welcome! here you will find all of my works, which can also be found on my Archive Of Our Own. i use the handle ‘charmingly_helpless’ (with an underscore!) on Ao3.
18+ please :)
My AO3
.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·.
Criminal Minds
please don’t take my sunshine away (one-shot)
jemily (jennifer jareau x emily prentiss). hurt/comfort, angst
let's go home (one-shot)
emily prentiss x y/n. heavy angst, hurt/comfort
the agent and the killer (2 parts)
unsub!emily prentiss x agent!y/n. angst, smut
forever (3 parts)
jennifer jareau x fem!y/n. angst, fluff, hurt/comfort, smut
happiness (one-shot)
jennifer jareau x y/n. fluff, smut
.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·.
Marvel
meet me at our spot (series)
natasha romanoff x original female character. fluff, angst, hurt/comfort
mmaos blurbs masterlist — small moments that didn't make it into the story!
warnings: tooth rotting fluff. mostly smut, dirty smut. i need water
word count: 1534
Read on AO3
JJ’s lithe fingers brushed her overgrown bangs out of her eyes as she stood taking in the sight of her baby peacefully asleep on your chest. A part of her felt bad that she called you over after you had just returned from a long and tiring case, but she was beyond thankful for the help after she failed to calm Henry down for hours on end. Plus, how could she stay sad while she was watching the two people she loved snuggling together?
JJ quietly snuck over to take a seat next to you on the couch, resting her cheek on your shoulder.
“I owe you,” she rasped tiredly. “What would I do without you?”
“You don’t ever have to think about that,” you replied softly, “and I’m your girlfriend, I told you I’m in this with you and Henry—you definitely do not owe me for this.”
With a weary sigh, JJ nuzzled her head into the crook of your neck.
“Well, too bad… I was going to reward you,” the blonde murmured, the corner of her mouth twitching up in the ghost of a smile.
A hot blush filled your cheeks.
“Yeah?”
“Mhm.” JJ looked down, making sure Henry was out. “Want that reward now?”
You wordlessly got off the couch and beelined to the nursery, depositing Henry into his crib. You left the newborn with a soft kiss on his forehead and a whisper of “I love you” before heading to JJ’s bedroom, where she was sitting at the foot of the bed, looking more exhausted than before.
A low hum fell from JJ’s lips as she looked up at you, her blue hues flicking between your eyes and your lips. She reached out and hugged your waist, tugging you closer.
“You don’t have to do anything, baby. You need your sleep,” you said softly, knowing that she hadn’t been getting a full night’s sleep since Henry was born.
JJ sighs. “No, no. I want you. I need you. I need to feel you.”
You hummed lowly at the light kisses she was peppering against the skin of your hips. You picked her up and moved to the middle of the bed, gently lowering her down.
“Let me do the work, hm?” you murmured.
A shiver ran up JJ’s spine as she felt your breath against her skin, goosebumps rising across her arms as your caresses moved down her body.
“Please,” she whispers.
You pulled her clothes off, tossing it to the side and lowering your lips to trail kisses from her neck to her hips. Once you were hovering right over where she needed you, you placed little nips at the soft plush of her thighs, feeling her squirm.
“Please touch me,” JJ whimpered, her eyes fluttering shut as her hips arched up to meet you. Her body tingled with need as you continued to tease her.
“What do you need?”
JJ took a ragged breath. “Your mouth, please. I need—”
You placed an open-mouthed kiss over her core, feeling her warmth against your tongue. JJ broke off in a soft moan as you wrapped an arm around each thigh to hold her in place. Your tongue moved against her, adjusting your ministrations based on her moans and the arches of her back.
A sharp bolt of pleasure shot through the blonde’s body igniting every nerve. She couldn’t stop her moans, prompting you to reach up and cover her mouth with a hand.
You took a quick breath of air before diving back down, pressing the tip of your nose against her throbbing clit while your tongue thrust into her. JJ whimpered as you worked your magic, bringing her closer to the edge. Her thighs trembled with every swirl of your tongue, and within seconds she came undone with a strangled moan.
You continued to lap at her, greedily drinking up every last drop of her. You finally pulled away with the lower half of your face smeared with her slick and moved up to kiss her. JJ melted into the kiss, arms wrapping around your neck to pull you impossibly closer. She could taste herself on your tongue, sending another wave of arousal crashing into her. She bit down gently on your bottom lip, her hips rolling against you as she moaned.
“I need more,” she whispered, her voice coming out as a whine, “I need your strap, please, baby.”
Your pupils expanded at her words in addition to the sight of her underneath you. You grabbed the strap out of the bedside table, stripping yourself of your clothes and doing up the harness all while JJ watched you with attentive eyes. Your body hummed with excitement as you climbed back on top of her, pulling her hips closer to yours. JJ captured your lips in a hungry, open-mouthed kiss.
With your hand you guided the strap to swipe over her slick folds, pulling a moan from her lips. JJ’s hips arched into your touch, her fingers digging into your shoulders.
“God, you tease,” she whined, head falling against the pillows.
You smiled and pushed the whole length of the toy into her, making her gasp. Her legs parted immediately as her hands fisted the bedsheets.
“Y/N,” she whispered like a prayer. “Move, please.”
You pushed your hips back and forth, starting at a steady pace. One hand pinned the blonde’s hips to the bed while the other lovingly raked through the strands of hair sprawled across the pillow like a halo. JJ looked angelic underneath you, and you swear your heart physically aches in your chest from how much love you were feeling.
“Oh, god, yes. Just like that, baby,” JJ said through ragged breaths.
You leaned down to suckle the skin on her neck, leaving light hickeys. Your hips kept the pace, thrusts slow but powerful, passionate. You groaned in her ear.
“You are so beautiful, Jen.”
Every kiss, every touch, every thrust drew a soft moan from JJ, the sounds of her pleasure in the air around you. JJ’s hands flew to your back, legs wrapped around your hips to pull you closer, deeper.
“You feel so good.”
“You’re such a good girl for me, baby,” you praised her, making her quiver.
“Yes, yes,” JJ panted. “I’m your good girl, all yours.”
You moaned softly at her words. The toy on your end was stimulating your clit, driving you closer to your climax, and you knew JJ was too.
“Come whenever you want, baby,” you told her, “it’s all yours.”
As you picked up the pace, JJ’s body shook with overwhelming pleasure. She’s close, so close, your words bringing her over the edge. You moved your hand to press on JJ’s lower belly, feeling the strap going in and out of her, causing you to throw your head back as you came undone.
JJ’s body arched at the pressure of your hand, a strangled moan leaving her kiss-swollen lips as she fell apart. The sight of you climaxing was what pushed her over the edge into glorious pleasure.
You continued your thrusts to draw out JJ’s orgasm. Eventually, JJ fell against the bed completely spent and you pulled out the strap and took off the harness. You tossed it on top of your pile of clothes to be dealt with in the morning and collapsed onto the bed with JJ.
JJ used the last of her strength to move herself on top of you, cuddling into your warm body.
“I love you,” she murmured as she melted into your chest.
You pressed a tender kiss to her sweaty forehead. “I love you, too.”
JJ sighed, kissing the underside of your jaw. “God, I needed that. Thank you.”
“Get some sleep, baby. Don’t worry about Henry; I’ve got him.”
.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·.
The first rays of sunlight crept through the curtains, slowly lighting up the room little by little.
JJ stirred slightly, a soft hum falling from her lips as she came to. She blinked blearily, slowly processing her surroundings. It took her a moment to remember the night before, but when she did, a sleepy smile pulled at her lips.
She rolled over to find you asleep beside her, the sight causing her smile to widen. She takes a moment to watch you, to take in every detail of you laid out in her bed like this.
You were pulled out of dreamland by fingers running through your hair. Your eyes opened to the most beautiful sight of the blonde in bed with you, the morning sunlight glowing across her features.
“Hey. Did Henry wake up again?”
JJ shook her head, her hand continuing to card through your hair in a soothing motion.
“No, he hasn’t yet. You were up all night with him, hm?”
“It’s okay. You needed your rest, and I wanted to do that for you.”
JJ smiled softly. “You didn’t have to. But I really appreciate it.”
A comfortable silence lingered between the two of you as you shared a peaceful moment.
JJ’s eyes crinkled in a smile as she looked into your eyes. “You have no idea how happy you make me.”
A/N: contains some dialogue from CM:E 17x06, but you won't know what it is unless you've watched it.
pairing: jennifer jareau x fem!reader
warnings: hurt/comfort, mentions of smut & nudity
word count: 1416
Read on AO3
Part 1 Part 2 Part 3
The open window let in a cool breeze, gently blowing strands of blonde hair in an ethereal manner. You watched as JJ sipped from her glass of wine, tucking her hair behind her ear.
“Honestly? I don’t know,” JJ replied to your question. “It’s… strange. I never thought I’d be a divorced mom. I’ve loved Will for so long. But over time our relationship just went downhill, so slowly that we didn’t even notice until it was too late to save it.”
Your hand slipped to her knee naturally, providing comfort and support. The touch of your hand sent a shiver up JJ’s spine, but she kept her composure.
“How are the kids doing with this?” you asked, genuine concern in your tone.
JJ’s expression softened at the mention of her kids.
“They’re coping, I guess. It’s hard on them, obviously. They’re so young, they don’t understand why their parents can’t be together. I think Henry’s noticed that Will and I don’t really get along, but Michael is practically still a baby. When it’s one of us in the house, they keep asking when the other will come back home.”
At the quiver in her voice, you scooted closer to her and wrapped an arm around her shoulder.
“Don’t blame yourself for this, Jayje. Some parents stay together for the kids, but that just subjects them to a lot more hurt and resentment down the road. I know that you and Will have your kids’ best interests in your heart, and this was the best decision for your family. It’ll get easier, for you and for the kids.”
JJ appreciated your words. She had been struggling with the burden of knowing that her kids were hurt because she and Will couldn’t save their marriage, but your reassurance brought her some measure of relief.
JJ’s hand laid on top of yours. “Thank you, Y/N. I hope you’re right.”
“Oh, Jay… I’m always right,” you joked to lift the mood, earning a laugh from JJ.
Her smile faded slightly, her expression becoming more serious.
“I don’t deserve you.”
Your heart melted at her quiet confession.
“You deserve good things, Jen. You deserve to be happy.”
JJ desperately wanted to believe your words, but the guilt and self-doubt was lingering in her mind.
“I want to be happy. You make me happy.”
The admission hung in the air, raw and vulnerable. JJ felt a wave of anxiety as she waited for your reaction. She was silently praying she hadn’t crossed any boundaries.
Suddenly, you smiled and JJ’s worries washed away. “You have no idea how happy you make me.”
“How happy?”
You realized how close your faces were, your noses just inches apart. JJ’s gaze was unrelenting.
“Did you know I was going to quit a few years back?”
JJ’s eyebrow raised in curiosity. “You were going to quit?”
You nodded. “After Atlanta. This job takes a toll on you. I’d been struggling with it for years before that, but that case… I didn’t think I could ever come back from that.”
JJ watched you subconsciously trace your thigh where your scar was hidden under the fabric of your pants.
“This job takes a lot. But you know what it gives? It gives me you. I decided to stay because it’s where you are.”
JJ’s jaw hung as she absorbed your confession. “I… I don’t know what to say. I never realized… that I had such an impact on you. On your career.”
You nod, holding back your tears. “You do. In every aspect of my life.”
JJ’s eyes became blurry with tears, a mix of gratitude and regret. You reached up to brush back the hair in her face, letting your hand linger on her cheek.
JJ swallowed hard under your intense gaze, taking in every detail and features of her face.
“I think I’ve loved you for a very long time,” the blonde confessed. “I just didn’t let myself realize it.”
When you stayed quiet waiting for her to keep talking, JJ cleared her throat.
“I’d been trying to fight it the whole time,” she admitted. “Convincing myself that I didn’t feel this way. At first, I was just scared that you’d reject me. Then when I got pregnant and married Will, I knew it was too late. But it’s exhausting, Y/N. I don’t want to pretend.”
You licked your dry lips. “You don’t have to pretend. Not anymore.”
You pulled JJ into your space, holding her flush against your body. JJ sighed deeply, feeling the tension in her shoulders release once she was wrapped in your protective arms.
A comfortable silence stretched out between you. JJ pulled back slightly, her big blue eyes meeting yours, and the rest of the world melted away for just a moment.
“I think I should head home.”
“Do you need a ride?” you asked, though neither of you made a move to let go of one another.
JJ shook her head. “No. The hotel’s just down the block, but thank you.”
Your eyebrows furrowed in question.
“You’ve been at a hotel? Jay, you know you can stay here with me.”
“It’s alright, Y/N. I’m just there while I look for an apartment close to the house.”
“Come on, stay. You can search for an apartment without having to keep paying hundreds for your hotel room.”
