#family dinner

[overclassy]

[luna-azzurra]

Awkward Family Dinner Sentence Starters

⋆‧°𓏲ּ𝄢 "so... how's work? still doing that... thing you do?"

⋆‧°𓏲ּ𝄢 "we're NOT talking about politics tonight. i don't care who started it."

⋆‧°𓏲ּ𝄢 "mom, please stop asking when i'm getting married. please."

⋆‧°𓏲ּ𝄢 "pass the salt. no, the other salt. the— never mind, i'll get it myself."

⋆‧°𓏲ּ𝄢 "i know you meant well, but maybe don't bring up my divorce at thanksgiving?"

⋆‧°𓏲ּ𝄢 "your sister got promoted again. isn't that wonderful? what have YOU been up to?"

⋆‧°𓏲ּ𝄢 "can we have ONE meal without someone crying? just one?"

⋆‧°𓏲ּ𝄢 "i'm going to the bathroom. if anyone asks about my life choices, i died."

⋆‧°𓏲ּ𝄢 "remember when we all got along? yeah, me neither."

⋆‧°𓏲ּ𝄢 "the chicken's dry. no, it's fine. it's... very dry. i mean, it's fine."

⋆‧°𓏲ּ𝄢 "why did you sit me next to HIM? you KNOW what happened last christmas."

⋆‧°𓏲ּ𝄢 "i'm not drinking. yes, i'm sure. stop asking if i'm pregnant."

⋆‧°𓏲ּ𝄢 "dad's already had three glasses of wine. someone hide the bottle."

⋆‧°𓏲ּ𝄢 "we're all adults here. we can discuss this civilly. ...okay, we're yelling now."

⋆‧°𓏲ּ𝄢 "i brought a salad. yes, i know nobody asked for salad. i BROUGHT IT ANYWAY."

⋆‧°𓏲ּ𝄢 "how long do we have to stay? two hours? i'm timing it."

⋆‧°𓏲ּ𝄢 "grandma, that's... that's actually super racist. can we maybe not?"

⋆‧°𓏲ּ𝄢 "i'm vegan now. no, it's not a phase. yes, i know where protein comes from."

⋆‧°𓏲ּ𝄢 "you invited my EX?! you invited my ex to FAMILY dinner?!"

⋆‧°𓏲ּ𝄢 "everyone smile for the photo. pretend we like each other. perfect."

⋆‧°𓏲ּ𝄢 "i have an early morning tomorrow. very early. like 5am early. gotta go."

⋆‧°𓏲ּ𝄢 "when's the last time we actually talked? like really talked, not just... this?"

⋆‧°𓏲ּ𝄢 "your new partner seems... nice. very... yes. nice."

⋆‧°𓏲ּ𝄢 "i love you all, but i also need therapy because of you all."

[toyastales]

Pot Roast with Mashed Potatoes

[sky-fishhhh]

“Maybe they don’t have the family they could have, or should have had had the world been nicer, but family they still have.”

Day 2 of genmuiweek2024 is done!! I was inspired by spritzbi’s fic A Minute from Home (which everyone should go read it’s an underrated gem).

I hc giyuu struggles using his left hand when it comes to menial tasks that he’d otherwise excel at if he still had his right hand.

[satorvsslvt]

Gojo Satoru's Guide on How to Survive a Family Dinner ᵎᵎ

synopsis. It's the first time you're bringing Gojo Satoru home to meet your family. They have no idea he's a sorcerer. You know. He thinks he's being subtle. He's not. ("The baby photos are worth it!" he says.)

pairing. gojo satoru x f!reader

content & warnings. fluff, humor, established relationship, meet the family, gojo being a disaster, reader pretending not to know he's a sorcerer, soft ending 🥹🫶

series. part 9 of "Satoru as Your Boyfriend" series!! all parts will be found here!

word count. 1.5k+

A/N. took a lil bit of inspo from my dad meeting my mom's family HIHI they're so cute!! <3

"You know," Satoru said, gripping the steering wheel a little too tightly, "This is a perfectly normal thing to do. Meet the family. Have dinner. Make small talk. Completely normal."

"Mm." You didn't look up from your phone.

"Just a regular evening. With regular people. Having regular conversation."

"Mm."

"I have nothing to worry about."

"You've said that six times."

