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randomshyperson · 2 years

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Beach Weekend - Wanda Maximoff x Reader

Summary: A chaotic and disastrous weekend with your lovely family and group of friends has some issues: Steve Rogers should not be left to take care of the accommodation, everyone has lost their jobs and Wanda is a very jealous wife. || Based on a Brazilian movie.

Warnings: (+16) attempt at humor, chaotic domesticity, lots of cuteness and jokes, established relationship, mentions and innuendo of smut and mentions of homemade artificial insemination, explicit language (cursing) || Words: 6.004k

A/N: I was talking to abimess about the lack of Brazilian representation in basically everything, and she had the brilliant idea of a special collection with stories with a Brazilian Reader. However, none of us would have the time to do it, still, I plan to write some loose stories about it. This story for example is based on a very famous Brazilian comedy film, hope you all like it.

General Masterlist | AO3 | Wattpad |

--//--

Being an adult usually had only two meanings: Not having the time or not having money. And both could happen simultaneously.

Yet, with the mass resignation of the Bishop Security Company after the owner's exposure of felony evasion, you and your co-workers and closest friends, Maria Hill and Steve Rogers, decided that the insurance money would be a good opportunity to have decent summer vacation for once in your life.

Convincing your wife would be the tricky part.

"Absolutely not." Wanda spoke with an indignant expression as soon as you finished counting. "We need to save money, Y/N. You still haven't received any feedback on the resumes you sent out, and we're not going to waste our savings because Rogers wants to have beers on the beach." Wanda declared seriously, but at that moment, the twins were coming down the stairs, and Tommy let out an excited exclamation.

"Are we going to the beach?"

"No, Tommy-"

But if there was one thing Wanda had a problem doing, it was saying no to her boys' puppy dog eyes - and coupled with your kisses - she rolled her eyes and eventually agreed.

So, you left New York in a pickup truck with your family headed for the seashore.

"Who took care of the lodging?" Wanda asked from the passenger seat - she looked, in your humble opinion, stunning in her sunglasses.

You turned down the radio a little to answer her.

"Steve. He said something about an old friend who had a boat and a beach house." You answer and Wanda hums in agreement, half distracted with her cell phone. You look through the rearview mirror at the twins, also focused on electronic devices, and sigh. "You know, it would be nice if we tried to disconnect a little from the Internet this holiday, don't you guys think?"

No one even hears your question, and you roll your eyes before turning the radio back up.

You stayed on the road for almost three hours because of the traffic, but everyone was very pleased when the sea became visible. The joy lasted only for the next 20 minutes.

"Are you sure we are at the right address?" Wanda asked with a grimace as soon as you parked the car in front of an old gate, a considerable amount of moss covering the bricks, and grass growing everywhere.

You were equally confused, and got out of the car with some hesitation, looking around. It was a somewhat isolated area from the rest of the houses, but the yard led to the beach. From the beam of the gate you could see that there was also a swimming pool.

Taking your cell phone, you dialed Steve's number while your family waited in the car - Wanda leaned into the back seat to calm the twins who were already starting to get restless.

"Rogers, I think we missed the entrance or something. Are you here yet?"

"No, I'm about ten minutes away. Send me your location and I'll pick you up."

But apparently, you were in the right place. And when Steve Rogers parked his car next to yours, you were just as annoyed as Wanda.

"You said you were going to take care of the lodging!" You accused the blond who held up his hands in surrender.

"Hey, I said I knew the owner, that's different!" He defended himself. "Sam said the place is nice, you haven't even been in and you're already making judgments." He argues. "And stop yelling at me in front of my fiancé, it's bad luck." He whispered the last part, taking advantage of Bucky getting out of the car, and you rolled your eyes impatiently.

The place was not nice. It was a surprise that it was actually standing.

You only didn't choke Steve because Maria arrived on a motorcycle with her girlfriend and she looked like she was going to do it first.

"Rogers, I promised her an incredible weekend and you put us in this hole!" Maria grunts between teeth as the three of you are supposedly checking out the kitchen, your families waiting for you in the living room.

"Look, the value was really good! I had no idea the place was in this condition." Steve defends himself. "Sam told me it was his family's house, and that they haven't been here in a few years..."

"More like a few centuries." You retort rubbing your forehead. You can hear Wanda's voice asking the kids not to touch anything, acknowledging that pitch of anger, and you can already imagine the lecture. And honestly, she's right.

"I'll call Sam." Steve says, sounding like he's more about running away from the discussion than solving something.

To add to Wanda's irritation, you had also suggested that she invite Pietro and his family, figuring that your friend would have picked a really nice place. So when the twin arrived with Monica and little Luna, you knew that the thin ice had burst.

Pietro let out a laugh when he saw the state of the room.

"It looks like a hurricane came through in here." He commented dropping one of the suitcases on the floor, his wife holding her daughter as if afraid she would catch some disease from the floor. "Well, I'll take the larger room!"

Pietro's sentence caused a commotion. You shuddered at the look Wanda threw you before she ran to catch up with the boys who went to dispute the room with their uncle, and you sat down on the old couch with a grunt, a migraine forming.

"Sam said he'll be here in fifteen minutes." Steve informs you and Maria as he returns to the living room with a cell phone in hand.

Apparently, it was the housekeeper's fault. Sam was a nice guy, and really didn't know that the house wasn't being taken care of properly. It took him almost 30 minutes to arrive however because he brought several pieces of cleaning equipment to help improve the appearance of the house.

"Amazing, guys! I go to the beach with everyone who has nothing to do with the choice of lodging and the rest of you are left in charge of cleaning." Wanda declares to the room and no one has the courage to contradict her.

And so you spend the rest of your afternoon trying to get mold out of the inside of a pool.

"Natasha seems nice." Steve tells Maria a few hours into the cleanup when the three of you are taking old bottles out.

"She's amazing." Your friend retorts with an excited sigh. "I was a little unsure about this open relationship thing, but we're doing fine."

"Wait, does that mean you two can sleep with other people?" Steve asks surprised, and Maria giggles, shaking her shoulders as the three of you make your way back inside, at least three rooms with plenty of cleaning to be done yet.

"If we are in agreement, yes." Answers the brunette.

"Damn I could never do that." Steve comments and you hum in response.

"Just the thought of Wanda sleeping with someone else makes my skin itch."

"I didn't know you were the jealous type, Y/N." Maria comments and you give a short laugh, your hands busy moving the pillows to dust them off.

"Have you seen my wife, Hill? No, wait, don't look at her like that." You joke making all three of you laugh. "I'm not really, just truly monogamous. Believe me, Wanda is jealous of this relationship."

Steve laughed in agreement. "Oh, I recall that. Before you joined the company, Maria, Y/N trained a new girl, I think her name was Carol or something. Wanda looked ready to rip someone's head off every time her name was mentioned."

"I thought it was cute."

"It was scary." Steve contradicts making you laugh.

You get back to cleaning the house between conversations about work and side scares, and as the place gets cleaner, the anger about the inconveniences eventually takes a back seat.

Wanda and the others don't return until late afternoon, the kids running in dirty with sand and making a huge mess in the shower.

You are testing the waters calmly, but realize that a day at the beach with the twins seems to have relaxed Wanda a bit. You try to improve things a bit by promptly offering to take care of the twins, cleaning up all the mess and making sure they were in their pajamas and ready for dinner without delay.

Wanda smiled at you in thanks before heading to the kitchen and that made you sigh with relief.

"She's mad." Tommy warns you as you dry his hair and you look at your son with a grimace.

"Are you sure?"

"She smashed the volleyball." It is Billy who answers, and you sigh with slight panic.

"Boys do you have any suggestions?" You ask them, going to dry the other's hair.

"A new house." Tommy mutters taking an elbow from his brother.

"Foot massage, mommy. And you could buy some chocolates too." Billy suggests and you smile at them.

"You two are the best." You say kissing the head of each before letting them run into the kitchen.

—------—------

Everyone was tired from the trip and the beach, so plans for the barbecue and pool would be left for the next few days. The children were put in one room, and you, Wanda and Maria and Natasha in the other, while Steve and Bucky took the couches. The hammocks for Pietro and Monica.

"Did you girls get to know each other well?" Maria asked when the four of you were in the room. You were sitting cross-legged on the bed, waiting for Wanda to finish drying her hair and get into bed, while Natasha was grabbing bath items to use after Maria who had just left the shower.

Wanda and Nat exchanged gentle smiles. "Yes, Natalia is a sweetheart." Your wife commented, causing Maria to smile. "She mentioned that you guys almost went to St.Petersburg, but ended up choosing the beach. I imagine the regret must be bitter." Wanda joked, and although Maria and Nat laughed, you knew it was a warning that she hadn't forgiven you yet.

"I don't know, Wanda, trading thick coats for the chance to see this goddess in a bikini seems like a good game." Natasha flirts with her girlfriend, stealing a kiss on the way to the bathroom, and as soon as the door closes, Maria grunts with excitement, ignoring the giggles from you and Wanda.

"God, that woman is going to kill me." Hill said.

"Doesn't it make you want to keep her all to yourself?" You tease just to torment her, and Maria chuckles, raising her middle finger at you. Wanda watches the scene with confusion.

"What do you mean?" She asks, and Maria quickly tries to explain about them being in an open relationship. "Wow, that's... modern."

You give a short laugh, which Maria follows. "Come on Maximoff, you can say you think it's a crazy idea. Steve does."

But Wanda shrugs her shoulders, a soft laugh escaping her lips. "No, I think it's nice. If it works for you, and it's something you like, then I really don't see why it would be a problem. In fact, it sounds interesting, I imagine you guys must never get bored."

Maria laughs, commenting that boredom has never been a problem, but you frown in hesitation.

"In fact, girls, I think Nat forgot her soap and I would never want her to have her bath marred by that little triviality..." Maria says a moment later, ignoring the rolling of your eyes to run to the bathroom and you turn your attention back to your wife lying on the bed beside you.

"Hey, pretty girl, since when do you think an open relationship is cool?" You ask, moving to the edge of the bed without delay, your hands finding Wanda's feet to place them in your lap. She gives a confused giggle.

"What, I'm not allowed to?" She retorts half sarcastically, the irritation over the events from earlier still fresh in her mind.

You sigh. "You can think whatever you want, Wanda. I was just surprised. And that talk about being bored..." Your voice grew a little unsure, causing Wanda to frown in curiosity. "It wasn't about us was it?"

Wanda giggled incredulously. "By God, honey."

"What? It's an honest doubt." You defend yourself with flushed cheeks, and Wanda bites back a smile. She would like to be irritated with you for more than a few hours, but you make the job so difficult.

"Baby, we have sex almost every day."

"Yeah, but you could be getting tired..." You mutter upset, your fingers massaging Wanda's feet and she grunts softly.

"I promise I'm not."

"So you wouldn't want to open our marriage?"

"Babe, don't make me kick your pretty face." Wanda warns causing you to chuckle. She closes her eyes to enjoy the massage better and you smile affectionately as you watch the soft sighs that leave her lips in appreciation of the touch.

You lick your lips a minute later, stopping your movements to lean down and kiss her thighs, making Wanda open her eyes.

"What are you doing?" She asks almost tense, her gaze going to the closed door. You only press a hand to her stomach to get her to lie back down, and the other pulls the comforter over you.

"Making sure there's no boredom." You retort, fingers climbing up into her nightgown as your mouth kisses the inside of her thigh and up, making Wanda shudder softly.

"Baby, the girls could be back any moment..." She reminds you with the last remaining bit of sanity, but you only laugh softly against her skin.

"Adrenaline makes everything better, don't you think?" It is your last comment, and Wanda will not argue any further.

–//–

The second day is infinitely better than the first. Apparently, one orgasm is enough for Wanda to forgive you for a bad weekend, and when you join everyone on the beach, it's really fun.

The only inconvenience is Pietro mistaking sunscreen for suntan lotion and turning all the kids into shrimp, which stresses the mothers out to a considerable degree.

You end up going back early because of this, and you offer to go to the pharmacy to get some ointment for them, being joined by Natasha in the car as the woman also wanted to buy some items.

You chat a bit on the way, she has a sarcastic humor but is pleasant company. She also flirts a lot with the natural way in which compliments escape her, and the interaction leaves you feeling a bit awkward.

The problem is that for your wife, you arriving with easy smiles and a flushed face with a beautiful woman like Natasha is not exactly the best thing in the world. So her passive hostility from before returns and you have no idea why.

You focus on soothing the burns of the three naughty children on the couch for the moment though.

Wanda, on the other hand, is quite interested in finding out why you arrived laughing with Natasha, and once the redhead joins Steve and Bucky in preparing the barbecue, the shorter one is trying to sound as casual as possible.

"[...] your wife is really very nice, that's all." Natasha assures amiably, her hands busy grabbing a cold beer. "I told her about not knowing New York very well, and she told me that with the company's trainee program she ended up getting to know the city like the back of her hand and that if I were in Queens sometime, we could schedule a coffee. She is very helpful."

Wanda forces a smile. "Yes, very helpful. Lovely." She commented, the sarcasm being missed by Nat, who wasted no time in continuing the conversation.

You didn't understand any of the murderous looks you received from Wanda every time she took a sip of beer while talking to Nat, but honestly, you were afraid to ask.

The barbecue gets livelier as Pietro gets the radio and speakers working, and you proudly fill the pool that you have successfully cleaned.

While the kids are playing in the water, you approach Wanda from behind, hands on her waist, but when you go to kiss her, she turns her face away and you end up just brushing up against her cheek.

She takes a long swig of beer, prologuing the lack of explanation and causing you to raise an eyebrow.

"What's wrong?" You ask in a whisper, holding her by the waist while the others are busy dancing and talking.

"Nothing." She retorts between teeth, returning the bottle to the counter in front of her, leaning her ass against you.

"Wanda." You insist, appreciating the warmth, but worried about the way she is acting.

Your wife just turns her face to you, an innocent expression that doesn't match the way her eyes are shining. "It's nothing, honey, I just heard about you being the best tour guide in New York."

You frown in confusion. "What...?"

But Wanda slips your hands away as she spins her body around, hands finding the collar of your shirt. "So helpful with other people's girlfriends."

You sigh as you understand. "Wanda, I was just trying to be nice..." You try, but she leans her face against yours, brushing your lips together and making you lose your line of reasoning. Wanda kisses you softly and suddenly bites your mouth just on the limit so as not to hurt, the gentle pain being a clear reminder of her annoyance, and you grunt softly as she pulls away. " No need to be mean."

She gives a naughty little laugh, licking her lips and attracting the immediate attention of your eyes.

But your interaction is interrupted when Steve announces that the couple he befriended on the beach earlier was at the gate. Tony Stark, his wife Pepper, and their daughter Morgan had brought more food and drinks for the barbecue, and you whispered that you were going to be as friendly as ever just to tempt her.

The barbecue continues throughout the day. Everyone gets to know each other, and around three, you decide that you would also like to join the pool, and having gotten busy you were not yet in your swimsuit.

You went inside to change and found the bathroom empty. Since everyone was outside and you were only going to put your top on, you didn't lock the door. As soon as you took off your shirt, someone came in.

Nat closed the door and turned around, surprised to find you without clothes.

"Oh, sorry, my bad." She apologized without any shame, just regret that she had intruded. The problem is that when she went to open the door, the old doorknob made a noise and fell to the floor. "That's not good."

You put on your T-shirt in record time, moving to the door as well.

"Shit." You grumbled, trying to push the door open but to no avail. You immeasurably started to knock, but the loud sound muffled it. "No, no, no."

Natasha gave a confused giggle at your reaction. "Look, that sucks, but I promise I'm not the worst company to be locked up with." She jokes, a little unsure, after all, she was the girlfriend of one of your close friends and just wanted to make a good impression.

You gesture to her quickly. "Oh, no, it's not you. I just need to get out of this bathroom before my wife dreams that I ended up in a small space with a beautiful woman."

"Well, thank you." She retorts and you grunt in embarrassment, but Nat seems to be finding the whole thing amusing. She leans on the wall next to the door, pulling out her cell phone and you sigh impatiently, trying to slam the door again.

Shortly after, you hear footsteps and knock harder.

"Hey, we're stuck!" You warn.

"Mom?" it's Tommy's confused voice, and you sigh in relief.

"Yes, honey, Aunt Nat and I got stuck in the bathroom, try calling Uncle Pietro without alerting anyone and-"

"MAMA! MOMMY GOT STUCK IN THE BATHROOM WITH AUNT NATASHA" Tommy shouts into the hallway with a mischievous laugh, and you feel your body freeze. Even Nat laughs softly at your reaction.

Wanda moves so fast out of her seat that the pillows hit the floor. She reaches the door in a rage and starts knocking hard.

"Y/N? OPEN THIS DOOR NOW!"

You shudder, taking a step away. "Wanda, honey, the lock broke..."

Another loud knock. You heard other footsteps, and the music slowed, so it wasn't hard to deduce that the whole group was in the hallway.

"What happened people?" Pietro asked confused.

"Pietro, Natasha, and I got stuck in here." You replied from the other side and wanted to dig yourself a hole for giggles.

"Everyone out now." Wanda speaking tapped her foot, and you heard footsteps and giggling children, signaling that the children all ran to the pool again. "Y/N, open this door right now!"

You sigh wearily, looking around. Natasha moves as well, grabs a toothbrush, and pats you on the shoulder to make room for her.

"Maybe if we shove this in here..." She comments but is interrupted by a loud exclamation and laughter from the other side.

"SHOVE IT IN? WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?" Wanda questions explosively, and you grunt softly.

"Look, sestra, from the sounds of it it must be good stuff." Pietro sneers, and you hear a slapping noise and another chuckle.

Natasha seems to be having a hard time holding back her laughter, offering you a frown by Wanda's reaction, but all you do is sigh and sit down on one of the little stools by the door.

"Wanda, relax, I'm sure it's fine in there." Steve tries to reassure her.

"Yes, I'll go look for a screwdriver." It is Bucky who speaks and you hear his footsteps getting away.

"Of course, it's fine, by the way, it's a great opportunity for a bonding hour." Pietro teases getting another chuckle, but you sink your face into your own hands, grumbling in frustration. "Wow, I think they've even started."

The snickering makes you blush with embarrassment, but soon you jump in fright because Wanda gives another loud knock on the door.

"Y/N, I swear to god if I hear any more strange sounds..." She warns between teeth, and you swallow dryly, not even daring to breathe too loudly.

Natasha gives up trying to open it with her toothbrush, seeing that it wouldn't work and leans back on the wall.

"I don't know about you, Wanda, but sometimes silence can even be worse." Monica joins in the tormentors, and you hear Pietro laughing as well. "who knows what the mouth is doing other than talking"

"Y/N!” Wanda calls immediately with her voice trembling with rage. “Speak! Now!"

You roll your eyes and Natasha answers for you, "Guys, stay calm, everything is under control in here."

"Yes, Wanda, we're just waiting." You say.

"Yeah, Y/N, keep talking!" Your wife warns.

"What's the use of talking, we don't know where her hands are..." Pietro adds making Monica laugh. You place a hand over your face in disbelief.

Wanda's shaky voice calls out to you again. "What are you doing with your hands? Clap them!"

"My god, that's ridiculous." You mutter.

"Clap.Them." Wanda repeats between teeth, her voice laden with irritation, and you sigh impatiently before obeying. "That's it, keep going. I better know where your hands are!"

"Wanda, I won't be-"

"I swear to god Y/N-" She interrupts you and you don't have to command again before you clap your hands again. "That's it, good. Now speak, or sing."

Fuck this.

Pietro and Monica start laughing, and Natasha also gives up on holding in her giggles. Luckily, Bucky comes back with the screwdriver.

About ten minutes later, the door opens, and you only have time to stare at Wanda in confusion before the woman leaves in a rage and dragging her feet away.

"If she kills me, I will haunt you both." You warn Pietro and Monica, who just laugh at your distress before you follow the same path as Wanda.

Although it is not really your fault, you feel very bad to find your wife on the verge of tears, with her arms crossed and sitting on the sand, a few meters away from the house.

You sigh softly, making noise with your steps to announce your arrival before sitting down beside her.

"Sorry." You murmur and Wanda shudders, keeping her gaze on the ocean. "I should have, um, locked the door before the doorknob broke."

"I'm not mad." She grumbles. "I know it wasn't your fault."

You look at her with concern. "Then...why are you crying?"

"I don't know." She answers with a soft sniffle, wiping her tears away quickly. "It's stupid."

You sigh, moving one of your fingers to give the strap of her shorts a gentle tug, "Come on, talk to me." You insist sweetly, and Wanda takes a deep breath, her gaze on her own feet.

"I just... it's stupid, but sometimes, I have these thoughts. About you, finding someone cooler or I don't know, hot. Someone who does things more fun than cleaning the carpet or preparing kids' breakfasts. Or I don't know, some of the incredibly interesting people you meet every day who actually go places instead of spending the day writing about it." Wanda blurts out, and you sigh deeply.

She has never said these insecurities to you. Not since college at least. And because you were so sincerely in love with her, the possibility that Wanda might feel insecure never crossed your mind.

"Hey, come here." You call out to her, bringing your hands to her hips. "Where did that come from?"

Wanda hides her face in your chest, her cheeks burning. "I don't know, it just did come." She mumbles against your skin.

Before, when you were younger and more hesitant, you would often reassure her. But after marriage, god, after children, you just assumed Wanda knew she was the love of your life. But she apparently still let her insecurities get the best of her. And it was okay.

"Sometimes I think you'll meet a super literature genius and forget about me." You confess to her as you hold her, and Wanda gives a confused little laugh.

"Really?"

"Mm-hmm." You mutter. "Remember when you won that writing contest last summer, and that handsome professor came over to ask for your number?"

"And I said I was married?" Wanda asks raising her gaze to you.

"Yep, that's the one." You say. "I was so insecure all night because all my head could think about was you moving on with someone far more intelligent and well resolved."

"That's ridiculous, I love you."

"I know, that's exactly my point." You retort with a chuckle that she accompanies. "Besides, that night you couldn't even wait for us to get out of the car so you obviously were crazy about me-"

Wanda smacks you in the ribs, laughing along with you. "Idiot." She says, sliding her arms around you.

"Sorry for making you clap your hands." She asks then, and you laugh softly.

"It's okay, baby." You say. "Do you want to go back inside?"

"Can I get a kiss first?" She asks with a pout raising her eyes to you.

"Hmm, as many as you want." You whisper back, leaning in to meet her mouth and feeling her smile against your lips. Wanda slides her tongue against yours slowly, and you move your hands down to squeeze her ass, pushing her against your hips and getting an affected sigh. "Just for the record, Maximoff. You are the hottest woman in the world." You compliment with your eyes ajar, smiling at the way that although she rolls her eyes, her cheeks turn pink.

–//–

The last day of the weekend had everything to be perfect, so it was the most disastrous of all.

Someone - you prefer not to accuse, although everyone knows who sleeps in the living room takes care of those things - forgot to close the windows, and the early morning rain got half the appliances on the countertop wet and damaged. Pietro was quite grumpy without his coffee.

The children have become even more energetic in the last day, and almost impossible to keep up with. You lost sight of Tommy for the fourth time and were trying to help Billy get his arm out of a jar when you heard the sound of something falling.

The whole house heard it, actually, and in record time, it was the whole group outside, where Tommy had just fallen off an old ladder trying to climb the fence.

"What are these kids taking?" Steve asks half startled, but you are busy going to check on your son who has apparently twisted his wrist.

"Mommy's hurting." Tommy whimpers as you sigh nervously, grabbing his arm to check.

"It doesn't look broken dear. Come on let's put some ice on it."

Aside from Tommy's injury, apparently, Wanda couldn't decide whether to stay on good or bad terms with you this weekend. As soon as she finished checking for the tenth time that her son wasn't forcing his injured hand, she sent you one of her angry glances on the way to the bathroom and you sighed in confusion, the sound attracting the attention of Monica, who was preparing lunch next to you.

"Everything okay there, Y/N?" She asked gently, and you forced a smile.

"Yeah, it's nothing." You mumble, but meet Monica's gaze and sigh. "It's just Wanda."

"Are you two going through a crisis?" she teases but you widen your eyes.

"What? Why, did she say something?"

Monica gives a confused giggle, "No, Y/N, I'm just teasing you." She assures you still smiling, and finishes throwing some of the vegetables into the pot. "Is this about the house? Cause it all turned out to be fun."

"God, I have no idea." You gasp softly in frustration. "She keeps having these mood swings, one minute we're in paradise and the next she looks ready to jump at my neck."

"Oh, but that makes sense for someone in her condition." Monica mutters and you frown in confusion. Seeing your face, the other woman hesitates.

"What condition?"

Monica gives a nervous little laugh, shaking her head. "I meant, I imagine she was nervous about the dismissal from the company and-" She starts to reel, but you cut her off:

"Monica, what condition?"

The woman sighs in defeat. "Sorry, Y/N. I didn't know Wanda hadn't told you yet." She says twisting her fingers. "She found out she's pregnant."

You give a short laugh, thinking it's a joke. But Monica's face doesn't have a trace of humor in it.

"B-but we haven't been trying for months and-" you stammer but shut up when you realize that the possibility is quite possible. Because you had tried, a lot, to increase the family a few months ago with the whole homemade insemination and donation sperm, until the layoffs at Bishop started happening and as the tests kept showing negative, you and Wanda left the idea for later. But, apparently, it had worked.

"I'll get you some water." Monica says as she sees your pallor, but you turn around, shaking your head.

"No, I'm fine. I need to talk to my wife." That's what you say before you drop the food knife and leave the kitchen.

Wanda is packing the boys' bags in the last room when you run into her. Everything would be fine if she weren't sniffling softly.

You close the door gently, sighing so she won't be startled, and she quickly wipes her face.

"Hey, sweetheart." You greet her by moving closer and sitting down next to her on the bed, knee to knee. "Why are you crying?"

Wanda gives a tearful laugh. "I have no idea." She replies making you smile affectionately, one hand moving to intertwine with hers in her own lap, and Wanda smooths out one of Billy's t-shirts with the other. "I was just packing up the boys' things and it occurred to me how fast they grew up, and before I knew it, I was crying."

You hum in understanding, moving your face to kiss her on the cheek as Wanda closes her eyes for a minute, trying to control her own emotions. "I'm sorry." She murmurs, and you shake your head, playing with your fingers.

"Don't apologize." You whisper back. "I would never be angry with you for that. I would never be mad at you for anything."

She lets out a soft laugh, turning her face to you. "Not even for accidentally recording Bewitched over your The Office?"

"The keyword is accidentally." You retort good-naturedly, making her laugh as well. Wanda leans against you, and you drop her hand to slip an arm around her shoulder, kissing the top of her head. "Baby, is there something you wanted to tell me?"

Your question makes Wanda tense up, but your gentle caresses with your fingers along her arm make her sigh and relax eventually. It takes a few minutes, but she finally says:

"I found out last week." She confesses, and you sigh softly. "Who told you?"

"Monica."

"I'm going to kill her." You laugh, and so does Wanda, pulling away to look at you. "I'm so sorry-

"Stop apologizing, Wanda." You interrupt her tenderly, rubbing your noses together affectionately for a moment. "We both wanted to and did it together."

"But that was before-"

"I know." You cut in with a soft chuckle, using your other hand to tuck loose strands of Wanda's hair behind her ear, meeting her worried emerald eyes. "We're going to be fine, darling. I know it's a scary time, but we'll manage. We always do."

Wanda sighs, looking at you for a second. "I love you."

She confesses, making you smile affectionately.

"And I love you." You assure, resting your forehead against hers. Wanda breaks the distance to give you a sweet kiss, smiling against your lips. When she pulls away, you exchange passionate glances. "How many weeks?"

Wanda gives a short laugh. "Almost four months, darling."

You gasp in surprise, pulling back. "No way!" You comment, moving your hands to her blouse, and lifting it up making Wanda laugh at your enthusiasm. You place your hands on her belly. "She's been hiding..."

"She?"

"Oh, yes, definitely a girl. I can feel it." You murmur, moving your hands to Wanda's hips, who raises an eyebrow at the sight of you adjusting to lay her down on the bed and be on top. "I wonder when we made her..."

Wanda bit back a chuckle, feeling you fit a leg between hers. "Well, four months ago, I was working from home every day."

"Hmm, so I guess it was right on your desk, sweetheart." You retort to her as you lower your lips to her neck, and Wanda gives a soft little laugh, remembering all too well how many times you almost broke her office desk. Your hands are coming down dangerously, but the sound of the children outside makes you sigh in frustration against her neck. Wanda feels hot and shares your dissatisfaction at having to stop. "We need a vacation for just the two of us, Wanda."

"I agree." She comments with a smile, kissing you more tenderly.

You knew things were going to be okay. You had Wanda. And it would only take a week for you to get a call from Eternals Inc, and another two for you to get back to work. And less than a month later, booking tickets for a cruise on your anniversary.

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda x reader #elizabeth olsen x reader #marvel imagines

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moonlovesskunks · 19 days

Text

This is a poem I wrote entitled, "The merciless murder of 18."

Sometimes I see news headlines.

“18 people were killed in a massacre!”

And people will cry, but forget the next day.

I think that's such a small reaction.

Those were 18 people.

18 human beings who lived on our planet.

18 people who had goals and dreams.

18 futures they probably wanted to seize.

And it makes me sad.

That same thing could have happened to me.

It could have happened to my sister, my mother, my friends.

But it wasn't. So it's fine.

Those were 18 people.

Whose voices I will never hear.

Whose stories I will never learn.

Whose faces I will never see.

I can just imagine those 18 people.

Men, women, white, black, rich, poor.

They came from some part of the globe.

They had some kind of life.

I see Sweet Uncle Joseph, who owns a farm.

He tenderly treats and raises his animals.

His traditional style, and laid-back attitude.

There's nothing in the wilds he wouldn't do.