JJ sighed. “Are you sure?”
“Of course. It’ll be like old times,” you smiled. “Y’know, without the whole ‘apartment on fire’ thing.”
A laugh erupted from JJ. “I still cannot believe you set your apartment on fire. It was truly a gift to see you at my door at 2am, drenched from the sprinklers.”
You pouted, gently pushing JJ away. “It was eight years ago, let it go.”
“Sorry, sorry,” JJ giggled, the sound making you smile.
.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·.
You and JJ made a plan to check out of the hotel room tomorrow morning and bring her belongings to your apartment. For now, it was late, and you were both ready for bed.
“Where are you going?”
You turned to JJ. “Uh, the couch?”
JJ sat up, the covers slipping down from her shoulders. You had to admit, it was a surreal, yet beautiful sight: her in your clothes, hair slightly mussed, sitting in your bed.
“Don’t be ridiculous, we’ve shared a bed many times.”
You shrugged. “I wasn’t sure where we stood.”
JJ patted the empty side of the bed. “Get your ass over here.”
You giggled, climbing in under the covers. JJ clicked off the lamp, plunging the room into darkness aside from the hallway light that shone in through the cracked door.
“Goodnight, Y/N.”
“Goodnight, Jayje,” you pressed a kiss to her forehead.
It took only a moment for JJ to give into her desires. She swung a leg over your hips, straddling you as she leaned down, staring at your lips.
“Can I?” she asked breathily.
You gave a frantic nod, and your lips met in a passionate kiss. Your senses were filled with the taste of her lips, her skin against yours, and the faint vanilla perfume she always wears. JJ’s hands cradled your face while yours held onto her waist. The blonde let out soft sighs into the hungry kiss, her hands wandering down to clutch at your shoulders.
The night was filled with a whirlwind of emotions and sensations as you both explored each other’s bodies and souls. By the time dawn broke, both of you were spent, boneless, and satisfied. JJ’s head rested on your chest, listening to the steady rhythm of your heartbeat, a soothing comfort. You breathed in the scent of JJ, relishing in the perfect fit of her body against yours.
JJ smushed her face in the valley between your breasts. “I don’t want to move.”
You chuckled, a hand raking through the mess of blonde hair. “Me neither.”
The two of you savored the warmth in each other’s proximity. You were content to stay just like this, wrapped up in each other’s arms, and let the world wait,
“Just a few more minutes?” JJ asked, her voice hoarse with sleep.
“We have forever.”
JJ’s heart skipped a beat at your effortless reply. The word “forever” carried such weight and promise, making her chest feel tight with emotion.
You glanced down to see her already looking back at you. The tenderness and affection in her eyes made your breath catch.
It was only a few hours later when your sulking was interrupted by your phone. You picked it up from the coffee table and stared at the contact name in surprise before accepting the call.
“Jen?”
JJ sighed over the phone. “Hey.”
You took note of the slight slurring in her words. “Hey.”
“I didn’t think you’d pick up.”
“Of course I’ll pick up, always.”
JJ hummed quietly at your words. “Can I come over? Please?”
You inhaled, thinking about where you left off your conversation earlier that night.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea—”
“Please, Y/N.”
With a sigh, you replied, “You’re drunk. I’ll come over to you.”
.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·.
Fifteen minutes later, you sat on JJ’s couch uncomfortably, a gap in between your bodies.
“You don’t have to sit so far away,” JJ said.
“I’m fine here.”
You felt JJ’s eyes staring holes into your head while you kept your eyes on the interesting potted plant sitting in the corner of the living room.
“Where is everyone?”
JJ shuffled on the couch, pulling her feet under her legs. “Will is on a business trip. The kids are at a sleepover.”
You nodded, playing with the cuffs of your shirt sleeve.
“If I didn’t marry Will, would you have made a move?” JJ blurted, surprising the both of us.
“Don’t say that, Jay,” you sighed. “Don’t think about the what-ifs. Will is an amazing partner to you. He gave you Henry and Michael. He’s a great dad. You two are wonderful together.”
JJ swore she could feel her heart physically wrench in her chest. “I know. But if I didn't…?”
You hesitated to answer. “Yeah, probably.”
“I’m getting a divorce.”
JJ silently scolded herself for her wine-induced word vomiting. She saw the concern and curiosity in your wide eyes as you stared at her.
“You’re not just saying that because of tonight, are you?”
Shaking her head quickly, JJ explained. “Will and I have been separated for the past month. I lied; he isn’t on a business trip, he’s living with his old college friend.”
You stared at her in shock at the information. “Oh.”
“Yeah.”
You put your head into your hands. “Oh my god, Jay. And I’ve been treating you so horribly, on top of that. I’m so sorry.”
JJ put a hand on your back.
“Y/N, you didn’t know. It’s in the past, I forgive you, I promise.”
“Are you okay?” you sat up to face her.
“I’m okay. It was a mutual decision; it was best for us and the kids.”
You studied the woman sitting next to you, her body bathed in the warm glow of a lamp in the corner of the room. Her hair was slightly mussed and her cheeks were rosy from the wine. Your eyes flickered down to her lips before you turned away.
“I should go.”
“Before I do something I might regret,” you thought.
“Oh, okay,” JJ said sadly.
“I’ll, uh… see you at work tomorrow,” you lingered by the door.
“Yeah.”
You sighed, closing the door behind you, leaving JJ alone in an empty house with only her feelings.
.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·.
Over the next three weeks both you and JJ spent a lot of time separately reflecting on your feelings about your situation. The recent case was a saving grace in distracting you; it also helped that JJ stayed behind to work from the office with Penelope, so the pressure was off your shoulders for just a few days.
The team had gotten off the jet, tired and ready to go home. You walked with Emily to your cars.
“Goodnight, Y/N,” Emily bumped her shoulder into yours.
“Night, Em.”
JJ was one of the last ones leaving the office as she was stuck with a mountain of paperwork. The elevator doors opened and she spotted you and Emily saying goodnight to each other, the physical contact not going unnoticed by her. She pushed down the pang of jealousy, knowing it was completely irrational.
“Jay,” you called her name, having spotted her getting off the elevator. She walked over to you, her car parked next to yours.
“Hi, Y/N.”
Your heart skipped a beat at your name falling from her lips, realizing how much you missed her. You ached for her touch, to wrap your arms around her.
“Hey, you. I was surprised you didn’t come with us.”
JJ shrugged. “I had to sort out some things over here.”
You smiled politely. “Everything okay now?”
“Yeah,” JJ breathed, the relief in her composure noticeable. “Actually, uh… I finalized my divorce with Will two days ago.”
A/N: i love jj so much can the CM:E writers stop torturing her pls
pairing: jennifer jareau x fem!reader
warnings: angst, reader being mean, sad jj
word count: 864
Read on AO3
Part 1 Part 2 Part 3
You and JJ have been fighting a lot lately. The tension between you was obvious to the team, who were growing concerned about your sudden hostility towards JJ who had been your best friend for the past decade you’ve been working together.
The team was at Rossi’s for dinner and everyone had had enough of the squabble between two of their coworkers. Hotch pushed you and JJ into a room, threatening to suspend you if you didn’t “figure your shit out.”
“Y/N, I really don’t wanna do this, either. Let’s just pretend we’re talking about it, and get out of here,” JJ sighed deeply, sipping from her glass of wine.
You stood by the window with your arms crossed, frowning like a petulant child.
JJ’s footsteps grew closer to you.
“You’re mad at me,” she said softly. “And I’m trying hard not to get annoyed, Y/N, I really am. But it’s been the same cycle week after week: you pick a fight with me over something small, and you won’t tell me what it was… then we argue for a few days, I apologize, and nothing changes.”
“I thought you said we were going to pretend to talk about it,” you said flatly.
“Right,” JJ exhaled deeply and looked towards the door where she was sure someone—Penelope— was trying to eavesdrop. “Please, can you just tell me what’s going on?”
You sighed, downing the rest of your drink. “It’s stupid.”
JJ rolled her eyes, most definitely annoyed now. She knew you were trying to avoid the conversation.
“Come on,” she pleaded, placing her hand on your shoulder to make you turn around to face her. “If it really is stupid, we can solve it quickly.”
Your words came out as a whisper. “It could change everything.”
JJ’s eyes softened as she sensed your anxiety. She stayed quiet as she watched you find the courage to speak.
“I’m in love with you.”
JJ was momentarily paralyzed at your confession, the realization hitting her like a punch in the gut.
“I’ve been in love with you since you joined the team. Back when you were just a media liaison. But we were never more than just friends… I wasn’t even sure if you liked women that way. Then you started seeing Will, and you married him. Lately I’ve been reflecting on my own life, what I couldn’t have… who I couldn't have. I thought if I pushed you away it would be easier to get over you,” you chuckled bitterly. “It’s not working.”
JJ’s heart ached as she listened to you pour your heart out. It all made sense now. How could she have been so oblivious?
“Y/N,” she whispered, her voice thick with emotion, “I had no idea.”
“I know. I’m sorry. For… the way I’ve been treating you. For everything.”
JJ reached out to take your hand, instinctively running her thumb over your skin.
“No, I’m sorry. I should’ve seen it. We’ve been friends for so long, I should have known…”
You shrugged. “Yeah, well, what are you gonna do? Are you even… Do you like women romantically?”
The question hit JJ like a ton of bricks. This was something she had grappled with for years, something she had never truly admitted to herself but also not ignored.
“That’s a loaded question,” she sighed.
“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have asked. You don’t need to tell me anything.”
JJ shook her head, squeezing your hand.
“It’s okay.”
She took a moment to gather her thoughts. “I’ve… I’ve always been drawn to both men and women. It’s just that it wasn't something I had ever really explored… I never really allowed myself to.”
Your mouth opened slightly in shock. “Oh.”
There was a moment of silence between you two, filled with the background noise of the party. JJ was quiet as she stared at your intertwined hands.
JJ reached up and wiped your cheek, and it was only then that you realized you had been crying. You pulled away and wiped your face.
“I can’t keep doing this with you,” you sniffled, “the little touches, the small gestures, and pretend that I don’t feel anything beyond platonic love for you.”
JJ frowned, looking down at her hands. Those innocent touches had always been present in your friendship, but they took on a deeper meaning now.
“I understand,” she said. “But I care about you, Y/N. I don’t want this to pull us apart.”
You sighed, leaning against the desk. “I see no other way around this, Jennifer.”
JJ felt a wave of resignation wash over her at your use of her name, desperate to fix this mess.
“So what do we do? What do you need me to do?”
“I don’t know. Maybe just… give me some space for a while. Only interact at work when we have to. I need time to sort out my feelings,” you suggested, a lump growing in your throat.
JJ nodded slowly.
“Okay.”
You took a deep breath, the air between you two heavy with unresolved emotions. You swallowed thickly and looked up at JJ.
A few weeks have passed since Emily intruded your house. When the team arrived that night, you easily lied to them, saying that someone had broken into your kitchen while you were upstairs. What they didn’t know was that you’d wiped off Emily’s fingerprints from the door and cleaned her shoe tracks off the floor. With nothing much to go on, and nothing stolen, the team left with an officer stationed outside your door.
Since your encounter, Emily couldn’t stop thinking about you. No matter how she tried to shake it from her mind, she couldn’t help but feel the strong pull towards you, like a moth to the flame.
She sat alone in her apartment on her couch, drinking a glass of whiskey as she tried to figure things out. Suddenly, the sound of her phone ringing pulled her out of her thoughts. Emily picked it up, seeing the “Unknown Number” lighting up on her screen. She hesitated for a moment before pressing the green button in curiosity.
“Hi, Emily.”
Emily’s brows furrowed in surprise as she recognized your voice. “Agent (Y/L/N). This is my burner phone, how did you get this number?”
“Penelope isn’t the only technologically gifted person on the team.”
Emily could practically hear your smirk through the phone.
“So, you found my number. What is it you wish to talk about? Or… Did you call only to hear my voice?” Emily asked the question mockingly, but she secretly hoped that was the reason why.
“I have questions. And I want answers.”
Emily rolls her eyes and falls back on the couch. “Well then, let’s hear them.”
“Why me? Because I took your job? Or for other reasons? I’m not your usual type.”
“Not my type for victims, no,” Emily smirks. “You’re young and alone. You’re an easy target. You’re involved with my old team, which gives me a fun challenge. And… maybe you just caught my eye.”
“I caught your eye, hm?”
“Shut up.”
“Give me one reason I shouldn’t turn you in.”
“Only one? Let me think…” Emily took a sip of her drink. “You’re just as attracted to me as I am to you. You’re curious how far we could take this.”
Emily smiled after your sigh over the phone. “You can deny it all you want, agent. But I know you’ll regret it if you turned me in. There’s a pull between us, and I know we won’t be able to ignore it. So… What happens now, then, agent? Will you turn me in?”
