szaen

19

[pinkthrone445]

~The Practical Thing~ Part 5

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

Pairing:Melissa Schemmenti x Reader

Gender:Fluff, Fluff and more fluff

Warnings:none

Summary:Mel being a perfect partner and a amazing mother earns her the title she deserves ❤️

AN:Probably this would be the last part of this unless someone send me another idea about this! But thanks so much for the support and the sweet comments!

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The next morning, Melissa woke up before you.

Not because she wanted to.

Because her body clock had been trained by years of teaching children who treated sunrise like a personal challenge.

For a few quiet seconds she simply lay there, blinking sleepily at the ceiling while warm morning light slipped through the curtains.

Then she became aware of two things at once.

First:

You were half on top of her again.

One leg tangled with hers, your face buried against her shoulder, one hand lazily curled beneath her shirt like at some point during the night your sleeping brain had decided physical proximity still wasn’t enough.

Second:

Every inch of her body ached.

Not badly.

Just enough to remind her exactly how the previous night had gone.

Melissa closed her eyes briefly, remembering you laughing against her mouth in the kitchen, your hands grabbing at her waist, the sound of her own voice embarrassingly wrecked in her ears.

Her cheeks turned pink instantly.

Then your lips brushed sleepily against the mark at the base of her throat.

And she realized a third thing.

Oh no.

Very carefully, Melissa lifted her phone from the nightstand and switched to the front camera.

The screen illuminated her sleepy face.

Messy red hair.

Swollen lips.

And several very visible marks blooming along her neck and collarbone.

Melissa stared in silent horror.

Behind her, your sleepy voice mumbled against her skin-“Good morning to you too.”-

Melissa turned slowly.

You were awake just enough to look smug.

The sight of you, hair wild from sleep and smiling lazily against her shoulder, should have softened the crisis.

It did not.

-“Look what you did.”-

You blinked at her neck dramatically-“Hm. Terrible. A mystery truly"-

-“People at school are going to see these"-

You smiled without a shred of remorse-“Then maybe they shouldn’t stare at your neck"-

Melissa dropped back onto the pillow with a groan while you laughed softly beside her-“You are impossible"-

-“And you liked it"-Melissa covered her face with one hand. The worst part was that you were absolutely right.

With laziness and sleepy limbs, you moved completely on top of her, your face hiding on her boobs, giving small kisses to her skin

-"How are you feeling?" - you asked softly

-"Like it should be ilegal having to go to work after date night" - she mumbled and you laughed softly against her soft skin. Her hands went to your back to hug you under the covers and you hissed in pain. When the redhead lifted the covers, she saw what she had done to your naked back the previous night, scratches and cuts all over your back

Melissa froze.

You, meanwhile, had the audacity to look only mildly inconvenienced.

The redhead stared at the angry scratches running down your back, some faint, some very much not faint, and her entire face turned scarlet in under three seconds.

-"OH MY GOD"-She yelled. Your shoulders started shaking immediately with laughter against her chest.

-"Good morning to you too, cariño" - you murmured

-"I attacked you" - she said worried

-"You were enthusiastic" - you kissed her chest

-"I drew blood!"-she was shocked of herself

-"Tiny bit" - Melissa looked genuinely horrified now, fingertips hovering carefully over one of the marks like she’d discovered evidence at a crime scene.

-"Why didn’t you say anything?!"-You finally lifted your head enough to grin lazily at her.

-"Because every time I tried to speak, you kissed me again and my survival instincts failed" -That did not help.

Melissa dropped backward onto the pillows with another mortified groan, hiding her burning face behind both hands this time.

-"I cannot be trusted" -

-"Incorrect," - you said immediately, catching one of her wrists to pull her hands away from her face -"I trusted you with my life actually. Look at me. Still alive."

She narrowed her eyes at you.-"Barely" - You laughed softly and leaned down to kiss the tip of her nose.

Melissa’s expression softened despite herself, though concern still lingered in her eyes as she carefully brushed her fingers over your back again, gentler this time.

-"Does it hurt?"-The sincerity in her voice melted you instantly.

-"Only a little," - you admitted -"Mostly when dramatic redheads poke the evidence" - you joked

-"I’m serious" - You hummed thoughtfully before nestling back against her chest, completely comfortable despite the scratches.

-"Honestly? I kind of like it, the soft sting of it makes me revive the night" - Melissa made the most scandalized sound you had ever heard in your life.

-"You are Insane" -

-"And you’re very pretty when you’re concerned about me" - She tried so hard not to smile.

Failed catastrophically.

A few seconds later she was stroking your hair beneath the blankets while you stayed sprawled half on top of her like an oversized affectionate cat, both of you warm, aching, sleepy, and devastatingly happy.

Then Melissa sighed dramatically toward the ceiling.-"We really have to go be responsible adults now, don’t we?"-

You groaned into her chest immediately-"Don’t say horrible things before breakfast"-One of your legs slipped between hers looking for more warmth, not wanting to get up, but the change of position made pressure on both of your crotchs and you moaned at the same time-"Fuck" - you murmured too sensitive-"Did I went too rough yesterday?" - you asked looking at her, Melissa made a strangled sound somewhere between a groan and a laugh, immediately grabbing your shoulder as both of you froze from the sudden oversensitivity.

-"Jesus Christ—" - she whispered, eyes squeezed shut. You buried your face dramatically against her chest in defeat.

-"Okay. Okay. Nobody move ever again" - That only made her laugh harder, though she winced right after. Your question softened the moment instantly.

Melissa opened her eyes and looked down at you, seeing the genuine concern behind your sleepy expression.

-"No" - she said quietly, fingers sliding through your messy hair -"No, baby. I’m okay."-You still looked unconvinced. Her smile turned gentler-"I’m sore because apparently we lost all self-control somewhere around the kitchen counter" - You groaned weakly against her skin.

-"In my defense, you’re extremely distracting" -

Melissa snorted softly, then carefully brushed her thumb along your cheek.

-"And you?" - she asked -"Are you okay?"-You considered it seriously for a second.

Every muscle in your body felt melted. Your back looked like you survived combat. Your legs barely trusted gravity anymore. And somehow you had never felt happier in your life.

-"I feel like I got hit by a truck driven by a very beautiful redhead" -Melissa laughed so suddenly she had to hide her face against the pillow.

Then her expression softened again as she looked at you sprawled sleepily over her body, still instinctively seeking closeness even while both of you ached. Her fingers traced lightly down your spine, much more carefully this time.

-"We should probably shower before work" - she murmured reluctantly. You immediately tightened around her like an offended octopus.

-"Counterproposal: we quit society and stay in bed forever"-

-"Tempting"-

-"We can raise Gaia in the wilderness."-

-"You cried last month because a moth flew into the kitchen"-You lifted your head indignantly.

-"That moth had malicious energy"-Melissa dissolved into helpless laughter beneath you, sunlight spilling across both of your tangled bodies while the quiet joy between you settled deeper and deeper into something permanent.

-"What if we call in sick?" - you offered, you wanted it to sound like a joke but you were truly thinking about it

Melissa looked at you for a long second after that. You could practically see the war happening behind her eyes. Responsible teacher. Responsible mother figure. Responsible adult.

Versus: Warm bed. Girlfriend wrapped around her like a sleepy vine. No pants. No emails.

It was honestly a brutal fight.

Her fingers absentmindedly played with your hair while she pretended to think seriously about it.

-"You realize" - she said slowly -"that as an educator I should encourage responsibility and commitment" -

You nodded solemnly against her chest.-"Very true"-

-"And as your landlord, I should probably discourage reckless behavior"-

-"Excellent point"-

Melissa narrowed her eyes-"You are agreeing suspiciously fast" -

-"Because I’m trying to manipulate you with maturity"-That earned a laugh warm enough to light the entire room.

Then she sighed dramatically toward the ceiling-"God, staying here with you sounds dangerously perfect"-Your heart did an embarrassing little somersault at that.

You tilted your head up just enough to look at her.

-"We could spend the whole day here," - you murmured dreamily -"order food, watch terrible movies, make Gaia deeply uncomfortable with how affectionate we are—"-

-"That child would roast us alive" -

-"True. She’d call us cringe and ask if we need supervision."-Melissa snorted, already imagining it. Then her expression softened while she looked down at you, all sleepy affection and tangled limbs and genuine longing written openly across your face.

And suddenly she understood this wasn’t really about skipping work. It was about not wanting the bubble to burst yet. Not wanting to leave the first morning that truly felt like yours together.

Melissa’s thumb brushed your cheek softly.

-"How about this," - she whispered -"we be responsible adults today..."-You groaned dramatically-"...but tonight" - she continued, smiling now -"we come straight home, order something unhealthy, steal all the blankets, and continue discussing our very serious future as an old married couple" -

Your entire face lit up instantly-"With matching rocking chairs?"

-"Obviously" -

-"And twenty dogs?"-Melissa pretended to think.

-"I’ll allow six before I start fearing for civilization" -You kissed her immediately for that answer alone, smiling so hard against her lips that Melissa couldn’t stop laughing into the kiss.

Then you hid on her chest. Again

-"Final offer, we call in sick, we cuddle all day, we order food, we make a blanket fortress with Gaia, and we pretend like the rest of the world doesn't exists...pleaseeee" - you pouted-"is Friday, we could have a long weekend... Don't you have a guy who can make us false doctors notes? You have a guy for everything..."-

Melissa stared down at you in absolute disbelief. Not because of the cuddling proposal. That part was dangerously tempting. But because you were currently sprawled across her chest with messy hair, sleep-heavy eyes, visible scratch marks on your shoulders, and a full dramatic pout while trying to negotiate like a cartoon villain whose evil plan was “blanket fort with snacks.” Her heart stood absolutely no chance.

-"You are aware," - she said carefully, fighting a smile -"that you’re weaponizing cuteness right now" -

You blinked innocently-"I have no idea what you mean"-

-"Liar" -

You only burrowed deeper against her, arms tightening around her waist.-"Come on, Lisa..." - your voice turned extra pleading now -"We can build a blanket fortress so advanced NASA gets concerned" -

Melissa laughed despite herself.-"And what exactly would Gaia think when both of her parental figures randomly skip responsibilities on the same day?"-

-"That we finally achieved enlightenment" -

-"Mmhm" -

-"Also" - you added thoughtfully -"it would be educational" -

Melissa looked horrified already-"How?" -

-"Structural engineering. Blanket physics. Advanced couch cushion architecture. The important lesson about choosing happiness and the importance of proper rest when you need it"-She was fully laughing now, shoulders shaking beneath you. Then you delivered the final blow-"And imagine Gaia’s face when she realizes we’re girlfriends now and emotionally unstable enough to build indoor civilizations" -

Melissa covered her eyes with one hand, defeated-"We are absolutely corrupting that child" -

-"With whimsy" -

-"With chaos" -

-"With love" - you corrected softly, looking up at her again. That one landed directly in her chest. Melissa’s entire expression melted. God. You always did that.

One second you were begging for forged medical documents like a sleepy raccoon, and the next you said something so sincere it unraveled her completely. She leaned down and kissed you slowly.

-"For the record" - she whispered against your lips -"I absolutely do not have a doctor-note guy."

You gasped dramatically-"Who even are you?"-

-"However..." - she continued, clearly trying not to smile -"I may know a teacher who deserves one irresponsible happy day after falling in love" -

Your eyes widened instantly-"Lisa" -

-"And I may know another idiot who’s going to spend the next eight hours attached to my side like human glitter" - You practically tackled her with affection after that, laughing into her neck while Melissa held you close beneath the blankets, already accepting her fate.

You kissed her smiling like an idiot

-"Beside, we need to have a conversation with Gaia that I'm sure it will take hours with all her questions... I can ask a doctor's note from one of my coworkers..."-you whispered, the wheels turning in your head. Melissa looked at you with increasing concern as you visibly started plotting. Not normal thinking. Not reasonable adult thinking. The very specific kind of thinking that had probably gotten you into trouble since childhood.

-"I know that face"- she said slowly.

You blinked innocently up at her-"What face?"-

-"The face that says your brain just committed to a terrible idea emotionally before consulting logic" -

You gasped dramatically-"Excuse you. This is a beautiful idea" -

-"You’re trying to forge a sick note for cuddle purposes" - her voice was deep with sleep and it was doing dangerous things to your brain

-"For family bonding purposes" - you corrected-"That’s basically therapy"-

Melissa laughed so hard she nearly snorted, immediately hiding her face in your hair out of embarrassment. The sound made your chest warm embarrassingly fast. God, you could get addicted to that laugh.

-"Baby" - she said between giggles -"Gaia is going to interrogate us like a tiny FBI agent the second she realizes we’re home on a school day" -

-"I know." - your grin widened -"That’s part of the fun" - Melissa shook her head fondly, fingers tracing lazy shapes against your shoulder beneath the blankets. Then her expression softened again.

-"She’s really going to be happy, isn’t she?" - she asked quietly.

You didn’t even hesitate-"Yeah" - Something vulnerable flickered across Melissa’s face at that.

Because despite all the jokes, despite how natural this already felt between the three of you, part of her had still been scared. Scared of changing the balance. Scared of stepping too deeply into something precious and accidentally hurting it.

You must have noticed the shift immediately. Carefully, you tilted her chin up so she had to look at you-"Hey" - your voice turned gentler-"she already loves you, Lisa. This isn’t us forcing something new into her life"-Melissa’s eyes softened instantly.-"This is just us finally catching up to what she figured out months ago" - That made her laugh quietly through the emotion threatening her again

-"Honestly? That child’s emotional intelligence is terrifying" - she murmured

-"It’s because she was raised by two disasters with big feelings" - you nodded

-"One disaster" - Melissa corrected softly, poking your side -"I was very composed before meeting you" - You smiled against her lips before kissing her slowly again.

-"Sure you were" - You sat on her hips, the blanket slipping off your body, fully naked and happy on top of her

-"So that's a yes? We stay in today?"-you asked. Her brain stopped working the moment your naked body was on fully display on top of hers

Melissa’s entire train of thought derailed instantly. Completely.

One second she had been trying to maintain the illusion of being the responsible adult in this relationship. The next, you were sitting comfortably on her hips with sleepy hair, flushed skin, and absolutely no concern whatsoever for the devastating effect you had on her nervous system.

The blanket pooled around your thighs while morning light traced along your skin in soft gold.

Melissa stared. Openly. Hopelessly.

Her hands landed automatically on your hips like her body had made a decision before her brain could participate.

-"Lisa?" - you asked again, fighting a smile now -"Your eyes just went completely blank" -

-"I’m thinking"-she said, you could see how she was literally drooling

-"No you’re not" - That earned a weak offended sound from her. Then you shifted slightly on top of her and Melissa’s head fell back against the pillow with a quiet groan.

-"See? This is workplace sabotage."

You burst into laughter immediately-"So that’s a yes to staying home?"-

Melissa looked up at you again, trying very hard to remember how functioning thoughts worked while you sat there smiling down at her like temptation itself. It was a losing battle. Finally she sighed dramatically, sliding her hands slowly up your thighs.

-"You realize" - she murmured -"that if you keep looking at me like this, neither of us is surviving this morning productively" -

Your grin widened.-"That still sounds like a yes."

Melissa tried to hold onto dignity for three more seconds. Failed spectacularly. -"Fine" - she whispered, pulling you back down into her arms -"we stay home" - You celebrated immediately by kissing her like you’d just won the lottery.

Which, honestly, considering the way Melissa laughed into your mouth while holding you close beneath the morning sunlight, maybe you had.

You sucked her swollen lips into your mouth on the middle of the kiss, earning a soft moan that made you shiver. If you two weren't as sore you would have eating her for breakfast, lunch and diner all over again

-"Can we make breakfast together?" - you asked on top of her lips rolling your hips lightly against her, whimpering on her lips, the hands on your hips tightened in warning

-"By together you mean I cook and you sit on the counter asking for kisses?" - she asked with a raspy voice

You laughed softly against her mouth, still dizzy with affection and lingering warmth while her voice scraped low and sleepy beneath you. God. That voice alone could ruin your entire morning.

-"That sounds extremely collaborative to me" - you whispered, stealing another kiss.

Melissa’s fingers dug a little deeper into your hips when you rolled against her again, not enough to hurt, just enough to remind you both that your bodies were still deliciously oversensitive from the night before.

-"Careful" - she warned softly, though her own breath hitched a little -"you’re playing a dangerous game for someone who complained five minutes ago about not being able to feel their legs"-

-"But my mouth still works, that's enough" -That pulled a helpless laugh from her.

You stayed there another moment anyway, foreheads touching, both smiling stupidly into the quiet morning light like two people who still couldn’t fully believe this was real now. Official. Yours.

Melissa brushed a thumb along your cheek.

-"Breakfast together sounds nice" - she admitted softly -"But only if you promise not to distract me every thirty seconds."-

You gasped dramatically.-"You ask impossible things of me."-

-"I’m serious."-

-"And I’m deeply committed to being annoying in the kitchen."-

Melissa rolled her eyes fondly before tugging you down for another slow kiss.

-"Fine" - she murmured against your lips -"but if I burn the pancakes because you’re flirting with me, that becomes your emotional responsibility."-You smiled immediately.

-"Worth it."-

-"We should probably clean the counter deeply after all that happened yesterday in the kitchen" - she murmured thinking. You immediately buried your face against her shoulder laughing.

-"The poor counter went through a lot emotionally" - Melissa snorted softly, fingers absentmindedly combing through your messy hair-"Fuck you looked so delicious yesterday" - you kissed her neck

-"I’m serious. There are probably fingerprints everywhere."-

-"Lisa, we live there. I would hope there are fingerprints."- She pinched your side lightly for that.

-"You know what I mean."

You lifted your head just enough to grin at her-"Honestly? That kitchen deserves a medal" -

Melissa covered her face with one hand, already losing the battle against laughter again-"I cannot believe this is my life now"-

-"Your life now includes a very hot girlfriend and pancakes"-

-"And apparently industrial-strength disinfectant"-

-"Romance" - That finally broke her completely. Her laugh filled the room warm and bright while she hid her burning face against the pillow.

You watched her with the softest expression imaginable. Because this right here, this ridiculous sleepy conversation tangled in sheets with sunlight spilling across both of you, somehow felt every bit as intimate as the confessions from the night before.

Melissa noticed you staring after a moment.

-"What?" - she asked shyly. Your thumb brushed gently across her cheek.

-"Nothing," - you whispered fondly -"I just really like making you laugh" -you whispered giving baby kisses in her jaw.

Holding you with one hand, she stretched to the nightstand grabbing her phone, sending a text to Ava letting her know that she was "sick". The redhead never asked a day off, not even when she had that nasty fall outside the school, so even if the principal didn't believe her that it was because she was "sick", after all she did said you two would be up all night, she allowed the redhead the day off.

Melissa stared at the screen after sending the message, still looking mildly stunned by her own behavior. You watched her from where you were practically draped across her side, chin resting lazily on her shoulder.

-"Did you just commit academic fraud for me?" - you whispered dramatically.

Melissa laughed under her breath, locking her phone and tossing it back onto the nightstand.

-"Please. If Ava questions it, she’ll just assume I finally caught the plague from one of the kindergarteners."-your hand was doing lazy circles on her thighs

-"Or" - you added thoughtfully -"she’ll remember telling us we’d be up all night and connect the dots immediately"-

The redhead groaned instantly, covering her face-"God. She absolutely will" -You started laughing so hard the mattress shook beneath both of you.

-"Lisa, she’s going to look at your neck on Monday and know everything" -

-"Stop talking" -

-"She’s an educator. She observes patterns" - Melissa grabbed a pillow and smacked you weakly with it while trying not to laugh herself.

-"You’re enjoying my humiliation far too much" -

-"Counterpoint" - you said, catching the pillow and pulling her closer again -"you look adorable when scandalized" - That earned you a fond eye roll before Melissa melted back against you with a sleepy sigh.

For a quiet moment, neither of you spoke. The sunlight had shifted warmer now, painting gold across tangled blankets and rumpled sheets. Somewhere outside, the world was already moving forward with normal responsibilities and schedules and noise.

But here? Here there was only warmth. Shared laughter. The soft weight of your girlfriend in your arms.

Girlfriend. The word still sent ridiculous happiness blooming through your chest. Melissa must have noticed your expression because she smiled softly.

-"What are you thinking about?"

You kissed her temple lazily-"Just that this is the first morning I get to call you mine without pretending it’s a joke" - The redhead’s entire face softened instantly. Then she leaned closer, pressing one lingering kiss to your mouth before whispering:

-"Good. Because I plan on being very annoying about belonging to you now" - You smiled against her lips kissing her again, slowly slowing your kisses down, following the pattern of hickeys with softer kisses.

A phone started ringing with an upcoming call on the bedside table, Melissa stretched her hand and grabbed the phone picking up while you were still sharing kisses on her skin

-"Hello?"-she asked smiling because of you

-"Why are you answering mama's phone?" - the voice of your daughter on the other side made her open her eyes, without paying attention she had grabbed your phone thinking it was hers and she picked up. Melissa went completely still. You, meanwhile, had not yet processed the danger. Still half asleep, you kept pressing lazy kisses along her shoulder and neck while she stared into absolute middle-distance horror with your phone pressed to her ear.

On the other end, Gaia sounded deeply suspicious already-"...Mama?"-Melissa opened and closed her mouth once. Nothing came out.

You finally noticed the abrupt tension in her body and lifted your head slightly.

-"Everything okay, baby?"- Gaia gasped loudly through the speaker. Silence. Absolute catastrophic silence.

Melissa looked at you with the expression of someone watching their own funeral procession approach slowly from the distance.

You blinked. Then your eyes dropped to the phone in her hand. Then realization hit. Your soul briefly left your body.

Gaia recovered first.

-"WAIT" - her voice became increasingly louder and more delighted with every word -"WHY IS MELISSA IN YOUR BED?!"-Melissa made a strangled sound and immediately covered her face with one hand.

-"Correction, I'm in her bed" -You, traitorously, started laughing. Not a graceful laugh either. The kind that shook your entire body while Melissa stared at you in betrayal.

-"This is not funny" - she hissed under her breath while Gaia practically vibrated through the phone speaker.

-"It's a little funny..."-you smiled peaking the redhead's lips

-"MAMA!"-You finally took pity on the situation enough to grab the phone gently.

-"Good morning, tiny FBI agent" -

-"YOU SAID YOU WERE SICK!" - She yelled

-"Technically true. I’m love sick" - Melissa physically collapsed into the pillows behind you with a groan so dramatic Gaia burst into delighted cackling.

-"OH MY GOD YOU’RE GIRLFRIENDS!"-You looked back at Melissa, who was now hiding her entire burning face in a pillow while her red hair exploded everywhere dramatically.

And suddenly you started laughing all over again because honestly? This was exactly how your daughter finding out was always going to happen.

You sat on the bed laughing, your back full of scratches making the redhead feel guilty

-"If you are girlfriends now that means now you will sleep together and I will have the other room only for myself?"-she asked exited

You laughed so hard you nearly dropped the phone.

Melissa, however, looked deeply betrayed.-"THAT is your first question?!" - she exclaimed, still hiding beneath the blankets up to her nose.

Gaia gasped dramatically-"What? This changes the entire room economy" - You wheezed.

Melissa pointed accusingly at the phone.-"She gets this from you."-

-"Incorrect," - you said proudly -"she’s naturally gifted" -

Gaia hummed thoughtfully on the other end.

-"Soooo... does this mean I can decorate the other room however I want?"-

Melissa stared at the ceiling like she was reconsidering every life choice that had led her here.

-"We haven’t even had coffee yet and I’m already negotiating custody of furniture" -You crawled back toward her across the bed, grinning helplessly while wrapping one arm around her waist.

-"Careful, love. She smells weakness" -

-"I HEARD THAT!" - Your daughter yelled on the other side

-"You were meant to" - Gaia giggled loudly, clearly delighted beyond reason by the chaos unfolding.

Then her voice softened a little.-"Wait... are you happy?"-The room quieted instantly.

Melissa looked at you. You looked at Melissa.

And suddenly all the embarrassment and teasing melted into something warm enough to ache. You smiled softly before answering.

-"Yeah, bug. Really happy."

There was a tiny pause. Then Gaia made the most satisfied little sound imaginable.

-"Knew it" - Melissa laughed quietly at that, finally relaxing against your side while you kissed the top of her head-"Can we still build blanket forts if you’re in love now?"-

You and Melissa answered at the exact same time-"Obviously" -That made Gaia cheer loudly through the speaker while Melissa buried her smiling face against your shoulder, your laughter mixing together beneath the soft morning sunlight.

-"If I don't have school because Melissa is 'sick'"-you could hear the sarcasm on her voice-"will you come pick me up?" - she asked. Your hand was drawing lazy patterns on the redhead's back

-"Yes bebe, we will have breakfast and we will go pick you up" - you said softly

-"Can we go to the park after?" - she asked and you looked at Melissa

-"We can go to the park..."-the redhead said softly holding your waist

-"And the arcade?" - your daughter asked and you laughed softly

-"You are milking this... Melissa is sick" - you teased laughing.

Gaia gasped with the pure outrage of a tiny lawyer being denied her constitutional rights-"Exactly. She’s sick. Sick people need joy"-You immediately lost the fight against laughter again. Melissa, traitorously, nodded against your shoulder like Gaia had made a compelling medical argument.

-"She does have a point..."-You looked between the two of them in betrayal.

-"You’re teaming up against me already? We became girlfriends last night..."-

-"Healthy relationships require collaboration" - Melissa replied with suspicious seriousness.

Gaia chimed in proudly-"And arcade games."

You groaned dramatically-"I’ve created monsters."

-"No" - Melissa corrected softly, fingers squeezing your waist beneath the blanket -"you created a family" - That one hit you directly in the chest. Your expression melted instantly while Melissa looked slightly startled by her own wording again, like the thought had slipped out naturally before she could overthink it.

Gaia, however, sounded delighted.

-"WAIT does this mean we can have matching Halloween costumes now?"-You laughed helplessly. You remembered Melissa's Scarlett Witch and you bit your lip remembering that, that was the first time you felt attraction to her, even if you didn't said anything on that moment.

Melissa buried her face against your shoulder trying not to laugh too loudly

-"Yes bebe, we can" - you whispered kissing the redhead briefly. Then Gaia cleared her throat dramatically through the speaker.

-"So the arcade?"-

You sighed like a defeated warrior-"Fine. Park and arcade" - Gaia cheered so loudly you had to pull the phone away from your ear.

Melissa laughed warmly against your skin while your fingers threaded through her red hair, the three of you already slipping so naturally into this strange lovely little shape together that it felt less like something new and more like something finally found.

-"Go brush your teeth and pack your stuff, we will be there in an hour or so" - you said to the phone-"Te amo bebe"

-"I love you both" - she said exited before hanging up

-"We need to get up and shower" - you said lazy.

For a moment after the call ended, neither of you moved. The room stayed quiet except for the faint buzz of the disconnected phone and the soft sound of Melissa breathing against your shoulder.

Then she whispered-"She said both" - You looked down at her immediately.

Melissa’s eyes looked suspiciously glassy again, her fingers still curled loosely against your waist beneath the blankets.

-"Yeah" - you murmured softly -"she did" - The redhead smiled in that fragile overwhelmed way she got whenever happiness arrived too suddenly for her to fully trust it yet.

Then, because the universe refused to let either of you stay emotional for longer than thirty seconds uninterrupted, you shifted slightly and both of you winced at the soreness radiating through your bodies.

-"Right" - you groaned dramatically -"we are unfortunately mortal"-Melissa laughed against your collarbone.

-"And apparently not nineteen anymore" - she murmured

-"Speak for yourself. Spiritually I’m still young and athletic" - You tried to sit up. Your legs immediately threatened mutiny.

Melissa watched you collapse halfway back onto the mattress with the slow satisfaction of someone witnessing karma happen in real time.

-"Athletic," - she repeated.

-"I hate this house" - Melissa dissolved into laughter again while you buried your face into her stomach dramatically.

After another reluctant minute tangled together beneath the blankets, you sighed.

-"We really do need to shower before Gaia gets here" - Melissa hummed sleepily without moving-"Want to shower together?"-

Melissa looked at you knowingly-"That depends. Is this a real shower or one of your suspicious showers?"-

You gasped in mock offense.-"Lisa. I would never" - Her eyebrow lifted immediately.

Both of you remembered the kitchen counter at the exact same time-"...you know what," - you admitted thoughtfully -"that’s fair" -

After the shower, a shower with just kisses, you went downstairs to make breakfast, not without cleaning everything very well before.

You put on some music and Mel cooked for you

The kitchen felt entirely different in daylight.

Softer somehow. Less like the scene of your collective loss of self-control and more like a place already learning the shape of shared mornings.

Though admittedly, every time Melissa walked past the counter both of you avoided eye contact for at least three seconds. Just in case.

After and amazing breakfast and a few more kisses, you went to pick up your daughter, Melissa using a high turtle neck sweater to avoid letting your daughter see the mess of marks you left on her.

The second Melissa stepped out of the car, Gaia ran to her, being picked up by the redhead immediately, trying to play with her necklaces like she always did, but narrowed her eyes suspiciously at the high turtle neck. Not dramatic suspicion. Professional suspicion. The kind detectives in crime shows had right before uncovering government conspiracies.

You watched from the distance, resting against the car on your side to avoid putting stress on your messed up back, already trying not to laugh.

Gaia slowly looked Melissa up and down. Then at the turtleneck. Then at Melissa’s very obvious attempt to avoid eye contact. Then back to the turtleneck.

-"It’s like twenty degrees outside" - she said carefully. Melissa froze mid-step.

-"I..." - the redhead cleared her throat -"I was cold this morning" - Gaia’s eyes narrowed further.

You physically had to bite the inside of your cheek to stop yourself from losing it.

Then your daughter looked at you

-"Mama" - she said with narrowed eyes

-"Hm?"-you smiled, stepping closer to them to kiss her forehead

-"Melissa looks guilty" - Melissa made a wounded sound beside you while you burst out laughing immediately.

-"Traitor" - she muttered under her breath.

Gaia gasped.-"WAIT. How do I have to call you now that you are girlfriends?"-she seemed concerned

You both went quiet for a second. Melissa hugged her a bit tighter. And there it was again, that soft emotional expression she got every time reality caught up with her happiness.

-"You can call me whatever makes you comfortable, sweetheart" - she said gently.

Gaia thought about it with terrifying seriousness.

-"Can I still call you Melissa?"-she nodded.

-"Absolutely princess" - the redhead would never pressure her to do anything she didn't want to.

Then your daughter’s gaze drifted back to the sweater again. A beat passed. Another. And suddenly her eyes widened with horrifying realization. Melissa visibly panicked.

-"You know what?" - you interrupted quickly, open the car door-"who is ready to go to the park and eat ice-cream?!"

-"SHE BIT YOU?!" - Gaia shouted triumphantly from the backseat . Melissa turned more impossible red. You nearly drove into another dimension from laughing.

When you arrived to the park, you expected to at least have 2 min of peace, but as soon as you lay down the blanket and the basket, your daughter sat in front of you looking at both of you

-"I have questions" - she said

You stopped in the middle of taking the things out of the baskets as if someone had announced a hostage negotiation.

Melissa, beside you, whispered-"Why is she sitting like a tiny therapist" - Because Gaia was sitting like a therapist. Legs crossed. Hands folded. Expression devastatingly serious. The park had somehow transformed into an interrogation chamber. You pointed accusingly at your daughter.

-"This feels illegal" - Melissa immediately started laughing into her sleeve while you looked deeply betrayed

-"Question one" - Your daughter said and groaned already.

-"There are numbered questions?!"-you frowned

-"Focus, Mama" - Melissa was fully pink now from trying not to laugh too loudly. Gaia looked between both of you with exaggerated seriousness-"How long have you been in love with each other?" -

Silence. You and Melissa immediately pointed at each other.

-"She first" -

-"Absolutely not" - you denied

Gaia squinted.

-"Cowards" - your daughter murmured.

Melissa covered her face while you wheezed beside her. Then slowly, the redhead lowered her hands and smiled shyly-"I think..." - she glanced at you softly -"probably before either of us admitted it" - You looked at her with such immediate tenderness Gaia made a disgusted sound.

-"Ew. Okay. That answer was cute. I hate this already" - she made a puke sound.

-"You started the interrogation" - you said

-"And I regret nothing" - Then she leaned forward dramatically-"Question two. Were you flirting all those times in the kitchen when you thought I wasn’t noticing?"-Both of you froze. Gaia gasped loudly-"OH MY GOD YOU WERE" - Melissa looked seconds away from evaporating into thin air. You tried dignity. Failed catastrophically.

-"In our defense," - you said weakly -"we thought we were being subtle" - Gaia stared at both of you with the exhausted disappointment of a war veteran.

-"Mama. Melissa literally made you heart-shaped pancakes" - You blinked. Melissa blinked. Gaia spread her hands helplessly-"You two were one slow song away from a romantic movie montage" - she said stating the obvious

-"If I buy you ice cream, can we stop this?" - Melissa asked and your daughter nodded

-"Deal, but one last thing... I want a baby brother" - she said and run away to the ice-cream truck. The silence afterward was so immediate and violent it could have shattered glass. Melissa choked on absolutely nothing. You stared at Gaia.

Gaia stared back with complete confidence, like she’d just requested extra ketchup instead of detonating a conversational grenade in the middle of the park

-"Come on Mel! I want cookie ice-cream!"-she yelled from the distance. Melissa remained completely frozen beside you on the blanket. Absolutely motionless.

Somewhere in the distance, children screamed happily near the swings, birds chirped, and Gaia continued yelling about cookie ice cream like she hadn’t just emotionally flashbanged two adults in broad daylight.

-"Mel!" - she shouted again from beside the truck -"Before the good flavors disappear!"-she jumped up and down.

The redhead slowly turned toward you. Very slowly. Like a haunted Victorian doll gaining consciousness. You were trying so hard not to laugh your entire face hurt.

-"Baby brother?" - Melissa repeated faintly. Then she covered her face with both hands-"Oh my God" - That finally broke you.

You folded forward laughing helplessly while Melissa stared at the sky like she was personally asking the universe for strength.

-"She said it so casually," - Melissa whispered in disbelief -"like she was asking for a goldfish" - she whispered

-"To be fair" - you wheezed -"she probably thinks babies are easier than goldfish" - Melissa looked at you with betrayal in her eyes.

-"Why are you finding this funny?!"-she asked offended.

-"Because your face right now is incredible" - you laughed

-"I’m having a crisis" - she said scared. You reached over, still laughing softly, and squeezed her knee affectionately. Melissa exhaled hard through her nose before finally mumbling

-"I can’t even process being your girlfriend yet and apparently Gaia already has a five-year family development plan" -That only made you laugh again. Then your expression softened. You leaned closer, brushing your shoulder gently against hers.

-"Hey" - you said quietly -"you know she doesn’t mean pressure, right?"-you looked at her, Melissa’s eyes immediately softened too. Because she did know. Gaia wasn’t asking out of expectation. She was dreaming out loud. The way children do when something makes them feel safe enough to imagine a future inside it. Melissa swallowed softly.

Then from the ice cream truck-"MELISSAAA SCHEMMENTI!!!" -The redhead sighed dramatically.

-"I fear I’ve become emotionally attached to a tiny extortionist" - she murmured getting up

-"Too late now" - you teased gently -"she already adopted you" - Melissa smiled despite herself. Then she looked toward Gaia standing impatiently by the truck, sunlight catching the edges of her curls while she waved frantically for her to hurry up. And something impossibly tender unfolded across Melissa’s face. Something warm. Terrified. Hopeful. Like part of her heart had already started building a home there without asking permission first.

You noticed immediately. Of course you did. Your fingers slipped gently through hers.

-"Come on, love" - you whispered softly -"your kid is waiting".

After they bought the biggest ice cream possible, they came back to you.

The park had settled into that golden sleepy hour where everything felt softer around the edges. Children’s laughter drifted through the breeze. Someone nearby was playing music too quietly to recognize. The grass smelled warm beneath the blanket.

Gaia sat a few feet away cross-legged, entirely focused on destroying the largest ice cream cone legally available to a child. Chocolate streaked one cheek, cookie crumbs clung to her shirt, and every few seconds she hummed happily to herself while watching other kids race across the playground.

Melissa looked at her with helpless affection-"She’s wearing more ice cream than she’s eating" - You laughed softly from where your head rested comfortably on Melissa’s thighs.

-"That’s part of the experience" -

Melissa rolled her eyes fondly before scooping another bite from the cup between you both-"Open" - You obeyed immediately, smiling lazily when she fed you the spoonful. The redhead’s fingers brushed your lips accidentally in the process and both of you paused for the tiniest second. Still not used to this. Still a little dazzled by it. Girlfriend.

The word kept echoing quietly through both your heads like a song neither of you wanted to end. Melissa smiled down at you softly.

-"You look very pleased with yourself" - she whispered, her thumb tracing your bottom lip.

-"I am" - you admitted shamelessly -"I’m lying in my beautiful girlfriend’s lap while our daughter commits crimes against ice cream cones" - That made her laugh under her breath.

Your hand drifted lazily along the back of her knee while she kept feeding you little bites between conversations, absentmindedly caring for you in the most natural way imaginable.

-"Mama" - Gaia said without looking away from the playground.

-"Hm?"-you asked

-"You’re smiling at Melissa weird" - she pointed. You burst into laughter instantly. Melissa nearly dropped the spoon.

-"What does that even mean?" - she asked, scandalized. Gaia shrugged casually, still covered in chocolate.

-"Like in movies before people kiss in the rain" - You physically had to sit up because laughing on Melissa’s lap had become impossible-"Can we play baseball?" - your daughter asked exited, hands full of ice-cream.

-"Wash your hands first, I don't want you getting Lisa's bat dirty" - your daughter nodded running exited running to the faucet on the park to get cleaned.

You turned grabbing the redhead's jaw with your hand and kissed her deeply and slowly. Melissa melted instantly into the kiss. Not surprised. Not hesitant. Like she had already learned your gravity and her body simply followed it naturally now. Her hand slid up your wrist to hold it there against her jaw while your mouths moved slowly together beneath the warm afternoon sunlight, sweet with melted ice cream and lazy happiness.

For a few seconds the entire park blurred away. The noise. The children running. The music in the distance.

There was only the soft sigh Melissa made against your lips when you kissed her deeper.

Then-"EWWWWWW" - Both of you broke apart laughing immediately. Gaia stood a few feet away now, hands finally clean, staring at both of you with exaggerated horror-"You guys are kissing in public like teenagers" - Melissa hid her face against your shoulder instantly, laughing helplessly while you grinned shamelessly at your daughter.

-"And yet you interrupted us instead of looking away" - you raised your eyebrow.

-"Because I live here now," - Gaia answered dramatically, pointing between both of you -"This affects me emotionally" - You snorted.

Melissa finally lifted her head enough to smile at Gaia warmly-"I thought you wanted baseball" -

Gaia gasped-"RIGHT! So stop kissing" - she pointed at the both of you. Immediately she grabbed Melissa’s wrist and started dragging the redhead toward the open grass.

-"Mama come too" - she yelled at you and you got up from the blanket

-"Baby I suck at baseball, you know that" - you complained grabbing a ball

-"I can teach you" - the redhead offered immediately. She loved baseball, you knew that, she was an Eagles fan, she had a favorite collection of bats and she played with Gaia in the free time.You looked at Melissa with immediate suspicion.

-"Teach me?" - you repeated slowly -"Last time I tried, I almost hit myself with the bat" -

Gaia nodded gravely-"It was really embarrassing"-

-"Thank you for the support bebe" -you said. Melissa laughed warmly beside your daughter while the two of them dragged you farther across the grass anyway.

The sun painted gold along Melissa’s hair, turning the red into copper fire while she carried the bat easily over one shoulder. Comfortable. Confident. Entirely in her element now. God, she looked beautiful like this. Relaxed enough to shine.

-"Okay" - Melissa said, stopping in an open patch of grass -"first rule: stop looking at the bat like it personally offended you"-she pointed at you

-"It knows what it did" -

Gaia groaned dramatically-"Mama focus"-You stuck your tongue out at her before Melissa stepped behind you gently.

And immediately your brain stopped functioning. Her arms slid around yours to adjust your grip on the bat, chest warm against your back, her voice low near your ear while she repositioned your hands carefully

-"Relax your shoulders," - she murmured softly.

You swallowed-"I was relaxed before you got this close" - your voice came more pleading that what you expect, her front was pressing your scratchs on your back reminding you of last night.

Gaia made the loudest disgusted sound in human history-"NO FLIRTING DURING SPORTS!-

Melissa burst out laughing against your shoulder while you grinned shamelessly.

Then the redhead tapped your stance lightly with her foot-"Feet apart a little more" - You obeyed.

-"Good," - she praised automatically. And for some reason that simple little praise hit you directly in the nervous system.

Melissa noticed instantly.

So did Gaia unfortunately.

Your daughter narrowed her eyes.

-"...Why did mama make that face"-she squinted her eyes

-"No reason" - Melissa answered too quickly.

-"Suspicious..."-

You were still trying to recover while Melissa stepped away, smiling to herself now.

Then Gaia tossed the ball gently toward you. You swung. Missed spectacularly. The momentum spun you halfway around like a cartoon.

Melissa laughed so hard she doubled over immediately.

