professional kate bishop kisser

26 🏳️‍🌈/ here to be gay and write fics <3

[katehopecore]

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𑣲⋆｡˚ lee | she/her | 26 | marvel nerd, animation nerd & woman lover 🏳️‍🌈| requests are currently closed. when they reopen, please refer to my request guidelines before submitting one | men and minors do not interact

𑣲⋆｡˚character masterlists

kate bishop

yelena belova

vi (arcane)

wanda maximoff

caitlyn kiramman

natasha romanoff

𑣲⋆｡˚other masterlists

kinktober ‘25

spiderwoman x kate bishop series masterlist

𑣲⋆｡˚ CLAIMED EMOJIS: ⚔️ , 🏔️, & ⛱️

[katehopecore]

Heyyy so is there going to be a part 6 to the spider!reader x kate fic?? no pressure just wondering :))

hi anon! yes, there is supposed to be a part six at some point—actually, part six was supposed to be the finale, but i just got wrapped up in other stuff. i’m hoping to get back to the series soon though, because i love it, and i know a lot of other people do as well ✨

[cherrypicking606]

I’m crossing my fingers that James Gunn supergirl is a girl kisser 😭🙏🙏 please it would be the wokest thing in the world if you did this for me James Gunn

[katehopecore]

you could be my silver spring

ᥫ᭡southern!wanda maximoff x female reader

ᥫ᭡summary: Wanda’s never been tempted by a married woman before, but there’s a first time for everything.

ᥫ᭡content: SMUT ‼️; slowburn?; petnames; an extramarital affair; reader’s spouse’s gender is unspecified; yearning; both romantic & sexual tension; drinking/mild inebriation; mild angst + comfort; kitchen sex; cunnilingus (reader receiving); fingering (wanda receiving); grinding; MEN AND MINORS DNI; 7k words

ᥫ᭡a/n: my hand slipped. i did NOT mean to make this 7k words, but oh well. you’re gonna need your tea for this one 👀 enjoy! <3

ᥫ᭡masterlist

Wanda wasn’t sure what it was about you that she found so captivating. Your beauty or your charming smile, maybe. God knew she loved those dimples. Maybe it was your contagious laugh, or your energy as a whole. But all she knew was that whenever you were near, she couldn’t resist ogling. Couldn’t resist turning her head at the sound of your voice.

And yes, Wanda felt downright insane about her little crush. You were a married woman, after all. Happily, even. Because Wanda could admit that to herself. You and your spouse seemed happy from the outside looking in. It wasn’t like there were signs that a divorce was in the cards. But that didn’t stop her eyes from wandering, or her thoughts for that matter.

She knew what it boiled down to. Or at least she knew what she’d convinced herself of. You were simply a beautiful woman. A beautiful woman whom she could appreciate the presence of. And she’d wanted to be your friend. That’s why she always gravitated toward you the way that she did. In this town, there were a startling lack of genuine female friendships. Everyone seemed to always be making catty comments about everyone else, and Wanda never knew who she could trust.

But you? You were like that first gulp of water after a marathon. A pie cooling on the windowsill after a long day. You were a breath of fresh air, and by proxy, nothing but danger.

“Taking a breather, huh?” Your voice makes Wanda startle, and it’s only then that she realizes she’s been lost in thought at her kitchen island for the last ten minutes. After saying she’d only be in here to get more snacks for everyone.

There was a baseball game on today, and Wanda, who loved to host, had agreed to throw a party for the occasion; complete with snacks, beers, and non-alcoholic drinks for people like herself who knew they’d lose their heads if alcohol touched their lips. She still did love a good martini every now and again though.

Wanda turns to face you, and is immediately thrown by your outfit. She hadn’t had a chance to get a good look at you before now. But now, she was drinking it all in—the red bandana-patterned crop top that stopped right above your belly button, paired with light-washed denim shorts and sandals that matched the top. A baseball cap sits on your head, masking those pretty eyes in shadow. Wanda can’t place the fragrance you’re wearing, but it smells expensive and divine.

You look at her expectantly and Wanda finally manages to unstick her tongue from the roof of her mouth. “What? Oh, sorry. Hon, my mind is somewhere else entirely today. Yes, I was gonna get more snacks for our little ragtag bunch, but then I got distracted, and my mind started runnin’, and…you know how it is,”

What she didn’t say was ‘you know how it is when you have an inappropriate crush on a married friend’

“Well hey,” you scoop up two bowls of snacks that Wanda had just refilled. “Two pairs of hands are better than one, right? Why don’t I help,”

Wanda would’ve liked, needed just a few more extra seconds to stay inside her head, but she disregards it, smiling her thanks at you, and grabbing as many cold beers as she could hold in two hands. She follows you out of the kitchen and back into the living room just as a shout goes over the room.

Wanda sets down the drinks and you the snacks, just as your spouse cheers. “You should’ve seen it, baby! A home run! Didn’t I tell you our team is on a winning streak this season?”

You giggle, dropping a kiss on the crown of your spouse’s head. “That, you did,”

Wanda quickly turns away, but not before a spiteful demon grabs hold of her heart, upends it and shakes out its contents. Wanda shouldn’t have been feeling this way. She shouldn’t have been holding a grudge over the affection you and your spouse clearly held for each other. She was happy for you. She knew deep down a part of her was genuinely happy for the two of you. Maybe she was just put off because, well, she herself had never been married.

Not that it was at the top of her list of priorities at the moment. She actually quite liked living alone. But sometimes, it would be nice to have a better half, right? Someone to bounce ideas off of. A safe person to come home to after a long day. If that was what your spouse was to you, did Wanda have any right to keep pining?

Wanda didn’t really care about baseball, so while everyone else was enthralled in the game, she only pretended to follow what was going on. She mainly just sipped on mocktails and pretended she wasn’t staring at you; pretended she wasn’t counting up every single time your eyes met hers and every single time you shot her a smile.

Later that evening, as the party wraps up, Wanda finds herself stood at the door chatting with you and another neighbor from four houses down who, for the life of her, Wanda could never remember the poor girl’s name. Dana? Dahlia? Delilah? At this point, it would be rude to ask, so Wanda had just simply fallen on her southern crutch and resorted to calling the girl darlin’ to get around it.

Somehow, the conversation had steered to that new fancy boutique named Quinlan’s that just opened up outside of town.

“Oh, you should go!” Dana-Dahlia-Delilah is telling you, eyes lit with excitement. “They’ve got everything and it’s sooo spacious! It doesn’t look like it’ll be from the outside, but it’s actually much bigger than I thought it would be. And reasonably priced! I got my good jeans from there a couple weeks ago,”

“I’ve been meaning to check it out. I want to so badly,” you sigh. “But my car is on the fritz at the moment, and I just haven’t had the time. My partner actually promised they’d take me, but then they keep pushing it back because things will come up at work and…you know how these things go,” you shrug, dejected, and something squeezes in Wanda’s chest.

“I’ve had to keep moving my schedule around,” you continue. “My partner and I actually talked about going together, but…”

Wanda knows she should probably leave it alone, but she can’t. And before she can even think it through, she’s blurting out, “I can take you!”

You glance up at Wanda, eyes wide. “Oh, Wanda, no. It’s forty-five minutes outside of town. I can’t ask you to do that—“

“Nonsense,” Wanda waves her hand. “I don’t mind one bit. Plus, I’d been meaning to get my tail out there to go see what Quinlan’s has too.”

Your eyes are still wide, vulnerable, like maybe you want to try to talk Wanda out of it again. To tell her that this is too kind and you don’t want to inconvenience her. But Wanda pulls the thought right out of your head and addresses it.

“I don’t mind, y/n, really,” she says, resting a hand on your shoulder.

“You promise? I’m not gonna like, owe you gas money or anything?” you ask.

Wanda chuckles. “No, honey, you won’t owe me a thing. Except maybe a little bit of quality time. We can make a whole day out of it. How does next weekend work for you?”

A broad smile replaces the worried look from before. “Next Saturday is great. 12 o’clock?”

“12 o’clock,” Wanda agrees.

***

The night before the trip to Quinlan’s, Wanda barely catches a wink of sleep. Which is why she’s already halfway through her third coffee by the time she pulls up outside your house on Saturday afternoon. But then, she pauses. She didn’t know what was proper etiquette here. Should she text you? Give the horn a quick honk? Meet you at the door? She doesn’t have time to make a decision for herself before you come storming out of your house, a to-go thermos in your hand.

Wanda unlocks the doors once you’re close enough and you wordlessly climb into her passenger seat. Again, Wanda isn’t sure what to do here. But she can’t very well drive off until she knows you’re okay.

“Is everything alright?” she asks tentatively.

You sigh, depositing your thermos in one of Wanda’s cup holders and running a hand through your hair. You looked pretty today. It was warm outside today and you’d chosen a floral sundress, one of the top buttons undone. Wanda pointedly looks at your face, so she won’t be tempted to look at your clavicle instead.

“Sorry, just…we got into an argument this morning, my partner and I,” you say.

Wanda’s stomach lurches. “Oh, honey, I’m sorry. Do you need anything?”

“No, I’m okay, really,” you drop your head back against the headrest. “We’ve just been having more spats recently. And always about their job. It’s like they’re always cancelling on me to make room for work, but never putting off work to make room for me, you know? But I dunno, maybe I just sound bratty,”

“Not at all,” Wanda disagrees. “If anything, you sound frustrated. Which it sounds like you have the right to be,”

You smile sadly. “I am frustrated. I’ve been looking forward to going to the lake for weeks, and now that we’re less than a week away from when we were supposed to go, my partner says they can’t do that weekend because they’ve got a business trip. Now I’ll have to see if I can get the deposit back that I already put towards the Airbnb,”

Wanda chews her lip in thought. Then: “Maybe you don’t.”

