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uselessslipperinthecorner · 1 month ago

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Rip my heart out over and over again why don’t you

Chapter 4: I Love You, I'm Sorry.

Summary: Falling in love with your best friend wasn’t supposed to happen—but with Adrian Chase, it was inevitable. Maybe it started back in high school, when he smiled at you across the science lab. Or maybe it crept in later, during those long, adrenaline-soaked nights working (sort of, not really) for ARGUS, where the line between best friends and something more blurred every time he looked at you like you were the only steady thing in his world.

Loving him was easy. Living with the fact that he might never love you back? That was the hard part.

Because whether he couldn’t feel it—or just wouldn’t let himself—you were stuck in a limbo of almosts. Lingering touches, late-night confessions, unspoken things that hung heavy in the air.

And eventually, something was going to give. Warnings: Slow-Burn, Angst, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Smut.

Masterlist

familyfriendlyhoho inu1gf

At what point, exactly, had you just… stopped?

Stopped pretending it didn’t hurt. Stopped keeping it all so tightly bottled up behind your ribs like it wouldn’t eventually spill out and drown you.

You weren’t sure when the breaking point had started. Maybe it was a slow leak—one little moment at a time, piling up until tonight, when you found yourself sitting on your kitchen floor with a bottle of whatever the hell was left in your cabinet, sad-ass music crawling out of your speaker like it was trying to comfort you. Which was ridiculous. Even your playlist was just enabling the spiral now.

You took a shaky sip, felt the alcohol burn down your throat, and tried to swallow around the lump forming there.

At what point had loving your best friend started to hurt more than it helped?

At what point did the risk—the terrifying, soul-baring risk of telling him that you were in love with him—begin to feel like the safer option?

At what point did laying yourself bare, heart in your hands, feel less like jumping off a cliff and more like dragging yourself out of quicksand?

Apparently… this point.

Rock bottom on a cold linoleum floor, back against the cabinet, with Taylor Swift crooning heartbreak into the half-lit kitchen and a $25 bottle of vodka sloshed into a chipped ceramic mug you bought for a dollar at the op shop by the corner store. Classy, really. A tragic little tableau of emotional collapse, starring you, your delusions, and the playlist you swore you wouldn’t use again.

Because if you were being honest—actually, painfully, couldn’t-lie-to-yourself-anymore honest—there was no fucking way Adrian didn’t already know.

Okay, sure, you hadn’t said it. Not in so many words. You hadn’t sat him down and bared your soul like a romcom lead about to get the guy. But love has a way of leaking out through the cracks, doesn’t it?

And if Adrian was anything, he was observant. For someone who acted like a total himbo half the time, he picked up on the tiniest shifts in behavior. He noticed things other people missed. He had to—he was a vigilante with a kill count and a moral compass that spun like a goddamn roulette wheel. He couldn’t afford not to be perceptive.

So he noticed. You knew he did. He had to have. Because ever since that night a few weeks ago when he showed up on your doorstep without warning, a bottle of Malibu in one hand, and a plastic bag full of comforts Leota had told him to get you, he had become distant.

You thought you’d been subtle. You thought you’d kept the soft parts hidden beneath jokes and sarcasm and safe sort-of normal friendship boundaries. But maybe you hadn’t been as locked down as you’d hoped. Maybe he did notice the way your voice stuttered slightly when you were around him, or how your skin broke out in goosebumps every time his hand brushed your arm, or how you lingered a second too long when you hugged him goodbye.

Maybe—probably—he saw the way you looked at him. And maybe he put two and two together.

But it wasn’t like he’d said anything. He hadn’t pulled you aside and gone, “Hey, I noticed you’re acting weirder than usual. I finally get it—and no, I don’t feel the same way.”

No. He hadn’t given you that. Not even rejection. Just... distance.

Not the physical kind of distance—not really. He still showed up. Still texted you in the middle of the night with memes that made zero sense unless you were already half-asleep. Still called you “dude” like it wasn’t the most tragically platonic nickname in the world. Still bitched about his coworkers like it was a sport. Still did his dumb little voices when he told stories, and still insisted on forcing you to watch his “cinematic masterpieces”—which, for the record, were usually the worst movies ever made.

He still felt like Adrian. Still sounded like him. But underneath all that surface-level chaos, something had shifted. Something quiet, invisible, but tangible. Like standing in a room after a storm—you could feel the pressure drop in your chest even if everything looked normal.

He hadn’t rejected you. Hadn’t even acknowledged it. Which meant you were left with the worst possible alternative:

He got weird.

Weirder than usual.

And considering Adrian Chase lived in a perpetual state of chaos-goblin oddball, the fact that you even noticed meant it had to be bad.

It started subtly. His eye contact got… off. He used to look at you like he wasn’t just seeing you, but studying you—like you were the most interesting puzzle he’d ever tried to solve. But now? His gaze hovered just beside you, like your shoulder was suddenly more fascinating than your face. And when he did meet your eyes, it was too quick. A flash of something—heat, guilt, something—before he snapped his head away like he’d touched something hot. Like he’d been caught.

Then there was the touching.

Or more accurately, the absence of it.

Adrian had never been shy about casual affection. He was a chronic shoulder-bumper, leaner, arm-slinger. The kind of guy who didn’t seem to know what personal space was with you. You’d always chalked it up to him being tactile, affectionate in his own offbeat way. It never felt forced. It just felt… Adrian.

But now? Now he flinched.

The first time you noticed was when you passed him a drink and your fingers brushed. A blink-and-you’d-miss-it moment. But you didn’t miss it. His whole body jerked like he’d touched an open wire. He muttered a thanks and immediately found something—anything—else to look at.

Then came the distance. He still sat next to you, sure. But always with this buffer. A few inches that hadn’t existed before. Like space alone could keep things from boiling over. He’d pick the armchair instead of the couch. Sit on the other end of the blanket. Knees bouncing. Fingers tapping. Picking at labels, tugging at hoodie strings, cracking his knuckles so much it made you ache. The physical stillness he used to have around you—the sense of ease—it was gone. Like your proximity put him on edge. Like his body didn’t trust him to be near you anymore.

And he’d started doing this thing, too. He’d open his mouth like he was about to say something and then freeze. Just stand there, eyes on you, words poised on the tip of his tongue… and then he’d shut it all down. Shake his head. Mutter something dumb, off-topic, and walk away.

You’d watch him go, heart caught in your throat, wondering what it was he couldn’t say.

And his jokes. God, his jokes.

Adrian always joked. It was as natural to him as breathing—his defense mechanism, his love language, his way of making the world just a little less bleak.

But lately?

They were off. Misfiring. Like the punchlines didn’t land because he didn’t commit to them. He’d throw out something ridiculous, then immediately glance away like he regretted it.

And the silences? Those were the worst.

You used to share the best kind of silences—the comfortable, easy kind. The ones where you'd both sit in the same room doing your own thing, no pressure to fill the space. Where the sound of a page turning or a soft sigh or a quiet laugh at something on his phone was enough.

But now?

The silences had weight. Tension. They ached.

They stretched between you like a taut wire, vibrating with the words neither of you would say. You’d catch him staring, jaw tight, foot bouncing, like he was arguing with himself. Like saying anything might set the whole thing on fire.

And then came the nights he stopped staying over.

He still walked you home, still made sure you got in safe. But at the door? He always had an excuse. Some reason why he couldn’t stay. Laundry. Errands. Cleaning. “Since when do you mop your floors?” you asked one afternoon, watching him fumble with his keys like they were made of glass.

He straightened his spine, puffed his chest out a little like a soldier getting ready to deliver a report. “Since I have a—uh—a house inspection.”

You blinked at him. “A house inspection?”

“Yeah,” he nodded, far too quickly. “Gotta, you know… make sure the place looks good, you know, landlords.”

You squinted. “Did you want some help?” you asked slowly, trying not to sound too suspicious.

“No!” he said, almost too fast. “Nope. I’m—I’m fine. I’m all good. You just—you just keep doing your thing,” he added, flashing that painfully fake smile he only used when he was trying to cover up something serious. “Keep being awesome.”

And then he turned and practically jogged down the hall.

You stood in the doorway, watching the empty space he left behind, your chest tight with a cocktail of frustration, longing, and confusion.

But it wasn’t just your gut—or the way Adrian had been acting—that made it undeniable.

It was Leota and Peacemaker who all but confirmed that Adrian had your feelings for him pegged.

You hadn’t meant to overhear it. Shit you were on your phone messaging your mom that no, you weren’t dead, and yes you might drive down for a visit sometime soon, and yes you might bring Adrian if he is still alive. You weren’t trying to torture yourself. It was supposed to be a normal night—well, normal for your little dysfunctional family of vigilantes. The 11th Street Kids had gone out to this dingy dive bar across town, the kind of place that sold greasy food for less than minimum wage and drinks that tasted vaguely like regret and cleaning products. Which, for your crew, was kind of perfect.

Usually, on nights like that, Adrian would be right there. Next to you. Practically glued to your side, leaning against you at the bar like he had no concept of personal space. And you hadn’t minded. Hell, you lived for that kind of closeness. The way his arm would press against yours, solid and warm, the faint smell of his cologne—clean, sharp, always a little too much but so him—curling into your lungs like a drug.

But not that night.

That night, Adrian kept his distance.

He didn’t avoid you completely—no, that would’ve been too obvious. Too easy to clock. Instead, he lingered around you without ever really being with you. Orbiting your space like a satellite afraid to make contact. He still did his usual things—still bought you a drink or two without being asked, still ordered extra fries and slid them your way like he always did—but there was no warmth in it.

No comfort. No playful shoulder bumps. No sideways glances. Just a polite kind of detachment that made your skin crawl.

You tried to play it cool. Tried to laugh at Peacemaker’s bullshit, tried to act like the cheap vodka soda in your hand didn’t taste like disappointment. But your heart was pounding too loud, and every time Adrian looked in your direction and then quickly looked away, it was like a knife twisting in your ribs.

And then, while Adrian was up at the bar—probably ordering another round or pretending to read the drinks menu he already knew by heart—that’s when it happened.

Peacemaker, Chrostopher fucking Smith, in the subtle-as-a-bomb way only he possessed, leaned in across the sticky tabletop and nodded toward the bar.

“You think he finally figured it out?” he asked, low but not that low, one eyebrow raised, his voice only slightly muffled by the mouthful of fries he was shoveling in.

Leota didn’t even hesitate. Just gave a knowing look, eyes narrowed and lips curled into that little smirk she wore when she’d solved a mystery ten minutes before anyone else. “Oh, he absolutely figured it out,” she said with a slow, deliberate nod.

And that’s when your stomach fell through the floor.

Actually, it felt like it dropped out of your ass, if you were being honest.

Everything inside you went cold. Your drink suddenly tasted like nothing. Your skin prickled like you'd just been dunked in ice water.

They knew. He knew.

And worst of all? You had no idea what he was going to do with that knowledge. What he was doing with it. Because clearly, he wasn’t doing the one thing you needed—talking to you.

You barely managed to choke out some half-assed excuse about having period cramps and needing to go home. Nobody questioned it. Leota just gave you a sympathetic look. Peacemaker grunted and raised his glass in what might’ve been solidarity or indifference—you couldn’t tell, and you didn’t stick around to figure it out. You grabbed your jacket, pulling it tight around you like armor, and bolted from the bar before anyone else could say a word—before Adrian could return from the bar with drinks in hand, before Peacemaker could toss another careless remark, before Leota could flash you another pitying look. You left before the full crushing weight of this whole messy thing could slam down on you again.

And now you were here weeks later, alone, sitting on your cold kitchen floor with Taylor Swift's voice pouring softly through your speakers, weaving heartbreak into every corner of the dimly lit room. And wasn't that fitting, because heartbreak—that sharp, relentless ache—was exactly what this felt like. It felt like grief and loss, like mourning something that hadn’t even died yet. You couldn't breathe around the heaviness in your chest.

Maybe it would have been easier—less painful, certainly—to storm straight over to Adrian’s apartment, to pound on his door until he let you in, and shout in his stupidly charming, confused face that none of this was supposed to happen. That you never meant to fall in love with him. That you would gladly shove all these inconvenient, gut-wrenching feelings into a box and set it on fire if it meant keeping him in your life, even if only as a friend.

But you wouldn't apologize. Never. You wouldn't apologize for feeling something you had no control over. Love wasn’t something you chose—it crashed into you without permission, messy and wild and unstoppable. This wasn’t on you, and deep down, you knew it wasn’t really on Adrian either. It was a cruel twist of fate, an accident of circumstance, and now here you were, trapped in the ugly aftermath of loving someone who couldn’t—or wouldn’t—love you back.