-"BABY!"-she laughed at you

-"I hate this sport... If we were playing fútbol I would be kicking your butts" - you murmured

-"You don't know how to play football..."-Melisa said and you looked at her squinting

-"Not football! I said fútbol! Like Messi!" - you yelled to her

-"Oh yes, she would be kicking our butts, that's why I don't wanna play with her" - your daughter agreed-"Again!" - Gaia demanded enthusiastically.

Twenty minutes later the three of you were breathless and laughing.

Gaia had grass stains on her knees. You had nearly dropped the bat six separate times. Melissa was glowing with happiness so obvious it almost hurt to witness.

At one point Gaia managed to hit the ball surprisingly far and sprinted after it triumphantly across the grass.

Leaving you and Melissa alone for a moment. The redhead moved beside you, smiling softly while taking the bat from your hands.

-"You’re improving" - she kissed your cheek

-"Liar" - you replied and kiss her briefly

-"A little..."-You laughed quietly before your gaze drifted toward Gaia in the distance. Then back to Melissa. And suddenly the sight of them together hit you all over again.

Melissa teaching Gaia patiently. Cheering for her. Laughing with her. Existing beside both of you like she had always belonged there.

Your chest tightened painfully with affection.

Melissa noticed the change in your expression immediately.

-"What?" - she asked softly. You stepped closer, brushing your fingers against hers around the handle of the bat.

-"Nothing," - you whispered with a helpless smile -"I’m just very in love with you right now" - you smiled kissing her again before your daughter could complain.

After you couldn't run anymore and you were covered on mud and grass, you decided to go home to take a shower before going to the arcade.

While you were showering yourself and your daughter, someone knocked on the door

-"I got it!" - Mel said coming down the stairs. When she opened the door, Barbara and all her friends from Abbott were there outside the door-"Barb?" - the redhead asked, the hand of her friend went immediately to the forehead

-"How are you feeling? Do you have any fever?" - her friend entered the house followed by the rest without waiting for permission.

Melissa froze in the doorway like a deer caught in the world’s most judgmental headlights.

Barbara’s hand was still pressed dramatically to her forehead while the rest of the group poured into the house carrying bags, drinks, and the chaotic energy of people who had absolutely decided this was a medical emergency social event.

Behind Barbara, Ava walked in holding iced coffee and sunglasses indoors like she owned the property already.

Jacob carried what appeared to be three different soups.

Janine had flowers.

Gregory looked deeply concerned but also vaguely resigned, like this exact situation happened to him weekly.

Melissa blinked rapidly.

-"...Why are all of you here?"-she frowned. Barbara looked scandalized by the question.

-"Melissa Schemmenti, you never take sick days" - the older pointed dramatically at her.

-"Exactly. You’re like one emotional breakdown away from becoming a ghost teacher haunting the school forever" - Jacob nodded solemnly.

-"We thought you might be dying" - Ava said smiling knowing the truth behind this.

Melissa opened her mouth. Closed it.

Then from upstairs came your voice-"Gaia stop spraying me with water!"-you laughed

-"YOU STARTED IT" -Followed immediately by shrieking laughter.

The entire group went silent. Slowly. Painfully slowly. Everyone turned toward Melissa. Ava’s sunglasses lowered down her nose with devastating precision. Barbara’s eyes widened just slightly. Gregory looked upward in realization like a man solving advanced calculus. Janine physically gasped. And Jacob? Jacob looked thrilled.

-"Melissa" - Ava said slowly, already smiling like a shark sensing blood in the water -"why does your sick day sound gay" - she smiled

Melissa’s soul left her body instantly-"It’s not what it sounds like" - she said quickly

At that exact moment you came downstairs. Hair damp from the shower. Wearing sweatpants and one of Melissa’s oversized Eagles hoodies. Looking entirely too happy and domestic for the situation. You stopped dead seeing the group in the living room.

The group stared back. Ava made a sound like she’d just won the lottery.

-"OH MY GOD"-Barbara looked between both of you once. Twice. Then her expression softened into immediate understanding so complete it was almost maternal-"Thank you Jesus! FINALLY!"-

Melissa covered her face. You looked at the redhead. Then at the teachers. Then back at Melissa. And slowly your grin spread.

-"...So," - you said carefully -"funny story... We didn't sleep last night" - you said smiling and Ava clapped

Melissa made a sound so offended and embarrassed at the same time that the entire room immediately lost composure.

-"I knew it! I told yall" - the principal smiled. Then she looked at the neck of the redhead covered in hickeys that right now they weren't covered with a piece of fabric because of the recent showered, then back at you-"Daam Melissa, you are living with a wild animal?"- Ava said

-"You should see what she did to my back before calling me wild animal" - you murmured under your breath

-"AVA!" - Ava was already crying laughing.

-"I’m just saying!" - she pointed dramatically at the visible marks along Melissa’s neck -"Girl, were you fighting for your life?!"-she joked.

You physically had to turn away because laughing directly in Melissa’s face felt dangerous for your long-term survival. Barbara, meanwhile, looked deeply entertained despite trying to maintain dignity.

-"Lord have mercy," - she muttered, though the smile pulling at her mouth betrayed her completely.

Janine’s jaw was hanging open-"YOU TWO ARE TOGETHER?"-

From upstairs Gaia yelled proudly-"THEY’RE IN LOVE!" - she said trying to change in her room but also be part of the conversation.

Melissa closed her eyes like she was accepting death at last.

Gregory quietly took a sip of coffee like none of this surprised him anymore.

Jacob looked emotionally invested to a frankly concerning degree.

-"Honestly," - he admitted -"this explains so much"-

-"THANK YOU," - Ava shouted immediately -"I thought I was hallucinating the tension for months" -

Melissa pointed at all of them accusingly-"Why is everyone acting like this was obvious?!"-

Every single person in the room stared at her.

Silence.

-"Melissa, the only two idiots that didn't knew you like each other, were each other" - the principal said.

The redhead looked betrayed beyond words. You finally stepped beside her, still smiling helplessly, and slipped an arm around her waist.

-"In her defense" - you teased softly -"she thought heart-shaped pancakes were subtle" - Ava physically bent over laughing.

Barbara clutched her chest.

Janine looked ready to ascend spiritually.

And Melissa? Melissa buried her burning face into your shoulder while muttering-"I’m moving to another country" -

Your daughter came running down the stairs looking at all the people at your house happily

-"Are you coming to the arcade with us?" - she asked exited, her t-shirt inside out because of her excitement

-"Baby they came to see Mel and her sickness"-you teased

-"It was your idea!" - Melisa said looking at you and you smiled kissing her cheek.

-"Do you want to stay, I can make some pizzas and we can watch something" - you asked watching at rest of professors in your living room, you knew Mel loved to have people at home and you knew that everyone, specially Barbara were dying to ask more details about all that happened after the previous night together.

The entire room went quiet for exactly one second. Then absolute chaos erupted.

-"PIZZA NIGHT!" - Jacob shouted immediately.

-"I knew this sick day was fake" - Gregory muttered into his coffee.

Ava pointed dramatically between both of you.

-"You cannot casually invite us into your lesbian domestic fantasy like this and expect me to leave" - she sat at the couch.

Melissa groaned into her hands.

Barbara, however, looked deeply pleased. The kind of pleased only someone who had spent months watching two idiots orbit each other at work could look-"That sounds lovely, sweetheart," - she said warmly.

Gaia gasped so loudly you thought she might achieve flight-"YES. WE CAN ALL PLAY GAMES!" - Your daughter jumped up and down.

You slid your arm fully around Melissa’s waist while she leaned automatically against your side now, no hesitation left in it anymore. Comfortable. Like she belonged there.

Ava noticed immediately and pointed again.

-"Look at them. They already stand like a married couple at Home Depot arguing about paint samples" -

-"That is weirdly specific" - you said.

-"Because it’s true" - she nodded

Melissa turned pink again while you laughed softly against her temple.

Then Gaia marched into the center of the room with all the confidence of a tiny event coordinator.

-"Okay. Mister Eddie, can you help me bring chairs from the kitchen, please? And cushions!"-Everyone actually looked at her.

Your daughter spread her hands dramatically.

-"Games now. Pizza later with movie. Romance bullying all day!"-she said smiling.

Ava wiped imaginary tears from her eyes-"I never wanted kids, but I like this one"

Barbara smiled fondly toward Gaia before looking back at Melissa. And there it was again. That soft knowing look. The one that said I see how happy you are.

Melissa caught it too. For just a second her expression shifted, something vulnerable and overwhelmed flickering there beneath the embarrassment and teasing. Because this entire thing still felt unreal. The warmth. The ease. You beside her smiling like she hung the moon itself. Gaia already weaving her into the shape of family so naturally.

Barbara noticed immediately. Of course she did. She stepped closer and squeezed Melissa’s hand gently-"I’m very happy for you, baby" - Melissa’s eyes softened instantly.

Then before the emotion could fully settle, Ava clapped loudly-"Okay enough feelings. I need details. Which one of you made the first move?"-

You and Melissa looked at each other. Then simultaneously pointed at the other again. The room exploded.

After answering most of the questions without giving too many private details, you went to the kitchen to make the pizzas, hearing the way they joked about stuff and played with Gaia.

It felt weird they way that you just went from being just you and your daughter to having a whole family and friends at home, so full, so loud, so nice.

The kitchen glowed warm beneath the soft yellow lights while you worked the pizza dough between your hands, the house was alive. Not politely occupied. Alive.

Laughter spilled from the living room in waves. Someone shouted dramatically about boardgame cheating. Gaia’s voice cut through the noise every few seconds at maximum volume, immediately followed by Melissa laughing in that breathless helpless way that had already become one of your favorite sounds in the world.

You paused for a moment, flour dusting your fingers. And listened.

Barbara was telling some story in the living room while Janine interrupted every ten seconds in outrage. Jacob was apparently trying to teach magic to Gaia while Mel explained how the trick worked. Ava had made herself comfortable on your couch like an evil glamorous cat claiming territory.

And Melissa? Melissa sounded happy. Not careful-happy. Not nervous-happy. The real kind. The kind that loosened her voice and made her laugh louder than usual. Your chest tightened unexpectedly.

Because for so long it had only been you and Gaia. Your small routines. Your quiet dinners. The constant low hum of survival mode wrapped so tightly around your life you’d almost forgotten people could simply... stay.

That homes could sound like this. Full.

You looked toward the living room doorway just in time to see Melissa sprawled on the carpet with Gaia beside her, both of them arguing passionately over arcade strategy while Barbara laughed from the couch.

Melissa looked up mid-conversation. Found you watching. And smiled instantly. God. That smile. Not the flirtatious one. Not the teasing one.

The soft one that reached her eyes slowly like sunlight spilling across water. The kind that said there you are. Something warm and enormous bloomed painfully behind your ribs.

Melissa must have noticed the shift in your face because her expression softened too.

-"You okay?" - she called gently over the noise.

You looked around the house again. At the mess. The noise. The people already reaching into the kitchen for drinks without asking. Gaia laughing so hard she nearly fell sideways onto Melissa’s shoulder.

Family.

The word still felt too big to touch directly. But somehow it was already here anyway. You smiled quietly before answering-"Yeah" - your voice softer than before -"I think I am."

Your face was soft, like full of feelings. Mel left Gaia with Barbara and went to the kitchen with you, holding your waist from behind and resting her face on your shoulder

-"What is going on that mind?" - she asked softly.

You exhaled slowly, leaning back into her warmth without even thinking about it.

Melissa’s arms tightened around your waist automatically, her chin resting on your shoulder while the noise from the living room blurred into a soft comforting hum behind both of you.

For a moment you just stayed therna Her heartbeat against your back. Flour on your hands. The smell of pizza dough and tomato sauce filling the kitchen. Home. The thought hit so suddenly it almost hurt. Your fingers stilled over the counter.

-"Nothing bad," - you whispered quickly, already feeling Melissa tense slightly behind you in concern -"Promise."

She relaxed immediately, pressing one soft kiss against the side of your neck, it made you shiver lightly-"Then what is it?"

You swallowed softly. How could you even explain this feeling? The strange ache in your chest from realizing happiness had arrived quietly while you weren’t looking.

You glanced toward the living room again.

Gaia was showing Barbara something dramatically with her hands while Ava argued with Jacob about movies. Gregory was helping Janine untangle something from her purse. And right in the middle of all of it sat Melissa’s sweater and youra tossed carelessly over the couch like you already belonged here. Like if you were meant to stay. Your eyes burned unexpectedly.

-"I think..." - you laughed softly at yourself, embarrassed by the emotion clogging your throat -"I think I got so used to surviving that I forgot life could feel like this" - Melissa went very still behind you. You kept speaking quietly. -"For so long it was just me and Gaia trying to make things work, you know?" - your hand covered one of hers around your waist -"And I loved our life. God, I did. But everything always felt... temporary somehow" - Melissa’s grip tightened. You leaned your head gently against hers-"And now you’re here"-Your voice cracked a little on the last word.

The redhead melted instantly. She turned you carefully in her arms until she could see your face properly, her own expression already full of that overwhelming tenderness she never managed to hide from you anymore.

-"Honey..." - she whispered.

You laughed weakly-"It’s stupid. I'm getting emotional over pizza..."-you joked

-"No" - Her hands slid up to cradle your face gently, thumbs brushing beneath your eyes before tears could fully gather there-"No, don’t do that," - she murmured softly -"Don’t make your heart smaller just because it’s full."-That almost ended you completely.

Your face crumpled into helpless emotional laughter while Melissa smiled through suspiciously shiny eyes herself.

Then she kissed you. Slow. Warm. Certain. The kind of kiss that didn’t ask permission to stay forever because it already had.

When you separated, you hid your face on her chest, hugging her waist and keeping her close to you, enjoying the warmth and smell of her skin

-"You know... I've been thinking about what Gaia said earlier... Do you want to have more babies?" - you asked softly and she tensed a little-"Not right now... I mean in the future, is something you would like?" - you murmured

-"I always wanted babies... But after my divorce I thought I was too old for it and the chances of a successful pregnancy at my age were not good, so I left that dream behind..."-she whispered softly and felt how your hands tightened around her waist

-"I just wanted to know... We already have Gaia..."-you whispered against her chest

-"But I grew up with many siblings... And even though we fight a lot, I really love them... And it would be nice if Gaia has someone else to play with... I mean if you want" - she whispered and kissed your head. Your chest tightened painfully at the softness in her voice.

Not because of the words themselves. Because Melissa sounded like someone carefully unfolding an old dream she had already taught herself not to touch anymore. You lifted your head slowly from her chest just enough to look at her.

The kitchen lights painted gold across her freckles and damp red curls, and suddenly she looked younger somehow. Vulnerable in a way she rarely allowed herself to be.

-"Lisa..." - you whispered softly. She smiled a little, shy now under your gaze.

-"I know it’s complicated" - she admitted quietly-"And expensive and scary and probably something very far away if it ever happened at all. I just..." - her fingers brushed gently through your hair -"I used to imagine a loud house" - You swallowed hard-"And Gaia is loud" - she laughed making you laugh-"but now that you both are here, that fantasy that was buried on the past has resurfaced" - she said softly and you kissed her lips again.

Behind you both, the living room exploded into laughter again. Gaia shouting something about cheating at Mario Kart while Ava defended herself dramatically. A loud house. You looked toward the noise instinctively. And then back at Melissa. At the woman standing in your kitchen, holding you like she had already started building a life around you without realizing it. Your hands tightened gently at her waist.

-"You know" - you murmured softly -"when Gaia was born I was terrified" - Melissa’s expression softened immediately-"I was young and broke and exhausted all the time. And everyone kept talking about how motherhood changes your life forever like it was supposed to sound scary" - You laughed quietly to yourself-"But nobody told me that sometimes the scary part isn’t loving someone too much" - Melissa listened silently, thumbs brushing little comforting circles against your skin-"It’s realizing your heart can keep making room" - That made her eyes shine instantly. You smiled weakly-"So... if one day, far in the future, we decided we wanted another baby?" - you shrugged softly -"I think I’d like that, very much" - you whispered. Melissa’s breath caught. Really caught. Like the answer had slipped past every wall she’d carefully built around that dream.

-"Yeah?" - she whispered.

You nodded-"Yeah."

The redhead stared at you for one fragile overwhelmed second before pulling you into her arms so fast you laughed softly against her shoulder. Then she hid her face in your hair.

And quietly, almost embarrassed by how much hope lived inside the words, she whispered-"I think you’d look very beautiful holding our baby" - she kissed your forehead

-"Poor you when you have to deal with my crazy hormones and weird cravings" - you said smiling

-"Poor me?" - she repeated incredulously -"Baby, you’re already dramatic when you’re hungry"-

You gasped in mock offense.-"I am not dramatic"-

From the living room Ava yelled without hesitation-"YES YOU ARE"-Both of you burst into helpless laughter.

Melissa kissed your forehead fondly before speaking again-"You’d absolutely wake me up at three in the morning crying because we don’t have the right brand of pickles" - she said, her strong Philly accent escaping more thick now that she was relaxed

-"Wrong" - you corrected seriously -"I’d cry because the pickles looked at me with bad energy" - you nodded

-"See? This is exactly what I mean"-she pecked your lips

You grinned shamelessly against her lips-"And you would still go buy me pickles."

Melissa’s entire expression softened instantly-"Without shoes if necessary."

That warmth bloomed in your chest again, huge and impossible to hold quietly. You tucked yourself closer against her, hands sliding beneath the back of her shirt just to feel her there. Real.

Melissa smiled down at you with that same overwhelming tenderness that always made it look like she couldn’t quite believe you existed either.

-"Honestly," - she murmured softly -"I think you’d be adorable pregnant"-

You immediately buried your burning face against her shoulder-"I regret bringing this up."

She laughed quietly, hugging you tighter.

-"No you don't" -

-"...Maybe a little"-Melissa tilted your chin up gently until you looked at her again.

-"Can I tell you something awful?"-she asked

You narrowed your eyes suspiciously-"That introduction is concerning"-

The redhead looked entirely too pleased with herself now-"The second Gaia asked for a sibling, part of my brain immediately imagined a tiny baby with your hair" - Your soul left your body. Completely. Gone. You stared at her in stunned silence while Melissa dissolved into laughter at your expression.

-"Lisa..." - you whispered weakly.

-"I know"-she laughed softly

-"You can’t just say things like that" - you murmured

-"Why not?" - she teased softly, brushing her nose against yours -"You started the future family conversation" -

You looked at her for another long emotional second before muttering-"You’re evil" -

Melissa smiled against your lips-"And yet you’re still going to marry me someday" - she said it without thinking, without remembering why that seemed a bad idea in the past.

You froze. She froze. Both of you blinked at each other.

Then simultaneously-"Well now we have to discuss that too..."-you laughed on her lips nervously

-"But another day... We have guests that are waiting for the pizza"-she said nervously too. You let her go but you didn't step away

-"And by the way... I think this future hypothetical baby will be easier than Gaia..."-you said smiling and she lifted an eyebrow-"...I mean, with those milkers any baby will be happy" - you said joking looking at her breast and she hit your arm. Melissa stared at you in absolute disbelief for half a second before smacking your arm again harder-"Ow!" - you laughed immediately, nearly folding in half.

-"You are unbelievable" - she narrowed her eyes shyly

You looked deeply pleased with yourself anyway-"I’m just thinking practically" - you smiled

-"You are objectifying me in my own kitchen" -

-"Incorrect" - you corrected shamelessly -"I am appreciating you respectfully" - you nodded

Melissa tried to stay offended. She really did. But the smile fighting at her mouth ruined the whole performance.

-"Respectfully?" - she repeated.

-"Very respectfully" - The redhead rolled her eyes while your gaze drifted teasingly downward again, you let out a sing, she was delicious.

Melissa immediately grabbed your jaw and forced your face back up-"Eyes up here, menace" - You burst out laughing. Her hold was tight, but loving at the same time, you pecked her lips

-"WHY ARE YOU TWO SO QUIET?" - Gaia shouted suspiciously.

Melissa answered instantly-"WE’RE HAVING A NORMAL CONVERSATION"-

Ava yelled right after-"That sounded guilty as hell" - she was right.

You laughed into Melissa’s shoulder while she groaned dramatically toward the ceiling. She looked back at you then, still smiling despite herself, cheeks pink from laughing and embarrassment. And God. You adored her. Not just the beautiful parts. Not just the flirting and kissing and soft moments in bed. This too.

Melissa in your kitchen arguing with you about hypothetical babies while your friends destroyed your living room in the background.

Messy. Warm. Ridiculous. Real.

Your expression must have softened again because Melissa’s eyes gentled instantly.

-"What?" - she asked quietly.

You wrapped your arms around her waist again and kissed her softly.

-"Nothing," - you murmured against her lips -"I’m just really happy you exist... I love you Lisa" - you kissed her again

-"I love you my menace" - she whispered on your lips, you would never get tired of hearing her say that.

As the days turned into weeks and the weeks into months, Melissa started to see herself more as in Gaias mom than in her teacher.

Gaia stopped introducing her as Miss Melissa entirely.

It became:

"Mel, where are my shoes?"

"Mel, mama burned the garlic bread again."

"Mel, do you think raccoons have feelings?"

As if loving Melissa had become stitched naturally into the structure of everyday life.

The dinosaur ballerina room had been the beginning of the end. Melissa had tried, initially, to convince Gaia toward “something more cohesive.” That lasted approximately seven minutes. Now bright pink dinosaurs in tutus covered one entire wall of the carefully designed Italian-style house like a glittery act of rebellion.

You still remembered standing in the doorway watching them paint together. Gaia completely covered in green paint. Melissa with a pink handprint accidentally smeared across her cheek. Both of them arguing passionately about whether a T-Rex could realistically perform ballet.

-"Balance is important" - Gaia had insisted seriously.

-"Baby, its arms are six centimeters long."

-"Dreams are bigger than arms, Mel" -

Melissa had looked at you after that with such helpless love in her expression that you nearly proposed on the spot.

Then came the tiny mouse door. You had come downstairs one evening expecting peace and instead found Melissa crouched beside the staircase with paintbrushes scattered around her while Gaia supervised like a tiny construction manager.

-"...What is that?" - you had asked carefully.

Melissa looked up proudly.

-"A door for Ratón Pérez" - There, painted perfectly into the wall near the stairs, sat a tiny arched green door no taller than your hand, complete with miniature flowers and absurdly detailed gold hinges.

You blinked slowly.

-"You painted a fully functional mouse entrance into your house."

-"Our house" - Gaia corrected immediately from the floor.

Melissa smiled shyly at that while touching up tiny stars around the frame.

-"Well," - she murmured softly -"I didn’t want him struggling to get inside" - Your heart had almost burst open right there beside the stairs.

Because that was the thing about Melissa. She loved with infrastructure. Not loudly. Not performatively.She loved through details.

Packed lunches cut into little shapes. Extra sweaters waiting by the door. Nightlights replaced before they burned out. Tiny magical mouse doors painted into walls because someday Gaia would lose another tooth and Melissa wanted wonder to have somewhere to enter from.

And the strangest part?

It all became so normal so quickly.

Like she had always belonged there.

Like the house itself had been waiting for her laugh to echo through it before it could finally sound complete.

And then it came how comfortable Melissa felt on her rol as new mom when Gaia needed her the most. Helping even when you didn't knew how to.

One day Gaia came home devastated after a rough day at school. Nothing catastrophic. Just one of those childhood days where emotions felt too big for a little body to carry properly.

You found her curled on the couch refusing to speak. Before you could even figure out what to say, Melissa quietly disappeared upstairs.

She came back wearing one of Gaia’s dinosaur blankets like a cape.

-"Attention" - she announced seriously -"I have been informed this house is suffering from a severe sadness emergency" - Gaia blinked despite herself. Melissa climbed onto the couch dramatically-"Luckily I am a licensed feelings detective."

You watched from the kitchen trying not to smile while Gaia fought visibly against laughing-"That’s not a real job" - she crossed her arms

-"Wrong. I studied at emotional university."

-"That sounds fake" - she pouted trying to fight a smile

-"It was very expensive" -

By the end of the night Gaia was giggling so hard she hiccuped while Melissa performed increasingly ridiculous “investigations” into the case of the missing happiness.

And then there were the small things.

The quiet things.

The ones that mattered most.

Melissa brushing Gaia’s hair gently before school while listening with complete seriousness to long stories about playground drama.

Gaia automatically reaching for Melissa’s hand in crowded places.

Movie nights where somehow the two of them always ended up asleep against each other before the credits rolled.

The way Melissa never forgot things.

Favorite snacks. Spelling test days. The exact stuffed dinosaur required during thunderstorms.

One evening you came home late from work to find the living room lights dimmed low.

Melissa sat on the couch grading papers with reading glasses slipping down her nose while Gaia slept across her lap completely sprawled out, one tiny hand still tangled in Melissa’s sweater.

The television played softly in the background.

Neither of them had noticed you yet.

And for one fragile second you simply stood there in the doorway looking at them.

Your girls. The thought arrived so naturally now it no longer startled you.

Melissa looked up eventually and smiled immediately when she saw you. Soft. Sleepy. Home. Then she carefully mouthed-"She waited up for you." - Your chest ached so hard it nearly became unbearable.

Because all your life love had felt like something people threatened to leave with. But this? This stayed.

This painted mouse doors into walls and burned pancakes on rainy mornings and held your daughter through bad days like she had been born for it.

This built a home around you gently enough that one day you looked up and realized you were no longer surviving inside your life. You were living in it.

Melissa never had kids until now, she was happy to see how your daughter trusted her, how she was Gaia's mother even if your daughter called her Mel and no mama. She was happy to give her all the love your daughter deserved without asking for anything in return.

The redhead said to herself she didn't needed to be called mama, until the day it happened and she realized how much she was needing that

-"Lisa love, I'm going to put the car on the garage because it's about to rain, Gaia is watching Bluey, be right back" - you let the redhead know while she took a shower.

After a few minutes she heard the door of the bathroom open and she assumed it was you, but a tiny voice came instead

-"Mom can I speak to you?" - Gaia asked sitting on the closed toilet behind the shower curtain. Melissa frowned not being able to see your daughter

-"Baby your mama is parking the car, she will be right back" - she let your daughter know

-"I wasn't looking for mama, I was looking for you, that's why I said Mom, and not mama"-she said simply.

Everything inside Melissa stopped. The shower still ran softly around her. Rain tapped faintly against the windows outside. Somewhere downstairs, the muffled theme song from Bluey floated through the house.

But for one suspended heartbeat, the world narrowed entirely to that tiny voice outside the shower curtain.

Mom.

Melissa’s throat tightened instantly. She sat there frozen beneath the warm water, staring blindly at the tile while her heart beat so hard it almost hurt.

Outside the curtain Gaia shifted slightly on the closed toilet seat-"Mel?" - she asked softly now, suddenly nervous from the silence -"Did I say something bad?"-

That snapped Melissa back immediately.-"No, baby" - her voice came out rougher than expected, making her clear her throat quickly-"No, sweetheart. You didn’t say anything bad" -Her hands were shaking. God. She had spent months telling herself she didn’t need it. Didn’t need the title. Didn’t need the word. Because love was already there. Because Gaia already felt like hers in every way that mattered. But now that it had arrived anyway, so small and casual and sincere through a bathroom door, Melissa realized the truth immediately:

Part of her had been quietly aching for it all along.

She reached over blindly to shut off the water.

-"Can I open the curtain?" - Gaia asked carefully.

Melissa laughed weakly through the sudden burn behind her eyes.

-"Give me one second, bebé" - Gaia has seen Melissa like that before, with kids you have no privacy, but the redhead didn't wanted to look sad in front of her. She wrapped herself quickly in a towel before pulling the curtain open slightly.

Gaia sat there in dinosaur pajamas swinging her legs anxiously. The second Melissa looked at her properly, her entire face softened. Because Gaia looked worried now. Like maybe she’d crossed a line without meaning to.

Melissa crouched immediately in front of her despite still dripping water everywhere.

-"Hey," - she whispered gently.

Gaia looked at her carefully-"You’re not mad?"

Melissa made the tiniest broken sound of disbelief. Then she pulled your daughter into her arms so fast Gaia squeaked softly in surprise-"Baby" - Melissa whispered against her hair, voice trembling now -"I could never be mad about that" - Gaia hugged her back instantly. Small warm arms around her neck. Complete trust.

And that was what finally shattered Melissa completely. Tears slipped free before she could stop them. Quiet ones. Overwhelmed ones.

Gaia pulled back immediately-"Why are you crying?!"-she grabbed the redhead's face with her tiny hands.

Melissa laughed through it helplessly, wiping quickly at her face-"Because I’m emotional and dramatic apparently" -

-"Mama says that too" - That made Melissa laugh harder.

Then Gaia tilted her head thoughtfully-"You really liked it?"-Melissa looked at her for a long moment.

At this little girl who had wandered into her life carrying dinosaur backpacks and glitter and loud opinions about pancakes. The little girl she loved so fiercely now it scared her sometimes.

And softly, honestly, Melissa answered-"I think it might’ve been one of the happiest moments of my whole life" -

Gaia’s face lit up instantly. Then, with the devastating confidence only children possess, she smiled and said-"Well yeah. You’re my mom" - Gaia hugged her mom tightly again. Getting wet with the water on the redhead's head-"You won't leave us, right Mom?" - she asked hidden in the redhead's neck

-"What do you mean baby? I could never" - the redhead asked worried

-"My dad left us when I was a baby... And mom says we didn't need him to be happy... And sometimes I dobut that when I saw other kids having a dad, but then you arrived and you made us happy, you showed me that I didn't need a dad... But I do need you to be happy, so I need you to stay with us... Forever"-Gaia whispered with teary eyes.

Melissa felt her heart break and heal at the exact same time. The tiny wet arms around her neck tightened with every word, like Gaia was trying to hold onto her before she could disappear too. And God. Children carried fear so quietly sometimes. Not loudly. Not dramatically. They tucked it into little corners of themselves and kept growing around it until one day it slipped out in soft trembling whispers in the middle of ordinary moments.

Melissa held her closer immediately. Water from her damp hair soaked into Gaia’s pajamas, but neither of them cared.

-"Hey" - Melissa whispered shakily, pulling back just enough to look at her properly -"Look at me for one second, bebé" - Gaia did reluctantly, eyes glossy and scared in a way no child should have to be.

Melissa’s chest ached. She cupped Gaia’s cheeks gently in both hands-"Your dad leaving had nothing to do with you. Nothing." - her voice was steady now despite the tears burning behind it -"And it doesn’t mean everybody leaves" -

Gaia swallowed hard.-"But people say forever and then go away anyway" - That one nearly destroyed her.

Melissa inhaled slowly before resting her forehead carefully against Gaia’s-"Then I won’t just say it" - she whispered softly -"I’ll show you" -Gaia’s lip trembled immediately. Melissa smiled through tears now-"I’m going to stay for all the important things, okay?" - she murmured -"For bad school pictures and birthday cakes and fevers and dinosaur rooms and heartbreaks and embarrassing teenage phases."-That earned the tiniest watery laugh. Melissa brushed damp curls gently away from Gaia’s face-"I’m staying for movie nights and graduations and every lost tooth Ratón Pérez needs to collect" -

Gaia clung tighter instantly-"Promise?"

Melissa didn’t hesitate even for a second-"I promise" - The little girl broke completely then, burying her face into Melissa’s neck while quiet crying finally escaped her. Melissa held her through it without a second thought, rocking slightly where they sat on the bathroom floor together.

And somewhere between one heartbeat and the next, Melissa realized something enormous:

This wasn’t just loving Gaia. This was motherhood. Not biology. Not titles. Not paperwork. This. Holding a frightened child and making them feel safe enough to believe in permanence again.

After a long moment Gaia whispered shakily against her skin-"I love you, Mom" - Melissa closed her eyes.

And for the second time that night, her heart completely gave out inside her chest-"I love you my baby daughter... And I will be here every step, forever" - she whispered into her daughter's hair.

Gaia made the smallest sound against her neck. Not quite a sob anymore. Something softer. Relief.

The kind children release only when they finally believe they’re safe. Melissa kept holding her there on the bathroom floor long after the tears slowed, fingers moving gently through tangled curls while the rain tapped steadily outside the windows.

Downstairs, the television still played quietly to an empty living room. Upstairs, wrapped in towels and warmth and promises, a family was stitching itself together thread by thread. Gaia eventually pulled back just enough to look at Melissa again, cheeks pink and damp.

-"Even when I’m annoying?"-she asked softly

Melissa smiled immediately-"Especially then" -

-"Even when I become a teenager?"-Melissa pretended to think about it very seriously.

-"...That one might require prayer" - Gaia laughed watery little hiccup-laughs that made Melissa’s chest ache all over again.

Then your daughter reached up and touched Melissa’s face carefully, wiping away the tears still stuck there with tiny fingers-"You cry a lot for a grown-up" -

Melissa snorted softly-"You and your mama did this to me" -

-"Good" - The answer came so quickly and confidently that Melissa burst into helpless laughter again.

Then Gaia tilted her head thoughtfully-"Can I ask something else?"-

-"Always" -

-"If you marry mama someday..." - she hesitated shyly -"Can I be Schemmenti too?"-Melissa’s breath caught so sharply it physically hurt. Because children really did say life-changing things with the same tone they used to ask for cereal. Gaia hurried to continue when Melissa froze again-"You don’t have to! I just thought maybe because there would be two moms and..."-

-"Baby" - Melissa interrupted softly. Her voice broke completely this time. She pulled Gaia close again immediately, kissing the top of her head over and over while tears slipped free despite her best efforts-"You can have all the names you want, whatever makes your heart happy," - she whispered shakily -"I will answer every single time to all of them"-Gaia hugged her tighter with a relieved little sigh.

And downstairs, the front door finally opened.

Your voice echoed through the house-"Why does it sound suspiciously emotional up there?"-

Melissa laughed weakly through tears while Gaia grinned against her shoulder.

Then your daughter shouted back proudly-"Nothing! I was just talking to mom!"-You heard the way that Gaia refer to Melissa and you froze for a second, understanding all the sobbing upstairs. Carefully you went to where they were, cuddling on the floor of the bathroom. You looked at Melissa first, because you knew your daughter liked to drop bombs like that and be completely normal after

-"You Okey?" - you whispered entering the bathroom and crouching in front of them. Melissa looked up at you immediately. And that was all it took. Because the second her eyes met yours, fresh tears spilled over again. Not distressed tears. Not bad ones. The overwhelmed kind. The kind that came when happiness arrived carrying more weight than your heart knew how to hold gracefully.

Gaia, meanwhile, sat perfectly content in Melissa’s lap like she hadn’t just altered the emotional architecture of the household forever.

-"I think I broke her a little," - your daughter admitted thoughtfully.

You laughed softly despite the tightness in your own chest. Then you reached forward instinctively, brushing damp red curls away from Melissa’s face-"Baby?" - you whispered again gently.

Melissa shook her head once, smiling helplessly through tears-"She called me mom" - she pouted softly.

Your expression crumpled immediately. Because hearing it was one thing. Seeing what it meant to Melissa was another entirely. You looked down at Gaia. Your little girl, still in dinosaur pajamas, sitting safely tucked against the woman she trusted enough to hand her heart to.

Then back at Melissa. The love in the room felt almost unbearably large.

You exhaled shakily before leaning forward and kissing Melissa softly. Slow. Tender. Grateful. When you pulled back, your forehead stayed resting against hers-"You deserve that word" - you whispered quietly.

Melissa broke all over again. A tiny wounded emotional sound escaped her while Gaia looked between both of you with the exhausted patience of a child dealing with dramatic adults.

-"You guys cry a lot" - You snorted through tears immediately.

-"You literally started this" - you tickle your daughter

-"By accident! I just wanted to ask her to stay with us!" - she said between laughs.

Melissa laughed weakly, still holding Gaia tightly with one arm while the other reached automatically for your hand. And there it was again. That feeling. Not the sharp frantic happiness from the beginning. Not the terrified hope. Something steadier now. Roots digging deeper. You sat down beside them on the bathroom floor without caring about the cold tile or the damp towels everywhere.

Then both your girls immediately leaned into you automatically, like gravity. Gaia against your shoulder. Melissa against your chest.

Home.

Your daughter sighed happily between both of you before announcing-"Okay now I’m hungry again" - The three of you burst into laughter at the exact same time.

----❤️---❤️----❤️----❤️ ----❤️---❤️----❤️----❤️----

Taglist: @babytakeittothehead @neverfindmegone @myownworriedshoes @satinexkryze @lesolover134 @sadoutlaw

[szaench]

im just going to say, my cheeks hurt A LOT while reading this. 10/10

[screaminglygay]

The Love Initiative (10 minutes)

pairing: agatha harkness x reader

summary: you get ten minutes with each of the girls, third is the nonchalant agatha harkness.

word count: 1.1k

warnings: bad flirting and pick-up lines as always

an: to the anon who requested agatha, don’t worry she is here!!:)

Natasha Romanoff has just looked directly into your sould, compared you to art and then walked away like she didn´t leave absolute chaos in your head. You stare at the ceiling, "what the hell was that?" You let out a big exhale.

You hear some muffle sounds from outside and the door slides open again, but it´s not another lady, it´s Sam this time. "Having fun?"

"I am," it sounds a little bit sarcastic, but Sam just smirks.

"Excellent," he winks at the camera.

"Natasha is very dangerous." Sam nods immediately.

"Oh, incredibly."

"Why would you let someone like that on this show?"

"We invited ten of them." Before you can recover from that statement, Sam walks back to the lineup of the ladies, waiting to capture your heart. And once again you feel the nerves coming.

"Alright," Sam chooses once again and his eyebrows shoot up. His eyes glances toward the girls, "I like this one. Agatha Harkness you´re next."

Agatha looks up and with a smirk, she says, "See?" She looks at others, "the universe knows quality."

Yelena groans, while Rio simply rolls her eyes, but Agatha ignores them all. With the confidence of someone who has never once second guessed a terrible idea, she starts walking toward the door, towards you.

When you meet her eyes, you can´t help but check her out once again. Rolled sleeves. Hands shoved casually into her pockets. The boots. The smirk... god she isn´t trying to impress you anymore, because she assumes she already has.

She stops in front of you. Looks you up and down, then smiles.

"Well," you immediately become suspicious.

"Well what?"

Agatha tilts her head, "I was worried Romanoff would´ve ruined my chances." Your face heats up and of course Agatha notices. Why are you so easy to read. God.

"That is very interesting."

"What is?" you blink.

"Nothing." Agatha sits down and you follow her. When you sit down, you notice that Agatha is relaxed, while having everything under control. Her hand is thrown over the backrest and one ankle resting on the opposite knee. You make a reasonable distance, but Agatha looks down, glancing at the gap, then at you and then back at the gap. You sigh and scoot slightly closer.

"There we go," you laugh at her words.

"You always get what you want, huh?" Agatha just smirks proudly and nods.

"That frequently?"

"When it comes to women? Absolutely." A grin tugs at your mouth, which makes her smile too, then she leans back. "So..."

You brace yourself, "so..."

"What do you think of me?"

You blink, "that is your opening question?"

She nods completly serious, watching you like a hawk.

"Oh my god, you´re actually waiting."

"Of course I´m waiting," she shrugs.

"Like 1-10 or you prefer different rating?"

"Whatever you prefer."

"That´s insane, you´re human being, not a product..." you slightly throw your hands.

"It´s television."

Okay, that is fair point.

You shake your head, "you´re confident..."

"I am."

"Very bold."

"Hm."

"A little dramatic."

Agatha presses a hand against her chest, "a little?" You laugh and she points triumphantly, "see? chemistry is already there."

"Me laughing doesn´t mean chemistry."

"It definetly is from my perspective." The conversation somehow spirals from there. Agatha tells stories, not all the way through, just halfway. Then gets distracted, then circles back. Then somehow lands the joke anyway. She talks a lot with her atractive hands. Every story sounds like she´s either about to solve a crime or start one. And the weirdest thing? You´re having a blast. A big one, actually.

Because beneath all the sarcasm and swagger, Agatha feels incredibly soft. At one point movie topic comes up and you share what your favorite movie is and of course Agatha judges you, affectionately.

Then you ask what she does when she´s not working, she shrugs. "Read."

"Really?"

"I know. Shocking," she rolls her eyes.

"I wasn´t going to say shocking."

"You were thinking it."

You were, to be honest.

"Maybe..." after a few seconds you smile, "do you have any cute reading glasses?"

"Just because my hair is a bit gray, you think I have reading glasses?"

"No... but if you read you do give a vibe of having the most cutesy reading glasses."

"Cutesy?"

"Yeah, cute ones, special ones, like not many people can see."

"You want to see my reading glasses?" Agatha tilts her head.

"I do. Because I know not many people have seen them."

And this time, it´s you, who got her, "they are red... with white dots." Before you can tease her more, she adds, "they are comfortable."

"Cute. But I still want to see them." You slightly lean into her hand on the back of the couch.

"Got it, anything else for you?" She smirks, playing this game with you.

"Uh huh, will I be the first to see them?" Agatha shakes her head.

"So Rio saw them?" The room goes silent, immediately.

"(Y/N)..." she starts.

Uh oh.

You want to apologize right away, maybe this was not the topic for a playful banter.

"You want to spend our precious ten minutes discussing another woman?"

"I-"

"Ouch."

"Agatha-"

"Ouch."

"Sorry, I was curious..."

"Devastating," she looks towards the ceiling, "I finally get alone time with a beautiful woman and she´s asking about Rio Vidal."

You laugh, not really defending your curiosity anymore. Agatha points at you, "this is emotional violence."

"Okay, I sincerily apologize, but you´re being too dramatic now."

"Correct," she doesn´t even deny it.