"Because it's true!"

You finally looked up. His grip on the steering wheel was white-knuckled. His jaw was tight. His ears were pink.

"Baby," you said, "you've faced curses that would make grown men faint."

"That's different."

"How?"

"Because those were curses. I could fight them." He swallowed. "I cannot fight your mother."

You laughed. "She's not going to fight you."

"She's going to interrogate me."

"She's going to ask questions."

"Same thing."

You reached over and placed your hand on his thigh. He glanced at you, and some of the tension in his shoulders eased.

"I've got you," you said.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

He took a breath. "Okay. Okay. I can do this."

"Good." You squeezed his thigh. "Now remember — you're a consultant. Not a sorcerer."

"Right. Consultant."

"And you've never fought a curse in your life."

"Never."

"And you definitely didn't catch a cursed spirit with your bare hands yesterday."

"I definitely didn't."

"Good."

He pulled into the driveway and parked. He didn't move.

"We're here," you said.

"I know."

"You can open the door."

"I know."

"You're not opening the door."

"I'm gathering my strength."

You laughed and leaned over to kiss his cheek.

"Let's go, pretty boy."

He let out a breath. "Okay. Okay."

Your mother opened the door before you even reached it.

"THERE SHE IS!" She pulled you into a crushing hug, then immediately turned to Satoru. "And YOU must be the famous boyfriend!"

"Famous?" Satoru shot you a look.

"I've told her about you. Obviously." You gave him a tight smile. "All good things."

Your mother was already pulling him inside. "Come in, come in! You're so tall! Are you sure you're eating enough? You look like you could use a good meal!"

You almost snorted. Satoru always ate like he was auditioning for a competitive eating competition. But you kept your mouth shut.

Satoru looked at you, eyes wide. You shrugged, helpless.

Your father was in the living room, newspaper folded on his knee. He looked up when you entered, and his gaze settled on Satoru with the kind of slow assessment usually reserved for used car listings.

"So," he said. "You're the boyfriend."

"That's me." Satoru tried for confident. It came out slightly strangled.

Your father gave him a long look. Then: "You any good at fixing things?"

"I can fix things," Satoru said, and immediately made eye contact with you. Help.

"He's excellent at fixing things," you cut in. "A real handyman."

Your mother appeared with a tray of drinks. "Oh, we don't need him to fix anything! We just want to get to know him!" She thrust a glass into his hand. "Sit, sit! Tell us everything!"

Your mother returned with a worn photo album.

"I thought Gojo might like to see some pictures of you growing up!" she said cheerfully.

"Mom," you said slowly, "he does not need to see those."

"Oh, he absolutely does." Your mother sat down beside him and flipped open the album.

The first photo: you at age three, cheeks round and rosy, clutching a stuffed bunny with a missing ear.

"Look at those cheeks!" your mother cooed.

Satoru made a sound you'd never heard before. Something between a gasp and a squeak.

"She was adorable," he breathed. "Look at her little face!"

"Mom, please—"

"The plushie," your mother continued, "was a gift from her grandmother. She wouldn't let go of it for years."

The next photo showed you at six, hugging the bunny, glaring at the camera like you were about to commit a crime.

Satoru actually clutched his chest.

"That's the exact same glare she gives me now," he said, his voice thick with wonder.

"Awh, see!" your mother cooed. "He knows you!"

You buried your face in your hands.

"This is going in my wallet," Satoru announced, pulling out his phone.

"You can't just—"

"I already did. It's my lock screen now."

"Satoru!"

He smiled at you, soft and unrepentant. "I'm saving these for future teasing purposes."

Your mother patted his arm approvingly. "I like this one too," she said. "He has good taste."

Dinner was served.

Your mother asked questions like she was conducting a job interview she badly wanted him to pass. Your father was quieter, watching.

"So, Gojo," your mother said, passing the bread, "what do you do for work?"

He opened his mouth. Closed it. Opened it again.

"Consulting," he said.

"Consulting!" your mother said brightly. "What kind?"

He paused. "Business."

"Business consulting," you added. "He helps companies… streamline."

"Right," Satoru said. "Streamline. Very important. Streamlining."

Your father took a sip of his drink. "You ever work with any Japanese companies?"

"All the time," Satoru said, then immediately looked at you like he'd stepped into a trap.

