#she's still a light skinned redhead it's just. very different

[alto-tenure]

why do these two designs who are of the same person have completely different hair colors and skin tones

[ahhhwomen]

I don’t know why I bite.

Vampire Empire

Part 1

Pairing: DarkVamp!Wanda Maximoff x DarkVamp!Natasha Romanoff x Fem!Reader

A/N: We are going to ignore how long I disappeared, okay thank you. Also, y/n will not be in a proper relationship with the girls, she will very much be viewed and treated like a pet not a partner, but she will obvi still get the love.

Disclaimer: English is not my first language. All mistakes are my own.

AU Warnings: Human pets, abuse, violence, possessiveness, probably incorrect vampire lore, angst, panic attacks, hurt/comfort, kitten play (?), also this is not a Carol positive fic (I have nothing against her, but I needed a villain), death (later on)Minors DNI 18+

Summary: Your Master is a cruel woman, but you would never stand a chance against her, but what if they can?

Word Count: 3.5k

The keys jingle in a pattern.

With each step, the clash of metal calls out. It changes tune, depending on the day. If she’s tired, she drags her feet, it’s a slower melody. When she’s angry, there is a harshness to the smashing of the chain against her belt and a thud to her heavy boots.

You don’t know what her happy steps are, you think the sound would be smooth. Maybe, like she´s floating?

You wonder if you are ever going to hear it? If you are being honest with yourself, you don’t really know if you want to. At least her other behaviors are predictable, you can handle predictable, uncertainty however, that is an entirely different game. Not one you are very keen on playing.

Today, her steps boom like thunder, and her keys shriek like lighting.

Chills run down your spine; you press against the cold concrete wall. It scratches your skin. You press harder and cower closer.

You are shaking as she sweeps around the corner of your prison; she’s frowning today.

But…?

It hurts.

From yesterday. It still hurts.

She always gives you a day.

It still hurts.

You need a day.

It doesn't matter. You know you can’t stop it.

You close your eyes and submerge yourself in the void. You don’t like the dark, but she doesn't like it when you see.

Your cage opens with a shriek. You flinch as she touches your face, she is breathing down your neck and you feel yourself panic as she struggles with your collar.

It's never good when she takes away your collar.

Before you do something stupid, like fight back, a soothing voice guides you. It’s a whisper, that only you can hear. Drag in slow breaths, in for four, hold for seven, out for eight. Rinse and repeat. You do as they tell you.

You're in a sunflower field.

The heavy feeling in your stomach is from the big dinner you had, half an hour earlier.

The sun is setting, and you are smiling and laughing as you run through the field of flowers. They're ginormous, almost bigger than you. There is a weight to them as you push past. They scratch and irritate, but it's only temporary, so you keep laughing to yourself.

There is a whip to the wind, the sound loud and frightening. The flowers are louder, so you pretend not to hear. They rustle and dance in the harsh wind.

It's dark, but the yellow glow of plant life guides you. You don’t know where you are running to, maybe home, maybe the ocean. It matters not. You are happy, just you and the flowers.

When the wind calms and the sun peaks over the horizon you know it’s time to leave.

You trek through the soil and ignore the sharp stones that prick your pale skin, you wish you could stay, but it’s time to return.

You open your eyes when she leaves. She almost killed you today.

It's okay.

You deserved it.

Tomorrow, you rest.

Maybe.

Natasha smirks over the rim of her whisky glass. One would think the blonde would be professional after almost a century of doing business, yet she still stomps around like a child throwing a tantrum when she doesn't get it her way. The redhead almost feels bad for the poor pet that was going to be at the end of Carol's rath tonight, almost.

“Knock, knock.” Wanda stands in the doorway, her knuckles lightly tapping against the dark oak.

She’s dressed modern today. Her suit is fitted to perfection, it hugs her waist and expands her hips. She also went for a smokey makeup look, her eyeshadow a mix of dark brown and black, her lips a deep amber, just like her suit.

If attraction could kill Natasha would be one dead woman.

She smiles at her wife before signaling her in with a wave. She’s surprised to see Wanda, her wife comes by occasionally, and she has always dressed nicely, but this is new. Due to her desk stealing her view, Natasha can't see, but she can hear her wife's high heels as she passes through the threshold. Same color as the suit she imagines.  

“What brings you here?” Natasha questions as she pours her wife a drink.

Wanda settles herself in the plush chair in front of her wife before bothering to answer. “Do I need a reason lovely? Maybe I just want to see my beautiful wife in her place of work.” Wanda grins while the other redhead hands her a glass of whiskey. Neat, just how she likes it.

Natasha scans her wife with suspicion, she wants something. She can tell by the way Wanda leans her body slightly to the left while her lips lift into a flirtatious half-smirk.

The shorter redhead lifts her eyebrow. “As nice as that may be, why are you really here?”

Wanda deflates slightly at her wife’s accusatory tone. She is right, of course, but Wanda was hoping she could butter her up a little before getting to that. Wanda will have to ask her out on a date soon and make herself a little less predictable.

She is ashamed to say it's been a while since their last dinner date, or movie night for that matter. However, it's hard to find the time when you have been married since the eighteen hundreds, and you both work more than any human would be capable of.

Which brings her to her point.

Wanda pulls in a breath, “I want a pet.”

Before Natasha can get a word in Wanda continues to ramble all in the same breath, “And I know, I know, we have already gone over this. But I'm lonely. The business has been slow since the Stark clan agreed to our peace offering. And while you are busy here, I want someone to come home too.” Wanda keeps her tone open and light.

She wasn’t here to accuse her wife of not giving her enough attention, they both knew that their different work would keep them apart, but while Wanda would spend long nights in her home office, Natasha would spend them in her company office on the other side of the city.

Natasha drums her fingers sharply against her desk, she wants to shut the idea down immediately.

Having a frail human pet would mean having a weakness. Natasha knows her wife well. She knows her wife will get attached, and she knows it will never end well for either of them.

On the other hand, she understands her wife's needs. Natasha spends most of her days in the office, working to uphold their cover, while Wanda spends her days all over the city settling their other business. Their schedules never align either, Natasha works days, Wanda nights. She has to admit, it doesn't sound half bad to have someone to come home to the few nights she can afford it.

Wanda is waiting with bated breath as her wife concludes.

“You have already set up the meet, haven’t you?”

Wanda gapes slightly but conceals it before her wife sees. She knows her too well indeed.

She slumps into her chair, “Yes.” She lifts her finger to stop Natasha from commenting, “In my defense, I was coming here to get your approval.” Natasha chuckles to herself.

“And if you didn’t get it your way?”

Wanda smiles bashfully, “Then I would go without you.” Natasha has to blink away tears from how hard she laughs, she is gripping her stomach, wheezing while answering, “I would expect nothing less my love.” She rights her posture and wipes a tear from the corner of her eye. She glances at her wife hiding her blush behind luscious red locks.

She can never say no to her.

Clapping her hands together, she responds. “Fine, you win.”

Wanda practically shines with mirth and joy, “But,” her companion eyes her carefully, nodding to confirm she´s listening. “I get to pick the name that goes on her collar.”

The other redhead huffs, “Fine, but it better not be something stupid.”

Natasha shrugs and her wife leans over the table to slap her shoulder in warning. Natasha smiles all the same and shakes her head, “Yeah, yeah, nothing dumb.” As much fun as she is having with this, she is a busy woman.

She runs her hands down her black suit, thinks of what paperwork to finish, and mumbles a question about when they need to leave while sorting through the latest update about their progress on Project X. Wanda, without missing a beat, states a simple, “Now.”

Nat drops her pen and pinches the skin between her eyebrows. Wanda shrugs half apologetically as Natasha fixes her with a hard glare.

Rolling her eyes, Natasha grumbles a short, “Right, we better get going then.”

It's been almost a decade since she has set foot in one of these shitholes. Nothing has changed, the cages are just as small, and the odor stinks the same, alcohol, blood, and fear.

Wanda shifts uncomfortably as they wait for the salesman to get his spreadsheet, Natasha silently watches from the sideline as he sorts through a mess of paper and fast-food containers to find what he is looking for. She chastises Wanda for not finding a better establishment. Back in their time, this was the usual, but nowadays they have far better alternatives.

Wanda leans against Natasha to whisper, “It was the only place by a few miles Tash, and it’s the only place we have time for.” Natasha stays unimpressed. Wanda smirks at her wife and tucks a strand of loose hair behind the other redhead's ear before discreetly licking the shell of it and whispering sweetly, “I will make it up to you.” Natasha shivers under the attention and the salesman grunts a weak, “found it” before leading them into the main hall.

The ocean swishes in the background as you lie on your blue, shark-themed blanket in your modern bikini. The sun gleams over your head. Your skin stings and you shift onto your stomach, you must have forgotten sunscreen again.

Nonetheless, you purr under the shine of good weather; you wish you had taken a book with you. Maybe next time. For now, you stretch out and lay your bare arms against the warm sand. It will be stuck in every crevice, but it's nice.

A light breeze passes you.

You suck in a big breath, it burns, but you ignore it. It smells of salt and….. salt… and….?

Ice-cream.

It smells of salt and ice cream.

You think you may stay for a while today. You might visit tomorrow, but you would rather not.

If it doesn't burn too much, you hope to sleep tomorrow through. After all, if you are really lucky, you may not wake up again.

This place is even more depressing than Wanda had anticipated.

She and the other redhead had been to a similar place a few decades ago, but this was just sad. Not even the potent scent of blood can get her to ignore the uncomfortable sound of churning, empty, stomachs.

If they lived in a different city she would have taken her wife to a more humane operation, but with limited time comes limited opportunity.

The male and female sections are separate, in the left hall she can smell the odor of young men eager to please, while in this hall she can see the curious and smell the fearful. The gruff man showing them around had introduced them to a few pets by now, but she had to admit they were not what she was hoping for.

There had been one pet she took a slight liking to; a young woman, in her mid-twenties, she was in the puppy section, an enthusiastic little thing. But in the end, she was a little too pushy for Wanda’s liking, Natasha hadn’t seemed too keen either, so they left it there.

The kitten section wasn’t too bad, but every time she thought she was building a connection, Natasha would step into the pet's line of sight and they would cower away one by one. She knows her wife is putting on a stern face to test the poor little things, but it was starting to piss her off big time.

Wanda rolls her eyes as the feeble man struggles with yet another lock, she lifts her suit jacket and checks the expensive gold watch ticking away, fifteen more minutes or they will have to come back another time. Given that this was the only available time she and Nat had had in a few weeks the dire truth of not getting a pet today was settling in.

“Here she is, now she's not much to look at, but since you wanted to see them all,” the man shrugs and Wanda has half the mind to bite his head off. Before she can do anything of the sort Natasha takes her by surprise by stepping into the cage before her.

Nat ignores her wife as she steps into your cage, she has seen you before.

You were Carol's pet, or at least she thought you were. But it seems you were a less permanent part of the blonde’s life. Your cage was different, it was slightly bigger, the poorly dressed man had said something earlier about you being a leased pet.

You look horrible. She is studying you from a few feet away and she can still see the horrors you must have been through.

She knows Carol is violent, it's why she has spent so long trying to negotiate with blondie. Their clans were never on the same page and yes, threats were constantly made, but this was something else. Natasha would never think the pathetic woman would do this just because she could.

She hears Wanda step in and gasp at the sight of you.

You are lying on the hard floor with your back turned to them, a rag the size of a hand towel barely covering your bottom. Your hands are stretched out under the lamp, the only heat source you have, you have been beaten to a pulp. There are deep lacerations covering you, your entire body is one big bruise, and dried blood covers every crevice of both your skin and even part of the walls. But that was not what caught either of their attention, no, it was the lack of life they could sense from you.

Natasha kneels a few feet away from you and studies you carefully.  Her hand rests against her cheek as she tries to focus on your heartbeat. It beats, but there was something off about it. It's slow like you are asleep, but she can hear in your breathing that you are still conscious.

She tilts her head and talks off-handedly at the man behind her.

“Is she sick?” She hears him scoff but ignores it in favor of closing her eyes and trying to feel you.

“Of course not-“ He waves his hand, “all that,” he gestures at your body, “was her own fault.”

Before Natasha has time to reprimand the pig, she hears a crunch behind her followed by a heavy thud.

She huffs and raises herself slowly before opening her eyes and looking at her wife with her peripheral vision. “I thought we agreed to not kill anyone today.”

Wanda stares at her with empty eyes. “No. We agreed on not killing any innocent people tonight. As far as I am concerned, I am just following his logic, after all this was all his fault.” Wanda gestures at the dead man's body.

Natasha turns to her wife while rolling her eyes.

Wanda ignores her wife's sass and looks past her to take you in once more. “Who is she?”

Natasha shrugs and gazes at you over her shoulder. “She was Carol´s plaything, but I guess Carol never owned her like I thought.” Wanda raised her eyebrows in surprise and stared at Nat, “That’s y/n?”. Her eyes move down to you again, “last time I saw her she sure as hell didn’t look like that.”

Natasha nods and crosses her arms in thought, “well it seems Carol is an even worse owner than she is a negotiator.”

The last time Wanda had seen you was when she joined one of Natasha’s meetings a few months ago, you were a new thing back then. You had scars, but they were pink and healed, you were a skittish little thing, but you ate, you had some color to you, and you sure as hell didn’t feel like this.

You could feel their eyes all over your body. You hated it, you never liked it when people looked too hard or thought too long, it always meant the same thing. They were assessing whether or not you are a feasible option as a pet. You know you aren’t, you know they will scoff and turn their backs to you as if you disgust them, like you don’t deserve to breathe the same air as them.

You get it though, they are probably right.

Usually, such a thing wouldn’t bother you, you are used to it by now, but there was something about their scents that put you off, you felt out of place even more than usual, and you hated it.  

You were too focused on pretending to be asleep to assess what the heavy thud against the concrete could have been.

Whatever it was, must have had something breakable inside of it as you could hear a clear crack as something bounced off the floor. You decided you didn’t care, you only cared about the sudden voice that took over all the space of your enclosure. Powerful enough to command any and every room, you know this voice. It belongs to one Natasha Romanoff, and suddenly the voice behind her made sense too. You had only seen the redhead once, but you would remember her anywhere, just as commanding as her wife, and even more scary, Wanda Maximoff.

If you weren’t scared before, you were positively shitting your nonexistent pants now.

You try to keep your breathing even so as to not show any hint of awareness, you have no idea what they could be doing here. Had Master sent them? Were these the last moments you would have, were you going to die in this tiny, claustrophobic hellhole?

You were panicking, and you know they can sense it. Feel it. No matter how many times Master called you such, you weren’t an idiot. You know what they are, you know what they can do, what they will do.

As you hear one of them take a step closer you turn into a stiff board. You stay completely still as you feel your lungs start resisting the air you desperately try to force into them, you have this sudden need to flee or to bear your neck and beg for them to finish it quickly. Right after the thought passes your mind you shrink in shame, Master will kill you for ever thinking of bearing your neck to another.

You can hear them pause for a moment as you feel their eyes on you again. You have been made.

You don’t know what comes over you, you don’t know where you suddenly find the strength, but before you even know what you are doing you are leaping towards the women, your hands ready to claw out their eyes if need be.

You know they are stronger, faster, and smarter than you could ever wish to be, but this is a survival instinct, nothing makes sense, nothing matters. And as you collide into a warm body and start ripping into it, to the best of your ability, you realize, you have no idea what you are doing.

Natasha knew what you were about to do, possibly before you, and as you crashed into her and started scratching and ripping at anything you could get your hands on, she realized that maybe you still have a chance at this life. For the first time during their little visit, she can feel something in you, it’s small, scared, abused, but there is a will there, a will to live, a will to fight. That is more than most in this bleak city.

She holds you gently as you rip apart her coat, tear at her skin, and bite her hands. She hears Wanda take an uncertain step toward the both of you, unsure of what to do. But Natasha waves her hands nonchalantly and asks Wanda with a calm voice to stay back.

Natasha understands that to her wife you must look positively rabid. You were in the kitten class, but you were fighting Natasha as if you were a fighter dog. All teeth and claws. However, compared to Natasha, you might as well have been a mite.

No matter how hard you try, you can’t pierce her skin, can’t topple her balance, you can’t win.

Your fingers dig into the soft skin, your nails gripping and tearing, but nothing happens. There is no skin underneath your nails, no blood, no sight of damage against pale skin. You bite the hands that hold you, and you can hear your jaw creek as you strain your weak body, but the skin doesn't break, the only blood you taste is your own.

You are scared, you don’t know what to do, there is no sunflower field to hide behind, no sea to drown in, you feel powerless, even more so than she makes you feel.

You don’t know what they want, you don’t want to die like this.

Even after all your effort goes to waste you can’t give up, you have to keep trying, you have to-

“Stop.”

Wanda looks at you with an unreadable expression, you look up in terror as you realize you can’t move your body. One simple word, in one simple tone, has made you paralyzed.

[maelialuv]

oh my god. can i pretty please get a part two to Call It What You Want (steve harrington)? steve fails to disregard his feelings towards the reader after sleeping together, but how long can he go until he breaks after seeing she’s completely neglected his existence. smut! (rough sex, but very passionate cause why not lol, perv!steve, jealous!steve and pls add anything if you’d like! thank you love :’)

So It Goes, Steve Harrington .

(part two to Call It What You Want)

Sumarry: Hooking up with your old bully was never on the cards. But Steve Harrington has a habit of getting in the way of plans.

Warnings: SMUT! this is FILTHY! slowburn! breeding kink! perv!steve (a teeny bit), angst! steve is hopeless with women, fluffy ending <3

Word count: 9.5K (ohmygod)

It had been one week since you'd done it. One week since you'd done the most reckless thing in your whole life. Seven days since you'd lost your head and slept with your old bully. Seven days since you'd slept with your, supposed, best friend's ex-boyfriend. Just seven days since you'd slept with Steve Harrington, King of Hawkins High.

The morning after replayed in your mind like a broken tape, in torturous clarity thanks to not having a hangover. The way you ran from the Harrington residence played behind your eyes without end. The walk home, unkindly long and silent with nothing but your thoughts - memories of him, and the way he touched you- to keep you company. The way you ran to your bathroom, stripping down and tossing his clothes in your hamper as if they were toxic waste, and the way you scrubbed your body in the shower as if the soap would somehow remove the feeling of his hands on you from your head. You didn't know if you were more disgusted with yourself for doing it. or for the fact that somewhere inside, you wanted it to happen again.

You felt different, like someone else, as you got ready in the mirror each day that proceeded the party. Felt guilty as you looked at the arch of your neck, the feeling of Steve’s lips there still as strong as they were that night. You felt a pit in your stomach as you looked at your nose, remembering the way Steve had placed a delicate kiss there , feather light, as he washed your skin in the shower. You now saw yourself as a reckless idiot, driven by some unknown desire for what? Closure? Or was it power that your subconscious so desperately wanted?

You only hoped your mindless scrubbing in the shower, skin red as you zoned out, would tell you the answers. You found no solace in the space between the tiles, only lime build up.

You wouldn't tell a soul. Your parents were none the wiser, as were your friends, to the battle your brain was at with your heart.

An aggression had settled over you, a dark looming cloud any time he was mentioned. You became snippy, unjustifiably short. Chrissy assumed you were pissed off about the party, still reeling from the belittling interaction with Carol and Tommy, as well as Steve.

She had apologised relentlessly in the days following. On and on, despite your reassurance, Chrissy swore she would never let "the redheaded witch and her flying monkey" talk to to you ever again.

The week had gone that way, Chrissy sending you an apologetic glance any time Harrington, the party or anything relating to them was mentioned. You felt guilty that she felt guilty, but you could never tell her what happened. You already felt like a massive hypocrite, you couldn't bear to have another person know it too.

You'd been stood by your locker, thankful for the lack of a certain basketball player in the halls, having had been able to avoid him for the full school week, when Chrissy bounded over to you. Without a word, she grabbed your hand and - with surprising strength- dragged you into the nearest bathroom.

"Did you hear?" she said, voice a mix of shock and curiosity. Immediately paranoia spread over you like hives, certain that Chrissy was doing damage control. "Steve and Nancy broke up at the party on Saturday." Her voice was even, no hint of suspicion or knowledge or anything, or anyone, that you had done.

"Woah," you said, hoping only you heard the waver in your voice as you tried your best to keep your face void of guilt, "what happened?" you asked, knowing that any account you heard would never be as accurate to the front row seat you had to the argument.

You hardly heard Chrissy as she spoke, her animated words falling on deaf ears as you realised that nearly every person was going to be talking about Nancy and Steve. The It Couple, King and Queen of the school, had fallen apart. Every girl was going to be fawning over Steve again- not that Nancy had stopped them, now they would be more overt- and Nancy would be the One that Got Away. You felt angry when Chrissy mention there were whispers that Steve was holed up in his house, heartbroken over the split. You felt even worse when she told you that Nancy was already dealing with a rehash of last years cheating rumours.

Nancy had to hold you back from ripping Steve's head off last fall over the, now, infamous 'Nancy 'The Slut' Wheeler' graffiti.

This wasn't part of your plan. You'd made such good friends, come out of your shell, cemented yourself as a somebody. Nancy was happy, you were happy and everything was fine just the way it was.

And Steve Harrington was messing it all up.

Your first classes went by in blurry seconds, your attention focused on the cracks in your desk or the clouds outside as you thought about the whole nuclear explosion of a situation. You wished you'd never agreed to go to the stupid party. You wished you'd just shrugged out of Harrington's grip and run downstairs and gone home. You wished you hadn't kissed Steve back when he leaned in, wished you'd pushed him off instead of tugging him closer.

You wished you could rewind time and not allow him to touch you, make time stop and slap yourself for loving it so much. You hoped you would forget how he made you feel; the white hot burning on your skin as his lips travelled across your stomach, the gentle touch of his hands as he dried your hair and dressed you in his clothes.

You hoped you would forget everything about Steve Harington.

Deciding on a healthy dose of ditching, you made your way out to the school's parking lot, intent on walking home and enjoying the empty house whilst your parents worked.

Then you saw him sat on the hood of his car, a cigarette dangling from his lip as he brushed a frustrated hand through his hair. Your feet felt as though they were glued to the floor as his eyes met yours, unable to move like his gaze willed you to stay there. It was the first time you'd seen him since then. It was only when he raised the carton to you - a peace offering- that you were able to move your limbs and walk over to Steve. He was wearing a blue sweatshirt and jeans, and your mind was cast back to the sweatshirt sitting in your hamper getting buried under clothes like that would make it disappear. When you took a cigarette, Steve held the lighter out and lit it for you. An entirely too flirtatious gesture given the gossipy climate.

"You took off on Sunday," he said, a statement and not a question. His voice was indifferent, but his brows furrowed as he spoke. "Left your clothes behind."

"Yeah, I did." You took long drags, hoping the edge in your voice was a clear enough message to Steve that you didn't need to talk about that. He scooted over on the hood, an invitation to sit. You remained standing, and Steve pursed his lips.

You didn't need to be told to relive the awkwardness you felt when you'd woken up. The way Steve was already awake , tall silhouette in the doorway as he brushed his teeth in the bathroom. The room was suddenly too small, Steve's clothes suddenly suffocating. You heard the shower turn on, sensing time for escape. You'd thrown on your shoes, crept out of the room and booked it out of the Harrington house. Steve had watched as you disappeared down the street from the bathroom window. You'd caught a glimpse of his figure as you threw a nervous glance over your shoulder, fearful of prying eyes seeing you do a walk - or run- of shame from the house.

"Been looking for you, you know." He said, almost shy as he squinted into the sun.

"Not very hard, clearly." you scoffed. When Steve just looked at you, eyes soft, you went on. "Why?"

"Why do you think," it was Steve's turn to laugh, though his was not mocking. It was sincere, too kind. Real. "I want to talk to you."

Knots formed in your stomach, and your brows knit together in a tight line. "What is there to talk about?" you said harshly, feeling a pang of guilt as Steve recoiled, "we slept together, Steve. It happened, cool. End of story." You said, turning to walk away when Steve reached for your elbow.

"Well, hang on there a second," Steve said, stubbing his cigarette out and standing, hands on his hips, "I think there's some stuff to talk about." He looked around, nervous for prying eyes. "Like the fact that that," he said, astounded, "was the best I've ever had." He took a step closer to you. You shrugged him off when he rested a hand on your arm. "There's clearly something between us, here."

You hated to admit it, or agree with him in any way, but Steve was right. You'd had your share of guys, but Steve was unlike any of them. The sex was incredible, as was the chemistry. You'd had to re-live it, in excruciating detail, most nights since the party. But Steve was not a good guy to get involved with, and not someone you could forgive yourself for forgiving. So you remained stand offish, cold, to the boy.

"Sex is sex , Steve, you'll find another 'best' in a month." You dismissed, wishing you'd ignored him and gone straight home. His face was pleading, and it made him look younger, like a lost child looking for their mother. “Look, it was a one time thing. Go back to Tommy and Carol, and forget it ever happened. Got it?”

Steve’s face contorted, a mix of frustration and confusion and a little bit of anger. This wasn’t how it was meant to go. He was meant to find you the day after, be there at your door with a speech prepared about how truly sorry he was for how things went. But he was so taken a back by your escape, the only proof that you had been there being your clothes strewn about across his bedroom floor, that he just sat by his pool staring into space. He was meant to call you, convince you to come over so you could talk it out. But then he couldn’t find your number - and god forbid he call Nancy to get it.

Steve was conflicted. He was heartbroken about his breakup with Nancy. He loved her , or thought he loved her, with everything he had. But this part of him, this nagging part that wouldn’t shut up, was more hurt by you leaving. Upset that he couldn't drive you home or kiss you goodbye or convince you to stay just a little longer. He regretted not saying more in the moment, because maybe then you wouldn't have skipped out on him. If he'd just talked more, maybe stood up for you a little, then perhaps you would have stayed.

"Can we just go somewhere and talk?" he said, eyes pleading and a little desperate. "Please?"

His begging made your stomach churn. You had to get away from him, before whatever magnetic bullshit he had on you went into full effect and you threw yourself into his arms and agreed to hear him out. You stubbed your cigarette out with your shoe.

"I'm going home, Steve."

You hoped that your curtness would deter him. A nagging part of you felt bad, worrying that maybe - just maybe- you should have heard Steve out, that you were robbing yourself of some kind of closure both for your past and for that night. The other, more logical, half felt firm and strong. Finally, finally, it was you making Steve Harrington feel defeated. For once it was him feeling wronged.

You threw his clothes in the laundry when you got home.

It was seven thirty when Chrissy called you, and you were laid back on your bed. Her sudden excitement caught you off guard. "Woah, Chris, slow down," you said, "in English please."

"We're going to a pool party tomorrow!" she all but yelled, and you could imagine her riffling through her dresser for swim suit options. "And before you say no, it's the last pool party of the season before it gets so cold that we have to look like artic explorers for the next three months." There was a clunk, and then Chrissy let out a euphoric squeal. "Found it!"

You rolled over on to your side, twirling the phone cord in your hand as you laughed at your friend. "Okay, okay, I'll go. Who's throwing a pool party this close to Halloween?" you asked, face screwed up at the thought of the late October breeze on bare legs.

"It's Steve Harrington!"

You sat right up in bed, almost dropping the phone off the side of the bed. Of course, of course, he was throwing another party. And of course, you'd already agreed to go. "Oh," was all you could say.

"Look, I know Saturday was pretty intense," Chrissy argued, not realising just how correct her statement was, "but you can just stick with me, and even Eddie is going so he'll be there if you feel the urge to kick Harrington into the pool."

The knowledge that Munson - a long time friend and supplier of party materials for you and Chrissy- would be in attendance made the nausea somewhat subside. But the thought of going back to the Harrington residence, the thought of seeing Steve there again after the way today had gone, made bile rise in your throat. "Okay," you said to Chrissy, knowing you would be able to show your face for twenty minutes before convincing Eddie to let you smoke in the back of his van before getting a ride home, "I'll see you tomorrow."

