omg girl you’re making me feel so special!! I can’t believe I’m your first anon but also bc I get to make so many of the decisions!! I think fem reader definitely and Wanda should be dom. I think also Wandanat x reader is good too. And then for breast play, do you think it could be lactation too or just breast play??
also I agree with so many of your love island takes. I was so mad that movie night was split in half. I want Melanie to leave Sincere too but I want her to stay. Hopefully they bring in a bombshell or Melanie/Caleb start a connection. Trinity makes me laugh sm and I love how she always stands up for her friends. I love Aniya and Carl together, I’m so happy that he was brought back. AND I AGREE THAT KAYDA NEEDS TO LEAVE ZACH. Kayda is so insanely beautiful, she’s model level. I’ve hated her with Zach since day 1. I’m so glad that Kayda clocked that Alannah left early and I felt so sad abt how many times Zach has made her cry.
I actually think I prefer to share a lot of creative control with people making requests! As much as they'd like anyways. I think that, in the future, it might stop me from making all the same decisions in my writing and that's not what I joined for. I really want to expand genre, plot, and trope-wise.
I did very little fanfic writing years back (maybe when I was 13-15) and it wasn't the greatest. I mostly excel in academic writing rather than fiction/story-telling because I'm not great at dialogue or creating warmth when I set a scene. Requests, especially detailed ones, will give me a chance to better apply myself with the kind of stories I aspire to tell! I'm really creative but the energy kinda falls short after all the planning so I'm hoping requests hold me accountable lol.
I missed the last couple episodes of LIUSA omgggg. I also want Melanie to stay. I think she needs the islanders and if she's kicked from the villa, I'll feel so horrible about it. Luckily she's not out yet!
Also, I've completed your request!!!! So sorry for the wait, I hope you can still enjoy it <3
💬 0 🔁 0 ❤️ 4 · Full On You · Pregnant!Wanda x Natasha x Fem!Reader
MDNI 18+
Summary: With a gender reveal approaching, you’ve all been s
Summary: With a gender reveal approaching, you’ve all been spending less time in bed together and more time prepping for both the baby’s arrival and the party. Natasha’s the first to suggest skipping dessert in hopes of watching Wanda fill you up in the one way that really matters.
Warnings/Tags: pregnant wands, no use of Y/N, fluff, smut, bottom/sub reader, clueless reader x plotting wandanat, mommy wanda, daddy nat, kissing, groping, lactation kink, soft nipple play, couch sex, oral, fingering, inappropriate use of chaos magic, throat grabbing (no choking)
Word Count: 3.25k
Author Note: My face was so hot writing this. Hope this is up to your standards, anon! Sorry if I took too long. I have other little things I’m working on, plus my job😭. Also, my mother touched my laptop in the middle of me editing/writing this and I can’t tell if she read it or not, so I’ve been unraveling after that.... Anyways! We might be seeing some Francesca x Reader from me soon. My first time writing angst is coming up!
Masterlist
Wanda was lucky to be an enhanced individual. She knows that now.
It was hard to be ignorant of all the advantages when she suffered truly little downsides of pregnancy. A low chant here, a flick of the hand there, and any pain she had was gone.
Regardless, she felt the luckiest when it came to using her magic for you and Natasha.
The way she’d conjure exquisite toys to use on either of you, the times she’d synch her peaks with you, all the nights she’d fill you both with enough energy for another round, every time she could feel how close to that edge you were and stop it with a single thought, she loved it all.
If she had to guess, Natasha’s favorite night in bed was the very evening she gave her something real. A night she could spill into Wanda. The night that resulted in her, sitting like this, pregnant.
But you, their good girl, always went starry-eyed at the sight of her full breasts. It was adorable the way your mouth would water for her, the softness that would set in on your features, a mind that broke at the thought of milking her dry, a mind that prepared itself to kneel and beg and enter a perfect state of compliance.
She missed it.
As of late, the three of you were rushing to get things done around the home. The nesting and anxiety took over at the sight of Wanda growing rounder. Along with the task of planning a gender reveal party, none of you could think about sex when long days of building furniture and toys, shopping for clothing, picking the right shade for the nursery, and finding the decorations for your theme had you all winded. The end of one project always spurred thoughts on the next.
But now she wanted it. It took little convincing from Natasha to spell her breasts full of magic-induced milk. It was all for you. And the show was all for them.
You hadn’t noticed the difference at first. Your brain endlessly filled with ideas of where to install Tony’s specially made baby monitor. You were sure the crib would change places about four more times before Wanda’s water broke, and maybe three after, so there had to be a spot in the room that could capture most, if not all, angles. The other would latch right onto the edges of the crib, but as a family with enemies, every corner had to be covered.
Wanda and Natasha took note of the distracted look in your eyes as Modern Family played on. Your favorite episode was streaming, and yet you laughed at none of the jokes and lip-synched none of the lines. For Wanda, you were too far away from her. She needed you—badly.
The added weight on her chest had her soaked. But every time she looked your way, she could tell your mind was on everything but the way her tits spilled out her tank top. She didn’t need her powers to understand that.
Natasha herself was getting impatient. Her fingers twitched at the thought of stretching you out and pounding inside of Wanda. Her desire for both of you was a bottomless pit. And most of all, she wanted to watch you in her wife’s arms, getting high off Wanda’s magic infused milk, your tummy getting oh so full of her.
The worst part was how clueless you were. They couldn’t even count the number of times they’d let their hands linger on your body for longer than necessary. You didn’t mind how lewd the kisses had become before dinner or their short and thin loungewear. There was so much that’d went over your head tonight.
Wanda just had to remind herself that the reward of turning off your brain would taste so much sweeter after all the failed initiations of foreplay.
Her tone was deceptively innocent as she started. “Baby, why don’t you come over here for us? Mommy wants you to hold her, could you do that for me?”
Your head snapped over to Wanda instantly. A shy smile rushed onto your face at her words. You nodded silently and got up from the armchair, making your way closer to the two women across from you.
Wanda sat up from her relaxed position, allowing you the space to settle down behind her. The two of you now lay cuddled up on the L-shaped sectional, your legs on the outside of hers, your hands situating themselves, naturally, over her pregnant belly. Natasha sat beside you two, her hand immediately landing on your thigh, a gentle thumb rubbing over the skin there.
The three of you continued your watch quietly. Your palms started to circle Wanda’s stomach softly, and you lay a sweet kiss to the back of her head. Your mind quiets and you start engaging with the show, your lips moving alongside the characters and your laughs falling after one-liners you’d heard a thousand times before.
The skin beneath Natasha’s hand heated up considerably with her working over the area. Her motions got slightly wider, and your mind got increasingly quieter. This was working for them. Your wives exchange a private look before Wanda makes the first move.
The witch in front of you snatches up the hands on her lower belly and drags them further upward. Closer to where she wanted you. Though she hoped you’d get there on your own, she knew her little girl was a bit too dumb to understand she needed you now. Still, she’d give you time.
Or at least until the next episode begins.
You pecked at her shoulder and grabbed Natasha’s hand, holding it loosely, and unknowingly stopping her right before she started creeping closer to your core.
So maybe she’d have to force a commercial break. Nothing she hasn’t done before.
You groaned as an advertisement started to blare from the TV, the increased sound worked your nerves instantly as it fell on the best part of the episode.
“‘Tasha, I thought we subscribed to the ‘No Ads’ version of this.” You whined out.
“I’ll check on it tonight, detka.” She replied, already knowing the exact source of the issue sat comfortably in your arms.
Wanda huffed in front of you. Her irritation spiked within half a second. Worried, you begin to ask a series of questions, all of them she shook her head to. She didn’t need a snack, she wasn’t cold, nor did she want a glass of water, you couldn’t figure out what she needed.
“Feeling sore?” You guessed.
Finally, she saw a way for this to work. “I think so, could you keep rubbing me sweetheart? Only, here.” She plopped your hands atop her chest, stealing one from Natasha’s grip, and sighed in relief.
As soon as your hands started moving, the show resumed. You continued your ministrations mindlessly, and Natasha’s hand returned to your leg, only higher this time.
Wanda’s head fell back onto your shoulder as you worked her up. Her legs crossed between yours inconspicuously, and she sighed, clenching her thighs together as the fire in her stomach grew. Natasha would be lying if she said she wasn’t jealous. How couldn’t she be envious of either of you? One fell into the trap of the other, holding her wife just the way she wanted, and the other laid, completely relaxed, into the delicate hands of their best girl.
She needed to find a way to speed this up. But Wanda was already on it.
She reveled in the way you pawed her. Your touch had the perfect pressure, it landed in all the right places, massaged her so carefully. And you did it all without knowing just how much she craved you. It turned her on knowing how oblivious you were.
Her head grew lighter as your hands struggled to hold all of her. You didn’t even know how full she was for you. Her nipples perked up beneath the fabric. The sensation of the tank top, and the lack of a bra, brought her pleasure to new heights.
You felt her top grow slightly damp as your fingers splayed across her chest and slid across the peaks of her breasts. “Wanda?”
You squeezed the fabric beneath your fingers and subsequently, the most sensitive area of her bust. In that moment, Wanda wasn’t sure whether or not you were playing dumb.
Her voice came out strained, carrying a trace of annoyance. “Did I tell you to stop?”
“No...” You were cautious.
Wanda’s head turned towards you, and you met her eyes. Your lips were dangerously close to hers from the position she’d taken on your shoulder.
Natasha was the one to remind you first. “No, what?” Now you’d caught up to them.
“No, mommy. You didn’t tell me to stop.”
“There’s my good girl.” She kisses your jaw and your hands get back to moving. One slides under your witch’s tank, ready to play with her properly.
“Our good girl.” Natasha whispers as she takes the other and drags it between her legs.
The woman was turned towards the both of you now, on display, and aching for something to fill her. She pulled her shorts to the side, her cunt weeping, skin there flushed and waiting for you to so much as graze her. Her own fingers spread her folds apart, baring herself to you entirely. She holds herself open and watches with parted lips as you let your forefinger draw around the lips swollen from arousal.
You never got tired of this. Your fingers pull harshly at the nipple between them. Wanda’s breath hitches near your ear. Both you and her stare, fully entranced, by Natasha. The pad of your finger brushes over her clit, and you’re sure you hear her swallow back a whimper.
“Go ahead sweetheart, give daddy what she wants.” Wanda orders you.
While your eyes had turned away from her, one of Wanda’s hands occupied the space beside yours. It tugged at her peaks, a small bit of the area damp from the milk that’d leaked out. Her breath became labored as she watched you enter Natasha.
A groan fell from both their lips, one at the sight, the other at the feeling.
“That’s it detka.” She bit her lip as she looked down, chest heaving as you thrust inside her at a steady pace.
The obscene sounds coming from your fingers being drawn in had you hooked. You pushed deeper and tried to find a balance between the women in front of you. One hand tweaked a hardened nipple, you grazed over the very tips of them, letting the lightness of the motion push Wanda closer to orgasm. The other hand stretched Natasha out, fingers scissoring, curling, twisting.
You drove them insane.
Natasha’s hand, previously keeping her steady on the couch, jumps just above your own.
“Fuck! Yes, malysh. Faster.” Natasha groaned from her spot next to you.
Your fingers began to piston out of her, her own rubbing tight circles around her clit as the heat built up. You could feel her clench around you, and you grew wetter at the feeling her dragging you in, not wanting to let go.
Despite the awkward angle, you sped up even more, eager to see her spill onto your hand. You wanted to hear her praise, to hear her telling you how you “got daddy off so well”. You needed it.
Your palmed Wanda’s breast at the mere thought, your rougher actions making her throb. Her mouth opened wider, a breathless moan escaping as you played with her. Her other hand drew lightly across a pebbled nipple; she couldn’t wait to have your mouth wrapped around them. She twisted it between her fingers and gasped as she began to leak more. Your mouth watered once you felt the warmth of it on your skin.
Wanda watched you salivate. Her eyes glowed with satisfaction as they flitted over your features. You were ready for her. It was that realization alone that pushed her over the edge. She came with a cry and her magic sparked about the room.
Natasha followed soon after. With her own fingers pinching at her swollen clit, and your fingers plunging in and out of her, she’d completely fell apart. You slowed your pace, allowing her the space to come down slowly.
Her shirt had risen above her navel. You stared as she breathed heavily, the sweat glistening, drops of it soaking into the band of her shorts.
You had yet to take your hand away from her when Wanda spoke. “Let mommy have a taste, draga.”
Gently, you pull your hand away from Natasha. She blows a quiet breath out as she gets used to the feeling of being empty again. You hold your fingers to Wanda's lips, and she takes them eagerly. Her tongue swirls over your fingers, separates them inside her mouth, sucks them thoroughly before letting them go with a pop.
She gestures for Natasha, and she moves with swiftness, getting up and hovering over you to kiss Wanda. One hand on the arm rest to your side, keeping her upright, the other at the base of Wanda’s neck. Wanda presses her tongue into Nat’s mouth, and you find yourself uncomfortably aware of the fact that you haven’t come yet. You whine, feeling left out, wanting to taste her just as much.
“Daddy, me too.” You tug at the bottom of her shirt.
Natasha separates from her wife, a string of spit connecting the two of them together. Your eyes follow it until it breaks.
“Want you and mommy.” Then you remember. “Please?”
“Oh malyshka, you don’t know how long we’ve been waiting to hear you say those words.”
Natasha sits back down, facing you once more, and leans in. You attempt to meet her halfway, limited by Wanda resting against your chest, and her face lingers centimeters from yours. You hated it when she teased you like this. She inches forward, brushing her lips against yours.
“I—”
Finally, she gives in, cutting you off, unable to deny you and your pleading eyes any longer. You sigh into her mouth and relax back into the couch, her hand wraps around your throat possessively. She gives a light squeeze there and you gasp. The kiss was short. You could barely grasp the flavor of her, but you hold onto the hints of a salty, slightly sweet, and heady taste of her essence. She nibbles on your bottom lip before backing off and speaking.
