loosely over her legs—not trapping, just covering.

Wanda sighed softly as tension eased from her muscles. “This is… nice,” she murmured.

Y/N huffed faintly, one ear flicking toward the forest outside.

After a moment Wanda felt something else—a low vibration beneath her ear. Not quite a purr, but close. Her hand slid into the thick fur instinctively.

“You’re doing that again,” she whispered sleepily.

The vibration faltered for a second. Then resumed.

Wanda smiled.

The cave grew quieter. The forest breathed.

And for the first time since the ambush—

They both closed their eyes.

---

Next Morning

Morning came slowly.

Not with sunlight—very little reached the cave—but with a subtle shift in the air. The forest changed tone at dawn. Birds tested their voices. The wind softened.

Wanda stirred first.

She was warm. Very warm.

Her cheek pressed into thick fur, fingers tangled in it, her legs tucked beneath something heavy and protective. For a moment she didn’t remember where she was.

Then the night returned in fragments.

Warehouse.

Trapdoor.

Running.

Firelight.

Cave.

She blinked her eyes open.

Golden eyes were already watching her.

Y/N was awake—completely awake. Her head was slightly lifted, ears angled toward the cave entrance, body still curled around Wanda like it had been all night.

“You didn’t sleep,” Wanda murmured, voice thick with sleep.

A soft huff answered her.

I did, Y/N thought gently. Lightly.

Wanda shifted onto one elbow. The fire had burned down to ash. The air was cold again—but manageable with Y/N’s steady warmth.

“How long have you been up?”

Since the birds started.

Wanda smiled faintly. “That’s not a real time.”

Y/N’s tail flicked once in mild amusement.

Nothing came close, she added. Closest movement was a deer about four hundred meters east. Wind shifted after that.

Of course she knew the direction.

Wanda studied her for another moment. Even in wolf form the tension was visible—the alert shoulders, the constant listening.

“You’re still listening.”

Always.

Wanda reached up and scratched gently behind her ear.

“You can relax a little.”

Y/N leaned into the touch before catching herself.

I am relaxed.

Wanda raised an eyebrow.

The wolf blinked slowly.

Then, after a beat:

Mostly.

Wanda laughed softly, the sound echoing faintly off the cave walls.

For a moment they simply looked at each other in the dim light.

No helicopters.

No gunfire.

No shouting.

Just morning.

Wanda’s expression slowly shifted.

“We need to figure out what happened.”

Y/N’s ears twitched. Yeah.

“And we need to reach the others.”

A pause.

Okay.

Wanda pushed herself up, brushing leaves and stray fur from her clothes. Cool morning air crept through the cave entrance.

Y/N shifted back to human form, the change fluid and quiet. She rolled her shoulders once, bare feet settling on the cold stone without complaint.

“We shouldn’t use standard comms,” Wanda said, thinking aloud. “If they trapped us that deliberately, they’re probably monitoring known frequencies.”

Y/N nodded. “Safe house?”

Wanda hesitated. “…No.”

Y/N frowned slightly.

“If they planned that ambush, they’ve probably mapped every Avengers-associated property within a hundred miles—safe houses, supply caches, known routes.”

Y/N exhaled slowly. “Yeah. They’d expect that.”

Silence settled between them again.

They didn’t know where the others were.

They didn’t know who orchestrated the trap.

They didn’t even know if the Quinjet survived.

“We need something normal,” Wanda said finally. “Somewhere no one expects us.”

Y/N tilted her head. “Normal?”

“A motel. Small town. Cash payment. No enhanced activity.”

Y/N blinked once. “…That’s very human.”

Wanda gave her a tired smile. “Exactly.”

Y/N considered it, then nodded. “We move west. There’s a highway about three miles from here.”

Wanda glanced down at Y/N’s torn clothes and bare feet. “Hold on.”

She stepped closer, lifting her hands. Scarlet threads of energy wove through the air, stitching torn fabric back together. The ripped seams sealed, the shirt and pants reshaping cleanly.

Y/N looked down at herself, mildly impressed. “…Convenient.”

