Hey, I'm just chilling here and writing my stories🤗
If you read them, that's cool, if not, also cool. ✌
I'm mostly active on Wattpad but figured I'd give this a try.
She/her ♐
22🏳️🌈
If you want to chat, I'm always happy to meet new people 😊
Insta: Just_writing_a_bit
Wattpad: Just_writing_a_bit
Hi, I'm Just_writing_a_bit
I'm 22, (she/her) and a single lesbian who loves writing queer stories.
I write mainly Marvel fanfiction. Most of my stories are about Natasha and Wanda :D
I'm always happy to meet new people, so feel free to chat with me or ask me questions.
I am new to Tumblr, but not to writing. I got plenty of works over on Wattpad, if you want to check them out. The name is the same as on here.
I'm probably gonna post mainly one shots as most of my other stories contain at least 40 chapters and that's a little much on here.
Check out the previous chapters before reading this.
Summary: Natasha, Wanda and Professor Keaton are locked in and head to her office, where Natasha tries her best to distract Wanda from the storm. The Professor adds a little bit to it and grows stern when Nat challenges her in the end.
Pov Natasha
Wanda and I follow our professor towards the exit. It is truly a little creepy how empty and dark the hallways are, especially with the rolling of thunder interrupting the silence every few seconds. Miss Keaton uses her phone as a flashlight, clicking across the floor with her heels. The sound is slightly unnerving in a way I can't describe.
"I hate this," Wanda mutters, eyes darting towards the ceiling at the sound of another thunder. I keep my arm around her in an attempt to offer comfort.
"We're safe in here, nothing can happen. Besides, we'll be home in no time. Maybe we can call an Uber to take us back to the dorm," I suggest, well aware that she likely won't walk through the storm back to our dorms.
Wanda's fear of thunderstorms is nothing new. I first learned about it last year when we had a heavy storm at night. I woke up to the sound of it and found Wanda curled up on her bed, knees tugged to her chest and duvet pulled up high. She looked so small and vulnerable in that moment.
I climbed into her bed and we talked quietly. She told me how she doesn't like the loud sounds and the way the wind presses against the building, it makes her feel like the world is ending. At first, I thought she was a little dramatic, then I saw her pale face and knew, she is genuinely intimidated by the storm.
We ended up staying awake together and I shared stupid childhood stories with her. I told her how I used to believe sand cake was actually made out of sand and when I tried eating it, I spit it out again and cried.
Eventually, she relaxed and rested her head on my shoulder while sharing some of her own stories. It took a couple of hours until it was quiet again and when I glanced down at her, she had fallen asleep.
So yeah, I am aware of her reaction to these storms and know, they are worse, when we're not safely inside.
"Why did we have to stay back and be trapped here now?" Wanda whines quietly, her hand clutching the strap of her bag. I trap my lip between my teeth, knowing very well why we had to stay late and part of that is my fault. Not all of it, as she was late on her own time as well, but I feel like I've pushed a few more buttons than Wanda did.
"We're not trapped in here," I assure her. "They will have emergency power in the doors. It would be stupid if not."
Wanda just nods, following our professor quietly. I keep my arm around her, hoping to offer some sort of comfort.
We reach the doors and I watch as Miss Keaton pushes down the handle and pulls. Nothing happens, except for a bolt of lighting to crack across the sky and light up the hallway. Wanda jumps slightly and mutters a curse. So much about not being trapped here.
I glance around, trying to think of any other emergency exists. The only ones I've seen are windows, most of them requiring you to jump down or be transported down by firefighters.
Is this enough of an emergency to call the fire department? Technically, there is no genuine emergency. We've got food and water and are safe. We're just missing some energy and that might return any minute.
"I'll check for a fuse box," Miss Keaton announces, wandering off again, leaving Wanda and me at the door. I try opening it myself, without success. Wanda wraps her arms around herself.
"I don't like this," she states, shifting her weight from foot to foot.
"I know and it is a little scary," I admit, so she doesn't feel alone with her current feelings. The storm doesn't bother me very much, I actually like watching storms when I'm in a safe space. The darkness around us isn't very scary either, as I know, there's no one else around.
We simply have to wait until the power kicks back in and then we can leave. Which will probably be the harder challenge as I'm not particularly good at waiting. Or at being locked in somewhere. If this place was smaller, like an elevator, I certainly would not be as calm.
"Do you think, we'd get in trouble if we kicked in the window?" I ask, watching a tiny smile dance across Wanda's face. She pretends to think about it.
"I think, that could be vandalism."
"It's vandalism to have such a shitty power system," I point out and pretend to get ready to kick the door down, bracing my shoulders and lifting my fists. Behind me, I hear Wanda giggle and smile softly. Giggles are so much better than fear. Distracting her always worked best, even if I have to be silly in order to achieve that.
"If you damage that door, you'll have bigger problems than detention."
I roll my eyes and nearly scoff at the cold voice. Keaton as a way of showing up when we least need her. I turn around again, finding her near Wanda, phone still used as a flashlight.
"We were just playing around."
Her brown eyes bore into mine. As if she'd know anything about having fun.
"That won't activate the power again. I checked the fuse box, it's intact and everything is in place. It's likely a lighting bolt hot wired the power system. It might need some time to cool off, or a mechanic to check it." She says it as dryly as she explains her lectures. Out of all the professors we could have been trapped with, we had to get the strict and cold one. Way to win the lottery.
"That means it'll take a while," Wanda concludes, voice pitching a little. I return to her side and take her hand, giving it a small squeeze.
"It does," Keaton says, putting her hands on her hips. My eyes drop to them involuntarily. Her hips are soft and wide, which is very attractive.
"Most doors are unlocked with keycards, but the mechanism won't work without power. My office still uses a common key, so we can go there," she suggests. Well, not suggests, more like decides.
I share a look with Wanda. Why would she willingly invite us to her office if she hates us?
Without saying a further word, she click-clacks down the hallway, not looking back to check on us.
"It might be smart to follow her. All other rooms are locked and I don't need to sit on the floor for the next hours," Wanda says, looking after our professor. I nod and we follow her down the hallway.
Preferably, I'd like to be away from Miss Keaton, but I understand Wanda's take and it's probably easier to distract her from our current situation, if we don't stare at the locked doors.
It's hauntingly quiet and dark in the hallways and we use our phones as flashlights as well. If it wasn't for the sound of our steps, it'd be dead silent. Sometimes, silence is scarier than noise.
Finally, we reach the office and watch Miss Keaton open the door. She pushes it open and slides a door-holder against it. Wanda and I follow her inside.
The office is rather small with only one desk. Some offices have two desks for two teachers. Her desk faces the window, which allows us to watch a tree outside dance to the whims of the wind. Raindrops hit the glass, creating a natural white noise.
Next to her desk, there are two large shelves, one filled with books and one halfway filled up with folders, the bottom part covered as there are several drawers. Near the door, there's a second table, a lot smaller, with one chair on either side. I've sat at one of those tables before, it's for speaking exams or counseling. Whoever would come to this professor for advice. She'd probably tell you to get your shit together and quit whining.
I drop my bag onto the table, letting my light trail over the walls. There is a cork wall hung up with lots of notes stuck to it, as well as her curriculum. Wanda follows me, as I step closer, inspecting it. It's only Tuesday and given the fact, I didn't bother checking, who my other professors are, it would be good to know which classes we will share.
Internally, I groan when I see a lecture on Thursday and another class on Friday. Is this woman trying to stalk us? And why did she get all the third-year classes? Shouldn't new professors be slowly eased into their position?
Wanda's light lingers on the curriculum and I know, she thinks the same as I am.
"You can take the two chairs by the table," Miss Keaton says coolly and I turn around. She's sat in her desk chair, leaned back and watching us with crossed arms. Her heels are on the floor, feet resting on a small stool. It's surreal to see her like this, all laid back. Literally and figuratively. Shedding her shoes feels like she's shedding a tiny part of her professionalism. Not that she'd lack that now, she has plenty of it and a lot of it up her ass too, I assume.
Wanda nods quietly, her light now moving over the bookshelf, while I trail mine over her desk. It's clean and neat. Pens in a pen holder, a stapler next to it and a stack of sticky notes. The only personal item on the huge desk is a picture frame. I see a young girl, grinning up at a woman, likely mother and daughter. Does Miss Keaton have a family? A wife and a daughter? Who would date such a cold woman? I mean, she looks hot and I'd totally get it, if she wasn't such a distant and stuck up person.
Miss Keaton notices me looking at the frame and glares at me, pointing at the chairs by the table.
"Sit! No more snooping around or you can return to the entrance and wait there until the power is back!"
I run my tongue along my teeth and turn around, letting myself fall into one of the chairs. Wanda follows suit, her eyes on the bookshelf though. When she startles at another loud thunder, I grab my chair and carry it around the table to sit next to her.
"It's just a loud noise," I whisper, placing my hand over hers on the chair. She nods and exhales.
My eyes dart to the open door and the dark hallway outside. In here, it's not too dark with all our phones switched to flashlights and resting on a surface, lighting up the ceiling and parts of the office.
"There is a myth," I start, fighting my own grin and lowering my voice.
"Years ago, there was a student named Betty. She always stayed late to study in the library. One night, the power cut off and darkness surrounded her, swallowed her. After that night, no one ever saw her again. It's like she vanished.
Some people reported, they heard steps when it was totally dark outside and inside the building. Then, they heard muttered words, someone reciting a book. Rumours say, Betty still haunts the hallways at night and by dark, still studying in hopes to pass her next exams."
I take my phone and shine it towards the hallway, as if searching for Betty.
Wanda smacks the back of my head, her face pale though. Miss Keaton sends me a glare that could easily set fire to a person and I hold up my hands in surrender.
"I was just trying to entertain and distract us from being trapped in here." I slide the phone back onto the table. Wanda boxes against my shoulder lightly.
"Way to do that with a ghost story. Fucking idiot," she mutters, which cracks me up a little.
"Language," Miss Keaton instantly calls and I swallow down a scoff. We're grownups, we can cuss if we want. "But I agree with Miss Maximoff, it's a stupid idea to come up with ghost stories when your friend is clearly scared." She gives me a stern look and I almost feel like a child scolded by a parent.
I turn my eyes to Wanda again, padding her hand.
"I'm sorry, Wands, I thought it would give you something else to focus on."
"A ghost isn't exactly something I want to focus on," she hisses, shoulders pulled up while the tip of her shoe taps the floor. I nod, respecting that and raking my brain for any other kind of distraction.
Back at our dorm, we could make snacks and watch a movie, or turn on music and have a dance party. None of which we can do here, and I doubt, Miss Keaton would like it very much, if we started talking about how shitty detention was today. Which is something, we'll very likely do, once we are back at the dorms.
"Hey Wands, what do you have to do when your Hawaiian Pizza is burned?"
Wanda blinks at me, confusion shining in her eyes.
"You have to cook it at aloha temperature." I snicker and wait until she joins in, snorting out a laugh.
"That's so stupid."
"What's yellow and can't swim?"
She shrugs.
"An excavator."
She snorts out another laugh.
"And why can't it swim? Because it only has one arm." I snicker, cracked up by my own stupid jokes.
Wanda shakes her head and her shoulders ease down slightly.
"Have you heard of the actress that has been killed? Reese...?"
"Witherspoon?" Wanda supplies, a frown on her face.
"No, with a knife."
Wanda laughs and swats at my arms, pressing her hand to her mouth to keep from being too loud. I giggle myself, glad my dad-jokes come in handy at some point.
Miss Keaton doesn't look amused at all, she looks ready to throw us out. She also looks so over it and quite exhausted.
"Can you stop with those jokes? They will end up reducing your brain cells." Her annoyed tone cuts Wanda's laugh and I swallow my own down, too.
"We have to entertain ourselves somehow, don't we?" I raise an eyebrow at her, challenging her to disagree. She meets my eyes and crosses her arms again, staring at me as if she wanted me to back down. I don't, but I do feel my skin heating up at the intensity of her stare.
"You could do something useful. Study or something," she eventually says, waving her hand at us before rolling up the sleeves of her blouse.
My eyes trail over her arms, getting stuck on a darker spot on her skin near her elbow. It's difficult to see properly with the shit lighting and from over here, but I'd say, she has a tattoo. Look at that, our stick-in-the-ass professor has a tattoo. That's the last thing I would have expected. Maybe there is a part of her that isn't like... this.
Wanda lowers her head a little, pursing her lips. She jumps at another thunder and I press my fingers to my lips, trying to think of something fun that doesn't involve ghost stories or jokes.
Miss Keaton gets up and goes to pluck out a book from her shelf. I recognize it as one of the books we were supposed to get for her class. She puts it down in front of us, flips open a page and taps the text block that starts there.
"Copy it."
I stare up at her. "Why?"
"My office, my rules," she simply states and returns to her desk chair. "Whoever finishes first get a reward."
I look at Wanda and raise my eyebrows. She shrugs, glancing at the book as well. I mean, we don't have anything else to do, we might as well do this boring task.
We get out our notepads and pens and start copying the text. It's mundane and already boring to read, even more boring to write down. Still, I am curious what Miss Keaton has to offer as a reward.
I don't know, how long we sit there, until Wand raises her hand, grinning.
"All done!"
I look over at her papers. It's scribbled down, looking messy and still better than my handwriting.
"Well done, Miss Maximoff," Keaton says and for a fraction of a second, I see pride swelling on Wanda's face. As if the praise of our professor means anything.
"What's her reward?" I ask, clicking my pen and leaning back. There's no need to copy the rest of the text now.
Miss Keaton doesn't look at me, instead, she keeps her eyes on Wanda.
"What do you want it to be?"
"Uhm," Wanda makes, ducking her head and blushing at being asked on the spot like that. Keaton nods and busies herself again with some papers on her desk. The whole reward thing was a ruse, she doesn't have anything to offer and knew, we didn't have an idea ourselves.
"Ask her to never give us detention again," I whisper to Wanda. She exhales an amused breath and shakes her head.
"I don't think that's something she'd do. No, I'll keep that reward for now, it might get me out of something later on." She shrugs. Smart.
I look up again and to the window, only now noticing that the storm has subsided to a light rain. It's still dark and the power is still out, but at least, the thunder and lighting have moved on.
For a fraction of a second, I meet Miss Keaton's eyes, somehow feeling, like she knows what I just realized.
"Why are you so keen to sticking to every little rule?" The question comes out before I can even think about it. Wanda's eyes snap to me and she rubs her hands with her face.
Miss Keaton raises an eyebrow.
"Why are you so bad at following rules, Miss Romanoff?"
I scoff and shake my head. "I'm not. You're just very weird about it." Blurting out inappropriate stuff has always been my strong suit, but I blame it on the stuffy air in the office. Without any open windows or the AC, it has warmed up quite a lot and my brain tends to shut off at a certain temperature. And at a certain time.
"I would advice you to stay in your lane," Miss Keaton says sharply, sitting up straighter in her chair. I tip my head to the side, watching her. Maybe my brain is just fried and I shouldn't listen to the dumb ideas it supplies.
But I am bored and kind of annoyed that I'm still stuck at uni at 9 pm, simply because our professor decided to give us detention.
"Or what?"
She gets up and walks over to our desk. I hear Wanda shifting beside me, staying calm myself.
"Don't push me, Miss Romanoff," Miss Keaton warns with a low voice that tickles my sense of challenge.
"I was late twice and you already lost it. Maybe you should consider letting loose for a moment," I reply back, crossing my arms. She leans onto the table, the thud with which her hands land on the surface is louder than expected.
"Maybe you should learn to follow the rules and be on time. Don't blame it on me if you have trouble with authority."
I almost laugh at that, but Wanda kicks me under the table and a glance towards her shows me, she feels uncomfortable. So, I just shrug, keeping my mouth shut, even if I want to see how far I could push her.
Surely, there is some part of her that would budge eventually. It would be quite glorious, if she ended up being intimidated by me.
Before either of us can say another word, the lights flicker on, startling Wanda again. The power is back.
Miss Keaton throws me another glare before heading back to her desk and slipping her heels back on. I grab my backpack and nod my head towards the door, waiting for Wanda.
************************************
It's dark in our room, save for the light coming from the laptop that's propped up on my knees. Wanda's deep asleep and I should be, too. It's a little past one at night, but I couldn't sleep. The thought of Miss Keaton kept me awake. I can't place what about her intrigues me, something simply does.
I type her name into the search bar. The first article I find is from the local newspaper, mentioning her as one of the new professors of this uni. Next up is her uni website. The website supplies me with a little more information about her persona.
Her first name is Y/n and she is 29 years old. She taught at a different university before moving here and has published a few papers in her field.
I click through a few more websites, they only list her as a former professor or T.A., or list her papers. There's no social media account, no other record of her, which strikes me as odd. She's the typical age of people who have social media. Maybe she has something to hide?
As always: if you haven't read the previous chapters, check them out before this. :D
Summary: Professor Keaton isn't amused about Natasha being late to class and afterwards, she orders Nat and Wanda to detention with her, during which she teaches them about the consequences of interrupting her classes. A storm brews outside as they finish up and the power cuts as they are about to head out, leaving them wondering if the automatic doors are therefore shut as well.
Pov Y/n
A second interruption. And I already have an idea who it could be. At least, from experience.
I am right. As the door opens, Miss Romanoff steps inside, red hair wildly falling around her face and a calm expression on her face, as if she didn't just interrupt my lesson.
What is it with these two and interrupting me? How did they make it this far through uni without any professor ever having told them to be in time? Did they never get in trouble for interrupting?
Maybe it's a pattern and they are always late. Which I won't tolerate at all. I don't care, what they do when they are with other professors. With me, they have to be in time and I will teach them myself, if I have to.
"Miss Romanoff," I greet the woman, crossing my arms over my chest and watching her close the door. She freezes slightly at my voice and cringes. This will be a fun school year.
"I'm sorry, Miss Keaton, I was-"
"It's Professor Keaton," I interrupt her sharply.
Her eyes flicker to mine and she nods. Then, she glances around the room, clearly looking for her friend. Or looking for an empty seat. Perhaps, it's a little mean to enjoy the fact that there isn't one. The room holds the limit to this class just about and I know, in a couple of weeks, it won't be an issue to find a chair again.
If she was on time, this wouldn't be an issue, she could just grab a chair from another room. Now, she would interrupt another class.
My fingertips tap against my forearm, watching her realize the same.
"Are you going to stand there all day?"
She looks up and for the first time, she doesn't have a reply on her tongue. It gives me a weird sense of satisfaction.
Maybe, I shouldn't keep the attention on her any longer than this, but then, she brought this upon herself and it might be a lesson to watch the clock next time.
Her green eyes trail to me again. I just raise an eyebrow.
With hunched shoulders, she hurries to the first row and to her friend. Without talking, Miss Maximoff scoots aside on the chair and they squeeze onto it together. It looks stupid and uncomfortable, but that isn't my problem.
"As I was saying, there are a few obligatory texts," I continue, facing the rest of the class as well now. It's quiet for the rest of the lesson. Everyone who has questions raises a hand and waits their turn. Looks like there are still students who know how to behave.
We move through the lesson without further issues and by the end of it, I dismiss them a few minutes earlier than I have to. The voices are kept down as everyone packs their stuff and only few of them dare to say goodbye.
I return the greeting and offer a small smile. Mutual respect.
A boy with blue dyed hair hovers near my desk, clutching his notebook. I acknowledge him with a nod and hold up a finger. He nods while I walk to the front row.
Miss Maximoff and Romanoff shut up as soon as I'm in earshot.
"Please stay a few minutes longer." They nod without complaint and I return to my desk.
"I'm so sorry to bother you, Professor Keaton," the boy says, shifting his weight. I lean my hip against the table and nod for him to continue.
"I didn't quite manage to note down all the voluntary books. Is it possible for you to upload the presentation to our online classroom?"
I study him for a moment. His choice of hair colour led me to believe he might not take this seriously, but it turns out, he is serious about this. Students who are eager are my favourite.
"Yes, I will upload the presentation this afternoon. I'll also upload a list of the books with according links," I tell him, offering him a softer tone that visibly causes him to relax.
"Thank you, so much, Professor."
I incline my head at him before he heads for the door and I return my attention to the two women left in the classroom. For them, I nod to step up to my desk, sorting my papers and notes.
"Are you two able to read the time?"
When they don't answer, I look up.
"Yes, Professor," Miss Maximoff quickly answers.
"So, it's not an ability issue to be on time."
She presses her lips together. Her friend folds her arms over her chest, an act of defiance that doesn't go unnoticed.
"I already told you, I don't appreciate you being late to my classes. Especially not, if you cause issues that could have been solved beforehand." I shoot Miss Romanoff a look that she replies to with a purse of her lips.
"In our defence," she starts, receiving an elbow from her friend, not letting it bother her. "We didn't know who would teach this class and other professors don't care." She mutters it like a sulking kid. I take a deep breath and count to four before exhaling again. Sometimes students truly act like little kids.
"I'm of the impression, you can read, Miss Romanoff? Then you should be able to see in your curriculum that I am teaching this class. Your argument isn't valid if you're simply too ignorant to acknowledge your own schedule!"
She scoffs and I clench my hand, exhaling sharply.
"We are really sorry, Professor Keaton, it won't happen again," Miss Maximoff assures me quickly, shooting a look at her friend.
"You promised me that the last time too and seeing that you were late again, I don't trust your word. I told you, there will be consequences, if you're late again." I look between the two of them. Miss Maximoff swallows and nods her head. Miss Romanoff simply moves her jaw, no backtalk this time.
"When does your last class end?"
They share a look and then the brunette pulls out her phone and types on it. I wait, drumming my fingers on the table.
"5:45 pm," she answers, glancing up at me again. "It's your lecture."
I nod, that works well for me.
"After the lecture we will return to this classroom for detention."
Miss Romanoff groans, which earns her another glare.
"You can't put us in detention, this isn't High School anymore!"
"Then stop acting like it!"
She pushes her chin forward, clearly not backing down.
"I'll expect you both in this classroom by 6 pm, or you will be expelled from this class. Do I make myself clear?"
Miss Maximoff is quick to nod, eyes wide with worry. Miss Romanoff's worry is buried deeper. Still, it's there, as she nods as well.
Detention is a punishment for me as well, as I was planning to head home after the lecture and get some more unpacking done. But it might be worth it, if these two finally learn not to play games with me and to show me the proper respect.
"You can leave now. And don't be late again."
*************************************************
At exactly 6 pm, I enter the classroom again, almost expecting it to be empty. It's not. Both girls sit in the first row, a notebook in front of them. Miss Romanoff's arms are crossed on the table, her attitude still not having changed. Miss Maximoff just looks tired and I get it. I am tired, too.
It's exhausting to be on top of everything all day and to keep everyone in line, especially when you've got two students like these two.
There are so many more fun things to do than chaperoning detention. Go home and rest on the couch, or go to the sauna or the pool. Anything that doesn't involve my students.
I place my bag on the front desk and lean against it, resting my hands on the surface on either side of me.
"I want you two to write down your curriculums, including the class, the classroom, teacher and the time it starts. Underline the time and the teacher."
"That's such a preschool thing to do," Miss Romanoff mutters.
"Would you like to repeat that, Miss Romanoff?" Her eyes snap to me in surprise and then a hint of embarrassment shows on her face.
"If you don't want people to hear you, you should keep your comments to yourself. Now, start writing and stop pouting!"
I sit behind the desk, pulling out my laptop. As long as I'm here, I might as well get some work done. Everything that's done now doesn't have to be done another time.