"Which ones?" your father pressed.

"I can't really—" Satoru swallowed. "Confidentiality agreements."

Your father nodded slowly. "Mm. Very mysterious."

Satoru laughed, slightly too loud.

Your father's gaze shifted to you. "You make sure he eats, right?" he asked, deadpan. "I know how these consultant types can run themselves ragged."

"He eats," you confirmed, kicking Satoru under the table.

Satoru jumped. "I eat! I eat regularly. Many meals."

Your father almost smiled. Almost.

Your mother brought out the pie.

Her famous apple pie. The one she'd been making since you were small. The one that always made you feel like everything might be okay.

"Here you go, dear," she said, sliding a slice in front of Satoru.

He looked at it. Then at you. Then back at the pie.

"Thank you," he said. "This looks—"

"It's my grandmother's recipe," your mother said proudly.

He took a bite. His eyes went wide.

"This is incredible," he said. "Really incredible."

Your mother beamed. "Oh, you're just saying that!"

"I'm not! I mean it! I've never—" He paused. "I've never had pie like this before."

Your mother nearly swooned.

"Gojo," she said, reaching over to pat his hand, "you're welcome here anytime. I mean that."

"Thank you," he said, his voice softer now. "That means a lot."

She studied him for a moment, then: "Can I call you Satoru? You feel like family already!"

He looked at you, then back at her. A small, genuine smile crossed his face.

"I'd like that," he said.

Your mother was reaching for a heavy pot on the top shelf.

"Oh, don't worry, I'll—" Satoru started to stand, but she was already stretching for it.

The pot tipped.

Satoru moved. Caught it one-handed, perfectly steady, and set it down.

Silence.

Your mother stared. Your father stared. Satoru froze, his eyes wide, realizing what he'd done.

"Wow," your mother finally said. "You have really good reflexes."

"Uh," Satoru said. "I played… basketball. In high school."

Your father raised an eyebrow. "You don't look like a basketball player."

"I was actually decent," Satoru said, recovering slightly. "Won a few games."

"Against who?"

Satoru's brain short-circuited. "My… friend. Very tall. Also good reflexes."

Your father studied him for a long moment. Then, slowly, he nodded.

"Good," he said. "I used to play too. Maybe we'll shoot some hoops sometime."

Satoru blinked. "I'd like that."

Your father gave him a curt nod. But there was something almost like respect in his eyes.

Your mother was already beaming again. "So athletic!"

"Satoru," you said, "you're blushing."

"I'm not blushing. I'm warm."

"Your ears are red."

"My ears are warm."

"Your whole face is warm?"

"I'm a warm person."

You laughed, and he shot you a look that said "You're enjoying this too much."

The car was quiet for a solid minute.

Then you burst out laughing.

"Basketball?" you wheezed. "You said basketball?"

"I panicked! I had to say something!"

"Your reflexes are literally superhuman!"

"I played basketball in high school!"

"You didn't!"

"I did! I beat Suguru once! He still won't admit it!"

You stared at him. "Wait. You actually played basketball?"

"Yes! Once! I beat him!"

"You never told me that!"

"It never came up!"

You laughed until your stomach hurt. He watched you, a reluctant smile creeping onto his face.

"Your mom loves me," he finally said.

"She does."

"Your dad respects me."

"I think he might."

"Good." He squeezed your hand. "That's good."

You leaned your head back against the seat, still smiling. "You were so scared."

"I was terrified."

"You were perfect."

He looked at you, something vulnerable flickering in his eyes. "Yeah?"

"Yeah."

He lifted your hand to his lips and pressed a kiss to your knuckles. "I love you," he said quietly. "Even your baby photos."

"Especially my baby photos, apparently."

"Especially those." He started the engine, still holding your hand. "Can we do this again?"

You smiled. "Yeah. We can do this again."

He pulled out of the driveway, headlights cutting through the dark. You watched him drive, the way his profile caught the streetlights, the easy confidence returning to his shoulders now that he'd survived.

"God," you thought. "I love this disaster of a man."

A/N. UGH he's precious!! giggled to myself when i wrote the line "are you sure you're eating enough?" cz BOI this man eats for a family of six 😭😭 i assure you he's eating enough.

