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just-a-torn-up-masterpiece · 13 hours

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she cared (she was just scared)

Summary: You and Emily have known each other since you were fifteen. Back in Rome, she had a hard time fitting in and you were one of her friends, along with John Cooley and Matthew Benton. She was closer friends to you first but she and Matthew spent more time together months before he died. When Matthew passed away, him being a mutual friend of yours, it somehow felt that your connection with her died too. Genre: Angst (with happy ending) Pairing: Emily Prentiss x female reader Warnings: mentions of abortion, homophobia, catholic/religious guilt, implied suicide of minor character Word count: 7.4K

A/N:

This is basically inspired by Criminal Minds S4E17 Demonology and Kat Victoria's song called "Scared". Sorry for any and all grammar, spelling and other writing mistakes. I've been dealing with writer's block recently and I finished this fic just to keep my gears going. I'm not really satisfied how this fic turned out but I hope it's okay enough to read lol.

All likes, comments and reblogs are welcome. Thank you :)

AO3

You and Emily have known each other since you were fifteen. Back in Rome, she had a hard time fitting in and you were one of her friends, along with John Cooley and Matthew Benton. She was closer friends to you first but she and Matthew spent more time together months before he died. When Matthew passed away, him being a mutual friend of yours, it somehow felt that your connection with her died too.

You haven’t seen Emily since Matthew’s funeral. You saw her sitting in the last row during the funeral mass. You tried to find her after but she was already gone. You and John stayed a bit longer when everyone had gone home, reminiscing about your friend who had gone too soon.

Since that day, it wasn’t just Matthew who left you. Your friends drifted away one by one. First came Emily. Then, eventually, John became too busy to hangout. Matthew took a part of you and your friends with him.

So you learned to be on your own.

Your friends didn’t keep in touch with you and you are with them. But you wish they had. It was a short-lived friendship but it was the best year you ever had.

It was a month later that you found out through one of your teachers that Emily and her mother flew back to America. She didn’t say goodbye; not to you or John. But the next day, you found an envelope with a picture of you, Matthew, Emily and John posing just outside of the church during the first fall of snow. It was taken five months before Matthew passed. There wasn’t a note or anything at the back of the photograph but it’s safe to say it was from Emily. It was her camera that you used.

It was during the first year of college that you saw Emily again. She looked different now. She had thick eyeliner, black lipstick and a leather choker on her neck. Her dark hair was all over the place and you’re absolutely sure, her fashion choices would send her mother into a coma (if she wasn’t already in one yet). Emily looked different but you’re sure it was her.

Your eyes met for a brief moment until she looked away and asked two muscular men behind her to help her carry her suitcases. You looked the other way too.

You finally reached the women’s dormitory after being lost on campus for fifteen minutes. It wasn’t that far from the university apparently. You just sucked at following people’s directions.

Once everything was settled at the lobby, you hiked to your room. Just your luck, the elevator was under maintenance and you had to drag two suitcases and a duffle bag all the way to the third floor using the stairs.

When you reached the third floor - second room to the left, you kept mumbling to yourself - the door was already open. Your roommate probably already beat you there. You just hope she would be friendly and not hoard all the living room space.

You stopped at the door upon seeing a familiar figure. Emily was already setting up her desk in the first room. Her suitcases were open in her bed. She must have sensed you standing at the door. Emily glanced at you. She didn’t smile so you didn’t either.

“Do you need help?” Emily asked. “I hope you don’t mind that I already took this room. I don’t like the sunrise.”

“It’s fine.” You replied, lifting your bags to your room. You started unpacking your things.

Both of your doors remained open. There was unsettling silence in the air as the two of you finished unpacking. You didn’t know why. You two were friends - good old friends - and you should be catching up after not seeing each other for a long time. Instead there’s this.

You wanted to ask Emily a lot of things. You wanted to start at her interesting goth phase; although no amount of make up could mask her big brown eyes. You also wanted to ask her how she’d been; tell her you tried to write to her but you didn’t know where to send it, so the letters piled up and hidden in the pockets of your suitcase.

You felt a poke on your shoulder. “Do you mind if I put up a curtain?” Emily pointed at the big window in the middle of the living room. “My migraine can get bad if there’s too much light.”

“Go ahead. It’s fine.”

“Can you help me?”

“Sure.”

You stepped on the table to reach for the rod. Emily’s hand landed on your leg, supporting you. You put up the curtain. The room went dim but definitely much better for the eyes now. Emily guided you down.

“Thanks, Y/N.” Emily smiled.

“Emily,” You called her. You leaned against her doorframe. She glanced at you. “H-how have you been?”

Emily sat on her bed and continued folding her clothes. When she didn’t speak for two minutes, you gave up on waiting for her reply. You were about to leave when she spoke again.

“I’m sorry,” Emily blurted out. “For not saying goodbye in Rome.”

“It’s alright,” You lied. Of course, it wasn’t alright. She was your friend and she left you. “Your mom travels a lot so…”

Your eyes met Emily’s. She was always hard to read and until now, it’s true.

“It wasn’t just that.” Emily sighed, running her hands through her hair but caught up in the knots. You suppressed your chuckle with a bite of your lower lip. “When Matthew died, I was all over the place. He was my friend and I had a hard time accepting he was gone.”

“So did I.” You mumbled. “And I was your friend too.”

“I know. I’m sorry I wasn’t there, Y/N.”

You didn’t say anything. You sat on your bed and continued unpacking. And as you do so, the silence lingered in the air again.

—

Surprisingly, Emily’s goth phase in college only lasted the day she moved in your dorm. You bet yourself it would last longer but the next day happened. You saw the ambassador’s car in the parking lot and recognized the two armed men in black waiting outside your dorm room; the same ones that helped Emily with her baggage when she moved in. It was Emily’s mother. You never met her in person before but Emily had one family picture of her in her wallet during her stay in Rome.

One of the bodyguards requested that you wait in the lobby and you did. They were too intimidating for you to do otherwise.

Emily didn’t speak to you about it but after the surprise visit from her mother, everything changed. She didn’t wear short skirts with fishnets again. Instead, Emily either wore light-colored blouses or plain long sleeves polos and jeans. She no longer wore makeup except for the lip gloss. Not that Emily needed it anyway. She was always beautiful in a way that makes you wonder why God has favorites.

The sullen look on her face was consistent for almost a week. You wanted to ask if she’s okay. Few attempts were made but Emily had walls higher than the Great Wall.

You have known Emily for only a year during your stay in Rome. It wasn’t a long time but at least, she was more open then, more trusting and carefree. You wonder what happened to that girl you used to know.

—

You met Jennifer Jareau in one of your classes. She was kind and bubbly and lets you borrow her notes when you’re late in class. You two clicked so fast and became inseparable. She insisted you call her “JJ” instead of “Jennifer”.

JJ sat next to you in the cafeteria. She laid her tray down; mac and cheese, sliced apples, orange juice and a small bag of Cheetos.

“Do you want to go to a party tonight?” JJ asked, munching on the Cheetos first. “Derek invited me and he said I could bring a plus one.”

“Derek Morgan? You’re friends with him?”

JJ nodded. “We have two classes together.”

“Don’t tell me you’re crushing on the freshman manwhore.”

JJ rolled her eyes. “He’s actually a good guy. Just very flirty.”

“Where’s the party?”

“Palm Paradise. It’s not that far from your dorm.”

“I don’t know where that is. Is it a bar?”

“Yeah, a big one.”

“Oh, I don’t like big scenes.”

“Come on, I’ll be with you the whole time.” JJ tugged your arm, pleading, “Please.”

JJ was looking at you with her best puppy eyes with a matching pout and you couldn’t say no. “Fine. Just stop looking at me like that.”

“God, you’re so easy.” JJ smirked. “I’ll pick you up at 7.”

—

You and JJ arrived at Palm Paradise together. The place was already filled with college students, most of whom were freshmen. The loud music and smell of booze filled the air. You tugged JJ’s arm and pointed at Derek Morgan dancing with a blonde. JJ called for him and immediately ran to greet JJ and then you. Derek introduced his best friend, Penelope. You doubted they’re just best friends though because for the five minutes that you’ve known them, they already flirted at least four times.

You were sitting on the couch with a cold beer in hand. JJ was sitting beside you and gossiping with Penelope.

The floor was crowded with drunk dancing and grinding college students. You got startled when the crowd roared when a girl with a long red wig and thick glasses stood on the table and lifted her shirt up, revealing a crimson bra.

“Damn, she’s hot.” JJ whispered in your ear.

“And drunk.” You chuckled.

When the girl clumsily alighted from the table, her wig and glasses fell. Then, you met her gaze. You know who those eyes belong to. You couldn’t be wrong.

Emily.

“Hey!” Emily stumbled towards you, clearly intoxicated. “You are here too!”

“S-so are you.” You took her arm and guided her to sit on the couch. “You are so drunk.”

“‘m not.” Emily slurred. She tried to stand up but quickly fell back to her seat. She laughed. “It’s spinny.”

“You know her?”

“Yeah, she’s …” You glanced at Emily whose eyes were closed and head was thrown back at the couch. “She’s my roommate.”

Emily reached for your hand, giggling. “You are so pretty! Why do you always frown?”

“I don’t frown.”

JJ took a quick look at you. “You’re frowning now.”

You roll your eyes. “Okay, take her side.”

Emily suddenly pulled your hand causing you to trip over and fall on her lap. JJ and Penelope pursed their lips to suppress a grin.

“What are you doing?” You asked Emily who only smiled drunkenly. Despite being roommates, this was the closest you and Emily have been for the past few weeks and you’re suddenly aware of the pounding in your chest. “Do you need to go home?”

Emily shook her head, still with a tipsy smile on her face. She fiddled the collar of your shirt. “Only if you -” She leaned in, bumping your noses together. “- are coming with me.”

“Y/N, I think she’s drunk. You should take her home.” JJ said.

“But -”

“I’ll be okay. I’ll hang out with Penelope.”

“She’ll be safe with me. I won’t leave her, I promise.” Penelope assured you.

“Okay, leave me a message when you guys get home.” You stood up and put Emily’s arm on your shoulder, guiding her as she stood up. “Let’s go, drunkie.”

Dragging an intoxicated Emily home was harder than you thought. She threw up twice on the sidewalk before even getting in the cab. You had to keep supporting her as she walked too because she kept tripping. But the worst part of it all was that Emily was a flirty and touchy drunk. During the short cab ride, Emily couldn’t keep her hands off your neck, running her fingers up and down your collar, and squeezing your bicep. She kept whispering sweet nothings in your ear and the fluttery feeling in your chest was getting out of hand.

When you reached the dorm, Emily was already passed out so you carried her on your back, praying over and over that she won’t throw up on you. The elevator ride was quick but the walk to your room wasn’t. Emily’s head kept sliding on your shoulder and she’s falling so you had to make a few stops.

You laid Emily down on the sofa when you finally arrived at your dorm room. Her bedroom was locked and you contemplated on whether to just leave her passed out in the living room or not.

“Emily,” you whispered, tucking a hair behind her ear. “Emily, do you have your key?” Her only answer was an annoyed groan. You sighed. How many drinks did she actually have?

You carried Emily on your back again and transported her to your bed. You figured that tomorrow would be a hell of a hangover and she would be more comfortable here than the sofa. You tucked her into your bed and you left her a glass of water and ibuprofen on the bedside for when she wakes up.

You settled on the couch tonight.

—

Emily woke up to a throbbing migraine. The sunlight didn’t make it any better.

Sunlight?

Emily scanned the room. There were movie posters hanging on the wall, a stack of books on the desk and a pile of mixtapes neatly arranged on the shelf. This was definitely not her room.

She drank a glass of water and ibuprofen on the bedside table.

Emily breathed out loud when she realized she’s in her dorm and didn’t end up somewhere unsafe. She found you sleeping soundly on the sofa. Emily accidentally hit her knee on a table beside the sofa. The curse that came from her lips jolted you awake.

“Hey, you’re up.” You said groggily, sitting up. “How are you feeling?”

“Like there’s a rammer inside my head and it’s moving on its own.”

You laughed at her creativity. “Yes, well, alcohol does that.”

“I don’t remember most of what happened. Did you bring me home?”

You nodded. “I had to carry you on my back. You passed out.”

Emily grimaced. “Sorry about that.”

“It’s okay.” You assured her.

“Did I - did I do something embarrassing last night?”

You smirked. “You bet.”

Emily groaned, head on her hands. “I’m never drinking again.”

“You flashed the entire bar.”

“I did?!”

“You did.” You laughed. “You got up on the table and pulled your shirt up. The red bra looks nice, by the way.”

Emily checked the bra underneath her shirt. “Oh, fuck.” She sighed, disappointed and embarrassed about her actions.

“Everyone was drunk, anyway. They probably won’t remember.”

“You weren’t.”

“Yeah, I wasn’t. And JJ and Penelope.”

“Who?”

“My friends.”

“Oh.” Emily’s face turned red. “I-I’m sorry.”

You took Emily’s hand and squeezed it. “It’s okay, Emily. It’s not bad to have fun.”

“Thank you.” She smiled. You haven’t seen her smile in a while.

—

Everything changed between you and Emily since the party. She talked to you more. She smiled more. She no longer avoided your presence despite living in the same apartment. It felt like you were friends again just like before when there were four of you. Except now it’s just two.

Emily was pulling an all-nighter at the living room. She was walking back and forth, reading passages and repeating it back to herself to memorize. You tried not to distract her by tiptoeing quietly to the kitchen to make some midnight snacks.

You made two sandwiches; one for you and one for Emily. You left hers on the center table and she mouthed a thank you and you nodded in return.

You left your bedroom door open just enough so you could peer at Emily. You watched her walk back and forth. The bags under her eyes were visible. She’s been pulling all nighters three times a week for a month now. She's obviously exhausted. Midterms were coming and Emily Prentiss was nothing but an overachiever.

After an hour, Emily finally rested on the sofa. She stretched her legs, placing her feet on the center table. Her breaths were loud and erratic.

“You should take a break. Get some rest.” You told her worriedly.

“I’m okay, Y/N. I only have one more chapter to read.” She replied, eyes closed. “Why are you not sleeping yet?”

Because you weren’t.

“Not yet sleepy. I had coffee.”

“You don’t drink coffee,” she snorted.

There was that fuzzy feeling in your stomach again because Emily remembered. She remembered that you didn’t like coffee. It’s silly to feel pleased about that.

Emily eventually fell asleep on the couch around 3 a.m. You found her textbook snuggled to her chest and she was clutching her notes in her hand. You snatched a blanket from your room and tucked her in.