“Mommy has something special for you tonight. Have you noticed yet?” The smile that stretched across her face was tantalizing.
You nod, excited again by what else this night entailed.
There was a shift in the atmosphere, the two of them now ready to take care of you the way they’ve been craving. The three of you shuffle, get yourself together, and head to the primary suite.
You stand at the edge of the bed as they throw half the pillows to the ground and shed their clothes. You do the same, dropping them near the nightstand.
“Come here, draga.”
Wanda’s resting on her side, furthest away from you. She pats to the spot in the middle, gesturing for you to settle down. Natasha sits at the end of the bed, waiting for you to comply. You do so with ease.
You lay on your back right beside Wanda. She narrows the space between you both
“Natty’s gonna clean you right up, sweetheart. Then I’ll give you what we’ve all been waiting for, how does that sound?”
You nod enthusiastically. “Good, mommy.”
“Spread your legs for ‘Tasha. Yes, there we go.” She smooths your hair back and tucks it behind your ears.
Natasha moves closer. She marks her way down your neck, scatters kisses across your clavicle, and down your abdomen, all before pausing where you needed her most. She doesn’t waste time teasing.
You suck in a large breath as she dives in. Natasha thumbs at your clit and sucks puffy lips into her mouth. You tremble as she spreads you out further, tongue flicking rapidly over your sensitive bundle of nerves. Your hips raise up off the bed. You’re not sure if they’re chasing her or pulling away.
Wanda hushes you. “It’s okay draga, let daddy make you feel good.”
Natasha wasn’t polite, she wasn’t neat either. She devoured you—sloppy. A combination of her saliva and your arousal covered her lips and chin. She continued, her cheeks hollowing out as she sucked you in. Her tongue fucked into you at a brutal pace.
You gasp out and nearly shoot up, but Wanda holds you down. She whispers words of praise, tells you to take it, that you should be grateful Natasha wasn’t making you beg for it.
“Let go when you need to baby, we’re right here.” You were gushing for her before you even hit that peak, the comforter under you growing damp.
Natasha slips two fingers into your wet heat, knowing how close you were to coming apart, wanting you to fall over that edge for her. Your moans increase as her rhythm gives you no time to take proper breaths. Still, you hold it in, your muscles tense up and your back arches as you feel the tension reach its breaking point. A hum over your swollen clit does you in, and you come undone. Your cunt clenches around her, fingers stilling as she helps you ride it out. But her jaw never stops working, lapping you up gently, avoiding overstimulation as you calm down.
She cleans you up tenderly, placing a small kiss to your clit and thigh before she can bear to pull herself away. Truthfully, she wasn‘t done with you but decides on mercy for now, knowing the night wasn’t close to over. This was just a break in the program. She watches the way your lids start to fall shut, and a smug smile grows on her face. They were used to the exhaustion that came after they worked you up. They also knew it wouldn’t last more than an hour.
They began to move quietly, pulling back covers to tuck you in under. They get you on your side and scoot you closer to Wanda’s chest, allowing you to latch onto her comfortably. It didn’t take long before you felt sweetness coat your tongue. You gulp it down greedily.
Wanda always made it a special experience for you, using different enchantments to get you high, build your arousal, send you to sleep, or heighten your pleasure. Tonight’s milk was especially calming.
You felt a weight lift off your shoulders as you suckled. Chasing a feeling of euphoria, you draw more of her into your mouth, letting the milk pool into it before gulping it down.
You try to be careful, knowing how sensitive she’d be after earlier’s stimulation, but end up tugging on a nipple with your lips, pulling back with a smack. You squeeze around her and watch it leak, lapping it up before latching on again. You repeat the action, letting her watch as it dribbles into your mouth, tongue out and eyes soft.
Natasha wraps an arm around your waist. “Slow down, detka. She’s not going anywhere.”
She chuckles from behind you and you close your eyes, basking in the sound of Wanda’s pleased sighs and her wife’s amusement as you slip away into a state of bliss.
hey Lia, I liked your new fic!! Don’t be sorry for long fics bc I LOVE reading long fics/chapters. It’s always a treat for me!! I just wanted to ask if you could maybe write something similar except Wanda is the one that’s pregnant? Or it could be a completely new plot if you’re more comfortable with that?
also I’m watching this season of love island too!! I feel like it’s so good and last nights episode was so crazy!! My favs are Kayda and Trinity, what about you?
Thank you so much! You’re my very first request and anon🙈 I’m completely comfy w/ this and wanna know more about any expectations for it🤭 Are we looking for sub/dom wanda? A focus on breast play, like Just Relax and/or more? Also would you like wanda x reader or wandanat x reader? Fem Reader or Gender Neutral?
Whatever it is, I got you! I’d love to do something like this again, even though I get so embarrassed during writing, it feels like good mental exercise.
Also omg. Movie night was already insane and last nights episode was only half of it😭. I don’t care what else happens, I just know I need Sincere out of my villa NOW!! I feel soooo bad for Melanie, seeing her cry made me wanna crash out. But my favs are Trinity and Carl (obv not as a couple).
I love Trinity’s energy and I feel like she’s so secure in her match, herself too, and brings a lot of heat when the situation calls for it. Carl is such a sweetie (so far), and I really hope him and Aniya sort things out and he isn’t treated just as a rebound or anything. Kayda is sooooo bad. Like so so gorgeous. But realistically, I don’t think Zach is the best option for her. I really hope most of the girls leave these men in the dust once everything’s over with. They suck.
Chapter Summary: Waking up from your nap doesn't bring the relief you would expect. Unexpectedly harsh words greet you and two people you never thought you would see find their way to you.
Word Count: 9.7k
Warnings for this Chapter: none I think? maybe trauma response
A/N: at this rate no chapter is going to be under 7.5k so I'm just going to post it in full here when I feel up to it. like today :D
Series Masterlist AO3
—
You're in a field of cotton balls.
You reach out, burying your fingers into the mass, and squeeze a handful into your fist. They're fuzzy against your palm, yielding with just enough satisfying resistance to soothe the ache in your knuckles. They bloom with warmth. Your fingertips begin to thaw. You can feel the prickle of circulation returning to your skin.
You look up. It's nighttime.
The dark blue sky holds a full moon that rains down a pale glow, turning the white field around you luminous. Stars cluster into constellations in the distance. It's quiet. Not in the way where it scares you. Not in the way where your thoughts attempt to drag you under. It's a peaceful quiet where the world stands still for you.
Just for you.
You open your fist. The cotton balls roll away from your skin, plopping soundlessly onto the white expanse below. You drag your palm across the surface, tracking the soft texture. You press down with your full weight, expecting the fibers to collapse and drop you through, but they hold steady.
You gaze toward the distance, where the dark line of night seems to stretch on without an end. The scenery is identical in every direction.
A movement catches your eye. Your shadow stretches across the white surface, mimicking your posture. You look down at the dark shape. It tracks your frame perfectly, but it lacks any real definition. No features. No edges. Just a flat, black void cutting through the light.
But it's surely you.
When you raise your arm, the shadow raises its arm. When you tilt your head, the dark shape tilts its head.
You pause.
The shadow keeps moving for a fraction of a second before it snaps into a sudden standstill. It stops matching you entirely.
Staring at it makes your heart ache. You're perfectly fine with being a shadow drifting through life. Disappearing the moment the sun comes up to make room for real people—bright people with character, who roam and live and take up space.
You don't have to be special. You don't want to be. You don't need to be.
Flashes of green erupt across the dark sky. Ribbons of vibrant, shifting emerald and mint arc over your head, twisting like the aurora borealis you used to stare at in photos. They dance through the air, curving down toward you as if trying to make you smile.
The shades of green are too specific. You recognize them instantly.
"Please stop," you whisper, the sound catching in your throat. "Please don't treat me like I'm special."
The lights answer by swirling closer, tightening their perimeter until they weave into beautiful patterns around your body.
You had gotten used to the quiet. You had accepted being alone. Doing everything by yourself. Only counting on yourself
A wisp of the green light brushes past your cheekbone. For a moment, the air sparks with warmth and the smell of jasmine blooms. It reminds you of Wanda's hand against your cheek when you shared her desk. That familiar warmth. The kind that makes you want to let your head fall and let her hand support you.
A brighter, vibrant green light wraps around you, completely blocking out everything. It forms a thick, impenetrable wall—exactly like Natasha blocking out the chaotic world past the office doors.
You squeeze your eyes shut, forcing your eyelids together until the pressure makes your temples throb, waiting until it's safe to look again.
When you open them, the sky is empty. The lights are gone without a trace. As if they were never there.
You're alone again.
You're used to this part. But your shoulders slump as if a weight was dropped on them. Your knees bend, the muscles in your thighs trembling as they threaten to drop your weight. You look back up at the empty sky, wishing you could see the green ribbons again, even though you're the one who just begged them to leave.
A part of you had hoped they would stay anyway, even when you turned your back.
It's fine. You're just a shadow, and the gorgeous lights have probably drifted away to find someone more beautiful. Someone who is a real person.
The corners of your mouth twitch upward into a small smile, but your gaze drops. It's exhausting being alone.
You lean back. The space beneath your heels fills with the soft give of the cotton, absorbing your weight as you sink into them. You feel completely weightless. You close your eyes, letting your muscles go slack. Your head tilts to the side, your cheek presses into the soft fibers.
Your heart still hurts. Even here, in this empty space with nothing but the moon, the stars, and the perfect comfort below you—a space made just for you—the reality catches up. You can't run away from the aching want to have someone else shoulder your burdens with you.
Or maybe two people.
The cotton slowly begins to compress beneath your spine, flattening millimeter by millimeter. The loft is disappearing. You don't know how far down the ground is.
Please, just let me stay here, you think, your fingers curling weakly, holding onto the cotton that remains. Let me stay in this place. Forever.
A sudden touch registers against your skin. Soft fingertips press against your ankle, tracing circles right over your veins.
Your eyes fly open. You crane your neck down to look, but the field is empty. There's no one there. You just continue to descend, your body getting heavier and heavier. Somehow, you know there's not much time left.
You lay your head back down, closing your eyes in acceptance.
"It's time to wake up, detka."
The softest, raspy voice reaches your ears, brushing against your skin with the same weight as the fingertips on your ankle.
And you fall.
—
The faint hum of the heater overhead. The rhythm of your own breaths, slow and even. The drag of pages turning in a book.
A hand rests on your ankle. The thumb moves occasionally, tracing a slow arc near the bone and over your veins.
Your eyes blink open. The fabric of the couch’s backrest comes into view, sharpening the more you blink. Your face is pressed into the pillow, squishing your cheek. It feels like there's a thick cloud surrounding your skull. Your thoughts lag, arriving one by one at a snail's pace.
Yesterday. Matt sitting in the common room. His grip on your hand. The suffocating smell of smoke filtering through the vent all night. Your burning eyes. Natasha demanding you take a nap. Her impossibly gentle voice.
You do feel slightly better after sleeping, but it's as though a weighted blanket has been draped over your mind and body. It's easy enough to maneuver around, but it makes itself known and stays as a nuisance in the back of your mind. Pain radiates in your throat when you try to swallow. Maybe you had been asleep longer than you thought.
You shake your head lightly, trying to force the fog away, but the clouds refuse to leave. It's still fuzzy. Thick, like cotton.
You force your shoulders back. Your spine arches slightly and the familiar popping of your vertebrae sounds through the office.
"Mmm…" A whiny groan catches in your throat at the sensation of your neck and back muscles stretching, slowly forcing themselves back to life.
The hand on your ankle squeezes lightly. You force your bleary eyes toward the source. Vibrant green eyes—identical to the light that had shielded you in the dream—are watching you with quiet amusement. A smirk tugs at the corner of her lips.
"How was your nap, sleeping beauty?" Natasha asks. Her tone is teasing, but a light seriousness remains in her eyes as she scans your face, tracking every twitch of your expression.
You blink a few times in a row. Your eyes don't sting as badly as they did earlier, though a slight burn still lingers behind your eyelids. It'll probably take another day to clear the prolonged exposure to the smoke. You still feel a dragging fatigue, but there are things you need to do. Spending your hours studying in Natasha and Wanda's offices instead of executing the regular tasks of an intern is already weighing heavily on your chest.
The office is slightly dim. Natasha must have lowered the blinds while you were asleep.
You flatten your palm against the couch cushion and push yourself up into a seated position. A wave of haziness washes over your vision, making the room sway before it clears within a few moments.
"I slept well. Thank you for the nap," you respond quietly. Your voice sounds weirdly scratchy, and trying to force the words out radiates a burning pain.
Natasha is seated in the open space next to your feet. Her hand remains wrapped around your ankle, the heat of her palm bleeding through your skin. The book she must have been reading is closed, resting flat on her thigh. Her body is shifted entirely toward you, treating you like the center of her attention.
"Your eyes look better than they did earlier," she notes, her thumb rubbing against your skin steadily.
She reaches for a water bottle on the coffee table that wasn't there before you closed your eyes. She cracks the plastic seal open for you and extends it. "Drink, detka. It sounds like your throat is dry."
Your fingers wrap around the plastic. "Thank you," you murmur gratefully.
Swallowing feels like sandpaper grating together. You take a long sip, but the cool moisture does little to ease the friction. The liquid slides down and stings like an open wound being doused with alcohol.
Detka. You repeat the word in your head. It's unfamiliar, but it's the exact same one she used right before you fell asleep. The way she structures her sentences makes it sound like a noun. She's calling you something.
Do you even want to ask? What if it's something bad? Maybe it's synonymous with troublesome.
There are more important things you should be asking, you remind yourself. Why are they treating you like you're special?