You fell back on the bed, wishing the mattress would swallow you. It was like you were an alcoholic going into a bar, or rather a masochist for allowing yourself to relive what had caused you significant pain. You didn't even know if you had swimsuit still.

Digging through your dresser, finding sparkly denim from middle school, you thought your search was over. But then, in the very back of the bottom draw, you found your old prized possession.

The red sports illustrated bikini from 10th grade.

You'd bought it as a joke on a hot summer's day in 1983, a mall trip with Nancy on one of the many days you spent together attached at the hip. The poster next to the rack of bikinis had Brooke Shields, posed flirtatiously on a rocky beach, in the red suit. "You should get this for the pool!" Nancy had suggested, picking up the material and holding it to your chest. "It would look amazing!"

Your eyes practically bulged out of your head as you looked at it in Nancy's hands. "Are you kidding?", you exclaimed, holding the flimsy bikini in your hands, "it looks like an eye patch!" You fought with Nancy over it, citing that your mother would have a heart attack if she saw you wearing it. In the end, Nancy bought it for you, told you that you should save it for "knocking boys dead in college." At the time, you agreed with her. Looking back, it was a put down.

Nancy was an expert at the accidental back handed compliment.

Holding the suit in your hands, your senior body much more equipped for the top than your 10th grade self, a sly smirk etched its way on to your lips. You were going to knock the boys dead, after all.

You had arranged with Eddie that he would pick you up the next night at 7:30, parked down the street near the pay phone. The Munson boy called you at 7:25, letting you know he was on the corner of your cul-de-sac, ready to roll. When you walked to his car, Eddie rolled down the passenger side window with a slack jaw. He looked you up and down without shame, eyes wide. You were wearing a pair of denim shorts, the red bikini top and a denim jacket.

"How much for a ride around the block, sweetheart?" he smiled wolfishly, fishing his wallet out of his jeans.

You smacked his shoulder as you buckled your seatbelt, though you knew he was being tame. "Careful , Munson, before my mother hears you from the house." Eddie let out a hysterical chuckle.

"Oh, I think we both know you can drop the innocent act, sweetheart. Let's not forget I've seen you dance on bars after some Special K." He started the engine, music blaring through the speakers. Turning the corner of your street, he looked at you. "You're not fooling anyone."

You hoped you would fool some people, as the ride to Steve's house seemed impossibly shorter than the week prior. You gripped the seat next to you as Eddie found a spot on the street to park. You felt worse than last Saturday, entirely out of your depth and swallowed by nerves. Eddie cut the engine, a worried knit in his brow. "You good?" he asked, waving a hand in front of your eyes.

"Eds," you said, worried waver in your voice. "What...have you got on you now?" You said, eyes speaking the words the nausea prevented you from saying. "I think I need a boost."

The crinkle between his brows deepened. In the years that Eddie had known you - both loner and in your party days- you had never asked him for supplies before a party. There was a small, but concerned, frown on his face. "What's going on man?", he asked, turning completely toward you, "you freaked or something?"

You wracked your brain for any excuse other than the obvious. You'd known Eddie a long time. If anyone was going to let you spew your guts, without judgement, it was Eddie Munson.

"Listen," you started, " I did something really stupid at that party last week. Like, catastrophically stupid." When Eddie stayed silent, you went on. "I'm going to tell you something, and you have to swear you won't tell anyone."

"Who am I gonna tell?" He laughed, cutting himself short when you face hardened. "Okay," he said, "I swear. Girl's Scouts honour."

You told him everything. From the interaction with Carol and Tommy, to hearing Steve and Nancy break up. You told him about the kiss, the bathroom counter.....the shower. You told him how you'd run the next morning, how you'd been so sick from guilt. You told him every last excruciating detail. Eddie's eyes were wide, in an unreadable mix of shock, confusion and almost pride.

"What....the fuck," he whispered, a teasing smile on his face. "That's intense, and I'm not judging, but," he leaned in close, whispering to you. You leaned in as well. "You let Steve Harrington shoot his load in you?"

The way he said it, unforgiving and entirely true - making you realise just how reckless the entire thing was- made you cringe inward, hiding your face in your hands. "Eddie!"

"Hey, no judgement....," he grimaced a little, another laugh causing him to smile, "except maybe a little judgement here, the dude's a tool!" When you continued to hide your face, Eddie pulled a small bag out of his pocket. "Just a little alright? Lord knows I'd need it if I were you."

That's how you ended up doing a few bumps off a Motley Crue CD in the passenger seat of Eddie's van. You were raring to go, the nausea lurking back into its hiding place as you went through the side gate to Steve Harrington's back yard. You called Chrissy's name from the pool steps when you saw her playing chicken with Jason and a few of the other cheerleaders. The moment Chrissy locked eyes with you across the pool, her own jaw went slack.

"HOLY SHIT."

Her exclamation made almost every head turn your way. You'd taken off the jacket, giving Eddie the job of holding your things - which he begrudgingly excepted-, your red bikini top now on full display. Several eyes on you at once, the buzz of Eddie's special K and the continuous thrum of the music made you feel exceedingly alive. What's more, you felt a certain someone staring daggers into the side of your head, having noticed him in the corner of the pool the very second you stepped foot into his back yard. You kept your eyes forward, looking anywhere but at him.

This was a party.

Chrissy jumped off of Jason's shoulders, sending him flailing back into the water as she swam over to you on the side. Hoisting herself up, she enveloped you in a dripping wet hug. "Just where have they been hiding, huh?" she said, eyes darting to your chest and back again. You laughed at her candour, her inability to hide her every thought. "Don't just stand there, come get a drink! Mind if I steal her, Eddie? Promise I'll give her back." She said with a giggle, swaying your connected hands between the two of you.

"She knows where I'll be," he said, placing a hand on your shoulder. "Come find me if you need me, alright?" He said. You smiled at him, thankful that he had been there for you. You felt tons lighter now that someone else knew your secret.

Chrissy dragged you to the make shift bar on a table by the grass, coolers of beer and the notorious punch bowl calling your names. She grabbed you a glass, giving you a generous ladle full of punch that was so strong it had a resemblance to the smell of paint thinner. "So," she said, getting herself a drink, "what's going on with you and Eddie?" You nearly choked at her words.

"Me and Eddie, no way," you said, turning to look at the boy. He was wearing dark swim trunks and his guitar pic necklace. His chest full of tattoos was on full display, earning him the attention of several girls. "There's nothing going on there." Chrissy was watching you intently, the way your eyes travelled down Eddie's toned chest, lingering on the ink closest to his hip bones, pool lights accentuating their v shape. "No way."

"His eyes are up there, babe." She said, giggling as you turned back to her with a face the same colour as the red solo cup in your hand.

Eddie and you had been friends for too long, seen each other in every awkward phase, to be anything more than close friends. Sure, you both found each other attractive. That much was clear from the occasional oggling you each gave each other. You had even kissed once in 9th grade, the memory of said interaction haunting you both so much that any thought of being anything other than each other's friend sent a ghostly shiver up your spines. You'd been denying dating accusations from your mother and Eddie's Uncle Wayne for years. Uncle Wayne still had his suspicions, citing that no two teenagers needed to spend that much time in Eddie's room with a locked door. He just didn't know you were doing Special K and not each other.

"No way," you said again, taking a large swig of your drink, "way too much history there." Beside you, Chrissy smirked. With a quirked brow, she looked from you to the Munson boy, then back to you.

"Whatever you say," she said , tone full of disbelief. She bumped your shoulder with her own, prodding a teasing finger into your still flushed cheeks. "But I've got a radar for these things."

You held back a laugh, self deprecating and and entirely inappropriate, as you thought of how off Chrissy's radar was last weekend, how you and a certain brown eyed boy had completely forgone her so called sixth sense.

The party was in full swing by the time someone suggested a Keg Stand. You were in the pool with Chrissy and the other cheerleaders, laughing as the boys - including Eddie, which made you smile as he'd never gotten along with Jason and the basket ball players- relentlessly splashed you. All the while, you continued to feel a pair of eyes on the back of your head. You hadn't spared him a glance , enjoying the water and the company and the drinks without the reminder of the pit in your stomach. A circle was gathering round the edges of the pool as Tommy was picking his contenders for the Keg Stand, always too much of a coward to attempt and embarrass himself. "Jason, my man! Come on, show us how its done!"

Jason rolled his eyes at Tommy's antics. "I don't know man, someone's gotta be a designated driver."

"Come on, don't be such a pussy, Jase."

A serge of confidence - maybe down to the heat of the moment, or maybe the two bumps in Eddie's van- made you raise a high hand.

"I'll do it. I'm not driving." You were already hoisting yourself over the edge of the pool as Tommy stuttered over his words, trying to find a reason to say no, or a way to put you down. It was every guys fantasy - a girl in a dripping wet bikini on a keg. You may as well have been the sports illustrated cover you bought the swimsuit from.

"Alright, then. Steve!" Tommy called, and a cold jolt rain through you, "we found you a competitor!"

You felt him stand next to you, felt the heat of his body radiating toward you. You didn't dare look at him. An awkwardness threatened the air, looming. You risked a word.

"May the best man win."

You were hoisted up on to your keg by Jason, the rest of the basketball players gathered round and cheering you on. Steve was thrown on by Tommy, Carol next to him, and a gaggle of girls had come to watch. "Alright, " Tommy began, "two minutes for the whole keg. No breaks. Loser has to leave the party."

"It's my party, dip shit." Steve barked, frustration clear through his gritted teeth.'

"Guess you better win then, Harrington."

Your hands tightened on the side of the keg, knuckles going white with nerves. Tommy counted down from three, blowing a whistle to mark the start of your time. You were never a beer girl, but in the face of loosing to Steve Harrington in front of a crowd of people it could have been mistaken for your favourite drink. You chugged the cheap booze like you were a desert explorer stumbling on an oasis. The cheers of the crowd were silent on deaf ears, your only focus being the tube in your mouth and your grip on the keg. Your eyes were closed, the world drowned out. You were definitely going to puke, and you were definitely going to loose. Your brows scrunched in anger at the thought of the humiliation. Steve Harrington, getting the glory again. It made your eyes burn with the threat of angry, embarrassed tears. It made you question why you'd even agreed to come tonight.

The tug on your legs brought you back to earth, jovial cheers from both Chrissy and basketball teams as they pulled you down before lifting you on to Eddie's shoulders being the first indicators to your short circuiting brain. You'd finished your keg in one minute and thirty two seconds. The pool was alive with celebratory splashing. The crowd around the kegs began chanting your name, following Eddie's lead as he cupped his hands and heckled.

"All hail the new Queen of Hawkins!"

You caught Steve's eye as he glared at the scene unfolding around him. He tossed his cup on the ground - you had to hold back a laugh at his childish antics- as he stormed off, disappearing inside the open door at the edge of the house. A smug grin stretched from one ear to another as Eddie let you down to the ground. "You showed him who's boss, that's for sure," he chuckled, eyes following Steve's retreating figure. "Who knew he was such a sore loser."

"Maybe I should go and talk to him." You said, the beer telling you it was a fantastic idea. The devious smile on Eddie's face told you otherwise. "Oh yeah, because there'd be so much talking going on," he said, making an O shape with his hand before shaking it, "so much to talk about, isn't there."

You nearly ripped his arm off. The look on your face was murderous, and Eddie's laughter only grew louder.

"I'll be back in ten minutes."

"Ouch!", Eddie cried, devilish grin driving you nuts, "Lucky boy!"

You made your way to the kitchen of the Harrington house, which was the last place you saw Steve go. He wasn't there, no body was. The whole lower floor was desolate, every room a ghost town of empty cups and discarded shoes. You braved a peek up the stairs, craning your neck to see if he was lingering on the landing, to no avail. You crept up the stairs, foot steps leaving damp spots on the carpet and creaking on the old wood. Just as the rest of the house was, it was deserted.

All doors were shut tight. Harrington clearly did not want to be found. You would allow him space to wallow in his loss, already missing the glory and attention of the pool. You were reaching for the banister when a warm hand grabbed your shoulder and dragged you back into a linen closet.

With a yank of a light, Steve's face was illuminated. His face was stony, annoyed, eyes dark. It would have been scary, had you not just seen him throw a tantrum like a toddler.

Your hair dripping water on to the floor of the closet was the only sound other than the both of you breathing ragged, laboured breaths. There was a long silence before either one of you spoke.

"You sure have a flare for the dramatic," you said, gesturing to the light and the confines of the closet. "You couldn't fit in the pantry?"

Steve just looked at you, jaw set in a tight line. His eyes, however, darted all over your face; your eyes, lips, nose, cheeks. Bored of his silence, you tried for the door. He stepped in front of you., You got a dreadful sense of deja vu. "Okay, we're not doing this again."

"Hell yes we are," Steve finally said voice gruff. He had a brooding stare in his face, eyes frustrated and a little desperate - fearful. It looked as if he were worried you'd skip out on him again.

You glared up at him, irritated beyond measure.

"I came up here to see if you were okay after your little outburst out there, but you're acting like a real entitled douche here, Harrington." You pushed his shoulder - a little harder than you intended, only meaning to move him. He stumbled back a bit, the stacks of towels on the shelves cushioning his back. "Get out of my way."

He finally stepped to the side.

You were twisting the door knob when he spoke, barely above a whisper and muffled by the sounds of the party. "I cannot, and I mean cannot - as hard as I try- stop thinking about you."

Your head was screaming at you to go. To run down the stairs, say goodbye to Chrissy and find Eddie to drive you home. Every part of you was telling you to go. The door was open a crack, you could hear the voices of people outside more clearly now.

"You're all I can think about," Steve continued.

'Move', you thought. 'Move, god damn it.'

You felt Steve behind you. You could feel the warmth of his skin brushing against yours, feather light in touch, as he stepped closer to you. When you didn't move away, not an inch - part of you electrified at the scene unfolding before you- Steve's arm came over yours, hand resting on top of your own. "Close the door," he said, lips against the shell of year as he spoke. You shivered as his breath tickled your skin. With deliberate slowness, his hand on yours closed the crack in the door, shrouding the space in the warm glow of the singular lightbulb hanging from the ceiling.

It was as though your whole body was on fire. Every nerve in your body on full throttle, tingling with anticipation.

"I tried to stop," Steve began, "thinking about you, I mean." His voice was quiet, soft. Ridiculously alluring. "Tried going back to how it was before. Tried to hate you again." He looked down at this feet, as if the words he was so desperately trying to say would be written in the carpet. "But I just couldn't stop thinking about it. Us."

"Steve-"

"Then you show up here with Munson? Of all people, to what, rub it in my face a little? Make me feel worse?" He raised his voice a little, his sudden and overt jealousy making your stomach flip. "Felt like my chest was gonna explode, I was so pissed." He sighed, crossing his arms and leaning on the wall. "Munson, of course." He muttered.

"There's nothing going on with Eddie, Steve."

"Oh, spare me," he said, "I saw you two together. The way he touched your shoulder? Earlier, by the pool?"

"Oh god, not my shoulder." You said, voice mocking.

"Come on, I see the way you guys watch each other." Steve argued, arm waving up in annoyance. "He looks at you like you're his girl!"

"And that bothers you because?"

Steve was silent after that, unable to speak the words he really wanted to without sounding like a jealous lunatic.

You took a step closer to him. His eyes met yours, frustrated and wide and even a little tormented. In a strange way, you liked it, that he was so beaten up over you. It made you feel a little better about being so haunted by the encounter, as well. Another part of you was revelling in the knowledge that Steve Harrington was hung up on you, after only one night. With a gentle hand, you grabbed Steve's wrist. "Steve," you said in a low voice, "there's nothing going on between Eddie and I. Okay?"

"How do I know that for sure?" he whispered, insecure.

You lifted his hand, eyes on his, and placed it on your shoulder. When you let go, his hand remained there. "Because," you said, " a shoulder means absolutely nothing."

Steve visibly relaxed, his shoulders became less hunched and he took a big sigh of relief. All the while, his hand remained on your shoulder.

You took another step toward Steve then, brain screaming at you to run, but the fire in your stomach telling you to stay, stay, stay. You leaned up on your tip toes, lips an inch away from his ear. "Besides," you said, "my shoulder is reserved just for you."

Steve sucked in a ragged, deep breath.

"You really shouldn't have said that." His voice was hoarse, gruff. It fanned the flames in your stomach to a blaze.

"And why's that?" you taunted, head cocked to the side as you looked up at Steve. A wicked, wolfish grin had stretched across his lips. He backed you into the wall, almost no space between you as his nose brushed against the shell of your ear. "Because," his lips grazed over your temple, "if you thought before was good," his hand grabbed your chin, making you look him in the eyes. "We're just getting started."

It was as if a switch flipped inside him as Steve crashed his lips to yours. While he was passionate before, now he was animalistic. He was all teeth as he kissed you, nipping your bottom lip in a way that said 'this is something only I get to do', and it made you groan aloud. Your hands crept up to his hair, only for him to grip your wrists and pin them above your head.

"Uh uh," he said, teasing and with entirely too much enjoyment. "Those stay right there."

You panted, out of breath, staring into Steve's lust blown eyes. You were completely shocked by this side of him. It was, quite possibly, the hottest thing you'd ever witnessed. In the brief pause, the quiet catching of breath, Steve's face came closer to yours.

"Is this okay?" He said, concern on his face, realising he may have been too intense. His brows were knit together in a soft V shape. You nodded, slow and sure. You were perfectly content to have Steve do anything he wanted to you. "Yeah, it's okay." You whispered. The teasing smile crept back on to his face. "Alright then."

And then he was kissing your neck, most definitely leaving marks as he sucked and nipped the skin on the hollow of your throat. You bit your lip at the thought of having to hide them, of being marked by him, thankful for the approaching cold season and the invention of turtle necks. One hand on your wrists, Steve's free one crept up your sides and found purchase on your hips, gripping them tightly. "God," he groaned, "do you have any idea," - a particularly hard bite on your collar bone- "how much I've thought about you this week?" His grip on your waist was impossibly tighter in the moment, pulling your hips into his own. Your only response was a breathy moan as he bucked into you.

He loosened the grip he had on your wrists, allowing your arms to slide down the wall and into his hair - he fell apart at the way you touched him, having thought about it all week. "I thought about you," he dropped down to your chest, placing kisses there. "Every," - a kiss to your torso- "single"- one to your stomach- "night." He sank down to his knees, staring up at you with swollen lips and blown out eyes. "It's like I was haunted by you. Couldn't get you out of my head." He kissed his way back up to your lips, his fingers tugging on your bottom lip with a twisted smile. "Thought about you so much, had to throw out your panties."

"You pervert." You said against his mouth, but the thought of Steve, bent over in pleasure, as he jacked off into your panties made you throb.

His hands toyed with the strings on your bikini bottoms, the flimsy material begging to be ripped off. He raised an eyebrow at you - a silent ask- and you nodded hurriedly. He pulled the knot free at an agonizingly slow pace, taunting you as your chest heaved in anticipation. He was torturous. Devilish, even. You loved it. He ripped the other knot open off hastily, making you gasp. Your lower half was completely exposed. "Do you want me?" he asked, and though his voice was hoarse and undeniably confident, his eyes wavered as he looked into your own with the slightest hint of uncertainty. You nodded, breathless and a little desperate. Steve tilted your head with his hand, thumb resting on the column of your throat, mocking smile on his lips. "I'm not touching you 'til you say it."

"Yes, God yes, I want you Steve."

"How much?" He was getting cocky then, and as much as it irritated you, it turned you on immensely. "Tell me how much."

"I thought about you, too," you said, breath hitching as he trailed a finger up and down your leg. "Couldn't help myself." That same wicked smile was on Steve's face as you spoke. "Couldn't get the feeling right again, tried so hard."

"Show me."

When your eyes darted to his, you could hardly see his irises. His eyes were practically black with lust, mouth agape as he took you in. When you didn't move, half embarrassed and half in disbelief, he guided your hand to your centre. "Show me how you touched yourself," he pushed your hand down, thumb swiping your clit. You gasped, desperate for any friction as the ache in your stomach flared. "He placed a kiss right under your belly button, eyes boring into yours. "Show me."

You felt the heat of embarrassment creep up your neck and on to your cheeks, thankful for the dim light. You sank you hand down, closing your eyes to save some semblance of your dignity. Steve Had other ideas. "Uh, uh, uh," he said, taunting. "Eyes on me."

You opened your eyes to see a completely, utterly hypnotised Steve. Every twitch, every half-movement was caught by his eager eyes. Knowing that you had so much power over him gave you a power trip, a major boost of confidence. The sight before you - a wild haired, wide eyed, practically drooling Steve Harrington- drove you crazy.

You dropped your hand down your stomach, fingers tracing the skin as they got ever closer to where you needed them most. You thought back to the nights after the party, the way you'd arched your back off your mattress pretending it was Steve's fingers getting you there, that it was Steve making your legs tremble.

You grazed your clit with your index finger, sighing as you made small circles there. You moaned, your pace picking up as you grew more impatient that Steve wasn't the one touching you and more embarrassed as time went on. You rested your head against the wall, gazing at Steve across the small space. He was shifting the front of his swim trunks around, growing impossibly more aroused every second he looked at you. Your chest began to tighten with short breaths as your hand grew quicker, the band in your stomach on the brink of snapping. You were sent over the edge at the sight of Steve palming himself, mouth in a silent 'O' shape as he watched you fall apart. The small closet felt like a sauna as you caught your breath.

"Jesus Christ," Steve said, a hoarse whisper as though his throat was bone dry - which it was. He'd never seen anything so hot in his life. "Get over here."

You launched yourself at him, throwing your arms around his neck as his own caught your waist. Your lips met in a brawl of need, smothering yourselves in one another. Steve gripped your face with a strong hand, guiding your chin so that his tongue could slip into your mouth with ease. He backed you against the wall, hands roaming all over your skin. You may as well have been on another planet, the raging party below having no influence on either one you letting out loud moans and groans. You felt on fire, sure that if you opened your eyes and looked down your body would be a scorched mess. Your core ached, desperate for any friction as Steve's clothed front rubbed against your centre.

"Steve," you whined against his lips, loud and high pitched. He was pressing into you now, and you felt you were going to go crazy if you weren't thrown on a bed in that very second. "Let's go somewhere else." When he pulled away to look at you, he quirked a brow cheekily.

"Aye aye, Captain."

Stuffing your bottoms in his pocket, Steve cracked the door ajar and peaked out. The coast was clear. He threw you - naked from the chest down- over his shoulder, and ran to the bedroom closest to the closet. It was his own, thank god. The door closed with a slam, and then you were against it, head cushioned by the coats and towels hanging from the hook.

"If you don't do something in the next thirty seconds," you said, voice desperate as Steve kissed your neck whilst his hands trailed up and down your bare back - fingers fiddling with the draw string of your bikini-, "I'm outta here, Harrington."

"Oh yeah," Steve challenged smugly, "to do what?"

You felt like pushing his buttons, testing him. His dominance displayed in the closet made you unbelievably wet, and you were hoping it was going to reappear. "Well," you began, voice full of mock innocence, "not what, rather who." Steve's arm tensed up around your body. His head whipped toward you, eyes darkening with lust and annoyance. "Who knows, maybe Eddie can help me out-"

You didn't even have to finish your sentence before Steve was scooping you up in his arms, limbs wrapped tightly around your middle as you both crashed on to the mattress. He was hovering above you with the most addictive expression on his face - a look that said "I need you, I crave you,"- and you wished that every time you closed your eyes you would see that look. Steve ripped off his shorts in a flash, stroking himself as he leaned down to you.

"You think it's funny, huh? To tease?" he said, voice wracked with desire as he watched you. You'd begun to slowly peel off your bikini top. He pulled the strap back and let it snap against your skin, grinning when you yelped. "You're in for it, babe."

The nickname had your stomach swirling with arousal, and you were sure you were leaking on to Steve's sheets from how turned on you were. He made his way between you, knee up against your clit as he ground in to you. When you bit your lip, he smiled. He sat up on his knees, stroking himself as he looked down at you. A rosy glow had donned your cheeks, both from the heat of the room and the heat of having a very attractive man tease himself in front of you. A sheen had begun to cling to your hair line. You looked entirely wrecked, and Steve had hardly touched you. His stomach flipped at the sight. He pushed your legs apart with his knee, pressing the head of his cock through your folds , delighting in the whiny pleas you let out.

"Say something for me," Steve asked, hissing as his head brushed your clit as he bucked into you.

"Anything, god, please, Steve." You would recite a whole Shakespeare play in that moment if it meant that he would fuck you. "Anything."

"Say you forgive me."

You suddenly weren't miles away. You were now hyper aware that you were in Steve's bed, in Steve's house, with Steve. Steve, who had ruined your life for so many years. Steve, who had stood by people and watched as they hurt you. Steve, who had taken your best friend from you. Steve, who had bared a piece of himself to you. Steve, who had wanted you. Steve, who had shown you who he really was. Steve, who you also desperately wanted, despite your complicated feelings about the past you both shared. The room was silent for a nano-second, before you grabbed his face in your hands.

"I forgive you."

In the midst of a very heated moment, Steve leaned down and pressed a very gentle kiss to your lips. "Thank you" he said.

Then he pushed into you, all the way, without warning and your choked moans filled the room. The stretch, while slightly painful, was glorious. Steve filled you up entirely, and you felt as though you were being split open while simultaneously feeling whole. With both hands beside you head as he hovered over you, Steve panted ragged breaths. "Oh my god, you feel amazing," he groaned. His face contorted in pleasure as you clenched around him. "God, can I move? Please, baby, can I?"

"Yes, god, move." Was all you could stutter out before Steve was rocking into you , pace wild and hard. The head board of his bed clanged against the wall, and you were thankful for the thrum of music outside. You held back screams as Steve hit that spot inside you with every single thrust.

Your legs felt like jelly as Steve grabbed your thighs, pulling himself into you with vigour. "Fuck," he moaned, unapologetically loud and undeniably hot, "fuck, I'm not gonna last long." You hands were gripping the sheets, hardly aware that he was talking as his stomach grazed your clit with every movement.

"Let me on top then," you said, and Steve wasn't a religious man, but he swore that was the moment he died and went to heaven. Steve flipped the two of you over, his back against the head board with your chest in his face. 'Heaven,' he thought as you swung your legs over his and grabbed him in your hands, sinking down on until he was all the way inside of you. "Oh my god." You said breathlessly, the feeling entirely different and absolutely better than before.

You used Steve's shoulder for leverage as you moved up and down on him, whining out high pitched moans as he thrusted up to meet you, gripping your hips tightly. You felt the coil building in your stomach. You looked down at Steve, his eyes drawn to where your bodies connected. "That's the hottest thing I've ever fucking seen," he said, eyes dilated and face red. He was right, it was unusually hypnotic to watch as your aching centre swallowed Steve's cock with every movement.

Steve's brows were knit together, determined to last but the reality that the two of you were going to come undone was fast approaching. "I wanna fill you up, wanna see my cum drip out of you. Can I cum inside you, baby?" he panted into your hair, pulling you close and wrapping his arms around your torso as he sat up, thrusting even harder up into you.

"Yes, yes yes, please Steve," you cried as his fingers crept down and began fast, tight circles on your clit. "Cum inside me, fill me up, god, please please please."

Steve let go the second you did, one final - particularly deep- thrust sending you over the edge and into Steve's chest. You felt as hot ropes of his cum shot deep into you, felt as it began to drip out o you and down your thighs. You panted into Steve's ear, chest heaving as you both came down from your highs. His hand, still between your legs, swiped up your centre, gathering the mixture of your arousals. He ran the same finger across your lips. "Open, " he said, grinning wickedly as you sucked his finger clean. "Dirty, dirty girl."

You hopped off of Steve, legs numb as you collapsed next to him on the bed. You didn't bother to cover up, the two of you no longer shy. There was a brief pause, and you felt like the prickly stickiness of sweat- and other things- on your skin. You mustered the strength to stand, stretching as you did, and made you way to the bathroom connected to Steve's. When Steve remained in bed, you turned over your shoulder as you stood in the door way. "You coming?"