“Hm?” You glance over at her.

“Why waste a lake getaway?” Wanda asks. “I’d be happy to go with you, and you know, I’m sure the little darlin’ from four doors down would like to go too. We could make it a girls’ trip,” Wanda wasn’t sure if this was a good idea, or she was simply digging herself a deeper hole. But you seem enchanted by the idea, sitting up straighter in the passenger seat now.

“You know what? You’re right! Why should I have to sit home and have no fun just because my spouse is going to Nevada for a few days? Wanda, you’re a genius! I’ll text Denise and ask her about it when we get back to town this evening,”

So Denise was her name. Wanda would have to remember that for next time. Though, she feared she’d be sticking to darlin’.

You’re noticeably happier, brighter when Wanda pulls away from your house and gets on the road. There’s a Shania Twain song playing on a low volume through the car speakers, but it can barely be heard over the easy flow of conversation. You and Wanda discuss everything that comes to mind. Work, past parties, plans for the upcoming lake trip. There’s never a lull, never an awkward silence, and Wanda can’t get over how nice it feels to just…talk to someone like this. And she definitely ignores the little zing that goes up her spine when she realizes that it’s you she’s alone with.

About thirty minutes into the car ride, the rain starts to hit, and Wanda seems to drive right into it. What starts as a small drizzle quickly graduates, fat drops beginning to pound against Wanda’s SUV. It doesn’t let up, even as Wanda pulls into the parking lot of Quinlan’s fifteen minutes later.

You wait out the rain as long as you can, and when the downpour diminishes to a soft pelt, you and Wanda sprint into the boutique.

“Oh, you poor things,” A blonde woman greets the two of you as you step into the boutique. Her southern drawl might even be deeper than Wanda’s. “Let me grab you some towels so you can dry off,”

You and Wanda stand in the foyer, exchanging shy smiles while shivering off the effects of the rain. While waiting for the associate to return, Wanda takes in her surroundings. The place is cozy, all powder pink walls and floral carpeting. There’s a faint apricot smell that permeates the entire boutique, and the central heating is a godsend, warming Wanda from head to toe.

After drying off to the best of your ability with the towels provided by the associate, Wanda feels obligated to buy some clothes; partly as a courtesy, but also just to have something drier to wear. She also does her due diligence to convince you that every item you pick up would look great in you, despite your fuss that you couldn’t pull the clothes off.

“Don’t even give me that!” Wanda says, when you say the same spiel about a beautiful peach-colored top that you’d just placed back on the rack. “Y/n, that would look perfect on you! You’re not even gonna try it on?”

You shrug, fingering the price tag on the shirt. “I wouldn’t have anywhere to wear it,”

Wanda raises a brow. “What about the lake trip we were talking about earlier?”

Your eyes suddenly seem to brighten, like you’d just remembered the altered plans you and Wanda had made. With a renewed spark in your eyes, you pluck the top right back off the shelf and make a break for one of the curtained fitting rooms. Wanda smiles, trailing behind.

“Well? What’s the verdict?” Wanda asks five minutes later, stood outside your curtain.

“Uhhh…I dunno,” your uncertain voice replies. “Feels like my entire bakery is on display in this shirt. Don’t even need a push-up bra,”

Wanda has to snort at that. “Well then, it’s a good thing I’m not a prude, now isn’t it? Come on out, I wanna see!”

The velvet curtain shifts and you step out into the walkway. And the second you do, Wanda’s breath seems to get punched out of her lungs.

The tank top is actually closer to a pastel pink than it is to peach, but god, does it look good on you. That’s the only thought in Wanda’s head. Every other thought has vacated the premises. You were right. The cups of the top did give you that push-up effect, though Wanda would’ve liked to point out that you were already blessed without it. There’s a tied lace in the front, and the tank top stops at your abdomen, which means that all that skin above your navel is on tantalizing display. And Wanda can’t stop looking.

“Well,” she begins, when she finally locates her voice and puts her eyeballs back in her head. “I think you look divine in that, but it matters more what you think,” she indicates the mirror and you turn to face yourself.

You quirk your lips to the side, turning to the left and then the right. Then, you smile, seemingly having made up your mind. Your turn that smile on Wanda, and it’s so dazzlingly bright, it makes her blush. “I love it. It’s definitely coming home with me!”

“That’s the spirit! Now get back in there. I feel like we’re overstaying our welcome,” That much wasn’t necessarily true. Wanda had looked up the boutique’s hours before the drive. They were open every day except Sunday, though their hours were sparse—only open between 10 AM and 5 PM six days a week. It had been awhile since Wanda looked at her phone, but she knew it couldn’t be any later than one or two by now. The two of you still had hours. Maybe it was just that the combination of the central heating and the way you were making her feel, had Wanda feeling like she needed to flee.

Another couple minutes goes by and you haven’t re-emerged. But before Wanda can ask you if everything is alright, you speak up. “Um…Wanda?”

“Yeah?” she answers cautiously.

“I think I’m stuck.”

“What? Honey, what are you stuck on?” Wanda asks, her hand automatically going to the curtain. But she wouldn’t draw it back before she got the okay to do so.

“No, I mean the top is stuck. On me. I can’t get it off,” you reply. “Can you come help? Please? I feel ridiculous,”

Without another word, Wanda pushes the curtain aside, sliding it back into place behind her. “Oh honey,” she coos.

There you stood, arms outstretched awkwardly, perpendicular at your sides with the top halfway over your head.

“The tie in the front was easy, but there’s also a weird strappy situation in the back that I almost couldn’t figure out the first time,” you explain. “I thought I’d be able to just yank it over my head, but obviously not.”

Wanda clicks her tongue. “Okay, well hold still,” She reaches for the knot at your back, her fingers working carefully against the stubborn fabric. She works quickly to free you from the satin prison you’re in, trying not to think about the enclosed space or the fact that she can smell your perfume—that same wholly addicting fragrance you’d been wearing the night of the watch party.

“Okay, I think I’ve loosened it enough. Lift your arms,” Wanda instructs.

When you do, Wanda grips the hem and carefully lifts it upward. Wanda can hear your cry of relief as the material clears your face. And then, the fabric hangs loose in Wanda’s hand as she looks up at you. Your eyes lock for one heart-stopping moment. And yet again, Wanda’s eyes betray her. Stood in nothing but a lacy white bra and jeans, you’re a temptation on two legs. And something hot flares in Wanda’s gut.

You don’t even try to cover yourself, to shy away from Wanda’s eye contact. In fact, you step closer. The air is suddenly thick. Charged. Want hums in Wanda’s veins. Desire pools in her gut. It’s the same desire she’d been trying to tamper down for weeks now. And for one reckless moment, Wanda considers closing the distance; letting her hand cup the hairs at the nape of your neck to pull you in for a slow, sweet kiss. A kiss that would start slow, but would escalate the moment Wanda heard that sweet sigh pass your lips. She imagined backing you against the mirror, imagined your hands fisting in her sweatshirt as she tasted your mouth—

And that’s what finally jerks her back to the present moment. What the hell was her problem? You were a married woman. Married. Married, married, married. As in off the market. Why couldn’t she ever get that through her thick skull?

She takes a step back so quickly, she bumps into the same mirror she’d just fantasized about pushing you up against. She clears her throat before speaking again. “I should…let you get decent. I’ll be just out in the waiting area,”

“Right. Yeah,” you say. Wanda knows she’s not insane in noticing the breathlessness in your voice. It makes her feel better about her own current state of fluster. And also altogether confused. What were you thinking right now? She wished she could see into your mind.

“Right.” Wanda parrots, reaching behind her to fumble with the curtain. “So…I’ll be just out here,” she winds up getting tangled up in the curtain in her effort to leave, but once she makes it to the other side of it (not without you giggling at her first), she places a hand over her racing heart.

Get it together, Wanda. She thinks to herself. You are absolutely playing with fire. You will absolutely get burned. Only that’s what Wanda was afraid of. That she’d like that burn.

***

The weekend of the lake getaway doesn’t go quite the way Wanda expects.

For one thing, there’s a slight change of plans. Denise apparently can’t make it. Something about having to fly out last minute to see a sick relative. Which was fine by Wanda. But that also meant that now it would just be the two of you. At an Airbnb by a lake two hours away from home. Alone together.

“I hope that’s okay,” you’d said earnestly when breaking the news about Denise’s cancellation.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, of course. Totally fine. It’ll be just as much fun, just the two of us,” Wanda had replied breezily, paying no mind to the roaring in her ears or the spin cycle state of her stomach.

Now Wanda watches from the curb as you walk out of your house carrying what looks like a week’s worth of gear. And your smile only brightens when you catch Wanda staring.

“Are you prepared for a lake getaway or the end of the world?” Wanda quips as she opens up her trunk to help you stow all your things inside.

You smile. “Most of it is essentials. But you know how it is packing for a trip, even if it’s just a few days. You never know if you’re gonna need jumper cables or a tire iron or a rhinestone cowgirl hat,”

“Okay, while I definitely don’t think we’ll need jumper cables or a tire iron, I do hope you’re not kiddin’ around about the cowgirl hat,”

You give her an incredulous look. “You’d wear a rhinestone cowgirl hat?”

Wanda looks offended. “Well, what’s that supposed to mean?”

“I dunno!” You chuckle. “You just seem so…put together!”

“Oh, what? A put-together woman can’t also enjoy bedazzled hats?” She waves her hand dismissively. “Well, I was plannin’ on being a little bad this weekend and having some alcohol. Get me enough of it and I’d probably live in your little cowgirl hat,”

“Oh, I’m gonna hold you to that,” you say. “It’s about time I see you let loose,”

It’s about time I see you let loose. Those words are spoken innocently, but they still make Wanda’s body hum. Because she would. Oh, she absolutely would like to let loose for you.