Across town, your eyes fall closed at the sound of Emily’s seductive voice, your desire hard to deny.
“I’m coming over.”
You hung up the phone before Emily could reply, and made a mad dash to your car.
Just ten minutes later Emily was alerted by a knock at her door. The moment she opened the door, you crashed your lips against hers, hands landing on her hips.
A small moan of shock escapes Emily’s lips as she shut and locked the door, kissing you back. Her hands wander up and down your side, guiding you to the couch. The taste of whiskey lingered on Emily’s lips, making you groan softly. Your body shivered under Emily’s cold hands that had found their way under your shirt, pressing against your hot skin.
You slipped your hands under her thighs, lifting her up. A small noise of surprise tumbles out of Emily’s lips as you trap her against the wall. At this new position, she wraps her legs around your hips, bringing you impossibly close. Your mind grows hazy with hunger and lust, and Emily’s head spins with desire. She couldn’t get enough, she needed more of you.
Emily’s eyes widen in surprise when you suddenly turn and set her down on the couch, her breathing coming in short pants as she looks up at you. You crawled over her body, holding yourself up with one arm while the other moved to the waistband of her sweatpants. When Emily gives you a nod of consent, your hand slips under and comes in contact with her heat while you sucked at her neck.
Emily was a moaning mess under your fingers and kisses, her breath catching in her throat as she approached the edge.
“Oh my god…” she whispered softly, twisting her fingers in your hair.
Finally, the band in her stomach snapped and Emily groaned your name in pure bliss into your ear. You slowed your hand, gently guiding her down from her high, relishing in your ability to make her feel good.
As Emily’s breathing evened out, you sat back, the shame of the situation eating at you. Emily opened her eyes after a few moments to look at you, feeling the shift in the air and sensing your sudden change of mood. She sat up slowly, moving closer to you.
“Are you alright?” she spoke softly, her voice full of worry.
You shut your eyes, pressing your palm into your eye to ease the oncoming headache.
“You’re a serial killer. I’m an agent. This can’t happen, this shouldn’t have happened.”
Emily’s heart sunk at your words, not wanting to accept the truth. She sighed.
“You’re right.”
You swallow. “But I can’t find it in me to stop.”
Your breath hitches as you and Emily make eye contact, both of your hearts speeding up in sync. Your lips parted as you observed the reflection of a lamp in her big brown eyes, your hesitation overpowered by your feelings for her.
“What are you saying, (Y/N)?”
You found yourself lost in the domestic scene, her hair tousled and cheeks rosy.
“No one can know about this.”
The thought of being a secret sent a thrill running through Emily’s body.
“No, no one can know,” Emily whispered in agreement, her hand squeezing your knee.
“No one’s seen your face, so you’re not tied to your… crimes. But that doesn’t mean you won’t get caught eventually.”
Emily’s brows furrowed, knowing where this conversation was going. “Okay…”
“You have to stop. You can’t kill people anymore,” you watch for her reaction.
Emily nodded. “Okay.”
You lifted a brow in surprise.
“Really?”
Emily smirked. “What? You thought I wouldn’t agree so easily?”
You nodded, “Well, yeah.”
Emily took your hand, clasping it between hers. “I don’t like being told what to do, but I don’t like the thought of losing you more.”
You felt your cheeks heating up under her soft gaze, turning away with a smile. “For a ruthless killer, you’re pretty mushy-gushy.”
Emily laughed, the sound making your smile wider. “Oh, you have no idea how mushy-gushy I can be, especially when it comes to someone like you.”
You rolled your eyes while hers twinkled with mischief, the both of you leaning into the couch. Emily pulled you closer, grazing the shell of your ear with her teeth.
“So, agent… Just how much of a secret do you want this to be? How much would you like to see of my mushy-gushy side?”
You moan quietly, turning to see Emily’s smirk. She lunged forward, sending you falling onto your back as she straddled on top of you.
“Don’t tempt me now, agent… You wouldn’t be able to handle my true self.”
You propped yourself up on your elbows, staring at her through your lashes with a wicked grin.
A/N: oh man I am not good at coming up with titles. anyway i can't get unsub!emily off my mind so here's a small fic. just two parts for now while i decide if i want to write more :) enjoy!
pairing: unsub!emily prentiss x agent!reader
warnings: talks of murder, emily being scary, intimidation, i think that's all?
word count: 1121
Read on AO3
Part 1 Part 2
You hummed in your kitchen as you cleaned up after dinner, enjoying the silent night after a very long and tiring case. As you loaded the dishes into the dishwasher, some movement outside the window caught your eye. You brushed it off as a deer that frequently wandered through backyards in your neighborhood and continued with your chores.
Behind the bushes, the brunette woman smiled when she saw you alone. It’ll be easier to get you. She started walking to the back door that separated the two of you. Reaching the handle, she picked the lock, smiling when the handle became loose. Now she can get her latest victim.
The door jiggling behind you raised the alarm bells in your head. You whipped around to see a dark haired woman in the doorway. You reached for your gun that was placed on the kitchen counter, aiming it at the woman.
Emily made a tsk tsk noise at you, shaking her head.
“Now, now… Is that any way to greet someone in your home?”
You lowered your gun slightly as you recognized the intruder.
“Emily Prentiss.”
“Ah… You know who I am,” Emily said mockingly. She closed the door behind her and stepped closer to you.
You kept your face stoic. “What are you doing here?”
Emily chuckled before replying. “What am I doing here? Well, what I’m doing is hunting for my next victim. And I’ve got my eye on you.”
You freezed momentarily to process her words.
“It’s you.”
Emily cocked her head, “Who am I?”
“You’re the serial killer we’ve been looking for. You target men in law enforcement who abuse their power. We’ve been following your trail for the past six months.” You paused. “Why am I your next victim? I don’t fit in your criteria.”
Emily continued backing you up into the wall, smirking once you had nowhere else to go. “You’re a profiler, you tell me.”
You swallowed thickly, never taking your eyes off of her dark brown ones. “Because I’m your replacement.”
Emily hummed with a quirk of her lips. “Good girl. You really are good at your job, just like Hotch said.”
You slowly moved your heel to hit the SOS button you had installed underneath the kitchen cabinets to alert the team. However, Emily’s keen sense of hearing caught the faint buzz the signal made.
“What’s that sound? You’re signaling your fellow agents to come over and rescue you?” Emily shook her head. “Here I was hoping for a private time with you. Now they’re gonna come and ruin our fun…”
“Why are you killing all of those people?”
“You know why.”
“But why?”
“Those men needed to be taught a lesson.” Emily paused. She steps right in front of you, pushing your gun aside to make room for her body. “They always underestimate a female agent… They see me as weak. I’m tired of it.”
You shuddered as she invaded your space. “You aren’t the only female agent to be underestimated. Not the first, not the last. I became a Supervisory Special Agent at only 28, and I continue to be looked down by most of the men I work with. What makes you different? What made you snap?”
A dark chuckle escaped Emily’s lips when she thought about your question. She shook her head before looking back into your eyes, observing your face with an annoyed expression.
“You think you understand exactly the position I’m in? You know nothing about how they look at me… Judging me behind my back that I don’t know what I’m doing. Do you know why I lost my job?”
When you shook your head, she continued.
“I killed the man who stabbed me and left me for dead. He made my life a living hell, always lingering over me wherever I went. I lived in fear for years, and when I had the chance to end it, I took it. And that cost me my job that I worked so hard for. And yet, when Hotch killed the person who murdered his wife, he got a paid absence from work. Don’t you see what’s wrong with that? People saw him as a person acting on his grief. And they see me as a killer.”
You noticed the pain and rage she held in her eyes as she told her story. “Not everyone looks at you that way.”
Emily scoffed at your attempt to make her feel better. “Oh… What? You think you’re different? That you don’t look down on me? You’re just like them, thinking you have control over me.”
Your gaze softened, your empathetic nature getting the best of you. You set your gun down on the counter, pushing it away. Emily’s eyes followed your movement and then snapped back to your face in surprise.
“What are you doing? Why didn’t you shoot me?” she asked, her voice calm but held a sense of disbelief.
You stayed silent, also wondering why you would potentially let a criminal get away. When Emily’s eyebrow lifts prompting you to answer, you sighed.
“I don’t think I hold control over you. I don’t want to have control over anyone.”
Emily’s eyes darkened at the double entendre. She took hold of your wrists and pinned them above your head as she leaned in closer.
“No control, huh?”
Your eyes flutter closed as her breath fanned your ear. Why am I feeling like this towards a serial killer we’ve been chasing for months, you wonder.
Emily noticed your breath quickening and smirked to herself. “What’s this, agent? Are you feeling something for me…?”
You let your head fall back against the wall, relishing in her small kisses on your neck, her teeth grazing your skin so softly. However, the reality of your situation pulled you out of your daze.
“The team will get here soon.”
Emily pulled back with a groan of annoyance. “Well, this moment can’t last forever, can it?”
She let go of your wrists, stepping away from you and heading toward the door.
“Emily,” you called out, to your own surprise.
Emily stopped when she heard her name, turning around with an eyebrow raised.
You racked through your brain, thinking of what to say.
“Stay safe.”
Emily’s eyes softened at your words, but her face remained expressionless, not wanting to reveal her weakness to you.
“How interesting… An agent telling a wanted criminal to stay safe.”
You hold back your words as Emily lingered by the door. She broke her stare to look out the window where she could hear sirens approaching, but still a good distance away.
“I’ll see you next time, agent,” she said softly before slipping out into the darkness, like many nights before.
A/N: heyyy... it's been a while (two years) since i've written something. life just got busy, but i hope you're all doing well. anyway, i've been rewatching criminal minds and got inspired to write this. i hope you like it!
pairing: season 6 Emily Prentiss x fem!Y/N
warnings: angst, toxic relationship, control issues, trust issues, canon character death, grief, (but everything is okay in the end)
word count: 2517
Read on AO3
.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·.
"Where have you been?"
You dropped your bag to the floor and shrugged off your jacket, hanging it up.
"Out. How was work?"
Emily ignored your question, crossing her arms as she leaned against the wall, watching you with curious eyes.
"Out with who?"
"No one, Em. Am I not allowed to leave this apartment?" You sighed.
"You never just leave without telling me where you're going or who you're with, don't give me an attitude."
You roll your eyes, heading to the bedroom. Emily stopped you.
"You're not going to bed without telling me where you've been."
"Why does it matter? You've been at work. I just wanted to get some fresh air," you threw your hands up in slight frustration. "You leave every morning, and I don't question you. Why can't I do the same?"
"Because I don't trust you!" Emily raised her voice. She blocked off your path, glaring at you.
You narrowed your eyes, steeling your composure to not show that her words had hurt you.
"Why not? I'm your girlfriend."
"And that means I should trust you just because we are dating? You've given me plenty of reasons not to trust you."
"Like what?"
Emily placed her hands on her hips, standing up straighter. "You've been secretive, you're too friendly with other women, you're always on your phone, you hide things from me."
Rage bubbled inside your chest. "Do you think you're a saint, Emily? You are no different from me. How many times have I tried to ask you about your day, just for you to shut down? How many times have I been tossed aside while you prioritize your work? How many hours have I spent waiting for you to come home, worrying that you were shot dead when you'd really just fallen asleep at your desk?"
Emily flinched, surprised by seeing you so angry, and how true your words were.
"Y/N, that's different. i'm just... busy all the time, or have classified information..."
You felt tears sting in your eyes.
"I can't do this anymore," you whisper.
Emily froze in place at your words, watching you grab a duffle bag from the hallway closet.
"What?"
You swiftly moved to the bedroom, feeling Emily follow behind you. You started packing a few essentials, deciding that you would come back later for more things.
"You know what."
"You're leaving?"
"I don't think you're ready to be in a serious relationship, Em. I saw the signs from the start, but I overlooked them because I liked you. But I can't put up with all the secrets, the lying, and the distrust anymore. I'm your girlfriend; I trust you more than I trust anyone in the whole world, and it hurts that you don't feel the same about me."
You wiped your tears.
Emily took a step forward, feeling a surge of panic.
"Sweetheart, listen, it's not like that... I..." she faltered, unable to think of anything that would fix this situation.
You waited for Emily to continue, but her silence was enough of an answer. You zipped up your bag and walked over to Emily, giving her a soft kiss on her forehead.
"I love you, Em. But I can't stay here."
Emily's face briefly softened at your kiss, but her heart dropped as your departure started becoming very real.
"I-" Emily's voice cracked. "Can I talk to you? Please?"
You stopped by the door, considering your next words very carefully.
"I've given you so many chances to talk to me. If all it takes is for me to leave, then it's probably too late."
A wave of hurt crashed over Emily, even though she knew there was a truth to your words.