Wanda smirked faintly. “Try not to shred them again.”

Y/N huffed. “No promises.”

Wanda knelt briefly and focused again. Scarlet light gathered around Y/N’s feet, forming simple dark sneakers—sturdy and anonymous.

Y/N flexed her toes experimentally. “…You didn’t have to.”

“I know.”

Their eyes met a moment longer than necessary.

Then Wanda stepped back. “Let’s go.”

They moved through the trees together—quieter now, less frantic than the night before. After about forty minutes, the forest thinned. The faint hum of distant traffic reached Y/N first.

“We’re close.”

Wanda nodded.

The treeline opened onto a two-lane highway cutting through open fields. Half a mile down stood a small gas station—and beyond it, a roadside motel sign flickering in tired neon.

VACANCY.

Wanda exhaled slowly. “Okay,” she murmured. “Step one.”

Y/N scanned the area carefully. No unusual heartbeats. No tactical vehicles. Just normal morning traffic.

“Cash only,” Y/N reminded her.

Wanda slipped a hand into her jacket. Thankfully chaos magic didn’t just repair clothes—it could produce a few believable bills.

“Normal,” Wanda repeated quietly.

For now—

They would disappear in plain sight.

---

The motel office smelled like stale coffee and cleaning spray. A tired man behind the counter barely glanced up when Wanda pushed open the door. She kept her hood up, posture loose—normal.

“Room?” he asked flatly.

“Just one night.”

Cash slid across the counter. No questions. A key card slid back.

Room 17.

They crossed the cracked parking lot in silence, morning sun fully up now. The world looked painfully ordinary after the chaos of the night before.

Inside, the room was small but clean enough—two towels folded at the foot of a queen bed, faded carpet, a humming air conditioner.

The door clicked shut.

For the first time since the warehouse—

They were inside four walls again.

Wanda turned the deadbolt. Y/N stood in the middle of the room for a moment, scanning and listening, shoulders still tight.

“It’s fine,” Wanda said gently. “No one’s tracking us right now.”

Y/N nodded once. “Can I shower first.”

“Of course!” Wanda didn’t argue.

Twenty minutes later steam drifted from the bathroom as Y/N stepped out wearing borrowed motel sweats and a plain shirt Wanda had conjured to replace the torn one. Her hair was damp and pushed back loosely.

She looked… human again.

Just exhausted.

“You should eat something else,” Wanda said quietly.

Y/N shook her head. “I’m okay.”

That word again.

Wanda took her turn in the shower, letting hot water beat against her shoulders longer than she intended. The tension in her muscles didn’t vanish—but it dulled.

When she stepped back into the room, toweling her hair dry—

Y/N was already asleep.

Not resting.

Gone.

She’d barely reached the bed before collapsing sideways across it, one arm draped loosely over her stomach, breathing deep and heavy. Completely unconscious.

Wanda paused in the doorway.

Y/N had pushed herself too far—running on instinct and adrenaline for too long.

She crossed the room quietly and sat on the edge of the bed. Up close, the exhaustion was obvious: faint bruises along her ribs, a shallow cut near her collarbone, tension still faintly etched into her brow even in sleep.

Wanda brushed a damp strand of hair from her forehead.

“You liar,” she murmured softly.

I’m fine.

She shook her head faintly.

Carefully, Wanda slid under the covers beside her—not too close at first. But Y/N reacted even in sleep. Her body shifted instinctively toward the warmth, one arm draped over Wanda’s waist, breathing steady, grounded.

Wanda lay there for a moment, staring at the ceiling.

They were fugitives now.

Separated from the team.

Hunted by someone organized enough to ambush Avengers.

She turned her head slightly to look at Y/N.

But right now—

They were safe.

---

At Night

Darkness filled the motel room again. Thin curtains barely blocked the neon glow of the vacancy sign outside, its red pulses washing faintly across the ceiling.

Wanda was warm. Too warm. An arm lay heavy across her waist, steady breath against her shoulder. For a moment she forgot everything. Then—A faint crackle. Static. A low, distorted tone.

