Summary: After the breakup, you and Wanda meet one last time.
Pronouns: not used || Warnings: angst, breakup
A/N → This is what happens when you stay up all night listening to The Exit by Conan Gray... Among other things.
You do NOT have permission to repost or translate my work on any platforms (even with credit)
Masterlist | Library Blog
───── ⋅ ✮ ⋅ ─────
You arrive fifteen minutes before the agreed time, which is great, because you need at least five to get out of the car.
Your eyes scan the surroundings: the half-empty parking lot, the trees swaying in the wind, the children playing in the playground across the street. Your mind wanders to all the other times you've been here before, for the sole purpose of meeting her. You scold yourself for these thoughts.
With one minute to go before four o'clock, you see her car arriving and it's impossible not to frown. She's used to being late; you've gotten used to it over the years. You wonder if her punctuality has to do with her being eager to see you or to get this over with. You scold yourself for that thought too.
You and Wanda started dating about three years ago, and broke up exactly three months ago.
It wasn't supposed to be a bad breakup, though.
Your relationship wasn't working, it's true, but you both acknowledged in the end that it would be better for you as individuals if you put the romantic part aside. Both you and she recognized that you worked better as friends.
There was a lot of conversation after the breakup, each of you establishing your boundaries and expectations, defining what your new relationship, now a friendship, would be like.
You didn't object, after all, your own feelings had already fled far away, beyond your reach, amid so many fights and misunderstandings.
Still, you cared too much about her. The partnership you had developed over the years, both in your relationship and in the friendship that preceded it, was simply indescribable. You confided in her things you hadn't confided in anyone else, just as she had done with you. You were sure you would have her in your life forever, regardless of labels. So when the romantic relationship didn't work out, the friendship seemed more than enough.
To your delight, Wanda seemed to feel the same way when you talked, assuring you that she wanted to keep you in her life forever, that you would always be her best friend. That delight has now turned into a bitter taste in your mouth.
“Hi.” Her voice is a mere whisper as she approaches you, her green eyes studying you cautiously. “Hi.” You reply in an emotionless voice, clenching your jaw as you notice her flushed skin. You scold yourself for the third time that afternoon, this time for paying too much attention.
In the conversations that followed the breakup, Wanda made it clear that, although she understood there was no longer room for a romantic relationship, her feelings hadn't gone anywhere. And so she feared that in the future, when you started dating someone else, you would forget her completely.
She had a grateful smile on her face when you assured her that this would never happen, that nothing would get in the way of the unique relationship you shared. You returned the smile when she assured you that she felt the same way.
After that conversation, due to your busy schedules, you were only able to see each other again almost a month later. On that occasion, you updated each other on what you had been doing in the last few days. You were happy to hear that, like you, she was also taking better care of her mental health, trying to recover after the breakup.
However, you had to pretend not to be affected when she let slip, perhaps by accident, that she had gone on a date with someone. Unable to hold back, you found yourself asking casual-sounding questions, but the redhead hesitated to answer. Regardless, you found out that it was a close friend of hers.
You didn't meet again after that.
Through mutual friends, you learned that the date was with Jean Grey, a coworker of Wanda's, and that it wasn't a one-time thing. You couldn't say which piece of information was more of a punch in the gut.
You always felt like something was off about their friendship, like a gut feeling that made your stomach turn the wrong way. However, Wanda always assured you they were just friends, even though they had grown closer during the months when your relationship wasn't going well, and one of the wallpapers on her phone was of the two of them together.
The cherry on top (or perhaps, a punch to your jugular) was realizing that the redhead had suddenly distanced herself from you completely. She never tried to make conversation with you again, and whenever you tried to start one, she seemed to respond half-heartedly, almost out of politeness. So you stopped trying.
And your blood boiled and boiled, to the point of making your whole body burn.
The possibility of having been cheated on during your relationship made you nauseous. But worst of all was remembering all the promises you had made to each other after the breakup. When she assured you that she valued your friendship. That she wanted you around. That she didn't want to lose you if you got romantically involved with someone else. All of that so she could do exactly the same thing less than a month later.
So whether Wanda had cheated on you or not didn't matter. She had still betrayed your trust, and there was no going back.
You weren't going to talk to her about it, though. It wasn't as if she gave you any opening for any kind of dialogue these days. But, needing to put an end to it so you could move on in peace, you sent her a message saying you wanted to end the relationship for good, offering as little context as possible. She replied saying she didn't understand why, but that she respected your decision, and that she had some of your things she still needed to give back to you. The only texts after that were to arrange the time and place.
And so here you were, facing each other in complete silence. Wanda with a cardboard box in her hands and you with your arms crossed tightly in front of your chest, an unsuccessful attempt to protect yourself.
“Well, here are your things,” she says when the silence stretches too long to bear, holding the box out toward you. You mumble a thank you, take the box, and turn to put it in your car.
“Can we talk?” she asks as soon as you close the trunk, her lower lip caught between her teeth as if she were scolding herself for asking. Huffing heavily, you tense your jaw, taking a moment to look at her. “About what?”
“About what happened.” She replies, frowning when you let out a dry laugh. “There’s nothing to talk about.” Your voice is even harsher than your posture, forcing Wanda to take a step back.
“You wanted to end our friendship out of nowhere.” She insists, her expression so deeply confused that it makes your blood boil. How could she not know? Did you mean so little to her that she didn't take you into consideration at all? Or was she simply unable to see how wrong what she did was?
“Please tell me what happened. Did I do something?" You laugh again, thinking not of one, but of the list of things you wanted to hold her accountable for. But you just sigh. It wouldn't matter. It would make no difference. Talking about it now would only cause more pain, and you were tired of getting hurt.
“It's not my place to tell you what you did or didn't do wrong, Wanda, you're a grown-up." You respond, no emotion in your voice, your posture impassive, as Wanda has never seen you act toward her. “Besides, if you don't realize it yourself, me telling you won't make you understand." You watch her mind working behind her furrowed brow. But when nothing comes out of her mouth, you sigh.
“Are we done?” you ask impatiently, and the redhead swallows hard, nodding slowly in surrender.
Without even sparing her a glance, you turn away, walking to the driver's door of your car and opening it. Wanda, who had started walking toward her car as well, stops suddenly. “Y/n!” she calls out before you get fully into the vehicle, half of your body still outside. When you look at her, you notice her eyes shining a little brighter as tears well up in them. “I... I'm sorry.”
A huge lump forms in your throat, your heart beating so hard in your chest that you'd think it might break, if it weren't already cracked into a million pieces. You want to tell her to spare you the empty apologies, to rub it in her face that she doesn't even know what she's apologizing for. That this apology is much more for herself than for you.
But you swallow hard to compose yourself, an exhausted sigh escaping your lips. You've finally reached your limit, no will to fight other than the pain.
“I don't care,” you reply honestly, amid a trembling sigh. The next moment, you get in the car, before you have time to see her starting to cry.
───── ⋅ ✮ ⋅ ─────
And that's it for today! I hope you enjoyed it, thoughts and comments are always welcome ツ
Blurb Collection: Red (Taylor’s Version) #13 - The Lucky One
Taylor Sloane x Reader
Summary: Life as a celebrity was quite often terrible. Luckily for her, life sent someone to Taylor's rescue.