You stare at her, how her smile spreads across her face and suddenly you underestand why people keep getting pulled into her orbit. "You don´t have to answer, I was just... I heard the girls talk."

Agatha hums, "we dated."

"That´s it?"

"No."

You narrow your eyes and Agatha smirks, "we got history." The asnwer is simple, yet it´s enough. The moment passes, "enough about Rio..."

"Jealous?" Back into the playfull banter.

"Very," she says with a straight face, she scoots little closer, as she does, 10 minutes are over. "You´ve got to be kidding me..."

You both groan at the exact same time, that suprises both of you. And it also makes both of you laugh. Agatha rises from the couch, slowly, "well..."

"Well..."

She looks down at you for a second, little softer now than when she entered, less performace and more real. "You know," she says, shoving her hands into her pockets, "I was having a great time. But... you´ve got a terrible habit, you know that?"

"Oh?"

"You´re making people want another ten minutes with you." Your stomach immediately betrays you. Then Agatha leans slightly closer, "luckily for me, I´m very persistent."

And with that she opens the door and leaves. Agatha leaves ou smiling so hard your cheeks hurt.

taglist: @somedumbbitches

[romanovasluv3r1969]

Strikingly So...

Masterlist.

Daddy kink vers.

Request: Yes. Stalker Natasha x reader who knows she's being stalked. Reader is into Natasha stalking her and purposefully leaves her bedroom window open for Natasha every night. Reader has a religious mother. Reader is a baker and lives alone. Natasha has fallen for the baker who likes to read and live alone.

TW: Stalking, swearing, obsession(??), breaking and entering. Breeding kink. Religious mother. Camera in readers room. Natasha is GP. Reader is an implied virgin.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

You were dealing with a regular customer when the bakery door bell rang and in stepped a redheaded woman who looked like she rather owned the place.

You gave the customer their receipt as you did your practiced saying of greetings and seeing them again next time. Your eyes happen to travel to the tall redhead, the woman was in all black; black jeans, black combat boots, black tank top and a black leather jacket that looked more expensive than half the books you own.

"Hi there," her voice was smooth as her green eyes held yours. "Hi, welcome to our bakery. What can I get you?" You keep your voice light with kindness. "Coffee. Black. No sugar," the green eyed woman stated as if it should have been a known fact. "Order for?" You stare up at her as you ask her name. "Natasha," her name rolled off her tongue with her Russian accent hinting through.

"Will that be all, ma'am?" You type the order in the machine. "An apple danish too, please." She easily swiped her black card in the card machine. Natasha made her way to a chair in the corner as she waited for her order. Her greens eyes trailed over your figure as you personally tended to her coffee with such... care and focus, it almost made her smile. Almost.

"Order for Natasha!" You call out as you slid the coffee cup and the boxed apple danish on the counter for collection. Natasha made her way to her collection, "Fast service here." Her voice was smooth as she popped a lid on her to-go cup. "Yes, ma'am," you give a polite smile that was used for every day customers, "efficency is in our name." Natasha hummed as she sipped the piping hot coffee, "I bet it is." She tilted her cup towards you, "good coffee too. But an even better coffee brewer." Her green eyes watched yours as she was silent for a moment, "I just hope the baked goods are just as good."

"Thank you for coming, we hope to see you again soon," you reply with the rehearsed lines and a smile. "I'm sure you will, sweetheart." Natasha walked away with a smug smirk she couldn't keep off her face as she sipped her coffee once again, her fingers twitch against the box the apple danish laid rested in. The Russian felt a feeling stir within her, deep and mysterious but she ignored it for now.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

From that day, Natasha has been frustrated with thoughts of you and your smile and those innocent eyes that stare up at her, constantly. That same day was when Natasha looked you up, you had no family besides your mother, you live alone, and you love to read. She figured since she's followed you to book stores thrice in a week.

That's when she also found out that you've never been with anyone before, especially given your mother's rules of dating. How you have to be 'kept pure' for your future... 'husband.' Little did she know you were a homosexual, you would never tell her in fear of what she might do if she found out.

You basically kept to yourself, yet was familiar with the regular customers at your bakery. Mrs Mapple, an old English teacher, whenever you two talk all the old woman ever talked about were her cats, and sat in the booth and drank her tea.

Then there's Mr Edward, an old accountant who had retired two years ago to focus on his health. Natasha made a list of their names- for safety purposes, of course, she wants you to be safe. She can't have what's hers be getting hurt.

Natasha had come back from a long mission that forced tension to build in her body. She knew she shouldn't have but she did. She stopped in front of the bakery, her cold green eyes watched as you locked up for the night.

You walked home with your cold hands in your pockets as you searched for warmth, Natasha slowly followed you, she stuck to the shadows as she trailed you down. As you walked to your place, you looked around, your eyes scanning dark corners as the hairs at the back of your neck stood up.

You rubbed your face as you carried on walking home, ignoring the gut feeling of something bad happening.

Natasha watched from behind a thick oak tree, the Russian groaned as her eyes watched your hips move as you climbed the steps to your front door before entering your home. The redhead sighed, her forehead against the rough bark as she fingers grasped the trees body, her jeans suddenly feel tighter. She knew she shouldn't have, but she did.

The Widow climbed the side of your house and grinned in succession as she landed in front of your bedroom window, she was careful. Silent. As she watched you get undressed, your skin revealing itself for her eyes only. Excitement grew inside her body as she waited for you to fully strip bare for her. The older woman gulped as her jeans somehow felt tighter, she reached down to readjust herself with a relieved sigh.

The Russian heard the shower go on, green light. The Widow used her pocket knife to wedge open the window, sliding the frame up as she silently climbed inside the warm room.

It smells like you.

Her green eyes scanned the room, she glanced at the bathroom door before crouching down to the floor, she used the tip of her blade to pick up your discarded underwear.

Lace.

Her jaw clenched as she forced herself to not do anything too... revealing. She had to remain silent and hidden. She dropped the material as she stood up. Her hands automatically searched the bedside tables for anything she missed, only coming across a Jane Austin book with a book mark poking out.

The shower turned off.

Shit.

Had it really been that long?

Natasha quickly, stealthily climbed out the window, closing it fully. She didn't leave just yet as she watched your body emerge from the bathroom. Skin glistening and steaming from the hot shower. You dried your body off with your towel before throwing on your pajamas, Natasha felt her lips twitch in a smirk, you don't wear underwear to bed. Easy access.

You finally closed your eyes for the night, sighing as you got comfortable under your duvet, the sheets pulled up to your shoulders. Natasha waited, her eyes tracked your breathing, making sure you were in a deep sleep before opening the window again.

The Widow entered the warm room again, closing the window behind her, she stood still.

Fingers flexing as her jaw ticked. She shouldn't.

She really fucking shouldn't.

But she did.

Natasha got her boots off and neatly laid her jacket over the arm of the chair that sat in the corner of the room. The Russian's heart thumped as she took a step closer to the bed. Then another. Then her knee was on the mattress and next thing she knew she was on her side.

Natasha released a breath, her hand hovered over your hips as she moved her body closer to yours, heat radiated off her body onto hers. Then finally her arm wrapped around your mid section, Her face buried in your neck as she released a low groan of satisfaction.

The woman left in the early morning, leaving nothing but a lightly heated patch where she laid in bed. Your hand goes to your waist, your finger tips ghost over your hips. You could have sworn... you shake your head and throw the warm feeling if being held as a lucid dream.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

The Russian's routine became ordering a black coffee with an apple danish, that she felt was too sweet, every morning. Natasha gave a nod, "You know me so well." Her green eyes watched as you worked the counter and boxed her dessert. 'Almost as well as I know you,' she thought.

You served the customers as per usual. "Natasha," you greet with a smile, "the usual?"

"You sleep well last night, sweetheart?" The Russian let her mouth move before her brain could stop her. She noticed how you seemed to run more smoothly, more energy. More of your beautiful smile just for her to see.

"What?" You hands froze on the boxes lid. "I mean, you just look so well rest today," Natasha shrugged nonchalantly, "I know you've had a busy week. It is a well known bakery you're running here, yes?"

You nod in response, "Oh," you close the dessert box, "yeah, uhm. I slept soundly."

'Oh, I know,' Natasha grinned as she thought to herself. "What about you?" You only ask back in politeness. "Best sleep I have had in years," Natasha tipped her coffee at Elena as she took a sip, "always the best." The redhead walked out the bakery with new found confidence.

You only slept so peacefully because of her. You were safe and sound in her arms and her arms only.

A pattern formed over the weeks. Natasha sneaking in through your window and got comfortable to cuddle you from behind, even going as far as getting under the blankets with you. Yet you still remained unknowing... well, in her eyes at least.

But you did, you did notice. You saw how her green eyes lingered on your face, your body. On you. How her fingers brushed yours when grabbing her order.

One night, you left your window open. Just an inch. But Natasha noticed, she always did.

The Russian happily climbed inside your room that always seemed perfectly warm with your scent. She watched your for a long second, then got undressed with a knowing smile, she bit her bottom lip to suppress a smug remark. The Widow settled in behind you again, under the sheets as her bicep twitched pulling you closer to her body.

Then you shifted back onto her.

She knew it. She fucking knew it.

She could tell by your breathing. The window you left open. Just for her.

Your bottom pressed against her front comfortably as her arm was firmly wrapped around your waist, her face tucked in your neck as she breathed in your scent. The Widow felt your body relax in her hold. Natasha's face was in your neck as she breathed in your scent. The Widow felt your body relax in her her hold as you succumbed to your sleep, she followed shortly with a hum of content.

Natasha left in the early morning, but she did not leave without a trace. A small note on your pillow laid beside your head.

'Thanks for the cuddles, sweetheart. :)' it read with a small drawn smiley face next to it.

That day you added a note to her dessert box.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

'For my favourite customer :)' you could only tease back, drawing a smiley face of your own for her.

The battle of teasing notes began, Natasha would hint to the night before of you guys cuddling in her notes. Till one day, a note of hers read, 'I love it when you press yourself against me in bed. You could hear her whisper those words in your ear with a rasp.

A small box sat beneath the note, and in it held a small silver chain with a single 'N' on it. You wore it the next day, the silver glinted under the bakery's lights and Natasha's green eyes immediately caught on to it. Her lips lift into a smug grin as she got herself a croissant for the morning.

The next day, you decided your stalker also needed a... gift.

So, what else would be a better gift than your underwear. You laid your underwear on your bed, along with a note that read, 'Just for you.

You looked at the finished gift and made your way to your bathroom to shower. The hot water hitting your skin perfectly as it soothed your tense muscles.

Natasha on the other hand, just came through the window, her eyes immediately found the little surprise waiting for her. Her trained ears pick up the sound of running water. Her feet make light work as she made her way to your bed like normal, she reads the note with a smirk as her tongue licked at her bottom lip. Her hands pick up the lace material, her thumbs rubbing over the lace hem then without a doubt, puts it in her pocket.

It is a gift after all, right? It's only right she keeps it.

Natasha looked towards the bathroom door, her body moving on its own as she followed the sound of water. Natasha's ear pressed against the doorlas she heard the water running, her imagination ran wild as she thought of you.

Naked. Warm. Her hands running up and down your sides as she kissed you all over your warm body while steam surrounded your bodies. Natasha's rough palm rested against the door, her fingers ticking towards the handle, her jaw ticked. She couldn't.

Just then, her phone lit up with a notification from Steve. Perfect timing. Steve is waiting for Natasha at the hangar to leave for their mission. Natasha's jaw clenched, her ears filled with sound of running water as her mind ran through thoughts of you then to the mission she needed to be on.

With a heavy sigh, Natasha pockets her phone as she slowly moved away from the door, she didn't leave without leaving a note of course, 'I'll be back soon, sweetheart. Thanks for my prize.'

Natasha left in a hurry, she didn't need Steve tracking her phone to find out where she's been. She does not need to hear about morals, not when you so perfectly fit in her arms at night.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

After two days passed of Natasha on her gruelling mission and long nights without her love to hold, she finally came back.

The Widow entered the bakery to someone flirting with her woman. Her lover. Her future wife.

"You know, I bet you taste sweeter than those cakes," the customer flirts but you can only laugh along as you hid your internal feeling of uncomfort, your eyes finding Natasha's as she watched you two interact. Natasha let out a silent huff as she left the bakery, knowing the action of kissing you or taking you out the back would make headlines with her Avengers status.

Natasha is a woman of patience though. So she waited till late at night, in her car watching the camera feed of you. Footage from the camera she set up in your room from long ago.

The screen showed how your eyes glanced directly at the camera before you began to strip yourself naked, deliberately slow and teasing.

You made her wait.

In Natasha's other hand, her fingers fiddled with your house key, a gift from you. Natasha had the key to your house she could easily let herself in, let her presence be known. But that would be too easy.

Natasha loved every second of it. Her eyes hungry for more as she watched your skin get revealed to the lens, her eyes watch as your nipples harden in the cold air. Her pants felt tight. Too tight.

Instead, she took the... 'normal' way. The path she took every night and climbed into your bedroom instead. The Russian entered your room again, her eyes tracking your form as you sat bare in only a single top made of thin material. You've been waiting for her. She knew it.

"Hi." Natasha easily smiled as she made eye contact with you. "Hi," you could not help but respond, your voice a whisper yet loud enough to fill the room.

The redhead shrugged off her leather jacket and hung it over a chair in the room, then she took off her combat boots, "You waited up for me, sweetheart?" Your eyes trace her well built form, lingering a bit on the subtle bulge in her pants, "Always."

Natasha's fingers made work of her belt buckle as she pushed the black denim off her legs, the Widow in her black top and boxers stood before you, her skin soft under the moon light.

Natasha hummed as she crawled on the bed, her heavy frame hovering over yours, her green eyes bore into yours, "How long?" You swallowed nervously, your heart banging against your ribcage, "What?"

"How long have you known that it was me?" Natasha's fingers lightly trained up your bare thigh, causing goosebumps to arise along your skin.

You gulp nervously, your chest heavy as you breathed faster, your eyes never leaving her greens as she waited for an answer. "Only after you asked how I slept," your palms rest beside you as you shift back bit, intimidated by her stern eyes, "my suspicions were confirmed when you gave me the necklace."

The Russian's eyes immediately went to the sliver that still laid on your chest, her fingers traced her own initial before picking the silver up. "Do you like it?" Her voice is soft as her thumb traced over the 'N'.

"I love it. Thank you," your hand moved to cover hers in a reassuring squeeze, "I wear it every day." The Russian smiled, leaning in so close her lips graze yours, "I know."

Natasha looked at you before leaning in properly, her lips ghost against yours before fully kissing you, deeply. She waited ages for this. To kiss you. To feel your soft lips on her own.

"Your lips are so soft, I knew it," Her voice is a deep rasp as she spoke, her forehead against yours. "You... thought about this?" You couldn't help but ask. "Every night, every day," Natasha leaned in again, her nose touching yours, her lips threatening to kiss you again, "every waking hour I spent... wanting you. To feel you. I want you, always." Her throat bobbed as she confessed, her Russian accent coating her words in a revealed heated obsession.

"You have me," You whisper back, her hand moves to her hand on your thigh, watching her reaction as you move her hand higher, into the inner of your warm thighs. "I know," her voice is teasing as she squeezed at your inner thigh, you gasp, clutching on her forearm, "I always have."

Her lips found the skin of your neck, her mouth moved feverishly as she nipped at your skin, then she moved down to kiss across your collarbone following it to the middle of your neck and down the valley of your breasts.

She pulls her hand from your thigh, her hands work to remove the barrier between her lips and your skin. Immediately your nipples begin to harden under the cold breeze before Natasha is back to kissing you.

The assassin pulled away, looking at you for a moment before kissing your lips again only to pull back and get rid of her own clothing. The older woman now fully bare before your eyes, your eyes couldn't help themselves but look at her, her old scars from missions she's been on, her muscle from working out, your eyes trail down her abs to her neatly trimmed and well taken care of patch of red hair that surrounds her erect cock with a red tip, dripping precum as she waited. The woman noticed, of course, she's a trained assassin, she noticed everything.

Her lips move against yours in passion, "I'll be gentle. I promise." Her voice is deep, husky as she positioned herself between your legs. "You don't have to be," You breathe heavily as your heart tries to catch up with your breathing.

Natasha eyed you cautiously, she wouldn't take advantage of being your first and your only time.

The Russian's lips trailed down the column of your neck to the soft skin on your stomach and thighs, her teeth grazing the warm flesh as she left her marks on you. Natasha settled in the middle of your thighs, her face deadly close to your aching warmth. You sat on your elbows, watching Natasha, her green eyes watch your chest rise with a hint of unease.

"Relax, detka," Natasha's arm moved up your body to pin your chest down and pin your body to the bed, "trust me." Her red lips were felt on your inner thigh, her voice vibrated through your skin causing your body to buzz with excitement.

"I trust you," you nod as you watch her kiss your thighs, your hip bone before settling comfortably in front of you again. "Good." Her lips press a gentle kiss to your sensitive bundle of nerves, your breath hitched, "just feel for me, baby." Her warm pink muscle from her mouth soothed up your labia gently.

"Natasha," you immediately gasp, going to sit up before being held back down again by her hand on your chest. "Relax, baby," Natasha's hand moved to squeeze at your chest, feeling the soft flesh in her grasp as her thumb and index finger rolled your areola as her mouth worked wonders on your body.

Your hands moved to hold hers on your chest, squeezing her wrist and hand as you felt her suck your clit gently with a swipe of her tongue.

Your hips twitch up towards Natasha's mouth, the Russian smirked as her other arm moved to pin your hips gently.

Natasha is hearing music right now, your beautiful moans of her name as she works on you, her tongue sliding through your labia easily as she sucked and nibbled at your clit. Natasha removed her arm from your hips, instead putting it up to your mouth, her middle finger tapped your bottom lip, "Open." And obediently you did, your warm mouth and soft lips invite her digit in. "Suck, get it nice and wet for me, moya lyubov." Natasha kissed your thigh as she watched, and felt, your warmth tongue against your finger as you sucked.

Natasha pulled her hand away, "Good girl." Her hand teased it's way down your body as she made sure to look at you. Her now wet middle finger, teasing your entrance.

"Natasha-" you gasp out a moan, your hands tighten around her hand on your chest. With a low hum, the Russian pushed her digit in, slowly, watching for any minor reaction and emotion change. Your hand moves from Natasha's wrist to her hair, the other still holding onto her hand, Natasha groaned as she pressed another kiss to your sensitive clit, her finger fully pushed inside of you. Natasha's warm muscle exited from between her lips as she looked at you, dead in the eyes, as she began to eat you out again as her finger started moving inside of you again.

Your muscles tense as your thighs instinctively close around Natasha's head as your body heats up, a warm pool in your lower abdomen, "Nat-Natasha!" Your body shook as you moaned loudly, exploding on her tongue and finger.

"Mhm...," The redhead hummed as she placed a kiss on your stomach, soothing your body, "you are sweeter than your desserts. So much more."

Natasha brought her hands to hold your thighs open yet secure around her head as she finished up her meal.

You feel your face heat up despite the room once being cool, now warm with the smell of sex in the air. Natasha kissed her way up your body, then to your lips, a deep and heavy kiss to your reddened lips as she groaned deeply when her tip made contact with your clit.

Natasha pulled away with a few pecks to your lips, her hand moving down to take hold of herself, her fist moving in up and down motions on her member.

Natasha licked her lips as she stared down at your wetness, then her hips twitched forward as she guided her tip to your entrance. "Breathe for me, baby." Her voice is husky with her Russian accent seeping through.

You inhaled sharply as you felt the Russian push in, stretching you out. Natasha made sure her hips moved slowly against yours, giving soft thrusts, each time pushing a little deeper in until her hips rest against yours. You felt stretched out. Full. So completely full of her, your Natasha.

Natasha's hands moved to your hips as she ground herself, her thumbs soothing over the skin of your hip bones before releasing a moan of your name. Natasha felt you tighten around her as her hips moved, she knew you were close.

She could feel it, how you beautifully clung to her. As if you never want to let her go.

The assassin's lips started attacking your neck as her hips moved in a rhythmic pace, her cock hitting deep spots inside of you that made you see the stars and beyond.

The Russian smirked as she felt your hips twitched against hers as your legs tightened around her waist. Natasha pulled out only to watch her come swell from between your labia, the milky white substance was thick as it dripped down your sex. Natasha immediately got obssessed, the idea of filling you up with her come and breeding you properly over took her mind. The Russian immediately guided her cock back inside of you without a doubt filling you up again.

Your back arched off the bed as you moan out her name loudly, your fingers clawing at her biceps. Natasha held your hips down this time, "Call me by my name, detka." Natasha lets out a heavy breath as her hips moved in a steady thrusting pace, a wet sound arising due to wet skin slapping against one another every time Natasha pounds into you. "Natasha!" You moaned aloud when her tip rubbed against your spongy G-stop deliciously. "C'mon, baby," Natasha grinned, red strands stuck to her sweaty forehead as she huffed, her hips giving a particularly harsh thrust as she got herself buried inside of you as deep as possible, "you know you can scream louder than that." You felt her hand steady herself beside your head as the other held your thigh open for leverage.

Words could barely escape your mouth as the pleasure clouded your brain. Natasha coaxed you, her hand leaving your thigh only for her rough thumb to attack your clit with firm circles.

"N-Natasha!-" the word escape from your lips before you could stop it. "That's it, baby. Keep screaming for me," Natasha's hips drove forward deep into yours, "Holy fuck." The Russian panted. Her green eyes trailed over your face, "You'll look so beautiful pregnant."

"Natasha, please," your moans are choked out as you felt the tip of her cock repeatedly rubbed over the spongy g-spot. "So round and full with my babies, you'll be utterly and completely mine. Mine to fuck. Mine to breed. Mine to love."

You couldn't help but agree with the muscular Russian towering over you as she relentlessly plowed your hips into the mattress, "P-please-" you could only break out as your fingers clutched at her strong shoulders, her skin warm with a thin layer of sweating covering.

"Please what, dorogaya?" Her voice is low in a mock as she kissed at the middle of your neck. "Breed me, Natty, please," you chocked out a sob as the pleasure turned blinding, your core muscles tighten again, the warmth felt stronger like fire as it waited to explode in your abdomen. Your shaking thighs managed to wrap themselves around Natasha's hips which only seemed to spur the Russian on.

"Oh, fuck-" the redheads head dropped in your neck as she moaned, her hips seemed to moved faster, "say that again, baby. Tell me what you need." Her warm breath fanned across your skin as her teeth nipped at the skin at the base of your neck. "Breed me, Natasha, please," your legs tightened around the redheads waist, as if trying to drive her deeper inside of you. You can't get enough.

Natasha sat up to lean on one hand beside your head again as the other still worked circles on your overwhelmed clitoris. Your hands move to cup the back of Natasha's neck as if it were some sort of support. Her green eyes looked down to where you two connected, how your cum seemed to mix together and form the perfect lubrication as she moved inside of you.

"Natty, I'm gonna-" your voice seemed to stop working as moans only left your throat and chest heavy as your body began to tighten around Natasha. "I know, baby, I know," she moved to lean on her elbow, her thumb still moving in continuous circle around your clit, "Come for me, baby. Come for me."

The Russian was not far behind, a few thrusts later she let out a moan, "Fuck. Baby," Natasha planted her hips firmly against yours as she came deep inside of you, breeding you and officially marking you as hers. Her lips met your kiss bruised lips in a passionate frenzy as she groaned, feeling you milk the last of her come from her before her hips slowly came to a still.

You exploded, back arching, thighs tensing as your legs tightened around Natasha's waist.

A moment of comfortable, tired silence went by of the Russian's hot, sweaty body on top of yours as her breath tickled your neck as she sighed out in bliss, her hand moved back to your thigh, giving it a good squeeze just to see you shake.

"I'm going to get you a ring," her voice is mumbled as her lips moved against your skin, "that way, I can make sure my wife stays properly bred."

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Anyway... l still don't know how to end it off, so... 🤷‍♀️

[rsr-vhs]

Pushing It Down and Praying

Pairing: Karen Wheeler x Fem!Reader

Word count: 3.0k

Warnings: NSFW, oral (reader receiving), angst, infidelity, age gap (reader is early 20s), implied period accurate homophobia, excessive use of Y/N (I'M SORRY), HARD pivot from smut to angst

Summary: The Wheelers suck at saying I love you and Karen is no exception.

Karen knew it was wrong, she really did. It was wrong on so many levels. Between the infidelity and the taboo of it all, her mind clawed at her heart every waking moment. But they say the heart wants what it wants, and who is she to deny herself the one bit of enjoyment she's had since the early days of her marriage. If her husband wasn't going to satisfy her in any sort of way and her children were never around, why should she keep living out this miserable, suburban mom life. She was so much more than that. She had so much potential back in high school, she'd almost been accepted into Stanford University. She thought that very impressive given it was 1959 and most people had doubts that she would even graduate, let alone continue on to college. But alas, she had given it all up for a boy, an exciting boy, but that was then. And Ted turned out to be the most boring man she had ever had the misfortune of being around. She lived her years like that, bored. She had always wanted so much more, and yet it felt she would never get it.. Until she showed up. Y/N Y/L/N. With her glossy hair that always seemed to fall just right, that charming voice that always managed to get her whatever she wanted, and that sweet, innocent, perfect smile that did so much to excite Karen despite the younger girl being oh so oblivious to it.

Everything had happened so fast. What started as a few flirty comments here and there quickly turned into secret bathroom make-outs and then to so much more. Y/N used to bag her shopping, and now she was practically an addition to the Wheeler residence. No one but Karen knew, of course, but that didn't make it feel any less real. It felt more real than anything Karen ever had with Ted. That was why the two women found themselves in their current position. Y/N laid there, beautiful as ever in Karen's eyes. Her gaze was where it usually was, her lover's breasts. But she loved the attention no matter what form it came in, and so Karen sat there, a thigh on either side of the girl beneath her. Their little rendezvous usually started like this, soft kisses anywhere their lips could find, gentle touches so light you'd think either would blow away with the next gust of wind. Karen's hands found their way up Y/N's arms, moving to tangle in her hair as their bodies pressed closer together. Both women giggled quietly as their noses bumped, not a rare occurrence. Things were easy when it was just them.

As they peppered kisses over each other's bodies, Karen could feel the girl's hips buck up, practically calling her name. She could never deny her pretty dove anything, even when she knew realistically they probably didn't have the time. Her eyes glanced over at the clock resting on the bedside table and made her decision.

"Okay, baby, quickly.." Karen's voice came out tender, practically dripping with honey. She always spoke to Y/N with that sweet tone, always treated her with nothing but gentleness. In a matter of seconds she flipped them, helping Y/N out of the skirt she had so kindly splashed out on buying a week ago. She guided her girl's thighs up to rest either side of her head, not giving her a chance to lower down before diving in. Y/N let out a sharp inhale as Karen's tongue firmly pressed against her glistening folds.

"Fuck- Karen.." Y/N whined softly between the breathy moans she was letting out. She could feel her legs tense around Karen's head as pleasure shot through her body. It wasn't often she was on the receiving end of Karen's tongue. She much preferred using her fingers, claimed it was so she could see what she did to Y/N.

"Slo-slow down.." She never usually moved so fast. Karen had always liked to take her time, let herself take full advantage of what little time they had together, but right now all she wanted to do was make Y/N feel how much she appreciated her. Her tongue swiped up, making quick circles around the girl's already puffy clit, eliciting a soft whimper from above her. The contact was almost too much and Y/N could barely take it. She lifted herself up slightly, trying to escape the rush of overstimulating pleasure. But that was hardly acceptable, so Karen's hands reached up and wrapped around her pretty dove's thighs, pulling her impossibly close.

"Stay still for mommy, baby. Don't you wanna be a good girl for me..?" Karen mumbled against Y/N's clit, the vibrations causing the girl to cry her out, head falling back as she could feel her mind start going fuzzy. Despite Karen's usual softness, there was a certain commanding energy her words held. Neither could quite place where it came from, but it always made Y/N compliant, and that was enough for Karen. She could feel a building ache in her jaw as she darted her tongue across Y/N's clit, focused on her cries and jerks of pleasure. Her rushed breaths against the girl's throbbing sweet spot sent tingles through her body as Karen's fingers dug into her thighs.

As the never-ending waves of pleasure threatened to push Y/N over the edge, she raised her hand to her mouth to muffle the moans and whines escaping her. As her other hand finally stopped gripping the bedsheets beneath her, she used what little coordination she had left in her body to place it firmly on the top of Karen's head, grasping at her hair as she attempted to pull her ever closer. Y/N's mind was blank, it was a wonder she wasn't a babbling mess right now. All she could feel was Karen's tongue lapping desperately at her cunt, all she could think about was how fucking good it felt. Her hand clasped tighter over her mouth as wanton moans filled the room. That oh so familiar coil started forming inside her, her thighs tensing and practically suffocating Karen, but no complaints were heard. With little warning, Y/N felt a wave of pleasure rip through her.

"Karen-!" She squealed out, losing all control of her body as she jolted her hips against Karen's lips. She uncovered her mouth, letting Karen hear her cry out in pleasure with perfect clarity. Her hand reached out in desperation for something to steady herself against, and connected with the headboard, gripping it shakily. As Y/N's orgasm traveled through her like a shockwave, Karen's tongue continued to toy with her clit, not relenting even as the younger girl came down from her orgasm. She didn't stop until she felt a familiar tap on her head, begging for release.

In a matter of moments, Karen had pulled Y/N off her face and onto the bed beside her. They wrapped their arms round each other, catching their breath as they embraced. In truth, Karen had missed these smaller moments. The sex was great, but just holding each other was perfect, breathing in each other's air, taking in the peace. With Ted she was always bored, but here, she was simply content. It didn't matter if they were on one of their secret dates, or if they were in the privacy of the Wheeler house, or stealing kisses just out of sight from other people. All of it was perfect as long as they were together. If it was up to Karen, they would've stayed like this forever, but unfortunately they didn't have that sort of time. In fact, as she checked the clock, Karen realized that half three was quickly approaching. The kids will be home from school soon.

"You should start heading home soon, sweetie.." Karen muttered quietly, almost inaudible. She hated to ruin the mood, but she couldn't risk anyone finding out, certainly not her kids. Y/N peered upwards at her, visibly disappointed. She'd always hated having to leave, or rather she hated being kicked out. Nothing else hit quite like a punch to the gut as having to be kept so secret, not being able to go on dates or hang out with her kids, or just spend time together outside of the privacy of a bed. And god knows if her husband ever found out then Karen would be attending Y/N's funeral. Ted may not have cared much, but he wouldn't be able to handle such a blow to his ego. His wife cheating on him with another woman? That's just too embarrassing for a man of his status.

"Do I really have to go now..? Can't I stick around and just say I was… Cleaning your pool or something..?" Y/N practically begged her as their embrace started to loosen. When she looked up to find Karen's gaze, Y/N could see the guilt rising in her eyes. There was always this silent guilt, a judgment Karen could never bring herself to admit, at least not out loud. Of course she held great affections for Y/N, but she struggled to be vocal about it. She knows how much she's cared for, Karen shouldn't have to sit there and tell her, right?

"You really should go.. the kids aren't stupid, we've had the same pool boy for years.. Besides, I don't-" Karen hesitated for moment. She knows she shouldn't voice it, but she's started now. Y/N would push to know what she wanted to say and she could never lie to her precious dove.

"I don't think you should meet the kids.. not yet, at least. Nancy's only a couple years younger than you, she'd probably remember you from school. And the other two are still young, they might mention you to Ted and I just can't risk screwing up my life.." Karen continued. She let out heavy sigh, like this was a weight she'd been carrying for while. But then she turned to Y/N. There was nothing but hurt and anger in her eyes.

"And you think I can? I'm risking shit as well, Karen." Y/N's words carried an unusual amount of malice, but they both knew it was a cover. She wasn't a very emotional girl, the anger was a deflection. She had cried once before in front of Karen and it hadn't lasted very long, it most likely wouldn't happen again anytime soon. By now, their arms were barely touching, giving Y/N the space to sit up.

"I didn't say that, I just- I think if we're being real I have more to lose. My kids, my house, my husband-" Karen started saying, trying to reason with the now noticeably pained girl in front of her. Before she could continue, however, her words were cut off.

"And I'd lose my family, my home, my job, everything. We both have things to lose!" Y/N hissed, her voice just above a whisper. Despite her anger, she couldn't risk neighbors overhearing them, that would just fast forward everything they were both worrying about. She moved to stand, looking around to grab her clothes. As she started pulling the shirt over her head, Karen spoke up.

"I wasn't saying you lose nothing, just less than I would.. Maybe we should have this conversation another day, I can't let the kid see you. I don't want them finding out about you- or, god forbid, think this is serious!" The moment Karen said it aloud, she knew it was too far. This was serious, even if she could never admit it. It was serious for both of them. Her eyes widened as she looked up to Y/N, the girl already staring back. It was easy to see the way her jaw was tense, eyes starting to water, the clenched fists. It broke Karen's heart. Why did she have to say that? Sure, she'd never been great at being vulnerable, or talking about her feelings, but outright denying having those feelings at all was a new low. She climbed off the bed, taking a step with outstretched arms towards Y/N.

"Honey, I didn't mean- You know how I feel about you- don't you?" Karen let out a broken plead, clawing at straws to try and save this. She couldn't lose the one thing, the one person who made her happy. Y/N stepped back, her hand coming to wipe away any evidence of the tears slowly starting to roll down her cheek. They stayed there for a moment, staring at each other, both hurting, both desperate to be held but too stubborn to be the one to make the next move. Y/N reached down to grab her underwear and skirt, pulling them up even though the thought of wearing one of Karen's gifts now filled her with burning rage.

"You were right, I should get going. Wouldn't want anyone thinking this actually meant something, would we?" Y/N snapped, hands coming up to tuck some lose hair behind her ears. Karen reached over to grab her arm, but as her fingers grasped at the girl's sleeve, she shook her off and looked at her with a scowl. Her eyes stared daggers through Karen as her hand retreated, softening her stance a little. The bedroom door swung open as Y/N stormed out of the room, making her way across the hallway and down the stairs. Karen followed a moment later, eyes full of unfamiliar worry.

"Y/N come on, are you seriously gonna storm off? Just listen to me for a second-" Karen sounded more like she begging than asking, finally catching up to Y/N as she started pulling her shoes on. Karen's hands found her tear-stained cheeks, and pulled her up to share a look. Both could see the hurt and fear in the other, and it was soul crushing. Y/N wore a slight pout and her eyes looked glassy, almost like she wasn't even there. It wasn't hard to see why, Karen knew she'd gone a step too far. She had never felt this scared before. The thought of losing the love of her life because she was too afraid to admit how much she actually cared was almost too much.

"I don't want to listen anymore. Anything you have to say now, it's too late. I thought we were more. I thought I meant more to you.. I thought you were serious about this too." Y/N's voice was no longer angry, no longer a sharp knife aimed straight at Karen's heart. No, now there was nothing but embarrassment, heartache, and, worst of all, betrayal. She felt betrayed by the woman she'd grown to feel nothing but love for. The woman she had put everything on the line for, the woman she imagined spending the rest of her life with, even if in secret. The woman she gave everything too had just sat in front of her and admitted just how little she truly cared. How could Y/N just run back into her arms? She couldn't… That wasn't what she deserved.

There was an uncomfortable silence between the two now. One filled with unspoken feelings and broken promises. Neither of them could muster up the courage to say anything else. Karen tilted her head slightly, eyes pleading, desperate for Y/N not to leave like this. But it was too late, and she knew it. Y/N pulled her coat off the rack and walked out the door, slamming it behind her. Karen's hand reached out to rest on the door as tears finally started to pool in her eyes. She knew how bad she'd messed up, and now she had to suffer the consequences.

Karen made her way back upstairs to make sure there was no trace of her lover by the time everyone got home. However, the moment she had closed her bedroom door, she collapsed against it, sliding down until she hit the floor. Her mind began racing with all the ways she could try to fix everything. What was she meant to do without the radiant light that Y/N cast in her otherwise dim life? She raced to the window and stared out to the road, watching as the girl she yearned to hold close grew ever distant. She knew that if this was how things ended she'd spend the rest of her life longing for even a taste of their connection again. She couldn't let it end like this, but as thoughts swirled around her mind the only thing able to stick was the guilt.

Y/N's body shook with the sobs she was unable to hold back. The tears flooding her eyes were making it hard to see as she trudged down the street. Storming out was bad, but having to walk home made it a whole new level of embarrassing. She was certain the older woman was watching from her bedroom window, but she'd be damned if she gave her the satisfaction of turning to check. She'd go home, sulk, eat ice cream, do whatever she could to stop herself from going insane, but she would do it all without letting Karen see how badly she had hurt her. Her heart felt like it was clawing out of her chest, each step away from the house felt like another stab in the back. It was like she could hear Karen's voice in her mind, screaming, begging for her to come back. If she chased down the street after Y/N, then maybe it would mean this relationship was more important than she claimed it to be. But that would be wishful thinking. Now Y/N would have to get used to life without it all. No more late nights sneaking out together, no more days spent in each others arms, no more stolen kisses. The memories would torment her forever, memories of the woman she would've married if she were given the chance.

[thinkiwasbornblue]

Won't You Be My Neighbor?

Pairing: Agatha Harkness x Reader

Summary: You returned to Westview to care for your estranged mother during her final weeks of life. After the funeral, you planned to sell your childhood home and forget all about the small town you grew up in. But when you woke up one November morning in what appeared to be an idyllic 1950's sitcom, you found that you were nothing more than a spectator of your own life as it unfolded before you. As you performed the personality and daily activities that were scripted for you by another against your will, you found comfort in a friendly neighbor named Agnes...

Word Count: 40,970

A/N: Proud of this one. Especially the final chapter. I had a lot of fun writing for Agnes/Agatha. If I could go back in time, this would be a twenty-chapter fic instead. But I'm still pleased with how it turned out. There's one bookmark that refers to this story as "gold" and another that calls it "weak." Still bookmarked, though? Huh. Interesting. 🤔 Haha. Give it a read and decide for yourself.

Read it on AO3:

Chapter One - Return to Westview

Chapter Two - Quiet Little Place

Chapter Three - Downtown

Chapter Four - More Than a Feeling

Chapter Five - Hungry Eyes

Chapter Six - What's Up?

Chapter Seven - Cosmic Love

Chapter Eight - Stop Crying Your Heart Out

Chapter Nine - No Light, No Light

Chapter Ten - Back to You

[writing-in-lesbian]

Matter of the Heart

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff/Fem!Reader, Kate Bishop/Fem!Reader. Synopsis: You have spent almost two years building a life with Wanda Maximoff. A home. Routines. Safety. Tuesdays. So when you accidentally discover the pregnancy test, the realization doesn’t feel sudden at all. It feels like every unanswered text, every hesitant touch, every moment of distance, is finally clicking into place. The first person you think to call is Kate Bishop. You never make it to her. And when memory begins slipping through your fingers afterward, one question remains: If love once felt like instinct… could your heart find its way back to the same person twice? Word Count: 9K (long fic!) Tags: angst, slow-burn, friends to lovers. Translation: Detka = baby // Moya lyubov = my love. A/N: This is my first longer fic writing Kate Bishop, so I hope I did her justice. The story shifts between Y/N, Wanda, and Kate’s POV when needed. English isn’t my first language, so apologies for any grammar mistakes that slipped through. Italics indicate memories. Bold italics indicate text messages. This story is divided into three parts, all already written, so updates shouldn’t take long.

---- o ---- ---- o ---- ---- o ---- ---- o ---- ---- o ---- ---- o ---- ---- o ---- Y/N POV

You have been planning the surprise for weeks. Making lists of all the things and supplies you'll be needing, asking permission to leave early on Friday, so you'll have plenty of time before Wanda arrives at your shared apartment. Things haven't been going really well. The discussion from last week is still fresh in your mind, but you hope that with your anniversary coming soon, things can go back on track. You even bought those card games for couples, with different questions and topics, that promised you'll get more connected with your loved one.

For the last 8 months, your relationship has been changing in small ways; you're now overanalyzing. Where Wanda used to cook small romantic dinners for the two of you, now it's you trying your best attempt at cooking, with one dish always getting cold. Her touch has become distant. Kisses went from passionate to small pecks on the lips. Still, you can't help but feel an emptiness in your stomach just thinking about your current situation.

And you're now 4 days away from your second anniversary.

The intrusive thoughts again are replaying scenarios you don’t want to think about. For the past few months, every time Wanda mentions something related to Jarvis, you can’t help but feel a hole in your stomach, followed by a tingle sensation. Anxiety, your therapist called it once.

"I just can't help but feel neglected, Wanda. This is the third time you have canceled our date night because you lost track of time, just because Jarvis asked for your help."

"Are you serious right now, Y/N?" Wanda asked in a controlled tone, knowing well it wasn't.

"Yes," you say, trying really hard not to yell.

"He's my boss, we're close to the end of the month, and you well know if this upcoming revision goes well, I'm up for promotion."

"And I support you! I just don't understand why, if you're so good at your job, like I know you are, he can't review those things alone." At this point, you're more emotionally tired than physically. Work has been stressful for you as well, and there have been a lot of staff cuts at the agency.

"It doesn't seem like it. What are you gonna do if I get promoted and work demands more time from me?"

"Work or Jarvis?" The words come out of your mouth before you have time to process them.

"Are you for real?" from her tone, you know Wanda feels attacked. Any other time, you wouldn't have paid much attention to it, but it's the little defensive tone that catches your attention.