"I promise I'm ready to talk now."
You made the grave mistake to turn back, and one look at her sad brown eyes was convincing enough. Wordlessly, the two of you walked to the couch and sat down.
Emily took your hand, breathing a sigh of relief when you didn't pull away.
"I know I haven't been the best girlfriend over the past couple months, okay? I-I admit, I've been keeping some things from you, but you have to understand..."
"Understand what?" You voice was soft, but your tone harsh.
"Understand why I was keeping them from you, I just..." Emily sighed. "I was scared. Scared to tell you certain things."
You looked into her eyes. "Is something happening at work? Or is it something in our relationship?"
There was a moment of hesitation before Emily spoke.
"I-it's work-related, yes... and it's the reason I've been so... on edge."
"Does it have something to do with Ian Doyle?" You pieced together.
Emily froze, the name she never wanted you to know of coming out of your mouth.
"Where did you hear that?"
You sensed the anxiousness in her voice, and you knew you were treading on dangerous waters.
"I came home early one night, and I overheard you talking on the phone to someone. You sounded stressed out, I figured it had something to do with work."
Emily nodded slowly.
"I... H-how much of that did you hear?"
You shook your head, "Not much. Just a few names and details. 'Interpol', 'undercover', 'Lauren Reynolds.'"
Just hearing those words alone made Emily anxious.
"I need you to keep what you heard a secret, okay? Don't tell anyone, not even the team. Can you promise me that?"
"Yes, of course."
A wave of silence washed over the two of you. Emily fiddled with her fingers, but never took her eyes off yours.
"Emily, I don't have to worry about losing you, do I?"
Emily managed a small smile, holding your gaze for the longest time.
"No, you don't have to worry about that. I'm not going to let anything keep me away from you, Y/N. I promise."
It was like the storm clouds had finally parted, revealing a glimpse of blue skies above. For the first time in your year-long relationship, Emily had finally opened up to you about something.
You slowly moved in for a hug, giving Emily the chance to opt out if she wanted to. But she leaned into your embrace, hugging you with such intensity, as if you'd vanish if she let go of you. Emily had never been so scared to lose someone before, and she knew that she could never risk losing you ever again.
You were the first to break the silence.
"This can't happen again, Em. I need you to be honest and trust me. I value your feelings, and I don't want to lose you."
Emily nodded as you voiced her thoughts exactly.
"I know. I promise... There's, uh... one other thing I need to tell you about."
"What is it?" You pull away to look at her.
"I need to go somewhere tomorrow to deal with an issue from my Interpol days. I'm not sure how long I'll be gone..."
Emily stood up, walking over to the window and knelt down. She flipped up a floorboard, taking out a padded envelope.
"If I'm not back within a week, I want you to open this."
You took the envelope.
"What are you planning to do, Em?" your voice shook.
"It's just a precaution," Emily lied in order to not worry you. "There's a risk that comes with every mission I go on. I just want you to keep this for the future."
When you didn't reply, Emily took your hands into hers.
"I'm going to be fine."
You nodded, touching your forehead to Emily's.
"Will you stay? Come to bed with me?"
Emily's soft and vulnerable words sent an ache to your heart.
"Yeah."
The two of you settled into bed. You laid on your side, face to face with Emily. She leaned in to plant a kiss on your forehead, wrapping her arms protectively around you.
"I love you, Y/N.”
"I love you, too."
Long after you dozed off, Emily remained awake. She wanted to remember how your body molded perfectly against hers, the smell of your shampoo and how your hair tickled her nose, and how her heart beat differently when she was around you. She worried about how you would hold up if something happened to her. She tried to stay as still as possible to not disturb your sleep. After what felt like hours, she let sleep overcome her as well.
.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·.
The next day, you woke up to an empty bed. Emily had already left as she usually did, but this time it came with a heavy, lingering feeling. Of what, you weren't sure yet.
You sat up in bed and glanced at the alarm clock on Emily's bedside table, which told you that it was almost 12pm. You felt something on your forehead and you reached up to find it was a bright pink sticky note. You laughed, remembering how Emily used to leave notes stuck on your forehead if she woke up and left before you.
“Be home soon. I love you,” the note read in Emily’s cursive handwriting. You stuck it to the wall above your nightstand.
You had the day off from work, so you started your day of relaxation. A few hours later, a knock on the door jolted you out of your focus on a TV show you were binging. Your limbs protested as you stood up from the position you’ve been sitting in all day.
A familiar face stood behind the door.
“Andersen?”
Agent Andersen had a solemn expression on his face.
“Y/N, I regret to inform you that Agent Prentiss has been injured in the field. I’ve been sent by Agent Hotchner to bring you to the hospital.”
The world went silent as his words sunk in. This wasn’t the first time during your relationship that Emily had gotten injured, but it wasn’t the kind of thing that got easier every time.
The journey to the hospital was a blur. Before you knew it, you were in the waiting room. A heavy silence occupied the room as you and the team waited for an update.
Finally, the doors opened and you stood up, almost falling over until Rossi took your arm. With one look at JJ’s face, you knew your worst fears had come true.
.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·.
It’s been seven months since Emily died. Seven months since you attended her funeral. Seven months since you quit your job, packed your bags, and left town without telling anyone.
You’ve been living in a permanent state of anxiety and grief ever since Emily’s passing. You could barely register anything happening around you, not with the words “she never made it off the table” echoing in your mind constantly. You currently resided in New York with your friend, who was in their first year of residency and basically lived at the hospital, so you had the apartment to yourself a majority of the time.
You became vaguely aware of your phone ringing as you pulled yourself out of your daze. You were surprised and confused when the caller ID read Hotch’s name. The first month after your very sudden departure, your phone was bombarded with calls from each member of the BAU. As time passed and their calls kept going unanswered, they ceased their contact. Occasionally, you would get a few voicemails from Penelope who would update you on things happening in her life and to tell you that she missed you.
“Hi.”
“Y/N,” Hotch’s voice lifted in surprise. “I wasn’t sure if you would answer.”
You sighed.
“Well, here I am.”
“I’m…” Hotch trailed off for a second. “I’m calling because I need you to come back to Quantico.”
“Not interested.”
“I wouldn’t be asking if this wasn’t important, Y/N,” Hotch spoke quickly before you could hang up.
You thought about it for a moment.
“I’ve already sent the jet your way. JJ will meet you at the airport.”
You chuckle.
“I haven’t agreed yet.”
“I think you’ll want to be back here. Just trust me.”
The thought of reuniting with JJ and the rest of the team was tempting. You hadn’t realized how much you missed them all these months.
“Okay.”
.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·.
JJ met up with you at the airport runway, pulling you into a tight embrace that you reciprocated. The two of you caught up with each other as the jet got ready for takeoff.
JJ sat up straight, her face becoming serious but still warm.
“Y/N, there’s something I need to tell you before we land.”
You held her gaze, sensing a hint of anxiety in her voice.
“What is it?”
Just like seven months ago in that waiting room, the world stopped spinning when you heard JJ’s words. You sat like a statue as she recounted the events, from Emily’s transfer to Paris to the team taking down Doyle at last.
When you were unresponsive for too long, JJ gently touched your hand.
“Emily is alive?” you ask for confirmation, not believing what you heard.
“Yes.”
.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·.
Your steps from the runway into the office were quick and frantic, even JJ had to try to keep up with you. Through the glass doors of the office, you made eye contact with Hotch.
“Emily’s alive? Where is she? Is she here?”
Hotch didn’t answer your rapid-fire questions, but he swiftly led you into his office. Your heart was beating out of your chest and you could hear each pump of blood.
The figure in the room turned around and you gasped when your eyes met brown ones that you thought you would never see again. The Emily that stood before you had small changes in her appearance, but she was still your beloved Emily.
Emily approached you slowly, as one might approach a scared puppy.
“Y/N.”
You let out a sob, diving forward and pulling Emily into your embrace. She held you, tenderly stroking your hair as you cried into her neck. Tears sprang into Emily’s eyes as she felt her heart begin to mend having you in her arms.
“I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry…” Emily repeated softly. “I had to keep us safe until Doyle was captured. I’m so sorry I had to leave you, and that I had to lie to you.”
You shook your head, pulling away slightly to see her face.
“You had no choice, I understand. I’m just glad you’re here. I thought I lost you for good.”
“You’ll never lose me again,” Emily wiped a tear from your cheek. “These past seven months have been hell without you. All I could think about was how rocky our relationship had been in the months before I left. I promise you that I won’t let us go back to that. It’s not going to be easy, and I have a lot of issues to work through, but I’m going to put in the work. I trust you wholeheartedly, Y/N.”
You smile at her words, feeling that things will be different this time around.
“That means a lot to me, Em.”
Emily tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, cradling your chin in her hand.
Summary: After being in a secretive relationship, Natasha is finally ready to make it public.
Words: 1.2k
You had known Natasha since her early days in SHIELD. She had been assigned on the same mission as you, probably so that she could get a better understanding on the way things happened in SHIELD before she did a real mission.
It was clear, even from the beginning, that Natasha was operating way below her abilities. That, however, didn’t stop her from assisting in the mission.
As the rest of the Level 1 field agents scoured a forest deep in Croatia for lost artifacts, Natasha, with her Level 6 clearance, was right beside them, stepping through the brush. She never shied away from any work or pushed it onto someone else. She took every task with pride and carried it out professionally, efficiently, and with no complaints.
Her work ethic, aside from her beauty, was the first thing that had caught your attention. It drew you to her.
You tried to spend as much time around her possible. At lunch, you would find her sitting somewhere far away from others and joined her to eat in silence. You had convinced yourself that she was annoyed by your presence, but the longer it went on, the more comfortable you became. The more ease you had.
If she didn’t want you to sit with her, she would’ve gotten up and left or found a more secretive place to eat. She wouldn’t have sat in the same place every day.
You appreciated her presence and her silent companionship. You enjoyed the time that you spent with her and even looked forward to lunch every day, just so that you could sit with her.
A few weeks passed before Natasha started talking to you.
At first, she was quiet. She didn’t say much, only commenting on the work they were doing that day or asking you about your life. Then, as time went on, she became more social. She talked about everything, from politics to a show you had watched recently. She was easy to talk to. She carried the conversation and filled the silence when you didn’t know what to say.
She made it easy for you to fall for her. She was bright and lovely and kind and the most amazing woman you knew.
Soon enough, you and Natasha became more than friends.
She began to place her hand on your arm, the touch gentle and light. She gave you warm, private smiles throughout the work day. Her eyes were full of passion and desire when she caught your eyes. Her words turned from friendly to suggestive. Her sweet affections caused your heart to ignite into a blaze.
Slowly, her touches became more frequent and her words became heavier with innuendos. You wanted to drown in her attention. You wanted to take everything she gave you. You never wanted her to stop.
Even though you wanted to give in to her, you did your best to stay professional, and Natasha kept her distance. She respected your boundaries and limits.
It wasn’t appropriate to be in a relationship with your coworker, especially with how much Natasha outranked you. It wasn’t fair or professional. You were sure you’d get fired if your superiors knew about the relationship you already had, and no woman, even one as wonderful as Natasha, would be worth losing your job.
Yet, despite your stance, when the mission ended, you couldn’t stop yourself from falling into Natasha’s arms.
She was there and willing and had gone through the trouble of finding you at the SHIELD headquarters. She offered you her time and her mind. She was the best friend you’d ever had and an even better lover.
When you first got together, you didn’t think the relationship would last long, based off of the rank differences and the secret nature of it, but neither of you had ended it. It was a pocket of beauty and warmth that the both of you could turn to after a difficult mission or long day. She was always there for you, and you were always there for her.
She assisted you in climbing the ranks of SHIELD. However, even with all the extra training and recommendations Natasha gave, you were only ever able to get to Level 3. It was for the best, anyway. You weren’t skilled enough to take on more than you were already doing. You weren’t exactly a fan of nepotism, either.
You stayed with Natasha as she became an Avenger and you cried together when the truth of SHIELD was revealed. She supported your transition into a more peaceful, domestic life, away from the chaos of SHIELD.
Whenever she wasn’t working with the Avengers, she was at home with you, living a life of domestic bliss. You taught her how to cook and she helped you clean your home. You would stay up until the small hours of the morning, talking about everything and nothing at the same time. It was the live you had always dreamed of.
Your relationship continued for years, all without stepping out of the secretive nature that shrouded it.
That was until one night, when Natasha knocked on the door of your apartment. You welcomed her in with a smile and a kiss on the cheek. She went straight to the living room and sat on the couch, staring blankly at the dark television screen.
You didn’t mention her distant behavior, even though you could see that something was occupying her mind. You merely plated and served the pizza that had arrived ten minutes before Natasha. You nestled onto the couch and Natasha put her arm around you, though she didn’t say anything. She merely put on a movie and ate the pizza.