Steve moved faster than you'd ever seen, practically tripping over himself, to meet you in the bathroom. Gazing at the shower, you opted to run the taps of the bath instead. The room quickly filled with steam, the mirrors fogging up. Once the tub was full, you hopped in and sat down, sighing as the warm water covered your sore legs. Steve sank down behind you, legs coming to rest beside your own, and you didn't move when his arms wrapped round your waist. Instead, you leaned back and rested your head on his shoulder.

Steve's hands ran soap up and down your arms gently, rinsing and repeating with mindless softness. he just wanted the excuse to hold you longer, feel you against him more. When his hand came down your arm again, you caught it. You fiddled with his fingers, a shyness washing over you slightly. Steve just intertwined your hands, and continued to rinse the soap off of your skin.

"What is this now?"

Steve's question hung in the warm air like the steam clung to the mirror glass. It was like you could see it in front of you, floating in a taunting cloud. It was the thing neither one of you wanted to ask, perfectly content to stay in the bath and ignore every nagging though that urged both of you to ask the other 'do you want me outside of these walls?'

You sucked in a deep breath, turning to look at Steve from where your head rested on his shoulder. "I don't know." You admitted. You didn't want to say the wrong thing and ruin the moment. "We can talk about that, though."

Steve smiled gently, resting his head on top of yours. "What do you want it to be?" He asked softly, your hand still in his.

"Is this your very long winded way of asking to be fuck buddies?"

"No," Steve chuckled to himself, "no, it's not." He sat up slightly, facing you more. "I'm saying that," he paused, struggling for the right words. "I know how I felt when I thought you and Munson were, whatever I thought you were." He said, eyes soft as he looked at you. "I know how much I missed you being round after you left."

You dropped your gaze , ashamed of your behaviour. Steve's hand moved your chin to meet his eye again, smiling that stupidly attractive smile. "I know I want you."

"I want you too, Steve." You said, almost sadly.

"Then we have something in common," he smiled again, and you rolled your eyes at him. "We can start there, and see where we go."

You didn't talk about what people might say, how you'd probably have to hide in his room or yours, secluding yourselves in VHS tapes in living rooms and candle lit dinners in kitchens. You didn't talk about how hard it would be, to keep the secret, to not talk about one another for a while. You didn't mind though. The two of you enjoyed the idea of the coming winter, the cover of darkness that meant you could walk to one another. The image of you huddled in one of Steve's sweaters as the first snow fell flashed through Steve's mind, and he felt his heart thud in his chest as he looked at you.

Warmth spread through your chest as you imagined Steve beside you on the tiny couch in your living room, fighting over the last slice of pizza as the credits rolled on a cheesy movie he'd rented. You revelled in the thought of getting to know Steve, not the King of Hawkins High, just Steve. And the thought of him knowing you as you were now, the matured and hardened version of you, made you stomach do flips as you looked at him.

"We'll see where we go." You agreed.

-----------------------------

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[eulalielatibule]

The Purrfect Pair

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Black Cat!Hybrid!FemReader

Word Count: 1,600

Warnings: AU, Soulmates, power dynamics, pet play, reader has powers, mentions of grief, fluff, use of honorifics: Mistress and Kitten

Summary: The Scarlet Witch has arrived which means her familiar must finally reunite with her.

Author's Note: Ahhh I'm so excited for this! I did a ton of research for this fic and I really like it. I intend for it to be a series as I would love to explore how Wanda and her Kitten get along and what trouble they get into!

If you enjoy, please reblog and comment!

Darkness.

Nothingness.

An empty void.

You were asleep one minute, the next something flickered inside your brain. You woke up and stretched out, a little yawn leaving you; you had no idea how many thousands of years you had been asleep. You shook your sleepiness off, your black furry ears twitching in excitement.

Wanda Maximoff.

That was the name that filled your head. That was the person who you were to find.

Your owner was finally here, the one and only Scarlet Witch.

🐈‍⬛

Wanda exhaled, watching as her breath fogged up in the chilled mountain air. The tea cup she was holding kept her hands and the tip of her nose warm, and she sipped the sweet beverage with a hum.

After everything that happened in Westview, she had to get away from everything. Too much sadness has been filling her life, and now that she had the new status of being the Scarlet Witch? Well she had to learn how to deal with all the power and responsibility that held too.

It was a lot of stress, and what better place to deal with stress than a cottage in the mountains?

The woman had been spending her time finessing her powers and learning how to control it. She had help from Doctor Strange and Wong, the Sorcerer Supreme, which she was grateful for. She felt like she was finally getting a hang of herself. 

But there was a feeling she couldn't quite shake off.

There was something missing, a piece of her that she had to find.

Wanda was used to loss, having lost pretty much everyone important to her. This was different however. She didn't lose something, it was more like she had to reunite with someone.

As she was lost in thought, electricity filled the air. The witch broke out of her zone and looked up at the sky- it was still clear like normal- No sign of a storm. Goosebumps rose on her skin, and her red magic began sparking from her fingers unexpectedly.

What was happening?

As anxiety coursed through her, a bright light appeared a few feet in front of Wanda. Standing up, she watched with caution as the light dimmed away, revealing in its place a woman.

Everything about you was normal. You had on some comfortable clothes- a brown knitted sweater, jeans, boots. Your hair was styled out of your face and you had an excited smile on your face.

The thing that startled Wanda?

Your cat ears and long, fuzzy tail.

"Are you Wanda Maximoff?" Was the first thing out of your mouth.

"Depends- who are you?" Wanda asked, her hands twitching as her magic swirled around her fingers. You gave her your name and bowed, making Wanda quirk an eyebrow.

"I have been looking for you for so long, Mistress. I can't believe you're finally here."

"What the hell are you talking about?" The redhead dropped her hands now, but still stood on guard. This was very bizarre and she needed answers.

"You don't know who I am?" This time you were the one confused, your ears twitching and your head tilted slightly to one side. "Wanda, I'm your familiar."

"My– what? Can you please just explain what you're doing here? What do you mean, my 'familiar'?"

You approached the woman slowly. "You're the Scarlet Witch. Thousands of years ago I was bound to you as your companion for eternity. I was created to help you, guide you, and service you in whatever you need."

Wanda blinked slowly as she processed what you said. She knew that the myth of the Scarlet Witch was centuries of years old and that she had a lot of learning to do about it- well, herself- yet she had never heard of a familiar. But all her caution faded when she dove into your mind, searching for any kind of malicious intent.

All she found was your complete devotion and love for her.

It made something inside of the witch spark and she couldn't help but smile a bit. So this was why she was feeling so incomplete lately.

"Come here, sweetheart." Wanda spoke softly, a hand extended for you to take.

Her pet name for you made your belly flutter and your tail twitch happily. You happily took her hand and stepped closer, and Wanda gently cupped your face into her warm hands with a soft hum.

"Thank you for coming all this way to find me. Let me get you some tea and maybe a snack and you can tell me more about yourself?" Her thumbs caressed the apples of your cheeks as you gazed up at her with sparkly eyes. You simply nodded which made Wanda chuckle softly at how sweet you were.

She took your hand in one of hers, the other picking up her mug, and she led you inside her little cottage. You noticed how it was a little bare inside, only the necessities and a few cozy items. You couldn't help but frown at the thought of your mistress not having the very best of everything.

Wanda took you into the kitchen and took out another mug for you before pouring some tea into each mug.

"Don't worry about me, I don't mind being a bit minimalistic." Your cheeks heated up in embarrassment- how could you forget she could read minds??

"I– I'm sorry mistress, I hope I didn't offend." Your head tucked down. You heard Wanda's chuckle and then she was tilting your chin up to look her in the eyes.

"Don't apologize, kitten. I know that it isn't exactly homey in here. I never liked much clutter, but seeing that you'll be living here now I can conjure up some things for you."

"Live– I can live here? Really?" Your ears twitched as excitement came over you.

"Well of course, I can't let my little familiar live outside." She spoke with such conviction that you felt butterflies in your stomach. There was a little smirk on Wanda's lips and you knew that she knew how she was affecting you which just made you even more excited.

Soon Wanda was handing you a cup of chai and the two of you were sitting on her couch. "When you came here it was like you entered through a portal. I'm guessing you have powers too?" She asked as she set her tea on the table in front of her. You took a sip of the sweet liquid then nodded, licking your lips.

"I do, I'm not a witch though. I can teleport, shapeshift, I can also turn invisible. Not being human means I am also stronger than normal. And since I am bound to you, I can feel what you feel." You explained and Wanda quirked a brow.

"What can you shapeshift into?" You grinned and set your own cup down before closing your eyes, and a second later you were changed into a little black cat. Wanda giggled as you headbutted her hand, giving you little scritches behind your ear. You licked her hand before sitting back and changing into your human form again.

"I can also hide my ears and tail, but I don't like to do that unless I'll be around humans."

"I don't blame you, your ears and tail are very cute." Her words made you grin proudly, the two of you continued to chat and you finished your tea.

🐈‍⬛

The rest of the day was filled with you helping Wanda around the cottage and outside. Thanks to your strength you chopped up maybe too much wood to build a fire. Not that Wanda minded- she loved how cute and eager to please you were. And you used your teleportation to pop into a market and get some food and other necessities.

Wanda was already loving having you around. Thanks to the bond the two of you had, you had an instant connection and it felt like you two had known each other all your lives. Plus living in the mountains often got lonely- and while she had gotten used to solitude, being a lone wolf wasn't something she wanted forever.

She wanted a forever partner, someone to share her life with. And maybe with you, she was getting a second chance at that.

"Mistress, may I lay with you?" Your sweet voice shook Wanda out of her thoughts. She smiled when she noticed you were done building the fire and she nodded, patting the cushion next to her.

"Yes, Kitten, come here." At her approval you quickly made your way over and laid on the couch next to her, your head in her lap. Her slim fingers ran over your hair, stroking it. She could hear soft purrs coming from you and it made her heart bloom with affection.

"I am so glad I found you today, Mistress. I've missed you." You spoke softly, a small pout on your lips. It was hard living without her for as long as you did, but it was all worth it to lay in her lap like you were now.

"I'm glad too, Kitten. I promise I'm here now, and you won't be lonely ever again." Her words were just as soft as yours as she leaned down to kiss your forehead. You closed your eyes, the excitement of the day wearing you out.

Wanda flicked her wrist, her powers grabbing a blanket from her- your- bedroom and laid it over the both of you.

Her own words echoed in her mind: You won't be lonely ever again. And Wanda couldn't help but think that maybe it was true for herself as well.

[dawnoftime22]

"...and it just did."

| W.M ( -> N.R)

Undeserving of a Love Like Yours, Chapter 5

Chapter Warnings: A very emotionally packed chapter, relationship problems, cheating, arguing, anxiety, overthinking, andd...just be prepared.

Summary: The truth unfolds itself easily on a special day.

Series Summary: When you're stuck in a complete hole of confusion and hurt with the one you thought you loved most, a certain redhead finds her way into your life.

Word Count: 8.7k (...oops)

Category: Angst.

A/N: this chapter has been eeeeverywhere with me. I wrote it in the car, at work, in my bedroom, and even at a hotel room. but, I hope you all enjoy<3 it's a whole lot, so it was quite difficult to finish, but february's over and I have more free time again!

also theres a playlist for this series out now :] in case you need something to listen to while reading. be careful while scrolling the songs to avoid just bits of teensy spoilers<3

Series Playlist

| Started on 10/01/2024, 12:16 PM |

| Finished on 05/03/2024, 3:45 PM |

Masterlist | Series Masterlist | N.R Masterlist

<- Chapter 4 Chapter 6 ->

"What is there to say?"

|——————————— ᗢ ———————————|

You drag your feet across the wooden floorboards, making your way towards the kitchen. Here it is again, the same routine. But yet this time, you see a sticky note left on the marble counter, illuminated by a dim overhead lighting.

You furrow your eyebrows, but go over to read it anyway, the bright color a big difference to the white counter. 'might not be home until tomorrow,' was written on the piece of paper. Your heart didn't drop as much anymore. Your shoulders only droop a little, as if just a teensy bit more weight had been added.

A quiet breath leaves your mouth. Your hand picks up the sticky note and scraps it up within your palms, throwing it off to a nearby trashcan in the kitchen. Who else needed to read it anyway? It was only for you. Only for you.

You shook your head of the remaining thoughts you had of her, but she couldn't quite leave your mind at least once. Always there. Always lingering. As if you had been cursed. But in honest truth, the only curse you had upon you was the spell of love.

Today was a special day. Key word on the was. Some type of hope swirling in your heart maybe had you looking forward to this day, but all of it had just gone down along with the piece of paper in the trash. Your eyes also flicker to it once more, seeing the many other colored paper sitting scrunched up with the one from just now. At least she had the decency to still leave notes.

But, today was, of course...your birthday. And out of all the people, your favorite person was certainly not present. Maybe she had forgotten, you thought. Maybe she just didn't care enough this year...no, how could she?

You snap yourself out, having stared off at the sunlight shining in through the windows. You go to the fridge to see what was still in there. A bitten sandwich from last night, and some leftover chickens, but your lip forms a line and you close it, your hand dropping off to your pocket to retrieve your phone.

It was currently 9:45 AM, the digits frozen still on the same numbers until the full sixty seconds passes by. Your mind was in a haze, but your stomach was empty and it urged you to find some food. Were you just going to go out by yourself? Your body seemed to stop you from even going to the living room. Take-out was an option, but instead you simply laid your phone down on the counter, it making a small noise, the textures clashing.

You put your head in your hands, covering up your face and sliding your fingers across your skin, your palm cupping your own cheeks as a way to get a grip of yourself.

Your phone came up with a notification of your calendar, getting out with a reminder of your birthday. What great timing. You clear it off your screen and unlock your phone, roaming the apps.

Just as you were about to push yourself off the counter and grab the last of the food in the fridge, your screen changes without you touching anything. The contact name came up with...Carol?

Your face relaxes a bit and your thumb hesitantly goes to pick it up rather than tap on the red button, the ringing going away. The phone goes along with your hand when you put it against your ear.

"Hey Carol." You say casually, trying your best not to sound too questionable, as it wasn't usual that she'd call you. You hear some distinct voices whispering in the background of her side, one sounding like a young kid.

"Hey, just wanted to call and um...check in on you?" Her voice ended up sounding questionable instead, and your face goes into a confused reaction, although a smile growing on your lips. You let out a small chuckle, your eyes roaming the space of the room as you thought of your words.

"'Check in on me?' Come on, you rarely do that." Your hand goes to grab a nearby notebook that's been left on the counter, saved for recipes. "What's up?"

"I just wanted to say happy birthday to you. Maria reminded me and she and Monica got me to...call you." You assume she had a small pause in her sentence because she was looking over at the other two people in the room with her, which was who you had heard earlier.

"That's nice of her. And thank you." The pages of the book was soft against your hands, your fingers tracing and fiddling with some as you smiled softly at the thought of Maria scolding Carol for having forgotten.

"Well that, or, I would probably not have any pancakes for myself right about now." She says, her mouth nearly sounding like it was full. You'd guessed it was.

"Even though you were threatened to wish me, thank you." You add on, laughing gently as you did. There was a page you landed on in the notebook with a cookie recipe. One, specifically where you and Wanda had made together, having shared a wonderful memory that day.

You could feel your heart beat within your chest, the pace going quicker as your eyes looked over the words written on the paper that was accompanied with smiley faces and hearts here and there.

The smile on your face had definitely faltered. You take in a deep breath, letting it out once you let yourself close the book. Carol's voice snaps you back to reality, having remembered you were talking with her.

"I'm kidding, I would've called you up either way. Really though, how are you?" Your teeth sank down on your bottom lip, probably enough to puncture the skin or leave a small mark, but you let it go once you talked.

"I'm...fine. Other than sitting in my house alone not knowing what to do than sulk in bed or contemplating my life choices." With that answer, the blonde definitely knew something wasn't entirely right. She stays quiet for a while, perhaps thinking.

"Do you wanna go out and hang at the bar? We can do some karaoke if you want that as a birthday present." She offers, and the attempt makes you smile weakly. She never really knew what to do for your birthday, not being the type to do birthdays more than just a simple wish to them. But for you, she'd offer to hang out, which is what you love to do most of the time.

"Sorry, but I don't really feel like partying or anything right about now. Well, tempting, but, I just wanna relax." You say quietly, sliding the recipe book back to its original place.

"Okay, then..." Carol trails off as her mind tries to come up with some more ideas. You were about to think she was going to just hang up sooner or later, but then you hear her voice continue with a more interesting take.

"There's the mall." You raise your eyebrows. She couldn't see you with you being over the phone, but she just knew you were probably surprised. And you were.

"And what would we do there?" You ask, your mind unable to conjure up the slightest of an imagination of going to the mall with her in a casual situation.

"Well, we could grab some ice cream, buy some things, go to the arcade, go...I don't know." She suggests, just nearly giving up. She wasn't good at this type of stuff really, she's simply basing it off of the times she and Monica hangs out together. You could at least picture the straight line her mouth forms when she finished her sentence, and you had to resist a laugh.

"Ice cream does sound really good." Your mind opened a little with the simple thought of ice cream. Even though the comfort of your bed and the couch seemed nicer, it's not a lot of times she ends up inviting you to hang out like this anyway.

"The mall it is." The blonde says, and you can hear some clatter over the phone. She had finished her pancakes, you supposed.

"Am I driving or...?" You trail off, fiddling around with your fingers and sliding them against the marble counter, the coldness a difference to the sunlight coming from the window.

"I'll pick you up." You then hear the sound of keys, and you couldn't back out anymore. She was driving to your house to grab you, and it'd be impolite to cancel.

"Okay." You say under a breath, feeling heavier with every second that goes by. The guilt and anxiety was eating you up, but the date on the calendar just next to the recipe book had your mind getting out of the thoughts.

"I'll be there in 10. Please don't be glued to your bed when I arrive," She said, to which you let out a quiet chuckle. You couldn't really tell if it was in a stern way or a soft way, but it definitely pushed you a little more to get up and change your clothes.

"I won't. See you here." You say gently and the end tone sounds out, making you pull your phone away from your ear.

With that decided, you push yourself off the counter, slowly going off to the bedroom. The closet opens easily, revealing the same clothes you see every day. You shuffle through some of the hanged shirts, looking at what to wear.

Soon enough, you pull one out. It easily slides off, brushing against the many other shirts within the closet. Your eyes don't linger on the other ones that weren't yours, and you close the door after grabbing everything else.

Later on, you get finished up with changing your clothes, and now you were only waiting for Carol to arrive. There was something that prickled within your heart, like a roses stem with thorns, a worry that maybe she changed her mind and she actually didn't want to hang out with you. Maybe she was only doing it out of sympathy? But that can't be true. What about all the times she's driven you back home when you got a little too many drinks?

...You take a deep breath and turn away from the wall you were staring off into like it was the abyss. Instead your hands checked that you had everything on you, like your phone, keys, and your watch.

Then, the sound of a car pulling up at the front of the house made you look up, your eyes carefully watching the windows. You see a Nissan outside, and it was obvious it was Carol arriving.

Quickly, you got off the couch while your phone made sound, definitely a text message from her that she's arrived. You open the front door, going outside. Her blonde hair could be seen clearly through the car windows, confirming the person in your head.

You make your way to the car, opening the front passenger door. "Hey," you say gently, going in and and closing the door along with you.

"Hey." your greetings were simple, a usual thing to happen. Carol glanced at you while you buckled in, giving you a small smile before starting to slowly position the car back to the roads.

The car had some old soft rock playing, filling up the quietness. It also had you already moving just a little to the beats, staring out the window as she drove you both to the mall. She's always had good playlists. Sometimes you'd even have an urge to ask her to give you some of her cds.

"So, what are you aiming to steal my money for today?" She jokes after a song, her eyes focused on the roads. You let out a small chuckle, looking over to her.

"I'm not letting you spend your money on me for something that isn't a drink." You shake your head, fiddling around with your fingers in your lap. The blonde notices it when her eyes flicker over to you for a second before returning to the roads.

"It's your birthday, Y/N. You have to have a little fun. Let loose," she says, and you raise an eyebrow, turning your head to her. The last two words were new, at least when it comes out of her mouth.

"Maria's words, not mine." she quickly stated, making a smile grow on your face. You stop fiddling with your fingers and instead intertwine them with each other, your gaze going back to the window.

"Come on, any ideas?" The car stops at a red light, and she looks over to you. You stayed quiet in thought, although nothing much came up. She sees only the side of your head until you made your decision.

"We'll do yours," you say, having unable to think of anything. Your mind was clouded over. Honestly, a part of your body just wanted to lie in bed hopelessly the whole day, but something else pulled you.

"Then it's settled," she nods, the steering wheel turning with her hand as she made a right. You think over her words on the phone call earlier, 'Ice cream, buy some things, arcade', and you start to get just a bit more excited.

"Ice cream first?" You ask, looking to her with hope. She furrows her eyebrows and makes a face to you, and your lip forms a tight line, like a child asking for something and getting scared of the answer.

"Of course ice cream goes first." The car goes forwards once more, the light having turned green. You cheer quietly, and she gently shakes her head at your antics. At least she got you to release the emotional tension you had in your body. Even if just a little.

The rest of the car ride consisted of singing and dancing, the conversations being light. The weight on your shoulders got lifted up just a little bit more. When you were about to arrive and she was going to park, 'Please Mr. Postman' started playing and your face brightened at the intro.

She raised her eyebrows at your quick happiness at the simple song, but smiled and laughed at how fast you got into singing it. Really, it's always been a main song for whenever you hanged out, but it's been so long since she saw you sing it, she got surprised. Soon enough though, she sang with you, the two of you moving in your seats to the words.

When the song ends, she turns off the engine and both of you get out the car. The parking lot wasn't all that filled up, so it was a chance there weren't many people in the mall.

She puts on her cap and walks to the entrance with you behind her, the noise of crows and other birds made sound, echoing from somewhere afar as you made your way to the sliding doors.

The cold air of the mall quickly greeted you like a slap of reality in the face, like waking yourself up with a cold shower after laying in bed for too, too long. A way to make you feel more alive.

The ice cream shop wasn't far, and with how little amount of people were here, the two of you got to go to the counter right when you arrive to order your preferred flavour.

Your eyes watch the ice cream get put on the cone, and you do a little dance when your hand got ahold of it, while Carol was giving her money to the cashier of the total cost.

The cashier smiles at the two of you and says their 'thank you', making you smile back before turning around, Carol easily catching up with you from your slow walking.

The two of you walk and enjoy your ice cream, the coldness definitely making you more free feeling. There were clothing stores, shoe stores, little snack shops, and every other thing you could ever imagine. You passed by each one though, but you did point out some cool looking things here and there to Carol.

Soon enough, you come upon a pet shop and your eyes widen, your lips matching with a smile. You walk towards it, wanting to look at all the animals. Carol had to walk faster so she didn't lose you.

There were parrots, cats, dogs, hamsters, fishes, bunnies, and even some lizards. Your mouth was agape as you stared at some of them, but you walk over to the cats.

"Aw, look!" You point at an orange cat, who's sitting patiently with it's tail smoothly flicking back and forth as it watched people pass by.

Carol was looking at the dogs until you called, making her go over to you to see what you were melted at. As if you hadn't already from the other little animals.

"This one is so cute." You lean forward and capture the attention of the cat, making it stand up and walk closer to you.

Carol's head tilted slightly and her eyes squinted as she inspected the info of the cat. The name, the breed, the date and place of birth... "...Goose. Huh."

"I want to take it home." You blurt out as you let the cat follow your hand around, and its head moves here and there instead of its body. It was a playful cat, a paw going up here and there to reach out to you.

"You should get it if you love it that much." Carol says, with her usual deadpan voice that you honestly find amusing. Although, for this, your face turns deadpanned instead and you stare at her, making her raise your eyebrows at you. It was nearly a staredown.

"Danvers, I cannot take care of a cat...let alone myself." You gesture to the cat, and it looked at you questionably. Your shoulders slump a little at the last words of your sentence, and Carol frowns a little.

"I'm sure it'll be able to help you cope or something." Really, she was thinking in her head of surprising it to you as a birthday present for later tonight when she sends you home.

"Why don't you get it? I think Monica would go crazy." You glance back at her, and she purses her lips, staring at the cat. It was the most vibrant color of all the other cats.

"And Maria would go crazier." She said, turning to you for a second but then going back to the entrance of the shop instead, perhaps making her escape from you flipping the table to her.

"You can convince her." You say, the volume of your voice going up a little considering she's farther away. You take a quick glance back at the cat, hesitating to leave, but going away to catch up to the blonde.

"No, now, we are going to the arcade." You laugh when you hear her stern voice, although something in you knew she had a thought about getting it.

You looked around as you walked, seeing the arcade not far away now, the place lit up by machines and screens. But something caught your eye and made you look twice.

Were you dreaming? Well...having a nightmare? You felt like so. Your body definitely didn't react in a good way. Honestly, your heart felt like you were about to have a heart attack with how fast it was beating.

Carol's hat made shade for her face from the sun coming through the mall's glass roof as she walked. She stops along with you when she noticed, confusion filling her face at the sudden stop.

When she follows your eyes to where you were looking though, immediately her eyes widen and her face was in complete shock just as yours were.

A brunette, green eyes...green jacket...

It couldn't have been.

You look closer on the face, and it was. And her hand was not swinging by itself as she walked.

It wasn't with your hand either, because you were plenty of feet away from her.

It was with someone else. Something in the back of your mind felt like they were familiar, although you couldn't even dare focus on that.

Your whole day-- well, your whole world fell apart right then and there. Just like that.

You can feel your heart beating up to your ears, and it felt like time stopped. And not in the good way. Oh, you wish. You wish it was the time you saw her green eyes staring back at you and the whole world only felt like it held the two of you. But not anymore.

Maybe it was the numbing adrenaline rush of the shock coming through, but you take in a deep breath, ripping your gaze away. You couldn't bare to look at the sight anymore.

You clench your jaw, your hand gripping itself in a fist. Your eyes pooled with tears and Carol looked at you, her own misery at finding out the truth obvious on her face, although she was mostly worried about you.

"You know what? Maybe we can...do this another day." You say, trying your best to not let your voice shake entirely, but it did falter.

"You don't wanna--" She was about to suggest trying to distract yourself with the arcade, but at the same time, nothing could make you feel better after seeing such a thing.

"Just take me home." Your mouth moved quickly and you spoke quietly, your eyes flicking back to the spot where she was walking, but she was out of sights already.

You turn around and walk fast, not wanting to linger anymore. Carol walks with you. There was nothing said as you made your way out and to the car. The lovely sounds of the birds chirping now fell on deaf ears as your legs kept you moving.

The car door opens easily with the pull of your hand, and you get in, but you were careful to not slam the door. Carol gets in after you, and turns on the engine.

Her eyes go over to you. You already had your seatbelt on and had settled in your seat, staring out the window. She was about to say something, but she held her tongue, not wanting to make matters worse.

And what would anyone have to say in this anyway? Your lover left you, replaced you with someone else, and broke your heart. 'It will get better'? The only path to take was to go through the pain and that was it. Until you somehow get back up again.

The music starts up once more, and it didn't make you happy as much anymore. You couldn't even focus on it if you tried. You were trying to blink away the tears and ignore the way your throat was swelling up on the inside.

Carol drives you back home safely, keeping her eyes on you here and there. The ride was quiet other than the music, but it was obvious the tension was high.

There were questions unsaid, many going around in your head, but you didn't wanna trouble her with all of them, and she probably wouldn't know what to answer them with anyway.

Soon enough, you arrive back to your house, and you gently unbuckle your seatbelt. At the corner of your eyes, your tears were starting to seep out, just a little.

Carol makes sure she says something before she regrets just being silent, "Hey," she said quietly, and you look at her, your eyes shining with unshed tears. It was the softest you've heard her voice yet.

"I'm always here, if you need me," she says. She knows it won't be much, but it needed to get out of her head. You nod, and sniffle, trying your best to not cry just yet.

You don't say anything back. If you did, you would've broken right there. Instead, you pull on the car handle and open the door, getting out.