The two of them stay quiet, writing and underlining like I told them to. Yes, it's a silly way to punish them, but I am not in the mood to just let them sit there and talk quietly between themselves.
"Professor?"
I look up to Miss Maximoff and nod for her to speak.
"I've finished."
I push my chair back, biting back a small huff of exhaustion, and round the tables to stand beside her, looking over what she wrote. She followed my instructions and did it neatly, too. A glance to Miss Romanoff shows me, she doesn't want to or can't write as neatly.
"Good. Let it be a reminder of the time. Now, since you missed out on the beginning of two classes, I want you to write a four-page essay about being late. Including the effects it can have on the lecture, the professor and the students."
Miss Maximoff whines quietly, but nods. Miss Romanoff just presses her lips together and rips one page off her notebook and scrabbles the title for the essay onto the page.
I return to my desk and for almost an hour, it's quiet, except for the sound of pens on paper and the typing on my laptop.
Slowly and surely, I start regretting putting on heels today. They're getting really uncomfortable. I'm used to wearing them for full workdays. Apparently, the extra hour is the limit of how long I can wear them. Nothing I can do about it now.
The soft thudding of raindrops against the window draws my attention away from my laptop screen and I look outside. It's gotten darker. Partly because of the time and partly because of the rain.
Luckily, the teacher's parking lot is right behind the building, so I don't have to run through the rain.
It's quiet enough for us to hear the wind whipping around the building, announcing a proper storm. The forecast said something like this might occur. Once again, not an issue.
A bright bolt of lightning splits the sky and thunder cracks loudly above. Miss Maximoff jumps.
"Fucking hell!"
"Language!"
Miss Romanoff glances at her friend and a quiet conversation passes between them before they return to their work.
With each passing minute, the storm seems to grow wilder, the lighting striking in shorter patterns and the thunder grumbling and cracking louder each time.
"Miss Keaton?"
I look up, sending a glare towards Miss Romanoff.
"It's Professor."
She merely rolls her eyes and if I wasn't so exhausted myself, I'd scold her anew for that show of disrespect.
"I'm done." She presents four hand-written pages. Seconds later, her friend shows me her four pages too, shaking her hand. Few students write by hand this time. Which is unfortunate, as you'll remember everything longer that you've written by hand.
"Very well. I hope, you have learned your lesson about being late. If it happens again without valid reason, we will repeat this session." I meet both their eyes with a pointed look and close my laptop.
Then, I collect their essays and slide them into my bag. There's no need for further pleasantries and I'm honestly too tired to care about them now. I just wait until they've left the room, so I can lock it up.
"I hate this storm," Miss Maximoff grumbles, standing close to her friend, who puts an arm around her.
"I know, it's kinda creepy."
A loud thunder rolls over us and from one second to the other, the lights turn off. All, safe for the emergency signs. Miss Maximoff yelps.
"Now it's definitely creepier. Like a horror movie, in which we are the first ones to fall victim to the-"
"Natasha!" Miss Maximoff hisses, slapping her friend's arm, a whine to her voice that suggests more than her words.
"It's just a black out because of the storm. The front doors should still open, as we've got emergency power," I state plainly.
At least, I hope so. I don't actually know, if the doors are prepared for a blackout. Nor do I know, if I can open them with my chip card if there's no power.
This is chapter 2 of a series. If you haven't read the first chapter yet, you should do that, to know what's going on.
Summary: Wanda and Natasha talk about their new professor and it's obvious that they're both not unaffected by her.
The next day, they end up being late again....
Pov Wanda
As soon as we step out of the lecture hall, I send Natasha a glare.
"Was it really necessary to tell our new Prof that it's my fault we were late?" It was totally unnecessary, if you ask me and I do not want to know what she thinks of me now.
"Well, it wasn't my fault, I felt like she should know," Nat defends herself, raising her hands and starting to walk down the hallway. I follow her, rolling my eyes.
"You could have just apologized. She doesn't need to know any more than our names," I almost whine.
Professor Keaton is intimidating in every possible way. Standing tall and confident with dark, cold eyes that pierce through you when she looks at you. She screams authority and for a hot minute, I thought she'd throw us out of her lecture for being late. Nothing about her gives me the vibe that she lets mistakes like unpunctuality slide and I will certainly make sure, I'm in time next week. It's bad enough she got this first impression of us and knows our names now.
"Don't be like that, she'll have forgotten about it by lunch," Nat assures me, looping her arm around my shoulders.
I grumble, but don't disagree. Maybe, I am overthinking this a little.
"We'll just make sure to be in time next week and we're good. The other Profs don't care about it as much. Let her be a little stuck up if she wants to."
I hum, sliding the strap of my backpack up from where it dropped off my shoulder. Professor Keaton didn't exactly give me the vibe of being stuck-up.
Sure, she's stern, has an attendance list and makes a big deal about being late, but something about that makes me think there's a system behind it. I can't tell which, nor why she chooses to go with it.
Most of our professors happily tell us how much easier it is to work at a college than a school, because they aren't responsible for us anymore. If we want to learn, we have to put the effort in, they're not chasing us anymore.
They also care less about a single student. As long as the majority of the students pass, they don't have to change anything or explain to the Dean why so many people failed their class.
With Keaton, it feels different. I can't quite put my finger on it, I just feel like she gives more than a shit about us. Which is technically a good thing. Practically, it leads to attendance lists and icy glares.
"But," Natasha says, raising a finger while entering the cafeteria and getting into line, "she's hot."
I elbow her for that and glance around. No one cares about our conversation.
"You can't just blurt it out like that. Even less so, because she's our teacher," I whisper, elbowing her a second time for good measure.
Nat giggles and pushes my arm away.
"Even a teacher can be hot. Her personality might suck, but her appearance," she makes a chef's kiss that makes me cringe.
While she grabs a cappuccino, I go for a herbal tea and find us a free table.
"Don't pretend like you didn't notice it too." Nat points her finger at me, swirling her coffee in her cup.
I blow onto my tea and glance around again. Talking about how good-looking your professor is, shouldn't happen in public. People could and probably will judge us for that.
"She did look good," I finally admit in whisper that lights up Nat's face with an expression that has me rolling my eyes. Still, I keep my arms on the table, leaning onto them, so we don't have to talk louder than necessary.
"That woman knows how to rock a pantsuit and heels." Nat grins and takes a celebratory sip of her coffee, as if she won something and didn't just comment on our new professor.
Though, I can't deny that. Professor Keaton did look good in that pantsuit and the heels only added to it, making her look even taller than she is and adding a certain professionalism to her appearance. Not that she'd need that, it's obvious she's a teacher and knows how to do her job.
Usually, there are quiet whispers throughout lectures and classes. During her lecture, it was totally quiet except for permitted questions and the scratching of pen against paper and the typing on laptops or tablets.
"I think her course will be hard though. What if we fail the first test already?"
Nat accepts my slight change in topic and I am thankful about it. We don't need to talk about who we find attractive if there's the chance of them popping up behind us at any minute.
It happened to us once in our first year. Natasha was so embarrassed, she swore, she won't leave our dorm room for the rest of the week. Spoiler alert: she did, because we had a field trip and a test.
"We won't fail. Besides, what good would it be, if she removed everyone who failed the first test? All those first years will be stuck in her lectures forever that way."
I look down into my steaming tea, the smell of mint easing my worries a bit. That's true, Keaton wouldn't remove everyone who failed the first test. Besides, I plan on passing that test and the whole lecture.
When I wanted to take it during the first year, Nat talked me out of it because there was a robotics club meeting at the same time and she was keen to join.
Turned out, it wasn't her thing at all and we didn't attend after three weeks. By then, we couldn't sign into the lecture anymore.
Last year, the lecture was at the same time as one we had to take, so it fell short again. Now, we have to take it and have to pass it.
The only difference is, the years before this one, the professor was someone else. I never learned his name, I just heard from others that he was old and funny, making the topics interesting and to fail his lecture, you'd have to be truly dumb and know nothing of our major. He was generous with grading and in the last five years, no one failed.
Now, I feel like that rate is going to change. Of course, we had to pick this year, after the old teacher retired. It won't be as easy anymore, I'm sure of that.
It will still be interesting though, because Natasha is right, Keaton is attractive and definitely something my eyes got stuck on. Which isn't helpful when you're supposed to listen to the lecture, but what are you gonna do, am I right?
"Yeah, you are right, we won't fail, but we also don't need to make her any more aware of us than she already is," I point out. Natasha chuckles, leaning back in her chair with an expression that promises mischief.
"No," I say and point my cup at her. It's dangerous when Nat has this look in her eyes. She tends to play with fire and I am the one pulling her away, knowing she will get burned eventually.
"This year, we will focus on studying and not on whatever goes on in your head." I wave a hand at her, glaring at her.
Our grades are fine, presentable. They could be better and for once, I want to have a calm year. The last two years were always filled with excitement, a little too much excitement perhaps. It ended in us struggling to keep on track with all our tasks and having to stay up the nights before exams to prepare properly.
This year, it will be different. We'll stay on top of everything from the beginning and sail smoothly through the year.
"I didn't say anything," Natasha defends herself, hiding a smirk behind her cup. I grunt and shake my head.
"You didn't have to, I know how stupid your brain can be."
She pouts at me before breaking into a laugh that pulls me to laugh as well. It's hard to stay serious when she laughs. It's so earnest and infectious, I can't help it.
"I saw a few flyer around the building, asking for people to join study groups." Natasha groans, which I ignore. "There are different ones for different years and I'm pretty sure, there will be some for certain classes as well. I think we'd be best off with the one for our year. We're surely not the only ones taking this lecture and even if we are, the others can help us go through our notes."
Nat drops her forehead onto her arm. I just chuckle at her antics and sip my tea. When I first suggested study groups, she was totally against it. Granted, it was in our first year and we had so many other things we wanted to try out. Studying didn't feel as important.
I scoot closer to the table as two people pass by our table behind me and return my attention back to Natasha afterwards.
"Why can't we just study between the two of us?" She lifts her head, looking at me through her lashes.
"Because that never works. We tried that multiple times and only 5% of the time did we end up actually studying. Maybe we can get shit done when there are other people around us who work too." Kind of like peer pressure, but the good kind.
Studying with Natasha is kind of impossible, at least for me. We always end up chatting and telling ourselves we already did enough when we clearly haven't.
The very first time we studied for a test, it was in our first year, we started by talking about the materials we were working with. Then, we drifted off to other topics and five hours and two bags of chips later, we were sitting on my bed and watching Reality TV.
It was the night we truly bonded and became friends.
Before that, we were only roommates, who happened to have gone to the same High School. Not that we ever hung out back then. We had different friend groups.
All I knew was that she took some classes with me and liked to talk back to the teacher, and that she was part of the Rugby team.
Which she tried to convince me to join in college as well. I denied. I don't need anyone to slam me onto the ground just because I'm carrying an egg-shaped ball.
"Or we end up annoying those people too," she grumbles. I simply shrug and take another sip of my tea. "There's nothing wrong with trying it. Besides, just because the lecture is about basics, doesn't mean our other courses will be easy too. I've heard plenty of rumours about the third-year classes. Apparently, they are to filter out the ones who won't pass the final year anyway. So, we need to put a lot of work into those."
Natasha stops her sulking and sits up, wrapping her hands around her cup. While she isn't as motivated to study as I am, she does take it seriously. This is important after all and would be a waste of tuition money if we didn't at least try.
"Fine. We can try it out, but if they are all stuck up with a stick up their asses, I will leave again."
"You could at least try to keep your voice down when insulting potential new friends," I sigh.
Nat has a tendency to use vulgar vocabulary freely and in almost every situation. Not few of them with teachers back in school, which bought her plenty of detention.
"New friends or new friends?" She wiggles her eyebrows suggestively. In answer, I just kick her shin under the table.
"Oww." She rubs it while glaring at me. "All I'm saying is," she lowers her voice, "it wouldn't hurt either of us to get laid."
"We share a room, I'd prefer it if I wasn't a witness to you getting laid," I tell her with a fake sweet smile.
There are boundaries and one of them is the need for half-way proper sleep and not hearing my roommate and best friend being shagged by a stranger.
"You know, who I wouldn't mind-"
I swat at her arm. "Natasha, eww. You can't thirst like that over our professor. That's disrespectful and people could hear you."
She laughs and drops it, commenting instead on her coffee and listing off the best places to go to when she wants a decent coffee.
Eventually, we finish our drinks, grab our bags and head for the next room.
●●●●●
The next day, we are still struggling to get back into school-schedule. We make it to the first lecture on time, which I almost regret because it's boring enough to put me back to sleep.
After the lecture, we both grab a coffee and sit in the sun for a while, simply enjoying the warm weather. I decided on a dress today, which feels like a waste if I sit around inside rooms and lecture halls all day.
Nat's head is leaned back against the tree in our back and I even hear little snores, making me chuckle. Maybe, we shouldn't have stayed up past midnight.
While taking our cups to the bin, I glance up at the clock high on the building and shriek. Fuck!
"Natasha!" I run back, nearly stumbling into her, effectively startling her awake.
"Hm? What?" She asks, blinking herself back to reality while I push her bag into her hands and pull her up.
"We lost track of time. Again. Our class started ten minutes ago."
Nat yawns and waves it off, not following my steps as quickly as I want her to.
"Relax, no professor truly cares about that."
I bounce on the heels of my feet.
"That's not true, we know one professor who cares." Brown eyes boring into my head flash in my mind and I shiver despite the warmth of the sun.
"We don't have her in more than one lecture. She's new, those professors rarely have many classes."
Natasha's calm agitates me slightly and I decide to ignore her slow pace, heading towards the building and nearly running through the empty hallways.
My steps sound way too loudly and my heart hammers in my chest. In front of the door, I come to a stop and force myself to regulate my breathing.
With a timid knock, I open the door, praying, I can just slip in unnoticed.
As soon as I step into the room, all eyes land on me and I freeze. All eyes, including piercing brown ones, accompanied by a sharply raised eyebrow and sour mouth.
"Miss Maximoff. You are late." Professor Keaton notices cooly, folding her arms over her chest. The 'again' swings between us and I feel my entire face heating up. Maybe it would be better if I hadn't come at all?
"I apologize," I mumble, quickly rushing to the first free seat. Of course, it's in the front row. There's no other seat left, the classroom surprisingly full and my stomach drops for Natasha.
Professor Keaton looks at me as if she wanted to scold me in front of everyone like a naughty child. Instead, she just squares her jaw and links her hands behind her back, returning to whatever she was saying before.
My heart pounds loudly in my ears, making listening nearly impossible. Returning my breathing to normal is a challenge as well and I really hope, no one hears me breathing too fast.
A couple minutes later, Professor Keaton is in the middle of going over the books we'll need for this class, when another knock sounds loudly through the room.
I cringe and drop my head into my hands, knowing that knock.
By the look on the professor's face, she is more than annoyed by the second interruption and ready to spit fire. If only Natasha didn't have this habit of knocking obnoxiously loud. It was a joke between us that turned into a habit.
Now, I hope she won't get burned by the fire in Professor Keaton's eyes.
A/n: This is a new project of mine, that I am starting over on my Wattpad account. Essentially, I post a chapter and the readers get to decide what happens next via comments. I'll take their ideas and work with them for the next chapter.
If you want to participate, you can head over to my Wattpad account or send me a DM on Instagram @just_writing_a_bit.
Enjoy!
Summary: Professor Y/n Keaton starts at a new college and is giving her first lecture, when two students come in late, Miss Maximoff and Miss Romanoff. At the end of the lecture, Professor Keaton makes it very clear that she won't allow them to come late on the regular.
College AU
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Pov Y/n
Starting at a new college is never easy. It doesn’t matter whether you’re a student or a professor, it’s nerve-wracking either way.
This isn’t my first college and it might not be my last and still, I feel my heart pounding in my chest as I stare at my new schedule on the screen of my laptop.
I wanted this. I wanted to teach classes and take full responsibility. Doesn’t make it less scary though.
But, everything that’s scary is just an opportunity to grow. I’ve got my schedules and materials and know what I’m doing. After all, I didn’t win my degree in a lottery.
Fifteen minutes before the lecture, I leave my office. I already know, which way to go as I came here yesterday to make sure, I know my way around. It proves useful to be prepared. Especially, on the first day. If students get the impression, they can play with you, then they will. Presenting a collected and authoritarian front is important.
I roll my shoulders back and lift my chin, striding through the hallways and straight to my lecture hall. Today, I only have lectures. Tomorrow I’ll have some classes, too. Both have their pros and cons.
As I enter, there are already a few students sat in the rows. Most of them in the first three, clearly the ones who are excited for the lecture and don’t want to miss anything. I offer them a curt nod as I place my bag down and shuffle through it to pull out the USB-stick with the presentation and my laptop with my notes.
While I set up, more students filter in, quietly talking to one another and searching for the right spot. I remember being on the other side and looking for the perfect row. Not too far ahead and not too far away either, and you don’t want to be stuck in the middle of a row, as everyone is so darn slow in packing their stuff at the end of the lecture. It can be tricky.
Some students look nervous and clutch their bags to their chests. First years.
This lecture sets the base for other topics to build on. It’s not mandatory in the first year and many students pick it in their second or even third. Some might be taking it again, because they failed the exam in the last semester. Whatever year they are in, I hope they are here for serious reasons, because I will not have a row of people chatting away, because they don’t care.
That happened to me in my first year of college. Well, not to me personally, just to people who visited the same lecture as I did.
They were whispering and giggling the whole time, making it difficult to concentrate and after the second warning, the professor was fed up and made it very clear (and very loud) that they either be quiet and focus, or leave and don’t come back. He was an older man, grey hair and beard and gestured so agitatedly with his pointing stick, I was worried he might throw it at them.
He didn’t, he just scared the rest of the people into silence for most of the semester.
While that is very drastic and I don’t need to be the professor who’s sent to anger management classes, I plan on handling it similar. Make the rules clear and whoever doesn’t want to follow them is asked to leave.
Some of these students are more mature than others and the ones that aren’t need to know where they are standing. Not underneath me, at least not fully, I do plan on the respect being mutual. But they aren’t above me either and I will remind them of that, if needed.
I hook the USB-stick up to the projector and pull up the presentation. First lectures are always chill. Just an introduction of myself and the topic and then some basic information.
My notes are all in order, in case I need them, which I likely won’t. Last night, I spent an hour preparing for just this one lecture. Funny, because my lecture is much better prepared than my apartment is unpacked. I got caught up in planning and scheduling over this past weekend that I barely had time to unpack whatever I didn’t need immediately.
Someone has to have their priorities straight.
A glance to my watch tells me it’s a few seconds before the lecture starts, so I plant both feet on the ground and place my hands on the table before me, left and right of my laptop.
Silence spreads within seconds and I nearly smirk. Having an effect on people never hurts.
“Welcome to Basic Economics. I’m Professor Keaton.” I flip through the next few slides, going over the topics for the next few weeks, watching my new students. Some look bored, others write down what I’m saying. I like those, you can hardly ever be too eager.
While lingering on the itinerary, I count how many students are currently attending. About 90 students. That’s not too bad. Signed in are about 110. There are always a few that never show up, so this isn’t a surprise.
“I have a list that will go around each week. Please sign next to your name, so I know who has been attending.” A soft groan goes through the rows. I am well aware of how much attendance sucks, but it will keep them coming back, or giving up. In both cases, I’ll have the ones who are willing to put the work in here.
Besides, I’m not throwing anyone out, who hasn’t attended every lecture. Partly, it’s for me to see, if there’ll be a pattern. In a few years, I might be able to tell which topics I have to re-work to make them more interesting.
I hand the sheet of paper to a student in the first row and continue with my introduction. From the corner of my eye, I see movement and watch two students quietly enter the hall, slipping into the first free seats. They don’t talk and just get their supplies out quickly. The brunette sits up straighter when she notices my look, elbowing her redheaded friend.
A look to the clock tells me they are over 30 minutes late.
“There will be no final exam for this lecture,” I explain and hold up a hand before the cheering can start. “Instead, there will be two tests throughout the semester. Just to see how much you’ve understood and what might have to be repeated again,” I continue, slowly walking up and down at the front, hands linked behind my back, the clicker for my presentation in the palm of my hand. My heels click against the floor and for a moment, I just enjoy the full attention on me, appreciating the respect I am met with.
“At the end of the term, you will hand in a short essay, topics will be announced beforehand. I’ll grade the essays and then determine whether or not you have passed.”
This lecture isn’t about any grades, it’s just about passing. Still, I take it seriously, as this lecture is supposed to be the groundwork for the next years.
Besides, I already have other classes where I’ll need to grade students, I can’t do that for all my courses.
With all the organizational stuff done, I switch to the next slide and dive into the first few terms and explanations. It’s crazy to think that I used to write all this down in lectures I attended and now I can list them off without even looking at the slides. The power of knowledge, I suppose.
Ten minutes before the lecture actually ends, I am done with my slides.
“That’s it for today. I’ll see you again next week. Where is the attendance list?”
Someone sticks their hand up and while everyone packs their bags, I get the list and return to my desk, switching the projector off.
It was a good first lecture and I saw a few excited faces. I’m happy when I can share my interest of the field, even if lectures aren’t my favourite. I prefer talking to the students and hearing their questions. Those classes are rare in this major and therefore even more special.
“Excuse me, Miss…” The rest of the sentence hovers in the air, a silent question. Without looking up, I know who is talking to me.
Still, I meet their gaze, putting my hands onto my hips.
“Yes?”
The redhead shifts her weight, fingers tapping against her thighs. The brunette stands next to her, hands in her pockets and a slightly embarrassed expression on her face.
“We need to sign the attendance list.” The redhead nods at the list on my desk. I raise an eyebrow, watching the last few students leave. Embarrassing these two in front of the whole class felt cruel, so I kept to myself. Also, because I know they’d have to come to me for the list.
“Right. You missed the first half hour of the lecture.”
The redhead nods and the brunette presses her lips together.
“We are so sorry. Wanda miscalculated how long it would take her to get ready beforehand and then we were-“
I put my hand up, stopping the redhead in her explanation and levelling her with a glare.
“I don’t care about that. If it wasn’t an accident or any other valid reason, then it’s an excuse. I do not tolerate anyone being late and interrupting my lectures. There’s a time stamp for a reason.”
The brunette, Wanda?, nods.
“We are aware and we are truly sorry, Miss…” Again, she trails off. I stay quiet, watching her shift and search for any indication of my last name.
“First of all, it’s Professor to you two. Professor Keaton.”
Wanda is quick to nod. “Of course. I truly am sorry for having interrupted the lecture.” She shuffles on her feet, meeting my eyes for only a few seconds before looking away again. Her hair falls into her face as she does so and she brushes it behind her ear again where it sticks for about three seconds.
“I am sorry, too,” the redhead pipes in. Her hair is shorter, only reaching her chin and is neatly held back by bobby pins.
“I know, we are at college and not at school anymore, but I don’t appreciate interruptions and if it happens frequently, you can expect repercussions.” I slide the list of names across the desk.
A lot of professors don’t care whether or not their students are late. Neither do I, if they send me an e-mail beforehand. It’s basic show of respect and I won’t let them undermine that.
My eyes follow to where they sign their names. Maximoff and Romanoff.
“Thank you, Professor, we won’t be late again,” Miss Maximoff assures me, lips quirking up into an attempt of a smile. I merely incline my head. For their sake, I hope it won’t happen again. Now, I know their faces and their names and keep track of it.
Most faces, I forget again, at least the ones in lectures. It’s different with classes. Once I’ve spoken to a person and read their name, it’s lodged into my brain and sticks there for a while. Which is helpful when it comes to learning my student’s names in classes.