You gave her the quiet she needed and eventually, she spoke.
“I want to marry you.”
You blinked and pulled away to look at her face. Her expression was schooled into impartiality, but you could see the nervousness that tugged at the corner of her lips. “What?”
Natasha took in a deep breath and said, “I want to introduce you to the Avengers, and there’s no reason why I can’t introduce you as my fiancé. We’ve been together for seven years. Your home is the only one I have and you’re the person I want to spend the rest of my life with you.”
“You want to marry me.”
Natasha nodded and reached into her pocket to pull out the most beautiful ring you had ever seen. It was everything you wanted, down to every minor detail. You couldn’t have asked for anything better.
She motioned to the ring, a smile slowly growing onto her lips. “I know you don’t like large spectacles. So I was hoping this would be enough to convince you.”
You looked at her, your own grin spreading across your face. A warmth bloomed in your chest. “You don’t have to convince me, Nat.”
Her smile widened, the nervousness falling away from her expression. “So it’s a yes?”
“Yes,” you said, and pulled Natasha into a hug. You held her there, breathing in her scent, melting in her warm embrace. She held you back, squeezing you as if you would disappear if she let go.
Who would you ever say no when you could have the most amazing woman alive as your wife?
Summary: The first five times Natasha touches you, and the one time you finally know what it means
Warnings: My first fic! Injury, brief mention of violence, idk
Notes: Female reader with empath-type powers. Fluff, minor angst.
3.6K
[Hiya, if you want to, please let me know what you think. Don't be too honest or I will a crya ahaa
At this stage my writing is heavily influenced by others, but I'm hoping to use this account to develop my own voice/style. Thanks! ]
One.
The first time Natasha touches you it’s so brief and soft you wonder if it even happened at all.
It was your first mission with the avengers. You were nervous to be a part of the big boys and could feel the pressure, the weight of the responsibility to keep everyone safe.
You’d done smaller missions with SHIELD agents, bits of recon and simple recovery ops. You’re an empath, able to sense things around you. That sense gave you an understanding of people, their emotions and what actions they were likely to take. You could stop fights before they started by saying the right words, or sense danger coming before it arrived. You could read people from a mile away, and it was even more powerful up close. The one person you could never get a grip on was Natasha.
You blame it on your attraction to her. Sometimes your emotions get mixed up along with your readings. It puts a blinder on your senses and blurs your interpretation.
The mission had a few rough patches, keeping tabs on 6 people was like trying to split your brain into 6 pieces and hold them all together at the same time. One minute you were coaching Steve through a maze of the enemy, pointing out routes that were empty and letting him know when someone was preparing to shoot - you can feel the tension, their finger on the trigger and that impulse to shoot. When suddenly you got a burst of shock coming from the area where Natasha was. A missile launcher, 200m away was pointed straight at her.
Closing your eyes, you quickly located the operator using your senses and then got him in view with your sniper scope, you shot him and then the operator machinery to render the launcher useless. You saw Natasha relax when the lights turned off and the launcher pointed away from her, the tip sinking towards the ground.
Your legs are weak and shaking when you step back into the quinjet. Out of everyone you look the cleanest, you don’t have a speck of dirt on you and yet you feel like you’ve been through hell. You sit down with a sigh of relief, but can see that your hands are shaking uncontrollably. You try to calm down and grip onto the material of your pants. When you look up, you see Natasha watching you, everyone else is caught up in their own world. You keep eye contact with her, both of you in a silent conversation that doesn’t communicate anything to you. Anyone else and you’d already know what she was thinking or feeling, it’s like a scent in the air you have no choice but to smell. With Natasha, all you can feel is yearning, the source all from you.
Natasha’s expression gives you no clues. You’re proud of yourself that you were able to save her in time. But there’s a heavy guilt in your chest for even letting her get into that situation, you start to worry that she’s annoyed by your incompetence. Maybe she wants you off the team, you think, you did almost let her get killed. You might be packing your bags tonight, and it feels like shit that you let the team down that you’ve been dreaming of protecting for years.
But Natasha walks towards where you were sitting, she reaches out and brushes your shoulder as she passes towards the cockpit. You look up at her surprised and catch a glimpse of a pink lips in a soft smile. You try to get a feel for what she was thinking, but all you feel is the red hot bubbly mess in your stomach at the thought that she might not completely hate you right now.
Two!
Your back hits the ground with a heavy thud on the gym mats. Natasha makes her way into your vision when she leans over your body on the floor. Loose hairs from her bun fall around her face, and suddenly that’s all you can focus on.
“You need to fight harder. If you let people push you around like this in the field you’re going to die.” She says, offering you a hand.
“Geez, Natasha….” You wheeze as she pulls you off the ground with more strength than you were expecting.
“I’m serious, you can’t let your powers become a crutch. Come on, let’s try another throw.”
She wraps an arm around your shoulders and then up to your neck imitating a choke from behind. You try to focus on the steps, but you can feel every inch of her that’s pressed up against your back. It’s turning your limbs into jelly and you feel light-headed.
“Remember the steps?” She says, her lips right next to your ear.
You don’t answer, you can’t remember how to.
“First, block my arms” She instructs, and you reach up to wrap your hands around her forearms, blocking her choke around your throat.
“Good, and squat down so you can lift my hips safely…. Good.” She says. You’re following her instructions, but you feel unstable holding her weight.
“Now bend slightly and throw me over your shoulder onto the mat.”
You bend over to try to throw her off your back but it’s slow and she hits the mat softly, her reflexes easily taking over.
“Not quite, it needs to be a lot faster, and stronger.” She says. You can feel your ears flush red, as she wraps a hand around your bicep. “I know you have more strength than that. Here, try it again.”
She moves back behind you, and grips your hips with both hands, manoeuvring you directly in front of her. She pulls you back into her, and you completely freeze at the sensation of her hips pressing into your ass.
She pauses there, her hands warm on your hips, sending fiery pulses to your core. You wait for her instruction, and it feels like a century passes as she holds you in that position.
“Ok, now squat down so you can lift my weight onto your hips, and then throw me over your shoulder onto the mat.” She says and you think you can sense a smirk in the voice.
Three.
You hiss as you peel your wet undershirt up and over your head. It was soaked with sweat and blood from a large slice across your ribs. As you twist out of your shirt, the bend of your torso is unbearable, it sends you stumbling along the bathroom tiles and bumping into the sink. In the mirror you can see the cut on your side and you reach up with light finger tips to inspect it. You grab some gauze, medical supplies and start trying to clean the blood around the wound. Your hands are shaking though and you’re not pressing hard enough to clean it properly. You look at the door and consider going to get help when you hear a soft knock on the wood.
“Y/N?” Natasha’s soft voice is muffled slightly through the wall.
“I’m fine!” You reply, and damn it, you do not sound it at all.
Natasha pauses outside the door, and you can sense her hesitation. “Can I come in?”
You don’t answer straight away. “Um… I don’t have a shirt on.” You say slowly.
“Can you put one on?” she asks, and now you know she knows about your injury.
“Um not exactly.”
“Ok, I’m coming in.”
She pushes the door open slowly, and you can hardly bear to look at her face when she takes in your current state. The light blush that covers her cheeks makes you realise that you’re completely naked from the waist up. You awkwardly try to cover your breasts, and now you’re embarrassed for a million other reasons. Natasha keeps her eyes firmly locked on yours when she asks to help you clean up. You don’t realise that you’re nodding your consent to her, until she softly adjusts you to face at an angle away from her. She takes the antiseptic wipes from your hands and bends down slightly to wipe the cut.
It stings like hell but you watch her gentle hands and focus on the way her fingertips press into your ribs beneath the cut, keeping you in place. You watch her through the mirror, you can’t look away from her face when she wraps the gauze around your torso, constantly blowing away strands of red hair that fall back into her eyes.
She looks up at you intervally, checking for pain and for the first time you aren’t too intimidated to keep eye contact with her. She’s looking at you and touching you so gently that you could melt. It feels like she’s bearing a part of herself to you behind her eyes, even still, you can’t read her and you’re clueless as to what she’s thinking.
“Okay, all finished.” She hums.
“Thank you.” You croak out, voice cracking and you clear your throat.
She smiles at you, bright and amused, and you feel your hold body flush in response. She reaches up, and runs her fingertips lightly down your spine and you hold back a strong shiver at the touch.
Before you can comprehend what’s happening, Natasha has turned and is closing the door behind her as she leaves. You’re still standing there in daze minutes later.
Four
There’s tension in the air when the quintet lands. To say the mission was a mess would be an understatement. You’d blown out your powers, which is really just to say you were exhausted. Protocol would have been to return to safety immediately, but you knew if you left you’d leave the team down a member. You managed to help where you could but everyone left feeling like they’d barely scraped by. Losing your powers had put everyone in an uncomfortable position.
When you walked out alongside Clint and Tony, you came face to face with an extremely angry looking Natasha, who’d been running lead with communications from the base. She stalks straight towards you and you feel a sudden urge to retreat, if it wasn’t so ridiculous you’d run away in front of everyone to avoid her wrath. The three of your pause when she steps in front of you, but her piercing gaze does not leave your eyes.
Her pace slows as she steps in closer until your faces are centimetres apart and she suddenly shoves you back harshly with a slap to your chest. You stumble backwards, shocked.
“What the fuck were you thinking?” she snarls, and you’ve never seen her angry. In fact beside some light banter and brief smiles, you don’t think you’ve seen her show any emotion at all.
“I… I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to let you down.”
“Let ME down?! Everyone is relying on you, on your powers. How could you blow them so carelessly! You need to learn how to be a part of a team, and realise that you are not the only one out there.”
Clint interrupts her, “Natasha. She did it to save my life.”
“I know that! But you risk everyone's life when you pull shit like that Y/N. Including your own.” Natasha says. And for the first time you think you get a glimpse of real emotion from her. You’re too tired to read anyone at the moment, and Natasha’s walls have always been sky high, but you recognise fear in her eyes as she stares back at you. Could she be scared?
Five
You smoothed your hands down the sides of your dress. You’d chosen a simple black dress that split just under the hip, showing a teasing peak of leg. The event was bigger than you expected. New York City was putting on an award show for local heroes. Mailmen, lawyers who’d contributed to notable charitable cases, teachers and others who had been nominated by people who they had positively impacted. Natasha was one of them. Her nomination had come from you, alongside about 500 signatures that you had collected from people around the world she had helped directly. Most were a result of her work with the Avengers, but others were people she helped on her own. People that Natasha silently gave herself to without any notion of a reward or thanks. You think the motivation might come from guilt she carries from her past, but you mainly suspect that it's just who she is. That regardless of her past, she would still be helping the homeless, abused or abandoned children and other victims.
So you’d put in a nomination describing just how heroic Natasha is, both in your eyes and the eyes of so many others. You’d heard the news she was being honoured months later, about 2 weeks ago. You’ve become so much closer since the nomination. Never did you think you would be privileged enough to learn so much about this woman. You’re proud to be the one she comes to when she’s sad, you know her favourite movie and the songs she hates because they remind her of bad memories.
You still worry that you’ve overstepped with the nomination. You want her to see how much people love her, how no one blames her for the mistakes of her past even though she still blames herself.
She doesn’t know you were responsible for the nomination and you haven’t heard her tell anyone about it. You arrive alone and right on time, you spend the first 30 minutes wading through heroic new yorkers until you see her arrive late, head down but beautiful in a simple red dress.
She looks shy, and is eyeing the exit like she wants to walk right back out. You realise standing there that you’ve never seen her outside of the compounds besides for missions and the occasional team trip. You wonder if she feels normal walking down the street, your heart sinks at the thought that she feels like she doesn’t belong, doesn’t deserve to be treated as a hero.
When they call her name, yours follows as the nominee. You’re watching from the side of the large auditorium as she walks onto the stage with more grace than is fair for any one person to possess. You don’t look away for a second as her eyes scan the room. She’s interrupted in her search though when the presenter reaches for her hand to shake. She looks at him for a brief moment before her eyes are back to search the crowd. Your heart hums like a hummingbird trapped in your chest, you’ve never felt anxious excitement like this, she looks so happy.
She turns to face the audience as the presenter puts the medallion around her neck, and right as it falls into place on her chest, her eyes catch yours. You can’t contain the nervous giggle you let out as she recognises you. She tries to stop herself from smiling, but it’s barely contained in the smirk that spreads across her face and her eyes are shining like the brightest stars you’ve ever seen.
You barely force yourself to wait for the other awards to be presented, the heartwarming event feels like torture because you need to see Natasha. Once it’s over and a musical act takes the stage in celebration you head towards the backstage area that Natasha had walked off. You notice an exit sign down an empty corridor and your intuition leads you that way. The door opens onto the streets of New York, it feels quieter than usual, private. Natasha is standing on the footpath facing the road and looking up at the highrise across the road her head tilted towards the city. You approach her slowly, and she must have heard you come out because she slowly turns to face you at the same time. Her eyes are glistening with tears and the sight puts a thick lump in your throat.