You were going back to your room to sleep when you heard Emily talking in her sleep. It’s hard to make out what she was saying. It went on for a minute until Emily started frantically shaking her head and the mumbles grew louder. Emily was calling for your name, then Matthew, then John.

“Emily,” You tapped her shoulder. Nothing. “Emily, wake up.” You stroked her face gently as you tapped her leg. “Emily, wake up.”

Emily’s eyes snapped open, face now covered in cold sweat. She looked around, suspicious that whatever it was in her nightmare followed her here.

“It’s okay, you’re safe, Em.” You promised her, squeezing her arm. “Do you need anything?”

Emily took a couple of deep breaths. “Can you … can you stay?”

“I’m not going anywhere. Do you want to sleep with me tonight?” You cleared your throat. “I mean, sleep in my bed with me. Sleep sleep, not sleep sleep.”

If she didn’t just have a bad dream, Emily would have laughed. She only nodded.

You woke up the next morning with your head on Emily’s chest and her arms wrapped around you. Her breaths were synchronized with your own like a lovely duet. Her scent filled your head.

—

Emily sleeping with you in your room had become a routine. Sometimes you slept in hers too but she insisted that your mattress was far more comfortable.

“I thought you hated sunlight.” You murmured one night, your backs facing each other. “But you liked sleeping here.”

“I don’t hate you.” She murmured back.

I don’t hate you.

You wanted to ask Emily what it meant because when it came to her, things were rarely black and white. Did it mean she liked you? Love is the opposite of hate, after all, so did that mean that she loved you? Or is it just something she said without thinking and didn’t mean anything by it at all?

You wanted to ask her but there’s something caught up in your throat and you decided not to.

Emily was the one to fall asleep first. You lied in bed unmoving, staring at the window, crescent moon peeking into view.

You felt Emily’s arm wound around your stomach. She pulled you closer to her, hugging you. You could feel her breathing on your neck. She was still sleeping soundly.

You decided you can worry about this some other time. Because right now, it felt right.

—

“Hey, angel.” JJ was standing outside your door, holding takeouts and a notebook. “I thought I’d drop by and let you borrow my notes. Also I bought you chicken soup.”

“You didn’t have to, JJ.” You smiled and let her in. “Can I get you anything? Water? Juice?”

“No, I’m okay.” JJ placed a hand on your forehead. “You’re still burning up. Have you taken your meds yet?”

“I just did. Waiting for it to kick in.”

JJ was telling you about something funny that happened in Professor Rossi’s class when Emily came in with the biggest smile on her face but it was suddenly gone when she spotted you and JJ sitting on the couch.

“Hi,” JJ waved at her and Emily waved back with an awkward smile. “I just dropped by to bring my notes to Y/N and give her soup.”

“That’s … thoughtful?” Emily raised her eyebrow, confused as to why was your friend telling her that.

“Yeah, she told me she was sick -”

“You’re sick? You said you didn’t have classes.” Emily quickly placed a hand on your forehead then to your neck. “You’re hot.” She glared at you when you wiggled your eyebrows. “Do you want me to take you to the hospital?”

“I’ll be fine. I’ve got my meds and my soup.” You grinned. “Thanks, Jay.”

“You’re welcome.” JJ stood up. “I gotta go. I’ll see you tomorrow? Leave me a message, okay?”

“I will.”

JJ hugged you and kissed your cheek. You glanced at Emily, clenching her jaw, one eyebrow raised. “Get better fast.” JJ ruffled your hair before leaving.

When you turned around, Emily was glaring at you, arms crossed. You stared blankly. She didn’t say anything and marched to her bedroom. Before you could ask what’s wrong, she already slammed the door.

Emily didn’t crawl to your bed that night nor did she talk to you the next morning. But she left you cooked meals in the kitchen until you felt better.

—

It was five days later when Emily started speaking with you again. Truthfully, you were getting tired of the quick, sidelong glances she was throwing at you the past few days. You tried to make conversation but she quickly hid in her room every time. She didn’t even ask to sleep in your room when you heard her kicking and crying during another nightmare and you were there to wake her up.

Emily was cooking breakfast in the kitchen and asked if you wanted to have some. You nodded, smiling. You didn’t know what you did wrong but at least she’s not ignoring you anymore.

She prepared a plate for you; pancakes, bacon and hash brown. She poured orange juice on your glass. “Here you go,” she said, sliding the plate towards you. “I couldn’t make the pancakes round so you’re gonna have to forgive me.” You both chuckled.

You and Emily ate in silence. It was so quiet that you could hear her every time she chewed on the pancakes and sipped her coffee.

“Emily?” You finally broke the hush. Emily hummed. “Are you mad at me?”

She glanced at you and huffed. “No. Why would I be?”

You shrugged. “Then, do you like me?”

“Of course,” Emily answered without hesitation. “Of course, I like you. You’re my friend.”

You felt a pang of disappointment. “Not just as a friend, Emily.”

There was no reply.

“Emily?” You tried again.

“Why’d you ask?”

“Just answer me.”

You weren’t angry at her. You just wanted answers. You were tired of thinking and wondering why everything felt different one day like you were friends again, and different the next day like you don’t know each other.

She let out a loud exhale. “I can’t.”

“Why?”

“You … you're someone I want in my life for a long time. I don’t want to lose you.”

You knitted your brows. “Why would you lose me?”

“I - I don’t know. It’s what always happens to me. I can’t risk having stupid feelings for my best friend, for you.”

You let out a bitter chuckle. “Having feelings for me is stupid?” You asked, obviously offended by Emily’s choice of words.

“That’s not what I mean.”

“Do you need to look up synonyms for stupid?”

“Y/N, please -”

“I never should have asked. Let’s just forget this happened.”

“Y/N, that’s not what I mean. You know that.”

“No, I don’t!” You couldn’t control the frustration in your voice anymore. “I don’t understand why you keep pushing and pulling me around. You already did this to me when we were in Rome. When anyone came near me, you drove them away. You called me amore mio for months but got awkward the minute I called you mine. You almost kissed me once when we sneaked out for John’s birthday. You told me then that if I was a boy, I’d be the love of your life. Did you know it was killing me, Emily?” Your voice was already trembling and your lips quivering. You blinked a few times to stop the tears that were threatening to fall. Emily’s eyes remained on you. “It was killing me because I would have loved you so much if you had let me.”

Emily reached out for your hand but you were quick to retract it. You wiped your cheeks of the wet proof of the agonizing pain you were feeling.

“I won’t bother you with my stupid feelings anymore.” You muttered before storming back to your room.

—

The days passed by excruciatingly fast. You only had two weeks to study for your upcoming finals and the lack of sleep every night and the intense headaches weren’t helping your cause.

Your dorm room has been quiet since your fall out with Emily. You did your best to avoid her at all costs. When she’s in the kitchen, you’d stay in the living room until she’s done and when she’s in the living room, you’d sprint to the kitchen. You caught her glancing at you a few times but you quickly averted your eyes each time.

JJ came over to study with you two nights before your finals. She was running on coffee and you on energy drinks. Penelope was supposed to go study with you too but sleep seduced her early.

“Where’s Emily?” JJ asked.

You only shrugged in reply.

“Are you in a lovers' quarrel or something?”

“No, we’re not lovers.”

“Ah, but you guys fought?”

“Don’t wanna talk about it, JJ.”

“You like her, don’t you?”

Aside from being a good people reader, JJ has this crazy instinct. You hate it sometimes.

“Still don’t wanna talk about it.” You said. JJ respected that but you knew she would ask again one of these days.

JJ concentrated on one subject and made an outline to share with you once she’d finished. You did the same on a different subject that you shared. You exchanged notes and bounced different ideas and knowledge with each other. Eventually, the caffeine wore off. JJ drifted off, curled in a fetal position on the floor. You followed her five minutes later.

—

Emily had been spending more time at the library and coffee shop to study. She couldn’t concentrate at the dorm and being in close proximity with you. Every time Emily sees you, the gnawing ache in her chest grows. And no matter how many times she had gone over head about what’s the right thing to say, she couldn’t trust herself to not fuck it up and mess things up even more.

She came home around midnight. She unlocked the door and opened it as quietly as possible, as she was afraid she might wake you. She knew you liked studying in the living room because your room felt small.

Tonight you weren’t alone though. Emily saw a friendly blonde lying on the floor with you. You weren’t cuddling, Emily was somehow relieved of that. But there was a tightness in her chest that she couldn't get rid of. Her jaw clenched at the sight. She’s not mad at you or her. There was a part of her that wanted to come in between the both of you just so there will be space. It was too close and Emily envied that. It wasn’t long ago that she was the one lying beside you. In your bed. With her arms wrapped around you.

Emily missed you.

When Emily lied in bed, she tried to redirect her thoughts on the topics she memorized in hopes of reciting them again but the thought of you occupied her mind. Every toss and turn in her bed, there was you; in Rome, in your bed, in her bed, in the kitchen, in the living room, at the campus.

For the first time in a long time, Emily allowed her mind to travel back to the Catholic international school in Rome where she first met you.

The uniform was ridiculously prude; skirt too long, vest too thick, socks too high. You stood out to Emily on the first day back in class after a week break in November. The pink streaks underneath your hair caught the headmistress’ attention and lectured you in front of the class. She asked you to dye it back to your natural hair color. You argued that your hair can’t affect your studies but the headmistress was firm and asserted that it was a matter of discipline, that if you couldn’t obey authority then you’d grow up to be a badly behaved person and bad people do not go to heaven.

After the first period, Emily saw you in the hallway. You were talking to two boys and judging by their uniforms, Emily guessed they were a year older. You were too busy ranting to the boys and rolling your eyes to notice that you were leaning against Emily’s locker.

“Excuse me. I just need to get to my locker,” she spoke. You glanced at her and apologized. The three of you moved aside and got back to your conversation. After Emily dropped her books to her locker, she spoke again, “It’s not true, you know.”

Your eyes met Emily’s, bringing your conversation to a halt. “What is?” You asked.

“You’re not gonna be a bad person just because you have pink streaks on your hair.” She pursed her lips. “Or that you’re not gonna go to heaven.”

“Exactly!” The taller boy tapped Emily’s shoulder in agreement. “I told you, Y/N.” He turned to Emily. “What’s your name?”

“Emily. Emily Prentiss.”

“John Cooley.” He and Emily shook hands then he pointed to the other boy, “This is Matthew Benton.” Matthew waved his hand. “And you two have been acquainted, I suppose?”

Emily nodded.

“Thanks, Emily.” You uttered. “Do you want to join us for lunch?”

Emily smiled. “I’d love that.”

Emily learned that you’re neighbors with Matthew and John. She didn’t like hanging out with boys but they eventually grew on her and so did you. Due to being raised by her mother, Emily has always been a strict rule follower, no matter how ridiculous the rules are. But Emily found freedom in you, Matthew and John. Emily wasn’t afraid of herself, of being herself.

You were on vacation with your family during the Easter break. John was on a trip with his father. Matthew’s family devoted their time to church and stayed home. She only had Matthew to spend time with during the break.

“Matthew,” Emily gripped his arm. “Matthew, I need your help.”

“What is it?”

“I … there are two things I want to tell you but promise me, you won’t tell anybody else. Not even Y/N or John.”

Matthew looked at her with deep concern in his eyes. “You’re scaring me. What is it?”

“I think I’m in love with her.”

Matthew huffed a laugh. Even without mentioning your name, Matthew knew. It was obvious. “You think?”

“I… I don’t know. Isn’t it wrong to feel this way?”

Matthew sighed. “You know what I think? I think love is only wrong if it’s not true.”

“But … we’re both girls. That’s forbidden.”

“Emily, the world is big. You won’t be confined in that school forever.”

Emily knew that. It probably won’t be long before she has to transfer again. But if she accepted this now, if she accepted this part of herself, everything would change. And although change was the only constant thing in her life, she wasn’t ready for this one yet.

“What’s the second thing?”

“I’m pregnant.” Tears welled up in Emily’s eyes, hands shaking both from the snow and the panic coursing her veins. “I… I don’t want it. I just … I tried because I wanted to know if it was possible that I’d be attracted to a boy but I’m not.” Emily buried her face on her palms. “What’s wrong with me?”

“Nothing is wrong with you, Emily. Nothing.” Matthew hugged her tight, telling her everything’s going to be okay and promised that he will help her.

He accompanied Emily to the church for some advice. The priest told her she wouldn’t be welcomed back to the congregation if she got an abortion.

Matthew had always found reason through his faith in God. His family was devoted Catholics and so was he. But there’s only much faith he can put in God if his own people wouldn’t even at least try to understand his friend. If God’s love is unconditional, shouldn’t it manifest in his church and its people?

Four weeks into the pregnancy, Matthew found an abortion clinic. He held Emily’s hand, promising he would be waiting for her, that everything will be fine.

Everything was fine now but Matthew was gone.

Emily wondered if she told you everything, would you still accept her? Would everything be different? Would you hate her?

—

The semester ended yesterday. You were packing your things to go back home and take a well-deserved break. JJ had already gone home last night and Penelope went home with Derek, leaving you the last to go.

Well, except Emily.

Her bedroom door was open. She wasn’t packed yet and it looked like she wasn’t planning to. She had Chinese takeout boxes laying on her bed. You could hear the movie she was watching but couldn’t make out what language it was. Most probably French. Emily loved watching French movies.

It’s been weeks since you last spoke to each other. You avoided each other long enough for it to be a routine. It felt like you’ve been living with a ghost.

You took a deep breath and softly knocked on the door. Emily looked up to you and paused her eating. “Hey, what’s up?”

“I’m going home.”

“Oh. Uh, take care.”

“Thanks.” You forced a smile. “When are you leaving?”

“For what?”

“For the semester break.”

“Uh, I have no plans. My mother’s in Ukraine.”

“So you’re staying here?” Emily nodded. “The dorms will close next week though.”

“I’ll figure it out.”

You didn’t know what came on to you when you blurted out, “You can come home with me if you want. My parents just moved to our farmhouse.”

Emily stared at you for a minute, contemplating whether you’re joking or not. “Are you sure?” She asked. She was skeptical knowing what happened the last time you talked.

“I’m still mad,” You reminded her. “But I don’t want you to be alone.”

“Are you leaving now?”

“I can give you an hour to pack.”

Emily felt the tightness in her chest loosen out of the blue. Now that you’re talking to her again, she can finally breathe. “Okay.”

—

You and Emily arrived at your parents’ house just in time to watch the sunset. The view was magnificent from the driveway.