Miss Maximoff and Romanoff grab their bags and leave the lecture room. I sweep my brown hair behind my shoulder and button my blazer closed. First lecture of the day done. Until the next one, I will enter the attendance list into my system and tick off the students that were here today. Maybe I’ll put a small thought-task online, so they can prepare for the next lecture.
With my bag packed, I step out into the hallway and walk the way back to my office. Halfway, I pass by a small cafeteria and spot the two latecomers. They are huddled together at a table over a cup of a hot beverage each.
My eyes linger for a second before moving on. Hopefully, they will be on time next week, and to any other class they might have until then, because discipline and respect should be the foundation of a proper student. It was for me and I believe it can lead to success for others too.
Summary: Y/n decides to prank Wanda with a fake tattoo of her name. Wanda takes the initiative and takes Y/n to bed, marking her in a different kind of way.
Contains: smut, marking (biting, hickeys, scratches), fingering, orgasm denial/edging, lots of teasing, eating out, multiple orgasms, top Wanda, hints of restraining (holding down) 18+!!!
Pov y/n
It's hard to contain myself when I hear Wanda's key jiggling outside of our door. I try to look nonchalant as I sit on our couch in the living room.
I'm always excited to see Wanda after a day of work, even more so when we didn't have lunch together. Today, she was out with a colleague to have lunch, which was totally okay with me as it gave me plenty of time to plan my prank on her.
When it comes to pranks, I am always careful as I know there are some pranks that go too far and I would never want to cross any boundaries Wanda has. Most of them I know, some I don't, so I make sure the pranks I pull, which are very, very few, are never too bad.
The front door opens and Wanda walks into the hallway, closing the door and locking it behind her. None of us has any plans this evening, so we might as well lock the door right away.
I grab my phone from where I threw it onto the couch and pretend to be scrolling, just a normal evening.
"Honey, I'm home," Wanda calls, her soft voice almost instantly making me smile. While I'm used to being alone in our apartment, most of the time I'm in home office, it feels different once I am done with work and waiting for her return.
"I'm in the living room," I call back and turn my head when Wanda enters. Her red hair falls softly around her face, her eyes bright and lips pulled into a radiant smile when our eyes meet.
"I missed you today," she tells me and tilts her head down to give me a kiss in greeting. I kiss her back and hum, pulling my legs up so she can settle on the couch as well.
"I missed you too. How was lunch?" I drape my legs back over hers, relaxing into the cushions. Wanda's hand mindlessly traces up and down my shin, her touch soft.
She's still wearing her rings, so she came in here without a short stop in our bedroom. I've always admired her rings as they look crazy sexy on her fingers and I've never been able to wear more than one. Otherwise, it feels like there is too much going on between my fingers and I feel like I'm not appreciating the single ring properly.
Wanda tells me about lunch, going into details while I nod and hum along, offering little questions in between. All the while, her hands continue to trace lines and shapes on my legs and I relax even further. Apart from all the other things I love about her, I love her subconscious little actions so much.
Could be the twisting of one of her rings around her finger, or a soft humming while cooking, the pursing of her lips when she concentrates, the way she twirls a strand of my hair around her finger when we watch a movie and she plays with my hair, or her soft touches whenever I'm close.
She says so much with so little actions and I love it.
"How was your day?" She asks in return, her green eyes meeting mine with softness that always makes my heart melt. I always thought I was tough and wouldn't budge for anyone, but Wanda has me wrapped around her finger as if it was the easiest thing in the world. Whatever she wants, she gets and I will move mountains if I have to. Making my girl happy is one of my favorite things to do.
Not that we never fight, we do sometimes, but that's normal in relationships and we always work it out.
"Pretty calm. Had a few meetings in the morning, which were rather boring. I'm telling you, online meetings are not it," I sigh and shake my head. While I like working from home, it does come with a few disadvantages. "My concentration just doesn't last as long and I feel like I am speaking to nobody in particular and just to an audience of people who don't like it either."
Wanda nods, gently squeezing my leg. It's not the first time I told her about this, however, she always stays patient and allows me to talk about it as much as I need or want to.
"The afternoon was calmer though and I got everything done. I did some chores around the house and finally cleaned our windows." At that, Wanda chuckles.
I've been putting that off forever as I hate the extra work of clearing the windowsill and having to climb onto a step ladder to reach the top of the windows. Wanda is taller than me, so she reaches them easier, but hates the way her hands smell afterwards, even through gloves. So, it's my responsibility to clean the windows while hers lay elsewhere.
"I did feel like there was more light coming into the room," she teases and stretches her face towards the window, as if there was any light coming in now. It's dark outside as she had a later day at work and got caught up talking to a co-worker of hers. I received a short message about is, so I wouldn't worry about her whereabouts.
I poke her thigh with my toe and hold back a smile.
"I also added a few things to our grocery list. We definitely need to go tomorrow."
Wanda nods, hands trailing over my legs again. It might sound stupid, but I love doing chores with her. It makes them so much better because nothing with her is ever boring or dull.
"What did you have for lunch?"
I bite back another grin, knowing we're getting to the point I was hoping for.
"I bought something while I was out."
Wanda hums, if a little surprised. "You were out for lunch?"
I shake my head, linking my hands together to prevent them from fidgeting and giving me away.
"No, I went out for something else and grabbed a bite to eat on my way back home." Wanda just nods, waiting for me to continue. Keep it cool, pretend like this is actually true.
"I went to a tattoo parlor." Wanda's eyes widen, lips parting.
"To accompany a friend, I hope?"
I shake my head and her hands stop on my legs, gripping them. I know how she views tattoos. She doesn't like them, which never bothered me as I was never planning on getting a tattoo anyway and if I was, I would talk to her about it beforehand.
She doesn't like the thought of pain being caused to have something inked on your body forever. Something, you can't just remove if you dislike it. Piercings are okay, as you can remove those and carry on, but tattoos will stay forever.
While I don't share that dislike, I also don't mind it. Today, I am playing with it though.
"Y/n," she says, voice carrying an edge. She has a friend who got a tattoo as a teenager and since she couldn't go to an official place without a parent's slip, she did it somewhere else and it got badly infected.
Apparently, she had her boyfriends handprint tattooed to her hip. Wanda never told me the reason and I think she doesn't really know it either. Anyway, they broke up and her friend ended up hating the tattoo as her boyfriend had cheated on her.
Ever since, Wanda dislikes tattoos, even more so tattoos that are connected to people in your life.
Maybe this prank is a little mean, but I'm sure she can laugh about it once she knows the truth.
"I got a tattoo. Do you want to see it?" I try my best innocent voice, as if I wasn't aware of whatever is going on inside her. Even if I wasn't, it wouldn't be difficult to figure out as it mirrors very clearly on her face.
After a long breath, she rolls her shoulders back and nods. "Sure."
I pull my legs off her lap and stand up, loosening my pants to push them down, exposing my hip right above where it meets my thigh. A risky place, I am well aware.
Wanda's eyes grow even bigger and I can see the shock on her face. In curved letters, her name is staring back at her from my hip. To set this up, I asked a friend of mine who works at a tattoo parlor, if she could help me with it. They do a drawing of the tattoo first, to make sure it's in the right place and she assured me, it can look like a real tattoo and doesn't rub off easily either.
"Do you like it?" I put on a smile and look at Wanda. She clearly doesn't and is struggling for words.
If this was a real tattoo, there wasn't anything she could do about it and talking badly about it would only make the whole situation more difficult.
"Why did you get my name?"
Solid question. One I expected. I know her very well after being her girlfriend for two years and went through all possible questions or comments she could make to be prepared.
"Because I'm yours," I beam, tracing the outside of the 'tattoo' with my finger. "I figured, I'd carry it on my hip. It's like when you make a hickey, just permanently."
Wanda's eyes flicker from the tattoo to my face.
"That is not the same, y/n. I make hickeys because I like the way they look on you and because I like marking you in that sense." She gestures almost helplessly at the tattoo. "That's totally different. It's permanent and it will always link you to me. I can't imagine a life without you and still, it feels too..." She flings her hand around, voice now almost desperate as she searches for words. I almost feel bad about my prank. Almost.
"I know, but I thought this would be like one of your markings too. It will just not vanish after a few days. Don't you like it?"
She rubs her hand over her face and meets my eyes again. Then she reaches out and gently touches the skin on my hip that isn't carrying her name.
"I wish, you would have told me beforehand," she stirs away from my question before leaning forward and placing a delicate kiss above the tattoo. I shiver slightly at the touch, it's in one of my most sensitive areas. Perhaps, that plays into Wanda's assessing too.
"Do you hate it?"
She glances up at me. "I don't hate anything about your body, baby."
She's too sweet about this, I can't fool her any longer. I cup her cheek with one hand.
"It's okay if you hated it, it's not real."
"What?"
"It's not real, it's drawn on. After a shower or two it'll be gone again."
Wanda sits back, staring at me as if she was trying to comprehend my words.
"It's a fake tattoo. April fools!" I grin, rubbing over the writing of her name. "It'll be gone soon, nothing that'll stay forever."
Wanda still stares at me, though the confusion makes room for another emotion. She shakes her head before locking eyes with me, raising an eyebrow.
"You really had me thinking you got a tattoo of my name."
Now I grin for real. "Yeah, duh. That was the whole point."
Her eyes flash with something and her hands grab my hips, pulling me onto her lap in a quick motion. I almost stumble into her but catch myself with my hands on her shoulders.
"You like the thought of being marked as mine that much, my darling?" Her voice is lower now, almost raspy and sends a shiver down my spine.
"Well, you are the one marking me, so I figured you are the one enjoying it," I say with a cocky grin. Wanda tilts her head ever so slightly to the side, hands holding on to me tighter.
"Didn't answer my question." My teeth sink into my lip and I have to contain a noise at the tone in her voice. Am I puddy in her hands? Totally. Will I still try to stand my ground? ... maybe?
"I thought you-" I cut myself off at the look in her eyes. They are darker now, but not a dangerous kind of dark. Well not really anyway. "Yes," I whisper, caving in the end.
Wanda smirks and captures my lips in a deep kiss. I kiss her right back, slightly surprised by the fever of this kiss. Her tongue sweeps over my lips and I happily grant her entrance, which she takes advantage of instantly, swirling her tongue around my mouth and taking my breath away with the way she kisses me.
I gasp into her mouth when her hands squeeze my hips and she pulls me into her, pressing her hands into my back and me against her, leaving close to no room between us.
"So, you like the thought of me marking you, huh?" Wanda murmurs against my lips, trailing kisses from my lips up my jaw and to my ear. My breath catches in my throat when she kisses the sensitive spot right beneath my ear.
I close my eyes and tilt my head to the side, allowing her better access. My hands aimlessly grab her shoulders and twirl her hair. My body feels hot, her breath even hotter against my skin.
"You like being mine?"
I whimper ever so softly when her teeth graze over my sensitive spot, my heartrate picking up and I have trouble thinking about anything but her lips on my neck and her hands on my back.
"Yes, Wanda," I whine and gasp when her teeth dig into my skin.
"And you thought it would be a good idea to prank me in getting that fake tattoo?" Her hand moves to my hip, pushes into my pants to trace the writing of her name. I'm ready to scream, the heat pooling between my legs. I want her so badly. It's almost embarrassing how quickly she can turn me on and how little it takes to get me to want her more than anything else.
"I thought it would be fun," I admit with ragged breaths. She traces her tongue over where she just bit my skin and places a kiss there, which feels way too intense, making me want to melt.
"Oh, we can do something fun," she husks into my ear and I almost moan.
"Yeah?" I whisper back in a hoarse voice.
"Mh-hm," she hums and nibbles at my earlobe, sending little electric bolts through me.
"Go to the bedroom and strip. Wait for me." I meet her eyes, the green in them overtaken by her blown pupils, and squirm. Someone is aroused.
"Okay," I agree and lean forward to steal another kiss before scooting off her lap and standing up. Wanda watches me, raising an eyebrow when I continue to stand. I playfully roll my eyes and make my way to the bedroom. It takes less than a minute until I'm undressed and ready for her to return.
I can hear her walk around the apartment and to the bathroom. Listening very closely, I hear water running and nod to myself. Then I turn to our bed and roll the duvet to the side, making room for whatever Wanda has planned. Whatever it is, I highly doubt it's the kind of love-making we will do under the sheets. Those times are always very soft and filled with gentle touches. Yearning and pressing to reach each other, grinding to get that perfect friction. Fingers dancing over skin, lips ghosting over my body.
This doesn't feel like it will be that kind of night and I am totally on board. While I love the soft sex we have, I love it just as much when she takes charge and gives me that almost stern look that has me melting. I also like it, when it's the other way around. When she winds underneath me, whining to be touched while I pin her wrists above her head. She trusts me fully in those moments and I love watching her falls apart when I fuck her like that.
So yeah, it's pretty equal, but I know very well what kind of sex we are approaching today and I am excited. Evidently.
I crawl onto the bed and flop down in the middle, rolling to be on my back, pushing myself up onto my elbows to have the door insight. Just lying here, waiting for her to return adds to my excitement and I have to keep myself from squirming and touching myself. Something tells me, Wanda wants to be the one to touch me tonight and I am more than okay with it, as she can play quite the cruel game.
One time, she had me all naked on bed and told me to touch myself, fuck myself while she was watching and telling me what to do. It was so hot and at the same time, I was so desperate. We got a little caught up in the whole thing and I ended up exhausted and spent, her fingers buried inside me and her tongue invading my mouth, swallowing every moan.
Just thinking about that night heats my skin up and I press the backs of my hands against my cheeks in a weak attempt to cool them.
Upon hearing steps, my attention returns to the door and my mouth falls open when I see Wanda again. She is wearing a black bra with matching underwear and nothing else. I can see every curve of her body, almost all of her beautiful skin. Her hair is tied up in a high ponytail, giving her a somewhat stern look.
Her eyes are hot as they scan my body while she steps closer and I do not miss the flicker of affection in her eyes, hiding under the smirk. No matter how steamy, or partwise kinky we get, I can always tell she loves me so much and appreciates me in every possible way. Which is one of the reasons I don't worry about trying something new with her. I trust her with my life and know she will always understand and stop if I didn't like something.
"You look so pretty," she compliments me, the hint of affection now wavering in her voice too. I smile, a blush forming on my lips. It doesn't matter how long we are together and how often she told me this already, I think I will always blush when she tells me how beautiful I look when I am at my most vulnerable and bare.
Not once has she ever hesitated about anything concerning my body, showing me, she truly loves every part of me and wouldn't change anything.
Her hands slide over my feet and up my shins and I have to fight the urge to squirm really hard. Slowly and sexily elegant, she gets on the bed, hands trailing over my knees and thighs and I bite my lip hard from containing a sigh. Her touch can be so innocent at times and then in moments like this, every small connection between our bodies makes me crave her so much more and to an extend that feels impossible.
"Are you up for some fun, my love?" she asks, hands reaching my hips, thumb following the lines of her name.
"Yes," I whisper, trying to find more of my voice but it's lost somewhere in my throat.
Her eyes flicker up to mine and despite the situation and my desire for her touch, I smile and reach out a hand to pull her in, kissing her softly. Wanda kisses me back just like that, soft and lovingly, as if she wasn't just causing my body to burn up like fire.
"Good. You remember your safe word and everything?" She mutters against my lips.
"I do and I will let you know if I need it," I promise, which earns me another soft kiss. I never had to use my safe word, never even got close as I trust she will not overdo it. Wanda is the person who knows my body better than me and can read most of my body language perfectly. She will notice a twitch of my fingers, the pinching of my mouth, a lift in my eyebrow and always know what it's about. There is no one I could be safer with than her.
"Good," she hums and pecks my lips again before pulling away. Her hands still rest on my waist, touch soft and hot. Then she leans back, eyes traveling over my body before settling on the tattoo again.
"If you wanted to be marked as mine, you could've just said so," she says in that seductive voice of hers that always gets me going. I reach down, sliding my hand over hers.
"It's the first of April, I had to have a little bit of fun." I feel a hint of boldness, which Wanda meets with a raised eyebrow and a tip of her head.
"Then I think it's my time to have some fun," she decides and in a swift motion grabs both my wrists and pins them next to my head. I squeak in surprise and let a giggle slip. Wanda grins at that and gently squeezes my wrists.
"Those stay here."
"What if I move them down?" Down implying touching myself.
"Then I will bend you over my knee and spank your ass."
"You won't."
She rolls her eyes. "Okay, I wouldn't, but I would just walk away and let you deal with this on your own."
I pout at her words, that would truly be mean.
"Fine," I agree and get a quick smile and another kiss.
"Good girl."
Wanda scoots to sit next to my legs and hooks her hands underneath my knees to pull my feet up. Then she tilts them open, gently pushing my legs apart to bare me to her. I squirm in pure excitement, watching her face closely.
"Does the thought of being mine turn you on?" She asks, settling between my legs and I feel a second pulse starting down there, aching for her to touch me.
"It does," I admit, hands curling the sheets underneath me. She hums approvingly, hands running down my thighs and dangerously close to where I want her. One hand moves closer and she pushes a single finger between my folds, moving it around my wetness and making me very aware of how turned on I am for her.
"It really does." She grins, pressing her finger against my clit and I hum. I whine when she pulls her finger away and sucks it into her mouth, cleaning it.
"Wanda, please," I whine, wanting more of her delicious touch.
"You got to have your fun, now I get to have mine," she simply states and lowers herself to be on her belly, facing my core. I want to reach down, tangle my hands in her hair and push her into me, but I know, that would not be smart. Right now, Wanda is in charge and I have to accept that. It exhilarates me and while a part of me wants to rebel and defy her, the rest of me wants her to praise me and do whatever she has come up with.
Her breath is hot against me, adding to the need I feel for her. But instead of eating me out, she turns her head and kisses my inner thigh.
I open my mouth, about to say something, when instead I gasp and clench the sheets in my hands. Wanda grins up at me, a devilish expression in her face as she lets go of my skin, just to run her tongue down my thigh and bite at another spot.
It stings, sure, but it's also hot and causes another rush of heat to curse through my body. I wasn't lying when I said I like being marked, as long as it's reasonable. Which it always is as I know Wanda would never mark me permanently. While I like it when she leaves bite marks and hickeys, I would never agree to knife play or such things. We got our limits and I am glad, we share those.
"Fuck," I gasp when her teeth dig into my skin and she sucks harshly. My back arches at the sensation and I have trouble keeping my eyes on her. Watching her nibbling and biting at my skin is so hot and erotic, I would kick myself if I closed my eyes.
The way her hands roam my skin, holding me in place with a gentleness that makes my head spin while her mouth adds the roughness... it creates sharp longing inside of me, a desire for her and only her.
Her tongue always soothes the spots and as she moves lower, her nose nudges them. They sting a little but that just adds to the whole experience. The only rule we have about marking is that it has to stay in areas that aren't visible in public.
Wanda never marks my neck as we don't want to stumble into conversations that would make everyone uncomfortable. She only ever bit at the base of my neck in winter as I wore hoodies and high necks anyway. With it getting warmer, that's no longer an area for her to mark, but the rest of my body pretty much is. And she sure takes advantage of it.
It's difficult to keep my breathing even when each of her bites or nibbles or sucks only adds to the flame inside of me and I am ready to burst.
My thighs are now fairly covered in little hickeys and bites, my arousal dripping out of me at this point, which doesn't seem to bother Wanda much. It bothers me though because I am trembling with need.
"Please, Wanda, please," I beg, squirming underneath her. She only holds my hips down with her hands and gives me an amused look.
"What do you want, baby?"
I whine, totally desperate for her.
"I'm ruining the sheets, please," I whine. That's not at all my main concern, it's just a try to get her to pay attention to where I need her.
"Go ahead, ruin them," she shrugs with a sly smile. "I planned on changing them anyway."
I groan at her words and her endless teasing.
"I will get you back for this," I mutter and then gasp when her teeth tuck at my skin.
"Will you now?"
"Yes," I hiss at a particularly sharp bite. Wanda just chuckles and trails kisses up my thigh to my hips, stopping at my tattoo.
"Let me show you how a proper mark looks." Her lips press against my skin and she sucks. I hum, the sensitivity of that spot making it so much more intense.
"Careful with the ink," I warn between heavy breaths.
"I couldn't care less," she mumbles and sinks her teeth into my skin. I let out a soft cry and fight not to squirm at how hot she is. I need her so fucking badly and she takes her sweet time marking up my body. Maybe I should have seen this coming when getting the fake tattoo.
She sucks harshly, teeth scrapping and biting at my skin over and over again and I can do nothing but gasp and whine and drip.
Finally, she pulls away and looks down at her work. I glance down too, spotting a large hickey covering the whole of the tattoo.
"Mine," she mumbles and soothes the sore spot with her tongue before placing various kisses on it. I whimper but can't deny that it's hot. I like these little reminders of our time together. Sometimes, they make me feel naughty to a point where I end up touching myself while pressing a finger to one of the marks, letting the whole thing replay in my head.
One time, I called Wanda about it and within fifteen minutes, she was home and made sure I had another couple of hours to remember and remember them I did. It started off at my desk, went over to the kitchen, then the kitchen floor, armrest of the sofa and eventually the bathroom. Both of us were positively sore afterwards but it was absolutely worth it.
"All yours," I agree, letting out a shaky breath. My mind swirls, not allowing me to properly reach for any other thought beyond the need for her.
"So pretty," she whispers, softly kissing my skin and leaning back to admire her work. I blush softly, though that might as well be because of how aroused I am.
"Wanda?"
She meets my eyes, hands gently tracing over my thighs and the hickeys and bite marks. "Hm?"
"Please, I need you."
"If you ask so nicely," she grins and leans down to kiss my pelvis before kissing my thigh again and shifting her position to be comfortable. She moves up, her body now resting beside me and I hum happily when she kisses me, one of her hands slowly but surely moving towards my aching core.
"I love you so much," she mumbles into the kiss and my heart melts at her words. She can fuck me raw, mark me up and have me begging her and will still tell me how much she loves me. God, this woman is driving me insane in the possibly best way.
"I love you- yes there," I gasp when her hand finally reaches my core. Wanda smirks at my interruption and kisses my cheek.
"You can move one of your hands," she grants me and I instantly grab her back, holding on to her.
If I wasn't with my love, I would be embarrassed by how wet I am, the sounds of it loud in the quiet room and Wanda grins even more. Her fingers dip low to where I'm dripping before tracing up again, sliding between my folds and moving up to my clit. I clench around nothing at the mere second she touches my entrance.
"I'm a mess for you." I'm not sure if I said that out loud or just thought it. Either way, it is the very truth.
"I know, and I love it," Wanda replies near my ear, her breath tickling my neck.
Her thumb finds my clit and she starts circling it in the way I like best. I hum and lean my head back, finally getting that friction I was craving. Wanda is the best at teasing in any way and while I am working on my patience, it is pretty hot and I can't resist enjoying it each time.
"All mine and forever safe with me," she whispers into my ear while picking up the speed and pressure of her thumb. My breath catches in my throat and I manage only a soft whimper.
I'm so aroused and needy from all her teasing, I'm already close, despite her not having touched me before. I squirm and spread my legs further, giving her all the space she needs.
"Feels so good," I mumble, back arching a little and hips bucking every now and then. I can't exactly grind against her, there's just her thumb and it's already doing a great job.
"Yeah, it makes you feel good? Makes you want to come?" Wanda coos and I nod, eyes fluttering shut as the pressure builds and I crave for it to pop more than anything else right now. Well, almost.