I see Dearest Aunt Maria, the kindest soul.

She's a successful woman with a job.

In the face of danger, her strength prevails.

No business could step in her tracks.

I see Little Miss Rebecca, moody and sassy.

She takes what she wants, when she wants it.

Without asking for more. “That will be all!”

No one would interrupt her.

I see Good Old Harry, a devil at heart.

He's got a charm so endearing and bizarre.

Evil and mischievous, he doesn't hold back.

A man anyone would nack.

Who are these people?

What significance do they hold to me?

They were killed with a clatter.

But they were foreign. It really doesn't matter.

Those people whose spirits I won't know.

Those people whose souls are gone.

The merciless murder of 18.

And I can't name a single one.

18 lives that'll become naught.

18 legacies we'll never see.

18 seats that won't be filled.

18 families that mourn and wheeze.

That could have happened to my family.

That could have happened to my friends.

That could have happened to my colleagues.

It would be exactly the same.

But it didn't.

It didn't happen to me.

So I don't need to care.

I don't need to mourn or worry.

18 lives that could have changed many more.

18 lives that could have become famous.

18 lives that could have made contributions.

18 lives that could have saved the planet.

The world's population goes down by 18.

The number of saints goes down by 18.

Our fearless warrior count goes down by 18.

We know they died. That is all we will know.

We sigh, “Thank God it wasn't us!”

Because we don't have to worry.

We don't have to live in sorrow.

We don't want to live in sorrow.

But that's not just a headline.

That's not just text.

That's not just a statistic.

Those were 18 real people.

They're all dead.

They're all gone.

They do not exist.

They will never exist.

That could have happened to me.

What difference would that make?

#gay #lgbt #trans #lgbtq #leftist #queer #poem #poetry #free gaza #free palestine 🇵🇸#free palestine

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mariatesstruther · 3 months

Text

okay but wait @bumblepony u GENIUS. you gave me an idea:

mariatommy step up au

in which pro-dancer maria miller is in desperate need of a waltz partner for the american dance championships. to her rescue comes tommy miller, the younger and more troublesome and secretly phenomenal swinging-dancing brother of famous ex swing-dancer, joel miller

guess what i did 😋 i made it long

so we start with pro-dancer maria miller as she wins as many dance titles as she possibly can, trying to prove to her mother that quitting law school for dance was worth it. she’s already been taking home a fuck ton of titles as a ballet and lyrical soloist, but lately she’s been interested in smooth forms of ballroom, like the waltz and tango

a good friend of hers, frank, has been her partner for three months, and they’ve been unbeatable so far. literally every competition she they shows up at, other dancers will groan and rolls their eyes like “aw come on bro this is unFAIR” because they already know who first place is going to: maria motherfucking miller. every goddamn time

then, four titles in and two months away from their biggest competition, frank tragically breaks an ankle doing some stupid gardening shit with bill. and it is exactly that: a tragedy. he’s maria miller’s partner, and now he can no longer be that. he might as well be a dead man

frank makes bill tell maria, both because it was his idea to have sex do work in the garden and because he’s too scared to. when he does, she cusses him out so bad that, for once in his life, he has no grumpy smartass response. maria is fucking pissed—because that entire competition, that title, that trophy is supposed to be fucking hers. they already have the perfect choreography, the perfect costumes, the perfect music, the perfect everything. she’s already made space on her awards wall for the crown, the sash, and three-their trophy. this is a batrayal, frank. how could he do this to her????? how could he?????

but maria miller does not dwell on problems: she fixes them. she has replace bill or withdraw from the competition—which she has never done in her entire life. withdrawing, like losing, is not an option. she needs another partner, and she needs one fast

of course homegirl tess would come through—her best friend, retired fellow dancer, and one of the most reputable talent managers in the region. maria calls tess hoping to get in touch with her ex-partner, joel miller, because she wants only the best. he’s known and respected in the dance world as an amazing swing dancer and phenomenal lead in partner-work—much to her chargrin, unfortunately, he’s not dancing anymore. he’s apparently too busy with a new baby, which—great, beautiful, kids are great—does not help her. maria needs someone available, someone good, and someone now

enter tommy miller 🤠 who maria is at first not even willing to consider, because he’s never danced competitively in his entire fucking life (“are you fucking with me, tess? are you trying to fuck with me? i thought we were past the point of fucking with eachother. i though we were friends.” she says, when tess tells her. she gets an eye-roll in response)

to his credit, tess tells her, he’s been dancing alongside his joel all his life. he’s watched him and learned from him and is apparently just as good—he’s even danced with tess, and he impressed her. this impressed maria. when she asks tess why he hasn’t done anything officially to actually prove himself, tess says he’s “not the competitive type,” which is a major turn-off. maria is more than the competitive type—she’s the competition entirely.

still, tess convinces her to give him a chance. they basically meets blind-date style because tess is just like “dude just trust me trust me TRUST ME. meet him at our studio on saturday and freestyle with him. one song. then tell me what you think”

so maria goes, and she waits. she’s dutifully ten minutes early, as she is to every rehearsal. what would be five minutes before their meet time, she hears the studio doors open behind her and lets herself be only a little pleased that he is early. then she turns around to him—and boy, is she very much so pleased

tommy is broad-shouldered and well-dressed and tall, but not too tall, and well-groomed for a man—especially with one with so much hair. my god, just this man have a beautiful head of hair. as admires him, she also appreciates that (aside from his audaciously hot suede fur-lined jacket and cowboy boots, lord help her), he look’s ready to dance: black loose muscle tank, black breathable joggers, and black sneakers held in his left hand. in his right hand, to her suprise, is a single red rose.

is he fucking with me? she immediately thinks. a rose. a fucking rose?

“what’s that for?”

“uh, the rose? it’s—,” he hesitates, clearly thrown off guard. somehow, with only three measly words, maria notices that his voice is nice and low and gravely and— “it’s for you, ma’am. you’re maria, right?” —southern and sexy and distracting. his voice is far too distracting. it will present problems for her.

“right. i’m maria,” she repeats, mostly to remind herself who she fucking is—maria fucking miller. maria miller, who does not get distracted by tall sexy cowboys at dance rehearsals. “you’re tommy?”

“yes, ma’am.” he has to stop. he has to stop with the ma’am thing. it’s another distractor.

no distractions. she’s at a rehearsal, albiet an unofficial trial one. it is still a rehearsal—one for a competition that she will win.

maria straightens her shoulders, gets her head on straight, and steels her voice to say coldly: “well, tommy, i don’t like flowers. i like trophies. you think you can get me one of those?”

at that, tommy smiles as bright as the sun, white and pearly and perfect. distraction number three. she’s fucked. “i reckon i can,” he says, amused and sure.

“then prove it,” she responds, voice still steely. “let’s dance.”

and they do

for @bumblepony for your amazing writing as always and @marceltheshellwithflipflopson for your loveliness and inspiration and @clickergossip wifey and @ameerawrites miss u baby and @liveandletcry23 MISS U CAT and @hypnotisedfireflies because the work youve been doing with IO????? INCREDIBLE????? its been making me want to get back to writing so bad

all my mariatommy truthers love u guys kiss kiss kiss

#hiatus WHO #hiatus WHERE #maria being a super intense type a dance type who wants NO distractions and NO funny business: 👩🏾‍🏫😤💃🏾#tommy who is a broad tall sexy distraction that LOVES funny business: 🤠🕺🏽😋#the way this took me way too long i definitely need to edit and post this #bumble u really did something to me earlier i hope this returns the favor kiss kiss #step up au #idk if this is the plot of step up tbh #i think it counts #tommy x maria #maria miller #tommy miller #tess servopoulos #bill and frank #bill and frank finally being in one of my aus just for me to break franks leg 😭😭😭 sorry bro #tess x joel #there is a joeltess subplot in here somewhere i swear #their dance/love story would be the perfect prequel #and then they get back together in the sequel #OMGGGG #WAIT I CAN MAKE THIS A THREE PARTER IF I REALLY DEDICATE MYSELF #okay might do a dance au weekend #dance tag #tlou #tlou au #the millers #the tipsy bison #joel miller #even though hes not technically in this at all lets tag him for vibes #i didn’t finish my onboarding but i dont care lmfao i got all week

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victusinveritas · 1 year

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"In October 1982, 83-year-old Jorge Luis Borges, who at that point had been blind for nearly 30 years, gathered sixty of his closest friends and admirers at a special dinner in New York. Susan Sontag was there. Speaking to a reporter covering the event, she captured the enormity of Borges’s spirit and significance with her signature eloquent precision, saying: 'There is no writer living today who matters more to other writers than Borges. Many people would say he is the greatest living writer … Very few writers of today have not learned from him or imitated him.'

"Borges died four years later.

"On the 10th anniversary of his death, Sontag revisited her admiration for his work and the enormity of his cultural legacy in a short and beautiful essay titled 'Letter to Borges,' penned on June 13, 1996, and included in the altogether fantastic 2001 collection 'Where the Stress Falls: Essays.'

"Sontag begins the letter, the proposition of which she deems not 'too odd' since Borges’s literature has always been 'placed under the sign of eternity,' with a sublime paean to his genius and humility:

"'You were very much the product of your time, your culture, and yet you knew how to transcend your time, your culture, in ways that seem quite magical. This had something to do with the openness and generosity of your attention. You were the least egocentric, the most transparent of writers, as well as the most artful. It also had something to do with a natural purity of spirit.

"'You had a sense of time that was different from other people’s. The ordinary ideas of past, present, and future seemed banal under your gaze. You liked to say that every moment of time contains the past and the future, quoting (as I remember) the poet Browning, who wrote something like 'the present is the instant in which the future crumbles into the past.' That, of course, was part of your modesty: your taste for finding your ideas in the ideas of other writers.'

"Sontag also referenced a famous quote of Borges, from "Twenty-Four Conversations with Borges: Including a Selection of Poems":

"A writer — and, I believe, generally all persons — must think that whatever happens to him or her is a resource. All things have been given to us for a purpose, and an artist must feel this more intensely. All that happens to us, including our humiliations, our misfortunes, our embarrassments, all is given to us as raw material, as clay, so that we may shape our art."

Thanks, again, to Maria Popova and The Marginalian.

#borges #jorge luis borges #susan sontag #quotes #life #maria popova

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marvelstarker-mha98 · 4 months

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The Runaway Distance Life Of A Little Stark chapter 30: Last Will And Testament

Pairing: Tony Stark & daughter!Reader, Pepper potts x tony stark, Happy hogan, tony stark & Pepper potts, Maria hill & Tony stark, Ben parker, may parker & peter parker, Matt Murdoch & Foggy Nelson, Steve rogers, Natasha romanoff, Sam Wilson & Nick Fury, Tony Stark & Harley Keener

Summary: Two Families meet and now it is THE WILL

Warning: Tears and flashbacks

Co author with: callikc Tag: @venomsvl @geeksareunique

May found solace when being with friends and family.

She always had.

As she spoke to Ned Leeds' parents, Dulce and Nina, and MJ's mother, Louise, she felt the grief die down just a little. It wasn't gone by any means, but at least it was manageable.

(Pretend This is ned's Filipina moms, Dulce and Nina, up to you which one is who.) "It'll be lonely without her." Nina was saying with a downcast look. "She loved our cooking."

Dulce smiled sadly and put an arm around her shoulders. "She did. She always looked out for Ned, too."

"She loved those boys."

Louise nodded in agreement. "She helped out in the cafe as well. I'd have been lost without her."

(yes this is Hallie Berry as Louise Jones. M.J's mom) "She did?" May asked.

"All the time. If Michelle got sick or I was too busy then (Y/n) was there in a heartbeat. She donated all she had sometimes to keep the place running."

The Peter Pan Donut & Pastry Shop was a cozy little place.

It was warm and open and Louise took pride in keeping the cafe up to the best standards. It was her childhood dream to own a quaint yet homey place like this and now in adulthood she never wavered from that dream.

You were sitting at the counter with a steaming mug of warm coffee and the famous quiche from the menu. It was one of the very rare days where you didn't have to be at SHIELD or take care of the kids and so you took the day for yourself to simply relax. You enjoyed the atmosphere of the cafe and had become quickly acquainted with Louise due to how often you were there.

So when you noticed Louise stressing out after receiving what looked like a troubling phone call, you were understandably concerned. "Is everything okay?" You asked softly.

Louise shook her head as she put down her phone. "It's my mom."

"What happened?"

"She had a fall again."

"Oh, God. Is she okay?"

"They think so. An ambulance was called and she's in the hospital for scans. I can't leave her there but I can't take Michelle either. And with the hospital bills these days, I'd have to sell this place just to pay half!"

"Hey, it's okay." You quickly set down your mug and stood from your stool to walk over. "I'll help. Name anything, I'll do it."

Louise sighed. "Ellen, I couldn't ask you to do that."

"I'm offering. I know it can't be easy running this place and being a mom at the same time so please. I'll take care of MJ, I'll take over here for a bit, I'll even contribute with the bills. I don't want you struggling if I can help."

"You're too good for this world, you know that?"

"Trust me, I'm not. I'm just a good friend."

"I don't want to put you out."

"You wouldn't, I promise. Just go see your mom now and I'll cook for MJ when she finishes school. I'll bring Ned and Peter too."

Louise considered you for a moment before ultimately nodding. "Thank you, Ellen."

"Of course."

Louise smiled as she remembered particular moments such as that.

"She was too good." She said.

Dulce nodded in agreement and then looked to the swing set on the far side of the grounds where the kids were sitting. Ned and MJ were comforting Peter as he cried.

"Poor boy." She said. "I can't imagine how he feels. Losing his parents and then (Y/n)."

May looked over as well with a pained gaze. "He always wanted a sister. For days all we could hear was his crying. We never realized how much he loved her."

"What's happening to her apartment?" Nina asked. "I'm sure you have so many memories there. Will it be sold again after the clear out?"

"Honestly..." May hesitated and shook her head. "I don't know at the moment. I'll have to discuss it with Ben and the landlord. I don't think either of us has the heart to let it go."

"I understand. It can't be easy."

"No. Apparently (Y/n) has a lawyer she talked to about this. We'll see him too I hope."

On cue, Ben appeared. He had previously been talking to some of his friends from work and then Mr. Delmar before Foggy had approached him.

"Hi, honey." He said to May, kissing her cheek softly. "The lawyers are here to talk about (Y/n).”

She didn't reply but did take a very shaky breath and nodded to show she understood. Ben then called for Peter to come over as well.

"Are you sure?" She asked, nervous. "I don't think he's old enough to hear this."

"I know." He assured her. "It's just for a little while, in case she left something for him."

"We could just have the lawyers call us."

"They're here now so we might as well deal with it while we can. I'm sorry."

She sighed, then nodded again. "Okay. I guess so." Once Peter came over, they parted ways with Dulce, Nina, and Louise and joined Foggy who greeted them with a sheepish 'hi' and his condolences. He led them over to where a group of people stood.

"They're here." Agent Hill called.

Soon enough, the Parkers were officially introduced to Tony.

"This is May and Ben Parker." Hill explained. "And their nephew, Peter."

After simple greetings were exchanged, Matt also introduced himself.

"I know this is a hard and trying time and I'm sorry to have to discuss this now, but there are a series of requests that (Y/n) had if she were to die. There's an office inside the cathedral we can talk in."

Tony took a moment to let everything sink in. However, as he went to talk, he noticed Harley again. The boy looked as if he was trying to sneak away.

"Give me a minute." He told the others, disappearing instantly.

Harley seemed as if he was trying to hail down a taxi, and he was attempting to be subtle about it. It didn't work.

Tony crossed the cemetery grounds, his hands shoved in his pockets as he avoided the eyes of the onlookers. It was easier than having to force a smile or muster up yet another thanks for their condolences. Harley was still trying to catch the eye of a taxi driver as Tony stopped behind his old friend.

"Well, well, well." He spoke up, surprising the boy. "Hello again."

Harley froze in surprise and whirled around. "I'm not here."

(idk if he was 11 here so just pretend he is) Tony raised a brow. "Unless I've hit the blind age in the last minute, yeah, you are."

He looked down, not knowing what to say.

"I know what you're doing." Tony told him.

Harley seemed like he wanted to argue but ultimately backed away from the road as he raised his head again.

"Don't tell my mom." He mumbled.

Tony walked over, managing a small but genuine smile. It was one of the only few he could muster up that day. "And what would I not be telling her?" He teased.

"You know..." Harley trailed off for a moment. "That I snuck all the way to New York to go to a funeral."

"Alone?"

"Yeah. Alone."

"What are you now, like... Ten?"

Harley frowned. "Eleven and a half."

He sighed. "Jesus, kid."

Tony then glanced over to where everyone else was still waiting for him to return. He looked back at Harley.

"Stick around for a little bit, alright?" He asked. "We'll catch up later and you can tell me how that potato gun's going."

With a sad but subtle and excited smile, the boy nodded. "Okay."

"Good one. I'll see you later."

He put a hand on Harley's shoulder and gave it a light and comforting squeeze. Then he turned around and headed back to everyone else.

"Everything okay?" Pepper asked once he came back.

Tony nodded. "Yeah. Just an old friend."

"That boy?" Roberta questioned.

"Yeah, long story. Actually, can you keep an eye on him?"

"Of course, dear. What's his name?"

"Harley Keener." He nodded in thanks. "He's a good kid."

She smiled. "I'm sure he is."

As this took place, some others were having a discussion over another grave.

Fury's one.

Steve and Sam were reminiscing on the fall of the Triskelion and how the aftermath and cleanup was going.

"So, you've experienced this sort of thing before." The real Fury spoke up, appearing beside them.

"You get used to it." Steve confessed.

He nodded in agreement. "We've been data mining HYDRA's files. Looks like a lot of rats didn't go down with the ship. I'm headed to Europe tonight. I wanted to ask if you'd come."

He hesitated, still looking down at the grave. "There's something I gotta do first."

"How about you, Wilson? Could use a man with your abilities."

Sam also thought about it for a few moments. "I'm more of a soldier than a spy."

Again, Fury nodded, shaking both their hands. "Alright, then. Anybody asks for me, tell them they can find me. Right here."

He motioned to the grave.

"You should be honored." Natasha spoke up, joining them. "That's about as close as he gets to saying thank you."

"Not going with him?" Steve asked.

"Nope."

"Not staying here?"

"Nah. I blew all my covers. Gotta go figure out a new one."

"That might take a while."

"I'm counting on it." She gave him a smile before showing a file she had tucked away in her jacket. "That thing you asked for. I called in a few favors from Kiev."

She handed Steve the file as the others watched. It was a very old collection of notes and personal entries from long ago, and, hopefully, it would allow him to find his long lost best friend.

"Will you do me a favor?" Natasha asked, causing him to look up. "Call that nurse."

Steve scoffed in amusement. "She's not a nurse."

"And you're not a SHIELD agent."

He looked down, knowing it was very true. "What was her name again?"

"Sharon. She's nice."

Then, with a loving smile, she kissed his cheek softly. Steve also smiled at the gesture before he looked down at the file in his hand again.

"Steve." Natasha said. "Be careful. You might not want to pull on that thread."

"You're going after him." Sam stated, noticing the file also.

"You don't have to come with me." Steve said.

"I know. When do we start?"

"Before you go-" Fury chimed in, drawing their attention. "You might wanna stay behind until after Stark is done with (Y/n)'s lawyer."

Steve looked at him, curious. "Why?"

"Because she didn't just leave something to her father, she left something to the whole team as well."

They each shared a look.

"Now I best be off." Fury continued. "I think you should tell the others."

"We will." Natasha said.

In the private office inside the cathedral, your last will and testament was finally being told.

Tony, Pepper, Happy, and Rhodey were sitting on one side of a table with the Parkers on the other side and Matt and Foggy at the head of it.

Hill was waiting outside with Roberta and Harley. "Now that we're all here..." Matt began. "Mr. Stark, (Y/n) wanted you to know that the Parkers were the family she was assigned to watch over. She always spoke fondly and said family comes in all forms and that you're always allowed more than just one in your life. She thought of both of you as her family."

Tony watched the Parkers curiously, thinking back on seeing them earlier. He had suspected right from the start that it could have been them solely because they were some of the most heartbroken looking people in attendance.

He looked at the boy again. Peter.

He was shy and nervous, hiding behind his aunt and uncle and only occasionally peering out at everyone else.

"(Y/n) also told me that she didn't want Peter to sit through this longer than he needed to." Matt added. "She was worried he was a bit young for it all."

May nodded in understanding. "She left something for him in particular then?"

"Yes, she did."

He nodded to Foggy who took a small and square neatly-wrapped box from his bag. With a friendly smile he offered the gift to Peter.

"It's okay." Ben told him, encouraging his nephew to accept it. "It's a present from (Y/n)."

Everyone watched curiously as Peter gingerly took the box into his own hands.

"What is it?" He mumbled.

"(Y/n) said it was something you always wanted." Foggy explained. "It took her a while to configure but she said it would be worth it to make you happy."

Peter sniffled as he found a part of the wrapped box to tear. He was careful, as if handling glass, and hesitated with each movement until finally he could open it.

Inside, on a velvet cushion, was a watch.

It looked fancy, the color scheme black and red, with a shining face that gleamed in the light. Peter stared long and hard as his bottom lip trembled.

The others waited with bated breath for him to tenderly place the watch around his wrist. His hands trembled too much for him to do the strap and so Ben helped him with it. Then, as it was secured around Peter's arm, the face of the watch began to glow.

(Just ignore the Hairy arm) A pale blue hologram shot up from the face of the watch, catching everyone with the glow. Much to their surprise, a female voice came from the hologram.

"Hello, Peter Parker. My name is Karen. I am the natural-language user interface created by Ellen Campbell, otherwise known as Miss (Y/n) Stark. I was designed to work alongside and aid you in your everyday duties."

Peter gasped in surprise alongside May.

"W-What is that?" She questioned. "I don't... What's a user interface?"

"It's... Some kind of hologram?" Foggy guessed, not knowing what it was either. "A video?"

"An AI." Tony stated, gazing at 'Karen' in genuine awe. "She made her own AI. That's... Amazing."

It was over a year ago now that Peter had discovered who you really were.

He had been dropped off at the apartment building by Ned's moms after school and was heading straight to your place since May and Ben were attending a party at the hospital May worked at. It was adults only so you had volunteered to watch over him immediately, and it wasn't like he was ever going to say no to an evening with his honorary big sister.

When you didn't answer the door right away he simply found the spare key and let himself in since he knew where it was.

"Ellen?" He called out.

The apartment was silent.

He frowned and dropped his bag, continuing to call out your name for a minute before finally someone responded. Only, it wasn't you. It was another voice entirely.

"Good evening, Peter." The voice didn't seem to have a source. "I am glad you got to Miss (Y/n) Stark's residence safely."

Peter stared with bulging eyes as he spun around wildly in an attempt to locate a person.

"W-Where are you?" He asked fearfully. "How do you know Ellen's name?"

"Forgive me, Peter. I did not mean to scare you. My name is FRIDAY. Miss created me to be her artificial intelligence service."

"What? That means... Ellen... Made you?"

"She did."

After this processed, he calmed a little, reassured by the explanation. After all, something made by you wouldn't hurt him.

"Are you alright?" FRIDAY asked. "You appear to have elevated breathing and heart spikes."

Peter found himself staring at the ceiling as he talked. "I'm okay. It's just really cool."

"Me?"

"Yeah! I mean, (Y/n) - Ellen - she has her own AI?"

"Miss is very talented."

"She's awesome!" He grinned. "How did she do it? Do you have a code? Are you portable or just for the apartment? How long did it take?"

"I am sure Miss Stark will explain everything." She replied.

"Oh! Yeah. Sorry. Where is she, by the way?"

"I am afraid she is stuck in traffic. She said, and I quote, 'This goddamn traffic is killing me. Get your douche canoe out of my lane before I kick your ass into next year, you twit-womble.'"

Peter burst out into giggles at that. Not only because it was definitely a thing you'd say, but because the flat tone of FRIDAY's voice somehow made it even funnier.

"A delay of fifty-two minutes is expected." She added.

Peter composed himself, but was admittedly dejected because of the update. It would be boring without you.

"Did she say anything else?" He asked.

"Miss did mention she would bring your favorite pizza and finish the keyboard project to make up for her delay."

He smiled at that.

He then proceeded to spend the next hour of waiting chatting away to FRIDAY and asking all sorts of questions as he worked on his homework for the weekend.

As soon as he heard the lock click he sprung to his feet with a toothy grin plastered on his face.

"Ellen!"

You barely had time to close the door behind you before he barrelled into you at top speed with a tight hug. You couldn't help but laugh, holding a warm pizza box in one hand and your work bag in the other.

"Hey, kiddo." You chuckled, dropping the work bag on the floor so you could ruffle his hair. "How've you been?"

"Alive." Peter shrugged. "I really missed you, though."

"I missed you too, Pete."

He stepped back and noticed the pizza, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively. You playfully rolled your eyes and handed him the box which was thrown open in seconds.

"Am I forgiven?" You asked with a laugh.

Peter, already with a mouthful, nodded enthusiastically. "Always!"

You smiled and sat next to him on the couch. "Sorry about the traffic. Things were hectic."

"I get it. Too many douche canoes out there, huh?"

Your eyes widened. "What?"

He smirked. "I got your voice message from FRIDAY."

"Oh... Oh! Right, uh... Don't tell your aunt and uncle. I'm on thin ice after the pool incident."

"I promise. As long as I get free pizza for life."

"Sure thing. Anything for you." You relaxed in the seat. "So you met FRIDAY?"

He nodded. "She's super cool. She said you created her years ago."

"I did."

"No way! How?"

"Weeks of insomnia, rock music classics, and a whole lotta free time."

"Can you make me one?"

You playfully shrugged. "I don't know."

He pouted, putting the pizza box down to grab your arm with both hands.

"Please." He begged, shaking your arm several times. "I'll be so good! I'll clean the apartment, I'll bake you cookies, I'll make you something too! Anything!"

You laughed as he started listing all the possible chores he could think of.

"Relax, child." You said. "I'll see what I can do."

His entire face lit up.

"Thank you!" He threw himself at you in another hug. "I love you so much, Ellen!"

You held him close and kissed the top of his head. "I love you too, Pete."

"Miss Stark wanted me to assist you with whatever you may require." Karen explained.

Peter, shaken from the memory, tried desperately not to start crying again. He couldn't believe that even after all you dealt with in your life, both as Ellen and as (Y/n), that you still found the time to make him something he asked for over a year ago. He wished he could thank you in person.

"I hope we can be friends." He said after mustering the courage to talk again.

"I'm sure we will." She replied. "Miss Stark made sure we were compatible as friends were she to have to leave."

It was horrible to have to see such a young kid mourn the loss of someone who clearly meant the world to him. It was hitting Tony particularly hard. He didn't even know the kid and yet the thought of you making such an important gift for him just showed how much you loved Peter. Because of this, he couldn't help but feel as if he had to know him, to understand what it was like being so close to you.

If this was just the first gift, he couldn't help but wonder what else lay in store.

A little while later, Peter had been sent out of the room to stay with Roberta and the others while the rest of the will was read and the mementos given out.

"(Y/n) left a message." Matt explained near the end. "In the case of her death she wanted to leave something personal, to tell her family what we can't."

Foggy had placed a laptop on the table by now and positioned it so everyone could see. Right away the screen showed an image of you sitting in a very big and comfy looking chair with a warm smile.

The mixed feelings could be seen all over in the room. Tony reached for Pepper's hand, scared to hear your voice again, to hear what you had to say to him.

"Everyone ready?" Foggy asked.

A few more mixed looks were exchanged but ultimately each person nodded. With this permission, he pressed play.

"Hi, everyone." You greeted.

Immediately the nerves could be heard in your tone. You were scared, or worried, yet it was clear you wanted to appear casual and collected.

"This must be weird, huh? I'm pretty sure you'll only see this if I, uh... Well, if I kick the bucket." You paused, yet forced out another smile. "I mean, that's the plan anyway. If I do happen to be on the highway to hell or stairway to heaven, then I'm sorry. I'm sorry that you're probably sitting there watching this as part of the will I'm writing. Who's shocked, really? After all, us Starks don't tend to get a long life span."

There were sad smiles around the room as you attempted the joke.

"I'm alive for now, at least. I hired lawyers ahead of time because... I don't really know... Just because. I want everything planned. After all, who knows how they're going to die? I could try the cool thing and sacrifice myself. I could be in a car accident. I could even slip on the stairs. You just never know until it's time. Maybe the threat from all those years ago will finally follow through and I'll be assassinated." You tried to smile again but it didn't work that time. "Sorry to keep joking. I think that's another Stark thing. Humor to protect against fear."

You sighed, taking a slow breath.

"I am scared, I won't lie. But not of death. I'm scared to lose you. Dad, Pepper, Happy, Uncle Rhodey... Ben, May, and Peter. You've all changed my life in some way and I think in the end I'm better off for it. I'm glad my two families get to meet each other. I'm sorry that Peter can't stay for this but he's just a kid and I can't put him through this kind of thing again. He's suffered enough. I hope he likes Karen."

There was a silence.

"Uncle Ben, Aunt May." You closed your eyes for a moment. "I love you both so much. I'm leaving you my SHIELD salary. All I saved up, it's yours. Every 60k note."

The couple were shocked and shared a stunned look. Tony and the others were also quite surprised, mostly because of how generous it was and just how much it was to give away.

"Of course she did." May whispered.

"We can't." Ben said. "We can't take that."

As if you were actually in the room, you began talking again.

"I know, I know." You chuckled. "I know you're going to say you can't take it or it's too much or something like that. But please, for me. You're amazing people and I want you to have it, and I want Peter to have it. Send him to MIT. It's where he's always wanted to go. And I'm sorry that I didn't tell you who I was, May."

You sighed.

