#Natasha Romanoff x Yelena Belova | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

bishovapls · 11 days ago

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Our Little One - It Was Just Fate.

Relationships: Natasha Romanoff & Wanda Maximoff & Reader

Summary: This prologue/prequel to 'You Make Such Pretty Sounds When You’re Sorry' and 'I Think You Both Need Daddy, Hm?' dives into the reader’s introduction to kink, guided by a close friend. Their first attempt at exploring the culture takes an unexpected turn, but it sets the stage for their connection with Wanda and Natasha. As they navigate the complexities of their budding relationship, they face challenges that test them all. And of course, we need a bit of smut, so we see their first time together. Expect emotional struggles, discovery, and the messy beginnings of the 'Our Little One' universe.

Warnings: 18+, Mommy Kink, Daddy Kink, Age Gap (Older WandaNat/Younger Reader), BDSM, Dom/Sub Dynamics, Cunnilingus, Safe Words & Check-ins, Kink Negotiation, Self-Esteem Issues, Innocent Reader, Light Angst (but with a happy ending), Allusion to previous abuse.

A/N: Posting this on my birthday, so if you hate it, just remember, no mean comments allowed. I don't make the rules, I just live by them. I know this is long, probably way more than you bargained for, but hey, I cut it down a lot, so really, it could be worse. Also, thank you to @chansawrelier for the request!

Word Count: 21,299

NSFW below the cut, you can also read on AO3.

You’d moved across the country for college, leaving behind a home that had never really felt like one. It hadn’t been an easy decision, but it was a necessary one, something between escape and survival. You arrived early, more than a week before classes began, eager to settle into the dorms and put some distance between yourself and everything you were trying to forget.

By some stroke of luck, your roommate had moved in early, too. Apparently, her loft on the other side of the city had burned down in a freak accident, and she flat-out refused to move back in with her mother.

Kate Bishop was everything you hadn’t even dared to hope for in a roommate: funny, grounded, genuinely kind. She made you feel like maybe you weren’t entirely alone in this strange, unfamiliar place. She’d grown up in New York, had an entire life here already, complete with a close-knit group of friends and a girlfriend named Yelena.

You’d only met Yelena a few times, but she made an impression, slightly older, striking, with a dry wit and a thick accent that made everything she said sound twice as cool. She’d already finished college, and now ran a chain of martial arts studios across the city.

But one thing that had truly shocked you was their dynamic when they were alone. Coming from a small town with no clue about college etiquette, you hadn’t thought twice about the sock on the door handle of your dorm. Headphones in, music blasting, you’d returned late one night from your favourite café and pushed the door open with a casual, “Hey, Kate—”

And froze.

Yelena was strapped to Kate’s narrow bed, wrists and ankles bound to the corners, her body completely exposed and vulnerable. Kate was straddling her in a panic, trying hopelessly to shield her girlfriend’s nakedness with her own body. You froze in the doorway, eyes wide, breath caught, the scene burning itself into your mind before instinct took over. You spun around and ran, heart pounding, feet flying.

It took two full days of pretending nothing had happened before it finally cracked. You hadn’t meant to say anything, you were determined not to. You’d buried it deep, shoved it behind textbooks and playlists and pointless walks to nowhere, trying to suffocate it under a hundred different distractions.

But the memory kept clawing its way back. Not of them, not really. Not Kate or Yelena as people. It wasn’t about attraction. It was the feeling of what they were doing. The heat that pooled in your stomach when you remembered the way Yelena had looked beneath Kate, the weightless calm in her limbs, the glow behind her eyes, even though you’d barged in on them in such an intimate moment.

You couldn't stop thinking about it.

But tonight, Kate insisted (more like begged) that you go to the big pre-semester party. So you’d gone. You’d drunk more than you meant to. And now, hours later, the dorm room was gently swaying around you, the overhead light was off, and everything was bathed in the soft, amber spill of the desk lamp.

Kate looked like she’d been sculpted into relaxation. Her legs were tangled in a blanket, her flannel half-buttoned and slipping from one shoulder, and her phone was held loosely in her hand. But every few seconds, her gaze darted up. You didn’t have to see it to feel it.

The tension curled in the air between you like smoke. Eventually, she let out a long, theatrical sigh that broke the quiet. Tossed her phone onto the bed and sat up, cracking her neck like she was about to start a fight.

“Okay, you’ve officially out-brooded me,” she said, tone somewhere between amused and exasperated. “And I once spent a whole summer listening to nothing but Lana Del Rey. So. Spill. What’s going on in that tragic little head of yours?”

You gave a hollow sort of laugh, too tight, too dry. “Nothing’s wrong. I'm fine.”

Kate raised one eyebrow slowly, unimpressed. “Right. Because the whole ‘I’m fine’ routine goes so well with the thousand-yard stare. C’mon, what’s actually going on?”

Your heart kicked like a trapped animal. You hated this pressure, this feeling like your body was shrinking in on itself. Your arms curled tighter around the blanket, your hands clenched hard enough that your knuckles ached.

“Is it something I did?” she asked, and her voice changed. It was gentler, even coaxing. “Or said?”

“No. No, it’s not that,” you said quickly, the words falling out too fast. Your head snapped up, eyes wide, terrified she’d misunderstood. You needed her to know it wasn’t her.

She tilted her head slightly, eyes narrowing with soft focus, studying you like you were a puzzle with one piece missing. “Then what is it?”

Your mouth opened. Nothing came. Your jaw clenched as your fingers dug deeper into the blanket. Her tone turned almost tender. “You’ve been weird since Tuesday.”

You flinched like the word itself slapped you. It landed with terrifying accuracy.

Kate’s eyes flickered, amusement already curling at her mouth before the full realisation even landed. “Ohhh,” she said, drawing the word out with a grin, her tone all too knowing. “This is about the sock on the door, isn’t it?”

Heat surged up your neck and into your cheeks, spreading fast. Your ears burned, your stomach turned. “Kate—”

She groaned, flopping back against her pillow with a theatrical sigh, even as her grin widened. “God, I told Yelena the sock was a shit idea! I literally said we needed a better system. I said we should’ve just gone back to hers.”

You buried your face in your hands, your voice muffled and miserable. “I didn’t mean to walk in. I didn’t know what it meant.”

“No, clearly not. You looked like you’d witnessed a murder. I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone move so fast,” she said with a huff of laughter.

“I panicked,” you muttered, not lifting your head.

“You literally threw yourself into the corridor,” she corrected, another chuckle spilling out as she sat up again, trying to pull you into the warmth of the moment.

“I panicked,” you said again, but this time your voice cracked on the word. It came out too thin, too small. Your breath caught.

The laughter vanished from Kate’s face in an instant, her expression tightening with concern. “Hey. I’m messing with you, but if it really freaked you out…” Her voice came quieter now, steadier, threaded with something that sounded like guilt. “If you’re uncomfortable, I’ll talk to Yelena, and—”

“No.” The word shot out, too loud, too harsh. You winced immediately. “No, it’s not that. I just…”

You looked down. Your hands were trembling. Kate didn’t speak. She waited. You hadn’t known her long, but she already knew you, your silences, your defence mechanisms, the way you got brittle before you broke.

Finally, your voice emerged, hollow. “I can’t stop thinking about it.”

She blinked. That wasn’t the answer she’d expected, clearly. You surged on before the fear could catch you.

“Not like that,” you said fast, too fast, your words tangling in each other. “I’m not…into you, or Yelena, or anything like that. I just…I keep seeing it. You and her. And it didn’t look scary, or weird. It looked…right. Like it made sense. Like that’s where you were supposed to be.”

Kate’s entire face shifted, something warm and open blooming across her features. She looked almost reverent, like the thought alone settled something deep inside her. “Yeah,” she said, slow and certain. “That’s kind of the whole point.”

You stared at her, overwhelmed. “That’s not normal, though, is it?” Your voice cracked at the edges, shame clinging to it like soot.

“Who told you that?” she asked, voice flatter now, more guarded.

You hesitated. “No one. I just feel like a freak. I can’t stop thinking about it. Something about it felt familiar. Like…like it scratched some itch I didn’t know I had.”

Kate’s smile was so gentle it barely reached her mouth. But her eyes were all compassion. “That doesn’t make you a freak. That makes you self-aware.”

You groaned and hid again behind your hands. “This is so embarrassing. I want to crawl into a hole and just die.”

“No dying allowed,” she said, easy and light. “Also, not embarrassing. I’ve had this kind of conversation, like, four times. One girl sobbed. One guy made a spreadsheet. You’re doing great.”

You huffed out a soft, stunned laugh. Still didn’t look at her. Your eyes locked on your knees. “How did you know? That you were into all of…that?”

Kate blinked once. Then she smiled, slow and steady. “All of what, exactly?” Her voice dipped teasingly. “You’re gonna have to be more specific, babe. I’m into a lot of stuff.”

You laughed nervously. “You know what I mean.” You swallowed. “I’ve never done anything like that. My past hookups were all really…vanilla. Very, very, missionary-with-the-lights-off vanilla.”

Kate wrinkled her nose in mock-disgust. “Yikes. That is bleak.”

“It was. But this…I don’t know. It’s been in my head since.” You faltered. The moment had gotten too big again. You shrank from it. “This is weird. Let’s just sleep?”

Kate studied you for a second longer, then spoke. It was quiet, but there was a sterness to it. “Hey. Look at me?”

Your head turned before you even thought about it. Eyes locking with hers like it was instinct.

Kate didn’t say anything for a beat. But her face changed. Just a flicker. A quiet realisation before she eventually spoke. “Okay,” she said softly, mostly to herself.

Your heart leapt. “What?”

She shrugged, lips twitching, clearly holding back a grin. “Just answering my own question.”

You frowned. “What question?”

She grinned now, wicked and amused. “Which side you’re on.”

Your stomach plummeted, and your heart raced. “What does that even mean?”

She tilted her head, her voice low and playful. “I mean…me or Yelena. Domme or Sub. The one doing the tying or the one getting tied.” She paused, watching you closely. “You didn’t even think about it. You just looked at me. That’s kind of a giveaway.”

You groaned, mortified. “Don’t analyse me.”

She laughed, bright and delighted. “Too late. I already diagnosed you with chronic obedience.”

You covered your face again, but this time the trembling in your hands didn’t stop the laughter bubbling up.

Kate let the moment sit for a second. Then she leaned forward again, voice soft but sincere. “You don’t have to figure it all out tonight. You don’t even have to do anything with it. But if you ever want to talk about what it means, what it doesn’t, I’m here. No judgement.”

You looked up slowly. Cautious. But grateful. Kate met your gaze with a small nod. “I’ve got you.”

—

You and Kate had gone to bed not long after the conversation, nerves buzzing under your skin, alcohol humming through your blood, and a restless curiosity settling somewhere low in your stomach.

By morning, the haze had lifted a little, but the curiosity remained. You barely had to ask before Kate was sitting cross-legged across from you, all easy confidence and unfiltered honesty, rattling off explanations like it was the most normal thing in the world. She walked you through the foundations of it all, kinks and limits, power dynamics, aftercare.

She explained safe words, how communication was everything, and how trust wasn’t optional; it was the entire point. She even introduced you to the traffic light system, green for go, yellow for slow down, red for stop.

And then, she gave you the most terrifying suggestion of all: a lesbian kink club.

She brought it up so casually, like it was just another bullet point on her list. You’d balked, of course, wide-eyed and uncertain, but Kate just shrugged and smiled, patient as ever.

She promised it wasn’t what you were imagining, no horror stories, no unchecked chaos, no pressure. “This place is serious,” she said, “It’s safe. Everything’s built around consent and control, and no one will touch you without a hell of a lot of permission. You don’t even have to speak if you don’t want to. Just watch. That’s what most new people do.”

Still, when you asked if she’d come with you, she hesitated. “I can’t,” she said eventually, with a wry smile. “Yelena would lose her mind. And no domme would even come near you if you were with me. They know me, and they know I don’t share.”

You blinked at her, confused. “But you’re not—”

She held up a hand. “I know. But that’s not how it works there. People respect boundaries, so if I walked in with a pretty new sub, they’d assume I’d claimed you, like I did Yelena, and steer clear.”

Your face burned red at the idea of being claimed, along with the subtle ‘pretty’ she had thrown in there. You knew it wasn't flirty and was more of a joke, but the thought of being seen as pretty made your breath stutter a bit.