It’s been a full week since the fitting room incident at Quinlan’s, and neither of you have brought it up. Maybe you were intent to keep it that way, and Wanda would have to be too. It would be for the best. Something had to pacify her. To reign in her horny mind, which seemed to only be getting hornier by the day. She’d thought about packing a vibrator, getting herself off at least so she could curb that want. But well, she wasn’t sure just how big the Airbnb was. How much privacy she’d have.

As it turned out, though, Wanda didn’t even have to worry about that. As she pulled up to the Airbnb that you’d rented, it looked big enough for at least five people to live there comfortably and never run into each other.

“The first place we rented was actually smaller,” you say. “Since it was originally just supposed to house me and my partner,” Wanda bristles at this, but tries not to show it. “But then when you had that brilliant girls’ trip idea, I upgraded. This one, I think, has three bedrooms. Obviously we’ll only need two of them though, since Denise isn’t here,”

“Could probably use that third bedroom to store all of your life’s belongings,” Wanda quips.

“Oh, shut up!” You laugh, squeezing Wanda’s shoulder before climbing out of the passenger seat. Her skin is warm where you touched her.

Inside, the place smells faintly of pine-scented cleaner and honeysuckle. Sunlight spills across the floor in golden strips. You seem to be in a rush to get down to the lake, so Wanda doesn’t bother unpacking her things. She simply changes into a bikini and meets you downstairs. Then, the two of you pile into her car and drive down to the docks.

Two hours later, Wanda can’t stop smiling. Maybe because she’s two hard ciders in. Maybe because she’d forgotten how much of a hard reset just being in water was for her. Maybe it was the way you looked in your bikini. No, scratch that, it was definitely the way you looked in that bikini. Like a beautiful mango, good enough to eat. And Wanda says just that, or slurs slightly, more like, “You look like a mango,”

“A mango?” You’d laughed.

“Yes,” Wanda had replied. “A big beautiful mango,” and you’d laughed again. That was becoming Wanda’s favorite sound. Or maybe it already was.

Eventually, the two of you retired to the dock. You sit side by side, glass bottles sweating beside you as you watch the setting sun in silence. Wanda basks in it, the quiet. And you’re the first one to speak.

“I think this is the most relaxed I’ve been in a long time.”

Wanda glances up at you. “Yeah?”

You nod. “Yeah.” You pick up your bottle, running your fingernails around the lip of it. “Can I tell you something?”

“Of course,” Wanda answers immediately. “You can tell me anything,”

“My marriage…it hasn’t been great lately,” you admit.

Wanda stills. She wasn’t sure what she’d been expecting to hear, but it certainly wasn’t that. Your gaze remains trained on the gleaming water in front of you. “That’s why I was so excited about this trip,” you continue. “A break, even if just for a weekend,”

Wanda swallows, her chest suddenly tight. She’d blame that on the alcohol currently circulating her bloodstream.

You exhale softly. “It’s just been...sort of strained for a while, you know? We don’t really talk much anymore unless we have to. Sometimes, I even sleep in our guest room just to…avoid all of it.”

Wanda’s hand tightens around her own bottle. “But at the watch party, you two seemed—“

You let out a small, humorless breath. “Happy and content?”

Wanda nods once. You finally look at her, and there’s something in your expression now that wasn’t there before. “I know,” you say. “We’ve gotten really good at faking it.” Then, you lean back on your hands, looking out at the lake again. “And honestly, I don’t think they were ever gonna give me this trip. I think something was always gonna come up. Because when it’s just us…” you pause, then glance up at Wanda again, softer now. “We’re just awkward. Quiet. And not in a cute way, like shy teenagers who like each other but neither know how to make the first move. No, it’s like we don’t know what to do with each other. How to act around each other.”

You exhale heavily, as if expelling those negative thoughts, eyes closed. Then, you reopen them, a small smile crossing your face as you turn to look at Wanda again. “But with you, I never feel like I have to fill the silence. I’m just comfortable. Just…being. You know?”

Wanda doesn’t respond immediately, which gives you time to try to deflect. “God, sorry,” you try to laugh it off with a dismissive wave of your hand. “Remind me to never again drink more than half a bottle of hard cider—“

“Hey.” Wanda’s hand lands on your knee, bringing an abrupt stop to whatever self-deprecating comment was ready on your lips. You look from Wanda’s hand to her.

“You don’t have to downplay it, baby love,” Wanda says gently. “I know exactly what you mean. Trust me, I get it. I mean, not the marriage bit, because you know I’m not married, but…you’ve been a great friend to me. One of the truest ones I have right now, in fact.”

You study Wanda’s face. She’s not sure what you’re looking for—a wrinkle? A sign that she’s being dishonest? But then a grin splits your face and you place your hand on top of Wanda’s, your skin warm against hers.

“You’re one of my truest friends too, Wanda,” you say softly. “I’m so glad I have you,”

Wanda’s hand shifts slightly beneath yours, which seems to prompt you to run your thumb over her knuckles. It sends a tingly sensation over her entire hand. Your gaze tracks between your joined hands and Wanda’s face, and Wanda sees it again. That look. It’s the same one you’d given her, just for a moment, in the fitting room. Want. She knows that look very well, because it’s the same way she’s been looking at you for weeks.

Wanda’s mouth suddenly feels like it’s been stuffed with cotton. Her stomach turns over. She has to break the spell and fast. If she didn’t, she’d kiss you. Right here on the dock.

So Wanda tears her gaze away from you, looking out at the horizon, which lit up now in shades of pink and orange. “It’ll be gettin’ dark soon,” she says. “We should start headin’ back,”

“Yeah, you’re probably right,” you agree.

The two of you stand, though you don’t immediately drop hands. When you do, it’s a slow pull. And Wanda has to busy herself with collecting the discarded glass bottles so that she doesn’t fixate on it.

The drive back to the Airbnb is quiet, peaceful, an old Hootie and the Blowfish song the only thing filling the silence.

“Hungry?” Wanda asks once the two of you have made it back inside. For some reason, it was the first thing she could think of saying. Even though she herself didn’t have much an appetite, stomach still in knots from whatever tension just happened on the docks. Because that’s what that was, right? Tension? It had to be.

“A little bit, honestly,” you answer. “But then getting tipsy always makes me hungry,”

“Well, do you know what I love when I’m a little bit tipsy? Good ol’ breakfast for dinner,” Wanda’s eyes light up as she says it. Even though her appetite was nonexistent, she’d be more than happy to cook for you. “What do you say to some flapjacks and eggs?”

“I say I think I’m in love with you!” you respond.

Wanda tries for a genuine laugh at that. It’s a joke. Damn it, she knows that. But god, does it hit too close to home.

Wanda busies herself with cooking while you watch from your seat on a kitchen stool. And soon, the mouthwatering smell of flapjacks and scrambled eggs fill the kitchen. Wanda sets the food down in front of you with a little flourish. Not wanting you to feel self-conscious about being the only one eating, she grabs a protein bar for herself and joins you at the breakfast bar. She’s not at all prepared for the adorable way your eyes light up on your first bite.

Once you’ve finished eating, Wanda clears your plate away, stowing all the dirty dishes into the dishwasher. The whole scene feels oddly domestic, and Wanda can’t help thinking that in another universe, another timeline, she’d be cooking meals for you like this every night. She’d always be on the hunt for new recipes, striving to impress you, wanting to see your eyes light up with every new taste.

“That was perfect, Wanda, really,” you say. “I wish you could cook for me all the time,”

Wanda snickers as she closes the dishwasher. “So, I’d be your servant?”

“No, god, no. Not servant!” You protest.

Wanda turns and raises a brow at you. “Your maid, then? I’d look good in the little outfits.”

Wanda regrets it the second the words are out of her mouth. Immediately, her mind is taking it out of context, and by the look on your face, so was yours. Wanda feels her cheeks blush, and she quickly changes the subject. “Speaking of outfits, I think I was promised a cowgirl hat?”

Your eyes light up. “Oh yeah! I actually did bring one. Hang tight, I’ll go grab it!”

As you disappear from the kitchen, Wanda takes the opportunity for a deep inhale, even deeper exhale. She closes her eyes and massages her temples. She couldn’t remember the last time her heart had been beating this hard. Pull it together, she tells herself. You can do this. You can get through this weekend and be normal. Just be normal.

You soon return, humming happily, and…yeah, that’s definitely a rhinestone cowgirl hat if Wanda’s ever seen one. The base of the hat is pink and dotted with the rhinestones in question. Beads hang all around the brim, jingling faintly even when you’re just holding it.

“Oh, that is loud,” Wanda says immediately. “In looks and in sound. People would hear me jinglin’ all the way in in South America if I put that on,”

“I know. I expected to be closer to blackout drunk when I actually put it on this weekend,” you laugh. “But come on, you at least have to try it on once. Please? For me?” Wanda would’ve given in any way, but then, you had to go and flash her those puppy eyes, and she definitely couldn’t say no.

With a sigh, Wanda gingerly takes the hat from your hands and settles it onto her head. And immediately, she has to blink a bead out of her eye.

“You look cute!” You chirp.

“I look like the personification of those hanging beads on that one Britney Spears album cover,” Wanda counters.

“Well, you’re not really helping your case here, because everyone loves Oops!… I Did It Again.”

Wanda huffs a laugh despite herself. You step closer, still smiling as you reach up to fix it for her. “But the beads are a bit much, I can admit,” your fingers brush lightly against the side of the hat as you try to separate the beads from Wanda’s face. But Wanda isn’t worried about the beads or the hat anymore. As her vision becomes unobstructed, all she can see is you.