"Please finger me," I breathe out.
"All in good time, darling," she promises and the thought of a second orgasm excites me even more. I nod and moan softly when she presses a little harder against my clit.
"I'm so close," I gasp.
"You want to come?"
"Yes, god yes."
She kisses my jaw and I prepare to let go, feeling the first bits of my orgasm reaching for me, stretching out to roll over me and then...
"April Fools." Wanda pulls away and I cry out. "NO!"
My eyes lock onto hers as I desperately try to grab her hand and push it back between my legs. But Wanda is stronger than me, simply grinning and catching my hand, pinning it to the bed.
"That's so mean," I whine, rubbing my thighs together in hopes of it bringing any friction, but it doesn't. My orgasm fades without having reached me and frustration takes place. It's not as strong as the desperation though.
"We can both pull pranks, baby," Wanda whispers softly as if she just snatched away a candy bar and not my orgasm. I look at her, whining and pleading.
"Please no, I need it, I feel so...ugh."
"Riled up; horny; fuckable; wet; empty; full?" Wanda supplies. I give her a pouty look. I suppose all of the above are fitting.
She relents and presses her lips to mine while moving her hand back between my legs, pushing them apart to slip her hand between and drag her fingers through my folds. I'm soaking for her and wouldn't even be surprised if she could fit our biggest strap in there without any lube. But I don't want a strap, I want to feel her.
"Do you want me here?" She asks, as if able to read my thoughts, and prods at my entrance.
"Yes!" I exclaim and groan when she easily slips two fingers inside.
"You really are riled up," she notes with delight and a hint of pride. Without much of a problem, she slides another finger in, filling me up and stretching me out but fuck, it feels good!
Her fingers have always been long and slender and so perfect, fitting into me as if they were made for that. It is only now that I notice in my haze that she isn't wearing any rings anymore. Probably for the best, at this point, it would slide right off with how wet I am.
Slowly, she extracts a finger before starting to move and I moan happily, clenching around her, still sensitive.
"You feel so good," I gasp, moving my hips to meet her thrusts and urge her on. Wanda does so gladly and fucks me, pace increasing until I can only bite my lip, my hand clawing at her back, likely leaving little marks. Which is her favorite way of being marked.
"Yes, yes," I chant, pushing my hips against her hand and closing my eyes as I feel the orgasm rushing towards me again. At this point, I think nothing would take long to bring me to orgasm with how sensitive and riled up I am.
"Oh fuck, Wanda!" I cry out, the bliss only a second away.
"NO!" I cry out, this time for a different reason. Wanda gives me an evil grin, her fingers no further inside of me, the orgasm pulling back.
"April Fools the second," she chuckles lowly and kisses my lips to shut my protest up. I scratch her lightly for an entirely different reason, only receiving another little laugh and a kiss.
"You can't leave me like this," I almost sob, the empty feeling causing my thoughts to jumble without a clear grip on anything.
"I won't." Wanda's voice is soft again and she cups my face with her clean hand and places little kisses all over my face.
"This was just payback, I promise I'm done with edging you." I lean into her touch and meet her eyes, finding only the truth in them. She can be mean, but in the end, she is always sweet and would never truly want to leave me feeling like this.
"Okay," I whisper and take another kiss off her lips before allowing her to pull back.
Just like before, she settles herself between my legs, eyes meeting mine, a silent promise in them.
Then, she leans forward and finally drags her tongue through me and I groan. This time, my hands move to her hair and her back, holding on to her, making sure she will finish the job this time.
Without hesitation, Wanda starts circling my clit with her tongue, sucking it and playing with it in a way that has me trembling with how good it feels. I am crazy sensitive from all her teasing and the edges and feel like I could come on the spot. And to our both surprise, I do.
"Oh!" I almost gasp, not expecting the orgasm to hit me so quickly but welcoming it. My back arches, my body pushing further into her and my hand in her hair tightening. Wanda keeps licking me, helps me through every wave of the orgasm.
"Good girl," she mumbles quietly against me and I shudder. I shudder once more, when she doesn't stop and instead I feel her two fingers back at my entrance.
"Yes!" I chant when she pushes them in and resumes a similar pace to before, deliciously fucking me towards a second orgasm that I totally deserve.
My entire body feels shaky and my legs twitch as I work up towards that second release that already feels so much stronger than the first one. One of her hands loops around my hips, holding me down while she presses her face further into me and I positively cry out.
Her fingers curl and she hits that spot inside me that always makes me see stars. I cry out her name, dancing on the very edge of my orgasm before she throws me right in there and my entire body goes rigid. My toes curl, my back arches, my hand scratches her back and I see stars for a good minute.
I continue moaning, calling out her name, for what, I am not sure.
Slowly, the orgasm ebbs off and I try to catch my breath while a tear runs down my cheek. Wanda glances up, her mouth detaching from my clit as she takes me in. I give her an exhausted smile, assure her these are tears of pleasure.
Gently, I tug at her hair to pull her away from me, feeling overly sensitive. She does so without a question and pulls out, only licking one last stripe through me, groaning at it.
I pull her up to meet my lips and taste myself on her, my chest still rising and falling quickly.
"Such a good girl," she hums and sucks her fingers clean before brushing sweaty hair out of my face. My legs are still opened and twitching while I try to return back to earth.
Wanda pulls me to snuggle into her, her hand returning to my thigh to draw mindless circles, grounding me ever so slowly.
I breathe in her perfume, which mixes with the heavy scent of sex and sigh contently. I'm thoroughly fucked and couldn't be more satisfied. This was certainly not my plan for today, but I can't complain at all.
"You did so well," she mumbles, kissing my temple and running her hand through my hair. I smile lazily into her shoulder and place a kiss there.
We stay cuddled up for a while, exchanging sweet nothings and sharing lazy and gentle kisses. Wanda declines the offer to be touched, telling me to rest for now. I don't fight her on it, not sure if I would've had the energy to repay the favor anyway.
Eventually, I roll back onto my back, smiling softly. Wanda returns the smile and sits up, hand still on my thigh. She looks over all the marks she left, pride sparkling in her eyes and I giggle and swat at her shoulder. There are scratch marks on her back, none bleeding though and she doesn't seem bothered by them at all.
Her eyes fall between my legs and she grins. I roll my eyes and sit up, seeing what she is grinning about. If I hadn't felt it before, this would be clear evidence of my dripping. Underneath me is a large wet spot, my arousal and cum pooling on the sheets.
I blush and gain a kiss from Wanda.
"Told ya, I wanted to change them anyway." She gets up and helps me to stand on my slightly weak legs as well, leading me into the bathroom to use the toilet and afterwards have a long bath with her.
There's nothing of the fake tattoo left, as far as I can tell. There's only a large hickey, marking me as hers, but that will be gone in a while and will certainly remind me of a really fucking great night.
A/n: A little mix of fun and spice for you ;)
Let me know what you think.
Disclaimer: I have nothing against tattoos, I just needed a proper prank for this chapter.
Summary: AU, in which Y/n is in the army and only has a few hours left with Wanda, before she has to leave again. So, she takes Wanda to Build-A-Bear and they make Wanda a bear that will remind her of her girlfriend.
Wanda refuses to let go of my hand, clinging to it as if I would disappear if she didn't. I wouldn't. Not today anyway.
We got two more days together before I return to my work and am send on a mission. The exact details are still confidential, all we know is that it'll be at least six months. Six months isn't long, if you compare it to other durations.
A pregnancy is nine months, a year is twelve months, even a school year is longer than six months.
If you are in a relationship and separated from your girlfriend, six months is a lot though.
We've been through this before and it's never easy. Missing Wanda for so long sometimes feels like heartbreak.
I love her like crazy and wish, we could see each other in between.
All we can do, if we're lucky, is a phone call, or I can send her letters. It's not great, but it's something.
Somehow, we have to make it through these times of separation. And Wanda is supportive of it too. She always tells me it's okay and waits patiently for me to return.
Whenever I come home, she has a little surprise for me. Sometimes a cake, sometimes a dinner, other times a date, a bouquet of flowers, lingerie, a spa giftcard and so on. I wouldn't need all of that though, I just need her when I come back.
While I'm away, I think about holding her almost every night. I imagine cradling her head into my neck, wrapping my arms securely around her and feeling her breathe against my skin. I think about kissing her goodnight and falling asleep with her curled up into me.
Just thinking about going away again makes me want to pull her in and never let go.
"Oh," Wanda makes, eyes growing big as we step into the Build-A-Bear store.
I've never been to one, but know she loves these stores and while she never got anything, she likes looking at the different options, says it reminds her of the awe she felt as a child.
Everything is colorful and looks soft to touch. There are a few kids running around, carrying stuffed animals or clothing for said stuffies.
I lead Wanda to where she can pick out what kind of stuffed animal she wants. This was her idea and I think it's super cute and wish, I was able to take one on my mission myself. I can't, so it will only be one today.
"I like this one," she decides and picks out a bear with dark brown fur. I run my hand over it, it's super soft.
"It's perfect," I agree and she nods happily. Her hand is still in mine, so I have no other choice but to follow her around the store as she follows the instruction arrows on the floor.
We reach the stuffing machine where a woman smiles kindly at us.
"Are you ready to fill your new buddy?" She asks, nodding at the empty bear Wanda is holding.
"Yess," she says, sounding excited like a child. I love seeing her this way.
Excited and happy, not caring what anyone else might think about it.
From my side, she will never have to fear judgement over being excited about anything. I adore her way too much and love the way her nose scrunches up when she gets excited or how she jumps and dances around when she can't contain her own emotions. It's one of the reasons I love her so much.
"You can add in hearts." The woman points to a box of soft hearts and one that are thicker and according to the label can contain a message. I don't even need to look at Wanda to know which one is the right pick. The one with a voice note.
I let go of her hand, or try to, as she continues to hold on. I shake my hand lightly, but she refuses to let go.
"I need both hands to record a message, sweetheart," I remind her softly, at which she pouts.
"You don't."
I peck her lips.
"Okay, maybe not, but I want the message to be a surprise for you, okay? For that, you will have to let me take a few steps away."
She grumbles but lets go of my hand. I send her a smile before stepping away, a heart in my hand. Hopefully, this will help her get through the lonely nights.
As soon as I am next to her, she grabs hold of my arm again, leaning into my side. I kiss her cheek and hand the woman the heart. She fills the teddy up, checking in with Wanda about how much filling she wants, before adding the heart and sewing the teddy shut.
"All it takes for the message to be played is a good squeeze," she explains and hands the teddy to Wanda, whose eyes are bright with joy.
"Not until I'm gone though," I whisper into her ear. She looks at me, scanning my face.
"Why not? Did you say something inappropriate? If you did and make me believe now that it's something sweet... I swear to the gods, y/n, I will find you and kill you." Her rage is cute and not at all frightening.
That is, because I know she will love the message I put in there. If I would have been dumb enough to say something naughty, I would now genuinely fear for my life.
I love my girlfriend, I truly do, but she can be scary as shit when she wants to be.
The few times I witnessed it, I wasn't her object of attention and still, I felt a shiver run down my spine.
She has the deadliest glare I have ever seen and when she tilts her head... you better run because you will not survive otherwise.
When we fight, which is rare, she doesn't get as scary, which makes me believe, I haven't fucked up too much yet and don't plan to.
"I didn't, I just want it to be a surprise. Please?" I meet her green eyes, almost being able to watch as they soften and she relents, nodding.
"I will still hunt you down, if you're lying," she mutters and I chuckle, wrapping my arm around her shoulders.
"You'd have every right to."
We move on to the clothes section and for this, she lets go of my hand. I fulfil my duty as girlfriend and hold the teddy securely in my arm while she roams through the different options, searching for one very specific piece of clothing. When she finds it, she spins back around to me, holding it up with a proud smile.
A little army jacket for the teddy.
"It needs a hat and boots," she decides and takes off again. I chuckle to myself as I carefully pull the teddy's arms though the sleeves and button up his jacket.
Wanda returns with a hat, still searching for boots. I let her do her thing, happily watching and dressing up the teddy with everything she brings me.
"You look like you could come with me," I tell it, gently padding its hat. I truly wish, I had something to take with me to hold at night.
A teddy is too big to bring with me, so the necklace Wanda gifted me on our first anniversary will have to do.
It's a simple silver chain, in the front held together by the first letters of our names, entangled. It's almost kitschy and absolutely perfect.
If I ever miss her, no, if I ever not miss her, I will have my hands at my sides and not play with it.
The shape and feeling of it is so familiar by now, I feel like I could trace it, even if it wasn't there.
"They have no boots," Wanda pouts, hands on her hips. I have to contain a smile and tug a red strand out of her face.
"That's okay, the teddy won't have to walk all that much."
She produces a tiny smile and takes the teddy into her arms, squeezing it carefully to not set off the message.
We step up to the register and the man behind it smiles.
"We are selling a lot of those army bears lately," he comments, scanning the price tags.
I glance over at Wanda. She isn't the only one who goes through months without speaking to her partner.
One day, I hope we won't have to adjust to this separation anymore.
Eventually, I want a job that allows me to settle down and return home at the end of the day and not return to a military base in the middle of nowhere.
"If you want, you can customize the tag on the jacket," the man offers, tapping on it. Wanda's eyes light up.
"Can we put a name on there?"
The man nods. Without hesitation, Wanda nods.
"Y/l/n."
The man nods again and types it into his computer. Somewhere behind him something starts humming and a minute later, he turns around and retrieves a batch with my last name on it. He switches it with the plain one and shows the bear to Wanda.
I don't think I've ever seen my girlfriend happier about something so small and she already appreciates the little things.
I pay for the bear and take Wanda's hand, leading her out of the store and pressing a kiss to her temple.
"Happy?" She nods. "Perfect."
Pov Wanda
I swallow hard, trying not to break out into tears again as I enter the bedroom to change into comfortable clothes. Seeing y/n off is always so damn hard. I never want her to leave and at the same time, I know she has to.
It's not even the worry about her not coming back to me, I managed to get past that and hold on to the naïve thought that she is invincible.
No, it's that she will be gone for six months and I have to miss her for so long. The periods she is home are way too short compared to the ones she is gone. Each time she leaves, it feels like a part of my heart is ripping off and going with her.
I try to be strong for her, knowing it's not easier for her either, but I always end up crying. If not from the beginning, but when she whispers all sorts of promises into my hair and kisses me for the last time before stepping away.
When she returns, I can appreciate her uniform and the way she looks in it, but when she leaves, I just want to rip it off her, as if it would prevent her from leaving.
I slip into comfortable clothes and swallow down my tears. Everything inside here still smells of her and I never want the smell to falter. It will in a couple of days, I know that, but I can hold on to some silly hope for at least the rest of the day.
My eyes fall on the teddy in between our pillows. My little y/n bear. She has been in our bed throughout the whole day after we got her, only having to make room at night so we could cuddle.
Y/n was very careful and made sure not to squeeze her too hard. I am curious about her message and now that she is gone, I am finally allowed to listen to it. A small glimpse of hope.
I sit cross-legged on the bed and pull the teddy to me, pressing my face into its belly. It smells of her and it almost feels as if she was right next to me.
She isn't, it's just her perfume and still, sometimes I allow myself to be delusional.
My heart beats faster as I squeeze the teddy tightly, waiting for the message.
"Hey, Wanda sweetheart. I'll be home before you know it and I love you so, so, so, so, so much."
My tears fill with eyes again at the sound of her voice, even if it's a little tinny through the small speaker.
That's my girl.
[I noticed the mistake while editing but it's too funny to correct it. XD It happens more often than you think.]
I squeeze the teddy again, listening to her voice over and over again until my heart aches a little less.
Distance sucks and I hate it with all I am, but this might help me to get through the next six months. This and the many notes she has left me around the apartment.
At least, I believe she has left notes. She did the last time. They were cute and almost made me cry each time.
With the teddy in my arm, there's no way I'm putting her down today, I walk over to our dresser, curious about the notes.
When I open it, there is no note in there though. Just a tiny yellow duck on the top of her remaining t-shirts.
I stare at it in confusion before picking it up. There's a tiny number written at the bottom: 17.
My eyes wander around the rest of the bedroom. Did she hide 16 more of these little ducks around our home?
I close the dresser and set the duck down, not able to keep from smiling. It reminds me of one of our first dates where she took me to a pop-up museum for rubber ducks.
She was a little embarrassed about it, said she thought it would be cooler as it was greatly advertised on their website.
It was a little shrill and very yellow and very dorky, which made me fall in love with her for some reason.
I doubt many people can say, they were at a rubber duck pop-up museum as a date.
Part of me wants to go around the apartment and search for the rest of the ducks and another part of me wants to wait until I find them during my daily life.
They'll be little reminder of the goofball that is my girlfriend. Only she would think about buying a ton of tiny ducks and hide them all around our apartment for me to find while she is away.
Well, at least I have something to do while she is gone though and with her voice and smell inside the teddy, I think, I might be able to get through these next six months, even if they will be hard.
Summary: This is how I imagine Agatha and Rio meeting.
Warning: death (if you find more, let me know)
1693
The mumbling of her coven drives Agatha's fear higher up, making her desperate.
She tugs at the magic keeping her bound to the post, right in the middle of her coven and in front of her mother.
Agatha begs them for forgiveness or help, anything really. Anything than being the victim of their spell.
They used to belong together and help each other, but right now, no one makes a move. All they do is keep mumbling, the glowing in their palms growing more intense.
Agatha turns to the woman right in front of her. Her mother. If anyone should have pity on her, it should be her own mother. But she doesn't look sympathetic at all, more like she wants to get this over with as soon as possible.
Agatha winds against the pole, trying to get loose while pleading with her mother, tears in her eyes.
She has done nothing wrong to deserve this. She simply bent the rules a little, but that doesn't make her deserving of this.
As her mother starts the chant, Agatha feels a deep cut in her soul, the feeling of betrayal seeping into her heart, leaving burning marks. How could her very own mother do this?
Agatha just watches her mother, horrified, knowing no amount of pleading can help her now.
The moment her coven blasts her with their powers an excruciating pain erupts inside of her and she screams out. She has never experienced anything like this. It's hot and cold at the same time. Burning and freezing and the worst she has ever felt.
Despite her screaming and crying, it doesn't stop, no one takes pity on her, not even now.
They all want her gone and while suffering against their powers, Agatha realizes just that. She isn't a part of this coven anymore, hasn't been for a while now. They don't care about her, so why should she care about them?
The heat is crawling up her throat, as if it wanted to burn her alive, numbing her screaming until it fades out and her eyes land on her mother.
Suddenly, the pain vanishes and is replaced by a different feeling, a new one. One of power, of revitalizing.
She takes a deep breath, not hurting anymore. It's like the opposite, the longer she's blasted with magic, the better she feels.
Her own powers grow, as if they are absorbing everyone else's powers. The witches around her make choking noises, their skin goes grey and they fall to their knees.
Agatha watches, not sure what to do but also not wanting to stop this.
They wanted to kill her, why should she show them mercy in return?
She ends the power blasts and her coven falls to the ground dead. Her mother glares at her with more hate than a mother should be able to feel towards her child. But Agatha isn't scared by it anymore.
Hurt yes, but not scared.
Even when her mother yells at her and blasts her power right into her chest, Agatha doesn't scream. It doesn't even hurt anymore, it's more like a tingling in her chest, slowly spreading through her entire body.
She absorbs her mother's powers until she falls dead to the ground.
A sudden silence lays itself over the scene, like a thick blanket.
Agatha looks around at the dead woman around her. Eight.
She just killed eight people.
Although, she didn't actively do it, they did it to themselves. It's not her fault, she was able to absorb their power. It serves them right for trying to kill her.
She runs a hand through her hair and slowly steps down from the platform with the pole. Looks like she's going to get a second chance at this after all.
But where to go from here?
Without her coven. Without her mother. There is no one to guide her, no one to care about her. She's all on her own.
Slowly, she walks up to her mother, looking down on her. The woman who was supposed to protect her ended up being the one hating her the most.
Agatha crouches down and plugs the brooch her mother always wore from her coat. It will be hers now, just like her mother's powers are now hers. It all belongs to her. She just has to figure out where to go from here.
She returns back to the wooden steps and sits down, pinning the brooch to her own coat. The last thing she expected to happen today, was to be alive without her coven. She could never imagine what it would be like without a coven. She's never been coven-less. Born into one and raised.
There are the children of these witches, but they will just hate her for what she did. For what she had to do. It wasn't her choice. It just happened.
Even if it could have been her choice, she wouldn't have done it differently. If they wanted to blast her with their powers, she would take it and not care anymore.
Besides, it feels empowering and she can feel her powers getting stronger as her body adjusts to the new forces it holds now.
The silence is interrupted by the sound of twigs breaking and Agatha turns her head to a green light coming from between the trees.
Green isn't her color, nor her coven's color, so this must be someone new. Someone unknown.
Maybe, she thinks, she can play the poor woman, who just found her coven dead. It will surely cause some sympathy and she won't be facing another situation like this.
A woman steps into the clearing. She wears a dark coat, which flows behind her as she steps barefoot over the forest grounds. There's a torch in her hand, the flame as green as her clothes.
Her hair flows down to her shoulders and there's something ethereal about her, but also something dangerous.
Agatha stands up, eying the woman closely. She is beautiful, she can't deny that and there's a lure to her, she doesn't understand.
The woman looks around at the dead women, before she looks up at Agatha. The silence stretches and Agatha shifts her weight, not sure what to make of this. Who is this woman and why is she not bothered by the dead bodies around them?
"Are you Agatha Harkness?" She asks, eyes fixed on Agatha.
It makes Agatha shiver, but she doesn't show it and just pushes her chin forward. This stranger shouldn't know her name.
"I'll tell you, if you share your name with me." A name for a name.
The woman studies her, calm and yet dangerous.
"I have many names. Some call me Rio, others Lady Death and some just Death."
Agatha nods, trying to process.
She certainly never envisioned Lady Death like this. Of course, she has heard myths and stories. But they all portray her as that skeleton monster, who comes and kills people.
This woman doesn't look like she does though. She almost looks peaceful, even if that is surely a misconception.
"What name do you prefer?"
Death shakes her head and points her torch at Agatha.
"That wasn't the deal."
Very well, Agatha knows to honor a deal, if the other end of the bargain is held up too.
"Yes, I am Agatha Harkness. What do you want from me, Rio?"
Rio raises an eyebrow, seeming surprised at the choice of name.
Agatha sees no use in calling someone by their profession. She wouldn't like being called a witch either. It would reduce her to a craft she is learning and perfecting. And this woman is certainly more than her craft.
"I was sent to collect your soul," Rio states, voice as clear as the night. Agatha shrugs.
"I am not dead."
"I can see that. Why are you not dead?"
It's almost a silly question and makes her laugh, but she just shrugs and adjusts her coat. She is clearly still alive, so no soul to collect there.
"Why are you not dead?" Rio slowly steps closer to Agatha, who doesn't budge.
She knows powerplays and won't fall for that anymore. She has suffered long enough under her mother to know what ways are deemed the most effective.
Rio stops right in front of her, almost too close.
"If you want souls, there are plenty here," Agatha says, motioning around herself. "Eight instead of one. Seems like a good deal to me. You can take them with you and do whatever you please."
Rio lets out a very soft chuckle, her features darkening for a second and Agatha swears, she can see Rio's boney jaw.
"It is a good deal and I will take it. I don't kill, I just take what's already dead. But I am curious, how did you survive this?" She eyes Agatha closely, her torch shining a green light on both of them.