"Wanda, all I ask is that you don't forget you have a girlfriend." With no wish for more arguments, you leave her there and go to your bedroom, in hopes of hearing footsteps following. Wanda doesn't go after you.

The next day, she sent your favorite flowers and a note, saying she was sorry and you were right. She even told you she asked to leave early next Friday so she could spend it with you. You foolishly thought she remembered your anniversary.

The sound of Kate's ringtone brings you out of your mind. She has the special ability of sensing when your mood is going south, calling it her spidey-best-friend sense.

"Hot and horny line, how can I help you?" It has become a tradition for you to answer her calls with the most ridiculous business greetings.

"Hi, yes. I would require the services of… Y/L/N, stop it!! I can't do this. What would my favorite striper say if she knew I'm cheating?" Her infectious laugh is enough to improve your mood already.

"And we know you're no cheater." Noticing the hour, you realize it is past your lunch time. Since your boss is out of town, you close your laptop and grab your things, ready to head out.

"Exactly. Now, how come you haven't eaten lunch?" Has she actually been spying on you?

"How?" you can picture rolling her eyes.

"I didn't, I was just fishing, but you confirmed my suspicions. So… lunch? I'm close to your agency, had to get out of meetings."

"What about Hangry Hipster? I could use some of their fries."

"Deal. See you there in 10 or you're paying Jellybean."

And that's the thing about Kate you like the most. Your shoulders relax, and a smile plays at your lips after a conversation with her, not mater how small it is. Closing the door behind you, you speed up a little, deciding to make her pay for your lunch.

“You’re one minute late jellybean” she singsong as soon as you see her at the door.

“You’re not even paying attention. You’re staring at your phone. How do you know I arrived like 4 minutes ago?”

Kate puts her cellphone back in her jacket and opens the door for you. "I have an extremely well-trained ear."

Now you can't help but roll your eyes. Nodding your head while passing through the door, you walk straight to your favorite booth. Middle of the hall, exact distance between the bathroom and the door. You can even watch the band perform without constantly being bumped by staff or patrons. Wanda doesn't see the appeal of it, telling you, while laughing, that all tables were the same. You had to restrain Kate from going into babble mode, trying to convince her.

Once you're seated, you don't need to look up at the menu. Kate signals for the waitress.

"Oh, hi, yes, I will have the pizza trick dish with a side of Caesar salad, no dressing, a zero Coke, no ice, and for her a buffalo chicken salad, and a side of the special fries, mineral lemonade, no syrup added, and lots of ice. Thank you!"

You smile. Once Kate realized you always ordered the same things (except for dessert) she took the role of always ordering for both of you.

"You know, the waitress wanted to talk with you," You say absentmindedly.

"What can I say? I'm a charming woman."

"Ain't that true" the tension in your shoulders has dissipated, asumming it was the change of scenario. Thinking about your office at the moment gives you chills.

"So, how are the preparations for the big day coming up?" Kate asks you, and you notice how her cheerful tone from before is gone.

"Going. I mean, I scheduled the DoorDash already."

"You're not cooking?" she asks you, playing with a napkin and trying to fold it into something.

"I was going to but-"

"You don't want to get your hopes up? I get you jellybean."

Food is placed in front of you before Kate can add anything else.

"If you need anything else, just let me know," the waitress tells Kate, ignoring you completely. You see her winking before leaving. Noticing Kate doesn't see it, she's busy opening her soda can while unconsciously pushing her plate towards you.

"Rude. She's flirting with you right in front of me."

"And that's a problem because?"

Catching you off guard, you try to still get the upper hand.

"Imagine if I were your girlfriend."

"But you're not so?"

"Well, this is still a best friend's time outing, so she was rude."

"If you say so."

And there again, a simple phrase that Kate always uses when either of you doesn't have any more arguments to win the case. Shaking your head, you grab a piece of her plate before digging into your salad. The delicious smell from Kate's plate is enough of a distraction.

You manage to give her a few more details about the cards you bought, and promise you'll buy the BFF pack for your next outing. Deciding not to tell her about the promise ring you haven't bought, but were considering. Would a ring fix the problems you had with Wanda?

You're still waiting to hear from a potential client, your boss has started the day with a really long and important meeting, scribbling notes in your notebook while sipping coffee. The clouds in your brain are starting to slowly dissipate. A soft ping on your watch alerts you to a new message from Wanda. You notice the time.

A pang in your stomach. Since when have you started to dread her notifications?

Wands Love 💕 "At what time am I supposed to be home tonight, dear?"

Supposed. Her words land wrong this time. Like you're just a suggestion.

You don't reply instantly.

Another ping.

Wands Love 💕 "The team wants to go for drinks. Revisions are going well. I was thinking of going just for a little while."

Your fingers press into your temples. Across the room, Steve, your boss, gives you a sympathetic smile and signals for a coffee refill. Sighing, you open your laptop, carefully aiming the screen so no one sees what you'll do. Thanking Natasha, your office partner, for ordering the privacy screens. Yet you liked to be careful. Especially after Kate once caught you watching a very detailed +18 video.

Opening your message app, you type a response. You erase and rewrite the message before pressing send.

Love 💫 "We agreed on being home at 4. You told me you were getting out earlier."

The answer is immediate.

Wands Love 💕 "I know, I know, but this is big. Stark is going."

Wanda's manager, that means Jarvis will be there, since they're like brothers from another mother or something like that. Wanda told you once, but you weren't too eager to hear about her ex-boyfriend.

Your heart races, and the bomb you're dropping makes your pulse accelerate.

Love 💫 "Bigger than our anniversary?" ... Love 💫 "You forgot it, right?" Wands Love 💕 "Of course not, Y/N, I thought maybe we could have our time later tonight." Love 💫 "Do what you think is best, Wands."

You watch the three dots appear before disappearing. Your heart is beating fast. Your stomach churns.

Wands Love 💕 "I promise I will be home at 7pm, and then we can celebrate. All night if you want 😚😉"

You stop answering.

"Hey Y/N. We're going for lunch. Barnes is paying. You coming?" the husky voice of Natasha sounds next to you.

"I already have plans."

"Come on Nat, we know is Y/N anniversary. She wouldn't stop talking about it at the last meeting." Barnes's arms pat your back before stepping outside.

Right. Two weeks ago. When you were excited about it. Now, you want to crawl into your bed and cry. Already feeling the sting in your eyes.

"You okay?"

Leave it to your very observant coworker to notice.

"Allergies. You guys go. I promise to invite the first round next time."

Not wanting to give more explanations, you hurry towards your office. The laptop makes a soft "thud" on your desk. Grabbing your phone, you choose your second pinned message.

World's Okayest Archer 😜🤩 "If anything, I get a 2x1 coupon on that fancy coffee shop you love."

She texted you before your morning meeting. A tiny smile appears. You know Kate's not a morning person.

Tiny Human 😜 "Emergency caffeine intervention?" World's Okayest Archer 😜🤩 "You need rescue already?" World's Okayest Archer 😜🤩 "Weren't you leaving work early today? Prepping everything for your Oh So Special day? World's Okayest Archer 😜🤩 "Why am I being summoned then? I'm not helping you! ... ... Tiny Human 😜 "I need you."

Her ringtone comes a second later. Your jaw unclenches, not noticing when it clenched before.

"Hi," a small sniffle.

"What did she do?"

"Kate..."

"Fine... what's wrong then, jellybean?"

"Can you pick me up?"

"I'm on my way."

She doesn't hang up. Deep down, you know she won't. Not since that anxiety attack you had during your final weeks in your last semester at college. Something about knowing she's just listening grounds you back in the present. Wanda once joked early on in your relationship about being jealous of that.

Your fingers drum. An attempt to prevent you from biting your nails. A bad habit you stopped a year ago. The emptiness in your stomach hasn't gone since Wanda's last text. Steven knocks on your open door.

"Hey Y/L/N, before you go..." You feel his blue eyes on you. Trying to smile, you acknowledge him.

"Can I do something for you, Mr. Rogers?"

"Send me the final report once you hear from Harkness Corp. Have a good weekend Y/N."

He lingers for a few seconds before leaving. Sighing, you go back to massaging your temples. Looking at the phone, you calculate the minutes you have before Kate arrives.

Picking up your computer, you grab its case before sliding it into your bag. Your coffee cup follows. Then the folders. Then your notebook.

Opening your drawer, you see a neatly wrapped box. Is there a point in taking the cards with you? Against your better judgment, you toss them into your bag.

Twenty-five minutes later, you hear Kate's voice on your phone again.

"Uber driver for Y/N"

"On my way," this time you're the one hanging up.

Opting to use the stairs, you close the door. You see your coworkers leaving, their laughs and camaraderie are quite contagious, making you smile, waving goodbye at them. Natasha winks at you before going down the hall.

Once out of your office building, you spot Kate's car. She's leaning outside the passenger's door. Sunglasses perched on her head. Her ten-thousand-watt smile once she sees you. Your urgency to hug her gets the best of you.

"Umph" but her arms secure you firmly against her. Advantages of being three inches shorter. Something you appreciate now. You and Wanda are similar in height.

Kate patiently waits for you to end the hug. An unspoken rule between the two of you. The one who initiates the hug is the one who ends it. Kate's wearing perfume. A Gucci one she just likes, and you love. She rarely uses it. Except when she goes out.

"I wasn't interrupting something, was I?"

"Nothing I can reschedule with my mom. You're good."

The relationship between Kate and her mom has been better for the past year. Yet, any chance she gets of getting out of it, she'll gladly take it.

Before letting her go, you inhale her perfume, quietly anchoring back. You try your best smile, which she doesn’t buy but doesn’t say anything. You enter her car.

The intense smell of the air freshener, “new car” lets you know she recently changed it. What does a new car smell anyway? But it’s so plain and so like Kate, you have come to like it.

Two cold coffee cups are neatly placed on the dashboard. A lavender cookie in its paper bag, rest on top of the lid of one. Kate has always had a sweet tooth. You reach for the coffee on the left.

“Didn’t know what kind of caffeine emergency it was, so I went for your old reliable.”

Vanilla iced latte, one shot of espresso extra. You ordered the exact same thing since you were 16. The bitterness of the coffee mixed with the vanilla was something you ached for.

"Where am I driving to?" she asks you in a quieter voice.

"My apartment," the smell of the freshly ground beans gives you something to concentrate.

Kate starts driving slowly. Avoiding the short way and taking the "panoramic" route, as much of NY can give.

The drive there is not awkward. Kate hums a song whose lyrics only she knows. Once in a while, you feel her eyes on you. You feel the sting in your eyes again. You force yourself to drink.

"Coffee was hot."

"Still is"

"Uh"

But the hot liquid helps swallow the lump in your throat. Numbing your current feelings. You reach for the cookie at the same time Kate does. Your fingers brushing hers. Kate's fingers are cold; she must have come straight from her office. She keeps the A/C always on. The sun reflects directly through her office.

She takes her hand almost too quickly.

"Sorry"

You need physical reassurance. Something to anchor you in the present. You don't ask it from Kate. You have asked too much already.

She would give it anyway.

You curl your fingers. Your fingernails digging into your palms works for now.

Kate notices, she always does.

"We're here."

Directing the car towards the visitors' parking, Kate punches the code. Once parked, you don't attempt to leave.

Kate unbuckled her seatbelt, her back casually leaning against the door, carefully aiming her knee.

"Wanna tell me what happened jeallybean?"

Inhale. Exhale. You concentrate on your chest rising.

"She forgot our anniversary."

Kate opens her mouth, closes it. like she's swallowing the first honest answer. She grabs her coffee. Her fingers drum against the wheel.

"Okey, okey, okey, maybe there's a logic and honest reason?"

"She texted telling me they'll be out for drinks, saying it was big. So I told her if it was bigger than our anniversary. She said no, but that she'll be home later than what we agreed on."

"Maybe she wanted to deceive you? And she's waiting upstairs to surprise you? In that case, I should just wait here. I don't want to be there, and oh, what if she's naked waiting? That's an image I don't want or need in my head, thank you very much.

"You're rambling, Katniss."

"Rude! I'm hotter than her."

Your laughter comes involuntarily, despite the wetness you feel in your cheek. Two tears now follow the road. You gasp for air. Unbuckling your seatbelt, you leave the car.

A second-door car is closed. Kate's footsteps are behind you. She stops before reaching.

"Hey. I'm sure Wanda didn't mean to."

"Why do I feel all I do is trying to keep together something that's breaking Kate?"

"That's something you need to ask her Y/N, not me." She grabs your hand and directs you towards the elevators. Her calloused hands, a product of all those hours at the archery field, give you a sense of security.

"Come on." The elevator opens, Kate walks first and presses the button for your floor. She let go of your hand.

"I'm just saying, if you're wrong and I'm right and Wanda is waiting for you naked, you're buying me drinks for the rest of the year."

"Fair"

"And taking me to Disneyland."

"You hate Disneyland."

"I like their churros, and the price would be worth it if my eyes see something I don't want."

The ding on the elevator indicates you have arrived on your floor. The metal door slowly opens. Sighing, you step forward. Kate follows. You search in your bag for your keys. The small box now has a scrambled ribbon. It takes two attempts for you to insert the key. Your hands shake.

The apartment is empty, except for the "Happy Anniversary" sign you carefully placed in the morning. Kate goes straight to your kitchen. a pang in your heart. Contemplating taking the sign, you feel your chest tightening, and your shoulders drop.

Kate reappears with a cup of steaming tea. Placing it on the coffee table, she hovers around.

"You can sit Bishop."

Taking a seat on the couch, you follow her. The smell of the lemon tea reaches your nose. You sit on the other side of the couch.

"The DoorDash would arrive in an hour. Want to stay for late lunch?"

"I don't want to intrude."

"You're not."

Kate grabs the remote, turns on the TV, and chooses a cooking reality show. Sipping their tea quietly, letting the noise of the TV fill the silences. Not awkward, not weird. Just a comfortable silence.

"If I were to be a contestant in that show?"

"You'll be terrible, but I'll cheer for you. Number one Fan!" You place your fingers showing a #1.

"Seems appropriate"

A buzz on the intercom announces that the food has arrived. You stand to open the door. You placed an order for pizza and salad, opting to save the other order for later. Thanking the delivery guy, you go to the kitchen to place the things. Something catches your attention.

Wanda's coffee cup. Placed so casually on the counter. Your heart does this stupid somersault, your stomach shrinking. You place it in the dishwasher.

"Pizza's here." You give Kate the plates, napkins, and chilli powder; meanwhile, you place the box on the coffee table, and two diet soda cans.

"I love pizza! So much that I could name a dog after it."

"What blame does the dog have?"

Kate munches her slice rapidly, swallowing before answering.

"It's a cute name. Plus, it will show that I'm committed, since I'm naming him after something I really love. Cute puppy, cute name, happy owner."

"If you say so, Katniss."

You can feel Kate's eyes on you. Since arriving back at the apartment, any topic about Wanda has been forgotten. Yet, your tears keep coming from time to time.

"Am I wrong, Kate?"

"On what?" She sincerely asks, placing her plate on the coffee table and cleaning her hands on a napkin. She scootches closer to you. Your own plate is untouched.

"Keep trying."

"Do you want my honest opinion?"

"Yes."

Kate's face gets serious. Her eyes observe you closely; there's something in them that you can't name, and you feel like she's trying to memorize you.

"Let me ask you something first. Do you love her?"

"Of course I do!" Kate's eyes look at the floor, nodding. Like she expected the answer.

"Right. So, are you still in love with her then?"

A simple question that should have been answered easily. Yet, you keep your mouth shut. Are you? You scrunch your brows, trying to come up with something. A tear escapes again.

"Oh, Jellybean, come here."

Kate embraces you the best she can. One arm comes around your shoulders, guiding you closer. Your head settles against her chest. You feel the steady rise and fall of her breathing, grounding, warm.

You let yourself cry.

Kate murmurs small reassurances -soft, simple words, and it's so simple, and yet it's not.

Because she thinks that, despite everything, you're still in love.

You're not so sure.

Otherwise, why couldn't you answer her?.

At that moment, the keys on the door are heard.

"Detka! I'm home, we can-" Wanda's voice gets cut as soon as she enters the apartment. She sees you crying on Kate's arms.

"Am I interrupting?" Her voice lacks accusation but genuine wonder. A bouquet in her hands.

She crosses the threshold, leaving her keys on the crystal bowl, hanging her coat and bag. Placing the bouquet carefully on the closest surface.

Kate pats you on the shoulders. She gives you a napkin so you can dry your eyes. She stands up.

"No, we were just watching horrible trash TV, and you know, Reality shows can do that to you sometimes, you know?" Before standing up, she gives you a sympathetic smile. You stand up to hug her goodbye.

"I'll text you later, tiny." Her mouth gets closer to your ear, her voice dropping down. "Talk to her."

Kate grabs her things, all the while articulating with her hands.

"Later Maximoff."

"Later, Bishop. Thank you for... seeing after her." You clearly hear the hesitation in her voice.

"Yeah, well, that's what Best Friends are for," you hear her over-excitedly voice, followed by the thud from the door. The couch feels bigger.

"Detka?" Wanda goes to sit on the couch next to you.

Your legs are bent, wrapped in your arms, and your head rests on them. Your hair hides your face.

"Can you see me?" Wanda's warm hand touches your hair. Reluctantly, you move to see her.

"There you are." She cups your cheek. You lean into her touch. Her thumbs brush your face. "I didn't forget our anniversary. I just lost track of the time. I'm sorry I was late."

You want so badly to believe that she didn't forget you. That today was marked on her calendar. But her choice of words makes you feel like a second option. Like her time was more valuable than yours.

"It's okay, Wands." You hope she refutes you that it's not.

"Alright, so, I brought you your favorite flowers. Let me put them on water, and then, we can do whatever you want."

Her footsteps as she walks away toward the kitchen only serve to reinforce the question Kate asked you. You shake your head. Wanda is here after all.

When you stand up to follow her and reheat the food, you notice the flowers. Beautiful indeed. Wanda has put them in a blueish vase on the kitchen table.

"You're here now." You hug her from behind. Your arms are cradling her waist, your hands on her stomach. You feel her tense up.

She takes your hands, putting them on her hips. She turns to see you.

"I'm here now. Where I'm supposed to be." Her smile doesn't fully reach her eyes.

You ignore the hole in your gut. You place your head on her shoulder. Wanda embraces you. Tentatively. Her scent has always been a tender mixture between sweet and something woody. You expected her to smell faintly like cigarettes and have that musty bar smell. She smells like her body lotion.

"Didn't you say you were out for drinks?"

"Mm?" she asks absentmindedly. Not quite losing her embrace. "Oh yeah, Stark decided to bring the drinks to the office. Lucky me! I didn't need to make an escape from the crowds."

"Lucky you!"

You detach from her arms. Wanda doesn't protest.

"So... dinner? Or can I interest you in dessert first?" She embraces you from behind, her hand coming to rest on your stomach.

And for a moment, you can't help but remember Wanda doing that exact same thing, on your first night living together. You feel hopeful for a little bit.

"Well, drinking always made you hungry, so we can grab a bite?" you offer, opening the boxes from earlier. The smell of sushi and teriyaki rice fills the kitchen.

"Did you order sushi?" you hear a slight tremor in her voice. You turn around and notice how the color leaves her face.

"Yeah. It's your favorite. Are you okay?"

Wanda swallows, breathing slowly through her nose, exhaling through her mouth. Her shoulders tense.

"I... yeah, probably something didn't agree with my stomach." She covers her mouth.

"I can... there's still some pizza left."

"No, no, don't worry. Can you make me a tea detka?"

"Yeah. Why don't you lie down? I'll bring it over."

Wanda kisses your forehead. Breathing slowly to calm the nausea. She retreats to your bed.

"Don't take long, Moya lyubov"

You're left there in the kitchen. Alone. Wondering if you should just accept defeat?. A few days later, you and Wanda are on your way to game night, hosted by one of your college friends. Things haven't exactly been bad between the two of you. Wanda felt better the next day, which improved your weekend by salvaging your anniversary celebration. She took you out for dinner, a movie, ice cream, and a walk in the park. She held your hand the entire time, but her mind was elsewhere.

"Love"? You notice Wanda watching through the window. No attempt at moving.

"Mm? She doesn't look at you.

"We're here," you signal the road. Thanking the Uber driver, opening the door, and giving your hand to Wanda. She takes it, pausing before standing up and leaving the car.

You walk hand in hand. Your shoulders are touching. Wanda's thumb traces your hand. You press the buzzer.

"Are you the pizza guy?" You hear in a thick accent.

"Sorry to disappoint Belova."

"Oh, it's you. Are you traveling solo, or is the girlfriend still attached to your hip?"

Wanda's thumb stops moving. You feel her tense next to you. A second later, her posture changes, her shoulders relax.

You hear back noise, like something fell on the floor, and then Kate's voice.

"Ignore her. Come on up, I'll buzz you in."

Wanda takes the lead, tugging your hand to move. You follow.

Inside Kate's apartment, everything is chaos. Yelena's dog, Fanny, naps in a corner despite the music and loud voices. Your old gang is here. Yelena, the Russian exchange student who never left, and is Natasha's sister. Peter, looking like a puppy out of his environment, is helping Scott arrange the game table.

Kate appears out of nowhere right next to you. You hear her before seeing her.

"We brought snacks." Wanda gives Kate a bag filled with chips, gummies, Skittles, chocolates, pretzels, and peanuts.

"Are the sour gummy bears in there, Kate Bishop?" Yelena's voice comes from the hallway.

A moment later, she appears.

"Y/N Y/L/N, girlfriend." Yelena grabs the bag from Kate, pushing her into your personal space, moving past Wanda.

Kate's arm bumps into you.

"Sorry"

"Hi, Katniss!" You're going to hug her, but Wanda slightly restrains from letting you go.

"Hey there Jellybean. Hi Wanda. Please come on in. Drinks are over there. Suit yourselves, I'm going to help Scott before he and Peter destroy my living room." Kate leaves before you can say anything else.

"You brought too many snacks, all of Kate's favorites!" Yelena's voice cries from the kitchen.

"What? That's not fair." Scott shouts and leaves what he's doing.

"No, we didn't, Yelena's just being dramatic." You said while walking towards the kitchen. Yelena blows you a kiss, and you roll your eyes.

"Nice to see you, Punk." Peter comes to say hi.

"Punk?" Wanda giggles next to you, and your stomach does this stupid flip-flop. You turn to look at her; she's looking at Peter, but you know her mind is elsewhere.

He side-hugs Wanda. "And you, Wanda. I'm glad you could make it this time."

"Me too, Peter," Wanda says while giving him an awkward side hug. Refusing to let your hand go.

You enter the living room to find chaotic order. Yelena and Scott are finishing arranging the table. One corner has a ridiculous amount of snacks displayed, including plates and napkins; on the other corner, two board games.

Your eyes scan for room to sit. Scott and Peter are on the modular, giggling like a pair of schoolgirls. Yelena is perched on the armchair, the other one suspiciously occupied by board games, snacks, and whatnot.

Kate's in the middle of the living room, her back towards the window, her hair in a ponytail, she balances the Monopoly box, a couple of Uno sets, and her own drink. She sits on the loveseat.

You smile.

Wanda notices. You feel her thumb caressing your hand.

"Where are we supposed to sit?" You ask while walking.

"You can share the loveseat. Kate can sit in your lap like in college."

"What?! No, we never, we didn't-" Kate's eyes are so wide, opening and closing her mouth. Her leg is bouncing.

"I'm sure we can squish in there, right Detka?" Wanda sits next to Kate. The space is so small that you end up sitting on the floor. Your back rests on Wanda's leg.

You put your hand on Kate's knee. She goes still, doesn't dare to move, not even to breathe. Wanda crosses her legs.

"Nervous, Katniss? We haven't even begun playing!" Your hand is still on her knee.

"You wish, Jellybean. You're going down tonight?"

"On you... that you would wish Bishop." Yelena casually sings songs. Kate chokes on her saliva. You drop your hand. Wanda caresses your head.

"Okay, lovebirds. I'm bored, so Sequence it is. I don't want to see Peter crying from losing Monopoly again."

"I didn't cry Belova!"

"You kind of did," Scott adds, opening a bag of chips and serving himself a generous amount.

"I don't want him on my team. So Peter and Wanda are red team, Scott and I, are green team, and you two can be blue team."

"Bluey!" you and Kate shout at the same time. Laughing afterwards.

"Weirdos" Yelena proclaims, proceeding to toss you the bag with the blue chips.

"Fine, I'll play, but I don't want to be held responsible if we lose again because I don't know how to play my cards." Scott opens their own bag, giving Yelena half of it.

"Wait! Y/N and Kate can't be seated together if they're a team." he doesn't see the cushion coming towards him.

"I don't think sitting on the floor counts as together Parker."

"Here, switch with me." Scott, ever the gentleman, changes his seat.

Standing up, you see Wanda breathing in and out slowly. Her brows are furrowed, and a small thin layer of sweat forms on her forehead.

"Wands?"

Wanda's green eyes look up at you. You can see the tiredness in them; the bags under her eyes were covered earlier with makeup.

"Could I use the restroom, Kate?"

"Yeah, yeah, you know where it is."

"Do you want-"

Shaking her head, Wanda stands up. "No, you guys start the game, it'll be just a moment."

She leaves through the hall. Your eyes never left her.

It's a cozy afternoon. You and Wanda are watching an old movie. Your head is currently resting on her lap. Her hand caresses your hair. You haven't felt this quiet in a long time. Wanda's been home on time for the past week. You have wondered if things were finally going back on track.

"You're thinking too loud, Detka." You turn to look up at her, her eyes still on the screen.

"Sorry, I was just reminiscing."

"About what?" she caresses your cheek now.

"Us"

Wanda then looks at you. Her eyes are observing your face, you think, as if trying to memorize it. Her hand stops.

You feel her lips on yours. The kiss is tentative, slow. You turn your head to kiss her better.

There's a second before she deepens the kiss, her tongue asking for permission she doesn't need. You welcomed her without hesitation. Your body reacts to her.

You push yourself up, shifting over her, pressing Wanda gently back against the couch.

Wanda keeps kissing you, her hands grab your hips, preventing you from moving. A soft moan escapes your mouth.

The kiss softens, her lips lingering. Too thoughtful.

Wanda pulls back to breathe. Her forehead rests against yours. Her nose rose against yours, slowly, gently. She pulls back, her gaze dropping, refusing to meet your eyes.

"What about us?" Her thumb traces your cheek. Your hand covers hers.

"Just everything and how we're still here. Choosing us"

Her eyes find yours. Her deep and vibrant green eyes look tired. There's something on them you can't name. Her gaze drops again.

Your cellphone vibrates next to you.

World's Okayest Archer 😜🤩 "SOS, Presentation is going horribly wrong!"

"Kate's driving herself into panic mode." Telling Wanda about your cell notification, you type back.

Tiny Human 😜 "Emergency caffeine intervention?"

Wanda gets up from the couch a little too quickly. You notice how her shoulders are tense, her posture slightly crouched.

"You want some tea?"

World's Okayest Archer 😜🤩 "I've been drinking enough caffeine to keep awake the city! World's Okayest Archer 😜🤩 "Or maybe not, the city is big!" World's Okayest Archer 😜🤩 "Do you think if I call sick, my mother will believe me and not assume I left everything at the last minute?" Tiny Human 😜 "Breathe, Katniss. I'll be there in... 20 minutes or so."

"Kate needs me."

Wanda turns to look at you. A small smile appears. She gets closer to you. Pecking your lips

"Did she leave everything for the last minute?"

"Yeah. The board wants to see numbers, and I bet she's already doubting 1 + 1 equals 2 and is double-checking it."

"Okay. Go help her."

"You sure?" Wanda pecks your lips again.

"You'll end up going anyway... She's your best friend."

Chuckling, you hug her and give her a kiss on the cheek. Walking to the coat rack, you grab your jacket, the keys from the bowl, and your backpack. Knowing Kate, her laptop charger is discarded at her office.

"I'll be back. I love you."

"Me too"

You don't question why she didn't say those words back. Your brain moves on before the thought can fully form. Already opening your DoorDash app to order something.

Tuesdays are your favorite days. Always have been since you were a teen. There had never been a logical explanation. Maybe it was because most of your favorite memories had happened on Tuesdays. Meeting Wanda? Tuesday morning, two and a half years ago. Stopping Kate from falling down the slide, thus starting your friendship? An afternoon on Tuesday, playing in the park when you were six. Your promotion to Acquisition Manager? A rainy Tuesday four years ago. The birth of your first niece? An early Tuesday morning a year ago. Home-office privileges? Every Tuesday since you renegotiated your contract a week ago.

So yes, Tuesdays were your favorite days.

That Tuesday in particular started differently. Wanda had woken you up with kisses along your back an hour before the alarm went off. She worshiped your body like she hadn't done in months, controlling every kiss, every touch, every move, leaving a small hickey on your chest.

You didn't complain; it wasn't at all unusual for the two of you to switch roles. When the alarm finally beeped, you were tangled in Wanda's embrace.

Wanda climbed out of bed first. You watched her figure retreat to the ensuite bathroom. A happy sigh leaves your mouth.

Since you were working from home today, you opted to make breakfast for both of you. Grabbing your robe, you hear the shower start.

Walking into the kitchen, you start the coffee machine. Eggs, bacon, and fruit were the menu options for today. Last week, Wanda had gotten sick at the mere smell of sausages, claiming it was probably from the stomach bug she had gotten a few days ago.

The coffee is the first one to be done. Grabbing your "I'm a Tuesday lover" (a gift from Kate. That cup has survived a lot), you add sweetener and milk. Black coffee first thing in the morning wasn't an option anymore.

Last Sunday you had cut the fruit for the week. Grabbing two bowls, you mix the melon and papaya, then add half a cup of yogurt, a little granola, and a drizzle of honey. Perfect!.

Well-done fried eggs come later. Placing them on the plates. The bacon goes on a separate small plate.

Wanda comes down a few minutes later. Dressed to the nines in a red pantsuit, texting on her phone. You can see small bags under her eyes.

"Smells delicious, Detka," She puts her phone down to kiss your cheek. "Big day today?" Her attention drifts back to her phone.

"Just a meeting after lunch. Steve asked us to propose a Working plan for the merge next year."

"Fun!" Wanda seems distracted, picking up her phone again and texting immediately.

Her brows furrow, she texts again.

"I guess. Would you be home early for dinner?" You grab your plate and place it on the sink.

"Yes," she says absent-mindedly, her eyes again check her phone.

You notice the bacon untouched as Wanda gets up. She places her cup in the sink before hugging you from behind.

"You always take care of us." Wanda kisses your lips briefly, like she’s restraining herself

"I'll text you later. Behave!" The door closes before you can answer.

Opting to optimize your day rather than get lost in your thoughts, you go back upstairs and get ready to start your working shift.

A couple of emails, coffees, and hours later, you're massaging your temples. Some corporate dumbass has signed the wrong formats, and now it's up to you to fix it.

World's Okayest Archer 😜🤩 "I'm bored." Tiny Human 😜 "And I'm working." World's Okayest Archer 😜🤩 "Rude!" Tiny Human 😜😉 "Stupid corporate guys thinking I can fix their stupid mistakes." World's Okayest Archer 😜🤩 "You can! 🤩" Tiny Human 😜 "Of course I can 😉 But they're a pain." World's Okayest Archer 😜🤩 "Lunch?" World's Okayest Archer 😜🤩 "Oh wait... you're home today!"

A different ping on your cellphone indicates Wanda's message.

Wands Love 💕 "How did the meeting go?"

You frown, leaving Kate's message unanswered.

Love 💫 "It's at 4 pm. Work just has been hectic today."

No reply.

You tell yourself she's busy.

Kate's text actually reminds you that you haven't had lunch yet. Saving your progress on any open document, you close your laptop. A salad with pasta and some chicken is written on the menu, stuck to the fridge, held in place by two magnets shaped like purple arrows and red crowns.

Time to decompress. Mergers are always messy and complicated, especially with all the paperwork and legal things. And Harkness Corp has been the most complicated so far.

Having had too much coffee already, you opt for a post-lunch tea. Caffeine free.

You sip it quietly, admiring the small kids playing outside. Their laughter passes through the small crack of the open window. You think about getting a dog again. Something Wanda has declined for some time.

A woman nearby crouches to dodge an excited puppy trying to climb her boots. She murmurs something too softly for you to hear. Scratching beneath its chin.

The puppy immediately rolls over for belly rubs. “See? Terrible survival instincts.” The woman laughs, and it sounds almost delighted by this.

The metallic jingle of a bell approaching distracts you. Looking at the time, you notice the garbage truck should come in 15-20 minutes, you leave your cup on the table. The trash still needs to be taken out.

That gives you plenty of time to take out the bags, brush your teeth, and get comfortable for your 4pm meeting. Steve always asks to be 5 minutes earlier so check everything works properly.

You take the kitchen and the guest's bathroom bags first. Reaching down under the sink, you grab the trash bags to replace the ones in your room and the office upstairs.

When you get to your ensuite bathroom, you see Wanda's hairbrush on her side of the sink. Grabbing the hairs on it, you open the trash can to throw them. You reach for the bag. In a quick movement, you take out the bag, but the trash tips over.

You bend down to put it in place. Seeing a bunch of paper behind it. Your hand reaches for it.

A pregnancy stick falls out of the bunch.

Tick-Thud.

You stare at it. Your stomach does this weird flip-flop.

The bag is forgotten. Reaching down to check that what you're seeing is real.

The cold and rough plastic feels very hard to the touch.

Two unmistakably red lines stare back at you.

You don't notice your hands shaking until the test falls again. Your heartbeat speeds up. The house feels so quiet.

Outside, the laughter of kids playing reaches you. You pick up the stick, putting in your pocket, grab the bag, and go downstairs. You gather the trash bags, head downstairs, and leave them beside the bin outside. If you forgot to bring the recycling one, no one would know.

You hear your cellphone ping. A message from Natasha, asking if you're okay, you're not online, and it's almost four.

You reach your computer and sign into the conference call. Steve welcomes you.

"Sorry, I was just... taking the trash out." Clearing your throat.

While Steve gives the order of the day for the meeting, your eyes find your phone.

Kate's contact. Your thumb hovers over the call button.

"Y/N can you hear us?" Steve's voice comes from the speaker.

"Uh yeah, sorry, boss. Long day"

"I bet I heard from the legal department that some contracts need to be re-signed."

"Yeah, I've been dealing with it all morning."

The rest of the meeting gets blurry. At some point, you felt a sting in your eyes.

DING

A message through the conference app. Natasha's

N.Romanoff - you seem a little bit off. Might want to turn your camera off.

Y/N. Y/L/N - Thanks.

A second later, you turn your camera off. Nobody comments. Your team is one of those teams that turn the camera when they need to stand up for something, and Steve is quite understanding.

Tiny Human 😜 "Are you busy?" World's Okayest Archer 😜🤩 "About to enter a meeting, but I can arrive 5 minutes late. What's up, Jellybean?" Tiny Human 😜 "It can wait." Tiny Human 😜 "Go to your meeting. Don't break your punctuality record." World's Okayest Archer 😜🤩 "Ha.Ha. You're so funny!"

The clock ticks painfully slow.

The hollow feeling in your stomach has nothing to do with hunger. Your heartbeat still hasn’t slowed down. Behind your eyes, a familiar throb warns you a migraine is coming.

"If nobody has anything else to add, then our meeting is done. Bucky will send the meeting notes." Steve says.

His image remains on screen while everyone disconnects.

He’s waiting for you.

You leave the call before becoming the last person there.

A text to Steve follows seconds later. You ask to postpone tomorrow’s meeting with him and Natasha.

His reply comes almost immediately.

“Yes.”

Turning off your computer for the day, you sit there. A point on the wall gets your attention. The painting has started to peel. Maybe it's time to change colors.

A clock downstairs signals it's 5 o'clock on the dot. Wanda would be home soon.

Wanda.

The mere thought of her makes your stomach clench. The stick in your pocket burns your leg. Maybe you should start dinner.

Taking out the prepared pasta, you take a look at the menu on the fridge. A shaking hand fixes the crown magnet. Chicken fajitas with peppers, onions, and avocado reads on it.

Silly you, today's not pasta for dinner.

The jingle of keys on the door grabs your attention. Turning towards the door, the bowl in your hand knocks against the cup left there. You watch your "I love Tuesdays" cup fall.

Your eyes scan the different pieces around the floor.

"Honey! I'm home!" Wanda's voice sings. You hear her changing her shoes, leaving her things, and keys.

Her footsteps get closer to the kitchen.

For some reason, your eyes are glued to the mess on the floor.

"Y/N?" You flinch at her touch on your shoulder.

Wanda's eyes scan your face and then the floor. Noticing the cup pieces.

"Was that your favorite cup?" you just nod. "Oh, honey, I bet we can get another one."

"It was a gift from Kate."

Wanda goes in search of the broom and dustpan. When she returns and starts sweeping, a tear rolls down your cheek.

You wipe it away before she notices.

"Well, then I know she'll gladly buy you another," she says and tosses the remains of the cup that had survived all your college years, and more.

You shake yourself out of your reverie, in time to see Wanda waiting for you. Her eyes are looking at your face. Your favorite shade of forest green, except right now, the forest feels cold.

"How was your day?" You pass her on your way to get the cutlery and plates.

"Long. I'm so tired I just want to lie down."

And that's the thing. Wanda's been tired for the past few weeks.

The stick pulses in your pocket. You feel its weight.

And then you remember, the sickness, the nausea, the lack of desire just to have her hands over you last night.

"I took the trash out today," you say, your voice calm, neutral. Hoping it doesn't quiver.

You feel Wanda pause midway to the table before you see it. She resumes her steps, redirecting herself towards you. You take one step back.

You look at her.

"Would you have planned on telling me?"

"Y/N," you can see the realization in her eyes. The green you have come to love now looks at you in all the wrong ways.

Lands in all the wrong ways.

Wanda tries to get close to you, but you keep stepping back, just out of her reach. Your heart beats so fast and so hard you're sure she can hear it.

"I noticed all the signs. I refused to believe them. I thought-" you breathe, pacing to the other side of the room. "I thought that it was just work, you were stressed with the promotion thing. I kept making excuses for why you were disappearing from me.”

Wanda is frozen in place, and you notice her fingers playing with her rings. A habit she does when she's nervous. Back when you met her, more rings adorned her hand than the few ones she kept now.

Her other hand unconsciously grabs her stomach. So mundane you feel nauseous.

"Detka-"

"Don't! Not right now"

"I can explain?" She says, her voice slightly trembling.

"Explain what? What's there to explain, Wanda?. I begged you to take time for us. I missed us even when we were in the same room. How's that fair?"

"It's not. I missed us, too." Her voice is quiet now.

You look at her, really look at her. Her red hair falling down framing her face, the small bags under her eyes, and her posture slightly crouched from the tension in her shoulders.

Your brain replays all her touches, her kisses, her laughter late at night, while you were both naked and tangled on sheets. You see all those trips, dates, and coffees.

The walls seem to start moving towards you. A cold drop of sweat runs down your neck. You feel your breathing thicken, your lungs doing what they can to grab air.

"I can't do this right now."

Your steps are quick to leave, making an exit toward the door, grabbing your wallet, keys, and cellphone. Wanda's voice panicking, calling after you.

"Y/N!"

"I need to breathe!"

"Please don't leave me!" She can't keep the tears at bay now.

"It's not.. I’ll just... I'll be back."

You don't let her follow you. Running outside and just slowing down once you know you're two blocks away. Your lungs feel on fire. Ironically, you’re used to running farther than this.

Your feet feel heavy. Thousands of ants crawl down your leg.

Tiny Human 😜 "Are you home?" Tiny Human 😜 "Can I go there?"

Kate's incoming call song plays on your cellphone. You send it to voicemail. World's Okayest Archer 😜 "Jellybean, where are you?" Tiny Human 😜 "I need to clear my head. I'll walk to your house." World's Okayest Archer 😜🤩 "I can pick you up." Tiny Human 😜 "Wanda's pregnant." Tiny Human 😜 shared her live location.

The second time Kate calls, you press the answer button. Her voice hesitates over what to say first.

"Jellybean?"

You phone keeps vibrating with messages from Wanda. You don't bother to read them.

"Hey Kate," there's a convenience store near the corner. Your mouth is dry and you taste something like copper. The doorbell chimes.

"I'm picking you up. Stay right there."

"Don't worry Katniss, I'm... I just need to think" Looking into the aisles you spot the one you want. Just water it's what you're looking for. A black haired woman is looking at the bottles. "That’s a lot of plastic for something that falls freely from the sky don't you think?” there's an eerie tone on her amused voice.

When you turn toward her, you only catch her retreating figure.

“Just meet me halfway, okay?” There's an urgency in her voice you notice only because you know her.

You hear a jingle of keys, probably Kate grabbing things.

"Kate?" your quiet and almost eerie calm voice contrast to the noise the store carries. A happy tune you don't remember hearing but know the lyrics to.

"I'm listening" the ding of the bell indicates your exit towards the street. A bottle in your hand that you don't remember paying. The streets are noisy, like the whole world decided to turn the volume up.

"Why does it hurt so much?" a quiet sob. You breathe, trying to regain the control.

"I don't know baby but listen to me. I'm 15 minutes away from you ok? There's a park close to you, a few blocks away. Wait for me there." Neither of you notice the slip of the nickname.

"Okay. I need to hang up." Not waiting for an answer you press the red button, automatically ending the call.