Plagiarism not authorized. Do not feed my work to AI. Feel free to req!! <3

[snwyluvr]

୨ৎ pairing : rodrick heffley x regina george

୨ৎ blurb : greg finds out his brother is dating the most popular girl in school.

୨ৎ notes : requested on ao3 <3

‧₊˚♪ 𝄞₊˚⊹

greg heffley wasn’t an idiot. he knew his brother was a disaster. in the most literal, physical, and emotional sense.

rodrick was the kind of guy who’d fail a math test and then brag about it like it was a personality trait. the kind of guy who wore ripped jeans that weren't even ripped when he bought them. the kind of guy who’d call skipping class “a form of art”.

so, naturally, when greg saw regina george waiting for rodrick outside the school parking lot, prefect blonde hair, sunglasses probably worth more than his entire wardrobe. his brain short circuited.

“no way.” greg muttered, gripping the straps of his backpack. “no freaking way.”

rodrick sauntered over to regina, leaning on her car door with the kind of confidence only idiots had. she rolled her eyes, but she was smiling.

greg almost dropped his binder.

“you’re telling me..” he whispered to himself. “that rodrick. my brother. somehow managed to date the regina george? how? how did this happen? did she lose a bet?”

rowley, standing next to him and sucking on a lollipop, looked confused. “maybe she likes his band?”

greg turned slowly. “rowley, no one likes his band. not even the band likes his band.”

meanwhile, regina was sliding her sunglasses down her nose, saying something snarky that made rodrick laugh. it was gross. the world was ending. greg was sure of it.

later that day, he burst into the house.

“mom!” he yelled. “you’re not gonna believe this.”

susan looked up from the kitchen table, half distracted. “what is it, honey?”

“rodrick’s dating regina george.”

she blinked. “who?”

“you know! regina george! she’s, like, the most popular girl at our school. blonde, terrifying, probably gets people murdered for fun?”

susan smiled sweetly. “oh, that’s nice! i’m glad rodrick is meeting new people.”

greg gasped. “no, mom, you don’t get it-”

just then, rodrick strolled in, humming some guitar riff under his breath, smelling faintly of cheap cologne. “yo.” he said, tossing his keys onto the counter.

greg rounded on him. “how the hell did you get regina george to date you?”

rodrick smirked. “what, jealous?”

greg sputtered. “jealous? no. confused? yes. terrified? maybe!”

“it’s called having game, little bro.”

greg crossed his arms. “you have no game.”

rodrick shrugged. “guess regina disagrees.”

he winked. greg made a noise that could only be described as a dying cat.

by friday, greg’s curiosity had turned into full blown obsession. he needed to see it. he needed proof.

so, naturally, he decided to trap his brother.

“hey rodrick.” greg said at breakfast, pretending to be casual but failing miserably. “mom’s doing family dinner tonight, right?”

rodrick glanced up from his cereal. “uh, yeah. why?”

greg grinned. “you should bring regina.”

rodrick froze, spoon halfway to his mouth. “what?”

“yeah! you’re dating her, right? bring her over. the family wants to meet her.”

and by "family", greg meant himself.

rodrick squinted. “why do you suddenly care?”

“i don’t care.” greg lied. “i’m just.. curious. i mean, she’s regina george. no one’s gonna believe me when i tell them unless i have proof.”

“so this is about you, then." rodrick said flatly.

greg grinned wider. “basically.”

rodrick groaned. “you’re such a freak.”

but greg kept at it. the whining, the poking, the dramatic sighs. until rodrick caved.

“fine!” he snapped. “i’ll ask her.”

greg’s grin could’ve powered a small city. “perfect.”

────

it was too late to back out.

regina george was coming for dinner.

rodrick sat on the couch, staring at the front door like it was about to explode. he’d texted regina earlier that day; yo my familys having dinner tn. wanna come over?

she’d replied with a simple : sure. what should i wear?

and now, his mom was running around setting the table. rodrick was regretting everything.

greg was pacing the living room, holding a notepad like he was preparing for an interview.

“so what’s she like?” he demanded. “is she really as mean as people say she is? does she have, like, a secret lair?”

“she’s not mean.” rodrick said. “just brutally honest.”

“that’s code for mean.”

“whatever, dude.”