You set the bottom of the bottle against your thigh and glance up. Natasha has been watching you the entire time. Her lips are pulled into a rigid line. Her eyes look calculating. The shift is jarring compared to the teasing smile she had just a few minutes ago.
Maybe the thoughts getting stuck in your fuzzy head are showing plainly on your face.
"Nat—" you start, but a sharp knock on the door pulls her focus away.
Natasha’s shoulders look incredibly tense, barely moving as she turns her head toward the entrance.
"Let's talk about it later, okay?" She squeezes your ankle one last time before releasing it entirely. She casts a quick glance back at you, throwing you a smile that looks just a bit melancholic.
"Come in," she calls out.
Wanda walks in, her expression bright with a wide smile. You can almost picture sun rays following her steps as she crosses the room. Her soft yellow dress shirt matches her energy perfectly. It's the complete opposite of the dim room and the heavy mood hanging between you and Natasha.
The unspoken question sits like a wall in the space. Natasha must have anticipated it with how quickly she read your expression.
You smile back at Wanda, though the gesture lacks any real feeling. You're happy to see her, but your thoughts refuse to align properly. New questions twist alongside the old ones in your mind, but you already know they won't be answered right now.
Natasha rises from the couch and extends her arms above her head. She takes a deep breath, stretching her limbs, before looking down at you.
"I have to go to a meeting now." She gazes down at where her hand had just been resting on your ankle. A frown tugs at her lips. She looks like she's fighting a silent battle with herself.
"We'll all talk later," she says, giving a small nod to herself before offering you a tight smile. She reaches down, her fingers briefly brushing the bare skin of your ankle again.
She steps toward Wanda, who is looking between the two of you with a confused half-smile. Natasha leans in and kisses her cheek, whispering something low into her ear.
Wanda's eyebrows furrow at the words. She turns to look at Natasha, but she's already made her way to the door.
"Bye, girls. Have a good study session," Natasha says without turning around.
The door shuts with a soft thud.
Your gaze drifts back to Wanda, whose green eyes soften the longer she looks at you. She rounds the coffee table and slides onto the space right where Natasha was sitting just moments ago.
"Natasha told me you needed a nap. Do you feel better, honey?"
You look down to where your legs are still resting on top of the cushions. A heavy blanket is draped over your lap. The fabric feels far too warm against your heated skin. You shift your weight so your legs hang over the side of the couch, pushing the blanket away and bunching it into a divider between you and Wanda.
"I feel okay," you murmur, forcing a small smile. It isn't entirely the truth, but you do feel marginally better compared to when you arrived this morning.
Wanda scoots a fraction closer to you, ignoring the bunched fabric. "I've been stuck in a board meeting since I got here this morning," she says with a sigh of exasperation. Her eyes gleam as she turns her head to lock onto yours. "Can you guess what it was about?"
Your eyebrows pull together as you rack your brain for an answer. You've hardly discussed actual company logistics since you started your internship. Except for yesterday.
"Was it about the end of the quarter?" you guess with hesitation.
Wanda's nose wrinkles right at the bridge, her smile filling with affection. "Exactly, smart girl. I did say I would schedule a meeting right away after our conversation yesterday."
Her smile is infectious. Your lips curve into a soft grin despite yourself.
She leans in even closer, her shoulder presses lightly against yours. She continues, "I was able to get to the bottom of the accounting bottleneck. You were right, darling. After a few targeted questions, I narrowed it down to one of the senior managers who was creating a disruptive atmosphere while also being far too lax about deadlines."
"So what will happen now?" you ask, your head tilting slightly. You're familiar with mock scenarios in textbooks, but actually witnessing how a large company approaches problems in the real world is entirely new to you.
"Well," Wanda starts, looking up toward the ceiling with a dangerous smile. "That manager has already been replaced as of twenty minutes ago. We'll just have to see how the person who took their spot fares under pressure."
You nod your head slowly in understanding. Good luck to them, you think to yourself. You have a feeling they'll need it based on the sharp glint in Wanda's eyes.
Wanda continues to talk about the meeting. She mentions names of executives you've never met, things that need to be improved, and projects that are going well. Her voice dips into a low register when she's a bit frustrated, then brightens when she talks about things the company is accomplishing.
You sit quietly, listening but not quite absorbing her words. A heavy throbbing is starting to build right behind your temples. Maybe you're still waking up. You nod when it feels appropriate, letting her sentences bounce off your foggy mind. You watch her expressions change—her brows furrowing, then smoothing out. Her eyes rolling, then crinkling at the corners when she smiles. An accent you can't entirely decipher becomes more prominent on certain words.
You could listen to her all day. Her voice feels like music in the quiet space.
Suddenly, she pauses and looks at you with a teasing smile. "Honey, are you even listening to me?"
She reaches out, her palm cupping your jawline while her index finger taps a playful rhythm against your cheek. Her hand feels cool against your skin.
No, not really.
"I'm listening," you respond earnestly. It's painful to speak but you swallow past the burn. You don't want to hurt her feelings.
She lets out a light chuckle. "You look like you're still half asleep," she says, squeezing your cheek lightly before her hand relaxes. She tilts her head, her eyes softening. "Your cheeks are still so warm from when you slept," she notes, leaning in closer to investigate.
Suddenly, her face scrunches up in confusion.
She leans in incredibly close, her chest almost brushing your shoulder as she breathes in deeply. Her hand drops from your face entirely. She leans back, her eyes hardening as she takes you in fully. Her lips pull into a thin line.
"Darling, you really shouldn't smoke," Wanda says, her voice dropping into a stern tone. "It's bad for you."
What?
The clouds swirling around your head clear instantly. Her expression. It's the exact same look that was leveled at you countless times when you were growing up. A look full of disappointment.
Your heart begins to race erratically, thudding violently against your ribs.
"I… I didn't smoke." Your voice trembles from your sharp pulse throbbing painfully in your throat.
Wanda raises one of her eyebrows. Her jaw remains tight.
She doesn't believe you.
Your hands begin to shake violently against your thighs. You curl your fingers inward, digging your nails deep into the center of your palm. The skin breaks. A dull, wet sting follows, but the actual pain doesn't register through the noise in your chest. You slide your other palm flat on top of the wound, clamping down hard to hide the tremor.
It's too familiar. That look.
It reminds you of the times in high school when you spent days studying for tests and losing sleep, running your system entirely on fumes. You had put your all into it, truly. But when the results arrived, the numbers were just good. Not great.
Your father had always told you that as long as you tried your best, then it was okay. You really had done everything you could, but your absolute best just wasn't enough to satisfy him. After seeing the results, he had looked at you and asked if you had truly tried. You were honest with him. You told him that you had given it your all.
But he gave you the exact same look that Wanda is giving you now. The flat, heavy skepticism that tells you your words means nothing.
Why is the truth never good enough? Why aren't you good enough?
It hurts.
You haven't felt this ache since the day you packed your bags and left your parents' house. The two years that followed had been empty, colorless, and safe. No one could hurt you because you refused to allow anyone to get close enough to try.
You allowed this hurt to happen. By smiling genuinely, laughing wholeheartedly, and opening up even a fraction. By deviating from the way you've been living so far.
Alone.
You pull your shoulders back, locking your spine into a perfectly straight line. Your hand reaches up, your fingers clawing through the tight knots that had formed in your hair while you slept. The strands catch, pulling harshly against your scalp, but you ignore the sting. You force your fingers through anyway, smoothing the hair down until it obeys.
Your hand slides down to your blouse. You glide your palm hard against the soft fabric, smoothing out the wrinkles over your chest until the presentation is pristine. If you stay around Wanda for much longer, you know you might crack.
The strings pull. Your lips tug automatically into your practiced smile.
Reaching out, you grab your phone off the coffee table. The lock screen shows it's right around lunchtime. Pressing the back of your hand against the cushion, you push yourself up into a full stand. Your legs wobble unsteadily under your weight, a cold shudder running through your thighs. It must be from lying down for so long or the lingering residual effects of your sleepless night.
You grab one of the straps of your backpack, hoisting the weight upward, and slide the straps over your shoulders.
"Darling—" Wanda starts, her eyes widening as she watches your sudden movements.
"May I go?" you ask politely, keeping your voice level and deferential. "I haven't been down to the sixtieth floor in a few days, and I'd like to check in with some of the analysts I met. Maybe I can eat lunch and study there for the rest of the day?"
Before she can answer, you reach down for the blanket bunched messily on the couch. Your fingers work quickly, lining up the corners and folding the heavy fabric into a perfect, flawless square.
"Wouldn't it be better to eat with Natasha and I?" Wanda asks quickly, an edge of urgency cutting through her voice. "We're planning to order from one of our favorite restaurants," she says, her tone lightening as if trying to pull you back.
You shake your head, keeping your eyes locked on the folded blanket. "I think I should get to know the people I'll be working with, since my time on this floor will end after tomorrow."
You turn your head toward the wooden door. You don't want to look at Wanda right now.
It's completely silent for a long moment before Wanda releases a heavy sigh.
"Okay," Wanda whispers, her voice cracking slightly before she raises the volume of her voice again. "Okay. I'll see you tomorrow, sweetheart."
The term of endearment that had sent a warm flutter through your chest even a day ago sends a dull ache instead.
You nod, your chin dropping just enough to acknowledge the words. "I'll see you tomorrow. Have a good rest of your day."
You're already moving, your wobbly legs dragging your weight across the carpet toward the exit. You reach out, your fingers wrapping around the cold handle of the door and pulling it open.
"You too, honey," you hear Wanda say quietly behind you.
The wooden door clicks shut behind your back.
A wave of exhaustion makes you press your weight back into your heels, letting your head land gently against the door. The cool wood feels good against your hot scalp. You bite down on the inside of your cheek, your teeth gnawing back and forth.
Your eyes close against the bright space.
There's nothing special about you. You'll just become another nameless intern working at their company. Eventually, their attention will shift to someone brighter than you. Someone who is actually a real person. Someone special.
Your arm lifts, fingers twitching toward the cold handle, wanting to pull it open just to see Wanda again.
Instead, you force your hand back down to your side. The walk toward the elevator feels like wading through mud. You press the button for the sixtieth floor. The doors slide shut.
Just like the emerald lights in your dream, even if you wish they would appear before you again, they won't. Because you're the one that wished them away.
—
The doors slide open to the familiar, low chatter of the sixtieth floor. Analysts offer quick smiles along the walkway. Heading toward the far left corner, you navigate to the desk where you had spent so little time, setting your backpack against the side before taking a seat.
"Haven't seen you in a few days. How's the job shadow been going?"
Eli's playful voice rings out from the neighboring desk. Turning your head toward him, his teasing smile somehow manages to make you feel a bit better.
"It's been going well," you respond, forcing a small smile that fails to reach your eyes.
Eli tilts his head, squinting as he observes your face. "Doesn't look like it," he says bluntly.
Your gaze shifts down to your lap. Silence hangs heavy between you.
"I was kidding?" Eli chuckles awkwardly, clearly trying to salvage the conversation.
Your fingers find the plastic edge of the ID card hanging around your neck. "It's okay," you say, forcing a short laugh. "I'm just a little tired today."
"Whoa!" Eli exclaims suddenly, his tone forcing your chin up. "Your hand is bleeding."
A quick glance down confirms it. A small amount of blood is smeared across both of your palms.
Eli pulls his desk drawer open and reaches for a compact first aid kit. "I always have one of these on me. My boyfriend is a clumsy one," he says with a fond smile before leveling a focused look at your hands. "Is it okay if I take a look?"
You extend your arms toward him, palms up.
The moment his hand slides underneath yours to support your weight, the memory of Matt's crushing grip flashes through your system. Your fingers snap closed into a tight fist instinctively. Your teeth bite down hard on your bottom lip, and you avert your eyes to avoid Eli's searching gaze.
His hand stays exactly where it is below yours, holding your weight up gently. When he speaks, his voice is softer than earlier.
"I don't have any siblings, let alone a sister. So, sometimes I don't really know the best way to comfort girls. Sorry if I was too forward," he says apologetically.
The genuine tone makes you uncurl your fingers slowly. Shaking your head, you finally meet his eyes with a genuine smile. "Yeah, sounds like you need to work on it."
His jaw drops before he levels you with a playful glare. "Oh, don't worry. I'll make sure to clean your hand extra well with the antibacterial wipe. Brace yourself."
True to his word, Eli tears open a small foil packet. He begins to tell a story about the time his boyfriend tripped over absolutely nothing and broke his leg. The cold wipe dabs against your raw skin, his touch growing gentler the closer he gets to the crescent-shaped cuts your nails made.
"He still swears he tripped over a step. Can you believe that? We were walking down a flat sidewalk," he says, shaking his head exasperatedly.
You laugh along with him as the stories keep coming, his voice filling the quiet corner of the floor. Your focus stays anchored on his words. A strange numbness is settling over your skin. You hardly even feel the sharp sting of the alcohol against your open palms.
—
It's a slower night at the restaurant. Nights like these, Angie goes around feeding the waitstaff in the kitchen and asking about everyone's plans.
The metal pass is holding more of your weight than you'd like to admit. Your body has felt almost unbearably hot since leaving the office today, but you've dealt with much worse.
Angie had asked you to wait for a moment before returning to the floor. A quick sweep of your section already confirmed everyone is enjoying their meals.
Finally turning to you, Angie squints her eyes. "You look a bit off, sweetie. You feelin' alright?"
"I'm okay. I just didn't sleep enough last night. I should be fixed up by tomorrow," you say with a tired smile.
She gives you a blank stare like she doesn't believe you. "If you say so," she drawls out before looking through the small windows of the kitchen doors into the dining room. She points in the direction of the bar. "Nicole looks bored out there. Make use of her and take it easy today. It's okay to rely on the team, y'know?"