Your location still on.

Your mind is racing replaying your last conversation with Wanda. Weren't you enough? She said she was yours... You thought she was yours. Your mind scans for signs. Have they always been there?

Wanda's touch feels foreign now. Her kisses and hesitation suddenly made sense in a way your brain could finally understand. Your cellphone vibrates again on your pocket. For a moment you consider peeking at it. Your hand reaches for it. It grabs the stick.

Two red lines stare mockingly at you.

Everything slows down.

The city suddenly feels quiet.

Breathing suddenly feels difficult.

The sky starts getting darker. How didn’t you notice a storm was coming?

"People always act surprised when storms arrive like the clouds didn’t warn them first.” A voice that seems familiar. You can't place from where.

Your eyes feel heavy. Like you could fall asleep right there.

Had you fallen? You feel the hardness of the pavement on your back. Something drips onto your forehead. Rain? How come it's red?.

The city comes alive suddenly.

The honk of a car.

The screeching of tires.

Loud voices. There's an urgency in them.

Red and blue lights color the dark clouds.

The last thing you hear is a quiet voice.

"Te veo"

You try to turn your head towards it.

You close your eyes.

Kate's hollow voice calling out your name.

[neptnest]

Last on the List

Wanda x Female R

Words: 1,873

Summery: Wanda Maximoff calls on a Tuesday night—no question mark, like she already knows you'll answer. You do. You always do. You are steady. Manageable. Easy.

Note: Well, my emotions are basically dead, so I'm just gonna post this. Please say something nice in the comments to cheer me up 😞

masterlist / ao3

Invariably, the person you find yourself drawn to ends up choosing someone else. You get filed away—a good friend, a shoulder to lean on, just someone who's always around.

Without even noticing, your go-to lines become: What are you waiting for? You'll never know if you don't try. And then, worse: Want to practice? Just pretend I'm them.

The one person who was ever meant for you never shows up. That's what you believe. And every time that thought hits, it pulls you under.

Your contact list has eleven names.

Four are family. Two are coworkers you've never spoken to outside of work emails. One is your dentist. Three others—you have to think before you can place them. Fewer people, fewer complications. Complications have always felt like something that happens to other people—the loud ones, the ones who cry in public, the ones who call their friends at midnight. You are steady. Manageable. Easy.

And then there's Wanda Maximoff.

She comes to the same monthly knitting circle—late, always, dressed like she imagined the evening differently than it turned out. Auburn hair, always slightly undone, catching the light when she moves. She argues passionately about projects she hasn't finished yet. She laughs at her own jokes before she finishes telling them. People turn toward her the way plants turn toward light. Warmth just comes off her naturally.

Between the two of you, maybe forty sentences total. You've counted.

Wanting and doing have always felt like two separate countries, and you've never learned to cross the border.

In October, Wanda's partner of two years leaves her.

She texts you on a Tuesday night—hey are you up—no question mark, like she already knows the answer.

You are always up. She calls and talks for an hour without stopping: the whole story, every detail, the last conversation replayed almost word for word. She is the kind of person who needs to say a thing out loud before she can believe it happened. When she finally goes quiet, she says, "I don't know why I called you. I just knew you'd pick up."

"I'm glad you did," you say.

Both things are true. The second one is easier to say.

She heals out loud.

By November she is rage-texting you at ten at night. December, she's dragging you to a terrible holiday movie and crying at the happy ending anyway, laughing at herself between tears. By January she's making plans again—small ones, tentative, like testing weight on a healing bone.

Come February, the worst of it has passed. Coffee on Saturdays, then dinner, then walks with no destination—her talking the whole time, you listening and watching the way streetlights catch in her hair when she turns to make a point. A few weeks of this, and it starts to feel like a rhythm.

One evening she stops in the middle of a bridge, leans on the railing, and looks down at the water. The light off the river catches in her hair, turns it almost copper.

"I want to try again," she says. "With someone. But I feel like I forgot how."

You wait.

"Can we practice?" She turns to look at you, eyes completely serious. "Like—dates. Getting close to someone. You're the safest person I know."

The word safest settles in your chest like something heavy and warm at the same time.

"Sure," you say.

So you practice.

Wanda throws herself into it the way she throws herself into everything—completely. She shows up at your door with flowers once—reservations already made, already laughing before you open it, mid-explanation of the joke. Good morning texts go from twice a week to every day, like something she's decided to do for the rest of her life. At a late-night diner she sits across from you for three hours and talks about her childhood, her fears, the specific way grief lives in the body. She wants to know yours too.

This is the part where you should match her.

When she asks what you're thinking, you say nothing much. When she asks if you're okay, you say always. One door stays closed, and she—busy with the warmth of her own opening up—learns, after a while, to stop checking it.

She gives you everything. You give her what you can reach.

In April, she's half-watching a show from her end of the couch, legs folded under her, half-watching you.

"You know what's weird about you?"

You raise an eyebrow.

"You're always okay." She tilts her head. "Like—I pour everything out and you just hold it. You never spill."

"Spilling seems like a lot of work," you say.

"I'm serious." A beat. "You never need anything from me."

"You've got enough going on."

She looks at you a moment longer than usual. Then she smiles—soft, a little unreadable—and turns back to the TV.

Walking home that night, you think about what she said. You file it under nothing important.

You keep going.

May is warm and unhurried.

The Saturdays stretch longer. One afternoon she falls asleep on your shoulder mid-movie, and you sit very still, watching the credits roll, not wanting to be the reason it ends. Another evening she reaches over and tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, just because it was there. The moment passes without a word.

Then one night she kisses you.

Slowly, the way you do something you've been thinking about for a while. You don't pull back. When it ends, she rests her forehead against yours, and you stay like that, close enough to feel her breathe. Her nose brushes yours. Neither of you says anything.

She starts coming to your apartment after that. You have never shown this place to anyone, and she has nothing to measure it against—no sense of how rarely this door opens at all. She just takes off her shoes at the entrance and makes herself at home, easy and certain, and you let her, and it feels like something you could get used to.

You file that under nothing important too.

That's what you tell yourself.

By June, a name starts appearing in her texts.

Vision said the funniest thing today. Then: went to that ramen place with Vision, have you tried it? Then just: Vision.

He texted her first, she mentioned once, like it was nothing. Like that's just what people do.

She talks about Vision the way she talks about everything she loves—in full, vivid sentences, like she's already narrating a film she's fallen for. You listen, say the right things, keep showing up—Saturdays, dinners, the long walks.

Presence feels like enough. Eventually, you think, she'll see what's already there.

She sees something. Just not that.

One evening, somewhere between the second drink and the walk home, it comes out before you can stop it.

"You've been talking about Vision a lot lately."

She looks at you. Something shifts in her expression—not quite a frown, just attention, suddenly focused.

"Yeah?" A pause. "Does that bother you?"

The honest answer is right there. You step around it.

"Is this practice?" The words land before you can pull them back. "All of it—the dates, the kiss, the sex. Is that what we agreed on?"

The word sits there between you for a moment.

"Right," she says. Quiet. "Practice."

She doesn't bring it up again. Neither do you.

But something has been named. She knows where the door is now.

July is bright and relentless, the kind of weather that has no interest in how you feel.

Wanda still texts. Still shows up. But something in the rhythm has shifted—a half-beat off, like a song you know well, played slightly too fast. You can't point to anything specific. When you try, it slips.

You tell yourself it's nothing.

It doesn't quite take.

August arrives the way it always does—sudden and total, the heat sitting on everything like a held breath. You have the fan running and the curtains half-drawn when she shows up, a reusable bag over one shoulder, already mid-sentence about something that happened on the train.

She picks the movie. She always picks the movie. You order in, eat on the floor because the table is covered in books you keep meaning to shelve, and somewhere in the second act she pulls her knees to her chest and goes quiet in a way that has nothing to do with the film.

"I need to tell you something."

The screen keeps going. Someone on it is laughing.

She and Vision. A few weeks now. She'd wanted to find the right moment. Her voice is careful, the way you handle something you know might break.

"You brought me back," she says. "I couldn't have gotten here without you." A beat. "You know that, right? You're everything to me."

"I'm really glad," you say.

One second. Your throat tightens.

Then it passes. Steady. Easy. The voice of someone who is always okay.

She hugs you at the door, long and tight, her chin hooked over your shoulder. Then she's gone, and the sound of the latch is very small in the quiet.

The movie is still playing.

You go back to the floor. Settle into the space she left. The takeout containers are still there, her half-finished drink beside yours. Outside, the heat presses against the windows like it has nowhere else to be. The fan turns. The people on the screen keep laughing at something you've already forgotten.

You don't turn it off.

Days after, you open your contacts.

Eleven names.

You scroll through slowly. How many of them know what you look like when something actually hurts? How many would call you at midnight?

The number is smaller than eleven.

And then—slowly, the way light comes up in a room—you start to see it.

Wanda came to you because you felt safe. You held your hands open and asked for nothing back. She poured herself into that space and you held all of it, and it was true—the flowers, the diner, the good morning texts—every bit of it. She just told the story the way she needed it to go.

And you let her. Every I'm fine, every need you swallowed before it could reach the surface—that was you, making room. Shaping yourself into something easy to leave.

She told you that you were everything to her, and she meant it.

She just meant it the way you mean it when you thank someone for holding the door.

You find her name and press delete. It takes about two seconds.

Ten names. A rounder number anyway.

You close the contacts screen.

Outside, summer hasn't loosened its grip. Somewhere out there, Wanda Maximoff is happy. You hold onto that, because it's real and it matters and you want it to be enough.

The rest is real too.

No matter where you stand, no matter who turns toward you with that much warmth—when it comes time to choose, you are the last name that surfaces. The steady one. The safe one who holds the door.

The one who lets go.

You.

✼••┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈••✼

masterlist

[neptnest]

Last on the List

Wanda x Female R

Words: 1,873

Summery: Wanda Maximoff calls on a Tuesday night—no question mark, like she already knows you'll answer. You do. You always do. You are steady. Manageable. Easy.

Note: Well, my emotions are basically dead, so I'm just gonna post this. Please say something nice in the comments to cheer me up 😞

masterlist / ao3

Invariably, the person you find yourself drawn to ends up choosing someone else. You get filed away—a good friend, a shoulder to lean on, just someone who's always around.

Without even noticing, your go-to lines become: What are you waiting for? You'll never know if you don't try. And then, worse: Want to practice? Just pretend I'm them.

The one person who was ever meant for you never shows up. That's what you believe. And every time that thought hits, it pulls you under.

Your contact list has eleven names.

Four are family. Two are coworkers you've never spoken to outside of work emails. One is your dentist. Three others—you have to think before you can place them. Fewer people, fewer complications. Complications have always felt like something that happens to other people—the loud ones, the ones who cry in public, the ones who call their friends at midnight. You are steady. Manageable. Easy.

And then there's Wanda Maximoff.

She comes to the same monthly knitting circle—late, always, dressed like she imagined the evening differently than it turned out. Auburn hair, always slightly undone, catching the light when she moves. She argues passionately about projects she hasn't finished yet. She laughs at her own jokes before she finishes telling them. People turn toward her the way plants turn toward light. Warmth just comes off her naturally.

Between the two of you, maybe forty sentences total. You've counted.

Wanting and doing have always felt like two separate countries, and you've never learned to cross the border.

In October, Wanda's partner of two years leaves her.

She texts you on a Tuesday night—hey are you up—no question mark, like she already knows the answer.

You are always up. She calls and talks for an hour without stopping: the whole story, every detail, the last conversation replayed almost word for word. She is the kind of person who needs to say a thing out loud before she can believe it happened. When she finally goes quiet, she says, "I don't know why I called you. I just knew you'd pick up."

"I'm glad you did," you say.

Both things are true. The second one is easier to say.

She heals out loud.

By November she is rage-texting you at ten at night. December, she's dragging you to a terrible holiday movie and crying at the happy ending anyway, laughing at herself between tears. By January she's making plans again—small ones, tentative, like testing weight on a healing bone.

Come February, the worst of it has passed. Coffee on Saturdays, then dinner, then walks with no destination—her talking the whole time, you listening and watching the way streetlights catch in her hair when she turns to make a point. A few weeks of this, and it starts to feel like a rhythm.

One evening she stops in the middle of a bridge, leans on the railing, and looks down at the water. The light off the river catches in her hair, turns it almost copper.

"I want to try again," she says. "With someone. But I feel like I forgot how."

You wait.

"Can we practice?" She turns to look at you, eyes completely serious. "Like—dates. Getting close to someone. You're the safest person I know."

The word safest settles in your chest like something heavy and warm at the same time.

"Sure," you say.

So you practice.

Wanda throws herself into it the way she throws herself into everything—completely. She shows up at your door with flowers once—reservations already made, already laughing before you open it, mid-explanation of the joke. Good morning texts go from twice a week to every day, like something she's decided to do for the rest of her life. At a late-night diner she sits across from you for three hours and talks about her childhood, her fears, the specific way grief lives in the body. She wants to know yours too.

This is the part where you should match her.

When she asks what you're thinking, you say nothing much. When she asks if you're okay, you say always. One door stays closed, and she—busy with the warmth of her own opening up—learns, after a while, to stop checking it.

She gives you everything. You give her what you can reach.

In April, she's half-watching a show from her end of the couch, legs folded under her, half-watching you.

"You know what's weird about you?"

You raise an eyebrow.

"You're always okay." She tilts her head. "Like—I pour everything out and you just hold it. You never spill."

"Spilling seems like a lot of work," you say.

"I'm serious." A beat. "You never need anything from me."

"You've got enough going on."

She looks at you a moment longer than usual. Then she smiles—soft, a little unreadable—and turns back to the TV.

Walking home that night, you think about what she said. You file it under nothing important.

You keep going.

May is warm and unhurried.

The Saturdays stretch longer. One afternoon she falls asleep on your shoulder mid-movie, and you sit very still, watching the credits roll, not wanting to be the reason it ends. Another evening she reaches over and tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, just because it was there. The moment passes without a word.

Then one night she kisses you.

Slowly, the way you do something you've been thinking about for a while. You don't pull back. When it ends, she rests her forehead against yours, and you stay like that, close enough to feel her breathe. Her nose brushes yours. Neither of you says anything.

She starts coming to your apartment after that. You have never shown this place to anyone, and she has nothing to measure it against—no sense of how rarely this door opens at all. She just takes off her shoes at the entrance and makes herself at home, easy and certain, and you let her, and it feels like something you could get used to.

You file that under nothing important too.

That's what you tell yourself.

By June, a name starts appearing in her texts.

Vision said the funniest thing today. Then: went to that ramen place with Vision, have you tried it? Then just: Vision.

He texted her first, she mentioned once, like it was nothing. Like that's just what people do.

She talks about Vision the way she talks about everything she loves—in full, vivid sentences, like she's already narrating a film she's fallen for. You listen, say the right things, keep showing up—Saturdays, dinners, the long walks.

Presence feels like enough. Eventually, you think, she'll see what's already there.

She sees something. Just not that.

One evening, somewhere between the second drink and the walk home, it comes out before you can stop it.

"You've been talking about Vision a lot lately."

She looks at you. Something shifts in her expression—not quite a frown, just attention, suddenly focused.

"Yeah?" A pause. "Does that bother you?"

The honest answer is right there. You step around it.

"Is this practice?" The words land before you can pull them back. "All of it—the dates, the kiss, the sex. Is that what we agreed on?"

The word sits there between you for a moment.

"Right," she says. Quiet. "Practice."

She doesn't bring it up again. Neither do you.

But something has been named. She knows where the door is now.

July is bright and relentless, the kind of weather that has no interest in how you feel.

Wanda still texts. Still shows up. But something in the rhythm has shifted—a half-beat off, like a song you know well, played slightly too fast. You can't point to anything specific. When you try, it slips.

You tell yourself it's nothing.

It doesn't quite take.

August arrives the way it always does—sudden and total, the heat sitting on everything like a held breath. You have the fan running and the curtains half-drawn when she shows up, a reusable bag over one shoulder, already mid-sentence about something that happened on the train.

She picks the movie. She always picks the movie. You order in, eat on the floor because the table is covered in books you keep meaning to shelve, and somewhere in the second act she pulls her knees to her chest and goes quiet in a way that has nothing to do with the film.

"I need to tell you something."

The screen keeps going. Someone on it is laughing.

She and Vision. A few weeks now. She'd wanted to find the right moment. Her voice is careful, the way you handle something you know might break.

"You brought me back," she says. "I couldn't have gotten here without you." A beat. "You know that, right? You're everything to me."

"I'm really glad," you say.

One second. Your throat tightens.

Then it passes. Steady. Easy. The voice of someone who is always okay.

She hugs you at the door, long and tight, her chin hooked over your shoulder. Then she's gone, and the sound of the latch is very small in the quiet.

The movie is still playing.

You go back to the floor. Settle into the space she left. The takeout containers are still there, her half-finished drink beside yours. Outside, the heat presses against the windows like it has nowhere else to be. The fan turns. The people on the screen keep laughing at something you've already forgotten.

You don't turn it off.

Days after, you open your contacts.

Eleven names.

You scroll through slowly. How many of them know what you look like when something actually hurts? How many would call you at midnight?

The number is smaller than eleven.

And then—slowly, the way light comes up in a room—you start to see it.

Wanda came to you because you felt safe. You held your hands open and asked for nothing back. She poured herself into that space and you held all of it, and it was true—the flowers, the diner, the good morning texts—every bit of it. She just told the story the way she needed it to go.

And you let her. Every I'm fine, every need you swallowed before it could reach the surface—that was you, making room. Shaping yourself into something easy to leave.

She told you that you were everything to her, and she meant it.

She just meant it the way you mean it when you thank someone for holding the door.

You find her name and press delete. It takes about two seconds.

Ten names. A rounder number anyway.

You close the contacts screen.

Outside, summer hasn't loosened its grip. Somewhere out there, Wanda Maximoff is happy. You hold onto that, because it's real and it matters and you want it to be enough.

The rest is real too.

No matter where you stand, no matter who turns toward you with that much warmth—when it comes time to choose, you are the last name that surfaces. The steady one. The safe one who holds the door.

The one who lets go.

You.

✼••┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈••✼

masterlist

[lowkeyerror]

Reunited

Agatha Harkness x Reader

Word count: 1.4k

Notes: Angry mob, mega fluff, soft!Agatha (potentially ooc)

Summary: Though you have lost your powers, you still find yourself subject to the hardships of being a witch, as an angry mob chases you out of town. As you run, you remember that Agatha lives in the area, hopefully she's home.

An: Very soft, kind of short, self indulgent fluff. As always likes, reblogs, replies, and asks always are always welcomed 🫶 (not proofread)

Masterlist

You could feel your heart beating in sync with your feet touching the ground. Your breaths were being forced out of your mouth, as the cold night air glided across your skin. Your arms, pumping faster than they ever had before as you ran.

The sound of the mob behind you never dulled, no matter how fast you thought you were going.

You knew better than to turn around and check, it would only make you split your focus. The destination you had in mind was quickly approaching, but part of you was hesitant.

There was a chance the witch no longer resided in that area. It had been years since you had seen her, but she was your only hope. The ruins she had in place would keep the angry mob from getting to you.

You were a witch without power and the townsfolk knew that. You were no threat to them like this, they were just naturally violent creatures.

There had been an incident at the market, where they thought they saw you doing magic. You denied, but the bigger the crowd got, the worse your nerves got. You took off and they followed behind you; torches and pitchforks in hand.

You smack into something while running. At first you believe it to be a tree, but you see nothing ahead. It looks like more forest, but you are physically unable to go through the barrier.

She was still here.

“Agatha, Agatha, please it’s me, Y/n. I don’t have my magic, this mob is chasing me, please,” you whisper, against the field.

You hear their footsteps getting close and you go into full panic, abandoning your quiet tactic.

“AGATHA PLEASE!” You begin banging the invisible force, the sound echoes through the woods.

At your cry, you can hear them pick up speed and charge towards your direction.

“WITCH!”

You turn around your back leans against the field as your chest heaves in distress. You’re helpless as the crowd begins to pour into your space. Fear has never felt so strong in your body.

They begin to corner you, pitchforks and torches point at you from all angles. Before any physical harm can be done, you feel yourself being yanked backwards into the protected area.

The adrenaline wears off when you feel a strong arm wrapped around your torso. Your legs give out, but the person continues to hold you up.

“You ok, doll?”

Her voice feels like a sanctuary in the moment. The simple question overwhelms you quickly and you begin to break down. Tears stream down your face and you begin to sob.

Agatha turns you around to face her. She uses her free hand to smooth some of the hair on top of your head.

“You’re safe now.”

You lean against her clutching her shirt. She lets you for a little, before making the executive decision to carry you inside.

She goes to lay you on the couch, but you refuse to let go of her.

“Let me take care of the mob, and I’ll be right back, ok? It won’t take long.”

She looks at you for approval. Maybe if this was years ago, you would’ve told her no or tried to stop her, but you didn’t have it in you anymore. Your large eyes were bloodshot from the crying and your legs were sore from the running.

You comply as she sits you on the couch this time, “Ok.”

Agatha was surprised at your lack of argument. She didn't dwell on it long before heading out of the home.

It was true, whatever she did was quick, no longer than 5 minutes. You had curled far into yourself by the time she came back. Your feet dug into her couch as your knees were pulled to your chest, with your arms locked around you.

“Y/n,” your name was soft on her lips.

You look at her, tears still in your eyes, “I’m sorry, I didn't know where else to go. If you got rid of them, I can leave.”

Agatha sits next to you, “Go where hun? Back to the village, to the cold of the forest? You can stay with me for a long as you want.”

“I can’t, I don't have anything to offer you,” you try to curl further into yourself, which seems nearly impossible.

Agatha grabs your hand, “I'm not asking for anything in return.”

“B-But-"

“Doll, I want you to stay,” Agatha lets out a sigh.

You meet her blue eyes, “Why?”

“I missed your company,” she speaks truthfully.

You blush at her honesty, diverting your gaze, “I missed you too.”

You subconsciously scoot a little closer to the woman. She takes the initiative, pulling you fully into her. The movement startles you at first, but her warm embrace calms you.

Your legs are on either side of hers, while your head rests in the crook of her neck.

“What happened to your magic?”

You deflate at the question, wishing that you could hide from it. Agatha uses her free hand to gently cup your face, coaxing it out of her neck. Her thumb moves gingerly across your cheek a few times.

You focus on that feeling when you speak, “Sometime after our last encounter, I went looking for a coven. Thought I’d have a better chance of surviving in a group. I found one, thought they were kind enough, I thought so at least. One day we camped out somewhere, when I woke up, they were gone and so was my magic. I’m lucky I'm not dead.”

“I’ll find them, take care of them for you doll.” Agatha’s words were calm, but you could see the fire behind her eyes.

You place your hand over hers, “It doesn’t matter anymore Ags.”

“We should've never parted ways,” Agatha’s eyes pierce through yours.

You cast your gaze down, “I was only ever slowing you down.”

She shakes her head, “Sometimes I needed it. I was reckless, but I would never admit it until you’d say it.”

You could feel her eyes drop down to your lips. Her loose grip on you, tightening slightly.

“Agatha,” your voice a quiet breathless warning.

Her eyes go back to yours, “Hmmm.”

“Are you sure?” Your voice portrays your insecurities.

She pulls back some, “Why wouldn’t I be?”

You try to look away, but her finger hooks under your chin, “I’m not useful anymore, I’m just some powerless girl.”

She searches for something across your face, “You’re so much more than your magic. You’ve always been more than your magic.”

“And you still-”

“I’ve always wanted you Y/n, nothing is going to change that,” her voice is unwavering as she speaks.

You blush at the conviction in her tone. You nod subtly and cautiously lean forward. Your eyes drop to her lips. Agatha is certain when she eagerly leans in to meet you.

Her lips are softer than you remember or maybe she's just being delicate with you. Her touch, her movements, everything feels like she is breathing life into you.

It's partially because she is. Her fingertips were slightly pressed against yours and she was passing small doses of her magic into yours.

She was the one to pull away first, longing to look into your eyes. When you open them, your amber irsises greet her. The twinkle in your eyes pull a smile at the end of her lips.

“Did you just? Agatha I can’t, take it back. This is …”

“My way of apologizing. We should've stayed together. It’s my fault you lost your magic, so it only makes sense I put it back.”

“You’re always so different with me,” this time it’s her that blushes under your stare.

“What can I say doll, you bring it out of me.”

You toy with the collar of her shirt. A nervous habit you have always indulged in.

“What is it, Y/n?”

Though you feel shy, your eyes flicker to her's, “I have never loved anyone the way I love you.”

Her eyes soften more than they ever had before, “I love you too.”

This time you take the initiative to peck her lips. She chases your lips as you pull away. You continue giving her small pecks until you are in a fit of laughter.

Agatha smiles as she listens to your laughter, but she continues to kiss other parts of your face, eventually trailing down to your neck. The vibration of your laughter in your throat tickles against her lips.

Now it’s her head that rests in your neck. Your hands tangle into her hair, playing with the ends.

“The terrifyingly sinister witch killer is just a big ol' softy.”

She shakes her and places one more kiss on your shoulder.

“Only for you.”

[lowkeyerror]

Best Friend's Wedding

Wanda Maximoff x Reader

Word Count: 2.9k

Warnings: Violence, Angst in the beginning, No powers AU

Summary: Your best friend is getting married and you wish that she wasn't.

An: I reached 1,500 followers not too long ago, to celebrate I'm posting 15 fics right now. Check them out, if you want, and hope you enjoy this one.

Masterlist

There were moments in life where tough decisions had to be made. The impact of those choices would have an irreversible effect on life.

Marriage was one of those tough decisions. Spending the rest of your life with someone you love should be an easier decision. However, nearly 50% of marriages end in divorce.

Falling out of love with someone takes twice as much effort as falling in love with them. The question at hand was if you could wait for the love of your life to fall into that divorce statistic.

Your best friend was getting married. The woman you spent hours on the phone with, the woman who you've held in your arms, the woman that blushed when you looked her in the eyes, was getting married.

Wanda loved Vis. You couldn't deny that. It was in the way she spoke about him. The light in her eyes when he complimented her. The way she bit her lip when he rested his hand on her lower back.

You knew if he proposed, she'd say yes. There was always heavy doubt in your mind that he would ever propose. It was obvious to you that Wanda loved him, but you were less convinced that he loved her.

That's not to say he was affectionate or caring towards her, but there were times when you doubted his motives. There were things that he changed about Wanda, little instances where he corrected something he wasn't fond of.

For example, Wanda had an accent, being from Sokovia. She never had any issues with her accent before him. It wasn't until he commented on it that she started trying to hide it.

He changed a lot of little things that you love about Wanda. She insisted that she was just growing up and that these things happen over time, but you knew it was directly correlated to him.

There was no outward hatred of Vis on your part. You did your best to play the role of Wanda's best friend. For her sake, you treated him like he was a friend. All malice remarks and criticism stayed only in your mind.

However, the closer it got to the wedding, the more your mask slipped. The first instance being when Wanda asked you to be in the wedding. There was a snort of sorts before you declined.

She was taken aback. Her eyebrows knitted together in confusion. Why wouldn't her best friend want to be part of her wedding? You played it off as general scheduling conflicts, stating you wouldn't be able to be as involved as she needed you too.

She didn't let you completely off the hook, playfully demanding that you do a speech. Something that you begrudgingly agreed to.

Going to the wedding was giving you anxiety. You didn't want to fuck up Wanda's big day. It wasn't fair to her that you couldn't get your shit together. You'd be there for her no matter how much it hurt you.

" If it's any consolation, I'd always thought I'd be walking her to you," you stood outside the wedding venue, Pietro's voice bringing you back to the present.

He was wearing a dark blue suit. His shaggy hair was slicked back for the occasion and his face was clean-shaven.

You sigh to hold back your tears," That helps a little, I guess."

He rests a hand on your shoulder," I'm not leaving your side today, okay? I know you need the support."

" Thanks, Piet," the two of you walk into the venue together.

Your eyes took in the details in the venue. It was beautiful, traditional, but beautiful nonetheless. Pietro walked you to the front row, your seat reserved next to his.

You'd be steps away from where it was all happening. Your heart ached, but you smiled and greeted everyone like you were fine.

When the ceremony was about to start, Vis appeared on the altar. He looked plain, black suit, only one piece short of a tacky prom outfit.

Pietro took that as his sign to go find Wanda. Leaving you alone as the wedding party began to make their entrance. The bridesmaid and the groomsmen walked out first, followed by the flower girl, Morgan Stark.

She personally handed you one of the flower petals, and you smiled brightly at her. Though the smile was genuine, the pain in your chest rang out as you noticed that this was all too real.

Then you heard the beginning of here comes the bride. Everyone turned in their spot to get a view of Wanda.

When you saw her, you were overwhelmed with emotion. There was nothing you could do as tears fell down your face. She was… everything.

The dress only worked to highlight her natural beauty. The intricate details of the white dress were magnificent. She didn't have a veil, her piercing green eyes on full display.

You could hardly tear your eyes off of her. Then she walked past you onto the altar. Vis was smiling at her, and she smiled at him.

Pietro risked a glance at you, and when he saw you crying, his heart broke too. He knew how much you loved his sister, this was one of the cruelest form of punishment that he ever witnessed.

It wasn't until Wanda cleared her throat that he noticed it was time to give her away," I- I am."

Then he took a seat by you, holding his hand in yours.

Your legs were spread wide, so that your elbows could rest on your knees. You were trying your best to hide the way your body was trembling. Most people would just assume you were extremely happy for your friend, but in reality your heart was on fire.

The minister led the ceremony, and it was all a blur for you until the vows.

" Vis, I never thought I'd be getting married until the day I met you. I didn't know anything was missing from my life until you showed up. I couldn't imagine being up here with anyone else. I love you and I can't wait to spend the rest of my life with you."

The minister turns to Vis, waiting for him to recite his vows. There was a long pause. Then you saw it, he was trembling. Sweat covered the top of his forehead. His eyes began to dart around the room.

" Vis," Wanda tried to get his attention discreetly. He took a step back from her.

" I- Wanda I'm sorry, I can't do this," he stormed down the aisle away from Wanda.

Your eyes widened, what just happened? Pietro was out of his seat in an instant, anger crowding his face. He chased the runaway groom.

Wanda had sprinted from the altar, all of her bridesmaids as well as you in tow.

Fuck.

What the fuck was happening?

" She locked the door," Natasha was banging on the door," Wanda, please let us in."

You watched as they all tried to get her to open the door.

" Is there a window ?" You asked.

" Definitely," Yelena answered you.

You were running out of the building in minutes, looking for the 3rd story window. Through one of the thin curtains, you were certain you saw Wanda's silhouette.

Years ago, climbing up the side of a building would've been easy for you, now not so much. Each step was one of trial and error. Sweat coated your hands, making it hard to find something to grip.

When you finally reached the window, luck was on your side. With one push it opened inward allowing you to tumble through and land with a thud on the floor.

" Jesus Christ, I'm not as young as I used to be," you groaned against the wooden floor.

" Y/n," Wanda rushed to your side, helping you off the floor," Why would you do that?"

" You weren't opening the door," she looked away when you said that.

" I just need to be alone," Wanda's voice trembled as she spoke.

Ignoring her words, you slowly stand and wrap your arms around her. Her head instinctively falls on your shoulder," I don't think you should be alone right now."

She starts silently crying into your shoulder as you rub calming circles on her back," Why did he do this to me, Y/n?"

" Anyone who is stupid enough to ever walk away from you, never deserved you in the first place," you hold her a little tighter as you say it.

" I did everything he wanted. I changed so many little things that he insisted were making me better. I- i just don't understand," her accent comes out strong in her distress.

" Look at me," she slowly raises her head to meet your gaze," This isn't your fault. You're perfect. Everything about you is absolutely extraordinary. If he got scared and insecure enough to run away, then he wasn't ready for a woman like you."

She shakes her head," He left me at the altar, Y/n. I'm the one who looks stupid."

Your voice is soft when you speak," No, you don't. He's just run away from the best thing that would've ever happened to him, and everyone here knows that. If anyone looks stupid, it's him."

She takes in your words. You can see her processing them in her mind. She deflects," Maybe it was for the best, you looked like a wreck out there."

You crack a smile at her joke," Was I not supposed to be emotional?"

She chuckled," You were in tears before I even took my first step."

A blush spread across your face," You took my breath away. The dress, the makeup, the hair; how could I not cry?"

There was a banging on the door," Pietro's going to kill him."

You and Wanda shared a look before rushing out the room. Natasha was on the other side, waiting.

She led you two to the commotion outside. Apparently, Pietro had dragged the runaway groom all the way back to the venue.

Wanda's hand flew over her mouth as she saw her brother wailing on Vis. She was going to enter the fray to stop it, but you did it first.

You yanked Pietro off of the man, who then stood quickly. You positioned yourself between them," Enough!"

" Y/n he deserves it," Pietro tried to move past you, but you wouldn’t let him.

" But she doesn't," your eyes shift over to Wanda and her brother instantly calms down.

Vis interrupts," Oh, get off your high horse Y/n. I know you're probably happy I didn't go through with it anyway. Seeing as everyone knows, you're hopelessly in love with Wanda."

You turn your attention to him," I'm trying to save your ass right now. You've already embarrassed yourself by walking away from the best thing to ever happen to you. So I suggest that you continue to walk away and never come back."

He gets in your face, but you stand your ground," She'll never love you."

" I can live with that a lot easier now that she's not marrying a loser like you," you smile brightly at him.

He tries to punch you, but you grab his arm and twist up behind his back. Then you push him away from you.

He's seething as he looks at the crowd and his eyes land on his would've been bride," No one will ever love you like I did."

" I think that's the point," you rebuttal.

For a moment it looks like he's coming back, but then Pietro stands right beside you, staring him down. Almost begging him to come back.

Vis, walks away and doesn't look back.

The room is silent as they try to process all the drama that just transpired.

" I feel like we all need a drink after that," Natasha breaks the intense silence, earning a few chuckles from the guests.

Wanda perks up," She's right, we can't let all of this go to waste. We might as well have a good time."

Everyone begins to chatter and servers begin bringing around platters. It's almost as if things were normal.

You took this as a sign to slip outside of the venue, away from the reinvigorated party. You took a seat on the steps as Vis's words rang through your head at a thunderous volume.

You felt embarrassed. Your feelings were thrown out in the open without consent. It didn't matter if everyone already knew, it was just something no one brought up. They'd all heard it, and you didn't deny it.

" Y/n," Pietro plopped down next to you," You alright?"

" Trying to be, but it's hard when everyone knows you're in love with your best friend who was supposed to get married," you bury your head in your hands.

" I hate to tell you this, but a lot of them already knew. You don't necessarily hide your feelings."

You groan, and he rests a hand on your back," I bet a drink will make you feel better."

" If I'm going to wallow, I might as well go home," you mumble into your hands.

" I think you should talk to her."

You meet his eyes," Well I think she's been through enough today; and as her best friend I can tell you the last thing she needs is me confessing my love for her."

Pietro sighs and with a dry laugh says," Always thinking about what's best for her, even when you're at your lowest."

You shrug," Can't help it, she's always on my mind."

The two of you sit silently after that. Pietro's company keeps you grounded. The thoughts that you had before, no longer so overwhelming.

" Hey."

You both turn your heads to see Wanda standing atop of the steps. No longer in her wedding gown, but still wearing a semiformal romper.

Pietro stands up from his spot and offers it to his sister. She takes the spot next to you. He gives you a nod before returning into the venue.

" I brought cake," she hands you a slice as a peace offering.

" Thanks," you take a bite and a tiny grin appears," It's good cake."

You eat the cake in silence as you feel her eyes taking in your appearance. She wants to ask you about it, you can feel it.

" This day was eventful in all the ways I didn't want it to be," she says half jokingly," My fiancé left me at the altar, he fought my brother, and tried to punch my best friend. Natasha told me I had bad taste, but fuck."

" You'll find someone else, hopefully someone better than him," you tell her.

She plays with the ring on her finger," You want to know what else Natasha told me?"

" What?"

She continues staring at her ring," Years ago, when Vis and I officially became boyfriend and girlfriend, she told me I didn't need a boyfriend because I had you."

You felt your skin flash hot in an instant," What does that have to do with anything?"

She laughs lightly," I said that same thing. Natasha told me that you were my soulmate. That I'd never find someone to love me better than you did. I was young then, confused. I didn't understand what she was implying, but I think I get it now."

She turns so that she's facing you," Not everyone climbs through windows to comfort their best friend, they don't break up fights between their brother and ex-fiance, they don't stick around after having their private feelings exposed in front of tons of people. The only person I can think of that would do all those things is you."

" Wanda, we don't have to talk about this right now."

She grabs one of your hands," We do because I've been an idiot. You've been right here the whole time, and I have taken you for granted."

You keep your hopes low," What are you trying to say?"

She takes a deep breath," I'm saying I know I just got left at the altar and I probably shouldn't be doing this right now, but you're my best friend. There's no one who knows me like you do, and if you don't mind taking a chance on me, I'd like to take you out sometime."

You blink at her, mouth agape. She looks at you with her eyes shining. Everything seems unreal.

" A-are you asking me out?"

She nods," I'm asking you out."

You can't help the wide smile that plasters itself on your face," Yes, I'll go out with you."

Your heart is pumping with adrenaline. You are in utter disbelief about what's happening. Wanda was getting married earlier today, and now you were going on a date with her.

Completely caught up in the fact that she asked you out, you were blindsided when her lips touched yours. The red head surged forward and planted her lips on yours.

Her hand rested on the back of your neck, keeping you close to her. Your lips cascaded over hers in pure bliss. When she pulled away, your eyes were still closed.

" You just kissed me," you said, touching your lips.

" I did," she beamed at you.

" Do it again."

And she did. She kissed you numerous times before you both went back to the ex-wedding party. The day that you were dreading the most turned out to have a pretty sweet ending.

[lowkeyerror]

Mob Law pt 22

WandNat x Reader

Word count: 3.1k

Notes: Threats of violence, mentions of corruption, improper use of court jargon, that's all I think

Summary: The end of your trial

An: We're getting to the end of the road 2 or 3 more chapters left.

Series Masterlist | Masterlist 1 | Masterlist 2

The court room seems more daunting without Wanda in. You feel smaller without her around. Your friends are still there, Natasha still by your side. The difference today is Carol, Agatha, and Rio, are also sitting with the public.

Seeing them here does help ease some of your nerves. You try to focus on what's happening in the room but your mind keeps drifting.

Your attention doesn't snap back until they call you up to the stand. It seems like the small amount of noise that was in the room left. The sound of your chair sliding back against the floor of the room almost sounds violent.

Your steps echo as you slowly step up to the box. You look out to the crowd, searching for Wanda, hoping you don't see Tony.

You take a small breath, calming all of your nerves. Natasha stands more confidently than you did. There's none of the softness you're used to seeing in her eyes.

“Can you tell me about the day you were arrested?”

You lock your hands together, “The entire day?”

Natasha nods, “Beginning, middle, and end.”

“I went out with my friends in the morning. We had plans to hangout all day but it was hot. We had just been walking around the city, but the hotter it got the less we wanted to be outside. So around two we decided to go home.”

“Please continue,” Natasha encourages softly.

You take in a sharp inhale, “When I got home. I saw a man with a mask standing over my mom. I rushed him but I was a scrawny kid so it didn't do much. We struggled for less than three minutes before he stabbed me. I collapsed after that.”

“Did you see anything to suggest that your mother was alive when you entered the house?”

Your voice cracks as you speak, “No.”

Natasha continues, “Tell me about the arrests specifically.”

“They came in and saw the knife in my hand. The knife I had just yanked out of my stomach. Even though I was still on the floor bleeding out, they asked me a bunch of questions. I didn't answer them and they arrested me.”

“Why didn't you answer their questions?”

The far away look in your eyes almost envelopes the room. It's like the entire court has been teleported back to the moment with you.

“I was in pain, nearly bleeding out. My mom was dead less than two feet away from me. I had been stabbed and watched the person who killed my mother run away. I was a child… it was traumatic.”

“Largely you were alone during your previous trial, is that a fact?”

You swallow, “Yes, my mom was my only family. She wasn't close to her family.”

Natasha prods again, “And on your paternal side?”

“My dad died a few years before my mom. His family wasn't involved either.”

“How old were you during this situation?”

“Sixteen.”

Natasha turns to look at the jury, “Sixteen, your mother has been killed in front of you, you're wounded yourself, no other family willing to take you in. Not only that but you are being accused of the murder with no one assist you during this time. Am I understanding this all correctly?”

You nod quietly, “Yeah.”

She rests after that. You hope to be dismissed, but unfortunately the other lawyer in the courtroom wants to cross examine you.

“You stated to Mrs. Romanoff that you were sixteen when this all started. How old are you now?”

“Twenty-six.”

He nods his head. His eyes are hidden behind red framed lenses, but it feels like he can see right through you.

“So you spent ten years in prison?”

You answer, “Correct.”

“Why didn't you try to get the appeal earlier?”

You don't flinch at the question, “I didn't have the resources or funds to make that claim. After last time with a state appointed lawyer, I didn’t want to go through that again.”

“Ms. L/n you're citing a lack of resources yet today you sit here with Natasha Romanoff, one the most prolific in her field. How does that happen?”

Your hands squeeze together and you glance at them briefly. “My friends brought her during one of their visits.”

“How did your friends manage that?”

Natasha calmly interjects, “Objection, relevance.”

