Summary: After a spiral of painful overthinking leaves you in tears, Natasha and Wanda ground you with steady reassurance, gentle affection, and a promise of comfort together that quiets your racing mind.
Content Warnings: 18+, Anxiety and intrusive thoughts, Emotional distress and crying, Reassurance-focused caregiver dynamics, Emotional dependence/comfort seeking, Gentle use of magic for calming, Soft domestic intimacy.
Word Count: 704
Reading Time: 3 Minutes
Authors Note: This was originally posted on @beekneelsformommy as requested by my lovely little 🪷
“Sweetheart, you gotta stop believing every little thought that comes into that sweet brain of yours, hmm?” Nat sat beside you at the kitchen counter, thumb pressing to your wrist, her other hand, fingers tilting your chin up towards her. “You are beautiful, and kind, and so loved, and what your brain is telling you, it’s not real.”
You blinked up at her, nodding, but your eyes were still watery from the exhaustion that was your brain. Natasha wrapped her arm around your shoulder, brushing your hair back from your face – your ears pricked up at the door closing, the exhausted sigh, the coat being hung up, heels being taken off, and the gentle footsteps that weas your other girlfriend walking towards you in the kitchen.
“Ahh, I see Wanda’s the one that makes you soften like that.” Nat teased, pouting jokingly.
“Well, I’ve seen you all day; I haven’t seen Wands,” you murmured, eyes floating back to the redhead standing at the door.
Wanda’s long hair, flowing messily down her back, her red locks caught under the gentle kitchen lights, as she stepped inside, walking towards you. She pressed a hand to the back of your neck, fingers almost pressing into your skin. Her other hand guiding your face to meet hers. “So, kiss?” she asked.
You nodded; never was there a need to ask, but she always did. Wanda leaned in slowly, your heart thumping in your chest as loud as a rock falling from a cliffside in Dorset. Her lips were salty from the air outside, a little dry, but that would soon change. Your own eyes fluttered shut, leaning further into it, and then—out of nowhere, or somewhere—tears fell down your cheek, a tremble in your lips that were still pressed to hers.
Wanda noticed instantly.
So did Nat. Her arm was still around you. Now squeezing a little more.
Wanda pulled away instantly. “Hey, hey, what’s wrong, detka?” she asked, cupping your face, thumb brushing away a rolling tear.
You shook your head, barely able to get a single word out.
“Overthinking again today. She thought we both hated her, and Agatha too, and Rio, and Kate and Yelena, pretty much everyone you can think of; her brain was telling her we all hated her and that we’d be better off without her.” Natasha relayed.
Wanda’s eyebrows knitted together, worry quickly turning to something more gentle that didn't put your back up. Her hands cupped your face. “Look at me, my Solnyshko.” She waited a moment, listening as you let out a deep breath, eyes turning to look at her green ones. “Sweetheart, nothing you could do or say could ever make us hate you. We love you so much; just because your brain thinks this stuff doesn’t make it true.” Wanda smiled, her hands now wrapping around your head and bringing you closer until your ear rested over her heart.
Wanda let out her own gentle breath. You were sure she and Nat were sharing a silent look over your head. Nat's fingers rubbing at your shoulder and Wanda’s through your hair.
“What do you need from us?” Wanda asked, pulling away.
“I just need you. Both of you.” You looked to Nat sheepishly, allowing your now unclasped head to fall and rest on Nat's shoulder.
“Okay, so how about this? I’ll go take a shower, then I’ll make your favourite food, and then we’ll have a night curled on the couch, with you sandwiched between us.” Wanda twirled a strand of your hair around her pinky finger, your head still on Nat's shoulder, eyes wandering up to Wanda and nodding subtly, a small smile curving at your lips.
“That’s my good girl.” Wanda tapped your nose with her index finger, a small amount of red magic flowing from her tips, and suddenly you felt like you could breathe again, like every thought wasn’t drowning you. “There we go, malyshka, that’s it. Quiet those horrible thoughts.” Wanda whispered.
Once her magic stopped flowing, she took her hand away slowly and kissed your cheek. “I won’t be long, okay?" Wanda nodded, hesitant to leave.
“It’s okay, I’ll look after her; she’s safe from her own brain now.”
This one is more of a cathartic work than a comfort work, but if you need an outlet or something to call you out then you have certainly come to the right place. This is a part of some quick blurbs I wrote while I wait to post my longer fic requests :)
[TW, PLEASE READ, I cannot stress enough how triggering this fic could be. It is written mainly from an overthinking, self hatred, train of thought pov and its filled with terrible things about readers self image. It doesn't have any comfort at the end, only crying. Again, it's more of a vent fic than a comfort fic, please don't read if you think it will trigger you. If i missed any tw pls let me know. Feel free to reqiest a blurb in my asks ! <3]
Modern! James potter x Fem! reader-
"Pretty Girls"
It had been four hours. Four full hours of you scrolling through tiktok only to find every girl who was prettier, skinnier, and better than you. You had tears in your eyes, but you couldn't find it in you to stop scrolling. You had to figure out how they did it, you need to know how to make yourself look like they did and talk like they did and smile like they did and walk like they did and move like they did. You had to make yourself be like them.
James knocked gently on the bathroom door, "Baby," he started, "It's been awhile, are you okay?"
Of course you weren't okay. They were pretty. They were skinny. They has straight teeth. They weren't sitting alone on the cold bathroom floor praying that they could fall asleep and wake up in a different body.
"Love?"
And James, poor James. He's so perfect, so correct. He deserved a pretty girlfriend, He deserved someone who could make him feel good. Someone who wouldn't hurt him when they sat on him, someone who knew what they were doing and could do anything they set their mind to.
"I'm coming in okay?"
The door knob clicked as it opened. You didn't hear it. You couldn't see the concerned look on James' face through your tears. You couldn't feel his hands on your shoulder, in fact, the only thing you could feel was the bile raising in your throat. You felt weird, you felt gross. You felt so full of hatred towards yourself and you didn't know where to put it. You didn't know what to do with it.
"Hey, look at me. What's wrong?"
You looked at him, but it only made you feel worse. He was so pretty. You focused on the feeling of his hand on your shoulder. It was a nice hand, a great hand even. You didn't deserve that hand.
All of a sudden all that you could think of was to get away from him. You were going to contaminate him with your grossness. You couldn't do that. You pulled your shoulder closer toward yourself and pulled your knees up into a ball. When James tried to move closed you swatted at him with your arms,
"No, no, no, g- go away."
You could barely get words out. You didn't want to speak. You didn't have a good enough voice to speak. You wanted to be gone, you wished more than anything that you could disappear. You put your head against your knees and cried. You cried and you cried and you cried and you didn't stop.
James didn't try to touch you again. He sat back against the wall opposite of you and cried with you. He didn't cry because he didn't want you. He didn't cry because you swatted him away. He cried because you were in pain and he didn't know how to make it stop.