“It’s beautiful,” Emily breathed, looking up at the heavenly hues of the sky. “Was it always like this?”

“Yes,” you answered. “It’s more beautiful after the rain. Sometimes a rainbow appears.”

Emily’s eyes glistened as the sun set. For a moment, you forgot that you’re not exactly on great terms with her yet.

Your father was the first one to greet you the moment you entered the living room. He ran and lifted you in a tight hug. “I missed you, kid!”

“I missed you too, pa.”

“Who’s this?”

“Pa, this is Emily. She’s my friend.”

“Nice to meet you, sir.” Your father and Emily shook hands. “The view outside is just gorgeous.”

“Well, I hope the inside won’t disappoint you.”

Emily chuckled. “Your home is lovely, sir.”

“Well, look who it is!” Your mom quickly descended the stairs.

“Ma!” You ran to your mother and she welcomed you in a tight embrace. “I missed you.”

“Always a mama’s girl that one,” your father whispered to Emily and she grinned.

—

It only took ten minutes for your mom to figure it out.

“I know that look.” Your mother told you when you were alone in the kitchen. She was cooking your favorite stew while you were preparing the ingredients for your mother’s cookie recipe.

“What look?”

“The look.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Ma.”

“I saw the way you were looking at her through the window. It’s the same look your father and I give each other.”

“You mean cheesy and disgusting?” You smirked. To your surprise, your mother smacked the back of your head. “Ouch! What was that for?”

“Tell her you like her before I smack you again.”

“Stop saying nonsense, Ma. I don’t like her.”

“Keep telling yourself that and you’ll lose your chance.”

“I already told her,” you confessed defeatedly. “She doesn’t like me that way.”

“Are you sure? Or was she just scared?”

You shrugged. “It doesn’t matter. If she doesn't want to be with me, it’s fine.”

“She’s here with you now.”

“It’s different, Ma. She’s got nowhere to go. We’re not together together.”

“Ah, you kids.” She shook her head in disappointment. “Making everything complicated.”

“And it’s not like homophobia has gone extinct, Ma.”

Your mother sighed and pulled you for a hug. “We will love who you love, honey. I don’t fucking care about what the world says.”

You smiled against her chest. “Fucking thanks, Ma.” That earned you another smack. “You said it first!”

—

It’s been seven days at your farmhouse. Your mother and father taught you and Emily all about gardening. You were impressed by their growing orchard on the back of the house. To think that they had just retired from being federal agents four months ago and started this whole thing a month after retirement.

Emily had an easy time adjusting and getting along with your family. Aside from your parents, she also met your parents' orange cat, Denver. Denver didn’t like to cuddle with you but would snuggle with Emily. You didn’t take it personally. Emily was simply a cat person. She used to feed the stray cats outside your school when you were in Rome.

“Emily’s nice.” Your father said abruptly one night when you were on the couch with him and your mother. Emily called it a night and headed to the guest room. She was tired from all the gardening with your parents.

“She is,” your mother agreed.

“Stop it. Both of you.”

“So when did you start dating, honey?”

“Pa, we’re not dating.”

“You’re not?” Your father looked at you unbelievably. Then he turned to your mother. “They’re not?”

“You know kids these days. It’s never simple.”

“Stop talking about me as if I’m not sitting right here.”

“Our daughter is hopeless.” Your mother sighed.

—

A knock on the door startled you awake. You opened the door and Emily was standing there with bloodshot eyes. She obviously had another nightmare and from the looks of it, it was worse than what you witnessed before.

“Are you okay?” You ran your hand up and down her arm. “Do you need anything?”

“Can I stay with you tonight?”

“Sure,” you replied unhesitatingly.

You took the left side of the bed and Emily on the right. You put a long pillow in between.

“Y/N.” It was weak and soft but you heard her call.

“Yeah?”

Emily swallowed hard. “Can I … can I talk to you about it?”

You turned the night lamp back on and set it to dim light then you turned around to face Emily. She was picking on her nails, a bad habit she had since you’ve known her. You gently stroke her wrist to get her to stop. She did. She intertwined your hands together instead.

“You can tell me anything and everything, Em.” You squeezed her hand. “Even if it didn’t feel like it recently, I’m still your friend.”

“Thank you,” she whispered. “I had a dream about Matthew.” Emily let out a shaky breath. “He blamed me for what happened to him.”

“It wasn’t your fault. Matthew was a troubled boy.”

“And that’s because he met me.”

“Emily, you can’t think that.”

“But it’s true.” She insisted. “I want to tell you for so long. It’s eating me up.”

“So, tell me. I’m right here. No matter what.”

Her grip on your hand tightened as if pleading you not to run, not to leave.

“I got pregnant in Rome.” Emily confessed, almost in one breath but you caught it. Your hand still hadn’t left hers. “It was with a boy I experimented with so I could forget about the way I felt about you. I wanted to know if I could still be attracted to a boy and I tried. It happened but I felt so bad about it the next day and I never saw him again.”

“Did he force you? Did he do something you’re not comfortable with?” Emily shook her head and you sighed deeply in relief.

“I told Matthew about it during the Easter break. I asked for advice at church and the priest told me that getting abortion was a wrong thing and I won’t be welcome to come back to the congregation. But Matthew … he was angry. He started questioning his beliefs. He said that if God’s love is unconditional, why is it not manifested in the church and its people?”

“And he was right, Emily. Religious people are the most hypocritical of them all.”

“Matthew found an abortion clinic. He stayed with me until the procedure was done. He cared for me and I killed him.” Emily sobbed on the pillow separating you.

“You didn’t kill Matthew, Emily.” You reassured her, stroking her face. “Look at me. You didn’t kill Matthew. He was ill. His family was overly strict and religious. When he started questioning the congregation, his family was embarrassed. They didn’t like Matthew asking questions and having his own opinions. They didn’t listen to him. All that family cared about was worshiping the Lord and guilt tripping everyone else that didn’t align with their so-called beliefs. Matthew was different from them. He was a much better person than both his parents combined.”

“You - you’re not angry?”

You shook your head. “I just wish you had told me back then. I could’ve been there for you. Just like Matthew was.” You removed the pillow in between. You wrapped your arms around Emily and pulled her in, taking her in as close as possible to you. Whatever you felt during your fight had vanished completely. There was just Emily.

Emily, who had a hard time fitting in when she was fifteen.

Emily, who told you you’re not going to hell just because of the pink streak in your hair.

Emily, who became your best friend..

Emily, who you adored wholeheartedly and loved intensely.

Emily. Emily. Emily.

Her name was your lifeline.

“I love you, Y/N.”

It wasn’t said casually nor carelessly. It was anything but those things.

It wasn’t spur of the moment. It was the moment.

It was deliberate, careful. It was a confession, a promise.

Most of all, it was the truth. And the truth was liberating.

“I tried to stop myself from feeling this way but I can’t. I don’t want to fight it anymore. Amore mio, my heart is yours,” Emily took your hand to her chest, where her heart is caged and beating just as fast as yours were. “It’s yours to keep; yours to break; yours to make whatever of it.”

“And mine has always been yours, Emily.”

You can’t really tell since when. Loving Emily was the most natural thing. You couldn’t even remember a day that you didn’t love her since you started loving her. You just do.

Emily was tired of overthinking it. She leaned forward and closed the gap between your lips. Her hands gently cupped your cheeks. Your hand rested on her shoulder.

Emily was kissing you.

She was finally kissing you.

Passionately.

Tenderly.

Slowly.

Desperate I love you’s exchanged between both of your lips.

This couldn’t be wrong, Emily thought. Not when it was the most right Emily ever felt in her life.

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🕷️Loqu1t🕷️

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learning kryptonian

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Panera's Box

Summary: Melissa goes through man after man, while you watch. Finally, you shoot your shot, and it open's a whole Pandora's Box (or Panera's box... according to her).

WC: ~2.65k

Since working at Abbott Elementary, you’ve had one of the biggest crushes on that ridiculously tough, yet somehow still warm and loving, second grade teacher that works across the hall from you.

By some grace of God, she’s seemed to take a liking to you too. You’ve found yourself to be a part of the Abbott crew and being invited out for various events or happy hours. You quite like it, spending time with all of them, but it’s also made the feelings that you have for Melissa Schemmenti only that much more intense. And that was before you started going over to her house for dinner every Wednesday.

You don’t say anything though. She still intimidates you to a certain degree, and she’s constantly in some sort of relationship or situationship. So your feelings for the spicy Italian teacher remain unknown to everyone in the school, and you fully intend on keeping it that way.

“Any plans tonight?” you ask her as you’re sitting together at lunch one day.

She shrugs. “I’m supposed to go out with Rob tonight, but I don’t know if I’m feeling it.”

“That’s nice,” you say quietly. “Why aren’t you feeling it though?”

Melissa sighs. “He always wants to go out and do something… sometimes after a day like today, all I want to do is curl up on the couch with a good book while my music plays and my candles burn.”

You chuckle softly. “That sounds like what I’ll be doing tonight.”

“No after school plans for you?” she asks. You shake your head. “When was the last time you were on a date?”

“Too long ago.”

“When was your last date?” the second grade teacher asks again.

You hum as if you’re thinking, but you know exactly when your last date was. It was two weeks into working at Abbott, and while the woman was very sweet, you had not gone out on a second date with her because Melissa Schemmenti was on your mind the whole time. “It’s been a while. Maybe two weeks into starting work here?”

“Girl, that was over two years ago. Maybe we should get you onto the dating sites… anyone would be lucky to get to go out with you.”

There is was… anyone would be lucky to get to go out with you- but you were never on her radar.

“I’m going to politely decline the idea of me being on dating sites,” you wave a hand in dismissal. You don’t want to meet anyone new. You know exactly who you want, and she’s so close, yet so far. You’ve held off dating since starting to work at Abbott and finding yourself catching feelings for the woman next to you, and you really can’t see yourself going out with anybody else until you either get the girl or you get over your silly schoolgirl crush.

“Oh, c’mon,” she presses on. “I think it would be fun to see you out on dates.”

“Like you, I would much rather to prefer to curl up on the couch with a good book under a mountain of blankets after a day at work,” you roll your eyes. “I’ll find the right person who is content to do that with me when the right time comes.”

Melissa blinks a few times… that’s what she wants too. But, you’re- you’re a woman, and she hasn’t been with a woman since her college days. She doesn’t want to open herself up to that again if she can help it.

The bell rings, indicating that lunch is over, and you stand with a sigh. “Have a nice rest of your day, Melissa.”

“Thanks, hun,” the redhead replies. She can’t help but notice that your tone is a bit more somber after that conversation, and she makes up her mind that she won’t push you into dating again. Maybe she overstepped a boundary that she wasn’t aware was there.

That night, the redheaded woman does end up going out with Rob, although she’s unsure why it just doesn’t feel right. She feels like she should maybe just be curled up on her couch, a book in one hand and a glass of wine in the other, and under a few blankets… and preferably with you.

She ends the night with a short goodbye and an apology that she just doesn’t see that it’s going to go anywhere. She ends up texting you once her date is over and she’s changed into her lounge wear.

Hey. You up for coming over? I got blankets, books, and wine.

When you see the notification, you squint your eyes. I thought you were going out with Rob tonight.

I did… and then I ended it.

I’ll be over in ten. You sigh as you pull on your shoes. You were really comfortable in your recliner with your favorite novel, but if Melissa had just ended it with Rob, you are going to be there for her.

When you pull up to her townhouse, she opens the door with a smile. You can’t help but notice how beautiful she looks sans makeup and hair pulled up into a messy ponytail.

“You look awful happy for a woman who just ended a relationship,” you quip as you make your way into her place.

“Wasn’t a relationship,” the redhead retorts right back. “But I was thinking about what you were saying earlier… I should be doing what I want with someone I care about, and what I want to do is curl up and read a good book with you.”

That makes you pause. Nevertheless, you sit down on the couch next to her and pull your book from your bag. She makes her way into the kitchen and returns a few seconds later with a bottle of wine and an extra glass.

“You good with a red blend?” Melissa asks you. You just nod as you open your book. You fully intend on just sitting here and enjoying your book with a friend until she decides that she wants to talk about her split- if she truly hadn’t wanted to talk about it, you wouldn’t be here right now.

The redhead sits down next to you, close enough that your arms are brushing together, and she sips her wine. You do everything you can in order to focus on your book, but it isn’t really working. Not when Melissa’s chin rests on your shoulder as she reads your book over your shoulder.

“I thought when you invited me over, you would be reading your own book,” you chuckle softly.

She shrugs. “I like your book more.”

You roll your eyes playfully, but you move the book so that she can see it a bit better. Her body doesn’t move from next to you. In fact, she only gets closer and an arm is slung around your waist.

“What are you doing?” you ask.

The redhead shrugs her shoulders again, and she rests her head on your shoulder. It’s a few more minutes of reading together before you start to get in your head.

It’s been five minutes since you turned the page, and Melissa looks at you curiously. She’s read the page three times, so she knows that you should’ve been able to read it too. Your eyes are a bit glazed over and unfocused as you stay in your head, mind swirling with why she was doing this.

“Hun,” the redheaded woman jostles you slightly. You don’t react. “Y/N.”

You jolt out of your trance. “Huh?”

“We’ve been on this page for five minutes,” she notes quietly. “What’s going on through that pretty head of yours?”

“What are you doing?” you finally ask after about thirty seconds of silence.

“Reading with you?” the redhead furrows a brow. “I thought that was obvious though.”

“No,” you close your book. “Why am I here? Why aren’t you out with Rob?”

“I told you that,” she sighs. “I didn’t want to go out with him anymore. I’m not sure I want to go out with any man anymore. They just don’t provide the warmth I need right now.”

You take a deep breath and look her in the eye before you shoot your shot. “Then go out with me.”

Melissa sits up straight as her eyes widen just slightly, and her jaw drops. “What?”

“Go out with me then,” you say again. “You’re always talking about how you want someone who isn’t always looking for fancy places and things to do- that you sometimes just want someone to sit with and read a book. That you want someone who will go out and just do trivia with a glass of wine- someone that you’re comfortable with. I’m that person for you.”

“Y/N,” she sighs. “I haven’t been with a woman since college.”

“And?” you ask her. “Why should that matter? I flirt with you, you flirt with me, I’m sitting in your house doing exactly what you want to do with a partner anyway!”

“I-” the redhead looks down at her hands. “Listen, Y/N: I can’t deny that I am attracted to you, and I have been, but-”

“There shouldn’t be a but,” you state. “I like you, you just admitted that you like me.”