The fear that gnawed at your stomach made you sick: were you losing him? The odds felt pretty fucking high. Adrian didn't exactly have the best track record with this kind of thing. Hell, you'd seen firsthand how he reacted to any semblance of genuine romantic interest. The memory replayed vividly in your mind: the poor girl from work who’d straight-up told Adrian she wanted to fuck his brains out. He’d stood frozen, wide-eyed behind his glasses, before earnestly asking her, "Why would you want to fuck my brains? That sounds medically concerning."

You and Peacemaker had both groaned simultaneously, dropping your heads into your hands, exasperated. “Fuck’s sake, Adrian,” you'd muttered into your palms as Adrian recounted the moment in baffled sincerity.

He wasn't hopeless with women—not entirely. You’d seen him charm plenty of people, even if mostly unintentionally. But you also knew something deeper: Adrian struggled profoundly with believing anyone could genuinely like him, let alone love him. The idea of someone sticking around through all his mess and chaos was foreign territory. Dangerous territory. It frightened him.

But you weren’t just anyone. You were his best friend, woven into the very fabric of his life since high school. You'd seen him through countless awkward phases, through failures and triumphs, through heartbreak and his rare moments of quiet vulnerability. Your bond ran so deep that even your friends—Harcourt and Economos—had joked about how strange it was to see you without your "overprotective shadow."

And maybe that was why it hurt so badly now. Because the loss of Adrian wouldn’t just be heartbreak—it would feel like losing a part of yourself, an essential piece of your life that couldn't simply be replaced.

You tilted your head back against the kitchen cabinet, eyes stinging with tears you refused to let fall. Not tonight. Tonight was for grieving in solitude, for acknowledging the full, painful weight of your best friend.

Tomorrow, you'd figure out how to survive it.

<><><><><>

“Why aren’t you dressed?”

You stood frozen, barely awake, staring at Adrian on your doorstep like you’d summoned him from memory or a dream. He looked like he always did—hands stuffed deep in his jacket pockets, the faintest ghost of a smile tugging at his mouth, that tousled hair that never sat quite right. For a moment, you wondered if you were still dreaming. For a moment, you wished you were.

You tried to remember the last time he’d shown up like this, just existing in your space without all the awkwardness that had built up between you. It hurt, realizing you had to think back weeks.

Your own voice sounded weird in your ears, scratchy with sleep and something heavier, something more brittle. “What are you doing here?” You caught a glimpse of yourself in the hall mirror—tracksuit pants, oversized jumper, hair twisted up in a way only someone in the depths of a depressive spiral could manage. You hadn’t planned to see anyone today, let alone him.

He shrugged, so casual, so Adrian. “I messaged you. At, like, nine.”

You fought the urge to roll your eyes, clutching the door a little tighter, bracing yourself as if you were holding back a flood. “My phone died. It’s on charge.” You kept your tone level, tried not to let the shakiness slip in. “So… what’s the deal?”

You hated that you sounded annoyed. Hated that you were annoyed, that your relief and happiness at seeing him were all knotted up with hurt and frustration. But the truth was, for all the ways he’d kept his distance lately, you’d missed him so much it felt like something vital had been scooped out of your chest and replaced with static.

He didn’t notice your tone—of course he didn’t. Or maybe he did, and just didn’t know what to do with it. He stood there, confused, shifting his weight, and you could practically see the little wheels turning in his head.

“What do you mean?” he asked, brow furrowing, and you almost laughed. It was so Adrian—so blindingly, heartbreakingly him—to be this genuinely confused.

The frustration broke through. “You’ve been weird,” you said, as if that was enough to sum up weeks of aching silence and missed connections. “Very weird. Around me.”

He tilted his head, blinking at you like he was trying to decipher a foreign language. “What do you mean?” He repeated it slowly, like maybe you’d start making sense if he just gave you enough time.

You stepped back, holding the door open wider. “Get inside.” Your words came out sharper than you intended, and you regretted it instantly. Still, you needed him in your space, in the familiar chaos of your living room, where maybe—just maybe—you could find your way back to whatever you’d lost.

You watched him flop onto your couch, taking up the same spot he always had, sprawling out like he owned the place. For a split second, you wanted to cry just from the relief of seeing him there—of seeing something that felt like normal. Even if it was just an illusion.

You hovered by the armchair, arms crossed over your chest, searching for words. “You’ve been… not you. Like you haven’t been staying over, or hanging out, like you’re trying to avoid me.”

You waited, pulse pounding in your throat, every nerve on edge. What if he denied it? What if he confirmed your worst fears?

Adrian just stared at his hands, picking at a loose thread on his sleeve, silent for a long, painful moment. “Isn’t that what you wanted?” he finally said, voice careful and uncertain, like he was afraid you’d snap.

The words hit you like a punch. All your fear, your longing, your frustration tangled into one big mess. You felt your chest tighten, panic rising. Was that what he really thought? That you wanted him gone? The person you couldn’t stop thinking about, couldn’t stop missing, even as he was sitting right in front of you?

“What?” you asked, disbelieving, your voice barely above a whisper.

He looked up, eyes earnest and open and a little bit scared. “You’ve been weird around me for months. So I thought… I dunno, maybe you wanted me to back off. Give you space.”

You could see it then—the nervous way he bit his lip, the way his shoulders hunched in on themselves, like he was trying to make himself smaller. It hit you all at once: all this time, while you’d been convinced he was pulling away because he knew, he’d been pulling away because he thought you wanted him gone.

You swallowed, throat tight, and shook your head. “You’re an idiot,” you blurted, not even bothering to sugarcoat it. You didn’t have the energy to.

He blinked, taken aback, your tone cutting through the haze.

“I thought you knew,” you said, and your voice came out cracked and desperate and just this side of pleading.

“Knew what?” he shot back, matching your intensity with confusion.

You almost said it, right then and there. The words burned at the back of your throat, trembling on the edge of your lips, and you had to physically force yourself to bite them back. You paced for a second, trying to steady your hands, your breath, your heart.

You glanced up at the ceiling, hoping it would ground you, then looked him dead in the eye. “I didn’t want you gone,” you admitted, voice thick. “I didn’t want you to stop texting me all day, every day. I didn’t want you to stop crashing here, or stealing my bed and my good pillow. I didn’t want you to stop… being you. Being here. Like you always were.”

You watched him, heart pounding, as you let the truth settle between you. He looked stunned—like someone had hit him with something soft and heavy. His whole body shifted, shoulders slumping, his breathing going a little shallow, but you could see something shift in his eyes—something unguarded, something that looked an awful lot like relief.

“Oh,” he said, the word catching in his throat, small and raw and uncertain. He searched your face, waiting, almost afraid to move, “So… what did you think I knew?”

And just like that, the air thickened. You realized you were holding your breath. Everything you’d buried, every fear, every hope, every inch of longing, crashed through you like a tidal wave.

You stood there, hands on your hips, every muscle in your body tense. The room felt impossibly quiet. The faint hum of your fridge, the whisper of wind outside, even the soft scuff of Adrian’s shoe against your rug—they all sounded distant, muffled by the wild beating of your own heart.

He was watching you. Not with his usual goofy grin or oblivious half-smile, but with a kind of wary openness you hadn’t seen in weeks. There was something soft in his eyes now, something almost vulnerable, like he was waiting for you to break the spell—waiting for you to give him permission to breathe again.

But you couldn’t move. Couldn’t speak. Every thought spun out, looping in anxious circles:

He thought you wanted him gone. He thought you needed space. How could he not see it? How could he not see you were only acting weird because you loved him—because you were so fucking scared you couldn’t stand it?

You looked at him, really looked, and realized just how badly you’d missed this: the way he fit into your space like he belonged there. The way his stupid, worn-out hoodie was still slung over the arm of your couch from weeks ago, because you could never bring yourself to wash it, let alone put it away.

You were angry at him, yes—but mostly, you were angry at yourself. For making this so complicated. For never being brave enough to say what you felt. For letting fear run the show, for letting your own longing fester and turn everything good between you sour.

You wondered what he was thinking now. If he could see it on your face, the truth you’d tried so hard to bury. If he was as scared as you. If he was hoping you’d say it, or terrified that you would.

He shifted, elbows on his knees, rubbing his hands together in that nervous way he did when he was unsure. He wasn’t saying anything either. You realized, suddenly, that he was waiting for you.

It was all there, thick in the air—every word you hadn’t said, every feeling you’d tried to stuff down, every sleepless night spent staring at your phone, hoping for one more message from him just to know he was thinking of you.

You felt raw. Exposed. You wondered if it would always feel like this—if you’d always be teetering on the edge, one breath away from everything changing forever.

You tried to picture saying it. Just letting it fall out. I’m in love with you. It would be so easy, but it would be everything. The thought made your stomach clench, made your hands shake, made your chest feel impossibly tight.

But the words stayed trapped in your mouth. Stuck behind your teeth, your lips, your fear.

You wished, for once, that he could just see into your mind and know. That all the things you couldn’t say would somehow make their way to him without you having to say a single word. You just didn’t know if you were brave enough—not yet. Not now, not while your heart felt like a live wire inside your chest, sparking with every breath, every glance. Not when the stakes felt so impossibly high, and everything familiar teetered on the edge of becoming something new.

So you chickened out, swallowing the truth and settling for something lighter, something safer.

You mustered up your best casual voice, though it wobbled a little. “So what brings you into my humble abode at 11am?” You moved to the couch, sitting beside him, careful but desperate for that old, easy proximity. Even the faint brush of his leg against yours was a comfort and a curse—so normal, so dangerous.

He leaned back into the cushions, close enough you could feel his warmth bleeding into you, and gave you that wide, blinding smile—the one that had always been your undoing. For a moment, everything felt just a little bit right, like the last few weeks had been a fever dream you could wake up from.

“There’s a two-for-one deal on enchiladas at that Mexican place down the street,” he announced, like it was a perfectly logical reason to show up uninvited and bang on your door before noon. “I thought you’d want to go get one. We could eat them on the bridge. You know, people-watch and judge strangers.”

You found yourself smiling, real and unguarded, the weight in your chest lightening just a little. His words wrapped around you, tugging you back through years of memories. You listened as he launched into a story, somehow managing to link enchiladas to the time when you were nineteen and both of you had driven two counties over just to find a diner with those ridiculous milkshakes and the straws that tasted like fake strawberry and childhood.

You watched his face as he talked, the way he animated every story with his hands, the way his eyes lit up at your laugh. It was impossible not to smile, not to feel that hope rise up again, stubborn and stupid and strong.

“I’ll need to shower,” you said, the words slipping out without thinking, not wanting to break the spell but knowing you couldn’t go out in your current state.

He glanced you up and down, “You smell fine,” he told you, utterly sincere, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

You huffed a little laugh, shaking your head. “That’s not the point.” You got to your feet, suddenly feeling lighter, the possibility of normalcy—of something better than heartbreak—warming you from the inside. “I’ll be back.”

He immediately reached for the remote, flipping through channels with the determined focus only Adrian could bring to the art of procrastination. “Hey, do you have any of those biscuits with the green stuff in them?” he called out, half his attention already on the screen.

“Maybe?” you replied, pausing to glance over your shoulder at him. He was leaning forward, scanning the coffee table for snacks, the remote dangling from his fingers. For a moment, he looked up and caught your eye, and you felt something in your chest twist—fondness, longing, gratitude, and a sharp ache for something more. “Have a look,” you offered, smiling helplessly.

He grinned, the expression lighting up his whole face with that earnest enthusiasm you’d always loved, nodding with the kind of seriousness that only Adrian could bring to the quest for snacks. “Don’t take too long,” he told you, already halfway to the kitchen, eyes scanning the countertop for biscuit tins like he was on a secret mission. You couldn’t help but watch him, the way he moved so easily in your space—elbowing open the pantry door, humming something tuneless, talking to himself about whether you’d hidden the good cookies again. He didn’t ask where anything was. He never had to.

The image of him rooting around for snacks, as if he’d always belonged in your kitchen, landed somewhere deep inside you. It was familiarity, comfort, a kind of home you couldn’t quite put words to. It hurt, a little, how much you missed this—how much you needed it, how much you still wanted more.

You lingered in the doorway, hand braced on the frame, and felt your heart thumping wild and hard beneath your ribs. The room was filled with the aftershocks of everything you’d left unspoken, every heavy silence, every confession bitten back and every hope you’d nearly let slip. They echoed in your bones, sharp and electric and alive.

And yet, with him here—just a few steps away, grumbling about off-brand biscuits and probably reorganizing your mugs for the hundredth time—you felt something settle. Like maybe you could find your way back to the way things used to be.

You could do this.