You seem to catch her stare, and rather than looking away, you stare back. Your smile has faded slightly, but not completely. It’s just gone soft. And you keep staring. Like the answer to every question you could ever have is in Wanda’s eyes. Or maybe she’s just projecting because that’s exactly how she’s looking at you. And that’s exactly how she felt.

Her whole world was in your eyes. Because you were her whole world.

Wanda steps back a little, and you let her. She doesn’t break eye contact as she slowly removes the cowgirl hat and sets it on the counter. It’s a silent standoff for one heartbeat, two. Then, Wanda closes the gap and crushes her lips against yours.

She expects you to freeze, even for a second. But you don’t. Instead, your hands immediately come up to tangle in her hair and you work your lips back against hers. Wanda can’t help it. She groans into your mouth. Next, she spins, backing you against the countertop. You gasp into her mouth and Wanda slides her tongue through, flattening it against yours.

Her hands begin to wander down to your hips and yours tug harder in her hair. Wanda lets out another groan. Who knew she’d be a big fan of hair pulling?

Finally, Wanda breaks the kiss, pressing her forehead gently to yours, eyes closed. “Tell me…” she pants softly into the shared air between you. “…tell me to stop,”

You shake your head, licking your lips. “I don’t want you to stop,”

So Wanda doesn’t, capturing your lips in another kiss that’s just as, if not more bruising than the first. She sucks your upper lip, nips your bottom lip, then alternates. And each time she does, it pulls another moan from your pretty mouth, and god, she wants to bottle that sound, keep it for years to come.

Her thigh wedges between your legs, and you’re quick to grind down against it for more friction. Wanda curses, ripping her mouth away from yours and starting a trail of kisses along your jaw, down your neck to your throat. Then, thinking better of it, she pulls away.

You look up at her, a question in your eyes, but she merely shakes her head. If she was gonna leave marks, they’d have to be well-hidden. At least until you could figure out if you were leaving your spouse. But that was a big conversation, one that felt worlds away, and Wanda didn’t wanna think about it right now. All she wanted to think about was living in this temporary bubble with you.

So her hands go to your hips and she gently lifts you up until the counter top. “I wanna make you feel good,” Wanda purrs against your neck before kissing it again. “Between your legs. Can I make you feel good?”

You nod rapidly. “Yes, yeah. Please. Please, Wanda,”

With that, Wanda’s hands go to the hem of your swim coverup, pushing it up your thighs as she kneels on the kitchen floor between your legs. Your chest rises and falls quickly and beautifully as you gaze down at Wanda. She smiles as her hands go to the string ties either side of your hips, freeing the knots simultaneously.

Your bikini bottom falls to the floor, leaving you open for Wanda and she can’t help it. She bites her lip to conceal a curse. “Beautiful,” she murmurs, and then again, making sure she meets your eyes when she says it, “You’re so beautiful, honey,”

“Thank you,” you breathe.

“Don’t have to thank me for the truth,” Wanda replies, then smiles against your warm thigh as she kisses it. She kisses higher and higher until she finally reaches the heat in the center of your thighs.

One thing about Wanda, she knew how to please. She knew how to devour, to dismantle. She alternated between insistent sucks and gentle, teasing licks, chasing every place that made you moan and gasp the loudest. And all she could think about was how perfect you were. How warm and wet, and that addicting salty-sweet taste. She moans into you, which makes your thighs clench around her.

Wanda had a singular focus: making you feel good. And judging by the way your head falls back against the cabinet behind you, eyes rolling back almost to the whites, Wanda was doing just that.

Her hands massage your thighs as she works, whispering sweet nothings into your heat. Each word of praise—“You’re so sweet,” “You like that, honey? Like when I suck here?” “I love the sounds you’re makin’ for me,” —brought you closer and closer to that coveted release. And when you finally do come, losing yourself completely to ecstasy, your thighs close around Wanda’s head.

Wanda keeps you steady, even as you cry out for her, even as you white-knuckle the knob of the cabinet behind you. She eases you back down to earth, working you through your orgasm with gentle kisses and licks.

She waits until you’ve stopped writhing and then she pulls back, mouth wet as she rises to her feet. You gaze up at her, eyes lidded as she helps you down to the floor. Wanda is just about to ask if you need anything when you drag her mouth back to yours, tasting yourself on her lips. “Your turn,” you mumble against her mouth. And Wanda smiles.

You spin her so that her back is to you and Wanda braces her palms on the countertop. She’d opted to wear a one-piece bikini to the lake, so there wasn’t exactly ease of access when it came to undressing her completely. But Wanda quickly learned that that wasn’t what you had in mind, your fingers reaching down to simply slide away the fabric covering her center.

“Can I?” You murmur against Wanda’s shoulder.

“Please,” she gasps.

You drag one finger through her folds first, teasing her. And it’s not until she pushes her hips into the touch, searching for more friction, that you put her out of her misery, pressing a finger in deeper, whilst tracing her clit with your thumb.

“Oh dear god,” Wanda gasps, followed by a strangled moan as you add another finger, curling them upward just right.

“Oh y/n,” Wanda moans again, rocking against your hand with effort now. “Oh my god, yes!”

You muffle your own moans into Wanda’s shoulder, nipping at her skin as your hips begin to rock against her ass.

Wanda’s head falls back against your shoulder, her heart pounding from the dual sensations, and you take full advantage, your mouth on her throat. “You feel so good,” you whisper into her skin. “Feel so damn good for me,”

You both rock even harder; Wanda writhing against your skilled fingers, you grinding against her ass. And by some miracle, you both come at the same time, though you’d like to think it was Wanda’s orgasm that triggered a second one for you.

For a minute, neither of you can move, sweaty bodies pressed together as you school your labored breathing. After what feels like hours, you step back from Wanda, searching the kitchen floor for your abandoned bikini bottoms.

It’s a struggle for Wanda to stand up straight at first. She can still feel your phantom fingers inside her. Finally, she turns to face you, to find you already looking at her.

Neither of you speak at first, another stare down in the aftermath. You both know a line was crossed tonight, one you can’t come back from. You both know you’d just opened up a can of worms and now action plans needed to be made. But somehow, when Wanda looks in your eyes, she’s not worried about any of it. Love and lust and want all stirred together inside her to create an affinity for you like nothing she’d ever felt for anyone in the past. She’d make it work. Whatever she had to do.

“Wanda…” you start softly.

But she shakes her head. “I know,” she says.

“I…” you try again, and again, you get tongue-tied.

“I know,” Wanda says again. She brings you in close by the waist and kisses your temple. “But at least for tonight, for this weekend, let’s just pretend. Okay?”

You nod, and Wanda kisses your other temple. Then, the skin by your eyelid, then your cheek, and finally, your lips. You kissed her back, murmuring against her lips, “I like that idea,”

[katehopecore]

hey! I just have a question & it’s sort of personal.

How did you know you were a lesbian? I’ve been questioning my own sexuality for pretty much all of this year, and I don’t know how to tell if I’m actually into women or if a part of me is just being attention seeking

hi sweet anon, here’s a pro tip: if you’re worried about being attention seeking, you’re probably not being attention seeking at all. from what I’ve seen, people who aren’t actually queer and are just queerbaiting for attention, they typically don’t care how it’s perceived. the fact that you’re giving it this much thought probably means that you’re not faking it and that you probably fall under some form of queer.

as for how i knew i was a lesbian, it was a journey. i originally came out as bisexual when i was about 21/22, but towards the end of 2024, i started questioning my sexuality again, realizing that there was a chance i wasn’t attracted to men at all and was only attracted to women (turns out i was right to feel that way)

everyone’s coming out journey is different and i really do hope you take some time to self-reflect and discover who you are because queerness is beautiful. i hope everything starts to make more sense to you soon, and i’m absolutely rooting for you. happy pride! ❤️🏳️‍🌈

[juniper-puree]

getting manhandled by a butch would probably fix about 99% of my problems

[katehopecore]

hi! i just had to say that i absolutely love your fics! i just discovered your blog a few days ago, but the ones that i have read? chef’s kiss! i also saw your post about an upcoming wanda fic and look…i’m SUCH a slut for wanda, so i was wondering if you have an ETA on whennnn that fic will be out?? (asking for a friend. it’s me i’m the friend 👀) i’m so sorry if that’s annoying, you can feel free to ignore the question.

so i mainly just wanted to say hi and that if you’re still allowing new anons, i will be ⛱️ !

hi and welcome, ⛱️ anon. lucky for you, i actually do have an ETA for the Wanda fic. it’s finished and proofread and i have it queued to post on saturday morning, so i guess you better set an alarm 😉

[katehopecore]

ᥫ᭡Natasha Romanoff masterlist ᥫ᭡

Last updated: June 10, 2026

requests: closed 🔒

guide: 💌 = fluff, 🩹= angst, ✂️= smut, 🧺= comfort

changing the locks on your heart ‘cause you’re bored 💌🧺

post sex clarity ✂️🧺

[katehopecore]

post sex clarity

ᥫ᭡natasha romanoff x fem!reader

ᥫ᭡summary: maybe it’s not just about the sex anymore. but tonight isn’t the night for dissecting those feelings.

ᥫ᭡content: SMUT - SESBIAN LEX!!!; men and minors dni ; grinding; fingering; cunnilingus; ass play ; hickeys/biting/marking; dom!nat ; strap-on sex (reader receiving) ; overstimulation; aftercare; 2.4k words

ᥫ᭡a/n: i’m not responsible for any panting or barking this fic may cause. read at your own risk 🥵

It was like an addiction.

You kept telling yourself you could quit seeing Natasha any time. You told yourself this wasn’t something you desperately needed to feel normal, never acknowledging the fact that with Natasha was the most alive you’ve ever felt. You knew you were feeding yourself lies.