Pronouns: not used || Warnings: anxiety
A/N → Okay, so I noticed I’ve been kinda mean to you with so much angst lol so here’s a sweet little thing instead
Taylor Swift · Red (Taylor's Version) · Song · 2021
You do NOT have permission to repost or translate my work on any platforms (even with credit)
Masterlist | Library Blog
───── ⋅ ✮ ⋅ ─────
Another night spent at a party, in one of the many fancy venues scattered around the City Of Angels. She wouldn't tell, but sometimes Taylor would think of LA as the City Of Devils.
Blinding flashing lights, ready to get anyone in their worst moments; sharp tongues prepared to gossip hidden behind fake grins of innocence; wide eyes scanning every single figure from head to toe, seeking flaws that they can turn into headlines. And there she was, one of the many victims.
Taylor would be lying if she said that at least part of her didn't like it all. The fame, the attention, having people craving her and wanting her to be by their side just to bask in her fame if even for that night.
But it was also overwhelming, terrifying. It was often that her anxiety bubbled up inside her chest, making it hard to breathe and making the blonde question if that life she led was really worth it or not.
Especially moments like this one, when Taylor was sitting in one of the party's bathroom stalls, her face buried in her hands in an attempt to muffle her sobs.
"Are you okay?" An unknown voice sounded from the other side of the door, somewhat uncertain. The blonde widens her eyes slightly, unsure whether to say something or remain silent. "Sorry, this was kind of out of the blue, I didn't mean to scare you."
The mysterious person adds clumsily, and Taylor gives up trying to figure out who it may be to let out a soft laugh. "Don't worry, you didn't." She assures amidst a sniffle. "And I'm okay, yeah."
"Are you sure?" You ask eyebrows raised with confusion after a heartbeat of silence, scolding yourself for pushing a random stranger to open up to you. "I mean... It's just that you don't really sound okay."
"It's just hard sometimes, being surrounded by all those people…" The girl trails off quietly, and you bite the inside of your cheek as you think of what to say. "Oh, tell me about it. I considered faking a heart attack at least three times tonight." You decide for a more playful approach, smiling when you hear her laughing softly from the other side.
"I'm Y/n Y/l/n." You introduce yourself then, resting your waist on the marble of the sink with your arms crossed in front of your body. "Taylor Sloane." The girl lets you know not long after, and you can’t help but widen your eyes slightly.
"Miss Sloane... I heard a lot about you." You say somewhat humorously. "I can say the same about yourself.” She hits back in the same tone, making you smile. “Although, I wonder how much of it is true."
"I'd say about 30%, probably." You joke although sincerely, your smile widening as her laughter fills the bathroom once again. "But if you wanna find out we could leave this hellish place and go for a walk."
You bite your tongue immediately, scolding yourself once again that evening. With this simple interaction, the image you had of Taylor Sloane had already changed completely, and you couldn’t help to want - nearly crave for the opportunity to get to know her better.
Before you can overthink too much, the metalic noise of the bathroom lock opening catches your attention, and you raise your gaze from the floor to the smiling girl with slightly red eyes coming from inside the stall.
"I know a nice ice cream parlor nearby." She suggests shily, her eyes locked on yours with such intensity that you feel your heart skipping two beats in a roll.
"Lead the way." You manage to say, and Taylor lets out a soft smile with rosy cheeks before doing so.
───── ⋅ ✮ ⋅ ─────
And that's it for today! I hope you enjoyed it, thoughts and comments are always welcome ツ
#12 - Sad Beautiful Tragic || Blurb Collection || #14 - Everything Has Changed
genuinely asking.... are you ok?? did someone hurt you???
I am not, in fact, ok 😃 jokes aside, though, is it that obvious? hahahaha yeah, I've been through a very messy breakup and, well, I guess I'm still dealing with it and it shows. Thanks for asking though hahahaha
Summary: After the breakup, you and Wanda meet one last time.
Pronouns: not used || Warnings: angst, breakup
A/N → This is what happens when you stay up all night listening to The Exit by Conan Gray... Among other things.
You do NOT have permission to repost or translate my work on any platforms (even with credit)
Masterlist | Library Blog
───── ⋅ ✮ ⋅ ─────
You arrive fifteen minutes before the agreed time, which is great, because you need at least five to get out of the car.
Your eyes scan the surroundings: the half-empty parking lot, the trees swaying in the wind, the children playing in the playground across the street. Your mind wanders to all the other times you've been here before, for the sole purpose of meeting her. You scold yourself for these thoughts.
With one minute to go before four o'clock, you see her car arriving and it's impossible not to frown. She's used to being late; you've gotten used to it over the years. You wonder if her punctuality has to do with her being eager to see you or to get this over with. You scold yourself for that thought too.
You and Wanda started dating about three years ago, and broke up exactly three months ago.
It wasn't supposed to be a bad breakup, though.
Your relationship wasn't working, it's true, but you both acknowledged in the end that it would be better for you as individuals if you put the romantic part aside. Both you and she recognized that you worked better as friends.
There was a lot of conversation after the breakup, each of you establishing your boundaries and expectations, defining what your new relationship, now a friendship, would be like.
You didn't object, after all, your own feelings had already fled far away, beyond your reach, amid so many fights and misunderstandings.
Still, you cared too much about her. The partnership you had developed over the years, both in your relationship and in the friendship that preceded it, was simply indescribable. You confided in her things you hadn't confided in anyone else, just as she had done with you. You were sure you would have her in your life forever, regardless of labels. So when the romantic relationship didn't work out, the friendship seemed more than enough.
To your delight, Wanda seemed to feel the same way when you talked, assuring you that she wanted to keep you in her life forever, that you would always be her best friend. That delight has now turned into a bitter taste in your mouth.
“Hi.” Her voice is a mere whisper as she approaches you, her green eyes studying you cautiously. “Hi.” You reply in an emotionless voice, clenching your jaw as you notice her flushed skin. You scold yourself for the third time that afternoon, this time for paying too much attention.
In the conversations that followed the breakup, Wanda made it clear that, although she understood there was no longer room for a romantic relationship, her feelings hadn't gone anywhere. And so she feared that in the future, when you started dating someone else, you would forget her completely.
She had a grateful smile on her face when you assured her that this would never happen, that nothing would get in the way of the unique relationship you shared. You returned the smile when she assured you that she felt the same way.
After that conversation, due to your busy schedules, you were only able to see each other again almost a month later. On that occasion, you updated each other on what you had been doing in the last few days. You were happy to hear that, like you, she was also taking better care of her mental health, trying to recover after the breakup.
However, you had to pretend not to be affected when she let slip, perhaps by accident, that she had gone on a date with someone. Unable to hold back, you found yourself asking casual-sounding questions, but the redhead hesitated to answer. Regardless, you found out that it was a close friend of hers.
You didn't meet again after that.
Through mutual friends, you learned that the date was with Jean Grey, a coworker of Wanda's, and that it wasn't a one-time thing. You couldn't say which piece of information was more of a punch in the gut.
You always felt like something was off about their friendship, like a gut feeling that made your stomach turn the wrong way. However, Wanda always assured you they were just friends, even though they had grown closer during the months when your relationship wasn't going well, and one of the wallpapers on her phone was of the two of them together.