Agatha stands up a little straighter but can't get taller than Rio.
Very well. She will not be intimidated either way.
"I took what wasn't theirs," she replies. The new power doesn't feel foreign anymore. It has become a part of her and makes her feel strong, almost joyful.
"You took," Rio echoes and glances around them before returning her gaze on Agatha. "You are a very interesting woman, Agatha."
Agatha inclines her head in a wordless reply. The words go deeper than she expected though. The first genuinely nice things said to her in years.
It feels good to be appreciated, even if it's something as mundane as 'interesting'.
"Likewise," she replies. Something about Rio is different. Maybe it's the fact she is actually understanding. Or the fact, she has seen what Agatha did but doesn't seem scared or judgy because of it. As if she understood what it's like to be an outcast.
Maybe they can be outcasts together?
It's a very silent voice inside Agatha's head, suggesting the option.
It seems naïve to believe she could spend her time with Lady Death, but it might be worth the risk?
They're both lonely, perhaps lost. Wouldn't some company be nice?
Rio reaches a hand up, fingers just barely skimming Agatha's jawline, but she still feels a tingle there. It nearly makes her lean forward, seeking the contact, but she doesn't.
Rio gives her a smile and turns around, starting her job on guiding the dead souls to the end of their path.
Agatha watches in silence, still feeling the almost-touch against her cheek. Even if Rio doesn't agree to be her companion, she knows what she has to do, to summon her again.
If she just waits long enough, Rio will appear eventually, after she killed someone.
The thought excites her more than she likes to admit. But there is nothing wrong with a dance with Death.
Is there?
What's the worst that could happen?
Summary: Y/n is in her dorm room when a thunderstorm breaks out. Scared by the loud noise and the whipping wind, she goes to the kitchen to make herself a cup of tea. In the kitchen, she meets Wanda. The two get to talk and Wanda comforts y/n about the storm.
Warnings: None, this is mainly fluff
Word count: 2.3 k
Pov y/n
The room is dark, barely any light filtering in from outside.
Despite the curtains being closed, I know the sky is dark with clouds, darker even than on any other night.
A loud thunder startles me and I pull the blanket up higher. Wind whips around the dorm building, making it creak, as if it couldn't withstand the weather. It will, I know that, but it's still a little scary.
Being alone during a thunderstorm like this in the dark is scary in so many ways. I know, nothing can happen to me but that doesn't ease me at all.
It's still loud and the lightings bright. Back at home, I didn't like thunderstorms at night either, it always felt like it was just me and my family in our flat, secluded from the world by the storm. Now in my dorm room, I feel like it's just me and that makes it even worse. The world could end outside and it would be just me.
I swallow and turn to lay on my side, pulling the blanket up higher. Rain hits my window hard, filling my room with a sound that I usually find comforting. Now it's a companion from the storm and thunder and not at all comforting.
The wind makes the building creak again and I press my eyes shut, hoping to just fall asleep. But I won't, just like I haven't in the past fifteen minutes.
As a 21-year-old, I should probably not be bothered by the weather like this but I am. It's already a little creepy during the day when the sky goes black and pours rain like buckets from the clouds and sends thunder and lighting down, but at night it's so much worse. Knowing I'm all by myself isn't helping either. No one to comfort me, to distract me. It's just me and my thoughts.
Lighting brightens my room before thunder follows, rolling through the sky loudly as if it wanted to wake everyone. It's beyond me how people can sleep through such a storm. I always wake up during them and stay awake until they subside.
After another lighting-thunder combination, I give up on trying to sleep and swing my legs out of my bed.
With a sigh, I slide into my slippers and pull a jacket off a hook by the door. In moments like these, I wish I had someone to share my room with.
At least then I wouldn't be totally alone.
There are other people on this level of the dorm, of course, but no one I'm really close with. No one I could or would go to in a moment like this.
There are four guys and three girls with whom I share the communal kitchen. We get along fine, well enough to talk about problems and remind each other if they need to clean up after themselves. But that's it, we don't interact much more.
Although, I can only speak for two of the three girls as I haven't properly met the third one. I've only got a glance of her when she moved in.
She introduced herself as Wanda and told us she studies economics and communication in her third year.
That's all I know about her, so maybe she is actually nice. She's definitely pretty with her brunette hair and lighter eyes. On the day she moved in she wore a black skirt with matching tights and a dark red top. I'm not sure if that's her every day clothing style or if that was just for the move.
The hallway is dark, save for the green glowing signs that point to the next emergency exit.
Turning on the lights would feel like disturbing the night. In here, I can barely hear the wind anymore but see lighting through the window in the kitchen.
A thunder follows and I jump, hating the loud sounds. I switch on the light in the kitchen and search through my cabinet for anything that could calm me down. I've got snacks in my dorm room but I am not in the mood for that. I rather want a hot beverage that might help to settle my nerves.
A hot chocolate would be my preferred choice but that always takes so long and I don't want to spend that much time in the kitchen, it's not as comfortable as my bed.
So, I opt for tea and fill some water into the kettle. If my roommates can sleep through a thunder storm, they can sleep through the noise of the kettle too. Besides, it's not like I'm the first person to rummage around the kitchen at night. I've heard noises of someone making food at 3 am one night.
I step up to the window as the water starts to heat and watch the dark clouds. It's a little less frightening when I'm up and about than in my bed. Why? I have no clue. Still, I don't like the weather and hope it'll be over soon.
"Hey." I jump, feeling my heart lurching into my throat and whirl around. On the swell of the door is Wanda, wearing a dark sleeping shirt with pajama pants with red dots on them. Her hair is messier than the first time I saw her.
"Sorry, I didn't mean to startle you," she apologizes and steps into the kitchen. I lean against the wall next to the window and watch when she steps up to the fridge.
"It's okay," I reply, my heart still racing. I really thought I was the only one still awake but apparently I was wrong. Wanda grabs a carton of milk from her compartment of the fridge and picks a glass from the communal cabinet.
"You're y/n, right?" She asks and glances at me before pouring herself a glass.
"Yes, I am. I'm in room 205," I reply. When she greeted us, we were sitting in the kitchen with multiple people, so I don't expect her to remember me. But she nods and gives me a small smile. Another thunder rolls through the kitchen and I startle again, cursing myself for that.
Her eyes watch me curiously as she takes the first sip of milk.
"Is the thunderstorm keeping you up?" She eyes me over her glass and I nod, glad we are too far away from each other for her to notice my heating cheeks.
The kettle whistles louder until it makes a beep, announcing the water is boiling now. Wanda steps aside and puts her milk away so I can use the counter space. She doesn't leave the kitchen though and instead leans against our table.
I pour myself a cup of tea and pour the rest of the water into the sink. Then I turn around to Wanda. She's still watching me but not in a judging way.
"I can never really sleep during thunderstorms either," she says with a shrug. "It's just so loud and then there is a bit of fascination for it. More the lightings than the noise though. I like watching the sky during a storm, it's insane what nature can produce."
I smile a little, picturing her sitting on her desk at the window and watching the sky. She does seem like the kind of person who enjoys that. It's hard to tell what it is about her that gives off that aura but it just does.
"The view from the kitchen window is terrible though, you just stare at the building across from us. From my window, I can actually see over parts of the campus and have a wide view of the sky."
"From my window, I stare straight at a tree that's too large to give me much of a view." I take the cup of tea into my hands, feeling the warmth spreading.
"If you want, you can give it a try from my window. Maybe it's a little less scary if you can see what's going on," she suggests. If anyone else suggested this, I probably would have said no, but there's something about her that makes me trust her. She's gentle and sweet and still so very pretty. And since she entered the kitchen, the storm doesn't seem so bad anymore. I'm not alone anymore.
"Yeah, we can try that," I agree and follow her when she pushes off the table. Her room is almost opposite of the kitchen and if she didn't already tell me the storm woke her up, I would have wondered if I woke her up.
"The scary part of this is just the wind and the way the building seems to creak and bend at it's force," she whispers, opening her door for me to step inside. Her room is pretty much the same as mine. The same bed, same closet, same bookshelf, same desk and same dresser. But it still has such a different vibe than mine. There are posters on the wall of bands that I don't know and a handful of plans decorates every free surface. It's slightly messy with papers and books sprawled around the room and some socks that Wanda kicks to the side. Despite not knowing her very well, it fits her.
"The wind is really creepy, I am always worried the dorm will just collapse." Wanda snickers at my remark and warmth spreads inside me, but not from the tea. I place the cup atop her dresser where she puts down her glass of water as well.
"See." She points out her window and indeed, I see a lot more of the sky. I step closer and see a lighting bolt zap through the clouds before it gets dark again. Thunder follows and I take a step back, not a fan of the volume. My body stumbles into hers and I am about to apologize when she steadies me with her hands on my waist. Her touch is soft and comforting altogether, a sensation I did not expect at all. Way too soon, she drops her hands again.
"If you think about it, it's crazy what nature can do. There are so many things about nature that are fascinating. A couple of them are catastrophes too, which makes it hard to explain why I find them so interesting." I can relate to that.
"I've always found volcano eruptions super interesting but there's so much suffering and there are so many problems with that, that I never really talk about it. But for example, I've always found Pompeji's history really interesting and watched multiple documentaries about it. It's almost ancient now but still, it amazes me, as cruel as that may sound."
Another lighting-thunder combination strucks and I tense. As cool as the lighting may be, the thunder is not.
"Pompeji is an interesting story, no doubt," Wanda agrees and moves away from behind me. I want to look after her but in the same moment, another lighting brightens the sky, actually looking very impressive. If it wasn't for the loud noise following, this could be entertaining.
A cozy blanket is draped across my shoulders and now I do turn my head to look at Wanda standing beside me, a blanket around her shoulders too. I give her a little smile in thanks that she returns.
For a while, we just stay standing there, watching the sky. With each thunder, I feel like we are inching closer together until our shoulders touch. I divert my attention once again and find her already looking at me. Without much light, her eyes seem so dark and mysterious, making me want to unravel every mystery there might be about her.
Our faces are so close together, I can almost feel her breath on my lips when she exhales. Something inside me urges to get closer, to touch her cheek, brush hair out of her face and feel the dip of her chin. But I don't, I just look at her, a little too mesmerized to do anything.
An extra loud thunder pulls me out of my stupor, making me jump.
"Holy fuck!" I curse, tugging the blanket tighter around my shoulders. Yeah, definitely not a fan of those. Wanda smiles a little, half amused, half with another emotion I can't pinpoint.
"Do you want to stay here until the storm is over? You don't seem like you could sleep during this weather?"
I return my gaze back to her, considering her offer and trying not to interpret too much into this.
"If that's okay with you." I nod shyly and for a moment see a similar shy expression on her face as well. I follow her lead to her bed and sit down next to her, leaning back against the headboard. Our thighs press against each other, the bed not very wide, but she doesn't seem to mind that. I don't either and just try to ignore the little tingles that dance over my skin wherever we touch.
We end up talking some more and slide further down until we are more lying than sitting. The storm has calmed down a bit, the thunder only on occasion and further away. But Wanda's bed is too comfy and her body against mine too nice to get up again. Sleepiness tugs at my eyelids and I lean by head to the side, fighting my closing eyes.
Wanda shifts but instead of shaking me to stay awake, she just loops an arm underneath me, allowing me to shift closer and rest my head on her shoulder. Her heartbeat is very faint but there and steady. In her arms, I feel very safe and protected and don't mind the rumbling outside anymore.
I'm safe and not alone. It's comfortable like this and the next thunder doesn't bother me at all anymore. This is definitely an effective way to stop minding the storm outside. My eyes fall close and the last thing I feel is Wanda's arm hugging me closer to her and her head leaning against mine. Then I fall into a deep sleep, a tiny smile staying on my lips though.
This is kinda the first post without a chapter, so hi, I guess :D
I got plenty of one-shots still in store, I just don't know which ones to upload. So, this is me asking what you'd want to read?
I got one shots with Natasha Romanoff, Wanda Maximoff, Scarlett Johansson, Elizabeth Olsen and a few with Nat and Wanda.
There is fluff, angst and smut, so I guess, just tell me what you want and I'll see what I can find. <3
Summary: After making an impression on y/n and driving her home, Natasha and y/n started making out and are now taking it upstairs to y/n's apartment.
This is pretty much just smut. So, minors do not interact.
Contains: explicit smut; TopNat; rough-ish sex; all consensual; eating out; fingering; a hint of praise; bit of boob play; making out
Word count: 4.2 k
---------Minors do not interact!!!-------------------------
Pov Nat
We barely make it up the stairs and to her apartment before I press her up against the wall and kiss her. She makes a sound at the back of her throat that fuels my needs for her and I slide my hands over her sides and underneath her shirt. The skin there is warm and soft and instantly makes me crave more. I deepen the kiss and press her more against the wall, slotting my knee between her thighs and pushing it up.
Y/n gasps into my mouth and it's such a hot sound, it drives me a little wild. Her hands claw at my jacket, holding on tightly as if there was any chance of her sliding down that wall. I press kisses along her jaw, pulling her hips towards me, guiding her to grind against my knee. She whimpers softly, clutching my jacket and tilting her head back.
Not so talkative now, it seems.
I always win challenges.
Her attempt to shrug off the leather jacket fails as I keep her up against the wall, my hands running up and down her sides, keeping her locked in place. I want to hear the other sounds she is able to make. I want to see how she looks when she falls apart and admits defeat to me.
"Oh gosh," she gasps, rolling her hips a little harder against my knee in search for friction. I smirk and lower my knee a little, enjoying the way she almost follows with her entire body.
Her eyes lock onto mine and she gives me a pleading look that I definitely can't deny. And I won't, but that doesn't mean I can't have a bit of fun beforehand.
"Still your rules?" I ask in a raspy voice near her ear, trailing open-mouthed kisses down her neck and sucking lightly at her pulse point. She arches into me and lets out a shuddering breath.
"Please, Natasha," she pleads in a slightly whiney voice that sends a little shiver through me. Oh yes, definitely fun to play with.
I tilt my head to look at her, grinning, knowing I won. Took longer than usually, but that's the fun part and showing her I always win is definitely delightful too.
Her eyes are dark, her pupils blown and her hands desperately holding on to me as if there was any chance that I'd let her go now.
Slowly, I trail one hand further down and hook a finger underneath her jeans button.
"Can I go on?"
"Yes, please!"
I chuckle at her eagerness and open her pants but just to slip my hand inside. I lean in as she gasps as I trail my fingers over the fabric of her underwear, feeling the dampness clinging to it. Oh, this turned her on good.
My fingers tease her clit through her underwear and I relish in the little whimper she lets out and how she attempts to grind down against my hand. But she isn't the one in control here.
I step closer, pinning her hips to the wall, taking away her option to move and dig my teeth lightly into the skin between her neck and her collarbone. A soft moan escapes her and her fingers dig into my back.
"I'll take you where you want to go," I promise against her neck and kiss up to her lips, swallowing another little whimper. The sound vibrates against my lips as I push her underwear aside and run my finger through her heat.
"Fuck," she curses under her breath, hips twitching but I got her firmly pinned in place, enjoying this a lot more than I though. She's so wonderfully responsive to even the smallest touch.
"Yes," she chants and drops her head to rest on my shoulder as I run my finger over her clit before adding a second finger and rubbing it with a little more pressure. Someone's sensitive.
"You like that?" I whisper and nibble at the spot underneath her ear, drawing a sigh from her lips. She whines and nods, hands moving up and down my back as if she needed something to hold on to. They settle, one in the back of my neck and the other on my side, holding me in such a vice grip it almost hurts.
I have to shift my weight a little, allowing her the tiniest of movements and she instantly starts rocking against my hand, gasping almost in the same rhythm. My own core heats up at the movement and the pleasure-filled expression on her face.
I bite my lip, watching her closely as I slip my fingers to her entrance, prodding at it before slipping my fingers in without meeting any resistance. She's so wonderfully wet and hot, clinging to my fingers within seconds while her head falls back, eyes closed.
"Do you think, you can take what I give you?"
She nods, lips parted and a silent sound bubbling up from the back of her throat. I kiss the corner of her lips.
"Good girl," I murmur, feeling her twitch into me.
I move my fingers inside her, testing it out before slowly pulling back and pushing back in. A groan from her tells me all I need to know and I quicken my pace, hitting deeper spots and reveling in the way she arches into me and lightly scratches the skin at the base of my neck.
It only stings a little but it's a good kind of pain, the one coming when you pleasure other people.
I curl my fingers inside of her and she lets out a surprised squeak that turns into a moan when I brush over her spot. That's the one.
"Oh fuck, right there," she whimpers, hips rocking into my hand and she presses her clit to rub against my palm.
"Right here?" I ask almost teasingly, pressing against her spot and she lets out a soft cry and arches off the wall.
"Yes!"
I push her back against it, my hand on her side and slip it up higher to cup her over her bra.
"So responsive, I like it," I hum and squeeze her breast before pulling the cup of her bra down to circle her nipple with my fingers.
"Argh," she groans, arching a little more to press her breast into my hand.
I kiss her deeply, swallowing the next sound when I roll her nipple between my fingers. Her walls contract around me and she breaks the kiss to let out a louder moan, legs twitching. Then she goes still for a split second and finally releases. I almost moan myself at the feeling of her clenching around my finger and her cum spilling out of her.
"Oh, fuck yes!" Her nails scratch down my neck and I have to bite my lip from making a sound myself. Instead, I lean down to kiss her neck again, digging my teeth into the soft skin and sucking harshly, feeling her clench around me a little harder. She tastes a little tart and sweet at the same time, quite addictive.
My tongue soothes the mark I left on her neck and I hum, satisfied with my work.
When her body stills, I slowly pull out of her and lock my eyes with hers as I lick my fingers clean. She buckles slightly at that and I hum, enjoying the taste of her on my fingers. This won't be the last time she came tonight, that's for sure. Seeing her come undone for me is kind of addictive and I will not give up my drug this fast.
I kiss her again, letting her taste herself on my lips and pulling her off the wall. Her legs hook around my waist when I pick her up, giving her thighs a squeeze while slipping my tongue into her mouth. She pants against me, her hand slipping into my hair, tucking at it to keep me close.
I blindly walk through her apartment, no clue where her bedroom is.
"Right," she breathes against my lips and I take the door to my right, entering her bedroom. It's dark in here, which bothers me because I want to see her fall apart.
I set her down on her bed, shortly taking in her face. Cheeks flushed, pupils blown and lips swollen. So fucking perfect!
I tap her thighs.
"Strip for me?"
She nods eagerly and starts unbuttoning her blouse while I step around her bed and turn on the bedside lamp, casting the room in a warm glow.
Then I turn around and peel off the jacket before pulling my shirt over my head and dropping both to the ground. Y/n is only in her bra and underwear now, turning to me with a hint of a smirk. One of her breasts is hanging out of the bra and I know that's totally my doing. Her nipple is stiff and I can see the other one through her bra as well.
My eyes travel down her body. Down her front and the swell of her breasts, over her curves and to where her underwear covers her. Her own arousal and cum is sticking to the inside of her thighs, a reminder of the first round and I grin.
I slip out of my own pants before stepping closer and running my hands down her arms and over her hips to her ass. It's perfect to be cupped by my hands and I pull her closer, kissing her hungrily.
There's still a hint of smugness to her though, showing in the way she explores my body with her own hands and how she tries to take control of the kiss. Cute, how she thinks she is in control.
I reach around and catch both of her hands, bringing them behind her back and holding them there.
She pulls away from the kiss, back a little arched and anticipation shining in her eyes. Still trying to challenge me, but also taking what I'm giving her.
"Now what?" She grins, wiggling her fingers and biting her lip.
I raise an eyebrow and turn her around, pressing her against my front and roaming my hands over her body. I free her second breast, massaging them before dropping my hand to her core again, spreading some of her heat.
She sighs, hand gripping to hold on to my wrist. I stop for a second, checking if that was a sign for me to stop. But she just whines and pushes my hand back to her core.
Insatiable little waitress, but she shall get what she asks for and way more.
I sit down on the bed, opening my legs and pulling her to sit between them. Her body is hot against mine and I can feel a thin layer of sweat on her skin. Oh, it's gonna get so much better than this.
With a quick hand, I undo her bra and tug at her underwear at the same time, bearing her completely.
"You're efficient, I gotta leave you that," she purrs and I just roll my eyes, knowing she'll stop this attempt at a challenge really soon.
My arms wrap around her body, one hand settling on her chest, the other on her thighs and I tap them. Like the eager girl she is, she spreads them and I hook my own legs over hers, keeping her open.
"You look very hot this way," I mutter into her ear, liking the goosebumps rising on her skin and the soft sigh she lets out. Her hands slide over my thighs and grip them when I trail my fingers through her core. With my chin rested on her shoulder, I have the perfect view of her and her trimmed curls.
"Tell me, do you want more?" I apply pressure to her clit and she gasps, legs twitching.
"Yes, please."
I chuckle and kiss the hickey I made. She doesn't know what she's asking for. No one challenges me without learning their lesson. Well, maybe this is just because I want to fuck her really good, I won't lie.
I slip my fingers back inside of her, the silent squelching sound making her cringe a little, but I kiss her jaw, telling her silently it's okay. There's nothing hotter than hearing how aroused the other person is.
Due to my legs being hooked over hers, she can't buck into me this time and a small pout forms on her lips. Cute.
Not that she would need to, I will bring her to release without her helping me. After all, she should be a bit more sensitive now and this isn't my first time with a woman. And with how responsive she is, I'm sure I could figure it out even then.
I start thrusting my fingers in and out of her, enjoying how she melts into me as if she had no chance but give into how good it feels. Her hands grip my thighs a little tighter and a soft sigh slips from her lips. Pleasuring her is definitely fun when she's this vocal about it, I always liked that in women.
I push in a little deeper and harder, curling my fingers and quickly finding the spot that has her legs twitching and her mouth fall open with silent moans.
One of her hands lets go of my thigh and she reaches for her breasts to take one into her hand and play with the nipple, pulling at it and rolling it between her fingers. Seeing her play with herself is hot and I am almost tempted to stop touching her and just watch her do it herself. But the way she squeezes around my finger and manages to grow even wetter is just too hot and I want to see how far I can take her, how many orgasms I can give her until it gets too much.
Having her pressed up to me like this, my thrusts slightly pushing her body further into mine turns me on quite a lot and if she wasn't sitting between my legs, I would either squeeze my legs together or touch myself. Neither is possible right now and I also don't want to pleasure myself tonight, there's something else I'm craving a lot more.
I take her other breast into my hand, massaging it and toying with her nipple, biting my lip at the noise she makes. Something like a groan, but from the very back of her throat while her head falls back to rest on my shoulder.
My lips find her neck and I brush against her spot with more pressure and speed, feeling her legs twitch underneath mine as if she wanted to close her thighs around my hand.
"Right there, please. Please, don't stop," she whimpers before gasping, her eyes closing. I nibble at her earlobe.
"What if I do?"
Her eyes shoot open with something like panic in them. "No, no, please! Don't! Please."
Hearing her beg is way hotter than I imagined and I kind of want to see how far I can take it, but maybe not tonight. One thing at a time.
"Then show me how good I make you feel," I mutter into her ear, pinching her nipple and gaining a little mewl while her walls clench down hard around my fingers. If the first time with her is already this much fun, how much better could it get over time then?
"Fuck, Nat!" She moans, hips attempting to lift off the bed as she comes a second time, fingers pinching into my thigh.