“You did this?” She says quietly and sniffles softly.
“You did it.” You say determinately. “But, yes, the nomination came from me.” You pause and frantically try to read her, but yet again, you get nothing. “I hope that’s ok.”
“Of course it's ok, Y/N. I just… I don't know what to… I don’t know.”
“You don’t need to say anything.” You assure her.
“I guess I’m just confused, why would you do this?” Her voice falters at the end. She’s still speaking softly, and you step closer to hear her better as she turns to face the road. New York air is stealing her words from her lips before they can reach you.
“Why? Natasha, you’re a hero. People appreciate what you do, I wanted to give them a chance to thank you. You deserve it.”
“I don’t deserve it though. Do I?.” She says bitterly, and she looks heartbroken. You curse the world for making this woman feel like this. The street starts to get busy, and Natasha’s gaze gets lost in the street lights and cars that won’t stop honking at each other.
“You do. Tasha, you do.” You say passionately, trying to get her to hear you. “That medallion is proof, but even more so are the hundreds of people who wanted you to have it.”
You’re about to continue with your speech that you’re embarrassed to stay, you had mentally prepared, when Natasha suddenly is wrapping her arms around you. The medallion is freezing cold when it presses between Natasha’s chest and yours. You don’t know why it's awkward, but you feel slightly wrong pressing your palms into the backs of her shoulders to hold her steady against you. You try to focus on comforting her, and not the hummingbird in your chest that is making itself known again, flapping its wings with a force so strong it leaves you breathless.
Her face presses into your neck, and you feel warm tears glide along your skin. It only makes you sink into her and press her towards you tighter. The selfish feeling in your stomach becomes heavier because you wouldn’t trade this for anything.
One
“You don’t like me, do you?”
“What? Natasha, of course I like you. You’re like the most incredible person I’ve ever met.” You reply, confusion rippling across your mind.
“That’s not what I mean, Y/N.” She says sharply.
“What do you mean?”
“You already know, don’t you? That’s like your thing.”
“I…”
“I didn’t expect you to feel the same, but I thought you might at least acknowledge it.” She says, impatient now.
“Acknowledge what?”
“Huh. Nevermind.” She brushes you off.
“No, Natasha. Acknowledge what?”
“Can’t you just read it?” She looks at you pleadingly, her hands gesture to the space between the two of you. Her eyes search yours for recognition of something, but you have no idea what.
“No, I can’t. I can’t read you, I’ve never been able to.” You say simply.
“What?”
“My readings, you know I can’t control them, it’s like sound or smell in that way. But it’s also different. I perceive all emotions together, mine and everyone else’s. Sometimes I can’t distinguish between them and others.”
“You really haven’t been able to read me?”
“No. It’s all been old school… body language and what you actually say out loud”
“Oh.” She seems less angry now, softer when she looks at your confused expression.
You start to see the cogs turning in her head and you’re terrified that she’s figured it out. Why you can’t read her, why you get so nervous around her, why she’s always catching you glancing at her when no-one else is watching.
She reaches for your hand, and her fingers lightly intertwine with yours. You watch as she runs her thumb softly along the side of your hand.
“Everything is starting to make some sense” She chuckles lightly, and you start to buzz with nervousness. She’s holding your hand, which is a good sign, right?
“Natasha, I…”
“I thought you never said anything, the reason you let me touch you but never returned it was your way of giving me a quiet rejection.”
You’re shocked into silence.
“Why can’t you read me Y/N?” She asks quietly, her stance towards you is shy but she doesn’t let go of your hand.
“I… When my emotions are strong, they overpower anything I might be able to read. It makes everything all muddled and confusing.”
“Okay… And?”
“My feelings for you, they were too much. It's just gotten stronger and stronger. And I promise I tried to stop, I tried so hard to be professional and courteous. I swear. I… I just kept falling.” You sigh. “I keep falling.”
You don’t know where all the emotion is coming from, but you’re getting choked up. A humiliating tear rolls down your cheek. But then, Natasha is reaching up to wipe at it with her thumb, her hand cups your cheek and forces you to look up at her.
“I’m falling for you too.” She laughs softly, and runs her thumb along the curve of your jaw, down to press her palm flat to the side of your neck. “That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you.” She whispers.
In every touch, from her gentle caresses to angry, accusatory shove, Natasha whispers desperately, ‘I love you’.
You lean into her hand and then further towards her mouth. She’s already meeting you halfway when your lips press softly into hers.
If you care: I tried to utilize as much of the context surrounding the S3E18 elevator scene as possible but James was a large, burly barrier to making things happen the way I wanted. And since I didn’t want to write Lena terribly ooc, I walked around the tall beautiful man and made this what I wanted to be. So. Canon but for guardiancorp. Proceed.
***
Lena sighs. It’s a behemoth of a breath—teeming with pretenses and hesitations and truth and unleashing them all into the air at once. Her raised eyebrow droops and her gaze follows, landing resignedly on the bag in her white-knuckled grip.
“You’re right, Kara. Today has not been the best day.” Beside her Kara nods sagely, concern knitting her adorably expressive forehead. Lena sighs again. “This whole thing with Supergirl has me on edge. I feel like I could combust any minute.”
She misses the way Kara’s mouth twists as words of support rot on her tongue. Her kind brow crinkles deeper but Lena continues glaring at her tote bag like it might miraculously sprout the answers she needs. For a third time, Lena sighs.
“But you may be onto something. A little TLC might help me feel better.”
Lena considers her options. “Maybe I’ll leave early and see if I can meet up with James.”
The prospect doesn’t exactly appeal to the yawning abyss of rage and self-doubt inside her, but Lena figures that if she can manage to work herself up enough to seduce James, then maybe she’ll start actually wanting something with him and maybe the kissing will work.
This time Kara’s jerky reaction tugs at the corner of her eye. She looks up to find light eyebrows still wrinkled and a look of pure stupefaction on Kara’s face. Her lips pinch together as if holding something back and her curls bounce when she shakes her head.
“James?”
“Yes, James. He’s… expressed interest lately. We’ve been dancing around each other a little, but there might be something to it,” Lena fibs.
She’s still adjusting to the idea, experimenting with a flirtation here and there. She hasn’t yet left an interaction without a sour taste in her mouth but hasn’t shut it down either, considering the desert of other prospects lining up at her door. What’s one more shot at heterosexuality for old time’s sake?
“I thought I told you?” She considers Kara’s shock and second guesses herself. “But perhaps not? With all that’s going on with Sam, it’s been hard to keep the days straight.” Lena shakes her head, dismissing her own slip.
“Who else would you have meant besides James?” she asks, feigning a laugh to disguise the jagged edges of her unrequited crush.
Kara, the woman who has decidedly not expressed her interest, has never reciprocated anyway. It’s not like she’ll notice the hollow longing in Lena’s voice.
Kara flounders, cheeks dusting pink with every syllable she stammers, and Lena… Lena adores her. She smiles indulgently, thoroughly enjoying the endearment that chips away at some of the day’s frustration, and waits for Kara to find her words. They’re unexpectedly puzzling.
“You just, uh, you’re stressed right now, and—” Kara toys with her glasses, eyes focused intently somewhere between her feet— “and James isn’t here right now.”
So he isn’t. Curiosity pushes Lena’s left eyebrow into an arch. As she watches, Kara’s entire demeanor shifts from nervous to protective and her gaze shoots up from the floor. It finds Lena’s with deathly precision and vaporizes whatever snarky remark she had brewing.
“You’re clearly upset, Lena. You shouldn’t have to wait to de-stress. That’s not fair to you.”
Lena’s forehead crinkles.
“You think I should go now, then? Drop off the ice cream for Ruby and leave?”
The idea doesn’t sit well with Lena. She values the stolen normalcy she’s afforded between extraterrestrial disaster mitigation and assassination attempts. Then again, if her presence is so obviously uneasy, maybe Kara has a point. “I could see if James is free—”
“No!” The answer is as swift as it is loud. The ensuing silence fills the elevator like a fog.
Lena blinks, refusing to acknowledge the next logical alternative. “Then…?”
Kara falters again and Lena’s already frayed patience strains against the hesitation. She’s exhausted of seeking answer after answer that sits just beyond her reach. (Sam and Reign, Supergirl and her personalized vendetta, her fucking family and their ceaseless plotting. Lena is tired. With a capital T.) Her battered emotional state can be blamed for the self-destructive challenge she issues next.
“How do you suggest I make use of your observations, Kara?”
“… uh.”
Lena is vaguely aware that she sounds rather bratty when exasperation gets the best of her.
“Let me refresh your memory so we can be on the same page about the boundary conditions here.” She tips her head and lifts one hand to count off with snarky fingers.
“One—kissing reduces stress. Two—I, Lena Luthor, am ostensibly ‘stressed.’ Three—James, the logical candidate to help apply your first observation to mitigate your second, is not present.” Her left eyebrow lifts. “If not seek him out to resolve the immediate concern, what would you have me do?”
Lena knows she’s lashing out. It probably borders on unfair to Kara, who is most likely attempting to be helpful in that obliviously heartbreaking way of hers. Most other days Lena can grit her teeth and bear the glancing blows to her self-confidence and bruised heart. Today not so much. Today, she entered this elevator with one microgram of patience to her name and it evaporated sometime around Kara’s seventh ‘um.’
“You… um.” Kara swallows hard. “I can help.”
“What.”
“Kissing helps. I… I can kiss you.”
What a strange motherfucking day.
“Once again…” Lena squints at her friend, zeroes in on her mouth to see if those pretty pink lips will corroborate the absolutely inane sound waves beating down her eardrums. “What?”
“We can kiss if it’ll make you feel better.”
Maybe their elevator has traveled through a portal into some sort of alternate dimension.
Kara, to Lena’s great misery, isn’t joking. She isn’t talking about her brand of harmless but devastating cheek kisses either. Lena knows this because the blonde adds, completely unironically, “It’s not unfair to James if it’s platonic.”
Lena almost laughs in her face. She probably would have if that face weren’t staring openly at her with earnest, unfiltered concern and eyes that could be weapons for how efficiently they slice through her, body and soul.
There’s a longing in the crystalline gaze, something complex and bottomless shimmering beneath Kara’s ‘friendly’ interest in Lena’s well-being. Lena searches her eyes and finds the most instinctual part of her heart stirred by the need it recognizes there. Kara is offering the weirdest type of comfort she’s ever received and it’s… because Kara needs the connection as much as Lena does. She may be disguising it but Kara is hurting, too. Lena is moved by an unshakable pull to comfort her friend, even if the reasons remain obscured.
And then there’s the tiny matter of just how much Lena wants to kiss her. Not platonically. She wants to kiss Kara with the same innate drive that pushes her to purge the world of her family’s sins, with the same powerful force that tempts her to obliterate those who have harmed Sam and Ruby. She wants to kiss Kara with all the intrinsic, fatalistic, good, and bad parts of her. She wants, she wants, she wants. And if the only way Lena can have what she craves is to pretend to accept it platonically, well. Maybe she’ll take what she can get.
Kara is the only calm, steady thing in Lena’s rapidly crumbling life. She’s a blessed beacon of good that exists (for the most part) independently of Lena’s complicated relationships with superpowered aliens, xenophobic terrorists, and everything in between. To have her light turned on Lena, to have it illuminate all but one of the shadowed parts of her heart and still bear to see her, is an absolute miracle on Earth. And Lena, as undeserving as she feels every goddamn day, is drawn to Kara’s warm, honest acceptance like a moth to a flame.
Maybe if she incinerates herself on Kara, she’ll know what it’s like to burn brightly for once.
“Okay,” she says. She’s a spineless, hopeless, lovestruck idiot and she’s lying—to herself, to Kara, to James, to the world— but right now, adrift in a piercing blue stare, she can’t bring herself to care.
Kara’s eyes go wide as saucers, like she hadn’t expected Lena to agree. (And why would she? They both know her logic is as thin as it is weak.)
“Oh wow.” Kara burbles quietly to herself. She adjusts her glasses. “You mean, you—”
“I mean ‘okay,’” Lena repeats, “you can kiss me.” Kara’s eyes grow impossibly round, but she nods along. “I’ve had an awful day and if it’ll help me feel even the least bit better, I’m willing to try.”
Kara spares one second to blink owlishly at the double confirmation, then straightens with a determined and painfully attractive set to her jaw. Her shoulders seem to broaden with purpose. “Okay.”
A beat of silence stretches between them as they stare at one another, unmoving. The agreement is out in the open, thick with promise, but neither of them seems capable of initiating the next step.