"There's a lot of reasons, but mostly because I wanted to protect you. You loved me like a mother and I was so scared I'd lose you if you knew the truth. Fury also made the call, and I respected it. You didn't ask, so I didn't tell. I'm so sorry. I'm glad we had some good times, though. Cooking dinner for Ben and Peter was always my favorite thing to do with you. And thank you, Ben, for knowing who I am and keeping my secret. I can never thank you enough for everything you did for me. You might have been ordered to accept me, but I like to think I was genuinely loveable"

Ben and May both smiled sadly. Then there was a pause, and you looked down at the ground.

"Thanks for letting me look after Peter, by the way. I know it can't have been easy letting a stranger into your lives and trusting me with your nephew, but you did. I was vulnerable back then and I guess part of me still is with everything that's happening, but your family was the best gift I ever got. I'm just a normal person with you, and that's a feeling I love."

By the end of the dedication, May could feel tears brimming her eyes. She turned to her husband and leaned into his embrace as Ben watched the rest of the video sadly. Pepper, Rhodey, and Happy watched the Parkers both with curiosity and gratitude. They had each missed you dearly but knowing you were so looked after by loving people was a kind of solace for them.

Tony couldn't say the same. He was also grateful, that much was true, but he couldn't help but feel jealous. He was supposed to protect you, you weren't supposed to be forced into the care of strangers. Still, he was hoping he could talk to them after everything to see if they could help him understand what you were like.

"Now comes the real tear-jerker." You spoke up again, drawing everyone's attention back to the video. "Pepper, Happy, Rhodey... And Dad. I have so much to say but no one to hear it and that's the worst part of all this hiding. Still, talking to a camera is easy compared to everything else, I gotta admit. It's been so many years now... Six, I think? I've lost count. The days all sort of merge into one eventually. But the least you deserve to know is that I never stopped missing everyone. Every day I thought about you and what could happen if I came back. I just... I never found the will to make it happen."

You looked up again and your eyes sparkled with emotion. You spoke so softly that your voice was almost incomprehensible.

"Uncle Rhodey... You were my best friend growing up. You and Mama Rhodes were just... Amazing. Incredible. Thanks for looking out for me, from dropping me off on the first day of school and picking me up on the last, even though you had all those military duties going on. You're a good guy, and you deserve something pretty damn awesome for everything you did. So I'm leaving you my car."

You finally managed another smile.

"I hope it's still around when I'm gone, anyway. I don't know if it'll survive and I guess that would make this pretty disappointing, huh? But no, it's a good car. Reliable. I've got faith it's still going strong. Agent Coulson actually gave it to me on my 18th birthday. Look after it, alright? And, spoilers, it can fly." You dramatically paused, grinning a little. "Was that gasps of awe I just heard? It's true, though. Trust me on that. So, yeah, pretty cool. Thanks for everything, Rhodey."

Tony and Pepper shared a look. Not only were you a celebrated engineer and SHIELD confidant, you also had a flying car? What else had happened while you were on the run?

Rhodey was trying his hardest not to let tears fall. He couldn't speak, and, even if it was just a recording, he nodded to the screen in promise to look after the car.

"Happy, you're next." You then said, jokingly adding a haunting tone to your voice. "Although you were there for my dad, you also never wavered from protecting me too. Thanks for that. When my dad was busy with work stuff or other people couldn't make it, you looked after me. I also want to say thanks for not telling anyone about my hospital visit. It's okay now because everyone knows the truth, but you made good on the promise and I appreciate it. So don't beat yourself up or think my death is your fault in any way because I swear it isn't."

Your smile slowly dropped and you became more serious.

"Keep on living, Happy. Protect my dad, protect Pepper, and look out for yourself as well, okay? That's important. Don't retire, though. I can totally imagine you still kicking ass when you're one hundred. Maybe find a girlfriend, though. You're my family and I want you happy, just like your name. Promise me that." Happy looked down at his hands, thinking on your words carefully. Was it okay to feel relief that you really didn't blame him for anything? Was it okay to feel some margin of peace knowing you could never feel animosity towards him for keeping quiet? He did crack a smile thinking about how you wanted him to get a girlfriend, though.

"Pepper." You said, moving on. "I don't have words. I miss you so much. So much. Whether you intended it or not, you were the mom I never got. You looked after me like one and I'll never forget it. I think that when I get sad I'm reminded of our happiest moments, like you comforting me after I saw my first sad movie, or you putting up my first A+ grade on the wall. I'm proud that you're CEO now, and that you've got a good relationship going with my dad. I'm rooting for you."

There was a pause.

"I'm gonna leave my apartment to you." You explained. "I've lived there for years now, and it's got a ton of memories that I don't want being lost. I've known you my entire life and I think you're the only one who's going to keep it homey and clean. You and Dad can go there for days off or something, I don't know. You can spend time with Ben and May and Peter if you like, I'm sure you'll like each other. As for the furniture and clothes and stuff, you can donate it all or keep some or whatever you like. I trust you to do what you think is right. Thanks again for being the mom I always wanted."

Pepper closed her eyes, being the only one unafraid to show her tears. She held Tony's hand as she cried and did the same as Rhodey, nodding to the laptop screen as if you were really there. Even if she had all the money in the world and all the material objects she wished for, she would never turn down that apartment. She would look after it with everything she had.

You took a long breath and Tony knew it was now his turn. He wasn't prepared at all and squeezed Pepper's hand for both preparation and comfort.

"Dad." You said.

Your own voice trembled.

"We didn't get the best start, I know. Whether you were too busy or I was too much, I'm not sure. But I'm older and... Sort of mature enough to think better of it all. I grew up angry and alone despite having everyone I needed right there in front of me. I could see everyone, but I was still blind to it. That's on me." You paused to take a shaky breath. "I wish I was different. Maybe we could've got a better start if I tried harder or tried less to get your attention? I don't know. Maybe nothing would change at all."

You sighed.

"Still, I hope I can see you again without the fear of being killed or losing you. There's been times where I've seen you, you know? On the streets, on the news, times where all it took was a reach and we could meet each other again. But I was scared. I've left something for everyone, and now it's your turn. I hope it's a good one. For one, you get my apartment with Pepper."

Tony nodded once to himself, glad but also sad that he was included at least. Even after your last goodbye, he couldn't help thinking you still hated him. Yet knowing you loved him throughout it all hurt, too.

"You also get something else." You added. "Before I lived in the apartment, I had somewhere else that I called home. Even after I joined SHIELD and moved into the city, I kept the place as my own vacation hole. I'm leaving this place to you and the Avengers. It's big enough to serve as a base or just an intelligence building or whatever you want to do with it. Fury and Hill know about it. If they're still around, they'll show you I hope. Keep an eye on it."

You gave them all one final pause.

"Thank you. Everyone. I hope I can have some shred of forgiveness for hiding this whole time. Thanks for everything. I love you.”

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soulofapatrick · 1 year

Text

Never Leave Me Tommy - Tommy Miller x Reader

Summary: Part 5 of the Instant Attraction series. Tommy and Y/N spend your first day apart and well... Tommy realises he never wants you to leave him; the feeling being mutual

Words: 2.9k

Warning: Smut (p in v); overstimulation

Y/N’s POV

The bed is empty when I awake to the sunlight streaming in but there’s a messy scrawl of a note on the bedside table. Tommy got called on an emergency patrol as there’s apparently a bunch of infected that the original patrol need help with. I can’t not smile at the way he thought about leaving me a note even if he was in a rush as time is of the essence when patrol goes wrong - it was one of the first lessons Maria taught me.

Tommy won’t be back for a while so it’s probably a good time to explore Jackson and try make some friends as Maria told me I should try and settle in, not just with the Miller brother and Ellie. She’s right. Annoyingly. So I pull my aching body from the soft sheets, finding my worn bra and some jeans to add to the boxers and shirt so I look somewhat decent and keeping my modesty. There’s socks in the top draw so I borrow a pair before trudging down the stairs, slipping into my boots before grabbing a jacket. It’s Tommy’s fleece lined jean jacket again, he must have left it for me. He’s such a damn sweetheart, I hope he’s okay out there. He better come back to me alive or I’m going to raise fucking hell.

The settlement is loud and bustling despite the outbreak and I envy the community feel to it all, knowing they stare and whisper. The canteen is still open, luckily, so I grab a plate and help myself to a portion of breakfast before turning to find an empty space but every table has at least one person. Someone’s waving, he seems a little older than Ellie but I’ll take it as he’s not judging but offering me the empty seat opposite him so I weave through the tables until I’m there.

“Y/N right?” His voice is oozing with southern charm but it’s not flirty like most and it definitely doesn’t fit his appearances. He’s obviously Asian American, I expected an American just not the amount of southern lilt to it and he seems to understand my surprise, “I was raised in South Carolina before my mum brought me and my younger brother here for sanctuary.”

“Nice to meet you…” I trail off, he hasn’t said his name.

“Jesse,” He holds out his hand politely so I reach over the table and shake it before digging into my food, “I’m seventeen if that’s going to be your next question.” So three years older than Ellie and three years younger than me. Exactly between our ages. He’s so easy to talk to, I love it, and I can just tell we’re going to be best friends. From the lopsided smile he sends me, he can sense it too, “So you and Tommy hit it off pretty quickly. I think everyones glad as he was starting to drive us all crazy.”

“They seem more judgemental,” I reply quietly and he laughs lightly, a musical sound, “I guess that’s a given as I’m new?”

“You did arrive with the famous Joel Miller that Tommy could not shut up about and that mouthy girl, Ellie.” Jesse points out and yeah, he has a fair point. I didn’t arrive to Jackson quietly, the way Joel and Tommy reunited in the town square and the way everyone could finally put a face to the name seeing as Tommy would not talking about Joel it seems. He really does love his older brother, Joel should know all those fears he had about Tommy not wanting to see him again were stupid and Tommy painted him like a hero. Joel is a hero even if he doesn’t see it.

Jesse and I fall into a comfortable silence, eating breakfast and drinking the sweet orange juice that makes me think of before the outbreak. I haven’t hadn’t half of this food since the outbreak, the QZs not being generous with their food and then on the road, it was a miracle when we found canned goods like ‘Chef Boyardee’. It takes a lot of self-restraint not to eat like a starved animal as I don’t want to make more of a scene than I already am by being in the canteen. I want to spend every day from here on out, the sense of community a little overwhelming but it’s definitely something I could get used to.

“Come on, I have inventory to do, you can join me.” Jesse stands once our plates are clean so I just nod and follow him, putting my plate and cutlery in the designated racks. It’s cold outside, Tommy’s jacket putting up a fight to keep me warm as we walk through the settling snow. It’s pretty, the snowflakes clinging to every surface as we head towards the small hut I saw a few days ago, curious about what it was. Guess I’m about to find out seeing as Jesse is pulling keys from his pocket and unlocking the door, holding it open for me to go first. As much as I trust Jesse my nerves are still fried so I just stand there, staring at him until he shrugs, “Understandable.” Stepping in first. I follow him to find myself in a small shed that is full of all types of weapons and ammo.

Ellie would lose her fucking mind if she saw this room, the same reaction she had when seeing Bill’s armoury. Fucking nerd. She’s right though, all this is so fucking cool, I can’t help myself as I run my hands over every gun. The cool metal familiar under my rough fingertips, having been brought up to fight with any available weapon but the one thing I want the most is hidden away in the corner. A bow and quiver of arrows, they’re tucked away as if not touched for years which is fair enough as you’d have to be faster than a clicker grabbing the arrows and firing them. Guns are the ideal weapon for this post apocalyptic world but they’re calling me so I’m picking up the bow, feeling Jesse watching me. It’s a little old but still strong, the string still taut as I pull it back as if firing an arrow, it sings when I let it go and the sound is beautiful. I don’t know why people wouldn’t use bow and arrows when able to anymore.

“Is it true you’re the Ghost?” Jesse asks, sitting on the table as he watches me with those dark eyes, no judgement or any emotion in them really, “I’ve heard stories but I don’t think you’re the antihero people paint you as. I’m guessing you did it out of love or loss. Only those two emotions can cause a reaction like…” He trails of, shrugging lightly.

“Loss,” I mumble back, setting the bow back down and joining him at the table, eyes skimming over the notes laid out with the amounts of ammo and guns and what types there are. People’s names are next to some of them so I guess that’s for whoever they belong to or who uses them the most, “My older brother got infected and I had to look after my little brother.”

“I’m sorry.” Again, no judgement or sympathy. Just words, “We should begin counting everything or Maria is gonna be annoyed. She’s already stressed about the recent influx of infected in the area recently. You can keep the bow and arrows by the way. Take them home with you.”

“Thank you.”

“Nothing to thank me for.”

It’s almost dark by the time Jesse and I are emerging from the mini armoury Jackson has. The bow and arrows are secure on my back, the weight of them being familiar like a weight I’ve missed. I wait for Jesse to lock the doors before we head towards the residential area of Jackson, the snow heavier now and ankle deep. It’s refreshing, the way it clings to Tommy’s coat and my hair and the way Jesse’s voice carries my way with the soft breeze. He’s telling me about his arrival in Jackson and making friends with Dina who is his girlfriend, she sounds like the girl Ellie yelled at when we arrived. Jesse laughs at it and confirms it is her, I must tell Ellie that then.

“See you tomorrow Y/N.” Jesse hugs me when we stop outside of Tommy’s, surprising me so I barely have time to hug him back before he’s disappearing into the night with a grin and a wave. The lights are on in the house, meaning Tommy’s back from patrol, he’s probably tired as well so I try and be as quiet as I can when slipping inside.

Tommy’s passed out on the couch, still in his patrol uniform so I take extra care with being silent. It comes natural to me, all those years creeping up on clickers and bloaters so he doesn’t even stir as I take my shoes and jacket off, setting the bow and quiver next to the door. I decide it’s my turn to cook so I lightly pad to the kitchen, stretching my tired shoulders until they pop before raiding the fridge. There’s bacon, milk, cheese which could be made into cheesy pasta if we have pasta and flour. Not infected flour.

He stays asleep until the aroma of sizzling bacon and creamy cheese sauce fills the air, causing him to sit up with a soft groan. The sauce is bubbling happily away enough for me to leave it for a few minutes to check on him, having not seen him all day. I’m kneeling between Tommy’s legs, holding his face in my hands as I memorise the freckles smeared across that sun kissed skin, bringing my lips centimetres from his, “I missed you.”

“Missed you too baby girl.” He mumbles back before closing the gap, his kiss soft and delicate, rough pads of his fingers holding my jaw in place. It’s different compared to other kisses we’ve shared and I could definitely get used to this, “I love you.”

“I love you too Tommy,” I can’t hide the smile when I stand, him trailing after me to the kitchen. His arms wrap around my waist as I turn the bacon and stir the sauce and pasta, making sure nothing is burning, “Why don’t you get changed sweetheart, it’ll be ready by the time you come back down.”

“Missed you.” He numbers into my neck again and I can’t stop the light laugh escaping me, even when he lets out a whine of protest, my heart melting even more.

“I will be right here when you come back down.” I turn in his grip, holding his face in both hands once again and making him look me the eyes, tiredness and fear settled deep in the cognac of his gaze, “I promise.”

He stares at me for a few seconds more before nodding once, pressing a kiss to my forehead and disappearing upstairs so I can grab us bowls and mix everything together before serving it up. By the time he comes back down I’m sat on the sofa with my bowl in hand and his on the table, waiting for him. He practically dives into the seat, sitting almost too close to me but I’m not gonna complain, I want everything Tommy has to offer me and it’s obvious the feelings are reciprocated. We don’t talk while we eat. We don’t have to. Each other’s company is enough until our bowls are empty and his lips are on my neck.

Tommy’s grabbing my hands and guiding me upstairs, hands on my hips and lips leaving scorching heat over every bit of bare skin he can find walking me backwards until my legs hit the bed. I pull my shirt over my head, him doing the same before I lay back, watching the way Tommy climbs over me and his fingers trail up and down my body as if trying to map it out and remember it for future, just in case, “You’re so beautiful baby girl.” He murmurs, lips trailing down my stomach to the waistband of my jeans, popping the button with his nimble fingers and I lift my hips for him to slide them down, his boxers going with them until I’m bare. He kneels above me, taking me in and I try hard not to squirm away or cover myself as he seems to need this after the patrol today, the featherlight touches and bags under his eyes say it all, “How did I end up getting so lucky.”

“I think it’s the curls.” I joke, watching the way his eyes crinkle in an amused smile before he’s leaning down and capturing my lips in a kiss that has me trying to follow his lips with my mind but his hands holding my shoulders down stops me.

“If it’s my curls then no touching.” He growls in my ear, drawing a whimper from my parted lips before he’s sliding down so he’s between my legs. He wraps his arms around my thighs before burying his face in my weeping mound with no warning, my hands going for those curls but I have to stop myself, wrapping the sheets in my grip as my back arches into the thrusts his tongue begins. If he continues at this brutal pace I’m not going to last much longer, he’s dragging me closer and closer to the bliss with every moan he lets out against my sensitive clit as he eats me out like a starved man. My body acts on it’s own as I ride out the bliss but it stops suddenly, dragging an anguished cry from me and my eyes flying open to see my hand is in Tommy’s hair.

Fuck.

He’s got a smirk on his lips, glistening with my arousal as he pulls my hand out of his hair and stands. I whine, hips rocking down onto nothing, needing him to get me there. He just watches, eyes almost black and blown wide as his voice comes out low and strained, as if he’s struggling to hold himself away from me, “What did I say baby girl.”

“N-no touching. Baby please.” I’m practically a blubbering mess, needing him, and I should be embarrassed but the way he licks his lips has me far from it, “I need you.”

It’s like his restraint snaps as he’s climbing back over me, lining himself up and pushing to the hilt in one quick move. It has my nails dragging down his back as he catches that sweet spot with the first thrust, my back arching up and my eyes rolling into the back of my head. My mind blanks out and I’m chanting his name like a prayer as I clench around him as I ride out my orgasm, the shock of it tensing even muscle in my body. Tommy just holds me close, thumb soothing over my cheek and hips twitching as he tries to stay still until I’m coming down, voice soft and wrecked as he practically begs, “One more baby girl.”

He’s waiting for my consent despite being balls deep and I’m nodding, not trusting I’ll be coherent if I try and talk. My body can’t decide if it wants to try and scramble away from the quick thrusts or move into them, a cry escaping me when he begins to circle my now oversensitive clit. It has me trying to scoot away from him as my body reacts with both pain and pleasure but his tight grip on my hip holds me in place as he grazes his teeth across my neck and collarbone. I’m letting out dirty sounds, barely able to hear them as all I can focus on is the way he fucks me raw, another building orgasm making itself known, my walls fluttering around him. My ankles lock up around his hips as he lets out a beautiful sound, my name falling between it and he’s filling me up. The feeling alone has me clamping tightly around him, milking his dry as I practically yell in pure ecstasy. Tommy’s caressing my hair as I slowly come back down, whispering about how much he loves me and how good I am just for him. It has me pulling him closer, blushing furiously at the chuckle rumbling in his chest.

“Bed.” He nudges me up, neither of us wanting to part, having been one after a long day apart. He manages to roll us onto our sides so we’re facing each other, my legs unwinding from his waist as he pulls the duvet up. I should care about the sweat or the mess leaking out around his softening dick but I can’t because it’s Tommy and he’s all encompassing and everything I’ve ever wanted or needed. This is the future I want.

“Never leave me Tommy.”

“I won’t if you won’t.”

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Part One // Part Two // Part Three // Part Four // Part Five

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TAGS: Tag List Form

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85 notes · View notes

charturnus · 2 years

Text

I'm It's a complex

Ship: Wanda Maximoff x Female Reader

a/n: ...... So, surprise, I'm not dead! What can I say? Mercury was in retrograde? In all seriousness, I am very sorry for the ungodly amount of time between chapters, I hope this goliath makes up for it somewhat. Thank you to everyone who has been kind, your messages mean so much to me. Please let me know if you enjoy this!

Dedication: For Magda, who is the brightest light in my life. I know without a doubt that I will never be unloved by you, and that knowledge is balm for an aching soul.

Tags/warnings: 18+ minors DNI; top!wanda; bottom!reader; vaginal sex; praise; dominance; dirty talk; sex toys; degradation; unconventional therapy tactics

Word count: 15K

Summary: Chapter IX; Did you get enough of love, my little dove? AU

The one where Agatha is a show-off, you let something slip, and you make a friend.

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‘’I told you so!’’ Is the first thing Pepper says, as she steps over the threshold with a bouquet of flowers in one hand, and a stack of papers in the other, a black tote bag slung over one shoulder. Kate follows right behind her, offering us her genuine congratulations. Neither of them know yet, of course. Wanda and I have been sitting tight on the secret of our budding relationship, so they’re just happy our staged kiss worked so well.

Wanda has made it her mission to throw a dinner party for her friends, so she can announce our relationship in style. But it turns out that it’s quite difficult to gather a group of women who all have insanely busy jobs. Pepper works crazy hours, Agatha sometimes works miles away, and I know from experience that Maria, who has taken over my old job, has her plate completely full. But, Wanda has managed to find a date and time that works for everyone, so as Pepper and Kate file in (20 minutes early), we all keep an eye on the clock, waiting for the others to arrive.

‘’Have you seen the pictures yet?’’ Kate asks me as we stand at the kitchen counter, pulling out empty plates, bowls and sets of cutlery to lay the table with. I shrug, ‘’Wanda doesn’t take papers or magazines, and she told me not to bother looking for it online. I think she’s got some weird experience with the press or something.’’ Kate gives me a wide-eyed look of understanding. ‘’They’re ruthless, they print really nasty things sometimes, she’s probably just trying to protect you.’’ I nod, unconcerned, ‘’yeah, probably.’’ I know tabloids have a way of painting people in the worst light possible, but Wanda isn’t that famous. It’s not like she’s an A-list celebrity, so I’m quite sure nobody is going to bother with me.

We each take a stack of plates, and a handful of cutlery to carry into the dining room and when I push through the door with my shoulder, I see that Agatha has joined the group. I didn’t hear the front door open, so she must have come in through the back. She's sitting together with Wanda and Pepper, leaning back in her chair, rolling her eyes at something the two other women are saying to her, their voices muddling together.

I don't quite catch what the conversation is about, but Kate is quick to turn to Pepper after we deposit the dishes on the scrubbed wooden table. "What was that about a hotel?" She asks, strolling over to seat herself comfortably in Pepper's lap. Their limbs fit together perfectly, in a way you wouldn’t assume when you see them standing next to each other. I envy the easy way Kate drapes herself over Pepper, with not a care in the world. My eyes linger for a short while on their intertwined fingers, but my attention is quickly drawn back to the topic at hand. My brows knit together in confusion at the mention of a hotel. I don’t understand why Pepper would need a hotel, as she isn’t due for a holiday yet.

"Are you going on holiday?" I ask casually, my curious side getting the better of me. I direct my question at Pepper, but it's Wanda who answers me, her voice soothing and casual, "no, honey, it's a work trip. Pepper and I are both going, and we need to book the hotel soon."

Kate’s eyes widen in alarm, and I watch as her hand tightens around Pepper's fingers. She gives her a reproachful look, "you didn't tell me you’re going away." Pepper looks genuinely sorry as she lays a comforting hand on Kate’s back, cradling her close. I turn to look at Wanda, my eyes asking the same question of her. You didn't tell me you’re going away.

"The conference was supposed to be in town, but the venue cancelled at the last minute," Pepper says, "the closest place we could find is a four-hour drive and there's no way we can travel 8 hours every day." It's fair, I know it is, but still my heart contracts painfully in my chest. ‘’I can come, right?’’ Kate asks, her tone hopeful and cheery, ‘’we haven’t been on holiday in ages.’’ Pepper for her part really does look sorry when she has to disappoint her. ‘’Honey, you know your mother will also be there, I don’t want you so near her for that long.’’ Kate’s face crumples, and she begins to cry softly, resting her head against Pepper’s as her shoulders shake. I ball my hands into fists, staving off the tears, wishing I could do the same.

I watch as Pepper cradles her close to her, holding her head tightly to her chest, rocking slightly as she whispers words I can’t make out. I can feel tears prickling at the back of my eyes, knowing already what’s to come. Wanda holds her hand out to me, inviting me into a hug. "It's only five days, dove," she says, holding me tightly, whispering, "You’ll be fine, won’t you? I bet you’ll enjoy a nice little break.’’

I want to crumple like Kate, be shushed by Wanda like Pepper is doing for Kate. But Wanda thinks I'm stronger than that, that five days apart is no big deal. And it is, of course it’s not a big deal. The rational part of me knows that there is nothing odd about this, it’s completely normal. So why then does it feel like my chest has been hollowed out?

Wanda doesn't expect me to cry. So, I force myself to smile at her. "Of course," I say with a laugh, my voice straining against the tears that threaten to escape from me, "it's only five days."

***

As soon as the opportunity arises, I escape to the kitchen for a while, trying to find something useful to do. Wanda hired a catering company to take care of the food, so I can't cook, or pretend to fuss with the food that's cooking in the oven, or sitting covered on the counter.

I decide that wine is my best option, and I open the wine cooler, to inspect the available bottles. I slide my hand over the cool bottlenecks, feeling the condensation dampen my fingers. Truth be told, I don't know what I'm doing, I don't drink wine. So, I just take out the bottles one by one, and try to judge them on their appearance. I discount the white ones, simply because red wine looks more dramatic. The labels aren't very exciting, though, so this really doesn't help me to narrow it down.

"Are you contemplating alcoholism?"

Agatha's sudden appearance startles me so much that the bottle of Argentinean Malbec threatens to slip from my fingers, but thankfully I manage to regain my grasp on the thin neck before it can crash to the ground. My heart pounds in my chest, and I quickly replace the bottle, letting out my breath in a shaky puff. Agatha raises an eyebrow at me, "guilty conscience, hon?"

"Not a fan of people sneaking up on me, actually," I say, scowling as I close the door to the wine cooler. Agatha snorts, "I wasn't sneaking, I was looking for you."

"What for?"

"You tell me, you get your feelings hurt and next thing I know you look like you're turning to the bottle."

I’ve only known Agatha for a very short while, but after my conversation with her at the gala, I’m not surprised in the slightest that she noticed I’m upset. I actually think it’s pretty comical, and want to laugh at her remark, but I don't want to give her the satisfaction of knowing I think she's funny. So I try very hard to make it look like I'm annoyed, and I keep my lips resolutely sealed.

"I thought you didn't drink?"

"I drink," I say evasively, now perusing a rack of champagne next to the wine cooler.

"Wanda said that you had your first drink in 10 years at the gala." I roll my eyes, "three years, actually. And so what? I fancy another one now."

Agatha moves over to lean against the kitchen counter, looking at me over the lenses of her glasses. "You know I have great connections with Alcoholics Anonymous, do you want me to give you their number?"

From the rack, I pull a bottle of Dom Pérignon, scanning the label like I know what I'm doing. "What are you actually here for? Because I think we both know I'm not looking to start a life of alcohol abuse." I keep my eyes glued to the label as I speak, turning it over and reading every word twice, anything so I won't have to look at her. But Agatha notices, of course she does.

"I see you're avoiding making eye-contact with me," she says, in that simple way she has of saying things. Just stating a truth, and waiting for me to explain myself. I don't, I just shrug, "it's not a crime, is it?"

‘’No,’’ she says airily, ‘’but I think it’s essential in order for a person to open up and allow themselves to be vulnerable. If you avoid eye-contact, you’re avoiding your own vulnerability.’’ This makes me falter, and I stammer a bit trying to find an adequate response, but Agatha ignores me, her eyes suddenly serious as she asks, "what do you think of Wanda having to go away for a business trip?"

Out of spite, I make sure to look Agatha dead in her eyes, but I regret it almost instantly. She's looking at me in that way again, like she can already see everything that's playing in my head, and she's just waiting for me to confirm her theories. "It's pretty normal for her to take business trips several times a year."

Agatha's eyes change, a look of reprove evident in her gaze. "I think you know that isn't what I was asking you." Her dissatisfaction with my answer stings, and not for the first time, I'm seized with a strange desire to tell her everything I'm worrying about. As if in doing so I wouldn't have to face her disapproval again. I try to keep myself composed, under her scrutinizing gaze. "It's only five days, Wanda said it's not a big deal." Agatha cocks her head to one side, "did she? I don't recall her saying that."

I'm agitated now, provoked by the anxiety from the conversation in the dining room, and now by Agatha prying into this situation. "But she meant it,’’ I say, a little too loudly, my voice cracking just a bit. ‘’Ah,’’ Agatha mutters, taking off her glasses, the end of one ear resting against her lips, ‘’so that’s what you’re about.’’ This makes precisely no sense to me, but Agatha doesn’t seem bothered to explain what she meant. She only smiles at me, the kind of encouraging smile I imagine her giving a client. ‘’You’re ashamed,’’ she says simply, as though it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

‘’I beg your pardon?’’ Agatha ignores me again, which appears to be becoming a habit, and presses on with a question of her own, ‘’Wanda didn’t actually say that it wasn’t a big deal, did she? So why do you think she meant to say it?’’ My hands are beginning to shake, and I have to put the bottle of champagne down. ‘’I don’t know, she just asked me to deal with it.’’ I mumble, turning away from Agatha, so I don’t have to look at her anymore. Behind me, I hear her hum, mulling my statement over in her head. ‘’Remember what I said about eye contact, hon?’’

With a herculean effort, I turn around again, resting my back against the counter, slowly raising my eyes to look back up at her. She gives me a smile for my efforts. “Good job, hon,’’ she says in a higher pitched voice than I have heard from her so far. It feels somehow both condescending and rewarding. It’s the kind of tone you’d use when training a puppy, big exaggerate sounds that they can recognize, so they know when they’ve done something right. I want to hear her say it again.

"How did it make you feel when Kate began to cry?’’ she asks, her glasses dangling from her fingers. ‘’I don’t know, sad, I guess?’’ Agatha hums again, ‘’Sad because she was upset, or sad because you felt like you weren’t allowed to show the same level of emotion?’’