"You're doing so well," I encourage her, letting go of her nipple to slide my hand between her legs and rub her clit, prolonging the orgasm. She struggles against my hold, the pleasure seeming strong and all consuming. It's almost difficult to keep her in position.
Feeling her strain and clench around me like this definitely makes me wet and I feel my heartbeat dropping down, my core demanding attention.
"Come on, give me one more," I whisper, smirking at the whimper she lets out, still in the middle of her current orgasm. A tiny nod gives me consent to proceed and I kiss her cheek in return before picking up the pace with my fingers, hitting her spot on each thrust and rubbing her clit faster.
"Oh, oh fuck! Argh! Natasha!" She cries out, body rearing up as a second orgasm rips right through her, the first one barely over.
I hold her down, pushing her through the waves of the orgasm, feeling a hungry heat threatening to burn me from the inside. If she isn't totally fucked out after this, I will definitely need her to take care of me because I will not be able to walk out of this apartment without an orgasm of my own.
"So good, so, so good," she rambles, body relaxing and I slow down and eventually stop my movements, allowing her to catch her breath. Her chest is rising and falling quickly, legs definitely shaking a little and her body sacks into mine.
Heat leaks out of her and I am absolutely tempted to collect it and let her taste it, but she isn't in the right state to do so, she needs a small break. This is still for both our pleasure after all and nothing she should feel bad about later on.
Carefully, I pull out of her, aware of the soft whimper she lets out. Y/n's head is still resting against my shoulder, her hair falling down my back as if it was my own. Gently, I brush my fingers along her thighs and unhook her legs, caressing her to help her calm down. She did just have two orgasms in one, that can take quite a lot out of someone.
"Wow," she whispers, voice slightly raspy and I smile. It's a genuine one because her reaction is so genuine too.
"You took that very well," I praise and watch a lazy smile unfold on her face. Her eyes open and she looks at me. A few strands of hair stick to her face, so I brush them away.
"Thank you. And thank you for making me feel so good."
I incline my head, kissing her temple. It was my pleasure, almost literally.
"Can I return the favor?"
My entire body screams yes, but it's not as easy as that.
"If you feel like you got the energy for that," I say, studying her expression.
If she needs a moment or a few minutes to regain energy, then I will wait as I don't want her to overdo herself. Not even because it would suck if she stopped in the middle of my built-up, but also because I want her to listen to her body's limits.
Y/n nods and stays as she is for a moment longer, taking deep breaths.
"I do and I want to make you feel good as well. After what you did to me, it only feels fair." The grin on her face isn't challenging this time, more an attempt at mischievous with a mix of innocence.
"Can't deny that," I agree and help her up. +
I lift my hips to slide off my underwear and scoot to the edge of her bed, spreading my legs. She bites her lip and grabs a throw pillow from her bed, dropping it on the ground between my feet. Then she kneels down and just the sight of her between my thighs is enough to fire up my desire a new.
I run a hand through her hair, pulling it back from her face and using the hair tie she is already wearing to tie her hair into a ponytail.
"Making me come made you wet, huh?" she asks, looking from my dripping core up to me. I roll my eyes playfully, but can't quite deny it as there is obvious evidence.
Telling her I'm aching for her touch would only add to her smugness, so I don't. Instead, I open my legs a little wider and slide my hand into her hair. Not to push her, just to hold on to her in some way.
"If you tease me, I will make you regret it," I warn her with a raise eyebrow.
She snickers but nods and leans forward. Her breath hits my heated core and that alone is enough to make me crave more.
She drags her tongue through my folds and circles it around my clit. I almost yelp at how intense that already feels. Damn, making her come really made me horny!
There is no teasing, for both our sakes, and she focuses her tongue on my clit, licking it and trying out a few different patterns.
"Yes!" I grind myself a little against her when she finds the perfect one. This time, she doesn't challenge me and keeps it up like a good girl, which I acknowledge with a hum. My free hand tangles in her sheets, giving me support if I needed it.
Y/n wraps her lips around my clit, sucking at it while flicking her tongue against it and I groan softly, feeling the pleasure rise inside me. This won't take long, I already know it. Making her come three times didn't leave me unbothered and her mouth is quite talented. Looks like she isn't just quick with replies, but also with her tongue.
My hand in her hair tightens a little as I keep grinding against her, chasing my pleasure and her mouth.
"I need your fingers," I tell her, voice breathy and a little raw. If this wasn't our first time, I might be a little more rough, grinding more into her or properly riding her face and taking what I'm craving.
But I will not be doing that during the first night we spend together. There are boundaries and limits that I don't know and overstepping them is definitely not sexy.
She hums against me, the vibrations sending bolts of pleasure through me and I bite my lip to stifle a moan. Her fingers trace along my inner thigh before reaching my core and after a bit of teasing, she slides two inside and I exhale shakily.
"That's it," I encourage her, stopping my grinding so she can find a pace and fuck me properly. Fuck, I need her so badly!
Her tongue goes back to work and she starts moving her fingers in and out of me. Within a few attempts of her curling her fingers, she finds my spot and I very nearly lose control and slip off the bed. But I steady myself and fist the sheets in my hand, feeling the edge approaching quickly.
"Mhh, keep it up like that, darling," I sigh, gasping as she brushes my spot with a little more pressure.
Out of all the hookups I've had, this is one of the best ones and I am not quite sure if it'll stay a one-time thing.
Challenging her and seeing her give in to me is way too much fun. Kind of a smartass until I got my fingers knuckle deep inside her, then she's pudding in my hands.
Encouraged by my words, she keeps fucking me until I clench and let the orgasm take over me. Pleasure tingles through my entire body and I push myself more into her on instinct, chasing the prolonging of my orgasm. It just feels so fantastic and blissful, making me forget everything else for a split second.
I take a few deeper breaths to come back to earth and meet her eyes. She has pulled out of me and away, her finger now only slowly circling my clit to help with riding out every last bit of pleasure. Her cheeks are flushed and my arousal is smeared all over her chin. She looks quite beautiful like this and very sexy.
I run my thumb over her chin, wiping away some of my arousal, tilting her head up to look at me.
"How was that?" She sounds so innocent, as if she hasn't just eaten me out like a woman starving. I give her a smile as she leans her cheek against my thigh.
"It was really great, thank you," I reply. The way her face lights up is sweet and a small sense of protectiveness waves over me.
I motion for her to get up and pull her onto my lap. Her knees press into the bed on either side of me, her naked breasts pressing against mine that are still in the bra. My hands settle on her ass as I kiss her. A little softer than before and humming when I taste myself on her tongue.
Taking her home was definitely a good idea and one I will not regret any time soon, that's for sure.
Arcane fanfiction; contains spoiler for the entire show
Caitvi as parents to kid reader (female reader)
Summary: Caitlyn and Vi have a spontaneous meeting and need someone to watch their five-year-old daughter y/n.
No one else is available but Jinx, so they reluctantly let her watch their daughter. Vi assures Caitlyn that nothing will go wrong, but little do they know, Jinx is teaching y/n all sorts of pranks.
Being back home in the evening, Vi and Cait have to put up with y/n's new idea of fun and have to figure out how to get their sweet little girl back.
"Are you sure about this, Vi?" Caitlyn asks, looking over at you where you sit at the coffee table in the living room drawing with your crayons. Vi shrugs, following her wife's eyes to watch you happily draw.
"I don't think there's anything we have to worry about. Besides, we don't really have a choice, do we?" She is aware of Caitlyn's dislike of this decision.
"Nothing to worry about? Your sister was a wanted criminal for plenty of years." Caitlyn returns her attention to Vi, eyebrows pulled together. Vi sighs and waves her hand around, not wanting to discuss this again so early in the morning.
"She was, but now she isn't. Besides, she took great care of Isha, didn't she? We can let her watch y/n for a few hours without having to worry about anything happening to her. Jinx might not appear trustworthy in everything she does, but she does care about the people she holds close. Y/n won't die on her watch." Vi always got a little protective of her sister, even though both of them are adults and Jinx could stand her ground perfectly well on her own. Still, a small part of her will always stand up for her sister.
"I want to get her back well and unharmed, not just alive," Caitlyn scoffs, lifting her cup of coffee to her lips to take a sip, looking back over at you. Vi places a hand on Cait's arm. They had a similar discussion to this last night when they got the news about the meetings today. Both of them are asked to attend, so they need someone to watch you.
There aren't many people they trust when it comes to watching their five-year-old daughter. Actually, there are none. Caitlyn always made sure one of them was available to watch you, not trusting a babysitter. Part of her couldn't let go of the memory of war and the feeling of trusting the wrong person and being betrayed. She can stand losing an eye but she can't stand losing her child.
"I will talk to her when dropping y/n off," Vi promises, waiting until Caitlyn looks at her. "We can trust her, I'm sure. And she already knows we are coming, so I'm sure she cleaned up and put all her weapons away."
Caitlyn meets Vi's eyes, slowly nodding. If Vi can trust Jinx with their daughter, then so can she. She trusts Vi and therefore the people Vi trusts in. Which doesn't remove the uneasy feeling inside her stomach, but they really don't have much of a choice. This is the kind of meeting they can't bring you to and they can't leave you alone either.
"Fine."
Vi gives her an encouraging smile and gets up.
"Meet you at the conference?" She leans down to kiss the eyebrow over Caitlyn's eyepatch and waits for the conforming nod before turning to you.
"Ready to go to your Aunt Jinx, little warrior?"
You peak up at the nickname and look over to your mama.
"Yes! I drew her a picture. Look!" You hold up a drawing that is probably supposed to be Jinx, if the blue hair is any indication.
"She will love it," Caitlyn says from where she is still sat at the kitchen table in the breakfast nook. You nod eagerly and grab the picture, running to Vi when she holds her arms open. She catches you without a problem, lifting you up with one arm. You rest your head on her strong shoulder, waving around the picture you drew.
Caitlyn gets up from the table and steps closer, reaching out to cup your cheek.
"Have a good time with Aunt Jinx and be good, my sweet girl. Listen to what she says, alright?" The last request makes her stomach feel heavy as she isn't quite sure that's the best advice she can give. But what is she supposed to do? Tell you to misbehave? No, she will just have to trust that everything will be okay.
"I will," you promise and give her a kiss goodbye before Vi takes you out and to your aunt.
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Caitlyn can't sit still throughout the entire meeting, thoughts constantly drifting off to you and what you might be up to right now. She should pay attention and maybe even take notes, but she can't. Being physically here has to be enough for now.
Vi notices Caitlyn's distracted look and takes her hand on the table, giving it a gentle squeeze while taking notes with the other. She knew from the beginning that Cait wouldn't be able to concentrate very much, so she started making notes from the start on.
Cait squeezes Vi's hand in return, taking a deep breath and hoping that Vi was right when it comes to trusting Jinx.
Of course, Jinx had met you before, you are her niece after all. They just never left you alone with her, without supervision.
Jinx wouldn't hurt you, Cait knew that much and she knew you would likely come home without there having been any issues, she just doesn't know for sure and that bothers her. It doesn't help that the meetings take up most of the day either. She has to sit here for hours on end while wondering what her precious daughter could be up to in this very second.
You are a bright child, always happy to explore new locations and learn new things. Eager to help with whatever your moms were during and always excited about the smallest things. You were truly a sunshine and without you around, Caitlyn almost felt like the light was dimmed.
During a break, Vi pulls Cait aside, leaning against the wall in a corner, which allows them some privacy.
"Hey, it's all good. You don't need to wonder about what they are doing every second of the day," she assures Cait.
"I'm not," Cait defends herself, folding her arms over her chest. Vi raises an eyebrow.
"You are, you got your worrying face on."
"I don't have a worrying face!"
Vi chuckles. "You absolutely do, cupcake. It's the one you make when I wrestle with y/n or play fighting, or when I make breakfast with her in the kitchen."
"Well, you are terrible at cooking, I ought to be worried you'll burn down the kitchen," Cait mutters, though not quite able to hide a hint of affection in her words. She loves seeing the two of you together, especially because you always seem to enjoy the time in the kitchen. Which is likely connected to all the silliness Vi provides to make you laugh. It always ends up in a mess, but Cait still loves seeing her two girls together having fun.
"I wouldn't burn down the kitchen," Vi protests, which earns her a stern glare from Caitlyn and she rolls her eyes.
"One time," she mutters.
"And about that fighting, I think you should stop playing that with her. You are encouraging her to use violence for fun and I don't like that."
Vi holds up a finger, the material of the button-down Cait made her wear this morning tightening around her arms.
"I do not teach her to use violence for fun. I teach her how to defend herself if ever needed. Besides, she knows she's not supposed to hit people. She's a sweet angel and would never ever think about such things."
"She won't stay an angel if you keep calling her a warrior and pretend to be a ring fighter."
"I was a ring fighter."
Caitlyn sighs and nods, pinching the bridge of her nose. A counsel meeting isn't exactly the right moment to discuss parenting methods. She relents and brushes a hand over Vi's wild hair. Every attempt at taming it failed and she secretly loves it.
"Only a few more hours until we can pick her up. Even if Jinx tried really hard, she could not mess y/n up in a day."
Caitlyn nods, taking a deep breath, Vi is right about that, she shouldn't worry.
Little do they know, it doesn't even take Jinx a day to do just that.
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When the meetings are over, Caitlyn all but rushes to the car, Vi following her, not as worried as her wife. She knows, Jinx can get mad at times, but she never let her madness show when you were around.
Vi hasn't told Caitlyn this, but she once left you alone with Jinx before.
She had to run to the store to grab something she promised Caitlyn she'd buy before she would be home that evening.
In those thirty minutes, Jinx didn't do anything bad. When Vi returned, you were laughing and clapping along to the monkey Jinx built. It clapped its cymbals together rhythmically, which you enjoyed very much at the age of two.
If Caitlyn knew, she would probably lecture Vi about responsibility and trust. But hence, Vi felt pretty sure about Jinx watching you. Watching a five-year old would surely be easier than watching a two-year old.
They arrive at Jinx's place, the front yard housing plenty of signs with various symbols.
"Walking up to her house always makes me feel like I am inside her head," Caitlyn mutters, steps fast. Vi follows, more amused by the whole thing than anything else.
Caitlyn rings the doorbell, rocking on her feet.
"It's opeeen!" Jinx calls from somewhere inside. Caitlyn rolls her eyes, the mere fact that her sister-in-law didn't even inquire who was at the door bothered her to an extend she couldn't explain. Who wouldn't check who's at the door when watching a child?
"We could be murder and she'd just call us in without even asking," she mutters, clearly unsatisfied. At this point, everything bugs her and her nerves are stretched. All she wants is to see you and make sure you are okay.
"I think your moms are here, bugger," Jinx calls from somewhere to the right. Just as Caitlyn is about to turn there, she hears quick steps from her left and spots you a moment before you crash into her, hugging her legs and pressing your head into her stomach.
"Mommy!" You beam up at her and Caitlyn matches your expression until she notices the light blue strand of hair in your otherwise dark blue hair. A strand that is clearly dyed and clearly work of Jinx.
She squeezes you, eyes already darting to where Jinx steps into the hallway, grinning widely.
You let go of your mommy to hug your mama, who is quick to pick you up and wrap her second arm around Cait's waist before she can charge at Jinx.
"We had a wonderful time, didn't we, kiddo?" Jinx asks, ruffling your hear. You grin at her and wiggle to be put down. You grab Vi's and Cait's hands and tug at them.
"We built bombs! Come and see!"
"What?!" Cait's voice is shrill at this point and you look up, confused why she isn't coming with you but instead glaring at Jinx. Jinx continues to grin and leads the way, which is the only reason Caitlyn follows you.
"We built a whole lot of them," you tell them eagerly, leading them to a workbench with all sorts of material on top. In the middle are five bombs, all set and ready to be thrown.
Vi relaxes at the sight of them, instantly seeing they aren't explosive in the typical sense. They will shoot colorful powder into your face, maybe make a loud noise. Harmless. She brushes over the blue strand of hair, not so happy about that but you seem to like it.
"Jinx!" Caitlyn snaps, whirling around to the younger woman. Jinx is leaning against the workbench, playing with a spring.
"What? She's healthy and happy." She gestures at you. You nod, having loved the day with your aunt. She has so many fun ideas and lets you do everything you're not allowed to do at home.
Vi puts a hand on Caitlyn's arm. "Let it go, we can talk to her another time when y/n isn't around."
Caitlyn glances down at you and relents. Vi is right, the last thing she'd want is to make a scene in front of you.
"Grab your backpack, sweetheart, we'll be heading home now," she directs at you. You nod and bolt off, grabbing your backpack. The snacks in there were empty five minutes after you spilled all the contents on the floor. Jinx and you had a blast eating them all in one go. Which is not at all what Caitlyn had planned when she packed them that morning.
You run back to your parents and wave goodbye to your aunt, excited for the next time you'll visit her. It's so much more fun when your parents aren't around because she lets you play with all the things she works with.
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During the ride home, you happily tell your parents about your day and what you did. Caitlyn gladly acknowledges that you had somewhat proper food for lunch and spent some time outside while the weather was nice. You swing your legs back and forth while recollecting the day, excited to get home again and try out a few pranks Jinx taught you.
As soon as you get home, you run into your room with your backpack to unpack what Jinx had allowed you to take with you. Some of the pranks were old and practical, but nonetheless funny. You sneak into the living room while your parents prepare dinner in the kitchen and slip a fart cushion between the cushions on the couch. Next, you run into the dining room and grab the salt shaker, screwing it loose. You are careful not to do it too much, it should still look like the lit is on. Jinx showed you how to do this properly and you are quite proud of yourself when you look at the result.
Your head is buzzing with ideas and you can barely contain all the excitement in your little body. Next, you run back to your room to grab a handful of marbles, slipping them under the covers of your parents' bed. While Jinx had taught you all sorts of pranks, she did make sure not to overdo it as she is aware of your age and doesn't want you to get into trouble. Maybe she also wanted to annoy her sister a little with these pranks and knew she would instantly be at fault if she did them herself.
You run back into your room and get the rest out of your backpack. There was no room left for snacks, if you hadn't eaten them all, there was only room for the things Jinx gave you.
It never occurred to you that pranks were bad or not funny to someone else as you always laughed when Jinx played pranks on other people and you didn't think much of it when the other person rolled their eyes. You wanted to laugh with your parents and show them what you learned today.
You push your sleeves up, revealing fake-tattoos that Jinx drew on you. Now, you look as cool as your mama with her many tattoos. They were hidden by your sleeves so far as it wasn't as warm at Jinx's as it is at home.
Then you grab one of the powder bombs and the gun Jinx borrowed you. With both things in your hand, you ran into the kitchen, not even noticing the discussion of your parents. Caitlyn is still not convinced about your stay at Jinx's, the dyed hair bugging her. Vi is arguing that it is probably just temporary dye, maybe even just chalk and would wash out after a shower or two.
You run into the kitchen and yell 'street fight' as you had so often with Vi. Usually in the living room and usually with every pillow and blanket accessible splattered on the floor.
Both look over at you a moment too late to react to you pulling the pin of the powder bomb and throwing it at their feet. That's the one important rule Jinx taught you with these: never throw them at someone's face, always only at their feet.
You giggle when pink powder explodes all over the floor and the lower cabinets.
"Hands up," you yell, pointing your gun at your parents.
Caitlyn's heart stops for a second, color draining from her face at seeing her precious daughter handling a gun. She has no idea whether or not it is loaded, trusting Jinx would also hand you a loaded one.
Vi stares at you as well, knowing she might have taken this too lightly. Seeing you pointing a gun at them was nothing she understood as a joke.
"Y/n, put that gun down!" Vi's voice is stern, something you are not used to. It makes you frown and look at the gun in confusion. Why isn't it fun to play street fight anymore?
"Y/n," she warns again and you finally react and drop the gun to the ground with a pout on your lips.
Caitlyn flinches at the sound of the gun hitting the ground, almost as if she was waiting for it to go off. It doesn't.
She lets out a breath, eyes falling to your tattooed arms and she almost instantly rushes forward, picking you up and setting you down on the counter to inspect your arms. You look at her confused, not following along to what's happening.
"Jinx tattooed you?" The best attempt at keeping her voice calm fails, but you're too excited about your tattoos to care.
"Aren't they cool? She said it doesn't even hurt when I eat candy at the same time. I was very brave," you tell them proudly, swinging your legs. While you had eaten properly, you also had eaten plenty of sweets, which are causing a permanent sugar high, pumping energy through your body for hours now.
"I will kill that woman!" Cait mutters under her breath, panic still seizing her heart at the mere thought of her sweet angel having tattoos now. Vi, managing to stay a hint calmer than your mommy, takes your hand and gives you a little smile.
"They are pretty cool. How did Aunt Jinx get them on you?"
"She used a marker, it tickled a little," you explain, happy to talk about your new tattoos. Caitlyn lets out a long breath, rubbing her hands over her face in relief. For a good moment, she thought Jinx genuinely marked you forever.
"How about we wash them off before dinner?" Vi suggests, eying her wife for a moment.
"But they are so cool," you pout and hug your arms to your body, not wanting to get rid of the tattoos already. Vi sighs and brushes a strand of hair out of your face.
"I know, but they are just temporary, so we can draw them new whenever you want." She knows, Caitlyn will not agree to that, but it's the easiest way to coax you into agreeing. You nod reluctantly and follow your mama into the bathroom while Caitlyn continues to cook dinner.
While washing off the tattoos, Vi notices the increase in your energy and how jittery you are, instantly knowing you ate way too much sugar throughout the day. Maybe Caitlyn was right about Jinx not being the best babysitter.
While washing you, Vi tries her best to explain to you that powder bombs and guns aren't okay to play with, even if they are just toys. You listen to her, unsure if you want to follow that new rule as you liked helping Jinx built these things.
While you and Vi are in the bathroom, Caitlyn cleans up the kitchen and picks up the gun, feeling relief when she realizes it's a fake one. Still, she doesn't like her little girl handling such things and thinking it's just a funny game.
During dinner, you continue to swing your legs and shift in your chair, barely able to sit still because you got way too much energy left. Both your parents notice it but don't comment, knowing they have to figure out a way to get rid of that energy before bedtime.
When Vi asks for the salt, you press your hand to your mouth to stop from giggling. She looks over at you, scanning your face and then the fixed look on the saltshaker. She was the one who taught Jinx this prank and instantly understands your giggles. Instead of using the shaker right away, she screws the top back on, destroying your prank and you pout.
"Did Jinx teach you the saltshaker prank?" She asks, looking over at you. You nod proudly.
Caitlyn watches you two interact, tired from the day and not sure how to handle this situation. She knew what to do when you threw tantrums and how to handle the phase when you hid their keys almost every morning. But this, she isn't sure how to handle it without making you like these pranks even more.
"You know, it's not nice to play pranks on other people," Vi says, pointing at the saltshaker.
"But we were always laughing," you argue back.
"Were the other people laughing, when you played the pranks on them?"
You shake your head. You had noticed that but didn't pay it much attention as Jinx and you were always laughing when it happened.
"That's because it isn't so much fun when you are being pranked. It can make you feel bad and dumb and we don't want to make people feel that way, do we?"
You think about that and shake your head. "No, we don't."
You love playing street fight with your mama, though you know, it's only pretend and not real. She always tells you it's not okay to hit people for real. When you asked if she ever did that, she told you about her past and the fights she had, in a kid-friendly version.
She emphasized how it didn't make her feel better and how some people hated her for it while others were scared of her. Something, you couldn't comprehend because your mama is no one to be scared of.
"Exactly, which is why we don't play pranks on other people. We can make jokes if we want to laugh together or watch a funny movie. We don't make them feel bad, just because we think it's funny."