But before you could think too much about that, she laughed a little sheepishly then. “Plus, I have been known to growl like a rabid dog when someone flirts with Yelena. Even without the rules, I'm pretty sure they'd stay away out of fear of grievous bodily harm.”

You laughed then, the tension easing slightly, but still, the idea of going without Kate made your chest tighten.

But Kate had been insistent. “You don’t have to do anything. Just go. Watch. No one will touch you unless you say yes. And if it gets too much, you leave. Simple.”

She'd made it sound manageable. Even safe. She talked about safe, sane, consensual like it was gospel, and maybe, for her, it was. And the way she spoke about it made it hard not to believe her.

—

From the very first time you’d wandered into Wanda’s cafe, drawn by the aroma of fresh pastries and coffee, you’d known this place was going to be your refuge. The mismatched mugs, the wild greenery curling down from hanging pots and over windowsills, the gently worn furniture that seemed to have stories soaked into the wood, it all felt like a place you were allowed to exhale in.

You’d started coming to the café nearly every time Kate was out with her friends, and you’d refused to join her, which, given how often that was, meant you were there a lot.

Wanda, whose name you had learned on your second visit, wasn’t always there, but when she was, you noticed, and for some reason, it would make your sanctuary even better. There was a soft warmth in the way she’d glance at you from behind the counter.

And when you’d been there for hours, nursing your fourth cup of coffee for the day, Wanda would always notice. “You need to eat something, darling,” she’d say gently, setting a pastry and a glass of water down in front of you with a soft smile. “It’s lovely seeing you in here so often, but that much coffee with no food or water? Not on my watch.” Her tone was teasing, but there was a kindness beneath it that made you feel cared for in a way you weren’t used to.

And every time that happened, your face would burn, heat spreading all the way to your ears, and you’d have to lower your gaze to hide the way your mouth betrayed you, unable to form a proper thank you.

And that was how, on a slow Saturday afternoon, you once again found yourself curled into your usual corner booth, tucked safely behind your laptop and a growing stack of notes. You’d told yourself you were going to be productive, that today would be about distraction. And judging by the five colour-coded drafts of your class timetable and the frankly absurd amount of early required reading you’d powered through, you’d managed, for a while.

But eventually, your focus had begun to slip. No matter how hard you tried to drown it in academic preparation, your thoughts kept drifting, again and again, to tonight. To the club.

You did want to go. You were curious, drawn to it in a way you didn’t fully understand. But you weren’t exactly the most social person on the best of days, and this wasn’t some casual night out with your new bestie Kate. You didn’t know what to expect. You barely knew the rules. And for someone who’d only just begun to glimpse that part of themselves, who still hesitated to name the things they wanted, the whole thing felt impossibly big.

You were still debating if you could handle it when the soft chime of the café door snapped you out of your spiral. Your fingers stilled on your cup, and something in your chest jumped, an involuntary reaction you’d become embarrassingly familiar with.

It was her again.

You didn’t know her name. You didn’t want to know her name. You weren’t looking. Not really. You just…noticed her. Every time.

You kept your eyes on your screen, or tried to, though it was hard not to notice the way she slipped behind the counter like she belonged there. And maybe she did, because even the very first time you saw her, you’d noticed how Wanda leaned into her, soft and familiar, how the redhead’s hand settled at the small of her back like it was second nature. You’d caught the way Wanda tilted her face down ever so slightly, unthinking, offering a kiss that was less a greeting and more a ritual.

And still, you told yourself you weren’t watching. You didn’t mean to eavesdrop either. You just couldn’t help overhearing.

“Are we still going to that place your sister suggested tonight?” Wanda’s voice was casual, but bright. There was a hopefulness in it that made you glance up again without meaning to.

The redhead didn’t answer immediately. Her body shifted, spine straightening. Her expression didn’t change, not really, but the vibe of her turned cooler, more guarded.

“You sure we need this?” she asked finally, voice low, cautious. “You know what happened last time.”

You shouldn’t have been listening. You told yourself you weren’t. But your hand was still on your coffee cup, unmoving, your laptop screen long since forgotten.

“It’s different this time,” Wanda replied. Her hand came up to rest on Natasha’s shoulder, fingers brushing lightly against the fabric of her sleeve, a soft comfort you imagined. “You know that.”

Natasha didn’t answer, but she didn’t pull away either.

Then Wanda leaned closer, her voice dropping into something quieter, and even though you knew you shouldn’t, you tilted just slightly forward to hear. “We go,” she said, “we see what it’s like. And if it doesn’t work out…” she trailed off, then smiled, and there was something wicked and warm in it all at once. “I’ll let you ruin me as revenge. Deal?”

Natasha’s breath hitched. So did yours. You stared hard at the screen in front of you, suddenly too aware of your own skin, of the heat climbing up your neck and settling behind your ears.

You took a long sip of coffee, letting the bitterness settle on your tongue, focusing on the heat of the cup cradled between your palms like it might tether you. It didn’t help, at least, not in the way you wanted.

But thinking about them, about the quiet ease between them, the way Wanda’s eyes softened when the redhead leaned in close, or the way that touch lingered a little longer than necessary, was its own kind of distraction.

A quiet ache bloomed, low in your chest. You’d never had anything like that, you might never, and you hated how easily that thought lodged itself inside you. Still, it was something to focus on. Better, at least, than the spiralling nerves about tonight.

—

You’d made it to the club, barely after spending hours spiralling over your outfit, changing again and again until you were out of time and excuses. But the moment you arrived, you couldn’t move. People flowed in around you like it was nothing. They moved as if they’d been born knowing how to exist in places like this.

Your heart pounded too fast, thudding against your ribs like it was trying to escape. Your fingers clenched tighter around the strap of your bag. Every part of you was begging to turn around, to run, before anyone noticed you didn’t belong.

“Hey. You,” you heard. You didn’t look up. It was New York, someone was always yelling, always calling out to someone who wasn’t you.

Except this time, it was. “Yeah, you,” the voice called again, laced with amusement. “Pretty skirt, face that screams ‘please get me the hell out of here’ , you planning to actually come inside, or just admire the door all night?”

Your head snapped up so fast it made your earrings shift.

The woman by the door was clearly amused, her arms folded as she leaned against the rope like she had all the time in the world. Her name tag read Rio, bold against the tight black security tee stretched across her chest.

“C’mon,” she drawled, tilting her head toward the door, a dark curl falling across her brow as she looked you over. “You’ve been out here long enough to grow roots. What’s the hold up?”

You managed a breath that might’ve been a laugh, or a plea for help. Nothing coherent left your mouth, just a twitch of your lips that was closer to panic than a smile.

Rio grinned, like she’d seen it all before and still found it mildly entertaining. “Ah, first time?”

You nodded, small and tight, the motion barely there as your stomach flipped itself inside out.

She let that hang for a beat, then tipped her chin at you again, this time with a glint of something warmer behind the sharpness in her eyes. “Well, chill out. You look good. Real good. And no one’s gonna bite, unless you ask real nice.”

Her brow arched, deliberately suggestive, but the teasing was light, like a nudge rather than a push.

Then, without making a thing of it, she unhooked the velvet rope and stepped aside. Her posture stayed easy, but her voice shifted, just a little softer, just enough to catch you. “Go on, cutie. You’ve got this.”

And somehow, heart hammering and logic nowhere to be found, your feet started moving. You ducked past her, still not entirely sure how you’d managed it, but knowing her smirk was burning the back of your neck as you went.

—

As soon as you stepped inside, the air shifted, cool, smooth, and immediately heavy with the scent of expensive perfume mixed with something faintly sweaty. The lighting was soft, muted golden hues casting shadows that seemed to wrap around the room like a whisper.

Everything was plush, refined, velvet drapes, dark mahogany wood floors that gleamed in the dim light, and sleek, modern furniture that looked both inviting and intimidating.

There were no wild strobe lights or neon signs; instead, the atmosphere was intimate in a way that made you feel like you were being gently observed, as if everyone here was comfortable with who they were and what they wanted.

They seemed to float through the space, dressed in a refined mix of leather, silk, lace, and tailored suits, each one exuding a quiet confidence that you had yet to find in yourself.

Then your eyes caught on the stage across the room, where a strikingly pale woman with strawberry blonde hair stood in sleek black leather. Beside her was another woman, dark hair tumbling in soft waves, green eyes gleaming under the lights, dressed in a delicate lace bodice that clung to her like it had been stitched directly onto her skin.

The sub seemed at ease, almost meditative, as the flogger began to make contact with her in a rhythmic pattern. It wasn’t crude, wasn’t sexual in the way you expected. It was educational, like they were teaching the crowd about trust, boundaries, and the delicate balance of pain and pleasure.

It was…oddly beautiful, and you found yourself watching for longer than you’d intended. But the longer you stood there, the more overwhelmed you felt, the more your mind raced to catch up. This wasn’t the world you knew, nor a world you’d ever really imagined. It was intimidating, but still also oddly inviting.

Your feet moved before you even realised, carrying you to the bar without thinking. The low hum of the room, the muffled sound of the flogger against skin from the demonstration, the soft laughter of women chatting in hushed tones, all seemed to blur as you found yourself gripping the cool marble counter.

The bartender, a woman with sharp eyes and an air of authority, glanced up at you as you approached, studying you for a moment before offering a small, knowing smile. “I think you might need something strong, hon?” she asked, her voice understanding, and you nodded, trying to calm the frantic thudding of your heart.

You could still hear the demonstration in the distance, the faint swish of the flogger and the calm voice explaining the technique, but you couldn’t bring yourself to look back. Instead, you focused on the glass being placed in front of you, the cool condensation from the drink briefly grounding you. You took a sip, the warmth of the alcohol mingling with the nervous tremor in your hands, your mind still racing.

—

When you arrived, you had promised yourself that you’d stay for at least two hours, give it a proper try, sit with the discomfort, and push through it. You weren’t going to bolt the second it got hard.

Over the last hour and a half, three different women had approached you, spaced out just far enough to make it feel like a fresh humiliation each time. They’d come over with smiles, kind, confident, curious, trying to draw you into conversation, asking your name, what brought you here.

And you’d tried, you really had, forcing your lips into a shape resembling a smile, giving them answers that barely skimmed the surface of coherent, until the pauses got longer, the polite smiles more strained, and eventually, they moved on.

You already struggled to believe you were enough in your everyday life. Add way too many drinks you definitely didn’t need, and an hour and a half of mounting self-consciousness, and the weight of it all started to press down on you. Every rejection, every silence, every glance that passed right over you, all congealed into something thick and sharp and awful in your chest.

And suddenly you were running.

When did you start running?

You didn’t even realise until your body collided with something solid, no… someone. Your body jolted to a stop, breath caught somewhere between a gasp and a sob. A warm, steady grip closed around your upper arm.

You blinked through the tears in your eyes, and that’s when you saw her. The redhead from the café. Just as striking in the low amber light, head half-tilted, a crease forming between her brows. And next to her, Wanda.

You wanted to say something, but your mouth refused. Your throat clenched tight around the words. So you did the only thing your body would allow, you ran.

Again.

You wrenched your arm free, heart lurching in your chest as you burst through the door and back into the cold, chasing air and distance like they might save you.

“Hey! Hey, you okay, newbie?” Rio’s voice followed you, half-laughing, half-sharp with worry. But you didn’t turn around.

Your feet pounded the pavement, and your limbs shook as you ran. The wind tore at your hair, the cold sting of tears still fresh on your cheeks. Your mouth was dry, your lungs burning. You didn’t care where you were going, just that you needed to escape.

Down one street, then another. The world blurred around you, the hum of traffic, the lingering bass in your head, the tightness of your skirt, the sour taste of your drinks from earlier.

When your legs gave out, you stumbled into an alley, your back hitting the wall. The cold bricks bit through your tights, the wet chill sharpening every unbearable feeling. You slid to the ground, curling into yourself, unable to hold yourself up any longer.

Panic ripped through you, quiet and brutal, stealing your breath in shallow gasps as the world closed in.

You didn’t hear her coming. Not until her voice slipped through the haze, gentle, low, threaded with concern. “Hey, Sweetheart. You’re okay. You’re safe.”

Wanda.

You knew it instantly, but you couldn’t lift your head. Even the soft warmth of her voice made your skin crawl with overstimulation. You stayed curled in on yourself, fingers digging into your sleeves, breath stuttering in shallow, uneven pulls.

“Look at me,” she urged, her voice firmer now. Her hands found your face, fingers gliding over your skin, coaxing your head up.