You could pretend for a little longer that nothing had changed, that the world hadn’t shifted underneath you. You could ignore the sting, ignore the ache of those three words always burning on the tip of your tongue every time you saw him—I love you, I love you, I love you. You could let yourself fall into the old rhythms, the easy banter, the stupid snack quests and bridge picnics, just like always.

You closed your eyes for a second, breathing deep, letting the familiar smells of your apartment and the faint sound of Adrian rummaging around settle you. Just for now, it was enough. Just for now, you could pretend it was all the same.

You could do this.

You straightened, pushing off from the doorframe, telling yourself you were strong enough to survive whatever came next. Adrian and you. You and Adrian. It had always been the two of you against the world, and you’d gotten through worse. Surely you could get through this, too.

You could do this.

At least, that’s what you told yourself as you headed to the bathroom, trying not to think about the moment when pretending wouldn’t be enough anymore.

<><><><><> You absolutely could not do this. The realization hit you somewhere between the first and second bite of your enchilada, staring down at the half-eaten mess in your lap as your feet dangled high above the river below. The drop from the bridge was so much farther than you remembered. It felt like staring into the abyss—cold, bracing, and far too real.

Adrian sat next to you, legs swinging lazily in the empty space. He was watching the water, his eyes squinted in mock concentration, voice low and thoughtful as he broke the silence.

“You think if you throw someone off here they’d sink, or would it be too shallow?” he mused, as if contemplating logistics for a hypothetical crime rather than the unspoken tension hanging between you.

You almost laughed, almost raised your hand to volunteer as tribute if it meant escaping this ache in your chest, this relentless pressure that refused to ease. Instead, you replied dryly, “Probably too shallow. The sheriff was telling everyone a few months ago to stop swimming in it because people were getting hurt.” You grabbed the bottle you were both sharing and took a long drink from it.

Adrian nodded, half under his breath, “Probably deserved it.”

You smiled despite yourself. He always said shit like that—blunt, absurd, a little too honest. You could smell him—cologne and sweat, summer air and something that was just him. You could feel him, too, not just at your side but pressed up against the inside of your ribs, filling your whole chest with a bittersweet comfort. He started rambling again, voice light, eyes crinkling at the corners as he turned toward you.

He asked if you wanted to go see that new horror movie next weekend, the one he’d been talking about for months, rattling off the showtimes and telling you how it had “at least two chainsaw chases” and “zero romantic subplots—promise.”

“Yeah, that sounds good,” you managed, but your voice was thin, barely holding up against the knot in your stomach. The hunger you’d felt earlier had vanished, replaced with something heavier—an ache, a vice tightening around your heart, leaving you feeling hollow and brittle and sick.

You didn’t want to cry. Not here, not in front of him. But it was building. This constant ache, this slow burn that wouldn’t let you eat or breathe or move. You were stuck, caught on the words you still hadn’t said, strangled by the fear of what might happen if you finally let them out.

Adrian must have noticed the way your leg started to swing or maybe he just felt the way the mood shifted. He nudged your knee gently, grounding you with that simple touch.

“Hey?” he said, his voice softer than usual, all the humor gone. “We don’t have to if you don’t want to. I mean, I’m an idiot and made you sad by thinking you didn’t want to see me for the past few weeks, so I owe you anyway.” He snapped his fingers, trying to lighten the mood. “We could go to that arcade outside Star City? Make a day of it. I’ll let you beat me at air hockey. One time only offer.”

Don’t say it, you warned yourself, the words looping in your mind like a broken record. Don’t let it out. Just shove the rest of the food in your mouth, nod along, agree to whatever movie plans he’s got. Anything would be easier than sitting in a car for hours with him, suffocating in this closeness, feeling every glance and every silence like it’s going to split you in half.

But the knot in your stomach wouldn’t budge. The ache in your chest kept swelling, pressing against your ribs, your throat, your eyes. It wasn’t going away, not this time, not like it always used to.

You glanced at him, hoping for a distraction, for anything to break the spell. But he wasn’t distracted—not this time. He put his food down, turned fully toward you, and you could feel the intensity of his gaze pinning you in place. You couldn’t remember the last time he’d given you his full attention like this—no jokes, no wandering thoughts, no twitchy energy. Just Adrian, still and quiet, waiting.

He watched you with a seriousness that made your hands shake. There was no joking in his expression, no feigned confusion or nervous smile. Just concern—real, raw, unfiltered. You’d seen him calm under fire, laugh through pain, shrug off bullet wounds like they were minor annoyances. But now? He looked more worried for you than he ever had when you were actually hurt.

You forced yourself to focus on the world outside your skin: the breeze tangling your hair, the distant sound of cars on the highway, the echo of water somewhere below. You tried to act normal, to pretend you could just sit here and eat and joke around, but the truth was, your thoughts felt like a pile-up on a one-lane bridge—crashing, chaotic, impossible to escape.

Adrian picked up his half-finished enchilada, nudging your knee gently with his as he started to talk again, filling the silence with stories about work, about a viral video he’d seen of a cat in a shark costume riding a Roomba. His voice was easy, animated, but every so often he would flick his gaze toward you, quick and searching, as if trying to read the truth behind your silence.

You nodded along, making the right noises, but it was mostly habit. You weren’t really there—not all the way. Inside, you were split in two: one part clinging desperately to this moment, this bridge, this ordinary day with Adrian by your side; the other part quietly breaking apart under the weight of everything you’d never said.

You could feel him watching you—soft, sidelong glances, his foot brushing yours, his knee bumping into your leg every few minutes just to remind you he was still there, still solid, still him. It should have been comforting, but instead it made your skin buzz, made your heart kick up in your chest, made the ache in your throat that much worse.

You tried to swallow it all down, to focus on anything else—on the way the river sparkled in the sunlight, the way the trees cast shifting shadows over your shoes, the taste of food you couldn’t even remember picking up. But you couldn’t shake the feeling that every word you didn’t say was growing louder, pressing at the back of your teeth, burning a hole in your chest.

Why is this so hard? Because you knew what would happen if you said it. The risk. The possibility that it would ruin everything, that the fragile, perfect thing you had would shatter the second you admitted you wanted more. But wasn’t it already ruined? Hadn’t the distance, the weirdness, the half-truths already begun to erode what you had?

He was still talking—something about the arcade, about the old skee-ball machines you always beat him at, about how he was “definitely not holding a grudge, but next time, you’re not allowed to use your freakishly accurate aim.” You almost smiled, despite the ache. He was trying so hard, filling the air with the easy banter that used to fix everything, but you could tell he knew something was off. You could feel his attention, the way his voice softened every time he glanced at you, the worry that colored his words.

You wondered what he saw when he looked at you—if he could see the mess inside, the way your mind was spinning out, the way your heart was beating too hard, too fast. If he knew that you were fighting yourself with every breath, holding back tears you couldn’t explain, hoping for a sign—any sign—that he might feel it too.

You wanted to say something. Anything. You wanted to reach for his hand, to lean your head on his shoulder, to let the truth slip out in a tumble of words and hope he’d catch you. But you were afraid. Afraid of what it would mean, of what you’d lose, of how the world might tilt if you let the truth escape.

So you stayed quiet, nodding at the right moments, giving half-smiles that didn’t quite reach your eyes, praying he couldn’t hear the storm raging just beneath your skin. Every time his knee brushed yours, you felt another piece of your resolve splinter.

But still, Adrian kept glancing at you, his sentences drifting off into unfinished thoughts, the furrow in his brow deepening every time you pulled further into yourself. He didn’t press, didn’t ask what was wrong, didn’t force you to talk. He just kept going, his voice gentle and careful, letting the conversation fill the space between you in a way that felt more like comfort than avoidance. Maybe he was giving you room to breathe. Maybe he was just waiting, sensing you were teetering on the edge of something, and not wanting to rush you.

You wondered if he knew how close you were to falling apart.

Your thoughts were a storm, swirling behind your eyes. Just say it, your mind screamed at you. Just say it, you coward. I love you. Three little words. If he rejected you, at least you’d have an answer—no more what-ifs, no more aching, no more endless wondering if you were imagining the hope in his eyes or the tenderness in his voice.

When he rejects you, you told yourself. Because that’s how your heart protected itself—from hope, from disappointment, from the fallout that would come after. When he rejects you, you’ll finally be able to let go. When he rejects you, you’ll—

“I love you,” you blurted. The words tumbled out of your mouth before you could stop them, raw and breathless, too loud in the quiet air between you. The world didn’t end. The sky didn’t fall. The bridge didn’t collapse beneath your feet.

But Adrian did go silent.

Utterly, completely silent.

The steady hum of traffic, the breeze against your face, the distant call of a bird somewhere downriver—suddenly, it was all you could hear. The silence between you was immense, a living thing that pressed in on every side. You stared at the river below, eyes fixed on the way the light caught the surface, refusing to look at him. Not yet. Not while your pulse was still hammering in your ears.

And yet… something inside you, that knot you’d been carrying for so long, finally started to unravel. The thumping in your chest hadn’t gone away—it had grown, wild and uncontainable—but the sick twist in your stomach had eased, like you’d been holding your breath for months and finally, finally let it go.

Because now he knew.

He really knew. Not just hints or glances or almost-confessions. Not just hoping he’d pick up the signs. Now there was no question. No running. No pretending you could just be friends and keep it locked away.

For a brief, dizzying second, you almost felt relieved. Rejection you could deal with—eventually. That was pain you understood, pain you could grieve and get past in time. But another second spent swallowing your feelings, holding them hostage inside your own chest? That was agony. That was breaking you.

You kept your eyes fixed ahead, blinking rapidly, focusing on the gentle ripple of the water far below as your heart raced and your hands went clammy in your lap. You waited. The silence pressed in, thick and tense, but this time you welcomed it. Let it settle around you. At least now it was honest.

You didn’t dare look at him. Not yet. Not until you were ready for whatever came next.

But you could feel him beside you—could feel the way all his usual fidgeting had stopped cold, how his whole body went perfectly still, almost rigid, like he’d been caught in a trap he didn’t know how to escape. You could hear the subtle change in his breathing—how it slowed, grew careful, measured, as if he was afraid to disturb the moment by even inhaling too loudly. For a heartbeat, it felt like the whole world was holding its breath with you. The river below, the air, the traffic far away—everything seemed to hush, waiting for the fallout.

And whatever happened next, at least you knew, finally, that you’d been brave enough to say it. You’d stepped off the ledge. You’d done the thing that had been clawing at you for months. Maybe it would hurt. Maybe it would break you. Maybe it would change everything forever.

But it was real. It was out there. It was yours.

Adrian was silent for a long moment, so quiet that you almost thought you’d made it up—that you’d imagined saying it, or that he hadn’t heard you at all. Then, just as your courage was beginning to fray, he moved. Not with the drama or shock you’d been expecting, but with absurd, baffling casualness.

“Oh,” he said simply, as if you’d just told him the weather forecast. He didn’t look at you—just nodded once, lips pressed in a thoughtful line, and then, impossibly, took another bite of his food, “Okay,” he added, as if you’d asked him to pass the salt.

He chewed, nodded again, as if he were confirming something on a grocery list. There was no explosion. No confession. Not even a question. Just that flat, almost bored “Okay.”

And for a moment, you saw red.

You wanted to push him off the bridge yourself—fuck the sheriff’s warnings. You imagined it in vivid detail: the surprise on his face, the indignant yelp as he splashed into the water below, the satisfaction of finally doing something with all the electric energy crackling under your skin.

Of all the responses you’d braced yourself for—shock, anger, discomfort, even a gentle letdown—this was not it. You’d prepared yourself for tears, for heartbreak, for having to pick up the pieces of whatever came after. But nothing could have readied you for this bizarre, maddening nonchalance.

You turned to look at him, finally, your mouth hanging open, every thought in your head dissolving into static. You stared at his profile—at the stubborn line of his jaw, the oblivious set of his mouth, the way he kept eating as if you hadn’t just torn yourself open for him.

He was still chewing, eyes fixed on the horizon, as if waiting for you to continue, or for something else to happen.

You stared, flabbergasted, torn between hysterical laughter and the urge to throttle him, “Are you fucking serious, Chase?” you blurted, your voice sharp, incredulous. “Did you hear what I just said?”

He glanced at you, finally—eyes wide, eyebrows raised like you’d asked him the impossible question. He looked a little startled, a little lost, but mostly… calm. “Yeah,” he said, licking sauce from his thumb. “You said you love me.” He paused, frowned, as if running over the sentence again in his head. “I heard you.”

You opened your mouth, shut it, then opened it again, the words tangling on your tongue. You weren’t sure whether you wanted to laugh, scream, or just start crying right there on the bridge.