Every time Natasha came back from a mission, there was always a certain edge to her. A heat in her gaze that absolutely refused to subside, and it was always aimed at you. And you felt it too, always. The aftermath of combat leaving adrenaline rushing in your veins, each of your senses heightened. It’s that same adrenaline that propels your forward now, barely waiting for Natasha to shut the door to the safehouse before you’re on her.

You’re not in control for long though, Natasha pressing you back against the wall, her hands greedy on your hips whilst her mouth works fiercely against yours.

“God, you feel good,” Natasha says, her voice husky. Her lips capture yours again before you can respond, teeth grazing your bottom lip just hard enough to sting. The kiss is messy now, all tongue and heat and hunger.

Natasha breaks away only to trail hot open-mouth kisses down your jawline, then along your throat where she nips lightly at the sensitive skin beneath your ear. One hand stays tangled in your hair while the other slides lower; over your collarbone, between your breasts. Her fingertips absently brush a nipple as they travel downward toward your stomach, which tenses in anticipation.

Every one of your nerve endings are on fire as Natasha’s fingers get closer and closer to their destination. She was teasing you, you realized, and it was incredibly hard to keep a defiant moan from leaving your lips. Doing so would only result in Natasha teasing you further. Because she got off like that.

Natasha’s fingers finally find your sex and she circles it, making you moan out breathily.

“That sound,” Natasha says, her voice dark with approval. “Can I hear it again?”

Her fingers move in slow circles now; not quite touching where you want them the most, just skating around the edges like she’s savoring this power she has over you. Each rotation is maddening. Teasingly light pressure that doesn’t quite give relief but keeps the tension winding tighter and tighter.

Natasha watches each micro-expression flicker across your face with rapt attention. The parting lips, the fluttering lashes when a particularly good stroke hits just right. Your moans start to come out louder, breathier.

“You don’t even know how pretty you are like this,” Natasha murmurs. “All flushed and breathless for me, you’re a vision.”

Natasha finally presses two fingers where you need them the most. She applies just enough pressure to make your hips jerk on instinct. “Look at you,” she continues. “Already falling apart just from a few touches.”

Natasha’s other hand comes up to brush damp hair off your forehead in an unexpectedly tender gesture amidst the heat.

“God, Nat, fuck me!” You gasp.

“Impatient as ever.” But even as Natasha quips, her movements are anything but slow. The change in pace is like a switch flipped. Now her fingers don’t tease. Now, they press hard and fast, drawing ragged gasps straight from your throat.

Your sounds are muffled when Natasha’s lips collide with yours again. She tastes like sweat and citrus and something else that’s uniquely Natasha. Clothes come off in a blur, and your back hits the surprisingly soft mattress, Natasha hovering over you.

“You feel that?” Natasha breathes, her voice strained with pleasure as her hips slide over yours, full breasts mingling with your own chest. “How good we fit together?”

Her hips move in slow, rolling waves, and the slide of skin over skin is electric on both ends.

“Look at me.” It’s a command more than a request. Those sharp green eyes lock onto yours right before Natasha leans in to kiss you again. This one is softer somehow despite the intensity burning between you.

Your moans are beyond you as you let out one after the other. Your tongue hangs slightly out of your mouth as you meet Natasha thrust for thrust.

“That’s it, baby,” Natasha mumbles between kisses. “Let me hear you.”

Her hips pick up the pace, finding a rhythm that made her own breath hitch. Every rock of her body against yours sends sparks through her veins and yours. “God, you feel amazing,” she can’t help saying before sipping another kiss from your lips.

You feel it in your lower back first, then you gasp as the most intense climax you’ve ever had sparks through your core and outward.

“There,” Natasha’s voice is like gravel. “Let go for me, I’ve got you.”

Natasha rides you through your high, and just as you’re about 90 percent of the way through your comedown, she guides you onto your stomach. You whine from the over sensitivity, but go willingly, shivering when Natasha kisses her way down your spine.

Her lips trail lower, placing soft kisses along the curve of your ass. The touch is featherlight, gentle yet again because Natasha is nothing if not a tease. And just when you’re about to beg for more stimulation, Natasha presses a slow, open-mouth kiss to the crease where your thigh meets your buttock.

You moan and push your hips back into it, but Natasha holds you still. “Come on, you know how I like to take my time,” She murmurs, fingers gripping the underside of your hip, using her strength to keep you still. The gesture hints at her dominance, and sends a flare of heat straight through your lower belly.

You let another moan trail from your lips as Natasha sucks a hickey into the swell of your right ass cheek.

“God, baby,” Natasha says with her lips still pressed to your skin. “You make me wanna give you all these pretty marks,” Natasha’s breath fans over you as she sucks another bruise right beside the first one. “Especially for this perfect ass.”

The filthy words make you clench around nothing, and once again, Natasha is a mind reader. She gives the bite mark a little lick before pulling back. “Tell me this ass is mine.”

“It’s yours,” you gasp.

“What is?”

“My ass,” you’re trembling now. “It’s all yours, Nat,”

“Good girl,” The praise drips from Natasha’s lips like honey. Her tongue drags a slow, wet stripe up the center of your ass before she nips lightly at the small of your back. “All mine.”

Natasha lifts you onto your hands and knees, and all you can think is that it’s a miracle you even have enough energy to get into this position. Natasha doesn’t waste any time. She dives in, eating you out from behind, licking deep strokes that make your thighs tremble. She’s not teasing anymore, or at least, it isn’t her primary focus. Her primary focus has become devouring you.

“Do you wanna come again like this for me?” Natasha asks. “Or do you need more?”

The fact that Natasha was giving you the choice to switch things up. It must’ve been your birthday.

“I…I want your strap,” you say without a second thought.

“Thought you might,” Natasha pulls back with a smirk, not even bothering to wipe the sheen from her mouth. “Give me a second, baby,”

Natasha moves away for a moment to rummage through a nearby drawer. She returns a second later with her strap-on harness. The dildo attached is a thick, ribbed one; red and smooth and with it on, Natasha looks like she means business. “You ready?” she asks.

As you nod, Natasha kneels behind you. Her hands move to frame your hips as she eases inside.

“You take me so well,” The words spill from Natasha’s lips just above a whisper. “You feel incredible. So perfect like this.”

Her hips work into a frenzy as she slowly pushes in further. Groans get lost in your shoulder, and Natasha pressing kisses to your shoulder blades as she savors the tight heat around her.

She groans harder when you rock back against her, a breathy command of, “Take what you need,” spoken against your ear.

“Oh god, Nat,” you pant. “Harder,”

“Is that what you need, baby?” Natasha purrs. When you nod rapidly, she smirks, hands sliding higher up toward your stomach as her hips snap into you harder.

You lean back, letting your head rest against Natasha’s shoulder, and she welcomes you, one hand kneading your breast while the other caresses your belly button. Meanwhile, her hips don’t let up. She’s so big, and you let those exact words slur from your lips without a care in the world.

“I know,” is Natasha’s cocky reply. “And you like it big, don’t you?” She rolls her hips experimentally just to watch how you react, and well, you react accordingly, your eyes starting to roll back.

When you come again, it’s a near-shout as you clench around Natasha’s strap.

“That’s it, baby. That’s exactly what I wanted to see,” Natasha groans, not far behind you as she follows you over the edge.

Natasha helps you ride out your high, stopping when your body finally goes slack beneath hers. You can’t hear anything over the roaring in your ears and the pounding of your heart, and a soft whine escapes you when Natasha eases out of you.

“You okay? Need anything?” Natasha whispers into the nape of your neck as she kisses it. You can barely speak, mouth trying to form words, but nothing comes out.

“Shhh, it’s okay,” Natasha gathers you into her arms, cradling you close. She presses her lips to your damp forehead. “I’ve got you, just breathe,”

It’s at least a full sixty seconds, maybe longer, when you’re finally able to get your mouth to form one very important word. “Water…”

“Water? Of course,” Natasha climbs out of bed and fog watch weakly as she crosses the room to the door. Down the hall, you hear rummaging in the kitchen fridge, then Natasha re-emerges with an unopened water bottle.

She unscrews the cap for you and brings the bottle to your lips. “Here, drink,” she commands softly, supporting your head as you take small gulps.

After you’ve satisfied your thirst, Natasha guides you to lie on your belly before grabbing lotion from the top drawer of the night table. While the massage is mostly dedicated to your lower back, you can’t help giggling when Natasha’s hands start to work down toward your ass.

Natasha smiles when you giggle, her hands kneading gently at your backside, putting all her focus into easing the potential soreness. You hum in relaxed pleasure.

“I could do this for hours, you know,” Natasha muses aloud. “Just taking care of you,”

Those words both give you pause and make something stir behind your belly button. You and Natasha have yet to put a label on your relationship. It wasn’t a relationship, not in layman’s terms, but it was glaringly obvious that you weren’t just teammates either, given the amount of times you’ve had sex.

But something about the soft way Natasha just said that, it has you thinking that maybe this wasn’t just sex for her. You didn’t want to admit that it hadn’t been just sex for you, for awhile. Or the fact that you had already fallen half in love with Natasha the last time she’d gone down on you before this.

Once Natasha has all but made you putty in the sheets, she moves to lie beside you. And just like Natasha suspected you would, you immediately tuck your face into her neck. And Natasha pulls you closer, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head.

Something that you and Natasha have gotten really good at since starting these hookups, was the comfortable silence that always followed the sex. You and Natasha would just hold each other. Occasionally, you even got to be the big spoon. But tonight, you were satisfied with simply being wrapped up in Natasha’s embrace.

Her skin smelled amazing; a mix of salt, sex, and something sweeter. You couldn’t get enough, could bask in this for years to come.