“i’m serious.” greg said. “i need to be ready. what if she starts manipulating us or burns this whole house down with all of us inside? i need to take notes.”

rodrick grinned. “good luck with that.”

and then, the doorbell rang.

the entire heffley household froze.

susan practically sprinted to the door, smoothing her top. “oh! she’s here!”

greg stood on his toes, trying to see over her shoulder as she opened it.

regina george stood in the doorway like she’d just stepped out of a movie. jeans, a soft pink top, hair perfectly curled, and a beautiful smile that could kill a man.

“hi, mrs. heffley.” she said sweetly. “thank you for having me.”

susan’s face lit up. “oh, you’re just lovely! rodrick’s told us so much about you!”

greg scoffed. “bullshit.”

rodrick smacked his head for that.

regina smiled, stepping inside. “hi, greg.” she said casually, like she’d met him before. “rodrick’s told me lots about you.”

greg's eyebrows raised. “he has?”

“yep.” she glanced at rodrick. “apparently you once tried to sell his drumsticks online?”

“that was a business opportunity." greg snapped.

rodrick smirked. “yeah, sure buddy."

regina laughed, the sound soft and disarming. susan beamed like this was the most adorable thing she’d ever seen.

“oh, isn’t young love wonderful?” she sighed.

greg made a face. “wonderful isn’t the word i’d use.”

────

dinner was chaos.

regina sat perfectly composed at the table while susan tried to make small talk. "so what do you do for fun, regina?"

“ruin men.”

susan laughed nervously. “oh! you’re joking!”

greg spoke through his glass of water. “she’s not.”

rodrick kicked him under the table.

regina leaned back in her chair, sipping her drink with an amused smirk. “so, greg..” she said. “you’ve been dying to meet me, huh?”

greg blinked. “i just i wanted to see if you were really dating. you know, because rodrick’s.. rodrick.”

“meaning?” rodrick asked, narrowing his eyes.

greg gestured vaguely. “meaning he's disgusting and you're gorgeous! like, there’s no way the universe allowed that pairing.”

regina grinned. “well, the universe has bad taste sometimes.”

rodrick snorted. “hey!"

“not you, babe.” she said without missing a beat.

greg just stared at them. “i feel like i’m looking at a glitch in the matrix.”

rodrick leaned over. “don’t be jealous, little bro.”

“jealous? of you? please. i’d rather-”

but he stopped when regina raised an eyebrow, her signature stare making him shut up instantly.

greg turned red. “okay, i see how it is.”

rodrick just smirked. “told you she’s awesome.”

regina glanced at rodrick, their knees brushing under the table, and smiled. rodrick gave her one back.

and greg groaned. “gross. they’re being cute now.”

“yeah.” rodrick said, grinning. “deal with it.”

────

dinner was over, and the tension was just getting comfortable.

greg was pacing in the living room, muttering to himself like a detective.

“something doesn’t add up." he said, squinting. “she’s too cool. too calm. she’s probably just doing this for some sort of social experiment. maybe it’s a dare.”

rodrick sat on the couch, scrolling through his phone. “you sound like a conspiracy theorist, dude.”

“yeah? well, explain it then! why would regina george date you?”

rodrick smirked. “because i’m awesome?”

greg stared. “you drive a van that smells like feet.”

“yeah, rockstar feet."

regina walked in just then, holding a glass of water, catching the tail end of the argument. “what are we talking about?”

greg spun around. “you, obviously.”

“shocking.” she said dryly, settling on the couch beside rodrick. “go on.”

greg threw his hands up. “i just don’t get it! he’s- he’s him! and you’re you! what is this, charity work?”

rodrick snorted. “greg, you're embarrassing yourself.”

regina looked amused, like she was watching a very entertaining sitcom. “want me to explain it to you, greg?”

he folded his arms. “please do.”

she smiled, slow and smug. “i like guys who don’t care what people think. who make me laugh. who aren’t scared of me.”

greg blinked. “..that’s literally the opposite of everyone at our school.”

“exactly.” she said, taking rodricks hand in hers and giving it a squeeze.

greg stared at the contact like it was physical proof that the world was collapsing.

“this is insane.” he whispered. “you’re a mean girl. he’s a loser band guy.”

rodrick smirked. “a loser band guy who gets the girl, apparently.”