She saw the wet streaks down your face, the tremor in your lips, the glassy, unfocused eyes. Her expression shifted from shock to anger. “What happened? Did someone hurt you?”

A desperate shake of your head was all you could offer.

Beyond Wanda, the redhead stood in the alley’s mouth, arms crossed, watching in silence.

Wanda’s hands stayed on your face, grounding you. “Breathe with me,” she whispered. “In through the nose. Nice and slow.”

You wanted to say you knew what to do, that you’d been through this before. You knew all the things you were supposed to do: sit up straight, inhale for four, exhale for six, and ground yourself. But knowing didn’t mean doing. And right now, everything felt impossible.

Still, Wanda’s voice reached you. One breath. Then another. Your chest still trembled, but you followed. “That’s it,” she whispered, soothing. “You’re doing so well.”

She stayed until your hands stopped shaking, until your tears slowed. When your body finally gave in, she gently lifted your chin. Worry softened her gaze, her touch too kind.

“Talk to me,” she said. “You looked like you were running from something awful. Please tell me what it was.”

You tried. But all you managed was a broken exhale, your voice tangled up somewhere too deep to reach.

And Wanda didn’t wait. She just pulled you against her chest, one hand holding the back of your head, the other rubbing slow, soothing circles along your back.

Eventually, Wanda’s voice broke the quiet, low and close to your ear. “You’re freezing, Honey.” Her arms tightened slightly, and you realised with a delayed shiver that the warmth you’d felt earlier wasn’t real, it had been panic, adrenaline, the flush of fear burning through your skin. Now that it had passed, all that was left was the cold.

“I’m okay,” you said, though the words came out hoarse and thin.

Her eyes didn’t move. “No,” she said quietly. “You’re not. And that’s okay. But let us walk you home?”

You shook your head slowly. “I’ll need to call an Uber, my dorm is on the other side of town. I’m fine. Really. Thank you, though…for everything.”

But the moment those words left your mouth, you saw something shift in her expression. Worry deepening into something more decisive, more stubborn. Like the idea of walking away from you now went against every instinct she had.

“No,” she said firmly. Then she paused, her eyes searching yours, her next words quieter, more careful. “Please, sweetheart. I don’t like the idea of you getting into a stranger’s car when you’re like this. It’s late. You’re not thinking clearly. You shouldn’t have to be. Let someone else take care of it. Of you. ”

“But I don’t want to ruin your night,” you whispered. “You were—” You didn’t finish the sentence. You didn’t need to.

Wanda blinked once, slowly. “You didn’t ruin anything,” she said. “We were going to leave anyway. That club wasn’t exactly our scene.”

You let out a short, breathless laugh. “It wasn't mine either.”

That earned you a smile, soft and crooked. “Figured that out when I saw you sprinting out of there like it was on fire.”

Your blush betrayed you before you could stop it, your face going hot in the cool night, the memory of the club still pressed against your skin. But it wasn’t just the awkwardness that flushed your cheeks. It was them. The realisation that if they weren't having fun tonight, Wanda had a promise to fulfil.

Wanda tilted her head slightly, eyes narrowing in playful suspicion. “What’s going on in that pretty head of yours?”

You shook your head violently, and your eyes darted anywhere but her face. Please, God, don’t make me explain.

Thankfully, she didn’t push. She just gave you a look full of curiosity and affection, and let it go. “Come back with us. We’ve got a spare room. You can shut the door and go straight to bed if you want. I just…I’d feel better knowing you were safe.”

You hesitated. Your eyes flicked toward the redhead, still by the alley’s mouth, still watching. She’d had no say in any of this, and you didn’t want to be the reason her night ended differently than planned. Especially not if it meant she wouldn’t get to ‘ruin ’ Wanda, as Wanda had put it.

But Wanda caught the glance and laughed under her breath. “Don’t worry about her. She knows I’ve got a soft spot for you. She definitely expected this.”

You flushed, hard. But before you could figure out what to say, the other woman's voice came from the end of the alley, as if she could hear the conversation. “Wanda. It’s cold. If she’s not walking in the next two minutes, I’m carrying her.”

“She doesn’t seem very happy,” you whispered.

Wanda giggled, unabashed. “That’s just Nat. You get used to it. But she won’t be happy if we don’t get moving, come on.”

She stood, holding out her hand. You took it. Her arm stayed around your shoulders as she walked you to the alley’s edge, back into the chill of the open street. The redhead gave you a long look as you approached, her smile clipped but still there.

It didn’t take long to reach their place, maybe ten or fifteen minutes of quiet walking. You didn’t speak much, still raw, but Wanda stayed close, her arm a steady weight around your shoulders, while the redhead, Nat, you thought, that’s what Wanda had called her, walked by her side.

Once inside, Wanda could tell you were exhausted. She guided you gently upstairs to a small but cosy guest room and handed you soft joggers and a loose T-shirt. The clothes were a little long in the leg and hung loose at the shoulders, but they were cosy, and they wrapped around you like safety.

You curled into the blankets, Wanda’s shirt tucked close around your chin, and let yourself drift off.

—

You felt it before you even opened your eyes. The heaviness behind them, dull and throbbing like something pressing in from the inside. A headache you recognised all too well, the post-panic kind, the one that settled in like bruises on your brain.

Your limbs ached, like you’d run miles. And your stomach rolled with the nauseating mix of nerves and the ghost of alcohol, sitting thick and unwelcome in your gut.

And then came the worst part, remembering exactly where you were, and who you were with.

You were in their house. Wanda’s house. And hers, too, the redhead, Nat, whatever her full name was. Not your dorm. Not your tiny, safe, familiar space with its cluttered desk and cheap sheets. Theirs.

You groaned quietly, dragging the covers over your head, as if hiding from the world might somehow cancel the impending awkwardness. You’d have to go downstairs eventually, face them, thank them, apologise for…well, everything. Just the thought made your stomach churn harder.

You’d barely managed to pull the covers tighter when a soft knock broke the quiet. You could ignore it. You could pretend you were still asleep. But instead, your voice came out small, almost reluctant. “Come in.”

The door eased open, and Wanda stepped inside, eyes scanning you with that same gentleness from the night before. You flushed with embarrassment. You must look like hell. Last night’s make-up was probably smudged to oblivion, your cheeks puffy, your hair a mess.

“I’m making breakfast,” she said, voice soft but careful, like she didn’t want to startle you. “Was wondering if you wanted to join us.”

You didn’t answer at first, brain still dragging behind, eyes squinting against the light slipping in through the doorway. And Wanda must’ve taken your silence as discomfort, because she rushed to fill it.

“I mean, you don’t have to. I can totally leave you alone if you’d rather sneak out, no pressure. Keep the clothes, obviously. I just…whatever makes you most comfortable.”

She smiled, but her eyes said something different. They said she didn’t want you to go.

You let out a dry, weak little laugh, more breath than sound, but Wanda’s shoulders relaxed slightly. “Breakfast sounds good,” you murmured. “Thank you.”

Wanda brightened instantly, her relief written all over her face. “Okay, perfect. No rush, just come down when you’re ready, Sweetheart.”

She lingered in the doorway for a second, like she wanted to say more, then closed the door gently behind her as she left.

---

You stayed upstairs longer than you probably should have, sitting on the edge of the unfamiliar bed. But eventually, you hauled yourself up, made it to the bathroom, and stared down the mirror. Puffy eyes. Smeared mascara. Lips chapped and raw from worry and crying. You cringed and did the best with what you could.

When you made it downstairs, you hovered in the doorway for a moment. Wanda stood at the stove, hair swept up, swaying a little as she stirred. ‘Nat’ was lounging at the kitchen island with a mug half-raised, looking at you over the rim.

Wanda gave you a bright, welcoming smile. “Come sit by Natasha,” she said gently, nodding toward the empty stool.

Natasha. Huh. That was the name, then. Not just Nat . You hadn’t been sure if it was short for Natalie, Natalia, Natasha, or something else entirely.

Natasha gave a soft laugh, low and rough with sleep. “I promise I’m not that scary,” she said, one eyebrow lifting. “You can sit.”

You nearly choked on your own breath, cheeks going hot, and you shifted your eyes downwards. That slight rasp went straight to your spine. Still, you moved, wordless, and slid onto the stool beside her.

Wanda passed you a mug before you could even ask, and it was perfect. The right amount of milk, the exact strength you liked. Of course she remembered your order from the cafe.

“How’d you sleep?” Wanda asked after a beat, back still turned as she cooked.

“Fine. I think I passed out before my head hit the pillow,” you said with a soft laugh, trying to keep it casual.

Their chuckles came almost in sync. You could’ve clung to that sound, it made the kitchen feel less like enemy territory.

“Bet your head’s a disaster, though?” Natasha asked, glancing sideways with a knowing smirk.

You gave her a dramatic look. “I feel like I was trampled by at least four cows and then dragged through a blender. So, yeah. Little bit.”

That made her laugh, a real one, and you couldn’t help but smile. Something in your chest unclenched. Maybe she wasn’t that terrifying.

“Well, you’ve cleaned up pretty well,” she said, casually. “Considering you cried your lashes off in a public alley.”

You winced, cheeks burning, but there was no real cruelty in her voice, just observation.

“I’m sorry,” you murmured after a pause, fingers curling around the coffee mug. “I didn’t mean to…make it your problem.”

Wanda finally turned to look at you, her expression open and earnest. “You don’t have to be sorry,” she said. “I’m just glad we were there, you clearly needed someone, hm?”

That little hum somehow echoed through you like a secret. Light and harmless on the surface, but it dropped straight through your chest and left slow-spreading ripples in its wake.

You didn’t understand why it hit so low in your stomach, why it made your fingers twitch around the coffee mug, but it did. It settled there, warm and aching, and refused to move.

You didn’t trust your voice, so you said nothing, just took another sip, hoping the bitterness of the drink might ground you.

Luckily, the rest of breakfast had been fine. Wanda kept things light, her voice bright and full of easy cheer, weaving conversation like she’d done this a thousand times. She was the warmth in the room, balancing Natasha’s quiet, guarded presence with ease.

And then Wanda went and ruined the fragile peace. “So,” she said, her tone casual, like she wasn’t about to drop a bomb, “what were you doing at the club?”

The blood drained from your face, replaced by a scorching heat that crept from your neck to your cheeks, blooming across your chest. You hadn’t expected that question, not now at least.

You tried to mask the panic with humour, the words spilling from your mouth like a reflex. “Clearly not the right thing.”

Both women chuckled, but Wanda’s smile didn’t quite reach her eyes. She paused, sensing the shift. “Seriously,” she said, voice more serious now, the edge of concern threading through. “Did something happen? If someone made you uncomfortable, they need to be reported. That place has rules for a reason.”

You could feel the pressure building in your chest, but you waved your hands, desperate to ease the tension. “No, no. Nothing like that. I wasn’t hurt or anything.” You exhaled a long breath, staring at the countertop, trying to steady yourself. “I just…I got overwhelmed. That’s all.”

Wanda’s expression shifted in an instant, the tension in her brow easing, her eyes full of quiet understanding. “It’s a lot to walk into.”

You nodded, feeling sheepish. “Yeah, well. I shouldn’t have let my roommate talk me into it.”

Wanda tilted her head, her brows furrowing with a mix of curiosity and concern. “Wait, if your roommate suggested it, why wasn't she with you?”

You shrugged, trying to keep things casual. “She has a sub of her own. She’s a regular there, and she said if she stayed with me, no one would approach me. They’d think I was hers.”

Wanda blinked, her features shifting slightly as she processed your words. Something flickered across her face, but you couldn’t quite place it. “So,” she said slowly, voice light but edged with something, “you wanted someone to approach you?”

You hesitated, your throat going tight. You weren’t sure how to answer that. “I…I don’t know. I guess? I thought maybe I’d get a better idea of what I wanted.”

“And did you?” Natasha asked, cutting in smoothly, as she casually flipped a page of her newspaper, like the conversation was no more important than the weather.

You let out a breath, the laugh that followed edged with bitterness, sharper than you meant it to be. “No. Not even close. Anyone who tried talking to me was gone in seconds. I don’t know if it was me or my inexperience, but it never went well.” You shrugged, aiming for nonchalance, though the words sat sour on your tongue.

Wanda didn’t answer right away. Just took a slow sip of her coffee, her voice soft when it came. “Or maybe they didn’t wait long enough to see the real you.”

The words hung between you, deceptively light but heavy in their weight, sinking deep before you could stop them.