“What are you thinking about?” Natasha asks, breaking the silence and jolting you back to the present moment. You hadn’t realized you’d been close to dozing off.

“You,” you say easily. “I can’t really help it after…everything that just happened,”

“Well, how often do you think of me? I mean…outside of when we’re having sex,” If you didn’t know any better, you’d think that you heard a trace of insecurity in Natasha’s question. Something about that makes you smile, makes it hard for you to wipe said smile off your face, and it only grows when Natasha asks you about it. “What are you smiling about?”

“I always smile when you show me glimpses of your soft side,” you remark.

Natasha rolls her eyes at that, but her lips twitch despite her protestations. “Fine, then answer the question. When we’re not together, how often would you say you think about me?”

You look up at Natasha, searching her eyes. “Extremely often,” you say. “On a typical day, I can probably only go a couple minutes or so without thinking about you. Thinking about your voice and your eyes. Your hands and your wit. This mouth,” you nip playfully at Natasha’s lower lip and she smiles.

“Yeah?” she inquires.

“Yeah.”

“So…you think about me pretty much all the time?” Natasha confirms.

“Yes, but you can probably take the ‘pretty much’ out of that equation,” you reply. “I think about you all the time, Natasha,”

You think it’s your imagination the way Natasha’s breath stalls in her chest. You know she’s not used to this sort of outward affection. You know she’d probably rather keep the gooey feelings out of it and stick to the sex. But you had to tell her the truth. You did think about her all the time, and not just because she was great in bed. And it was about time she knew it.

Instead of responding verbally, Natasha surges forward, taking your lips in another kiss. And you smile into her, hands coming up to frame her face as you roll on top of her. Natasha’s hands begin to explore again, but this time, yours do too. You tweak both of Natasha’s nipples between your fingers, delighting in the animalistic noise this pulls out of her. Natasha’s hands reach down to squeeze your ass, pulling you roughly down on top of her.

It was going to be a long night, and sleep probably wasn’t going to come any time soon. But you knew if Natasha had her way, you would be, over and over and over again. And you wouldn’t have it any other way.

[katehopecore]

guys, the writing bug actually did bite me, so another Natasha fic might be coming next week sometime. fingers crossed 🤞

[katehopecore]

so the Nat fic is done, it’s coming tomorrow. BUT i’m also working on a slightly more scandalous wanda fic, and that’ll either come at the end of this week or early next week depending on how slow i write 😭

[katehopecore]

guys, the writing bug actually did bite me, so another Natasha fic might be coming next week sometime. fingers crossed 🤞

[pixopix]

Sparkly Pink Pixel Gradient Dividers

Please credit @pixopix, likes and reblogs are appreciated!

[katehopecore]

I’m sorry to hear you’re having a hard time right now. Something that helped me to get out of a bad state was volunteering. I happened upon a food distribution nonprofit that needs help once a month and it keeps me completely occupied for a good 5 hours. Packaging food and then distributing it takes me out of my head and helps others too. It’s not something I was looking for, but it’s been a good reset. Another thing is praying. I know that can be a touchy subject, but I believe in God and prayer helps. Wishing you the best friend, it gets better.

thank you for the advice, anon! i’m glad that volunteering has been a bright spot for you recently! as for me, i’ve decided to give therapy a shot this summer! i’m a little nervous about it, but ultimately, i think it’ll help me improve my mental health and a lot of other aspects of my life ✨

thank you for reaching out! i hope you have the best week and I hope things get (even) better for you!

[katehopecore]

changing the locks on your heart ‘cause you’re bored

ᥫ᭡natasha romanoff x fem!reader

ᥫ᭡summary: You worry that your situation with Natasha has become one-sided, but she’s quick to reassure you of the opposite

ᥫ᭡content: fluff + a dash of comfort; legal age gap; technically stark!reader; gay panic because obviously; soft!nat allegations; a lot of exposition cause i couldn’t help myself; not proofread;

ᥫ᭡a/n: HAPPY PRIDE! 🏳️‍🌈 even though i cancelled my fic girl summer event, this was a draft for it that i’d already finished, so i believe it deserves to be out in the world! i’m still just trying to take my time off writing right now, but i hope you enjoy this fic in the meantime! i hope to be back in the swing of things soon

The summer heat wrapped around the compound like a blanket, sunlight glaring off of the massive pool outside the Avengers Tower. Music drifted faintly from the outdoor speakers set up, Cap and Clint took turns on the grill. You sat curled up in one of the lounge chairs in an oversized t-shirt and shorts, trying very hard to focus on the book in your hands. Trying and failing. Because Natasha lay in the chair beside yours. And Natasha in the summer was unfair.

She wore a black bikini and dark sunglasses, stretched out beneath the sunlight. One arm rested behind her head while the other draped lazily across her stomach. Relaxed Natasha was rare enough. Relaxed Natasha inviting you to spend the day with her? Was like a diamond in the rough.

Earlier that morning, she’d knocked lightly on your bedroom door before leaning against the frame. “Come sit by the pool with me today,” Simple, casual. But your heart had started racing immediately anyway.

Your pull to Natasha, and her pull right back to you, in a word had been miraculous. You’d been a young friend of Tony’s, something of a little sister to the man. You’d come from a troubled, orphaned past and he’d given you a place to stay. Now, you lived at the compound. You helped where you could, with research, mission support, communications, the less flashy stuff. Something else you’d gotten and you weren’t exactly sure how, was Natasha Romanoff’s attention.

You noticed a stark (no pun intended) difference from the looks she gave her other comrades and the looks she gave you. Soft looks were reserved from you, soft tones even more so. And you can’t remember having ever seen Natasha hug the other Avengers, or squeeze their hand, running her thumb along their knuckles. But that was the treatment that you got.

You’d spent your late nights together when neither of you could sleep, just you and Natasha in the kitchen with decaf coffee and deep conversations. Then came the touches. Natasha’s hand on the small of your back. Her knee bumping hours beneath conference tables. Natasha taking and squeezing your hand when she could sense you were overwhelmed with something.

You weren’t sure when it had shifted into something else. Maybe it was when Natasha started kissing you on the cheek when you ended the night. Maybe things had shifted the night she showed up at your room after a nightmare, and you’d held her close, snuggling up until sunrise. More than likely, it was the tennis court incident. God, the tennis court.

You still thought about it constantly. It happened last month after one of Tony’s parties. Too many people, too much noise. You’d barely gotten two words in with Natasha all evening.

Then suddenly, she’d appeared at your side and muttered, “Come with me,”

No explanation. Just Natasha leading you through the compound at midnight, fingers hooked loosely around your wrist. You’d ended up at the outdoor tennis courts under dim floodlights, warm summer air thick around you.

The second that gate clicked shut behind you, Natasha kissed you. Hard. Like she’d been holding herself back all night. You remembered stumbling backward until your spine hit the fence, Natasha crowding impossibly close while her hands framed your face.

You’d laughed breathlessly against her mouth at one point and whispered, “Nat—“

“I know,” she’d murmured before kissing you again. Like she couldn’t stop. Like she didn’t want to. You remembered hoping the moment never ended. And the way Natasha had rested her forehead against yours afterward, your breaths mingling, made you think she felt the same exact way.

So why did you still feel insane about it half the time? Why did every unanswered text make your stomach twist? Why did every mission leave you wondering if Natasha would come back distant again? Why did you feel so deeply while Natasha remained impossible to read? The thoughts followed you everywhere, even now. Especially now. Here you were, spiraling quietly beside her.

Sure, Natasha had been affectionate today. Softer, seeking you out more often. But your brain kept insisting that it was temporary. That eventually Natasha would realize you cared too much.

You turned another page in your book without processing a single word. A moment later, Natasha shifts beside you. You felt her looking before you actually glanced over. Sure enough, her sunglasses had dipped slightly down her nose so she could peer over the frames. Her smile was sleepy and fond and it made your chest squeeze.

“What?” you ask softly.

“Do you know you furrow your brows when you’re trying really hard to concentrate?” Natasha says.

Heat crawls into your face immediately. “I’m not straining myself or anything. I’m just reading. But it’s hot, so yeah, it’s a little hard to focus.”

Natasha snickers and settles back again. You try again to focus on your book, and fail a second time. Because every few minutes, Natasha would glance over at you. And sometimes she’d smile, and sometimes, she’d just look. Like she was just taking you in, admiring your presence. Which somehow made everything worse. Because if Natasha cared, really cared, wouldn’t things feel more certain than this? Wouldn’t you know what you were to her?

You were so lost in your own thoughts that you almost startled when a shadow suddenly crossed your book.

You look up, and Natasha is stood above your chair now, sunlight outlining her hair in coppery gold. God, she was beautiful.

“Wanna get in the water with me?” Natasha asks.

The answer escapes before you can think too hard about sounding eager. “I’d love to.”

Natasha smiles and holds out her hand. Your pulse skips as you take it. Her fingers curl around yours with familiar ease, and she gently tugs you to your feet. The walk to the pool was short, but Natasha never let go.

The concrete heats the soles of your feet while distant laughter echoes around the yard. Natasha stops at the water’s edge beside you. Blue water gleams beneath the afternoon sun.

For a moment, neither of you speak. Then, Natasha quietly asks, “What’s going on?”

Your stomach drops, but you attempt a smile. “What do you mean?”

“You’ve been in your head all day, I can tell.”

Of course she noticed. Natasha noticed everything about you.

“It’s nothing.” You deflect.

Natasha turns fully toward you then. “Hey.” She squeezes your hand once. “Talk to me.”

And maybe it was the heat of the sunlight, or the way she’d looked at you all morning, but suddenly the words were pushing at your throat, too hard to keep inside.