Carol watches you as you leave, and she makes sure you get into your house safely before getting out the driveway.

You close the front door of the house, locking it, and freezing in your tracks, taking in a sharp breath before letting it out as a sigh. You nearly hoped it didn't happen, that you would only do that and just wake up from sleeping right now.

But then you let out a sob and lean back on the closed door. You hide your face in your hands, closing your eyes as you started crying, and your chest wracks with broken sobs.

How could she do such a thing? Did she not love you? Were you simply not enough? Too much? You couldn't stop yourself with the questions roaming your head, overthinking everything as you go. The kindest soul with the warmest heart, now broken into a tiny million pieces just because someone couldn't talk about their feelings. Yet you seem to always find a way to blame yourself for every situation.

Sure, maybe even if she did talk to you, your heart would still break, but would it have felt like this? Would it have felt like your lungs were going to collapse from your cries?

You sniffle, and try your best to steady your breathing, but you couldn't, so you just let it do whatever it wants. You wipe your eyes with your sleeve, but the tears keep flowing, so it barely did much.

Fatiguely, with a heavy body, you made your way to the kitchen. You wanted to go to the bedroom, but it was so far, and everything in there would only make your head spin even more. The couch was a choice, but your eyes linger on that recipe book you had looked through this morning.

Your hand twitches to grab it, but you bite your tongue and instead grip the counter, letting yourself slide down on the kitchen floor. You clutch your legs and curl up. The grip your hands held with the fabric of your jeans were enough to probably rip them.

You still had hiccups leaving your mouth, tears leaving your eyes, and you were definitely about to sob once more. The kitchen tiles blurred from your vision getting clouded with tears.

Your hands clumsily reaches in your pocket to grab your phone, and you somehow made it to your homescreen.

The phone was set down on the floor, your hands shaking as your tears rolled down to your chin and dropped down to stain your shirt.

You look up, trying to gather yourself up, but of course you couldn't. Your body needed to let the emotions out, especially after such a situation.

For a few more long minutes, you sat helplessly on the kitchen floor, your breaths going with their own minds instead of your own. You take a few deep breaths, your legs splayed out in front of you before you sniffle and take one last deep breath.

You sat up a little more properly with the little energy you have, and slide your phone just a bit closer to yourself, your fingers gliding across the screen as you opened your calls app, and hovered your finger over the contact name.

You tap on it, trying your best to recollect yourself before she picks up. Your teeth bites down on your bottom lip, every tone of the calling sound making your heart beat faster.

It ends, and her voice comes through.

"Hello?" There's the soft voice. The gentle, soothing voice that lured you into falling in love.

"Wanda." Your voice nearly faltered, but it kept a little of it's stern tone. Your hand slid down to the kitchen floor, the texture keeping your emotions steady, at least enough for a couple minutes.

"Hey, what's up? Did you see my note?" She asks. She's been lying to your face all this time and you didn't even know it. How blind were you?

"Do you know what day it is today?" You ask, ignoring her own question. You sounded so calm in your own anger you honestly nearly even scared yourself.

"No...what?" She was confused, and you could imagine the innocent act of a face she made.

"It's my birthday." You put simply.

"Oh..." that was all that sounded on the phone, and you knew the call didn't get cut off. She just didn't know what to say.

"I'm sorry I didn't stay Y/N, I...forgot." She says slowly, and it was obvious she was trying to tread her tracks carefully.

"I can come back tonight, I promise." You almost didn't want her to, but you needed to talk it out. You didn't say anything else, not wanting to talk about everything else over the phone.

"Goodbye, Wanda." You whisper, your voice breaking at the end. You were sure she noticed it, but you'd want her to anyway.

You ended the call, tapping on the red button. That wasn't the end of it yet, of course, but for now, your hand only rests on the floor, your body falling limp against the cabinet.

She calls, but you don't hear it. The phone rings, on, and on.

You clench your jaw, tears filling up in your eyes once more. Your hand weakly silences your phone, and for the next couple more minutes, you lay crying, until your throat was dry and your muscles ached from sitting on the floor.

|——————————— ᗢ ———————————|

The sun had gone down by now, and the moon came out of hiding.

You were no longer on the kitchen floor, but you were on the couch, curled up like a cat. You haven't done anything but cry ever since you got home. Only right now, your tears had dried, staining your cheeks

You hear the front door unlock, and you feel it coming, the moment you've been dreading.

The brunette appears from behind the door, closing it as she went in the house. Her eyes roamed the place, and eventually, it lands on you.

She lets out a sigh of relief when she realized you were still here. You let out a heavy sigh as you sat up properly.

She heard it. Even with the distance, the quietness of the room captured it. Her heart beated harder in her chest.

"Y/N, please, I'm sorry." She pleads as she makes her way to the couch, having carelessly kicked her shoes off, leaving one tilted on its side. You haven't even said anything yet, and you almost feel sorry yourself.

"Hey,"-- You were sitting right beside the armrest, so, she leans over and gently puts her hand on your cheek. --"I love you. I'm sorry."

You gently push away her hand, turning to look at her with your jaw clenching. She can see the anger in your eyes and it had her giving you a little space.

"Do you?" You say, your head moving slightly, and she notices the way the corner of your eyes seemed a little red. You weren't even looking at her. That was only the second part of the situation.

"Yes!" She says her eyebrows furrowed. She raises her hands in exaggeration before moving one up to her hair, sliding it back as she let out a breath. "...Why is that difficult to understand?"

"Well, maybe because you didn't even say anything when I said it to you just a few days ago!" Her mouth opens, and you assumed she was about to argue that she was drunk during that time, but she lets out a scoff, and that's even worse.

"You're pissed off about that too?" She seemed mad, and you nearly regret even blurting out the sentence.

You close your eyes with your hands, just wanting this to end even though it's just started and just barely scratched surface of what you need to talk about...or argue. You hoped it was the first one.

"Of course I am, Wanda! Where have you been?" You try your best to keep calm, but your voice was laced with anger. Hers though, was higher volume than yours.

"At work!" She walks around to the front of the couch, and you slide your hand down your face. Her face looked so believable, but you knew it wasn't the truth. You saw it with your own eyes.

"Bullshit." You whispered, looking at her with tired eyes. She gets confused and sits down on the couch, her eyes focused on you. You shift your position.

"What? I'm not ly--..." Her voice was a little high of a volume, and she doesn't finish her sentence when she hears you take in a shaky breath.

"...I...saw you." You said quietly, and Wanda, having been caught up in trying to make you believe her had to go quiet in thought of what exactly you mean.

She swallows down a lump in her throat, her eyes catching yours.

"Saw me?" She asked, her voice reducing down to almost the same volume as yours.

"You...were with someone else." You were shaking and your breath was trembling. You willed everything in your body not to sob while trying to get the rest of the sentences out. Her eyes widened at your words, and that was it.

"And I know it's not another person, because I saw your face." You point your finger to her, gently pushing on her chest with it to enunciate your words. Gently. You were never the type to lash out or be rough even when you were angry.

She goes quiet. Both pairs of your eyes were welling up with tears, that much was obvious. Any other words she's had before had died in her throat.

You see a tear rolling down her cheek from the side, and you held your hands back from wiping it off.

She looks at you, guilt swimming in her eyes, and she takes a shaky breath in before letting it go.

"...There's really..." She looks away from you, unable to even stare back at you. Your heart felt heavier than you knew it could.

"...nothing I could say or do to make you feel better." She said tearfully, her lips going down as she thought of her next words. She swallows her collected saliva again. That hit you like a million little glass pieces piercing through every part of your living, loving soul.

There really was not much she could reason with other than the fact that it had been true. She's fallen out of love with you, but even she didn't want to admit it.

"I've been with someone else. I...wanted to tell you. I just didn't know how." She admitted with her shoulders going up at her last words. There it was. The truth coming straight out of her mouth. Your lips nearly trembled, but your teeth sank down on it.

"How...long?" You ask, and you almost didn't want to know, but for the sake of closure, you urged on. She stays quiet, her own hands gripping the couch.

"How long, Wanda?" You pressed. Was it a month ago? It couldn't have been longer than that.

"Only after eight months of us moving here." It was before you even had your break. You made the math quickly in your head. You moved in a little more than a year ago, so it's been...six months?

You had been in this devouring hole for six months, and you hadn't even realized it. And she didn't tell you or break up with you. Instead she requested a break. No wonder your hope had died to sparks and to nothingness.

"What?" You whispered under your quivering breath, your head tilting in disbelief as your eyes spilled out in silent tears.

"Wanda." You say her name softly. She looked down in her lap as you let out another breath that nearly sounded like a sob. She sniffles, and you know the both of your hearts are breaking.

"Why?" You ask, although it was more of a thought from your head that spewed out unintentionally rather than a logical question. She couldn't answer. She didn't have an answer herself. It just happened. That's how it always is.

"...I thought you loved me." Your voice was small, as if speaking any louder would make the entire universe disappear in fear, just like your love had.

"I did! Or, I do!! I don't know!!!" She blurts out, not being able to decide which one. Her body had deflated at the high chance of losing you tonight.

"So you fell out of love with me completely?" Your eyes watch her carefully, and just for a vivid moment, she hesitantly, just barely nods.

"And you didn't think to just...break it off." You whisper, although it was more of a sentence to yourself. But she heard it anyway. It was obvious what you were pointing towards in your sentence. She sighs. She knows she's taken a step she couldn't take back.

Really, how can someone bring theirselves to having a full conversation about falling out of love? It's a difficult thing to do. Sure, you'd be heartbroken either way, or somehow you would have been able to work it out, but you supposed something else in you just wished you hadn't suffered all those months hoping for absolutely...nothing.

The two of you sit in the silence of what you'd think is death, not knowing what exactly to do with it all. The love you once had was gone. Or at least...hers.

Something spins around in your head. It's been spinning for ages since she had called to take a break, and you had hoped you never had to say it, but what else was there? You could start over, but this love had already started over before. Or had tried to. Technically it was both. This was the end of the road.

"...It's over." You whisper out into the room, and Wanda finally glanced up at you, her face full of heartbreak. Even though she probably saw it coming. You've seen that look before, and your stomach was about to collapse at even a second of it. You kept the eye contact though, needing to fully close this.

In a way, you searched her eyes, for some reason, still searching for anything that once was. But there wasn't anything but hopeless desperation.

"No...no please, I need you." She says, taking breaths in between as she cried. You hated seeing her like this. But you hated going in circles just as much.

"If you really did, then you wouldn't have done such a thing." She had nothing else to say to that. It had been your breaking point. You averted your gaze and stood up, hesitating for a moment, but eventually going off to the bedroom as she sat there in the consequences of her actions.

You walk into the room and close the door, locking it right after. You gently lean your head against the door, while silent tears freely move down your skin. The supply of water in your body was definitely infinite for today. A part of you wanted to laugh at the mere thought, and just to cope, but you were too tired to even do so.

You take in a breath, looking up to the ceiling as you felt your throat swell up, but you try your best to be quiet. You'd hate for her to hear you sob in the other room. She might be doing the same thing herself. You squeeze your eyes shut for a short time, wishing for it all to just stop.

And technically it's about to.

Gently, you push off the bedroom door and your legs take you to the front of your closet. The next move was obvious.

Your hands clenched theirselves as your eyes stare at the closet doors. You take a look around the room, taking in the space with your eyes lingering on some parts. The book Wanda hasn't finished reading. She stopped reading it ever since she started to disappear. You should have seen the signs.

The little teddy bear she got, the daisies you got her in the corner of the room, the DVDs she has in the TV stand, the music collection you have next to it.

You rip your gaze away and let your hands open the closet doors. A travel bag and a luggage bag was just under the hanged clothes, sitting within a compartment.

With trembling hands, you slide both out, putting them on the bed and unzipping them. It was the same bags you used to move into the house.

You grab some of the clothes you once shuffled through just earlier this morning, making sure to remember which ones are Wanda's, and not yours.

They were placed into the bags, and you stared at the folded shirts. They looked wrong. You throw your head back with a sigh, frustrated. The bed dips when you sat on it, the bags moving along just a little with it.

What are you thinking? The promise to stay, to fight through it all, it had all fallen apart. The one person you didn't leave after just a few months, and yet here you are. Packing. You let your body fall down completely on the mattress, legs dangling while you stared at the ceiling.

How many times have you stared up there? You don't even want to know. Before you lost all motivation and your emotions ran slow, you slowly prop yourself up to your arms and got back up. If you stopped now, you won't be gone in the morning.

Toothbrush, toothpaste, everything else you need and all the essentials. The last of it gets stored in the empty parts, and with the quiet sound of the zipper zipping, it was done.

With a relieved sigh that you could now simply lay on the pillows, your arms splayed out, your body giving up the last of its energy. You definitely couldn't get up anymore to do anything else.

This was the last night you were sleeping in this bed.

The crickets couldn't be any more louder with filling up the silence. You hated it. It felt too short, but all at the same time, it feels like it's gone on for too long.

Your vision faded into black as your mind stayed loud, up until it crept into your dreams. She slept on the couch that night.

In the morning, you woke up heavy and go through everything as if you didn't even sleep. Not even a cold shower helped you. Honestly, it might have just helped numbing the pain in your chest instead. You gather your items, gripping your bags tightly.

What if you just drop them and simply isolate yourself in the room? No. You shook your head, walking over to the door.

Your hand remains on the cold door knob for a short while, and you almost stay long enough to have it warmed up from your skin. It gets twisted though, and you open it.

If not for the sleeping figure on the couch, it would have been an empty room. You walk out to the front door with your eyes lingering on her.

Maybe her love was too good for you anyway. You just couldn't give her enough. Or too much. It didn't even make sense anymore. There was no in between your heart and mind could agree on. Even you didn't know what you were thinking.

Just as you click open the lock and went to open the front door, she slowly awakes. The shuffling makes you turn to look at her. You catch the realization and sadness in her eyes when you locked sights. Damn the loud clicks and creaking sounds of the doors.

"Where are you going?" She asks, but it was more of a question, than her wanting to stop you.

"Somewhere that isn't here." You say quietly, like a secret thats not meant to be said. She stares off into a space in the room, lost in thought.

"I really am sorry." You hold your breath a little longer, waiting for her to say something else. But she didn't.

There wasn't anything possible to heal the broken love you held. Maybe if she gave in, but her hands had been touched by someone else and her lips...perhaps had met another's.

"I love you." You whispered impulsively, although quiet and quick, it made sound to reach her ears nonetheless.

But yet, she was silent.

You stare at her for a second more, and few seconds too long to say you're determined in leaving. She wasn't looking at you.

You take a step to turn, and the door slides open with the pull of your hand.

You take another, then when you're outside and the door closes gently, the quietness of it all consumed you.

You check your belongings, you had your bags, your watch, your phone. You have everything except for her.

You check your last pocket, and in it were the keys to the house. You slide it off and it clinks, a familiar sound that you hated made your heart skip a beat every time you heard it.

You leave it off somewhere at the front of the house, and you hope you don't remember where you put it.

It all blurred together as you went to your car, turned on the engine and drove off. Of course you had a plan in mind. You've thought about it a hundred times, but you never thought you'd go with it.

The car arrives to a stop, near the place of your favorite cafe. But you aren't going out. You just needed to drive away from the house.

"Fuck." You cursed under your breath and slammed your fist on the steering wheel, and somehow your hand had slid down to the horn, making you bump into it and the car beeped loudly. You jumped, and looked around alertedly, but no one was there. The sidewalks were empty.

You relievedly let out the breath you were holding once you made sure you were in the clear. Thankfully, it wasn't lunchtime or the weekend.

"God," the word comes out under your breath as you shook your head. The thoughts in your head were harsh, and your shoulders slumped at it.

"How could I have ever possibly thought I was actually the one?" You whisper to yourself, staring at the logo of the car, still somehow shiny, just sitting there in between the controls even from how much you've driven the car.

You grip the steering wheel, but then you notice your arms being covered in a certain cloth. One all too familiar, one you chose in instinct in the morning. You look down on the sweatshirt you're wearing, and it was obvious. It was Wanda's.

You clench your jaw and your hands move to peel it off yourself, the sweatshirt turning into a jumbled up piece of clothing that was inside-out. You didn't even want to look at it, so you threw it to the backseats. You'll deal with it later.

Soon, you went to grab your phone, your hand shaking as you turned on your phone, trying your best to find a certain contact. You hold the device tighter, trying to stop the shaking. But you couldn't.

When you found it, you were hesitant to tap on it, your mind loud of everything bad that could happen. But it was Kate. You take in a shaky breath and tapped on the call button, exhaling your breath as you put your phone to your ear.

"Hello?" Her voice comes out gently. The kinder tone almost makes you let out a breath of relief. Your shoulders relax only a little though.

"Kate?" You ask in a whisper, fiddling a little with your steering wheel and tracing the round shape, the texture brushing the skin of your fingers.

"Hey, what's up?" It was still gentle, but there was a hint of concern in it. She can already tell something was wrong even though you barely said anything.

"Um...I..." Your breath was shaky, and she could hear it. On the other side of the phone, Kate was frowning, but she stayed quiet as she gave you time to get your words out.

You were nibbling your bottom lip as you thought about how to talk about your situation, and in the midst of the moment-- "...Wanda and I broke up," you spew out the words, your mouth not even caring to follow your mind anymore.

"What? What happened?" She was certainly shocked, and you look out the window, trying to distract yourself while at the same time speaking to Kate.

"She was with someone else," you say. The florist you once saw a few months ago came out of his store, greeting a customer outside. It was like you were watching a scene you were once in, in another person's view.

"Oh, shit." She swore out unintentionally, the surprise taking over her mouth. "Sorry," she apologized quickly, and you can imagine her blinking to get ahold of herself. It almost made you let out a soft chuckle.

"...I'm sorry, Y/N. God, I could never imagine Wanda would have done that." Kate said quietly. She adored your relationship together, that much was true, but she also saw the parts of Wanda that you wish weren't true. Yet this, this was an unexpected turn.

"...And since I left the house, I can't even sulk in bed or anything." You let out a gentle breath of a laugh, but it was more of a nervous one.

"I mean, I should've had a plan but-- we'd just keep seeing each other and it just...hurts." The florist had said goodbye to the customer who bought the flowers. He seemed happy as he rewrote some things on his little chalkboard. That man was definitely living his best life.

"Where are you gonna go?" She asks, and you go silent. You couldn't go to Carol's. You wouldn't. She's living with Maria and Monica and you probably wouldn't have a room to sleep other than in the living room on the couch. You wouldn't want to intrude on her living conditions anyway.

"I don't...really have anywhere to go to, so anywhere, I guess." You sink into your seat, looking down in your lap to stop staring at people. Kate was silent for a moment, and you're guessing she either didn't know what to say, or is thinking about something.

"My place is available to you if you want to come. You're always welcome here," she offers, and your eyes relax while your fingers fiddle with theirselves, thinking it over.

"...If that's okay with you. I mean, I don't want to intrude on anything--" You add on after quickly, but you get cut off by Kate.

"It's fine. Don't worry about it, I've missed having you hanging around. And I promise you, I have two forks and spoons now so we don't have to share one or get a plastic one from Mcdonald's that'll break after a few minutes." She jokes, and that actually made you laugh.

"Okay. Okay, thank you, Kate. I'll be there tomorrow." You sit up more properly, getting ready to drive to the airport. You hadn't visited her in a while, so you already had money ready.

"I will be there to pick you up. Okay? Do not get a cab," she says sternly, and you take in a big breath only to let it out as a small sigh.

"Kate," You say sternly back, wanting to protest and not burden her more. But she hums in disagreement. You know she cared about getting you safe and being the best friend she is, but your head was killing you.

"No. No, Y/N. I am not letting you cry in a cab awkwardly first thing you get out the airport." She argues softly, and you let your shoulders down in defeat. At your silence, she waits.

"I'll let you know when I land." You give in, your voice small.

"Okay, good." You can hear the relief in her voice, and your lip tugs up into the smallest smile

"See you, Kate." You were about to end the call, but she speaks up again.

"Hey."

"Take care of yourself."

"I'll try."

"See you."

The call ends, and you start driving.

end of chapter 5.

Series Masterlist <- Chapter 4 Chapter 6 ->

---------------

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[jeridandridge]

I Am King

This is a little different.. I hope you all like it. 🩷

King Florence + the machine

Melissa Schemmenti isn’t an impulsive person. Okay well, maybe she is. She did have to go to court for an impulsive punch one time but the guy had it coming. But when it comes to her body, she’s thought about this next step.

Driving to her appointment her heart thuds hard against her ribcage in excitement, the bass of the song she’s listened to on repeat for over a year. The words put a fire under her to do better for herself, not because she needs to be in a relationship, but because she feels ready. Finally.

We argue in the kitchen about whether to have children

And about the world ending, and the scale of my ambition

And how much is art really worth

The very thing you're best at is the thing that hurts the most

When she was younger she had thought about getting a tattoo until Joe talked her out of it, telling her it wasn’t ladylike. It was a petty argument, and one she did not care to have towards the end of her marriage.

But you need your rotten heart

Your dazzling pain like diamond rings

You need to go to war to find material to sing

I am no mother, I am no bride, I am king

Having a man like Joe try to police her body was never good for her mental health, god help anyone that tries to do that now. Pulling up to the tattoo shop she takes a deep breath looking at the sign and the welcoming light blue color on the window.

“Okay, you’re doing this.” She breathes out grabbing her purse getting out of the car. Inside the shop the walls are a welcoming light blue and each artist section is divided into a cubical. With classic rock playing through the speakers Melissa relaxes a bit as a young woman comes to the counter.

“Hey! You must be Melissa.” The stranger smiles at the redhead. “Ava told me what we’re doing today, come on back.”

As Melissa follows the woman back, she makes a mental note to kick Ava’s ass. She left out that the tattoo artist was hot. Incredibly hot. So much so that as Melissa fills out the proper paperwork and the woman sets up the station with all sterile materials, she gets lost looking at the art on the walls, the one that catches her eye the most is a painting of a nude woman, curvy and sat sideways looking out a window.

“That’s one of my older paintings,” the artists smiles, looking up from her station for a moment.

“Yeah? It’s gorgeous, the gold frame is perfect with it.” Melissa smiles admiring the work, curious as to who the model was.

“I’ve been meaning to take it down, reminders of exes, ya know?” The artist chuckles.

This catches Melissa’s attention. She was doing something as a reminder of her ex, but instead of a painful reminder it’ll be a powerful one. She was in control now.

“Alright, Melissa, here are the designs I came up with after your consultation email, all different sizes, we can play around with them as much as you want until it’s exactly how you want it.” She smiles.

Looking over the three simple words Melissa smiles, willing herself to hold the tears back. “This one.” She points.

“Perfect!” The young woman beams.

As Melissa’s walked through the process of how it’ll go and the stencil is put on, the words play over and over in her head even as she lifts her shirt up and rests her arm over her head, ready for the tattoo.

Feeling a warm gloved finger put the gel on the stencil, she stays completely still.

“Ready to rock n roll?” She smiles.

“Party on,” Melissa chuckles nervously, licking her lips.

The buzz of the machine sounds and Melissa feels strong fingers stretch the skin on her side just beneath her breast.

“Take a deep breath for me,” the artist instructs.

Melissa closes her eyes and takes a deep breath, letting it out when she feels the sharp scratch of the machine.

“Good girl.”

The redheads eyes snap open at the words used. She knows it probably doesn’t mean anything coming from the woman, but god did it sound nice coming from someone like her.

The tattoo doesn’t hurt much just like Melissa thought, and when it’s done she pulls her arm back slightly to meet the woman’s eyes as she cleans up the tattoo.

“Alright, Melissa, that’s it! Your first tattoo.” She smiles. “Check it out in the mirror, then I’ll bandage you up and walk you through the aftercare instructions.”

Carefully getting up off the chair Melissa gets up looking at her now inked skin, the three words giving her a confidence boost she’ll always be able to feel now. “Thanks, hon. This is amazing.”

The artist smiles, leaning forward to carefully put the clear bandage over the ink. Her fingers are soft and warm, and she smells amazing this close Melissa thinks.

The three words go through her head once more. She’s her own person.

At the front of the shop Melissa pays for her tattoo and tips generously leaning against the counter.

“So, hon, if I have any questions about taking this bandage off or anything like that can I call the shop and ask to talk to you?” She asks with a shrug and pursed lips.

The artist matches her smile quirking a brow. “You could, but if it’s easier for you, just text me or give me a call.” She says grabbing a business card from the counter writing her number on the back of it. “Anything you need, Melissa,” she shrugs, “let me know.”

Melissa takes the card with a smile tucking it safely into her purse to be used later on.

“Thanks again, hon. I’m sure you’ll hear from me soon.” She smiles slinging her bag onto her shoulder.

The artist smiles and sends her a wink. “Looking forward to it.”

Melissa leaves the shop with a pep in her step, even more so when she gets to her car and sees a text from Ava asking how it went with her friend. She laughs, shaking her head with a smile as her music starts to play again.

But a woman is a changeling, always shifting shape

Just when you think you have it figured out

Something new begins to take

What strange claws are these scratching at my skin?

I never knew my killer would be coming from within

I am no mother, I am no bride, I am king

I am no mother, I am no bride,

I am king.

[asnowfern]

Love Me Before The Bubble Bursts

Summary: It is the last night of her work conference in Adriata and Elain decided that she needed to have a little bit of fun. Who else better to show her than her smooth talking redheaded counterpart from Springton? Rating: T WC: 3.2k Read on AO3 Listen to odoriko by Vaundy for vibes✨✨✨

A/N: Written for Day 1 of @sjmromanceweek : First Date! Don't mind me, just continuing to defy time zones during fandom events as I always do!

A warm orange hue lights up the modern furnishing of the sleek hotel room. Not that Elain is looking at any of that. With a slight smile to herself, she stares at the bold headline on her phone that she has read for the umpteenth time today. 

VELARIS LEADS THE CHARGE WITH REGIONAL GRID PROJECT TO DRIVE RENEWABLE ENERGY ADOPTION TO NEW HEIGHTS!

Giving it one last fond stare, she locks the phone with a click and collapses back into the plush bed. The device slides out of her hand and bounces lightly. She covers her eyes with the back of her forearm as an exhaustion washes over her. 

It’s done. It’s finally done.

After months of slaving over stacks and stacks of documentation and late nights of calls stretching different time zones that stretched into early morning meetings with key political players driving the project, the agreement has finally been signed at the major international energy conference in Adriata. She is elated, relieved, exhausted. 

She is exhausted and empty.

Elain reaches her hand out, feeling blindly for the familiar slim rectangular device. The large numbers of her Lock Screen jump out at her behind the beautiful backdrop of the Illyrian Mountains - a constant reminder of what she is trying to save. 

08:54 PM

Not an entirely unreasonable time to head to bed, she reckons. Afterall, she does have a long flight ahead of her tomorrow. Her eyes glaze over at the tall white ceiling, her brain drifting off with it. 

“It’s all work to you, Lainey. You have made your priorities very clear. I can’t be with someone who doesn’t make this, make me, a priority.” 

Rich brown eyes sharpen and Elain sucks in a breath. She promptly sits up, glancing around the expensive room she would likely never be able to afford by herself. She floats herself to the glassed wall, taking in the panoramic view of how the river sparkles even in the dark night, the city skyscrapers glittering in the distance. 

Making the snap decision, she flips around and stalks to her packed luggage. With one thrust elbow deep into the bag, she pulls out the elegant yet fun jumpsuit Vassa had insisted she brought. 

It doesn’t have to always be all work. She reminds herself firmly. She can have fun and let loose too. 

***

Or maybe not. 

She thinks sulkily as she idly stirs her cylindrical bottomed drink, topped off with a silly umbrella. An Adriata Afternoon, they had called it. A sweet slushy cocktail that is reminiscent of a margarita but more refined. Stronger too, judging by how light her head is getting. 

Her brow creases slightly at the flashing lights lighting up the dance floor, momentarily illuminating the moving bodies smushed together, drawing attention to body parts that would probably be better off in the shadows. Heaving one heavy sigh, she empties her drink in one go, and is about to rise to her feet when a flash of auburn slides into the seat next to her. 