Y/N’s eyes opened instantly. She didn’t move at first—just listened. There. Another faint burst of interference. Her head turned slowly toward the small table near the door. The comm unit. Wanda had set it there before showering. Y/N blinked away the last layer of sleep and nudged Wanda lightly. “Wanda,” she murmured, voice thick but alert.

Wanda stirred. “What—?”

“The comm.”

Another crackle—clearer this time. Wanda shot upright, heart racing. The signal was faint but unmistakable, pushing through interference. She scrambled off the bed and grabbed the device.

“Hello?” she said quickly, keeping her voice low.

Static. Then— “…da?”

Wanda’s breath caught. “Nat?”

The line buzzed, then steadied slightly. “About time,” Nat’s voice came through, strained but alive. “You two took a scenic route.”

Relief hit Wanda so hard her knees nearly buckled. “We’re okay,” she said quickly. “Are you?”

“Alive. Steve and Bucky too.”

Wanda closed her eyes briefly. Thank God.

“Quinjet’s gone,” Nat continued. “Warehouse was scrubbed. Professional job.”

“Who?” Wanda asked.

“Still working on that.”

Y/N had risen from the bed, standing close enough to hear every word.

“Are you safe?” Wanda pressed.

“For now. We scattered. Low profile. No Avengers signatures. No Stark tech. No obvious magic.”

“Same here,” Wanda said.

A small pause. Then Nat’s voice lowered. “They wanted you separated.”

Wanda’s eyes flicked to Y/N. “We figured.”

Another burst of static. “We’ll regroup,” Nat said. “But not yet. Lay low. Switch locations every twenty-four hours. Use public networks sparingly.”

Wanda nodded instinctively, even though Nat couldn’t see her. “Copy.”

Nat’s tone shifted slightly.

“And Wanda?”

“Yeah?”

“You two good?”

Wanda hesitated, glancing at Y/N. Y/N stood steady beside her—alert, protective, present. “We’re okay,” Wanda said quietly.

A beat.

“Good,” Nat replied. “We’ll ping again when it’s safe.” The line went dead.

The room fell silent except for the low hum of the air conditioner. Wanda lowered the comm slowly. “They’re alive,” she said.

Y/N exhaled, tension leaving her shoulders for the first time since the ambush. “Good.”

Wanda looked up at her. “We’re not going back anytime soon.”

Y/N didn’t hesitate. “Okay.”

Outside, the neon sign flickered again. Inside the dim motel room, the two of them stood there—fugitives by circumstance, but no longer alone.

The silence after the comm went dead felt different. Not heavy. Not panicked. Focused. Wanda set the device back on the table and leaned against it, arms crossing loosely. “So,” she said quietly, “we rotate locations. No patterns. No powers in public unless absolutely necessary.”

Y/N nodded. “No shifting unless we’re clear.”

“No obvious cash trails.”

“No staying more than a night.”

They fell into planning easily—strategy, survival, contingencies. It felt strangely calm now that the immediate chaos had passed. “If they scrubbed the warehouse that fast,” Wanda said, pacing slowly, “this wasn’t some random mercenary group.”

“No,” Y/N agreed. “They had numbers. Coordination. Infrastructure.”

“And they knew about the backup intel.”

Y/N’s jaw tightened slightly. “Which means they knew we’d come.”

Wanda’s expression darkened. “Someone fed them the mission details.”

The thought hung in the room. Neither said it aloud. Inside job.

After a moment Wanda sighed and sat back on the edge of the bed. “Okay. We lay low. Maybe move further west tomorrow—smaller towns.”

Y/N leaned against the wall near the door, arms folded, thoughtful.

Her stomach growled. Loudly. The sound filled the quiet room with zero dignity.

Wanda blinked.

Y/N stiffened. It growled again.

Wanda tried—she really tried—not to laugh. A small sound escaped anyway.

Y/N looked personally betrayed by her own body. “It’s been hours,” she muttered defensively.