"I know," you respond with an appeasing tone. "I'll make sure to use her." You push off the pass. It takes a moment to stabilize yourself. Luckily, Angie is still looking into the dining room.
A glance at the clock on the wall shows only around an hour left of your shift. Returning back to the house after your internship today hadn't felt daunting, since you knew Matt would be sleeping in preparation for his shift. But with the conclusion of your restaurant shift overlapping perfectly with the exact hour he wakes up, the idea of stepping back through the front door feels impossible.
A tired sigh escapes your throat. You'll just have to fold the napkins slower tonight to avoid running into him.
—
It's Friday. Usually, the end of the week brings a sense of relief with it being the last day of classes. This week, the relief is entirely different. Come Monday morning, your schedule returns to the regular tasks of a standard intern. You'll finally be able to keep your head down and blend back into the crowd.
An email from Cindy had arrived first thing this morning. She apologized for not being able to escort you due to an assignment she's currently working on, instructing you to head up to Wanda's office on your own.
Wanda. You repeat the name silently in your head.
The thought of her sends immediate pricks of discomfort through your chest. It's hard to distinguish if the feeling is pain or unease. Your arm accidentally brushes against the metal wall of the elevator, sending a sharp wave of pins and needles across your skin.
Ever since your alarm went off, a heavy mound of pressure has been building right behind your eyes and forehead. Lifting your head off the pillow this morning had taken a massive effort despite the mundane motion. Your heated skin feels exceptionally sensitive, turning every slight movement of your limbs into a radiating ache. It's exhausting just to remain standing.
The elevator doors slide open to the C-suite floor, revealing the pristine marble floor. A part of you wishes you could just drop everything and lie flat against that cool stone. But this level of exhaustion and discomfort has become commonplace. You can bear with it.
Breaths become more labored with every step until you reach Wanda's office door. Pressing your hand against the wood takes some of the burden off your body before you knock twice.
Despite the fatigue, you force your mind to stay sharp. This is the last day. You'll only see them in passing after this. The conflicting feelings and the warmth you feel around them will disappear.
Are you okay with that?
The question flashes through your mind against your will.
You have to be okay with this. Maybe it's better that it's now. You knew you would walk away one day, before they could leave you broken. Before you accidentally give pieces of yourself away that can never be retrieved.
"Come in," Wanda calls out from behind the door.
Taking a deep breath, you straighten your posture with effort and plaster on a neutral expression. You turn the handle and push open the door, revealing Wanda sitting at her desk. She stands immediately upon seeing you.
The door shuts behind you.
The same chair from before is pulled up next to her desk in the same spot. The sight makes the pressure in your head build. Stepping up to the desk, Wanda watches you the entire way, her mouth opening and closing as if she doesn't know where to start.
So, you start for her.
"I have a few questions about some of the topics in one of my classes. It's going to be covered pretty extensively on the final. When would you have time to answer them?" you ask politely. You keep your voice low, knowing if you raise it any higher, it'll break and send you into a coughing fit.
"Darling, I think we should talk," Wanda says earnestly, tilting her head to search your eyes that keep averting from hers.
"Is it in relation to my internship?" you ask indifferently, setting your backpack down and pulling out your materials.
The creak of Wanda sitting down is the only sound in the office.
"No," she starts hesitantly. "About yesterday."
Looking up, you plaster on an apologetic smile. You try to ignore the scent of jasmine swirling around you. It pulls at your heart and threatens to break your resolve. Your thumb presses hard into the bandage on your palm.
"My first final is on Monday. I already sent Cindy my schedule," you respond. "Would we be able to schedule a time to talk about it another day? I'm a bit behind on studying."
Wanda looks like she's completely withering away. Her shoulders droop, her hands find each other to grasp tightly, and the corners of her lips pull down. The sight almost makes you want to say anything and everything just to bring back her bright smile. To have her call you smart girl and send that fuzzy feeling through your body like she did a few days ago.
But the instinct to protect your heart overrides everything else. These feelings will pass with time.
"I can answer some questions now," Wanda says with a weak smile.
"Okay," you respond, forcing your eyes down to your notebook page. "I made a note here. How would you…"
—
Natasha never ended up stopping by. She was called into an emergency meeting with investor and public relations in lieu of the upcoming earnings release. It feels fitting.
The look Wanda had given you when you said goodbye instead of I'll see you later still sticks with you even now, standing in the breakroom at the restaurant preparing for your shift. It was a look that made it apparent that this was final.
You take a deep breath in through your mouth. Your nose had become increasingly more clogged as the day wore on. You had to hide your sniffles between performative throat clears that made your throat burn during your time alone with Wanda.
You practice your smile in the breakroom mirror. It's reminiscent of the time before meeting them. It doesn't reach your eyes. It stays strictly within the line of cheerful and flat—just enough of a curve to let people know you're engaged in the conversation. It's hard to hold even this manufactured smile today.
Natasha patting your stomach to even out your breaths. Wanda praising you when you gave her department solutions. That's the problem when you become too comfortable and allow color to seep into your world. When the world turns gray again, you miss the light blue of the sky. You miss the orange-red rays of the sun. The vibrant green of their eyes. It tears a hole through you.
But it'll heal even if it takes a while.
Just get through this shift, you think to yourself, trying to force a surge of energy into your mind.
Your phone vibrates in your pocket. Sliding it out, you glance at the message preview on the screen. It's Matt.
You shut your eyes tightly before opening them again to read the text.
I'm not working tonight. Let's hang out. I'll be waiting in the common room.
There's no apology for that night. Not even an acknowledgment. Fear courses through your system at the thought of returning home to find him sitting in the exact same spot. His calloused hand gripping yours. The suffocating mixture of smoke and alcohol on his breath. The looming possibility of what could have happened if your house leader hadn't arrived in time.
The sharp sound of the breakroom door opening pulls you out of your thoughts. Suddenly, your own frantic breaths become loudly clear to you.
Your coworker, Nicole, is leaning against the doorframe with a smile. "Hi," she greets you. "You're a finance major, right?"
You force your breathing to even out momentarily, contorting your expression into a polite, practiced smile. "Yeah, I am. Why do you ask?" Your voice sounds scratchy, but you maintain the pleasant cadence you were taught.
"A couple of my friends who're finance majors dined here a few nights ago and recognized you," Nicole says with a chuckle. "They asked if I would ask you to come to a party tonight. They said they've been wanting to talk to you, but couldn't find the confidence. I'll be going as well, if you want to head over together after this?"
She looks at you with hopeful eyes. You have yet to go to a single university party. Not that you ever really wanted to. The idea of standing in a crowded room with music blaring and drinks sloshing around sounds unappealing.
I'll be waiting in the common room.
The memory of the text forces your thumb to press hard into your bandage, sending sharp signals of pain through your body.
"I…" you start hesitantly, "I don't have a change of clothes." Going to this party sounds vastly better than facing Matt, but the logistics are an immediate problem.
Nicole's expression shifts into an excited smile. "Don't worry, I have an extra change of clothes right here in my locker. I promise it'll be fun. There are so many people who have been wanting the chance to talk to you."
Her body turns around to face the kitchen walkway, sending a fleeting smile back your way. "We'll talk more after the shift. I'm so excited!" she exclaims before walking away.
—
The dining room fills with a heavy rush of regulars, making the shift drag while simultaneously passing in a blur. Every step makes your joints feel stiff, like creaking bones. Even a light touch against your skin sends sharp pinpricks across your body. But you continue to chat with ease, keeping your speech charismatic and your expressions engaged. It's one of the times where you're thankful this is programmed into you.
A few customers ask about your voice, noticing the raspy edge. Hiding the scratchiness is becoming a struggle as your throat continues to swell. You brush it off with a practiced excuse, telling them you've just been talking too much lately. It wasn't exactly a lie.
The shift finally ends, leaving you in the breakroom with Nicole. She hands you a gray long-sleeve shirt and a white skirt. It's freezing outside, but with what feels like literal lava burning beneath your skin, the light clothing sounds like a relief.
You unbutton your work shirt and slide it off. The fabric of Nicole’s shirt feels like sandpaper, scraping hard against your skin as you pull it over your head. The neckline cuts low, stopping just above your breasts. It's far less coverage than you ever wear, but you've also never been to a university party. Maybe this was the norm with how quickly it could get hot in a crowd of people.
You unzip your trousers, step out of them, and pull on the skirt. The sudden blast of cool air against your bare legs brings a brief second of relief. But it doesn't last long. The relief vanishes, and the room turns far too cold. Your body doesn't normally regulate its temperature well, but for the past day, it's been a pendulum. Swinging violently from a sauna to the arctic.
Nicole throws out names of people you don't know, but who are apparently in many of your same classes. You nod and hum in understanding whenever she complains about the boys in her lectures.
You stuff your work clothes into your locker. You'll be back tomorrow anyway.
Turning around at the same time, you both stand fully dressed. Nicole sends you a wide grin. "I can see why the guys were begging me to ask you to come," she says, followed by a sharp whistle.
You roll your eyes exaggeratedly. The motion backfires, sending a dull, throbbing ache straight through your temples.
"I'm sure that's why they asked you, too," you respond teasingly, forcing the pain down.
You open the door to the breakroom and look around. The kitchen staff have already cleaned thoroughly and are grabbing their personal things to leave.
"I think we should head out so we don't hold anyone back. Ready?" you ask, turning back around.
"You bet!" Nicole calls out, grabbing her keys. She jingles them in a sporadic beat.
Despite your body screaming at you to lie down, you can't help but laugh a little at her energy.
—
Bright fairy lights string across the front yards along the sidewalk. It's a block dominated by fraternities and sororities, most having decided the weekend before finals is the perfect time to throw a party. Loud, bass-heavy music bleeds from house to house, blending together as students drift between lawns to meet up with friends.
Walking beside Nicole, you discuss university life and expected final grades. The freezing night air bites sharply against the exposed skin of your upper chest and bare legs.
Some people call out greetings to Nicole as you approach the fraternity house where the finance and accounting majors are congregating. In front of you, drunk students sway unsteadily, barely catching their balance before they tip sideways.
The street is familiar. Your daily bus route passes right by this block early in the journey. Your own house sits only a short distance away.
Excited shouting and screaming echo from the next lawn over. Sparing a brief glance, you watch a few people lying starfish on the grass, giggling to themselves as they fail to push themselves back up, only to collapse and laugh all over again.
Nicole laughs, pointing toward a crowd hyping up a student shotgunning a beer. Apparently, it's someone from one of her classes, the onlookers push them to drink even faster.
The sound of your name being shouted from the crowd steals your attention.
"Hey!" a voice calls out.
Someone from the crowd sways slightly as he walks quickly toward you and Nicole. Without warning, he wraps a heavy arm around your shoulders. The sudden weight feels like he's dragging you straight down. You force your legs to lock, bracing your joints so you both don't collapse onto the sidewalk.
"I'm so glad you made it. I've been wanting to talk to you for forever," he slurs, his face too close.
"Oh, knock it off, Tyler." Nicole shoves his arm off your neck.
A sharp breath of relief escapes your throat. Tyler raises his hands in surrender, though one arm hangs clearly higher than the other.
"Us in finance are just friendly folk, Nicole. Right?" he says, sending a heavy wink your way.
"Right…" you respond, pulling your lips into an awkward, flat smile.
Nicole pipes up from beside you, leveling him with a look of disgust. "This is why you don't have a girlfriend."
Tyler rolls his eyes, but his pupils track so slowly it looks like he's seeing stars. Stealing a quick glance at Nicole, he wraps his heavy arm right back around your shoulders and forces you forward. Your legs shake violently beneath your weight.
"Hey!" Nicole calls out, following close behind. "Tyler, let her go." Her tone sounds playful on the surface, but a sharp edge cuts beneath the words.
He ignores her completely, pressing your body forward until you cross the threshold into the house.
The interior is pure chaos. Strobe lights flash erratically, sending blinding white needles straight through the heavy pressure behind your eyes. To your left, a beer pong game dominates the common room. The players slam their hands hard against the folding table whenever they miss, sending loud bangs that slice through the bass-heavy music. Crowds of students pack the space holding red cups, swaying and spilling alcohol onto the floor.
People turn their heads to track you as you pass by, their expressions shifting into pure surprise.
Tyler proudly marches you straight up to a large group standing near the beer pong table. He pats your shoulder once before finally releasing his grip.
The group looks you up and down in shock. One of the guys lets out a sharp whistle. "Wow, Tyler. How'd you manage to get finance's princess here?" His gaze travels between your face and below your chin. You pull your arms close against your chest, trying to shield yourself from the look.
"I worked my magic," Tyler slurs, leaning his weight into you. Your footing slips, and you stumble slightly before forcing your legs to catch yourself. The suffocating heat of the packed room sends sharp arrows of pain straight to your brain.
"You mean I worked my magic?" Nicole cuts in from behind. Her hands find your shoulders, holding your frame steady against Tyler's weight.
Turning your head, you give her a grateful smile. It feels like your brain is actively turning to mush. The space is too crowded. Too many eyes are locked on you.
One of the girls in the group catches your eye, offering a soft smile. "Hi," she says politely. "I've seen you in a few of my classes, but I didn't know how to approach you."
"Hi," you respond kindly. Her and Nicole's soothing voices feel like a balm against the pounding bass. "It's nice to meet you." You give her a gentle smile, lacking the energy for anything more.
The girl leans her head in a bit closer, her mouth near your ear. "I can see why people are so interested in you," she whispers playfully. "But if anyone bothers you, let me know."
"Me too," Nicole adds. You hadn't noticed her leaning in to listen, but she squeezes your shoulders lightly. "I'm going to go say hi to some of my friends real quick. If it gets too hot in here, let me know. I'll go outside and cool off with you. You feel a little warm already," she notes, studying your face carefully.
Nicole has already been so kind. You refuse to hold her back from having fun.