“But,” she continues. “I haven’t been out with a woman since I was in college… I don’t know if I want to open that Panera’s box.”

“Pandora’s box,” you roll your eyes.

She huffs. “You know what I mean.”

“I really don’t,” you sigh. “I don’t understand why you won’t just give this a chance. You’re constantly talking about wanting love and finding that person who gets you- who else gets you better than I do? I know that you do a little happy dance when something’s gone your way. I know that you have to have at least two cups of coffee before you even get to school, but if you have more than two more at school before lunch you’re a jittery mess. I know that you take your coffee with two creams and a teaspoon of sugar. I know that your bark is way bigger than your bite, and even then I know that you would kill for any of us at Abbott despite saying that the only person you would kill for is Barb. We’ve had countless dinners together and shared so many bottles of wine that I lost count because you don’t want to go out and would rather stay in. I’m willing to give you everything, but if you’re going to be foolish enough to deny it just because you don’t want to open a ‘Panera’s box’, then fine.” You grab your bag and start to stand.

“Y/N,” Melissa grabs your wrist gently. “I-”

“It’s fine,” you rip yourself away from her and head for the door. “Just let me go while I still have some of my dignity left.”

The redhead stands and rushes for the door, blocking you from leaving. “Just listen.”

You cross your arms over your chest, a hip popped out just slightly as you stare her down. “What? Didn’t you do enough?”

“Y/N,” the woman says quietly, unsurely. “Listen… I do like you, I really like you. And I want to throw caution to the wind and say yes, that we should try us. But you have to understand my hesitation. I’m a none-your-business year old woman who has already had a failed marriage, and the last relationship I was in ended in a publicly humiliating divorce. I don’t… I don’t have a great track record with relationships, and I wouldn’t want to ruin that with you. And then there’s the fact that we’re coworkers- if we were to try it and it wouldn’t work, we would still have to work together. And I don’t know about you, but I wouldn’t be able to do that. And then… I wasn’t kidding when I said I haven’t been with a woman since college- I don’t even know if I have what it takes anymore to be what you need. I- I know I act like I have it all together and I know exactly what I want and know how to get it, but that just isn’t true- because I want you, but I’m terrified. I don’t know if I can even open up this panera’s box at my age, and yet I want to try. I want to try for you.”

You just sigh and look away. “You don’t have to say all of this to make me feel better about the rejection.”

“I’m not,” she tells you as she takes your hand in hers. “I want this, but I am beyond scared that I’m going to mess this up… that I’ve been out of the game for too long, and I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You already did,” you mutter. “You’ve been toying with my emotions since I started working at Abbott.”

“And I didn’t mean to,” she tells you genuinely. “I thought it was all innocent, until it wasn’t and I caught feelings.”

You just shake your head as you roll your eyes.

“But I’m here now,” she says softly. “And I- I’m willing to open that Panera’s box for you- one date to show me that this is worth it.”

“You don’t have to do that,” you say softly as you reach for the doorknob.

She takes your hand back in hers. “I don’t have to. But I want to.” And then her lips are pressed against yours.

TAGS: @schemmentis @thesapphictimelady @marvel210 @itisdoctortoyousir @morgana-larkin @thesamesweetie @doesthatsuggestanythingtoyou @marvels--slut @gwennybriggs @megamultifandomtrashposts @lemz378 @http-sam @melissaschemmentisbranzino @imaginesmultifandoms @sexysapphicshopowner @lilfartbox1 @maybe-a-humanbean @imlike-so-gaydude @sapphicxrat @a-queen-and-her-throne @sunsol-22 @notinmyvocab @melanielaufeyson

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just-a-torn-up-masterpiece · 14 hours

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Are you nobody too?

then there’s a pair of us :0

don’t tell!! they’d advertise you know 🗣️🗣️

#how dreary to be somebody

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IronMan2! Black Widow but with her hair tied back

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Bare-knuckle Fist Fight

Summary: you run into Melissa's ex. All hell breaks loose.

WC: ~2.5k

“Babe, please,” Melissa is pleading with you. Her and her friend Barbara were going out to dinner tonight, and your girlfriend so desperately wants you to tag along. “Barb wants to see you too.”

“She saw me today at school,” you retort.

Melissa frowns. “But outside of school,” she argues.

“Honey, I’m exhausted,” you sigh from your place on the couch. “The kids today were a mess, I was a mess, my head is pounding because I dropped my coffee during the first hour of the day so I didn’t have nearly enough caffeine, and I just want to relax and do a whole lot of nothing.”

The redhead sighs heavily at the list of reasons why you don’t want to go anywhere tonight, and she relents. If her day had gone that way, she would be the same way, if not worse. She crosses her way into the kitchen, grabs a few Advil and a bottle of water for you, pulls the blanket down from where it’s hanging over the back of the couch, and gives it all to you. She presses a soft kiss to your forehead before she heads back into her bedroom to freshen up her makeup and change out of her long sleeved pink shirt into a short sleeved one instead.

You feel bad, you really do. You love going out with the two of them- it’s always been a great time. But you weren’t lying when you said that your head hurt and your body was exhausted from the millions of decisions you had to make today in terms of your students. Between the thousands of questions you answered and the various meetings that you had throughout the day, your brain is exhausted, and you don’t want to have to think again for the rest of the night.

When she comes back into the living room and grabs her bag to start making her way out, you sigh dramatically.

“What, hun?” Green eyes meet your own as she shrugs her leather jacket back on. By the time she’s finished adjusting the cuffs on her sleeves, you’re standing next to her and slipping your shoes back onto your feet. When you stand up straight, she looks mildly concerned.

“I’m coming,” you tell her as you too grab your jacket.

Your girlfriend squeezes your hand softly. “Amore, you don’t have to.”

“I’ll just get a coffee during dinner, and I’ll be okay,” you promise her. “C’mon, we better get going if we’re going to be on time.”

The three of you have a lovely dinner, and you’re feeling much better by the end of it. When the kindergarten teacher suggests going somewhere else for another drink, Melissa stops her.

“I gotta get Y/N home,” she says softly as she looks to you with warm eyes. “Today took a lot out of her.”

You shake your head almost immediately, and you regret it. Your head might be feeling better, but at the sudden and frantic movement, you can feel the tension behind your temple. Still, you tell her, “No, no. Let’s go somewhere else.”

“Are you sure?” both women look to you. “It’s okay if you’re not feeling up to it. We can always go somewhere else another day.”

You wave a hand. “It’s Friday, I feel a lot better than I did; Let’s go somewhere else. Where were you thinking?”

“Where do you want to go?” your girlfriend asks you with a squeeze of the hand.

The three of you end up at a bar that you have no business being in- and it’s quite funny to watch the usually so buttoned up Barbara Howard get down on the dance floor with your girlfriend. While you and Melissa are usually the ones to be dancing together, you take a step back and settle on the barstool that you’re sitting on. It’s nice to watch the two of them let their hair down and relax for once, not a care in the world as they sip on their margaritas and dance the night away.

All is well until you see two women make their way up to your girlfriend and the smile that was on her face immediately drops.

You can’t quite make out what the one woman is saying to Melissa and Barbara, but their faces tell you that they aren’t all too pleased with whatever is coming out of her mouth. You groan as you stand and make your way over to them. Your arms slink around Melissa’s waist, and you kiss her neck to show this woman that your girl was entirely off the market.

“Hey, baby,” you whisper into her ear. You can practically feel her shiver as you press yourself impossibly closer to your smoke show of a girlfriend. Your face flushes when she all but grinds into you subtly.

“Who the fuck is this?” the blonde woman asks.

“Eva, this is Y/N. Y/N, meet the blonde devil,” Melissa huffs. “My ex-girlfriend.”

Eva looks you up and down with a look of disgust. “Damn, Mel. You really downgraded. You went from me to… that.” She gestures at you vaguely. “Well, this is my girlfriend, Caroline.”

“Wow, babe,” Caroline looks at you and Melissa together. “You weren’t kidding when you said that your ex-girlfriend was a cradle robber. I mean, she gotta be- what? Eighty-five?”

Your eyebrows lift, as do Barbara’s- you both know that the concept of getting older and dating younger is not one that Melissa is particularly fond of talking about. It’s honestly often one of the things that the two of you speak of when she’s having doubts and fears about the path her life took as opposed to the one that she had planned when she was a little girl. To Melissa’s credit, the green eyes that usually sparkle only turn dull- there is no yelling or cursing like you and her work wife had expected. But you? You’re not about to let this woman talk shit on your girlfriend and not defend her.

“Excuse you?” You release your girlfriend and puff out your chest just slightly.

“I said she’s a hag!” Your ex-girlfriend’s new girlfriend takes it to an all new low. “And you’re nothin’ but a dumb slut!”

Melissa gets scarily close to Caroline and hisses, “What did you say about my girlfriend? Say it again- I dare ya.”

Barbara is standing there, looking as though she wants to intervene. “Girls,” she tries to shout over the music. Her quiet pleas though go unheard.

“I said she’s a dumb slut!” the woman states again, getting nose to nose with your girlfriend.

Melissa winds up her fist, but you stop her just in the knick of time.

“Oh, I see we’ve really gotten a hold of our temper,” Eva laughs loudly, obnoxiously. She looks to you. “Good luck getting this one to calm the hell down… like a bat outta hell, I swear.”

“Actually,” you chuckle deviously. “I haven’t had any issues with her temper. Maybe all she needed was a loving girlfriend instead of a stuck up bitch.”

“Oh, so that’s how we’re playing,” Eva squares up with you, taking out her earrings. You follow suit and take out your earrings and hand them to the kindergarten teacher.

“Girls,” Barbara tries to cut in again as she takes your jewelry in her hands, but it doesn’t matter because there’s a drink thrown on you before she can continue, and all hell breaks loose.

Although you don’t have quite the temper your girlfriend does, you see absolute red once you can see again, vodka dripping down your face. You throw the rest of your drink on the woman before her fist collides with your cheek.

You stumbles backwards before regaining your balance, and you go at her with full force. Melissa and Caroline start to get involved, trying to pry you off of each other but it only makes it worse.

Barbara takes a few steps back. She cannot get involved in this- not if someone is going to bail the two of you out of jail tonight.

Before you know it, four security guards are prying you all off of each other, you’re covered in the blood that is cascading from your nose, Melissa is clutching at her eye that’s bound to be bruised over and swollen shut tomorrow if it’s color right now is anything to go by, and Eva and Caroline are both cradling their cheeks from the punches that you and your girlfriend were able to get in.

All four of you are put in handcuffs and hauled out of the bar. You and your girlfriend are put into one squad car while the other couple is stuffed into another.

“Can I at least have a tissue for my nose?” you ask as you spit the blood that’s dripping into your mouth onto the floor. God, you hate the taste of blood. “And for Christ’s sake, you should be taking my girlfriend to the hospital with that eye of hers.”

“Y/N, I am fine,” Melissa grumbles, and she goes to roll her eyes but she has to stop herself because the right one throbs erratically.

While your asses are being dragged down to the local police station, Barbara sits outside of the bar on a bench dreading the phone call she knows she has to make. She does not have enough cash on her right now to bail the two of you out, nor is she sober enough to drive to the ATM and then down to the local precinct. With a sigh, she dials the number.

“Barb, honey, you ready for me to come pick the three of you up?” Gerald answers from his place on the couch. He’s getting rather tired, but he knows that when the three of you go out, particularly after a day like you all had, it can tend to get a bit wild.

“I’m ready for you to come pick me up,” she states.

“The girls aren’t with you?”

“I’m afraid that… we may have to go bail them out of jail,” the teacher says into her phone quietly.

“Jail?” Gerald asks incredulously. Barbara can practically see her husband’s eyes bulging out of his head.

“Yeah,” she whispers. “Jail. There was… a situation. I’ll explain when you come pick me up.”

“Okay,” the man sighs out as he stands from his recliner. He slips his shoes on. “Are you at your usual bar?”

“No,” the kindergarten teacher says. “We were at… Woodys, of all places.”

“Good lord, Barb,” Gerald chuckles at that revelation. “I didn’t think you had it in you to go there.”

“Y/N wanted to go, and you know how Melissa is for that girl, and I was not about to be the- you know what? Just come get me.”

Gerald pulls up to the bar where his wife is sitting outside on the curb, looking around constantly and being entirely aware of her surroundings.

“Oi, woman,” the man gets his wife’s attention. “Get in the car so we can go pick up your clowns.”

“Not my circus, not my monkeys,” Barbara huffs as she buckles her seatbelt.

Gerald looks to his wife with a smirk. “Except they are your circus.”

“Don’t remind me.”

You and your girlfriend are sitting in a holding cell together while Eva and Caroline are in the one next to you, and they’re all but spitting insults at the two of you. They’re claiming that they’re going to file to sue.

“Oh, drink piss, Eva,” your girlfriend shouts. “You were the one who threw the first punch! If anything, you’re ass is getting sued, and you know I know a guy who can make sure we win!”

“Mel,” you sigh as you continue to hold up a tissue to your somehow still bleeding nose- you know that whenever you get out of here, you’re surely going to end up at the hospital.

“I’m just statin’ the truth, Y/N!” the redhead exclaims.

“We know exactly who threw the first punch thanks to security cameras, and we will be holding her accountable,” one of the officers says as comes in with a roll of his eyes. “For now…” he unlocks your holding cell.

You look up, as does Melissa.

“We haven’t even made a call,” you look to the man in blue curiously.

“Didn’t have to,” Barbara comes up from behind him. Gerald is there too.

You immediately launch yourself at Barbara, thanking her repeatedly for getting you out of here.

“You didn’t have to spring us out,” Melissa sighs. “I woulda called Dommy to come get us out.”

Gerald just chuckles as his wife says softly, “My circus, my monkeys,” as she holds onto you. When she pulls back, her eyes widen just slightly. Your nose is a deep shade of purple, as is your girlfriend’s eye.

“Let’s get going now,” Barbara sighs. “We have to get the two of you to the hospital.”

By some grace of God, the emergency room at Jefferson isn’t swimming in drunk people yet, and you and Melissa are put into a room rather quickly. They check the two of you out- explaining that neither of you have concussions, which is miraculous considering the amount of blows the two of you took.

The doctors on call tell Melissa that her eye should heal up just fine with hot compresses and ice. You, on the other hand, are a different story. Once they clean up the blood that has dried, it becomes clear that you were not only bleeding from the inside of your nose, but also the outside. One of the other woman’s rings must’ve gotten caught on your nose and scratched it from the bridge all the way down. As they pour antiseptic cleaner on it and clean you up, you have to hiss in pain. It stings, and they’re prodding on the area where you already know your nose is broken. The doctor confirms that a few minutes later.