Adrian just looked at you, patient, as if he honestly expected you to have more to say. As if what you’d said was the most obvious, natural thing in the world.

And for a moment, all you could do was stare back, utterly undone—by your own courage, by his utter weirdness, and by the impossible, ridiculous, maddening hope that maybe, just maybe, this wasn’t the end after all.

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uselessslipperinthecorner · 1 month ago

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seeing some similarities

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uselessslipperinthecorner · 1 month ago

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great day for hot people

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uselessslipperinthecorner · 1 month ago

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Up On The Rooftop

Summary: There's a racket on the rooftop when you're trying to sleep. And it's not raccoons (gender neutral reader)

Word count: No clue. Let's roll with it

Warnings: None

Gif by @gaybuckybarnesss

Crash.

Laughter.

Another crash.

You finally sit up in bed, sighing in exasperation. It was nearly 2 in the morning. Who on earth was making that noise on the roof? You figured it could be raccoons but raccoons don't have a boisterous laugh like that, if they even laugh at all.

You close your eyes just for a moment when you hear footsteps go across your ceiling at a certain tempo. Dancing. Whoever was up there was dancing.

Enough was enough. You had to get up early in the morning for work and there was no way you were going to get any sleep with this racket happening up on the rooftop. So grabbing your housecoat and slippers, you make your way to the stairs leading to the roof. As you neared the door the laughter and music only got louder and more obnoxious. The voices didn't sound like anyone you knew. It had to be teens causing a ruckus.

"Excuse me but people are trying to slee–" You begin to exclaim when you open the roof door. But your train of thought is cut off when a group of five suddenly stop dancing to stare at you, one of them being only in his underwear while drenched in beer.

Adrian Chase. You recognize him immediately. He's the weird busboy at Fennel's who always stops to talk to everyone despite them not wanting to be talked to in the first place. His usual clothed body had nothing but tighty whities on, also drenched in beer, you take note, and everything was out in the open. Was he always this beefy? Your brain glitches out when you look his well muscled form up and down; strong shoulders that led to the swell of his biceps. A muscular chest, abs and the slope of his hip bones that disappeared down into his wet briefs. You didn't dare go any further down than that.

Adrian spit out a spray of liquid and ran a hand through his wet hair, revealing tiny curls on his head. "Hi! I know you! You're my next door neighbor, right? Did we wake you?"

"Guh," was all you managed to say.

Adrian flashed you an award winning smile. "Sorry about the noise. Honestly we're wrapping up now anyway. I am in desperate need of a shower. Who knew beer was so sticky?"

You feel your entire body want to spasm when he ran a hand over his chest and abs but you suppress it. "Yeah. Who knew? Uh, yeah. You guys were a little loud. I have to work in the morning and can't sleep with the music and laughter."

A tall man with glasses waved a hand. "No problem. We didn't mean to cause any trouble."

"We were just celebrating our friendship!" Adrian pointed out. He then turned to face you, his eyebrows scrunching cutely. "You're staring at me."

You manage to finally fix the glitch in your brain. "Oh. Sorry. It wasn't my intention." You clear your throat. "Wrap it up here, please. And next time, party at a reasonable hour? Preferably when everyone isn't asleep?"

The group all nodded and agreed as they began to clean up their mess. That was all well and good so you headed back downstairs to your apartment. Your hand just touched the doorknob when Adrian called out to you. Looking up you see him jogging down the hall towards you. He was still in his underwear but he now had sneakers on with his clothes under an arm.

"Hey," he smiles. He's always smiling. "Wanna come to our next rooftop party? It's gonna be lit!"

You snort. "You're having another one?"

He shrugged. "Well yeah. You got to celebrate friendship whenever you can."

"But I'm not your friend."

He tilts his head like a puppy before rooting through his jeans pocket for something. After a moment he pulls out a piece of paper and a pen, on which he scribbles something and hands to you.

It's a phone number.

"Now we're friends," he whispers before stepping towards his apartment door across the hall. "Come to the party! It'll be fun. I promise."

You stand there until he's in his apartment and the door is shut. God, he's so weird but so hot at the same time. What do the kids say these days? Rizz? He had rizz coming out of his pores. He had an odd way of being charming but by God did it ever work on you.

You crawl back into your bed once you lock the door again for the night. It was now quiet; not a sound could be heard apart from the footsteps in the hall of the remainder of the group headed home. You sigh and close your eyes. Finally. Some peace and quiet.

A flash of Adrian's wet body crossed your mind. Him running a hand through his hair. His stupid smile.

Your eyes snap open and you groan.

You weren't getting any sleep tonight.

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uselessslipperinthecorner · 1 month ago

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The type of shit ima be on comes august 21st cuz my white boy is coming back 😛😛

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uselessslipperinthecorner · 1 month ago

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Wanda Maximoff P Links!!

(Ignore the colors for the name I had fun lol and can’t get the fonts I want since I don’t have a laptop)

Warnings: cunnilingus, fingering, thigh riding, scissoring, strap ons, some toxicity, intersex (only 1)

One night stand!wanda savoring every last taste of you in the morning before you leave

Pervert!wanda groping your breasts in your sleep

Top!wanda swearing she’d never want to be the one riding the strap

Sub!wanda begging for you to praise her while she rides your thigh

Momsbestfriend!wanda trying to shut you up while she fucks you in your childhood bedroom

Mommy!wanda coming home from a long day of work and needing to eat you out before she sleeps

Insecure!wanda worried you’d find her bush unattractive but it’s exactly the opposite

Uberdriver!wanda taking her favorite client home to eat them out

Sisters best friend!wanda sneaking into your room past midnight

Milf!wanda said she was tired of you going easy on her after the pregnancy

Jealous!wanda after finding out you slept with Natasha when you two broke up

Farmer!wanda and you scissoring on the porch early in the morning before she gets to work

Housewife!wanda sending you a video of her riding your pillow while you’re at work

Rich CEO!wanda taking you on vacation and fucking you in the hotel room

Scarlet witch!wanda putting a spell on you in your sleep and waking you up to find your cunt needy for her

Jock!wanda needing to fuck you in her car after practice

Domestic!wanda imagining breeding you, your stomach being full and your breasts leaking

Vulnerable!wanda letting toxic!r continue to come back

Divorced!wanda finally having sex for the first time in years and being more sensitive then ever

Gamer!wanda letting mommy!r take care of her

Stalker!wanda forced to listen to all the videos she took of you without consent while you fuck her from behind

Professor!wanda unable to resist fingering you when you sit on her office chair like that

Ex!wanda just can’t get enough of you

Cowgirl!wanda taking pride in knowing she’s the only one to ever make you cum

Intersex!wanda is obsessed with having your mouth on her cock

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uselessslipperinthecorner · 1 month ago

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They are back

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uselessslipperinthecorner · 1 month ago

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TWO BAD BITCHES AT THE SAME DAMN TIME 🗣

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uselessslipperinthecorner · 1 month ago

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MEDDLING KIDS

pairing: yelena belova x fem!reader (requested)

summary: when your fellow thunderbolts find out you have a crush on yelena, they make it their mission to tease you about it (and maybe help you out a little along the way too)

warnings: some self-depricating thoughts from reader; crushes and meddling teammates; bucky is team mom

word count. 2.1k || masterlist

It started out as admiration, a simple feeling of awe for Yelena Belova. She was awe-worthy, an ex-window with skills and strength to take down attackers, a natural leader with a dry sense of humor, and a secret softie with an urge to protect those she cared for - whether they were a grown man or a rescued guinea pig.

Somewhere along the way, as the team formed and moved into the Watchtower, your admiration shifted into something else. You found yourself growing affection toward the blonde, laughing at her jokes that weren’t even that funny, offering to help her with errands to simply be around her, and stuttering when she tossed out the occasional compliment. It was a disaster waiting to happen, you knew that much.

A crush was one thing, but having one on your roommates/teammates was another. Yelena was hard to read and was so focused on the team that she hardly talked or did anything else. You doubted she time to entertain your feelings. And you doubted she felt the same way.

You were too in your head about it; you knew that. But it was hard not to be when you were constantly around her with a complicated back and forth of your crush and self-doubt.

“You’re doing it again,” Ava said, eyeing you from across the kitchen table. She begrudgingly enjoyed a breakfast made by Walker, stabbing her eggs with a roll of her eyes as he served you and her plates with a cocky grin.

“What?” you asked, averting your gaze down onto your plate.

“Staring like a love-sick school girl,” Ava replied. “And before you try to deny it, don’t.”

You closed your mouth, swallowing your objection as you sank back in your seat. Walker took a seat at the table, everyone else having already eaten earlier. “Are you talking about her crush on Yelena?” he asked.

“Oh, my God. Say it louder. I don’t think they heard you in Jersey!” you snapped and buried your head in your hands, mortified. Your crush on Yelena was supposed to remain between you and your mind, no one else. But your new teammates prided themselves on being nosy. Okay, and maybe you weren't the most subtle. Still, they could’ve done you the favor of staying quiet about it.

Walker laughed. “Come on, it’s kind of obvious. Even Bucky’s mentioned it, and he ignores us most of the time.”

“I’m going to throw myself off the balcony,” you muttered, sinking lower in your seat.

Ava even smiled, and you momentarily wished for her and Walker’s bickering over the current topic of conversation. “Don’t be so dramatic. It’s just Yelena, not a shark. I don’t think she’ll bite, unless you ask her to.”

“I’m not asking her anything,” you hissed, glaring at the two. “This is not one of those crushes where you admit it to the other person, okay?!”

Ava furrowed her brows. “You have crushes where you don’t tell the person how you feel? What’s the point?”

It was Walker’s turn to be confused. “You tell people you have a crush on them?” Ava nodded like that was a super easy and normal thing. “That’s crazy.”

“What do you do about it, exactly?”

“Nothing,” Walker replied with a shrug.

You gestured to him. “See! Exactly. I’ll do nothing, and eventually it’ll go away.”

She rolled her eyes and shook her head. “I expected this kind of emotional constipation from Walker, but not from you. But if you want to die alone, be my guest.”

The heavy footsteps from combat boots sounded, pulling your, Ava, and Walker’s attention. Much to their humor and your horror, Yelena strode in with her training bag slung over her shoulder and hair tousled from her session. You busied your hands with your mug of coffee and tried to ignore the heat that flooded your face.

“Who is dying alone?” Yelena asked, dropping her bag on the floor beside the counter and pouring herself a mug of coffee.

Ava and Walker exchanged glances with you, then with each other. Before you could get ahead of whatever they were about to say, Ava shrugged Yelena’s question off coolly. “Doesn’t everyone?”

Yelena raised her brows, biting into a piece of toast that Walker had left on a plate on the counter. “Wow, that’s a cheery morning conversation. Do I need to call Bucky and have him up your time at therapy, because I can totally do that.”

Ava glared playfully at the blonde before phasing beside her, plucking the piece of toast from her grasp, then phasing back into her seat.

“You bitch,” Yelena said with a grin.

You thought the conversation would turn onto something else, maybe a new mission or something unrelated to you and your feelings. But you had missed the mischievous glint in Walker’s eyes. He leaned back in his chair and looked around the group.

“You know how Alexei’s been hounding us for a movie night?” he said, oddly and out of the blue.

“Oh, yeah,” Ava said, stretching out the last word suspiciously. “Walker and I were thinking about it, and we…well, we kind of feel bad for shutting him down every time.”

Yelena looked surprised. “You two feel bad about rejecting movie night? Do you have fevers?”

“No, we just, we’re trying to be more of…” Ava glanced at you, a stupid smile playing on her lips. “Team players.”

“Yeah,” Walker added, sharing a similar look. “A movie night won’t kill us.”

You pressed your lips in a thin line, trying to figure out what the hell they were up to.

“How about you?” Yelena asked, drawing your attention.

Under the table, Ava kicked your shin hard. You bit your lip and nodded before finding your voice. “S-Sure. That sounds fun.”

With a shrug, Yelena agreed. “All right. I’ll tell Alexei movie night’s on tonight.” She left the kitchen, focus drawn to her phone as she texted her dad, who had probably forced his way into a morning jog with Bucky. Once she was out of the room and earshot, you glared daggers at the two at the table.

“What was that?”

They just smiled, gathered their dishes from their downed breakfast, and left.

“Uh, where is everyone?” You entered the living room dressed in your pajamas and carrying a blanket. You expected to see the rest of your team arguing over seats or popcorn bowls, but the only person there was Yelena, seated in the middle of the sofa with a large bowl of popcorn in her lap and a blanket wrapped around her shoulders.

She shrugged, tapping on her phone. Her brows furrowed as she read something on the screen. “Those little assholes all bailed,” she said.