The cherry on top (or perhaps, a punch to your jugular) was realizing that the redhead had suddenly distanced herself from you completely. She never tried to make conversation with you again, and whenever you tried to start one, she seemed to respond half-heartedly, almost out of politeness. So you stopped trying.
And your blood boiled and boiled, to the point of making your whole body burn.
The possibility of having been cheated on during your relationship made you nauseous. But worst of all was remembering all the promises you had made to each other after the breakup. When she assured you that she valued your friendship. That she wanted you around. That she didn't want to lose you if you got romantically involved with someone else. All of that so she could do exactly the same thing less than a month later.
So whether Wanda had cheated on you or not didn't matter. She had still betrayed your trust, and there was no going back.
You weren't going to talk to her about it, though. It wasn't as if she gave you any opening for any kind of dialogue these days. But, needing to put an end to it so you could move on in peace, you sent her a message saying you wanted to end the relationship for good, offering as little context as possible. She replied saying she didn't understand why, but that she respected your decision, and that she had some of your things she still needed to give back to you. The only texts after that were to arrange the time and place.
And so here you were, facing each other in complete silence. Wanda with a cardboard box in her hands and you with your arms crossed tightly in front of your chest, an unsuccessful attempt to protect yourself.
“Well, here are your things,” she says when the silence stretches too long to bear, holding the box out toward you. You mumble a thank you, take the box, and turn to put it in your car.
“Can we talk?” she asks as soon as you close the trunk, her lower lip caught between her teeth as if she were scolding herself for asking. Huffing heavily, you tense your jaw, taking a moment to look at her. “About what?”
“About what happened.” She replies, frowning when you let out a dry laugh. “There’s nothing to talk about.” Your voice is even harsher than your posture, forcing Wanda to take a step back.
“You wanted to end our friendship out of nowhere.” She insists, her expression so deeply confused that it makes your blood boil. How could she not know? Did you mean so little to her that she didn't take you into consideration at all? Or was she simply unable to see how wrong what she did was?
“Please tell me what happened. Did I do something?" You laugh again, thinking not of one, but of the list of things you wanted to hold her accountable for. But you just sigh. It wouldn't matter. It would make no difference. Talking about it now would only cause more pain, and you were tired of getting hurt.
“It's not my place to tell you what you did or didn't do wrong, Wanda, you're a grown-up." You respond, no emotion in your voice, your posture impassive, as Wanda has never seen you act toward her. “Besides, if you don't realize it yourself, me telling you won't make you understand." You watch her mind working behind her furrowed brow. But when nothing comes out of her mouth, you sigh.
“Are we done?” you ask impatiently, and the redhead swallows hard, nodding slowly in surrender.
Without even sparing her a glance, you turn away, walking to the driver's door of your car and opening it. Wanda, who had started walking toward her car as well, stops suddenly. “Y/n!” she calls out before you get fully into the vehicle, half of your body still outside. When you look at her, you notice her eyes shining a little brighter as tears well up in them. “I... I'm sorry.”
A huge lump forms in your throat, your heart beating so hard in your chest that you'd think it might break, if it weren't already cracked into a million pieces. You want to tell her to spare you the empty apologies, to rub it in her face that she doesn't even know what she's apologizing for. That this apology is much more for herself than for you.
But you swallow hard to compose yourself, an exhausted sigh escaping your lips. You've finally reached your limit, no will to fight other than the pain.
“I don't care,” you reply honestly, amid a trembling sigh. The next moment, you get in the car, before you have time to see her starting to cry.
───── ⋅ ✮ ⋅ ─────
And that's it for today! I hope you enjoyed it, thoughts and comments are always welcome ツ
Summary: After letting rumors ruin what you had, Wanda has to bear seeing you move on with someone else.
Pronouns: she/her (implied) || Warnings: angst, mentions of homophobia
You do NOT have permission to repost or translate my work on any platforms (even with credit)
Masterlist | Library Blog
───── ⋅ ✮ ⋅ ─────
Wanda remembers well the first time you and her put up the Christmas lights.
You insisted that she didn’t use any magic. Doing it the traditional christmassy way, you said at the time. Which was low-productive since you wanted to decorate the entire Compound. But the brunette did it anyway, because she had always had a hard time saying no to you.
And what a delightful surprise it was to see that mistletoe carefully placed by you hours prior at the spot where the two of you would finish the long trail of colored lights. Wanda remembers your bold smile and rosy cheeks when you reminded her of the traditions, and she also remembers how she looked around to see if anyone was looking before kissing you shily. She wishes she hadn’t.
But that didn't matter much, because this year she had hung the lights by herself, using her magic, and not even the additional shade of scarlet kept the tinted bulbs from looking colorless to the brunette.
Christmas eve was harder than she had anticipated, seeing you around with her. As if you hadn’t been the brunette’s a few Christmases ago. But Wanda could never blame you for it. She pretended like nothing was happening between you while you were together, there's no reason to acknowledge whatever it was that you had so long after it was over.
And she wished she was mad, but she’s not. Because the two of you look good together. That’s what everyone says at least. You look happy with her. Kate makes you giggle the same way you do to her, and she always keeps her hand on yours even when everyone is around. Wanda just wished she’d been that brave when she had the chance.
Carol said New Year's Eve would be easier, since you and the new Hawkeye would go on some perfect, romantic trip together. And perhaps it would, but Wanda found it hard to believe it, because staying away from you was pretty much the hardest thing she had ever needed to do.
You weren’t hers but at least she could still see you. See the sweet eyes she has fallen in love so desperately over the years, even if for the majority of this time she lied to herself about it. See the endearing way you scratch the back of your neck when you were embarrassed, the scene has always made her want to kiss you over and over again - even if she had stopped herself from doing so too many times. Hear your gentle tone or sarcastic humor, she loved both.
And speaking of your voice, it reaches Wanda’s ears as she lays comfortably on the couch on the TV room in the Compound, making her entire body tense up at that very moment.
“[...] We’ll think about that for the next trip.” You comment with a laugh at Thor's suggestion of you and Kate going to New Asgard instead, and your girlfriend joins your giggle with a nod of her head. “Where’s everyone else by the way? I only met Bruce at the garage.”
“All doing their own things I suppose.” Grumbles the God of Thunder as he thinks. “Bucky and Sam are out getting supplies for the party on the weekend, Natasha and Yelena must be at the gym I suppose… Oh! And the witchy is inside.” The blonde man remembers with a snap of his fingers before pointing at the TV room behind him, and as you disguise your gulp, Wanda starts to think if she knows any disappearing spells.
“Thanks, Thor.” You barely have time to say as Kate guides you by the hand towards where the man had indicated, and you let your gaze stay on the hesitant figure on the couch for only half a second before looking away.
“Wanda! Hi!” It is your cheerful girlfriend who greets, letting go of your hand to hug the other brunette, who had barely gotten up. “Hey, Kate. Good to see you.” The witch says politely, and you clench your jaw tightly, hating the fact that you know her well enough to know she’s lying.
“Hey, Y/n.” The brunette greets in an almost whisper when Kate lets go of her, hovering back to your side and holding your hand like it’s second nature, and Wanda has to look away for an instant before her eyes start to burn. “Hey, Wanda.” You greet back in the same tone, pressing your lips together in a tight smile, and it’s scary how much it hurts not having your sweet greetings and long hugs anymore.