“ugh.” greg dragged a hand down his face. “you’re unbearable.”

regina tilted her head, smiling sweetly. “you should be taking notes.”

greg looked personally offended. “i don’t need notes anymore.”

“you definitely need notes.” rodrick said.

“shut up!”

the conversation shifted when frank heffley came home from work.

he was wearing his usual expression of mild confusion. “oh, regina.” he said. "didn't know you'd be here. it's nice to see you, i've heard a lot about you.”

regina smiled politely. “i hope not everything.”

frank chuckled nervously. “rodrick tells me you’re.. um, very confident.”

greg whispered. “that’s code for terrifying.”

rodrick kicked him again.

frank nodded to himself. “good, good. confidence is important. i was confident once, you know. back in high school, they called me ‘the smooth operator'.”

greg groaned. “dad, no.”

rodrick put his face in his hands. “please stop.”

regina raised an eyebrow. “smooth operator? what happened?”

“married life.” frank said with a grin.

regina actually laughed. greg looked like he’d seen a ghost.

“what’s happening right now?” greg muttered. “why is she laughing at dad’s jokes?”

“because she finds them funny." rodrick said.

“no, they’re not!”

eventually, susan came in with dessert. brownies that were somehow both burnt and undercooked.

“i hope you like them." she said cheerfully. “i tried a new recipe!”

regina took a bite and smiled politely, though her eyes said this is a war crime. “it’s.. interesting.”

“awh, thanks!” susan beamed.

greg snickered into his napkin.

rodrick nudged regina. “you don’t have to eat it.”

“no, i’m committed now.” she whispered back. “if i die, tell people it was out of respect.”

greg snorted so loudly, brownie chunks came out of his mouth.

susan frowned. “gregory!”

“sorry! she’s just.. funny.”

rodrick leaned back, grinning. “see?”

────

after dessert, regina helped susan with the dishes (which nearly made greg faint again).

“you don’t have to do that.” susan said, smiling.

“it’s fine. you even cooked for us, it's the least i could do.” regina replied.

greg whispered to rodrick from across the room. “she’s faking it.”

rodrick smirked. “nah. that’s just her being nice.”

greg squinted. “wow. terrifying.”

“yeah.” rodrick said proudly. “she’s the best.”

later, when everything was winding down, regina and rodrick stepped out to the porch.

it was quiet, the sky bruised pink from the sunset. rodrick leaned against the railing, hands in his hoodie pocket.

“you survived.” he said.

regina sighed dramatically. “barely. your brother almost gave me an aneurysm.”

“yeah, he does that.”

she smiled, small and tired. “your family’s.. weird. but in a good way.”

rodrick shrugged. “you'll get used to it.”

“and your mom’s brownies might be a health hazard.”

“yeah, i'm throwing those out later.”

they both laughed. then she wrapped her hands around his neck, his hands moving down to her waist by default. “you know your brother still doesn’t believe we’re dating.”

“yeah, i noticed.”

“what are you gonna do about it?”

rodrick grinned. “i dunno. maybe something that’ll make him really believe it.”

regina raised an eyebrow. “like what?”

“this.”

he leaned in and kissed her. slow, loving. enough to make her laugh when he pulled back.

“you’re ridiculous." she said, smiling.

“yeah, well.." he whispered. “he's looking at us.”

from the window, greg’s muffled voice yelled, “i saw that! gross! no way. no freaking way. he actually kissed her. i hate this timeline.”

susan patted his shoulder. “be happy for your brother, honey.”

“happy? he’s rodrick! he doesn’t deserve to win!”

frank looked up from the tv. “sometimes love surprises you, son.”

greg groaned. “ugh, you’re all insane.”

regina smirked. “guess he believes it now.”

rodrick grinned wider. “mission accomplished.”

[marvelfilth]

Family dinner

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x f!reader, Kate Bishop x Yelena Belova, platonic!Kate Bishop x f!reader

Warnings: a very poor attempt at humour

Summary: your best friend Kate needs backup after a mishap with Yelena's family

Masterlist

“I need you here yesterday!”

“What?” You whisper-shout, looking around the office to make sure no one noticed you ducking away to take a call from your best friend.

“Please, I'm desperate! I can't do this alone, they're like sharks and I just spilled blood!”

“Kate, what the hell are you talking about?”