"I'm okay," you respond, giving her hand a reassuring squeeze. "Go say hi to your friends," you say brightly, playfully pushing her toward a group looking at her expectantly. She throws a grin your way before disappearing into the crowd.
Immediately, Tyler presses his arm hard against yours. "So, what can I get you to drink, princess?" he asks loudly over the music.
"Just water is good, please." It isn't that you've never touched alcohol before, but the liquid always sits like a heavy rock in your stomach. It makes your brain fuzzy and your limbs refuse to cooperate. It's terrifying. It isn't the same gentle fuzziness that Wanda gave you.
Stop, you command yourself, cutting the thought off before it can dig deeper into your chest.
"Loosen up a little. Just one drink. Pretty please?" Tyler begs. He leans his face so close you're almost positive you could get drunk just from the heavy scent of vodka lingering on his breath.
"Tyler," the girl in the group warns, her voice laced with annoyance.
But the guys around him continue to press, their voices overlapping and bouncing off the walls.
"Come on, you can have the same thing as me."
"I'll make you whatever you'd like."
"Here," one of them says, shoving a red cup straight into your face. "Have some of mine."
The smell of cheap alcohol fills your nose, mixing with the suffocating heat of the room.
It's too much. You pull out your phone, casting a quick glance at the blank screen.
"Sorry, I have to get this," you say apologetically. "I'll be right back."
You wiggle your way out from under Tyler's weight. The group groans in unison as you back away.
Turning on your heel, you navigate your way through the packed room. The hot bodies of drunk students press heavily against yours, sending your heart into a rhythm that's far from steady. You force your way through the crowd faster, desperate for oxygen.
You're almost at the front door when someone's cold hand grips your wrist harshly.
You try to yank your arm away with a violent jerk, but their fingers refuse to yield. Your chest tightens. You need to get out of here. Right now.
"Is it really you?" a heavily accented voice sounds from behind you.
The lava burning beneath your skin freezes into solid ice.
No. There's no way.
Turning your head slightly, you peek over your shoulder. You're met with faces you could never forget. The two faces you've longed to see, that you've missed dearly, and that you've always felt incredibly guilty toward. A brunette and a blonde.
Kate and Yelena.
You can't do this right now. You never want to explain the reality of why you left them behind.
Yelena’s grip stays locked on your wrist while Kate stands right behind her. Their eyes widen in shock as they take in the side of your face.
Using their surprise, you rip your arm out of Yelena's grasp.
You stride quickly out the front door, the freezing night air doing nothing to clear the pressure in your head. Your eyes are frantic, scanning the front yard before you hit the concrete sidewalk and throw your weight around the corner. You need to be anywhere but here.
Rapid footsteps echo on the pavement behind you.
"Wait!" Kate calls out, repeating the word over and over into the night.
You don't stop. The remaining strength begins to wane in your legs, your knees threatening to buckle.
A hand clamps onto your shoulder, forcing your body to spin around. Yelena had always been faster than you in high school. It's exactly the same even now.
She levels a glare at you, gripping your shoulder tighter until her fingers dig into your collarbone. "What gives you the right to run away?" she yells, her voice echoing loudly around the empty space.
You cast a glance at your surroundings, grateful that the loud music bleeding from the houses makes it unlikely anyone else is listening to the commotion.
Reaching up with a shaky hand, you try to pry her fingers off your shoulder, trying to uncurl them one by one. "Let go," you grit out, your raw throat burning from the strain.
"So you can what? Run away again?" Yelena mocks sarcastically, refusing to budge. "You already did that two years ago."
Silence hangs heavy in the cold air, only the sound of your ragged breaths registering between you.
You force your eyes up, catching Kate's gaze immediately. She looks like she wants to reach out and pull you away from Yelena's grip, but she can't find it in herself to move. Her posture is frozen, as if she's terrified that any sudden movement will make you vanish again. Tears barely hold on above her lower lashes.
"I always wondered what happened," Yelena starts, her voice dropping into a low, raw register. "That maybe Kate and I had not been good enough friends. That we were not as close as I thought we were."
Her fingers claw tightly at your skin. Through the anger in her voice, you hadn't noticed the shakiness behind it. A gleam of moisture breaks through her glare as her eyes drop down to where her hand is gripping your shoulder for dear life.
"But at least when I pictured you, even without us, I thought you were happy. You were off somewhere smiling and laughing," she says shakily, before her voice spikes again. "But here you are, looking like this. How dare you?"
She forcefully shakes you by the shoulder. The sudden motion makes your vision blur and a wave of suffocating heat rushes back to your skin.
Kate steps forward, pulling Yelena's hand off your frame. "Stop it!" she cries out desperately. Tears track down her cheeks, glinting under the pale light of the streetlights. "Just stop," she whispers.
Turning to you, Kate meets your eyes with a watery smile. "Yelena and I need to sober up. Let's talk about this at a later time, okay?" she asks, the desperation clear in her voice.
You shake your head despite the sudden wave of dizziness. It feels like your consciousness is barely holding on by a thread. You won't be seeing them again after tonight.
"Why?" Kate pleads, her smile vanishing. "Why can't we talk after this?"
"Because…" you start weakly, your voice breaking entirely on the last syllable.
You sway unevenly on the pavement. Your breaths come out dangerously shallow and fast. Kate disappears and reappears in your blurry vision. The next thing you know, Kate has your arm slung over her shoulder, holding your weight up.
"Did you drink something? What's going on?" she asks frantically.
Yelena presses her palm flat against your forehead. The sudden chill of her skin feels welcome against the boiling of your blood.
"She is burning up," Yelena says, trying to search your eyes.
"I didn't drink anything," you manage to whisper.
You droop heavily into Kate, your legs completely failing. Everything around you looks pixelated. It's almost scary, but whatever is dragging your consciousness down calls to you, promising sweet relief. You want to listen to it.
A sharp, muffled sound cuts through the air from behind you, but you don't move.
Kate and Yelena's faces are suddenly lit up by a bright, sweeping beam of light Their eyes remain frantic, but a wave of relief washes over their expressions as well.
"Hey, I got your text to pick you up. Don't drink so much next time," an annoyed, raspy voice calls out. It's instantly familiar.
The sound of a heavy car door opening echoes down the street, followed by quick, decisive steps on the asphalt.
"What's going on? Did they drink too much?" the person asks, stepping in to help Kate support your body. Your head rolls helplessly to the side, leaning flat against their shoulder.
"She said she didn't drink anything," Kate says breathlessly. "I think she might have a fever. She feels really hot."
You look up slowly, trying to force your jaw to work so you can tell them all you can just walk home. It isn't far.
You're instantly silenced by vibrant green eyes looking down at you, alarmed.
"Natasha?" you mumble out, your voice barely a breath.
Yelena's hand freezes against your forehead.
"Yes, detka, it's me. I'm here," Natasha murmurs softly, her tone shifting instantly.
Yelena's hand drops away from your skin. She stands frozen, looking between the two of you in disbelief.
Natasha moves so she's standing directly in front of you. She pulls one of your arms over her shoulder. "I've got her," she says evenly to Kate.
Glancing at Kate, you see her eyebrows pulled together in hesitation, but she allows your arm to slide off her shoulder. Natasha places your other arm across her neck. Her hands find their way to the back of your thighs, and suddenly gravity isn't pulling you down as harshly. Your chest presses flat against Natasha's as she lifts you up, adjusting her grip beneath you.
Your body tenses immediately. Unwrapping one of your arms, you push your palm against her shoulder with a weak nudge.
"I can get home by myself," you argue, but the words lack any real strength.
Natasha adjusts her grip so only one arm supports your weight. Her other hand wraps around your fingers, lifting your arm and slinging it securely back around her neck. Sliding up to the back of your head, her fingers press lightly, guiding your face down until your cheek squishes flat against her shoulder.
"I'm sure you can," she says in a quiet, appeasing tone, her body beginning to rock side to side like she's lulling you to sleep. Your eyelids grow heavy, beginning to droop against your will. "You don't have to, though."
She uses her palm to cover your exposed ear. "Wanda, I need you to drive instead," Natasha calls out.
The muffled sound is a relief. The surrounding party noises were starting to send sharp, throbbing stabs straight to your brain.
You feel the motion of Natasha walking, holding you steadily so your body barely shifts. The sound of a car door clicking open echoes nearby before Natasha leans down, her breath brushing close to your ear. She slides onto the seat and tucks your legs close to the outside of her thighs, wrapping both arms around your frame to hold you close.
Your lips rest almost directly against the side of her neck.
"It's too hot," you whine quietly, your skin heating at the contact.
Natasha's hand begins to pat your back in a slow, steady rhythm. "I know, detka. It'll be better soon. Just sleep for now."
"Natasha, is that our sweet girl?" Wanda's voice projects from the front, sounding as if she's turned completely around in the driver’s seat.
"Yes," Natasha responds in a low register. "So drive carefully. We have precious cargo."
The steady rhythm of the patting continues against your back. Your eyes close.
The sharp sound of two more doors opening and closing pierces through the space, though the noises of the outside world are starting to fade into a distant hum.
"Natasha," Yelena’s voice cuts in from the seat beside you, her tone a tense mixture of anger and confusion. "We have a lot to talk about."
"Lena. Let's talk at their place. Let her sleep," Kate says from behind you.
A disgruntled, heavy sigh sounds through the vehicle.
"Let's go home," Natasha directs toward the front.
You press your face even closer into the curve of Natasha's neck. The heat is suffocating, but being held against her brings a completely different type of warmth. One that lets you know you're safe.
Using the last bit of your strength, your arms squeeze a bit tighter around her shoulders. Your mind drifts, slipping away from the waking world.
Right before the dark takes over, you swear you see a pair of gorgeous green lights—two slightly different shades—swirling together in the shadows around you.
They came back.
—
A/N: Lots of drama. Butttt, we were able to get R out of that house, at least for tonight. Just like how Natasha can't help but baby, I also can't help but baby you guys too. I keep adding to the ending to make it softer because I don't want you guys to finish the chapter feeling sad 😅 In exchange for the drama filled chapter, in the next chapter I promise: Wanda and R will talk, we'll learn more about why Natasha and Wanda are interested in her, maybe make it a little subby.
Thank you guys as always for reading and the comments/asks. It always makes writing the story more fun ♡
Summary: Ever since finding out you were pregnant, your wives have been attentive and soft in a way you’ve never seen before. Tonight, they help take special care of you in the bath.
Warnings/Tags: domestic wanda and nat, no use of Y/N, they really love petnames, wanda speaks romanian, fluff, smut, bathtub sex, soft sex, bottom/sub reader, implied top/dom wanda and switch nat, kissing, groping, orgasm from nipple stimulation, i kinda robbed yall of the bedroom action sorry
Word Count: 4.45k
A/N: Let’s pretend poly-marriages exist for a second, okay? Also, this lowkey came out later than I wanted it to but I got a little caught up on Love Island twitter icl. Plus, apparently idk how to stfu so this got longer than I expected it to, especially for my first time writing something explicit.
Masterlist
Ever since Wanda and Natasha forced you onto maternity leave, you’ve had a sickening amount of time to yourself. Instead of taking your place beside them at the company, you stayed at home meal prepping their lunches, cleaning, and making dinner.
Everything you once found fun or relaxing became boring after the first month. Especially after the two of them started meal prepping for you instead, getting a firm handle on both your dietary restrictions and fleeting cravings. Next was Wanda starting to insist more on going out for dinner. Then it was Natasha hiring private cleaning services.
Rather than there being time between tasks, there was just time. There was nothing to do. So, you decided to fill that space in another way.
Shopping.
You figured it was the one activity they couldn’t stop you from doing if it was all for the baby and you—mostly you at this stage. You were prepared to endure nagging when you checked the time and noticed you’d be getting home later than your wives.
Part of you was expecting a suggestion to do online shopping instead, hire a personal shopper who had your measurements down pat, or let them pick everything up before coming home to you. Wanda sure did love dressing you.
Instead, you came home to a kind of quiet that left you skeptical of their intentions. Not quiet in the way there was no chatter, just quiet in the way there was no fuss or sweet words steering you towards the “right” choices.
It was shocking.
Earlier this week, Natasha was stressed out of her mind when you joined her on your usual run about the park. You figured, if you couldn’t join them at the office, might as well enjoy the ritual before work. Not only did she jog half the usual pace, she cut the route short altogether. She turned back home a mile in.
None of your cursing changed her mind. You both cleared this routine with your doctor weeks ago, but Natasha would always turn around the second your breathing lost its usual rhythm.
You’ve been making her walk the mile with you since. And though she thinks you’re not aware, you hear her visit the home gym forty-five minutes before your alarm goes off every morning.
You know she’s using the treadmill.
Upon walking in, you found Natasha rushing across the foyer to meet you at the door. Before your bags could touch the ground, there was a kiss upon your cheek and fists around the handles of your totes.
“Go sit in the mudroom. I’ll put these in the living room. Wanda wants a haul after dinner malysh.” From the aroma alone, you could nearly taste the steak at the entryway.
“Of course she does.” You sighed out.
That was another thing. You weren’t allowed to take your own shoes off anymore. You grunted while bent over, three weeks ago, and the two of them had taken it with the utmost seriousness. It was almost terrifying how adamant they were about tying your shoes.
Eventually you learned to stick with sandals for most of your outings. Thinking you’d be home before them, but knowing how much you’d be on your feet, you chose your favorite sneakers today.
Leave it to Natasha to assess you from head to toe in a heartbeat.
Your redhead was back within seconds, eager to attend to you. Her adoring eyes fell over you again as she reached towards you to smooth out your hair. She rubbed and brushed gently over your head before bending down for a real kiss.
Natasha’s palm rested over your ear as she pressed her lips onto yours. It was tender. And while all you tasted was home, all she got was a hint that you’d indulged in mall food before getting back.