“Leaving so soon?” The velvet baritone voice asks with the same authority that, more often than not, vexes her over the line. 

The edges of her mouth quirks. She should leave, she thinks, still possessing enough awareness to know that. But still, she tilts her head towards him in casual observation and lets her gaze linger and wash over her gilded counterpart from Springton. 

He has shed his stuffy tie and jacket from the conference, choosing to roll his sleeves to his elbows instead and reveal more of the golden brown skin and toned forearms. The sensual curve of his lips flick upwards lazily, intoxicating russet eyes she had never quite seen this up close rakes over her, branding every inch of exposed skin. 

Suddenly, the room is all too hot. 

Elain closes her fingers over the still cool surface of her glass and clears her throat, “Mr Vanserra.” 

He raises a perfectly arched eyebrow, “It’s after five. Call me Lucien.” 

She can’t help but huff lightly at the absurdity of the statement, can’t help the sassiness that creeps into her voice as she retorts, “I recall having many, many conversations long past five pm with you,” and it may be the Adriata Afternoon wrecking its own brand of havoc on her but the next words escape her breathily, dragging out each syllable, “Mister Vanserra.”

“Touché,” he chuckles and offers her a glass identical to the one in his other hand, “but today is pretty momentous and we deserve it, don’t you think, Miss Archeron?” 

She takes the glass, their fingers touching for a brief moment. She tries with little success to ignore how they seem to tingle pleasantly.

“Well then,” she raises her glass, declaring, “To us.” 

The glasses clink harmoniously. 

“To us.” 

***

Elain giggles, her fingers idly swirling the empty glass. “The look on his face though!”

“On his face?!” Lucien sputters in mock outrage, flinging his hands in the air, “do you have any idea how many management meetings I had to sit through afterwards to convince Tamlin of the trade benefits of the project?”

She dissolves into giggles and uses one delicate finger to wipe off a tear from the edge of her eye. At some point over the course of the last two drinks, they had moved to the cozy booth at the corner of the bar, far away enough from the blaring noise of the crowd. The length of her outer thigh is resting against his while his shoulders are close enough to occasionally rub against hers. 

She tries futilely to stifle the laughter still bubbling in her chest to commiserate in a barely straight face, nodding sagely, “Must have been trying.” 

Russet eyes narrow and the beautiful face leans in, full of mischievous intent. “It was,” the low husky bedroom voice leaves a trail of goosebumps down the back of her neck. Elain’s breath hitches, her head instinctively angles to the side, exposing the delicate fair skin of her neck. Thick lips hover a mere centimetre away, puffing hot breath with every tantalising word, “and how does the Velarian Authority intend to compensate for the wasted time?”

She hums. “Messy to bring in legal,” her eyes flutter close in relish of the phantom touch of lips on skin, “what if we settle this privately?” 

“Oh?” 

Chocolate orbs open to smouldering russet. It burns hot and bright. She twists her body towards him, apprehension and desire warring within her. She asks, spurred by the liquid courage coursing through her veins, “Shall we get out of here?”

Surprise overtakes him for a moment. A moment is all that’s needed for her to pull back and begin backpedalling furiously. She adds hastily, “Out of this building I mean. This is my first time in Adriata and I have barely taken one step out of the building and-“

“Elain,” he cuts off her rambling with surprising warmth, wrapping her hand in his. He pauses, flicking his gaze towards her strapping heels, a bright spark in his eyes, “I have just the idea but you might need to change to a more sensible pair of shoes though.”

Elain raises one piqued brow in response. 

***

“Really?” 

Lucien ignores the skepticism in her voice as he continues to tap into his phone, registering and renting the bicycles before them. Elain bounces from one ball of her foot to another. After a quick thought, she takes out a plain hair tie from her small bag and pulls her luscious golden brown hair back into a high ponytail. 

She glances around. Shutters have been pulled and locked down at the surrounding stores, a little presence of a nightlife beyond the bustle of the rooftop bar they were just at. But even at this late hour, the promenade by the river that snakes through the central district of Adriata is still sparsely populated, mostly by couples strolling with their fingers interlaced, the air filled with soft whispers and shoulder bumps.

A click of his phone later, her unlikely companion for the evening slides the slim device into his pocket. 

“Done!” He announces with a flourish, a welcoming smile graces handsome features and sends the butterflies in her stomach into a fluttering flurry. “Well, my lady? Your personal bicycle tour awaits.” 

She takes the bicycle being rolled towards her, swinging a graceful leg over it, sending him a bright smile. “Lead on, good sir.”

Lucien sets them off at an easy pace. Elain follows easily, sending much needed blood circulation through her alcohol plied body, which has also seen little but short walks from her hotel room and the conference halls for the past week. The cool breeze of the city whips about her face playfully. 

They take a sharp take away from the glittering river and begin meandering about the quiet roads slicing through tall office buildings. Elain is about to open her mouth to send a teasing remark to her tour guide about the tour lacking in scenery when said guide turns back to her with a wink, as if he knew exactly what she was about to say. 

She pumps more energy into her legs so that they’re cycling side by side instead. “So do you often give flirtatious bike tours to women you’ve just met?”

Hopelessly fishing, maybe, but here she is.

“But we are not strangers, are we?” He returns evenly, “we have been conversing for months. What makes you think I haven’t been thinking about this for ages?”

Elain isn’t able to stop the flush rising up her chest. She had found the man insanely attractive from the moment he turned on his video setting on the project kickoff call, of course. A silent admiration that made the long hours a tad easier to bear. But to think that he might have thought the same of her? Something within her preens like a well-groomed cat.

“My, my,” she tuts, “and to think I’ve thought you so professional the past few months.” Her lips curve in a good-natured tease at the slight crease in his brows, the indignation forming, and continues quickly in a quiet confession, “me too.” 

She snaps her head abruptly back to the front of the road, not wanting to catch his reaction. Not yet. 

There is a huff of laughter next to her before he pulls up in front of her once more, leading the way. It isn’t long before a long length of dense trees come into sight. Crossing the dense layer of greenery opens up to a huge open space roaring with life - a night market, of sorts.

They return the urban sharing bikes, turning them back into the designated lots. There are a series of clicks as the bicycles engage its locking mechanism. Elain takes the elbow offered chivalrously to her, looping her arm with the redhead. 

The market is filled with Adriata locals, full of chatter in its native language. There are a variety of stalls that formed two layers of the circular space - the inner row that comprises mostly of stalls selling food and beverages and the outer rows that comprises a mix of fun carnival games and small rides, even a petite ferris wheel that has somehow remain hidden behind its forested guards, invisible to the outside eye.

Their first stop is a fried street snack - a well-spiced battered collection of mushrooms and seafood. The perfect oily balance to the alcoholic drinks they had. Lucien smiles, too entirely pleased with himself, as Elain gushes at the perfect crispy texture of the exterior and soft insides, wonderfully complemented by the tangy dipping sauce. They pair it with a sweet spiced honey drink that washes it down perfectly.

They walk along the chain of typical carnival games. She stops them in their tracks by grabbing tightly on to Lucien’s elbow, gasping at a familiar fox plushie with synthetic bright orange fur.

“Is that a limited edition plushie of the fox character from the Suriel show?” She asks, more to herself than her companion. 

“Indeed, it is,” answers the jovial game master in a thick accent, pleased at the recognition, “all yours if you can hit all the targets.”

Elain turns to Lucien, her eyes bright and sparkling. “It will double our chances if we both try, yeah?”

An embarrassingly long time later, they continued strolling along with the fox toy tucked snugly between the crooks of her elbow and an all too pleased look on her face. Next to her, her companion sneaks fond affectionate looks at her. 

They have almost completed their round of the market, pausing at what is likely their last stop of the evening - the Ferris wheel. It is clunky and almost pathetically small, utterly inadequate in showcasing any views the proud city boasts. Yet, there was something about its old school charm that draws you in. 

Another exchange of coins later and the pair are stepping into the small booth. They seat themselves opposite one another, their knees touching in its limited space. 

“If you’ve enjoyed yourself on the Vanserra Tours today. It will really help us if you could leave us a 5-star review on Yelp.” Lucien quips, breaking the silence. 

Elain giggles, relishing in the lightness in her chest, a feeling she hasn’t felt in the longest time. She grabs his hands and slips both hands into large palms, callous blisters on the flipped side of his knuckles a contrast against her soft skin. 

“Thank you,” she says softly into the small enclosure, “I’ve had a great time today.” 

Her gaze crawls up the length of his graceful body, the subtle signs of well-defined muscles underneath the formal shirt to the breathtaking sharp contours of his face and striking russet eyes, looking back at her as if she is something so unbearably precious. Letting go of the last semblance of nerves, she surges forward to slot her lips against his. 

A low groan fills the small booth and the noise of the machinery and outside world disappears. 

Strong arms circle around her and pull her onto his lap. She loops her own arms around his neck as they deepen the kiss, her lips parting at the first swipe of tongue. 

He tastes of a cool autumn night, warm spices mixed with a heady dose of sweet cinnamon. Sucking, nipping and the press of tongue on tongue. Sharp tugs on silky tresses and wandering hands trailing a blaze up and down her all too warm body. It is all consuming and all Elain wants is more. More more more. She presses into the delicious warmth of his body, moulding soft curves into hard planes.

A loud throat clearing pulls them apart. They turn to look at the unimpressed lady minding the ride. 

“This is a family ride.” She says flatly, dark eyes are thick with judgement. 

They leave with sheepish apologies but completely unapologetic grins, their fingers interlaced tightly, bodies flushed into each other, the fox still tucked tightly in her other arm. All through the journey in the back of the car hire and the elevator ride up to her hotel room. Until the room door snips shut and they fall gracelessly into the large bed.

***

Elain is having a good dream. 

She can’t remember what it was about but there is a thrum of content that has her heart humming and whistling. She lets out a happy sigh and buries her face deeper into her pillow. 

A sudden rude blare of an alarm tears her out of her reverie. 

Chocolate brown eyes open to a hazy vision. She blinks blearily, her brain needing a few more moments to register the foreign environment. The bed beneath her moves and groans, and the memories of the night before flood her sleep addled brain.

With her head still resting on the soft pillow, she turns to look at Lucien. His eyes are still closed as his hand grasps wildly to search for his phone, which from the ringtone, is somewhere within the pile of clothes strewn across the floor. Elain feels her lips curving upwards in its own accord at the futility of the man’s action. 

She chimes lyrically, “It’s not there.”

Russet eyes snap open, its gaze focusing sharply on her before the next buzz of his alarm pulls him aware. Lucien rolls out of bed, giving Elain another glimpse of firm butt cheeks as he sleepily saunters his way over to fish his phone out of the long pants and turns off the alarm. He sighs deeply, pushing long legs into the apparel. 

“I have a morning flight out,” he informs, his voice coated with regret. 

Her heart stutters, a weight dropping heavily in her stomach. “Already?” 

She sits up, unabashedly letting the covers slip off and bare her chest to him. Lucien heads over, his hands rest on hers, pinning her to the soft mattress. He drops a kiss on her forehead, whispering, “Don’t move. I want to commit this sight to my memory.” 

He steps back, and even though her hands are now free, Elain doesn’t move. 

“You have my number.” She reminds him with a sad smile. 

He agrees, “I do.”

It’s an unspoken promise that lifts her heart just slightly. With a final wink from the male, Elain watches silently as Lucien turns around and exits the room. 

***

Six Months Later

“Let’s go, already,” Vassa complains, the Scythian native is sprawled on the small guest couch in Elain’s office, “I’m hungry.” 

“In a minute.” Elain’s fingers fly across the keyboard, “Just need to send out one last email.”  

Elain’s colleague and close friend groans, her head falling back on the uncomfortable synthetic leather surface. Mere seconds later, a rectangular light shines on her face as she begins typing on her phone. 

Elain turns back to her screen, humming, “Almost done.”

A couple minutes of furious clicks later, she slams her index finger down on the “Enter” button. “Sent! Let’s go.” 

“Finally!” The redhead cries out exasperatedly, “Let’s go.” 

Elain raises her brows but says nothing as she lets her friend loop their elbows together and practically pull her to the elevator. 

All thoughts eddy from her mind when the lift doors slide open, her heart skipping a beat at the sight of another redhead waiting on the other side. 

“How?”

Lucien slips his hands out of his pocket, his eyes bright and warm, “I’m on a three year attachment as a Springton representative for the regional grid project.”

Elain spins to round on Vassa. Her close friend and director of the Human Resource division, “You knew!” 

“Of course I did.” She answers smoothly, giving Elain a slight push out of the doors. “Now, if you don’t mind. I have lunch plans.” She gives the both of them a cheeky wink, “Enjoy your reunion!”

Elain turns back to Lucien, taking a small step forward. Her head angles slightly when she notices the slight glimmer of nerves in those breathtaking eyes. She inhales deeply before asking lightly, “Is this why you haven’t replied my text from this morning?”

A tension visibly loosens from his shoulders as his face crinkles in amusement. He steps forward to close the gap between them, raising his hands to gently cup her cheeks. He whispers, “Surprise.” 

There is nothing else left for Elain to do but to rise to the ball of her feet and lightly brush her lips against his. 

“Welcome to Velaris.” 

End

[michellemisfit]

Theme 27: 🫦 Smokey Shamey 🫦

I hope @gallacrafts will indulge my curveball take on the Smokey Shamey theme, as I rock up with some: Smokey Eye Make Up Looks

DEBBIE

To me Debbie will always be the little girl who never got that princess party she dreamt of, hence a pink smokey cat-eye, finished with pink glitter highlights.

MANDY

I am leaning into Season 6 Mandy, with a classic black liquid liner cat-eye and a matt grey smokey eyeshadow. Understated and classy, while still being playful and sexy.

KEVIN

There is nothing more durable than a smokey eye in brown, blended out to skin colour - one of my favourite make ups for a rainy day at the farm, because it will still look pretty decent by the end. Solid and dependable, just like Kevin!

IAN

I’m normally a big fan of contrast colours, but if you’re a redhead with pretty green eyes then you lean into that green as hard as you can!! We’ve got two shades of green (light on the lid, dark in the crease), blended out into a shimmery gold, green eyeliner on the lower lid, and black eyeliner & mascara on the upper.

MICKEY

And finally we have the OG black kohl smokey eye - perfect for our little trash panda! You want your black eyeshadow to be highly pigmented, and don’t be afraid to get a bit messy with it. You’re a Milkovich, not a Chanel model! On top of the black eyeshadow we have some black glitter, for depth. And of course it wouldn’t be a Mickey look without some characterful brows and chewed pink lips!!

And then of course post Season 4 we get Mickey ‘I Just Want Everyone Here To Know I’m Fucking Gay’ Milkovich, the bravest little thug muffin on the South Side, deserving a special rainbow smokey eye look in his honour!

Some make up ramblings behind the cut, for anyone interested :)

I get most of my make up from the cheap counter at whatever pharmacy I'm in - teen brands are great for cheap yet decent quality items! However I do have some preference in terms of performance for certain things. I love my EcoTools make up brushes. You can pick up a pack of 5 brushes for a tenner, but if you can find the set of 2 double headed brushes - Eye Enhancing Duo Brush Set - you've got all you need for a smokey eye look in two handy brushes! I've been using mine for years with no bristle loss or decrease in quality. Very very happy with those! Eyeshadow - I'm a slut for a MAC pallet. They're not all as good as each other, and occasionally you get an eyeshadow that barely leaves any pigment on your skin and it's infuriating! But 80% of their colours are great. And you can buy colours individually on their website / at a MAC make up counter, and then you can fit them into a non branded make up pallet you pick up at amazon or your local pharmacy for a couple of quid, allowing you to put together you're perfect personal pallet! Barry M does little pots of loose pigment in ALL the colours of the rainbow, called Dazzle Dust, and they are amazing!! Please do take a few days of experimenting if you are not used to working with loose pigment, as it can get MESSY lol A good trick is to go heavy on powder foundation under your eye prior to starting your eye make up, so any loose pigment catches on a layer of powder that you can then just brush off with a big powder brush.

I also have little pots of glitter (purchased from a craft store) in all the colours of the rainbow and a small bottle of stage make up adhesive. You will find there's a million different glitter adhesive gels and fix it sprays, some of them may be amazing, however many of them are going to work the exact same way as a simple application of some vaseline would. Depending on the effect I want I either use a small paint brush to very precisely apply glue and glitter pieces (glitter eyeliner, cut brows with glitter lines, individual glitter dots), or alternatively I use a lip gloss or similar sticky clear substance and sprinkle the glitter (for glitter blush, glitter temples etc.)

I have bought many a mascara promising many a thing (longer, thicker, fuller, rounder, magic in some way or other) and honestly, I have never been able to tell the difference between their performances. As long as it doesn't clump and go tacky after a week of use, it's fine by me.

For eyeliners - I have a few choice colours in MAC, but for the essentials I love essence cosmetics, which are one of the teen brands I mentioned above. Their liquid liner pens (24ever ink liner for example) are some of the best I've ever used, and they're like £2.50 each. Otherwise, I like eye pencils you can sharpen for the exact precision I desire, not the waxy sticks inside a plastic case that you operate like a mechanical pencil. Those are a big no no.

Okay, that's all I can think of on the fly.

Please add your favourite make up brands and tips and tricks in the comments! I love to learn from other people!

[scarlettjohanssons-mistress]

Moulin Rouge

Warnings: First Meetings, first kiss, performance art, ocean

Word count: 0.9 K

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x Fem!Reader

Prompt: Natasha and Y/N meet on a small boat, where Y/N went to perform a Moulin Rouge song.

Requests: OPEN

[Main masterlist] [Marvel masterlist]

"Can I sit here?"

The woman with big eyes stopped staring at her plate, to focus her eyes on the red-haired woman who was speaking to her.

"Sorry?"

"What if I can take the seat next to you?"

"Oh sure"

The other woman sat down and quickly pulled out a pack of cigarettes, lighting one and offering some to the girl next to her, who promptly declined and fell silent.

"I'm Natasha, by the way," the woman took a deep drag, without taking her eyes off the girl with large gray eyes, "what's your name, sweetness?"

"Y/N. my name is Y/N"

"Y/N," she repeated sensually, "you're not from around here, right? I'd remember a pretty face like yours"

"No, I came to perform in the musical"

The ship "El Coral" set sail every night, giving a great tour of New York with a great party and different musical works every day. Today they were presenting "Moulin Rouge!".

"A great show tonight; by the way, great interpretation of Satine, you have a… born sensuality"

"Are you trying to flirt with me?" Y/N scoffed as she took one last sip from her glass.

Natasha was a little surprised by the smaller woman's direct question, but she just let out a light laugh and took a drag on her cigarette again.

"My, it seems that I underestimated the lady"

"You are not the only one

"Sorry if I bothered you. I can go… "

"No, I like it." Her blue, almost grayish eyes rested on the figure of the redhead; a woman with fiery red hair, pale skin, taller and older than her, with deep eyes, like emeralds, that made Y/N's stomach turn "you're very pretty"

"I can say the same about you"

The conversation was interrupted when the captain announced the ship's arrival at the marina dock, causing Y/N to quickly start gathering her things, until Natasha's hand stopped her.

"Do you want to come with me? I know a place where we can have fun."

"Of course"

——————————————————————————— 

Both women laughed and drank at a bar on the boardwalk. Y/N laughed at Natasha's sweet and loud laugh, while Natasha laughed at Y/N's innocence

"If you don't know who Nicole Kidman is, how did you act in 'Moulin Rouge!' tonight?"

"I've seen that play more times than I'd like to count, with some pretty good actresses and with others… who, I hope, are in good health" Y/N discovered that she loved making Natasha laugh

"How do you know they're good?"

"Because her performance touches your heart. A good actress conveys the emotion she plays, it can be disgust, repudiation or love, and I only saw love in those girls"

"How cheesy"

"Shut up!" Both women laughed again, until the air was completely expelled from their lungs.

"What is your biggest dream?" Natasha asked, looking at the horizon.

"I don't know, what's yours?"

"I would like to find love, it doesn't matter if it's a man or a woman, I just want to find someone who loves me, who I can turn to on my good days and who doesn't run away from me on my bad days." . I want true love."

Y/N kept thinking, that woman had told her, her deepest desire, regardless of how little time they had known each other, and even if she saw her cry; if she could trust her, what was stopping her?

"I don't want this to end" Natasha looked at her strangely, still trying not to shed tears "My greatest wish is that this night never ends"

"Oh honey, I know I'm wonderful, but you don't have to lie to me."

"No, I'm serious, I don't want to return to my reality after this"

"What could be worse than talking to a woman who is failing at flirting?"

"Do you promise that if I tell you my secret, you won't run away, or try to tell someone else?"

"I promise"

——————————————————————————— 

The sun began to rise, announcing a new day for Natasha and a return home for Y/N, who sadly enjoyed her last minutes on the beach, walking in silence with Natasha.

"When are you coming back to the compound?"

"Today at noon, it's a long way from here to the capital" Natasha joined their pinkies, trying not to bother Y/N "When can I see you?"

"I'll wait for you" Y/N took Natasha's face in her hands, forcing her to look at her "I'll go out every day, I'll get on the stupid ship with the desire to see you again. No matter how long it takes, I'll always wait for you." She planted a kiss on her lips, light as a feather, but with enough power to start a river of tears in those green eyes, with which she had fallen in love.

The alarm on Natasha's phone sounded, signaling the inevitable end of their affair.

"I promise to return as soon as possible, I won't keep you waiting long."

"Don't worry, I could wait a hundred years for you."

With a slight movement, Y/N unbuttoned her dress, leaving her completely naked, leaving a puddle of clothes at her feet, and thanks to her long legs, in a few steps she reached the sea to dive into it.

Natasha saw the shiny tail disappear almost as if in a trance, not knowing if what she had experienced was reality or a fantasy, she didn't think it was possible to have fallen in love with a mermaid; call a siren for her, for her to love and possess.

Note:

I'm so busy with school, I should be starting my essay and not uploading this... But here I am. In fact, Mexicans know that today is the anniversary of 2 earthquakes, and there was a slight one in my city (nothing serious) but, until recently, I have internet...

Anyway, I left you a little story that I made for my class, but I liked it so much that I wanted to share it

I hope you enjoy it

I appreciate the reblogs, the likes and the comments

taglist: @littlebitchsposts

message me or send an ask to be added to my taglist!

[thedawningofthehour]

I meant to send this yesterday, but did you ever mention what exactly Josh is? I honestly don’t remember there ever being clarification (and if there was it totally went over my head) and while i was rereading for the umpteenth time Josh was referred to by splinter as “the copper one” and my mind kinda went “Excuse me, Copper???” I figured he was a Yokai of some kind but then we know that Rose is a witch/from witch town (right?) so whenever I vision Josh is just a very wobbly image of some nerdy buff guy idk and he’s always wearing a blue shirt for some reason :P

Lol well you're pretty close! Josh and his brother and sister are all witches from Witch Town and look vaguely humanish, as Yokai witches are shown to be.

Like yes, these people are undoubtedly Not Human, but unlike many other Yokai they don't seem to be anything else in particular. (in general-I see Lion Dude up there, but he's an outlier) (I've actually thought a lot about the lore of Witch Town and I have no idea if I'm going to end up using any of it so I might do a write-up one of these days)

Josh and his family (his twin sister, their little brother, and the little brother's husband, and maybe his niece I haven't decided if she exists here) all live in Witch Town and run an apothecary. They actually met Bella because the little brother Reed (who I apparently haven't even referenced by name yet, sorry Reed) was her bodyguard while she competed in the Nexus. He got into some debt and the debt was then purchased by Big Mama, and he refused to fight for her. Big Mama basically rigged his contract so he could never pay her back, effectively enslaving him, and had his tongue cut out for talking back to her too many times. He got assigned to Bella because she already knew how to sign, they became friends, and when she left she bought out his contract. Turns out his sister was hot and his brother was her platonic soulmate, so happily ever after. (Bella and Reed are still really good friends, they're just less reasons to mention him because his skills aren't really plot-relevant)

Josh is definitely a nerd, he's pretty tall and broad-shouldered but skinny. He's kind of pink, not intensely so but definitely a few shades into 'not a human skin color'. His hair is either blond or he's a very light redhead, depending on how I feel that day. He has an extremely prominent nose, which...I just realized that doesn't sound good, considering he's Jewish. Okay, to be fair, when I designed him he was not Jewish. He's a Dishonored OC, the Dishonored world does not have any real-world religions, they have one twink who is also a whale as their god and their religion is centered around hating on him. I made Josh Jewish because Bella was Jewish and I kind of liked the idea of her bonding with him and his family over that. (I don't know why Bella is Jewish, she just Was) (also Bella and Josh aren't religiously Jewish-they're atheists)

Rose looks pretty similar, except she's much shorter (which vexes her greatly, as she's the oldest) and her hair is more of a ginger color. Reed however is massive, taller than his brother and super buff, like 'body of a Greek god' but unironically. His coloring is more pinkish-purple and darker because he has a different father. Everyone thirsts over him and he is entirely oblivious. His husband got a lot of high-fives when he put a ring on it. (and a lot of jealous glowers, especially when the story of how he proposed with a BBQ sandwich came out)

Splinter calls him 'the copper one' because their last name is Copperspoon but he couldn't remember. (he's old) And they have that name because their mother is this bitch:

Delilah Copperspoon, bisexual poly witch and bastard daughter of an emperor. She's such a wonderfully evil character.