The judge looks at the other lawyer, “Sustained. Mr. Murdock, refrain from that line of questioning.”

“I have your record from prison right here. Tell me if it seems accurate. The first year or two nothing from you, no commotion or anything. Then we have year three and four lots of commotion and then radio silence again for the last 6 or so years of your stay.”

You nod, “Sounds accurate.”

“Could you walk us through it?”

You couldn't help the furrow of your brow, “My stay in prison?”

Mr.Murdock smiles, “If you will.”

Your gaze drops to your hand, “I went in at sixteen. I was young and an easy target the first few years there's nothing because I was scrawny and I didn't protect myself. I changed because I was tired of being the target. Years three and four are the years I started defending myself. After showing I was no longer an easy target they left me alone.”

“In what ways did you change?”

You fidget with your fingers. “I bulked up. I started practicing ways I could prevent myself from being taken down.”

He pauses, “Was your intent to hurt the other inmates, beat them into submission?”

Your eyes cut to his lenses in less than a second. The change of your features is noticeable. There's a tension in the room comes with it.

“My intent was to survive.”

“Did that or did it not include acting with intent to hurt other inmates?”

Your grip on your hands became tighter, “No. I don't know how detailed of a record you have, but I never started an altercation in prison. Every commotion, as you called them, was not started by me. So there was no preplanned action of me targeting them. It was always self defense.”

“So you didn't start the altercations, just finished them. Did you carry that mentality before prison?”

“No,” you answered honestly.

Matt is surprised with how leveled you're answering his probing questions, “You're saying that you never-”

“Objection, leading the witness."

“Sustained.”

Matt tense before getting straight to his point, “Did you ever fight with your mother?”

“No.”

“Never?” He questions again.

You double down, “My mom was my everything. We weren't rich, but she still made sure I had everything I ever asked for. When my dad was alive it was just us three, our little family. When he died… my mom wasn't the same. I did what I could to make it easier for her. So no, I didn't fight with her. I never wanted to.”

Murdock runs a hand through his hair. He doesn't ask anymore questions. You finally get to leave the stand.

“Ms. L/n, you've been in the custody of attorney Romanoff for nearly a year now, correct,” the judge is the one to ask.

“Yes, your honor.”

The judge meets your gaze, “You've done well with your monitor. However there was one instance where your presence stirred up some public unrest.”

You swallow, “I recall. I got permission to go out.”

“I understand the situation was stress inducing, probably very overwhelming for you.”

It's as if you're sixteen again, “It was.”

“My question for you Ms.L/n is do you have a plan or path to reacclimation into society if you're cleared here today?”

It takes you a moment to gather up an answer, “I haven't been able to think about my potential freedom. It all feels a little temporary, I haven't wanted to imagine something that's not a guarantee. With that being said, I think I have the support now that I didn't have before. I have people that are able to help me if I do gain my freedom. I have no plans of taking on the challenge alone.”

The judge nods, “Very well, you are free to leave the stand.”

It takes every fiber of your being not to jolt out of the seat. You slowly stand and walk back over to Natasha. She places a comforting but professional hand on your upper arm.

This is it. The moment of truth, the closing statements before the jury decides your fate. This time feels different than before. You allow yourself to feel a slither of hope.

The words that Natasha speaks don't register to you. Neither does the statement of Matt Murdock. All you can hear is your heart pounding in your eardrums.

Then it's recess.

Outside of the courtroom, you flock silently to your friends. No one speaks, though they wish to reassure you.

Yelena clears her throat first, passing her phone in your direction. “It's Wanda.”

You nearly snatch the phone from her. “Wanda,” you breathe out her name.

“You did great up there, detka,” she says over the phone.

“I wish you were here,” you say softly.

Wanda doesn't falter, “I may not be in the courtroom but I'm right outside. When they read the verdict, I'll be right out here waiting for you.”

“I'm scared, Wanda,” you admit.

“There's nothing to be afraid of my love. You know you're innocent, we all do, and I'm certain the jury will find that same thing to be true.”

You take a centering breath, “I hope so.”

“Is Nat around, sweetheart?"

Your eyes cut over to your lawyer approaching your group. “Yeah she's coming right now.”

You extend the phone to Natasha, who takes it before stepping away.

“You look just as worried as the first day we met,” Carol takes in your appearance.

“Thank you for coming,” you tell her earnestly.

She pulls you into her side, “I'm glad to be here and support you Y/n. I told you I'm always here if you need me.”

“Step aside, blonde and bashful. Hun, you're doing a terrific job up there. We're very proud of you,” Agatha moves Carol out of the way.

Rio appears next to her wife, placing a comforting hand on your shoulder, “Suit looks good on you.”

You grow shy from the attention, “Thank you for coming.”

“Any time kiddo,” Rio squeezes your shoulder. “I'm not going to tell you not to worry, but I will say that no matter the outcome you know the truth. We all know it and we'd fight a million times over on your behalf.”

You go to answer but you are cut off.

“Well isn't this endearing?”

You feel your body tense. You're about to say something to the man but Peter beats you to it.

He steps right up to the clearly injured man, a fire in his eyes that you've never seen before. You don't even see Peter pull out the knife.

“Just go.”

Tony looks at Peter and the knife pointed at his stomach. He starts to call the young man's bluff. Something stops him, maybe it's because Pete isn't shaking, or maybe it's how he hasn't broken eye contact. You don't really know what it is.

Tony's hands go up in surrender as he takes a step backwards. “You can't run from me forever kid.”

“She won't have to for much longer,” Yelena says as a warning.

Tony only smirks, “A threat, cute.”

His smile drops as he accidentally backs into Natasha, “This family doesn't make threats Stark, only promises.”

Tony knows that he's cornered. He knows he has to go, but he can't leave without sewing a bit of doubt in your head.

“He's dead, you know. The guy responsible for it all.”

That catches your attention, “What?”

You step towards the man, your family behind you weary of what this is.

“I found him and had him killed the next day.”

“Why are you telling me this?”

He shrugs, “Isn't it nice to know he's not out there, that he didn't get away with this scott free?”

Natasha’s hand on your shoulder steadies you, “The recess is almost over we have to go.”

You let her guide you past the man.

“You might not understand it yet, but I am rooting for you kid.”

You don't look back at him as you re-enter the courtroom.

“I have you detka,” Natasha says discreetly. It's only for you to hear.

It doesn't calm you entirely, but it helps. You want to hold her hand to feel her more than a client should feel their lawyer.

“Natasha,” your voice almost breaks when you say her name.

Worry flits through her eyes. She grabs your hand carefully. The contact is what helps you hold it together.

“It's almost over,” she gives your hand a small squeeze.

The room fills once again.

“Has the jury reached its verdict?”

One member at the end, stands, “We have your honor.”

“Would you state the verdict for the room?”

The room falls away. It's just you, a child, sixteen. You're quietly waiting, hands wringing themselves together. The nerves build you up, just to slow down for this second that feels like minutes.

You see your mother on the floor. She's laying in a pool of her own blood and you're reaching for her fingers. Despite the knife in your gut, you keep reaching. When you touch her fingers, a single tear falls down your face.

You want her fingers to twitch, to feel her clutch you back, but you feel nothing.

Yet nothing turns into Natasha gently shaking your shoulders. It turns into a small smile on the judge's face, the look of a job well down on the jurors.

“You're free,” Natasha says and that's the phrase that breaks the dam.

A sob comes out of you before you can stop yourself. You are bathed in relief. It begins to flood you, all of the emotions you've been neglecting. The hurt, the resentment, the tough facade, it all comes crashing down on you.

You can barely talk through the tears but the word that keeps falling from your lips is, “Thank you.”

You speak it like a mantra and a prayer.

Natasha wants nothing more than to wrap you up in her arms and take you home. She doesn't like all these prying eyes on you. So she looks back and forth between you and the judge, and it works.

“All convictions against Y/n L/n have been overturned. She is therefore exonerated. Subsequently an undetermined amount of money will be rewarded to Ms.L/n for the claims of false imprisonment. Damages will be collected on fronts of pain and suffering, emotional distress, loss of reputation, and lost wages and future income. Case dismissed.”

As soon as you step out of the court room you are nearly tackled down by Peter and Kate. You wrap your arms around the pair of brunettes. You're equal parts laughing and crying. They hold you back tightly.

“Thanks for not giving up on me,” you say with your voice already hoarse.

“Sorry it took so long,” Peter says, wiping his eyes.

Kate cuts him off, “Could've been sooner if someone let us help earlier.”

You don't argue, instead you kiss the top of her head. “I know, I'm sorry. I'll never doubt you again, either of you.”

Kate squeezes you tighter, “Damn right.”

Rio interrupts the moment, “Looks like I'm going to have to find a new nickname. Jailbird doesn't suit you anymore.”

“Thank god,” you joke.

Natasha watches the moment with a smile, her hands itching to hug you. She wants nothing more than to celebrate this with you.

The red head claps her hands together gathering everyone's attention. “Let's go home.”

“We celebrating tonight?” Agatha asks.

Natasha shakes her head, “Tonight is just for Y/n. We'll celebrate in a few days. When it all feels a little more real.”

Bucky nods, “Let's get you home freebird.”

Rio gasps, “I'm so stealing that.”

The chatter of the group is almost enough to make you forget about the press waiting outside the courthouse.

Before they can swarm you, Wanda approaches calmly. At the sight of her the violent and chaotic cameras still. It's as if they're holding their breath. Every flash stops.

She stops right in front of you, “You have anything you want to say sweetheart?”

You nod slightly. Wanda steps to your side, her hand firmly planted in yours.

You clear your throat, before you address the crowd.

“When I was sixteen, my mother was murdered. The one person I loved more than anything in life. The woman who taught me everything I knew was ripped away from me. I did not kill my mother but I spent ten years in prison for her murder. Ten years of my life I can't get back, years of my youth. I stand before you today free and innocent because my friends, Peter and Kate, did not give up on me. I stand before you thanks to the best lawyer in the world Natasha Romanoff, who took my case when she didn't have to. I stand before you, speaking clearly and without fear because of Wanda Maximoff. She's been nothing but kind to me. The last time I was free I hadn't even graduated high-school, I honestly don't know where I'll go from here but I'm just so thankful. To the judge, to the jury, and to my new found family. Thank you, that will be all.”

You get through it without crying. In part to the steadiness of Wanda's thumb cascading across the back of your hand. Once you're done speaking, Wanda begins to lead you to the car. This time the press doesn't follow or crowd you. They stay where they are.

You pile into the back of a car with Natasha and Wanda. You sit between the two women. As soon as the door closes behind Natasha you begin to cry again.

Natasha wastes no time pulling you into her arms.

“I swear I'm happy,” you choke out. “So fucking happy.”

Wanda runs a hand through your hair, “We know baby. It's okay to cry.”

“I'm really free.”

Natasha wipes the tears from your face, “You are.”

You surge forward, slamming your lips into hers. Natasha is surprised at first but soon she's kissing you back softly. You break your kiss with her only to grab Wanda by the collar of her shirt.

Her lips are gentle against yours. The usual hunger is replaced by something more tentative. Your breathing has slowed when your lips part.

“I love you both.”

“We love you too,” Wanda says while her fingers thread through your hair.

“So much malyshka,” Natasha kisses the side of your head.

You smile softly, “Let's go home?”

Wanda wants to dwell on the fact that you called it home but she doesn't. Instead she just intertwines your fingers.

“Let's go home.”

Taglist: @perfectlyredfox   @somedumbbitches @nebthetautora @digitalsnoww @Ovelvet-mourningo @toe19 @htinha157 @lothecrow @nrlvr @largedawndishso @milflovers4 @lilsmeaux @truthindreams @agentrvmoff @ctrlamira @sevikasoneandonlywife @leenlynn @widowofchaosx @elle161989 @nanou4204 @upsidedowndanvers @kailaspelledwrong @libbyofc @jhb0301 @cps531 @silentwolfsstuff @htaylorsversion @seasonsofchaos @ciaoooooo111 @luckilygrimconduit @czechsooth @websandwidows

[szaench]

noone judge me but i cried when she was finally free

[lowkeyerror]

Mob Law pt 20

WandaNat x Reader

Word Count: 3.5k

Notes: Court, angst, gun violence?

Summary: First day of court.

An: Sorry for the delay. Let's just say the curse got me 🫩.

Series Masterlist | Masterlist | Masterlist 2

It's a cloudy day. The seasons have wrapped around from when you first got released into Natasha’s custody. The sky looks the same as that day. You nearly feel the same.

There's an uncomfortable anxiety sitting on your chest but also the quiet hope that this would all finally be over.

It's almost time for you to leave. You're in the backyard, a cigarette between your fingers. You take a drag, trying to calm the pounding in your ears.

“You're nervous.”

It's Peter that comes out from the sliding door. He stands next to you, but you keep your gaze on the yard.

“Terrified,” you admit.

“I'm scared too,” he lets out a shaky breath.

You offer him the cigarette and he takes a quick puff.

“It's not just the trial. I'm worried about the after. What happens with us, and with Wanda and Natasha, and the Tony stuff.”

He places his hand on your shoulder, “Whatever happens we will figure it out together. One thing at a time.”

“Sometimes it feels like it all just comes crashing down at once,” you attempt to blink away the impending tears.

Peter thinks of his next words carefully. “It can. Life doesn't really wait for everything to be okay. The only part that matters is that if it all does come crashing down, you're not ever going to have to hold it up by yourself.”

You chuckle, finally looking at the man, “When did you get good at this?”

He smiles back, “Started taking lessons from Kate.”

You shove his shoulder playfully, and he hooks an arm around you. The two of you go back inside, where everyone is waiting.

“Are you ready?” Natasha poses the question.

“As I'll ever be,” you answer back.

You begin to walk to the car.

“We're going to take separate cars, to try to cause less of a commotion. Obviously Nat will be at your side, but we will be in the public seating area,” Wanda’s eyes are sweeping over you.

You nod curtly, “Okay.”

She steps into your space. Hands adjusting the lapels of your suit. She tugs a little at the tie hanging from your neck. It's a standard dark blue suit, nothing super fancy. It's enough to make you look good, but not overtly so.

You let her fuss over you for a minute. Eventually her hands move from the suit to cup your face. You're not sure you've ever seen this look in her eyes.

Maybe she's scared, but there's raw determination and love swirling around her irises. “You know I hate it when you say okay like that.”

Your hand gently comes up to hold one of her wrists. Not prying or pulling, just holding her there, against you.

“I know.”

She kisses you. It's gentle, something that is rare. There's always passion, hunger, fire, but it's different today. Today she's careful and tender, it makes you melt.

Her breath is light against your lips, “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

“I promise you're never going back.”

You feel the need for her to prove it. She needs you to believe her, to believe in them.

You're smiling softly at her, “I know.”

Natasha steals your attention, her hand planting itself in yours. She leads you to her car, you watch the others pile into Wanda's.

It's quiet in the car. No music, just the sound of the engine. Natasha keeps taking small glances at you when she should be looking at the road ahead of her.

Finally she breaks the silence. “It's day one. I don't know how long this will drag out. There's prosecution but not like your first trial, it's different with appeals. I don't think you'll take the stand today, just the officers. I've also got a medical examiner set to testify about your injuries as well as your mothers. No surprises, just what we are prepared for.”

You nod, “I understand.”

“There's going to be media there. Outside the courtroom and inside it too. As soon as we step out, it's likely we'll be swarmed. When it's over it'll be the same. You'll be all over the news and social media.”

You let yourself be sarcastic, “Fantastic.”

“We'll win,” she says like it's a fact.

This time when she glances at you, you meet her eyes, “I trust you.”

What you said to Peter was true. You truly weren't scared of losing the trial. You knew you wouldn't be going back to prison. Natasha and Wanda had given you that irrefutable reassurance. As much as you've begun to see them as your Wanda and your Natasha, they have titles that follow them everywhere.

Natasha is one of the best lawyers in the country and the entire state of New York runs through Wanda Maximoff. It's the safety net that you finally accept. They will not let the system take you from them. The same way you see them as yours, they see you as theirs.

The case is the least of your worries. It's the after that concerns you. The looming presence of Tony Stark.

You aren't naive. The man will appear sooner or later. You wonder what happens then. If Wanda doesn't put a bullet through his skull immediately that is.

Before you get too close to the courthouse Natasha pulls over. She keeps the car running, but puts it in park.

“What're you doing?”

She leans over the center console placing her lips firmly against yours. The surprise doesn't last long, before you're kissing her back.

She presses her forehead against yours, “I just wanted to do that before we went in. I figured if I waited until we pulled up, someone could've seen. I don't care what they see when the case is over, but for now it's better to be careful.”

“One more,” you say surging forward.

Your hand lands on the back of her neck, pulling her further into you. All you really want is for her to climb into your seat.

She breaks the kiss sooner than you hoped for, “You cannot go in there excited.”

Her eyes dart down to the crotch of your pants.

You sigh, “Yes ma'am.”

She pulls back onto the road after that. It's only about five more minutes until she's parking in front of the courthouse.

It's just as crowded as she said it would be. She gets out first, walking around to open your door for you.

It almost feels like he came from nowhere, but there's now a man by Natasha's side. He stands a little bit in front of her, shielding her somewhat from the media.

“That's Clint, he's usually very observant, but today he's going to be our protection.”

He flashes you a brief smile, “Heard a lot about you, did even more retcon for you.”

“Thanks,” you tell him. The anxiety of the crowd touches the edges of your voice.

“Let's go,” Natasha’s hand rest at the small of your back guiding you through the mass of questions and cameras.

It was quieter inside the courtroom but it wasn't any less empty. There were people everywhere talking in hushed tones. You could feel some of them gawking at you but your head felt empty.

You only look back once to catch a glimpse of your support system. They're there, front and center. It comforts you. You rub your palms against your pant legs to attempt to get the sweat off.

When you sit Natasha casually leans over to you. You can smell her perfume when she does it. It almost helps you refocus.

“I have you,” is what she says.

You give a slight nod. The judge brings down his gavel and the court settles. You're now in session, your freedom on the line.

You sit and you watch. Your features stay neutral through the beginning. Natasha gives her opening statement. Then she calls Vincent Gonzales to the stand first.

You hadn't seen him since the first trial. He still looks just as slimy. You catch his eye and you can see him swallow harshly as it happens.

Natasha starts off easy. She has him confirm his employment, the years active, and his rank as an officer. After the small formalities she doesn't waste any time.

“Mr.Gonzales do you recall testifying that you saw my client stab her mother?”

He flinches, “Yes, I recall.”

“Was that statement accurate?”

He looks around the room. His eyes find Wanda's and then he sighs deeply. “No, it was not. I would like to recant my previous testimony."

“What did you see?”

He wrings his hands together, “I saw her remove the knife from her own stomach.”

“And how big was the knife?”

He stumbles over his answer, “Large, a little smaller than a foot.”

“And to clarify again, you saw her remove this large knife from her stomach?” Natasha looks him in the eyes while speaking.

“Yes.”

Natasha begins to slowly pace around the room, “So it can be assumed that my client was injured?”

“Yes.”

Natasha narrows in on him at that moment, “So you could tell my client was injured but opted to cuff her and drive to the police station rather than getting her medical treatment?”

His mouth flattens, “I did not notice the extent of her injuries-"

“Please answer the question Mr.Gonzales,” Nat cuts him off.

“Yes, we took her to the station first.”

She turns her back to the man briefly. Her attention diverts to the small projector on the side juror box.

“I submitted some photos of the injury to the court for us to examine. I've highlighted the affected area as my client has been left with a scar.”

The court doesn't hold their gasp as they see the jagged scar of your abdomen. It's healed but that only makes it slightly better.

Natasha had to do some digging, but she did manage to get photos from the freshly sealed wound from the hospital. Those photos appeared next and even you couldn't look at them.

“Hard to ignore the extent of the injury here Mr.Gonzales,” Natasha barely contains her icy glare. “Did you see my client stab her mother?”

‘No, I did not.”

“No further questions, your honor. I'd like to call the next witness,” Natasha waits for the judge to dismiss Vin Gonzales.

Natasha calls Ray Cooper to the stand. He's less composed than Vin but that doesn't worry the lawyer.

“Mr.Cooper your former colleague just testified that my client was injured and neglected care, is that agreeable to you?”

He nods, “Yes, we took her to the station and when we noticed how much blood she was losing we pivoted to the hospital.”

“With all of these factors. I have to ask, how did you come to the conclusion that my client killed her mother?”

The man blinks a few times. His hands rub against his pants. You can see the anxiety on his face.

“Well, she was the only one on the scene. There were no signs of a break in, meaning the killer was let in. Anne had no other close friends or relatives.”

Natasha cuts in, “And did you look into the lineage of her deceased husband?”

“No.”

“Is it possible that a suspect other than my client could've been produced under further investigation?”

He sucks his teeth, “It's possible but your client was uncooperative in the investigation.”

“In what way was she uncooperative?”

He clears his throat, “Well, she wouldn't speak to us.”

“So she used her right to remain silent?”

He fumbles and fails to produce his answer.

Natasha continues to speak in his absence of an answer, “My client was a child,16, accused of murdering her mother. She also sustained a horrific stab wound that almost took her life.”

“Mrs.Romanoff I ask that you stick to questions,” the judge warns her.

Natasha backs off, “I ask that the witness answer my question. Is the uncooperative nature they attributed to my client only related to her use of her right to remain silent?”

The judge turns to Ray, “Answer the question Mr.Cooper.”

“Yes,” the former officer hangs his head low.

Natasha dismisses the officer then calls her last witness to the stand. A medical professional who assesses the injuries that you sustained.

First she confirms that you could've died from the stab wound. Then she confirms it was not self-inflicted. She also suggests that the timing of events would be nearly impossible. Your mother wasn't bleeding out when you got there, she was already dead.

After Natasha dismisses her, the judge calls for a recess.

Your support system meets you in in the halls of the courthouse. The anxiety is still present in your silence, but no one comments on it.

“It's going extremely good in there,” Peter says.

“Yeah the way the jury was looking at those officers was something else,” Kate says.

Yelena agrees, “I think the doctor really sold it.”

You nod, “Yeah.”

Wanda places a hand on your shoulder. It looks casual enough for everyone around but you can feel her lightly squeeze the tension there. “Nervous about getting up there?”

You nod, “Yeah, I just- I can't afford to fuck this up.”

Wanda looks right through you. It's as if she's trying to grab on to your soul with her eyes. “All you have to do is go up there and tell the truth.”

You nod curtly, “The truth.”

Wanda's hand falls off your shoulder when Natasha appears behind you. She leans down to whisper to you, “You're doing great in there.”

You're about to respond to her when you see him. You feel like you'd know it was him even without seeing a picture. He looks similar to Arno. Maybe he's a little shorter, hair a little darker, skin a little more tan.

He's walking in your direction. His eyes are on you. His step doesn't falter when you spot him.

Wanda notices how your skin seems to flush. She follows your line of sight. Her jaw tenses.

“Oh fuck no,” she starts marching towards him.

You grab her wrist, stopping her. She turns back to you, ready to argue you down.

You slip your hand into hers. Eyes hard as they find her green ones. “Not here.”

He strides right up to your group. He shoulders past Wanda, and straight to you.

“You look more like her in person.”

You don't respond to him.

“You really want to do this here, Tony?” Natasha stands closer to you.

He smirks, “A guy can't talk to his daughter?”

“You're not a father, you're a deadbeat,” Kate says to him.

His sunglasses slid down his nose just enough for him to look her in the eyes. “Katherine, I'd watch it if I were you. We both know why your mother didn't have enough money to provide adequate counsel for Y/n in the first place.”

The brunette grits her teeth, “I am not my mother.”

“You're right, at least Eleanor was good at minding her manners and knowing her place.”

Yelena steps in front of Kate as if the words were a gun. It makes Tony chuckle.

“The new consigliere. Hope it goes better for you than the first guy. You blondes don't have a good track record under your belt.”

Wanda’s voice cuts through the banter like steel, “Enough. What is it that you want?”

“Well, Don Maximoff, I just came to see my kid win her freedom.”

“Bullshit,” Wanda calls. “You don't give a fuck about Y/n?”

He pouts, “What makes you think that? I love my daughter.”

You finally find your voice, “You let me rot in prison.”

He looks at you again, “It was safer for you that way.”

You feel your hand twitching, “Safer than what?”

He attempts to be earnest, “I'm not the fatherly type sweetheart. Or at least I wasn't then, but I'm a changed man now.”

“Who killed my mother?”

This is the first thing that finally affects the man. The arrogance and performative nature exits his body.

“I loved Anne. More than I loved anything in this world. I was protecting her, Arno, and you. Distancing you all from this life.”

You didn't buy it, “Or taking us all out separately. Arno first, then my mom, and the me.”

Anger rises on the man's features, “I did not, have my brother or the love of my life killed.”

You scoff, “How am I supposed to believe that when you left me in prison?”

He gestures around, “Doesn't look like you're in prison to me?”

“No thanks to you,” you go back and forth with him.

He's escalating the situation. The people around the courthouse are starting to pay attention.

Tony relents and tries to reach out to touch you, but Wanda steps fully in his path

“You're not touching her.”

“I'm not scared of you Wanda,” Tony tries to push past her again.

This time Wanda grabs his upper arm keeping him close. She has a gun pointed at his stomach.

“Don Maximoff,” she corrects him.

“What, are you going to shoot me in the middle of a courthouse, Don Maximoff?” He says sarcastically.

Wanda smiles tightly, “Don't threaten me with a good time.”

“I'm not the bad guy here Y/n,” Tony tries to plead with you.

“You're not the bad guy? What are you here for Tony? I know what you want and I'm not helping you get it. In fact I will actively stop you from taking it from Wanda. I find it hard to believe that you can be the head of a family, when you don't care about your own blood,” you move closer to him.

“You'll understand one day that things aren't so black and white.”

The laugh that leaves your mouth is bitter, “I will never forgive you for abandoning me. You had plenty of time to show up before I got involved with Wanda and Natasha.”

His jaw clenches, “I'm trying to save you.”

“From what?” You raise your voice.

“From becoming something you're not.”

“You don't even know me,” you argue back to him.

He straightens his posture, “And you think they do? You think the merciless Don Maximoff and her fixer of a wife know you? Newsflash kid you're another one the Don's good deed charity projects that makes her feel better after putting a bullet in someone's brain. The only thing she cares about is being at the top of the food chain.”

His words piss you off. You want to react more than anything. Your friends can see it, so can Natasha. Wanda feels it, as she stands between you and Tony. She knows you can't control it. So she does it for you.

Wanda lifts the gun that was against the man's stomach and strikes him across the face with it. As soon as Natasha registers what is happening she pulls you away from the scuffle.

Everything feels like it's in slow motion as you're being dragged away from Wanda and the rest of the group. Shes

She's on top of Tony, using the gun to strike him over and over again.

Yelena is moving Peter and Kate back from the situation as Bucky tries to pull Wanda from Tony.

“Natasha,” her name falls out of your mouth.

“We have to go. You can't be anywhere near that. The recess is practically over anyway.”

You see the officers approaching the brawl. “Natasha they're-”

She cups your face in her hands, turning your focus to her. She doesn't let you look back. “Wanda is going to be fine. I promise. She will probably get arrested. Yelena will bail her out and we're going to be okay. Right now I need you to focus. We're going to go into the court room. The judge will probably postpone your testimony until tomorrow because of this.”

“Okay.”

Natasha wants to kiss you. She can see that you need it, but instead her hand falls from your face. It settles on your lower back, willing you to move forward despite everything going on behind you.

Wanda keeps trying to smash in Tony's face with her gun. Even when Bucky attempts to pull her off. Even when the police come to remove her. When they take the gun, and get her hands behind her back, she continues to try to stomp on the man's face.

She knows better than to speak, instead she spits at the foot of the man. Her breathing is heavy as they drag her away in the cuffs. Her eyes cut over to Yelena, who gives her a simple nod.

Tony's body twitching lets people know he's alive, but his face is in shambles. It's a bloody mess. Yelena doesn't want to look any longer, deciphering that he is alive should be enough.

Wanda tries to get a grip on her breathing. She looks at Tony's body and back to the door you had just walked through. Natasha and Yelena would handle this. Everything will be fine, but she couldn't help but to worry about you.

She knows that you'll blame yourself. It's the only thing she can think about as they shove her into the police car. She remains silent, tuning out the outside world, as her mind begins to plan her next move.

Taglist: @perfectlyredfox   @somedumbbitches @nebthetautora @digitalsnoww @Ovelvet-mourningo @toe19 @htinha157 @lothecrow @nrlvr @largedawndishso @milflovers4 @lilsmeaux @truthindreams @agentrvmoff @ctrlamira @sevikasoneandonlywife @leenlynn @widowofchaosx @elle161989 @nanou4204 @upsidedowndanvers @kailaspelledwrong @libbyofc @jhb0301 @cps531 @silentwolfsstuff @htaylorsversion @seasonsofchaos @ciaoooooo111 @luckilygrimconduit @czechsooth @websandwidows

[szaench]

one of the best wandanat fics ive read that actually has a plot !! THIS IS LIKE GOLD MINE BROS

[lowkeyerror]

Mob Law pt 13

WandaNat x Reader

Word Count: 8.6k

Notes: Alcohol consumption, physical violence, anxiety, mob typical violence, suggestive themes, g!p (👀), violence against women perpetuated by a man, a shit load of tension, translation: Porezal moyu kozhu = cut my skin

Summary: Your first party. Anticipation isn't the only thing buzzing in the air. Drinks are had, conflict arises, and maybe... just maybe, you get more than you bargained for.

An: Looks like you guys couldn't wait for ch 13! You might not know it, but you've been waiting for this chapter. Hope you enjoy it 🙇‍♀️.

Series Masterlist | Masterlist 1| Masterlist 2

“Do you know what you're wearing?”

You're lying down in bed when Kate barges into your room with the question.

Today is the party. It has been a little over a week.

As soon as your friends heard that they'd get to be at a Don Maximoff party they grew ecstatic. They'd obviously partied with Wanda before. All three of them were buzzing with anticipation.

You're buzzing too. It’s less anticipation and more anxiety. It’s something you should've considered before saying yes, but it’s too late now.

The house is filled to the brim with activity both inside and out. You can see people setting up outside from your window.

“Does it matter?”

Kate crosses the room, going straight for the closet. “Of course it does, you goof. You need something breathable, easy to dance in, and hot.”

You laugh, “Just pick something for me. I'll wear whatever it is.”

You don't see Kate's wicked smile, but you hear it in her tone, “Excellent.”

She rummages through the closet. Past the clothes in the front. Most things in there still have the tags from when Wanda and Natasha bought them.

“Kate?”

She hums in response.

“How do I survive this party?”

It's her turn to laugh, “Drink until you stop overthinking your actions. Then you mingle.”

“Mingle?”

Kate comes out with an outfit in hand. She tosses it on the bed before responding, “Yes, mingle. Talk, flirt, dance.”

“Uh…”

Kate reaches for your arm, yanking you into an upright position, “You're already in your head. The goal is to have a good time. Tonight we're going to find out what that means for you.”

“I'm nervous.”

Her playful demeanor melts into something more sincere. “Stand up.”

You groan, reluctantly getting off of your bed.

“Now dance with me,” she starts shimmying her shoulders to the sound of silence.

For a moment you just stare at her, “You look ridiculous.”

“You must shake away the nerves,” she grabs both of your hands.

You shimmy with her, laughter bubbling up in your throat.

“You two look ridiculous,” Yelena leans against the frame of your door.

Kate wiggles her eyebrows at her girlfriend before pretending to cast a lasso at her, “You aren't escaping this.”

Yelena pushes off the door and saunters over to her girlfriend. She seems unimpressed but there's a smile fighting it's way on to her face.

“Kate Bishop, you know I am no dancer.”

Kate doesn't care, “Shimmy with us and maybe, I'll thank you for it after the party is over.”

Your nose wrinkles, “Gross.”

Yelena starts her uninspired shimmy, “Happy now?”

“Not enough shoulder,” Kate shows her.

“I'm doing the best that I can,” Yelena whines.

The whole scene has you wheezing, “Okay, okay. The nerves are gone, we can stop torturing this woman.”

The brunette rolls her eyes, “She loves it.”

“I love you,” Yelena corrects her. “And I'm stealing you away, to help me get ready for the party.”

Kate kisses the crown of her girlfriend’s head, “I love you too. You all good here buddy?”

You give Kate a thumbs up. “Yes ma'am. I'll see you guys when the party starts.”

Once they leave, you are alone in your room again. You decide to take a look at the outfit Kate left out for you.

It stares back at you, simple you think. You almost can't picture yourself in it. You don't dwell on it for much longer before you get ready to shower.

Standing in the bathroom, you're naked in the mirror. Your thumb hovers over the scar left by the man who killed your mother. You swallow back the hatred from the tainted memory. For a second the air is still, like you forgot how to breathe.

Then you make contact with it and it reminds you of Wanda's cool fingers gliding along the scar. You let out the breath you were holding in. The air comes back to your lungs in small gasps.

Your hands grip the edge of the sink. You know what this is. Your eyes flit around the room.

The mirror, your reflection, the shower, the toilet, the door.

The air against your skin, your hands on the sink, the hairs on your neck, the cold tile under your feet.

Your breathing, the humming of the bathroom light, the drips of water falling down the drain.

Chemicals for cleaning the restroom, mint from the open toothpaste on the counter.

You don't taste anything.

It throws off the technique and your breathing rises rather than falls. Your hands are shaky as you reach for the toothpaste squirting it into your mouth.

Mint, you taste mint.

You bend so that your forehead rests against the porcelain of the sink. It's only a moment before you turn the faucet on to rinse out your mouth.

After that you finally get into the shower. You turn the water on while already standing in the tub. The cold water doesn't shock you, after years in prison you're used to it.

When it finally heats, your muscles loosen.

“This isn't prison,” you whisper to yourself.

Wanda sits in her office with the list names that Natasha had given her. There’s definitely a mob connection in these cases, but it’s seeming like multiple families were involved.

In Wanda’s opinion it read like a takeover. Your father either worked for someone with a lot of power or someone with a lot of ambition.

There's a knock on the door that interrupts her work.

“Come in.”

The door opens to reveal a timid looking Peter Parker.

“Hi Mrs.Maximoff. I don't mean to disturb you, but I wanted to know if it was okay for me to invite someone to the party?”

Wanda smiles at the man. “Peter, it's a party, invite whoever you want.”

He nods excitedly, “I just wanted to make sure it was alright.”

“There will probably be over a hundred people here. Think big and then multiply that thought. Picture the craziest party you've seen in a movie and imagine it even crazier.”

“Sounds like an unforgettable night,” Peter is nearly bouncing with energy.

“That's what I'm going for, kid.”

It's not long after he exits that someone else enters the room. They don't knock, simply walk right in and take a seat across from the Don.

Wanda doesn't bother looking up.

“Interesting time for a celebration sestra,” Pietro's voice cuts through the silence. “Guess my invite got lost in the mail.”

Wanda looks up at him, the sharpness in her eyes makes him squirm, “You're always welcomed, no invitation required.”

“You know that's not what I meant,” he holds firm.

“Welcome back Piet, it's good to have you home,” she greets him, already bored with the conversation.

“We need to talk.”

She slams her hands on her desk and it echoes around the room. “Pietro, didn't I say I wouldn't be talking about this again?”

“Wanda-”

“I wasn't asking, it was an order. I have no desire to discuss Y/n with you.”

Now it's Pietro whose temper is flaring, “And why not? What's going on here Wanda! Stray after stray after stray. Natasha, her sister, those kids. This isn't a daycare it's the fucking mob.”

He finishes his rant and just as the last word leaves his mouth, a backhand cracks him across the face. The sharp sound of Wanda's knuckles against his cheek is deafening. She stands, towering over him as she speaks.

“You call my wife a fucking stray again and I'm taking one of your fingers. This job is about two things; keeping the city running and protecting the family. My wife is my family. Her sister is my sister. Kate and Peter, they're family.”

His jaw twitches as he stares a hole into the desk, “And the girl.”

“Why the fuck does it bother you so much? She's Natasha's client. She's a guest in my home. She is Kate and Peter's best friend.”

He scoffs, “Whatever.”

Wanda raises her hand again and he flinches. She huffs before sitting back down. She shakes her hand in an attempt to get rid of the stinging sensation.

“She was a child Piet. Father dead, mother killed in front of her. They threw her in jail with not a fucking lick of evidence. The mob is involved in this shit. They sent this kid away, changed the course of her life, and for what? It's not right.”

He takes in a large breath, “Oh, I get it. She reminds you of us. Young, innocent, filled with potential. I heard she's an artist.”

“I'm not exploiting her,” Wanda says flatly.

Pietro taunts the woman, “I never said you were.”

It pisses Wanda off. She thinks about the ways she could wipe that smirk off of his face.

“Do you have any actual work to report?”

“Things are as stable as they've always been. I'm trying to find areas for improvement, but it seems like we're operating at 100% efficiency.”

Her tongue clicks against her teeth, “Things aren't at 100% efficiency. I see unrest in the workers. I see people pushing products waiting on returns that aren't equivalent. I see someone stealing large cuts of profits that belong to my sellers.”

She reaches into a drawer on the desk pulling out the evidence to substantiate her claim. It's all numbers, categories, math that isn't adding up.

Pietro's brow pinches as he looks over her work.

“Either someone is stealing my product or my money. Find out who, deal with it. Then we can talk about 100% efficiency.”

“Understood,” he clears his throat.

She keeps her expression neutral as she addresses him again, “I shouldn't have to be double-checking your work or correcting it. If you need supervision to be successful, maybe I need a new underboss.”

“Sestra-”

She holds up her hand, “Don Maximoff.”

He swallows hard, “It won't happen again Don Maximoff.”

“It better not. Now are you staying for the party?”

“Who's coming?”

She leans back in her chair with a light shrug, “Everyone.”

He gets up, “Well I'm already here, might as well get a drink. Besides, I think I want to meet this girl.”

Wanda’s eyes narrow, “Behave.”

He raises his up in surrender, “I will, I will.”

When he slips out of the room Wanda tries to refocus on the task at hand. She doesn’t get the chance to.

“Enough work, come get ready with me,” her wife’s voice leaves no room for argument.

“Tasha, I just need a few more minutes.”

The red head ignores this, “You've been at it all morning. This party was your idea. Let's enjoy it, detka.”

Wanda abandons her desk to meet her wife in the middle of the room. Her hands find the lawyer's hips. She presses their foreheads together, closing her eyes.

Natasha can see the tension all over Wanda.

“You're upset.”

Wanda let a shaky breath escape her, “Pietro's here. I think it's just to piss me off.”

Natasha presses her lips against Wanda’s. It's brief, a peck, followed up by more small kisses.

“Better?”

Wanda chases the red head’s lips, Natasha doesn't pull back. They connect more solidly this time. Slow, intimate, almost as if Wanda is anchoring herself with Natasha’s lips.

“Better,” the Don breathes out.

Natasha smiles, “Let's go get ready.”

This time Wanda lets the woman lead them out of her office without a fuss.

The music pulses from outside of your window. You peek out to see people starting to arrive. The backyard mimics a light show. Colors flashing with the beat of the song.

Kate put a lot of faith in the shirt she picked out for you. It has no sleeves and a plunging neckline. You don't have a problem having the skin exposed, it just feels different. The jeans are light-washed, they sit a little low on your waist. It leaves a small strip of your stomach exposed.

Your door swings open dramatically revealing Kate, Yelena, and Peter.

“Looks like you're ready to party,” Peter pumps his fist, pretending to dance.

“She's almost ready,” Kate adds on.

Your eyebrows draw together, “What am I missing?”

Yelena pulls out a bottle from behind her back, “A shot. It's mandatory for the pre-game.”

“A shot of what?”

The blonde smirks, “This, my friend, is one hundred percent authentic Russian vodka.”

“Also known as the good shit,” Kate adds on.

You look at Peter, “Do they always seem this mischievous?”

“Yep,” he nods his head.

Kate takes the bottle from her girlfriend, “Lena will go first.”

The brunette unscrews the cap from the bottle. Yelena doesn't protest, instead she readily tilts her head back. Kate pours the alcohol with no hesitation. It definitely feels like more than a shot, but the blonde doesn't flinch. She swallows without fear.

She takes the bottle back, urging Kate to open her mouth, “Your turn.”

Kate doesn't take the shot with the same grace the Yelena did. For a second, you’re unsure if your friend can keep it down.

“Come on, swallow it like a good girl,” Yelena has a glint in her eyes as she speaks.

Peter’s eyes widen while you just chuckle. Regardless of the reaction Kate swallows on Yelena’s command. The heat that climbs up her face has little to do with the alcohol in your opinion.

“Peter, front and center.”

He's quick to oblige, “Sir, yes sir.”

You watch in amusement as Yelena makes Peter drop into a damn near squat, so she can pour the liquid into his mouth.

He sputters after the shot is down, “It burns.”

You decide it's easier to take the shot sitting down. So you place yourself at the edge of the bed.

Peter and Kate start chanting your name as Yelena approaches you with the bottle.

Your head moves back on its own and your mouth opens. Yelena is more accurate when she pours the liquor into your mouth. It feels like a shot, unlike what you had watched happen to Kate and Peter.

“You guys are babies,” you say once you swallow.

“We'll see if you're saying that at the end of the night,” Kate pulls you up from the bed. “Let's fucking party.”

When you get outside you're almost overwhelmed by the amount of people filling the yard. There’s all different kinds of people; young, old, suits, t-shirts, mingling, and non-mingling.