Your chest tightened. Breath caught halfway. It was like the ground tilted slightly, subtle but disorienting. You couldn’t place why it hit so hard, only that it did.

Wanda watched you quietly, her gaze steady but unreadable. Then, gently, “So��are you still interested in all of this?” Her voice stayed soft, careful, like she was laying the question down instead of pressing it.

You opened your mouth, then paused. The answer was there, somewhere, but it was knotted too tightly to pull free. Your throat burned with the effort.

“Sweetheart, there’s nothing to be ashamed of. Obviously, Nat and I were there too, right?” She smiled at you, warm and coaxing. “We’re also interested in that world.”

You nodded slowly, feeling the weight of her gaze, like she was waiting for something more from you. “I am. I think I’d like to try it. But I don’t think I could do a club again.” You swallowed hard, your heart thudding in your chest. “I’ll probably just drop it, at least for now.”

There was a long pause. You didn’t know if they were waiting for you to say more or if they were letting you have this moment to gather yourself.

Natasha put her paper down then, her eyes never leaving you, and something unspoken passed between the three of you.

Wanda inhaled deeply, her fingers twisting lightly around the coffee mug. “So, uhm, if this is weird, please tell me to shut up and I’ll never bring it up again,” she said, her voice quieter now, hesitant in a way that caught you completely off-guard. When you looked at her, really looked, her face was pale and uncertain.

“But, Nat and I are looking for a sub,” she finished, the words tumbling out with a breath she clearly hadn’t meant to hold that long.

Your eyebrows flew up before you could stop them, practically launching off your face. “But…but I thought you were married?”

Wanda gave a small, sheepish laugh and pressed a hand to her forehead. “We are,” she said, then grimaced. “God, why is this so awkward?” She paused, visibly trying to steady herself again, and when she spoke, her voice was a little firmer, even if her cheeks were still flushed.

“We’re married, yes. But we’re also both…dominant. I do enjoy submission sometimes, but what I really miss…what we both miss, is taking control. Together. Working with Nat to…” Her voice faltered, eyes flicking to yours, gauging your reaction. “To make someone fall apart.”

The image came unbidden, Wanda and Natasha, hands and mouths and eyes dark with hunger, breaking someone down with the precision of two people who knew exactly how to unravel a soul. It made your stomach swoop and your skin burn in places it had no business burning over breakfast.

“So you’ve had a sub before?” you asked quietly, your voice thinner than it had been a moment ago.

Wanda nodded slowly. Next to you, Natasha shifted, her entire posture went tense, her mouth a thin line. She wasn’t speaking, but her silence said a lot. And then it clicked.

You remembered what she’d said in the café. Something hadn’t gone well last time.

Wanda confirmed your thoughts. “We have. Once. But she wasn’t in it for the right reasons. We met her through an app. We were new to that kind of dynamic, still figuring things out, and she seemed genuine. We didn’t realise how wrong we were.”

Wanda’s eyes lowered to her mug. “In the end, she just used us for money,” Wanda finished, quiet now, “before letting her friends into our place while we were away to rob us blind. We never heard from her again.”

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, because it was the only thing you could think of. “For what it’s worth, that girl was incredibly stupid.”

That earned you a reaction. Wanda’s head lifted, the beginnings of a smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth. Natasha looked up at you again, her eyes cooler now, calculating, but not cold.

“Oh yeah?” Wanda asked, amusement creeping back into her voice. “Why’s that?”

You flushed again. You were starting to think it was just your natural state around them. “I…I just mean, you’re good people. You didn’t deserve that. She should’ve seen that.”

Wanda’s smirk didn’t falter, but her eyes lingered on you, watching you in a way that made it feel like she was looking past your words and into your very thoughts. Her head tilted just slightly, and you could feel the weight of her gaze.

When she finally spoke, her voice was calm, but it carried an edge of something almost vulnerable. “It is what it is, Sweetheart. That’s why we tried the club, but we couldn’t shake the feeling that starting over with someone we didn’t know, someone we didn’t trust, wouldn’t work for us. We’d always expect the worst.”

You nodded, the words settling heavily in the air between you. “I get that. Trust is everything, right? And without it, it’s just not gonna work.” You watched her closely, seeing the faintest nod, her eyes never leaving yours.

“You two are incredible from what I’ve seen,” you added, forcing a smile. “And I’m sure you’ll find someone worthy of you.”

Wanda turned to Natasha, then a brief glance was exchanged between them, their eyes locking in a silent conversation. Natasha gave the smallest nod, but you caught it.

Wanda’s gaze locked with yours, and she hesitated for a moment, her words slower, more deliberate this time. “Maybe I didn’t explain myself clearly earlier, with all my rambling,” she said, her lips curving into a shy, almost uncertain smile. There was an edge of vulnerability in her eyes, a shift in her usual confidence. “But, I was wondering, well, we were wondering if maybe…you’d be interested.”

Your heart stopped for a moment, and your mouth hung open, a hundred different thoughts rushing through your mind. You wanted this. God, you did. But you couldn’t shake the feeling that you weren’t good enough. “I…I’m flattered, really. But you two deserve better. Like way better.”

Wanda’s gaze was steady and filled with warmth. “You really need to work on your confidence,” she said, her tone rich with quiet affection. “You’re more than enough. You’re beautiful, funny, and though we haven’t known each other long, I trust you.”

Your face flushed, the weight of her words sinking in. “Even if that were the case, I’m just…too inexperienced,” you murmured, your voice faltering under the weight of your insecurity.

Wanda’s smile turned sly, her voice dropping just a touch, making you lean in instinctively. “What if I told you that inexperience is something I actually like?” she said, her tone playful but also filled with something deeper, more magnetic.

You blinked, struggling to process what she was suggesting. “W…Why would you like that?” you stammered, a shiver running through you as her words registered.

Wanda’s smirk grew, more confident now, as she leaned in a little closer. “Because…” she purred, her voice dropping lower, almost teasing, “You’re a clean slate. No bad habits. No expectations. We can shape you, guide you...turn you into ours. ”

Her words hung in the air like a promise, thick with implication. And suddenly, it felt like the ground beneath you shifted, the world outside the kitchen fading until it was just the three of you at the island, suspended in something too delicate to name.

“I…” you started, but the words disintegrated as quickly as they’d come. You blinked, lips parted, your gaze flickering between them, lost.

“It’s okay,” Wanda said gently, her voice coaxing, steady. “Take your time.”

You swallowed. “How would it…How would it work?”

Wanda sat up a little straighter, her fingers curling around her coffee mug again, like it helped with her nerves, maybe. “Well, we’d help where we could. An allowance, support with school, but that’s not the core of it.”

She glanced briefly at Natasha before turning her full attention back to you. “Natasha and I talked last night when we got back, and we agreed that if this conversation happened, we wouldn’t just be asking you to be our sub. You wouldn’t be someone we played with and sent home. We were hoping, if things felt right, that you’d join us. As a girlfriend.”

“Sorry, what?” The words tumbled out of you in a breathless laugh, surprised and disbelieving.

Natasha let out a low, amused laugh beside you, shaking her head. “Yeah, that’s about the reaction I expected.”

Wanda didn’t react to Natasha, she only looked at you. “I know it sounds fast. And I’m not trying to push. But I want to be honest about what we’re hoping for.”

You opened your mouth, closed it again. Shaking your head slightly like that might help settle your thoughts.

“I just…” You frowned, confused and overwhelmed. “I didn’t expect this. I didn’t even consider something like this. And I’m not looking for your money. That wouldn’t feel right.”

“That’s okay,” Wanda said quietly. “It’s not payment. It’s support. It’s…part of caring for someone.”

“Right, but you’re married. Why would you want a girlfriend?” you asked, your voice quiet and uncertain.

Natasha answered before Wanda could. “Because she wants someone she can bend over and ruin in every way imaginable, and unfortunately for her, I don’t bend”.

Your brain stalled. Heat bloomed across your cheeks, your chest. Your thighs pressed together instinctively beneath the island as your mouth opened, then closed again without a single usable thought behind it.

Wanda’s cheeks flushed, but she shot her wife a flat look. “Natasha!”

Natasha held her hands up, unapologetic. “Just answering the question.”

Wanda gave you a sheepish look before reaching for your hand, her touch barely there, like she was testing the waters. “Yes, I want someone to dominate, someone who craves that kind of care and control. But it’s not just about that.” Her gaze held yours, searching for understanding. “I want someone I can truly connect with. Someone to nurture.” She paused, the weight of her words sinking in. “Someone who feels like the missing piece of us.”

You blinked slowly, trying to process it. The heat still lingered from Natasha’s remark, but now it was layered with something deeper, something heavier.

“That’s a lot of ‘I want,’” you mumbled, not accusing, but cautious. “Not much ‘we want.’” You glanced toward Natasha, your brow furrowed. “You don’t seem entirely comfortable.”

Natasha was quiet for a moment. When she spoke, her voice was even, but not without tension. “If I weren’t okay with this, this conversation wouldn’t be happening. Period.” But it wasn’t dismissive. It felt more protective and defensive.

“She’s just like that,” Wanda added gently, brushing her fingers along Natasha’s arm. “Hard to read. Scary, even when you don’t know her. But once she lets you in, once she trusts you, she’s a softie. Aren’t you, my love?”

Wanda smirked, deliberately teasing, and Natasha rolled her eyes with a dark chuckle.

“Don’t start,” Natasha warned, her tone low and dangerous in the way that made you shiver. “I can still bend you over this counter and spank you black and blue.”

Your breath hitched, a full-body reaction rippling through you. Wanda stiffened next to you, visibly flustered, and the silence that followed was electric.

“So…very soft,” you muttered, trying to lighten the tension, cheeks blazing. “Clearly.”

They both laughed, unable to resist your silly joke and playful teasing. And you loved it, hearing them laugh was something you wanted to experience over and over again.

“I know I come off cold,” Natasha said after a beat, her smile fading into something more thoughtful. “And I definitely don’t look as thrilled as Wanda, but last time hurt. Deeply.”

Your chest ached with the weight behind her words. “If we did this, I wouldn’t do that to you. I promise.”

She studied you carefully, “I know,” she said simply. “That’s why I agreed. I see something in you. I see why Wanda has been obsessed with you.”

“Wait, obsessed with me?” you asked, blinking. “Really?”

“Oh yeah,” Natasha laughed. “For the last week, it’s been nothing but the cute girl in the café. How she wanted to bring you home, feed you, wrap you up in soft things.”

Wanda groaned into her hands, face flushed.

“She didn’t know this would happen, of course,” Natasha continued, tone more serious now. “But even then, she wanted to take care of you. And after last night and today…I kind of get it.”

You looked between them, Wanda, cheeks glowing, eyes bright and so clearly excited she was practically vibrating; and Natasha, lounging in her seat with the same stillness she always carried, but her gaze was steady, direct, and for once not unreadable at all. She looked…open. Present.

And for the first time, you let yourself imagine it. Not just the idea, but the reality, the weight of Wanda’s gaze on you every day, the brush of Natasha’s hand as she passed you your coffee, the sharp crackle of energy that sparked when they were both looking at you like this.

“So, say I was interested,” you said slowly, testing the words like they might burn. “What would happen now?”

Wanda lit up instantly, her smile spreading like sunlight. “Well,” she began, scooting an inch closer, “first things first, we’d have a long conversation. Kinks, limits, safe words, what you want, what you don’t, how you like to be spoken to, how you don’t.”

Your excitement faltered for just a second, replaced by the uncomfortable ache of uncertainty. “But I’m so new. I don’t know my limits, or much about my kinks.” You averted your eyes, suddenly self-conscious.

Wanda’s grin turned wolfish, slow, and unmistakably pleased. “Oh, I can think of a few ways we could figure those out.” Then, catching herself, she tempered it with a gentler look, her voice dipping. “But seriously, it’s okay not to know. That’s why we talk. That’s why we go slow. You’ll learn what you like. What you need. But we do need to talk about hard limits. Safe words. Things that are never okay, even by accident. We take that seriously.”

You nodded, the fire in your stomach flaring again. You were out of your depth. Utterly. But you also didn’t want to run from it. The very idea of exploring that, with them, felt like a door you hadn’t realised you’d been waiting to open.

Natasha shifted beside you and stretched, her back arching until her shoulders cracked. “Alright,” she muttered, standing up. “If we are getting into negotiations, let’s move this to the sofa. My ass is going numb.”