You mentally cursed at Ava and Walker and started forming some kind of plan to get back at them. “All of them? This was Alexei’s plan, and Bob doesn’t even like to leave the tower.”

“I know,” Yelena hummed. “But I guess something came up.” She seemed much more indifferent about the team bailing than you, but that was likely due to the fact that you knew Ava and Walker had set you up to be alone with Yelena. How they got the others to agree, you had no idea, but they had.

You shifted from one foot to another, toying with the blanket in your hand. “Well, I guess movie night’s off then.”

Yelena looked at you oddly. “Why?”

“Because no one’s here?”

She pointed to herself, then at you. “Are we not here?” You rolled your eyes in response, and she smirked. “Come on! That means we don’t have to fight with everyone to pick a movie.” She patted the spot on the couch directly next to her before starting to flip through movie options on the screen.

Ignoring the quickening of your heartbeat at being alone with Yelena without at least one team member there to prevent any awareness you may cause, you joined her, leaving a good amount of space between the two of you.

You two settled on a movie rather quickly, and Yelena placed the popcorn bowl in the space between you. For a while, you sat in silence and focused on the film. You tried to ignore the little voice in your head that was in override at your current situation. If you didn’t want things to be weird, you had to bury your crush. Yelena was your friend, your teammate, that was all.

It wasn’t until the movie was nearly over that Yelena broke the silence. “Are you okay?”

You looked at her, slightly startled by the question. “Yeah. Why?”

She shrugged, eyes focused on the screen. “You’ve seemed weird lately.”

“Oh,” you said quietly. Have you been weird? Around Yelena, maybe. You know you didn’t interact with her as much as you had when you first met, but you didn’t think she’d notice.

“I guess I should have asked you if you even wanted to watch a movie, huh? I’m not always the best at that. Blame my dad for that.”

You studied the side of her face, gently illuminated by the glow of TV. Your chest ached; your feelings bubbled against your will. With a sigh, you shook your head and forced yourself to focus on anything else.

“No, I wanted to,” you said.

It was her turn to look at you. You felt her eyes and couldn’t help but meet them. A small smile rested on her lips as she moved the empty popcorn bowl onto the coffee table before scooting closer to you. There was still a space between you, a friendly space, but your heart beat faster anyway.

“Good,” she said, snatching half of your blanket from your lap and tossing it over her legs as she kicked her feet up on the coffee table. “If I’m being honest, I was kind of glad everyone bailed. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I do like those assholes. I really do. But I felt like we hadn’t gotten a chance to, you know, hang out.”

“You wanted to hang out with me?” The words slipped out before you could even think about it. You had a hard time understanding why Yelena would want to hang out with just you. It wasn’t that you didn’t think you two were friends, but you assumed you were just the kind of friends that exist in a group.

She stared at you like you had said the most insane thing. “Duh? You are…nice.”

The softness in her tone unfurled some of the tension and nervousness in your body. “I think you’re nice too.”

“The others can be nice, but with you I am…I don’t know…comfortable.” She paused as her words sank into you, sending your mind into a whirlwind of confusion. Then, she laughed, deep and raspy. “Sorry, that sounds crazy.”

“No,” you said quickly. “It doesn’t.”

Yelena held your gaze for a moment longer before she dragged her eyes back onto the screen. You did the same, a dizzy feeling comfortably wrapping its way around your head. Her words were the only thing you thought about as you began to doze off on the couch, mind filled with her pretty smile and intense gaze.

Tip-toeing into the tower’s living room, Ava and Walker led the charge. They stopped, peaking around the wall that held the TV.

“I told you,” Ava whispered, digging her elbow into Walker’s side.

He wanted to retort with a snarky comment, but refrained, smiling fondly at the sight in front of them.

Even Alexei managed to stay quiet as he fumbled for his cell phone and held it up. “Oh, this is getting framed for New Avengerz Christmas card,” he said in the quietest voice they’d ever heard from him. He snapped a photo, almost giddy.

On the couch, with a movie long since over, you and Yelena slept sharing a blanket, your head resting on her shoulder, and her arm draped lazily around you.

The sight was sugary sweet, even enough for Bucky to crack a smile.

“They look so cozy,” Bob whispered.

Alexei tossed an arm around Bob’s shoulders, causing him to tense up momentarily before relaxing. “That, my boy, is young love.”

Bucky chuckled softly. “All right, let’s not push it. And-” he looked pointedly between Ava and Walker. “Less meddling, okay?”

With a roll of her eyes, Ava replied, “Yes, mom.”

The group broke apart, leaving you and Yelena to spend the rest of the night sleeping together on the couch.

As they made their way toward their bedroom, Walker knocked his shoulder with Ava’s. “We’re not actually stopping meddling to get them together, right?”

She eyed him, smirking lightly. “Not a chance.”

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uselessslipperinthecorner · 1 month ago

Text

Instant Attraction pt2

Wanda Maximoff x Reader

Word Count: 9.8k

Notes: StepMom!Wanda, cunnilingus, fingering, strap-on sex, intoxication, fluff, angst, mentions of abuse with minimal descriptions of physical acts of violence towards children

Summary: Your dad left, the twins went with Jarvis leaving you and Wanda with some alone time, but it doesn’t seem to last too long.

An: It took awhile but I got it up. If I decide to continue writing for this I'm ngl it seems like something I'll update monthly, because it's just kind of a lot to write but realistically I only see like 1 to 2 more parts happening. Thanks for the love and all the request for a second part hope I delivered 🫶.

Previous Part | Masterlist

Seven days. You had waited seven long days to have Wanda to yourself. Whatever apology your dad offered hadn’t placated the woman. There was still tension in the house up until the day he left. Everything was calm after that.

You spent more time with Billy and Tommy, further strengthening your bond. Wanda had been working a lot, but still made time to spend with the three of you together. Seeing the intensity of her workload, you had taken on cooking, not minding if it gave her one less thing to stress over.

You didn’t think you’d be so reluctant to let Billy and Tommy go their father’s, but when the day came you couldn’t help but fuss over them.

“Listen, I know your mom told you to call if her happened, but you can call me too. I’ll come get you guys, it’s no problem. Any time for any reason alright?”

“Thank you Y/n,” Billy speaks sincerely.

You tussle his hair, “It’s nothing.”

Tommy gives you a side hug, “Take care of our mom.”

“Will do, I’ll see you guys soon,” you chuckle.

Wanda walks them out to the car. You watch as Jarvis gets out when the boys get in. You can see him running his mouth, but it’s quite clear to you that Wanda isn’t having it. She begins chastising him in the street. The way he can’t refute her puts a smile on your face.

The asshole deserves to be treated that way. You can see the way his shoulder slump as he gets back in the car.

Anticipation builds as you see Wanda heading back to the door. This is the moment you had been waiting for. As soon as the door closes, you’re on her. Your body towers over her’s, slightly trapping her between you and the door.

You look down at her, with lustful eyes. Her hand cups the side of your face and you lean into her touch. Her gaze falls at a snail’s pace from your eyes to your lips.

“We're alone.”

“And what do you plan to do about that?”

Instead of answering the question verbally, your lips bare down on her’s. Her back hits the door with a soft thud due to your intensity. Yet she doesn't want you to slow down. Her arms lock behind your neck as her legs try to hook onto your waist. You’re quick to hold her under her thighs, supporting her with eases.

It's your sign to take her upstairs. There’s no hesitation as you head straight for the master bedroom. She giggles against your lips as you lay her onto the bed. Your kisses create a path from her lips down the side of her face to her neck. You’re careful to suck lightly, even though you wish to mark her. Your teeth glide over her skin animalistically.

Her hands roam freely under your shirt, the skin feels as though it's burning with desire. Her fingers are cold against you, but you love the contrasting sensation.

Her eyes are dark when they meet yours again, “You want to take it off for me baby?” Wanda tugs at your shirt a little and you’re eager to comply.

She slips her shirt over her head at the same time. The swells of her breast call to you immediately. The soft mounds of perfection, held up by a lace bra that left little to the imagination. Her perky nipples peak through and you can tell they’re stiff.

You can feel your hands twitching, eager to feel them, but waiting patiently for her consent.

Wanda laughs at the dumb look on your face. You’re practically drooling over her.

“Come here,” Wanda calls for you to invade her personal space and you oblige. “Unhook my bra,” her eyes dare you.

Your hands are steady as the reach behind Wanda. You undo the clasp and you can you feel yourself instantly dampen. The way your hands crave contact with the supple flesh strikes your core.

You reach for one, focusing on the soft gasps you hear from Wanda as your thumb cascades over her nipple. You rub the already stiff peak between your fingers before making a show of licking over it all the way up to the sweet spot of her neck.

An open mouth kiss lingers where your tongue stops. It’s then that you look to her. The slight swelling of her lips, the desperate looking her eye, the sweat of her brow. She was perfect and with no one around she was yours to claim.

Your eyes drop from her face down her chest to the jeans she had on.

“Ask me,” she whispers.

“I need to see it up close, please mommy,” you beg her earnestly.

She nods her head, chest already heaving lightly. Your hands reach for the top button of her jeans when your phone goes off. You ignore it the first time, but it continues to ring.

Wanda sighs thinking that you would take the call, instead she’s surprised when you simply turn off the device. With a new frustration in your movements you slide her pants down her legs.

“You aren’t going to get that?”

Your fingers toy with the elastic of her panties, “You think I’d answer the phone with you in front of me like this?”

Wanda looks away in shame, “Well-"

“He’s a fucking idiot,” you pull her panties to the side.

You lay on your stomach so that you’re eye level with her wet pussy. You’re tongue barely slides through her folds before you hear your doorbell repeatedly ringing as someone pounds on the door.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” you say in frustration.

You throw your shirt back on and rush to the door. Wanda is hot on your tails with her jeans half on and her shirt in hand. You yank the door open to find Yelena standing there with a smirk on her face.

“What do you want?” You do your best not to yell at her.

Yelena holds her hands up in surrender, “I know you are, how they say, a little pent up as of late, but don’t be going and yelling at me.”

“Sorry, I was just… in the middle of something.”

“Your games can wait, tonight we club.”

You had completely forgotten.

“Right, right, the club,” you run a hand through your hair.

“I know technically she’s your friend, but I invited Kate Bishop to come with us, it’s going to be a night to never forget.”

“And when are we leaving?”

“Hmmm come over at 8, we’ll pick up Kate Bishop, and go from there.”

You nod a few times, “Cool, I’ll be over at 8.”

Yelena put a hand on your shoulder, “Don’t worry, this will definitely help you with your… situation. And please don’t dress like a 12-year-old boy, you are hot, stop hiding it.”

With that Yelena leaves and you close the door.

“You’re going to a club?” Wanda’s voice startles you, you had almost forgotten that she was there.

“I guess so. I agreed to go a week ago, but it slipped my mind.”

Her eyes narrow, “And what situation is she referring to?”

You stride towards her, and place your hands on her hips, “You know, just the whole being attracted to my step mother thing. I’m supposed to go clubbing to distract me from her.”

Wanda’s cheeks get rosy, “I got you so worked up that you told the neighbor about it.”

“First of all she’s my best friend. Secondly, we had almost kissed and were trying to do the right thing. At the time the right thing was going out and having fun with people my age.” You lean in so your lips touch her ear, “But now I think I just want my mommy.”

With much effort Wanda speaks up, “It’s almost 6, you should start getting ready.”

You frown, “I don't want to go.”

“Too late, your friends are expecting you. Yelena literally almost broke the door down. Besides if you don't go tonight, she'll just try for another day. Anything to help you get over your dad’s wife, right?”

Your hand fumbles with her jeans. She doesn't stop you as you pull them down, or when you drop to your knees, “At least let me make you cum. I’ll get ready right after. I promise.”

“Y/n,” she tries to hold strong.

You nudge her legs slightly apart. Just like before your tongue swipes through her folds. This time you suck lightly on her clit before looking at her innocently.

“Want to make you cum so bad mommy, please.” you beg her, reveling in the way she tastes.

Wanda wasn’t used to this at all. Before you came it had been too long since Wanda felt attractive. She was truly astonished by the way you wanted her. In this moment denying you felt like denying herself.

Carefully her hand threaded through your hair. Her grip wasn’t tight, but you were controlled by it nonetheless.

“Go ahead baby, show me how much you need me.”

You were more anxious this time than in the bedroom. Something about this being your first time going this far with anyone finally started to rattle around in your brain. You had to make her cum, that's what you focused on.

So with your hands on her thighs and her hand in your hair, you surge forward a bit. Your tongue dips into her folds, at first dragging back and forth between them. Her taste on your tongue makes you moan. Your tongue swirls her clit before taking it into your mouth.