Wanda’s smile softened. “You carried me through a city and ran through a forest. You’re allowed to be hungry.”

Another rumble.

Y/N glanced down at her stomach like it had committed treason.

Wanda stood, still smiling, and stepped closer. “Come on. Let’s go get something to eat.”

Y/N hesitated. “Public.”

“We’ll be careful.”

“I’m recognizable.”

Wanda tilted her head. “So am I.”

Y/N exhaled slowly. “That’s my point.”

Wanda lowered her voice. “Simple diner. Cash. Sit near the exit.”

Y/N still looked uncertain.

“And,” Wanda added, a spark returning to her tone, “we should buy supplies.”

Y/N’s posture shifted immediately to practical. “Like what?”

“Backpacks. First aid kit. Clothes that don’t scream ‘Avengers.’ Toiletries. Maybe a prepaid phone.”

Y/N nodded slowly. “Water purification tablets. Flashlights. Cash from different places.”

Wanda smiled faintly. “See? You’re already planning.”

Y/N glanced toward the window, thinking.

Wanda, meanwhile, was staring at her. Specifically—at her hair.

Y/N noticed after a moment. “What?”

Wanda’s lips curved slightly. “…Maybe we should change our hair.”

Y/N blinked. “Our… hair.”

“Color,” Wanda clarified. “Easiest visual identifier.”

Y/N instinctively touched her dark hair. “You want to dye it?”

“Temporary,” Wanda said with a shrug. “Drugstore kit.”

Y/N studied her. “You’re enjoying this.”

Wanda tried to look innocent. “Maybe a little.”

Y/N narrowed her eyes. “What color.”

Wanda stepped closer, examining her thoughtfully. “Blonde would be obvious. Mine is already red… not blue.”

Wanda laughed softly. “No. Not blue.”

She tilted her head, considering. “Maybe lighter brown. Or dark auburn.”

Y/N looked like she was mentally assessing the strategic threat of hair dye. “And you?”

Wanda shrugged. “I could go darker.”

Y/N studied her for a moment. “You don’t have to.”

Wanda’s smile softened. “I know.”

A quiet beat passed.

Then Y/N sighed. “Fine. We eat. We shop. We change our hair.”

Her stomach growled again on cue.

Wanda covered her mouth, shoulders shaking with quiet laughter. “Dinner first,” she said gently.

And for the first time since the trapdoor—

This felt almost like an adventure instead of an escape.

---

Later that night they slipped back into Room 17 carrying plastic bags—cheap backpacks, basic toiletries, a prepaid phone, bottled water, and two small boxes of temporary hair dye.

The motel bathroom was barely big enough for both of them.

Yellow light. Cracked mirror. A faint hum from the vent overhead.

Wanda stood at the sink reading the instructions on the dye box while Y/N hovered awkwardly near the door.

“Are you sure this is safe?” Y/N asked.

“It’s hair dye,” Wanda replied dryly. “Not gamma radiation.”

Y/N grunted softly.

She reached up and pulled her shirt over her head.

Wanda turned at the movement—

And froze.

Y/N was shirtless except for her sports bra. Lean muscle defined her frame, faint scars tracing along her ribs and shoulder—marks left by Hydra and everything she’d survived.

Wanda had seen her like this before.

Training.

Medical checks.

After missions.

But this felt different.

The cramped bathroom.

The quiet.

The proximity.

Her gaze drifted down Y/N’s torso before she could stop herself.

Heat pooled low in her stomach, sudden and sharp.

She blinked.

Shook her head slightly.

Get it together. She’s your friend!

“Everything okay?” Y/N asked, completely unaware, expression open and almost innocent.

Wanda swallowed. “Yeah. Fine.”

She focused very hard on the dye box in her hands.

“Sit,” she added, gesturing toward the closed toilet lid.

Y/N obeyed without question, turning her back and sitting down. Damp hair brushed the back of her neck.

Wanda slipped on the thin plastic gloves and mixed the dye carefully, hands steady again.

She stepped closer.

Very close.

Close enough to feel the warmth radiating from Y/N’s skin.