This throws me a bit, and I stutter out several uh’s and uhm’s before I can form a proper reply. ‘’I didn’t say that I wasn’t allowed to cry,’’ I say defensively. ‘’No, you didn’t. But you wanted to cry too, didn’t you?’’

‘’Why does that matter?’’ I say, my old agitation flaring up again. I feel my face heating up, and I’m profoundly uncomfortable under Agatha’s scrutiny. I don’t like that she knows these things about me. It frightens me that she can watch me and tell me exactly what goes on in my head. It feels invasive.

‘’If it doesn’t matter, answer my question.’’

‘’Fine,’’ I snap, much more aggressively than I had intended. ‘’I am upset, and I did want to cry, but that doesn’t matter anymore because it’s settled now.’’ Agatha’s brows furrow at my tone, but she doesn’t chide me for it. ‘’Do you really believe that?’’ she asks in a tone that suggests that she knows I’m lying. ‘’Wanda is going, and no amount of whining is going to change that.’’ She pulls a face of surprise, but I know enough to know by now that she isn’t surprised by this. I’m confirming what she’s known all along. ‘’Is that how you see the expression of your emotions? As whining?’’

‘’That’s not what I said.’’ Agatha smiles a devious smile. ‘’No, but you meant it,’’ she says, parroting my own words back at me. My shoulders slump forward a bit, my body wanting to shrink in on itself, to hide me from Agatha. ‘’Hon,’’ she says gently, laying a warm hand on my shoulder, ‘’I’m not doing this to be mean, I’m trying to help you. Be honest with me, and let me help you make it better.’’ I’m tired of this back and forth already, and the rational part of me knows that she’s right, Agatha isn’t doing this to antagonize me, so I sigh and nod. ‘’I just don’t want Wanda to think I’m too needy.’’

‘’And why is that?’’ she says, her tone encouraging, trying to coax me out of my shell. ‘’I’m afraid she won’t like me anymore if she knows how much I need her.’’ Agatha allows a silence to fall, stretching out painfully long. I think she’s waiting for me to say something, let loose more of my thoughts, but I don’t want to. Not when I’m not being prompted to, anyway.

‘’Have you felt that before?’’ she finally asks, after what feels like an eternity, ‘’That you couldn’t let someone know you needed them?’’

The answer is out of my mouth before I can stop myself. ‘’Yes.’’ I say, without even thinking about it. Something like triumph glitters in Agatha’s eyes, ‘’Why don’t you tell me about that, hon?’’ I shake my head dismissively, ‘’I don’t want to talk about it.’’

‘’You don’t have to give details, just give me a rough idea.’’ I shrug, my eyes finding the floor again. ‘’I don’t know, this is just so personal. I’m not your client.’’ Agatha chuckles, ‘’aren’t you?’’ She takes a step back from the counter and begins pulling open drawers, she stops when she opens the miscellaneous drawer, where we keep bits and pieces that don’t belong anywhere else. She fishes out a notepad that I’ve been using to write grocery lists on, and that Wanda uses to write little notes to me or the housekeeper. She produces a pen from her pocket and throws the notepad down on the counter, clicks the pen open, and begins to take notes.

She replaces her glasses carefully on the edge of her nose, writing down words that I can’t make out from here. A silence lingers for a while, and whilst Agatha seems perfectly at ease, I feel more and more disconcerted with every second that passes by. After a while, she looks up at me, her glasses sitting slightly crooked on her nose. ‘’So, are you going to accept that you need my help, or are you going to run yourself into the ground? The choice is all yours, toots.’’

This isn’t rejection, quite the opposite, but there’s a suggestion of it in her tone, and it makes me recoil. Her approval earlier felt so warm, enveloping me like a blanket, shutting out the cold. I feel ridiculous for wanting this from her, when I could get it somewhere else. I could go back to work, and fall back into the steady rhythm of misery, that nonetheless feeds that ugly part of me that wants to be praised for my actions.

For a second I feel the sensation of déjà vu, like I’ve done this exact thing before, stood in this spot together with Agatha. I know I haven’t, of course. Just a trick of the mind. But I know I’ve been here before, not in this kitchen, with this woman, but in different places, with other women. My neighbour, my aunt, several teachers, a doctor, and then me, wanting nothing more than to please, to say or do the right thing, so that they would like me and keep me around. Agatha waves a hand in front of my eye-line, and I realize I’ve been staring off into the distance. I shake my head slightly, clearing the foggy thoughts from my mind. ‘’Well?’’ she asks, her eyebrows raised, ‘’penny for your thoughts, hon.’’

‘’Kate used to be your client, right?’’ She’s surprised by my question, but she still answers me. ‘’A couple of years ago, yes.’’

‘’What did you do to help her?’’ Agatha smiles, and it’s slightly condescending, like I’m a child asking her why the grass is green. ‘’Trade secret, baby. It’s confidential.’’ I try to brush past the pet name, pushing her for more answers. ‘’At the gala, Mrs. Bishop said that thing to you,’’ I say with a slight flush creeping into my cheeks, ‘’about, uhm, you know- The mother thing.’’ Agatha snorts, shaking her head at me. ‘’Right, what was it again? Something about telling vulnerable girls to go fuck their mothers, I think.’’ Now she doesn’t have her glasses in hand anymore, she takes to playing with her pen, spinning it around in her hands. The plastic of the pen makes soft ticking noises as it makes contact with the many rings on her fingers.

‘’Eleanor Bishop doesn’t know the first thing about my line of work, and not just that, she has no clue who her daughter truly is. She knows that I encouraged both her relationship and her dynamic with Pepper, and unfortunately, she found out a few too many details about the workings of it all. She drew her own conclusions, and as a result, she spouts nonsense like that.’’

‘’Oh,’’ I say, ‘’so, she was lying? I mean, you didn’t-‘’ I trail off awkwardly, and Agatha laughs, the sound of echoing through the kitchen. ‘’What? Tell her she wants to fuck her mother? No, I didn’t.’’ My face heats up, and I scramble for my words, ‘’N-no I didn’t, that’s not what I-‘’ But Agatha waves it away dismissively. ‘’Eleanor Bishop is upset, because she realized that she messed her kid up, and she’s looking for everything she couldn’t get from her mother, somewhere else. Kate is making up for lost time, and her mother can’t accept that she failed her child.’’

Unbidden, the image of my own mother floats up into my mind's eye, and the little voice in my head taunts me when the similarities in our situation become so clear to me. I think she can sense my discomfort, and the shift in energy, because she shrugs it off, ‘’never mind all of that, if you want the details of Kate’s treatment plan, you’re going to have to ask her for consent because I’m not in the business of HIPAA violations.’’

‘’O-okay.’’ I manage weakly. ‘’That’s later,’’ she says, her demeanour shifting as she looks back down at the notepad full of her scribbles, ‘’now I’d like to circle back to that question I asked you. Someone made you feel like you couldn’t let them know you needed them. Who made you feel that way, and why?’’

‘’Uhm,’’ I mutter, forcing myself once again to make eye contact with Agatha, ‘’my mother.’’ I watch as her eyebrow twitches slightly, and her eyes light up as though she just struck gold. ‘’You needed her, as all children need her mothers,’’ she says, ‘’but she didn’t fulfil those needs?’’ Her voice is sweet as honey, asking a question to which she already knows the answer.

I begin to pick at the skin around my palm, digging my nails in hard to prevent myself from crying. ‘’My mother didn’t care for me like mothers are supposed to,’’ I say, ‘’I had to care for her a lot of the time, support her emotionally, I mean.’’ Agatha nods her understanding, encouraging me to continue. ‘’I needed her when I was little, and after that too sometimes. But I never felt like I could tell her that, because I was supposed to be the strong one.’’

Her pen flies over the page as I speak, and I try to follow it, but can’t make any sense of it. She isn’t writing down my words, but that’s as much as I can tell. She’s drawing arrows too, and little stars next to sentences. She doesn’t say things that my old therapist would have said, like ‘that’s rough’, or ‘that must have been hard on you’. She just lays down her pen, nodding her head solemnly. ‘’What were you feeling when Pepper comforted Kate as she cried?’’

The question throws me a bit, because my mind had wandered off into the dark depths of my past. I bring myself back to that moment in the dining room, standing there watching Kate fall apart. I shift my weight nervously from foot to foot, and shrug.

"Be honest, tell me how you felt."

"Envious."

‘’Ah,’’ Agatha says softly, ‘’You wanted Wanda to do the same for you?’’

My nails dig harder into my palm, as tears threaten to spill from my eyes and fall down my cheeks. ‘’Pepper just saw straight away how upset Kate was, and she comforted her. I wanted that too.’’

‘’You want Wanda to look after you, like Pepper looks after Kate?’’

‘’I guess,’’ I say, acting like I wouldn’t give the world to be comforted by Wanda right now. I think back to my first night at the house, and how gentle and kind she was then. She held me as I cried, and rocked me to sleep. I wonder what it would take for her to do that again.

Agatha hums thoughtfully, ‘’that dynamic didn’t spring up out of nowhere, you understand that, don’t you? It takes time and trust, and most importantly honesty and openness.’’ This sounds so much like actual advice, that the surprise must be evident on my face, because Agatha snorts, ‘’you know I have my PhD in psychology, don’t you? I can say half decent things when I bother to.’’ She shakes her head at me, but I haven’t yet wiped the smirk from her face.

‘’Pepper didn’t spot that Kate was upset out of nowhere, it was communicated to her when Kate began to cry, Pepper picked up that cue, and was then able to comfort her. It’s about communication and mutual understanding.’’ Agatha removes her glasses again, her gaze suddenly stern, ‘’and given that you’re standing here contemplating getting drunk, rather than talking to Wanda, that indicates to me that you have a long way to go in that department.’’

***

Our impromptu therapy session comes to an end when Wanda slips in through the half open kitchen door to announce Maria’s arrival. She doesn’t seem surprised in the slightest at Agatha’s presence, and merely gives my hand a little squeeze as she leads me out of the kitchen and to the dinner table. All seats, barring one, are filled, and I know, even without anyone telling me so, that that seat was meant for Natasha Romanoff. Opposite me, Kate looks to have calmed down mostly, and she’s contentedly nibbling on some bread as she listens to Pepper gloat about our achievement. Her cheeks are red now, though, and I notice her squirming in her seat, but quickly my attention is diverted by Pepper showing the others the magazine covers featuring mine and Wanda’s picture.

I have a look, too, and I’m surprisingly pleased at how the photographs turned out. Our backseat kiss genuinely looks like it could have been an accident, our edges are blurred, making it look like it was hastily taken. We’re pressed impossibly close to one another, the flush in my cheeks clear, even in the fuzzy picture, the sight of this brings me right back to that moment. Under the table, Wanda takes hold of my thigh, squeezing slightly. ‘’You make a handsome pair,’’ Maria says, inclining her head towards us with a smile. Wanda nudges me playfully with her elbow, ‘’we do, don’t we, honey?’’

Maria snorts, ‘’you could’ve fooled me.’’

‘’Actually, that’s why I asked you all to come over today,’’ Wanda says, making good use of the segue provided by Maria, ‘’we may or may not have been keeping a secret from you.’’ Even with so little to go on, the reaction from the room is instantaneous. Kate gasps hugely, and Agatha slumps back in her chair with triumph, a gloating look on her face. ‘’I knew it,’’ she says, with a shit-eating grin, ‘’cough up, Hill.’’ Maria curses, slamming her fist hard against the wooden table, ‘’oh come on! You couldn’t have waited two more weeks?’’

I look between the two women with some confusion, trying to figure out what exactly they’re talking about. Maria fishes a £50 note out of her pocket, and slides it across the table with a sour look. ‘’You took a bet on our relationship?’’ I say indignantly, but all the women at the table, including Maria, merely laugh at me. ‘’For the record, I knew before you had even signed that damned contract that this would happen.’’ Pepper states, pointing her finger around at everyone, ‘’I called this.’’

‘’I’m sorry Wands,’’ Agatha says, as she pockets the money, ‘’it was too good of an opportunity to let go. I think all of us knew this was bound to happen.’’ She’s clearly right, because it seems that everyone had been expecting for us to make the announcement soon. Even with the anxiety about Wanda’s trip weighing me down, I feel slightly comforted by the knowledge that Wanda’s friends are accepting of us, and approving of me. They treat me like one of their own, and have done so since the very first moment. And once the moment of shock has passed, everyone goes back to their regular conversations. The normalcy of it all grounds me somewhat, even as my stomach twists and turns as I think over Wanda’s upcoming trip.

***

The dinner is delicious, the wine even more so. Still, my appetite is minimal. Even with the good conversation, and the nice company, my mood is dampened by the thought of Wanda’s departure. I nibble at my meal, pushing it around a little with my fork. I compensate for my lack of enthusiasm for the food by gulping down the wine. It goes straight to my head. Not in the way hard liquor does, this feels different somehow. My head swims, and I feel the buzz, but there’s none of the horrible nausea that comes with drinking cheap vodka.

Wanda notices that I don’t make much of a dent in my dinner, and she places a strong hand on my thigh, leaning in to whisper to me, asking me if I’m feeling alright. Seated at the head of the table, Agatha is holding court, loudly telling a lewd story involving a student, several board members and a cat o' nine tails whip. ‘’Of course,’’ I lie, with a smile, and I notice that it’s a bit harder to pull off than I am used to. In the before times, as I now have come to think of them, I told all sorts of lies all the time, with no issue whatsoever. Yes, I slept well. Yes, I ate my dinner. No, this project isn’t overwhelming. No, I don’t need more time to work on it. Lying came as easily to me as breathing, and the difficulty I have now, however slight, unsettles me.

Wanda frowns a bit, looking down at my hardly touched plate, and she opens her mouth to speak, but I am saved from her inquiries by the sound of breaking glass. I start, almost threatening to upset my own wine glass, but I save it in the nick of time. Across the table from me, Kate’s face is red, and a slight shimmer of tears is visible in her eyes once more. Her glass lies broken on the ground, the little orange juice that was in it, splattered all over the floor. Pepper’s hand flies to the ring of her collar, yanking her harshly towards her.

‘’Uh oh…’’ Agatha sing songs, a cruel smile on her face, ‘’you should house train your pets Pepper.’’ If looks could kill, Agatha would be decomposing where she sits. Ever dignified, however, Pepper ignores her, instead choosing to hiss some words to Kate that I can’t make out. Kate is still squirming, tears steadily dripping down her face. It doesn’t shock me, but I’m surprised to see them interact like this. Until now, I’ve never witnessed an altercation between them, and it’s strange to hear the venom in Pepper’s voice when she grabs Kate harshly by the face, to turn her head in our direction.

‘’Now apologize to miss Wanda for breaking her pretty glass.’’ Kate whines, and she struggles in Pepper’s grasp, but she manages to stutter out a weak, ‘’I- I’m sorry, muh-miss Wanda.’’ Wanda for her part takes it well, she squeezes my thigh slightly before she speaks, her voice gentle and reassuring, ‘’that’s alright Katie, thank you for apologizing. Are you going to be a good girl and clean it up?’’

Something inside me jumps at her words, and I suddenly wish it were me in Kate’s position. Across the table, I watch as Pepper’s fingers move from her face, where they were squishing Kate’s cheeks together, back to her collar, pulling her in so close that only she can make out her partner’s words. My eyes drift to Pepper’s lap, where her phone lies open on a screen that shows something like sound waves. I stare at it for a while, unsure of what I’m looking at, but when Pepper’s finger casually slides over the screen to increase the waves, and Kate lets out a high-pitched noise of surprise, I realize what’s going on. I feel the heat bloom in my face, and I look away quickly from the pair, trying to ignore Wanda’s warm hand on my thigh, and the strange feelings swirling in my gut. In my haste to look anywhere but the scene in front of me, I accidentally make eye contact with Agatha, who sits at the head of the table, leaning back in her chair, grinning at me from over the rim of her glasses. She raises an eyebrow at me, and I can just imagine her voice as though she were actually speaking to me.

Enjoying the show, hon?’

***

Under Pepper’s watchful gaze, Kate sweeps up the broken glass and mops the floor to clear it from the orange juice. She’s not crying anymore, but she’s prone to having fits of uncontrollable shaking, whenever Pepper plays with the waves on her phone. Everyone at the table continues their conversations, acting like this is the most normal thing in the world to them. And maybe it is.

‘’Are you okay?’’ Wanda whispers to me, ‘’I know it’s a lot, is that why you’re having a bit of a hard time tonight?’’ I seize this opportunity with both hands, ‘’Yes,’’ I whisper back, watching as Kate clambers into Pepper’s lap, having just finished cleaning up her mess, ‘’it’s okay though, I just wasn’t expecting it, that’s all.’’

She seems satisfied with this explanation, and she throws an arm over my shoulders, reclining in her seat. Kate has her face buried in the crook of Pepper’s neck, and the conversation falls silent, just in time for us to her Kate mumble something against Pepper’s skin. ‘’I’m sorry mommy.’’

It feels like a current of electricity runs through my body at the sound of that word, and suddenly the room has become uncomfortably hot. I’m hyper aware of Wanda’s arm around my shoulders, and I know for certain that if I were to turn my head, Agatha would be right there staring at me. I don’t give her the satisfaction, so I resolutely stare straight ahead. ‘’Don’t mind her,’’ Pepper says airily to the room at large, ‘’she’s fussy today’’ and then, turning to Kate, ‘’aren’t you, puppy?’’

Kate seems much more relaxed now, her tears are gone, her sniffles replaced with soft moans and whines. She nods blearily, her hands pawing slightly at Pepper’s blouse. ‘’Someone’s impatient.’’ Maria laughs, and she stands up to fetch a simple black bag sitting on an ottoman in the corner of the room. I recognize it as the bag Pepper brought over today. She throws it underhanded to Pepper, who surprisingly catches it. ‘’Give us some entertainment, won’t you? It’s been ages.’’ Pepper gives her an annoyed look, ‘’she broke a glass, Hill. I know you don’t understand the concept of discipline, but she can’t be rewarded for that.’’

‘’Who said it’ll be a reward?’’ Agatha cuts in, shoving her chair back loudly and strolling over to where Pepper sits holding the bag. She reaches in, fishing out a pretty purple toy with a suction cup. She leans down to attach it to the floor, before heading back to her seat. ‘’She can fuck herself on that, we all know she won’t be able to cum from just that.’’ Kate’s eyes go wide, and she whines, both of her hands clutching at Pepper’s blouse now. ‘’No, no, no, no. Mommy, I’m sorry,’’ she cries, ‘’you promised, you said I could.’’ But Pepper doesn’t relent, merely giving her a stern look, ‘’maybe later, if you’re a good girl for us now, okay puppy?’’

Maria helps Pepper to extract the girl from her, guiding her to the floor, where they squat on either side of her to manoeuvre her to her knees. Once she’s down, Maria returns to her seat, keeping a respectful distance. From my position, I can’t see everything that’s happening, but I watch as Pepper reaches her hand up Kate’s skirt and whispers some words to her that I can’t hear. Kate puts her hands on Pepper’s shoulders to steady herself, there’s a wet sucking noise that makes even the tips of my ears feel hot, and then the quiet room is filled with a buzzing noise. I feel rather light-headed as I watch Maria helpfully turn down the waves on Pepper’s phone, and the vibrations stop instantly.

‘’Be a good girl and fuck yourself on that, puppy.’’ Pepper says, petting Kate’s hair affectionately, ‘’you heard miss Maria, they want a show.’’ There’s a smacking noise, and I assume Pepper tapped Kate on her ass, because she makes a startled noise, and moves into action almost instantly. She shuffles on her knees, holding on to Pepper for support, before lowering herself down. I can only imagine what is going on beyond my line of sight, but Kate lets out a low moan of relief, that almost fills in the blanks on the picture in my head. I can almost see the purple silicone between her thighs. Pepper raises herself up again, slipping a small black toy, shining with slick, into the pocket of her trousers. ‘’That’s a good girl, puppy.’’

***

My head swims, either from the alcohol, Wanda's ever burning grip on my thigh, or Kate's increasingly loud moans. Maria, Pepper and Agatha are egging Kate on, making lewd comments about her body, and vulgar remarks about everything they could be doing to her if only she had been a good girl. Kate's face is red and streaked with tears that are by now dripping down her chin. Whilst she had started off moving slowly, her face contorted as though the toy was almost painful, she now sets a punishing pace, and she pants with the effort of it.

''It's such a shame that you've forgotten how to behave, Katie.'' Agatha remarks with a dark smile, ''it's been so long since you kept my pretty cock warm.'' In response to this, Kate lets out a tortured sound, ''no, no, no, no, no...'' She whines, turning her eyes upward to look alternately at Pepper and then at Agatha. ''Please- Please,'' she huffs, ''you promised, you said I could, I've been good all week.''

My heart beats at four times its normal speed, and I can't help but keep myself focused on Kate as she bobs up and down on the toy. The revelation that Agatha has slept with Kate before doesn't shock me, as it probably should, but the thought that Pepper would share her is astounding to me.

''Mommy, please,'' Kate whines again, fingers grabbing at Pepper's white trouser legs, ''I'll be so good, please, please I want to sit on daddy’s lap.'' If Pepper is surprised at that title for Agatha, she doesn’t show it. Instead, she rolls her eyes, grabbing a fistful of Kate's hair, yanking her upright, ''you're a desperate little cock whore lately, aren't you?'' With a shove, she's pushed in the direction of Agatha, who looks as though Christmas has come early. My throat feels rather dry, and I take a shaky gulp of my wine. Wanda, who's been silent until now, speaks up, ''you can't blame her for wanting Agatha, now can you Pepper? I think we've all fallen victim to her charm at some point.''

My head feels much too foggy to even begin to try to understand what this means, so I just decide to let it go for now. Wanda clearly feels more confident, now that everyone is busy watching this display, and she leans down slightly to press a kiss to my cheek, her hand dropping back to my thigh and skirting dangerously close the apex of my thighs. Quite suddenly, I'm uncomfortably aware of the throbbing sensation between my legs.

I look around for a distraction, for something that could help me turn these feelings around, something dull to stare at, tiles to count. But my wandering eye is drawn to Agatha, who is beckoning Kate over to her. I wait for something to happen, for someone to search through the black bag again and produce another toy. But, nothing of the sort happens, Kate merely lowers herself obediently in between Agatha's spread legs.

''I told you to house-train your pets, Peps,'' Agatha says smugly, her nimble fingers moving to undo the zip of her trousers. I feel as though I might faint any moment now. ''How many years has it been now? Four? Five?'' her fingers dig in the opening of her zip, grasping at something I can't see, ''and she still remembers my training.''

From the gap she pulls another toy, also purple, but short and thick, and more realistic in looks. The thought of Agatha walking around with that hidden all evening makes my head spin, and my mouth water. Kate doesn't need instructions, and simply leans down to take Agatha in her mouth. With a smirk, the older woman collects all of Kate's hair to keep it away from her mouth. I have to breathe in through my nose and let my breath out through my mouth in order to calm my racing heart somewhat. But it's difficult when Maria talks about how Kate ''sucks cock like a champ'' and when Pepper is urging Agatha to ''make her choke on it''

Agatha seems to like Pepper's suggestion, because a few times she snaps her hips up sharply, and in response Kate makes a grotesque gagging noise, saliva dribbling from her chin to her chest. Even through all of this, I manage to keep it together, manage to ignore the way Agatha makes conversation with Maria as if Kate isn't sucking her off under the table.

But when after a few long minutes, Agatha hauls Kate up to sit in her lap, my brain seems to short-circuit. Kate lets out a contented sigh of relief, but this is only short-lived because the second she tries to lift herself up to fuck herself on it, Agatha stops her. Kate's lower lip trembles, and I'm sure she's going to put up a fight, but she remains silent. ''See?'' Agatha gloats, ''you can be a good girl. Go on, grind on my cock, Katie.'' She flips up Kate's skirt to reveal her cunt, soaking wet and swollen. My clit twitches and throbs, and I grasp at Wanda's hand, my fingers clutching hers desperately. I can't take my eyes off of her, and all I can think is why her, and not me?

Images of me in Kate's position flood my mind. I want Wanda to reach out and touch me, in front of everyone here, I don't care. I just need this ache to stop, but I don't know how to ask for it. Kate is getting desperate now, and I like to imagine that she's letting out my frustration for me. At least she can be loud, I have to sit here quietly.

She's struggling in Agatha's grasp, but the older woman holds her firmly in place. ''Please, please, please-'' she babbles, and I'm not sure who she's asking. ''Please what?'' Pepper answers. Kate's whole body trembles as Pepper gets up, moving to stand in front of Kate seated on Agatha's lap I can feel my own wetness, and I'm sure that if I were to touch myself now, my fingers would be covered in my own slick. My hands are sweaty, and my legs are shaking.

Pepper’s fingers find their home around Kate’s throat, and they both smile. Kate looks relieved, almost. ‘’Please take care of me mommy, I need- I need…’’ It comes out slightly garbled, but I can still make out the words. ‘’It’s okay baby, let’s empty that pretty head of yours.’’

I’m highly conscious of Wanda next to me, and I wonder what she thinks of this. Does she want this like I want this?

I wish this were us.

I wish I could ask her to take care of me.

When Kate comes, Agatha’s eyes find mine again, and I can almost hear her speaking to me, gloating and goading. I can almost feel her hands on my waist, just as they are on Kate’s. You wish this was you, don’t you?

The room feels much too hot, and I feel too exposed. My chair makes a loud scraping noise when I push it back, startling everyone except for Pepper and Kate, who seem to be in a world of their own.

Wanda rises to follow me, but I hear Agatha calling her to stay, and to let me go.

***

When I burst into the bedroom, where the windows have been open all evening, I notice how clammy I feel. My mouth is dry and tacky, the world spinning slightly on its axis. Maybe I had a little bit too much wine. But what else was I supposed to? All evening I’ve been trying to push Wanda’s trip from my mind, but I feel the horrible, twisted sadness creeping in again. My chest feels hollowed out, empty and gaping. I blame Agatha and her awful questions.

I don’t know what I’m supposed to do about this, I don’t want to cry, but I can feel it in my throat and behind my eyes. I swallow it back. I’m better than that, surely. I lower myself onto the edge of the bed on shaking arms. I want comfort, I want Wanda. But I can’t have her, I don’t know how to ask for this. I don’t even know what I want to ask for. What do I even want her to do? Fuck the sadness out of me? Maybe that idea isn’t half bad. At least then I won’t have to think about this. Maybe that’s why Kate wanted to do all of that today, maybe she just knows how to regulate her emotions better than I do.

Almost mechanically, I push myself back up, and make my way to the second bedroom, that once was meant to be mine. I pull out the tote bag that I had wedged between the headboard and the wall on my first day at the house. My toy doesn’t look like Kate’s, but it has a suction cup just like hers. This will do.

With trembling hands, I suction the toy to the smooth tiles of the bathroom floor. I make sure it's close enough to the bath, so I can drape my upper body over that when I inevitably lose the strength in my arms to keep myself upright. Hastily I slide my underwear down my legs, kicking them away into the corner and I sink down onto my knees. The tiles are hard and cold, and it's somewhat painful to kneel there. I think it's wonderful.

I'm wet all down my thighs, and yet I know I haven't been prepped properly. I know this will hurt for a while, but I welcome the pain. The lubricant spreads messily over my hand, cold and slick, as I wipe it off on the toy. Gingerly, I lower myself down over it, mewling as the cold head slips and slides over my heated clit. When I position the head over my entrance I realize just how unprepared I am for this, but I can't find it in myself to care, if I don't get this inside me now I feel as though I might collapse in on myself.

The stretch is significant, but it still slides in easily thanks to the combined wetness of my arousal and the lubricant. Just the head rests inside, and I have to breathe through the stinging pain. It doesn't hurt too much for me to continue, so I try to relax and bounce myself up and down a bit. After a few moments I feel able to take some more of the length, though it still stings. The head now rests comfortably against that one delicious spot inside of me, and I have to bite back a moan. How can something feel so uncomfortable, and yet so wonderful at the same time?

It takes only a few minutes for my body to adjust, and for the stinging to fade away into nothingness. Now all I feel is a primal, deep sort of need. My insides twist and squirm, begging for more, begging for some kind of relief, not just of the physical kind. The rhythm I establish is nothing short of messy, and it’s all wrong. I can’t get the pacing right, and that marvellous feeling of bottoming out on a toy is nowhere to be found. It feels good, but not good enough. Frustrated tears pool in my eyes, so thick and heavy they actually fall, dripping all the way down my chin onto my chest. After fifteen minutes I am half sobbing, half moaning, delirious from an ache I can’t satisfy. I need more, I need more, I need- I need-

When Wanda finds me, she looks surprised. Her mouth open and rounded into a perfect little oh. I can’t stop myself, not even with Wanda here. It aches so bad, and I can’t make it go away, no matter how much I try. I don’t want to think about how I must look to her now, red-faced and sobbing, still dressed, fucking myself on her bathroom floor. She doesn’t give me time to consider it. She is on her knees in front of me in a split second, her hands smoothing my hair away from my sweaty face. ‘’What do you need?’’ she asks, so earnestly I would cry, if I wasn’t crying already.

‘’Please, please, please, please.’’

I hang my head, to let it rest on her shoulder, breathing in her perfume as I take shuddering breaths in between each word. ‘’I need- need- you, please, I can’t- I can’t.’’ Wanda’s hands grasp my hips, trying to slow my movement, and I almost scream in utter frustration. ‘’No, no, no, puh-lease,’’ is all I can get out, before she shushes me. ‘’Honey, take a deep breath, and tell me what you need, I can’t help you if you don’t talk to me.’’