“You’re such a good girl for me. Flatten your tongue a little.”

You do as she says and the grip on your hair tightens slightly. She moves your head back and forth as you keep your tongue pressed against her.

“That’s it baby, get that tongue inside of me,” Wanda’s eyes are closed and her head is thrown back.

Your tongue prods against her slit trying to make its way inside of her. You move her hands to the back of her thighs pulling her closer to you. She’s as close as she can be when your tongue slips into her warm cunt. It doesn’t go in far, but it’s just enough to have her moaning your name.

“Fuck, look at me while you tongue fuck me,” she uses your hair to tilt your head up a bit.

You’re drunk on her at this point. You feel like you’re in a state of euphoria, as her juices slide down your chin.

The small pants from Wanda only spur you on. What was a slow, explorative pace turns into something fast and unhinged. You begin to fall in love with the sound of your tongue swiping through her. The sloppiness of it all feels delicious.

“I’m going to cum on that pretty little face,” it’s airy when she says it, her knees buckle.

Her hold on your hair loosens as she cums. The increase of the amount of wetness makes you want to keep going, but the shaking of Wanda’s knees make you slow. You stand, placing your hands on her hips, to help steady her.

“You taste so good mommy,” you lick your lips, keeping eye contact with the woman.

She pulls you into a deep kiss. She has a fistful of your shirt, making sure you don't pull away from her before she’s ready. Her tongue explores your mouth trying to capture every last taste of herself lingering on you.

“You did so well for me,” she pecks your lips once more.

The way your ears heat at the compliment has Wanda chuckling.

“You’re so bashful when I compliment you, pretty girl,” her hand brushes over your face.

You know that the tips of your ears are bright red by now. You burry your head in the woman’s shoulder, “It’s my first time doing anything like that.”

Wanda doesn’t believe you, “There’s no way.”

“I’m serious, the farthest I’ve gone is dry humping, this…” you pull your head out of her shoulder to motion between the two of you, “will be my first time, going past that.”

You see the look dances in her eyes, “Are you telling me, that no one has got to experience you like this before?”

“Only you mommy,” you fall into her fantasy seamlessly.

“How do you feel about that?”

Her hands subconsciously slide up and down your body. Her lip fits in-between her teeth, pulling slightly as her eyes find yours.

“I want you to take everything you want from me,” you tell her seriously.

Her fingers are cool against your skin, “You’re going to give it to me?”

You take her hand guide it down your torso and into your pants. She gasps when she feels how wet she’s made you, “Anything you want.”

“I want you… to go get ready for your night out,” she says, placing her fingers into her mouth.

She pushes you away from her playfully. You whine her, “Wanda.”

“Come on, I’ll even pick out your outfit,” she starts walking upstairs.

With your head dropped you reluctantly follow behind her, unable to stop yourself from mumbling, “Should be undressing me, instead."

“What was that?” Wanda’s sharp eyes hit yours.

You straighten your posture, “Nothing, nothing. I was just saying I can't wait to see what you pick.”

Wanda laughs, “Careful detka, I’d hate to have to give you a punishment.”

Your mouth hangs open at the thought, saliva pooling with desire.

Wanda shakes her head, grabbing you by the upper arm. She leads you to the bathroom. She shoves you inside, “You’re going to need a cold shower, to get your mind out of the gutter. While you do that, I’ll get your clothes ready.”

You try to decompress as the cold water runs down your body. Every time you take a deep inhale all you smell is Wanda on your face. You close your eyes and you see her urging you to be good for her.

You rest your head on the shower wall trying to get a grip. Your focus shifts to the way water feels against your skin. It’s cold, rigid, grounding. After you finish showering you do your skin care and brush your teeth as well.

When you make your way to the bedroom, you find Wanda sitting on your bed next to some of the clothes she had gotten for you. The towel that you had around you seems to garner a lot of her attention.

You can’t help but tease her, “You still want to help me get ready, or you just want to stare?”

She rolls her eyes, “Whatever, put these on, quickly so I can do your makeup.”

“I don’t really-"

“Trust me,” she bats her eyelashes at you.

You scoop up the clothes, “Fine.”

You drop the towel and she watches as you dress yourself. When you’re done, she stands and adjusts your clothes to how she likes them. You had apparently pulled the jeans up too high and she was quick to unbutton a large portion of buttons on the shirt. You had the shirt all the way tucked in and she pulled it so that one end of the shirt hung out.

You watch in your mirror, as she worked over your clothes. The shirt now plunged into a low V, which is something you never would have done on your own.

“Perfect, now get on the bed.”

You lay with your back on the bed, staring up at the ceiling pretending to be uninterested in the things Wanda is gathering in her hands. When she has the things she needs, she sets them on the bed next to your legs. The makeup is not entirely foreign to you, but you’re definitely no expert in it.

Wanda the straddles your waist, her hair dangles down as she studies your face. You feel your nerves picking up under her gaze. She was truly one of the most breathtaking people that you had ever laid your eyes on.

“Stop looking at me like that,” it’s not until she speaks that you notice her blush.

You look away, but her fingers grip your chin gently moving you back to the original position, “Sorry."

“It’s not going to be too much, I promise,” she begins applying some light make up to your face.

“Wanda, have you… done this before?”

“Makeup?”

You want to shake your head but you stop yourself because of your current predicament, “No, like been with a woman.”

“A few,” she answers nonchalantly.

“Oh.”

She doesn’t stop working, “Does that matter to you?”

“No, I was just curious.” You pause for a long moment before saying, “Like in college or?”

“Close your eyes,” she commands and your eyelids shut. “ In high school, in college, out of college, I’ve found my way around.”

“So it’s common for you, to um date women?”

Wanda nods, “Well yes, I like women, they’re pretty. Don’t you agree?”

“Yes, I just- where does my dad come into the picture?”

“Cause he’s a man?”

“Well…”

Wanda chuckles to herself, “Sweetheart I like men too, maybe just a little less.”

You choke a bit, “Oh yeah, duh.”

She finishes with your eyes, “Can I ask you something, Y/n?”

“Anything.”

“Have you ever dated?”

You sputter for an answer, “ I mean- unsuccessfully, yes. Like I’ve been on dates, but they’ve never really progressed.”

“You said you dry-humped.”

You feel yourself growing embarrassed, “I did, but I never said she was my girlfriend. I’m not… people don’t really date me. I’m not exciting or adventurous or anything like that. I’ve got average looks, but I’m so socially inept that it just kind of-"

Wanda stops your rambling with a kiss, “I think you’re a catch. Now sit up so I can do your lips.”

A nasty thought swirls in your head, you try to keep it down, but it’s out of your lips before you can stop it, “I think you’re just saying that because I can make you cum.”

Wanda’s eyes look into yours, it feels like she’s staring into your soul, “I’m not. I’m saying it because you’ve shown it to me. You’re attentive, you’re dedicated, you’re kind, you know when to take charge, and you’ve got a good head on your shoulders. You’re charming, and funny, the fact that you can make me cum is just the icing on the cake. I was drawn to you before we even became intimate.”

“How can you see all that in such a short time?”

Her hand slips into yours, her thumb cascades over your knuckles, “It’s impossible not to see, Y/n.”

You clear your throat, “Sorry, I’m just not used to the um praise I guess.”

“Don’t apologize, I don't have any problems reassuring you whenever you need it. You deserve it, pretty girl,” Wanda places one more quick kiss on your lips.

She finishes up with your look. When you see yourself, a wide smile spreads across your face. You look amazing, you feel a strange sense of confidence burst through you.

“Thank you, for helping me get ready.”

“I couldn't let you go out without a little help. Now, you look good enough to eat. I hope you're prepared to keep the crowd off of you tonight.”

You reach for her and she lets herself enter your grasp, “I only have eyes for you.”

“You say that now, but it’ll be harder when some sweet young girl is pulling you onto the dance floor,” her gaze drops.

“I’ve never really had a thing for girls my age. I’ve always liked them older. Not to mention you’re the perfect woman.”

“Nobody’s perfect, Y/n,” she tries to escape your hold.

“I thought that same thing, but then I saw you and I knew I’d been lied to.”

She blushes and you let her go, “You’re so corny. I think it’s time for you to go to Yelena’s. Wouldn’t want her to come breaking down the door again.”

“And you'll be waiting for me when I come back?”

She throws you a smile over her shoulder, “ I’ll be right here.”

You send her one back. You start to head to the front door, but you turn back half way. It was impossible for you leave without giving her one last kiss.

“I’ll see you later,” you say walking away one last time.

You exit the house and head for Yelena’s, when you knock she answers quickly.

“You look amazing, I never knew this was possible for you.”

You roll your eyes, “Shut up, and let's go get Kate.”

“Do I not get a compliment?”

You huff, “You look great, can we go now?”

“You’re so mean to me,” she says stepping out of her home.

She flashes her keys and you hop in the passenger seat of her car. During the drive you catch up on more that you missed while you were at school. Not just neighborhood gossip, but specifically what had been going on in Yelena’s life. When the topic shifts back to you she asks about Wanda.

“So how've you been holding up?”

You weigh your options briefly. Tell the truth or lie to Yelena. It made sense to say nothing had changed, but that's complete bullshit that Yelena would see right through.

“Things are still complicated, but it’s different now,” you say uncertainly.

“What does that mean?”

You look out of the window, “My dad’s on this trip for work, he’ll be gone for a month, maybe longer.”

“So it’s you, the kids, and Wanda?”

“Not exactly, the kids left this morning. So it’s just me and Wanda.”

Yelena whistles, “You poor soul. Just you and your forbidden fruit right there for the taking.”

You sink down in your seat, “What if I did?”

“Did what?”

“Take it; what if I crossed that line?”

Yelena laughs, “I don't think you have a shot Y/n.”

“But if I did, would it be wrong? You should've seen how they fought Yelena. My dad didn't tell Wanda about his work trip until 3 days before he was supposed to leave. She blew up on him, but well deserved. The guy hasn't changed, never there for the people that need him the most.”

She sighs, “I think morally it’s wrong. That's your dad’s wife… but if you're asking me if I'd judge you for it, then I would not. She’s an attractive, kind, woman who, let’s be honest, is too good for your dad.”

“Ok.”

“Any particular reason you are asking me this?”

You clear your throat, “Well, I- we…”

“No way,” Yelena turns to you fully.

“THE ROAD, LENA LOOK AT THE ROAD.”

She readjusts her hands on the wheel and looks forward, “Y/n did you fuck your stepmom?”

“Technically no… but maybe she came on my thigh and I ate her out,” you say it so fast Yelena almost doesn’t understand.

“Oh my god! How did this happen? What did you do? I thought we were putting distance not full sending?”

“I told you she was arguing with my dad. I kind of had to take charge of the situation. The kids were there so we went upstairs. I came back down to like be an adult and end their argument it worked. The boys fell asleep in my room so I went to theirs. She was in there… she asked me if I would leave, I said no. One thing led to another.”

“WITH THE WHOLE FAMILY THERE?!?!”

“It was the heat of the moment. We waited until the twins left before it happened again but then I was nearly cock blocked by a blonde psycho banging on my door.”

She looks at you again, “I can’t believe this. What about your dad?”

“I don't know, but I’m not giving her up without a fight,” your tone is stubborn as you speak.

“So… new plan for tonight. You’re getting wasted enough to forget the consequences of your actions.”

“Sounds good to me.”

When you pull in front of Kate's place, you go to text her, but Yelena stops you. She gets out of the car and goes up to the girl’s door. When Kate opens the door, you watch them converse.

You take note of how Yelena continuously seems to fluster Kate. You’re starting to think you know why Yelena invited the brunette in the first place.

“Hi Katie, glad you could join us.”

“I don't think I had much of a choice Yelena basically said it was for the greater good and that I needed to come for your sake.”

You give the blonde a light glare and she raises her hands in defense, “Don’t be mad at me for caring.”

“I’ll explain on the way.”

So you do just that on the way to the club. Kate’s reactions were hilarious making the blonde woman in the driver’s seat last. You had just finished when you guys arrived at the club.

“We should’ve pre-gamed harder,” Kate says when you finish telling the story. “Y/n this is quite literally the craziest thing you’ve done in your life.”

“By far,” Yelena adds on.

“I’m aware, but I can’t bring myself to regret it or feel guilty. For the first time in my life I feel like I’m doing something for myself.”

Yelena parks the car as you get close to the destination. You all get out and begin walking to the club.

“You know what? Fuck yeah, Y/n,” Kate pulls you into her side.

Yelena puts her hand on your shoulder, “And when this inevitably goes wrong or gets super complex, we’ll be here for you irregardless.”

“Regardless,” Kate corrects her.

“Same thing.”