The elevator judders to a halt and opens onto Sam’s floor.
They both start at the interruption Kara releases an awkward chuckle. She glances surreptitiously at the empty hallway then back at Lena but makes no move to exit the car. Lena mirrors her, rooted to her spot.
Seconds tick by and the door sits innocently ajar. They stare silently at the neat escape it offers but otherwise ignore it. When the doors clunk closed, the broken moment reconstitutes around them as if it had never burst.
“Okay.” Kara picks up where they’d frozen, seemingly jolted into action by the near miss. The building must be nearly deserted because the elevator stays put as Kara takes a small but self-assured step into Lena’s space.
“Is—is this okay?” Kara ventures. Lena is wholly unprepared for the intimacy that springs to life between them as Kara’s voice fades to a whisper. It’s all the CEO can do to stay upright when her nose pauses an inch away, awaiting permission.
“Mhm,” Lena squeaks. She tilts her chin up helplessly and hopes Kara will do the rest.
She does. Time seems to slow as Kara moves. Lena clings tightly to the air caged in her lungs, trying not to shiver when Kara’s shaky breath washes across her lips. There’s an eternity of anticipation and then, without preamble, they’re kissing.
It’s warm, tame, not altogether unpleasant, but… oddly professional.
Their closed mouths press together, chaste and stiff, and pressure rolls between them once, twice, and then Kara’s gone, a few inches away.
Lena feels momentarily sidelined by a visceral wave of sympathy for all who endured a first kiss in middle school.
Kara’s eyes are still closed when she asks, “Was that okay?”
Lena hums her acquiescence. Despite the rigidity of it all, kissing Kara will never be ‘not okay’ in her estimation.
Kara lingers though. She lingers and she takes another gravelly breath and she whispers, shy and generous, “More?”
Lena’s mouth twitches into a tiny smile. Moral ambiguity aside, businesslike or not, she’s faced with the opportunity to kiss the woman she loves a second time. If in the end Kara is bizarrely correct about a kiss being so godforsakenly platonic that it can’t be considered anything, then more power to her, because Lena sure as hell isn’t about to refuse.
“Yeah,” she breathes and Kara erases the space between them once more.
It’s just as stilted as before, lips securely sealed and tentatively smooshed together. Still, Lena can’t hold back a sigh at the warmth of Kara this close.
Her jaw slackens as she exhales and, entirely by accident, Lena’s lips part. Her mouth opens—just a sliver—and yields under the gentle pressure from Kara. When she rushes to close it again she finds Kara’s plump lower lip, soft and wet and pliant, trapped between hers.
A compromising lapse in judgement has Lena sucking gently on the delicious fullness in her mouth before she can stop herself. While Lena wilts, vacillating over whether mortification or sheer bliss will be her predominant cause of death, Kara hardly flinches.
The stiffness of the embrace is suddenly gone. She takes the unintentional escalation in stride and slots her mouth over Lena’s, easy as pie. Her lips pull seductively, enticing and calm as she flips Lena’s world on its axis.
Nothing feels transactional anymore. Kara is kissing her for real—still respectful, still tentative, but for real—and Lena knows then that she’s done for.
Slickness smears as their lips slide and Lena feels a moan bubble up from the depths of one of her little boxes. It builds and builds and clambers up her throat and—christ she’s not supposed to be enjoying this quite so much.
Lena smothers the sound before it can tear its way out. It would be quite the breach of their platonic agreement to be caught moaning wantonly into Kara’s mouth. The noise dies nobly as a muffled whimper in the back of her windpipe. She sighs, unspeakably relieved that her shame proved too quiet for anyone to hear.
But Kara gasps. Lena freezes on reflex, assuming the least disruptive stance possible—in case, by some miracle, her unguarded moment of weakness had been detected. A ripple passes through Kara and Lena thinks retreat, retreat, retreat. She should go, should disengage and apologize profusely, even if she can’t say exactly what for.
She’s just decided to slink away in disgrace when Kara’s hand flies up to her collar. Strong fingers curl urgently into Lena’s coat and lock tight, keeping her in place—keeping their lips connected.
The intent cannot be misinterpreted. Lena sucks in air at the abrupt change in intensity and Kara surges into the kiss, her mouth insistent, needy all of a sudden.
Lena’s eyes flutter as she bows under a wave of want so palpable she can taste it trickling over her tongue. Through her eyelashes she catches a glimpse of Kara’s neck straining towards her, tense with restraint. Even this narrow sliver of her is breathtaking, golden, and perfect. Lena watches the tendons shift beautifully under her skin as Kara’s jaw moves with devastating purpose. The next press of her mouth is nothing short of hungry.
A fleeting thought of resistance crosses Lena’s mind before an unrestrained sound of pleasure breaks free from her throat. She whimpers as she opens for Kara’s seeking lips, powerless against the collective celebration firing through her nervous system. The only thing she can do to remain upright is reach blindly with the hand not clutching her bag for dear life. She latches on to Kara’s elbow for stability as the world spins out around her.
Lena must be perilously close to keeling over because Kara’s other arm snakes around her waist. It’s clearly a move for balance, otherwise it would be extremely un-platonic for Kara to—oh.
Kara’s hand opens wide over her side. It slides, slow and sweltering, to Lena’s back and splays greedily across the dip there, fingertips just grazing the swell of her backside. The realization that Kara is exploring, completely at her leisure as she palms Lena through her layers, hits with the tonnage of a freight train.
Lena’s grip on reality slips away so dangerously fast that she is absolutely incapable of controlling the noise she makes when Kara’s fingertips sink in and yank her forward. Without so much as a stutter in the demanding pull of her kiss, Kara steps up to meet her. The low, pleased groan she releases as the length of Lena’s body presses against hers is enough to make Lena’s eyes roll to the back of her head.
Satisfied that she won’t pull away, the hand trapped around Lena’s collar loosens. It drifts inside her jacket casual as can be. As if having her hips and mouth molded to Kara like molten glass isn’t lethal enough already. Kara’s fingers sear as they encounter the flushed skin above Lena’s sweater and spread like syrup across her neck and cheek and jaw. The grip on the side of Lena’s face remains gentle but Lena obeys unquestioningly when Kara uses it to tilt her chin upward for better access.
Kara teases at the seam of her lips with the wet tip of her tongue and Lena’s mouth wrenches apart with a drawn out moan. It’s filthy and utterly revealing but Lena can’t bring herself to find meaning in anything beyond Kara’s touch. Her brain has long since dissolved—her self-restraint ran with the wind and her guilt fled gleefully the moment she noticed Kara’s breathing grow as labored as hers. Her entire being is putty beneath the firm heat of Kara’s mouth, her hands, her chest—all of her is so real, so alive, so all-encompassing that everything outside of the contact between them turns to dust.
She arches and, sure enough, Kara catches her instantly, tightens her grasp to cement the added closeness. Their tongues slip and they groan in unison at the sensation, unabashed now that their matching cards are strewn across the table.
When they finally break for air, Lena’s hand travels up from its vise on Kara’s elbow to wind through the soft hair at the back of her neck. Kara noses along Lena’s cheek, keeping their foreheads together as her ragged breaths beat heavily over Lena’s lips and skin.
“Lena…” Kara croaks. She sounds so affected, like she’s splitting open around Lena’s name. It’s easily the most gorgeous sound Lena has ever heard. “Lena, I’m sorry.”
‘No,’ Lena wants to say, ‘not yet.’ Instead she drags her blunt nails across the base of Kara’s scalp and shuts her eyes, savoring the shiver she elicits before it all comes crashing down.
“I…” Kara insists on fighting through what troubles her. She rocks her head side to side, the tip of her nose tracking across Lena’s in what seems like a desperate approximation of the contact she truly desires. “I’m sorry. This—I wasn’t supposed to…”
“Shh. Don’t be sorry,” Lena replies. “I’m not sorry.”
Kara’s eyebrows crinkle together and Lena feels it on her own skin. She cards her fingers through Kara’s hair, soothing and attempting to buy herself as many illicit seconds as she can afford.
“This isn’t what I… what I intended.” Kara’s grip twists in her coat and she nuzzles into Lena’s cheek.
“That’s okay,” Lena reassures. “I promise. It’s okay.”
Quivering lips press lightly against her face and it’s somehow the most tenderness Lena’s experienced in her life. The air snags in her lungs and her hand forms a fist in Kara’s hair, eliciting another one of those addictive gasps.
“I can’t stop,” Kara confesses in a rush. “I can’t stop, Lena.” The admission propels her into a frenzied sort of kiss and then she tears her lips away, keeping close but keening with every tattered inhale. Lena’s not faring much better.
“I don’t want to stop,” Kara whines, distraught. “You feel…” Her fingers flex urgently against Lena’s neck, her other hand kneads at her waist, then slides back around to fasten Lena against her once more. “Ra—God, you feel too good,” she groans.
Kara curls away and pins Lena with serious eyes, swimming with a distress Lena can’t place. “Tell me to stop.”
All it takes is a minuscule lift of Lena’s chin for Kara to unravel with a strangled sound and bend to take her mouth again. She kisses hard and pulls back harder.
“You have to—” Kara pants, “You have to tell me to stop. Tell me to stop because I can’t—I won’t be able to hold back if you don’t.”
How Kara expects her to have any self-restraint left is beyond her. Especially when Kara’s lips catch and stick to hers with every wrecked word she utters. Especially when she’s loved this woman for longer than she’s comfortable admitting and every other kiss of her life feels paltry compared to the taste of Kara’s breath just beyond the reach of her mouth.
Lena will handle the world, she will. She will shut down all prospects with James, she will make amends with Supergirl, she will protect Sam and Ruby and she will do it all so she can be free to pursue this version of Kara without the mountains on her shoulders. Lena can do everything and she can do it right, but she will be damned if she’s going to stop now and put anything else first. No.
“Lena…” Kara entreats, her voice wobbling on the tightrope of sanity. Lena is right there with her, bouncing on the line and willing it to snap.
“I can’t, Kara.” She shakes her head. “I won’t.”
Kara’s breath hitches and Lena glances up at her through her lashes. “What makes you think I want you to stop?”
Blue eyes widen in awe and trip down from her eyes to fixate on her mouth. A second later they’re obscured, almost entirely engulfed by pupils flared with want. Lena has just enough time to shiver at the low growl curling in Kara’s chest before she is walked backwards and nudged against the wall.
They collide in a passionate clash of lips and teeth and Lena winds both arms behind Kara’s neck, discarding the tote bag full of ice cream along with the rest of their pretending.
It’s nothing short of divine, the way Kara gives in to desire. She is artlessly covetous and Lena delights in the feeling of being devoured, of broad hands staking their claim anywhere and everywhere—jumping from a tender hold on her cheeks to a squeezing grip round her waist to a bruising clutch of her hips. Lena rocks into it, thrilling at the involuntary way Kara’s body twitches to match. Sounds of indulgence unfurl between them as they move, surging and retreating to a synchronized beat only their bodies understand.
Kara’s hands disappear and land on the wall on either side of Lena’s head, inundating her with Kara’s perfume and the intoxicating safety of her embrace. She bends at the elbows and leans her weight against Lena, her tongue insistent and her chest pressing close. There’s a whine of straining metal, which Lena ignores in favor of the moan she drinks from Kara’s mouth, and then Kara’s hands are gone.
She mourns the loss for a fraction of a second until she realizes Kara has secured them around the rail that runs the length of the wall behind her. Kara brackets Lena with her arms, clutching the rail on either side of her waist and using the blessed leverage to cant her hips against Lena with mouthwatering force. She’d never known Kara to be this ruinously strong, but Lena’s not exactly in a position to complain. She just eases her thighs open and hopes Kara will accept the invitation.
A crumpling sound echoes through the steel car but Lena pays it no mind because Kara more than delivers. She slots one leg between Lena’s, teasing with the promise of muscles hard enough to complete the job on their own, and lifts her hand to fumble with the top button of Lena’s coat.
Allowing Kara to undress her in any manner whatsoever represents yet another escalation from which they can’t turn back. Lena sprints past the boundary without a thought left in her head. She arches into Kara’s scrabbling fingers, encouraging, searching for a way to reciprocate.
Without slowing the kiss, she reaches for Kara’s glasses. They’re beginning to get in the way and Lena would very much like to eliminate all barriers between them. She wants access to as much skin as is legal in this tinny tiny box.
Kara’s eyewear is unexpectedly heavy, but budges under an extra push of her fingers. She lifts them away, eyes still closed, mouth still locked around Kara’s. She’s about to pull back to admire the woman that’s dismantling her piece by pulsing piece when Kara goes suddenly rigid.
“Wait.”
Lena stops, of course. She settles the spectacles atop Kara’s head and pauses patiently. She’ll wait as long as Kara needs to feel comfortable.