“Looks like you could use a drink.”

The man who approaches you extends a cup your way. His hair is auburn, pushed back away from his face, he's well dressed, and his eyes are familiar to you.

“Pietro, didn't think you'd be here,” Yelena’s voice is laced with something.

You can't pinpoint what it is, but you can tell she doesn't like him.

“Why wouldn't I be here? I mean this is my sister's party.”

Yelena’s gaze hardens, “Funny, mine too.”

Kate places her hand on Yelena’s shoulder, “Well it was nice to see you again Pietro. We'll be going now.”

“At least let me introduce myself to the belle of the ball,” his gaze shifts towards you.

He pushes the mystery drink further in your direction. You take it from him. Knowing your friends don't like him, makes you not like him very much either. There’s a building tension before you speak.

“Y/n,” you give him your name.

He flashes you a charming smile, “Nice to meet you Y/n. Congratulations on your conditional release.”

“Thank you,” you sip from the cup that he gave you.

“Enjoy the party,” he finally saunters off after that.

Yelena lets out a groan, “I hate that guy.”

“What's his deal?”

Kate scoffs, “His deal is that he isn't Wanda. He's the underboss.”

Peter adds on, “He's an alright guy, but he's really protective of his sister. Even though she doesn't need any protection.”

You hum, “Good taste in drinks though.”

You stick close to Peter, Yelena, and Kate. The three of you mostly just talk and drink. At some point the alcohol starts hitting you, and can't help but to start bopping your head to the beat of the song.

“Well doesn't it look like you're having a good time?” You recognize the voice almost instantly.

You take a few careful steps over and wrap your arms around the blonde woman, “Carol, you're here.”

The woman giggles, but hugs you back nonetheless, “Told you, you'd see me on the outside.”

You turn to your friends, “Guys, Carol was my cellmate in prison. She was sent to watch after me, like a guardian angel.”

You don't see the blonde blush, but your friends surely do.

“Good to see you Carol,” Yelena greets her.

“You guys mind if I steal her for a minute?”

Kate answers for the group, “Go for it.”

That's how you end up walking next to Carol, through the hoard of people. You're slightly holding onto her arm so as to not get lost. Once you're out of the dense crowd she turns to face you.

“You're totally buzzed right now,” she says it like it's a fact.

You hum in agreement, “I think I am. Feels nice, like my body is vibrating with the music.”

“Glad to see you loosen up. I take it you're adjusting well?”

You shrug, “As well as I can.”

There's a small shift in her tone, “What's bothering you?”

It's not accusatory. It's genuine, and the weight of it takes away a bit of your buzz.

You hug yourself as you answer. Eyes anywhere, but Carol's.

“It still feels like prison sometimes,” your voice is small. A minor panic spreads across your features as you scramble to elaborate, “It's not the people. Wanda and Natasha are very attentive. My friends are right here when I need them, but it’s like I can't shake it off of me.”

Carol pulls out a cigarette, “I get it.”

You watch her fingers as they fiddle with it. The cigarette glides seamlessly between her fingers. You find yourself mesmerized by the motion.

She sees you staring and offers it to you. Your body is still vibrating. You can still hear the music all around you. You take it from her, placing it in between your lips.

Carol lights it for you before lighting one of her own.

“Prison is traumatic. Even when you leave, it follows you for the rest of your life,” she takes a drag. “I picked up smoking from prison.”

“Me too.”

Carol frowns, “You were just a kid. It's PTSD, maybe CPTSD in your case.”

You puff out some smoke, “Does it get easier at least?”

The blonde nods, “If you want it to. It's hard, takes a lot of vulnerability. You have to unlearn a lot of the things that have become survival instincts.”

You run a hand through your hair, “Will you be around, since you're out and everything?”

“You want me to be?” She asks you teasingly.

You shove her shoulder lightly, “Don't make it weird.”

The smile doesn't move off of her face. “I'm joking. If you want me around, then I'll be here. You got a phone yet?”

“Working on it.”

“Well when you get one, get my number from Nat or the Don.”

You continue smoking off to the side with Carol. Some others join you in this makeshift smoking area.

“They’ve been talking for awhile,” Wanda says as she enters the yard.

Natasha is by her side, “It's a party, Wanda. She's mingling.”

“It looks like she's just talking with Carol to me,” the Don keeps her tone even.

The lawyer nods, “Exactly, it's just Carol. Don't be like that.”

Wanda takes a deep breath, “You're right.”

“Are we going over there?”

Wanda takes Natasha’s hand in hers, “Oh absolutely.”

“To say hi, or to fluster her?”

Wanda smirks, “I don't know what you're talking about.”

Natasha pulls the brunette closer to her as they walk. Her breath tickles the side of Wanda's neck. The Don tosses her head back with laughter.

“You know exactly how good you look right now.”

Wanda’s eyes meet Natasha’s, “You think so?”

Natasha pecks the other woman's lips, just once, “Not a doubt in my mind.”

You can feel the eyes on you. Their gazes are becoming familiar to you. Your eyes dart away from Carol over to them. The cigarette almost falls out of your mouth.

You can't hear the music anymore. You don't see anyone else. You're hyper focused on them.

Wanda, in a black sequenced dress. Her skin exposed from her arms to her back. Her silhouette is devastating. The rings on her fingers catch your attention immediately.

Looking at Natasha only makes your heart beat faster. She's wearing something slightly more casual. Casual still doesn't feel like the right word. She's wearing light washed jeans, lighter than the ones you have, they're much looser than yours. She has a button down that matches the pants neatly tucked in. The finishing touch is the sandy brown suit jacket that brings it all together.

There are a plethora of words flying through your head, but all you can manage to think is that they look good. Entirely too good for you to ignore.

“Careful there, Y/n. You'll set the lawn on fire if it falls,” Carol jokes.

You feel heat coming up your neck, “It's not my fault.”

Carol puts a hand on your shoulder, “Never said it was. You're human, and they look fucking fantastic.”

“They're coming this way.”

“Probably for you,” Carol deduces.

You don't get to rebuttal as the two women step into the same space you're occupying.

“Carol, glad to see you could make it,” Wanda goes for a hug with the blonde.

“Can't turn down an invite from the Don,” she jokes back. “And what kind of jailbird would I be if I didn't come and visit my cellmate.”

Natasha answers, “Probably not one on our payroll.”

They all laugh together. You still haven't found your voice yet. Wanda and Carol get swept up into a conversation about old times.

It gives Natasha a chance to address you, one on one, “You want to grab a drink with me?”

You nod. Natasha takes your hand in hers, leading you somewhat back into the fray of bodies.

It's hard to hear over the music in this area. Maybe that's why you take the chance to speak, partially hoping the woman doesn't hear you.

“You look amazing tonight,” your voice is slightly raised, but it’s hardly a yell.

She looks at you quickly, “You don't look too bad yourself.”

Once you get to the drinks Natasha pours a few cups of punch. She hands you a cup and you sip it before asking, “What's this?”

“Jungle juice. Lots of different stuff. Enough to make sure you're having a good time. We saw you cooped up in the corner with Carol for awhile, are you enjoying yourself?”

There's a twitch at the corner of your lips, “So you were watching me?”

Natasha replies cooly, “Maybe. It's your first party after all, want to make sure you're safe.”

“You don't think Carol could keep me safe?”

The red head chuckles, “It feels like you're putting me on the stand right now.”

“More used to asking the questions than answering them lawman?”

Now she takes a swig of her drink, “Definitely. But to answer your question, I know she can keep you safe. That's why we sent her to look after you.”

“Good choice. I like Carol, she's subtle,” you, make the move to start heading back.

Natasha follows, “You don't think we're subtle?”

“Do you think you're subtle?”

She pauses for a moment, “Point taken.”

“Don't worry just because subtlety fits for Carol, doesn't mean it fits for you. I like both you and Wanda, just the way you are,” you playfully nudge the older woman.

Natasha presses, though maybe she shouldn't, “More than Carol?”

You let your eyes rake over her attire before subconsciously licking your lips, “More than Carol.”

Once you're back to Carol and Wanda, the drinks get passed around. You're only there for a few minutes before you're getting dragged away by Peter. You wave to the women, letting yourself reintegrate with your peers.

“Y/n, this is MJ. MJ this is my best friend, Y/n,” the joy in his tone multiplies under the effects of alcohol.

You stick your hand out for her to shake, “Nice to meet you.”

“I honestly thought Peter made you up. Glad to know he's not completely insane.”

He pouts, “Hey!”

“No time for that face Peter. We need to dance, like right now,” Kate exclaims.

“I don't dance,” you and Yelena speak at the same time.

Kate fixes the both of you with a glare, “I wasn't asking.”

“Can we at least get another shot first?” You relent.

“Fuck yeah.”

That's how you end up on the dance floor. The alcohol is finally catching up to you again. You feel warm in the best way. You don't think you've ever been more aware of the heaviness of your body until now. With each movement you feel like you're aware of the exact amount of energy it takes to force your body into motion.

The music is faint in your ears, but it’s almost overwhelming in your body. You feel it. If you were sober you'd be questioning everything about this. However, in this state, all you want to do is keep dancing.

“I didn't think you'd be much of a dancer.”

There's barely enough space to turn around, but when you do, you find yourself staring at Wanda.

“You and your wife think about me a lot,” you're shouting over the music.

Wanda pulls you flush against her, “Does that bother you Y/n?”

“No.”

“Good, cause I don't know if I can stop thinking about you,” Wanda says boldly.

“Dance with me,” it's not a question.

She starts out facing you. You move to the beat together. The eye contact makes something stir inside you. Something that makes it hard for you to look away.

At some point, she turns. Her back is to you. She takes your hands and holds them against her body. Your breath tickles her neck, cool compared to the heat building around her.

Wanda lets her hands feel up your arms. She turns her head towards yours, “You're so strong, Y/n.”

It's a sultry whisper on her lips. They're close to yours. You can lean in and kiss her if you want to. If she wasn't married, if she wasn't the Don, maybe you would have.

You swallow hard, “Wanda.”

She faces you once again, palm now against your cheek, “Relax baby, we're just dancing.”

You nod into her touch, eyes fluttering close briefly, “Dancing.”

“Good girl,” she coos at you.

“I need another drink,” you mumble to yourself.

Wanda leans in close enough to whisper in your ear, “Don't take too long.” Her lips graze your cheek.

You try to calmly make your way over to the alcohol.

“Seems my sister has taken a real liking towards you,” Pietro intercepts your movements.

You try to brush past him, “I don't know what you're talking about.”

He grabs your upper arm, “Come on, don't be shy now. You just put on that show for everyone to see. Dancing with Don Maximoff is definitely a way to get attention.”

You shrug your arm out of his grasp, “It's just dancing.”

He begins to circle you, “Is it, because I think it's more than that? I mean you do live here, right? Must be a big upgrade from prison. Went from accepting life in prison to a luxury lifestyle. How lucky of you.”

“What's your point?” Your tone becomes defensive.

There's a glint in his eye, “My point is that maybe my sister doesn't see it, but I do. You and your little friends are using up all her resources, taking advantage of her kindness. Now it looks like you're trying to weasel your way into her marriage. It's disgusting, it's pathetic, and I won't let you get away with it.”

Your fists clench at your sides as you glare at the man, “I didn't ask for any of this. Not a way out of prison, not a place to stay, and not a party.”

“Bullshit,” he calls out.

“It's not, but even if it was, what're you going to do about it? You aren't the Don,” you fire back at him.

That only further ignites his temper, “You wanna go prison princess? I see you clenching your fist, ready to let your true colors out.”

“This tough guy act doesn't work on me. If you want to fight me, then swing. Otherwise, I suggest you walk away,” you hold firm, even in your drunken state.

“I don't bluff, kid.”

He swings first, and you push him back. The people around you scatter, making a more open space. Pietro gathers his footing and goes to hit you again. You block the first hit, but he follows up, clocking you in the side of the face.

He gets cocky, but you don't let him celebrate. Your fist connects with his stomach causing him to briefly double over. He grunts out in pain, holding his stomach as he looks up at you.

He charges you again, but this time you plant your feet. As he closes the gap between you, your hands reach out to grab his hips. You send him crashing down to the ground with a sloppy takedown.

You're straddling his torso at this point. He tries to scramble underneath you, but you're stronger than him.

Left, right, right, hit after hit. You can't stop. You shouldn't stop. He deserves this. He tried to bitch you out. This is the kind of shit you had to do in prison. The only kind of thing to get people to stop fucking with you.

You get so lost in your head, that it gives Pietro a chance to hit you in the side of the head. You stumble off of him and he gets to his feet. His face is a bloody mess, and his nose crooked.

He lunges for you again and you meet him half way. Neither of you gets another hit in. You feel a set of arms wrapping around your waist. You struggle against the hold.

“Easy there jailbird,” Rio’s voice rings out in your ear. “You got him.”

You see Pietro being held back by Wanda and Natasha. Neither of them look happy with him. Wanda's figure is almost shaking with anger. It looks like she's going to explode any minute.

Natasha is usually the calmer of the two, but at this moment she looks just as pissed as Wanda.

Agatha appears in front of you, “Your breathing is a little rugged sweetheart. Can you take a deep breath for me?”

You close your eyes and attempt to do as she says, “Good, that's good. Let's get you inside okay? This adrenaline might wear off really quickly.”

You let them guide you into the house. Anger still swirls around your body.

“That guy is a fucking asshole,” you say as they sit you at the kitchen table.

“He is. I'm glad someone beat his ass.”

“Rio!”

The brown eyed woman waves a hand dismissively, “Come on Agatha, we all know he sucks. He's too soft for this business. The only reason he's still around is cause he's Wanda’s brother.”

“Here, hold this to your eyebrow, you're bleeding,” Agatha hands you a cool cloth.

You flinch as you hold it there, the pain finally starts to hit you. You look at the damage done to your knuckles. They're already starting to bruise, a small amount of blood pours from them.

“What was that all about?” Rio questions.

Your jaw tightens, “He said that I was using his sister. I told him I wasn't, that I didn't ask for anything. He called bullshit, tried to fucking tough guy me. I told him to either swing or walk away and he decided to swing.”

“Wrong decision,” Agatha says.

“Definitely not a good look on the underboss to get his ass kicked in front of everyone like that,” Rio says sarcastically.

“No, it's not a good look at all,” Wanda’s voice cuts through the chatter. It's lower than you've ever heard it before and her accent is more prominently on display.

Natasha trails in behind her.

Rio apologizes with her head down, “Sorry, Don Maximoff.”

“Don't apologize. As of today Pietro is no longer my underboss. He is exiled from the family.” There's irritation behind her words, but catch the flicker of rawness in her eyes.

You speak up, “But he's your twin.”

“He embarrassed me today. He disobeyed direct orders, disrespected my home, and my guests. If he weren't my brother I'd put two in his temple for this stunt.”

Natasha approaches you, kneeling to be level with you. She's looking over every inch of your face. Her thumb is quick to swipe a bit of blood from your lip.

“What he did to you is unforgivable.”

You stand abruptly, “I don't want him exiled because of me. Take away his title, fine. Demote him even, all the way down the chain, as far as he can go, but don't exile him.”

Wanda grits her teeth, “Why are you sticking up for him?”

“I'm not. I just-” you let go of the anger, something more vulnerable replacing it.

“I don't want to be the reason he doesn't have a family anymore. Wanda, that's your brother, your twin. You can't just abandon him like this. I'm not saying don't punish this behavior, I'm just saying don't kick him out of your life.”

Agatha takes you side, “She has a point, Don Maximoff. He's all you have left from home.”

Wanda takes the seat next to you, “Someone get me a drink.”

A glass of red wine finds its way into her hands. She almost chugs the glass before sitting it on the table with a sharp clink.

“Tell Bucky to bring him back through the front door. I want this dealt with now,” Wanda locks eyes with Natasha.

The lawyer makes the call. When she hangs the phone up she speaks again, “Are we doing this in front of her?”

“Well she's the one he picked a fight with,” Wanda’s tone gets snappy.

“That doesn't mean she needs to be involved like this Wanda,” Natasha argues back.

Before they can start going at each other, you stand abruptly, “I'm going to get a drink.”

Three of the women in the room look towards the Don, wondering if she would stop you.

“Are you coming back?”

You nod, your voice goes soft, “Yeah.”

Carol is waiting at the back door, guarding it you assume. When you exit, you can see she's checking you for wounds.

“I'm okay Carol,” you insist, there's a stagger in your walk.

She gets close enough for you to lean on her. A bitter part of your mind tells you to push her away, but you don't.

“Where are you going?”

“To get another drink.”

She grabs your hand gently, “I don't think another drink will help.”

“Something has to.”

You let Carol pull you away from the party, around to the front of the house.

“You should’ve seen them when someone said you were fighting with Pietro,” Carol starts. “I don't think I've ever seen Natasha that mad before.”

“I had it under control,” you pout.

Carol exhales, “Come on Y/n, we both know you shouldn't have had to do it.”

“I have to go back inside Carol,” you try to pull away.

The blonde doesn't let you go, instead she pulls you into a hug. Her arms are tight around you, she sways from side to side.

You relax.

“You aren't in prison anymore. You don't have to just accept this as something that happens, because it's not.”

“But it is, isn't it? Right out of prison and straight into the mob,” you break out of her hold.

You begin walking back towards the house. Carol follows behind you silently. You take a deep breath before you re-enter the house. The blonde stays outside guarding the door.

Voices are raised upon your entry.

“He needs to be punished Wanda! He can't get away with putting his hands on her,” you recognize the voice as Yelena's.

“I know that, okay? I know. She doesn't want me to exile him, I won't. We have to find an alternative,” Wanda argues back.

“Exile is the alternative! If this was anyone else-”

“ENOUGH!”

Your voice echoes off of the walls. The room is different when you enter it. Pietro is on his knees in the middle of the floor. Bucky behind him with a gun pulled.

Yelena stands by Bucky, arms crossed over her chest. You see the redness of her face and don't know whether it has to do with the alcohol or yelling.

Natasha now sits where you had been, next to Wanda. Agatha and Rio are sort of off to the side, just watching as it all unfolds.

You move towards Pietro, your knees hit the ground so that you're face to face with him. He glares at you, fire burning in his eyes. His nose is crooked like you left it, blood stuffed tissue plugs his nostrils. He knows better than to make a move, so you let him glare.

“You're about to lose everything.” You tell him plainly. “I've been there before. No freedom, no family, just a cot and a dirty pillow. It's not something I'd wish on my worst enemy. If you want to be exiled, then keep acting like this. If you cared about your sister half as much as you said, you wouldn't be in this predicament.”

That last sentence gets him to say something, “Fuck you.”

You laugh in his face, “You're privileged you know that. The Don's brother, the underboss, and you're throwing that all away why? Cause you don't like me?”

You can see the muscles in his face twitch, “No.”

“There's only two people in this room that would have a problem with killing you and one of them is me. Do you understand that?”

He looks around the room. As he scans the faces of the people, he sees that you're right. He bows his head, “My sister won't let me die.”

You nod in agreement, “She won't, but she will cut you out of her life forever. I don’t want that, do you?”

“No.”

You stand and his head tilts up to follow you, “How will you repent for these actions? What will you give up? You've already lost your title.”

He looks from you to Wanda. He squares his jaw, “Porezal moyu kozhu.”

“Do we think that's fair?”

Wanda surveys the room, they all nod. The Don claps her hands together, before standing up.

“Bucky, Yelena, with me. Everyone else, go back out there, enjoy the party,” Wanda’s command sends everyone in motion.

You don't want to go back to the party. You're ready to call it a night. The sickness hits you hard. All of the drinks catch up to you in an instant. The composure you just had is quickly slipping.

You make it out of the door, but that's as far as you get before you start to puke.

“Oh shit.”

Natasha is there immediately. She steadies you and pulls your hair back.

“I've got you.” She rubs her hands on your back.

There are tears streaming down your face. As you spew your guts out, your throat burns. You start dry heaving at some point as there isn't anything left in your system.

Your entire weight falls into her hands as your strength leaves you.

“You want some help getting her inside?”

“Yeah, please.”

You grip Natasha weakly. The lawyer sweeps some of your hair out of your face, “We got you. You're going to be okay.”

Carol helps Natasha carry you into the master bedroom. They don't stop once you're in the room. The women carry you past the bed and into the restroom, sitting you on the toilet.

“I've got it from here Carol,” Natasha dismisses her.

“I'll be around if you need me,” Carol leaves the room.

Natasha takes in your appearance, “You with me, malyshka?”

You nod groggily.

“What do you want to do here? You're covered in puke, you gotta get clean. Can you do it on your own?”

“Yeah, just… stay nearby. Please,” your head is in your hands.

Natasha springs into action. “Okay, I'll be back with something for you to throw on after. There are towels behind you. Just call out if you need me.”

She exits the room. You stand slowly, holding onto the shower door as you do so. With some effort, you peel the vomit covered shirt over your head. You do the same with your pants.

You step into the shower before turning it on. You're barely able to hold your head up, but you manage to clean your body. Your hair is definitely a struggle to wash, but you attempt it anyway.

You misjudge the shampoo by quite a bit. It spills all over the floor of the shower.

“Shit,” you lose your balance, embarrassingly fast. You have no choice but to call out for the lawyer, “Natasha!”

She rushes into the room not even a second later, “What happened?”

“I fell,” your face heats at the admission.

“I'll have to see you to help you. Is that okay?”

You don't hesitate to answer, “Yeah, it's fine. Prison didn't make me shy.”

Natasha doesn't fret as she takes off her suit jacket along with her shoes. She wordlessly opens the shower, and props you up against her.

“Are you hurt?”

“I'm a little dizzy.”

Natasha doesn't move her hands from your waist, “Let's get the shampoo out of your hair, then we can get you out. Crouch down a little.”

You follow her instructions to the best of your abilities. She's quick, but careful as she rubs the product further into your hair. She takes the shower head into her hands to rinse your hair. Once she deems it clean she turns off the water.

She helps you out of the shower and points over to the clothes she brought for you as well as a tooth brush.

“You're soaked,” you see her clothes drenched from the shower.

She shrugs, "It's just water. Change, brush your teeth, and then see me in the room.”

Again you're alone in the bathroom. You change into the clothes she provided you. They smell like Natasha. They'd probably fit oversized on her, but they fit perfectly on you.

You rinse your mouth first, before brushing your teeth. After you're done you find yourself staring in the mirror for the second time today.

There’s the cut on your eyebrow, some light bruising on your cheek. You know Pietro has it way worse, but that doesn't make you feel any better.

You attempt to stretch your fingers, feeling soreness as you do so. Your knuckles will definitely bruise, you're lucky that they didn't split too badly.

A soft knock pulls you from your analysis, “Are you alright in there?”

Instead of answering verbally you opt to open the door. Natasha knows the look on your face, it's one she's seen plenty of times on Wanda’s.

Against her better judgement she takes your hand and leads you directly to the bed. You allow her to pull you into bed with her. Your head finds a place in her lap.

The sigh that falls out of Natasha’s lips speaks to how exhausted the woman is. Still, she runs a hand through your damp hair. You wonder if the motion is to relax you or calm her.

“I'm sorry, you shouldn't have had to go through that. Not the fight, and definitely not the family meeting,” the red head looks straight in front of her, avoiding your eyes.

“The fighting, I'm used to. I don't usually have to take up for the guys I'm fighting immediately after, so that's new,” you attempt to joke.

Natasha doesn't find humor in it. “You didn't have to stick up for him.”

You frown, “It wasn't for him. I can see that he's a fuck up, just like everyone else. However, I also see that he's Wanda’s twin brother. It would crush her to exile him. She's not going to say that outloud, she's the Don. No one else in the room was going to take up for him. So I did.”

“You're too perceptive for your own good,” Natasha says.

“To survive the way I did, I had to know the game. For a period of time I had to play the role. I- I know what it's like to take charge, to make decisions that impact people. It's not who I am, but it was who I had to be,” you stare up at her.

You wonder if she'll look down at you. She feels your eyes on her, she's scared to look. If she does, she fears she'll lose the fight against her morals.

“You're strong Y/n,” is what she settles on saying.

You hum, “Your wife said the same thing earlier.”

That puts a small smile on the lawyer's lips, “Great minds.”

Before you can doubt yourself, one of your hands rests on Natasha’s face. You tilt her head down, so she's looking into your eyes.

“Pietro said I was weaseling my way into your marriage. Do you feel that way?”

“No, I don't,” Natasha responds delicately.

You answer her back, “I do.”

Natasha drops her last defense, “Weaseling implies, sneaking in. It makes it seem like it's unwanted.”

Your mouth opens but sound doesn't immediately follow. Your eyes dart away from hers for a brief second. “You both can't want me.”

Natasha rebuttals, “We shouldn’t. I know that better than anyone. I'm your lawyer and my wife is the Don. We live a good life, but it’s full of crime.”

There's a shift in the way you look at her, “But shouldn't, isn't doesn't.”

Natasha feels her eyes watering, “No it isn't.”

You begin to stroke her cheek. You watch as her eyes shut. The air around you feels light but tense at the same time. Anticipation of what happens now builds in the both of you.

“Do you want me?”

“Y/n,” Natasha says your name like a plea. She's begging you to not push it any further. “You've been drinking.”

You pull her face down towards you, while simultaneously leaning up to meet her half way. Your heart thuds against your chest and you're almost sure you can hear Natasha’s.

“Please.”

Natasha loses the battle right there. She lets her lips capture yours.

You don't remember the last time you kissed anyone, but you know it didn't feel like this. Nothing could ever feel like this.

It's an awkward position until it's not. You both maneuver so that you're flat on your back and Natasha is on top of you.

Kissing her feels just like tasting freedom for the first time in a decade. You moan into the kiss, breath shuttering against Natasha’s lips.

It's unintentional, but Natasha grinds down on your lap. She feels you against her and her eyes widen. She breaks the kiss, looking into your eyes like she could devour you.

“We need to stop.” Breathing comes labored from her lips.

You nod, but your hands stay resting flat against her stomach.

“Don't stop on my account.”

Instinctively you panic at the sound of Wanda's voice, but Natasha holds your hands against her skin. It's a small comfort, but it lets you know that this is okay.

“Wanda,” Natasha fixes her wife with a gaze.

The Don perches herself on the edge of the bed. She surveys your state. The tint to your skin, the rise and fall of your chest, the anxiety in your eyes. As much as she would love to tease you, to prolong this, she knows your heart couldn't take it.

“I'm not mad malyshka. A little jealous that Natasha kissed you first, but not mad.”

As the relief floods through you, it's noticeable to the Don.

“If I kissed you now, would you be less jealous?”

Wanda pretends to think, “The only way we'll know, is if we test it out.”

Natasha crawls off of your lap. You sit up and turn towards the brunette. Wanda doesn't hesitate like Natasha. She claims your lips like they've always been hers.

You were wrong before. You thought nothing would feel as good as Natasha’s lips on yours, but here you are kissing her wife; feeling the same euphoria wash over you.

Wanda’s kiss is more demanding than Natasha’s. Her teeth make appearances to nibble on your bottom lip and you can tell she's fighting the urge to put her tongue in your mouth.

You have to stop here. You can feel your dick throbbing against your jeans. No matter how much your body wants to, you can't have Natasha or Wanda taking care of you in that way. At least not yet.

“You have no idea how much I want you. As soon as I saw you, I knew you were special.” Wanda keeps you close as she talks, lips still brushing together.

You fight back a whine, “You can't mean that.”

Her brows pinch together, “I do. I don't say things I don't mean. Natasha told me no, that we shouldn’t get involved with you like this. Maybe she's right, but she kissed you first.”

Natasha crosses her arms over her chest, “You would've kissed her anyway if I didn't. I saw you two dancing earlier tonight.”

Wanda chuckles, “Guilty. I was hoping to steal a kiss from you tonight. I was successful.”

“Does this ruin everything?”

Natasha exhales deeply, “It doesn't. I won't let it.”

“You're safe with us Y/n. That won't change,” Wanda reassures you.

“What does change?”

Wanda and Natasha share a look. The lawyer answers first, “Wanda and I are interested in you. Not just for intimacy, but romantically. We would like to pursue a relationship with you. If-”

“You're making it too lawyery dear. We want to date you. Take you out on dates, hold you late at night, that kind of stuff,” Wanda interrupts her wife.

“I have conditions.”

That catches the two women off guard. Natasha recovers first, “What are they?”

“First condition, I don't want to lie or hide this from the people we're closest to. Second condition, full transparency about both of your jobs. Third condition, if this doesn't work out for whatever reason, I still want my freedom,” you lay out your conditions clearly.

“Anything else?”

You stand, it's more so that you feel strong in the moment. They keep their eyes on you. It brings you comfort more than it should.

“I've never done this before; any of it,” you hate how vulnerable you sound.

“We will go at whatever pace you're comfortable with,” Wanda grabs one of your hands.

Natasha takes the other, “There’s no right way to date, no timeline of events, we'll take it one step at a time.”

“Okay, good,” you expel a small breath.

You stand there awkwardly, wondering if they would drop your hands. Instead you find yourself being pulled down between the two women. You hit the mattress with a light ‘oof’.

“You're sleeping here tonight.” Wanda's arm wraps around your midsection.

“Objections?” Natasha asks, as she gets comfortable on your other side.

You've never felt warmth like this. Surrounded by such comfort physically and emotionally. You're already drifting by the time you answer.

“No.”

Taglist: @perfectlyredfox   @somedumbbitches @nebthetautora @digitalsnoww @Ovelvet-mourningo @toe19 @htinha157 @lothecrow @nrlvr @largedawndishso @milflovers4 @lilsmeaux @truthindreams @agentrvmoff @ctrlamira @sevikasoneandonlywife @leenlynn @widowofchaosx @elle161989 @nanou4204 @upsidedowndanvers @kailaspelledwrong @libbyofc @jhb0301 @cps531 @silentwolfsstuff @htaylorsversion @seasonsofchaos @ciaoooooo111

[kittennextdoor]

18+ nsfw | f x f "just friends"

Everyone thinks you’re just friends. They see the way she leans in close when you laugh, the casual touches, the shared glances. They assume it’s harmless fun. That you’re two girls who click really well. They have no idea how wrong they are. Because the truth lives in stolen moments like this.

The bar bathroom is small and dimly lit, the bass from the music outside vibrating through the walls. She followed you in under the excuse of “fixing your hair,” but the second the door locked, she had you pressed against the sink, mouth on yours like she’d been starving for it all night.

Her tongue slides against yours, deep and filthy, while her hand slips under your dress. Two fingers push inside you without warning, curling instantly against that spot that makes your knees weak. You moan into her mouth, gripping her shoulders as she fucks you with steady, practiced strokes.

“Third time today,” she murmurs against your lips, smirking. “You’re such a greedy little thing for me, aren’t you?” You can barely answer. Your head falls back as she adds a third finger, stretching you open while her thumb circles your clit. She kisses down your neck, sucking lightly, careful not to leave marks where people might see.

“Come on, baby,” she whispers, voice low and sweet. “Let me feel you. I want you to soak my hand again.” You come hard, biting down on her shoulder to stay quiet, thighs shaking around her wrist. She works you through it, murmuring soft praises against your ear until your breathing evens out.

She pulls her fingers out slowly, brings them to her mouth, and licks them clean while holding your gaze. Then she kisses you again, letting you taste yourself on her lips. She fixes your dress with gentle hands, adjusts your hair for you, and smiles like she didn’t just ruin you in a public bathroom.

“Ready to go back out there?” she asks, voice innocent. You nod, legs still shaky. No one outside has any idea what just happened. And that’s exactly how you both like it.

[lowkeyerror]

Mob Law (Series Masterlist)

WandaNat x G!pReader

Notes: Multi-chapter, Lawyer Nat, Mob boss Wanda, wrongfully convicted g!preader, mentions of murder, mentions of death, mentions of prison, mob/gang related activity, violence, etc.

An important note about g!p reader.

Summary: You have been locked up for just about 10 years after being wrongfully convicted of killing your mother. Kate and Peter know you're innocent, so they ask for help clearing your name. That help comes in the form of renowned lawyer Natasha Romanoff and her wife Don Wanda Maximoff.

Ch. 1- The worst day of your life unfolds quickly as you find your mother dead and are subsequently charged with her murder.

Ch. 2- You write back to the Don. Not too long after, you get a visit from her wife.

Ch. 3 - The Don receives your letter and a visit from her wife.

Ch. 4- You get a conditional release from prison, finding yourself on the outside for the first time in a decade.

Ch. 5- You meet the Don.

Ch. 6- You can't sleep so you go for a morning run. When Wanda and Natasha notice you out of bed, they get worried.

Ch. 7- Wanda tracks down the two officers that made your arrest.

Ch. 8- You visit the neighbors.

Ch. 9- Wanda gets home after talking to Ray Cooper and Vin Gonzales. Natasha helps temper the Don's anger.

Ch. 10- You all come back from Agatha and Rio's. Wanda and Natasha ask about your father.

Ch. 11- While Natasha goes to gather more intel on your father, you have a private moment with Wanda. That moment leads to Natasha feeling like she has to protect you.

Ch. 12- You and Natasha are checking out some of the documents about your father. After a small breakthrough you celebrate with drinks. Wanda thinks the celebration should be bigger.

Ch. 13- Your first party. Anticipation isn't the only thing buzzing in the air. Drinks are had, conflict arises, and maybe... just maybe, you get more than you bargained for.

Ch. 14- The morning after the party, the Don makes rounds checking on the members of the house. The check-ins leave her feeling heavy.

Ch. 15- The date

Ch. 16- You've been thinking about your father lately. The thoughts come with emotional turmoil. You try to paint to work through it, but it leaves you feeling worse. Natasha and Wanda help you hold yourself together, but it creates conflict between the wives and your friends.

Ch. 17- Your friends take you out in public for the first time since your release from prison. Meanwhile at home Darcy interrupts a busy day for Wanda and Natasha with information about your father.

Ch. 18- Jarvis gets interrogated by the family. You're oblivious to what's happening, too wrapped up in your favorite lawyer.

To be continued

Ch. 19- Time is of the essence, and there isn't any time to sugarcoat the truth. Everything has to be settled before vour first court appearance.

Ch.20- First day of court

[just-aake]

Don't Fall in Love with Me

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x fem!reader

Summary: Being told not to fall in love with someone is difficult, especially when that someone is Natasha Romanoff—and especially when the warning comes far too late.

Warnings: fluff, angst, implied sexual themes

Words: 8244

The music pulses through the floor of the club like a second, louder heartbeat, trying to drown out your own. 

Lights fracture across the room in restless bursts of color, slicing everything into shifting pieces. Faces appear and disappear, hands are thrown into the air, and bodies collide and reform in rhythm.

Everything blurs into noise, into heat, into something wild and uncontained.

It's chaos.

And you sit just outside of it.

Tucked into the corner of a booth, you exist in a pocket of stillness that doesn't quite belong in a place like this. 

One arm drapes lazily across the table, your fingers idly tracing random patterns as you wait. Your gaze drifts over the crowds, not really focused or searching for anything, just passing over the movements like background scenery in a place you're not really part of.

A figure stumbles into your peripheral vision, breaking the rhythm of your detachment. Before you can shift away or pretend not to notice, he's already there, leaning heavily against the back of your booth, far too close, and invading your space with the unmistakable scent of cheap alcohol and poor decisions.

"Hey, sweetheart," he slurs, words sticking together as he flashes a crooked, overconfident grin. "You want some—"

"Nope."

You don't even turn fully toward him. The word comes out flat and immediate, cutting him off mid-sentence without hesitation.

"Keep walking."

He pauses, blinking in confusion when the response didn't match the script in his head. His grin falters, twisting into something sour as his ego scrambles to recover.

"Bitch," he mutters under his breath, not quite brave enough to say it louder.

You don't give him the satisfaction of a reaction.

He barely makes it two steps before the universe corrects itself.

A solid collision sends him stumbling backward, his balance giving out as he catches himself awkwardly on the floor. 

"Hey—!" His protest starts on instinct, but it dies just as quickly as it began.

Because she's there.

Natasha stands over him, her posture loose, almost casual, but there's nothing soft about the look in her eyes. 

"Watch where you're going," she says, her tone low, edged just enough to make the warning unmistakable.

The man swallows hard, whatever bravado he had dissolving instantly. He scrambles to his feet without another word, disappearing into the crowd like he was never there to begin with.

You don't react right away, choosing to examine her quietly instead. 

There's something about the way she holds herself that captures your attention a second longer. Since you met her, Natasha has always been poised and self-assured, unshakable, as if she knows she's entirely in control.

Slowly, you lean your chin into your palm and sigh with exaggerated drama.

"My hero," you coo, your voice dripping with mock admiration.

Natasha huffs, unimpressed, and slides into the booth beside you with the ease of someone who belongs wherever she decides to be. Two drinks land on the table soon after.

"Shut up."

You grin, reaching for one of the glasses and lifting it to your lips.

"That took a while," you comment casually.

Natasha shrugs, already taking a sip of her own.

"Line was long."

"Mmhmm," you hum, unconvinced.

You don't need an explanation. You've known her long enough to read between the lines and figure out what really took up her time.

"Let me guess…new number?"

A smirk tugs at the corner of her mouth. Without answering, she reaches beneath the neckline of her top. She pulls out a small, folded slip of paper and flicks it across the table toward you.

"Two, actually. Stopped me on my way back."

You catch it easily, unfolding it with a raised brow. Messy handwriting with the message to 'call me' followed by a phone number. To top it off, in one corner is a lipstick mark stamped like a signature.

"And she got it into your bra?" you tease, glancing up at her. "That's dedication. Sounds like someone's going to have a very busy night."

Natasha relaxes back into the seat, giving a faint, noncommittal shrug.

"We'll see if I feel like it."

You smile faintly into your drink.

That's always her answer.

And you already know how it ends.

By the end of the night, she'll choose someone. She'll give them just enough of everything—attention, charm, pleasure. Something that feels dangerously close to real. Enough to make them think they've been chosen for something more.

And in the morning?

She'll be gone.

Another almost. Another story someone else will tell about her.

Your fingers trace the rim of your glass as your gaze flicks back to her.

"Do you ever think about taking one of them seriously?" you ask, quieter now. 

"No," she deadpans.

You laugh at her immediate response, your smile turning fond as you tilt your head at her expression, which has now shifted to an unamused glare at you. 

"I mean it, Natasha," you press, softer. "Maybe consider the possibility of falling in love with someone for once."

Natasha scoffs, shaking her head like the idea itself is ridiculous.

"Nobody who's handing out numbers to someone they spent ten seconds talking to is looking for love," she replies, matter-of-factly, raising the glass to her lip, before adding. "And neither am I."

The corner of your smile falters slightly, and you quickly look down at your drink before she can catch the shift in your expression. 

It's one of the clearest differences between you and her. Where she dismisses it, you still believe in finding the one—a love so certain there's no question, no doubt.

Meanwhile, Natasha Romanoff doesn't fall in love. Not really. Not in any way that lasts. Her walls aren't just high. They're reinforced, locked tight, and designed to keep everything out.

Even you.

And you're the closest thing she has to a best friend, aside from those she saves the world with.

You exhale slowly, pushing the thought down and steering the conversation toward something safer.

"So what's your secret, then?" you ask, letting the teasing edge return. You tap the paper. "How do you keep collecting these like trophies?"

Natasha raises a brow over the rim of her glass before giving a slight shrug.

"I know what people want to hear."

You make a face.

"That's such a cop-out answer."

Her smirk deepens, sharpening at the edges like she's already entertained by an idea.

"What?" she challenges. "You want a demonstration?"

You pause, but it's not really out of hesitation, not in the way it should be. It's curiosity. It's the pull of wanting to see what she does with that effortless charm she carries around like a second skin.

And maybe, if you're being honest, it's something else, too.

"Sure," you say finally, with a casual shrug that doesn't quite match the interest in your eyes.

You shift closer, turning fully toward her, and then you lean in with exaggerated confidence, deliberately overdoing it. Your voice drops, dripping with mock seduction, every word intentionally theatrical.

"Hey, beautiful," you murmur, laying it on thick. "Wanna come home with me tonight?"

For a split second, there's silence. 

Then Natasha laughs.

It's not the quiet, amused huff she usually gives you. It's fuller, something real enough that it catches you off guard. 

Her head tilts back slightly as the sound leaves her, her shoulders loosening and her guard dropping in a way you don't see often.

And for that brief second, you're not thinking about the bit anymore.

You're just watching her.

Watching the way her eyes crinkle faintly at the corners, the way her lips curve without calculation, the way the sound of her laugh settles somewhere in your chest and lingers there longer than it should.

"That's not even remotely close to what happens," Natasha says, shaking her head as she looks back at you, amusement still lingering in her expression.

You blink, pulled out of the moment, and then you laugh too. It's lighter, a little self-aware now as you lean back from her space.

"Yeah, alright," you admit, grinning as you shake your head at yourself. "That was too much."

You glance at her again, more thoughtful this time. 

It has always amazed you how she holds herself and how her attention works. Natasha doesn't chase, but somehow, she still pulls people in.

Your grin fades into a more contemplative expression. You shift again, slower this time, closing the distance without the exaggerated movement from before.

"Alright," you say, quieter now, your tone losing the performative edge. "Let me try again."

You take a slow breath, letting the noise of the club fade just enough to sharpen your focus. 

This time, when you look at her, you don't rush it. You let your gaze linger, unhurried, as it traces over her, catching the relaxed confidence in the way she sits, the subtle teasing curve of her lips, the way the shifting lights catch in her red hair and set it briefly aglow before slipping away again.