I force myself to stay still, to breathe deeply in, and out, and again. Until my body relaxes somewhat into Wanda. ‘’There you go, good girl,’’ she coos, reigniting the heat in my belly once more. ‘’I can’t do it right,’’ I whine into her neck, my fingers grasping at her arms, ‘’I can’t feel and think at the same time, and I can’t get it to feel right.’’

She smooths a soothing hand down my back, and I can feel her smile into my hair. ‘’It’s okay, baby. Did seeing Katie like that get you excited?’’ I whimper, and nod, too far gone to even be ashamed of admitting it. She guides me off of the toy, ignoring my whines, and removing the toy from the tiles. ‘’It made me excited too, made me want you just like Agatha was having her, would you like that, sweet girl?’’ She helps me to my feet with my hands in hers, and just for this moment, I decide, it doesn’t matter. She has admitted to me, so now I may admit to her. Just for tonight. ‘’Please, I need you so badly.’’ I whisper, my eyes downcast to the blueish bathroom tiles, my fingers grasping tightly onto hers.

Wanda has smiled at me in a thousand different ways. She has a smile for everything, for an exceptionally well performing report, for over hours at work, for when I make her breakfast just right, for when she wants to say I love you without saying it. But now her smile is devilish and predatory, and this is entirely foreign to me.

Her lips curl up beautifully, her eyes shine with the infinite possibilities of her power over me. It’s the most dangerous smile she has ever given me, and yet I have never felt so safe.

***

Wanda guides me from the bathroom into the bedroom, and onto the bed. She positions me on my knees, on top of the soft sheets. From there, I watch as she strips, the muscles in her arms becoming more pronounced when she reaches up to pull her shirt over her head. She slips the harness on like it’s the most natural thing in the world, like tying her shoelaces, or doing up the buttons of a coat. She needs my help to fit the base of the toy through the ring, and with the combined shakiness of my hands, and the slickness of the toy, it takes a few moments before it’s comfortably in place. She kisses me, hastily, like she herself is impatient too, and she asks me quietly ‘’are you sure about this? Remember to tap out when you want to stop.’’ I nod so quickly that I fear I might have given myself whiplash, and my enthusiasm makes Wanda smile. I hesitate for half a second, but then I speak up, ‘’don’t go easy on me- please, I think I just need- I don’t know, I just want you to be a bit rough.’’

Wanda smiles again, and this time it’s a cocky thing, all smugness and pride. My insides twist at the thought of what is to come and my head buzzes at the sight of Wanda like this, cool and confident, perfectly at ease, perfectly in control. She knows I will bend for her, in whichever way she asks me to. She knows I’m all hers, to with as she pleases.

Her hand is warm and firm as she places it in the middle of my back, pushing down harshly to bend me over. I fall into position as though I was born to do this, my back arched prettily, legs spread as far as they can go. ‘’You really are gagging for it, aren’t you?’’ Wanda delights, so satisfied with herself that I can hear it in her voice. I don’t bother responding, I just whine and wiggle my ass for her.

The smack comes as somewhat of a surprise, startling me so much that I yelp out loud, my voice reverberating through the room. Her hand instantly rubs smoothing circles over my stinging skin, and the motion has me moaning hotly, leaning back into her, sticking out my ass, asking for more. She delivers two more hits that leave me reeling, and somewhere in the distance I can hear her snicker. ‘’I’m going to have so much fun putting you over my lap someday, sweetheart.’’

And I would respond to her, tell her how much I want that, but then her fingers find my soaked cunt and my brain goes silent. Her intake of breath, along with the slick sounds her fingers make, are the only sounds in the room for a few moments, but when she sinks two fingers into me, I groan just a bit too loudly. I push back against her, impatient for more, but she’s stubborn. She fucks into me lazily for a while, her hand splayed out on my back, holding me in place. Then suddenly her fingers are gone, leaving me empty and wanting.

I hold my breath, waiting for her strap, waiting for her to give me what I want. But seconds pass, and then a few minutes, and suddenly, the dam in me breaks completely. My arms give way underneath me, and a sob tears at my throat. I struggle in her grasp, fighting against the hand on my back, holding me in place. ‘’Ah, ah, ah,’’ Wanda muses, placing both of her hands on my hips now, so harshly that her fingernails dig into my skin, ‘’that’s not the way to ask.’’

Tears find their way back to my eyes and drip hotly onto my chest. I wail into the sheets underneath me, ‘’please, please, please.’’ The words tumble over and into each other, blending together in a jumbled mess of tears and saliva, and muffled by the sheets. ‘’Pl-ease, I need- I- I- oh…’’

Wanda finally takes pity on me, sliding her strap into me in one thrust, the front of her thighs resting against my backside. Her skin is warm, but against my overheated clammy skin, it’s like she’s icy cold. I am so wet that she slides right in, with absolutely no resistance. She holds me there for a while, and I relish in the way we fit together, Her cock pressed snugly against that sweet spot inside of me. Then, slowly, one of her hands creeps up towards my scalp, sliding in between my hair and scratching softly. ‘’Detka,’’ she muses, her voice velvety smooth, ‘’remember that you asked for this.’’

Then her hand balls up into a fist, collecting a handful of my hair and pulling hard. At the same time, she thrusts her hips into me, so harshly that my full body lurches forward. I would have fallen if she didn’t have such a strong hold on me. Some part of it hurts, and I know I will feel her tomorrow, but for now the pain makes it feel just that much better, and when her cock rubs me in just the right way I howl from the pleasure of it. She gives me no time to adjust before she sets a punishing pace, laughing at the way I squirm under her. It is somehow both too much, and yet still not enough.

Tears are steadily leaking from the corners of my eyes, and I’m having a hard time containing the saliva in my open, moaning mouth. Wanda delights in it, cooing at me with a slightly cruel tone of voice. ‘’You’re such a mess, baby. Is that really all it takes?’’ I can’t think, let alone string a sentence together. But she feels so good inside of me, and I need her to know this. In this position, I feel so totally enveloped by her, that it’s almost overwhelming. I suck in great lungfuls of air, trying to form any sounds that aren’t moans. I end up making some kind of wailing gasping noise, punctuated by a high-pitched squeak, as she tries to deliberately trip me up by giving me an extra rough thrust,

‘’Awww, what’s wrong, little dove? Is it too much? Do you need me to stop?’’ The hand in my hair releases its hold and my upper body, no longer supported by her strength, falls limply to the bed. She stays infuriatingly still inside of me, and I can hear her panting slightly as her hands cup my ass. When I try to move myself, they find their way back to my hips, holding me in place. ‘’Isn’t that better, dove? You were struggling so much, I think you’ve had enough.’’

I know she’s only teasing, but the threat of being left like this so horrifying that my tears begin to flow once more. ‘’No, no, no, no, please, please don’t.’’ I try to buck my hips into her, but I can’t move a millimetre with her holding me so tightly. She chuckles at my cries of frustration, clearly amused by this display of desperation. She pulls out lightly, just to tease me a bit, sliding her strap in and out in a slow and steady pace that leaves me reeling. I am so close, and I know that if she touched me in just the right way, it wouldn’t take long.

In one final act of desperation I reach for one of the hands grasping my hips, and she must think I simply want to hold it, because she lets go of one of my hips to entangle her fingers with mine. Carefully I guide her around my body, flatting her hand so that her palm is flush against my skin. I find the spot with ease, and lay my hand over hers, pressing her into my lower stomach, where I know she can now feel herself inside of me.

She swears loudly, and she moves experimentally to feel the bulge of her cock. ‘’Please,’’ I whimper, ‘’you feel so good inside of me, please, please, I need more.’’ I expect for this to break her, for her to finally give me what I want, but if anything it gives her more restraint. She relishes in the feel of her cock bulging in my lower stomach, I can tell by the way she presses down on me, and increases the force behind her thrusts. She refuses to speed up though, simply pulling out languidly, before thrusting back in with considerable force behind it. It’s sloppy, and on every other thrust her strap slips out and slides over my clit as she tries to push back into me. This act alone brings me right to the edge, the feel of the slick ridges of her cock over my aching clit, pulls the knot in my abdomen ever tighter. It’s so, so very close to what I need, but it’s still not enough.

The frustration of the night, combined with the fears surrounding Wanda’s trip and the painful edging she’s putting me through, finally become too much. I let myself cry in earnest, feebly trying to buck my hips into her, trashing in her arms as she holds me close to her. I can’t take this any more, I can’t think, I can hardly breathe.

‘’Say something nice,’’ Wanda muses, amusement clear in her voice, ‘’and I’ll think about letting you come.’’

‘’Mo-mmy-‘’ I whimper, no longer able to contain myself, too far gone to think straight, I echo Kate’s desperate plea from easier. Behind me, Wanda stills, her grip on me loosens, and I find room to throw my hips back, fucking myself on her cock. She doesn’t try to stop me. One of her hands finds its way to my throat, pulling me up slowly until I’m flush with her front, her breasts pressing against the bare skin of my back. ‘’Say that again,’’ she whispers, her breath hot against the shell of my ear.

I’m so ready to come, I try to spread my legs, to slide my own hand down to rub at my clit, but Wanda is too quick for me. With her free hand she catches my wrist, and she holds my body in position with the combined grip on my throat and her thighs holding mine steady. ‘’I said, say that again,’’ she hisses, giving my throat an extra squeeze.

‘’Mommy,’’ I whine, ‘’Please, I wanna- I- I need-‘’

‘’I know, little dove,’’ Wanda coos, pulling out of me fully, and guiding me to lay on my back, ‘’do you want mommy to make it all better?’’ Somehow, when she repeats it back to me the reality of what I’ve done begins to set in, somewhere in the back of my mind my anxiety kick-starts. Now there’s a battle waging in my mind, between shame and desire. But with Wanda’s soft hands on my skin, and the still slick strap bobbing between her thighs, my shame buckles for my desire. My face flushes, and I shake my hair in front of my face to hide myself, but I nod, and hum my ascent. Yes, yes, I do want her to make it better.

She pulls a pillow from the pile at the top of the headboard, and manoeuvres it to fit under my hips. She looks magnificent above me, with flushed cheeks and a heaving chest. She’s nude, save for the harness around her hips, and I cannot believe that she is all mine. Some of her flyaway hairs stick to her sweaty brow, and I get the overwhelming urge to brush smooth my hand over them and press a kiss on her forehead afterwards. And I would have reached up to do it, but then she’s between my legs again. The strap, now slightly cold, but still slick, slides up and over my clit, and I am instantly and forcibly reminded of the intense burning heat in my gut. I was so close to the edge only moments ago, and as she warms up her strap, I am pushed right back towards that edge.

When she’s ready, she holds my legs up and open for her. The tops of my thighs touch my stomach, and I squirm at the feel of my tummy being on display like this. I cringe at the thought of what I must look like, and Wanda must notice because she frowns slightly, her brows drawing together in disapproval. One hand leaves my thigh to cradle my cheek, and she leans in for a lazy kiss, open-mouthed and messy. When she pulls back, her hand finds its way back to my thigh, spreading me open. ‘’You’re stunning every day, my love,’’ she says, sliding the tip of her strap into me, ‘’but when you’re spread like this, ready for my cock, you’re absolutely ravishing.’’

When she slides her cock in all the way, she stays there for just a few moments, resting her forehead against mine. We let out a synchronized sound of contentment. I am beyond relieved to feel her back inside of me, the sense of completion is almost overwhelming. This quiet moment doesn’t last, however, because soon I am squirming against her once more. I grind my hips deliberately, feeling her moving in me. I look down to my lower stomach, where I can just make out the bulge of her cock. And without looking, I can tell she’s watching it too.

Finally, finally, Wanda’s restraint gives out. Using her grip on my thighs as leverage, she pushes into me harshly, driving all the air in my lungs clean out of me. The feel of it is heavenly, and I want to arch my back, contort my face and howl with the pleasure of it. But Wanda can see my face now, and her view of my body makes me uncomfortable. I fight to stay in control of my reaction, fight to make myself look pretty, or at least presentable. Wanda, ever the observer, notices within seconds. ‘’Ah, ah, ah,’’ she chides, ‘’none of that, let it go now, dove. You’re safe with me, I’ve got you, just let go.’’ Mercifully, she leans forward, covering my face with her sheet of long hair, giving me a respite from the ugly feeling of being known. There, under the cover of her hair, and the safety of the crook of her neck, I allow myself to let go.

In this new position, she’s resting most of her body weight on me, and she puts considerable force behind her thrusts. My moans are broken, and desperate, my voice cracking as I beg her to ruin me. I lose track of what precisely I’m saying, but Wanda seems to love it. With easy access to her neck, I lick and suck and bite to my heart's content. She turns her head slightly to make it easier for me to reach, and it’s clear that she’s enjoying herself from the way she shudders every time I run my tongue over the hard muscle in her neck. She moans softly when I bite down her tender skin, not hard enough to make her bleed, just enough to create a pretty red mark. Her moans make my head spin with want. The knowledge of being desired by her, is more erotic to me than any kind of physical touch could be. Wanda Maximoff moaning above me feels like heaven on earth.

It doesn’t take long before Wanda’s movements become more frenzied, and I wonder if she, like me, is impatient for my orgasm to arrive. It’s only when she shifts our position, lowering one of my legs slightly to give herself a better angle, that I realize what is going on. She moans loudly and almost obscenely into my ear, and I wonder how I ever managed to live without having experienced this. Heat, like nothing I’ve felt before, erupts throughout my body. From the very tips of my toes to the ends of my hair, I am utterly incandescent.

Her moans stutter in their rhythm, and I know what’s going to happen. I hold her tightly to me, my mouth on her neck, my legs locked firmly behind her back. ‘’Oh- oh God.’’ She keens, ‘’I- oh- I’m sorry honey, I think I’m gonna-‘’ I detach my mouth from the hickey I’m steadily developing at her pulse point for just long enough to moan out my response, ‘’Come inside me, please, mommy,’’ I plead, my voice obscenely high-pitched and whiney, ‘’you feel so good, please- please.’’

Wanda comes first, and it’s a marvellous fall from grace. She grasps at me, her body pushing into mine so firmly that it feels as though she’s trying to merge us into one. Her moans so close to my ear, and so desperate and needy, finally push me over the edge. My whole body seizes up so forcefully that I worry I might tear a muscle. I hold onto Wanda for dear life as she fucks me through my peak, her cheek pressed to mine as she rides out her own pleasure.

It takes a while for us to come back to ourselves, both still reeling from our release. Wanda stills inside of me, propping herself up to come nose to nose with me. She’s laughing, but I feel beyond exhausted. Still, I encourage her gently to rest her full body weight on me and to keep her cock inside of me for a while. We snuggle like that, not speaking, just breathing each other in. My hand finds her hair and I scratch her scalp softly with my nails. My anxiety is creeping up on slowly, replacing the relaxation in my body steadily with that too familiar uneasy gut feeling.

Even in this state, Wanda picks up on the change in me. I don’t know if I have given her any physical cues, or if she can somehow sense the change in energy, but she notices nonetheless. Without further ado, she makes us get up. I wince at the rawness of my body when she pulls her cock out of me, and Wanda laughs when she sees the state of her neck in the bathroom mirror.

She draws us a bath, throwing in some lavender scented oil, and we both clamber into it on unsteady legs. We wash each other with soft cloths, and talk through some of our experiences of the night. Wanda has a lot of questions for me, which I understand. She wants to know why I didn’t go to her first when I was frustrated, and why I retreated into my head so much when we came face to face in such an intimate moment. But I’m too tired to open those wounds up now, and even the soft light of the bathroom feels too overstimulating on my tired head. So, kind as ever, Wanda accepts that today is not the day, and she merely draws me back to her chest, singing her lullaby to me as we hold each other close.

When the water gets cold, and my head feels a bit clearer, I hop out of the bath to dress myself in something cosy and warm. I have to dash through the bathroom, wrapped in my towel, to grab some clothes from my dresser. I decide against pyjamas, considering we still have guests. So, instead, I settle for a well fitting pair of black joggers and a wonderfully soft roll neck top. According to the clock on Wanda’s night stand, an hour and ten minutes have passed since I first made my way upstairs.

I wonder what everyone else has been doing in the time we’ve been gone, and I wonder too if they know what we’ve been up to. But, I reason with myself, even if they know it won’t be a big deal to them, considering Agatha fucked Kate at the dinner table like it was the most normal thing in the world.

I am beginning to feel the lack of dinner, though, and my stomach growls loudly when I re-enter the bathroom. Wanda has drained the bath by now, but she’s turning the shower head on. ‘’Aren’t you coming downstairs with me?’’ I ask, as I watch her step carefully back into the tub. ‘’I just want to wash my hair quickly, dove,’’ she says over the sound of falling water. ‘’You can go, I’ll join you soon.’’

***

I leave Wanda in the bathroom to take her shower, and head downstairs groggily in search of tea and a snack. I’m quite sure everyone left, because the house is dead silent, but I’m in for a surprise when I walk into the living room intending to pick up a blanket to stave off the chill running through me. Kate occupies the sofa, laying down with my favourite blanket covering her. Pepper and Maria are nowhere to be found, but Agatha is there, reclining in one of the armchairs, a paperback folded double in her hands, her glasses once more perched at the edge of her nose.

She looks up when I enter the room, and suddenly I’m hyper aware of my messed up hair, and I’m grateful to Wanda for helping me to clean up. I wouldn’t be able to bear it if I had come down with my tear streaked makeup. Still, Agatha smiles at me as though I had come down looking freshly fucked.

‘’I bet that was a weight off your shoulders, huh hon?’’ I stare at her blankly, my brain too sluggish to comprehend her words. She laughs, ‘’well, Katie and I went up to the guest bathroom to freshen up after our little session, and it sounds like you two had a marvelous time.’’ Mortified, I raise my hands up to my face to hide myself from her. It was bad enough that Wanda heard that outburst, but the knowledge that Agatha heard, and not just her but Kate too, makes my throat constrict painfully.

Kate shifts on the sofa, turning her face outward and towards me. She’s clearly sleepy, her eyes half closed. ‘’She’s not teasing you,’’ she mumbles, ‘’I know it feels like it, but she isn’t.’’ She yawns hugely, turning over again, and settling the blanket over herself more securely. ‘’That must have felt nice to finally let out.’’

I shrug half-heartedly, embarrassed tears prickling in my eyes. Agatha rises from her chair, plopping her book down onto the seat, and whipping off her glasses. ‘’Come on, we should let Katie rest.’’ With a firm but gentle hand on my lower back, she steers me towards the door, leaving no room for argument. I don’t bother trying to fight it, and I allow myself to be guided through the living room into the bright LED lighted kitchen.

When she lets go of me, I move away from her, hugging myself tightly, wishing Wanda would hurry up already. She leans back comfortably against the kitchen counter, and I feel myself shrink under her gaze. I want to turn around and walk away, or snap at her for looking me with those all-knowing eyes. I hold myself securely, shielding myself from attacks that won’t come, trying to breathe through the discomfort of being known.

‘’I know that you feel dirty’’ Agatha says finally, breaking this awful silence, ‘’you’re ashamed, and you’re afraid of these feelings you can’t make sense of.’’ She steps closer to me, a strong hand outstretched, like a hunter approaching a startled deer in the forest. ‘’One day you’ll learn to proud of these feelings, and it will give you the peace you’ve always craved. But only if you open yourself up, and let us help you.’’

She’s so close to me that I can feel the heat radiating off of her body. She smells like lavender, and the veins of her hand stick out like rivers carving a path through land. Involuntarily, my eyes flit down to her trousers, where her bulge is still visible. A shiver runs through me when I recall Kate writhing on her lap, Agatha’s strong hands holding onto her, delighting in her pleasure, in the way she begged and the words she used. Unashamed, ecstatic, and free.

Fresh tears dribble slowly down my cheeks, and instinctively I turn to face away from her, but she’s too quick for me. In half a heartbeat she has me pressed tightly against her, one hand cradling the back of my head, the other resting on my lower back. She rocks me lightly, shushing me, in a way that is too clinical to be motherly. Still, this display of gentleness from her shocks me so much that I don’t even fight against it, instead I welcome the wave of tears that rolls over me. ‘’I’m disgusting,’’ I manage finally between the tears and the heaving breaths I have to take, ‘’I don’t know what’s wrong with me.’’

She lets go of me now, the moment of affection passing just as quickly as it came. She’s back to scrutinizing me, but now there’s something like pity in her eyes. It makes the underside of my skin itch. ‘’Why do you think you’re disgusting?’’

The notepad is back, arrows and lines and squiggles and stars all over the paper. I didn’t even see where it came from. The lights are too bright, and the counters smell like lemon. It makes me feel somewhat nauseous. I look at the black ink when I speak, deliberately avoiding her gaze.

‘’It’s not natural.’’

Agatha snorts derisively, ‘’depriving children of a loving and nurturing relationship to their parents isn’t natural. This response is nothing but natural. Your brain is protecting you, in the absence of a protector. You are trying to fill in the gaps, in the only way you know how.’’ I hug my chest again, noticing how little comfort I find in my own cold hands, now I’ve felt Agatha’s warm body against mine. ‘’What are you so afraid of?’’ She asks, her pen skirting over the paper. I like to imagine she’s writing my answer down for me.

‘’She’s going to think that I’m weak, and hate me for being so needy. I can’t let this out, because then I won’t know how to go back.’’

Her eyes twinkle when she looks up at me from her paper, the lines by her eyes contracting as she smiles. ‘’Have you spoken to Wanda about this?’’

My head hurts, and I can’t tell if it’s because of the crying, or the bright lights bouncing off of the white marble counter tops. I shake my head, my fingers picking at the skin around my nails, it’s already bleeding.

‘’Do you think you believe she won’t accept this side of you, because you don’t accept it?’’ I close my eyes, agitation returning to me. I’m too tired for this, I’m too tired for anything. ‘’I think you’ve made your judgement already. You clearly think that’s the case.’’

‘’I do,’’ she says, not the slightest bit of venom in her voice, though I had expected it. ‘’Clearly you loathe yourself so much that you’re depriving yourself of any form of love and acceptance she tries to give to you.’’ There is no malice behind this statement, but it still stings, and I flinch as though she has struck me. My nose has closed up from the crying, and I have to breathe through my mouth in an effort to steady myself, trying to hold back the next wave of tears. Agatha is surprisingly patient as I try to collect myself enough to be able to get some words out.

‘’I- I want to accept it.’’ I begin, my voice thick from the tears, ‘’I want it so bad, more than anything else, and I never thought I had an issue with accepting love, but- but…’’ I trail off, shrugging my shoulders half-heartedly, ‘’I don’t know, I’m just so scared uncovering all of this because if she doesn’t like me like this, I don’t know if I could bear it.’’

Agatha nods sagely, patting my arm in a vaguely comforting way. She reaches behind me for the paper towels, ripping off two sheets and handing them to me, so I can dry my eyes and blow my nose. ‘’You need to calm down a bit, alright, hon? I’m going to make us some nice tea, and then you’re going to listen to what I have to say.’’

There is no room for ifs or buts, so I just wipe my tears, and nod along. She kindly gives me a second to sort myself out, turning her back on me to put the kettle on. When my tears are finally dry, she sets a steaming mug of tea in front of me, and directs me to sit at the bar stool. She sits right next to me, so close that our knees touch. Her glasses are back on her nose now, and I’m grateful for the mug because it gives me something to do with my hands.

‘’A mother complex in sapphic women is often viewed as repulsive by outsiders,’’ she begins, her voice reassuring and gentle, ‘’whilst a father complex in heterosexual women is very widely accepted, and people don’t bat an eye at a girl who calls her bed partner daddy,’’ she says, giving me a significant look, ‘’but a girl calling her partner mommy? They can’t cope with it. As a society we’ve been a bit desensitized by the word daddy, because we’ve been taught to accept it in a sexual context. The word mommy hasn’t got the same treatment, so it’s still viewed very much in the context of a mother and child. People find it especially inflammatory when a younger and older woman respectively engage in such a dynamic.’’

She lays a warm hand on my knee, and my skin burns with the contact. ‘’What you feel is normal, your inner child has been so severely neglected that she’s screaming for love and affection. You don’t need your mother, you need your mommy, and those are two entirely separate people.’’

I hang my head, letting out a shaky breath, ‘’I’m so tired of taking care of myself all the time,’’ I admit, my voice shaking. Agatha rubs her hand in gentle circles on my back, ‘’so let go, and trust that we will catch you.’’ Her use of we doesn’t escape me, but I’m too exhausted to question her on this. Her words sound so sweet, and so promising, I want to sink into her and let this all go. I can’t though, I know I can’t give into this temptation. My resolve is breaking, I can feel it, and it’s so hard to not give into her. A compromise then, however much the truth can be a compromise.

‘’I really want to,’’ I begin, and I can already tell that she knows exactly where this is going. Maybe she knew where this day would end when she cornered me in the kitchen for the first time. ‘’But I can’t let myself do this, because I think it’ll ruin me.’’ Agatha gives me a sceptical look, ‘’you’re full of shit, did you know that?’’ I laugh, before I realize how serious her tone is. ‘’You’re going against your nature, and it’s going to end up hurting a lot more than it already is.’’ I shift uncomfortably in my seat, staring at the laces of her shoes. ‘’you don’t know that.’’

She laughs humourlessly, ‘’Which one of us has the PhD, hon?’’ I pull a face, unable to contain myself any longer. ‘’Are you this rude to paying clients?’’ This makes her smile, the curve of her lips breaking the icy cold mask that was previously there. ‘’No, lucky for you, you’re not paying me.’’

‘’I just don’t know how to accept it,’’ I blurt out suddenly, unable to bear this awful tension, knowing she disproves of my choices. ‘’She’s going to think I’m a freak, and she’ll hate me for it, and then I’ll lose her. But I want to let go just like Kate can, I want that so bad. I don’t know how to do that without terrifying Wanda.’’

‘’You underestimate her,’’ Agatha says, ‘’you saw how she was with Pepper and Kate.’’

‘’That’s different,’’ I say evasively, making Agatha roll her eyes. ‘’How is that different?’’ I shrug, ‘’it’s one thing to watch someone else do it, it’s another thing entirely to do it yourself.’’ Apparently that’s notebook worthy, because she scribbles something down messily, the pen excreting a bit more ink than is necessary, staining the paper with a dark blob of ink. ‘’I’ve known Wanda a lot longer than you have, and I’ve known her intimately. She’s insecure, and stubborn and just as afraid of you to admit it to you, but she needs someone to take care of.’’

I stare at the jet black blob of ink, focused on how it seeps into the paper. It bleeds into the thin white sheet like blood sinking into snow. A part of my brain itches with excitement, screaming at me to listen to Agatha. Another part of begins to loosen its grip on the doubt.

‘’If it takes me banging your heads together to make you understand, I will.’’ She says, and I have a feeling that this isn’t a joke. ‘’In the meantime, let’s start small, with something you already know, but that isn’t fully in your comfort zone yet.’’ She pats my knee and smiles at me In a somewhat condescending manner. ‘’When we get back to the living room you’re going to kneel for Wanda, I know you enjoy that, so that should be a nice way to get this ball rolling.’’

I open my mouth to protest, several urgent questions rushing to the forefront of my mind, but she’s way ahead of me, holding up a finger to silence me. ‘’None of that, this isn’t a request, dear. Now, we really should find Wanda, she’s taking an awfully long time up there.’’ She’s up now, and peeking out the door, listening for movement upstairs.

‘’H- how did you know, about the- the kneeling thing.’’ I say weakly. ‘’Hmm?’’ she hums vaguely, still alertly waiting for any signs of life from the upper story of the house. ‘’Oh, Wanda told me ages ago now. She said you were mad for it.’’

‘’Oh.’’ I say dumbly, thinking about Wanda and Agatha chatting about me in such a casual way. I wonder what else she has told her. The thought of it all makes my face burn.

A few more moments pass of the older woman standing guard at the door, before she finally shows a sign of life again. ‘’Wanda’s coming,’’ she warns, pulling my half drunk mug of tea from my hands, and dumping it out into the sink alongside hers. Hardly 10 seconds later I hear her footsteps on the stairs, and I can tell she’s about to walk past the kitchen, but Agatha calls out to her.

‘’There you are,’’ Wanda says from the open doorway, and I’m so relieved to see her again, smiling and happy to see me, even after what happened. She leans against the frame, her hair wet and her shirt damp at the neck, smiling like everything is fine. It gives me hope that maybe everything is fine, and that Agatha is right after all.

Agatha moves past us, muttering something about Pepper and Maria, and an unexpected zoom call. When the door falls closed behind her, Wanda stretches out her arms towards me, inviting me in for a hug. She smells like shampoo, and fresh laundry, and it’s the most comforting smell in the world to me now. She holds me tightly, one hand on my back, and another on the back of my head. We stand there for a while, silently swaying in each other’s arms. I don’t want to let go, so I hold on even when she begins to speak. ‘’Are you sure you don’t want to talk about what happened?’’ she asks, in a voice so gentle that I can’t even bring myself to imagine that she hates me for this. I shake my head as much as I can in this position, and mumble into the crook of her neck, ‘’no, please not tonight.’’ My voice cracks a little bit and I curse myself for this weakness when I feel her squeeze me a little tighter.

The voices from the living room have increased in volume, raucous laughter coming through the closed door. Just like that, the spell is broken, and we let go of each other. I yawn slightly, rubbing at my eyes. ‘’Do you want to go back to bed?’’ Wanda asks, surveying me with a cocked head. ‘’No, it’s okay, let’s go see the others and if I’m too tired I can always go to bed anyway.’’

***

Finally, we move to the living room, where Pepper and Maria have returned and are now laughing over some pictures on Maria’s phone. Kate has moved from the couch and is curled up comfortably between Pepper’s legs, kneeling on the plush carpet. They all smile when we enter, and I hide myself behind Wanda bashfully, flushing at the thought of Agatha or Kate having told them what they heard. They go right back to their conversation, though, and Wanda steers me towards where Pepper is sitting. I can feel Agatha’s eyes on me, and I remember the demand she made of me. Instantly, my heart picks up its pace and I can feel my hands beginning to sweat.