“Yelena's family! They're scary as shit on a good day, but now we messed up real bad, and I think they're gonna decapitate me,” she whines.

“Okay, let's backtrack. What did you do?”

“...”

“Kate?”

There's shuffling on the other side, a deep sigh and then, “Melina found the handcuffs. With the fur. They were still attached to the bed.”

You snort, loud enough to attract annoyed looks from your coworkers. “Happens to the best of-”

“And the whip. It was on the bed too.”

You chortle, this time not caring about your surroundings, and swiftly move further down the hall. “She knows Yelena's a big girl, she can ha-”

“Natasha was there too!”

You stop in your tracks. Now that's interesting.

“She'll never let you forget it,” you say with all the confidence you have, even though you've never met the woman before. You know just enough from what Kate and Yelena told you to be sure of that.

“She's not letting me forget it now! She got all sneaky and secretive, whispering with Melina and looking at me, and now I'm on my way to a family dinner. A family dinner with my girlfriend's family, while said girlfriend got called away on some emergency mission,” she huffs angrily.

“There's no emergency mission, is there?”

“There better be!”

You chuckle, shaking your head. It's never a boring day with Kate Bishop.

“So,” she starts, aiming for a nonchalant tone, “I'm downstairs.”

“What?”

“Yep. Waiting for you at the front. Better hurry, parking is expensive as hell.”

“Kate.”

“I'm your bestie. And my girlfriend's mom found the handcuffs. I need you.”

You check the time, noting that the workday is nowhere near it's end. With a sigh, you head for the elevator, not even bothering to come back for your bag.

“I love you.”

“I haven't agreed to-”

“I know what that sigh means!”

You groan. “Yeah, yeah. You owe me.”

×××

Turns out, Yelena's family is even scarier then you imagined.

“So, Y/n,” Melina starts, looking at you like you're one of her lab rats, “Do you usually leave your… sexual… stuff after you're done?”

You turn red, choking on the wine. Kate sends you a look of pity.

Natasha smirks.

“I don't… I'm not sure- Um. Well, no.”

Melina hums, nodding to herself. “Good.”

She digs into her food, and you exhale in relief, feeling like the worst part is over.

“So where do you keep your stuff, Y/n?” Natasha asks over the rim of her glass, her eyes full of mischief.

Kate slides lower in her seat, boring holes into her fork.

Melina perks up, once again regarding you like one of her subjects. “I would also like to know. To pass the advice to my daughter and her girlfriend.”

You gulp.

“Well?” Natasha prompts.

You shudder from the intensity of the look she's giving you.

“Can we move on?” Kate whispers, looking around nervously.

“Yes, of course,” Melina nods, her eyes lighting up like she was waiting for a subject change.

Natasha sends Kate an amused smile, and you relax slightly. Now the worst part is over, you're sure.

“So, Y/n-”

Fuck.

“-are you single?”

You nod, shoving a forkful of some meat salad - which mostly consists of mayonnaise - to avoid talking.

“And you're gay, correct?” Melina asks, peering into your very soul.

You nod again, chewing fast.

“Why are you gay?”

You choke on a piece of potato, wheezing and reaching for a glass of water. Kate almost falls of her chair in haste to smack you on the back. Natasha just looks at her mother, unimpressed. “Really?”

“What?” Melina shrugs. “I'm a scientist, I'm conducting research.”

The redhead groans, rubbing her eyes. “Of course.”

You feel a little better now that Natasha is annoyed.

Melina still looks at you, expecting an answer.

You sigh, “Are you gay?”

She blinks, looking like an owl. Natasha chokes on a laugh, sending you a look of appreciation. Kate mutters something about bathroom and darts out of the room, hopefully to call Yelena and fix all this mess.

“Well,” Melina starts, deep in thought. “I suppose I've never given it much of a thought.”

You nod, feeling accomplished in swaying attention from yourself.

“Natasha.” The older woman turns abruptly. “You are gay.”

The redhead groans, sliding down in her seat. “Mother, please.”

“She's gay, and you're gay. You're both miserably single.”

“Huh?” You frown, affronted.

“Fuck my life,” Natasha mumbles into the table, her face pressed tight against it in a feeble effort of disappearing.

“Yelena's on her way!” Kate walks back into the room, triumphant.