Wanda chuckled, standing too. “Good idea, my love.” Then she turned to Natasha, her eyes holding a warmth in them that always seemed to take you by surprise. “Could you grab us some water?” she asked, her voice gentle, but there was an unmistakable tenderness in the way she looked at Natasha, as if the simple request held more than just practicality.

Natasha was already moving toward the fridge, but tossed a smirk over her shoulder. “Yeah, sure. Think she’s gonna need it.”

Your mouth dropped open at the implication, and Wanda laughed, swatting vaguely in Natasha’s direction.

“Don’t mind her,” she said with a wink. “She just likes watching people squirm.”

“Says you,” Natasha said with a cheeky grin, handing you a bottle of water with a wink as she walked past.

Wanda rolled her eyes and took your hand gently in hers. “Come on. Let’s get comfortable. No pressure, okay? Just…a conversation.”

—

You moved into the living area with quiet, hesitant steps, the plush carpet soft beneath your feet, almost muffling the way your breath hitched. You perched on the edge of the couch, turning sideways so your back could rest against the armrest, knees drawn protectively to your chest.

The position felt safer, smaller. You wrapped your arms around your legs and fidgeted with the water bottle Natasha had handed you earlier, the condensation slipping over your fingers, grounding you just enough.

Wanda was beside you. Close enough that her warmth licked at your foot when she shifted. The contact was minimal, but it might as well have been a brand.

Across from you, Natasha dropped into the single chair with deliberate ease, spreading her legs slightly as she settled in, one arm draped casually over the armrest. The posture looked relaxed, but everything about her screamed alertness.

Wanda’s smile was the first thing to break the tension. It was gentle and warm, but there was something behind it, an intensity, an undercurrent of purpose. “There we go,” she murmured, glancing at Natasha briefly, something unspoken passing between them. “Much better.”

Natasha tilted her head, eyes still fixed on you, and offered a crooked smirk. “Time for the interrogation,” she said smoothly, voice teasing.

Wanda rolled her eyes, a quiet huff escaping her, but the fondness there was unmistakable. “Ignore her,” she said lightly, but her gaze sharpened as it returned to you. “Let’s start easy. Do you have a safe word?”

You blinked. The question landed like a stone in a still pond, sending ripples of nervous energy through you. Your eyes darted between them, unsure who to focus on. “I…I mean, no? I’ve never really needed one,” you admitted, voice barely above a whisper. Your grip tightened on the bottle. “But, uhm, my roommate, she told me about the traffic light system?”

Wanda’s entire face brightened with approval, her lips parting in a pleased little smile that somehow managed to be both reassuring and a little bit proud. “Perfect,” she said, her voice velvet-soft, a touch of something nurturing curling around the word. “We use that too. Simple, but effective.” She paused, head tilting thoughtfully. “Do you know how to communicate when you can’t speak? One tap or squeeze for green, two for yellow, three for red.” Her eyes didn’t leave yours. “It’s important that we can always understand you, no matter what.”

You nodded slowly, some of the fear easing from your shoulders. “Yeah. Yeah, we talked about this stuff,” you said quietly, your voice gaining strength. You looked down, a bit embarrassed. “Kind of a lot, actually.”

Across from you, Natasha let out a soft chuckle, a low, smoky sound that somehow made you feel both exposed and seen. “Well, that’s handy. Means we can get to the fun stuff much quicker.”

“Fun stuff?” you echoed, almost involuntarily. There was a nervous lilt in your voice, your eyes widening the moment the words slipped out.

Wanda’s lips curled, slow and deliberate, like she was tasting the tension in the room. “Fun stuff,” she echoed, her voice dipping into something darker, more intimate. “When we get to explore all those delicious, twisted things you want to explore.”

The room felt warmer, the air thick with unspoken tension. The words lingered, hanging in the space between you like a tangible weight, their promise settling low in your belly. Wanda let the silence stretch out, watching the way you shifted, just enough to make her smile to herself. Then, her tone shifted, gentle, like she was offering you a fragile reassurance. “But we’ll go slow. I promise.”

A flush crept up your neck, spreading like spilled ink. Your pulse thrummed in your ears. “I…I don’t really know what I like yet,” you murmured, the confession small, uncertain. “I mean, what I know, it’s mostly from my roommate. And, like…Tumblr. Who knew there were so many kinks?”

“Oh, yeah,” Natasha said, smirking again, “if it can be done, there’s a kink for it. All power to them, but there’s some stuff I don’t like, personally. Piss and shit, for example? That’s a hard limit for me.”

You grimaced instinctively, your whole body recoiling just a little. “Yeah…I don’t want that.”

Wanda and Natasha exchanged a look, then turned identical smiles on you.“Good girl, setting limits already,” Wanda said, her voice dipped in approval.

Your breath hitched. The praise struck something raw and electric inside you, sending a sharp flutter through your chest. Heat pooled low in your belly once again, your fingers twitching and your body fidgeting.

Natasha saw. Wanda definitely saw.

“Oh, you liked that, huh?” Wanda teased, her smile sharpening into something wicked. “I guess we should note potential praise kink down?”

Your face burned, but you nodded, voice barely a whisper. “I think so…but I, uhm—” You chewed your lip, hesitating, the words stuck in your throat.

Wanda’s hand brushed yours, her touch gentle but reassuring, her eyes soft with encouragement. “You can tell us, sweetheart. You’re doing great,” she murmured, her voice low and patient.

You swallowed hard, heart racing. “I think... I like the idea of being degraded, too,” you admitted, barely audible. Wanda’s lips parted slightly, her gaze sharpening with interest, but she didn’t rush you. She just stayed close, nodding, silently urging you to continue.

You forced the words out, feeling exposed. “And I want to try things that hurt. I—” You trailed off, eyes closing in embarrassment. Wanda’s hand tightened around yours, steadying you, her gaze warm but intense. She didn’t press, just waited for you to finish.

“I had some uhm, reactions when I was reading about them,” you mumbled, too shy to look at her.

Natasha let out a low hum of approval, almost like a growl. She sat up a little straighter in her chair, eyes gleaming with interest. Wanda, on the other hand, was a mix between softness and looking like she wanted to eat you alive, like every word from your mouth made you more delicious, more precious.

“God, you’re perfect already,” Wanda whispered, breathless.

Before you could bask in the warmth of that too long, something sparked in your memory. “Oh! But face slapping,” you said quickly, like the words were chasing each other out of your mouth. “I saw that a lot. And that is a big no. I know that for sure.”

Wanda’s expression shifted, like she wanted to ask, but she didn’t press. “Understood. Noted,” she said, her voice honest and protective. “That’ll never happen then, Sweetheart.”

What followed was a long, very intense conversation about kinks and limits. Natasha would throw out possibilities with the same casualness as asking what someone would want for dinner, and every reaction you gave, every squirm, every soft gasp or wrinkle of your nose was noted with precision.

Wanda was softer, coaxing things from you like secrets, watching how your body responded more than what you said.

You were surprised by how long your “I want to try this” list became. The “absolutely fucking not” list was far shorter, and that thrilled you more than you expected.

Eventually, Wanda reached for your hand, her touch deliberate and comforting. “So,” she started, voice gentle but firm, “we also need to talk names. What you like to be called. And what we’d like to be called.”

You narrowed your eyes, suspicious. “Names?”

She nodded, face open, gaze warm. “Mm-hmm. Titles. Terms of endearment. Pet names. Dynamic-specific ones, if they feel right. Not everything has to be sexual, sometimes, they’re just about grounding. About knowing your place with us, even when we’re not touching you.”

“Oh.” You blinked. “Okay. Like what?”

“Well, I like ‘Sweetheart,’ ‘Darling,’ ‘Honey,’ ‘Baby,’ obviously,” Wanda said, her tone light and teasing. “And then there’s ‘Malyshka,” she added, her voice softening, the playful warmth shifting into something deeper. She paused, letting the silence hang for a moment before locking eyes with you, a shadow passing through her gaze. “It can mean two things, baby girl, or...”

Your breath caught, pulse quickening as the tension between you thickened. “O…or?”

“Little One,” Wanda whispered, her words barely audible, but they hit you like a soft, lingering echo that stayed with you long after she'd spoken.

The words landed like a heavy blow to your chest, your breath catching in your throat. You couldn’t help the sudden heat flooding through you, the way your body reacted before your mind could catch up. Your gaze darted away, cheeks flushing hot, a mix of shock and something more flooding your system, a whimper falling from your lips.

Wanda noticed your reaction. Her voice was thick with something dangerous and darkly intimate. “That one hit, didn’t it?” she asked, her smile slow and predatory.

You couldn’t answer, your mouth too dry, but the frantic nod of your head told her everything she needed to know.

Natasha’s voice broke through, amused and approving. “Sweet,” she said, her tone dripping with satisfaction. “I like it too. It suits you.”

You peeked out from behind your hands, flushed, heart still hammering in your chest, but desperate to stay grounded. “So I just pick one?” you asked, the words trembling as they left your lips.

Wanda’s smile curled at the edges, a knowing glint in her eyes. “Or all of them,” she replied, her voice teasing. “If you want them.”

"I…I like them," you whispered, the words barely more than a breath. "I don’t really mind any pet names. Use whatever feels right. And if I don’t like it, well, I’m sure you’ll be able to tell."

Wanda’s gaze sharpened, her fingers moving to your chin with a quiet firmness, her expression taking on a subtle sternness. "No," she said, her voice gentle but unwavering. “You’ll tell us, understood? Don’t expect us to just know. You need to speak up, okay?"

Something about the firmness in her gaze made your stomach twist. You weren’t used to being asked to speak up, to set boundaries. But there was something in her tone that made you want to try. You nodded, voice small but steady. "Okay. I will."

You barely had time to process Wanda's words before Natasha leaned forward slightly in her chair. Her gaze held a mischievous edge that contrasted with Wanda’s warmth. Her lips curled into a slight smile, the playful glint in her eyes a stark contrast to the serious conversation before.

“My suggestions aren’t quite as cute as Wanda’s,” Natasha said, her voice dipping lower, teasing. “Kotenok or Kitten is what hits me when I look at you. Skittish. Soft. Trouble.”

Another jolt surged through you. Your breath caught again. “Yeah…Yeah…Kitten is good.”

Natasha gave you a slow, approving smile, her eyes glinting with a darkness that made your heart skip a beat. “Perfect, Kotenok (Kitten), ” she murmured, her voice low and controlled. “And just so you know, I tend to lean toward Russian pet names, so you’ll probably hear lots of them, for example, ‘Detka,’ ‘Krasivaya Devushka,’ and maybe even ‘Printsessa.’” (Babe/baby, Pretty girl, Princess). She paused, a hint of mischief in her gaze. “Don’t worry, I’ll tell you what they all mean...over time.”

The sound of those words, so fluid, coming from Natasha’s lips, melted you. Her accent thickened as she spoke, each syllable rolling off her tongue with a slow, deliberate grace. Her voice lowered an octave, and the heat in her gaze made it feel like the room was getting warmer. You couldn’t understand a single word, but it didn’t matter. You’d take whatever she said, in any language.

Wanda’s fingers tightened around yours, her grip grounding you as you spiraled from Natasha’s words, like she knew exactly how they’d rattled you. Her touch pulled you back, steadying you, while her voice held you in place. “And for us,” she said, her eyes locking with yours, “we do have our preferences.”

Your breath caught, heart pounding in your chest. Dread and excitement twisted in your belly, knotting together as you felt both women’s gaze on you, different yet equally intense.

Wanda’s smile shifted, becoming something darker, something more dangerous, as she leaned in closer, her breath warm on your ear. “I like being called Mommy.”

Natasha’s voice rang out with no hesitation, deep and commanding. “And I like Daddy.”

It wasn’t just the words, it was the way they said them. Wanda’s voice had a lulling, dangerous sweetness to it, pulling you closer, inviting surrender. Natasha’s tone was firm, commanding, like it could settle deep in your bones, leaving no room for doubt. The combination hit you like a lightning strike, every nerve in your body humming with heat.

“Shit,” you breathed, too overwhelmed to filter your response, the heat from both of them starting to burn through you.

Natasha’s lips quirked into a slow, wicked smile, her eyes glinting with something dark and hungry. “Good shit or bad shit?”

You squirmed under her gaze, trying to stay grounded, but the pull of both women was too much. “I think you know the answer.”