Only then do you meet her eyes.

"Hey," you say, your voice quieter now, steadier. "Mind if I join you?"

Something changes. It's subtle, so slight it could almost be imagined, but the air between you shifts, tightening just a fraction.

Natasha tilts her head, the corner of her mouth lifting into a small, amused smile. 

There's a flicker of intrigue there, something sharper beneath the surface, before she gestures casually to the space beside her.

"Go ahead."

With her permission, you slide closer, easing into her space. Your knee accidentally bumps against hers beneath the table. Instead of pulling away, you stay, letting the contact linger just long enough to be noticed. 

Then, sliding your arm along the back of the booth behind her, your fingers brush absentmindedly through a loose strand of her hair, catching it for just a second before letting it fall.

"So," you ask, your tone light but measured, "are you here alone?"

Natasha holds your gaze. For a moment, her eyes don't move, steady as she assesses you, but then in one second, they dip…to your lips.

It's brief, almost nothing, before she meets your eyes again.

But you still catch it. And the awareness of the action lands somewhere low in your chest, tightening unexpectedly at the way her attention feels.

"No," she says smoothly, as if nothing at all just happened. "I'm here with a friend."

There's a faint hint of amusement in her tone, like she's making a joke that you can't participate in.

Her fingers tap lightly against the side of her glass, a soft, rhythmic motion, before she tilts her head again, studying you with a look that feels far more intentional than casual.

"But," she continues, her voice dipping lower, slipping beneath the noise of the club so that you feel it more than you hear it, "I wouldn't be opposed to some better company."

Your brow lifts in exaggerated offense.

"Oh?" you hum, leaning in just enough to close the distance by a fraction, your knee pressing more firmly against hers beneath the table. "That so?"

Natasha's lips curve into that slow, knowing smirk she wears when she knows she's already ahead, when she's already decided how something is going to go.

"Mhm."

Her gaze drifts again, this time with no attempt at subtlety. It moves from your eyes, lingering at your mouth, down the line of your jaw and neck, and then to your collarbone before lifting back up again, like she's mapping something out in her mind.

It shouldn't affect you.

She hasn't even touched you.

And yet, heat rises anyway, creeping up your neck, settling across your cheeks before you can stop it. You swallow, steadying yourself before continuing.

"And what exactly qualifies as 'better company'?" you ask, keeping your tone teasing, though the curiosity underneath it is real and unguarded.

Natasha leans in closer. Not enough to erase the space between you. Just enough that it matters. Just enough that your focus narrows, sharpening until she's the only thing that feels clear.

"Someone interesting," she says.

Her fingers shift, sliding lazily across the table, near your hand. They're close enough that you're aware of the distance between them, of how little it would take to close it.

"Someone who knows how to hold their own," she adds, her eyes lifting to meet yours again, something like a challenge buried in the words.

There's a pause as she lets her words linger.

"And," she finishes, softer now, her voice lowering just enough to settle under your skin, "someone who knows how to keep my attention."

Your lips twitch, amusement flickering through your facade briefly.

"Oh, is that all?" you tease.

Natasha huffs out a quiet laugh, but her gaze doesn't waver. It stays locked on yours, steady and expectant.

"Think you can manage it?"

The way she says it, not quite cocky, but not entirely fake either. It feels like an invitation. Like she's waiting to see what you'll do with it.

So without thinking, you lean in—just a little.

"I don't know," you answer, tilting your head as if you're considering her instead. "You seem like you get bored easily."

"I do," she admits without hesitation.

You have to bite your lip to keep from laughing at her blunt honesty. Instead, you let your fingers tap idly against the back of the booth just behind her shoulder, grounding yourself in the motion.

"Then I guess I'll have to make sure I'm not easy to forget," you tease.

Her response isn't what you expect. 

There's no immediate smirk, no counter-teasing remark. Instead, there's a brief flicker of something warmer in her expression, gone before it fully forms. 

It catches you off guard as her amused grin returns on her face.

Natasha's fingers slide closer to yours on the table, brushing against yours lightly, as if she's offering you a glimpse of what her touch feels like without fully giving it.

"Careful," she murmurs, her voice low, threaded with quiet amusement. "That almost sounded like you're promising me a good time."

You grin, unable to help it now, caught up in the rhythm of it all, in the ease of this back-and-forth.

"Maybe I am."

For a moment, Natasha doesn't respond. She relaxes back in her seat, watching you thoughtfully.

Her gaze holds yours with that familiar spark of challenge resting just beneath the surface. It doesn't push. It doesn't press.

It just…stays.

Like she's waiting.

Like there's something unfinished hanging between you, and she's content to let it linger there as long as it takes.

And somewhere in that quiet, the space between you shifts.

Not all at once. Not in any way you could point to.

Just enough to stop it from feeling quite as defined.

And then everything shifts.

Natasha's lips curve slowly into that unmistakable, confident smirk, her brows lifting slightly, like she's just claimed victory without needing to say it out loud.

That's what breaks the trance. 

You blink, the moment snapping apart as your awareness rushes back all at once.

And suddenly, you're very aware of how close you are to her.

Your hand is now braced against the seat behind her. Your body angled more toward hers. One knee pressed into the booth, and the other shifted forward between her legs.

Like you were about to climb into her lap without ever realizing so.

Your breath catches.

When did you—

For a second, you don't move. You just look at her, then at the tiny space between you, then back again—trying to trace it back, to find the point where things shifted.

But there isn't one.

Just the quiet realization that it already has.

A soft, disbelieving laugh slips out.

"That—" you start, shaking your head slightly, still hovering there. "That shouldn't have worked."

Natasha's lips curve again, slower this time. There's satisfaction there, unmistakable, but beneath it, something softer flickers briefly.

"Mm," she hums, her voice low. Her gaze dips once to your mouth before returning to your eyes. "And yet…here you are."

Something in your chest tightens at that, sharp and familiar. You don't let yourself examine it too closely. Instead, you exhale and push yourself back, creating space, though not nearly as much as you probably should.

"Okay," you mutter, half to steady yourself. "That was—"

"Convincing?" she offers lightly.

You glance at her, narrowing your eyes, though a reluctant smile tugs at your lips.

"Dangerous," you correct.

She leans back, finally giving you some room, but not before her fingers brush briefly against your wrist as you pull away.

Just enough for her touch to linger, to stay with you.

"I did warn you," Natasha says, her tone light again. "If you're not careful, you might fall in love."

You scoff, settling back into your side of the booth, though your heart hasn't quite caught up with you yet.

"Don't get ahead of yourself, Natasha. It's not that easy to make me fall in love."

"Good."

The word lands differently.

You glance at her.

She's looking at you with a serious expression now, not teasing, not amused.

"Don't fall in love with me," Natasha says quietly.

It's soft. Nearly lost beneath the music, beneath the noise, beneath everything else.

But you hear it anyway.

It settles somewhere deep, somewhere uncomfortable, tightening your chest in a way you don't have time to process, because just as quickly as it appears, it's gone.

Her smirk slides back into place like armor.

"Unless, of course," she adds casually, lifting her drink, "you want a full demonstration."

You let out a quiet laugh, shaking your head as you reach for the folded paper. Without thinking too much about it, you tuck it back into the front of her top, your fingers lingering just a second longer on her skin before pulling away.

"Save it," you say lightly. "For your numbers."

And then you lean back. Back into your space. Back into the role you've always had in her life.

The best friend.

The one who is never supposed to cross that line.

The one who already did anyway.

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

You drag your spoon slowly through the soup, barely registering the motion as it disturbs the surface. The liquid folds in on itself, ripples spreading outward before settling again, only for you to repeat the same absent-minded movement. 

It's rhythmic, almost hypnotic, just something to keep your hands occupied while your thoughts drift somewhere else entirely.

"Not that good?"

The voice cuts cleanly through the fog.

Your head lifts, blinking as the restaurant comes rushing back into focus all at once—the soft amber lighting, the low murmur of conversations overlapping, the occasional clink of silverware against plates. 

Across from you, your date is watching with a small, curious smile, her expression gentle but searching, like she's trying to read what you won't say.

"Hm? Oh—no, it's great," you answer quickly, setting your spoon down with a soft clatter. Your hands retreat to your lap, fingers lacing together as if that might steady you. "I'm just…"

You falter, the excuse dissolving before it forms. Your gaze dips briefly, and you shake your head with a quiet exhale.

"Sorry," you add, softer this time, a note of sincerity threading through the awkwardness. "Would you excuse me for a minute?"

You're already pushing your chair back, offering her an apologetic smile, the kind you've perfected over time that hides more than it reveals.

She nods easily, gracious in a way that only makes the guilt twist tighter in your chest.

"Of course," she says. "Take your time."

That almost makes it worse.

You weave through the restaurant, past tables filled with people who seem entirely present in their own evenings, their laughter and conversations grounded in a way you can't quite access. 

The restroom door swings shut behind you, cutting off the noise abruptly, leaving you in a quiet that feels almost oppressive.

You exhale, long and unsteady, bracing your hands against the edge of the sink.

For a moment, you just stare down at the porcelain, your reflection hovering faintly in your peripheral vision. You try to gather yourself, to reconstruct the version of you that walked into this place with the intention of trying—really trying.

Because this should be working.

She's kind. She listens. She laughs easily, asks thoughtful questions, and remembers details you mention in passing. There's nothing forced about her, nothing sharp or complicated.

By every reasonable standard, this date is going well.

And it is.

So why does it feel like you're somewhere else entirely?

Your gaze lifts slowly, meeting your own reflection in the mirror. You look…distracted. Distant in a way you can't quite hide, no matter how hard you try.

Because no matter how much you focus, your mind keeps slipping.

Back to her.

Natasha lingers at the edges of everything, like a shadow you can't quite shake.

When your date smiles, warm and open across the table, your mind instantly replaces it with something else. A familiar smirk that builds at one corner first, like it knows exactly what it's doing to you.

When the light catches your date's hair, soft and golden, your thoughts betray you with flashes of red instead. How those scarlet strands fall just slightly out of place, like it refuses to be tamed, like it's part of her in a way that feels intentional.

And when your date's fingers brushed yours earlier, it should have meant something.

But all you could think about was the difference.

The way Natasha's touch never feels accidental. The way it always lingers just a fraction too long, like she's leaving something behind on purpose. Like she knows exactly how to stay with you, even after she pulls away.

You squeeze your eyes shut, your hands coming up to press against your cheeks.

"Stop," you murmur under your breath, sharper this time.

This is ridiculous. You're on a date—with someone real, someone present, someone who is actually trying to meet you halfway.

And instead, you're stuck on someone who has made it very clear that she doesn't want this kind of relationship. Not with you. Not with anyone.

You let out a frustrated breath, dragging a hand down your face before reaching into your pocket for your phone.

This is a bad idea. You know it is. Your thumb moves anyway. Because, despite everything, despite the logic, despite the self-awareness, she's still the person you want to talk to.

The line rings once.

"Hey, what's up?" Natasha's voice slips through the speaker, low and familiar, and something in your chest loosens instantly, like tension you didn't realize you were carrying finally gives way.

It annoys you. How easy that is. How immediate.

You press your lips together, pushing that thought aside.

"Hiding in the restroom," you say, leaning back against the counter, your tone dry but lighter than you feel. "While my date is probably wondering if I've escaped out the window."

There's a soft pause, and then a low chuckle that feels entirely too warm through the phone.

"That bad?" she asks, amusement curling through her words.

You huff quietly, your gaze drifting back to your reflection.

"No," you admit, and this time it's honest. "She's great. Really great, actually."

You hesitate, your fingers tightening slightly around your phone.

"It's just…" you trail off, your brow furrowing as you try to find the words. "I don't know."

There's a quiet hum on the other end, thoughtful and measured.

"Mm," Natasha murmurs. "You're distracted."

It's not a question. 

Your lips press together in a small pout because, of course, she can hear it. Of course, she can pick you apart without even trying.

"Maybe," you concede.

A beat passes.

"Need a rescue?" she asks, her tone shifting, still teasing, but there's an undercurrent there. Something just shy of serious.

And that's the problem.

Because you know she means it.

She would show up. Or give you an excuse convincing enough to leave. She would use all of her resources to pull you out of this moment without any hesitation.

The thought makes your chest tighten, not with relief, but something more complicated.

Your lips curve faintly, despite yourself.

"You offering?" you ask, letting a bit of that familiar back-and-forth slip in, something easier, something safer.

"Always," Natasha replies smoothly.

You can practically hear the smirk in her voice. Before you can call her out on it, her voice continues, softer this time.

"Do you want me to?" 

It hits you hard how quickly she is to say that. Because it's effortless for her. This dynamic. This closeness that never quite crosses the line, but never steps back either.

Her offer hangs in the air, tempting you with the promise of her presence.

You open your mouth to respond, something half-teasing yet also honest already forming.

"I–"

"Where did you say your wine glasses are?" The voice in the background cuts cleanly through the moment.

Your smile falters, the warmth from earlier cooling as the realization that she isn't alone settles in. 

There's a faint rustle on the other end, a subtle shift of movement. Natasha mutters something, her voice lower now, directed away from the phone. You can't make out the words, only the tone, easy and unbothered.

Truthfully, the revelation is not surprising. 

Natasha moves through people and spaces like she belongs anywhere she chooses to be. There's always someone, something, some orbit she exists within.

So why does it feel like something just dropped in your chest? Why does it feel like you've been caught off guard by something you already understood?

You swallow, your grip tightening slightly on your phone as you force your expression to smooth out.

By the time she comes back, you've already started building the walls back up.

"…sorry," Natasha says, her voice slipping back into place like nothing happened.

You lean more against the counter for some support, letting the teasing edge return to your tone.

"Felt like some company tonight?" you ask.

It's a casual question. Harmless in the way you say it. 

And yet a long pause fills the conversation as Natasha considers your tone.

"Something like that," she finally replies.

You nod faintly to yourself, your lips curving into something that almost feels like a smile.

"Good," you say. "Wouldn't want you getting bored."

The words come out easy, but underneath them, something twists, sharp and unwelcome.

You wonder if this is what Natasha meant. Why she doesn't ever want anything more with anyone. Maybe, if you learn to do the same, you wouldn't have this ache in your chest anymore.

"I should get back," you add, your tone shifting just slightly enough to signal an ending.

There's a pause on the other end again, this one longer.

"What were you about to say?" Natasha asks, referring to earlier before you were interrupted.

You glance at your reflection once more. At the truth sitting just behind your eyes. At the words you almost let slip, the ones that would've changed something, even if only for a moment.

You straighten, pushing off the counter.

"It's nothing," you say, softer now, but steady. "I'll manage."

Another beat.

"…right," she replies, quieter this time.

You hesitate for half a second before adding softly.

"Enjoy your night, Natasha."

You hang up before she can respond. Before she can pull you back into that orbit again.

The silence that follows feels heavier than before.

For a moment, you just stand there, staring at your reflection, at the version of yourself that almost said something you can't take back.

Your chest feels tight. Not dramatic. Not overwhelming.

Just…heavy.

Like something quietly settling into place.

You exhale slowly, smoothing your expression, pushing everything down into something manageable. 

Because out there, someone is waiting for you. Someone who chose to be here with you.

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

By the time you step out into the cool night air with your date, something inside you has undeniably shifted.

The careful distance you maintained earlier has softened, dissolving into something far more natural and unforced. It becomes easier when you stop trying to define what this moment is supposed to mean, when you let go of the need to measure it against expectations or outcomes. Without that pressure, everything settles.

The conversation begins to flow with ease. There's no second-guessing, no pauses filled with overthinking. Your words come naturally, and so do hers.

At one point, she nudges her shoulder lightly against yours, teasing you about something you said earlier in the night. The gesture is small and playful, but it feels significant in its simplicity. 

This time, you don't hesitate. 

You respond instantly, matching her tone, letting yourself lean into the moment instead of analyzing it.

And it feels good.

There's no weight pressing against your chest, no lingering tension pulling at your thoughts. For once, your mind is quiet.

It's just two people enjoying each other's company without any expectations for more.

You hold onto that feeling as you continue walking. When you finally reach the front door of your apartment, your steps slow.

There's a brief pause as you stand there, your hand lingering on your keys. The small, familiar weight suddenly feels heavier, your pulse just slightly uneven as you turn back to face your date.

She's standing close, her expression open and soft. Still, there's an expectancy there too, not demanding or pressuring, but present enough that you can feel it.

You know this moment. You've been here before.

You could stop now, just like you always do. You could keep things simple. Say goodnight, thank her for the evening, and let this end the way so many others have—pleasant, harmless, and ultimately forgettable. 

Just another attempt at love that eventually fades quietly into the background.

But then your thoughts drift.

You think of Natasha.

You think of the way she moves through moments like this. She never hesitates, never allows doubt to creep in and complicate something that could simply be. She doesn't overanalyze or assign meaning where none is needed.

She just acts.

And for once, you decide to do the same.

You lean in first.

The kiss begins softly, almost cautiously, as if both of you are testing the space between you. There's a moment of uncertainty, a quiet question in the way your lips meet.

But it doesn't stay that way.

She responds immediately, stepping closer to you as if there was never any doubt. Her hand finds your arm, then slides to your waist, grounding you in the moment. The warmth of her touch is undeniable, real in a way that pulls you further in.

You feel it, the closeness, the simple, human pull of proximity.

It isn't empty.

It isn't meaningless.

But it isn't her, either.

And maybe…it doesn't have to be.

Maybe this can be enough to let you forget, even for a moment.

You deepen the kiss, allowing yourself to get lost in it. You focus on the immediacy of the sensation, on something tangible and present, something that doesn't ask you to wait, to question, or to ache for something more.

Your hands curl lightly at her collar, pulling her closer.

For a brief moment, it almost works.

It almost quiets everything else.

You just need a little more time, a little more distraction.

When you pull back, your breath is uneven.

Your forehead hovers close to hers, the space between you charged but fragile. The words that come next feel uncertain in a way you hadn't planned for.

"Do you…" you start, your voice quieter now. You hesitate, then push through it. "Do you want to come in?"

There's a flicker of surprise in her expression, but then she nods, a small smile forming as she prepares to answer.

"Guess you didn't need saving, after all."

The voice cuts cleanly through the moment.

Your body reacts before your mind can catch up. Your shoulders tense, and your breath catches sharply as something cold settles beneath your skin.

Slowly, you turn your head.

Natasha stands a few steps away.

One hand is tucked casually into her jacket pocket, the other loosely holding a pack of beer at her side. Her posture is relaxed, but her expression doesn't match it. 

There's something else there, something that immediately fills you with a sense of guilt.

Your date glances between the two of you, confusion quickly replacing the warmth that had been there moments ago.

"What is she talking about?" she asks, uncertain. 

"No, it's not what you think—she's my friend. I called her earlier but—," you say quickly. Your words come out rushed and defensive, and without thinking, your body instinctively creates some space between you and her.

And just like that, the moment collapses.

"I think…" your date begins, then falters. Her gaze lingers on you, searching for something that isn't there anymore. "I think I should go."

You don't stop her. You don't even try.

"Yeah," you say quietly. "That's probably…a good idea."

She nods, offering you a polite smile that no longer carries the same warmth.

"Goodnight," she says, her hand brushing your arm one last time before she turns away.

Natasha doesn't acknowledge her at all as she walks past. Her attention is fixed entirely on you.

The elevator doors close with a soft ding, and silence fills the space she left behind.

You don't look at Natasha, your gaze fixed on the ground in front of you. But in reality, you don't have to. Not when you can feel her presence, pressing into the air around you.

"What are you doing here, Natasha?" you ask finally, your voice tight.

"Checking on you," she replies, as if it's the most natural response in the world.

You let out a short, humorless laugh and turn to face her fully.

"Checking on me," you repeat. "Right."

Her gaze flicks briefly toward where your date disappeared, then returns to you.

"That didn't seem like you," she says.

Something in your chest snaps.

"And what exactly is that supposed to mean?"

She steps closer, her expression tightening with confusion.

"What were you thinking?" she says more firmly. "Inviting someone you barely know to stay the night."

You scoff, shaking your head.

"Are you seriously judging me right now?" you shoot back. "Because that's exactly how you do things."

Her jaw tightens, just slightly.

"That's different."

"Why?" you challenge, stepping closer now. The frustration you've been holding back begins to surface, sharp and unfiltered. "Because it's you?"

"Because you don't—" she cuts herself off, exhaling sharply. "You don't see people like that. As a passing moment. You actually care."

"Well, you don't get to decide who I am, Natasha," you fire back, your voice rising. "Or what I'm allowed to do just because it doesn't fit whatever version of me you have in your head."

"That's not what this is," she says, her voice lower now, strained in a way you're not used to hearing.

"Then what is it?" you press.

Natasha doesn't answer.

And that silence is what pushes you over the edge.

"You always know exactly what to say," you continue, your voice sharper now, cutting through the space between you. "So what's wrong now, Natasha?"

"Stop," she warns, her tone low.

But you can't.

You're already too far in. You step closer before you can think better of it, crowding into her space, forcing her to look at you. She holds her ground for half a second, jaw tightening, until you shove at her shoulder with the next word out of your mouth.

"Come on," you push, bitterness creeping into your words. "Where's the charm? The part where you make this all make sense?"

At each push, she stumbles back without resistance. Again and again. Until her back hits the wall.

Your hand fists in the fabric of her jacket before you realize what you're doing, gripping tight, anchoring her there. 

Natasha's breath hitches, so quiet it almost isn't there, but you feel it. That tiny fracture in her control. Her eyes flick down to your lips for half a second, then back up to your face, so quick that you might've imagined it.

But you know what you saw. You see it in her face. Time and time again.

The hesitation. The truth sitting just beneath the surface.

Your chest tightens, anger unraveling into something far more fragile.

"Say it," you demand, your voice faltering despite your effort to keep it steady. "Just—say it."

For a moment, neither of you moves.

You can feel the heat of her through the jacket, the steady rise and fall of her breathing, the tension coiled in her like a spring ready to snap. Close enough to see every flicker in her expression, every guarded thought trying to stay hidden.

And suddenly, you're exhausted.

Exhausted of the almosts. Of the half-answers. Of the way she looks at you like she's holding something back—something you're not allowed to hear.

Your grip loosens, and the energy to stand strong against her slowly drains. 

"You've known for a while," you say more quietly now. "I know you do."

For the first time, Natasha can't meet your eyes.

You let out a hollow laugh, dragging a hand across your face, wiping at the tear forming there.

"God, Natasha, just break my heart already so I can stop—"

"I love you."

For a moment, you're not even sure you heard the words correctly. Your eyes lock onto hers, searching in disbelief.

"What?"

Natasha stands in front of you without any trace of her usual composure. The charm she relies on is gone, along with the practiced deflection, leaving only something unguarded and terrifyingly real.

"I love you," she says again, her voice softer now.

Everything around you seems to fall silent, yet your heartbeat grows louder and faster, as if it cannot keep pace with what is happening.

This isn't how things were supposed to unfold.

You release a breath that nearly turns into a laugh of disbelief, your head shaking faintly.

"That is…" you begin, but the rest of the sentence never comes.

Nothing makes sense.

"You told me not to fall in love with you," you manage instead, your voice unsteady.

"I meant it."

"Then what the hell is this?"

Natasha exhales sharply, dragging a hand through her hair.

"It is exactly why I said it," she replies, her tone edged with frustration. "Because this is what happens."

She gestures between the two of you.

"It becomes complicated. It becomes messy. It…” She cuts herself off, her jaw tightening.

You watch her, your chest aching with the weight of it all.

"So what do you do?" you ask. "Pretend it's not there?"

Her silence is answer enough.

You step closer, slower this time, until there is barely any space left between you.

Your hands rise hesitantly, hovering for a brief moment before you gently cup her cheeks, tilting her face so she can't avoid your gaze.

"Why can't I love you, Natasha?" you ask, your voice quiet.

She swallows, and you see the exact instant her control slips before she surges forward and presses her lips to yours.

Somewhere nearby, the box of glass bottles hits the floor with a sharp sound, but neither of you reacts. Natasha's hands grip you firmly, pulling you closer until there is no distance left.

A soft sound escapes you, and she catches it, reversing your positions and pressing you back against the door instead. She holds you there, her body anchoring you in place, and kissing you again with a breathless urgency.

Her lips move along your jaw and then down to your neck, finding the exact place that draws a sharp intake of breath from you as she presses against the pulse there.

Your fingers are tangled in her hair now, keeping her close while you struggle to steady yourself.

Then just as suddenly, she stops. Natasha's head lowers, resting against you as she breathes heavily against your collarbone.

"Everything…" she murmurs. "Everyone I have ever cared about…"

She lifts her head, and the steadiness in her eyes is gone, replaced by something fragile and afraid. Her hand comes up to your face, her thumb brushing gently across your cheek.

"I always lose them," she says.

Your brows furrow as you take in her words before softening in understanding. Your hands slide to the back of her neck, fingers moving in slow, soothing circles against her skin.

"Natasha, I…" You hesitate, knowing there are promises you cannot make. Still, there is one truth you can offer. "I will always love you, Natasha."

No matter what happens after this moment, no matter if everything returns to what it was before, that will not change.

The conflict remains in her eyes over whether this is the correct choice. 

You offer a small, reassuring smile and lift your hand to smooth the tension from her expression before cupping her face again.

"Hey, beautiful," you say gently. "Do you want to come home with me tonight?"

Natasha closes her eyes for a brief moment and rests her forehead against yours. A quiet, breathless laugh escapes her.

"That should not have worked," she mimics your comment from the other night, her gaze soft with fondness when she looks at you again.

Your eyes flick briefly to her lips before meeting her gaze, a playful grin forming.

"And yet, here you are."

She lets out a quiet, affectionate huff before kissing you again, opening the door behind you, and guiding you inside.

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

You are not surprised when you wake and find the space beside you empty, even though you had fallen asleep wrapped in her arms. The sheets are cold now, the warmth of her body gone long enough for the emptiness to settle in completely.

Just like you said. Another almost. Another story that someone else will someday tell about Natasha Romanoff.

The difference is that you know what existed between the two of you was real. Natasha feels it too. You are certain of that much. She cares about you in a way that goes beyond fleeting affection or temporary comfort. 

The problem is not whether she loves you. The problem is that she cannot bring herself to choose a life where she allows herself to keep that love.

With a quiet sigh, you push yourself out of bed and find your phone. Despite everything, concern still lingers heavily in your chest. You want to make sure she made it home safely, wherever "home" is for her.

You wander into the living room, staring at the empty message screen while trying to decide how to begin.

"Hey."

"God—Natasha!"

You jolt violently at the sound of her voice, clutching your phone tightly against your chest as your head snaps upward.

"Say something next time!" you blurt out, still breathless from the scare.

Natasha sits on your couch, though she looks nothing like the composed woman she usually is. Instead of lounging comfortably, she perches awkwardly on the very edge of the cushion, her posture tense, as though she expects to leave at any second.

A faint smile touches her lips as she watches your reaction with quiet amusement.

"I did say something."

You glare at her in silent reprimand before taking a slow breath in an attempt to steady your racing heartbeat. It does little to help. The panic fades quickly, replaced by something far warmer as Natasha's gaze drifts slowly over you as she waits. Her eyes move with deliberate attention, almost as though she is retracing every touch from the night before.

Heat creeps up the back of your neck, and you clear your throat softly.

"I thought you left," you admit.

Natasha shifts slightly where she sits, and her attention flickers toward the front door instead of you.

"I was going to," she says quietly. After a brief pause, she continues in an even softer voice. "But after nights like that…this is usually where I end up coming."

The confession carries an unfamiliar uncertainty, something small and vulnerable hidden beneath her usual composure. Like she's not sure if she's still allowed to do this.

Realization spreads through you slowly, and before you can stop it, warmth blooms in your chest. Out of every place Natasha could have chosen to run to, the place where she felt safest was here. With you.

You lean against the doorway for a moment, studying her quietly.

In the daylight, after everything that happened between you, she somehow looks younger like this. Not softer exactly. Just tired in a way that strips some of the sharpness from her edges.

Like she's waiting for the moment things become too real.

You move slowly toward the couch, giving her every opportunity to pull away if she wants to. But she doesn't.

When you sit beside her, there's still space between you, just enough to give the other some room to decide what to do next.

For a while, neither of you speaks.

The silence isn't uncomfortable exactly. Just heavy with too many things finally sitting out in the open between you.

Natasha exhales quietly, her gaze fixed somewhere ahead instead of on you.

"You should know," she says at last, voice low, "I'm not good at this."

You glance toward her. 

"That's a first. Natasha Romanoff, not being good at something?" you tease lightly.

A humorless smile flickers briefly across her mouth as she gives you a sideways glance. Her eyes linger on your face before her smile falls.

"I leave," she says plainly. "Sometimes for days. Sometimes longer." Her jaw tightens faintly. "Sometimes I can't explain where I've been. Sometimes I won't want to talk about it even when I can."

There's frustration buried beneath the words. Not at you.

At herself.

You stay quiet, letting her continue at her own pace.

Natasha leans forward slightly, forearms braced against her knees now.

"I don't…" She pauses, searching for words she clearly hates having to say aloud. "I don't know how to let someone depend on me like that."

There it is.

Not I don't want you.

Not I don't love you.

Just:

I don't know how to survive being loved.

Her hands clasp together tightly.

"And when things start feeling…" She stops again, exhales sharply through her nose. "Too important, my instinct is to run before I can lose it."

She turns to look at you. There's no charm in her expression now. No teasing smirk to hide behind. 

Just honesty. Raw and uncomfortable.

"I meant what I said," Natasha says quietly. "About not falling in love with me."

Your chest aches a little hearing it now, not because it hurts, but because you finally understand what she was trying to do.

Protect you. Protect herself.

You lean back slightly into the couch, your eyes lowering for a moment as you gather your thoughts carefully.

"I know," you say softly.

Natasha's brows pull together slightly, almost like she expected resistance instead. Expected you to fight her on it.

You turn your head toward her again.

"I'm not going to sit here and tell you your fears aren't real, Natasha."

That gets her attention fully.

Because she's probably spent most of her life hearing some version of:

"Just trust me."

"It'll be different."

"You have to let people in."

As though fear is solved through persuasion.

But you don't try to take hers away.

"You've lost people," you say quietly. "You've spent your whole life surviving things most people can't even imagine." Your gaze softens. "Of course, loving someone feels terrifying to you."

Natasha stares at you silently. Almost startled.

You offer her a faint smile. 

"I can't promise you that fear ever goes away," you admit. "And I can't promise I'll never get hurt either."

Her expression tightens slightly at that.

"But I can promise something else."

You shift a little closer now, slowly enough that she can move away if she needs to.

She doesn't.

Your voice lowers softly.

"You never have to earn a place with me."

The words land hard. You can see it immediately in the way Natasha stills.

"I mean it," you continue. "If all you can give me some days is showing up on my couch at three in the morning and sitting there in silence?" You shrug lightly. "Okay."

A shaky breath leaves her quietly.

"If you need space, I'll give it to you. If you come back, I'll still open the door."

Natasha's eyes drop briefly, emotions moving across her face too quickly to fully hide.

"And if one day you decide this is too much," you add carefully, "then we'll survive that too."

That one almost breaks her.

Because what you're offering isn't pressure.

It isn't an obligation.

It isn't forever demanded upfront.

It's safety.

A place where she doesn't have to perform usefulness or perfection in order to stay.

Your hand lifts hesitantly before resting lightly over hers.

"No matter what this becomes," you say quietly, "you will always have a place with me. As my best friend, as…" You smile faintly. "Something more complicated than that."

A soft laugh escapes Natasha then. Small and breathless and painfully fond all at once.

Her fingers tighten around yours before she finally looks at you again.

And for the first time, Natasha looks less afraid of being loved. Not unafraid.

Just less alone inside of your love.

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

a/n: this one got longer than I expected 😅, one day I won't chicken out on writing the sex scene like I originally planned (though it didn't felt like it needed it in the end). Again thank you for reading and now I disappear into my WIPs once more 😂

[ghostwritingnightmares]

Dial Drunk: Chapter 1

Summary: Melissa gets a little liquid courage to let the walls crumble around her.

Warnings: Drunk Mel

Next Chapter

Masterlist

2.2k

-~-

You never keep your phone on, but you had been waiting for a call from your sister about whether she had made it to her conference on the West Coast safely so you fell asleep with it on full blast. Which is why when it rings loudly at three in the morning, you jump out of bed to answer it.

“Amy, did you make it safe?” You ask, not bothering to look at who is calling.

“Is Amy your girlfriend?” A familiar voice asks.

You pull the phone away to look at the caller ID. A picture of Melissa at the teacher v student basketball game greets you. Your heart begins to race because Melissa never calls you. She is an avid texter but was adamantly against phone calls unless someone was on their deathbed.

“Melissa, are you okay?” You ask when you put the phone back against your ear.

“Is Amy your girlfriend?” She asks, but this time there is a tremor in her voice.

You roll your eyes, flopping back against your bed. “Amy is my sister. The lawyer that you constantly ask if you can have a speed dial, remember?” There is a pause where Melissa grunts in vague recognition. “She was headed to California for a conference and was supposed to let me know she got there safely.”

You take a moment to actually look at your phone and realize that Amy had texted you a picture of her soaking up the sun at the beach hours after you had fallen asleep. You call her an asshole in a text before you put your attention back on the call with Melissa.

“Melissa, are you okay?” You ask again, punctuating each word.

There is silence on the line before a quiet sniffle. “Yeah, I just…been drinking.” Another sniffle before a soft sigh. “It has been making me sit in my head more than I want.”

“That’s why I stopped drinking,” you admit softly. “Want to talk about it?”

“I just want you,” Melissa says and you feel your heart stall in your chest.

“I’m here Mel,” you reassure her but you are met with muffled crying on the other line. It takes you so off guard that you don’t know what to say, you just let the silence expand around you uncomfortably.

It takes a couple moments before the older woman finally hiccups. “No, I want you here. Now. Not just on the phone.”

“Alright, where is here?” you ask climbing out of bed.

You put Melissa on speaker as you dig through your dresser to find a pair of sweatpants. You pull them over the shorts you were sleeping in and throw a hoodie over your tank top. By the time Melsisa gives you the bar she is currently holed up at you are in your shoes and heading towards the door with keys in hand.

“Are you really coming?” Melissa asks as she hears your car turn over.

“You said you needed me so I am on my way,” you tell her as you pull out of your driveway. “Do you want to stay on the phone with me while I drive?”

“Please don’t hang up,” Mel says in a rush with so much fear that your stomach twists.

You run a hand through your hair to relieve some of the nerves radiating through you. “I’m not hanging up Mel. I’ll stay with you the whole time.” You pause as you try to remember which road you are supposed to take. “How did you end up down at Johnny’s anyway? That bar isn’t anywhere by your house.”

“Robinson and I got in an argument,” Melissa mumbles. “We been arguing a lot lately and I needed some place to breathe for a little bit. Some place where no one knew who I was.” You can hear her start to cry, a little hitch in her breath before she can control it. “I should have called you. You are the only person I wanted to talk to.”

It takes only a second before the spiral begins. “I’m so stupid. Why didn’t I just call?Why did I come here? Why did I start drinking? What am I doing?”

“Hey, hey, hey,” you interject quickly. “Ain’t no point in beating yourself up about the past. I am on my way to you right now and that is all that matters.”

“But it is so late and you were sleeping and I…”

“Melissa,” you call out to stop her rambling. “I want you to try something okay. Just a little thing to help pass the time. What’s five things you can see right now?”

“I see,” Melissa starts pausing to take in her surroundings, “a neon bar sign, a street lamp, two people smoking on the corner, a red car passing by, and my black boots.”

“Good, now what are four things you can touch?” you encourage her.

The response comes quicker this time. “I can feel the stone that I sit on, the rain that is starting to fall, the necklace that you gave me for my birthday, and the cigarette in my hand.”

You can see it now Melissa sitting on the curb, her curls starting to go limp in the rain, twirling a cigarette in her fingers, with makeup slowly running down her face. It was a masterpiece and a heartbreak all in one breath.

“Alright, what are three things you hear?”

“Rain hitting the cars, shitty bar music, and your voice calming me down,” Melissa says and there is an ease to her words now.

You smile as you continue to close the distance between the two of you. “Two things you smell.”

Melissa chuckles at this. “Nothing good hun’, nothing good.”

You are used to the pet name by now but it still doesn’t stop a small fluttering in your stomach. “Last one, what is something you can taste?”

“Whatever cheap ass whiskey I was pounding back like I'm not old and going to have the worst headache ever in the morning,” Melissa says so casually that you can't help but burst into laughter.

“You know what I see Mel?” You ask not stopping before you continue. “A beautiful red head waiting on the curb for me.”

Melissa’s head pops up and she catches your eye immediately. You parked across the street and lean against your car casually with an easy smile to greet her. Logical sense escapes her as she takes in your messy hair, oversized hoodie, and baggy pants.

“You look beautiful,” she says before she can think better of it.

You laugh as you make your way across the street. You hold out your hand to help Melissa up. “That’s the beer goggles talking Mel. I look like shit.”

She goes to protest but the sudden height change has her head spinning. Melissa didn't realize how drunk she was and the fact pisses her off. She wasn't complimenting you because she was drunk. She was complimenting you because it was what she felt in her heart, what she thought about every time she saw you, what she was always too scared to tell you.

Your hand comes to wrap around her waist to help keep her upright and Melissa feels like your fingers may burn through her clothes.

“Let’s get you home Mel,” you say, helping her walk across the street. “You have everything you need?”

Mel nods and digs in the back pocket of her leather pants to hand you a house key. You take it before helping load her into the passenger seat. There is a lingering moment where you lean over her to buckle the seat belt and grab something from the center console. She takes this moment to get lost in a smell so distinctly you that it could never be replicated.

The moment is over too soon as you pull away and place a water bottle in her hands. “Drink this. Slowly.”

Melissa nods but when her fingers shake too much to open it you do it for her. There is no judgement in the movements, just soft understanding. Melissa has never had someone be so willing to take care of her that she doesn’t know how to react. She just murmurs a soft thank you as you shut the door.

If you catch her studying you while you drive to her house you don't bring it up. You simply navigate through the streets of Philly with practiced ease. You would have thought you had been to Melissa’s house a thousand times with the way you calmly climb into the driveway and park on the opposite side that Melissa’s car would have parked.

In reality you have only been to Melissa’s house three times. Three singular times that you entered her space and made the usual drab space full of light. Dozens of gatherings and people had occupied the same space in between those three times, but Melissa had carved out a special spot for those moments to stay safe. On bad days she pulls them out and reminds herself how to breathe.

“Mel?” You call out breaking her from a trance. “You ready to go in?”

Melissa nods too lost to say much else. You hold her up and she leans heavily against you as you walk up her steps. She doesn't need to tell you the trick to get her lock to unstick you just remember. She had taught you how to do it one night when you came over for game night and her arms had been full of last minute groceries.

You kick your shoes off the door before gently helping Melissa out of hers. She swears that even your lightest touches make her skin burn. She knows this is more than the alcohol pushing these feelings. This is a slow crumbling of the walls she has built around herself to keep her safe. Melissa isn't nervous though, this crumbling feels more like safety than a downfall.

When her shoes are placed in the hall closet you guide her back to her bedroom. You know where to go from a movie night where Sailor Barbara had been a little too into the booze and spilled wine all over your shirt. Melissa had loaned you a spare one which you returned two days later smelling like the laundry beads you used. She slept in it till the smell wore off.

You dig through the drawer Melissa tells you her pajamas are in pulling out an outfit for her. Your gaze turns away when she undresses but she desperately wishes it wouldn't. She wants you to look, to linger on her the same way she lingers on you, but you don't.

“Thank you for coming to get me,” Melissa says when she is finally dressed. “I owe you.”

“You don't owe me anything. You needed me and I came,” you shrug as if the choice was easy, as if you would always choose Melissa anytime she asks.

It gives her just the right amount of push to blurt it all out.

“I like you hun’. Like big grand fairytale dream feelings about you,” she paused trying to gauge your reaction as your eyes widen. “I look for you in a crowded room because you are the only person I want to see. I ask you about anything I can think of to merely hear your voice. I go out of the way to occupy the same place as you because being next to you is the only place I feel sane. I like you…and I really want to fucking kiss you.”

“Melissa,” you mumble but before you can continue she is pressing herself against you.

The kiss startles you but it only takes a moment for you to relax into it. Melissa’s heart is soaring at the feeling of your lips pressed against hers but your heart is shattering. You had dreamed of kissing Melissa for years, but not when she was still actively dating someone, and had only confessed her feelings because she was trashed.

You break the kiss placing your forehead against hers so that you don't have to look in her eyes. “Mel, we should get you in bed to get some sleep.”

“Stay with me,” Melissa begs her nails digging into your hips.”

You should say no. You should establish clear boundaries in the spaces that Melissa can't see, but you are so tired. You are tired of pretending that holding Melissa to fall asleep doesn't sound like a dream come true. So you promise to stay for the night.

Melissa is giddy as she crawls into bed and you slide in next to her. She only gives you a second to adjust before she curls around you. Her arm drapes around your waist pulling you tight against her. Her face comes to nuzzle against your neck and you brace for another kiss that never comes. Instead she lets out a sigh and promptly falls asleep.

You close your eyes willing back the tears you feel coming. She is with Captain Robinson. She is straight. She is your friend. She is drunk. The phrases play on repeat in your head until you finally drift off to sleep.

You’ll keep your promise and stay for tonight. Only tonight.

-

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