“Can I talk to you?” The words escape her lips before she can even contain it, and the brunette doesn’t miss the way your eyes widen slightly in surprise. “Of course.” You answer casually, reciprocating her grateful smile with an uncertain one.
“Alright then, I’m gonna go look for Yelena, okay? Meet me when you’re done?” Kate asks, turning her gaze to you, and you nod your head in agreement. “Of course. Don’t miss me too much.” You joke, and a silly grin takes over the other girl’s lips.
“You know I can’t promise you that.” She replies in the same amused tone, and Wanda looks away at the same instant the other brunette takes your face between her hands and pecks your lips softly.
“Bye, Wanda.” Kate says then, and the witch forces a smile as she lifts her gaze back up. “Bye, Kate. Have a nice trip.” The green-eyed girl wishes as they share a brief hug, and the other brunette smiles in appreciation as she pulls away. “Thank you.”
You and Kate exchange glances as she leaves, soft smiles sent on each other’s ways as the brunette does, and Wanda watches the scene with a huge lump in her throat.
But then the two of you are left alone at the TV room, and the atmosphere changes immediately. You look at the witch with expectant and somewhat apprehensive eyes, and Wanda tries to ignore her broken heart as she admires her favorite traces of your face.
“So?” You ask eventually, your arms crossed in front of your chest, and the brunette blinks a few times her way back to reality, away from the memories burning in her mind.
“You look happy.” She comments softly, and you have a hard time ignoring the tears forming in her eyes. “Well, it’s the Holidays.” You try to lighten the mood with humor, but, although she smiles, Wanda shakes her head. “You know that’s not what I meant.”
“What do you want to talk about, Wanda?” You insisted again with a tired sigh, and Wanda's smile crumbled as her chin began to quiver. “I thought of you this morning.” The brunette fights her tears to confess, taking you by surprise. “Remember how we would always stay on the rooftop?” She smiles when you nod lightly. “Talking for hours, just… You and me, the whole world feeling so far away… I think about those days all the time, actually.”
“Why are you telling me this?” You ask after a brief moment of silence, your jaw so tightly clenched that your teeth grind often. Wanda has difficulty reading your countenance. But, despite spotting signs of anger in it, she answers, “I just… I miss you, you know? So much. You were the best part of my life and I just… It’s very unfortunate that fate worked against us.”
“I’m sorry what?” You ask amidst a humorless laugh that makes the brunette frowns. “Fate never worked against us, Wanda, you did.” You accuse, your voice growing louder as your irritation escalates. “I loved you in every way I could and I did. And would do absolutely anything for you. I would fight fate myself if I had to in order to be by your side. We didn't work out because you didn't want us to!”
“I know!” Wanda shouts back as the first tear falls down her cheek. It's the kickstart for the others to fall as well, and you clench your hands in fists to stop yourself from reaching out to her. “I know.” She repeats in a small voice, sniffling softly. “I never knew how much I loved you before I lost you.” She confesses, her chin as shaky as her voice, and you find it hard to keep your own tears in your eyes as you listen.
“But I was so scared, Y/n. Everyone has always been so mean to me. The foreign girl, the freak, the threat!” She quotes through teeth gritted in anger and eyebrows downcast with sadness. “Nothing I’ve ever done was good enough and it would never be good enough.”
People always fear what they cannot understand. And the worst problem of all is that this "fearing" often turns into hatred, violence, lies. You have seen several mean comments about you and your friends over the years, but none of them match the amount of lies and injustices spoken about the girl before your eyes. And the way they affected her only made your chest hurt harder, countless times you stayed with her until she slept through her tears.
“And… And I saw how mean they were about Nat and Maria, it was so unfair…” She continues, sniffing softly as she hugs her own body. “I wanted to protect you from it.” The brunette adds, and for the first time you move, taking a step back and shaking your head no, making her frown in confusion.
“No, Wands,” you retort softly, “you wanted to protect yourself.” Your tone is not accusatory, but Wanda averts her gaze anyway, aware that you are right. After a short moment of silence, you frown. “Is that why you dated Vision?”
“He liked me, and at least he was a man.” She explains with her cheeks rosy from embarrassment, shrugging. “I thought it would be easier.” You nod slowly in understanding, getting used to the new information. All this time you thought Wanda had in fact left you to be with him.
“It was the worst mistake I’ve ever made, though.” The brunette says with pleading eyes, taking a step forward towards you and bringing you back from your thoughts. “Because I love you. So so much, Y/n/n.” Those words burn your ears. Even though you had said them to her several times, Wanda had never said them to you. And it physically hurts.
“Do you… Do you love me still?” She asks as your silence grows longer, a new wave of tears blurring her green irises as her face contorts in sorrow. “Please say you do.” She begs, resting her leaning her forehead on your shoulder in surrender, and you look up with a weary sigh, blinking away your own tears.
“I can’t.” You whisper softly. Wanda lets out a loud sob at your response, and you swallow dryly to muster up the courage to take another step back and regain the distance between the two of you. “I loved you, Wanda. I would've faced anything with you, little witch.” You let her know, smiling as you hear her soft, wet giggle. “But now...”
“Now you love her.” She finishes your sentence for you, and although her crying gets stronger when you confirm with a nod of your head, the brunette forces a smile. “Kate’s a great girl. I hope she makes you happier than I ever could.”
“I hope you’re happy too, you know?” You say wholeheartedly, and Wanda has to bite her tongue not to say the only way she can be happy is by your side. “And if you want some advice, fuck them.” You add, taking her by surprise and smiling amusedly at her confused expression. “Fuck all them. Let them talk. They don’t know you and how you live your life is not their problem. You deserve to be happy too, Wanda. You are still one of the greatest people I know.”
“No, I’m not.” Her expression - previously grateful for your words - turns to one of disagreement as she shakes her head. “I hurt you. I broke your heart, Y/n, I know I did.” She says, taking a step towards you, and you hold your breath. “But I want you to know that this is the greatest regret of my life. And if I could, I would go back and undo all the things that made us be like this.” She tells you wholeheartedly, tears streaming down her face. “Maybe… Maybe, if it wasn’t too late, I-”
“Happy New Year, Wanda.” You interrupt her before she can say something that you are not able to hear, your eyes burning more than before. And despite her heart shattering, the brunette can see the pleading in your eyes. So she just offers you a sad smile, sniffling once more before wishing, “Happy New Year, Y/n.”
───── ⋅ ✮ ⋅ ─────
And that's it for today! I hope you enjoyed it, thoughts and comments are always welcome ツ
Summary: Returning to your hometown ended up bringing back into your life your biggest crush. Luckily, you were no longer a child.
Word count: 1.046 || Pronouns: not used
Warnings: make out, age gap (Zooey is 32 and Reader is 24)
A/N → This story was a request I got years ago, but I can't find it 😭 Anyway, I hope it reaches the person who asked for it.
You do NOT have permission to repost or translate my work on any platforms (even with credit)
Masterlist | Library Blog
───── ⋅ ✮ ⋅ ─────
It's fun to be back in your hometown after so long.
You had an amazing time there, with amazing people that you unfortunately lost touch with over time, especially after having to move to another country.
Living in Italy was amazing and having the opportunity to study the one thing you truly loved seemed such a unique opportunity that you didn't think twice before following your dream.