But the blonde just turns and buries her face beneath Lena’s jaw. Lena’s choked gasp is not rewarded with the sensation she anticipates. Instead of hot lips on her neck, Lena feels Kara’s head shake and a violent shudder wrack her shoulders. Concern blossoms in her stomach, rapidly cooling the blaze of passion.
“What’s the matter, darling?” Lena prompts, her fingertips already burrowing into golden waves, scratching a comforting pattern that she knows will unwind her friend’s nerves. “Kara, it’s okay.” She kisses the side of her head, speaks again with her lips right up against her hair. “Whatever it is, you can tell me.”
There’s a lengthy silence as Kara gathers herself. It lasts so long that Lena suspects she may never learn the source of Kara’s distress. She considers herself lucky to be able to provide this type of comfort anyway. She thinks she could do it forever if—
“I’m so sorry, Lena.” The words are all the warning she receives before Kara presses a kiss that feels like goodbye to the side of her neck, and withdraws hurriedly from her hiding place.
At first, Lena’s confused. She doesn’t understand the mournful cast to Kara’s expression until something achingly familiar flickers across her handsome jaw.
Kara’s cheeks glow with a healthy, otherworldly blush. It’s suspiciously more permanent than the ardor-induced flush adorning Lena’s skin. Her hair is mussed, cascading freely around her shoulders—had Lena tugged it out of its tie? It frames her face with a distinctly windswept quality that’s both irritating and attractive. Lena is deeply and uncomfortably accustomed to precisely that disorienting mix.
And Kara’s eyes… they’re the same clear blue they’ve always been. Except without the lenses in the way, Lena recognizes the steel that resides within the kind, comforting hue that she’d secretly fancied as hers.
All the blood drains from Lena at once, sucked away by a gravitational sink at her feet. Of all the outcomes she had entertained for tonight, she hadn’t counted on baring herself entirely to someone she loved only to open her eyes and find a traitor staring back.
“S-Supergirl?”
The hero hangs her head. “Yes.”
Unnecessary as it was, the confirmation finishes disintegrating the ground beneath Lena’s feet.
Glacial eyes shoot upward, shining with a well of tears and shame that Lena’s battered consciousness cannot reconcile with the caped crusader. That candidness had always belonged to Kara. It’s a jarring mask to see on Supergirl.
“But I’m still me,” Supergirl begs, wide-eyed. “I’m Kara, too. I’ve always been Kara.”
The plea is Kara’s condemnation.
The questions and confusion winding Lena’s head into a nauseating tailspin come to an abrupt halt. Her mind hones in on a single, razor-sharp memory. She straightens and Supergirl backs away stricken, intuiting from Lena’s demeanor that her permission to touch has been permanently revoked.
“So,” Lena starts, quiet and threatening, “you mean to tell me it was Kara that strong armed James into spying on me in my private lab?”
Kara’s jaw drops and Lena’s eyebrow lifts, buoyed by indignation as she flashes through a reel of interactions with Supergirl, each more damning than the next.
“Was it Kara that threw my family name in my face as an excuse to withhold her trust? Kara that went behind my back and accused me of wrongdoing when all I ever did was step in and help?”
The next realization stings so sharply that Lena sniffs against the burning in her nose.
“The same Kara that worked so hard to convince me that I was worth believing in? That she would stand with me and protect me always?”
Lena clenches her jaw and waits for the sob rising in her diaphragm to recede. “You expect me to believe that the same person said and did all of those things?”
Kara’s face crumples. Her tears spill over and drip sloppily down her cheeks. They fall unevenly, blurring the fissures forming in Lena’s foundation. But while the cracks become hazy, they don’t disappear. Lena’s heart is the principal casualty in the war waged between her love for Kara and her resentment for Supergirl. The act of merging those two individuals has torn it asunder and there is no going back.
“Lena, I—”
“Impossible.”
The gaping and fumbling return. Lena has Kara on her back foot, open-mouthed and speechless. Evidently Kryptonian steel will bend when confronted with Luthor ice.
“It’s impossible for two such mutually exclusive opinions to genuinely coexist inside a single person,” Lena informs her. Kara’s brow furrows deeply, but Lena presses on before she can argue. “One of them must be a lie.”
“Lena no—”
“And since you are the perpetrator of both sides, Kara… you must be the lie.” Lena does her best to steady her voice as it scratches her throat raw. “It doesn’t even matter which version of you is the truth. You lied about one or the other. You made me believe—”
The elevator dings, sucking them out of their sinking ship and spitting them out into the lobby of Sam’s apartment building.
Lena spies the escape, nowhere near as clean as it had been 21 floors up, and figures it has to be better than enduring whatever this is. She doesn’t bother to conclude her thought as she moves to leave.
“Wait!” Kara reaches out, stopping short of grasping her elbow. Lena glares at the hand hovering just beyond her arm until it falls shakily aside, clenching and releasing the air.
“I’m sorry,” Kara cries. Her words garble between sobs that land like blows on Lena’s heart. “Please Lena, don’t—I’m so sorry. I understand that you’re mad, but I swear—”
“Save your breath, Kara.” She will not cry. Not until she’s out of earshot. If that privacy requires her to charter a flight across an ocean, so be it. Lena will break down about this on her own.
Still, she can’t help but toss one aggrieved accusation into the brewing storm.
“Don’t you see?” Lena snarls, shaking her head to stem the tears. “Everything you say is poisoned now. It’s not real. None of it was real.”
Kara rises like a tide and her fingers breach the invisible barrier that Lena raised. They wrap around her forearm, careful but confident.
“Not real?” she whispers fiercely. “What about just now?” Kara jerks her head towards the wall where the phantom of their kiss haunts the elevator car, eerily out of place. “Being with you like that was…”
Lena screws her eyes shut against the invoked memory. Short-lived and recent, it already tightens around her throat.
“It was the most alive I’ve ever been,” Kara asserts. “I… I’ve never felt that way before. With anyone.”
Her voice drops to something dangerously earnest, something enthralling that Lena has to forcefully deny lest it wrench her back underwater.
“I know you felt it too, Lena. I felt you. That wasn’t a lie. That’s as real as it gets.”
Lena steels herself one final time and shakes off Kara’s grasp. She raises her chin, defying the superhero and the emotions screaming in her chest.
She waits until Kara’s eyes begin to dart nervously between hers, cautiously hopeful, and then Lena cuts her down.
“Why should I believe you?”
While Kara silently implodes, Lena looks down her nose at the pile of pints rolling frostily across the floor.
“Make sure Ruby gets those from me, will you? I wouldn’t want her to feel abandoned when she needs the most support. Unfortunately, something’s come up and I can’t stay, but I’ll come by to check on her tomorrow.”
She spares a glance at Kara’s defeated, bewildered expression and turns for the door, blessedly unhindered this time around.
“Goodbye, Kara. Don’t bother being here when I come back.”
Summary: When communication is rocky between the two, Natasha has to figure out other ways to show her love and appreciation for Stefaniya.
Warnings: some angst and pain, but eventual fluff
MMAOS Masterlist MMAOS Blurbs
༻✧༺
Stefaniya hadn't planned at all on leaving her room today, much less socializing with the one person she'd been avoiding, but she's tired of listening to her own thoughts.
The sounds of crying caught her attention. There was only one explanation as to who it was coming from, as the building was mostly abandoned and Stefaniya was fresh out of tears. She begrudgingly pulled herself out of the warm bed. Her footsteps were quiet as she walked out of her room, her thin socks providing somewhat of a barrier from the cold floor. The journey only took a few seconds, maybe less, as Natasha's room was just across the hall from hers. Stefaniya wondered why Natasha wasn't at her desk monitoring the computer as she normally does at this hour.
She lightly pressed her ear to the wooden door, hearing Natasha behind it. A particularly loud sob sent her heart dropping to her feet. She had never heard Natasha cry in her room like this before— the redhead was always the one keeping herself together— and her body filled with guilt.
It was no secret that Stefaniya had been avoiding Natasha for the last 5 months after Thanos snapped. Not that she wanted to, of course, but she felt like she had no better choice. The pain she felt from her entire world crumbling down was like no other. She had felt the pain of being torn away from her family at a young age. She had felt the pain of being in Red Room, of what Dreykov did to her. She had felt the pain of remembering everything she'd done while under the mind-control. But nothing could compare to the pain she felt, learning that the Avengers lost, realizing that she had failed Yelena. She had never quite understood what it was like, having the weight of the entire world on her shoulders, but now she did. And she failed everyone.
She knew that it wasn't all on her; the fight took a team effort, and everyone lost someone that day. But she also knew that it wasn't her place to unleash her burden on Natasha, not when the redheaded Avenger was dealing with her own. It hurt a lot to ignore the one person she desperately wanted to lean onto, but it seemed like the best decision at the time.
Stefaniya sighed softly, walking to the large kitchen downstairs. She checked the pantry and fridge, which was surprisingly full. She mindlessly picked up a few ingredients, either putting them back or cradling it in her elbow to use.
As she laid out the ingredients on the countertop, she realizes what she's trying to make. Borscht, a red beet soup. As she starts to make it, a childhood memory resurfaced in her brain.
[flashback]
"Aw, shit," Alyona, her big sister, exclaimed.
"Aly! Watch your language around your sister, please."
"Sorry, Mama."
Alyona scooped up the plastic discs into a pile and switched her attention to the TV, which displayed the week's weather forecast.
"When is dad coming back?"
The girls' mom sighed sadly.
"I'm not sure."
Stefaniya turned away from the Connect-Four board to look at her mom, who stood over the sink with some vegetables and a peeler.
"Dad's always gone for so long. I want him to stay here more," Stefaniya spoke softly to herself, but she was overheard by the other two members in the house.
"I know, I do, too. But he's doing very important work. I'm sure he'll be home soon, my darlings."
Even from a young age, Stefaniya had been aware that her parents had been covering up about Dad's job. They'd always redirected the conversation, so she and Alyona never knew exactly what it is he did— Stefaniya just knew that whatever it was, he was always gone for weeks at a time and came back looking more exhausted than the last trip. She only grew more worried and just wanted her dad back.
She pulled away from her thoughts and walked into the kitchen to join her mom.
"What are you making, Mama?" the five-year-old tugged lightly on the hem of her mom's shirt.
"Borscht. Red beet soup. It's a family recipe," Mama's gentle voice answered. She washed her hands and dried them on a towel, picking up the young girl and setting her on the counter.
"Perhaps one day when you are older, I will teach you how to make it like my mother taught me."
"Why don't you teach Alyona? She's older than me," Stefaniya suggested.
"She has no interest in cooking, she likes to draw and paint. But maybe you would like to be my little chef, my sunshine?"
Stefaniya nods excitedly.
"Can you teach me now?"
"Well, you're still young, you will forget," Mama continued chopping up the beets, a bright pink-red stain coating her fingers.
"But I suppose I can."
Stefaniya smiles, her nose crinkling. Mama giggles at her youngest daughter.
"So first, you want to peel the skin off the beets, then chop them up into tiny pieces like this..."
[end flashback]
Stefaniya isn't sure how she remembers the recipe so well after all these years. She blinks a few times, realizing that her mind was working on autopilot and she was already done with the soup. She softly smiles for the first time in months, wondering if somehow, her mom was there to guide her through the process.
After cleaning up the kitchen, she pours the red soup into two bowls, one with more soup than the other. She put the leftovers into a container into the fridge for later. She then dug out a tray from a cabinet to bring the food upstairs. She laid two spoons, two napkins, and one glass of water onto the tray and began her walk back to her room.
She put the scarcely-filled bowl, a napkin, and a spoon onto her desk. After rearranging the remaining contents on the tray, she walked over to Natasha's door. The crying had stopped, but she heard the sound of the TV on, letting her know that Natasha was still in there. She carefully set the tray on the ground, knocked twice on the door, then quickly disappeared into her room.
Outside of Stefaniya's now closed door, Natasha stuck her head out into the hallway with a confused expression. She looked to the ground, where a neat tray sat. She smiled, recognizing the Russian dish, and carried it inside.
She taste-tested a spoonful, her stomach finally at rest after the hours she had spent starving. She'd really missed her family today and her emotions got the best of her. She wondered if Stefaniya had heard her, even though she was trying really hard not to be too loud.
She pulled out a pad of blue sticky notes and a pen out of her desk. She scribbled a quick message of appreciation on it, folded it into an origami heart— like Lila had taught her— and then used her finger to flick it through the bottom of her door.
A small streak of blue entered Stefaniya's periphery, causing her to set down her bowl and walk up to the door. She picked up the piece of paper, smirking at the heart shape, and carefully unfolded it. As she read the short message, the smallest sense of happiness entered her heart, but also sadness and guilt.
tu comptes tant pour moi
[you mean so much to me]
-
A/N: hopefully my two years of french class paid off lmao