I’m saved from having to make the request, however, because Wanda notices how I haven’t sat down even when she indicated for me to do. She looks between me and Kate, who’s snuggled up close to Pepper. Then, she leans down to whisper in my ear ‘’do you want to sit up here, or kneel with Katie?’’

I fidget slightly, making eye contact, first with Agatha, who gives me a slow nod, and then with Kate, who’s looking up at me with a welcoming smile. ‘’It’s nice down here, you know?’’ she says, her voice friendly and teasing. And her encouragement, combined with Wanda’s reassuring squeeze to my hand, is enough to embolden me to lower myself down to my knees, even with everybody watching me.

Wanda’s fingers find their way into my hair, Pepper and Maria continue with their laughter, Agatha winks at me, her smirk clearly showing her approval, and Kate’s fingers creep towards mine across the carpet, intertwining our fingers and squeezing in a gesture of sisterhood. It feels like she’s saying, see? Isn’t this nice?

And it is, it really is. I squeeze back, and hope she knows what I mean.

━━━━━━━━━ ✯¸.•´*¨`*•✿ ✿•*`¨*`•.¸✯ ━━━━━━━━━

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#little dove au #char writes #c: wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x female reader

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lizzie-is-here · 2 years

Text

like the dawn

part viii- mission report

“if the devil was to ever see you, he’d kiss your eyes and repent” - farouq jwaydeh

summary: three bug-themed superheroes, another two named after animals, and a flying robot. what’s next, character development?

wordcount: 5.5k

warnings: violence, cussing, google translate, my inability to write serious scenes without making jokes, injury, past death (howard and maria), hydra torture stuff, trauma, insecurities, yk the usual, idk arguing???

taglist: @whelvedfeelingsstuff @sebsgirl71479 @rebloggingmyrecs @babyblublossom @local-mr-frog @thenyxsky @capsiclesdoll @moonlightreader649 @saranghaey

a/n: okay listen i think i have a thing for reader getting hurt during this specific battle 🤭 sue me i’m basic but i had to give u your y/n moment 😌✨ ALSO THANK YALL SM FOR 300 FOLLOWERS! i’ll post an event soon but i’m still working out some things love u all hope u enjoy!

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When Steve said he had a getaway car, you expected a bit more than a VW Beetle. Sure, you’re on the run, but there had to be a more conspicuous car to take.

But here you were, crammed into the backseat alongside Bucky while Sam took the passenger seat and Steve drove. How the blond learned to drive, you don’t know. The last time you saw him try to drive was the ‘40s, and he’d almost run you over.

He parks and climbs out to speak to a blonde agent, and you watch carefully as they meet in the middle. The woman opens the trunk of her car to reveal the shield, wings, and your bow. You sigh in relief.

Next to you, Bucky eyes the man in the seat in front of him.

“Can you move your seat up?”

…

“No.”

You were already uncomfortable. Your poor wings were cramped and tired, and it didn’t help when Bucky scooted closer to you to stretch his legs.

“You’re squishing my feathers,” you whisper. He apologizes and scoots slightly away, gently moving your wing before relaxing again.

The blonde agent is leaning in towards Steve. You narrow your eyes. Thankfully, your friend leans away and awkwardly grabs the shield and other confiscated equipment.

“You two are looking pretty tense there,” Sam quips, smirking in the rear view mirror. You don’t respond and Bucky kicks his seat lightly.

He had a point. Why did you care if they kissed?

Steve climbs back into the car before you have an answer, and the whole ride to the airport, you’re stuck in your head.

You know you used to like him- both of them. You remember the countless letters you wrote and how regretful you were over not telling them.

But it’s been 70 years. And after what you’ve gone through, you genuinely weren’t sure if you could love anymore. Or be loved.

It was a miracle that Steve still cared enough about you two to go through all this trouble. To ask even more of him, and Bucky, seemed selfish. That was the last thing you wanted to be to your boys.

Yours. Yours, yours, yours. It had never been any other way. Sure, Bucky went on dates and so did you, Steve often being dragged along, but you always circled back to each other. Always.

Steve finds a spot in the parking garage and you all get out, watching as the door to the white van next to you pops open.

First comes the archer. Agent Clint Barton. You try your best to push down the memories you have of analyzing every Avenger, assessing their threat levels. But by the time he and Steve shake hands your mind has already found three weaknesses on him.

The enhanced girl, Wanda Maximoff, is next. She was on the news recently; about an accident on a mission to Lagos that led to civilian deaths. She’s young. She reminds you of you.

“How about our new recruit?” Steve asks. Agent Barton slides the back door open, revealing a middle-aged man laying on the van floor. He jolts awake, clearly confused.

“What time zone is this?” he asks, eyes widening when he spots the famous Captain. “Captain America!” He excitedly takes his hand, vigorously shaking it.

“Mr. Lang,” Steve responds.

The man never stops shaking his hand. “It’s an honor. I’m shaking your hand too long.” Steve nods, and he lets go but keeps talking at a lightning pace. “Wow! Captain America. I know you, too. You’re great!” He points to Wanda, who smiles gratefully.

Taking another glance at Steve, he ends up awkwardly grabbing his pecs, and you look away as confusion radiates off your friend. He turns back to shoot a look that screams ‘this guy just grabbed my chest’, before resuming the rather one-sided conversation.

“Look, I wanna say, I know you know a lot of super people, so, thinks for thanking of me.” He waves to Sam. “Hey, man!”

They talk briefly, something about an audition? Tilting your head in confusion, you decide to cut him off before he makes this worse for himself.

“We should get moving,” you announce. Soon after, German floods the PA.

“They’re evacuating the airport,” Bucky translates.

A brief description of your opponents, an even shorter mention of Howard’s son, and Steve turns to the group.

“Suit up.”

You look around. It’s a parking garage. There are seven of you. You frown.

“Where?”

———————————————————————

After a very uncomfortable ten minutes of changing in front of each other, tying Wanda’s corset for her, and accidentally zipping a feather into your suit, you split off. Sam and Bucky head to a terminal. Wanda and Clint stay in the garage, and the new guy, Scott, shrinks down and hops on Steve’s shield, who goes to negotiate with the other Avengers.

And you perch atop the garage, staying well hidden while also having a perfect view of the area.

The Iron Man and the grey suit from earlier confront Steve first. Then the man in the cat suit. Then the Black Widow. Lastly, a small boy (man?) in a red and blue suit. He flips through the air with ease, firing what looks like… Spiderwebs? And rips the shield from Steve’s hands. Alright, enhanced agility, strength, and webs. Weird.

What you can hear of his voice is that of a teenager. A literal child. Even weirder.

In your earpiece, Sam speaks. “We found it. Their Quinjet’s in hangar five, north runway.”

You nock a glowing arrow just as Steve raises his arms, sending it cutting through the webs restraining him. While Clint grumbles about you stealing his shot, the arrow lands near Howard’s son.

Scott grows in size, returning it to Steve as you stand up on the roof. Your wings stretch out, casting a shadow along the pavement. You hear the teenager gasp and yell something about his US History textbooks.

He fires a web at you that you dodge, waiting until he gets close enough before flapping your wings and sending a gust of air towards him as he jumps. You sling a disc of light under him that breaks his fall.

He runs off to the terminal next, and you follow, avoiding stray shots from the two advanced suits. The kid gets tossed away before you even make it in, but you soar through the shattered window anyways.

Inside, webbed to the floor, you find Bucky and Sam. Landing next to them, you kneel with a smirk.

“Having fun?” you quip, carefully burning away the thin yet stubborn filaments. They both grumble before you all head back out, meeting up with your team as you sprint for the jet.

You’re stopped dead in your tracks as a glowing beam, similar to your powers, burns a line into the concrete and separates the two sides. A reddish-purple man floats midair. He has a cape, not that that makes you any less confused.

“Captain Rogers, I know you believe what you’re doing is right. But for the collective good, you must surrender now,” he says.

Sam asks what you’re all thinking. “What do we do, Cap?”

“We fight.”

As the two lines collide, you know you can’t go easy on them. A few of them have learned to target your wings, so you resort to stronger blasts to ward them off. You send a particularly brutal one at the flying man, who you think is a robot once you get a closer look.

Curiously, he doesn’t pause or hesitate, but when your attack collides and knocks him backward, he acts shocked.

You stare at one another for a moment, analyzing instead of attacking. But you quickly have to block an attack from Howard’s son, who’s emotionless metal helmet watches your every move. You bend a beam of light into his eyes, taking the opportunity to speed away with no intention of fighting something that shoots missiles.

The man in the cat suit seems to be targeting you and Bucky, needle-like claws slashing air as you duck and dodge. He goes for your neck, and just when you can’t move back fast enough, red energy surrounds him. He’s thrown away, and Wanda jogs up to you.

“Us girls got to keep an eye on each other,” she grins. You smile, nodding, and deflect a repulsor blast with ease. When you get a second to breathe, you spot Bucky on the ground.

Rushing over, you help him to his feet as explosions shake the ground.

“You good?” you ask, quickly scanning him for injuries. His left shoulder is more inflammed than usual, and he has some bruising, but other that, nothing major. He nods, checking you as well.

As more explosions surround you, you grab Bucky and run behind a plane. A large chunk of debris flies towards you, but a quick blast crumbles it into pebbles.

“We gotta go,” he shouts to Steve. “That guy’s probably in Siberia by now.”

“We gotta draw out the flyers,” he responds.

You step forward. “I’ll do it, you guys run.” Both of them instantly protest.

“You’re not going out there. Tony could knock you right out of the air with one repulsor blast,” Steve states firmly. “I’ll take Vision, you two get to the jet.”

Over comms, Sam cuts in. “No, you get to the jet. All of you. The rest of us aren’t getting out of here.”

“As much as I hate to admit it, if we’re gonna win this one, some of us might have to lose it,” Clint agrees.

“This isn’t the real fight, Steve.”

Steve sighs. “Alright, Sam. What’s the play?”

“We need a diversion. Something big.”

Scott’s voice pipes up next as you duck to avoid the gaze of the flying robot. “I got something kinda big. But I can’t hold it very long. On my signal, run like hell. And if I tear myself in half… don’t come back for me.”

Bucky furrows his brows in confusion. “He’s gonna tear himself in half?” You shrug.

“You sure about this, Scott?”

He sounds out of breath. “I do it all the time. I mean once. In a lab.” Great. “Then I passed out.” Even better.

Peeking past the plane, you watch as he suddenly appears, towering over the buildings, and grabs the gray Iron Man suit. You can hear him laugh from where you are, clearly excited.

“I guess that’s the signal,” Steve says.

You gesture to the hangar. “Then let’s go!”

Staying on ground with Steve and Bucky, you only use your wings to boost yourself along. If you take to the air, it’ll be too easy to be seen.

Another golden beam shoots from behind you, taking out a nearby tower as your heart sinks. Out of nowhere, however, a red cast surrounds it, holding the building together. You throw a thankful smile to the young girl, who nods back to you as you speed up.

But something goes wrong. A loud ringing, and the magic disappears. You throw up a shield as best you can, but you still barely make it under the collapsing tower.

Waiting on the other side is the Black Widow. You remember her sometimes. Or, a younger version. You suspect HYDRA lent the Angel and the Soldier to the Red Room to help with training.

“Natalia,” you greet, guilt weighing down your tone. She smirks.

“Солнце [Sun],” she responds. A nickname. Her words hold no blame. Turning her attention to the blond, she shakes her head. “You’re not gonna stop.”

“You know I can’t.”

She raises her hand, charging the tasers on her wrists. “I’m gonna regret this.”

Her shot flies over your shoulder, attacking the man in the cat suit instead. She nods to you. “Go.”

You fly into the plane first, ushering your boys in as you hurry to close the door. Steve takes the pilot’s seat while you stay in the back. Bucky hovers in between, pacing anxiously.

The advanced jet goes airborne in a matter of seconds, shooting from the hangar as you hold on. Through a screen showing a back-facing camera on the exterior of the plane, you spot the grey suit trailing you.

Sam follows, attempting to take him out, but when a gold beam aims for Sam and he dodges, it strikes the suit instead. With the power source damaged, it plummets.

It reminds you of watching Bucky fall. You open the hangar, diving out as the two protest.

You spiral down, watching from the corner of your eye as the Iron Man and Sam do the same. None of you are fast enough. The suit hits the ground with a loud thud, and you land nearby as Howard’s son cradles his body. His helmet flips away revealing his harsh glare as you step forward.

“Please,” you say, holding out a hand. “I can help him.” You notice the quinjet hovering midair as Bucky watches carefully.

After glancing down to his unconscious friend, the Stark nods.

“Can you open the suit?” you ask. He doesn’t say anything, just talks to something called FRIDAY, which evidently controls the suit. It pops open for you to assess the damage.

Shattered spinal column. L4 through S1. You can feel the pain.

“Well? What is it?” he demands. You reiterate your findings. “Extreme laceration on the spinal cord. Possible paralysis.” You’ve healed worse.

“Well, I’ll get medical on their way,” Stark says. You jump.

“No! No, please, I can help him.”

“How?”

Taking a few breaths, you focus on the bone first. You fuse them, feeling each fragment return to its proper place. After that, you heal the nerves. They stitch together with a simple thought. The bruising is even easier, fading as your breathing calms. Your powers move through the body with your hand, swirling and dividing to heal the injuries. The man wakes up.

“Tony!” he shouts, slowly reorienting himself. He seems shocked to see you kneeling beside him, but quickly understands what happened by the remaining glow from your hands.

You turn to Howard’s son. He meets your gaze, features relaxing.

He nods. “Thank you.” You stand. Slowly backing away, he doesn’t follow.

You fly away in an instant, landing on the quinjet as Bucky helps you stabilize. Closing the hangar, Steve smiles at you.

“Old habits die hard,” he quips. “Always getting everyone out of trouble.”

You can’t help but grin.

———————————————————————

A few hours later, still soaring on the quinjet towards Siberia, Bucky speaks up.

“What’s gonna happen to your friends?”

Steve lets out another heavy sigh. “Whatever it is, I’ll deal with it.”

“I don’t know if I’m worth all this, Steve,” he murmurs. A part of you wants to berate him. But you were thinking the exact same thing.

“What you did all those years, it wasn’t you,” the blond insists. “You didn’t have a choice.”

Silence.

“What’s on your mind, (Y/N)? You’re being awfully quiet,” he says. You shake your head.

“Why didn’t you ever give up on us?”

Your words break something in Steve. They give him a glimpse into your mind, how your thoughts seem to be in a constant spiral.

“You’re…” He hesitates. ‘Friends’ seems insulting. A mere fraction of what he feels for you two. But now isn’t the right time. “My best friends,” he finishes.

“We almost killed you, Steve,” you press further. Your wings puff slightly, prickling as your head pulls picture after picture.

The Captain denies it. “No, you didn’t. I would’ve been fine. Besides, you both snapped out of it before that even happened.”

You furrow your brow, volume rising slightly. “You don’t get it. When I healed you, I could feel your pulse dropping.” Your voice shakes.

“You were dying, Stevie.”

His breath hitches. Since that day, he hadn’t known how bad it was. All he knew was that, when he woke up, he didn’t have a scratch on him.

But if it had been bad enough to kill…

When he doesn’t respond, you’re sure you’ve done it. You’ve fucked up to the point where he won’t forgive you.

“I’m sorry,” you say. “I shouldn’t have snapped, I-“

Bucky rests a hand between your wings, rubbing small circles. It forces the tension to leave your body and you slump slightly, still trying to apologize.

Steve puts the quinjet on autopilot and turns back to you.

“You didn’t do anything wrong, you don’t have to apologize,” he promises. “I didn’t know how bad it was.”

“But it wasn’t your fault. The moment you two were out of HYDRA’s control, you helped me- saved me.”

“And I’m going to return the favor.”

As the last words leave his mouth, the jet lands. Bucky takes a gun from Natalia’s set as you sling your bow over your shoulder.

“You remember that time we had to ride back from Rockaway Beach in the back of that freezer truck?” Steve asks.

You chuckle. “Was that the time we used our train money to buy hot dogs?” He shakes his head.

“Bucky blew three bucks trying to win a bear for you,” he says. The brunet rolls his eyes.

“You said you liked it,” he defends himself.

Incredulous, you shove him. “We nearly froze to death!” The memory becomes clearer. You remember the bear. Sure, it was nice, but what was more amusing was watching Bucky attempt to throw the ball while you and Steve laughed your asses off.

Stepping out of the jet, you approach the door. It’s already open. The other Winter Soldiers could be anywhere.

“He can’t have been here longer than a few hours,” Steve mumbles.

Bucky frowns. “Long enough to wake them up.”

Before any of you step inside the dark hallway, you cast a soft whirl of light down it. It illuminates the walls, revealing it to be empty.

Slowly, you make your way through the halls. It’s odd, you remember them as if they were in a dream, haunting yet familiar.

An elevator ride takes you to the lower level, and the moment Steve lifts the cage door, you’re all on high alert. You don’t even take out your bow, opting instead to sling light into the darker corners.

Bucky leads the way, gun trained on any hiding spots. Halfway up the stairs, you hear a sound behind you.

You all whip around, watching as the door creaks open to reveal Howard’s son.

“You seem a little defensive,” he jokes.

Steve doesn’t laugh. “It’s been a long day.”

“At ease, Soldiers, I’m not currently after you,” he points to you and Bucky.

“Then why are you here?”

“Could be your story’s not so crazy. Maybe. Ross has no idea I’m here. I’d like to keep it that way.” So he’s siding with you. “Otherwise, I gotta arrest myself.”

“Well, that sounds like a lot of paperwork.” Steve lowers his shield. “It’s good to see you, Tony.”

“You too, Cap.” He turns to you and scoffs. “Hey, Manchurian Candidate, Lucifer, you’re killing me. There’s a truce here. You can drop…”

You lower your hands first, but Bucky keeps his gun raised until Steve nods in agreement.

From there, Tony leads you. His suit is best suited for it, anyway, with scanners and technology you couldn’t believe existed.

Finally coming to the largest room, you and Bucky hesitate. A lot happened here. You got your wings here. Your memories were torn, one by one, from your mind… here.

You step inside.

“I got heat signatures,” Tony says.

“How many?”

“Uh, one.”

All seven cages light up as you get closer. All five soldiers are inside.

The doctor speaks over the PA system. “If it’s any comfort, they died in their sleep.”

You step closer to one containment unit, wiping the fog away. The man inside is bleeding from the head. A bullet wound.

“Did you really think I wanted more of you?”

Bucky grips his gun tighter. “What the hell?” You stay close to him, turning your gaze away from the soldiers.

“I’m grateful to them, though. They brought you here.”

A small window lights up, revealing the man. Tony fires a blast and Steve throws his shield, but the glass doesn’t budge.

“Please, Captain. The Soviets built this chamber to withstand the launch blast of UR-100 rockets.”

Tony circles the stand in the middle of the room. The chair lies at the center.

“I’m betting I could beat that!”

“Oh, I’m sure you could, Mr. Stark. Given time. But then you’d never know why you came.”

Steve steps closer to him. “You killed innocent people in Vienna just to bring us here?”

He doesn’t answer, instead leans closer to the glass to peer at the blond. “I’ve thought about nothing else for over a year. I studied you. I followed you. But now that you’re standing here…”

“I just realized… there’s a bit of green in the blue of your eyes. How nice to find a flaw.”

“You’re Sokovian,” Steve says. “Is that what this is about?”

“Sokovia was a failed state long before you blew it to hell. No. I’m here because I made a promise.”

“You lost someone?”

“I lost everyone. And so will you.”

With that, he clicks a button and a screen lights up. December 16, 1991.

You freeze.

“An empire toppled by its enemies can rise again. But one which crumbles from within? That’s dead. Forever.”

Tony steps closer, deciphering what he can of the Russian words. “I know that road.” December. “What is this?”

———————————————————————

December 16, 1991.

The Angel of Death and the Winter Soldier were huddled behind a tree. Their target was on route, with a valuable serum in his car. Their handlers had told them that, if acquired, that serum could bring HYDRA further into power.

So there they were. You were tucked behind Winter, wings shivering as you waited.

The moment headlights approached and he affirmed that it was the target’s car, you struck. A beam of light popped one tire and sent the car veering into a tree.

A man stumbled out, begging for someone to help his wife. You ignored him, instead heading to open the trunk.

As you checked the items, Winter attacked the man and set his body back in the driver’s seat. Circling around the car, his metal hand barely grazed your primary feathers as he went to deal with the woman.

You grabbed the case and stepped to the side, watching a surveillance camera. Winter joined you shortly, shooting the lense.

And the next morning, the headlines read all about the mysterious deaths of Howard and Maria Stark.

———————————————————————

After the video ends, Tony jumps to attack you and Bucky. Steve grabs his arm, but neither of you run.

He has every right to be angry. He has every right to want you dead. You know he can kill you.

But you can’t leave Steve.

“Did you know?” Tony asks.

Steve hesitates. “I didn’t know it was them.”

“Don’t bullshit me, Rogers,” the billionaire hisses. “Did. You. Know?”

“Yes.”

And he throws a punch at the blond. Bucky aims his gun, but is blown back. Even though you raise a hand, veins beginning to glow, you don’t attack.

Tony doesn’t either. “Get out of my sight,” he demands. Whether he’s sparing you since you saved his friend, or since you didn’t directly kill his parents you aren’t sure. But you don’t move.

Flying past you, Tony grabs Bucky by the neck and throws him against the floor. He stomps on his metal arm, pinning him before aiming his repulsor point-blank at his face.

In a flash, he’s thrown off, and you’re running towards Bucky while firing more blasts. Steve joins in, blocking his friend’s attacks with the shield.

Tony fires a sort of handcuff at Steve’s ankles, immobilizing him before turning back on Bucky. A missile fires, blowing a support beam to bits.

The freezer units come crashing down, and a part of you can’t help but be relieved. Still, you run to grab Bucky before he’s crushed under the metal.

“Get out of here!” Steve yells. You want to protest, but the brunet grabs your hand, racing away as you duck under Tony’s attacks. Slamming a button, the roof begins to open.

“Grab on!” Hoisting yourself and Bucky into the air, you push yourself towards the exit. Not fast enough, though, as you spot a red and gold suit following.

He kicks Bucky from your grip, and Steve barely manages to deflect a blast aimed at the ex-Winter Soldier’s head. The latter runs up to you, hoisting himself up as you strain to lift him.

“Ну давай же! Просто немного дальше [Come on! Just a little further],” you shout. You can feel the wind rushing in, a literal breath of fresh air.

Just one rung away from freedom, the top begins to slam shut. You drag Bucky away as it falls, cradling his head as you tumble down.

He swings a metal pipe at Tony, but is put in a choke hold just as quickly. You charge up a blast, but the man in the suit speaks.

“Do you even remember them?”

You nod. Bucky wheezes out, “We remember all of them.”

They lurch back, with Steve grabbing on and you following as they plummet into a separate area. You land harshly, wincing at the pressure as you help Bucky up. He’s watching the other two as they fight, unsure about whether to help or stay out of it.

He grabs the shield, leaping to drive it into the suit. You follow, bending light into Tony’s eyes to distract him.

The three of you tag-team it, exchanging the shield and moving in tandem.

For a while, it looks like you could win. But then you and Steve get thrown away into a stone pillar, coughing and gasping for air.

The fight moves between Bucky and Tony as the former furiously tries to remove the glowing circle powering the suit. It doesn’t work, and all he gets is a repulsor blast to the chest.

Stunned, he falls to the ground and is blasted away again. Steve gets up in an adrenaline-fueled rush and puts his all into incapacitating his friend as you crawl towards Bucky.

“Hey, hey, Winter.” You divert to the old name on some buried instinct, shielding him from the fighting. He’s bleeding but you can’t find the source. “You’re okay, it’s okay,” you whisper, voice shaking. Steve won’t be able to hold Tony off for long. Not with his tech.

Right on cue, you hear the shield fly and hit a wall, and Steve gets knocked past you. Running a hand over Bucky’s chest, you heal the searing burns and bruises. But every time you heal one, you find two more.

Steve’s on his knees behind you, looking up at Tony. “They’re my friends.”

“So was I.” Tony throws him again, turning his back on you. “Stay down. Final warning.”

Bucky begins to roll over, even as you protest.

And Steve, stubborn as he’s always been for as long as your memory reaches, rises. “I could do this all day.”

Bucky grabs Tony’s ankle as he prepares a shot, but the latter sends a brutal kick to his face. You yell, blasting his back before Steve lifts him over his head, slamming him onto the cold concrete.

He jumped atop him, throwing punch after punch. He eventually manages to break off the helmet, and this whole whole you’re still focused on healing Bucky’s very, very bloody face.

Behind you, Steve grabs the shield, driving it into the arc reactor. But just as he does so, one last blast of energy leaves the repulsor.

You see Bucky go pale moments before the searing pain in your back sets in.

For a few seconds, it’s too much to do anything but gasp silently. But then you scream.

Your wings had never been truly “hurt”. Sure, HYDRA was rough with them, but they were always considered too valuable to be hit or cut, even as punishment.

The pain stretched from wing to wing, rushing down through your shoulders and back. You aren’t sure when you start crying, but Bucky gently wraps you up in his arms as something inside him snaps at the sound.

Maybe it’s the adrenaline, maybe it’s some of the Winter Soldier’s protectiveness, but he whips out a gun and points at both his best friend and the man trying to kill him.

At this point, they’d both separated, watching in fear at how the muscles in your back shook uncontrollably. They held up their hands, trying to calm the man.

“Don’t get any closer,” he warns, casting a worried glance down to you. Your body’s trying to heal itself, but the stress combined with the energy you’ve expended healing him is making it difficult.

Steve kneels. “Bucky, we’re not gonna hurt her.” He turns to Tony, who hesitates before agreeing.

The soldier turns his full attention back to you. Your eyes are glazed over, brain shutting off to compensate for the pain. He curses, lightly shaking you.

“Мне нужно, чтобы ты сосредоточился на своем исцелении, хорошо [I need you to focus on healing yourself, okay]?” he asks, only receiving a weak nod.

You do as he asks, and Steve and Tony watch as the redness and burns on your back slowly disappear. Ten minutes later, your wings have fully healed, but you’re still in agonizing pain.

Bucky looks up, still soothing you, and shakes his head. “This isn’t worth it. If you want someone to blame, blame me.”

“Buck-“ Steve cuts himself off as you groan. He’s right. This isn’t worth it.

Tony eyes the man, analyzing his tone. If what Steve had said was true, then neither of you had control over who you killed. It’s just a matter of whether or not he believes the Captain or not.

Well, as big as this lie was, he can’t recall the last time Steve lied to him. (At least, about something of this importance. Steve was a notorious cheater at Avengers’ Game Night.)

And he can’t help but feel that he owes you for helping Rhodey. Shit.

“Fine. Fine, let’s wrap up this WWE match. We’ll get you all back to the compound… and figure things out from there.” He sighs, partially in frustration and partially because he just nearly got his ass handed to him on a vibranium shield/platter.

At the two friends’ suspicious looks, Tony rolls his eyes. “I’m serious. If anything, it’s just because I owe her,” he says.

Wiping the blood from his mouth, Steve helps Bucky guide you to your feet, carefully avoiding your wings. Tony follows behind, just in case any of you try to pull something.

Your mind filters in and out as you limp through the HYDRA base. The moment you pass one room, though, you halt.

“The files,” you murmur. “Evidence- Tony-“ The billionaire peeks up. “You don’t believe us? The video proof is in there.”

You muster up a ball of light, gathering your strength and heading into the room. The same one you and Bucky had raided a year back. Neither of you had dared to go through the tapes showing exactly what HYDRA had done to you, but if that was what it took for Tony to believe you, then so be it.

Tony scans the room, FRIDAY pulling information and pointing out one box in particular. He grabs it and a few others, hefting them in his arms.

Through the hallways that stayed standing, you leave the base, spotting the man in the cat suit handcuffing the fake doctor. His helmet is off, and he offers an apologetic smile to you and Bucky.

“I would like to offer my apologies. It seems this man-“ He glares at the doctor. “-had it in his best interest to tear us apart. My name is Prince T’Challa.”

You weakly shake his hand. The quinjet bay opens up, and you, Steve, and Bucky head on as Tony and T’Challa stay back to discuss where to go from here.

You collapse in front of a bench, gently stretching your wings out onto the cold, metal, floor. The pain is dull now, yet the ache isn’t fading anytime soon.

“Are you okay?” Steve asks, hand hovering over your back between the wings. He doesn’t want to bring you more pain, but isn’t sure how else to comfort you.

You nod, sighing. When you turn and see his hand, you chew the inside of your cheek.

“You can… You can touch them.” You stretch your wing out and he tentatively sets his hand on the peak. He runs his hand down the back, passing over the feathers with a sort of reverence.

“I’ll have to teach you how to help wash them,” Bucky mumbles to Steve. “She can’t reach all of the feathers.”

Footsteps sound behind you, breaking the comfortable silence.

Tony steps out from his suit, straightening the cuffs on his suit jacket and holding his harm tenderly. He raises a brow at the super-soldier pile on the floor of his quinjet.

“Well, Three Musketeers, let’s head home.”

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isaksbestpillow · 10 months

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When you get this, list 5 songs from the Asian QL shows that you actually listen to. 🎶They do not have to be custom-made for the series. 🎶Non-western tracks only. Let's support Asian music and languages! 🎶Feel free to tag anyone who may be interested in participating. 🎶Add #5qls tag to your post for others to find the new favourites!

No one tagged me in this one either, but I'm once again participating from the sidelines to practise sitting in front of the computer! I've decided to omit the thai bangers that everyone knows (Skyline, Over the moon, Just friend etc) but please be assured I listen to them a lot.

Quruli - Hachigatsu wa boku no namae

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Quruli is my favourite band, so when this started playing during More Than Words, I Cryed.