But now your program was over, and after celebrating with the friends you had made in Europe, you decided to go back home and try to build your career close to your family and friends.
And although you wanted to see them, tonight you wanted to enjoy the city for yourself, relishing the surroundings and the nostalgic memories they awaken.
To do this, you go to a pub in the center of town, where you've been a few times with your friends, with false identities and white lies to your parents about where you really were.
There, you order your favorite drink, and sit down on one of the stools in front of the bar. You order some appetizers as well, and hum along quietly to the music. A short time later, however, you're interrupted by a familiar voice.
"Y/n?" She says next to you, and you have a huge smile as you turn around on the stool to see her. "Zooey! Long time no see!" You say as you hug her in a friendly greeting, and the blonde giggles as she reciprocates.
Zooey Kern was your first love. Well, sort of.
When you were younger, Zooey was your babysitter for a few months. But just in that short time you managed to fall in love with her, completely head over heels for her.
But then she got a job offer in a neighboring town and resigned as your babysitter to pursue the career she had studied to pursue. You were devastated for days and there's still a part of you that believed you never truly got over her.
"You've changed so much!" She comments as you pull away, looking you up and down, and you let out an amused laugh. "I'm glad! I was what? Fourteen?"
"Yeah, that's about right." She replies, a wide smile on her lips as she nods in agreement. "It's good to see you again, I never saw you around here anymore."
"Yeah, I was living abroad for the last few years." You comment before taking a sip of your drink, and Zooey makes an impressed grimace. "Uuh, fancy." She jokes, and you let out a shy chuckle. "How was it there?"
"Come have a drink with me and I'll tell you all about it." You invite good-naturedly, pointing to the stool next to yours. Zooey smiles and takes no time to sit down beside you.
And so you talk for hours. You tell her about your life and she does the same, both of you laughing, sharing memories and drinking.
Maybe it's the increasing amount of alcohol in your system, but you can't help but feel a distinct tension between you, as if something has arisen there that neither of you can quite explain.
You try not to overthink all the times Zooey touches you as she talks, and the blonde pretends not to notice the intense glances you give her.
"I'll be honest, I had a huge crush on you." The words escape you before your brain slowed by alcohol can stop them. And even though you keep your eyes on your drink from embarrassment, you notice Zooey smiling out of the corner of your eye.
"I already knew." She replies amusedly, making you raise your eyes to hers immediately. "What?" You ask, shocked, and your surprise makes the blonde laugh amusedly.
"It was pretty obvious." She taunts and you grunt in embarrassment, hiding your face in your hands. "It was sweet, though." She adds, trying to make you feel better, but you scoff. "Why didn't you ever talk about it?"
"Why would I?! You were fourteen and I was twenty-two!" She argues, shrugging as if the answer couldn't be more obvious. "Yeah, fair enough." You grumble, taking a sip of your drink defeatedly, and the blonde giggles amusedly.
"Do you think you'd notice me if I were your age?" You ask then, placing your now empty glass on the counter and turning to her expectantly.
"Maybe," Zooey replies, tilting her head to the side thoughtfully, "I think so, I'm noticing you now." She adds, and you need a few seconds to process what she had just said.
You blink a few times, wondering if those words weren't the result of your inebriated mind. But then she's biting her lower lip in a smile, and you feel your stomach doing somersaults.
"God, I must be dreaming." You let it out, trying to steady the uneven beats of your heart. "You'd better not wake up then." She hits back, and her husky tone makes you immediately lower your eyes to her lips.
Before you can do anything, however, a song Zooey likes starts playing in the pub, and she widens her eyes excitedly, pulling you toward the dance floor.
And the next moment the two of you are in the midst of a crowd of strangers, dancing to a lively song.
As time passes you get closer and closer, to the point where you can feel her breath brushing against your face.
Unable to control yourself any longer, you bring your hand to her neck, pulling her toward your face.
When your lips collide, Zooey sighs in surprise. But the next moment she's wrapping her arms around your neck, kissing you passionately.
The kiss escalates quickly, and before you know it your lips are on her neck, sucking on her skin as her hands grip your hair tightly.
To your dismay, the blonde pushes you away soon after. But you don't even have time to complain, because she smirks at you, her pupils completely blown as she pulls you into a spot farther away
Your fourteen-year-old self would never believe that you were making out with your babysitter and all-time crush in a dark corner of a crowded pub.
But one thing is certain: you didn't plan to stop there.
───── ⋅ ✮ ⋅ ─────
And that's it for today! I hope you enjoyed it, thoughts and comments are always welcome ツ
Summary: In her failed attempts to deal with all the bad things happening in her life, Yelena was unable not to hurt the people around her. You, being one of them, had had enough.
Pronouns: not used || Warnings: angst
A/N: I was listening to Taylor Swift's Renegade, and Yelena in Thunderbolts immediately came to my mind, so I thought... why not?
You do NOT have permission to repost or translate my work on any platforms (even with credit)
Masterlist | Library Blog
───── ⋅ ✮ ⋅ ─────
Yelena was alone in her apartment, once again beating herself up over the things she had done. It was a vicious cycle, really.
The blonde felt guilty for all the pain she had caused during her time with the Red Room, even though she had been under brainwashing strong enough to rob her of her free will. And so, to keep her mind busy, she took on more and more missions assigned by Valentina, in which she inflicted even more pain and violence.
At least now it was with people who deserved to suffer, she tried to tell herself. But the thought didn't help much in getting her to sleep at night.
Knocks on the door echo through the silent apartment. With a frown, the blonde gets up from the couch, walking cautiously to the door. Looking through the peephole, she involuntarily holds her breath, closing her eyes tightly and whispering a curse under her breath.
You and Yelena met shortly after she left the Red Room. You're just a civilian, someone she bumped into at a party. But you connected in a way that took you both by surprise, keeping in touch constantly ever since.
You were the first person Yelena opened up to about the matters that troubled her. At first, the blonde thought it would push you away and make you leave. Instead, you stayed and took care of her when no one else tried. She didn't understand how, but you always knew what she needed and were there to provide it whenever she did.
Falling in love with you was an inevitable setback.
She, who had developed the ability to read people very well, realized you had feelings for her as well. However, something was holding you back. Whatever it was, Yelena respected it for as long as she could. But during a night out, amid drinks and some forgotten fries in the corner of the table, she kissed you.
You started going on real dates after that, and things were going well, really well. So, of course, she pushed you away.
Yelena couldn't say exactly what was wrong. In the back of her mind, even though what she wanted most was genuine connections, she felt she didn't deserve any of it. So she ignored your calls, didn't reply to your messages, and disappeared for long periods of time.
When the longing was too much to bear, or when she felt like she was going to fall apart, she would come back. Even though you were hurt, you would take her in with open arms and take care of her. Things would get better, and you would build something beautiful together again. And then she would pull away once more. Another vicious cycle.
If Natasha were here, she would lecture her and advise her to do things differently, Yelena was sure. But she wasn't, so the blonde continued to hurt anyone who tried to get close to her, including you.
After the loss of her sister, you were the closest thing to a home Yelena had in her life. Which was painfully scary.
Sighing deeply, Yelena keeps a straight face as she opens the door. On the other side, you look at her with a mixture of hurt and anger, but the blonde doesn't let it shake her, showing indifference in her entire posture.