“Maybe I do,” Natasha purred, her voice low and thick with authority, making your pulse spike instantly. She didn’t budge from her chair, but somehow, it felt like she was moving closer to you with every word, the force of her presence suffocating, undeniable. “But maybe you should be using your words, like Mommy asked you to. Tell Daddy you like the idea, Kotenok (Kitten).”

You almost whimpered, but the sound barely escaped, a tremor running through your chest. “Jesus fucking Christ,” you breathed, your voice barely audible, shaken with the weight of everything swirling inside you. The words were raw, pulled from somewhere deep, but before they could consume you completely, Wanda’s voice cut through the haze.

“Natasha,” she said, the warning in her tone undercut with a hint of amusement. “Stop teasing her. You’re not helping.”

Natasha didn’t look the least bit sorry. Her grin only grew, a predatory gleam in her eyes. “I think she needs way more than teasing.”

Heat flooded your body, pooling low in your belly. Your thighs instinctively pressed together, betraying you in the most humiliating way. You hadn’t meant for it to happen, but every glance, every word from them twisted something inside you.

You couldn’t keep it in anymore, and an embarrassingly desperate whine escaped, slipping through your clenched teeth. The sound was part shame, part desire, and it made everything tighten further.

Wanda and Natasha exchanged a glance, their eyes darkening in unison, their expressions sharpening, and just like that, they both knew. They saw everything.

“Don’t…don’t look at me like that,” you mumbled, voice small, barely audible as you dipped your head in an attempt to hide the blush burning your skin. “I’m already embarrassed enough.”

Wanda laughed, soft and syrupy, the kind of sound that made your skin prickle. “What are you embarrassed about, baby?” she cooed, her voice laced with mock-innocence, almost cruel in its sweetness.

You shook your head quickly, too overwhelmed to speak. “It’s nothing,” you whispered, voice fraying at the edges.

She moved then, just a slight shift, barely more than a lean, and her fingers were under your chin again, before you could prepare for it. Cold rings pressed against your skin as she tilted your face up, slow and deliberate, until you were forced to meet her eyes.

“See, I don’t think it’s nothing,” Wanda murmured, her tone lower now, closer, more intimate. “I think you’re aching, and you don’t know what to do with it.”

You nodded before you even realised you had, your body moving before your mind caught up. It was as if instinct had taken over, bypassing any hesitation. Wanda’s smile grew, a wicked, tender thing, all at once.

“If it helps…” she whispered, her mouth brushing the shell of your ear, “you’re not the only one.” A pause, and then, “I’ve been wet since the first time you whimpered for me, Sweetheart.”

The words knocked the air from your lungs. Your breath faltered, eyes widening in disbelief. You stared at her, frozen, your mouth hanging open, utterly stunned. A tremor ran through you, the need swelling inside you until it became almost unbearable. You couldn’t form the words, couldn’t bring yourself to speak, but all that ran through your mind was touch me .

Your reaction must have sparked something in Wanda, because her hand shifted from your chin to rest softly against your cheek. Her teasing tone fell away. "Hey, baby, you with me?" she asked, her concern breaking through. "I’m sorry. Did I come on too strong?"

You shook your head almost violently, desperate to push the thought away. No, that wasn’t the problem. That wasn’t the issue at all. The problem was how badly you wanted it. How much you needed something you didn’t even know how to ask for.

“I want—” The words faltered, getting stuck in your throat. You pressed your lips together, heart hammering in your chest. It felt too soon, too much. Even with everything that had been said, could you really ask for this already? What if they turned you away? What if they saw you as desperate? What if you weren’t enough?

Wanda’s brows lifted, but her voice stayed gentle. “Want what, Malyshka (Little One)? ”

Your whole body had jerked at the sound, a shiver crawling up your spine. The way her accent deepened when she said that word? It hit you like a lightning bolt, confirming you had definitely found a new kink. Between her and Natasha, it was inevitable.

You were squirming now, eyes clouded with need, chest heaving with every breath. Without even thinking, your hips shifted, searching for some kind of pressure, any relief, but there was none. It was mortifying, how easily your body betrayed you, how quickly you fell apart under her voice.

Wanda’s smile curved, a glint of something dangerous in her eyes as she watched the way your body moved, squirming under the weight of her words. "Do you want some...help?" she asked, her voice light but carrying an edge, her smile sharp and knowing.

You opened your mouth, but no sound came out. Your throat tightened, as though it had forgotten how to form words. But in the end, it didn’t matter. You nodded, just once, barely a movement, but it felt like surrender, as though you were offering yourself up to whatever came next.

Wanda’s hand stayed gently resting against your cheek, her thumb stroking your skin in slow, rhythmic motions. She watched you unravel, and there was a deep sense of pride in her voice when she spoke. “There you go,” she whispered, the words dripping with satisfaction. “That’s our girl.”

You swallowed hard, fighting to hold onto any semblance of control. Your eyes flickered to Natasha before you could stop them, as if your body had remembered she was there even though your mind had momentarily shut her out. She still sat across the room, lounging in that chair, watching you intently, like a predator assessing its prey.

Wanda noticed the glance, and she leaned in close, her voice dropping low, a soft murmur that sent a shiver through your whole body. "Don’t worry about her," she whispered, her lips brushing your skin as her words sank in. "We agreed she would just watch for today...Our Little One isn't ready for Daddy just yet."

You couldn’t help the tremor that ran down your spine at her words. They hit you like a wave, crashing into you, making your knees fall open slightly without thinking. Your breath stuttered in your throat, and you could feel the heat pooling low in your belly.

“Oh, sweetheart,” Wanda cooed, pulling back just enough to look at you properly. Her hand slid down from your cheek to your throat, not squeezing, not threatening, just holding. Her eyes scanned your face for your reaction, and when it was positive, she continued. “You are wound so tight, aren’t you? That pretty little head of yours is spinning.”

You whimpered again, more desperate now. You didn’t know if you wanted her to stop or keep going. Everything inside you was tangled up in heat and shame and the most exquisite ache you’d ever felt.

Wanda kept her attention locked on you, fingertips grazing down your arm now, slow and deliberate, every inch she touched feeling like it burned. “I’ll take care of you,” she promised, her voice velvet-smooth. “But you’re going to ask me for it. Properly. When you’re ready.”

You blinked up at her, wide-eyed and flushed and completely overwhelmed. “I don’t…I don’t know how,” you admitted, your voice high and shaky, barely audible.

Wanda’s expression softened again. “That’s alright,” she murmured. “We’ll teach you. That’s part of it. You don’t need to know anything right now. Just that you’re safe. And that we’ll never take what you don’t give.”

She reached for your hand again, lacing her fingers with yours like before. “You’re doing so well already. I’m proud of you.”

Your eyes stung. Her praise hit harder than anything else had, like you’d been starving for it without realising. Your body ached, but your chest swelled, heat blooming there like sunlight.

Then Wanda kissed you, and it felt like something out of a dream. No urgency. No rush. Just her lips brushing against yours like a question, like she was waiting for you to answer with your body.

Her lips were impossibly soft. She kissed you like you were made of paper, fragile and water-damaged, and she didn’t want to leave a single mark, yet.

Your breath caught the moment her tongue brushed the seam of your mouth, just a test, and you gasped softly, lips parting for her before you could stop yourself.

That was when the first noise slipped out of you. Not a whimper, not yet, just a soft, aching little sigh, like your lungs didn’t know how to hold the heat.

Wanda pulled back the tiniest bit, her mouth hovering so close you could still taste her breath. She smiled. “That’s it,” she murmured, voice low and sweet, like honey melting over hot skin. “Don’t think. Just feel me.”

Your fingers twitched at your sides. You didn’t know where to put them. You were too nervous to grab her, too overwhelmed to keep still. Every nerve felt raw. Every breath was tight and shallow.

And across the room, Natasha hadn’t moved. She was just watching, her gaze heavy on your flushed face. She hadn’t spoken for a while, but you could feel her approval like a pulse in the air.

Wanda’s kiss deepened slowly. She coaxed your mouth open, tongue slipping past your lips in a way that made your toes curl. Every sound you made just seemed to encourage her, every little whimper, every gasp against her mouth. You could feel yourself trembling and hated how obvious it was…but she didn’t mock you for it. She kissed you harder.

You didn’t realise how fast your chest was rising and falling until she pulled back to speak. “Is it too much?” she asked, voice quiet and close to your ear. Her hand stroked the side of your neck, grounding. “You can tell me, Honey.”

You shook your head, throat tight. “Not enough,” you whispered, and the shame hit immediately, face burning, eyes wide. You couldn’t believe you’d said it out loud.

Wanda made a sound low in her throat, a soft, breathy laugh, thick with delight as she tilted her head to better drink you in. “Oh,” she murmured, voice just shy of mocking. “You’re already there, aren’t you?”

Her lips pressed gently to your cheek, then lower, brushing your jaw, lingering at the corner of your mouth like she was savouring you already.

“Lie back for me,” she said, light and coaxing, but with a flicker of something reverent beneath the teasing. “I need room if I’m going to worship you properly.”

Your arms trembled as you moved, slowly unfolding yourself. You hadn’t even realised how tightly you’d curled inward, hugging your knees to your chest like that might somehow contain the ache building inside you. As if protecting yourself from just how much you needed this.

But Wanda didn’t push. She didn’t rush. She simply waited, her hands stroking slowly down the outside of your thighs in patient, grounding passes, keeping you tethered.

You eased back until you were open to her, lay back, knees bent, feet flat on the sofa cushions, and her mouth dropped open as she looked at you, legs parted just enough, flushed and breathing too hard.

Wanda’s fingers slid under the hem of the loose tee you had borrowed. Her touch was light, her voice even lighter. “Can we see you properly, Little One?” she asked, with none of the teasing from earlier, just soft patience.

You nodded.

But Wanda’s fingers stilled completely against your skin, her touch suddenly so still it burned. Her head tilted slowly, eyes flicking up to meet yours with dark, patient hunger. “Words, darling,” she murmured. “Tell Mommy you want them off.”

Your throat bobbed as you swallowed hard, breath catching on the way out. “Yes,” you whispered, barely audible. “Please…Mommy. Take them off.”

Wanda let out a groan that melted into something almost desperate. The title lingered in the air like smoke, curling possessively around her. Her eyelids fluttered as she breathed through the heat. “God, you sound so good when you say that, baby,” she moaned, voice thick with want. “Such a good girl for me.”

Wanda’s fingers twitched back to life, the pause over. She dragged them down the soft line of your stomach, her touch reverent now, like she was unwrapping a gift.

She pushed the hem of the shirt slowly, watching your face more than your skin, reading the way your breath hitched and your chest rose. Her hands were warm, steady as she eased it off you entirely, guiding your arms up and over without a word.

“You’re shaking,” she murmured, and you were. You hadn’t even realised it until she pressed her lips to your shoulder, slow and open-mouthed, breathing in the scent of you like it grounded her. “You’re being so brave for me.”

Your face burned as she then reached for the drawstring of your joggers, slipping it loose with deliberate care. She didn’t rush. She didn’t tease. It wasn’t about making you squirm; it was about seeing you, piece by piece, letting you feel every second of it.

She slid the fabric slowly over your hips, the backs of her knuckles grazing sensitive skin on the way down. “Lift your hips for Mommy, baby.”

You obeyed without hesitation, thighs quivering as you raised your hips, trusting her completely. In one fluid motion, Wanda drew your joggers and underwear down together, baring you to the cool air and to her gaze.

Then you were exposed, and Wanda just…stared. Like she couldn’t quite decide where to look first, like every part of you demanded her full attention.

Her hands settled instinctively on your thighs, her thumbs tracing slow, featherlight circles against your skin as her eyes darkened. “You’re beautiful,” she breathed, reverent and a little awed. Then, without looking away from you, she spoke to her wife, “Natasha, look how pretty she is.”

Heat flared instantly in your face. Your eyes flicked toward the chair across the room before you could stop them, and there she was. Natasha hadn’t moved an inch, still lounging like a queen at rest, but her mouth was curled into a sharp, pleased little smile. Her gaze caught yours and didn’t waver, all dark promise and deliberate patience.

A quiet, shameful sound escaped your throat, and Wanda lit up. “Oh,” she laughed, wicked and delighted. “I knew it. You like being watched.”

Mortified, you dropped your head back onto the cushion and slapped a hand over your face, trying to hide. But Wanda only laughed again, sugar-sweet and cruel in the way that made your stomach flip.

“No, Little One,” she scolded gently, tugging your hand away with ease. “None of that. You don’t get to hide, not when you’re this perfect.”