You look at her, thinking about her words. It's hard to comprehend the entirety of her lesson, but you do understand that pranks aren't always funny and you don't want anyone to feel bad.
Caitlyn notices the shift in your behavior, giving Vi a grateful look. She reaches out and takes your hand, caressing the back of it with her thumb.
"Have you planned any other pranks around the house?"
You nodded hesitantly. Even though Caitlyn isn't happy about your plan, she is glad to see some of her sweet little girl again, who isn't mean to other people and doesn't play pretend with guns.
"How about, we play a game after dinner," she suggests. Your eyes grow big with excitement at the prospect of a game.
"We can pretend like the pranks are traps hidden around the house and it's our goal to find all the traps and remove them."
"We are on a secret mission," Vi adds, knowing how obsessed you get with being just like them sometimes. You nod excitedly, the game sounding like fun.
"Can I wear my leather jacket?" When you turned five, Vi bought you your first leather jacket, which Caitlyn wasn't too thrilled about, but warmed up to the idea when she saw you pretending to be Vi.
"Of course."
Now, you can't wait for dinner to be over and as soon as the game is announced to start, you run through the house to undo all the traps. Caitlyn helps you while Vi cleans the dishes. You laugh with your mommy and tell her which other things Jinx taught you today. Your mom helps you sort through all this new input and tells you what of the new things you shouldn't listen to.
By the time you return to the living room, all traps undone, exhaustion washes over you, the sugar high leaving your body. Your mood drops rather quickly, but that's something Cait knows to handle.
When you whine about having to go to bed, she picks you up and goes with you to get you ready, telling you a story while changing you and helping you to brush your teeth.
Eventually, tiredness gets the better of you and you rest your head on her shoulder and yawn as she carries you to say goodnight to your mama.
"Good night, Mama," you mumble, barely able to hold your eyes open at this point.
"Good night, baby," she replies and gives you a kiss. You return a weak smile, snuggling into you mommy. Caitlyn carries you to your bedroom and tugs you into bed, kissing your forehead.
"Good night, sweetheart," she whispers.
You are already asleep, not able to answer her anymore. Her heart softens at the sight of you asleep in your bed. Even if you weren't an angel for the entirety of the day, you are one now and she can't express how much she loves you.
Quietly, she leaves your bedroom, leaving the door ajar before returning to the living room. Vi is sitting in one of the armchairs, holding out a hand. Caitlyn lets herself be pulled into Vi's lap, resting her head against Vi's. Strong arms engulf her and she relaxes.
"Jinx will never again watch y/n," she mutters. Vi hums, holding her tighter and safer.
"Agreed." As much as she loves her sister, she doesn't have the energy to deal with you and all the pranks and ideas put into your head on a regular basis.
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A/n: This is the first time I wrote an Arcane fanfiction, so let me know what you think :D
Summary: Natasha spends the evening at a bar with some of her gang members when a waitress catches her attention. Her attitude and nonchalance about the conversation Natasha has with her members peaks Nat's interest and she accepts the challenge. Her new plan for the night is now: win the challenge the waitress started.
Warnings: dark-ish Nat, AU gang leader Nat, talk about gang activities and connected violence/murder/weapons, making out, alcohol consume
I lean back, looking around the bar. The lights are dimmed, creating an almost comfortable atmosphere.
More importantly though, they allow us some privacy. I don't need people recognizing me or anyone from my gang from across the bar.
Perhaps it's not smart to even go to a bar, but I needed to lift the spirits after our last plan failed. The mood was down and people were discouraged. That's not what I need, especially not when I want to take revenge on the people who took what we were after.
No one messes with me and my gang in this city and I will make sure everyone knows that.
It's better to be feared that celebrated. People don't necessarily listen to you, even when they look up to you. But they certainly listen to you when they have to fear for their lives otherwise.
My eyes dart over the staff behind the bar and waiting the tables. None of them look like they are part of any gang activities, so we should be safe to talk about our next plan.
I return my attention to the six people around me. All of them already had a beer, but they will have to be sober enough to discuss this. Otherwise, they will not come out drinking again.
"I need information on the gang who sabotaged the shipping of the gunpowder," I say and the other six people around me quiet down, all looking at me.
These are my most capable gang members, the ones I would trust above the rest. Still, I wouldn't put my life into their hands if I didn't have to.
The only one I would trust with my life is Cassie, but she is currently in the hospital, being treated after our last mission. She'll make it, but it looked quite critical for a few moments and I will not allow anyone to hurt the people I care about.
"I will be on it, boss," says Seth and I nod.
All of them have to be able to do whatever jobs I ask of them, otherwise I'd have to put them back into training. Having only one capable person is a fatal mistake I will not make twice. It was collateral damage back then, but I can't lose more people to that.
"Once we know where their base is, we will infiltrate it, filter out their leader. I want them in one of our rooms for a talk," I state, taking a swing of my beer and emptying it.
"They will get the option of handing over their gang to me, or they will die. The rest will get a chance to come over on their own terms. Everyone who doesn't will be killed." It's as simple as that. Everyone who doesn't work for me, works against me.
"If anyone offers information, bring them to me and I will take care of them. If they bluff, they will see the barrel of my gun."
"There are no guns allowed in here."
My eyes snap up to the waitress standing behind one of my people. Her arms are crossed and eyes locked on mine, slightly narrowed. The tray she was carrying is tucked underneath her arm.
I raise an eyebrow, not liking someone eavesdropping on our conversation.
Seth pulls a knife out under the table but I shoot him a glare to keep it to himself for now. Then I return my eyes to the waitress, looking her over.
Her hair is dark, falling around her shoulders in soft waves. Part of it is put up to keep it out of her face. In contrast to her hair, her eyes are bright, if clearly laced with suspicion right now. She's a pretty one, there's no doubt in that.
Soft cheeks but clear jawline, lips swung nicely and clearly painted with lipstick. An almost natural red though.
"We are carrying no guns," I state, gesturing around my people. It's a lie, but she won't search us for weapons. She could try, but that wouldn't end well for her.
"If I see you waving around any weapons, I will have to ask you to leave," she warns with a smooth voice that couldn't even scare me if she screamed at me.
"You're not throwing us out of this bar. We've been coming here for years and are regulars," I state, levelling her with a stare of my own. If she's scared by it, she doesn't show it and just shrugs.
"So? Rules apply to everyone. You're not all-mighty because you've been here before. You either follow our rules, or you will have to leave." She shrugs as if it was that simple.
She has no idea who she's talking to then. Her words are somewhat amusing to me. As if anyone dared to throw me out of a bar. It would be the last thing they'd do.
"I don't think your boss would like that very much," I reply, leaning onto the table with my arms. "Throwing us out could get you in a lot of trouble."
"Waving weapons around could get you into a lot of trouble," she returns, eyes narrowing a little more.
Oh, she isn't one to back down easily, that's fun.
I just incline my head, having to hold back a grin. A fisty one, I like those.
She uncrosses her arms and collects my empty glass, turning around.
"Aren't you going to ask me, if I want a new one?" I almost let the amusement slip into my voice. Slowly, she turns around, a challenging look in her eyes that is quite intriguing.
"If you want a new one, you can say so. I'm sure you are able to voice your request."
I bite my lip to keep from laughing at how stubborn she is.
My people glance around each other, knowing they would not be able to walk away if they talked to me like that.
But that's differently, they work for me and she is just a waitress in a bar.
And who says I can't have a little bit of fun?
I meet her eyes, raising my eyebrow, accepting her challenge.
"Another beer," I order, eyes flickering over her face. She simply nods and turns around to take a step but then doesn't and turns her head back to me.
"There's no killing people in this bar either." With that, she walks away and I feel a mix of annoyance and interest inside me.
So, she heard more than is good for her and yet, she doesn't shut up.
No, she challenges me and thinks she can put me back into my place. Cute. And so very naïve. If I wanted to, I could have her killed the second she leaves work.
I watch her walk over to the bar and get a new beer, talking to one of the other waiters. His eyes don't flicker over here though, so she isn't telling him about what she overheard.
Maybe she does have some sort of common sense.
Going around and telling people you eavesdropped on someone else is one of the stupidest things you can do in my world.
It doesn't just put you in danger, but also everyone who you told about it.
She returns with the beer and slides it onto the table. A swift of mint hits me, mixed with something sweet. It's almost impressive how she manages to smell like this when working in a bar for the night.
Without saying anything, she leaves the table again, as if she couldn't care less about small talk.
There aren't many people who dare to challenge me, but those are always the most fun. Mainly because I know that I'll win by the end of it.
And yet, this woman just decides to pick a challenge she has no idea of how big it actually is and strides away as if nothing ever happened.
I watch her for a moment longer before returning to the conversation at hand. My people are visibly surprised, I'm letting this go. Well, I am not done with this just yet.
Who says I can't have a little fun?
I return to the conversation we had, keeping an eye on the waitress to assure she won't overhear more. If she hears too much, that could be dangerous for us. After all, we don't know what kind of connections she has.
Once everything is settled, I lean back, still watching her. She's wearing black jeans that hug her legs closely and definitely accentuate her ass. The jeans are paired with a white button down that's tugged into them. Her curves look very tempting and I can't deny that she's an attractive woman.
An attractive woman who might have to learn when to keep her mouth shut. Though, a bit of a challenge could be fun.
I haven't hooked up with anyone in so long and most of the people instantly caved as soon as I gave them a stern look. This woman doesn't though, it rather seems to make her defiant and that is just very intriguing.
As the night continues, I find myself looking for her again and again. Something about her just captured my interest and I'm not willing to let it go.
When she heads towards the bathrooms, I get up and slowly walk through the bar, approaching the bathrooms as well. No one pays any attention to me, at least not more than a short glance as I pass by.
I push the bathroom door open, finding a row of four stalls and two sinks in the front. Since I don't need to use a toilet, I just lean against the countertop with the sinks and cross my arms.
The flush of one of the toilets announces her exit and I turn my attention to the stall. The other ones are empty, so it's just the two of us.
The woman steps out of her stall and visibly startles when she sees me. That makes me grin.
She ignores me otherwise and steps up to the sink to wash her hands.
Maybe she doesn't remember me?
I'm just one of many guests after all and perhaps she gives sass to all of them.
"Are you here to discuss the rules of the bar?" She asks, sounding almost uninterested and certainly unimpressed. If she knew how much power I held, she wouldn't be so calm about being in a room alone with me.
"Not exactly. I understand them. If I follow them is a different question."
She glances at me, eyes studying me for a second as if she was searching for any weapons on my persona.
Unless she slides her hand into my leather jacket, she will not find any weapons. I'm not stupid enough to wear them openly.
Her eyes drag over my body and linger, which makes me grin even more. Looks like I'm not the only one attracted to women. Our eyes meet again and a hint of a blush paints her cheeks at being caught staring. How cute.
"If you intend on breaking them, you can leave after finishing up your current drink," she tells me, turning to grab some paper towels to dry her hands. She won't make it easy for me, will she? I like a challenge though.
"Are you throwing me out?"
"If you intend on breaking the rules, yes."
Our eyes meet again.
Hers shine brightly back at me. It's a mix between blue and grey I would guess. There's a tug inside me, urging me to figure out the exact combination of her eye color. But I know I have to do this carefully and slowly.
"What if I don't break the rules?" I ask, dropping my voice a little deeper. She shrugs, as if this didn't affect her at all. Definitely a challenge to crack.
"Then you can stay. It's as simple as that." She doesn't linger any longer and heads out of the bathroom, leaving me on my own.
I shake my head with a chuckle. This might take a little more work than I thought. Fine, I will have my people make something work.
As the hours tick by, the bar empties, most people being drunk or at least tipsy and stumbling out of the bar.
On my part, I feel pretty awake, my senses as sharp as ever. After leaving the bathroom, I found the employees exit, which I can definitely use for my advantage.
Eventually, the woman steps behind the counter to hug one of the other waiters and unties the apron she had around her hips. Time for me to go.
I hand Seth the money for my drinks and for helping me with this and get up. He gives me a curt nod, eyes not quite as sharp as before as the drinks are catching up with him.
As long as he will be up and ready tomorrow morning, he can drink as much as he wants.
I make my way outside the bar and circle the building to get to the back alley in which the employees exit is. Lurking around the dark is creepy, so I make sure to stand underneath a lamp post.
Tonight, I don't want to scare her.
My eyes trail over the three steps that lead down from the exit to the alleyway. The bottom step glistens in the light of the lamppost. I don't want to know what Seth used to make it look like this, but it should do its purpose.
The door opens and the woman's head pokes out, the rest of her body following. She looks up and down the alleyway, eyes shortly stopping on me. Then she takes a step down and I get ready to spring into action.
On the last step, she slips and stumbles. I'm quick to spring forward and catch her elbow before she can fall.
"Fuck!" She mutters, her breath hitching in her throat.
"Are you alright?" I check, making sure she's standing securely before letting go of her. After all, I don't want to be a creep or cross her boundaries.
She nods and looks at the steps before looking up at me. For a second, her eyes widen as if the realization who caught her just dawned on her. I give her a little smile, hoping not to look smug that the plan worked.
"Yeah, just a little..." she shakes her head and presses her hand to her chest, above her heart.
"I get that. Adrenaline flares up in those moments," I say and she nods, letting out a breath.
"Thanks for steadying me. Otherwise I would've had a rendezvous with the ground." She gives me a short, slightly awkward laugh that makes me smile though. So, she can be funny too.
"No problem. You didn't twist your ankle or anything when stumbling?" Showing care often gets people to trust you, which is stupid as care is so easily faked.
She shakes her head and puts more weight on her leg. "Nope, all intact."
I glance at her boots, noticing they have heels. Not high ones, but definitely noticeable. She is already a little shorter than I am, so without her shoes, she would be even shorter.
"What were you doing here?" She waves her hand at the alley way, a hint of suspicion in her voice.
Right, I knew this question would come. I considered what the smartest way would be to go about this before I came here.
"I was waiting for you," I admit, scratching the back of my neck as if I was nervous. Which I am not, but it'll gain a bit more of her trust.
She eyes me up and down and folds her arms in front of her chest.
"What for?"
I drop my hands again. "I know we got off on the wrong foot, but you caught my interest and I wanted to ask for your number." Not a total lie.
Staying somewhat true to reality is often the best way to handle lies. She looks at me for a moment, considering her answer.
"Why did I catch your interest?" There's a hint of suspicion in her voice and I suppose, I can't blame her.
She did overhear me talking about killing someone. I'd be careful in her place too.
She steps around me and starts walking out of the alley and I fall into step next to her. It's late and she probably wants to go home.
"Because you stood your ground and you are good looking." It's an easy answer and actually the truth. There's more to it, but she doesn't need to know that I think it's fun to accept the unspoken challenge she extended earlier.
Her eyes flicker over me before she meets my eyes. "Fair enough. But you being friendly will not change the no-weapons rule in the bar," she states and I nod, suppressing a grin. Still caught up on that, I see.
"I don't expect that to change..." I let the rest of the sentence hang in the air and tilt my head at her, a silent request for her to fill in her name.
"Y/n," she supplies and nods at me in return.
"Natasha, but you can also call me Nat," I answer. She hums.
"Natasha," she says, as if wanting to see how it feels to say my name.
If it rings a bell, she doesn't show it but from everything that happened tonight, I would guess she has no idea who I am. Nor how much power I hold.
"Are you headed home?" I notice the way she pulls her jacket tighter around herself.
It has gotten cooler since the sun set, the thin jacket she's wearing will not protect her from the cold.
"Yeah, it's just a few blocks away." She nods down the street.
Walking a few blocks at this hour at night isn't very safe, not alone anyway and not when she looks as harmless as this. I know a thing or two as that's how we pick new recruits or hostages. Not that I'd do either to her, but I am not the only one with a gang in this city.
"If you want, I can drive you home," I offer, nodding to my motorcycle that's parked at the side of the road.
Y/n slows her steps and looks it over before looking at me. It's too dark to properly read her expression, but I am sensing a certain hesitation. Which is fair, I am a stranger to her and it's not smart to trust a stranger.
"It's fine, I can walk," she brushes it off. A shiver betrays her though and I tap the seat of my motorcycle.
"I won't kidnap you and if you let me take you home, you won't have to be in the cold for so long anymore."
"What about the wind when you drive? Besides, I see no helmets and I will not get on a bike without a helmet." She hugs her arms around herself, keeping her distance of a few steps away from the bike.
"There are jackets to protect you from the wind and I got helmets." I pull out a set of car keys and open up the car parked behind the bike.
Since Cassie is currently in the hospital, Seth is taking over her job of accompanying me wherever I need to go.
Leaving my helmet unattended at the bike would be stupid, but carrying it around is also a pain in the ass. So, I keep it in the car.
Cassie never leaves before I do and now it's Seth's job to do so until Cassie is okay again.
I grab my helmet from the trunk and hold up a second one. It's rare that I take someone with me on my bike, but you never know if you need to make a quick exit and a motorcycle is just so much easier to navigate through traffic.
"Why do you have a car and a bike?" Y/n looks even more skeptical and I sigh internally. She really isn't going to make this easy for me, is she?
"It's my friend's car. I store my stuff in there until he wants to leave," I answer.
If she thinks that's odd, she doesn't say anything. Instead, she turns to look at the bike again, contemplating her decision.
I hang the helmets over my arm and grab the second leather jacket before closing the trunk. No matter if we walk or ride, she will need another jacket to stay warm. Offering one is one of the basics to do when you want to convince someone of yourself.
I step up to her and hold the jacket up, so she can slip inside. With a second of hesitation, she slides her arms inside and shrugs it on. It looks good on her and is only slightly too big.
I hold up the helmet and watch a small grin tug at her lips. Looks like I'm convincing her.
"I always wanted to ride a motorcycle but never learned how to drive one," she tells me and puts the helmet on.
Look who's opening up now. I pull my own helmet on and click it shut before checking hers and pulling down the visor. The anonymity such a helmet brings with it is one of many reasons I choose to take my bike whenever it's possible. As long as I keep switching my license plate, no one will be able to trace it back to me.
"Looks like your dream is coming true," I grin and settle on the bike, not missing the way her head tilts slightly at that. "Hop on, passenger princess."
With the helmet it's hard to tell if she likes that name, but she doesn't protest. She swings her leg over the seat and the second she puts her weight down, she slides forward and right up against me.
"Sorry," she says in a tone that suggests she is cringing. Her attempt at pushing back is without success and she is just wiggling against me.
"No worries. You gotta hold on tight anyway," I wave it off and place my hands on the handle, starting the engine. Before driving off, I wait until her arms are around me, not quite tightly enough, but that'll adjust once we are on the road.
I kick off the stand and pull out of the parking spot and turn up the speed.
Y/n yelps and hugs me tightly, her hands clutching my stomach and I have to remind myself not to flex it and show off.
Her body is pressed tightly against mine, the lower half of her head pressing against my shoulder as her heels are of no advantage anymore.
The warmth from her body mixes with mine and ignites a small desire. Having her pressed up against me like this is quite hot and I am tempted to take her on a ride, just to have her like this for a while longer.
But I said I'd take her home straight away and I will stick with that.
"Go left," she tells me as we approach a crossing. I give a small nod to show I understood.
Her squeak when I take the curve a little sharper than I need is adorable and makes me grin.
If this already has her squeaking, then what will it sound like when I can speed properly?
Maybe I need to take her to a race track at some point.
Well, if there is anything further than tonight. But a small part of me hopes so. Who says I can't enjoy her company and the challenge she offers for a little longer?
I follow her instructions on where to go and eventually slow down when she tells me we're in the right street. It really was just a few blocks away and not far with the bike, which is a little sad as I would have liked riding on the bike with her for a while longer.
We come to a stop and I place my feet on the ground to steady the bike.
Y/n tries to get off, but seems to have trouble swinging her leg off the bike without kicking me. It takes a bit of practice to get smoothly off the bike, but this is honestly quite cute.
I click down the stand and get off the bike, holding on to it so she won't fall over. She makes a little surprised noise as she slides down to where I just sat and then gets off the bike as well. When she pulls the helmet off, I notice a soft pink blush on her cheek. It looks good there and I am curious what made her blush.
I take my own helmet off and hang both of ours onto the handle. For now that'll do. Later on, I can call Seth to come by here and take the second helmet with him. If he's smart, he'll get a cab as I do not support drunk driving.
I might not mind killing people in my line of work, but that doesn't mean I tolerate reckless behavior.
My hair always sticks to my face after wearing the helmet, so I run my hand through it and lock eyes with y/n. She fluffs up her own hair.
"Thank you for the ride home, it was really fun. I didn't know riding on a motorcycle could be so thrilling," she says, eyes bright with joy.
Gone is the harder exterior from before that kept me at an arm's length. Almost as if she left it behind when we climbed onto the bike.
"You're welcome, I glad you enjoyed it and I agree, it's quite the thrill." Even more so when you have an attractive woman clinging to you.
She wets her lips and I can't help but to stare at them for a moment.
The memory of her body pressed up against mine is still so very present in my mind. There are other ways I'd like to have her pressed up against me, preferably with little to no clothes.
"Which one is yours?" I nod at the apartment building. There are no lights on, everyone seems to be asleep.
Well, it is the middle of the night, so it makes sense. I've never been one to go to bed early though, the night is the prime time for deals you don't want anyone to see.
"Second floor on the left," she replies, turning around to point it out.
I hum, eying the building a little closer. There seems to be no sign of any gang activity, that's good. Some gangs like to mark their territory, but this building seems untouched.
"Do you live on your own?"
"Yeah, which is why my apartment isn't very big, but it's a good size for one person." She turns back around to me and her breath hitches in her throat.
I took a step closer to her while she was turned around. Her eyes dart over my face until they settle on my lips. I smirk and watch her look away, the pink in her cheeks growing. Not so confident now.
"Can I bring you to the door? Just to make sure you're getting in safely." I could just as well watch from here, but it's the right thing to do, even more so when you got other intentions.
Y/n nods before turning back to the building and nodding to a small side street.
"Usually, I take the back door as the front one is very loud, especially at night and is jammed in at times. I don't need to wake all my neighbors by shaking the door open," she explains. I wave my hand ahead.
"Lead the way."
Our hands graze each other as we walk side-by-side toward the back door. The side street is well lit and looks surprisingly clean. There are buildings on either side but it doesn't feel too tight.
"I still have your jacket." Y/n stops a few steps away from the door as if she suddenly realized. The yellow shine of the streetlamp makes her hair appear brighter, or maybe the lights in the bar just didn't do it justice.
"That's okay, you can keep it for now," I reply easily. I want to see her again, so I will and then she can give it back to me.
Besides, she might need it if I happen to pick her up with the bike again. Maybe take her to a place that I know is safe and where I make the rules.
"No, I have plenty of jackets," she declines and already tucks at the sleeve. I gently grab her wrist, keeping her from pulling the jacket off. Her eyes flicker up to mine.
"You can hold on to me all you want, but I will give it back to you," she tells me. I chuckle, there's the feistiness again.
"Do you always call the shots, no matter where you are?" I ask amused. She rolls her eyes but grins.
"Usually, yes. You seem like someone who isn't used to being told what to do." Good observation and very true.
I am not used to that and I will not make a habit of it either. In the bar, I followed her rules because I had no intention of wielding a gun, but now...
"Look at you catching up," I say, dropping my voice to a seductive murmur. She flashes me another grin, clearly still in the mood to challenge me.
"You're not as scary as you think you are."