“Oh, good, you're alive,” you comment snidely, eliciting a scoff from her. “What do you want, Y/n?” She sounds almost bored, rolling her eyes as she steps away from the door, and you stomp into the apartment, your irritation growing inside your chest. “I want to know why you stood me up. Again.”
Yelena can't help but imagine you sitting alone in the restaurant she chose so thoughtfully, the restaurant she was sure you would like. Your anticipation of seeing her turning to sadness and embarrassment when you realize you've been ditched there. But the scene makes her eyes start to burn a little, so she rolls her eyes to push the tears away, throwing herself onto the couch. “Now's not a good time.”
“It's never a good time with you, is it, Yelena?” You retort with your arms crossed, your eyes fixed on her. But the blonde doesn't have the strength to look at you, keeping her gaze on the carpet. “I'm going through a lot of shit right now.”
“I know that. I was the one who stood by your side through all that shit, remember?” You say, and watching her roll her eyes once more, taking a sip of the beer on the coffee table so dismissively, only increases your outrage. “And I wasn’t even the one who started this! I knew you weren’t ready, I was gonna leave things as they were. I was fine with just being friends. You were the one who insisted. You wanted this."
“And what do you want, Y/n? Huh?” She sounds angry this time, getting up from her seat and walking towards you as she speaks, making you smell the alcohol on her breath as she says your name. And although part of you feels relieved that she's finally showing some kind of emotion, it's impossible not to feel your blood boil. “I want you to get your shit together so I can love you!”
You regret it the moment the words leave your mouth, because a shadow of sadness crosses Yelena's face. It's brief, and she quickly hides it with her usual blank expression. But you noticed, and that's enough for the anger to be drained out of your body, your shoulders slumping as you let out a long breath to pull yourself together.
“Look, I know I have no idea what your life is like, what you've been through.” You begin, much calmer this time. Forcing yourself to ignore her rolling her eyes and muttering that “you really don't,” you go on. “But I've been here for you, remember? Every time, I did everything I could to take care of you. Because I love you, I really do. But you're hurting me. A lot. And I love myself enough to stop loving you if I need to.
Memories flash through Yelena's mind as you speak. Suddenly, she feels fragile and vulnerable again. But she can't have that. So she locks her jaw so tight that her teeth could crack at any moment.
“Fuck you, Y/n. And you're not as helpful as you think you are, you know?” That's the answer she gives you, her eyes watering as she brings the bottle of beer to her lips. But when she tries to take a sip, she notices there's nothing left inside. Sighing annoyedly, she tosses the bottle onto the living room floor, causing the empty container to shatter into several pieces.
You watch the scene with your hands on your hips, unresponsive. Risking a discreet glance at you, Yelena notices that you look at her with a mixture of pity and empathy, despite everything. That only makes her stomach sink even further, so she turns her back to you to prevent you from seeing the tears building up in her eyes.
“You're drunk,” you say, placing your hand softly on her shoulder. “No shit, Sherlock,” she retorts meanly, jerking her arm forward so you'll let go. “That doesn't mean I don't mean what I'm saying, though.” She adds in the same tone as she walks to the kitchen to get another beer, slamming the fridge door when she noticed you haven't followed her.
“It's late, you must be tired.” That's what you say when she returns to the living room, and noticing that your eyes are filled with tears makes Yelena's own want to well up, so she looks away. “I'll give you a chance to think things over and be nicer to me tomorrow.”
“Or else?” She retorts harshly, staring at you with defiance. You, on the other hand, just offer her a tiny, sad smile. “Or else I won't be here the next time you need me.” Your voice carries so much emotional exhaustion that Yelena knows you mean it.
She wants to apologize. To beg you to stay. To not give up on her. But she just stays silent instead, and after a few minutes, you sigh, defeated. “Good night, Lena.”
You don't wait for an answer before leaving, flashing her a small smile as you walk past her toward the door. Yelena doesn't turn around, keeping her back to you, unable to watch you leave. She waits for the click of the doorknob to confirm that you've left the apartment.
And, alone again, she allows herself to cry.
───── ⋅ ✮ ⋅ ─────
And that's it for today! I hope you enjoyed it, thoughts and comments are always welcome ツ
Well, anon, considering she's a real person AND a murderer, I don't feel comfortable writing stories about her 😃
BUT I'm actually looking for other characters to write about, from other sources besides Marvel (or Marvel itself obviously!), so if you have any suggestions (and I know them, of course), maybe I'll come up with something!
i was wondering if you were going to finish Forbidden? no worries if you don’t plan on it
Hi, dear!
Well, to be honest, I don't really intend to carry on with this one. It's been so many years since I started it, and I can't remember where I wanted to go with it. Besides, I haven't had much time to work on longer stories, just short pieces. But you know what they say, never say never. I wouldn't count on it, but who knows, maybe one day, hahaha
Summary: when Vision comes back to live, it’s time for Wanda to make the most important choice of her life.
Pronouns: not used || Warnings: angst
A/N: Apparently, I’m going through a sad phase so that’s everyone’s problem now 😃 okay enjoy!
You do NOT have permission to repost or translate my work on any platforms (even with credit)
Masterlist | Library Blog
───── ⋅ ✮ ⋅ ─────
It was a sunny afternoon, with no clouds in the sky. You wondered how the Wakandan warriors were able to train under such a violent sun, but you didn’t put too much thought into it as you kept walking around. Wakanda is a beautiful country, you’ve been there a few times in the past and the natural landscape blending with the high-tech constructions never failed to amaze you. A perfect mixture.
You didn’t go very far, because she made you promise you would be around in case she needed you. You had a feeling she probably wouldn’t, but it’s not like you’ve ever been able to say no to her anyway. So you smiled as you agreed, and placed a soft kiss on her cheek before walking away.
To give her space, you said. It’s more like you wanted space for yourself.
This sunny afternoon would be a watershed, would flood all of life as you know it. Your routine, your plans, your dreams. Everything would change. And you had the feeling it would not be for the better. Well, not for you, at least. You wanted to say you’re not scared, but you’re terrified. That’s why you couldn’t stay with her up there, and why your feet found it hard to obey you when one of the guards came to get you.
Going up that elevator seems more time-consuming than going down it. But oddly enough, when the doors finally open, you wish they didn’t. You wished you would just go up and up forever, trapped in that metallic box, unable to cope with the whole situation.
But you walk anyway, being guided through those corridors that remind you of the ones in the Avengers Compound. From a time when you were in a very similar situation as you are today. A sadistic joke of the universe, laughing at your pounding head and your broken heart.
You try to convince yourself that maybe you're just overthinking things, as you always used to do. Maybe things would work out in the end. Maybe you could find a way to live through this. Despite the growing feeling inside your chest that everything would go wrong, maybe it wasn't quite like that.
What you see when you turn down the last corridor, however, makes all your maybes fade away, your stomach twisting and turning inside you. Because there they are, as many times before. His hands on her cheeks and her eyes fixed on his, with that glow they always had, the glow that let anyone know that she would always be his, no matter what.
The guard who had been leading you says goodbye with a short bow before leaving, and you follow him with your gaze a little longer than you would if you weren't so desperate for an excuse not to look at the scene in front of you. But your eyes are drawn to it anyway, and soon after you do, he sees you too.