You pulled away, decided you weren't finished, and leaned back in to peck at her lips. “You’re ruining my appetite.” Natasha smirked and caught your bottom lip between hers, sucking it softly. The two of you fell back into an easy rhythm. You wanted to deepen it, open wider for her, hoping to slide your tongue in her mouth. But before you could go for it, she was drawing away from you.
“I think those cinnamon pretzel bites already did the job, malyshka.” You pouted at her, annoyed by how easily she figured it out even after you took care of washing the treat down on the drive home.
“I only had like five Natty.” You rolled your eyes, making a more than obvious effort to lose eye contact.
You could see the way she raised her eyebrows at you before kneeling. “Right.” You faced her again, following her movements as she rolled up your pants' leg.
“I did.”
“Tell that to Wanda.” You were quiet for a moment as she started to undo your shoelaces.
“You think I can brush my teeth before we get to the kitchen?” There was a fifty percent chance she’d kiss you before dinner and find out the same way Natasha did, but you were hoping that a chaste peck and chatting her up could distract her enough later.
“Baby, your receipt’s in the Rosie’s Boutique bag.” She slid your right sneaker off.
“Maybe I could trash it then?” You wondered.
Natasha pats your calf before getting up to store your shoes away. “I’ll throw it out in my office. It’ll be our secret.”
You kicked your leg out and rubbed your feet up and down her leg, slightly dragging her sweats with the movement, giggling as you spoke. “Mm, you’re so good to me.” She shakes her head, amused by your actions, as she closes the mudroom cabinet.
You bit your lip at the sight of your slightly swollen ankles, hoping Natasha wouldn’t say anything to you about them, or worse, to Wanda.
She’s back on her knees again, and you watch as she lightly massages them. Unbothered by the dampness, she brushed her thumbs over the indents your socks had pressed into your skin. She slid your house shoes from underneath the seat and slipped them onto your feet with a breath of finality.
Natasha pulls you from the bench and back through the formal entry way, ready to make good on her promise to you. She leaves you standing in the hall as she runs to snatch up the evidence. She returns with a small smile on her face, waving the receipt at you, then slipping it in her pocket.
“Keep her company while I wrap up this email for Maria. I’ll be right down.” Natasha kisses your forehead.
A hum vibrates in your throat, and you turn to leave, but not before pinching her ass and rushing away; ultimately, fearing her retaliation. “You better be.”
A couple turns later and you’re greeted with the homely sight of your lover hovering over the island stove, two pans on the eye and a cutting board nearby. Seeing her in the kitchen always gave you a rush of warmth, loving how she seemed so at peace in the space. Every time you saw her standing there, it brought you back to the first time she saw the kitchen after the rebuild. Even as her wife, you’re not sure you ever saw her look more in love.
Your arms wrap around her midsection with swiftness. You stand somewhat to the side of her, knowing this was as close as you could get to her with your bump growing larger by the day.
“Hi draga mea, we missed you today,” she turns and pecks your lips “talk to me while I finish with the asparagus, will you?” You hummed and found a stool nearby, ready to tell her all about the deals you got on items for the nursery and how your new earrings match perfectly with your anniversary bracelet from them.
Wanting to give you something to do, your wife tasks you with pouring water for each of you. Usually, on a night like this, wine was the go-to. But with your predicament, it’d be a few more months before you could enjoy alcohol again.
Soon, Natasha was joining both of you and plating dinner for everyone. The food was steaming. Wanda carries her own plate, and yours, to the dining table while Nat sets her meal down, pulls out your seat, and grabs cutlery from the kitchen.
Your plates weren’t full for long.
A bowl of ice cream, two cookies, a chopped-up cucumber drenched in sriracha and sesame oil (courtesy of the Russian who insists you stay away from knives), a cup of tea, and two sad Disney movies later you were sat waiting on your ottoman as one of your wives drew the bath and the other handled dishes.
You rested against the foot of the bed, hand rubbing over your belly as you fought to keep your eyes open. Eating so much had worn you out, and now sleep was calling your name. You weren’t sure if you’d be able to get up again without Natasha’s help.
“Oh god, I’m stuffed.” You whine out.
Your wife walks in the room, drying her hands with a small towel. There’s no doubt she’d already tested the water for you. “Honestly, I’d be scared if you weren’t.” You grunted at her words and closed your eyes.
“Don’t fall asleep on me, it’s almost ready.” She laughs. “Do you want the chamomile or the lavender, krasotka?”
You had no energy to choose.
“Could you decide? I want you in there with me.” That was all you knew.
“We’ll do a blend tonight.” You nod and watch her disappear into the on suite once more.
Soon she’s reentering the bedroom and dragging you to the bathtub.
Natasha helps you undress quietly. It’s a ritual you wouldn’t give up for the world. You rest your hands on her shoulders as she helps you step out of your pants and underwear, grateful for all the ways she provides you with stability.
She proceeds to remove her clothing as you wait beside her, watching with, now, awake eyes. They trail over her form, taking in the scars of childhood, her curves, the freckles littered across her skin, and the goosebumps from standing bare.
She helps you into the water, one hand holding tightly onto your arm and the other supporting your back as you sit inside. Natasha joins you in no time. She settles in behind you, arms sitting loosely around your sides, legs encapsulating your own.
The two of you sit skin-to-skin, enjoying the dimly lit bathroom, evenly heated water, and a kind of serenity enhanced by the perfectly measured essential oils.
“I’m so happy Wanda decided on the heated tub during the remodel. I think this is my favorite part of the night.” Natasha was silent behind you. You giggle before turning to look back at her; her eyes closed as her head lay against the edge of the bath. She’d tell you she wasn’t sleeping if you asked, “just resting” instead.
“I’m starting to think you drawing a bath every night is definitely more for you than it is for me.” You pinch her lower thigh, drawing a performative hiss from your wife.
“So what? Now it’s criminal for me to need to hold my girl after a long day at work?” She kisses the side of your head.
You deadpan. “We cuddle almost every night, Natasha.”
“We don’t cuddle naked every night.” Her tone was full of grievance, as though it was criminal you weren’t always nude for her past 7pm.
“Just about.” There was no more giggling, just loud, unrestrained, laughter after you said those words.
You feel her chest jump against your back as she begins to laugh along with you. Then, it was quiet for a moment.
“I miss you when you’re at work—both of you. I miss being at work. I thought I’d enjoy leave, but there’s way too much nothing to do.” Natasha chuckles at that.
“We don’t want you stressed—we talked about this.” Wanda spoke from the doorway. She pads over to both of you and settles on the rug adjacent to the tub.
You turn to look at her, not having heard her enter the bedroom. “I know, trust me, I do. But I just feel useless. I miss doing something as simple as bringing files to your office, in heels, or cleaning the bathroom on weekends.”
“Celine does look good on you.” You flicked water on Wanda’s face and pouted.
“I’m being serious. You guys don’t even let me carry groceries in from the garage anymore.”
“Malyshka, you are not useless. You are creating life. You deserve this. We want to take care of you. We need to take care of you.” You feel Natasha’s hands splay out atop your own and across your stomach, your bump looking especially precious to her in that moment. Wanda’s hands join yours there; the three of you interconnected in a single moment.
“I think, in a way, we feel on the outside of things. You’re carrying twins for us. Your body is changing every day and the least we can do for you is give you peace of mind. So no, we don’t want you handling harsh chemicals, no we don’t want your feet swollen into designer heels for nine hours a day, and no we don’t need you hauling bags into the house. You are the one doing all the heavy lifting between us. And you may not see it that way, or acknowledge it, but we do. And we admire you for it.”
Natasha’s fingers lace with yours, creating a ripple effect. You all squeeze each other’s hands tightly. “We love you for it.”
Wanda nods in agreement and speaks.
“We do. It’s not that we see you as fragile or incapable now. We see you as stronger than ever. Doing what we do for you gives us a chance to match that strength.”
“We want this journey to be as safe for you as possible. We’d do anything to make sure you and the girls come out of this healthy.” Natasha peppers kisses along your right shoulder while Wanda brings your intertwined hands out of the water and presses her lips long and hard against the back of your palm.
“I understand. I appreciate both of you. I just…miss my old routine.”
“And you’ll get back to some version of it, we promise. But for now, we just want you to relax. And while Natasha and I are beyond excited to see the twins, once they come, none of us will be able to enjoy our usual lifestyle. So much is going to change, my love. Let’s enjoy the slow period while we can.” Your lip quirks up at that.
The way the two of them always manage to speak to you so gently made you swoon. No matter how irritated you were with the slower routine, at the end of the day, it was always these two taking care of you.
Every annoyance was washed away by their patient explanations and getting you to see their perspective of things. While it didn’t dissolve all you felt, watching your old life slip from your grasp, you were content to be reminded that this wasn’t forever.
“Let us take care of you.”
You expect to find warm affection in Wanda’s eyes, and you do, but along with it is a look you know all too well. “I feel like that means something really different right now.” You whisper.
“Maybe.” Natasha mumbles against your skin.
You knew they’d be plotting something at some point this evening.
“You want it to?” An eager nod answers her question. In a split second, Wanda is on her knees and pulling your face close to hers. Her thumb brushes across your helix before coming to a rest right below your jaw. She feels the way it works as you open up for her.
There’s no hesitation, only heat. Her tongue pushes into your mouth, eager to wrap around your own. To drag the tip of it across the roof of your mouth and feel you shiver—like you always do. It was intoxicating, to be dragged into this space by her, by either of them, and to sit in a haze as they have their way with you.
The pregnancy only made you more submissive, if possible, and they relished your obedience and surrender. But the best part was how sensitive you became under their care.
Natasha squeezes your hip and you moan into Wanda’s mouth. You’d never been as vocal as you were now, and the two of them loved to grip onto you wherever they could—waiting to hear the way you responded to their teasing touches.
Both women wasted no time getting you on your knees. You face Wanda entirely, Natasha holding you up from behind, making sure you don’t slip and keeping your legs open for the two of them. She’s careful not to push her weight into you, keeping your belly from pressing hard against the wall of the tub.
Still, you start to feel annoyed at the barrier between you and Wanda, the tub’s edge and how, not, naked she was. Before you could whine about it, her hands were rushing up the front of your body, fervently, seeking a place to rest.
One hand drags down from your head to your hip, the other going to wrap around one of your breasts. You choke back a whimper as she pulls at a nipple, rolling it between her forefinger and thumb.
“I bet we could make you fall apart for us just like this draga. Won’t even have to touch that little cunt of yours.” Your heart jumps, and the building ache between your thighs become unbearable at the very thought of climaxing without either of their fingers inside you.
Your mouth falls open, unable to properly respond. Only her name comes out. “Wands...”
“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” You nodded bashfully.
“Oh sweetheart, we’ve taught you better than that. Haven’t we, Natalia?”
Natasha’s touch was softer, not lacking passion, just slower, not hesitant, only intent. Her mouth sucked at the skin right under your ear, one of the spots that’d make you fall into her, just right, when she wanted to see you unravel. She was completely caught up in you, her ears only perking at the sounds of your breathless moans and pants, her body entirely attuned to the way you squirmed between them.
“Don’t tell me you need to be retrained too. Both of you, I want to hear you.” Natasha raises her head, partially dazed by the heat of the moment. Her skin flushed further at being called out.
A synchronized yes answers her.
You turned away from Wanda to look at Natasha. Your wife’s hands fell just under where you craved her and just above where you needed her.
Out the corner of your eye, you see Wanda begin to pull away. She ties her hair up quickly before getting her hands back on you. Your breath hitches as she dips her head lower and lower. Going from soft kisses and suckling across your sternum to having her teeth scratch lightly against the peaks of your breasts. Natasha watches your chest rise and fall. She feels arousal build at the sight of Wanda flicking her tongue over you and drawing in as much as she could fill her mouth with.
“Need you too. Please ‘Tasha.” Your hips rocked into her front.
“You up for the challenge, detka?” Instead of speaking, you take one of Natasha’s hands, bringing it to brush against the nipple Wanda had yet to touch.
It was enough of an answer for her.
Your head falls back onto her shoulder as she starts to massage you gingerly, knowing the softness of it all would keep you right where she wanted. Her hand was full of you.
As Natasha switches between thumbing over your nipple and letting the pads of her fingers circle them. Wanda’s letting her nails skim over your spit covered tit, drawing back whenever your moans heighten in pitch, then nipping at them when Natasha holds both steady for her.
The two work in tandem. Wanda swirling her tongue around the tips while Natasha restrained herself from manhandling the flesh between her fingers. Heat pooled in your lower stomach, tingles spread from the bottom of your spine to the base of your neck, and you attempted to push yourself further into Wanda’s mouth.
You tried to cover your moans, but your wife was quick enough to restrain you. Your wrist was brought back down to your side.
“Uh-uh, we wanna hear all your pretty sounds.” Natasha’s voice was deep and full of warning, only adding to the buildup.
The noises you wanted to mask came spilling out as Wanda dragged her tongue heavily across your chest. They came out messy and long. Your breathing turned erratic, your gut tightened, and your back arched as she worked you. The steam around you had each of you glistening with sweat. Instead of your muscles being relaxed by an evening soak, they were now drawn taut by the effort of keeping up with the women embracing you.
“Look at what she’s doing to you, malysh.” Natasha commanded. “Already got you on that edge, huh?”
“Please I—Fuck!”
You could barely hold eye contact with her. Those deep green eyes that glinted, almost sinisterly, when she had you on the precipice. When she knew she could take it all away from you. You could only pray she wouldn’t.
“Faster. Wanda. Need it.” She hummed over your skin. Any other night, she’d never take a demand from you. She expected pretty pleas at all times, play or not, she gave you what she wanted you to have.
Natasha went from looking over your shoulder, admiring your wife on her knees, a sight she doesn't get often, to leaving hickeys up and down the span of your neck. You hissed when she bit down, moaned when her heated tongue smoothed over the mark, smiled when she kissed you and whispered in your ear.