[ashwithapen]

dearest little sister,

(CW for referenced/implied self-harm, (underage) alcohol abuse, referenced/implied suicidal ideation, brief use of f slur, r slur, and t slur)

i realised, very recently, that as the older of us two, i am the one who is going to have to be proud of you. 

i know, our age difference isn't staggering, but those, what, two years, four months, and two weeks between us is all the difference in the world sometimes. i wonder, deludedly, in the dark of the nights, if it's our age that made me gay and you straight, and me trans and you cis, and me autistic and you not, and me a redhead and you a brunette. two years, four months, and two weeks, and somehow, despite us being siblings, i have never known two so dissimilar people. 

i see you, 14 years old, and i see your 15th birthday coming up in a little less than two months. i see you and your trendy cropped tank tops and your loose-fitting jean shorts. i see your tan lines and your mascara and your colour-changing lights. i see you and your mannerisms and your diction and your dances. i see the way you smile and frown, for nobody, and for everybody, but seemingly never for yourself. 

i've wondered, over this past year, how you've been so happy, and so successful, and so okay with yourself all this time, never faltering. when i was your age, it was screwdrivers and pencil sharpeners colliding atop the ledge of my shower, greedy, desperate fingers twisting and turning and pulling until silver lept free and fell harshly across my skin the night before halloween. when i was your age, it was the taste of vodka that knew me best, that outlined my midmornings and evenings and late nights and midmornings again and again for the better part of two years. when i was your age, it was instagram group chats with other fangirls who also fancied the idea of death. it was therapy sessions with a woman i didn't like, and forgotten homework that played ocean and tried to drown me repeatedly, and hoodies in the summertime, and realising that christmas lights didn't make me smile anymore. 

i wondered, recently. if maybe you are less okay too, but just in your own way. i talked to a boy who plays golf with you. i asked him: "weird question, but how is my sister?" because i didn't really know, not for lack of trying. i think that's what made me ask: every time my question was directed to you, you would ignore me or, more commonly, tell me to kill myself. when i brought that up to the golf boy, who called you his little sister, he laughed, and the girl sitting beside him—a friend of mine—looked up and seemed taken aback. even with all the wildest stories she'd told me about her own family, somehow she said mine was the worse.

i didn't know it was that bad. 

i thought it was normal between us. i thought we were the same as other siblings and i thought that their banter of "but we love each other, really" was only that—banter. a joke with linked limbs and cheesy smiles for the camera accompanied by our own similar brushing off of 'dust' and fixing of clothes afterwards. i didn't think it was unusual for your sister to actually hate you.

but also, i've always hoped, ever since you learnt some choice slurs, that really you did love me, deep down. i hoped, maybe even assumed, that your curled lip and scrunched nose that came for free with every glance you tossed me over your shoulder was just the same as your tank tops and jeans: something that, as a straight, cis, newly teenage girl was necessary for you to wear. then, when i let it slip two weeks later in a park with some other boys that you liked calling me a faggot, they looked surprised and mad and put off in a matter of moments. i had thought you still loved me despite it all, but they said it right there and then how uncool that was. "family doesn't do that shit."

i was glad for the dark; i could have cried, bowing my head as they backed me up out loud, smoke spilling from their lips between remarks. she still loves me, i thought silently, stubbornly. "she's just a kid," i said as if it was some god-compelling excuse. when they heard she was fourteen, they exchanged a certain glance and my heart sunk lower. and that was before i told them about the death threats, the sharpness of her nails, the other words that i'd never heard fall from her lips until after she learnt that i was trans and that i was autistic and that i was just a little bit different from her. 

and so i'm stuck. i want to believe that how you hate me is the same as everyone else: that you don't actually hate me and truly love me deep, deep down, and also that everything you've done to me is just a right-now-teenage-phase thing that's been going on for the last 3 years. 

i wonder, writing this now, where an 11-year-old learnt to be so determinedly hateful. we live together, we went to the same school, and even share some of the same friends. who taught my own sister that who i am is something sinful?

you won't read this. you don't believe in reading unless it's the bible nowadays. 

you may never change your mind. you may never get past this moment, and there may come a day, frighteningly soon, that ends up being the last time i ever see you as i prepare for university a year from now and you try for your early golf scholarships. i need to come to terms with the fact that i may never have a relationship with my sister, i guess. and what a thing to admit to myself!

know that i don't say this to guilt you or to pitty myself. i only wrote this because i saw a video of an older sister reacting to her younger sister's wedding dress for the first time and i realised that, more likely than not, at least as things stand now, there is a good chance that i won't see you get married, and neither you, i. i probably won't get to see you slowly walk down the aisle and be proud of you. you would never invite the retarded, faggot, tranny to your perfect wedding. and i'm not going to marry, not that you'd rsvp. 

i hope you look stunning in your dress when the time comes, little sister. i hope that you really love him and that he makes you happy and treats you well. i hope that i'm wrong and you don't hate me, that i'm right and you do love me. i hope you are okay, now and for the rest of your life, because for as shitty as i've gone through and for as shitty as you treat me, i can't help but care for you, and i will never hate you back.

that's all.

all the best,

[thisgirlnamedblusy]

Hello its me who requested the False goddess fic. Can I request a part two of it but now the fic is inspired by her new song I can see you from speak now

Yesss, here it is!!! I hope you like it and sorry about the language mistakes!!! :))))

Behind the wall, I can see you

Pairing: Marilyn Thornhill x Fem, Teacher! Reader

Warnings: Implied smut (light), fluff

Word count: 1,704

Summary: You feel sad, she wants to keep our love as a secret…

 N/A:  This is a part 2 of this one!!!  Requests are open!!! Sorry about the delays, I’m working hard on your requests. I love you all!!!

Finally my dreams came true, I could have you, I could taste you. Together we denied the comments that everyone pinned to our hearts. I feel full, like a super heroine who has made others see that they were wrong. I wish I wasn't lying right now, I wish we could kiss in front of those ungrateful people, those idiots who believe they are superior to us.

You try to hide it, to put a brick wall between us, but, honey, you forget that I can see you. I can feel your hand brushing against mine if we pass each other in the halls, I can feel how you push me against the wall on a deserted night, on a night when the school seems abandoned.

I don't know if you know that professionalism does not apply to love. Love is messy, it is unpredictable. If you kiss me, I kiss you, if you love me, I love you. There are no conditions, no place to hide. If you only knew, Marilyn, if you only knew that I always watch you, that I can see you even if you try to hide between walls and corridors.

“It's a secret,” you whisper to me, while your mouth speaks to me aloud. “It's how it should be,” you tell me, when your kisses say otherwise.

You drive me crazy, you do whatever you want with me, but I let you to do it, I let you to do whatever want with me if at the end of the day your body is mine, if I can access your kisses, your caresses.

“What would you do if it was forever a secret?” I ask you, while I take off your coat. I don't like seeing you in so many clothes, it prevents me from really seeing you, from feeling that you're not that cowardly woman you appear to be.

“It could never be like this forever,” you assure me. I would like to believe you, but you won't prove me otherwise. I insist, I need to know what you think, what do you think they will do when they find out.

“What would you do if they never found us out?” I ask, as your clothes slowly disappear. I'm panting, fighting to keep my sanity within the animal desire I have at the sight of you.

“They would win…” You whisper as you close your eyes, enjoying the kisses I give to your neck. It is what I wanted to hear, a smile appears on my face. Exactly, they would win, they will never know how wrong they were.

I know they are watching us. Their looks try to discover the truth that my eyes reflect, my thoughts. When I see you at the end of a corridor, waiting for me to arrive, waiting for my kisses to cover your skin, I wonder if you really know all the things I think, all the things I want to do, that I want to do to you. There are still so many things that I have not done, that I have not told you. In my head I see you in a thousand different ways, but never being a secret, never letting others win in their infinite pride.

“I love you…” You whisper, while the sweat covers my back that your nails scratch mercilessly. Why are you going to leave those scars on me if you think that our love is a secret?

We hurry, we run away every time we hear footsteps in that dark hallway. You think it's the right thing. My dear redhead, you are very wrong.

You are shy, slippery. The sun's rays scare you away, they make you flee from my presence. I don't understand you, Marilyn, but I don't need to, I just need you.

You throw me a note under the door, a note that says you need my kisses, my body, that you want to meet me tonight. I curse heaven for not being able to see you in the daylight. I don't want notes on the floor. The only thing I need on the floor is your jacket, your dress, your boots. I need to see them all over the floor, scattered everywhere in this cursed school.

“You are like a secret mission to me, (Y/N),” you say, biting my ear. Why are you so cruel? You need my kisses, I know, that's what I see when I look at you through your proud facade of an innocent woman.

Stop pretending, Marilyn, you're not innocent. Your discreet looks are, but not your kisses, not your moans, not the scratches on my back. I wish they never heal, that they stay forever printed on my skin.

If I see you through that wall, I only see the addiction that you have become for me.

But still, you know that I will never speak, you know that I will never tell. You live happy to keep a secret, to trust my words. You can trust my words, but my kisses are wicked, you can't trust them.

“I know they're watching us,” I say, freaking out under the cover of darkness. I don't want to admit it, but I'm afraid. I'm afraid of being right, of having a thousand eyes watching the sick desire I have for you. You are not afraid in the dark, you feel safer, you feel that you are invincible.

You don't say anything tonight, you don't drag me into your bed, you let your instincts guide you and that's wonderful.

“I hope they enjoy the show at least …” You whisper, What's wrong with you today, Marilyn? Does seeing me scared make you happy? If you knew the things I think when I see you, the one who would be scared would be you.

You would be afraid of me. You would think I'm crazy. That our love is not worth it.

I'm obsessed with you, I can't help it. The world was wrong, but you don't want to tell them, you like that they live deceived, you want to see them confused, and you like to confuse me.

You have a heart too big for this world.

“Fuck them…” I whisper to you. I begin to want them to see us, to feel how wrong they were, to witness the love I feel for you. I'm cruel, I know.

But, even if we are able to make love in the hallway, the next day the wall rises again. The things you say when you feel my hands on your body, my fingers inside you, seem to disappear as your quiet gasps do.

You lie, you don't want it. You want an adventure, a “secret mission”

I'm not good enough to be a secret agent. I don't wear a suit and tie, I don't have a watch capable of stopping time. My only ability is to love you, but I don't know how to do it in a low voice. I feel clumsy.

“Don't yell…” You tell me.

I understand. I can't do it, but I must. I must listen to you, do everything you ask of me. If you think it's the only way, fine. Let's hide and I promise I'll be good. I love you, you love me. I don’t want to lose you.

Still, I feel like something has changed. Your professionalism has been blurred. We can no longer resist. The night is no longer the only time. Now any time is good, any place is valid. Is it because of my indiscreet moans? Is it because you feel the same? Marilyn, please give me an answer, tell me what I've done wrong to break your mask of innocence, to make you crazy like me, someone with an addiction.

“I don't want to lose you…” You whisper to me between gasps. “I want you to stay always with me.”

You say it quietly. The plants in the conservatory look at us, were those the curious eyes you feared? Were they part of your fears?

I look at them with evil, while our bodies gather on your desk. I insult them, I challenge them to say how wrong they were. I know, I'm sick in the head, they're just plants, but they're the only living beings you've allowed to watch us.

“I love you…” I tell you when I lose control. I don't like to tell you so many times. If I do, you'll think I don't care about your absurd fear of the truth, your absurd fear of being found out.

I don't lose a detail of you, I always watch you. Near or far, I don't care.

Thanks to that I have gained the ability to see you without seeing you. To see you behind the walls of Nevermore, to see you at the end of a dark walk.

It's a challenge for me, and I'm winning. Every time I see you more clearly, with more light. I see you at the end of the hall, I can feel you behind that wall that you will push me against again.

Now I can see you better, I can feel your heart when you sleep. You have let me be with you, you have let me share your bed for something else, not just to love you. This is not going to stop. The silence of the night allows me to listen to your conscience, your thoughts. You believe the same, feel the same. You think you don't know how to surprise me anymore, that the nails on my back are boring, that they have become a routine. Don't worry, my love, I have a lot of skin to give to you, so that you can sow all the kisses you want, all the caresses.

You don't think it's possible, you think I don't have that ability. You only fool yourself. I know that I see you even if you are not there, I know that I can feel you, smell you, listen to your heart, to your feelings.

Now I am afraid, afraid that you will see me in the same way, that you will be able to see me behind that wall.

[tleeaves]

I feel like you've already described your appearance quite a lot but let's see if I've got the Vibe right and can return it right back to you like you did for me. Did you say you've got dark(ish) red hair? I know you're shorter than me, maybe about my youngest sister's height (which I realise tells you nothing but she's taller than my mum and so are you so idk). roundish or heart-shaped face. freckles? I think freckles. Not heaps, but some (more than me at least and I barely have freckles especially in winter I don't think they're really visible at all now). Across your nose (all super cute!) and skin I think a little lighter than mine, like a beige colour with a bit of pink undertones so it goes nicely with your hair (several colours of hair actually that you might try at different times, it works with different shades of brown as well). I think you're a little insecure about your skin but actually the main problem is you're surrounded by beachgoers who remind you a bit of the 'popular girls' at high school, skilled at makeup and with very complex nature-inspired skincare (healthy) and tanning (kinda dangerous in the qld sun) routines who say things like 'everyone can do it' and don't understand what it's like to be disabled (yet). you've also got short nails. hair down to your shoulderblades, a little wavy when natural or when it's humid. and you still wear tights in winter like a Victorian, only the comfy ones now (you also own a black puffer jacket you whipped out approx. 3 weeks ago), but you're incorporating more colours now you're in qld and realising it really suits you! and you're not sure about sandals. some days it's great, other days you want your feet to be safely tucked up in shoes and out of the weather and the grass and dust and sand.

Oh my goodness, this was such a fun journey to read. You are very good at capturing vibes. I'll go through in the order you mentioned to either confirm or slightly correct what you've put forward.

So, yes, currently I have dark red hair (looks ink-black in shadow, deep red in direct light, which is an effect I am obsessed with) because I recently re-dyed it burgundy. My natural hair colour is a very dark brown, which was mistaken for black a lot when I lived in Vic - I've noticed since coming here that my hair's lightened to a more noticeably brown hue (when not dyed, obviously) that's still dark but clearly not black anymore.

Knew I'd be shorter than you. Yeah, I'm a li'l one. And I'm so surprised you got my face right! Second guess, mine's heart-shaped. Not the most obvious heart, but it also literally just does not fit any other face shape, sooo... 'tis me <3

And yes! Freckles! I don't have as many as my mum, nor some of my redhead friends who seems to have more freckles than there are stars in the sky, but I actually do have a decent amount! (Admittedly, it runs in the British side of my family.) As in, while they may appear sparse and fairly spaced out, they're quite uncountable because of just how many there are. I literally lose track just trying to count them on one arm, let alone all over my body (because they're indeed all over my body, and my face). And I actually still get new freckles, even in winter (must be this Qld sun, honestly). I used to have some across my nose, and I still kinda do if you look closely, but I tend to have a pinkish nose and cheeks which hides the freckles (they are rather beige - they range from chocolate brown to beige/gold). My skin does have mostly pink undertones, so I appreciate the thought it goes well with my hair 🥰

You also got it right: I am a bit insecure about my skin. I get acne, which I never mind on anyone else but hate on myself, and it's really bad when I'm on my medication. It also induces a lot of the pinkness I get in my face from inflamed skin. The beachgoers definitely remind me of 'popular girls' in high school back in Vic. The women here are more often than not very tanned, looking flawless, and I know it's not great to compare myself to them, but I do. My skin's darkened since moving here, but I am still the resident 'Snow White' as well since my meds require me to stay out of the sun (more sensitive to burning while undergoing treatment). I'm also really pale for a Greek, which brings its own extra brand of shame, because all other Greeks I know (some immigrants like my grandparents, some not) have gorgeous olive skin (mine's still olive, but obviously very pale, and mixed with more of my British side's genes than the rest of my siblings).

Correct, I do also have short nails (musicians, eh? I wasn't wrong). Started the habit, never stopped, even now that my actual playing is infrequent. Only time they grow out is when I paint them and leave them for a couple weeks.

My hair is actually not quite down to my shoulder blades - I got it in a short sort of concave bob at my jaw (oop... twin moment between us here, is it??) last October, and it's grown out to sit juuust past my collarbones but not quite all the way past my shoulder blades. Maybe close to touching them. When wet? Possible halfway down them. Naturally, yes, my hair is wavy because of how thick and fluffy it is, and it definitely gets worse in humidity.

And, okay, I have tights for when I do boxing and karate, but otherwise it's just skinny jeans for winter, I swear. Although I still have a back-up pair as pyjama-wear. (...how do you know about the black puffer jackets?? Who leaked the Vic dress code? Although I'm actually partial to proper coats than the puffer jackets. I like pretty buttons.) But yes! I am dressing in more colours now, finding what suits me. It's pretty fun! I do go for my default black/white/gold colour scheme though fairly often because I like how striking it looks. Definitely not sure about sandals. I don't even really own a proper pair, just thongs (flip-flops for the Americans who don't know). Still not sure about sandals, but the folks here wear them in spades, I swear. It could be winter, and it could be rainy, but there're my girlies wearing sandals. How anyone feels comfortable walking around without socks is beyond me.

[psapphic95]

Poppet

As part of the Mine, Forever series of One-Shots

With Regina away at a conference for the weekend, Emma invites Zelena to stay over and spend some time with her. The pair hadn’t seen each other for nearly two months. However, as Emma’s exam season nears to a close, and Zelena finally sees Emma, she can barely recognise the thin, waif of a girl that clearly has not been eating enough during her intense studying. 

She takes it upon herself to begin nursing (and bullying) Emma back to health until Regina returns.  

Learn more about Zelena’s life, her romantic relationships, and a unique and interesting situation that exposes a loving, unusual dynamic between her and Emma. 

(CW/TW: talking about EDs, jokes about body size/weight, mentions of scales/weighing oneself etc)

*********

“...Poppet?” Zelena started slowly.

“Yea?”

Emma looked up and Zelena swallowed a gasp, as if she had finally seen the blonde in a completely different light. Her cheeks were gaunt, her pale skin devoid of that rosy little glint that normally covered the apples of her cheek. 

“How…” Zelena paused and considered the best way to go about it. “How much do you weigh?” 

Emma frowned immediately. It was a strange question for Zelena to ask. 

"I dunno. I haven't weighed myself in years." 

In her teenage years and beyond, Emma had a fairly healthy relationship with food and her body. Thankfully she was generally able to dodge the typical body image and disordered eating issues that affected most of her friends in school. She was always pretty lean, thanks to her father's metabolism, so her diet often consisted of a lot of protein and a lot of junk so that she didn't end up looking too thin. However, in the same vein, it was very easy for her to lose a lot of weight very quickly if she wasn’t cognizant of what she was eating.  

"Okay," Zelena nodded slowly, still trying to formulate her approach. "Emma, if I say something, do you promise to hear me out?" 

Green eyes glinted with considerable suspicion and dark blonde brows drew together. 

"Okay?" 

After exhaling deeply, Zelena said with as much concern and compassion in her voice as she could muster. 

“You look really tiny, like you've lost weight. Have you been eating enough during this exam period? Be honest.”

Any remaining colour in Emma's face drained. It sufficed to say that Emma had not expected that, especially from Zelena. While the girl knew she wasn’t eating as much as she should be, usually replacing her meals with Redbull, cigarettes, and Adderall, she hadn’t realised it was noticeable. 

Especially since Regina hadn’t noticed it already. 

Pink-cheeked and wholly embarrassed, Emma began her obvious lie, "I do eat most of the time..." 

“You know how I feel about lying, Emma,” it came out as a warning to not take her blatant fib any further. 

A beat of silence descended. Emma saw that Zelena wasn't backing down. The redhead’s hands were on her hips, spine taut into a power stance that had the young girl cowering slightly. 

“I guess I miss meals sometimes, I just have not been super hungry recently...”

******

Coming soon to AO3!

[cntrpt]

[Part four of If we got each other, and that's all we have]

Relationships: Yelena Belova & Natasha Romanoff; Post-Endgame/Post-Hawkeye Fix-It Fic;

[Ch. 1] • [Ch. 2] • [Chapter 3 | Words: 7693]

It was dark.

No noise, no sound.

Nothing.

There was a numb stillness all around her.

She felt cold.

Memories had started to come over her all at once, flooding her, and as she had helplessly watched her own past unravelling before her very eyes, she had found herself drowning in it.

All the missing pieces where suddenly within her reach, but they were all over the place, and kept mixing up with forged images, self-induced fantasies, dreams and nightmares, and it was all too much, she couldn't, she couldn't—

But then, all the turmoil had shut down, and there was black and silence all around her, a soothing sense of terrifying nothingness.

But now she remembered.

She remembered it all.

She was left with nothing but time to put all those puzzle pieces back together again, as she had done many, many times already.

Each time was different.

This time, she just needed a little longer.

But it was fine.

She had already done that, she would do it again.

She would be fine again.

Just keep breathing.

But there was also something else there with her, in the nothingness.

It was a strange feeling.

She was — holding it?

Something tangible.

That was new.

But it didn't feel like a threat. It actually felt...safe.

It was soft, and welcoming.

She tried holding onto it, and a faint warmth started creeping into her, quietly spreading, before fading away just as it had appeared.

Yelena immediately found herself missing it, so she tried reaching for that same feeling again, this time with no intention of letting go.

ты в порядке. You're okay.

She just had to focus a little more. Her surroundings were already becoming brighter, discernible. She could feel her mind clearing, starting to put one though after the other.

"дыши." Breathe. Yes, she needed to breathe.

A sudden dizziness came upon her as she realized that now she was able to also feel  things around her, light pressures on her skin, wisps of hair fluttering around and against her face.

"Елена?" Yelena.

Wait.

With unnatural effort, she blinked away the remnants of the haze that had enveloped her, letting the pale moonlight seep through.

She weakly turned her head from side to side, taking in the outlines of what was around her from her sitting position, focusing on every shape and their arrangement in the room.

Her gaze eventually fell on the person facing her, and she stilled.

Natasha. Right.

She felt all the pieces fall into the right places, retracing neatly every step that had led her, them, to this very moment, while the images from her flashbacks were now quietly relegated into the back of her mind.

She felt present.

But when she was able to fully take in Natasha's form, she couldn't suppress a new kind of sinking feeling forming into her stomach.

It was not as blatant and suffocating as it had been, but it was there, uncomfortably nagging at her from the inside.

The redhead had shifted on the bed from her previous position, and was now sitting cross-legged right in front of her.

Her controlled demeanor displayed a calmness that Yelena found to be oddly soothing, something she could safely rely on, but at the same time she was also able to read the trepidation written all over her features and the worry set deep into the other's searching gaze.

She felt the strong desire to make that concern disappear, to reassure her that she was fine, and that in a few minutes she would be back to be okay, but the words wouldn't leave her mouth and her body wouldn't relax.

She had seen, she knew that it was her. With each passing moment everything around her was becoming a little more real, but so did the sting of guilt building up in the pit of her stomach, and there was still something, something refraining her, that—

"ты со мной?" Are you with me?

The sudden question snapped her back to attention, leaving her staring blankly at Natasha.

She blinked a few times as the words registered.

Her eyes wandered briefly around the room before locking with the ones staring right back at her.

Yes.

She found herself still unable to get the words out, so she just nodded slowly, with more uncertainty than she had hoped for.

Even so, she clearly saw relief flashing across the other's face and features, feeling some of the tension in her body melt away.

She lowered her gaze, and realized that she was still holding Natasha's hand, only now her grip had turned almost painful as she kept clinging to it with all her might — like it was her only lifeline.

She let out a soft breath and loosened her hold a little, their joined hands — hers still safely secured between both of Natasha's — now resting almost placidly on top of her bent up knees.

She felt a thumb starting to lightly rub the back of her hand, stroking it gently, and she focused on that feeling while her mind wandered.

Thinking back to what had happened in the past minutes, something caught her attention.

She quickly cast an inquisitive glance at Natasha, before getting back to stare at the circular, soothing motion on her hand, her eyebrows furrowed in thought.

"Russian?"

The redhead's movements stopped for just a moment, as she quizzically looked at Yelena, before she grasped the meaning behind the curt question.

"Ah..."

She shrugged slightly, her gaze dropping to their hands too — almost sheepishly, as Yelena curiously noticed — while she suddenly seemed completely absorbed in what she was doing.

"I— I just thought it would have helped bringing you back to me faster, I guess."

Back to her.

Yelena smiled feebly.

She brought up her other hand, letting go of the bedsheets she was still clutching at her side, and placed it on top of her sister's, giving a light squeeze.

"Thank you."

Natasha exhaled and nodded, still without looking up. She readjusted her hold on Yelena's hand, so that her fingers interlaced with those of the other one covering hers, then cleared her voice.

"So, what...what happened?"

Yelena swallowed thickly and took a steadying breath, the question not coming unanticipated.

She knew that she needed to at least try and explain herself.

"I remembered."

Natasha's eyes found hers again, a look of surprise now settled into them.

"Oh."

Yelena shifted uncomfortably under her piercing gaze.

She could see that it was only searching for something that could tell the other if talking about this was okay, and if she was okay, but it was making her feel...exposed. Extremely self-conscious and with nowhere to hide.

She wasn't used to it.

"The memories, they..."

She draw in a shaky breath and tried pushing through it.

The worry filling Natasha's eyes, the fear she had seen crossing her features just moments before, the slight insecurity now present in her every movement, it was all her doing.

She owed her this.

"It was...too much all at once, I suppose. I just— I couldn't take it. I shut down. Sorry."

Natasha shook her head, both of her thumbs now stroking the blonde's fingers and rubbing circles over the back of her hand.

"Don't be, it's alright. I'm— I'm not sure there's a proper way to handle this. Probably I would have done the same."

Yelena forcefully pushed away any sense of comfort the words were trying to offer her.

She gritted her teeth, suddenly feeling a wave of irritation at herself running through her body. It was raising and bubbling, and she couldn't help but let it spill over in her next words.

"It's just...usually it happens faster, or at least I snap back without blacking out, or whatever that was."

Her shoulders sagged in defeat and she shook her head, tiredly.

"I thought, with time, it would get better. Not...not this."

She closed her eyes trying to calm down and regain her composure, focusing only on taking long, slow breaths, and nothing else.

Until she heard Natasha speaking up again.

"Does this...happen often?"

Great.

Sighing, she looked up at her, already on the defensive, reading herself to be met by meditating green eyes filled with disbelief, pity, shock maybe, or even hurt in discovering all this just now.

But she found none of that.

No matter how hard she searched for more, all she could detect was the slightest surprise, along with genuine curiosity, and that same hint of concern that had yet to leave the other's gaze, and which had now subtly deepened.

She released a shaky breath, trying to relax.

This was Natasha. It was okay.

"No...no, not exactly. Some times more than others. But it's still better than it used to, so..."

Natasha remained quiet for a while, musing, her gaze lost.

Yelena looked up at her, seeing her swallowing, before she finally spoke up.

"You mean when you got back? After...after the blip?"

The blonde blinked, not expecting the question.

"I mean— yeah, that was...it was pretty bad."

She took a deep breath.

This was Natasha.

"But I also meant in the Red Room. You know, with the chemicals running through my body and...and everything."

She tightened her hold a little, not looking at the redhead.

"There wasn't much I could do about it then, it's not like I had a safe way to know what was real and what not."

Natasha's movements faltered, and Yelena immediately knew what was going on in her mind. She quickly went on, trying to keep her from falling back into a guilt spiral.

"So I guess I'm better now, but you— you saw that, you saw what happened. It still sucks, and I— I'm sorry, you—"

She shook her head, not really knowing how to continue.

Shutting her eyes, she let out a resigned sigh.

"I'm sorry."

She heard Natasha shuffling a little closer, her still crossed legs pressing against her own ankles, but she didn't dare look at her.

"Yelena, it's—"

"You keep saying it's okay, but clearly it's not!"

She froze for a moment, her eyes now wide open and taking in the redhead's startled expression, as a twinge of panic made herself wince.

She hadn't meant to raise her voice, but she didn't understand how Natasha could still pretend that everything was fine. How she could still want to stay here.

"I— it just keeps happening. Maybe less frequently, but it's still— I almost shot you!"

Natasha's jaw clenched, but she just kept staring back at her calmly, and she couldn't understand why.

"I almost shot you, and I still didn't— I couldn't recognize you, and it will happen again!"

The reality of her own words truily sunk in just then. She couldn't keep Natasha close, she couldn't ask her that, this.

Natasha shouldn't have wanted it in the first place.

"Yelena—"

The redhead's feeble attempt at drawing her attention was futile.

"I know it will happen again..."

The realization had left her torn.

She didn't want Natasha there, she couldn't pretend that from her. But she was scared of seeing her leaving one day, scared that she might decide to not come back, scared of what would happen to herself.

She was dangerous, and she knew it. A ticking bomb. But the thing was, she didn't want to be alone, not after rediscovering how good having someone actually felt.

Not again.

She locked eyes with the redhead, panic taking over. She didn't know what to do.

"I'm— I am messed up, and I might be broken, but I am not crazy, I swear, I'm not, I'm—"

Natasha shifted on the bed, surging forward and suddenly leaning above Yelena's knees to reach her forehead with hers.

She gently pushed the blonde's head until it bumped against the wall behind her, firmly keeping it in place.

After the initial shock wore off, Yelena let herself slump a bit, relishing the light pressure and focusing on Natasha's eyes, taking in the seriousness they held within.

She was left breathless by the hard, piercing look she was met with, but there was still an attentiveness there — promise of confidence and assurances — that prevented her from shying away.

"You are not crazy, and you are not broken."

The redhead talked like she wanted to engrave the words into her mind, keeping her pinned with her gaze.

"And maybe you're right, it's not fine, but what I meant is that it's okay if, sometimes, something is not."

She was speaking carefully, keeping her tone low and quiet, but to Yelena it was like she was shouting right into her ears.

Her breath hitched, and she draw their intertwined hands into her lap and closer against her stomach, hanging on the redhead's lips.

"There's nothing wrong with that. Not everything needs to be fine for it to work out."

Her voice had reduced to merely a whisper now, and Yelena fought not to let herself be lulled by it and bask in its warmth.

She was about to open her mouth and attempt a weak resistance, but Natasha wasn't done yet.

"So, you might not be fine. Maybe I'm not either. Maybe no one is ever completely fine, and that's okay."

Her fingers brushed the blonde's again, resuming their soothing pattern.

"You'll be okay."

Yelena squeezeed her eyes shut briefly, letting out a shuddering breath, before turning her gaze down toward their hands.