“You ever worry,” you started quietly, staring at the pool water instead of her face, “that maybe you made something bigger in your head than it actually is?”

Your question is met with silence and you immediately regret speaking. Your laugh is nervous and you go for another deflection. “Forget it. That sounds dramatic.”

“Don’t do that.” Natasha says coolly.

You swallow hard. Natasha steps close enough for you to feel her body heat, smell the intoxicating musk of her perfume. “What makes you think this isn’t real to me?”

The question catches you so off guard that you finally look at her. Natasha’s expression had gone soft in that way she only allowed around you. It made your heart stuttered.

“You’re hard to read sometimes,” you admitted.

A flicker of guilt flashes across Natasha’s face and it surprises you. Then, she reached up and brushed a strand of hair away from your cheek. The gesture was unbearably tender.

“You know why I brought you to the tennis court that night?” she asks quietly.

Heat floods your face once again. You shake your head.

“Because I’d just spent four hours wanting to kiss you,” Natasha murmurs. “And I couldn’t stand pretending otherwise anymore.”

Your breath caught. Natasha’s thumb traces lightly across your cheekbone. “I invite you into my space constantly,” she continues softly. “You’re the first person I look for when I come home from missions. I sleep better with you beside me,” A tiny smile tugs at her mouth. “You’ve somehow convinced the world’s greatest spy to willingly talk about her feelings.”

A startled laugh escapes you through the emotion clogging your chest. Natasha steps even closer.

“This isn’t one-sided,” she said firmly. “I’m so incredibly fond of you, y/n,”

Every spiraling thought in your brain seemed to stop in that moment. Natasha looked genuinely offended by the thought of you doubting her feelings for you. And suddenly all those tiny moments over the past few months rearranged themselves differently in your head.

Natasha bringing you coffee exactly how you liked without asking. Her hand finding yours beneath blankets during movie nights. The way she always drifted toward you in crowded rooms. The tennis court. This pool.

You look up at her, searching her eyes. “I’m fond of you too, Natasha,” you reply. “So goddamn fond.”

Natasha’s hands cup your face again and she drags your mouth against hers. You hum at the taste, at the feel of her, your hands wrapping around her waist. Your heart is a ticking metronome in your chest, and in that moment, you know you’re exactly where you need to be. And you’d never doubt Natasha’s feelings for you ever again, even for a minute.

[katehopecore]

a sort of important update

this already feels a little uncomfy, writing a personal post on here. but i think i should let you all know that i’m struggling right now both mentally and emotionally, and i think i have been for a couple weeks now. i thought it was just writer’s block, and yes, that’s part of it, but my exhaustion can also be attributed to a few different things. 2026 has been a tough year for me so far, and it’s only May, so i think the worst thing i can do is keep going like i have been without giving myself a proper break

that being said, i think i have to cancel my fic girl summer event ☹️ or at the very least, postpone it. i bit off more than i could chew with that, and i see that now. i thought it would be a cure for my writer’s block, but all it did was add to my anxiety. thank you to anyone who’s sent in a request for it, anyone who’s sent requests in general, and i’m sorry to disappoint

my requests will be closed until further notice, but my inbox and pms will still be open, so if anyone has any advice on what the fuck to do to stop feeling like this, it would be greatly appreciated. thank you in advance for understanding ❤️‍🩹

[katehopecore]

hey diva! notttt that i’m not looking forward to your summer fics (my brain is on E right now, but the moment the wheels are turning, i might request something for it) but this is in fact my petition for you to rename it as “Fic Girl Summer” ☀️🍉🌊👙

- says ⚔️

YOURE A GENIUS, SWORD ANON! i’m actually kind of pissed i didn’t come up with that myself, but thank you for the idea, i WILL be changing that, and credit 100% goes to you!🙏

[katehopecore]

Hi! Can I request a Wanda x masc!female reader where Wanda owns a bookstore and reader is the masc lesbian always loitering in her store. I would love for it to give TOTAL grumpy x sunshine or like suave x nervous wreck energy (I think that’s a thing, but I’m probably not explaining it right lol) thank you! 🧡

you got me (head over heels for you)

˚‧ ɞwanda maximoff x masc lesbian!reader

now playing: ꒰you got me // the aces꒱

˚‧ ɞ𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: Wanda isn’t the type to get crushes. But for attractive and charming masc lesbians who loiter in her bookstore, she might just make an exception

˚‧ ɞ𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭: FLUFF, MAJOR grumpy x sunshine vibes, reader is a masc lesbian, gay panic, a pietro cameo, wanda not knowing how to flirt back, YEARNING, 2.8k words

˚‧ ɞ𝐚/𝐧: FINALLY managed to write something after nearly three weeks of writers block 🫠 i don’t know quite if my block is cured yet, but managed to get some wanda fluff out of it, so i can’t be that mad. thank you for this request and i hope you enjoy! <3

𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

Wanda loved her bookstore the same way most people loved their pets: a living thing with a beating heart and feelings that Wanda would protect with her life and maybe even die for. Maybe that sounded dramatic, but she didn’t care.

Wanda loved everything about her bookstore, from the uneven wood floors that creaked in the same places everyday, to the one leaky window that always seemed to drip when it rained no matter how often she got the roof repaired. She loved how the smell of espresso always drifted in from the tiny cafè corner that she’d fought tooth and nail to include when she bought the place two years ago.

Most of all, Wanda loved the people her bookstore attracted.

Her bookstore sat tucked between a vintage record shop and a plant store, and the plaza was just off a college campus. Which meant that Wanda spent most days surrounded by artsy college students with obscure majors and even more obscure fashion choices. Wanda’s seen it all: patchwork sweaters in the middle of July, chunky boots with tiny silver charms tied to the laces, and rings. They all loved oodles and oodles of rings. Wanda always felt like an outlier with her basic outfits, which typically consisted plain long sleeves and a skirt with tights every day.

And yet somehow, everyone was always so painfully polite. Everyone always cleaned up after themselves, they’d tell Wanda “thank you so much” at the end of their transactions. And the tip jar at the cafè counter was always flooded with $1 and $5 dollar bills.

The bookstore has become a strange little haven for people who lingered. Students typing away at essays in the corner, couples sharing headphones in the poetry aisle, someone inevitably curled into the armchair near the window pretending to read whilst actually sneaking a nap in. (Wanda totally got it. Though she’d never enrolled, she could imagine college was exhausting)

But there was one returning customer who was the biggest question mark to Wanda. And when the bell above the door chimes, yanking Wanda from her thoughts, her eyes lift from the register to see that very question mark walking through the door. You.

Something in Wanda’s chest betrayed her instantly, a familiar little flutter she absolutely refused to examine too closely. You stood in the doorway wearing a dark bomber jacket over a white tank top, rings glittering beneath the afternoon sunlight spilling through the windows. Your hair looked a little messy, purposefully wind-tossed, and a pair of sunglasses the same color as your jacket are tucked into the collar of your tank top.

You glance up the moment you step inside, smiling the second your eyes lock onto Wanda. It wasn’t even a big smile. Just a small tug at the corner of your mouth, but it was debilitating enough that Wanda immediately looked back down at the open book in front of her like she hadn’t noticed it, or you, at all.

Of course Wanda made it a point to greet every customer who walked through the doors, a rehearsed chirp of, “Hi, welcome in!” ready on her lips. But it’s like you were the one anomaly. Every time she tried to greet you, she’d get tongue-tied, those three stupid words suddenly impossible to say.

Wanda follows you with her eyes as you step into the cafè, and she also notes how the barista Sammy blushes immediately the second you’re at the counter. Wanda supposed you just had that effect on people.

“You know,” Pietro, Wanda’s twin brother who actually was enrolled at the university down the street and, much like the other college kids, also came into Wanda’s bookstore to loiter, suddenly appears to Wanda’s right. “One of these days, you’ll have to swallow your pride and just ask for her number,”

Wanda slammed the book shut in front of her. “I don’t want her number.”

“Right. And I don’t come in here just to eat all the chocolate chip cookies in the cafè,” her brother teases with a roll of his eyes.

Wanda’s brows furrow. “Yes you do, Pietro. You’ve said before that there’s crack in those cookies—“

“I know, Wanda. I was being sarcastic. Thank you for proving my point,” Pietro barks a laugh.

Wanda’s cheeks flare even hotter, making her curse her nervous system. “She’s just another customer,” she argues.

“Just another customer who comes in here five days a week at minimum,” Pietro counters. “Just another customer who buys exactly one coffee and then spends three hours wandering around and pretending not to stare at you,”

Wanda frowns down at the register. “She does not stare at me,” she mumbles. Though what she doesn’t say is that she can’t even count on her two hands just how many times she’s caught you staring. And she definitely can’t count how many times those stares had given her butterflies.

Before Pietro could tell Wanda she was full of shit, your cologne reached the checkout counter before you did, your boots sounding on the hardwood a moment later.

“Afternoon, Maximoff,” you greet Wanda warmly, then nod in Pietro’s direction. “What’s up, Pietro? That sub professor in German 2 today was weird, right?”

“Total weirdo,” Pietro agrees with a shake of his head. Wanda glares daggers at her twin, a look that says ‘you never told me you had a class with her!’ And Pietro smiles back with a shit-eating grin that replies, ‘You never asked’. Wanda continues to glare at Pietro’s retreating back as he walks away.

Wanda turns back to face you to find you already grinning at her. She ignores the way that her stomach flips in response. “It’s 2:30,” are the first brilliant words out of her mouth.

“That it is,” you say before bringing your coffee cup to your lips for a sip. “Aren’t you observant,”

Wanda huffs. “My point is that you typically come around noon,” she says. “What, find a better bookstore than mine?”