You leave the hospital with your girlfriend and the Howards a bit later, a nose guard taped to your face.

You grumble the entire ride home about how not only are kids going to be asking a million questions when you go into school on Monday with a black and blue cheek and a broken nose, but so is the staff. Melissa just runs her arms up and down your own, trying to ease your mind by telling you that she is also going to have to answer to a billion questions too.

Gerald pulls up to the townhouse that you and your girlfriend share, and as you get out of the car, Barbara Howard grabs your arms gently.

“What?” you ask.

“We are never going to Woodys again.”

“Understood, and agreed,” you sigh as you hold your hand out to help the redhead out of the car.

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just-a-torn-up-masterpiece · 1 day

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Sorry, but we’re burying your girlfriend alive. Yeah, she decided that the laws of Zeus take precedence over the laws of the state. Your father’s trapping her in a cave in punishment for giving her brother a burial. I mean, you can try to talk him out of it, but good luck. So sorry.

#antigone :((

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just-a-torn-up-masterpiece · 2 days

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Mug

Wanda: In this house, we advocate love and tolerance.

[five minutes later]

Y/N: *sets down a mug*

Wanda: Use a FUCKING COASTER-

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just-a-torn-up-masterpiece · 3 days

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Genuine question, not passive aggressive, why do you ship Yelena and Kate when Yelena is aroace?

i don't super heavily ship them - i don't really have many ships i'm super into

but, i think, considering the fact that asexuality and aromanticism fall on a spectrum there is some leeway with the fictional ships that people have

so, i wouldn't say i necessarily 'ship' them i just sometimes find some of other people's creations surrounding their ship to be endearing and i do enjoy their dynamic

#i dont want this to sound like i dont acknowledge her being aroace btw #there is literal canonical evidence #and i think it'd be nice for it to be addressed a little more #i just think theyre that lovely little golden retriever x black cat dynamic #as someone who falls into the aroace spectrum i do still think theres plausability for somewhat of a relationship but thats just my view

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just-a-torn-up-masterpiece · 4 days

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Family dinner

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

Warnings: a very poor attempt at humour

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

Masterlist

“I need you here yesterday!”

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

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

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

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

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

“...”

“Kate?”

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

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

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

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

“Natasha was there too!”

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

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

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

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

“There better be!”

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

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

“What?”

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

“Kate.”

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

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

“I love you.”

“I haven't agreed to-”

“I know what that sigh means!”

You groan. “Yeah, yeah. You owe me.”

×××

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

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

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

Natasha smirks.

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

Melina hums, nodding to herself. “Good.”

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

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

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

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

You gulp.

“Well?” Natasha prompts.

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

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

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

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

“So, Y/n-”

Fuck.

“-are you single?”

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

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

You nod again, chewing fast.

“Why are you gay?”

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

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

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

You feel a little better now that Natasha is annoyed.

Melina still looks at you, expecting an answer.

You sigh, “Are you gay?”

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

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

You nod, feeling accomplished in swaying attention from yourself.

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

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

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

“Huh?” You frown, affronted.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Have you and Kate ever-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Really, right in front of her mother?

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

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

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

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

Apparently, not even her bleeding sister can stop her.

“No,” you reply, “you're not wrong.”

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

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

“I am miserably single, too.”

She smiles, nodding to herself.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Kate just looks like she's about to faint.

You grin. "I can't wait."

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just-a-torn-up-masterpiece · 5 days

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can’t stop thinking about how ava’s whole arc was “it doesn’t matter how bad the world is, I’m going to save it because that’s where beatrice is”

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just-a-torn-up-masterpiece · 5 days

Text

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just-a-torn-up-masterpiece · 6 days

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in unholy denial

･｡ﾟ*. 18+, minors DNI . * ｡ﾟ･

pairing: wanda maximoff x reader

summary: you’re the perfect all-american girl; a good student, a weekly churchgoer, you’re even dating the high school quarter back. so it’s all a big shock to you when your family decides to send you to a conversion camp, claiming they believe you’re a lesbian. you don’t agree with their accusation, telling everyone that you don’t like girls at all. but then you meet your camp mate wanda maximoff, who seems determined to sway your mind in another direction…

warning(s): conversion therapy, homophobia (externalised and internalised), religious mentions (christianity), smut, fingering, thigh riding, loss of virginity, hickeys, slight dubcon (only kissing), swearing, pet names (princess, honey), wanda and r are in high school but of age (over 18), cheating (r has a bf), slightly innocent reader, nude magazine, etc. minors dni

author’s note: this is my first time writing and uploading smut so i really hope it’s not terrible 🙏🏻this is heavily inspired by ‘but i’m a cheerleader’, only this time it’s with teenage wanda and much more smutty :) i also took light inspiration from @imaginedanvrs and her fic ‘atonement’, and though i did take a different turn, check it out because all of their writing is amazing :))

wc: 11.7K words

The car is quite on the ride up. You stare out the window, watching as your world begins to disappear. The camp is just under two hours away from your home town; far away enough that it feels like a whole different world, but close enough that your parents can still come visit on the weekends.

You’re not being punished. At least that’s what your parents have told you. They just want what’s best for you, want to help you find the right journey in life. Apparently this camp was supposed to do that for you. Though, you could quite see how - the apparent problem they claim to be able to fix, not identifiable to any part of your mind.

When they’d first brought up the idea, you’d been quick to confusion. A conversion therapy camp? But you weren’t gay. You had a boyfriend, the football team’s best quarterback at that, and you two were very happy together. He was handsome and kind, and you loved him. Except for maybe when he tried to kiss you, always left feeling grossed out by the encounter as his tongue tried to play with yours. But he must just be a bad kisser. That was at least what you always told yourself…

Aside from that, there were so many things that couldn’t have possibly lead your parents to believe you were gay. You were one of the top students at school, always getting the highest grades. Every Sunday you attended church, said your nightly prayers each evening before you slept. You were in the church choir, for goodness sake!

Still, your parents had sat you down in the living room one night and had a very serious conversation with you. They were concerned mostly, worried that something sinister had crept in and was tainting your life. You’d used all of your excuses in protest but they’d came prepared with their own.

A few posters from your room, filled with woman in bikini tops. You liked the patterns. Songs from your playlist that held ulterior meaning. You just liked the way they sound. The fact you hated kissing your boyfriend; a few comments you’d made to your friends about other girls at church. You thought everyone felt that way…

In the end, they’d convinced you to come along to the program, claiming it was in your best interest to attend and get the help you need. Although you didn’t believe you needed any help at all, you had agreed. If this camp was going to help them feel better, you were willing to give it a go, even if it meant getting treatment for a nonexistent problem…

Still, your heart aches a little as your small family car drives away from the suburbs you are used to, the view soon replaced by dense forest trees and vibrant undergrowth. The program was set out almost like a Summer camp, out near a lake where members could swim during their free time. That was one of the activities you’d read in the pamphlet your parents had handed you, the camp explained in its entirety alongside its promise to guarantee positive results. You’d initially asked your parents how long you would have to spend there, worried about being forced to remain when there wasn’t a problem with you to begin with, but your mom had simply smiled back softly and replied, ‘let’s just see how you get on’.

You’re almost lost in thought when the car finally turns on to the last stretch of its journey. The sight ahead of you drags you back to the present moment, eyes now searching the wide opening in the trees as the camp comes into view. It’s easy to spot, the only buildings around for a long while, and the white shutters standing out vibrantly against the green trees. The lake comes into view too, shimmering in the morning summer sun.

Soon the car slows, coming to a halt outside what looks to be the main building, its size large compared to the other’s dotted around. The ranch-style house is painted a soft blue, the fixtures and wrap-around porch shining dazzling white. All in all, it looks rather beautiful.

Your parents are the first out the car, looking around as they close the doors. You follow a moment later, eyes drifting over your surroundings as you inhale the sweet smells of the forest air. A pair of footsteps soon diverts your attention, your gaze falling to a tall blonde man making his way in your direction from the large blue house. He’s dressed very similarly to the men you see at church; a pair of neat navy slacks and a matching blue and white gingham shirt. You and your parents come to stand together on one side of the car just as he reaches your feet.

“Good morning,” the blonde says, his grin reaching from ear to ear. “Mr and Mrs Y/L/N, isn’t it?” There’s an exchange of hand shakes as your parents confirm his assumption. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. And you must be young Y/N.” His gaze falls to you as he speaks, a hand outstretching in your direction.

You take it, shaking it gently as you nod your head. “It’s nice to meet you, sir.”

The blonde lets out a low chuckle as he releases your hand, his attention turning back to your parents. “What a polite little girl you have,” he says, his smile widening. Your parents seem to take pride in his compliment, inching closer together as they stand and look over at you. “But please,” the man continues, turning back to you. “My name is reverend Steve so you can call me as such. Or just Steve if you prefer.” He smiles again as he shrugs his shoulders. “Sir always feels a bit too formal.”

There’s a trade of small laughter between the adults but you don’t find yourself joining in, still feeling a little apprehensive about this whole scenario.

“I do hope your journey here was alright.”

“Oh, just fine,” your father replies in response to reverend Steve’s question, smiling easily back at him.

“Good. I’m so glad to hear that. We’re just so happy to have Y/N here. And don’t worry, your daughter is in very good hands.”

Just at that moment, you notice another figure approaching your group, a woman, originating from the same place Steve had. When she reaches you, there’s a soft smile on her face, her red hair dazzling in the Summer sun. The reverend reaches one of his arms out, bringing the woman close to his side as his hand rests on her hip. “I’d like you to meet my wife, Natasha. She helps direct things around here, especially with the girls.”

Her hand also extends out to your parents to meet in a soft handshake as she smiles widely back at them. “Hi, it’s a pleasure to meet you.” With your parents, reciprocating the sentiment, the redhead then turns her attention to you. Her eyes sparkle a bright shade of green as the morning sun hits them. “Hello, Y/N,”

You find yourself momentarily stumbling over your words, something about the woman distracting you until she speaks. “Good morning,” you manage eventually, smiling back nervously.

In the time you’ve greeted her, it seems your parents have retrieved your luggage from the back of the car. “These are your bags?” Reverend Steve asks, reaching to pick them up. In truth, you hadn’t even noticed them being moved there. “I’ll just take these up to your dorm room, Y/N.” He smiles once more at you before he turns, walking towards the house with your belongings in tow.

“I’ll give them a little check over once we get there,” Natasha says, drawing your attention back to her. She passes you a playful wink that causes a strange feeling in your chest. “But I’m sure there’s nothing in there that will get you in trouble, hm?”

“I don’t think-“ Your response is cut off by your sudden realisation you’re standing alone, your parents retreating back to the car and already starting the engine. “Wait I-“

“Don’t worry.” The redhead’s words yet again distract you, pulling your attention away from the vehicle behind you. “They’ll be back at the weekend to visit. You’ll be seeing them again in no time.” Natasha turns to stand side by side with you, her hand resting on your back as she gently begins to press you forwards. “Now how about you just come with me and I can show you around the place. How does that sound?”

“A-alright,” you stumble, giving one glance back to the car that has already pulled away from the camp. You let the woman by your side guide you as you watch it slowly move further and further away up the road, officially leaving you all alone.

The tour Natasha gives you, however, helps to lift your spirits a little. The camp grounds are rather beautiful, the grass vibrant and speckled with small colourful flowers. The buildings themselves are also very pleasant, all adding to the soft summer camp feel the area had. Natasha first directs you to the small bunker home her and Steve resided in, claiming members were not allowed inside but there was a small bell if you ever needed them at any time. Next, she shows you the church; a small yet grand building with dazzling stained glass windows. As you walk the pews, Natasha tells you how their service is held each morning, directed by Steve himself.

“I hear you’re in your church choir?” Natasha quips as you take in the way the light hits the windows, spreading bright colours across the floor of the building.

“Yes,” you reply, lifting your head and smiling sheepishly. “I have been since I was thirteen.”

“You’ll have to sing for us one time,” Natasha says playfully, before beckoning you out of the church and off to your next destination. On your way, she explains a little of how their program works; a mixture of group lessons and singular sessions to help you understand your problem. “Do you still attend bible study, Y/N?” Natasha asks as you approach the main building.

Shyly, you turn to face her. “No. I stopped a few years ago when I turned sixteen.”

The redhead clicks her tongue but overall doesn’t seem too disappointed, still smiling over you. “Don’t worry,” she replies. “I’m sure our study will set you just right again.” She passes you another wink before you step in through another door that she opens ahead of you.

The building has a wide front opening, a set of grand stairs set out ahead in the expanse of the tall ceilings. At the bottom of them, you suddenly notice a tall girl standing there. She’s wearing a neat uniform, her long black hair pulled back into two braids. “Y/N,” Natasha says, gesturing towards the girl. “I’d like you to meet Kate. She’ll be your mentor while you settle in.”

The raven-hair girl smiles at you as she extends a hand. You shake it, sharing a quick greeting before she hands you a welcome packet. Natasha explains how all of the rules are written inside, alongside a list of other expectations and your schedule for your stay. You hold on to it against your chest as the pair walk you around the house on your continued tour.

Inside of the main building, it feels somewhat like a mixture of a house and a school. There are two classrooms, both filled with a set of students learning from a tutor at the front of the class. A large dining hall was also set up, functioning like a school canteen. Downstairs there were a few recreational spaces with small couches arranged around card tables, all littered with various bible verse posters along the walls. As you move upstairs, Natasha shows you the bathrooms and the couple isolation rooms they had, though she assured you, you most likely wouldn’t be spending any time in there.

“Now, let’s get you some uniform, hm?” Natasha says, moving further down the corridor. She opens a long cupboard, filled with rows of pleated skirts and crisp white shirts. She looks through the rails before handing you a set of uniform in your size. Her and Kate then give you some privacy in the cupboard to change while they step outside.

The uniform is light blue, the skirt pleated through with lines of navy. The sweater vest is a matching dark blue, the logo of the camp embroidered onto one breast. You pull it on over the white button shirt, followed by the long white socks and black patent shoes Natasha had also provided. When you step out of the cupboard, the older woman takes hold of your old clothes, claiming she’ll take care of them for you until you’d be needing them again. You’re not entirely sure what she means but she’s continuing on with the tour once more before you can truly give it much thought.