You wrap your arms around both of them, “Enough talking, tonight we drink. To being young, wild, and reckless.”

As you enter the building the music is blasting at max volume. It’s packed, as people dance to the beat of the song. Bodies are everywhere and the only lights are the colorful splotches that move across the room.

“I thought you hated the club?”

“I do, but hopefully drinking will change that,” you scream over the music.

Yelena takes charge leading the three of you to the bar. There’s two seats so you stand as the other two sit down. The blonde has already ordered a round of shots for you to down.

She reaches her hand out to Kate who takes it curiously. Yelena pulls Kate into her lap, and your former dorm mate yelps in surprise. Your neighbor keeps the smile on her face as she looks at you, “Sit.”

You eye them, “Is there something I should know about?”

Kate turns a deep shade of red, “Uh um.”

Yelena just chuckles, “No, but I am working on it. Are you opposed to this Kate Bishop?”

“Well, no,” she cautiously meets Yelena’s eyes.

“Perfect, I’ll drink to that,” Yelena picks up one of the shots.

You two follow suit, immediately as she orders another round. It takes about 4 shots before you feel the nerves that you had settle.

Guess by Charli XCX and Billie Eilish starts to play in the club.

“I fucking love this song, let’s dance,” Kate gets off Yelena’s lap and pulls her to the dance floor.

You follow the pair feeling the beat of the song travel through your body. Your dancing consist of a lot of jumping as you scream the lyrics along with the rest of the club.

You’re in your own world so you don't notice a girl dancing behind you until you almost turn into her.

“Hi,” she shouts over the music.

“Hi,” you don't stop dancing.

Your movements cause a smile to spread across her face, “I like the way you dance.”

“Thanks, it’s the alcohol.”

“I’m Cass, do you mind if I dance with you?”

In the moment you thought nothing of it, “Sure, I'm Y/n.”

You dance with the brunette. There are a few times when her hands brush against your body, but you think it's tight space, that makes it impossible to be anything but close to her. You end up being pushed up against each other. She stumbles into your arms. You grab her shoulders so she doesn't fall.

“You good there?”

“You’re really pretty, and oh your arms are pretty buff too,” she looks up at you through her eyelashes.

It sobers you up a bit, “You here alone Cass?”

She shakes her head, “No I came with my friends.”

“Let’s help you find them.”

She grabs on to your shirt, “But I like it here, with you.”

You take her hand in yours and off of your shirt, “That's nice, but what if your friends are worrying about you?”

“You’ll keep me safe won’t you,” her hand moves to swipe some hair behind your ear.

“Y/n, there you are… who is this?”

“This is Cass, she needs to find her friends,” you look at them for help.

She pouts, “Why, when the girl of my dreams is right in front of me?”

Kate interjects, “Don’t you want to introduce her to your friends?”

Cass's eyes sparkle and she grabs your wrist, “Eli and America will love you.”

She begins dragging you through the club while both of your friends do their best to keep up.

“Cassandra Lang, we've been looking for you, “ another girl comes up and pulls the blonde from you.

“America, this is Y/n the love of my life,” Cass throws her arms around her friend.

Her friends raises an eyebrow as she looks at you. You shake your head.

“I’m not the love of her life. I found her on the dancefloor and thought I'd try to get her to her friends,” you explain.

Cass frowns, “But I thought we had something?”

A man approaches and ruffles her hair, “You have had too many drinks. Sorry about her.”

“It’s alright. Well I’m going to get another drink. It was nice dancing with you Cass,” you send her polite smile.

“I love you, Y/n,” she says as you walk away.

“She was pretty cute, Y/nn,” Kate says as you wait for another drink.

“Kate Bishop remember she’s whipped by the red headed milf,” Yelena reminds her.

You nod as you sip your drink, “Damn right.”

You pull out your phone and see you have a couple missed calls from your dad. He calls again while the phone’s in your hand. You pick it up even though you can barely hear it in the club.

“Hello!”

“Kid where are you at? I’ve called you and Wanda and I haven’t-”

“I’m clubbing, Wanda’s home. I’ll talk to you later,” you hang up on him before he says anything else.

You down your drink and get another after that.

“You don’t want to slow down?” Yelena watches you.

“Nope.”

You don’t slow down. Having a few more drinks before hitting the dance floor again. You’re definitely a little more than buzzed. The more you start to realize how intoxicated you are, the more you want to go home.

Your mind starts to wander to Wanda. Her body, her lips on your neck, her voice in your ear. You start to picture her riding you, but not your thigh this time. She’s fully naked bouncing on your lap and your mouth is occupied sucking on her nipples.

“Fuck,” you mumble to yourself.

You see Yelena and Kate dancing in the corner. It looks like they’re caught up with each other. As much as hated to interrupt them you did it anyway.

“Lovebirds, I’m going to get a Lyft home,” you shout at them.

“You don't want me to take you, I haven’t had anything since we came in?” Yelena says.

“Nah, you two have fun, ok?”

Yelena nods, “Let us know when you make it safe.”

“Will do.”

The Lyft ride is a little hazy. By the time you get to your house, it feels like you’re in full heat.

You attempt to open the door but the key keeps slipping through your fingers. Your hands are shaking as you attempt to get in. The door swings open causing you to drop they keys.

You crouch down to get them off the ground. When you raise your head, you see Wanda looking down at you with her arms crossed.

A silk robe adorned her body and it left little to the imagination.

“Your dad called me, he’s mad I let you go to a club,” she says.

“Oh.”

She tilts her head to the side, “Are you going to say down there all night?”

You stand up quickly, nearly dropping the keys again. When you step into the house, Wanda closes the door behind you.

“How’d you get home?”

You stare brute answering, “Lyft.”

“Where’s Yelena?”

“She stayed with Kate at the club. I wanted to come home. I missed you,” you step into her personal space, hands playing with the bottom of her silk robe.

“We have to talk about what your dad said,” Wanda tries to grab your attention.

“I don’t want to talk about him. I want to show you how much I missed you,” your warm hand closes over her cool one.

You slide her hand into your pants. Her fingers brush in-between your fold barely grazing your clit as she pulls her hand away.

“You’re drunk,” Wanda says it more to herself than you.

“And horny. So definitely not the time to talk about my dad. Especially when all I can think about is mommy.”

Wanda visibly sigh before taking your hand in hers and pulling you up the stairs. You finally think you’re getting what you need, until she directs you towards the bathroom.

Once you’re in there you sit on the counter top.

“Y/n you need to- what’s that?”

Your brows furrow, “What?”

“That on your chest,” Wanda’s jaw clenches as she speaks.

You try to look down at your chest failing to see what she’s talking about, “My boobs?”

“There’s lipstick on you,” she swipes her thumb across it raising up so you can see the pink color coating it.

“Oh, it must be from Cass.”

“Who’s Cass?”

Your eyes close as you try to recount the story, “There was this girl at the club, she was dancing with me and saying that I was like the love of her life or something? She was so drunk she fell like into me. We found her friends though, and then I got more drinks. She was kind of pretty but like my friends said I’m whipped by this red headed milf that lives in my house. Whoops sorry I said milf.”

Wanda went through a lot of emotions as you were speaking. The thought that some girl from the club tried to claim you made her jealous. Some girl putting her hands on you, her lips on you, saying you were the love of her life just made her furious. However she thought it was cute that you said you were whipped for her. She also didn’t hate being called a milf.

“Y/n let’s get you cleaned up,” Wanda turns on the shower.

“If I take my clothes off, will you fuck me?”

She snorts, “No, because you’re drunk.”

You pout, “This fucking sucks.”

Wanda kisses your forehead, “If you can get yourself clean and ready for bed, we can kiss a little.”

That’s all it takes for your clothes to come off and you to rush into the shower. While you’re in the shower Wanda picks out some pajamas for you and takes them back into the bathroom. She decides to wait for you to finish in your room. She makes herself comfortable on your bed.

Around 10 minutes later she hears your feet padding along the hallway floor. Soon you’re opening the door and falling face first into the bed, the alcohol making you sleepy.

“So too tired to kiss?”

She doesn’t expect a response, but she finds it adorable when you scoot closer to her. Your legs tangle with her and you drape an arm over her. Lastly you lift your head, with your eyes still closed, puckering your lips.

She gives you a soft kiss and you tuck your head into her shoulder. You mumble a ‘goodnight’ and it seems you’re out in an instant.

When you wake up the next morning the bed is empty. There’s hardly any light peeking through your curtains, but the little light that is makes you squint your eyes. Your head is throbbing and you groan recounting how much you drank last night.

When you sit up in the bed you notice the water and what you assume to be Advil on your bed side table. You gulp down the water and take the pills without hesitation.

You check your phone and your eyes widen as you see that it is 2pm. The time shocks you but doesn’t make you move any faster. You change into some sweats before brushing your teeth and heading downstairs.

“I didn’t think I’d be seeing you until the sun went down again,” Wanda calls from the kitchen.

You follow her voice, seeing her wash dishes. You move with confidence, hugging her from behind and resting your head on top of hers.

“I’m never going clubbing again,” you kiss the top of her head.

“Do you remember anything from when you came home?”

You frown, “Something about my dad.”

She turns in your arms, “Yeah, he called me pretty upset because someone hung up in his face.”

“Well what was I supposed to do? I could hardly hear him. Plus he only called me because you weren’t answering,” you explain to her.

“I told him you were old enough to make your own decisions and that I wouldn’t be stopping you “

“Good.”

“I also told him you’d call him back today…”

You separate from her begrudgingly, “Fine, I’ll get it over with now.”

The call to your dad was nothing special. He tried to scold you a little bit, but you reminded him that you were an adult that could do what you wanted. Then he turned the conversation into just wanting to make sure you’re safe and that home is safe. He asked about if you knew what Wanda was up to while you were gone which threw you for a loop.

He was extra curious about her whereabouts and activities since she was home alone. You told him you didn’t know. With the boys gone and your night out it was seeming like he was stressing about what she could’ve been doing.

“I just want to make sure that you know there’s nothing strange going on while I’m away,” he says towards the end of the conversation.

“What you think she’s having someone come over or something?”

He pauses, “No, I just- sometimes when Jarvis stops by, I get a little territorial you know, like this is mine and-”

“You don’t own her dad and I’ll have you know she actually just laid into him yesterday about what he’s been saying to Billy.”

“I wasn’t saying I owned her. It’s just Wanda is an amazing woman and I just don’t want to lose her.”

You roll your eyes, “Well that’s what conversation is for. Talk to her, communicate your feelings, and trust her.”

You hear him click his tongue, “I see what you’re saying. I gotta go kid, I’ll talk to you soon. Love you.”

When he gets off of the phone you’re annoyed with him. However it’s a little funny that he has every right to be worried. He doesn’t know the person he’s worried about is you.

“So what did he want?”

“To make sure you weren’t inviting anyone over while no one else was home because, and this is a direct quote, he gets a little territorial and you are his.”

She ponders, “Well I am his wife.”

You disagree, “His wife not his property. He doesn't own you.”

“And if we were married instead?”

“If we were married you would be mine but I would be yours too. I’d trust you and your judgement. There’s no way I’d ask my kid to keep tabs on you,” you say without skipping a beat.

“He’s got you all worked up, sweetheart,” Wanda gets behind you and starts rubbing your shoulders. “You’re too young to be this tense, go sit on the couch for me.”

Shortly after you sit on the couch Wanda stands behind you, continuing to put a subtle pressure on your shoulders.

A moan drips from your mouth as she works the knots in your shoulders, “Oh god.”

“You know I was thinking last night about how you've made feel good and I haven't returned the favor. I think it would really get some of this tension off of you baby.”

You tilt your head back to stare up at her. She pecks your lips once, twice, three times before your hands rests on her face holding her in the upside-down kiss.

Her hand reaches to tug at the bottom of your shirt. You eagerly pull it over your head. She takes the time to rid herself of her shirt as well. She comes over to the other side of the couch so she’s facing you.

Almost like you did yesterday she gets on her knees. She pulls your sweats and you help her get them off.

She kisses up your thighs, your legs tremble with excitement. It causes her to giggle against you but she doesn’t stop with her kisses.

When she reaches your underwear she makes eye contact with you, “Are you sure?”

“Please mommy, I want to cum,” you say not breaking eye contact.

She rids you of the underwear and spreads your legs a bit. Just from a small make out and shoulder rub, you’re wet.

Wanda plays with idea in her mind of what she wants to do first. She decides to slide one of her fingers inside of you. She watches the way your hands squeeze the couch cushions.

“You’re so tight and warm. I don’t think your pussy would even give me my finger back,” she watches as your cunt sucks in her finger.

Her pumps are slow at first to allow you to adjust but soon she picks up the speed.