Your eyebrows lifted, followed by a slow grin that spreads across your face. “Didn’t realize you were keeping tabs on me, Maximoff,”

Heat crawled up Wanda’s next instantly. “I am not keeping tabs on you!” she defended quickly. “I just happen to have memorized the comings and goings of my customers. Plus, I know how much you like to loiter, so you coming in at two-thirty only gives you six hours of loitering instead of eight…” she trails off, wincing. What the hell was she even talking about? Pietro snickers from somewhere inside the stockroom, definitely having heard his sister’s rambling, and Wanda makes a mental note to kill him with her bare hands later.

When Wanda risks a glance back in your direction, your small smirk has transformed into a full-blown grin. “So, you’re saying you missed me?” you ask, leaning your elbows on the counter.

“I am saying no such thing.”

“Mm,” you nodded thoughtfully, clearly not absorbing what Wanda just said. “Interesting.”

Wanda points an accusatory finger at you. “Don’t do that.”

“Do what?” you chuckle.

“That thing where you decide what I mean instead of listening to the words I’m actually saying.”

“Well, in my literature class, the professor is always going on and on about how we should pay attention to hidden meanings, so that’s what I’m doing here,”

Wanda folds her arms across her chest. “Fine, so what exactly is the hidden meaning here?” She challenges.

You don’t answer at first, but your smile goes a little soft, and Wanda’s heart starts to sound like a drum-line in her chest. The atmosphere dissipates completely when Pietro calls from the other room, telling Wanda that a customer on the phone wants to speak to her. When Wanda returns from the phone call however, you’re gone, and she’s completely blindsided by the visceral feeling of disappointment she feels. She also can’t shake the image of that soft smile she’d seen on your face.

***

The next day, you didn’t show up right around noon like you always did. Wanda told herself she’d only noticed your absence because the bookstore was unusually quiet; much less foot traffic than there usually was on a weekday afternoon. But then, you didn’t come in the next day either. Or the day after that.

Every tiny bell chime tugged Wanda’s attention upward before she could stop herself. But it was always just another cool-dressed college kid. Every laugh from outside made something hopeful spark in Wanda’s chest. But it was never you.

Wanda didn’t care. She couldn’t. So what if you stopped coming in? People drifted in and out of the bookstore all the time. College kids graduated. They got new routines, new cafès, new favorite haunts. Wanda had seen it happen before. It didn’t matter. That’s what she told herself anyway.

She threw herself into work instead. She reorganized the fantasy section that was constantly in a state of disarray, brought order back to the Funko Pop display, even vacuumed the stockroom, which was the only part of the bookstore that still had carpet for some reason. She did anything she could to avoid thinking about the fact that a certain girl with windswept hair and an affinity for clunky statement jewelry hadn’t shown her face in the past few days.

By the fifth consecutive day, Wanda almost asked Pietro if he’d seen you around campus. Which was humiliating, because that would require admitting she cared at all. And Pietro would never let her live it down. But Pietro had a way of knowing that Wanda was thinking about asking it anyway.

“If you’re worried about your girlfriend—“ Pietro starts.

“She is not my girlfriend,” Wanda interjected.

“Well, if you’re worried about the girl who’s not your girlfriend, but whom I know you’re attracted to,” Pietro amends his statement. “She’s not dead or anything. She’s been in German 2 every day this week. She just hasn’t been coming here,”

Wanda ignores the sting she feels. So you were safe, you just…what? Found a new bookstore? Didn’t want to see Wanda anymore?

Not that you were seeing her at all. Not that Wanda cared if she ever saw you again. Wanda fights to stay aloof, managing a cool nod in response to Pietro’s news. “Okay. Great,” she says. “I’m glad she is safe.”

Pietro looks at Wanda, an annoyingly sympathetic expression on his face. “I’m sorry, Wands. I don’t know why she’s stopped coming here. I guess I could ask her the next time I see her in class—“

“No.” Wanda snaps. “You will do no such thing, Pietro. But what you can do is stay out of my business, alright?”

Wanda doesn’t wait for Pietro to answer. Turning away from him, she grabs the stack of books off the register, and storms off to put them back on the shelf.

Wanda finds herself in the romance section, because of course she does. Her brain is on autopilot as she puts each book back where it goes. The last book in her hands catches her attention. It’s a sapphic romance, an art design of two girls holding hands on the cover. Wanda stares for a long time at the dark-haired girl with tattoos depicted on the left side, and suddenly she’s thinking of an attractive smile and a bomber jacket. Wanda clears her throat and shoves the book back on the shelf.

This was ridiculous. Wanda didn’t get crushes. She didn’t get weird and gooey about people. She was better off alone. Her stomach was wrong. Her heart was even more wrong. Wanda can’t flee the romance aisle fast enough.

***

It has now been two weeks since Wanda had last seen you in her bookstore. You would think that after fourteen full days, her body would stop reacting. That eventually she’d stop glancing up every time the bell above the door chimed. That the tiny spark of hope in her chest would finally die out instead of reigniting over and over and over again. But it never did. Every single time the door opened, Wanda’s stupid heart still leapt before her brain could catch up. And every time it wasn’t you, the feeling fizzled out just as quickly, leaving behind something hollow and embarrassing.

It was pathetic. Especially because Wanda still didn’t even know why you’d stopped coming. Maybe you found another cafè. Maybe you got bored of flirting with the awkward bookstore owner who could barely string a sentence together around you.

It had been a slow day from start to finish, and by the time closing rolled around, Wanda had already sent everyone else home. Now it was just Wanda alone behind the register, counting the tills and organizing receipts. The silence is broken by the bell chime of the door.

“We’re closing in ten minutes,” Wanda called automatically without looking up.

“That’s okay,” a familiar voice said warmly. “I only need one thing.”

Wanda’s heart did something fizzy in her chest. Her head snapped up so fast, she nearly gave herself whiplash. And there you were.

Rain droplets dappled the shoulders of your dark jacket and the ends of your hair were damp too like you narrowly escaped the downpour. You shoved your hands into the pockets of your jacket, and gave Wanda a cheeky smile. And just like that, two miserable weeks of pretending she didn’t care evaporated.

Something must’ve shown on Wanda’s face because your expression softened almost immediately. “There she is,” you murmur quietly.

Wanda realized, distantly, that she was staring. “You just disappeared,” she blurts before she can stop herself. Your eyebrows lifted, and Wanda wanted to throw herself directly into traffic. “I mean…” she backpedals. “You-you haven’t come in and Pietro said classes were still in session, so I thought maybe—“

Your expression melted into something so unbearably fond that it made Wanda’s stomach flip. “You noticed I was gone, huh?” you ask.

Wanda crosses her arms defensively even as heat rushes to her cheeks. “Well, you loiter in my store for eight hours a day. It would’ve been difficult not to notice your absence,”

You chuckle, stepping closer to the counter. “I missed you too, Maximoff,”

Up close, Wanda notices two things about you: that you have the prettiest eyes she’s ever seen…and that you look exhausted. Something tugs in her chest.

“So where were you?” she asks before she can stop herself. She’s hoping more than anything that you’re not about to mention a longtime girlfriend that you’ve been spending all your time with.

“My mom was in the hospital,” you admit softly, scratching at the back of your neck. “She’s okay now. It was just…a rough couple weeks.”

Oh. Instant guilt crashes into Wanda so hard it nearly makes her dizzy. All this time she’d been spiraling, thinking you’d just gotten bored of her when you’d been dealing with something so real. Was she really that much of drama queen?

Your smile suddenly turns sheepish. “I kept meaning to come by, but things got kinda crazy, both with my mom and with classes,”

Wanda suddenly doesn’t know what to do with herself or her nervous energy. You hadn’t been avoiding her. You’d wanted to see her all this time, you were just busy dealing with a sick mother and ruthless college classes. Wanda steps out from behind the counter to talk to you, and is struck immediately by the height difference. You were a good four inches taller, to the effect that Wanda had to tilt her head a bit to meet your eyes.

“I’m so sorry, that all sounds really stressful,” Wanda says. “But I’m glad your mom is okay now,”

“Yeah,” you smile. “Me too. Now, I can spend more time here figuring out a puzzle,”

Wanda frowns. “I don’t sell puzzles here,”

You chuckle. “I know, Maximoff. I meant you,”

Wanda’s heart jolts in her chest. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me,” you reply, shameless. “I know you’re a little prickly, but I think you’re cute. And I hope you know I’m not gonna stop flirting unless you tell me to back off,”

Wanda swallows hard. “I’m not…good at that, though,” she stammers. “At-at flirting back. I’m not good at it.”

“Yeah, I’ve gathered that,” you laugh. “But don’t worry. I think that’s cute too, and I can definitely work with that,”

“You can?” Wanda asks.

“Yeah,” you say. And then you reach for Wanda’s hand. Your skin is warm against hers, and the touch sends a spark up her entire arm. Wanda relaxes into it, letting her fingers lace with yours.

“Are you hungry at all?” you ask next.

“Starving, actually,” Wanda replies. And she was. All she’d had for sustenance today was a fruit smoothie around six a.m in the morning. And she could finally admit to herself that she’d been thinking of you all day, and that’s why her stomach had been in knots.

“Wanna get out of here? Grab a bite? Actually have a conversation now that you’ve admitted to digging me?” you tease.

Wanda tilts her head. “Did I admit that?” she asks coyly.

You smile down at her. “Well, you haven’t dropped my hand yet, so I think that counts for something,”

Wanda’s smile widens. “Hmm. Well, just let me lock up and I’m yours,”

You wait for Wanda as she locks up her bookstore. When she’s done, her hand finds yours and she lets you lead her to your car. Wanda can’t shake the dopey smile that plays on her lips, and all she can think about is how she’s just so damn glad she finally stopped pretending.