You whimpered again, thighs twitching as your hips shifted against the cushions. Your legs squeezed together, then fell open, helpless. You couldn’t stay still. Every part of you was burning.

Wanda tilted her head, her lashes low, eyes sparkling as she looked at you. “Such a sensitive little thing,” she whispered, the words sliding like velvet over your skin. “And we haven’t even started yet.”

Before you could speak, she leaned in and kissed you again, slow and deep, the kind of kiss that left you aching in the chest. Her hand slid up, not between your legs but along your waist, curling around your side to hold you close.

Her mouth moved across your face, over your jaw, and down your neck, where she latched onto your pulse, sucking deeply, deliberately. The sensation jolted through you, and before you could even think, your body arched into it, a soft gasp escaping your lips.

Wanda's lips lingered, the bite sinking deeper, her mark burning into your skin like a brand, sending heat spiraling out in waves across your chest.

You whined, your body trembling beneath her, every nerve alive with the intensity of her touch. She hummed against your throat, her tongue sweeping over the mark, and her breath came slow, heavy, each exhale a silent promise of more.

“There,” she breathed, her voice thick with a dark, possessive pride, her eyes gleaming with satisfaction as she pulled back just enough to study the mark she’d left on you. "God, you look so fucking perfect with my mark on your throat."

Your hips bucked involuntarily, the possessiveness in her tone winding around something deep inside you. She chuckled low, pressing her palm flat to your stomach to keep you still.

“Settle down,” she breathed, pressing a kiss to your collarbone, then another, then lower. Her hands moved as she did, slow and reverent. She wasn’t trying to rush to anything, she was worshipping you. Making sure you felt every graze of her teeth, every soft scrape of her nails down your sides, every lingering kiss as her mouth charted a path down your trembling body.

When she bit you again, just under your ribs this time, you jolted, another high noise bursting out before you could stop it. She soothed it immediately, nuzzling into your side like she couldn’t bear to be apart from you, even for a moment.

“I love those little sounds you make,” she murmured. “So pretty. So fucking perfect for me.”

You were already trembling, your body humming like a live wire, and she hadn’t even really touched you yet. But you could feel it. The slick heat between your legs, the desperate, aching want that coiled tighter with every second.

When Wanda shifted, sliding lower down the sofa and settling between your thighs, your breath caught in your chest like a punch.

“Breathe for me, Little One,” she said softly, her voice gentling as both hands returned to your thighs. Her thumbs moved in slow, soothing circles, grounding you with each pass. “You’re doing so well, but you need to breathe.”

You nodded shakily, dragging in a broken gasp, lungs finally loosening under her attention. Wanda leaned in and pressed a kiss to your inner thigh, right at the apex, so close it made you twitch.

Her breath ghosted over slick, flushed skin, and then she kissed again. And again. Gentle. No bite this time. Just lips. Warm and reverent and unbearably soft.

You sobbed at the sensation, legs twitching, instinctively trying to close around her head, but her hands held you open.

“Are you ready for me, Sweetheart?” she murmured, looking up at you with eyes too focused, too careful, like nothing else in the world existed except your answer.

You nodded, then remembered. Words. She needed words. “Y...yes,” you managed, voice cracking. “I’m ready.”

Wanda smiled, proud and soft and utterly devastating. “Good girl,” she praised. Her hand slid slightly higher, teasing. “Now tell me what colour you are, hm?”

“G...green,” you blurted, the word high-pitched, nearly a whimper. Your body clenched with the surge of heat the check-in triggered, need sparking sharply under your skin. “I’m green.”

Her smile deepened, and she nodded. “That’s my good girl. And if you want to stop?”

You let out a desperate, wounded little whine. “Yellow or red,” you said quickly, the words tumbling out in a breathless rush. “Please, Mommy, please! I’ll say it if I need to just—”

She let out a soft chuckle, a kiss pressed between your thighs. “I’ve got you. Keep your legs open for me,” she murmured. And you opened up for her, you knew you would do anything she asked of you, right now.

As you obeyed, Wanda let out a breath, slow, shaky, like she needed the moment to collect herself. Her palms skimmed up the insides of your thighs, warm and firm, coaxing you open even further, keeping you bared beneath her gaze. She didn’t rush. Just held you there, eyes drinking you in like something sacred.

“You’re going to be so good for me,” she murmured, voice low and velvety, thick with heat and something deeper. Not a question, not quite a command, more like a vow. Her gaze flicked up, locking with yours. “Aren’t you, sweetheart?”

You nodded too fast, too eager, once again forgetting words. Your head fell back against the cushion, mouth open as you sucked in shallow breaths, dazed and trembling.

Wanda’s fingers pressed just a little harder into the soft flesh of your thigh, a subtle squeeze. A quiet correction, not born of anger but patience, like she was guiding you, gently coaxing obedience into instinct.

Her voice followed, low and coaxing, velvet over steel. “Ah-ah. Use your words for me, Sweetheart.”

“Yes,” you breathed, so desperate it came out as a sob. “Yes, I’ll be good, Mommy. I promise! Please—”

Wanda smiled. She didn’t respond with words. She lowered her mouth instead.

The first touch of her tongue was impossibly soft, barely more than a kiss, just a warm, wet brush that sent your whole body taut. You let out a noise that sounded somewhere between a moan and a cry, hips twitching, only for her palms to flatten against your inner thighs and hold you steady, immovable.

She pulled back immediately, her lips wet and shining, her eyes dark with something feral, in a way that made your stomach flip. “Stay still,” she murmured, voice low and commanding, and it hit you somewhere deep.

You froze, muscles trembling with the effort, breath catching in your throat. But the way she looked right now? Flushed cheeks, parted lips, eyes fixed on you like she was starving for more? You didn’t even need her touch. That look alone was enough to ruin you.

Nonetheless, she leaned in again, slower this time, licking a flat stripe up your centre, and you nearly came from the sound alone. The soft, slick drag. Her low hum. The soft, wet suction as her lips closed around your clit for just a second before pulling away again.

A loud moan spilled from your throat as your back arched off the sofa. “Oh, Mommy!”

Wanda hummed, pleased and hungry, her voice dipping lower, raspier, heat threaded through every word. “Does that feel good, Little One?” she murmured, her breath warm against your skin. “You taste so sweet…”

And then, Wanda truly began. Her tongue moved in slow, deliberate strokes, tracing you with maddening precision, as if she had all the time in the world to explore every inch of your cunt.

Each flick, each circle sent electric jolts through your body, teasing and torturing with perfect timing. Every pause felt like an eternity, just long enough for you to think she might be done, only for her to dive back in, harder, deeper.

Wanda slid her arm beneath your thigh and lifted, settling your leg over her shoulder like you weighed nothing at all. You let her. You didn’t even think; your body just obeyed, limp and aching and wide open.

The moment her tongue ran through your folds again, your hands found her hair, gripping it with a desperate urgency that made your knuckles throb. You clung to her like she was the only anchor in a storm, your body trembling with need.

The words spilled from your lips without hesitation, desperate and raw. “Mmmm, Mommy! Yes, please…don’t stop…more!” you begged, voice shaky, almost frantic. You didn’t care anymore, didn’t care how desperate you sounded. All that mattered was the aching hunger inside you, the overwhelming need that Wanda was slowly, perfectly, fulfilling.

Her tongue pressed deeper, more purposeful, sliding through your slick folds with aching precision. Every stroke came with a little more pressure, a little more hunger, as if your taste had lit a fuse in her.

She moaned softly against you, the sound sending a shock through your spine, and her hands gripped tighter, one anchoring your thigh, the other still holding you down as you writhed below her.

She found a rhythm that made you keen and she circled, sucked and licked at your clit like she wanted to drag it out until you forgot how to do anything but fall apart for her.

“Such a good girl,” Wanda breathed against you, her voice wrecked with hunger and lust. The words vibrated through you, each syllable soaked in pride, in possession. “So sensitive…look at you.”

Heat poured off you in waves. You were burning. Every inch of your skin felt too tight, every nerve alive and screaming. Her mouth didn’t relent, and your body responded with sobs, helpless, choked little cries that crawled up your throat unbidden.

You were shaking, desperate for release but far too overwhelmed to ask for it, like your body couldn’t decide whether it wanted to run or fall apart right there beneath her.

Your eyes squeezed shut, vision swimming, the world narrowing to nothing but her, her mouth, her voice, her hands. Until you heard, “Look at her.” A low, smooth voice cut through the haze, amused and dark. Natasha. “Wanda, you’re going to break her.”

It hit you like a lightning strike. Shame and arousal collided so violently that it knocked the breath from your lungs. You couldn’t believe you’d forgotten she was there. But of course she was.

But now, her voice cut through the fog, pulling you from the tight grip Wanda had on you, the overwhelming rush of sensation temporarily halted as your face flushed with heat. The reality of the moment hit harder than the pleasure had, and yet, it anchored you in a way you hadn’t expected.

Wanda didn’t look away from you. She didn’t even pause. Her mouth just closed over your clit again, firmer now. Your thighs tensed under her grip. Your back lifted. You were sobbing her title like it was the only thing you knew. “Mommy, Mommy, Mommy…”

“Shh,” she whispered, “You’re okay. You’re doing so well.”

You were too far gone to respond. Your mouth opened, a moan catching in your throat and sticking there as you ground helplessly into her mouth, chasing your pleasure.

Wanda moaned into you, it was low, deliberate, a sound soaked in hunger, and the vibration of it rippled straight through your core. It wasn’t gentle. It wasn’t restrained. It was carnal, shameless, and it nearly undid you on the spot.

Your whole body jolted like it had been struck, legs trembling as you continued to grind into her face as the pleasure spiked white-hot and unbearable.

Wanda then chose to experiment with another of the kinks you mentioned, her voice rough as she spoke. “Mmm such a desperate whore,” she moaned. “Grinding your cunt into Mommy’s face, such a dirty little girl.”

And that…that…was what broke you. You’d suspected, thanks to those deep dives on Tumblr, that it would do something to you…But hearing it for real, hearing it from Wanda . It didn’t just undo you, it detonated something inside you.

You were spiralling now, clinging to the sensation, chasing the edge that felt so close you could taste it. You needed to fall. You needed it, more than breath, more than sense, more than anything you’d ever needed before.

“I...I’m—” The words got stuck in your throat, too tangled up with the raw ache consuming you. “Please!” The plea came out desperate, ragged, your voice a broken whisper of need.

Wanda lifted her mouth just long enough to look up at you, her chin glistening, her eyes blown wide with hunger. “Let go,” she whispered. “Cum for me, Malyshka (Little One). ”

And you did. You shattered. Loudly, helplessly, trembling so hard your teeth nearly chattered, a scream tearing from your throat as every nerve in your body lit up and snapped loose all at once.

Wanda didn’t stop. She licked you through it, steady and patient, never pulling away even as your thighs clamped around her shoulders and your hips jolted beneath her mouth. She drank every twitch, every sob, until you were limp and gasping and twitching from overstimulation.

Only then did she slow, then finally, finally pulled back. Her face was flushed, her lips red, eyes dark and glassy with want.

She looked up at you like she wasn’t quite done. “Such a good girl,” she whispered, crawling back up over your trembling body. “If this weren't our first time, I wouldn't be finished with you yet.”

You were whimpering, breath catching in your throat over and over like you couldn’t get enough air.

“Oh, Sweetheart,” Wanda whispered, her hands feather-light now, reverent. “You did so well for me. You were perfect.”

You were too far gone to speak. You blinked up at her through wet lashes, barely able to focus, your whole body trembling with the aftershocks of everything she’d pulled from you.

Wanda leaned down and kissed you. You tasted yourself on her mouth, but all you could feel was the way she held your face in both hands like you were breakable now, like she wanted to kiss every cry back into your body.

She reached for you with both arms and pulled you straight into her chest, tucking your head beneath her chin. You folded willingly, instinctively, curling into the heat of her body as though it was the only place in the world you’d ever felt safe. She held you there, one hand sliding up to cradle the back of your head, the other stroking along your spine in long, calming passes.

“There we go,” she murmured, so soft it was nearly inaudible. “Come here, darling. I’ve got you. I’ve got you.”

You didn’t speak. You couldn’t, not yet. But you clung weakly to her hoodie, your fingers barely gripping the hem, and Wanda’s mouth found the crown of your head and kissed it, slow and sure and overflowing with something too full to name.

There was movement to your left, measured and careful. Natasha. She had been quiet the whole time, hadn’t touched you once. But now she approached with something folded in her arms.