“Lean forward a little,” Wanda murmured.

Y/N did.

Wanda began applying the dye to her short hair, working methodically, careful not to drip. The chemical scent filled the small space.

For a while neither spoke.

Wanda’s fingers brushed lightly over Y/N’s scalp as she worked.

Y/N’s shoulders relaxed a little more with every pass.

“…You’re very focused,” Y/N said quietly.

“I’m trying not to stain your face.”

A small huff of amusement.

Silence again.

Up close Wanda could see the faint tension in Y/N’s posture—even sitting down she held herself like someone ready to move at any moment.

“You can relax,” Wanda said softly.

“I am.”

Wanda smiled faintly behind her.

“You say that a lot.”

Y/N didn’t answer.

Wanda finished coating the last section of hair and stepped back.

“Okay,” she said. “We wait.”

Y/N looked up at her through the mirror.

Their eyes met.

For a second—

The small bathroom felt even smaller.

Wanda looked away first.

“My turn after this,” she said quickly.

Y/N nodded.

But the faint flush creeping up her neck wasn’t entirely from the heat.

---

The motel room was dim except for the glow of the TV, a late-night sitcom murmuring softly in the background.

Wanda sat cross-legged on the bed, watching without really seeing.

The bathroom door opened.

Steam drifted out first.

Then Y/N stepped into the room, towel in hand, drying her hair.

Wanda looked up—

And froze.

The new color caught the light differently—dark auburn now, richer and deeper, sharpening Y/N’s features. Damp strands fell over her forehead as she rubbed them with the towel.

She was still shirtless.

Sports bra. Sweatpants low on her hips. Bare feet.

And that hair—

Wanda’s breath hitched.

Heat pooled low in her stomach again, sharper this time. Her gaze dropped for half a second before she forced it back up.

Stop it.

We are just friends.

Why am I—

Y/N tilted her head. “Wanda?”

No response.

She stepped closer.

“Wanda?”

A hand waved slowly in front of her face.

Wanda blinked hard, dragged back to the moment.

“Sorry—what?”

“Are you okay?” Y/N asked, brows knitting slightly. “You were staring.”

Heat rushed to Wanda’s cheeks.

“I’m fine,” she said quickly, sitting up straighter.

Y/N hesitated. Her hand drifted to her damp hair.

“…It looks bad, right?”

The uncertainty was genuine.

She thought Wanda had been staring because she didn’t like it.

Wanda looked at her again—this time deliberately.

The color suited her. Made her eyes warmer. Softer. Dangerous in a completely different way.

“No,” Wanda said a little too fast.

Y/N blinked.

“It looks… really good,” Wanda corrected, voice quieter.

Y/N studied her face carefully.

Wanda held her gaze.

“It suits you.”

A faint flush crept up Y/N’s neck.

“…Oh.”

She rubbed the back of her head, still damp from the shower. And Wanda felt that warm flutter again—stronger now.

She inhaled sharply.

Oh no.

No, no, no.

This was ridiculous. They were stressed. On the run. Exhausted. That was all.

Right?

Y/N shifted her weight, unaware of the chaos she was causing.

Wanda’s pulse jumped.

“I—” she started, then abruptly stood from the bed.

Too fast.

“Bathroom,” she blurted.

Y/N blinked. “What?”

“My turn,” Wanda added quickly, already moving past her.

Her arm brushed Y/N’s lightly as she passed. The contact sent another sharp spark through her. Wanda hissed softly under her breath.

Get it together.

Behind her, Y/N turned slightly.

“I can help—” she began.

But the bathroom door had already clicked shut.

Inside, Wanda leaned back against it and exhaled hard. Her heart was racing like she’d just sprinted. She pressed her palms to her cheeks.

“What is wrong with me?” she muttered.

This wasn’t supposed to feel like this.

Not now.

Not here.

Not with everything else happening.

She closed her eyes and focused on something simple—breathing, grounding, control.

Outside the door, Y/N stood there a moment longer, confused.

“…Okay,” she murmured to herself.