2. Sano Ibuki - Maria Road

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This is the ending song of the movie His that I subbed a few years ago. I ugly cried when it started playing. A few days I later I went to watch the movie again with my spouse who cried so much we couldn't leave the cinema haha. It was snowing heavily that day. Just the perfect way to close the movie. I haven't listened to it recently but I was obsessed with it for months after the movie came out.

3. Matsuyama Ryuu - blue blur

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This is the opening of Oldfashioned cupcake. It was my most listened song in 2022. I listened to it like 400 times on repeat while digging holes in the yard. I don't usually find new Japanese music from shows because I already have so many faves but this guy I wasn't familiar with before.

4. Khiian khai lä vanish - Gääm nong naang nan dääng kwaa khrai (transcription by me, I don't know the official transcription if there is one lol sorry)

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This is the song Tian & Phupha sing in karaoke in Atots. I actually like the artist's other song better but that one is not in any bls as far as I'm aware of. I've been obsessed with this cover by Praang Praangthip for years now:

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5. Billkin & PP Krit - Mai ploi müü Coming of Age

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I'm obsessed with all the Itsay and Ipytm songs and a lot of their solo material. Billkin is such a talented singer????? I'm not so weirded out by all the singing bl guys because I've been long exposed to the Japanese idol industry where you have a guy or a girl who sings, dances, acts, sells products and does variety tv without necessarily being good at any of it and your role as a fan is to root for their personal growth. Having said that, Billkin is genuinely such a good singer!! His voice comes out so effortlessly. It's quite unfair how some people are born rich, find their soulmate as a teenager and become famous with said soulmate all the while possessing these actual talents while some of us (not naming any names) are sitting in front of our computers in mom's hand-me-down fleece jackets and having endometriosis haha.

I listen to a lot of Japanese music and a lot of Thai songs too but most of them aren't in any bls so I'll have to leave them for another post!

#5qls

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dreaminginthedeepsouth · 1 year

Photo

Borges died four years later."

On the 10th anniversary of his death, Sontag revisited her admiration for his work and the enormity of his cultural legacy in a short and beautiful essay titled 'Letter to Borges,' penned on June 13, 1996, and included in the altogether fantastic 2001 collection 'Where the Stress Falls: Essays.'

Sontag also referenced a famous quote of Borges, from "Twenty-Four Conversations with Borges: Including a Selection of Poems":"

A writer — and, I believe, generally all persons — must think that whatever happens to him or her is a resource. All things have been given to us for a purpose, and an artist must feel this more intensely. All that happens to us, including our humiliations, our misfortunes, our embarrassments, all is given to us as raw material, as clay, so that we may shape our art."

Thanks, again, to Maria Popova and The Marginalian.

[Follies Of God]

#Jorge Luis Borges #Susan Sontag #stories #The Marginalian #Maria Popova

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erdariel · 6 months

Note

Hi! This is a bit random, but I’m always really interested by your Finnish posts, and was wondering if you have any recommendations for learning more about your country?

Any stories/bits of art or music that are particularly special?

No need to answer this if it’s intrusive or anything, of course!

Hello! Let me see... This post gets quite long, so I'll put my recommendations under a readmore! To be honest, most of them are just random Finnish stuff, not necessarily specifically oriented to teach anything about Finland, but it's something.

Any other Finns can reblog and add stuff if you've got better recommendations than I have, btw!

Music-wise I suppose it depends on what kind of music you like - if you're into metal music, there's a lot of Finnish metal bands and I think some of them even sing in Finnish, but it's not a genre I personally listen to a lot. What I myself listen to is frankly a mess that doesn't make any sense, but here's a couple relatively well-known Finnish songs that I personally occasionally listen to (the method of choosing was random "whatever comes to mind first"):

Autiotalo by Dingo

Rakkaus on lumivalkoinen by Yö

As for stories - I have to admit I read shamefully little Finnish literature. One thing that comes to mind, however, is Maria Turtschaninoff's Red Abbey Chronicles fantasy series! I heard of them from a friend and read them some years back, and personally I really liked them. I don't know that they'll tell you particularly much about Finland as a country, but I like them as books. And Moomins, of course - I haven't read the books since I was a child, and I've never seen the entirety of the 90s anime adaptation because we didn't have a tv when I was a kid, but they're lovely stories, and if they don't tell you about Finland as a country as such, they're still a big part of Finnish culture.

I suppose I could also point you towards some classics of Finnish literature (Seven Brothers by Aleksis Kivi, The Unknown Soldier by Väinö Linna, that sort of thing) but I also don't read a lot of classics, and I try to keep to a rule of never recommend books I haven't read and/or don't like personally, so I can't actually recommend them as such, all I can state is that they are classics of Finnish literature that exist and are set in Finland (of the two I mentioned, Seven Brothers is set in the 19th century in rural Finland, it's fairly comedic in tone, and generally held to be the first novel actually written in Finnish, while The Unknown Soldier follows a machine gun company throughout the Continuation War; so in terms of that, expect a number of violent deaths and all of that) and I'm relatively certain there are English translations of them (though whether those are easily available anywhere, that I cannot say)

Speaking of classics, there's Kalevala. You should be able to find one or two different English translations of it in Project Gutenberg. Now, with Kalevala there's a whole can of worms regarding cultural appropriation of Karelian culture and stories that I do not understand thoroughly enough to explain it properly, but I don't think there's any argument that it shaped the Finnish culture and national identity when that was still in the process of being created in the 19th century.

As for artwork, I don't have a lot of specific ones in mind, but you could take a look at the Finnish National Gallery's website and see what stuff there speaks to you!

You can also search for specific artist's works on the website, so here's for example pictures of the works of Akseli Gallen-Kallela, Hugo Simberg, Albert Edelfelt, and Eero Järnefelt, to name a few of our famous painters (note: i haven't refined those searches beyond selecting for a given artist, which means the search result includes a lot of sketches and stuff, but if you like, you can further refine the search to only show you paintings, for example).

Personally, I quite like the bunch of Hugo Simberg's paintings that portray Death (as in death as a character, pretty much the black-robed skeleton type). The most famous of those, I think, is this one, the Garden of Death:

#answered ask #fromthedeskofcripslock #finland #suomi #suomitumblr

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love-bokumono-fics · 4 months

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Fresh Crops! January 1 - January 7, 2024

This week's newest stories and chapter updates for Harvest Moon and Story of Seasons on AO3!

The Harvest Moon - by HarmanSmith; Complete, 1/1, 2.4k

Rating: General Audiences; Archive Warning: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Fandoms: The Legend of Zelda, Harvest Moon 64 Relationship: Link/Malon; Characters: Link, Malon, Maria the Mayor's Daughter Summary: A visitor from the famous Lon Lon Ranch arrives in town. With beautiful red hair and a lovely voice to match, she secretly yearns for her knight on shining armor to sweep her off her feet.

Our Story of Seasons: Pete x Claire - by Ry2_Sinheart; WIP, 26/30, 39k

Rating: General Audiences; Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply; Categories: F/M, Gen Fandoms: Friends of Mineral Town Relationships: Claire the Farmer & Pete | Jack, Claire the Farmer/Pete | Jack; Characters: Pete | Jack, Claire, Thomas, Zack, Dog, Harvest Goddess, Ann the Innkeeper | Ran, Karen Additional Tags: Romance, Slow Burn, Eventual Happy Ending, Eventual Romance, Fluff, Domestic Fluff, Slice of Life, Warm and Fuzzy Feelings, Developing Relationship, Strangers to Lovers, Friends to Lovers, Childhood Friends, Childhood Memories, Video Game Mechanics, Game Logic, Male-Female Friendship, Eventual Fluff, Eventual Relationships, Slow Romance, Digital Art Summary: A story that revolves around the protagonists of Mineral Town. After a series of unfortunate events, Pete and Claire agree they'll have to raise the farm together, whether they like it or not. Through their farming-ventures, they realize that maybe farming together… isn't so bad.

Here You Come Again - by SeasonSuite; WIP, 18/24, 73k

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences; Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply; Category: F/M Fandoms: Trio of Towns Relationships: Female Farmer/Wayne, Minor or Background Relationship(s); Characters: Farmer, Wayne, Frank, Lisette, Ford, Ludus, Trio of Towns ensemble Additional Tags: Crushes, Falling In Love, Love, farming, Fluff, dolly parton references, Friends to Lovers, cowboy aesthetic, idiots to lovers, Day At The Beach, Flowers, Romance, Bonding, Feelings, Humor, Slow Build, Did I Mention Fluff, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Love Confessions Summary: On the first day of her new life, June meets a handsome, smooth-talking postman. Caught between his seemingly earnest words and his philandering reputation, she writes him off as bad news. Over the year, as June struggles to build her new farm, Wayne proves her wrong—then right—then wrong again. or, Westown's charming postman is known for being perfect, and he's usually happy to play the part. But when a new farmer tries to get to know the real him, Wayne learns that to be loved, he has to submit to the mortifying ordeal of being known.

Remaster: Yuki - by darkryuu; WIP, 1/15, 5.7k

Rating: Explicit; Archive Warning: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings; Category: F/M Fandom: HM DS Cute Relationship: Pony | Aya | Jill/Skye | Steiner; Characters: Pony | Aya | Jill, Skye | Steiner Summary: Sequel to Remaster: Step Toward the Future: Kaede ("Pony"/Jill) is caught in a situation where she may be the only hope of peace and freedom for a certain Prince of the Stars.

Late Date - by SymphonicFantasia; Complete, 1/1, 3.9k

Rating: General Audiences; Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply; Category: F/M Fandoms: Hero of Leaf Valley, Save the Homeland, Magical Melody Relationship: Dia/Kurt | Hayato; Characters: Kurt, Dia Summary: It had taken her forever to ask Kurt to join her for the Starry Night Festival. She wasn't a very courageous person when she needed it—but with help from Gina and Martha, Dia finally did it. With her date set in stone, what could go wrong? An unfortunate thing, that's what.

Opposites Attract - by SymphonicFantasia; Complete, 1/1, <1k

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences; Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply; Category: F/F Fandoms: Hero of Leaf Valley Relationships: Alice/Gwen; Characters: Alice, Gwen Additional Tags: Enemies to Lovers, Established Relationship, Dating, Date Night, Lesbians, Drabble, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Cute Ending, Cute, Fantasizing, Daydreaming Summary: She tried to tear the valley apart. She tried to stop her plans. When she won and the valley was saved, she thought she would never have to see her again. She was wrong, though. And the more she saw her, the more they talked and opened up to one another, the more they fell in love.

#fresh crop monday #harvest moon #story of seasons #hm 64 #friends of mineral town #trio of towns #hm ds cute #hero of leaf valley #save the homeland #magical melody

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harry-on-broadway · 2 years

Text

Tying You to Me: Chapter Eight

Chapter Eight

Word Count: 10.3K || Series Masterlist || Rating: M

A/N: I’m sorry it took so long, but Chapter Eight is finally here! Thank you so much for reading -- I’m honestly surprised people are still interested in reading about Harry and Quinn and it truly makes me day when I see this story in my notes. My inbox is always open, so don’t hesitate to share your thoughts when you’re finished reading!

***

November 2019

“Harry! You can’t do it like that. It’s going to burn.”

“It’s fine.”

“It’s not!”

Quinn watched in horror as Harry rotated a marshmallow over the lighter he’d pulled from the back of a kitchen drawer, trying to avoid burning his fingertips as he toasted the fluffy treat. But it only took one second before the marshmallow crossed the very fine line between perfectly toasted and burnt.

It had been Harry’s idea to spend Sunday having a cozy date night at Quinn’s loft. He’d wined and dined her with a candlelit dinner of his famous cacio e pepe served alongside a vintage red, and when he mentioned dessert, Quinn figured it would be equally fancy. So, when Harry pulled a bag of Jet-Puffed Marshmallows, a box of graham crackers, and a bar of Hershey’s chocolate from the cabinet, she was surprised.

“You were talking about your summers at camp last week, so I figured we could throw it back and try to make our own version,” Harry had said, unwrapping the ingredients.

Which is how they found themselves standing over the sink, Bic lighter in hand, trying to toast marshmallows with no fire pit in sight. After Harry’s third failed attempt, Quinn laid her hand on his arm, gently suggesting they try something else for dessert. Harry, stubborn as ever, destroyed two more marshmallows before accepting the pint of ice cream Quinn had offered as a consolation prize.

Quinn snuggled into Harry’s side, digging her spoon into the carton he was holding while he pulled up the new reality show they had started last week. Ice cream on the spoon, she held it against Harry’s lips, which he opened to accept the treat as he pressed play.

It had been a perfect evening.

Honestly, all of her evenings had been perfect since that night in Lisa’s bathroom.

After their official reconciliation, Harry and Quinn quickly adapted to being a couple. His remaining days in New York had been spent with Quinn, in his apartment, where they enjoyed cooking meals together and searching for apartments until Quinn found the loft of her dreams in Clinton. As much as Harry wanted Quinn to continue to stay in his empty apartment, he knew having a place of her own was important to her, so he was right by her side the day she signed the lease, carrying boxes and assembling furniture until the early hours of the morning.

When it was time for him to leave the city a few weeks later, he made a promise that the distance wouldn’t come between them this time, and that he would be the partner Quinn deserved. She was hesitant, but each day, Harry lived up to his promise, checking in with her throughout the day, making sure they talked before bed each night, and counting down the days until they could reunite in person. He was the perfect boyfriend, and Quinn was over the moon when Harry returned to the city in September as promised, ready to serve as Quinn’s date to Maria’s wedding.

The effort wasn’t one-sided. Quinn carved out time to visit Harry when he was in Los Angeles, spending time with his friends and watching him work through songs for his upcoming album. She made sure to communicate with him as much as she could, realizing that her tendency to hold things in contributed to their prior downfall.

Things weren’t perfect. They’d had a few spats over trivial things – like driving to the reception venue for Maria’s wedding and trying to figure out what time to arrive at the airport – but overall things had been good and healthy, and Quinn had started measuring her life in the number of days until she could see Harry again.

Quinn knew things wouldn’t always be easy, especially with the new season of SNL gearing up and Harry turning his attention to promo for his new album, but they’d discussed how they would get through this busy stretch. Quinn was certain things would be fine, knowing that she could survive without seeing Harry in person, but she was still pleasantly surprised when his name came up during a pitch meeting for the final stretch of episodes for 2019.

She’d arrived late to the meeting after sorting out a scheduling issue for the current week’s show, and when she slid into the seat at the end of the table, she thought she’d misheard what Lorne had said.

“Who?” she asked.

“Harry Styles. His new album is coming out soon, right?” Lorne asked before taking a sip of water.

“Yeah, December 13,” Quinn said without thinking.

Everyone’s eyes turned to her as she panicked. With the exception of Marcus, no one at SNL knew about her and Harry and everything they’d been through. At first, she’d kept the secret simply because of the tenuous nature of the relationship in its early days, but even now with the commitment and stability she wasn’t sure how much she should say. She knew Harry valued his privacy and she did everything in her power to respect that. And while friends and family and all of the important people in her life knew that they were together, she wasn’t sure if it was time to tell her work colleagues, especially since the revelation would likely create more questions.

“Big Harry Styles fan, Quinn?” Che asked, as Marcus tried to hide his giggles behind a well-placed file folder.

“Uh, my old roommate is,” Quinn fibbed, as heat filled her cheeks. “She said his new single is really good. Kind of different from his first record.”

“I think he’d be a good fit for a hosting slot,” Lindsay said, seconding Lorne. “He’s popular and he’ll definitely bring a younger audience. And I’d love to see what he can do with the full set of sketches. He was great in that one he did last time.”

“Celebrity Family Feud,” Quinn supplied. God damn it, why did she keep doing this?

Once again eyes were on her as the rest of the producers and head writers laughed at her.

“Quinn,” Colin said. “This is a safe space. You can admit you’re the one that’s the Harry fan. You don’t need to hide behind your ‘old roommate.’”

“Fuck you, Colin,” Quinn said as the Update anchor laughed.

“So we’re all set for November,” Lorne said, getting the meeting back on track. “Kristen Stewart, Harry Styles, and Will. Make the calls people, let’s get this locked in.”

Quinn caught Marcus’ eye as the room emptied out, and they made their way to the empty breakroom across the hall.

“That was totally normal,” he began when the door was closed.

“Yeah, I really melted down there.”

“It’s fine. Everyone just thinks you’re a stan now. And in a way, aren’t you the biggest one of them all?”

Quinn lightly socked Marcus in the shoulder, leaving him laughing in the room. As she spent the rest of the morning checking items off of her to-do list, she thought about texting Harry and letting him know about that morning’s conversation, but she wasn’t sure if that crossed some sort of professional or personal boundary, so she’d kept silent. But as she was finishing her desk salad and vending machine Diet Coke, her phone vibrated with a text from him.

Jeffrey just informed me that I’m wanted as host and musical guest for an upcoming SNL episode. Do you have anything to do with this?

Quinn poked out a reply with one hand. Believe it or not they were already discussing you when I came into the room. You’ve got a lot of fans here. Must have made a good impression or something.

Harry was quick to respond. You weren’t the only person I took to the coat room.

Quinn laughed. And here I thought I was special.

You’re the most special of them all. You’re my girl.

Quinn smiled at her phone as her stomach flipped. She didn’t know when she’d become one of those women who smiled at her phone and got all gooey when some guy texted her, but she was sure there was some correlation to Harry’s arrival in her life. Are you going to do it? she asked.

Harry’s contact photo filled her screen and she put down her fork to accept the call and lift the phone to her ear.

“Hi love,” Harry said.

“Hiiiii.”

“Finishing up lunch?”

“Yeah,” Quinn said, chewing on a piece of lettuce. “What’s up?”

“Do you think I should do it?”

Quinn paused. She and Harry often talked about their professional endeavors, but they rarely sought advice from one another. She was flattered that he valued her opinion enough to ask about this and she spoke without hesitation. “I think you should.”

And that was how Harry found himself in New York City two weeks before Thanksgiving, roasting marshmallows in his girlfriend’s loft. Quinn still had to work, but Harry kept himself busy, working on his own projects and quietly playing tourist during the day, before excitedly embracing his role as Quinn’s supportive boyfriend at night, having dinner or a late night snack ready for her when she walked through the door, and helping her destress any way she needed.

Harry’s laugh brought Quinn back to the present, tucked under his arm, the evening before his week at SNL started. They hadn’t had the time to discuss it last week, and when Quinn had tried to bring it up throughout the day, he’d noticeably changed the subject of conversation. She hadn’t pushed, knowing there was likely a reason he didn’t want to discuss it and just tried her best to show that she was there for him if he needed the support.

When the show ended, Quinn tightened her grip around Harry’s waist and tilted her head up to kiss his jaw. “Ready for bed?” she asked.

“Yeah, we should probably turn in,” he said. “Got a big week ahead of us.”

He flicked the TV off and stood up, pulling Quinn with him. They went through their nighttime routine together, pulling on pajamas, brushing teeth, and applying different moisturizers and creams until they collapsed into bed together, assuming the familiar position – facing each other with legs intertwined, Harry's hand on top of Quinn’s hip.

Her t-shirt had shifted up, exposing part of her side, and Harry’s hand instantly found it, tracing shapes along her warm skin. Over the past couple of months, Quinn had learned that this was some sort of soothing routine, a way to ground him after a busy day or calm him when he was stressed. The more comfort he needed, the more intricate the shapes became. Tonight, it felt like he was drawing some sort of floral pattern, which put Quinn on high alert. At this point, she knew better than to pry so she lay in silence gazing at Harry’s downturned eyes, hoping her presence would help him open up.

His hand drifted up from her hip up her ribcage before he spoke.

“Do I need to prepare any jokes for tomorrow? Come in with my own monologue?”

So that’s what it was. Quinn rested her hand against his face, stroking his cheekbone.

“No,” she murmured. “But you do need to have three or four sketches prepared.”

Harry smiled as he pinched her side before turning solemn again. “How do you think this week is going to go?”

Quinn was puzzled by his question. She hadn’t been expecting that one. “Hopefully it will be business as usual,” she said. “We’ll have a pitch meeting, write some sketches, rehearse, put on a show. Same as every week.”

“But do you think I’ll be able to do it?”

Ah, the other issue.

Quinn tilted Harry’s face up so he was looking at her again. In the dim light of the bedroom, she saw something that wasn’t common with Harry: insecurity. He carried himself with such confidence in his career and life that she wasn’t used to needing to comfort him in this way.

“Harry, you’re going to be fine,” she said, softly stroking his hair. “I hate to break it to you, but you are massively popular, incredibly well-liked, and every single person at the show is excited that you’re hosting this week. They don’t get excited about shitty hosts.”

“But what if I let them down?”

“That’s not going to happen. You’re funny, you can act, and you’re charming as hell.”

“Did they only pick me because we’re dating?”

Quinn paused. “No. Because it’s kind of hard to know we’re dating if I haven’t told them.”

Harry raised his eyebrows. “They don’t know about us? Haven’t we been through this before?”

Quinn rolled her eyes. “It’s not the same and you know it. I’ve just tried to respect your privacy by keeping things on a need-to-know basis, and I just feel that Colin Jost and Michael Che don’t need to know that we are in a relationship. But the point is, you were asked on your own merit, Harry. And you’re going to kill it this week.”

She leaned in to kiss him firmly, and Harry adjusted his position on the bed to pull Quinn against him in a tight hug. She could feel him start to relax and settle and she felt good knowing her words had calmed him. She stayed awake until she heard his breathing even out and when she woke the next morning, she heard Harry in the kitchen, brewing coffee and cooking pancakes and eggs, his anxiety from the night before gone.

Quinn had to get to 30 Rock a little earlier than Harry, so she multitasked, putting on makeup while she ate and answering Harry’s remaining questions. Even with the distraction of Harry, she was unlocking her office a little bit before eight, starting on emails and scheduling, when she heard someone clearing their throat in the doorway. She looked up and saw Marcus standing there, carrying a cup of iced coffee.

“For me?” Quinn asked, surprised. She and Marcus usually gave each other a heads up before grabbing coffee for the other.

“This week’s host and musical guest had a provision in his rider that his girlfriend needed a coffee to start her week on a good note.”

“He did not say that.”

“Well, not in the rider but he did text me this morning and ask if I’d be willing to play along with his joke.”

Quinn arched an eyebrow as she put the straw in the cup. “You all text?”

“Occasionally. Really only when we need to talk about you.”

“You text about me?”

“It’s actually a whole group text. It can be emotionally exhausting dealing with you sometimes and we all need a support group to deal with it,” he said, kidding. “Are you nervous about this week,” Marcus asked, changing the subject. “About working with Harry?”

“No,” Quinn said. She didn’t add that Harry was the one who was nervous, not wanting to betray his trust. “It will be interesting for sure. But it should be fun.”

Fun it was.

Quinn could sense the moment Harry stepped into the halls, just by the change of energy in the room. The always electric atmosphere had been amped up and as she walked from her office to one of the conference rooms she could hear whispers from excited interns and pages who still couldn’t believe the Harry Styles was going to be spending the week with them. Quinn had expected it to be somewhat like this, but nothing prepared her for the reaction when he actually stepped through the door.

Harry was wearing an ornate coat over top of a vintage tee and wide-legged jeans, the denim newsboy cap he’d grown so attached to in recent months perched on his head. The combination would look out of place on literally anyone, but looked annoyingly good on him.

Quinn fought back the urge to run to Harry and throw herself in his arms, and instead took the opportunity to observe. Harry’s quiet confidence had returned, and he greeted every person he passed, introducing himself and repeating the name of whoever he was speaking to. He took his time with each conversation, even though Quinn could see Marcus, his new intern, Bennett, and Tommy, one of Harry’s managers trying their best to hurry him along. They caught sight of Quinn and Marcus and Bennett waved while Tommy shook his head and rolled his eyes at Harry’s slow pace down the hall. When Harry finally made his way to the conference room, he stopped beside Quinn and put his hand on her shoulder, squeezing gently.

“Did you enjoy your coffee?”

“Yeah, the bar’s pretty high for Ferrell next week. He’s going to have to get me coffee and a pastry.”

Harry barked a sharp laugh.

Quinn looked at him closely. “How are you feeling?”

“The nerves are definitely there, but they’re the good kind.”

Quinn nodded. “That’s what I like to hear.” She was about to say something else, when she heard Lindsay and Higgins call for everyone to be seated. She scooted past Harry and sat on the periphery of the room, ready to take notes and offer input when needed, just as she did every other week.

It was odd getting to observe her boyfriend in a professional environment, but Quinn was weirdly into it. Harry was authentically himself in whatever situation he found himself in, listening attentively to make whoever he was speaking to feel like the only person in the room. He was appropriately humble and bashful, and he appeared game for every sketch the writers and cast members suggested, though Quinn suspected some of the more provocative ones would politely be dismissed by Harry’s team.

When the pitch meeting wrapped a couple hours later, Quinn lingered, trying to get a moment with Harry, wanting to tell him that he’d done well. He seemed a little more assured as he chatted with the cast members, but she figured a little bit of encouragement couldn’t hurt. Getting a second alone with him proved to be more difficult than she imagined, and eventually she had to dash to her next meeting, catching Harry’s eye with a sorrowful shrug before leaving the room.

Quinn managed to iron out publicity schedules for the week and resolve several small issues with costumes and props not having the supplies they’d need for later on in the week, and was more than ready to sit down with her late lunch. She collected her salad from one of the restaurants on the concourse and was seated at her desk when there was a knock at the door.

“This is Quinn, our best and brightest producer,” she heard Marcus say. “But I guess you already know that.”

“Ah, yes, I believe Quinn and I have met before,” Harry said, poking his head through the door and grinning impishly.

“What are you two doing?” Quinn asked, standing to hug Harry.

“Just gossiping about you,” he said as he leaned down to kiss her.

“I told you,” Marcus said from the hall. “We talk. But seriously, I was just giving him the standard tour for hosts. Figured we could make a quick detour to see you though.”

“Well, I appreciate that,” Quinn said, leaning against Harry, who hadn’t removed his hands from her.

“We can finish the tour in 20?” Marcus asked Harry, who nodded in return.

Marcus closed the door behind him, granting Harry and Quinn a sliver of privacy, and Harry sank onto the couch opposite Quinn’s desk, pulling her on top of him.

“I’ve missed you,” he said against her hair.

“Harry, we’ve been in the same building the entire day.”

“Yeah, but I couldn’t see you or talk to you or do this.” He gripped her face in his hands and pulled her close, sucking a lengthy kiss from her lips.

“Feel better now?” Quinn asked when they parted.

“A little.”

“You’re doing a great job, Harry,” Quinn said. “You really are.”

Harry let out a slow breath. “Not going to lie, I really needed to hear that.”

“Still feeling apprehensive?” Quinn brought her hand up to his face and started rubbing the spot behind his ear that she knew made him melt.

“Yeah, like I’m excited and it’s been so much fun but I also feel like I’m not going to be good. Especially after hearing some of the things they want to try. When they put a script in my hand it’s going to be like ‘Ugh, this guy.’”

“Harry, I’ve seen you act and do sketches and I guarantee that even if you bomb, you won’t be the worst host we’ve had.”

Harry hummed softly and rested his head against Quinn’s chest as she shifted and began to stroke his hair.

“Do you think that one sketch is too much?” he asked after a minute.

“Which one?”

“The one about the band?”

Quinn thought for a moment. “As someone who has no connection to the subject matter, I think it’s funny, but I can see why you might have concerns. And if you’re uncomfortable, you can and should speak up. They’ll find something else that works.”

Harry pursed his lips. “I don’t want to be difficult,” he said.

“You’re not,” Quinn reassured him. “As host you’re allowed to veto certain subjects and if you don’t want to say it yourself, you can have Jeffrey tell me and I can tell everyone else. There’s plenty of options.”

Harry nodded. Quinn could still see the wheels turning – his brain rarely shut off when it came to work, something that was both admirable and frustrating – but he seemed less concerned.

“Thank you, Agent Q.”

“Not a problem. I’ve never been able to serve as girlfriend and producer in the same conversation so it was kind of fun.”

Harry chuckled. “Are you busy? Do you have stuff to do?”

“I was getting ready to eat lunch, so nothing at the moment.”

“Shit!” Harry exclaimed. “Why didn’t you tell me? You need to eat.”

“Harry, it is a soggy salad from Sweetgreen that will still be soggy, regardless of whether I eat it now or later.”

Harry loosened his grip on Quinn and prodded her forward. “Go eat.”

Quinn rolled her eyes and moved back to her desk, opening the salad and bottle of water, taking a bit as Harry looked around the room.

“What’s that from?” he asked, pointing at a framed piece of posterboard on the wall.

“Cue card from my first show as producer,” Quinn replied. “They give out cue cards for monumental shows…first show, last show, things like that.”

“And are those just pictures from work,” Harry asked, standing to get a closer look at the rows of pictures that were tacked onto the wall around the frame.

Quinn nodded as she swallowed. “Yeah, Marcus and I decided to take a picture to commemorate our first show. Felicity Jones was the host. And after that we just decided to take pictures for each show and pick the one that best captured the events of the week and hang it up.”

Harry scanned the pictures. “Are they in order?”

“Yes…”

“Hmmm.”

“What are you looking for?”

“The week we met.”

She should have known. This was typical sentimental Harry.

“Up and to your right,” Quinn said. She watched Harry move until he locked in on the picture. He laughed softly and turned back to Quinn. “Seriously?”

The picture was one Marcus had taken on show night the week Harry and Quinn had met. It was a shot of Quinn’s back as she stood off to the side watching Harry perform. It was a simple moment, but given their past, present, and dreams for the future, it was full of emotion and meaning.

Quinn shrugged. “Marcus gave it to me the Monday after your show and said that even if nothing happened, I should remember the moment. It was a pretty good one.”