“More, I need more please,” you say with your eyes screwed shut.

“Look at me,” Wanda commands.

You do as you’re told and she slips in another finger at your compliance. Your head falls forward and your breathing intensifies as you watch her finger fuck you.

“That’s it pretty girl, open up for me,” she starts spreading you with her fingers.

Her thumb makes light contact with your clit. You almost arch off of the couch, but she keeps you grounded.

“So sensitive baby, could you handle it if I-” she cuts herself off, deciding to stroke your clit with her tongue. It’s sensual as she takes it into her mouth, sucking lightly. Her fingers continuing to pump into you.

“I- fuck, I’m going to cum,” you mewl, gripping onto the couch with all of your strength.

“Cum for mommy,” Wanda looks up at you briefly before refocusing on your pussy.

Her teasing pace becomes more solid as her fingers and tongue work in tandem to bring you to your climax.

The heat builds inside of you, unlike anything you've experienced by yourself, and soon it’s seeping out of you. Your body convulses as you cum with Wanda’s mouth on your clit and fingers buried inside you.

Your eyes are wide and breathing is short as she slowly works you through your orgasm. When she senses you’ve come down, she climbs up into your lap. Her lips capture yours in a sweet kisses.

She’s gentle as your tired lips attempt to keep up with her’s. Your hands finally leave the couch cushions to rest on her lower back, unwilling to put any distance between the two of you.

“You did so well for me detka,” she strokes your hair, kissing you on your forehead.

“I’ve never felt anything like that in my life,” you say breathlessly.

Wanda takes your earlobe in her mouth playfully, “Get used to it.”

She attempts to get out of your lap, but you don’t let her, “What about you?”

“I have to get back to work.”

You plead, “I can be quick.”

The desperation in your tone only makes her more wet than she already is. She ponders over what to do. Then she realizes, that perhaps, she could do both.

“Follow me, leave your pants off,” she taps your shoulder twice, slipping out of your hold.

She throws her shirt back over her head and walks upstairs. You follow her, naked and on slightly unsteady legs.

She leads you into the main bedroom. She has her work equipment set up on the desk in the corner. You watch as she goes into the closet, anxious to see what the woman was planning.

When she comes back she has a shoe box in hand. She sits it on the bed and beckons you closer before opening it.

“You’re going to fill me up while I work,” She holds up a harness, and you feel yourself getting warm at the thought.

She helps you put it on, attaching what you believe to be a slightly larger than usual dildo. She lubes it up before passing you to her office chair. She lightly pushed you down on top the seat.

You watch as she makes quick work of removing her pants. You lick your lips when you notice the wet spot she had in her panties.

Her hands hold the arm rests of the chair while you take her hips in your hand helping lower her on to the strap.

You focus on the way her breath hitches as she takes more and more of you. Once you’re all the way in she slowly rides you. The way her pussy opens around the cock has you mesmerized. You test your luck thrusting lightly into her, eliciting a light whine.

“I love the way you feel inside me,” she rolls her hips again.

Your hand move to rest on her stomach, while your head rests on her shoulder. You peer at the computer screen in front of you, vaguely posing attention to what she's working on.

“Are you going to be able to finish, like this?”

“The work or…”

You kiss her shoulder, “Both.”

She nods, “I think so. I just need you to move for me, slowly almost the same pace as your breathing. Build me up so I can cum on your fat cock. Can you do that for mommy?”

You carefully thrust inside her, “I can do that. “

You watch as she edits the document before her, following the pattern that she set. Soon it just becomes mindless as you push into her. She’s making a mess all over your thigh, but staying completely composed at the same time.

You have no idea how long you've say for when she finally finishes with the document. Her breathing becomes shallow and her head rest on the desk.

The change gives you a small concern, “Wanda?”

She maneuvers so that she’s facing you, the cock still buried inside of her waterfall of a cunt. Her eyes are closed as her forehead rests against yours.

“Fuck me,” she pleads. “Hard, fast, and sloppy.”

You lift her a but to give you some leverage. She takes a deep breath and that's when you begin pounding her pussy.

The rapid change in movements has the woman screaming into the room. The sound o of your skin slapping together, with the stickiness of her juices is delicious.

“Don’t stop, don't you fucking stop.”

Your breathing pick us as well, “You’re so hot like this mommy. Full of me, begging for more. I wish you could sit on my cock all day. I love having your pussy leaking all over my lap.”

“Oh shit,” she says as you begin to fuck her faster.

You take initiative forcing her to stand, before pushing her head down against the desk. Your legs are a little numb, but you know she's close so you fuck her into the table.

“That’s it baby, make mommy cum all over your cock. Make me your little cock slut. I'm yours baby, mommy’s all yours.”

It's unexpected when you feel yourself release at her words. The stutter in your movements is enough to send Wanda over the edge too. You can almost feel it as her cunt pulses on the dildo.

You move to take it out of her but she stops you, “Not yet, baby.”

You stay inside of her, placing scattered kisses over her skin. She eventually signals for you to pull out. She shutters at the empty feeling. You turn her around so you can kiss her properly.

Your lips find hers with a sensual passion. It’s slow and methodical when you nip at her bottom lip. She hold your face in her hands tenderly as you kiss.

“You’re so good to me,” she says with one final peck to your lips. “I want to take you out.”

“Like a date?”

“Ideally yes,” she plays with the hairs on the back of your neck.

You kiss her forehead, “Sounds good.”

The rest of the day passes by blissfully. You spend it with Wanda, just relaxing. The two of you talk and get to know each other better. She finally tells you about her childhood, which is where you find out where she’s from. The slip of her accent finally being explained. She tells you about her parents and her brother.

Before you could see what kind of person Wanda was, but now you felt like you actually knew her. It felt like more than just a physical attraction before, but now, you were sure.

Wanda knew a few things about you from what your father had told her, but not necessarily anything meaningful. You told her about your upbringing with a single father. The woes of navigating life semi-independently at such a young age. Your struggle with socialization and how Yelena was really there for you whenever you needed her.

You shared positive things too. The little pieces of mischief that you and Lena had got into as children. The fleeting, but bright memories you had of your mom. You talked about your passion for literature and meeting Kate at college.

It was nice having someone be interested in your life for once. Wanda also felt this was the first time someone had cared to know more about her in what seemed like an eternity. You both found yourselves enthralled with one another.

Similarly to your first outing together, you both fell asleep on the couch while something played on the TV. The only thing that woke you up was your phone ringing.

You reach to for it groggily with your eyes still closed.

“Hello?”

“Y/n, d-do you think you could come get us?”

Your eyes shoot open immediately. You check the time and it’s nearly 2am. Wanda is laying somewhat across your lap.

“Yeah Tommy, just send me the address and I’ll be there as soon as I can. What happened?”

You stealthily move from the couch, careful not to wake Wanda.

“Billy and dad got into a huge fight. It got physical and I tried to step in, but I didn’t know what to do and-”

“He hit you?” It’s a challenge to keep your voice down as you head for the front door.

“No, but he hit Billy. It was a proper fight I had to get in between them."

You feel your jaw twitching, “Where’s Billy now?”

“He’s asleep, I just… I don’t know if we’re safe here. I know we just left but-”

You stop him, “Tommy, I told you to call me, didn’t I? I don’t care if you were still on the block, I’d come get you and it wouldn’t be a big deal. I’m glad you called me.”

“Thank you, I’m sending the address now.”

You type it into your phone, “I should be there in 20 minutes alright? Make sure you have your stuff and your brother’s stuff too. Do you know if your dad is still awake?”

“I think he’s asleep, but he’s a light sleeper. We should be able to get out though,” Tommy says.

“Good, I'm on my way. I’ll see you soon.”

The call ends after that. You take off, following the directions to the address. The speed limits seems more irrelevant by the minute.

You honestly can’t believe that Jarvis got into a fight with Billy, after he had just been scolded by Wanda. If he didn’t enjoy that, whatever happens after she finds out about this is going to be 10 times worse.

Honestly you wanted to get your hands on the man yourself. Who did he think he was putting his hands on Billy?

When you pull in front of the house you text Tommy. He responds saying they'd be right down. You keep the car running, watching the front door. You don’t wait too long before you see Billy and Tommy come out. They make it halfway through the lawn before the front door opens again.

“Where do you think you’re going at this hour?”

You get out of the car, calling to Tommy and Billy, “Boys get in.”

They hurry to the car with their father chasing after them. You rush onto the lawn, blocking his path, while they hop in the car.

“What’re you even doing here? You can’t just take my kids, I’ll-”

“You’ll what? Call the police? I’d bet they’d love to know that you’re hitting your kids.”

“How I discipline my son, is none of your business,” he glares at you.

Your jaw twitches, “Maybe it’s not my business, but we’ll see what Wanda thinks of all of this.”

He grabs a handful of your shirt, “You little unwanted shit.”

You shove him hard and he falls to the ground. You can’t resist the urge to kick him while he’s down. With one strong kick to his gut, you leave in his lawn, getting back in your car.

You don’ waste time driving away from his house. It’s quiet, with no one saying anything. When you catch a red light you look in the back, and gaso as you see Billy. He has a cut above his eyebrow and his right eye has swelling. Your grip on the steering wheel tightens.

“He did that to you?”

“I got him pretty good too and I’m sure he’s feeling that kick you gave him,” he says smugly.

You crack a small smile, “Your mom is going to be pissed.”

“Do you think-”

“We have to tell her. Besides she’s going to see you, Billy. I wouldn’t be surprised if-”

Your phone starts ringing in the center console. You know it’s Wanda, you can just tell. You tell Tommy to answer the phone.

“Hi mom. Yeah, I called Y/n. Look can we just explain when we get there, it’s only like 5 minutes. Love you too, bye.”

He hangs up the phone.

“I was going to say I wouldn’t be surprised if she was awake,” you finish your sentence.

“Do you think she'll be mad we didn't call her?”

“No, I don't think that matters here. As long as your safe she would never be mad at you,” you level with both boys.

You can tell the boys are nervous when you park the car. The silence is loud and it has little to do with the fact it’s a little past 3am.

You don’t have the words to comfort them in the moment, but you’re certain everything will be ok. When you unlock the door, both boys try to rush upstairs. You grab both of them by the backs of their shirts.

The timing lines up to when the light turns on. Wanda doesn’t get a word out before Billy’s face is in her hands.

“Mom I’m fine,” he says as she pulls his face in multiple directions.

“What happened to you?”

Tommy speaks in his place, “Dad happened.”

“Jarvis did this to you?” There’s a slight disbelief in her voice.

“We got into a fight over my boyfriend and things escalated. Then when Y/n came in got us he tried to fight her too.”

Wanda has fury in her eyes and you take that as a sign to intervene, “Why don’t you guys go upstairs and get some rest? I think it’s best to talk about it when everyone is well rested.”

They look at their mother for conformation and when she nods they hurry upstairs.

“You, kitchen, now,” she says leading the way and you follow behind her. She waits for you to explain, her arms folded over her chest.

“Tommy called me and asked me to come get them. He said that things got physical between Billy and Jarvis. So I obviously went to pick them up.”

“Did he try to get physical with you too?”

You put your hand on your forehead, “I don’t know. He snatched me up by the shirt and I pushed him down, then kicked him in the stomach. I mean he could’ve just been trying to scare me off.”

“I’m going to have to call my lawyer. There’s no way I’m letting him anywhere near my kids again.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t wake you up, it just seemed so urgent. I wasn’t even fully awake when I was talking to Tommy.”

“No, it’s fine. Thank you, for going to get them.”

The shift in her moods is understandable, but you’re still unsure of how to properly navigate it.

“I’m going to bed, maybe you should too. Lawyers aren’t typically taking calls this hour,” you give her a tight-lipped smile, leaving the kitchen.

“ Wait,” she stops you in your tracks.

You turn to face her and hardly have any time to process it as she wraps her arms around you in a strong hug. You hold her just as tight, rubbing soothing circles on her back. You kiss the top of her head.

“He’s okay. Everything’s going to be ok,” you mumble into her hair.

She takes a shaky breath, reluctantly leaving your arms, “Let’s go."

When you reach the top of the stairs, you let out a sigh. Now that the boys are back, you need to be more careful. That means you sleep in your room and Wanda sleeps in her’s.

With emotions running high both of you could use someone to lay with tonight, but it’s not in the cards.

Wanda kisses your cheek, “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight,” you watch her disappear into the master bedroom before heading to your own.

You get in tour bed, trying to stop your mind from racing. You think about Wanda, her kids, Jarvis, and your own father. It’s finally starting to hit you that you might be in over your head.

You shake the thoughts away, knowing only one thing to be true; Wanda was worth all of the hardship to come.

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