“So perfect for us. The sooner you cum, the faster I clean up your little mess down here, krasotka.” She palms your ass, spreading you apart, exposing you, and letting the air graze against your most sensitive area.
You were dripping by now, aching for either of them to slide a finger between your folds, over your clit, to dance around your opening, all before stretching you open. You could feel the way your arousal trickled down your thighs, not taking long before it dribbled into the fragrant water below.
Natasha sucks your earlobe into her mouth, teeth grazing it, as Wanda’s tongue flits around your areola, and you cry out for the both of them in a single breath.
You clenched around nothing, feeling a pleasant wave of warmth wash over you from your chest to your core. The feeling was euphoric; you had only ever come once from nipple stimulation alone. Natasha and Wanda have been vying to get you there since.
The night it happened led to their longest session with you. The state you entered following that wave of ecstasy was the highest they’d ever brought you to. It was addictive to watch as your eyes glaze over, to have you cling to them, to hear the most unrestrained sounds fall out of your mouth as they fucked you.
Your hands clutch Wanda’s shoulders as she laps over your nipples for the last time, feeling especially overstimulated even through the carefulness of her motions.
Wanda pulls back with a triumphant look on her face, watching you go limp in Natasha’s arms. Her thumbs rub circles into the sides of your hips as she watches you twitch, your bottom half searching for the same stimulation.
Her hands leave to hold your face, her fingers pushing back strands of damp baby hair before your cheeks rest in her palms.
“My beautiful, beautiful girl.” She kisses your forehead. “We‘re so proud of you sweetheart.” You whine at her tone, her praise, and her smile widens. She bites down on her lip, shooting a look to Natasha before standing on slightly shaking legs, her knees weak from kneeling too long.
They had you in the perfect state for them. Blissed out and pliant, soaked, ready for whatever came next, willing to take everything they could give you.
“Let’s take you to bed. We’ll get you all comfortable so Natty can do something about this, my love. Yeah?” Wanda’s palm slid over your folds, collecting your arousal and spreading it over her fingers, as she spoke.
She reaches out to take your hands while Natasha lifts you up. They work together in getting you to dry your feet on the rug, not wanting you to slip on the tile as they aided you to the bedroom.
The three of you spend the rest of the night tangled up in one another, both of them mindful of your physical limitations, but stretching you out every way they desired. Natasha was the first one to knock out, leaving you and Wanda cuddled up in the center of the bed, Nat’s limbs hanging off the side, sheet barely drawn over her naked form.
You two spoke gently to each other, not wanting to wake her up, but wanting this quiet, soft, moment to last even a minute longer.
“I was thinking of going to mommy yoga downtown. It’s low impact. Plus, I can do a majority of their classes up until my due date. They have lessons for every trimester. What do you think, Wands?” You turned your head towards the wife that was barely hanging on to consciousness, the other breathing deeply behind you.
“I think we already do enough mommy yoga, iubi.” She muttered drowsily.
just a little spoiler for tomorrow’s post Just Relax. it’ll be my first time writing something a little heated so don’t crucify me if it’s not great🙈
Summary: Ever since finding out you were pregnant, your wives have been attentive and soft in a way you’ve never seen before. Tonight, they take special care of you during your evening soak.
—
“Let us take care of you.”
You expect to find warm affection in Wanda’s eyes, and you do, but along with it is a look you know all too well. “I feel like that means something really different right now.” You whisper.
“Maybe.” Natasha mumbles against your skin.
You knew they’d be plotting something at some point this evening.
“You want it to?” An eager nod answers her question. In a split second, Wanda is on her knees and pulling your face close to hers. Her thumb brushes across your helix before coming to a rest right below your jaw. She feels the way it works as you open up for her.
There’s no hesitation, only heat. Her tongue pushes into your mouth, eager to wrap around your own. To drag the tip of it across the roof of your mouth and feel you shiver—like you always do. It was intoxicating, to be dragged into this space by her, by either of them, and to sit in a haze as they have their way with you.
Summary: It’s only once you’re away that Natasha finds your unnecessary bedtime habits essential for a peaceful night of sleep.
Warnings/Tags: Cheeky Natasha, Nat in the doghouse, Fluff, Knife mention, Liho appearance
Word Count: 1.65k
Masterlist
Natasha doesn’t know how long ago you’d formed this routine, but she wasn’t a fan. A month apart and you’d somehow come up with the perfect way to annoy her right before bed. She doesn’t know why you still do it. She’s been back a week now, and you’re still hooked on it.
“Milaya, please turn it off.” Her head was shoved into the crook of your neck, eyes squinting from exhaustion, and a hand already stretched out towards your phone.
“It helps me sleep ‘Tasha. Could you just wait until I’m knocked out before you turn it off?” You hold the device further away from your body, effectively keeping it out of reach.
“You say that every night. Then the minute I grab your phone you wake up and choose some other weird video to watch. It’s stupid.” Natasha stops trying and dramatically rolls onto her back. Her arms spread wide with one smacking against your abdomen, along with a hand and foot hanging off the side of the bed.
“It’s not stupid. It lowers my cortisol.” You pout.
Natasha deadpans. “Yeah, because a cranial nerve exam with a glitter wand is the perfect lullaby. Give it to me.”
The redhead pops up and wrestles you for the phone. Her legs bracket your hips, and her hands lock around your arms.
“Hey! No. Natasha, I swear if you don’t give me my phone back, I’ll—” You watch as she holds the phone above her head and powers it off. She places it on the nightstand near her side of the bed and flops onto you. Her body scoots down just enough for her temple to meet your clavicle.
“You'll what? Can’t you just wear headphones?” She mumbles against your skin.
“You know I can’t wear them to sleep. They’re uncomfortable. We’ve been over this.” Your hands come up to scratch lightly at her shoulders, and you feel her shudder against you. You didn’t have to see her face to know she’d rolled her eyes at your words.
“And under. You know what else is uncomfortable? Hearing some random lady suck on wooden spoons just so you can sleep.” She snorts.
“Unfair.” You pinch her.
“Unfair? You couldn’t have at least chose hair brushing last night?”
“I could tonight if you just give me my phone back.” You offer her.
“No.” It’s quiet for a second as you thought of a good enough threat for the assassin.
“Natalia, I’ll make you sleep on the couch with Liho.” The use of her formal name let her know that you were serious about this.
“At least Liho doesn’t watch Avengers ASMR Role-play videos at midnight.” She retorts sulkily. She really couldn’t help but get another jab in.
“But she does chew on your hair.”
“Fine.” Natasha reaches back for the device. A picture of the two of you lit up the screen as she powers it back on.
“Fine.” You mocked. “Don’t act like you don’t enjoy it.” The phone is snatched out of her hands the second she moves off you.
You turn back on your side. Natasha’s arm falls around your waist as a peck, then a sigh, meets the nape of your neck. Then she had to ruin it.
“Oh, yes malyshka. I love the spit painting with your snoring as adlibs.”
You do not snore.
“Couch.” There was silence for a moment.
“You can’t be serious.”
“Dead.”
Before you pressed play on the next video, a curious meow reached your ears accompanied by a sleepy groan. You could easily imagine her tired form gripping a single pillow, and some random throw from your hall closet, under one arm as she glared at the cat swerving between her calves.
“If I find pieces of my hair on the floor in the morning, I’m taking you to the groomers first thing tomorrow.” Her drowsy voice made you feel the tiniest bit of guilt. That was until your favorite creator made an appearance on the screen.
This was peace.
A giggle of contentment escaped you as you turned over in bed, comfortable with the night’s sleeping arrangements and Natasha’s lack of complaints in your ear.
—
It’s not like you were currently keeping eyes on HYDRA agents at some decrepit warehouse in a foreign country. It’s not like that at all. Not to Natasha. Natasha, who hadn’t slept for three nights. Not to Natasha who’d invited a black fur-ball of chaos into your shared bed that night, hoping to find some kind of natural melatonin between Liho’s breath that smelled like her last meal and the scent of you that’s started to wear off the sheets. And definitely not to Natasha, who’d picked out a burner phone to call you in the middle of surveillance.
“So, let me get this straight.” You started, exasperated by your girlfriend’s actions. “You drove—what—probably halfway across the city to call me on a burner while I’m in the middle of a mission—in Santiago—about which ASMR channels I watch?” You were speechless.
The anxiety you had as you picked up the phone, only to hear the faltering voice of the Russian, was immense. Now you knew the hesitation was a result of her embarrassment and you couldn’t be any more amused.
“Don’t start gloating. Just give me a name.”
“You call me, begging, at three am and expect me not to rub it in your face? Do you know who I am Miss Romanoff?”
“Jane Doe if I don’t get a name. I wouldn’t even care if it’s the lady with the crappy mic, just need something before our window closes malysh, I’m tired.”
You knew it was only a matter of time before your line was open for tracing, so you relented. The teasing could wait until you stepped back into the compound. It would be all you’d think about until the next time you see her.
“Love you Nat. Rest—” The line went dead before you could wish her a good night of sleep.
A light smile graced your face as you removed the SD card from the device and cracked the butt of your tactical knife against it. You swept the shards off and watched as they scattered on the ground below your station. After days of unrest yourself, the interaction had filled you with enough energy to get through the rest of the mission.
—
You returned successfully seventy-four hours later. It was early morning when you stepped into your shared space. The scalding shower after touchdown soothed the aches in your body until your muscles were nearly mush under the heat. As you passed Liho, the cat resting over the arm of your couch, a small scratch over the back of her head was all you could muster.
Natasha was sprawled out on your side of the bed, mouth parted ever so slightly as a limp hand propped up the phone in front of her. The comforter was pushed down around her waist as she slept on her stomach. Her head was turned into an awful position, and you knew she’d be concealing the crick in her neck within a few hours' time. The last few minutes of a fake makeup ASMR video played on the screen, soft whispering, taps, and brushing sounded out along with her small puffs of breath.
Your actions were careless as you stripped down to hop in bed with your hypocrite of a lover. It’s a wonder how she hadn’t shot up the second your keys hit the kitchen island. But any questions she would’ve had for you could wait.
“You’re so in for it later on.” You whisper sleepily, hands pulling the comforter over your body now. You fix the material up and around her shoulders and reach for the phone propped against her hand. There was no need for it when you were seconds away from drifting off.
“No.” A tired, drawn-out, whine left your girlfriend's mouth. A surprised gasp of a laugh escaped your own.
“There’s no way Natasha.” You giggled out.
“If you don’t turn it back on, I’m telling Friday to lock the air conditioner on eighty-six and watch as you slow roast in your sleep.” The redhead stretched out a bit before groggy, and threatening, eyes met yours.
“You can’t be serious.”
“Dead.”
“I hope you know you’re getting a mouthful later on, Miss Black Widow.”
She groaned. “Don’t care. Give it.” Her hand was laid out in front of you, waiting.
“It’s just one night ‘Tasha.” She pretended to think it over for a second before speaking.
“Friday—”
“Fine! Fine. Go back to sleep.”
The look on her face was entirely too smug once you conceded. But any bit of irritation you might’ve had slipped away as she shuffled her way towards you, forced to rest on her side of the bed, and completely draped her body over your own with her phone in hand.
A content hum filled the space between you two as you rubbed her back. The two of you were now staring intently at her screen through narrowed eyes. Natasha hit the refresh button on the app and lethargically scrolled through tens of videos with attention grabbing titles and quirky thumbnails.
“Play the alien abduction one”—She swiped back up for you—“that one right there.”
“You’re such a nerd.” Hands pulled at the loose hair near her nape in a teasing manner.
You rolled your eyes as you watched the corners of her lips curl up. “Says the James Bond fanatic.”
Her chin pressed into your skin as she turned to look at you, and mumbled. “You’re lucky I’m already comfortable.”
“Mhm. Press play.”
She clicks onto the video without further argument and hands you the phone to set against the lamp on her nightstand. You scratched across her shoulders and felt her body melt similar to the way Liho would when you massaged the back of her ears. The video started without the blaring of some obnoxious advertisement. Seconds passed by before you realized what had just happened.
Summary: When words aren’t enough, Sue will do anything to calm you down. After nightmares of the team’s battle with Galactus, she thinks of something new to make you see she’s here and breathing.
Warnings/Tags: Death, Anatomy (???), Pregnancy, Hurt/Comfort, Reed is your donor, Fluff, No use of Y/N, Can be read as gender neutral reader
Word Count: 2.2k
Masterlist
The dream had been as vivid, and just as surreal, as the day it all happened. The way time was reduced to a single moment, your family on the edge of collapse by unforeseen power and saved by an unexpected sacrifice, the way your heart raced while hers slowed. Then it stopped. There was an utter silence.
Sudden wails from your child in Ben’s arms broke through the air. You watched, from outside of your own body, the crouched figures of the three most important men in your life. The tears streaming down your brother-in-law's face, the grim expression Ben held, the quivering lips from Reed, and the spluttering from you as you tried to make sense of the scene playing out. You watched as all four of you stared at your wife’s lifeless body.
In this cursed remake, her fingers never twitch. Sue doesn’t gasp for breath. She doesn’t surge back to life after your son’s manipulation of the cosmos. Her eyes don’t glow with the shine of stars from the edge of the universe.
Franklin’s cries never cease. His relief never comes. The giggles of pride don’t spill out and create an infectious ripple of joy over the four of you. None of you get to wipe your face at the end of this. There are no words of gratitude for whatever universal power has granted your lover’s life back. There are no tight embraces or plans for tomorrow.
Strangled cries tear at the walls of your throat, power ripples outwards as the men around you reach to comfort you, the power creates a bubble around the three of you. You, your son, and wife, sit huddled inside a holographic shield conjured by erratic emotion. Ben, Reed, and Johnny stand at the boundary, giving you the moment as they, too, crave the closeness of their sister and friend.