Then she stepped away, giving Wanda space.

Because that’s what she always did.

And somehow—

That only made it worse.

---

When Wanda finally stepped out of the bathroom, steam trailing behind her, the room somehow felt smaller.

Her hair was darker now—deep brown, almost black under the dim motel lighting. It framed her face differently, making her eyes stand out sharper and brighter.

Y/N looked up from where she sat on the edge of the bed.

And froze.

For a moment she simply stared—not confused, not uncertain.

Just… stunned.

Wanda felt it instantly, the weight of that gaze settling over her. Her stomach tightened.

Y/N stood slowly. “You—” she started, then stopped.

Wanda’s heart began to pound.

“You look…” Y/N swallowed, then smiled softly. “Beautiful.”

The word landed gently. And hit hard. Heat rushed up Wanda’s neck.

She turned away too quickly. “Okay,” she said, already moving toward the bed. “We should sleep.”

She pulled back the covers and slid under them without another glance, turning so her back faced Y/N. “Big day tomorrow,” she added, her voice just slightly higher than normal.

Silence followed.

Y/N stood there, replaying the last ten seconds in her head.

You look beautiful.

That was good, right? That was… appropriate? Slowly she moved to the other side of the bed.

“Did I…” Y/N hesitated. “…say something wrong?”

Wanda stiffened beneath the covers. “No.”

“You left very fast.”

“I’m just tired.”

Y/N frowned faintly. She climbed into bed carefully, leaving a respectful space between them this time.

Too much space.

The room hummed quietly with the AC.

After a moment Y/N tried again. “If I made you uncomfortable, I didn’t mean to.”

That did it.

Wanda rolled slightly onto her back, staring at the ceiling.

“You didn’t,” she said softly.

Y/N still looked unconvinced.

Wanda sighed, then lifted a hand and patted the bed beside her.

A simple gesture.

Y/N blinked.

“…Come here.”

The hesitation lasted only a second. Then Y/N shifted closer, still careful, leaving a small gap between them like she was afraid of crossing some invisible line.

Wanda turned onto her side to face her. The new color in Y/N’s hair caught the low red glow from the sign outside, softer now, almost copper. Wanda reached out slowly and brushed her fingers through it.

Y/N went completely still.

“It’s fine,” Wanda murmured. “You didn’t say anything wrong.”

Her fingers combed through the short strands, slow and soothing.

Y/N’s shoulders gradually relaxed.

“You can just… sleep,” Wanda added quietly.

Y/N swallowed and nodded, shifting a little closer until their knees brushed lightly beneath the covers.

Wanda kept running her fingers through her hair, thumb occasionally grazing her temple. The tension slowly left Y/N’s face.

Her breathing deepened.

“I meant when I said you look beautiful,” Y/N murmured sleepily, eyes already half-closed.

Wanda’s heart skipped.

This time she didn’t pull away. She simply kept stroking her hair.

“Go to sleep,” she whispered.

Within minutes Y/N’s breathing evened out.

Asleep.

Wanda stayed awake a little longer, fingers still resting lightly in her hair.

The motel room was dim, lit only by the faint red flicker from the sign outside. Every few seconds it cast shifting shadows across Y/N’s face, softening the sharp lines and catching in the auburn strands Wanda had helped color just hours ago.

Wanda’s hand stilled.

Get it together.

They were just friends.

Y/N had said it the way someone might say you look beautiful. It didn’t have to mean anything.

It didn’t have to mean—

Her stomach tightened again at the memory.

Stop.

This wasn’t the time to spiral. They were on the run. Possibly hunted. Separated from the team and still unsure who had betrayed them. Feelings could wait. Complications could wait.

Wanda gently slid her hand from Y/N’s hair and rested it on her own chest instead, grounding herself. She turned onto her back and stared at the ceiling.

Just friends.

Outside, a truck passed along the highway. The neon sign buzzed faintly.

Tomorrow they would leave this place. Change motels. Buy supplies. Stay invisible.

She closed her eyes.

And eventually—

Sleep took her too.

---

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