"How...how do you know that? If—"

Natasha pulled away just slightly to try and catch her eyes, giving her a significant look, a knowing smile teasing her lips.

"Because I'm older, so I'm wiser."

Then her gaze sobered and she went on in a softer tone.

"And I need you to trust me on this."

"That's—"

The blonde's eyebrows had furrowed in bewilderment at the first statement, but eventually she let out gentle huff and relaxed against the other's forehead, pushing a little in turn.

"I trust you."

Natasha gave her a small smile and released a breath, relaxing visibly — her chest tightened a little when she realized that her answer hadn't been so obvious to the redhead as it was to herself — before closing her eyes.

This time, Yelena kept looking at her, wanting to take in as much as she could of the rather rarely peaceful image unfolding around her.

They allowed themselves to simply be there for a few moments, just listening as their breathings mingled with the sounds of the night all around, reveling in each other presence.

She felt the redhead shift vaguely against her and saw her eyes slowly fluttering open.

A whisper seeped through the silence, still not quite breaking it.

"And even if you were crazy, why would that matter?"

Yelena was frozen in place when the other's gaze finally met hers. She didn't know what to say.

How do you even respond to that?

Natasha pulled away, lifting her head to bring her lips at the top of the bridge of her nose. After a moment of hesitation, she placed a kiss right between her eyebrows, lingering when Yelena let out a small sigh and momentarily closed her eyes at the contact.

She then withdrew all the way back, bringing their hands up onto the blonde's knees and letting her head rest on top of them.

Yelena kept staring back at her wordlessly, thinking about everything and nothing at all at the same time.

She had always known that Natasha had a soft side, and that she was one of the very few people that got to experience it, but it never failed to surprise her how at ease the other seemed to be in her company.

She was well aware that what they went through, it changed people, it made them lose the ability to trust, to rely on others, wary of contact, cautious, cold, hard.

Alone.

But Natasha was still there with her, touching her with no reluctance nor qualms — or at least, not about Yelena — and she was warm, and open to talk, and had always respected her boundaries and let her take her time and have her space.

Yelena had never thought she would ever let anybody see her own soft side. She hadn't even been sure she still had one, after years of harsh nothing.

She had never imagined she would have let herself be this comfortable around another living human being — living, and breathing, and moving, that could want and pretend things, that could come and go as they pleased, that could leave when things from her own past would eventually come out — but she didn't have to worry about any of that with Natasha.

She knew her. And what she didn't know, she still understood.

It was nice, not having to worry.

A good feeling.

One she didn't want to let go of.

But it had already happened, twice.

And it had left her scared, and cold, and alone again.

Then, recently, she had started to find herself happy more and more often, unconsciously getting used to the feeling, and it was terrifying.

It was terrifying because it could end any moment, and all she could do was wait in fear, spiraling out of control and hopelessly trying to keep herself together, struggling not to lose any piece along the way like she almost did tonight.

She knew eventually it would all end, it was life, and life was ruthless, and merciless, and it leaves you with nothing, one way or another.

And she couldn't escape it.

She couldn't escape.

"A penny for your thoughts?"

Yelena blinked, slowly coming back to the present, the fog clearing once again.

Natasha was staring at her in concealed concern, still leaning on her knees with her head propped on their hands, her attempt of a smirk not reaching past the curve of her lips.

She furrowed her brow.

"What?"

The other seemed to untense a little at her response, releasing a breath before shrugging slightly.

"I don't know. It's something weird americans say when asking what you're thinking of. It took me a while to figure that one out. I didn't understand why Clint would want to pay me in the first place."

There was a beat of silence while Yelena took in the new information thrown at her.

"I'm pretty sure pennies are british, Natasha."

The redhead snorted softly, tilting her head to the side and resting her cheek against her knuckles, rolling her eyes.

"Yeah, whatever. I told you it was weird."

Her smile died down a little as she turned her attention back on the blonde.

"So, what's on your mind?"

Yelena leaned her head back against the wall, letting out a resigned breath.

She carefully slid one of her hands out from where it was tucked under the other's chin, bringing it up to push some strands of hair out of Natasha's face and behind her ear, her fingers skimming over the silver earrings.

She then placed her fingertips against the other's forehead, her thumb brushing along the bridge of her nose all the way to the tip.

Her digits started running over every bit of skin she could reach, following her jawline, her chin, up to her ear and over her eyelids, slowly tracing her features.

Finally, she cupped her cheek, her movements coming to a stop.

Natasha simply closed her eyes and leaned into the touch, letting her do what she needed.

Her thumb stroked a little spot there, grazing a wrinkle near the corner of her sister's eye.

It wasn't there the last time she had took the time to look this closely at her.

More than five years ago, apparently.

She took in a shuddering breath, keeping her eyes locked on that little reminder of the passing of time.

"It will happen again. Eventually. You'll die."

And you'll leave me behind.

Natasha stiffened, holding her breath for a moment as she cracked her eyes open.

Yelena quickly went on.

"If I don't die first, of course."

She saw the redhead's jaw clenching, an unreadable expression taking over her eyes.

Yelena could tell she was debating about saying something or not, so she patiently waited for her.

Eventually, she released a soft breath, whispering quietly.

"Yeah. I think about that, too."

Natasha turned her head slightly in the blonde's hand, trying to hide her own distress by placing a kiss on her wrist.

The admission didn't surprise Yelena as much as she felt it should have.

She gently cradled Natasha's head as it leaned heavily into her palm.

"It's just...not fair."

The redhead's lips curled up in a faint smile.

"No, it's not. It has never been."

Yelena knew what she meant. All the time they had lost, all the things that were stolen from them, the experiences they could never get back. "But we're here now. We still made it." Yelena nodded slightly, trying to swallow the lump that was forming in her throat. It felt nice to finally be talking about it, but it didn't make it any less hard. "And I think..." Natasha trailed off, trying to collect her thoughts and choose the right words. "I think it's okay to be scared of that, too." She brought up one of her hands to cover the back of Yelena's, still on her face. "After the blip, I thought I had lost you. That I couldn't protect you for a second time. And for five years, I thought about it every day." The words were coming out strained, but Natasha kept pushing through. Yelena didn't want to make her relive memories that were clearly painful, but she didn't find in herself to stop her. She needed to hear them, she wanted to keep listening, and be part of whatever Natasha was letting her in. "Then came the chance to bring you all back, and finally I could do something. But that meant..." She let out a shuddering breath, shaking her head, while the blonde's chest tightened. "And I couldn't let Clint— I couldn't, I had just gotten him back too, and if that worked, then Laura, the kids, they—" Yelena squeezed the hand that she was still holding, the thumb of her other one brushing away a tear that had escaped Natasha's eye. It had pained her that her sister had considered Barton's life more worthy of saving than her own, and she had felt rage at knowing that she had given up the chance of being there when Yelena would have returned. But she understood now.

And it pained her that she understood that it had really been Natasha's only choice. "I had resigned myself to never see you again. But this time I was okay with that, bucause I knew you would...you would have been okay." Yelena's vision was getting blurry. She wanted to say something, remind her that she hadn't been okay, she had almost killed her best friend and thrown her sacrifice in the air, but the words were stuck in her throat. "So, when I got back, this time we have right now, it felt like a gift. And since I started seeing it that way, the thought of it being too short is a little less scary." She smiled weakly. "It's not always ideal, but it helps." Yelena's brow furrowed as she thought it over. She had never believed that life would bestow any gift, not to her. But she couldn't deny that Natasha's perspective was comforting, and she wanted to believe it, too — believe that it was finally their turn. She thought that, at least, she could pretend for a bit. Her attention was suddenly caught by the seriousness that appeared behind the other's eyes, which kept intently searching her owns, until Natasha averted her gaze and spoke again. "If I'll go because I'll die, that won't be my choice. It will never be my choice to leave you. So, please know, I won't be actually leaving you. I'll still be there, right with you, just...differently. I need you to know that." Natasha never raised her eyes as the words left her, and that's how Yelena knew they were coming from one of the deepest parts of her. Talking sincerely never came easy, especially for them. They were taught it was dangerous to trust anybody with bits of you, so it was better to hide it all under layers and layers and layers, until you almost forgot it existed yourself. Yet, here Natasha was, digging and pushing everything aside, every layer, every excuse, every lie, baring herself right in front of her. "And I don't know if there's something after death, I don't...I don't remember anything from Vormir, I'm not even sure that counts. But if there is, I'll be right there waiting for you, whenever your turn might be. Anywhere, in any form, I don't care. I can assure you this, and I need you to believe it. Please." Natasha raised her eyes to look at her expectantly, hesitation written all over her face, but she was forcing her gaze to remain steady. Yelena pulled her hand away from the other's face and brought it up to her own eyes to hastily try and clear her vision. Then she nodded, her throat tight. Natasha's hands were now both around her other one again, and she felt them squeeze gently as the redhead let out a shaky sigh of relief. They were both quiet for a while, until, to Yelena's surprise, Natasha shifted a little uncomfortably and broke the silence once again, whispering like she was talking to herself.

"And you are not broken, because—"

She visibly swallowed, before settling on continuing.

"Because I'm not. Clint told me that, and he made it pretty clear."

Yelena frowned, looking at her questioningly.

Natasha met her gaze briefly.

"I—"

She cleared her voice, suddenly looking extremely self-conscious.

"Do you mind...do you want to lay down?"

Yelena felt like the other wouldn't be able to keep talking if they remained sitting face to face, so she nodded.

Whatever it was that she wanted to say must've been particularly personal, and the blonde felt a strange mix of eagerness and worry growing within herself.

Natasha seemed to appreciate her understanding, squeezing her hand one last time before letting go. She then pulled back and moved away, shifting on the bed until she was with her back against the wall, right at her side.

Yelena scooted forward and laid herself down, turning on her side so she could still look at Natasha, whose legs were once again stretched out in front of her.

The redhead eyed her appreciatively, before reaching down and starting to run her fingers through her hair, looking away.

Yelena closed her eyes at the feeling, drawing a little nearer and silently waiting for her to say something.

Finally, she heard her taking in a steadying breath.

"The first days after Steve took me back, I felt...constantly dazed, light-headed, not— not really okay. But everything was still blurry and confused, and I was so relieved to see you all again, to have you finally back, that I— I didn't care, I thought it was normal, I wanted to pretend that everything was fine."

Yelena looked up at her.

She was staring straight ahead, her gaze lost but focused.

"Then I started to feel more...more present, and it was okay, that was good, I thought...I thought I was okay."

Her voice wavered toward the end, the hand in Yelena's hair now still.

The blonde noticed that the hand in Natasha's lap had resumed its fidgeting, her fingers scratching and rubbing against each other in nervousness.

She brought up her own hand and placed it on top of them, making the movements coming to a stop.

After only a moment, Natasha took hold of it with both of hers and started to play gently with her fingers.

"But there were still times where I felt...distant, far away. Detached from where I was and what I was doing. I needed things to ground myself, to keep myself in the present, but that was not always...it didn't always work."

Yelena suddenly thought back to a few times when she had found Natasha to be acting a little strange.

The redhead would suddenly appear at her side out of nowhere, or draw closer to take her hand while not even looking in her direction, seemingly focused on something else.

A couple of times, she had even found herself unexpectedly wrapped in the other's arms — which had no apparent reason to be holding her that tightly — all the while not a word had been uttered from the both of them.

She had simply thought that after five years believing she was dead, Natasha sometimes needed to make sure that she was really there.

Maybe she was only partly right.

"And in those moments I felt— I felt wrong. Not necessarily about myself, but about everything else."

The redhead's hold tightened a little.

Yelena realized that she had been holding her breath and forced herself to let it go, trying to keep it under control.

"I was happy to be back, I really— but it all felt wrong. Like I didn't belong there."

After that, she went quiet.

Yelena glanced up at her and saw that her jaw was clenched, her posture grown stiff, while she was still staring into nothingness.

She found enough strength in herself to talk in a whisper.

"Why didn't you say anything?"

She already knew why. Of course she did.

But she still wanted to hear it.

Natasha took her time to breathe in and out, shutting her eyes.

"I didn't tell you, because I didn't want to upset you."

Here it was.

Yelena nodded even if she couldn't see her, pondering her words.

"Have you told someone?"

Natasha winced imperceptibly, her breath hitching.

"I...talked to Laura, one night. She had noticed something was off, and that time it was— I got really scared, I—"

Yelena shuffled closer and nudged the side of her leg with her nose and forehead, trying to convey that she wasn't mad.

That she understood.

The redhead seemed to relax a little, opening her eyes and flashing her an apologetic look.

"Then Clint got there too. They made me talk, they asked questions, they kept saying it was okay. And the more I talked, the more I felt...there. Like it was not only in my head anymore."

Yelena was not angry, nor disappointed. She just wished she could have done more.

"I'm glad you did. Talk to someone, I mean. That you have them."

She squeezed her hands briefly.

"And I'm proud of you for reaching out."

Natasha nodded slowly, getting back to tracing shapes and meaningless patterns on her hand and around her fingers.

"Sometimes I still feel like that, you know. Like I don't belong in the moment. But then I think about you, Clint and his family, Steve and the guys, and I...I really don't want to be anywhere else."

Yelena glanced up again and saw that she was now staring at her.

"And what do you do?"

A flicker of guilt flashed across Natasha's face, but this time she held her gaze.

"Usually I try to talk with Clint. It's— it's gotten better since I started doing it."

Yelena thought about it for a moment, and she could feel the redhead's piercing eyes searching her owns in growing distress.

Finally she resolved to hesitantly pose the very question that had been buzzing inside of her since the beginning.

"Will you...will you talk to me, too, next time?"

Natasha released a breath and some of the tension in her body with it, but she looked down at her uncertainly.

"I don't want to make you deal with this, you don't need to. I can—"

"But I want to."

She seemed taken aback by the abrupt interruption.

"I want to know what's going on in your mind, too."

Yelena was staring at her resolutely, hoping the other could see the seriousness and honesty behind her words, and accept them.

Accept her and let her in, too.

Natasha stared at her for a few moments, pondering silently.

"Okay."

The blonde blinked a couple of times in surprise at the quick response, then she broke into a little smile, before Natasha spoke again.

"But you'll have to let me help you through this, too."

The relief on her face rapidly faded away, and she frowned.

Of course that wouldn't have come without a negotiation.

But this, her...it was different.

She couldn't trust herself.

Natasha was still looking at her expectantly, and she couldn't hold her gaze any longer.

She slowly shook her head.

"I don't want to hurt you."

Natasha brought one hand back down to her hair and started combing through it, moving away the blonde locks that had fallen on her face.

"You won't. And we'll figure this out. Together."

Yelena rested her forhead against the side of her thigh and closed her eyes, huffing.

"You know this is not your fault, right?"

She felt her shifting slightly and instantly knew she was about to try and argue back.

"Yelena—"

"It's not. You don't need to make up for anything."

The other stayed quiet for a while, and she wondered if maybe this was the right time she could get it through her head.

But she started to think that it was an impossible task when she heard Natasha taking in a breath to speak again.

She would never stop trying, though.

"It will always be my fault, you cannot change that. But that's not why I want to do this."

Natasha could be very obstinate when she put her mind to something, no news here.

Right now, it was pointless to even try and talk some sense into her, and the blonde was way too exhausted for that.

Yelena shrugged and sighed.

"Yeah, have it your way. Then why are you so stubborn that—"

"Because I love you."

Yelena's eyes snapped open and her breath hitched at the naturalness in the redhead's tone.

It's not like it had been left unsaid between them, but it was still such a relatively new concept — for them both — that the way it had slipped out so easily from Natasha's lips this time had left her lost.

There was no reason for it, nothing special had happened, no tragic event or heartfelt reunion, and it definitely hadn't come out as a joke.

She had said it like it was the most obvious thing in the world, and it had felt...different.

But nice.

Like a dim warmth that softly spread and settled in under the surface, a steady consciousness slowly taking root.

She turned her head further against Natasha's leg to hide her dangerously crumbling expression and shiny eyes, lost for words and her throat tight.

The redhead held her head securely, pulling her closer without ceasing to stroke her hair and toying with the tips, her other hand still firmly grasping Yelena's.

Eventually, the blonde hesitantly let go of her hand in favor of grabbing the hem of Natasha's shirt, lightly tugging her down.

Her sister seemed to understand the message, pulling away a little and starting to reposition herself.

Yelena scooted back to give her more space to lie down, and waited until she was completely settled to shuffle nearer and lean her head against her shoulder.

Natasha shifted to make herself more comfortable, slipping one arm underneath the blonde's body and around her waist to pull her close, so that she was now tucked against her side.

A peaceful quiet filled the room once again as they were both lost in their own thoughts.

Yelena focused on the sensation of Natasha's fingers fiddling with the folds of her shirt, which had slightly wrinkled up from all the moving and turning.

She could hear her soft breaths just above her head, see the ribcage expand with each one of them right under the redhead's other arm, that was placidly resting on her stomach.

She fought the sudden urge to drape her own forearm over her chest to feel its regular raising and falling, opting instead to safely snuck it between their bodies, clasping it against herself.

She found it was easier now, laying here like this, to think back to the events of the night, so she took some time and did just that, the possibility of risking another episode not feeling so scary anymore.

It was then that she realized something.

"I think...I blacked out because I felt safe enough to do so."

And it was true.

She had never allowed herself to shut off everything around her since being freed from the mind control, there was no safe place for her to do it.

She wasn't ready to trust the world, and maybe she would never be.

But she could try and trust Natasha.

The redhead let out a soft hum in acknowledgement, then she reached to take her hand in hers, gently extricating it to bring it up to her lips and press a quick kiss on her fingers, before holding it to her chest.

"I would be lying if I said you didn't scare me...but now I know, and I'm here, we're both here, so that's the only thing I care about."

Yelena felt a twinge of pain at remembering those first months after being blipped back, and she wondered if that was how Natasha had felt for five whole years.

She lightly clutched the fabric under her hand, feeling her sister's steady heartbeat beneath her palm.

Guilt and shame resurfaced once again within her, as she thought about the state she had let herself be found in by the redhead.

"Maybe...maybe I should have said something, I'm sorry. It's just—"

"You don't need to explain anything, it's okay. I mean, I would have preferred to know sooner, but you did what it felt right to you, and that is enough for me."

Yelena frowned, peering up at her and lowering her voice.

"Yeah, but I made you worry."

"Stop that, I can assure you, I've had worse."

Saying this, Natasha tightened her hold around her, and the blonde quietened, knowing precisely what she was talking about.

She finally let go of the redhead's shirt and wrapped her arm securely around her middle, Natasha's now free hand moving up to her shoulder and absently starting to play with her sleeve.

The soft rumbles of the occasional cars passing down the streets had become even more sporadic now, and there was mostly silence around them.

Yelena was almost starting to consider closing her eyes and let herself be lulled by it, before it was suddenly broken by Natasha's soft whisper.

"I was thinking..."

She instantly pushed aside any proposition of sleep, moving her chin above the other's shoulder to give her her undivided attention.

Natasha wasn't looking at her, focused on a spot on the ceiling.

"If we're to do this...this helping-eachother thing, if we are— I mean, it could be a great excuse to find ourselves in the same city, in the same place more...often..."

She trailed off, swallowing and not adding anything else, leaving the next move to Yelena, whose eyebrows had drawn together in confusion.

She wasn't exactly sure about where the redhead was trying to go with this.

"You mean like...spend more time together?"

Natasha huffed and let out a soft chuckle that reverberated under Yelena's body, slowly shaking her head.

"Yeah, I suppose...if you're okay with it, and when you have time of course. I just want—"

She faltered and then abruptly stopped, making the blonde grow curious.

She tilted her head a little to try having a better look at her face, noticing the hint of nervousness that had appeared in her expression as the other shifted her gaze on everything in the room but her.

"You want what?"

Natasha froze and glanced at her briefly, before sighing in defeat and uttering her next words tentatively.

"I would like to spend as much time as I can with you."

Yelena stared at her wordlessly, trying to decipher the seriousness behind her statement and assessing the level of commitment that was being implied.

Maybe taking her silence as reluctancy, Natasha went on to explain further, still averting her gaze, but with a determination that wasn't there before.

"Like we said, we've already lost a lot of time. And I was wrong thinking it would be better to separate you and my Avenger-life. So far, it did nothing in keeping you safer or giving you any sense of normalcy."

She took a deep breath, before turning her head a little to meet the blonde's eyes as best she could.

"I'm not making the same mistake twice."

Yelena swallowed hard, trying to keep in check her own emotions and keep her thoughts rational.

"But...what about the Avengers? And the Bartons, and...?

Natasha eyed her with genuine curiousity.

"What about them?"

Now she was really tempted to think that the redhead was messing with her.

Was it really not obvious?

Was she missing something?

She looked at her skeptically.

"I mean...aren't they your family? Shouldn't you be there for them? Stay with them?"

She saw her expression relaxing a bit as realization settled in behind Natasha's eyes, feeling her whole body suddenly untensing under hers.

The redhead considered it for a moment, then stared at Yelena with a dept that sent shivers down her spine.

"They are, but...at the end of the day, they have their own families. Just like I have you."

She hesitated for only a second.

"We're family, no?"

She had tried to ask it lightheartedly, in an attempt to partially get rid of the solemnity from before, but it was clearly coated with slight uncertainty and a nervous hopefulness.

Yelena blinked in shock at her words, taking it all in.

When it became evident that Natasha was waiting for an actual answer from her — and that she was definitely not joking — she set her jaw, turning her face and shifting a little to bury it in the crook of the redhead's neck, breathing out.

"Yeah."

Natasha let out a little sigh of relief, pulling her closer and almost drawing half of her body on top of herself.

She let her, sinking in the embrace and abandoning herself to the feeling of not having to be ready to fight at any given moment for once.

Of letting someone else look out for her.

It almost felt wrong, getting rid of that weight, but it felt too good to actually be wrong.

"What did I even do to deserve this?"

Natasha shrugged, starting to lightly draw one of her hands across her back, her fingers ghosting over those spots where she knew the blonde wore some of her worst scars.

"You just had to be yourself."

After a beat, Yelena let out a huff in mild disbelief, trying to hide away by pushing her face further against her. "That's sappy." But she couldn't help the smile that formed on her lips as she heard a short, quiet laugh resonating in the redhead's throat, before Natasha rested a cheek against her temple. "Sometimes sappy is fine." Yelena thought about it. She turned slightly to press her nose under her jaw and closed her eyes, taking a deep breath. Yeah, she could live with that. For the first time in maybe forever, there was nothing to worry about, nothing that couldn't be dealt with in the morning. And she wouldn't be alone this time. In a random and small apartment, far away from Russia, far away from America, she was feeling the safest she ever had, like nothing could touch — or even get near — her, and that for a while she could just be. Letting a few minutes ticking by, she noted that Natasha's breaths were starting to become longer and slower. Moving cautiously, she placed a final kiss on the redhead's neck before trying to make herself more comfortable, shuffling a little down her body to go rest her head right under Natasha's collarbone. She liked falling asleep like this, pressed against the redhead's chest, the prickling of the fabric of an old SHIELD t-shirt turned into sleepwear against her skin, keeping her grounded, with the heartbeat directly below her ear as a reminder that her sister was here, alive. And she knew that Natasha, even though she never said it out loud, found deeply soothing finally being able to hold her like this, to feel her tangible and real — there between her arms, after five years spent picturing the blonde crumble into a pile of ashes somewhere unknown, like her friends and half of the universe had done just in front of her. Yelena nuzzled her nose against her shirt, taking back her focus only on the present. She was here, and she was okay. Natasha was here, with her, and she was okay, too. Nothing else mattered. As her eyes were slowly sliding closed, she suddenly remembered something, something she needed to say. She whispered as quietly as she could, trying not to disturb the warm stillness around them, the words coming out slightly muffled from were she was pressed against the redhead. "I love you too, by the way." Nothing happened for a few seconds, and she was already mentally noting to repeat it in the morning, when Natasha shifted sleepily and bent a little to place a kiss on the top of her head. Repositioning herself, she adjusted her arms around Yelena, as she nestled better into her, and she slowly started running her fingers up and down her spine. Yelena sighed and closed her eyes, this time allowing herself to easily drift off. She was finally home. They both were.

  Did you know I'd run all day

  Just to maybe hear you say

  That you are falling too

[fatedmus3s]

Questioning Identities

Summary: Natalia's revelation is certainly driving the Winter Soldier up the wall. What is he supposed to do with that information and how will their relationship change now that the cat's out of the bag? More importantly, will they be able to stay on mission with this sudden turmoil?

Word Count: 7,568 words

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8

'Meet me at the annex now for the start of groceries.'

He sent her a message on their phones for the mission, groceries being coded for their missions to start. He wound up there early, waiting for her. She did come, of course.

But as much as he'd told himself to focus only on the mission...his thoughts could not be turned off the entire time since she left.

He was as focused on this answer as any mission.

He needed to know. To know if there had been someone in him before... before all the emptiness. If there was something more to him. It was eating away at him. 

She got close and he moved to intercept her, trying to appear casual to lingering eyes. But his steps were heavy, purposeful, and his eyes held a murderous gaze. One he hadn't directed towards her before... At least not since he'd taken her on as his personal charge.

He leaned down to peck her cheek for the cover, then leaned into her ear. His voice was as cold as his namesake, except for the angry hiss that accompanied it.

"Do you really know what you said?"  He asked her pointedly. His metal hand, hidden under the leather glove, wrapped tightly around her wrist, the fingers digging into her skin to keep her in place. Any harder and he'd break her wrist entirely. "Is that my name, or is it a hoax?"

Did he really have one? Even if she was only suspecting it... perhaps it could be true. Or maybe she was so stubborn to make her case she spun a quick lie. He hoped he was making it very clear he wasn't going to accept a lie and she ought to be very careful with her answer. Part of him knew he wouldn't hurt Natalia, but it was buried deep under the deadly fire of the Winter Soldier at the moment.

Natalia walked in the cold, frustrated by the man. She didn't care that it appeared to be cruel to leave after revealing such a thing, but she couldn't help herself. She was frustrated and it was the best for their covers. She would fight him back if he attempted to hurt her. She might not stand long, but she still would keep her head long enough to cause some severe injuries. The redhead enjoyed the chill air on her skin, which helped her calm down and keep her distance. She had done too much to stay out of it entirely, though.

The redhead arrived as discussed. Her steps were light and almost made no noise. She watched him from afar for a moment before stepping closer again. He had spotted her and he walked towards her. It was different than usual. It was typically directed at his targets and she had seen it before. Perhaps she should have been scared, but she wasn't. This was what she had wanted - not directed towards her. But it seemed like he was finally starting to ask questions.

His fingers dug into her skin and she was sure it would leave bruises. But she didn't flinch even though the pain pulsed from her wrist through her arm and hand. But simply met his eyes with a cold stare of her own. She knew what would come with him thinking that she might be lying even though it wasn't one. 

<"Let go off my wrist! You want answers and I have them. Just ask the right questions for once!"> she hissed at him, almost sounding like she was ordering him around and continued <"We both know I last through torture, so stop this, now! If you break my wrist, you have lost your chance to get information from me. I give those to you voluntarily because I do want to help you. But don't get on my bad side, Soldier! I don't care for my wrist; it will heal. But it might benefit us both to stay civil over this. I understand that this is important to you. But I won't give you more if you keep threatening me, Winter.">

Natalia held his gaze for a moment, trying to figure out if he was finally starting to ask the right questions or any question at all. Finally, she attempted to pull her wrist from his metal arm.

"It took you long enough. But yes, that's your real name, James," she whispered truthfully and added, "I'm not that cruel. Have you never wondered why responding to that name comes so naturally? I tried telling you that I have answers before, but you're not listening to what I'm saying one bit! So I had to make a point and believe me one thing: You're really frustrating, James."

His eyes harshened as she hissed; she shouldn't speak in Russian now. It would endanger the mission if overheard. It was a distinct language. But his focus could only last there so long. His teeth grated as she threatened the information to be kept from him. Sure she could last a while, but he could... he shook those thoughts. It was ridiculous to even think it; he wouldn't torture Natalia.