Harry just looked at Quinn, love and adoration in his eyes. “Yeah, it was.”

“Harry? Are you ready to continue the tour?” Marcus called from outside the door.

Harry cursed silently under his breath. “Yeah, one minute.” He turned his attention back to Quinn. “Are you coming to the dinner tonight?”

She nodded. “I’ll be there.”

“Good,” Harry said, kissing her on the cheek and walking out of her office.

Quinn kept herself busy for the rest of the afternoon and before she knew it, it was time for the cast dinner. Each Monday, the cast, writers, and producers would have dinner with that week’s host at a fancy Midtown restaurant. It was a way to connect and bond with the person that would be at the center of that week’s show, while also indulging in a moment of levity before the hard work of the week kicked off. The dinners were intimidating at first – how weird was it to eat next to Tina Fey or Steve Martin? – but Quinn eventually acclimated and started to appreciate the opportunity she had to meet the people who had inspired her to follow this career path.

When it came time to leave, Quinn thought about sharing a car with Harry, but knew that would prompt questions, so she headed out with Lindsey and Racquel, a recent addition to the writer’s room, just as she had the past couple of weeks. At the restaurant, Quinn saw Harry from across the room and he offered her a big wave and smile before turning back to his conversation with Pete and Chris. Quinn thought about heading over towards the men, but got distracted by her own conversation with Racquel and Cecily, who had just arrived.

As more cast members showed up, people headed for the tables and Quinn found herself far away from Harry. He looked a little disappointed that they weren’t closer, but quickly perked up once Colin asked him about his upcoming album. The mood of the evening was jovial, and with Harry at the head of the table next to Lorne, he looked like a prince holding court with his subjects. Everyone was enamored with him, hanging onto his every word and jostling to chat with him and get his opinion on different topics. It was like he was an old friend that everyone was catching up with, and Quinn felt a burst of pride that she was the one who would get to go home with him that night.

The food was delicious. Appetizers, salads, steaks, pasta, and plenty of desserts filled the table and drinks were replenished quickly. Quinn was starting to loosen up after her second glass of wine, and from across the room, she’d seen that Harry had also indulged, two empty glasses of tequila in front of him. Filled with food and alcohol, things started to wind down a couple of hours later when the realization that tomorrow was a long day with an early start hit, causing everyone to call Ubers, Lyfts, and taxis to take them home.

Over the course of the evening, Quinn and Racquel had migrated around the table and found themselves sitting with Heidi and Melissa discussing last week’s show, as the party wound down. She was listening to Melissa talk about an Update segment when she heard someone come up behind her. She paid no mind to it until she felt a hand on her shoulder.

“Heidi, Melissa, it was nice to meet you today,” Harry said, words steady even after a couple of drinks. “Really looking forward to this week.” He looked down at Quinn and bent to press a kiss to her head. “I’m going to head out now, but I’ll see you at home?”

Quinn was still. “Yeah, I’ll see you at home,” she said, squeezing his hand.

When Harry had walked away, Quinn turned back to Heidi, Melissa, and Racquel. The three women were staring at her open-mouthed in shock.

“Did he just kiss you?” Melissa asked.

“Did you both say see you at home?” Racquel asked.

“Quinn, I respect your right to privacy,” Heidi said. “But also I don’t. Tell me everything! What is happening?”

“So, Harry and I know each other,” Quinn began.

“That much is clear,” Melissa replied.

“We met when I was an intern, kind of saw each other for a little bit, lost touch, and then reconnected earlier this year and decided to start dating – properly.”

“Finally! A woman on this show uses it to find a date! The men have done that long enough. I’m proud of you, Quinn,” Heidi said, lifting her glass.

“But why didn’t you tell us?” Racquel asked. As much time as the cast and crew spent together, everyone knew each other’s business, so the fact that Quinn was able to keep her relationship with Harry a secret for as long as she did was kind of impressive.

Quinn sighed. “Well, at first it was just because I wasn’t sure where it was going and then when we made things official this year, it was more of a privacy thing. I know it’s sometimes hard for him to have things that are just his, and I wanted to respect that.”

“That’s really sweet, Quinn,” Melissa said, as Heidi and Racquel nodded. “I can see that you all would be good together. Even with the limited amount of time I’ve spent with him, he seems like a wonderful person – just what our Quinn needs.”

Quinn flushed with embarrassment. “Thank you. He is pretty great, isn’t he?”

The other women nodded their agreement and the conversation quickly shifted back to work and other topics, before they all agreed it was getting too late and they should head out. Quinn called an Uber and texted Harry from the backseat that she was on her way.

Hurry up, he replied. The bed is cold without you.

Quinn smiled and raced into the building when the car dropped her off, willing the elevator ride to her loft to go a little faster. She unlocked the door and walked into the unit, smiling to herself as she placed her keys on the hook in the entryway. It still hadn’t sunk in that she had her own space after so many years of rooming with others.

“Quinn?” she heard Harry call from the bedroom.

She climbed the stairs and poked her head in the room. Harry was lying in bed, shirtless, a book splayed across his chest. “You rang?” she asked.

“How was the rest of the dinner?” Harry asked, drowsily sliding up to rest against the headboard.

“It was nice,” Quinn said, taking off her rings and unfastening her necklace, placing them in a jewelry dish on her dresser. “But um…” she trailed off as she turned her attention to the stubborn earring back she was wrestling with. “People might know we’re dating now.”

She paused, gauging Harry’s reaction. “Are you OK with that?” she asked after a minute.

Harry laughed. “Yeah, I kind of told Chris and Pete and Lorne at the start of dinner. Are you OK with that?”

“Lorne?” Quinn said. “Lorne knows?”

“Are you mad?” Harry asked, suddenly concerned that he had made a severe mistake. “I didn’t mean to –”

“It’s fine, Harry,” Quinn said, cutting him off with a laugh. “It’s just I don’t think I’ve ever told Lorne anything about my personal life so this just feels like kind of a big step.” She walked over and sat on the edge of the bed, next to Harry, who reached out to rub her lower back. “I guess we’re just really embracing the whole workplace romance thing this week.”

“Does that mean we can have sex in your office?”

“Harry!”

“What? I figured I would ask.”

“That’s going to be a no,” Quinn said, stepping away to finish getting undressed. “Tonight in this bedroom though? I can be into that.”

***

News of Harry and Quinn’s relationship was the talk of the town when they arrived at 30 Rock on Tuesday morning.

Everyone from Colin and Che to Wally, who was responsible for cue cards each week, seemed to know and wanted to congratulate Quinn. Thankfully, the rhythm of the work week soon took precedence and everyone began the day-long writing session.

Since the host traditionally didn’t participate in writing the sketches, Harry had less to do, but filled the day working on the musical aspect of Saturday night, and as Quinn dashed around the halls and studio, she heard the faint echoes of his voice, which put a smile on her face. When he was done with rehearsal, Harry convinced her to take a break, a rare occurrence in recent months, as Quinn typically found herself working through lunch. At 12pm exactly, Harry knocked on the door of Quinn’s office. Quinn looked up from her desk and saw Harry standing there with two sandwiches and bottles of water.

“Time for lunch?” he asked.

“Yes! What did you get?” Quinn asked, moving a pile of papers to make space for Harry and the food.

“Tuna for me, turkey for you.” He placed the sandwiches on the table and started to unwrap them. “Busy morning?”

“Eh, it’s the calm before the storm. Once we have all the sketches selected things will amp up and I’ll have to make sure everything’s on track for production. I’m also helping to coordinate the pre-taped sketches this week so that’s another thing on the list.”

“So what you’re saying is I won’t see you until Sunday morning?”

“Pretty much.” Quinn took a bite of her sandwich, chewing thoughtfully. “This is really good. Where did you find it?”

“Jeffrey picked it up a couple of blocks away.”

“He’s doing food runs for you now? When did I miss this?”

Harry ignored her playful jab. “It’s amazing all of the good food you can find if you actually leave the building.”

Quinn shook her head. “If I had the time I would. How’s today been? Are you feeling a little more comfortable?”

“Yeah. A little nervous about what sketches are going to be written but it should be fun to figure that out.”

“Remember you always have veto power.”

“Thank you for reminding me, Madam Producer.”

Quinn smiled. “I like the sound of that.”

“I’m sure you do.”

“Harry?” James, one of the fall interns poked his head in through the cracked door. “Eric told me to come find you because they need you for a wardrobe fitting.” He looked over at Quinn. “Hi Quinn!” He seemed to reconsider. “Is it OK if Harry leaves? Or do you still need him.”

“It’s fine,” Quinn said, offering an encouraging smile. James was a sweet kid and she could tell he was often nervous about saying or doing the wrong thing. “We were just eating lunch.”

“I’ll check in later, OK?” Harry looked at Quinn. “Maybe we can do dinner?”

“I’d love to if I have the time.”

There was no time though, and over the next few days Harry and Quinn were like ships passing in the night, catching glimpses of each other in the hall or across the table, but not really connecting until they collapsed into bed next to each other, too tired to do anything but mumble a sleepy goodnight and share a kiss. Quinn knew things wouldn’t ease up until Sunday morning when they officially wrapped the week but Harry was surprised by the frenetic pace of things.

“I don’t know how you are able to do this week after week,” he said on Wednesday afternoon, filling a cup of coffee before the table read. “I think I’m sleepwalking.”

Even with the adjustment required, everything came naturally to Harry, something that didn’t surprise Quinn. During the table read he nailed nearly every sketch that was placed in front of him, which made finalizing the list for the live show much more difficult. Julio and Bowen’s sketch about Sara Lee’s Instagram comments was an immediate hit, as was one about airline pilots. Harry was open to anything, barring one sketch parodying a potential One Direction reunion that he politely declined.

When Friday rolled around, Quinn was on set, supervising the pre-recorded sketches – one in which Harry played a dog come to life and another where he played a high school student and rapped. Watching Harry made Quinn forget about the exhaustion and the stress of the week and she truly enjoyed seeing him in his element. He could probably make a full-time pivot to comedy if he wanted based on the response from the rest of the crew and the cast.

“Hey girl!”

Quinn looked up from her space in the auditorium to see Heidi and Melissa making their way over with Kim, one of the wardrobe supervisors.

“Hey!” Quinn called back. “Happy Friday. How’re things?”

“Good good,” Heidi said, stirring her iced coffee.

“They have you on pre-recorded sketches this week?” Kim asked, grimacing. “Does Lorne realize how much work you already do?”

Quinn shrugged. “What’s one more thing added to my already overflowing plate?”

“Quinn’s just happy because she gets to watch her man charm the pants off of literally everyone,” Melissa chimed in.

“I won’t lie, that is a perk,” Quinn said, laughing.

“Oh that’s right,” Kim said. “I forgot to tell you congratulations. So happy for you Quinn.”

“Thanks,” Quinn said. “I won’t lie, it is kind of weird to have people congratulate me on this. It’s not like we’re married or anything.”

“Yet!” Melissa and Heidi said at the same time.

“Stop it,” Quinn said, fiddling with her notes.

“Do you see the way he looks at you, Quinn?” Melissa asked. “He is the epitome of a heart eye emoji.”

“Quinn, do you understand just how good of catch he is?” Heidi jumped in. “He refused to touch my shoulder during the birthing class sketch because I hadn’t given him consent yet. If I wasn’t married and you weren’t dating him, I would have made out with him on the spot.”

“He is pretty wonderful,” Quinn said.

“We just need to enjoy your time with you while we can,” Kim said, squeezing Quinn’s hand.

“What do you mean?” Quinn asked, confused.

“Well, if things are going to get more serious, you all are going to have to think about the future. Marriage, kids. Look at how many people here are able to have a family. Practically no one.”

Quinn felt hot all over. “Kenan has a wife and kids.”

“Let me rephrase that,” Kim said. “Look how many women are able to have a family and still do the show.”

Quinn searched her brain. None of the women who were currently working in the cast or among the writers and producers had kids. She understood that it would be difficult to have a kid with the intense schedule during show weeks but she’d always figured she’d make it work and that her partner would help out. But if her partner was touring the world…She felt sick when she came to the realization.

“Kim, you’ve terrified her,” Melissa chided. “You can do whatever you want sweetie. And everyone here will support you because we love you.” She leaned in to give Quinn an awkward sitting side hug.

“Yeah, and it’s not like we’ve even talked about any of that,” Quinn said softly, not able to hear herself over the roaring in her ears.

She thought she heard Rhys call cut and announce that they’d wrapped, and she jumped from her seat, struggling to regulate her breathing as she made her way back to her office, looking for a moment of solitude to fix whatever was happening to her right now.

Slamming the door she sat on the couch and tried to pull air into her lungs. She’d been fine five minutes ago. What the hell was happening? She closed her eyes and took slow, deep breaths. She’d been talking with Melissa, Heidi, and Kim. Kim! It was Kim reminding her that even as good as things were, she still had no idea what the future would hold for her and Harry. Taking things one week at a time was working now, but what about when they wanted more? You couldn’t take things one week at a time with a houseplant, or a dog, or a kid.

And that’s ultimately what she wanted – a life with Harry full of leafy greenery, furry dogs, and rambunctious kids who were the perfect combination of their parents. Kids whose parents who toured the world and produced late night comedy shows and never saw them. Quinn had no idea why this was suddenly such a massive problem, but it was killing her that while she could solve any issue the production faced she couldn’t find the solution to this problem that impacted her the most. She was so caught up in the spiral of thoughts that she didn’t hear Harry come in and take a seat next to her.

“What’s wrong, Quinn?” he asked.

She turned to look at him. He was still wearing the sweater and collar from the dog sketch they had finished filming, concern all over his face as he took in her disheveled state.

“You’re not supposed to be wearing that when you’re not filming,” she said softly.

“I’m not really worried about that now,” Harry said gently. “I saw you run out of the studio and thought something was wrong. You didn’t look…well,” he finished carefully.

“I’m fine.”

“Are you? Because crying and hyperventilating on the couch doesn’t seem fine.”

“What’s going to happen when we have kids, Harry?”

“H –”

“Not now Jeffrey!” Harry all but shouted at his manager outside the door. He looked at Quinn with surprise. “Is there something you need to tell me?” he asked, lowering his voice as Jeffrey’s footsteps faded outside the door. “We’ve been careful, right?”

“I’m not pregnant,” Quinn said firmly. “But what if I was? What would we do with a baby when you’re on tour and I’m here.”

Harry was silent, mulling his response. “I’m a little confused,” he finally said.

Quinn threw her head in her hands and started to cry while a surprised Harry rubbed circles on her back. He didn’t say anything, he just let her get it out.

“Quinn, can we talk –” An intern was outside the door.

“Quinn’s not available at the moment,” Harry said when it became clear Quinn was in no position to speak.

When she’d run out of tears, Harry spoke again.

“Can you tell me what happened?” he said. “From the beginning?”

“I was just talking with some of the girls and they were joking about us being a good match and one of them brought up us getting married and having kids and how that would make it hard for me to work here and I just had this moment of panic when I realized that we haven’t had any conversations about the future and you’re going on tour again and I’m busier than ever and how this is going to be our life and if that’s our life how do all of those other things fit in?”

“Um, wow, OK,” Harry said, trying to process everything Quinn just dropped on him. “Those are all really important conversations we need to have,” he said carefully. “But I don’t think your office when we’re both sleep deprived and have to put on a live show tomorrow night is time to discuss this.” He took her hand. “But I agree, this is something we need to talk about.”

Quinn looked at him. “You’re not freaked out?”

Harry shook his head. “No. A little caught off guard, yes, but not freaked. Definitely wasn’t planning on having a conversation about kids this soon, but if that’s something you want and need to discuss, I’m here.” He paused. “This is part of me trying to be a better partner for you. I want to make sure you feel heard and supported.” Quinn looked at him. “That was too cheesy, wasn’t it?” he said, cringing, cheeks pink.

“It was cheesy, but hearing that made me fall in love with you a little more.”

Harry reached up to wipe a tear from Quinn’s cheek. “We’ll talk about this later, but what can I do for you now?”

“Just hold me for a minute,” Quinn said.

Harry obliged, and he opened his arms for Quinn to slide in. They sat like that for a few minutes until the intern returned, calling Quinn back to the studio.

“It’ll be OK,” Harry said, giving her a final squeeze before heading to another fitting.

Quinn made it through the rest of the day without having another breakdown but she still felt on edge the entire time. When she and Harry made it home in the early hours of Saturday morning, they rushed through their respective routines before climbing into bed. Harry opened his arms for Quinn, and she wrapped hers around his solid torso, cuddling in beside him as tight as she could.

“What are you doing the rest of the month?” Harry asked.

“I’ve got another show next weekend and then I was just going to stay in the city for Thanksgiving since my parents are on their cruise.”

“Why don’t we go away somewhere?” Harry suggested. “Just the two of us, no work, no distractions. We can talk, get some quality time in before things get crazy.”

Quinn looked up at him. “I’d really love that, Harry.”

He leaned down to kiss her. “I thought you would. How would you feel about a long weekend in the Hamptons? I might have a lead on a beach house.”

“I’d be very OK with that,” Quinn said, kissing him back.

***

Saturday’s call time came much earlier than either of them would like, but Harry and Quinn arrived at 30 Rock ready for game time. Quinn put aside the panic of the day before and shifted into full producer mode, making sure everything was in line. Even though Harry was concerned about Quinn, he put his full attention on the show, gamely moving from last-minute fittings to sound check to prepping for dress rehearsal.

The first audience arrived around 7 ahead of the 8 o’clock dress rehearsal and Quinn went to check on Harry, waiting behind the curtain that would part to let him walk down the iconic steps and begin his monologue.

“This is just a dress rehearsal,” Quinn whispered, adjusting the lapels of his jacket. “It’s like fight club – nothing leaves this room.”

Harry chuckled. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

Just as Quinn suspected, Harry had nothing to worry about. The audience was eating out of the palm of his hand from the moment he stepped onstage. The Sara Lee sketch was a crowd favorite and Lorne gave a nod to the rest of the producers, signaling this was one sketch that absolutely had to make it to the live show. Harry’s musical performances were equally well received, and Quinn was certain that even despite strict privacy rules, some of the audience members would be making it known that a new song would be performed that night.

“We’re about four minutes over,” Lindsey said when the rehearsal was over. “What are we cutting?”

“I think we go with one of the pre-recorded sketches,” Quinn said confidently. “Nothing wrong with them but that’s an easy way to get additional views throughout the week. Maybe keep Joan Song in but make Jason a Cut for Time?”

“I like it,” Lorne said. And with that, the show was locked.

With everything finalized, Quinn made her last minute rounds to everyone, checking to make sure that everyone had what they needed, ending her journey back where she’d left Harry a few hours before.

He was shifting on his feet, eyes closed. Quinn stood off to the side, not wanting to interrupt whatever meditation or pre-show ritual he was in the middle of. After a few minutes his eyes opened and an easy smile formed on his lips when he saw Quinn.

“How are you feeling?” she asked.

“A little nervous but better now,” he said, echoing the words they’d exchanged when they’d first done this dance more than two years ago.

Quinn hugged him. “You’re going to fucking kill it, Harry.” She looked him up and down. “And look sexy as fuck when you do it.”

“This is a million times better than the pep talk you gave me last time. Do you really like the outfit?”

“I do. It’s a shame that the pants aren’t tighter, though. I miss seeing your ass,” she said.

“Well darling that’s the thing,” he drawled lazily against her ear. “Only you get to see the goods. Have to cover them up for everyone else.”

Quinn placed one final kiss on Harry’s lips before she stepped away and he took the stage.

The other producers had graciously offered to pick up some of Quinn’s show night responsibilities so she could sit back and watch Harry uninterrupted, an act of kindness she’d be sure to repay. For 90 minutes that night, she was just a face in the crowd, laughing at her boyfriend’s jokes, not worrying about her next meeting or how they were going to make this relationship work in the long run. As she sat back and enjoyed the show, she was amazed by how the evening made her love Harry and her job even more than she already did. During the final sketch, she snuck out of the crowd and made her way backstage and when Harry ran offstage after bows, her arms were where he landed.

“Proud of you,” Quinn whispered against his chest. “I’m so fucking proud of you.”

The after party was wild, though Harry and Quinn didn’t end up in the coat room this time. Cast members and guests each wanted a piece of the man of the hour and Harry happily obliged, posing for pictures, accepting drinks, and even doing a couple rounds of tequila shots

Harry and Quinn were both hungover on Sunday morning, so the day was spent in bed, watching TV, spooning, and eating takeout before Harry started packing for his early morning flight. The moment hit Quinn harder than she was expecting. She’d known this was the plan for weeks, and even though she’d be seeing him again in about 10 days, she still felt a sense of loss.

“I’ll be back before you know it,” Harry said as they left the next morning, him heading to the airport while Quinn went back to 30 Rock.

She was running a bit later than usual and texted Marcus, asking if he wanted her to bring him some coffee. His response was immediate – duh – and Quinn was only a few minutes off from her usual arrival time when she strolled in with the drinks, Marcus dutifully waiting outside of her office.

“I’ve got a present for you,” he said, holding the cups while Quinn unlocked the door.

“Do you?”

Marcus handed her an envelope in response.

She opened it as he sipped his coffee, watching her expectantly. The envelope contained a single four by six photo. The moment captured was the embrace between Harry and Quinn right before he went on for the live show.

“Marcus,” Quinn said, voice breaking.

“I was looking for you and saw that and just knew that was the moment of the week,” he said.

“Thank you,” Quinn said, standing and fetching a thumb tack from her desk. She walked over to the wall and pinned the photo next to last week’s. The moment of the week indeed.

***

One Week Later

“Do you think that’s enough pasta?” Harry asked quietly as they walked through the aisles of the grocery store.

“It’s a three-pound box and there’s two of us. I think it’s fine,” Quinn said with a laugh.

“I guess we can always get more if we need it,” Harry said, continuing to read the back of two boxes, while Quinn just shook her head.

They were picking up the last of the ingredients they’d need for dinner before heading back to the beach house to enjoy the rest of the holiday weekend. Quinn had been on cloud nine since they’d started the drive out of the city and her mood had only improved the more time she spent around Harry. He was the one that could effortlessly pull a smile from her and make her belly laugh every day, and as Quinn continued to mull Kim’s comments in the studio, she needed Harry’s charms more than ever.

When they’d arrived at the secluded beach house on Sunday night, they’d collapsed into bed, Harry’s lips quickly finding Quinn’s as he pinned her against the mattress and made love to her until their moans bounced off the ceiling and they fell asleep in each other’s arms.

Monday, unseasonably warm, was spent on the sandy strip of ocean front property adjacent to their lodgings, Harry pulling Quinn into the waves with him, laughing maniacally when they were both knocked over by a particularly strong one. Tuesday and Wednesday, typical November days were spent in the heated pool, where Harry alternated between swimming laps, starting a splash fight, and attaching himself to Quinn. Quinn wasn’t expecting much for the holiday on Thursday – it had been a low key affair growing up and she’d kept that tradition in her adult life – but Harry, in his typical fashion, surprised Quinn with an early dinner consisting of all the fixings of a Thanksgiving feast.

“I thought about roasting a turkey,” he admitted. “But knowing you’d be the only one to eat it, I felt like I might be punishing you with it instead.”

Quinn thanked him twice, first kissing him all over as he stood in the kitchen, and then getting on her knees before him in the shower later that night.

They’d gone an entire week without mentioning Quinn’s breakdown in her office. Not addressing the problem at hand was what they did best, after all. Quinn was hesitant to broach the subject, knowing that the serious conversation would likely put a damper on the remainder of the week. But Harry had made attempts to break down the walls Quinn had put up around her, testing the waters with questions here and there, not pushing further when Quinn made it clear she wasn’t in the mood to discuss things.

Which brought them to Saturday afternoon in the grocery store. As they were quietly debating the merits of different packages of pasta, a woman and a couple of children walked down the opposite side of the aisle.

“Mommy! Can I have this?” the girl shouted, pointing at a box of brown rice.

“No.”

“Can I have this?” The child was still fixated on brown rice, just a different brand.

“No.”

Quinn knew the mother was probably exasperated, patience wearing thin, but to Quinn, the child’s antics were comical. As she silently laughed, she caught Harry’s eye. He was doing the same, covering his mouth to mask his smile.

“That could be us one day,” he whispered in Quinn’s ear after the family had moved to the next aisle.

Quinn looked up at him. “We’re not having this discussion now, Harry.” She pulled a box of pasta from the shelf without looking, threw it in the cart, and walked away.

“Seriously?” Harry jogged lightly to keep up with Quinn’s quickened pace, still holding onto the boxes he’d been reading. “Two weeks ago you were sitting in your office crying over how we’re going to raise our non-existent kids that we hadn’t even discussed but I can’t make a casual comment like that? Feels like a double standard.”

“It’s more than a casual comment, Harry, and you know that.”

Harry pressed his lips together, taking a deep breath. “We need to talk about it, Quinn. We both said we were going to be better, and that means communicating.”

“So, we’re just going to have this conversation in the middle of a Stop & Shop?”

“Well, when you’ve been avoiding me all week…yes!” Harry was speaking quietly but there was a new level of intensity in his eyes. “You’ve got to talk to me, baby,” he said, the softness of his voice not matching the frustration on his face. “I want to make it better but I can’t do that unless you talk to me.”

Quinn could feel a storm of emotions brewing inside of her, the combination that made her want to throw herself on the ground and scream and cry like a child. She was trying to find the words to tell Harry this and every other thought that had been bouncing around her head for weeks, but they wouldn’t come out.

“Harry,” she said, voice breaking.

He instantly dropped the boxes he’d been holding and pulled her into his arms, smoothing his hands up and down her back. Quinn squeezed her eyes shut and fought back tears. She’d had a lot of personal low points in her life and she was adamant crying in the pasta aisle would not be added to that list. When she felt like she had things under control, she pulled away and looked up at Harry. “I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to apologize,” he said. “But why don’t we grab the last couple of things and head home?”

Quinn nodded, relinquishing control of both the grocery list and shopping cart to Harry, who quickly completed the trip. On the way back to the beach house, Harry stopped at a small coffeehouse they’d come to love during the week, buying Quinn a large, sugar-laden latte as a peace offering.

At home, Quinn was silent as they unpacked groceries and started dinner, the music from one of Harry’s playlists filling the room as they worked in perfect harmony to finish the meal. As they ate, Quinn started to open up as they sat down to eat, answering the softball questions Harry tossed at her – Who was hosting next week? How many shows were left in the season? What were her plans for Christmas?

When the dishes were washed, Harry led Quinn over to the couch. She sat down and tucked her legs under her, close enough that her knees were touching Harry’s. Harry rested one arm over the back of the couch and took Quinn’s hand in the other.

“I really don’t know where to start,” Quinn said.

“Start with whatever’s on your mind. Lay it all on me. I’m listening.”

With any other guy, Quinn would have rolled her eyes, but she knew Harry was for real. His large eyes were focused on her, clear and attentive. She took a breath.

“I don’t see this ending,” Quinn said slowly. “I’m not saying we need to get married tomorrow or anything but when I look to the future, I only see you.”

“I feel the same way,” Harry said, voice measured.

“Good. And in this future, are there kids?”

“Yes,” Harry said confidently. “A few of them.”

“And what are we doing when these kids are around?”

“Not sure how to answer that.”

Quinn picked at her cuticle. “Like are we in London? New York? Are you on tour? Are we together as a family?”

“I always thought my family would live in London,” Harry said, not quite answering the question.

“Hmm.”

“I want them to have stability so I wouldn’t want them moving between cities, you know.”

“I get that,” Quinn said, feeling jittery. She wasn’t sure she could imagine a life in another country away from her family, her friends, and her job, even if Harry was a part of it.

“But, New York has really grown on me,” he said. “I could see us living in the city. We’d be those city parents with toddlers that ride scooters around the city.”

Quinn smiled. “OK, so we’re in the city and I keep working but what happens to the kids when I have a show week and you’re off on tour? I don’t want a nanny raising my kids.”

Harry looked at Quinn, confused. “Well, I wouldn’t be on tour. I’d be home with the kids.”

“Harry, you’re joking,” Quinn said, shaking her head in disbelief.

“I’m not kidding.”

“You’re always saying how much you love performing.”

“Yeah, but I love you and our life together more.”

“You can’t give up performing.”

“I can if I want to, Quinn,” Harry said, trying to modulate his tone and volume as his frustration mounted. “When we first got together, I didn’t make an effort, didn’t mold my life to fit you. I’m trying to do that now and you’re upset? I just don’t know what you want sometimes.”

“I don’t want you to eventually resent me because you gave up your career for mine.”

“I love you Quinn. And sometimes love means making a sacrifice for someone else.”

Quinn felt hot tears of frustration welling in her eyes. “I love you too, Harry, and that’s why I’d never be able to let you do that.”

Harry sighed heavily. “And I’d never be able to live with myself if I knew you gave up your SNL job for me. Seeing you the other week Quinn.” He shook his head. “That’s where you belong and I could never take you away from there.” Quinn stared off into the distance, not meeting Harry’s eyes. He moved his hand from her knee to her shoulder and started rubbing comforting circles. “But why are we even talking about this now? We don’t have to solve this problem today, do we?”

“That’s the thing, Harry,” Quinn said, voice hardly above a whisper. “If we love each other, that’s great, but if we can’t work out these fundamental issues, is it even worth it to stay together?”

“What are you saying, Quinn?”

“Maybe it, this, us – maybe it was never meant to be.”

“No,” Harry said, shaking his head. “Don’t say that, Quinn.”

Quinn started crying freely and shook her head. “I thought things were supposed to be easy this time around.”

“And they were when we were taking things a moment at a time,” Harry said, sniffling.

“I know we couldn’t live like that forever,” Quinn said not meeting his eyes. “We need to have conversations like this, even if we’re saying things we don’t want to hear. I just never thought it would be this hard.” She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand.

Harry squeezed her hand. “What are we going to do, Quinn?”

***

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