I tilt my head, slowly walking her back until she meets the rough outside wall of the building. Her eyes stay on mine as if she wasn't impressed at all. The twinkle in her eyes is playful and her pupils have widened just enough to indicate she is enjoying this.
"Do you always challenge your customers?" I pin her wrist to the wall, resting my other arm next to her head. She cocks her head and pretends to think but I see clear mischief in her eyes.
"Only when they are interesting and hot."
A small shot of electricity zaps through me at her words. Oh?
Seems like the attraction is reciprocated then.
"So, you like making it harder for the other person?" I murmur near her ear, watching goosebumps rise on her skin. How else could I make those appear?
"Guilty as charged," she replies, her voice carrying a hint of breathlessness.
I brush my lips over her ear, feeling her shiver. Definitely a fun game.
Her breath hitches in her throat as I suck lightly at her earlobe and the sound awakens something hot within me.
A tiny whimper follows as I place a kiss underneath her ear and graze my teeth over the sensitive skin.
"Willing to give in yet?"
Instead of an answer, she cups my face and pulls me into a hot and messy kiss that has my insides raging.
Her lips are wild and hard against mine, demanding more and oh, more shall she get. But I can't let her think she's in charge here.
My hand drops to her hips and I pull them up against mine, making her arch her back and pushing her body up against me. I chuckle into the kiss.
This is the kind of pressed up I was talking about.
My tongue slips into her mouth and I explore her mouth in a heated kiss, feeling my need for her growing.
She whimpers again when I draw out her bottom lip as I pull away and the sound makes my imagination go rigid. I need to know which other sounds I can draw out of her. I want to know them all.
"Come upstairs with me?" She asks a bit breathlessly and I smirk.
"Your place, my rules?" Her teeth dig into her lower lip and she returns my smirk.
"Come and find out." She doesn't have to tell me twice.
Summary: Y/n calls Natasha with a confession: she got into a street race and has no way of getting out. Natasha instantly meets her with the best car in the garage, ready to protect her girlfriend and win the race.
The ringing of my phone pulls me out of my work and I lay the pen on the papers in front of me.
I look at the phone.
Incoming call from: Cuddle bug <3
A little smile appears on my face and I take the call.
"Hey baby," I greet her, leaning back in my chair.
"Hey Tasha," she replies but her voice sounds different and I frown.
"What's up?" I ask. Usually she doesn't call me when I'm working but she went to the store earlier so maybe she just wants to check if we need something else.
"Uhm, I got in trouble," Y/n admits and without seeing her, I know that she's biting her lip. It's a habit whenever she confesses something. Normally she isn't a trouble maker but there are times where she just slips into it without meaning to.
"Where are you? What do you need?" I ask, worry coating my voice.
"Well, I need you and a good car," she answers, her voice careful to not upset me. I'm more than confused and lean forward. What did she do that she needs a car?
"Why? What happened, baby?" I investigate further and get up. Work has to wait right now, my girlfriend is more important.
"I may have gotten myself into a street race..." She drops the information and I stop in my tracks and stare at my phone. How did she get into a street race? And why?
I run a hand down my face and hurry up to the garage. At least I know now what kind of car she needs. Luckily Tony has a lot of great cars that will fulfill their purpose in a race.
"Are you okay? Did they hurt you or anything?" I ask, connecting my phone to the car's speakers and close the door.
"I'm good. No, they didn't..." Guilt fills her voice and I shake my head at the situation and ask for the address. She gives it to me and I start to drive.
I ask her to stay on the phone with me because I'm a little worried she got into a circle of people who might harm her.
Sometimes I wish I could just glue her to my side to always be able to protect her but that's not possible. She needs her space and is allowed to be her own person. But I love her with my whole heart and thinking about someone hurting her, makes my heart clench.
During the ride, I hear her move around but it doesn't sound like she's in any danger which makes me calm down.
Within fifteen minutes I'm there and see four other cars standing on an empty parking lot of an old racing track. One of them being the one that y/n takes when she has errands to run.
I pull up next to her and turn the car off and get out.
There are some people hanging around, some shoot me a look, others don't. What did she get herself into?
My eyes shortly dart over the cars and I can tell they are tuned and built for speed but nothing that my car can't compete with. A whistle from a guy catches my attention and I turn my head. But he doesn't look at me, he looks at my car.
I turn back to y/n's and knock on the window. She jumps slightly before getting out.
When I see her face, I gasp and feel blood starting to boil. She has a black eye that looks painful.
I pull her into a hug which she returns instantly and her muscles relax slightly under my touch.
After I pull away, I take her face in my hands and scan it. There doesn't seem to be any other sign of harm. My index finger carefully traces the outline of the bruise and I clench my jaw. Who ever did that will deeply regret it.
Her eyes are filled with guilt and she mumbles a silent "I'm sorry."
I sigh a little and kiss her lips softly to show her it's okay. Not wanting to have a conversation with everyone being able to hear us, I pull her towards my car and open the door for the backseat for her. We both slip in and I turn to look at her.
"Who did that?" I ask, pointing to her eye. She bites her lip and takes my hands. Her fingers gently unclench my fists before she looks up at me again.
"I'd have to start at the beginning for this," she says and I can see she feels guilty. My gaze softens and I lift our intertwined hands up so I can kiss the back of her hand.
"That's okay, go on. I won't be mad, baby. I just wanna know what happened so I understand the situation," I say in a soft tone. She nods and breathes in before starting to talk.
"Well, I was on my way home from the grocery store when a car pulled up next to me at a red light. The street was completely empty. She rolled her window down and asked if I wanted to bet on something. I told her 'no' but she kept talking and said that it was a simple bet. If I was faster than her in a short race, she would give me a thousand dollars and if she was I would give her the money. I kept declining it and she started provoking me and saying that I know I would lose and stuff. I don't know, that somehow made me mad and I agreed. It was dumb, I know. She told me the route and since I knew that very well, I agreed.
"As soon as the red-light turned green, we went off. Due to my knowledge of the route, I calculated better and was able to take the curves tighter. It led to me winning. When she got out of the car, I did the same, thinking she would give me the money. But instead she gave me a blackeye, accusing me of cheating and cutting her off. I didn't but she didn't believe me and said we would settle it in a real race with judges. When I told her I don't need any proof and she could keep her money, she called me some names and I got angry and agreed once again." Her eyes focus on our hands and she bites her lip, nervous about my reaction.
I process her telling. The situation is not changeable anymore and what happened happened. She always got impulsive when someone provoked her, so it's not unexpected that she acted the way she did.
I'm honestly madder at that other girl who just couldn't stand to lose and my blood grows hotter when I think about her hitting y/n.
"Can you look at me, baby?" I ask and y/n's eyes find mine. "I'm not mad. I'm glad you called me when you did. The situation is a little tricky but we can still get out of it."
The tension in her body loosens at my first words but her lips purse at my last sentence. She wants to prove herself to that girl. Sometimes her stubbornness is cute but this time it could have ended dangerous.
"Fine, we will be part of that race, but only because it's on a racing track." I give in and she smiles a little at me before her eyes grow big and she looks at me with her puppy-dog-eyes. I can't help it but to smile and nod, knowing what her question is.
"I can drive." I answer her silent question and lean towards her to kiss her forehead.
"Thank you, Tasha." She mumbles and kisses the underside of my jaw. I nod and wrap my arms around her. She is a good driver but doesn't like to go too fast, which she apparently could prevent in her earlier race by being smart.
I let go of her and open the door of the car. We get out and I look around to see a few more cars have arrived. Apparently there are going to be multiple races.
My eyes scan the people to find the girl y/n was talking about. I spot a woman and nod my head in her direction and y/n nods. She takes my hand when I start to move and I smile.
We stroll over and I let my eyes swift over the car that the woman is leaning against. She notices us.
"You must be the girlfriend," she states and looks me up and down, a smirk playing around her lips that indicates that she doesn't take y/n very seriously but me.
"You must be the girl who couldn't take a loss," I bite back, feeling hate towards her. She shakes her head.
"I do but when she cheats, I won't let her get away with it." Her words are condescending and she glares at y/n who glares back.
Oh, that bitch will wish she never talked to my girlfriend. Without a warning I bring my fist up to her face and punch her. She lets out a groan and holds her lip and nose. I just shake my hand and pull y/n a little closer to me.
"Don't ever lay a finger on my girlfriend or it won't just be a little reminder," I warn her in a low voice and wait till she nods. "Good."
I lead us back to our car and y/n takes a look at my hand but it's fine, just a little red.
"You didn't have to do that, you know?" She says and leans her hip against the car, a small sparkle in her eyes telling me she liked me being protective of her.
Don't get me wrong, she can defeat herself very well but I won't tolerate someone hurting her and accusing her to cheat.
"I know but she deserved it," I reply and place my hands on either side of her hips onto the car.
She looks at me and smiles before connecting our lips.
Around half an hour later, the race seems to start and the first two cars drive onto the old racing track. My arm is wrapped around y/n's hip, a little possessively, here are too many people and I don't want any of them getting a false idea. Y/n doesn't mind and leans into me. We watch the cars speed over the track and I try to see if there are any complications with the road but apparently not.
After another race, the guy who seems to have organized this, tells us we're up next and we get to the car. Y/n insists on getting into the car with me and after a short discussion, I let her. Maybe that's for the better, otherwise she would have had to wait, surrounded by all those people who look sketchy.
We pull up to the line and I smirk when I see the woman next to us with a swollen lip and blood under her nose.
My attention snaps back to the road when a guy appears and wait for his signal.
As soon as he tells us 'go', I press down the gas pedal. We're off to a good start but the woman also isn't bad. In the first curve she almost reaches us but I switch gears into racing and we gain even more speed, leaving her behind.
God bless Tony's hobby to tune up cars. The distance becomes bigger and soon it's safe to say that she doesn't have a chance. Y/n giggles next to me and I smile. She may not like to drive fast herself but she sure loves it when I do it.
Within a few minutes, we race through the finish line, clearly winning this race and I slow the car down until it stops.
After we drive back to the parking lot, the woman comes up to us and hands y/n a check with a grumpy expression. She clearly doesn't like to lose but this time there were judges who didn't say anything. Y/n kisses me in joy and waves the check around proudly. It's adorable how happy it made her.
"I will take you out on a very fancy dinner with this money. And maybe buy something for after dinner." She adds, winking at me with a smirk. I match her expression.
"I'm looking forward to it." I reply.
Soon after we head home, each in our car.
Well, this was something I've never done before but I'm just happy my girlfriend is safe now, that's all that matters.
Summary: Y/n is part of the Avengers for a while, but no one really paid attention to her. She feels like she's alone in all of her training and with her thoughts.
One night, she goes out on a run, getting lost and returning home later than planned and injured.
Natasha noticed her staying away for too long and takes care of her, despite Y/n trying to brush it off at first.
Word count: 3.047
Natasha has never paid much attention to me. So, I'm surprised when she looks up now as I walk past the kitchen.
There is no one else around, the others somewhere scattered around the compound.
"Going for a nightly run, huh?" Nat asks, her eyes darting over my workout clothes, settling on the headlamp I wear. "Or trying to rob someone?"
I don't know what it is about her, why she doesn't care at all.
I don't expect to become besties with her but I thought she might be nice and happy to have another woman on the team. But apparently, she couldn't care less. I've tried to be nice and become her friend but her constant remarks and sarcastic comments eventually made me give up.
I simply roll my eyes at her. She chuckles amused at my reaction, not taking me very serious. So much about making friends when joining the Avengers.
When I joined them half a year ago, I thought it would be nice, we'd be a team and save the world together.
Instead, Natasha hates me and Steve drags me to training every morning.
His training plan is hard and leaves me exhausted on the regular. On days where we don't train together, he gave me the homework to go running to keep my stamina up. I skipped that once and the next time had to listen to him lecturing me, so I won't be risking that again.
Today has been really busy though and I've been sitting at my desk most of the time, writing reports, sorting files and digitalizing other files.
This part of being an Avenger truly doesn't make me feel like a hero, more like someone at an office job.
I hoped for this to be cool but it's a bit of a let down so far. Nonetheless, I hope to help people one day and give them hope when they see me, so I keep pushing myself.
Natasha glances toward the window in the kitchen, darkness mirroring her face back at her. It may be late and I am a bit tired but I will pull through and go to bed right after.
Whatever Natasha thinks, she keeps it to herself and I keep walking, heading out of the compound.
Going running in the dark isn't my favorite but running track in the gym drives me insane. The same circle over and over again. Makes me feel like a hamster in a wheel.
The air is cold as I step out, but I know it won't bother me once I start running and warm up. I already did my stretching, so I'm ready to go.
My steps are soft against the gravel path leading me away from the compound, my headlight the only source of light despite the moon and a few starts. The air smells fresh, the rain from earlier today still hanging in the air. The smell is nice, calming.
I run for quite a while, getting lost in my thoughts and when I slow to a stop to orientate myself, I find myself lost. My breath is still fast from running as I spin around, trying to figure out where I am. There are trees lining the path to my right and an open field to my left. Definitely no place I feel very safe.
I keep moving, even if it's just slow steps, my eyes darting around along with the ball of light coming from my headlamp. The longer I look around, the more panic unfurls inside me.
Shit!
I really got too lost in my thoughts to keep track of the path. That only happened once before but it was in daylight, so I could easily make my way back but now I can't look far enough to see anything familiar.
I take deep breaths, trying to stay calm but the nerves in my body are raging, every possible bad scenario playing out in my mind. Even a shake of my head doesn't help and I ball my hands into fists.
How could I be so mindless?
The smartest thing to do is probably turn around and take the way back. It has been straight for a while now, so I can't get lost that way.
I turn around, my eyes still darting around, trying to assess my surroundings.
My heart beats fast but more from fear than exercising. Being lost in the dark is one of my few fears. So much could be happening without my knowledge and I can only react to the things right in front of me.
Like a branch reaching onto the path. I bend it away with one hand, glancing around.
The sudden crack in the tree line to my left makes my heart jump, startling me. I jump into action, getting into the stance Steve reminds me of each training session.
The branch snaps back into its original position striking me sharply across the face and I wince at the sudden pain.
I'm really not in my best condition today. But jumping into the stance was an instinct, one that made me forget about the branch.
I wince again, my face heating as pain pulses through my face. I bite my lip to keep myself from making further noise, not wanting to sound like prey. Instead, I sidestep the branch and keep running again. My mind is overwhelmed with so much happening at once, so many feelings. But I can't break down now. Not here.
For what feels like eternity, I wander around, trying to figure out where to go while keeping my emotions at bay.
My face stings and hurts, it still feels like the branch is pushing against my face, even if it's not.
Goosebumps have erupted on my arms, but not from the cold. Not just, at least.
I hate myself for not taking my phone with me.
Usually, it bothers me and I don't listen to music anyway. I want to hear the steady sound of my steps and nature and running is the best moment to clear my head and think. Now, I would be grateful for a phone though.
Eventually, I spot the compound again, letting out a relieved breath and speeding up, wanting to be inside and safe again.
By now, my face is throbbing and I am not sure I want to see what the branch did. It certainly isn't pretty.
Exhausted physically and mentally, I enter the compound and head for the living quarters. Once I'm in my room, I can rest and cry.
I pass by the living room area, noticing the light on. Out of curiosity, I slow my step and glance inside.
When I see red hair, I roll my eyes, no one helpful. Not that the others are necessarily warm towards me but at least they acknowledge me.
Natasha turns in the armchair.
"That was a long run," she comments as she turns around, her eyes fixing on mine.
For a second and probably the first time since I met her, her face drops with some kind of emotion. Something else than distance and smugness.
"What happened?" She asks instead of making a comment like I expected.
I wave it of, too exhausted to explain and not in the mood for her sarcasm. I turn on my heal, walking down the hallway, yearning for my bed.
"That looks bad. Did someone attack you?" Natasha asks, her voice softer than I'm used too.
Just hearing her talk again is a surprise but together with this slight hint of worry, it's weird.
"No," I answer shortly, not in the mood to relive the moment.
Steps follow me and I wonder why she is so persistent all of the sudden. It's not like she cares.
"What happened then?" she continues asking. I'm not sure if I'm annoyed by it or feel a little touched.
But then, she never really paid attention to me before, so this feels like a game.
I simply shrug, dismissing her question while fighting my own uprising feelings.
A soft hand around my wrist holds me back and Nat steps into my vision again. Her expression is surprisingly soft, something I've never seen before.
"Hey, what happened? That looks bad," she eyes my face, her fingers still curled around my wrist. They are warm and almost comforting.
Her touch confuses my already messy mind. For a second I consider giving into the comfort, accepting it. But then I remember she probably doesn't really care and pull my hand out of hers.
"Happened during my run," is all I tell her, heading further to my room, fighting the uprising tears.
All of this is too much. The fear of being alone in the dark, the feeling of being lost, the throbbing of my face and the exhaustion in my body.
"One doesn't get a red stripe like that on a normal run," Natasha points out, her steps following me. Why is she so persistent?
I ignore her, not sure if my voice will stay steady if I talk.
"And you usually don't run for that long. Something must have happened."
My irritation at her constant words snap and I spin around, tears pricking in my eyes.
"Why do you care, Romanoff? You don't care about me at all! Why now?"
For a second she looks taken aback but then her features soften and she takes a step closer to me.
"Who says I don't care?" She asks and I huff, allowing the first tear to fall.
It stings when reaching the spot where I was hit by the branch but I ignore that.
"You show it in the way you act. Message received. Now, just go..." My voice gets weaker as my emotions get stronger, threatening to spill over with force.
Natasha keeps watching me, worry showing on her face. I can't look at her any longer, so I turn away, hiding my tears.
"I do care," she almost whispers. I shake my head, at the verge of a breakdown. She doesn't, she never has and never will.
"I do," she insists and a warm hand is placed on my back.
As if that was all it takes, my composure breaks and I start crying, every emotion pulsing through me in strong waves. All the fear, the pain, the loneliness, the confusion, the exhaustion.
Natasha is very quick to wrap her arms around me, holding me as my knees give up. Her embrace is warm but I barely register that and for a moment I don't care who she is and just bury my face in her shoulder, shaking while I cry.
Her hand soothingly rubs up and down my back while the other cradles the back of my head. I cry into her shirt, feeling the stinging of the stripe on my face increasing, adding to everything.
"Shh, it's okay. I'm here," she whispers as if this was normal for us. As if she hasn't ignored me for the most part of half a year. My legs grow weak but she catches me without a problem.
"Shhh, it's okay, you're okay. We'll get you to your room and take care of that injury, okay?"
All I manage is to nod and then follow her slow steps, guiding me backwards through the hallway.
I continue crying, my emotions flowing out of me, her arms strong and securely around me. They bring a comfort I didn't expect at all.
We reach my room and Natasha carefully settles me on my bed. My tears have stopped and I only feel exhausted and vulnerable now.
"Let's get you cleaned up, so nothing gets infected." She smiles softly at me, a sight I never saw before.
All I can do is nod though, too exhausted to do anything else or to protest. For a moment, she disappears into my attached bathroom and comes back with a wet cloth.
"It may sting at first but I promise, it'll be better soon," she says gently, sitting down next to me.
With her free hand, she gently takes my chin, tilting my head into her direction. Our eyes meet. Hers are soft, almost warm. I've never seen them like this and that's confusing me a lot.
I want to know what she thinks, why she is helping me. But I don't have the mental or emotional capacity to have that kind of talk now.
With the cloth, she begins to dab at my wound. I bite my lip, the slight stinging not pleasant.
"How did this happen? One doesn't get a stripe like this just from being outside." She pulls the cloth away to look at me, concern on her face and a dab of blood on the cloth.
"I was running and got lost..." I trail off, shivering at the memory.
"There was a low hanging branch and it snapped into my face when I didn't pay attention."
Natasha hums, pressing the cooling cloth back on my face. I'm surprised she doesn't laugh because that's not very hero like and sounds so stupid.
"The blood should dry soon and with a bit of cooling, the swelling will go back too," she tells me, her fingers still holding my chin, the small bit of comfort I get from it soothing my emotions a little.
Even if I can't comprehend this whole situation, I allow myself to feel this way because if I don't, I might just break down again.
Comfort is all I've been seeking for since I started this program. It's hard and I fell in bed with an aching body for almost the entirety of the first month.
There was so much frustration as well and small injuries. All I wanted was to be hugged by someone, to just get the smallest hint of comfort.
But that doesn't seem like something the Avengers do. Steve always told me to brush it off and Tony merely rolled his eyes when I was complaining. Empathy isn't their strong suit really.
Natasha never showed any emotion either and I started to feel alone. The goal of helping people still in my mind, so I bit through it.
Finally getting a sense of comfort is what my body has been craving and I don't care about who it's from anymore. Even if it's just for tonight and a one-time-thing, it's still better than nothing at all.
"You shouldn't run alone in the dark anymore," she says softly, so very different from the lectures I usually get from Steve. I'm not used to soft and gentle anymore, but it feels really good.
I look into her eyes that assess my face as she continues cooling it.
"But I have to keep exercising."
Natasha just hums and locks eyes with me. "Okay. The next time you go out for a run in the dark, you let me know and I'll join you."
The protectiveness in her voice catches me off-guard.
"What?"
"I don't like you getting hurt or the thought of you getting lost in the dark. It's not a peaceful place out there. So, the next time you go on a run at night, you let me know and I come with you, making sure you return home safely."
Warmth spreads in my chest at her words, the sense of comfort growing. Running with her could be nice, if she stays like this. If she goes back to her cold and distant demeanor, I am not so sure about it.
But not having to worry about getting lost sounds nice and for the first time in half a year, I don't feel alone anymore.
"I will," I reply silently. She nods with a soft expression and pulls the cloth again, studying my face.
"The swelling isn't quite gone but is better now. With some rest, you will feel better tomorrow. Besides, you look exhausted."
She reaches out and gently tugs a strain of hair behind my ear, the action so surprisingly gently, that I don't know how to react.
Natasha gets up and brings the cloth into the bathroom before returning.
"If you need me, you know where my room is. Right?"
I hesitate.
Of course, I know where her room is. All our rooms have our names on the door. But just the thought of lying in the dark by myself sends cold shivers down my spine.
Being alone in the darkness is the last thing I want. I'm aware that I am in no position to make this request but now seems the best moment.
"Stay with me?" I ask silently, feeling incredibly vulnerable. Natasha takes a moment to reply and I expect her to deny and leave but then she nods.
"Okay, I can stay with you if that'll make you feel better?"
I nod, relieved I don't have to be alone for the night. I get off the bed and gesture for her to get comfortable before quickly changing in my bathroom. When I get back out, Natasha is in my bed, watching me. It's strange to see the big bed not empty. But also nice, knowing I don't have to be alone with my emotions for once.
I slip in on my side and snuggle into the blanket, the comfort of her sheer presence soothing my earlier worry.
"Thank you," I say, looking at her. She gives me another one of her soft and rare smiles.
"You're welcome. Now rest, you deserve it and I will handle Steve tomorrow morning. After tonight, you deserve the training pushed back."
My heart feels soft at her words, her looking out for me like no one else did so far.
The protectiveness in her voice isn't lost on me either and I wonder what that's about. But I don't ask, not wanting to ruin the moment. Instead, I smile at her before closing my eyes.
She shuffles in bed next to me, switches off the light and then gets comfortable. I feel something against my knee, something of her but I can't tell what. It brings me comfort nonetheless though and I slip into sleep, feeling a lot better than I did when returning to the compound.
A/n: This is my first post here, so hi?
I hope you liked this one shot, it seemed like a good one to start with :D