“These are the girl’s dormitories,” the redhead says as she opens another door, guiding you inside. As you step in, you notice two rows of small cots, lined up with matching pink floral bedsheets. You notice one on the end, your bags sat atop waiting for you. But what catches your eye even more, is the brunette girl splayed across one of the middle beds, a magazine between her hands. She looks up as all three of you walk into the room, her green eyes meeting directly with you.

“Miss Maximoff,” Natasha says as soon as she notices the girl. “Aren’t you supposed to be in your lessons right now?”

The girl diverts her gaze to the camp director. “I didn’t feel well so I came to lie down.”

The way the girl lay across her stomach, face perfectly amused as her eyes flitted across her magazine didn’t exactly come across to you as unwell. It seems that Natasha too picks up on her lie, simply passing the brunette a small scowl. “Nice try.”

There’s a moment where the girl stares back, almost daring the women with her gaze, but she soon gives up, instead rolling her eyes as a long frustrated sigh escapes her lips. “Fine,” she mumbles, lifting herself up from the bed and slowly walking towards you. As she does, you notice how her shirt is unbuttoned further down and how her skirt is rolled at her waist, climbing the front of her thighs.

Natasha seems unfazed by her antics, simply holding out her hand which the brunnete places her magazine into with another sigh. The redhead gives it a once over before staring back at the girl. “This is contraband. Where did you find it?”

The brunette simple smirks in response. Her shoulders briefly brushes against yours as she squeezes her way through your group, headed towards the door. Before she leaves, she turns, walking gently backwards as the smirk widens on her face. “The Lord showed me the way to it.” She turns again quickly, disappearing from the dormitory alongside her lingering gaze.

Natasha doesn’t make any move to follow her, simply inclines her head as as she shouts down the corridor. “Roll down your skirt, Miss Maximoff!” Her voice still echoing, the redhead then turns back to you, that perfect smile returning almost as quickly as it at dropped. “I’m so sorry about that,” she says, glancing down at you. “Some of the other girls are a little…challenged in finding the light. Sometimes they can be a bad influence but I’m sure if you just stick with Kate, you’ll be just fine.”

You glance at the tall girl stood beside you, her soft grin looking back. “If you have any questions, feel free to ask Kate. Or of course, me or Steve at any point,” Natasha adds, drawing your attention back to her. You nod in response and she smiles back, placing a hand on to your shoulder. “Now, how about we take a look at your bags?”

———

Settling in isn’t as hard as you thought it might be. Kate is nice, you discover quickly, and helps you get unpacked. You tuck your things away into the drawers under your bed, then some more of your belongings in to the bedside table - next to the complementary bible you find tucked inside. Kate explains you can put up some photos with blue tac if you wish, pointing out to some of the other girls’ beds who have done the same. You borrow some of said blue tac from her as you stick a photo of your family alongside one of you and your boyfriend up on to the wall.

Afterwards, Kate sits with you while you look through your welcome packet. A lot of it relates to the pamphlet your parents had given you before your arrival, talking all about the camp and its methods of tackling what they phrase, ‘the misdirection of youths towards homosexuality’. The entire idea is still a little scattered in your head, but you brush it aside as you delve further into the rules and scheduling of the camp.

There are quite a few rules written down, a lot of which you recognise from your own home regulations. No curse words are to be used, nor any other inappropriate language. The Lord’s name must not be used in vain. Members must pray before each meal and every night before bed. Uniform must be worn at all times.

Then there are other rules that make you feel a little more uncertain. There is strictly NO fraternising between members. No member is permitted in the opposite dormitory to which they are assigned. Any inappropriate belongings will be confiscated.

The last rule makes you wonder back to the girl you’d seen sat inside the dormitory. There have been something ‘inappropriate’ about her magazine, obviously leading to the confiscation by Natasha. You weren’t quite sure what about it could be so bad, the name you’d glanced at briefly unrecognisable before Natasha had quickly stashed it away from your sight. If anything, the whole ordeal had only made you more curious about the strange girl and what exactly she had been reading.

As if the universe could hear your thoughts, it’s barely a few hours later when you collide with the girl once more. It’s lunch time, Kate and you just having sat down with your plates of food after she’d explained how they were set out each meal time. The dining room is filling up, all of the other camp members filing in to take their place at differing tables. It’s as your inspecting the meal in front of you that a very particular member sets herself down in front you.

“Hey, newbie.”

Your head raises from the table as you hear the voice, looking up to meet the same pair of green eyes that you recalled from earlier. The brunette stares back at you, a small smile playing at her lips as she watches your face. “Uh…hi?”

You don’t get to say much more before Kate is speaking up, leaning over the table with a scowl. “Get lost, Maximoff. We don’t want you to sit with us.”

The brunnete turns to look at the other girl, a frown of her own appearing between two perfect brows. “Loosen up, Bishop. I just wanted to say hello to our newest addition.” As she finishes, her eyes trail back to you, the scowl dropping away to that same smirking expression. For a moment it seems as if she looks you up and down, scanning over your uniform before studying your face again. “I’m Wanda,” she says eventually, voice light. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

You smile back a little awkwardly, torn between your polite nature and the instructions you had received to avoid this exact girl sat opposite you. “Y/N,” you reply, letting your manners overtake the situation.

“Just go away, Wanda,” Kate butts in suddenly, her voice raised. “I’m her mentor, not you.”

The brunette screws up her face as she turns to the raven-haired girl, scoffing under her breath. “God Kate, you’re so fucking uptight.” She sighs loudly as she pushes herself up from the table. As she does, you notice how her skirt is still rolled at the waist. But you don’t settle on it too long, distracted as she begins to speak again. “I’ll see you around, Y/N,” Wanda says, her voice playful once more. Her eyes train on you for just a moment as she backs away from the table, another girl soon taking her place.

“Just ignore her,” Kate grumbles over to you. She begins to list a string of complaints about the girl but doesn’t get far, soon interrupted by Reverend Steve calling for grace at the front of the room. You bow your head as he begins to pray, clasping your hands under your chin just as you did with every meal you ate at home. A chorus of ‘amens’ rings out as the prayer finishes, all heads lifting once more to begin eating their lunch. As you lift yours, your gaze briefly flashes across the room, catching across the way, a pair of green eyes staring back at you. Wanda sits smirking, but you don’t see much else, quickly finding yourself flustered and looking away, turning your concentration instead to the plate of food sat in front of you.

———

Natasha’s office is very nice. That’s your first thought when you enter through the door, guided by her hand on the base of your spine. There are a few wide windows on one wall, white shutters open to give a view of the lake just down a grassy hill. Her desk sits in one corner, a plush vibrant chair close by, then across the way, a small couch. There are shelves littered with both plants and framed pictures, most depicting some sort of bible verse.

You sit yourself down on the sofa while Natasha settles in her chair beside her desk, pulling out a notebook as she turns to face you. There’s an exchange of pleasantries as she explains exactly how these private sessions will go and how anything you say is entirely confidential. You nod, sitting rather folded in on yourself, uncertainty still coursing through your body.

“So Y/N,” Natasha says eventually, crossing her legs over the other. “To start off, why don’t you tell me a little bit about the first time you experienced homosexual tendencies.”

The request is one that leaves you stumbling a little. “Oh I- well…” You swallow, landing on the same response you’d had every time your parents had suggested the idea. “I’m not actually gay. Everyone just thinks that I am.”

Natasha’s face changes, taking on a soft but curious expression. “And why do you say that?”

“Well I’m not,” you reply. “I don’t- I don’t like girls. I have a boyfriend.”

That fact alone seemed enough to you for this whole endeavour to be needless. You didn’t like girls, couldn’t like them. You and your boyfriend had been going strong for over two years. He was handsome, funny, and you were sure you loved him. Even if you did feel slightly disgusted every time his lips touched yours…

“Listen Y/N,” Natasha says, her voice calm. “I know this whole experience can seem a little daunting but we’re here to help you, okay?” She smiles softly, the intention of her words feeling truthful. “But the first step of your journey needs to be your admittance to your problem.”

It isn’t that you don’t feel comfortable telling Natasha about your problem, in fact you actually feel a strange warmth in your stomach whenever she talks to you, but in your mind, there was no problem to begin with. “I’m not gay.”

Natasha sighs at your answer. She adjusts herself in her seat, her soft gaze looking back at you. “Think about it like this; homosexuality is like a disease. These thoughts weave their way into your mind, changing your behaviour.” The redhead raises a set of perfect brows. “But we can’t begin to heal if we don’t have a proper diagnosis. Can’t administer the right treatment if we can’t admit we’re ill, right?”

Her analogy isn’t lost on you, somewhat similar to something you’d heard your pastor say back at your home church. “Yeah…I guess that makes sense.”

“Now what you’re experiencing can be fixed,” Natasha continues. “I’ve seen it fixed many times before. You can heal Y/N, break away from this and find the light of our good lord.” With his name, Natasha glances up to the cross hanging on the wall beside you. Your eyes follow too. “Don’t you want that?”

You turn back to the woman, your voice sounding small. “Of course I do.”

Natasha smiles. “That’s good.” She rearranges herself again, adjusting to hold her notebook and pen better. “Now, could you maybe tell me first time you can remember ever having thoughts about other women?”

“I don’t-I haven’t,” you stumble. “I don’t think about them like that.”

Like that. It was a phrase you’d repeated like a mantra in your head. You didn’t want a girlfriend, you didn’t want a girl to kiss you. You thought about girls the same way everyone else did. Sure, sometimes your eyes would fall to their ass when they walked to the front of class, or perhaps you got a bit hot and bothered in the changing rooms before gym, maybe even your favourite movie scene was the one where all the girls would go to the beach and play in the water. But that was what everyone else thought too…right?

“Alright,” Natasha says, sighing again. “I can see you’re really struggling with this, but that’s okay. I’m here to help you.” She smiles. “How about we take a little look at your family history, hm? See if that can get things kickstarted for us?”

You spend the rest of your session talking about your family. Natasha asks about extended members, questioning about any problems there may be down your blood line. But as far as you know, it all comes up clean, your entire family the same good Christian folks you’ve always known them to be.

Finding nothing of interest, Natasha moves on to talk about your childhood. She asks about your time at school, how long you’d attended church, what sort of friends you had. It’s all scribbled down on the notebook in her hand as you list off answers, all the perfect idiom of what a good Christian girl should be.

By the end of your session, you’ve spoke about almost everything that’s led you up to where you are now. Natasha asks again about your feelings towards women, trying to compare the reasons your parents sent you here to real acts of homosexuality. But all in all, it’s no use. At the end of the hour, you’re still in denial, refusing any accusation of your alleged problem. Thankfully, Natasha doesn’t seem angry, still smiling softly as you leave her office. She send you away with an assignment to think about what could be your ‘root’, what she terms the initial source of your unholy thoughts, determined once you figure this out, it will begin your journey to sanctuary.

———

The next few days pass by without much excitement. You begin to settle into your lessons, listening as a few ex-members of the program give speeches of their experiences, or as Steve talks about how God can help give meaning to your life. There are group therapy sessions you attend, though mostly sit quietly through, but listen while others talk about their own experiences and thoughts. It’s in them you notice a certain person who seems to stare at you from across the room. You try to avoid making eye contact but it seems each time you glance over, Wanda’s stare is trained on you.

Following what Natasha had said when you first arrived, you tried to stick to Kate’s side as much as possible, avoiding the other girl who seemed to look at you more often than not. When you weren’t in lessons you could avoid her, instead hanging around with Kate and her friends in the recreational spaces, sometimes watching one of the approved DVDs that lay beneath the TV. At meals, your group sits together, always saying your prayers before eating your food. But it seems even there you can’t escape the strange brunette, always catching her stare from across the room. It’s only in bible study, on the day that marks a week since your arrival, that you actually get to speak to her again.

Kate was sick today. She’d caught a head cold, presumably from her parents who came to visit her at the weekend. You had also had a visit, your mother and father asking every possible question about your stay and how you were finding camp. The visit had went well, but now a few days later you were left with no mentor to guide you throughout your day. It isn’t too much of a worry in your mind though, the layout and scheduling of the camp already becoming a familiar routine to your body. But what you aren’t used to, is a certain strange individual sitting in the seat where your mentor usually sat.

You don’t notice it is Wanda at first. Feeling the body slide against yours on the bench, your first thought is perhaps that Kate has made a miraculous recovery. But when you turn to face the individual and are met with piercing green eyes, you are certainly even more surprised. “Um,” you fumble, looking back at the brunette as you try to stumble for words. “That’s Kate’s seat.”

Wanda raises a brow, her head spinning to look around the room before it returns to you. “I don’t see her.” She smirks. “Besides, no seating arrangements, right?”

Technically she is correct. There is nothing actually stopping her from sitting beside you apart from your slight aversion to interacting with her. You slide your body away a few inches to the right, shifting away from the touch Wanda had initiated as she sat down a little to close. The brunette seems to notice, glancing down at the gap now settled between you, but she doesn’t say anything about it, instead just looking up at you as she flashes a set of white teeth. “So Y/N,” she begins, rolling your name easily over her tongue. “Where are you from?”

“Not far,” you reply, still inclined to politeness even with your anxiety around the interaction. You elaborate further, telling her the name of your town just two hours north of the camp.

Wanda hums at your response then crosses her legs on the bench. You try not to notice the way her rolled skirt flashes a pair of smooth pale legs. “I’m from down south,” she says. “Further than you, though. About six hours. My parents only come to visit about once a month.”

You met her eye as you try to think of a response, but before you can, you’re being interrupted. Reverend Steve calls out at the front of the class, silencing everyone so that he can begin calling the register. As names echo out across the room, you and Wanda’s conversation dies, but the soft warmth emanating from her body close to yours, does not leave for the rest of the lesson.

Having quit bible study over three years ago, you were a little worried you wouldn’t be able to keep up, but as Kate had told you last week, some of these kids had never even been to church, so the pace was definitely slow enough for you to follow along. The story Steve told today was one you knew rather well actually, one of the most prominent ones you could recall from your early teens. Still, you pay the upmost attention throughout the entire time he talks, eyes trained on his figure at the front of the classroom. What makes that a little difficult however, is the girl sat right beside you.

Wanda is easily distracted you notice quickly, constantly fidgeting with the pen in her hand - your pen actually, borrowed by the brunette when she claimed she had forgotten her own. You sit a little in shock as she casually graffitis the open bible sat upon the desk in front of her, mindlessly drawing squiggles and random shapes into the margin. You try your best to ignore her antics but it’s a little hard when she accidentally tosses her pen across the desk, following a failed attempt to spin it around her fingers. It lands over on your side, just to the right of your own bible. You go to reach for it to hand back to her but it seems she’s already moving before you can even get the chance.