"It was not a threat," He said low, but he couldn't put much conviction into it. It had been a threat. "I would not have broken your wrist," He said honestly. He knew the pressure needed to break bones, and he wouldn't have. 

She put a light pressure on her wrist to break free and he released his grip entirely and lowered his arm. His face twisted as she called him James, looking down at her with desperation. His blue eyes cleared and his iris returned to their average size. No, he supposed she wasn't so cruel. He caught her gaze sharply again as she said that... no, he didn't wonder, just assumed he was a good enough spy too.

But it was easy, wasn't it? He wasn't simply imagining it.... it was easy to respond to when people called for him. He looked searchingly at her, trying to put these pieces together. He still couldn't remember anything... but did he need to? If he had a name, if that did mean something to him... if something had been there, then it could still be there as Natalia was, with that fire, even if he did not remember. It shouldn't be a relief and yet it was.

Slowly his usual smirk pulled up one corner of his mouth as she told him he was frustrating. That James was frustrating. It seemed so foreign to think... but knowing he had one felt like a relief. Of course, the comfort felt wrong; still, he knew he shouldn't care for any of this when standing ready for a mission.... but he couldn't stop that suddenly.

"Well," He said, measured. Amusement returned to his voice and he finally took a step back from her, getting out of her space. "I suppose I am that."

He glanced up at a car pulling into the lot. He recognized it as his target and swiftly put his arm around her waist to steer her around and into the building so they could be there first.

"Let's do our shopping, Natalie," He said pointedly to her. This could wait until later if needed; the mission needed to be his priority.

Natalia simply rose her eyebrow at him as soon as he declared that he hadn't threatened her. She knew better than to believe him on this one. The redhead knew the difference between a threat and an empty one.

Her gaze quickly went to her wrist as he let go of it. Just a moment, the pain could be seen on her face as she carefully moved her wrist. Of course, Natalia was aware that he knew how much strength he needed to break someone's bones. Yet she wanted to make sure. So despite her own threat, she would've still given him information about himself. Of course, it belonged to him, but her trust would've been broken and that would've caused a completely different dynamic between the two.

Once his gaze was captured by hers, she brought her injured arm up and placed her hand gently on his cheek. "I'm here..." she whispered truthfully. To bystanders, it might look like she caressed her husband's cheek. But in truth, she simply wanted to assure him that she would be there for comfort and help.

His smirk made her relax again. She tensed up once he grabbed her wrist and threatened her. Natalia hadn't even realized that she had been ready to fight him with the slightest movement. But his smile reassured her that there wouldn't be any attacks from his side. Things were more or less back to normal. She was reassured as he took a step back.

Not even a minute later, he wrapped his arm around her and forced her toward the supermarket. It took her by surprise and caused her almost to land a punch against his jaw to dislocate it. She tensed within minutes, but she spotted the car from the corner of her eyes. It was the only thing that made her falter and relax again. They were back on mission.

The redhead wrapped her arm around his back and entered the supermarket with him. "We should buy some plums and other fruits... I cannot ruin those as long as they're fresh," she suggested, at least buying something useful for them.

She seemed to relax while he only tightened up. It was natural; he'd simply unwound after their short-lived confrontation and now had to return his focus where necessary. This was critical to the success of a quiet mission. That was why he forced his muscles to unbind and his gait slow. He knew he needed to seem as relaxed as Natalia was right now.

"You're in charge," He said, looking down at her with a nod. Of course, it could just be talk, but it was true; this was where she needed to put her expertise. To get them where they needed to be to convince the targets into a friendship so they could be eliminated.

Natalia looked over to the car shortly and tried her best to appear relaxed. Given the Winter Soldier's reaction, she was successful. She tried her best to force the tension out of her body, but her mind stayed tense. Her gaze went to his covered metal arm as her mind remained with the potential threat from her fake husband. His prior actions had shown her that she wasn't safe from his threats no matter what he had tried to reassure her. Her mind stayed alarmed even though her body seemed relaxed.

By the first chance she received, Natalia removed her arm from him and moved out of his arm's embrace. This seemed to relieve her more as she grabbed a basket. 

"What do you want to have for dinner, darling?" she asked him casually and walked over to the fruits to get some of them. It was the only thing they would be able to purchase without having to throw them away later on. She stood before the plums, seemingly minding her own business, but she watched from the corner of her eye to see whether their targets entered the shop or not.

A few minutes later, Natalia had collected some plums as their targets entered the supermarket. She looked towards the Winter Soldier, wondering when they should approach them without it seeming to be awkward. Natalia scanned the shop to see if she could spot a place where she could approach the wife. Perhaps she could ask for her advice on some mundane things like detergent. That sounded like a good idea. Just asking for opinions. The only thing that would need to happen is them stopping at such an aisle.

She walked over to the Winter Soldier and looked at him. "Anything else you would like?" she asked him, sounding happy and continued just above a whisper "We should ask them for an opinion about some random things... People like talking about their opinion and it might not come off creepy." She looked at him and linked her arm with his to pull him away from the fruits. Her mind was away from what had just happened and set on how to approach the married couple.

Natalia strolled through the aisles, taking out random things they seemed to like. She kept being near the couple and eventually saw her chance to approach the wife. She thought talking to a woman would be easier than engaging the husband. But, of course, that would be the Winter Soldier's task. After all, they shared common interests and the same working space. So it should be easier for them, or at least for James, to engage his boss.

She walked up to the man and wife and stood close to the woman. Natalia reached for a bottle of red wine and acted to read its label like she would be interested if it fits for dinner. Eventually, she wanted to place the bottle of wine back on the shelf. But it slipped out of her hand and fell to the ground. 

The glass broke and the red liquid spilled over the ground onto her pants and the woman. Natalia stood there flabbergasted and started apologizing, embarrassed "I'm so sorry! I.. The bottle slipped out of my hand." The woman seemed displeased and cursed. She stepped away from the mess and looked angry at Natalia. 

"Oh goodness, I'm so sorry. Of course I will pay for the dry cleaning!" Natalia spoke and looked at her target, hoping he would interfere and offer dinner as an apology.

"Okay," He nodded and walked with her to the store. Every once in a while, he'd glance at the large mirrors in the corner of the store and around the aisles to make sure no one was stealing to keep track of where they were. Eventually, Natalia naturally led them into the same corridor.

She looked over the wine selection and the Soldier slowly followed Natalia with the cart of things they had already picked up. He glanced over, seeing the master sergeant's eyes wander from what his wife showed him. He decided it was best to stay just behind Natalia as she looked pretty convincingly through the wine.

The movement made the target glance back at him on instinct.

"Sir," The Soldier nodded respectfully and it took a moment for the target to place him, but then he stepped back towards the Soldier with a loose smile.

"Private," He responded and took a measured step back from his wife.  "Your day off too?"

Good, he liked to converse. 

"Yes, and the wife wanted to make dinner for it," He shrugged and the Sergeant broke a slight smile; he shared a knowing look with the Soldier. From watching him thus far, he knew he took many opportunities to complain about his wife with his fellow sergeants. So the Soldier leaned in closer to the sergeant and lowered his voice, "If it was my choice, I'd just pull out the beer and skip all this," The Soldier said under his breath. It received a short but hearty laugh from the sergeant.

"Me too," He said and took another few steps back from his wife and Natalia. "But you know women, they've got to make it all just so so or it's a real war."

He made himself laugh at the mostly offensive joke, and he tried to gauge if this was going well or not. The sudden crash in front of them caused both men to jump; well, the sergeant jumped and he pretended to. Natalia spilt apologies and it must have been a new work if her cover of friendly chit-chat hadn't worked with the woman. He wondered if he should react to protect Natalia from the curses, but the way the target rolled his eyes, he decided to stay put.

"Now, now, ladies," The target said mightily. "No use crying over spilt milk, right dear?" He spoke to his wife and made a rather apparent jerking motion with his eyes back to where the Soldier stood with a glare. He didn't want to be embarrassed, good.

"Are you alright?" He asked Natalia and came up behind her. He was hoping she'd just act upset at being yelled at. But if he could pick up on it, then Natalia must have two steps ago. "You can just send me the bill, sir, it's-" He started, molding his tone to be apologetic. It didn't work as well as he wanted, but it was a start.

"Don't worry about it, I know I make more than you do, and it's just some silly clothing," The target assured, looking quite proud of himself for mastering the situation. The Soldier paid him with a grateful smile and a nod, and his wife beside him sulked a little.

"Well, let us do something at least," The soldier encouraged, so Natalia could offer to make the couple dinner.

Natalia mainly had decided on this new way as a Plan B. She wasn't sure if inviting them in a friendly way would work. But offering such a thing from bad consciousness would be easier. Still, they would have the opportunity to see them again and end things if they were to pay for the bill.

She looked at the Winter Soldier and simply nodded as he asked her if she was alright. Natalia didn't seem upset about being yelled at but embarrassed about her clumsiness. The redhead refrained from apologizing even more but gave up on that part. Instead, she smiled thankful at the male target and mouthed a quick thank you for stepping in. It seemed to suit the man's ego, who seemed proud of himself for successfully stepping between the two women.

"Oh yes! James is right," she chimed in with a gentle smile and looked at the soldier before continuing, "Please come for dinner. It's the least we could do after this incident." She looked hopeful at the married couple, but the wife quickly responded "I'm afraid we don't have time today." 

"Perhaps not today but tomorrow evening sounds great. Right, love?" the Sergeant interfered, gave his wife a pointed gaze. and indiscreetly nodded over to James. 

"Of course..." the wife gave in disgruntled.

To Natalia, it seemed like he didn't want to get embarrassed in front of the public. It would be enough for them to act friendly and civilly. Some well-placed compliments the following evening would be enough to become somewhat friends. It would be more than enough for them to finish this mission without much drama.

 "Fantastic! Then it'll be tomorrow evening!" Natalia spoke happily with a smile. It would give them a day to plan everything and have things ready.

James.... he refocused with a hard mental kick. This mission was proving to hold many tricky kinks. He nodded his approval as she looked at him and the target smiled. He nodded firmly back with a smirk which the target immensely enjoyed as he patted his wife's shoulder when she finally agreed.

Good. That was close enough to the plan. It would be easy to work with to the point of time in which they would be killed quietly.

It was decided and he and the master sergeant said their goodbyes before they grabbed an attendant to help with the wine and bought the groceries.

The Soldier couldn't help but feel an awkwardness to the silence as they walked back. Naturally they wouldn't talk of the mission in such an unsecured place and the mission was enough small talk but in the quiet now, he could feel Natalia's tension. 

She was wary. Clearly, it would be because of him. Because of his earlier anger. Did he lack her trust now? Or was she simply still angry?

It was difficult to process correctly and even more difficult to process that it bothered him so much. That it nagged at him and made him question everything. He shouldn't care about Natalia's thoughts or how she acted towards him.

They stepped through the house and he decided to help with the groceries. He tried to determine why he cared. Easily an answer could be because he'd made it his mission to train her, to make sure she was efficient and dedicated. But she was all those things and more that she made of herself. That mission was over.

The more he mulled it over, the more he knew it was because.... she was the only person he'd encountered to treat him like he was one... a person. She thanked him, held him in a certain regard, asked questions about him and went as far as to somehow find his name. To look for a person beneath the weapon he was. It was all so strange and foreign, not what he should care about. He knew that because it wasn't about the mission or the state.

He tried not to, but the silence wounded him and made her put away the bread so she'd need to stretch to reach it. Just so he could spy her wrist as her sleeve fell back loosely.

A wave of... he was pretty sure it must be guilt; the alien feeling of shame weighed him down a little. He realized he'd bruised her wrist earlier.

While she'd busied herself setting the fruit up in a bowl, the Soldier grabbed a rag and went into the freezer to get some ice. He twisted the rag around it and swiftly turned before he made himself walk extra slowly to her since her back was to him.

Gently as he could, he reached out without hesitation with his metal arm to grasp her forearm and tug it towards him. He didn't leave enough room for her to pull away. Instead he tugged her sleeve up with his right hand and placed the rag filled with ice onto the top of her wrist where a bruise from his thumb was starting to show on her skin.

He grimaced, and now that he'd done that, his grip fell off of her forearm; instead, he simply held the rag to her wrist. He finally glanced up to meet her face, although he didn't quite want to meet her gaze. There was an apologetic frown etched across his face as he took in her own hesitantly now. He didn't know if she'd accept the gesture. To be honest, he hadn't entirely realized he'd hurt her; grabbing her wrist had seemed like such an insignificant action on his part, far from anything violent by his standards, but the bruises he spied somewhat corrected that thought.

Natalia walked with him and tried perhaps too hard to appear relaxed as she actually tensed up again with him being alone with her. Her senses were aware of his presence. She was ready to use anything as a weapon against the man next to her. She wasn't sure if she was dealing with the Soldier or her mentor, Winter. It was weird to think, but to her two personalities were inside his body. One that was much gentler and cared more than the other. That one was plain deadly and people used that as a weapon. She grasped the concept and could see that it would come in handy but was still cruel in a way.

Once at home, she searched for the first best excuse to leave the shared living area. All she wanted to do was inspect her bruised wrist and get away. Just for the evening to sort her thoughts on the whole ordeal of what had happened. In truth, she didn't trust him less, but his action toward her had pained her in a way she wasn't used to. She placed the bread away and desperately tried to keep the sleeve over the bruise. But it slipped down anyway. All Natalia wanted was to keep her physical indication of how much he hurt her to herself. It was the only defense she had and it was foolish. But as long as the enemy didn't know how much they hurt her, she was able to live on. The thought shocked her. Was she seeing Winter as her enemy now? No, not him but perhaps the Winter Soldier. He had proved he would use the force against her in his rage.

Standing with her back to him, she once again was hyper-aware of her surroundings: Listening to his steps and what he was doing. She needed longer than necessary to set the fruits in a bowl. To her, it seemed like she was trying to make a piece of art out of it, but in truth, she was concentrating on the man's steps. Finally, he came closer and she stood unnaturally still as she secretly looked around for what she could use as a weapon.

Her breathing increased almost not noticeably as adrenaline rushed in. She was ready to fight, but his actions caught her by surprise. He took her forearm and placed something on the forming bruise. Even let go of her forearm. She looked at the gesture in confusion and suddenly became somewhat fidgety. The adrenaline needed to be released, but she still stood unnaturally still in front of her. He could feel him study her face, which she tried to keep blank from confusion. Natalia didn't meet his gaze but kept looking at the rag, which must contain ice.

She felt the guilt of her own now. It had been a simple gesture, but she still thought he would do something else. Her guilt made her look down at the rag rather than at him. Natalia didn't know where the sudden distrust came from. Perhaps him holding her wrist had hurt her emotionally more than she was ready to admit. Her whole body language screamed that at her, but she still wasn't prepared to admit it to herself.

Eventually, Natalia looked up, though. Her face tried its best to remove guilt and confusion but instead seemed more like a mask than relaxed muscles. She knew this was some kind of apology based on how he looked at her and she nodded curtly, still not removing her arm from the ice of taking the rag from him. 

<"Thank you.."> she mumbled and Natalia relaxed a little. Her whole body didn't feel as tense anymore, but instead, the tension was replaced by fatigue. She leaned against the table with her hip and took the rag from him. Natalia held her arm long enough that he knew she accepted the gesture, but eventually, her arm grew tired and they wouldn't need to stand awkwardly together.

He felt... unhappy again, or... let down, maybe was the word for it. Like a target slipping away, except it had nothing to do with a mission. Disappointed? He ought to know it wasn't that easily fixed. Whatever 'it' was. Just the air around them, he'd been watching her closely and wasn't sure what he was seeing or what he thought he saw anymore.

She took the rag from him and thanked him and he found himself wondering what to do with his hands now. He looked over and grabbed a piece of fruit from the bowl she'd just made up. He rolled the plum in between his hands for something to do. He felt the need for action, but what he could do here was beyond him.

"I... didn't think I was hurting you," He said honestly, shocked by the tone of his voice. It didn't sound like him; all the gravel and roughness were gone. He wasn't sure he knew how to make it as soft as it had come out. But it was emotional, hesitant and shamed. He looked down, a little angry with his state and looked back up at her more decidedly and spoke plainly. <"I wouldn't hurt you, Natalia."> He insisted.  <"I don't want you to think I will now."> 

He didn't know what this was; he knew it shouldn't be there. But she... was a friend. A friend to him and he suddenly realized he didn't want her to become like the others; he desperately didn't want Natalia to stop seeing something other than the Winter Soldier. He truly believed that she was the reason something different from the Soldier was there. That... that this man, James, with a soft voice and a name, existed so suddenly.

Natalia was about to slip away as he spoke to her. She looked at him, unsure of what to think about his statement. His voice was unusual and she looked at him in surprise. She didn't know why but it made her relax more. There was something about it and she knew he was not lying to her. But she couldn't place what it was.

Slowly she nodded. "It's okay, Winter..." she said eventually and nodded. Her voice didn't lead on whether she knew he lied or not. She listened to him quietly and noted how his voice changed. Natalia sighed and looked at him. Somehow she trusted that gentle voice more than that controlled one. She looked down at her wrist and moved the ice a little. Natalia looked at him.

She listened to him quietly as he went on in Russian. Then, finally, her gaze went back to him and she sighed. <"I know that you wouldn't hurt me..."> she eventually told him and nodded. Natalia seemed to relax even more and found herself surprised how easily she forgave him or still seemed to trust him. Of course, she would've not trusted every other person, but he seemed different.

He didn't know what to make of her surprise. If he did, he might move to action. But, on the other hand, she was quiet and watchful and he wasn't wholly convinced that she did believe him. She was looking at the ice and maybe making up her mind?

He supposed it was just that simple. That he'd need to wait and find out. She didn't seem to want to run from him or the room. Perhaps it was progress. Maybe he needed to take that. He stopped looking at her now and instead busied himself washing the plum off and then taking a bite from it.

Still, something bothered him.... he looked down. Maybe it was his name. She'd said it was his after all. Shouldn't the only person whose opinion, apparently, mattered use it? But he didn't want to scare her away and that dark part of his mind knew this was dangerous. If they wanted him to have a name, he would have it. They would give him one if it was necessary for him to have one.

And yet...this errant part of him yearned for her to use it and have it. It was all dangerous, yet he still stole another glance at her and the words tumbled from his mouth in English.

"You could call me James..." He said quietly in that same emotional voice. It was almost like he was asking instead of offering. He meant her. Natalia, and to him, not as a cover but... just as himself. Not winter or soldier. Yet he knew that if anyone ever heard such a thing or could hear him or his thoughts now, he would be punished. Punished in the worst of ways.

Natalia looked at him. She wasn't sure what to make out of the current situation. It was simply awkward. None of what she had been trained in made sense in this. She looked at him and moved the tag again.

She looked at him and wanted to speak, but he was first. Natalia looked at him and mumbled, "James..." It rolled from her tongue and felt strange. Despite knowing it was his name, it felt odd. He was her Winter, not James, but she was simply used to it. She'd grow used to his name as well. The redhead smiled gently at him and nodded "Thank you, Wi...James. Do you like that name?" 

She marveled over the name and decided that she thought it fitted this gentler personality. Natalia strolled over to him and gently placed her hand on his upper arm. 

"I know this is kinda odd... But I still trust you. I do know that you wouldn't really injure me," she spoke and her voice grew more serious. Once said, she knew it was the truth. This wasn't how she had imagined things to go. It was simply different and she should've foreseen this to come. "I probably shouldn't have left you without talking. But I was frustrated and needed space. Yet it was a lot to take in," she said apologetically. This was the closest thing to an apology for leaving him alone with that.

She said it, facing him and it seemed so odd. In a way that made momentary excitement rush through him.

"I like having one," He admitted at her question. He wanted to thank her for the information but decided that would only make it her fault if having one ended wrong. So it was better left unsaid. Then the struggle with the statement showed on his face. He should not care. Part of him felt very wrong for discussing it like this, and then part of him decided he didn't care. It didn't impede his mission in any way, and that was his purpose, to fulfill the mission, not please his handlers.

Natalia set her hand on his arm and he looked down and then back to her face. She did so to reassure him... he assumed, as she insisted he did still have that. He thought it was the strangest thing of all to declare trust vocally. But... he supposed he did trust her, too, with certain things that needed to be gone about gently. Again, he didn't know how to reply.

He reached out and waved his hand quickly. "Do not apologize, Natalia," He insisted; this was done for him. She had helped him. "I don't want details. But... you're not in danger over this... are you?" He asked, an eyebrow-raising. That he did need to know. Did he need to predict any trouble and try to get them around it? He'd thought of it earlier, first... that she didn't get this sort of information quickly. How she even did, the Soldier was sure he shouldn't know.

Natalia smiled at him as soon as he mentioned that he liked having one. She couldn't imagine how it was not having one. Somehow a name was part of one's personality and character. So it was hard to imagine and might also be hard for him. She looked down at the ground before meeting his gaze. "It's strangely fitting the name... even though I liked Winter as well. It has grown to me.", she told him with a gentle smile.

His worry made her feel both amused and guilty. He had no idea how much trouble this might cause her and she intended to keep it that way.

"Trouble is my second name..." she joked and continued "Don't worry about it. Keep the knowledge close to you and don't let anyone know, James. No matter what happens. Promise me." 

Natalia looked suddenly really serious as she had no idea what would happen if anyone found out that he knew his name again…

"Call me what you wish," He smiled; after all, she created this. Found it, whichever words fit. If she wanted to, he wouldn't protest. He simply preferred having a name to be called by. Who else would, if not Natalia?

He gave her a reproaching look as she joked about it. He'd been earnest about that. His smile faltered and he knew that he could not promise her that. No matter what happened, he couldn't. He had proved his ability to go around a subject if need be... But if they sat him down, demanded his compliance and asked the right questions... he knew deep down the Winter Soldier would comply. He wouldn't promise her something he couldn't. He also didn't want to scare her by laying it out like that. He didn't really want her to understand everything about him.

"I will keep it close and they won't ask such things, quiet your worries," He decided to say and as long as these things didn't get in the way of his mission, that part of his mind that grabbed hold of him sometimes would not be compelled to do anything about it. So he was always careful of that; he had been this far, which hadn't changed because of this.

"It'll be James then. Just not used to having a name to call you, by Mister Soldier," she said with a gentle smile. She recalled one of their first days when she had asked him about a name. He hadn't told her one but to call him Soldier. It made her chuckle and smile in fondness. Even back then, she had secretly liked him. He had made an effort to save her life after all. Natalia had grown accustomed to calling him Winter and would get used to James. After all, she grew used to names pretty quickly because of her missions. Nothing was worse than failing one's mission because of a minor mistake. It mostly had the targets questioning. Well, at least they had told Natalia during her time at the Red Room.

She could see his smile falter and knew he had issues promising her this. He might try to hide it, but she knew him better than he thought. The file had given her an understanding of how the Winter Soldier worked. But years of training with him had given her an insight into his private side. If he liked it or not, they were friends. She might not understand the file fully and still needed to find out which parts were authentic and which were false, but she had an understanding of what was going on.

"I'm not worried about me, James," she told him truthfully and continued "But for you. For what they will do, if they..." 

Natalia looked at him in a way that she might know more than she actually led on. If he was as bright as she thought him to be, he would've figured out that she had more information about this man called James Buchanan Barnes. But, of course, she knew they wouldn't ask those questions yet. But sooner or later, the people in the Red Room would catch on that something was off. That they're too close. They might put up with their friends because of their teacher and student bond but nothing more.

He let out a short, breathy laugh as she addressed him as mister soldier. Natalia's smile, as usual, was contagious. He was glad she chose to call him James, though he could only assume that Natalia understood in a way. She probably understood better than he did.

His frown pulled harder as she pressed. He reached out without thinking and cupped the side of her face to reassure her. "I am too valuable to be killed," He said, his voice firm but resigned. He would be punished, yes, but he was used to that. Perhaps he would have to face the cold he dreamt of, but the Winter Soldier was their tool, and they wouldn't get rid of him. It was never over for him.

He lowered his hand then. "I know how they want their soldier, Natalia," He said very quietly and his eyes spoke more than his words in this case. He knew how to hide things from them; she did not need to worry. It was worth the risk to have something like a name.

Natalia looked at him as he placed his hand on her cheek. Despite him trying to reassure her, she couldn't help but worry. She wasn't even sure where that worry came from, but she still did. The redhead looked at him and hoped he was right about how valuable he was. After all of them were disposable and the Red Room had girls in line to become one of the Black Widows. But perhaps he was right. The Winter Soldier was different. They had invested in him and a way to control the Winter Soldier.

She nodded quietly and gave him a smile. She was aware that it was worth a name and more information. That's why she offered to help him and told him so. Everyone deserves to know who they were, unlike what others thought.

"Just be careful, James," she told him and reached for his hand. She squeezed his hand gently before rereleasing it. Natalia turned to the sink and placed the ice inside while moving the rag to dry. Unfortunately, the ice was freezing her fingers by now instead of helping against the bruises on her wrist.

"Just remember that there's more to it than a name. A name comes with a personality and backstory. You might not like all the things to be discovered,"she told him with a friendly smile. But her eyes seemed almost sad. Natalia wouldn't push on it, but she still wanted him to know there was more. If anything, what she wanted from this was for him to start thinking like a spy. To question the information he was given. Even if that meant questioning the motives behind orders or higher-ups.

He nodded to her, but she seemed to end the conversation and he watched her turn to the sink for a moment before he looked down to the fruit still in his hand. He twisted it around one more time before taking a bite. He could at least take that. Things seemed normal once more.

Of course, this was Natalia, so that was not all she had to say. A dark expression passed through his face and he was glad she faced the sink and not him at first. She turned as she spoke to smile, although it did not reach her eyes.

That was dangerous. Maybe all this was a little, but that was more than just some. There was the option that there was more than a simple name behind what Natalia found. It was unlikely; if it were, it was likely a boring tale of a simple life before any of this. He wasn't entirely off the rails to wish for that information, and the Soldier was happy to simply have something to call himself. His loyalties were still to the state; he was still ready to comply, to seek their glory.

He studied her face for a while, his own blank as his thoughts were as he finished the plum. But he did not know, or have, anything to say to it. It was like something just shut off in him when he thought about it and he focused on the task of finishing his fruit.

Natalia was with her back to James. She hadn't tensed anymore, but something made her hair stand on end. She couldn't tell what it was, but her instincts told her it had something to do with how he looked at her. She took her time before turning around, trying to sound casual and relaxed.

She kept smiling even though he didn't reply to her statement. She stepped closer and studied her face again before leaning forward and pecking his cheek. 

"Really be careful and don't worry about me!" she whispered like she was afraid that their "home" was bugged. She smiled gently and yawned a little. "I'm going to bed... Good night, James," she said and made her way to one of the bedrooms. She needed some time alone and she wanted to study the file once again. Even though she almost knew it by heart by now.

He blinked when she kissed his cheek lightly. A smile and warmth filtered into his eyes again as she called him James and turned. It was quite the day, indeed. He looked down at the core of the plum, and some odd thought filtered into his mind that it was helpful; the fruit. He dismissed it and tossed the core before moving towards the living area. He'd review the mission's reports again to ensure they had the target pegged completely as they moved into the next phase.

Natalia used some more hours on the file and mostly stared at the picture of the Winter Soldier strapped to some kind of machine with a small picture of a young and happy soldier attached. She mostly just looked at the small photograph. It was weird seeing him on it. He seemed so different. Perhaps even carefree compared to the stoic man she grew close to over time. Eventually, though, she shook her head and hid the file again. Natalia went to bed and lay awake in the dark. Her thoughts were still with the knowledge that she had simply thrown the name at him. He didn't seem to show some kind of recognition. Just anger and irritation followed by gratitude. She hoped she was doing the right thing and that he would understand that it was her way of saying thank you for saving her life years ago.

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Notes: This is the first story of a full series around Bucky and Natasha's unseen past in the MCU. Stay tuned!

Leave a like or comment on what you think will happen next or what you loved! It'll be great to hear from you! If you enjoyed the story, feel free to treat me to a coffee on KoFi!