“Y/n.” Greet the robotic voice of the synthezoid brought back to life. And you force a smile, putting your hands in your pockets as you force your leaden feet to walk up to the pair. "Vision." You greet back in a husky voice, Wanda's gaze seeking yours by his side. But you refuse to look, especially since she hasn't even made any mention of moving away from him after you arrived.
“You’re not gonna go around eating brains, are you?” You manage to joke then, because you’re pretty sure you’d start crying if you didn’t busy yourself with something else, and the taller one lets out a short chuckle. “Well, I don’t eat at all, so…” He jokes back, and all you can do is laugh through your nose, nodding slowly.
There’s an awkward silence then, when your eyes finally meet Wanda’s, but only for the tiniest of seconds, finding on her green irises your ruin. Vision, who wasn’t oblivious to the whole interaction, clears his synthetic throat. “Listen, Wanda told me about the two of you.”
“We don’t have to talk about it-” You say, moving your hands dismissively, but the robot shakes his head. “I’d like to.” He says kindly, not being intimidated by your clenched jaw to keep talking. “I just wanted to say that, although I’m happy to be back, I feel like I must apologize for… Well, you know.”
“It’s okay, buddy. You were always the one she wanted. Not me.” You tell him with a sad shrug. Wanda was about to say something then, but you were sure you wouldn’t be able to hear anything she could possibly have to say to you. So you rush to say, “I should get going now, I don't want to bother you guys.”
You turn your back before they can even begin to contradict you, your hurried steps taking you all the way back to the elevator from which you came. your eyes burn and your throat aches, but you refuse to cry now, not in front of all these people. Maybe you would do it in your car. The one you had shared with Wanda to get here and which she would never get into again…
“Y/n!” The voice of said woman interrupts your thoughts as soon as you reach the last corridor. You stop walking, keeping your back to her as her footsteps approach, trying to gather the strength to turn toward her. To your misfortune, the redhead's silence lets you know that she would wait for you to look at her to speak. So, reluctantly, you do so.
“That’s not true.” She tells, her eyes filled with tears - because she was getting him back or because she was losing you, you wouldn't be able to tell. You frown, not understanding what she means. So the redhead sighs before explaining, “I love you. I swear I do. I just…”
“You just love him more.” You complete her answer for her, your lips pressed into a sad smile as she sobs, nodding in confirmation. “I’m sorry.” She asks in a pleading tone, but you just shrug, your sight blurred by tears. “Don’t be. It’s nobody’s fault.”
“I know it’s selfish, but… I wanted to keep in touch.” The redhead asks with a short, embarrassed laugh. The tears streaming down her cheeks make you want to run to her immediately, to take her in your arms and protect her from everything. But you couldn't do that now. And never again.
“I don’t think we’ll ever see each other again, Wanda.” You let her know, and have to look away when her expression squirms in hurt. “I-I can’t, it’s… It hurts too much.” Your tears finally fall this time, and you wipe them away harshly before you look at her again, clearing your throat before you say, “I hope you understand.”
“I do.” That sounds like a lie to you, but you won't insist, and it's good enough for you that she won't either. It makes it easier - or rather, less impossible. Her tears run harder then, and before you can do anything about it, she’s talking, “Can I hug you goodbye? Just… One last time.”
Your hesitation is evident on your face and in your whole posture. But Wanda waits patiently, her fingers twirling the rings on her hands in the way she does when she is nervous. And once again you are unable to deny her anything, nodding slowly in confirmation.
Before you even open your arms, Wanda has hers around your middle, her face in the crook of your neck, her tears wetting your skin and making your own finally roll from your eyes. You hug her back hesitantly, feeling your entire body aching at the touch of hers - the feeling that used to make you feel so at peace, so many times before this one.
You’re the first to pull away, because you know she wouldn’t and because the only way to make the pain stop is if you finally leave. But even with the distance between your bodies, you still remain close, tucking a lock of her hair behind her ear like you’ve done so many times before. The redhead leans into your touch, like all the others, but this time you grimace in sorrow, your heart completely shattered.
“I love you so much.” You whisper among sniffles, your voice broken. And the moment she opens her mouth to reply, you close your eyes, shaking your head. “Don’t.” You ask, your red eyes opening slowly. “Please, just… Don’t say it. Please.”
Wanda swallows drily at your request. She wanted to tell you that she loves you, to make you understand that she meant everything that she did and said during your relationship, that it was real. But she can’t, because she knows it will only make it harder. Because he’s back, and no matter how much she loves you, her feelings for him are still stronger. You know that all too well. There’s no point in hiding it. So the redhead just nods slowly in confirmation, and you show her your appreciation with the tiniest smile she’s ever seen on your face.
You allow yourself to look at her one more second before pulling away for good and walking towards the open elevator. There are no other words to say to her. You don’t wanna say goodbye. Even though that’s exactly what you’re doing, you can’t say it. And neither can she, watching you intently with her green eyes, puffy from crying.
Her eyes remain on yours until the heavy metal doors close between the two of you. And when they finally do, the both of you collapse on the ground, crying hard at the image that would be your last memory of each other until your very last breath.
───── ⋅ ✮ ⋅ ─────
And that's it for today! I hope you enjoyed it, thoughts and comments are always welcome ツ
Can you write a Jane Banner one where reader has a breakdown while working a case with Jane and she helps, (they’re dating) then they kiss and it’s all just fluff? X
Hi, lovely! Thanks for the request. It's short, but I hope you like it!
Keep me grounded
Jane Banner x Reader
Summary: There are few things worse than having an anxiety attack in the middle of work. Luckily for you, your girlfriend was there to help you.
Word count: 593 || Pronouns: not used
Warnings: mention of murder, anxiety attack, hurt/comfort
You do NOT have permission to repost or translate my work on any platforms (even with credit)
Masterlist | Be notified of my stories
───── ⋅ ✮ ⋅ ─────
You should've listened to your girlfriend.
Seeking with all your energy a promotion, you took every case that was offered to you. You didn't count, however, that your energies would be drained out.
Jane, who insisted on taking this case with you to keep an eye on you, is at your side now, interrogating one of the witnesses of a disgusting crime involving a brutal murder and a petty motivation.
But you can barely hear what she says. In fact, you can't hear anything at all.
You try to keep calm when the lights from the police car and the streetlights begin to blur your vision. But when the world starts to spin around you, a deafening ringing in your ears, you have to step back.
You stagger to the sidewalk, your hands on your knees as you try to regain the rhythm of your breathing. And maybe Jane has called you a few times, because not long after you feel a gentle hand on your shoulder, and then worried green eyes directed at you.
"Y/n, what happened?" she asks, but your mouth is too dry to answer, no matter how much you want to. Added to that, the feeling of the surroundings swirling around you makes your head hurt, making it hard to keep your eyes focused on a specific point.
"Hey, look at me." The blonde asks softly, holding your face between her gentle hands. Your long sigh seems to Jane indicative that the touch has helped you in some way, so she begins to pepper small kisses all over your face.
Focusing on the touch helps your mind to get out of the nonsensical whirlpool it was in before, and as the anxiety slowly leaves your body, your muscles relax and breathing is no longer such a difficult activity for you.
A few minutes later, noticing that your panic attack seems to have subsided, Jane wraps her arms around you in a tight hug. Feeling you reciprocate the hug readily, the blonde smiles relieved.