Her body lifts slightly from the bench, stretching out across the table with one arm for her lost pen. As she does, her chest is brought closer to your face. Your eyes fall on the black cross hanging around her neck, then suddenly dip lower, catching the area of her shirt where her buttons are undone further than they should be. There’s the briefest of moments where your eyes linger there, passing over the ever so slightly visible cleavage that swells on her chest, but it’s less than seconds later you’re darting away. Wanda eventually picks her pen back up, after what feels like an eternity, and pulls back in her chair. You glance momentarily over at her, then quickly return to the bible open in front of you, trying your best to follow along with the passage Steve reads aloud while ignoring the strange sensation that has settled in your lower stomach.

———

Camp isn’t quite the way you imagined it to be. Before you arrived, you thought it would be entirely awful, like a prison only with more…God. But for most of your experience, it just feels like you’re back in school. Although, now your lessons about maths or science are replaced by those about God and the way into his heart. Just over two weeks in, you’ve picked up the swing of things quite nicely, falling into an easy routine as you move through the services and lessons with ease. The one thing you just can’t quite seem to grasp is the understanding of why you’re here in the first place.

You’ve had three private sessions now with Natasha, each of them as feeble at finding a change as the last. You’re still not ready to admit your problem, as Natasha puts it, reluctant to find the issue within yourself. But as you’ve said since before you even came, it’s a simple fact you aren’t gay. Natasha seems determined in her ways to make you see something different.

She’s handed you a book, walking out from your last session. The title reads, ‘My Sexuality and Me: Finding the Root of Homosexual Tendencies’. You’re tasked with reading it before your next session in hopes it might finally help you understand your own thoughts. For now, however, it has to wait. Leaving your session, you go up to the dorm to drop it by your bed, taking just a moment before you have to head to your next organised activity.

The camp helps run on a set of scheduled chores that the members have to carry out. It’s on a rota, something Kate had shown you on your very first day, and changes each week. There’s everything from weed picking to cleaning dishes, all work that helps to keep the camp in shape for everyone staying there. Reverend Steve mentioned something about the work ethic helping everyone be grateful for what the lord had given them.

You have to go down to check the rota, forgetting what was scheduled for you this week. Most of the others are already dotted around the camp doing their chores, apparently your one-on-one session running over slightly and causing you to be a little late. You make your way down the stairs to the main room where the rota is located, pinned into a notice board on the wall. But as you turn the corner at the bottom of the stairs, you notice that you are in fact, not alone.

Wanda turns almost immediately when you round the corner. She’s stood up against the notice board, back resting upon the wall with one foot lifted against it. A smile appears on her face as you come into view, her teeth shining around the piece of pink bubblegum she chews. “Hey, princess.”

You try not to scoff at the name - an endearment the brunette had coined after seeing you one night writing in your diary about your boyfriend, claiming you were like a locked away princess longing for her prince to come save her. You’d rolled your eyes at her comment at the time, and had to deal with its return each time you’d bumped into her in the past week. Now, you try to ignore it as you walk past her and stare up at the notice board trying to find the chore schedule. However, Wanda is speaking again before you even get the chance to locate it.

“Looks like it’s you and me this week.” You glance over at her, watching as a pink bubble forms at her lips. You want to ignore her teasing, looking back to the board to locate where you would be stationed, but when your eyes fall upon the schedule, you realise she is right. Written on the notice board, right below the date of the beginning of the week is your and Wanda’s name, then below it; house duty.

You turn back to look at her, a pair of green eyes glinting your way. For a moment you think there’s some kind of mistake. After all, you had always been with Kate before. But then, not far away from yours is indeed Kate’s name written, not on house duty, but on pantry organisation.

Wanda smirks as she rolls the gum in her mouth, eyes fixated on you as she blows another bubble. When it pops, she finally speaks again. “You’ve never done house duty, have you?”

She’s right. You’re in unfamiliar territory and you don’t have your usual mentor to help guide you. “No,” you reply simply, gently shaking your head.

Wanda breathes out a laugh, throwing her head back slightly as she drops her leg from the wall. “Come on, princess,” she says teasingly, walking to close the gap between you. “I’ll guide you.”

Her hand is reaching for yours before you can protest against it. Soft skin slips into yours, gripping hold and quickly dragging you down the corridor. You stumble slightly, surprised by the whole encounter but Wanda doesn’t seemed fazed. She simply pulls you along the hall like a lost puppy. When your brain restarts from the initial shock, you look down at the way your fingers are grasped between hers. It’s a simple interaction at its core, an innocuous hand hold as she shows you the way to go. You’d done the same thing with your own friends back home many of times, but something about this one feels a little different. Something about the way her soft skin is warm against yours creates an odd fuzz in your head.

“Here we are,” Wanda announces, suddenly dropping your hand. You try not to think about the way it now feels cold as you watch her reach for a door handle. It opens to a cupboard, full of what looks like cleaning supplies. “We basically just dust everything,” the brunette continues, turning back to look at you. “Just dust and vacuum the floors in every room in the house. Oh- but not the bathroom, someone else will be doing those.”

You find yourself nodding, the task seeming simple enough. You’d dusted plenty of times at home, this couldn’t be any different.

Wanda lets out another laugh, seemingly at your immediate obedience to follow through with your task. “Alright, princess,” she says, cracking her gum. She reaches in to the cupboard, picking up a cloth and a bottle of disinfect spray. “I’ll do upstairs, you do downstairs?”

There isn’t much room for objection even if you had any, Wanda already beginning to walk away with the cloth thrown over one of her shoulders. You reach down to grab similar materials, standing back up to watch her figure moving down the corridor. “Stop calling me that!” You call out, but the girl is gone before your sentence is even finished, the protest seemingly falling on deaf ears. A sigh escapes your lips as you close the cupboard door, determined to just ignore the other girl while you begin your designated chore.

You start with the class rooms, wiping each desk with the spray and then dusting the other surrounding surfaces. You quickly find nothing was too dirty, the uphold from the other members ensuring the work wasn’t too difficult. You move next to the dining hall, then the recreational spaces, your cloth picking up any small specks of dust that have come to rest on the furniture and surfaces. When you’ve wiped down each room, you return to the cupboard for the vacuum you’d spied earlier. It’s older than the one you have at home but easy enough to work, quickly making light work of vacuuming the entire bottom floor.

It’s probably half an hour later when you finish, at least that’s the guess you make without a watch. You tidy away the cleaning supplies back into the cupboard before doing a quick inspection of everything to make sure you haven’t missed anything. Satisfied everything is clean, you turn your attention to your missing task partner. You haven’t seen Wanda once, barely even heard her moving upstairs. So, devoid of what else to do, you decide to head up to check if she needed any help.

You check a few rooms before you find her, the closest spaces absent of her presence. It’s only when you open the door to the girls dormitory that you finally see her. Except, she’s not cleaning like you expected her to be, in fact the cloth is entirely disregarded on the bedside table. Instead, Wanda sits with her back against the headrest of her bed, legs crossed over the top of her floral sheets and a magazine sat across her lap.

The door almost slams behind you as you catch eye of her, shock and repel taking you over. “You’re supposed to be cleaning!”

Wanda’s eyes pick up as she hears you yell, meeting your stare across the room. A smirk appears on her face, her expression seeming very amused by your sudden entrance. “Believe me, what I’m doing is much more enjoyable.”

You scowl back, annoyed by the fact you’d just spent the last half hour cleaning the house while she had been sitting up here doing nothing for who knows how long. If you were more argumentative, you would think of something to say in retaliation, some quick quip to get back at her for being lazy. But you’d never been very good at arguing, never very good at holding your temper. So instead you simply hold your tongue as you walk further in the room, watching Wanda as she stared back at you. Suddenly, your eyes fall to the paper in her hand, reminded of how similar this situation felt to the first time you’d met her. Like then, the same curiosity comes over you as to what she might be looking at, particularly how it could be classified as contraband. With that in mind, the next words you utter are not with anger anymore, but instead interest. “What are you reading?”

“Oh this?” Wanda replies, closing the magazine and holding it up briefly. She smirks your way, the grin wide against her cheeks. “Playboy.”

The word was unfamiliar to your mind. “What?”

Wanda’s brow raise. “Don’t tell me you’ve never heard of a playboy magazine.”

You notice in that moment she’d lost her gum from earlier. In fact, you wouldn’t be surprised if she’d stuck it under a piece of furniture somewhere. But still trying to focus on the conversation at hand, you simply shake your head in response.

Wanda looks surprised, her brows raising even further. You think she’s going to jest you further, make fun of you for not recognising the name of her treasured magazine, but instead she simply extends it out. “Look.”

You move slowly, slightly hesitant to approach. You know Natasha had confiscated something like this from Wanda before and you didn’t presume this new magazine was much different from that previously banned material. Still, your curiosity seems to be getting the better of you because you slowly sit down on Wanda’s bed, your legs hanging off the side whilst the brunette crosses hers. Against the covers of the bed, Wanda slides the magazine between the two of you, opening it to a random page. What is plastered over it causes your eyebrows to raise completely in shock.

Women. But not just any pictures of women. The magazine was covered in dozens of images of women in differing stages of nudity. Immediately when you saw it, you felt the need to pull your eyes away, knowing that these kind of images were most definitely not the kind you should be looking at. But at the same time, it was like you couldn’t stop. There are about four models across the two pages scattered with different images, sometimes wearing sets of black lacy lingerie, sometimes wearing nothing at all. Theres a strange sensation bubbling in your gut, an odd warmth spreading through your mind as you look down at the pictures. The pure immorality of it all is enough for you to shake your head viscously.

“This is-we’re not-you shouldn’t have that.” You stutter, the images imprinted in your brain making it harder to focus and find the right words. You’ve never seen anything like that before, never looked at a woman’s body so out in the open. Now you could see why Natasha had quickly confiscated Wanda’s magazine and hidden it away from your view. “How do you even have this?”

The brunette seems utterly unfazed by the material in front of you. More so, her face looks amused at your alarmed reaction. “I steal them out of my brother’s backpack when he comes to visit,” she replies casually, as if this is something she’s been doing for months. “He’s pretty oblivious so he never notices, always thinks he lost them. Besides, even if he did know, he couldn’t tell my parents. He’s not allowed them either.”

While Wanda explains, you have to fight against yourself to hold eye contact. In your peripheral, you can still see the open page of nude women, restraining yourself from your body’s seemingly natural instinct to look down. “This isn’t right,” you reply, shaking your head. “We shouldn’t be looking at that.”

Wanda scoffs, looking displeased at your disapproval. She reaches out for the magazine, pulling it back into her own lap as she glances down at the images. Then, she’s looking back up at you, face inquisitive. “You’ve really never seen one before?”

You’re not sure exactly where she thinks you were going to find such a thing, but you’re certain you’ve never seen anything of the sort before. “No,” you reply sternly, shaking your head once more.

Wanda laughs to herself, rolling her eyes. “You call yourself a lesbian and you don’t even know what a playboy is.”

Her words cause a deep frown to appear on your brow, your voice raising to almost a shout. “I’m not a lesbian.”

A perfect brow raises in your direction as Wanda looks at you. Her expression seems particularly amused. “No? How’d you end up here then?”

The question hits you hard, the same thing you’d been pondering to yourself over the last few weeks of your stay. “I’m not gay,” you reply harshly. “Everyone just thinks that I am.”

“And why do you think they think that?”

Wanda’s eyes meet your own as she speaks, the question another one familiar to your own mind. “I don’t know,” you shrug. “Stupid reasons.” You think back to the conversation you’d had with your parents, the first time any of this had even cropped up into your mind. “A few posters I had up in my room, a couple songs on my playlist. Oh, and I told my boyfriend I don’t like kissing him. Which is totally stupid. I’m pretty sure he’s just really bad at it.”

A chuckle emanates from Wanda’s throat. You’re not quite sure why, watching as she leans in closer to you. When she speaks again, her face is barely inches from your own. “Oh honey, you don’t like kissing him because you like kissing girls.”

“What?” you exclaim, taken aback by her accusation. That couldn’t possibly be right. “No! I don’t! I told you, I’m not a lesbian.”

Wanda smirks, her eyes trained on yours. “Okay, maybe not a lesbian but I bet you’ve thought about a girl while he’s kissing you.”

The idea was entirely preposterous. “No!” you yelled back. “I haven’t!”

But your anger is only met with amusement on Wanda’s side, her smirk only deepening as she leans back on the bed. “You’re cute when you lie.”

The words have you recoilling, the inclination behind them picked up on yet rejected by your brain. And yet, you could feel a warmth spreading to your cheeks, embarrassment flushing in.

“Have you ever kissed a girl?”

You snap on to Wanda as her question rings out, watching as she casually slides her magazine back behind her bedside table. “No,” you reply firmly. “Of course not.”

“Then how do you know you don’t like it?” The brunette sits up again, leaning in closer to you. Her eyes meet your own, a strange shadow seemingly passing over them. She watches you for a moment, in almost unreadable expression moving across her face. “Surely theres only one way to find out.”

Wanda’s voice is low, barely above a whisper. You find you’re too busy watching her lips to notice her leaning in even closer, face barely centimetres from your own. Suddenly, you pull back. “What are you doing?”

Wanda doesn’t miss a beat, continuing to lean in even as you pull away. One of her hands comes to rest on your thigh, fingers grazing the material of your pleated skirt. “It’s okay,” she says lowly. “I’m just trying to help you.”

Her advance doesn’t stop, face moving closer and close towards yours. It’s only when she’s almost touching you, you realise she’s trying to kiss you. “No,” you say quickly, pushing her back by the shoulders. “We can’t do that. It’s not right.”

Wanda sighs, relaxing her posture a little. She shifts in the bed, eyes still trained on you. For a moment she simply looks over your face before that smirk appears once more. “Maybe…” she says, angling her head. “But isn’t that the whole reason we’re here?” The question slightly throws you for a loop, your confusion allowing Wanda to move closer to you once more. “Don’t do you want to be a good girl and finish the program?”

The way her breath fans across your face sends an odd shiver down your neck, goosebumps appearing on your arms. Her choice of words seems to form an odd feeling in your stomach, but you try your best to brush it off, nodding your head in response to the question. You did want to finish the program. You wanted to be able to go back home to your family.

Wanda smiles at your answer, her head angling to the side as her voice takes a caring tone. “Well we both know what the first step is…You have to admit to yourself you like girls.” She leans in closer, her eyes briefly flashing down to your lips. “You can’t heal if you don’t admit you have a problem.”