She lays there still, her hair would never be scrunched up in the palm of Franklin’s hands again; her arms would never encase you both in the privacy of your bedroom after family dinners, her eyes would never shine with affection on spontaneous date nights, her laugh at your overused jokes would never ring out, her quiet corrections in meetings—all of it, you’d never see or hear past this very moment. Most painfully, her heart would never beat again.
“—Please! Wake up. I’m here. I’m right here for you, honey. Open your eyes for me.” You wake up with Sue’s palms gently holding your face, thumbs passing over your cheeks rhythmically, and her upper body hovering over you.
“Yes. There you go babe...”
You whine out as the dreadful image of her still body overlapped with reality. “Sue.”
It wasn’t something you could control. All you could see was a still chest, hair unmoved, her body covered in grime, suit torn, eyes closed. In actuality, her eyes watered and filled with worry as her brows drew together. The slight tremor in her hands and the bob in her throat went unnoticed. A perfect picture of concern was drawn over you, yet nothing registered.
“You”—Tears streamed down your face—“You can’t. Don’t leave me. You can’t leave me. Please—” A sob tore out of her throat before she cuts your words off.
“I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere. I’m here. Just breathe for me. Look at me.” Susan rushes to grab your hand and presses it against her heart. She begins breathing deeply, exaggerating her motions in hopes you’d follow along.
“Feel me. I’m here. It’s beating. Just for you, honey breathe with me.”
Sue watched as tears poured out of your eyes. It was as if you were looking through her, not at her. She knew what you were experiencing. This wasn’t new to her. The two of you had talked about it throughout the months that followed ridding the universe of Galactus. But it’s been four years since the showdown in the center of the city. The sudden resurgence of night terrors over the last few weeks had Sue concerned. They were progressively getting worse, and she was running out of ways to save you from getting caught up in the lingering imagery from the most painful day of your life.
Franklin had been upset about not sleeping between the two of you since this started, but the sleepovers with his uncles have kept him satisfied for the most part. It made breakfast sweeter anyhow, the way he stuck to you, already understanding how the separation was tormenting you too.
“Sue, you can’t—I need you. Please.” Sue struggled to handle you collectedly through the constant movement, a panic-stricken face, and your voice cracking from begging. She went quiet for a moment as she thought of all the things she could do for you, what worked in the past might not work now, she needed something new, but familiar at the same time.
Sue takes your hand away from her body and moves your head to look at her chest. “It’s just a dream. Look, babe. It’s here. It’s beating.”
Recalling how she’d let you monitor her pregnancy with Franklin, all those years ago, Sue takes to doing the same tonight. She shows you her heart, in all its glory, working, almost overtime, to keep her upright. Your wife watches as you quiet down with a hazy look still cast over your features. This time, instead of being in awe of her body creating life, you were now in awe of how her body could sustain its own.
She keeps herself up, half situated over your own form, as you press a finger to her chest, tracing over the organ, watching it pump. The way it slows as your own breathing does, how it palpitates when you brush lightly near her breast, and again when you kiss directly over it. Sues fingers brush over your temples, watching the light in your eyes return in real time.
“I see you.” You murmur.
Sue hums before speaking. “I’m not going anywhere.”
You push her over, wanting to settle properly above her. She allows you to sit atop her, her hands resting steadily over your thighs as she enjoys the wonder on your face. It takes her back in time to watch the way you trace across her skin, now transparent, and become enraptured by her anatomy.
Your hand stills after a while. It lays splayed out on her chest, nearly covering every bit of the cardiac muscle. You were now completely grounded in reality and could finally sit relaxedly above your wife.
“What’re you thinking about?” She whispers and her head tilts on the pillow. You look into the blue eyes that have provided you with a calm no one else could ever offer. And you respond.
“You. Me. All of this.” The rest comes after gathering the right words. “It’s really never been this way before. This is the longest period of peace we’ve had in weeks, and it’s like my mind isn’t accepting it. We haven’t had an uninterrupted night of sleep since the team dealt with Trapster. I just—I don’t know what’s happening. I’m sorry.”
You moved your hands up to cover yourself, trying to hide the way your eyes began watering again near the end of your words.
“Hey.” Her hands moved quickly to drag yours away from your face. “You don’t ever have to apologize to me for something like this. I promised you we would always deal with this together. Always. What we’ve been through...it’s a lot. It’ll never leave us unscathed, especially not mentally. But this team will never leave each other to heal these wounds alone. I’ll be here to stitch you back up again every time. I love you. This is what we do for each other.”
With her firm reassurance, the guilt slowly loosened its grip on your heart. Nonetheless, tears fell again. You leaned down and gave her a soft kiss to the cheek. You pulled back slightly, enough to be eye to eye, as you played with the hair behind her left ear. She shuddered under your touch.
“How could I ever repay you? You’re always taking care of me.” You spoke tenderly.
“Well, we could start with a kiss. Right around...” Sue’s smile took up half her face as she skimmed your bottom lip with her forefinger. “Here.”
“Yeah?” You challenged, pulling your head back as she leans forward.
“Mhm.” She nodded.
The two of you stare at one another for a few seconds more, scanning each other’s face. Both of you clearly amused and waiting to see who’d make the first move. It was you. And well, she met you halfway.
The kiss was slow and sweet as if the two of you were pouring all your energy into the other. Sue’s lips moved with a careful intent of showing you love and granted you a feeling of comfort. You received it with gratefulness and allowed yourself to melt further into her. Your chest rested completely against hers, and she rakes her nails delicately up the span of your back before coming to a rest at your shoulders.
You deepen the kiss and move to balance most of your weight on the elbow bracketing the right side of her head. From behind her ear, your hand slides down to the front of her neck, thumb rubbing across the side, you hold a bit of restraint as you long to grasp onto it. You ached to keep this intimate but not turn the moment into something heated.
Sue is the first to pull back.
“You mind if I show you something else?” Her tone is anxious, as though what she wanted to do next would ruin the atmosphere. Regardless, and wanting to show your wife nothing but support, you agree.
A kiss is left between her eyebrows, soothing her just enough before she begins. You watch as layers of her skin start to become transparent once more. But instead of chest, like earlier in the night, it’s her abdomen. Before you could ask her any questions, you see it.
“Sue...” She watches the astonished expression on your face, scared that this wasn’t the right moment. That maybe she should’ve done it on the date night Ben helped her plan down to the hypothetical celebratory kiss in Central Park.
“Another?” Susan nodded. Her bottom lip had already been bitten red within seconds.
“Oh! My love, this is amazing.” You then quickly realize the position you’re in and move off of her.
After getting comfortable on your knees, you press a gentle hand to her lower stomach. Attentive eyes flitting over the little one settled deep within her womb. Sue watched with a small smile, relieved that the timing hadn’t been wrong. You looked as happy as the day you’d both found out about Franklin.
“How far along are you?” Still, a part of her was jealous she no longer had your eyes on her.
Sue pulls you to rest against her. “14 weeks now.” You look up at her.
The two of you sit quietly, watching the fetus within her move slowly. Your head rested right under her chest, feeling the way it rose and fell with every breath. Her arm wrapped around you, keeping you close, as her hand sat near yours on her tummy.
“That’s a big head.” Sue pinched the arm that was trapped under her.
“That’s our baby, be nice.” You both chuckled after a moment and continued admiring the family’s new addition.
Your wife began to stroke your arm carefully, it bloomed with goosebumps, and you closed your eyes. A bit of exhaustion hit you in that instant, the warmth of her body, her delicate tone of voice, the warm lighting coming from her bedside lamp, and the gentle thumps of a heart that could uphold the life of two. It all added up.
“I didn’t want to keep it from you. It was supposed to be a surprise, and I planned a whole thing, Ben helped...It was supposed to be sweet.”
“This is sweet.” You mumbled against her ribs.
“You know what I mean.” She pulls at your earlobe, and you hum amusedly with a short breath of laughter following.
“I think I’ve known. At least something in me did. The last time I had nightmares this bad was when you were pregnant with Franklin.” You blinked rapidly as you recalled the past. “All I could think about was the five of us on that ship.”
You spoke again. “How could I not have noticed?”
“I don’t have morning sickness like I did with him. Reed said the pregnancy would have been cryptic if we didn’t do our routine blood tests.”
The reveal felt unbelievable. “I thought the last round didn’t take...”
“Maybe this one’s special too.” You felt a small sense of trepidation come with her words.
“No but seriously, this one’s head is big. We got lucky not having an inhumanly smart child the first time around with Reed’s genes. I swear if this baby’s begging to read Ulysses before age five, I’m making Reed use his thesis as a bedtime story.” Sue snorted.
“No, you’re not.”
“Oh, I will. And when the little one gets bored of it, I’ll have him restructuring it into a lullaby.”
“I love you.” You look up at her, and a grin stretches across your face. She kisses it wider.
⋆౨ৎ˚˖ ࣪ As a side note, I can also write for Gender Neutral Readers, Black Fem or Gender Neutral Readers, and Chubby/Plus Size Readers, please be specific in your requests if that's what you prefer. I would also love to write for Michaela (Bridgerton) once S5 comes out, that way I have way more material to understand her as an individual and away from her interactions/relationship with Francesca!
What I don't write:
˖ . ݁𝜗𝜚. ݁₊ Men/Male Readers, Minors + Minors in Age Gap Relationships, Scat, Incest, Spitting, Feeder/Gainer, Fire Play, Explicit Gore, Necrophilia, Extreme Breath Play, Explicit Rape or Sexual Assault.
⋆౨ৎ˚˖ ࣪ I don't have anything specific for what I do/will write because I don't know all that I'm comfortable with at the moment.
˖ . ݁𝜗𝜚. ݁₊ Don't get pissed at me if you request something and I can't get to it right away. Unfortunately, I am included in the norm of fic-writers not having the best mental health (yay!), so it will take me a while to produce things, especially fics that are of my own imagination. I have my own life to deal with and I spend A LOT of time perfecting my writing so that I can depict scenes the way I see them in my mind's eye. I edit everything myself and read it over a handful of times before posting. It will take a bit of time, just being honest.
⋆౨ৎ˚˖ ࣪ PLEASE tell me as much as you can about what you'd like to see in your one-shots! I love creative control, but if it's for you then I'd rather please you.
˖ . ݁𝜗𝜚. ݁₊ As I've mentioned, please feel free to leave requests for me since I’m still unsure what most of my work will look like. I’m figuring out a lot of my own boundaries so try not to feel offended if I don’t pick up your request or only fulfill certain parts of it (I'll always ask first).
Asks
⋆౨ৎ˚˖ ࣪ Please be kind to me! I will be blocking rude comments and malicious behavior. I will never ask for a full on critical analysis on my writing, but if I get something wrong about history, lore, descriptions of locations, minorities and other communities, just anything like that, then feel free to let me know.
˖ . ݁𝜗𝜚. ݁₊ Don't push for information I don't owe you as someone who's creating content anonymously. I won't post my face, name, anything about where I live (State/City), where I attend school, or where I work.
⋆౨ৎ˚˖ ࣪ Call me Dahlia or Lia! You can try your luck with other names and I'll tell you whether or not it makes me uncomfy. I'm okay with flirting as long as it's not actually serious. I'm awfully shy, so give me a second to warm up to my audience before anyone starts that Tumblr talk. Have mercy.
˖ . ݁𝜗𝜚. ݁₊ Unless an ask or request deliberately ignores these boundaries, I'll try responding to every single one!
Small Bits About Me: I'm 21, lesbian, a gemini, infp-t, my pronouns are she/her, and I have an unhealthy obsession w/ older, mainly fictional, women.
Hi everyone! You all can refer to me as Dahlia or Lia on here. I’ve wanted to start something on tumblr for a while now but never had the courage. With summer, I felt like this was the perfect time to begin writing, get over myself, build momentum, and decide whether this is something I can commit to. I love writing and creating new things. I have so many ideas that’ve been lost to my own memory, and I’ve finally created an account to leave my thoughts and work to. I’m really excited about this.
Please feel free to leave requests for me since I’m still unsure what most of my work will look like. I’m figuring out a lot of my own boundaries so try not to feel offended if I don’t pick up your request. Make sure to check out my requests rules for more specifics before submitting!
Be aware that I will be writing a lot for character x black!fem!reader because there simply aren’t enough fics for us when it comes to the women I’ll be writing for/about. It may not start off that way, since I want to open my account to a bigger audience before narrowing it in, but trust me I'll try making black readers a big focus here. Outside of those, like for requests, I’ll be heavily conscious of the verbiage I use in regard to writing x reader fics/oneshots so that a wide range of readers can truly insert themselves into my writing.
I'll mostly be writing for Wanda Maximoff and Natasha Romanoff without being requested to. So if you want more content from other characters I'm willing to write for, then request it pretty please. Otherwise, my account will be taken over by those two women.
I'm going to start an HOTD AU sometime before the end of the year and have a general idea for it. I also have plans for a WandaNat series as well. But I'll try not to get too ahead of myself and will be focusing on oneshots for a while.
I'm in a few different fandoms so I'll experiemnt with writing for other characters as my account grows.
Disclaimer about Consistent Activity:
I have creative accounts outside of tumblr and unrelated to fanfic writing, I work, I’m trying to have a social life, I’m getting my degree, and I’m using writing (and joining tumblr in general) to improve my mental health. Please be patient with me. Like many writers, my motivation and fixations wane. My writing style may change as well! This is the first time I’ll be seriously attempting to develop myself as a creative writer, and I’m not always satisfied with myself and my creations. This also includes how I characterize the women I write about! My work will change over time if I’m not pleased with it.
___
Please don’t copy or plagiarize my work. Ask permission to translate my work, or continue dropped series, by direct message. Please credit me if you’re inspired by any of my writing, especially plot-wise!
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