“Finally,” you sigh, pointedly looking at the ceiling to avoid Melina's penetrative gaze. “Where's she, by the way?”

“Hiding, probably,” Natasha snorts, shaking her head. “Escaped the scene of crime and left her girlfriend to pick up the mess.” She raises her glass in Kate's general direction, “You're doing good so far, Bishop. Even brought reinforcement - good thinking.”

“Yes-yes,” Melina nods, her eyes darting between you three. “Yelena's a bit of a coward in that regard, but we have an important matter to discuss.”

Natasha glares at her mother. “No, we don-”

“Natasha can cook. Well, she can microwave.”

“What did I miss?” Kate frowns, settling back into her seat. “Actually, no. I don't want to know.”

“As I was saying,” Melina clears her throat, paying no mind to the murderous look Natasha sends her. You'd feel gleeful at that - Natasha's plan came back to bite her in the ass - if you weren't the other victim in this scenario. “Natasha can cook. She's excellent with knives. She's an excellent shot. She can dismantle a bomb in a matter of seconds. She's a… a catch.”

You smile at the miserable expression on Natasha's face, her cheeks dusted with pink.

“Oh…” Kate whispers, looking at you from the corner of her eye. “Well, actually, Y/n is-” she yelps loudly when your heel connects with her toes, and turns bright red at the shooting pain. “-a bitch. She's a bitch.”

The look in Melina's eyes turns gleeful. “That was excellent.”

Fucking hell, no matter what you do, your grave turns deeper and deeper.

Natasha snorts, chugging her wine like it's water. Melina's mouth opens again, and you say a stupid thing to save yourself from further embarrassment.

“Can we go back to Kate's handcuffs, please,” you mutter with a sigh.

The look of betrayal your friend sends you doesn't work the way she intended, because you don't feel guilty at all.

Melina's mouth snaps shut, her eyes widening. The sight alone tells you you said the wrong thing.

“Have you and Kate ever-”

“No!” you both shout, before the older woman can finish the question.

“Sounds defensive,” Natasha chuckles, reaching for the bottle of vodka.

“Wha- What?” You hiss, glaring at the spy.

“She's- Y/n’s not even my type! And I'm not her type either!” Kate splutters.

“Mhm,” Natasha hums, “that I can see.”

You gape, not sure if you're supposed to be offended. “What?”

Natasha smirks, planting her chin on her fist. “You need a firm hand. Your best friend is anything, but firm.”

Her eyes trail down your body, pupils darkening ever so slightly. Your cheeks burn and, suddenly, it's hard to breathe. You clear your throat and gulp down the last of your wine, carefully avoiding her gaze.

“O-okay. That's- okay, yep,” Kate mutters to herself. “Fuck my life.”

“Am I wrong?” Natasha husks, reaching across the table to play with the golden bracelet on your wrist.

Really, right in front of her mother?

The front door opens with a loud bang, and you jump up, relieved to see Yelena. The feeling doesn't last long, because a second later you notice the bleeding wound on her torso.

“So that was an actual mission,” you mumble, missing the way Natasha snorts in your haste to get Yelena to the couch.

Kate looks pale, but swiftly starts helping Yelena undress. Melina's ready with the first aid kid by the time they finally tear off the shirt.

“So?” Natasha whispers into your ear, sending goosebumps down your skin. “Am I wrong?”

Apparently, not even her bleeding sister can stop her.

“No,” you reply, “you're not wrong.”

She hums, satisfied. “I am miserably single, you know?"

You let out a loud laugh, not even bothering to quiet down when Yelena sends you a murderous look.

“I am miserably single, too.”

She smiles, nodding to herself.

“Want to fix that?” She asks after a bit, her eyes glinting in the soft evening light.

“They'll never shut up about it,” you groan, stepping closer to her.

“Yeah,” she hums, her grin stretching wider. “So?”

"A little help?" Yelena wheezes, glaring daggers at the two of you. "Hello? Your sister is dying."

“Yes,” you reply, not taking your eyes away from her green pools.

“Perfect,” she breathes, before pressing a gentle kiss to the corner of your mouth. “I'll pick you up tomorrow at six.”

"Fucking unbelievable," Yelena mutters and yelps when Melina shushes her with a pinch and a hissed "don't ruin my hard work".

Kate just looks like she's about to faint.

You grin. "I can't wait."