Her words mirror those of Natasha’s, the same thing she’d been trying to get through to you for weeks. But you can’t help but fight the part of your brain that recalls everything you’ve been taught about attraction. “This isn’t right,” you say quietly. “You have to stop.” And yet you find yourself making no move to pull away from the girl whose face sits mere inches from your own.

“As I said, I’m just trying to help you.” Wanda’s voice is calm, understanding. “Once you realise you like girls, you can move on with the rest of the program.” Then the brunette shrugs a shoulder. “Or hey, you maybe hate it and realise you actually are straight.”

It makes some sense in your mind but you’re still hesitant, knowing that what Wanda was even suggesting was against everything you wanted to believe in. “I don’t think that we should-“

“Just don’t think.” Wanda cuts you off before you can finish, and before you can even process what’s happening, she closes the final gap between you. Her lips meet yours, soft and warm against your skin. It’s gentle but rough at the same time, your eyes fluttering closed. Then immediately, as the warmth leaves, they snap back open.

Wanda’s staring back at you, face smiling. “How’d that feel?” You notice that her eyes look a little blown out, pupils wide against the sea of green. “Feels good right?”

Suddenly you realise what’s just happened, every part of your upbringing screaming inside your head. “What? No!” you reply, flustering. “No, it didn’t feel good. It felt wrong.”

But some part of you creeps up in the back of your mind, a part you recognised and yet wanted to snuff out more than anything, a part that knew you were lying.

And apparently, Wanda can see right through to that part too. “I can see it on your face, honey,” she says, voice now teasing. Her eyes trace over your features and you wonder what exactly gave it away. There isn’t much time to think however, as before you know it, Wanda’s leaning in again. Her lips meet yours, a hand sliding to your thigh once more.

“Stop,” you reply, pulling away. “This isn’t right. We’re not supposed to-“

Wanda cuts you off again. “Don’t think about what we’re supposed to do. Think about what feels right.”

You notice again the wildness of her pupils, only for a moment, before she leans in again. Your eyes close on impact, her lips crashing into yours in another kiss. Only this time you instinctively lean into it, pursing your lips against hers. Wanda pushes back, her mouth opening just slightly to take in your lips and you find yourself leaning in. There’s a reminiscent taste of bubblegum, sweet on your tongue as her saliva begins to mix with your own. The hand on your thigh tightens, another placed on to the side of your face. For a second you don’t think about anything other than just how good this moment feels.

It’s seconds later Wanda pulls away, her touch lingering but her lips missing. You find your eyes opening, gazing back at the smirking brunette staring back at you. “It feels pretty good doesn’t it?”

You’re lost for words, sure of your answer to her question but so reluctant to admit it. Wanda smiles back at you, her grip on your leg slowly raising up, ever so slightly bunching the fabric of your skirt. Before you can formulate a response, she’s moving in towards you. Her face disappears into the crook of your neck, her warm breath fanning out across your skin before her lips attach. Without thinking, your head falls back, only giving the brunette more access to nip at the skin of your neck. Your eyes feel heavy, an odd sensation pooling deep in your body. “I can make you feel so good…”

The words reverberate across your skin, sending shivers down your neck and across your chest. A small whine exits your throat, unintended by any part of you but seemingly drawn out by the gentle touches of both Wanda’s lips and her fingers dancing across your skin. “Wanda…”

The brunette slowly pulls back, her face rising to meet with yours. Theres a look in her eye you can’t identify. “You’re already a sinner now, right?” she says, voice husky. “No harm in twisting the knife.”

There’s a moment where you want to turn away, to listen to the rational part of your brain that tells you this is all wrong. But right now there’s only one thing you can truly think of; just how good it felt with Wanda’s lips against your own.

Your hands grab at the brunettes shoulders as you pull her in, the pair of you colliding before you even recognise what you’re doing. The kiss comes fast, clashing together in your desperation for the girl to stop talking and just to feel her against you again. Wanda smirks against your lips, humming an amused noise before she’s all over you.

Her hands find purchase in your hair, entangling in the strands at the nape of your neck as she pulls you in closer to her body. Her kiss becomes fiercer, control quickly being regained as she presses her lips into yours. A small hum of your own escapes as she presses her tongue into your mouth, quickly taking over as you simply let her in without protest. And in that moment a thought crashes over your mind; gay or not, your boyfriend was definitely bad at kissing. Furthermore, Wanda was very, very good.

Your hands grips slightly at her shoulders as the brunette domineers the kiss, her lips almost possessive against your own as her hand clutches as your cheek, manipulating your position to give her full control. You feel her other hand begin to drift further up your legs, pushing your skirt up to your hips before climbing even higher. Delicate touches grace over your stomach, then softly against your chest. You release a small whine as Wanda nips at your lip with her teeth, at the same time, reaching to unbutton the top clasp of your shirt. Her fingers work faster than your mind can even process, too distracted by the touch of her lips to notice her quick work of opening your entire shirt. It’s only when she reaches to touch your chest, a gasp of realisation releases from your throat.

Wanda however, continues without missing a beat. As you gasp, she lets her lips leave your own, reappearing quickly on the side of your neck. Her hand tightens around the skin beneath it on your chest, fingers squeezing around your bra and grabbing hold of your breast beneath it. Her soft kisses continue to move lower as you whine softly, her touch against your chest sending shivers down your body.

Then, her mouth turns more aggressive, resting just at the curve of your breast she begins to suck on the flesh harder, nipping with her teeth before smoothing it over with her tongue. You whine softly, the new sensation novel to your body but so intrinsically intuned. For the first time your eyes open, looking down to where the brunette resides again your chest. You notice the way your necklace rests between the wisps of her hair, a silver cross that you’d worn every day for years. The image is enough to remind you of how wrong this is, how under no circumstances you should be letting a girl kiss you or touch your body like this. But before you can fully wrap your mind around the forbidden nature of the act, a new sensation is stripping a small gasp from your chest. Wanda’s fingers move back to your thighs, slipping up the exposed skin before coming to rest on your underwear underneath.

“Wanda…” you breathe heavily, worked up by her touch and yet knowing how wrong it all was. You shouldn’t be doing this, any of it, especially what Wanda was insinuating as she slipped her hand beneath your skirt.

“Shh, it’s okay.” The brunette replies with ease, her voice low and sensual. Her eyes raise back up to your face, meeting your gaze with a blown out expression. “Let me make you feel good, Y/N.”

And with that, her mouth is on yours again. Her kiss is enough to distract you from forming a response, eyes closing as the sweet taste of bubblegum coats your tongue once more. Then you feel her fingers again, pressing lightly against the material of your underwear, tracing the lines of your folds underneath. Small noises travel from your mouth to hers, receptive to her touch, but it’s when she presses her thumb to your clothed clit, a moan finally slips out.

The situation is entirely new to you, never having been touched by anyone this way before. You and your boyfriend had always said you’d wait till marriage, just like you knew you should. But here with Wanda, her lips against yours and her fingers tracing your most delicate areas, the endorphins flowing through your brain are enough to say to hell with it all.

You push harder into the kiss, grasping hold of Wanda’s shoulders as you try to gain the upper hand. But the brunette is much more experienced than you and doesn’t let up easily. Her hands move to your own shoulders and quickly begin to push the open shirt from them. Her lips remain on yours, strong and fierce, until the shirt has been slipped from your body. Then Wanda pulls away, her eyes drifting down over you for just a moment before she’s grabbing at you again. She spins you around, pulling you fully on to the bed as her hands press your shoulders down into the mattress. In a swift movement, she’s kicking off her shoes to the floor, then pulling yours off too. She comes to settle on top of you, knees placed either side of your legs as she looks down. Her hands are quick as she unbuttons her own shirt, tossing it to the side. Then, she’s moving to unclip her bra.

You feel your eyes widen slightly as Wanda’s bare chest is revealed to you. Before the magazine she’d shown you minutes before, it’s the first time you’ve looked at another woman so nude. And in that moment, despite what your brain is screaming out to you, you can’t help but think about how good she looks.

Wanda seems to notice your staring, her face pulling an entirely amused expression as she looks down at you. “I don’t see why you deprive yourself of this, Y/N,” she says, beginning to lean in. Her lips meet your neck, sucking gently as you feel her fingers slip behind your shoulder blades, seeking the clasp of your bra. “Can something truly be so wrong if it brings you so much pleasure?”

You try to reply to her question, brain racking all of the answers you know you should be saying. But then her lips are sucking at your neck and you’re arching into her touch, once again taken over entirely by the flush of pleasure underneath her control. Theres a release against your chest as Wanda unclips your bra, tossing it easily to the side along with her own. “So gorgeous,” the brunette murmurs, one hand coming to grab at your chest. Then her lips are on you again, kissing at the skin around your nipple. When she pulls it into her mouth, teeth grazing over the bud, a needy whine erupts in your throat. Wanda smirks against you, breathing out a laugh. “So sensitive.”

Her mouth continues to work around the skin of your chest, before you notice her fingers crawling over your stomach. They take hold of your skirt, pressing it up to bunch at your waist. Then Wanda is moving away, fingers quickly hooking themselves under the sides of your underwear as she begins to slide them down.

For a sudden moment, you’re acutely aware of what’s going on, of how you are quite literally in a dorm at a camp where this type of behaviour was attempted to be corrected. Not to mention the rule of any sort of fraternisation being entirely banned. “Wait,” you say, looking down at the brunette between your legs, suddenly afraid of what you were about to do. “I don’t think-“

“I told you to stop thinking,” Wanda replies, eyes snapping to yours. She continues to pull your underwear down, throwing them to the floor once they’ve passed your ankles. Before you can say anything more, her lips drown you in a kiss. The sweetness of it all is enough to wipe any of the doubt from your mind, so when Wanda’s hands dip between your legs, you don’t hesitate to let her. Deft fingers run between your folds, teasing you slightly as they brush gently across your clit. You sigh breathily between the breaks of your kiss, Wanda’s touch like electric to your skin.

“God, you’re so wet, Y/N,” the brunette whispers, pulling her face away to smirk down at you. “Is this all for me?”

She’s teasing you, making you think about how hesitant you’d been to this whole idea, and then about how receptive you were under her touch. But you don’t want to think about any of that, don’t want to remind yourself of how wrong this all was. All you want is for her to keep going. “Wanda…” you whine, squirming under her as her fingers teased your entrance. “Please.”

You don’t even truly know what you’re asking for her to do, all you know is you need her. Thankfully, the brunette is proficient in picking up your body’s signals. “Shh, it’s okay,” she whispers, breath fanning across your face. “I know what you need, princess. Don’t worry, I’ll take care of it.”

It’s only seconds later you feel her middle finger plunge into you. You let out a loud gasp at the contact, feeling her finger begin to move inside of you like nobody’s had before. Her name drips off your tongue, laced with pleasure, as her head moves back to your chest, tongue playing with your hardened nipple. Theres a mark resting there, red and throbbing below the skin of your cross. In the heat of the moment, you hands reach out to grasp the back of her head, intertwining with her hair as you feel her add another finger inside you.

The pleasure rolls of you in waves, Wanda’s touch like a skilled professional highly attuned to draw sweet subtle moans from your mouth. Her thumb circles your clit as she continues to pump her fingers inside of you, curling them to reach that spot that sends shivers up your spine.

“Fuck, Wanda,” you murmur, nails lightly scratching at her bare back.

The brunette chuckles, raising her head from your chest. “Now that’s not a very holy word, is it Y/N?” She smirks, and for a moment her touch is gone. You whine, chasing her fingers as they leave your needy core. Theres a second she lifts her weight and you see her reaching to remove her own underwear, then she’s back on you, this time sitting against just on of your thighs. You can feel her wetness against your skin, a soft moan escaping as she makes contact. “I wanna cum with you, okay?” she says, eyes meeting yours. You nod eagerly but your reply is swallowed up by a low cry as her fingers suddenly sink back into you.

Her speed picks up as she begins to curl inside you once again, a soft stream of curses leaving your lips at the unexplainable pleasure of her touch. You can feel Wanda begin to grind on to your thigh as she works, soft gasps escaping from her lips each time her clit brushes beautifully against your skin. She showers your praises as you whimper noises of your own, breaths heavy and moans unrestrained as she brings you closer and closer to that edge.

“You’re so fucking gorgeous, princess,” Wanda husks over you. “Such a pretty girl for me.”

Her words only add to the building feeling in your lower stomach, that familiar coil building from the times you’d reached down to pleasure yourself after your parents had went to bed - not that you would tell anyone that.

“Please, Wanda,” you whimper, back arching into her. “I’m close-please…”

One hand continues to pump inside you, paced perfectly as her curled fingers reached that spot with each thrust. The other come up to play with a perked nipple, the bud rolling though Wanda’s fingers as helpless whines spill from your mouth. “Just a minute, princess,” Wanda replies, her breathing heavy. “I’m almost there.”

Surprisingly, her pace doesn’t falter as she too climbs closer to her orgasm. Her moans grow louder, her cunt grinding harder against your thigh as she continues to swirl your clit at the perfect speed. It’s when you finally tense the muscles in your leg, that she finally falls apart.

You feel her soak your thigh, gasping desperately as she cums. You watch mesmerised as her face screws up, her jaw hanging loose as she rides out her orgasm on your leg, drunk on pleasure. It only adds to the bundling arousal pooling in your lower stomach.

“Cum, pretty girl” Wanda whispers, still coming down from her high. “Cum for me.”

And you do. With her fingers curling just right inside you, you finally tip over the edge. Your orgasm comes hard, crashing over you in a tidal wave as Wanda slowly circles your clit, guiding you through it. A guttural moan elicits from your throat, Wanda’s name lacing your tongue. That pleasant buzz takes over your mind as you feel her fingers slow, riding out your high, drunk on her touch. You’re on the brink of overstimulation when she finally removes her hand entirely. Eventually your eyelids flutter open, heavy from exhaustion, and you spy the brunette with her fingers deep isnide her mouth, her tongue lapping up every last bit of your arousal.

“So sweet,” she murmurs above you, both of your minds still fuzzy from the resounding pleasure. Eventually, the brunette moves herself away from your thigh, whining slightly as her core is exposed to the cool air. Her body flops down next to yours, shoulders touching as you lay cramped in the single cot. Your heavy breaths are the only sound for a long while, loud in the silence of the dormitory. Then finally, when you’ve managed to right your body again, your face turns to look at the girl beside you. Wanda is already staring back, green eyes wide as a huge smirk settles across her lips. She looks you up and down, her grin only widening as she husks, “You still wanna believe you’re not into girls?”.

#omg omg omg

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