"Are you feeling better?" she asks worriedly as the hug ends, moving her hands back to your face as her eyes scan every inch of it, and you smile faintly as you nod. "I am, yeah. I'm just tired."
"Of course you're tired, you haven't had a break between cases. I told you it wouldn't be good for you." She promptly hits back, the tone of her voice annoyed despite everything else in it showing care, and you let out a weak laugh. "I know, I should've listened to you."
"As usual." She playfully retorts, trying to lighten the mood, and you chuckle, nodding your head in agreement. Then you thank her for her help, and the blonde kisses your lips briefly after saying she would always help you when you needed it.
"Go to the car now, I'll finish up here." Jane instructs, pointing to the vehicle parked a few feet from where you are standing, and you frown, shaking your head in disagreement. "But-"
"That wasn't a question, Agent." The blonde interrupts you with an arched eyebrow, and you chuckle, nodding your head in surrender. Not even your stubbornness could compare to Jane's.
Thanking the blonde once more, you walk toward the car, and Jane squeezes your hand affectionately before returning to the house, where the witnesses are waiting for her.
Sitting in the car seat, you close your eyes, and try to use the soft sound of your girlfriend's voice in the distance to relax you enough to be able to sleep.
───── ⋅ ✮ ⋅ ─────
And that's it for today! I hope you enjoyed it, thoughts and comments are always welcome ツ
Main Masterlist | Be notified of my stories | Requesting guidelines
You do NOT have permission to repost or translate my work on any platforms (even with credit)
Summary: Wanda Maximoff is the book editor of a North American multinational corporation. You, as her assistant, are obliged to do all her bidding. And that includes marrying her when the redhead is in danger of being deported back to Sokovia. But it's all good. After all, what could possibly go wrong?
Warnings: fake dating, blackmail, nudity (no smut), swearing [pronouns: she/her]
(Read on: Wattpad || AO3)
Part 1 || Part 2 || Part 3 || Part 4 || Part 5 || Part 6 || Part 7 || Part 8
Hi, everyone! It is with great joy that I announce another series! 🤩 Yes, after I said I'd finish the others first, only God can judge me.
This one is special, though. This is my humble contribution to The Happy Bookish Bunch March Movie Madness 2022, an event created on the discord server of the wonderful @missmonsters2 💕
I have always loved this movie and adapting it into a fanfic is being a lot of fun! So much so that this was supposed to be an oneshot but I can't stop myself oops 😬
Anyway, I hope you enjoy it and don't forget to check out the #THBBMarchMovieMadness2022 for more movie inspired stories!
This was a wonderful read! Was eating every bit up! I enjoyed the story plot. Every little piece connected.
I love how mature and well thought out this piece was. I was feeling every emotion the reader was going through this whole story. This is what I seek for when it comes to reading.
Wow, thank you so much! I don't even know what to say! ❤️
It's been many years since I wrote that story, but I still have a lot of affection for it (it was definitely a lot of work, hahaha). Anyway, thank you so much again for your kind words
A/N: If by the title you thought of Kate Bush's song... you are correct.
You do NOT have permission to repost or translate my work on any platforms (even with credit)
Masterlist | Library Blog
───── ⋅ ✮ ⋅ ─────
The smell in the trenches was a mixture of damp earth, dirt, stale food, and dried blood. Still, you and your friends sit on the mud, resting your backs against supply crates, as it's the only option left to you while you wait for the signal to advance.
You and Bucky were sent to Sokovia together two months ago, Natasha and Steve shortly after that. Four young folks barely out of their twenties fighting a war that wasn't theirs. Their faces, a mix of youthful features hidden by the evident traces of exhaustion, horror and starvation.
“What are you guys gonna do when all this is over?” Steve asks, adjusting his helmet, his uniform as dirty and worn as the rest of yours.
“I'm gonna get drunk in some bar that plays jazz all night long and dance until my feet hurt.” Bucky, who was sitting next to you, replies with a smile, checking the ammunition in his rifle.
“I'm going back to my country,” Natasha replies, her chin resting on her knees in front of her body, sitting next to Steve and facing you. “See my sister again. Maybe even start talking to my parents again.” The redhead adds the second part in an amused tone, making you smile. “I'm gonna ask Wanda to marry me.”
“The nurse in the northwest wing?!” Bucky asks amid a laugh, an incredulous look directed at you. When you hum in confirmation, your other friends laugh too. “You’ve never even exchanged a word!”
“It doesn't matter.” You shrug off Steve's reasoning, a smile of your own on your lips. “When this is all over, I'm gonna kiss her, ask her out, and propose to her. All at once.”
“I think the first thing will get in the way of the others.” Bucky jokes knowingly, but you just smile again, your eyes fixed on the muddy ground as your mind wanders to the brunette in question.
You saw Wanda Maximoff for the first time on the same day you arrived at camp. Like all new soldiers, you had to go through a screening. And there she was, in her light blue uniform, her gentle hands shifting between examining you and writing something down on a clipboard.
Unfortunately, your dorms were on opposite sides of the camp, so you didn't see each other often. However, every time you did, it was your favorite moment of the day, always following the girl with your eyes until she disappeared from view, a silly smile on your lips.
On one of those occasions, she noticed you looking and smiled back before continuing on her way, chatting with one of the older nurses as they headed toward the hospital wing. That was your topic of conversation for the whole week, and Natasha joked that you would let yourself get shot just so the brunette would take care of you, laughing when you didn't deny it.
“Do you think we'll still be friends when the war is over?” Steve's question snaps you back from your thoughts. The blond's tone is uncertain, almost hurt, and you look up just in time to see Natasha bumping her shoulder lightly with his. “Of course we will!”
Of the four of you, only Steve and Bucky knew each other beforehand.
Your friendship with Bucky began naturally, most likely because you shared the same bunk bed. A month later, you watched Bucky argue with Steve for signing up to join the army.
The argument, however, was purely due to the brunette's concern for the other boy. So, seeing that it would lead nowhere, as the blond was already there, soon they were hugging and exchanging smiles.
Next, as Bucky introduced you, Steve introduced Natasha, a girl as fun as she was determined. And, perhaps catalyzed by the circumstances of war, your friendship blossomed quickly.
“And we'll all meet at Y/n's wedding,” the redhead adds playfully shortly after, making you smile. “Only if they play jazz,” Bucky counters, eliciting a low chuckle from the others.
“Absolutely! They’ll play the best music, there’ll be a feast with the finest food, and we’ll get drunk on the best wines. And I’ll even let you break a few glasses, Nat.” You add the last part looking directly at Natasha, remembering the Russian tradition, and the redhead smiles broadly. “Obviously! It wouldn't be a real wedding without a few broken glasses.”
“It's going to be amazing,” Steve murmurs with a sweet smile, imagining the scene. You all hum your agreement, picturing it in your own minds.
However, before any of you can say anything else, the alarm sounds loudly over all the speakers in the trenches.
Immediately, every soldier around you jumps to their feet and runs toward the battlefield, weapons in hand. You are quick to do the same, exchanging glances one last time before running to your positions.
Gunshots, screams, and explosions become all you can hear after that. And as night fell, you had no idea that none of you would ever see the light of day again.
───── ⋅ ✮ ⋅ ─────
And that's it for today! I hope you enjoyed it, thoughts and comments are always welcome ツ