“I thought this might help,” she said, voice hushed.. She knelt beside the couch, holding out both the bottle you’d left earlier and a thick, soft blanket.

Wanda adjusted you slightly so she could reach without disturbing your place against her chest, accepting both items with a grateful nod. “Thank you.”

She opened the blanket first, shaking it out one-handed with practiced ease, and Natasha helped drape it over your back and shoulders, tucking it in so gently it barely felt like anything at all. Still, the weight of it made your chest wobble with an aftershock of emotion; it was warm, soft, and it covered you. Like a shield.

You made a tiny sound, something caught between a sigh and a sob, and Wanda only pulled you tighter. “You’re not vulnerable, Little One,” she whispered into your hair. “Not here. Not with us.”

Natasha’s hand briefly, barely brushed over your shoulder as she pulled the blanket more snug around your side. Then she leaned in, close enough that you could smell her perfume, and offered you the water, unscrewed and waiting.

“Slow sips,” she said gently.

Your hands shook, but Wanda helped you guide the bottle, letting you rest against her chest as you drank. You managed a few small sips before your throat threatened to close again, overwhelmed by everything by touch, by sound, by being seen. You pulled back slightly, your eyes watery, and Wanda was already there, thumb brushing the side of your face.

“That’s enough for now,” she said softly, taking the bottle and setting it aside. “You did so well. Just breathe.”

You nodded, barely, and Wanda held you even closer, curling one leg beneath her on the sofa so she could keep your body entirely against hers. She wrapped the blanket more securely around your back, and her lips found your temple, your cheek, your jaw. Every kiss was slow. Careful. Anchored in a depth of feeling that made your chest ache.

“I’m so proud of you,” she murmured. “You gave me everything, and you were so brave.”

Natasha shifted subtly, her gaze soft and steady. Her voice was lower now, gentle in a way it rarely was. “You were breathtaking,” she said. “Really.”

You blinked at her, breath hitching, but all she did was reach out and brush your hair out of your face, her touch light as air. You hid your face again in Wanda’s neck, overwhelmed all over again, but in a way that felt like comfort. Maybe even like home.

—

The rest of the day was a haze of comfort and unease. Wanda stayed by your side, her touch unyielding, grounding you whenever you felt adrift. She kept you close, either holding you or brushing against you constantly, her presence soft and reassuring.

It was as if she sensed something was off, that your mind was clouded, your thoughts scattered, and your body delicate. You couldn’t fully settle, but Wanda was there, pulling you back whenever you zoned out. Her smile, warm and steady, reminded you she was present, even when you couldn’t quite make sense of what you were feeling.

Natasha, on the other hand, had pulled away. As the day wore on, she became more distant, both physically and emotionally. The same barrier that had seemed to lift during your earlier conversation had slammed back into place, stronger than before. You couldn’t shake the feeling that she was second-guessing everything now that it had all become real.

The thought struck harder than you expected, a sharp ache in your chest that wouldn’t let go. A wave of loneliness, of abandonment, washed over you, and you couldn’t make sense of it. Why did it hurt so much? You barely knew Natasha, so why did it matter?

As the day went on, Wanda seemed to sense the unease building within you. She noticed the glances you cast toward Natasha, the way your gaze lingered. Each time, she’d murmur something soothing, reassuring you that it was okay, that Natasha just needed time to process her own feelings.

And in some way, that helped. Wanda didn’t seem concerned, her belief that this wasn’t the end giving you a strange sense of comfort. If she wasn’t worried, maybe you didn’t need to be either. Slowly, you allowed yourself to relax into that belief.

When it was finally time to leave, Wanda’s sadness was obvious. She kissed you gently on the cheek, her touch lingering as she looked at you with eyes full of things left unsaid. Natasha, though, had a different expression. Her smile was faint, polite, but you could sense the relief in her that the day was over.

Before you left, Wanda made sure to add both her and Natasha’s numbers to your phone, and then put yours in theirs. She followed it up by insisting you log into her Uber account. “You’re not paying for rides to our place,” she said, her tone firm but gentle, as though the matter was settled. Her quiet confidence made it clear this wasn’t just a one-time thing. You’d be back, she was certain of it, and somehow, that certainty gave you a strange sense of comfort, even as your emotions swirled inside.

You left their house feeling lighter, but still overwhelmed. The quiet warmth of Wanda’s comfort stayed with you, but so did the knot of uncertainty in your chest. Tomorrow would come soon enough, and with it, the weight of starting college. You didn’t know how you’d handle it, but for now, you just had to move forward.

—

Your first day of college had dragged on, with it being the first day, there was absolutely nothing interesting, just a never-ending loop of syllabi readings and assignments you could barely muster the energy to care about. Every class felt like a lecture in monotony, and you found yourself wondering, for the umpteenth time, why you’d even bothered to sign up for this.

You slouched into your seat, dragging your feet like the rest of the half-dead students shuffling in behind you.

You scanned the syllabus again, hoping maybe you’d missed something less soul-crushing the first time. Nope, dense readings, no extensions, mandatory participation. You didn’t know much about the professor for this class beyond the basics: she was strict, she was demanding, and she didn’t tolerate nonsense, and you could see that in her syllabus.

One class left. One more hour, and then you could go home, grab something greasy, and let Kate grill you about your mysterious Saturday night. You weren’t looking forward to that conversation, but at least it wasn’t another lecture.

Then the door opened, and everything came crashing down.

You barely looked up at first, expecting someone completely forgettable. Sensible shoes. A cardigan. Maybe a sigh as they pulled out their notes. But then you glanced up, and your stomach plummeted.

It was Natasha.

No. No. Not Natasha.

Professor Romanoff.

Your body froze, rigid, like a deer caught in headlights. Shit. You hadn’t asked her last name. Hadn’t asked what she did for work. You’d just assumed she was something powerful, a lawyer maybe. Never in your worst nightmares had you imagined she'd be standing at the front of your classroom, like she hadn’t just watched her wife tear you apart on their sofa the day before.

She moved to the front like she owned the ground she walked on. Back straight, jaw set, and when she turned to address the room, her eyes swept over the crowd like a searchlight, briefly landing on you. For a split second, your breath caught, but there was nothing in her gaze. No recognition. No warmth. Just a cold, professional indifference.

“Good afternoon,” she said, her voice low, controlled, and sharp. Just as you remembered it. “I’m Professor Romanoff. I’m sure you’ve heard the rumours. And yes, they’re true. I expect discipline and respect. Follow my rules, and we’ll have no problems. Break them, and you’ll be out of this class without hesitation.”

Your chest tightened, and your head went foggy. Every word out of her mouth hit you like a wave crashing over you, one after the other, drowning you. You couldn’t breathe. You couldn’t think. Your body buzzed with disbelief.

The rest of the class became a blur. She spoke, she walked through slides, she gestured to the syllabus, but all you could hear was static. Every syllable of her voice felt like nails on a chalkboard, scraping across your skin. The tension built in your chest until it was suffocating.

By the time class ended, you bolted from your seat, nearly knocking into someone in your haste to escape. The cool air outside was a relief, thin and sharp, but at least it wasn’t soaked in her perfume or her unyielding authority.

Your phone buzzed in your pocket, and your heart skipped a beat.

Natasha: We need to talk. Meet me at the gas station. You know the car.

It wasn’t a question, it was a command. A part of you wanted to switch your phone off, go home to Kate, crawl into bed, and pretend the message didn’t exist. But the other part, the one still reeling from how Natasha had looked straight through you like a stranger, knew ignoring her wouldn’t make this go away. It would only make it worse.

You texted Kate a rushed excuse and made your way to the gas station. Natasha was already parked, sunglasses on, face unreadable. You knocked lightly on the window. She didn’t say a word, just motioned for you to get in. You did.

“Where…where are we going?” you asked, voice barely above a whisper, unsure if speaking was even allowed.

“To see Wanda,” she said tightly, jaw clenched. “This is going to break her heart.”

Your heart clenched, but you didn’t dare say anything else. Neither did she. The car ride passed in tense, suffocating silence, your pulse hammering harder the closer you got. By the time she pulled into the driveway, your stomach was twisted in knots.

Wanda opened the door with a smile, immediately pulling Natasha into a hug, her voice light. “Hi, my love,” she said, then glanced past her to see you, small and shaking behind. “Nat? Why’s our Little One here, looking like that?”

“Maybe she should explain,” Natasha said, her voice low, each word bitten off with sharp precision. The calm she’d worn like armour since she saw you cracked at the edges now, something colder slipping through, something furious.

Wanda blinked, visibly confused, her gaze shifting between the two of you as she guided you both inside with careful hands.

Inside, Natasha stayed standing, rigid, coiled across from you, while Wanda hovered by your side, concern etched into her brow. “Did something happen?” she asked carefully, though her eyes were already searching yours, catching how you shook.

Natasha let out a bitter laugh, dry, humourless, and dangerous. “You could say that,” she snapped, then turned to face you, eyes narrowing like twin blades. “It happened again, Wanda. We’re being used.”

The words were a slap. Your heart stuttered, and beside you, Wanda’s head snapped toward her wife, brows pulling into a deep, confused frown. “What?”

“She’s in my class,” Natasha spat. “My fucking class. She played the innocent routine, wormed her way in, probably thought that whoring herself out would get her better grades.”

“Natasha!” Wanda’s voice cracked through the air like a whip.

But you were already gasping. “N-no,” you managed to get out, “that’s not true! I didn’t know! I didn’t know!”

Natasha stepped closer. “You expect me to believe that?”

Yes!” Your voice cracked. “I didn’t know! I never saw your full name! The portal just said ‘Professor Romanoff’ and there wasn’t even a photo, I…I didn’t know it was you! I swear, I swear—!”

You backed up instinctively. Wanda’s hand caught your elbow, but it wasn’t grounding; your whole body was trembling, heat rising to your face, your limbs cold.

“No?” Natasha’s voice sliced through the air, cold and sharp, every word like a lash. “You just happened to end up in my class, right? You think I’m stupid?”

The words hit you like a freight train, but it wasn’t just the anger that crushed you; it was the way it landed, sharp and bitter, just like everything you’d heard your whole life. Your heart pounded in your chest, and before you could stop yourself, the words rushed out, desperate, broken.

“No! I’m the stupid one, okay?” you screamed, your voice high-pitched and strangled, raw with panic. The pressure in your chest felt like it might suffocate you. Your mind spiraled, racing through a thousand memories, a thousand voices all telling you the same thing. It was all crashing down on you, everything you feared, everything you hated about yourself, flooding to the surface.

“I’m stupid! I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to do anything wrong, please, just, please believe me, please!” The words rushed out, tumbling over each other in a desperate rush. “I didn’t know! I swear, I didn’t know you were my professor! I should’ve known, I should’ve checked! I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I’m just…I’m stupid, I’m so stupid…” Your voice broke, your knees feeling weak, your mind a blur of self-doubt.

You could barely see, everything blurred behind a wall of hot, stinging tears. The room faded around you, all sound drowned out by the roar of your breathing, the relentless pounding of your heart in your ears. You were spiralling, free-falling into that familiar place, the one carved out by years of being wrong, being too much, not enough, always failing. You had ruined everything again.

You didn’t see Natasha’s expression shift, didn’t catch the way her posture softened, the fire in her eyes dimming into something far more fragile, fear, concern, guilt. You didn’t notice her step forward, slow and cautious, pulled not by anger anymore but by instinct, by the quiet, urgent need to soothe. You didn’t see any of it.

All you registered was her hand rising toward your face. And your body reacted before your thoughts could. You flinched, violently, arms flying up to shield yourself, your whole body recoiling with a panicked jolt. You stumbled back, your breath catching in your throat, eyes wide and glassy with terror as you braced for impact.

Natasha froze. Her hand hung in the air, suspended in horror, fingers trembling. The colour drained from her face as the realisation hit: you were afraid of her. And it was clear that someone else had carved that fear into your bones long before now.

“Detka…(babe)” she breathed, voice shattered, barely more than a whisper.

You couldn’t look at her. Couldn’t look at Wanda either. You kept your arms up like a shield, like you could somehow disappear behind them, like maybe if you were small enough, quiet enough, sorry enough, they’d forget you’d ruined everything.

“I didn’t mean to….I didn’t know! I swear, I didn’t know,” you choked out, your voice thin and brittle, like glass about to crack. “I wasn’t trying to get anything from you, I wasn’t…I wasn’t using you, I wouldn’t, please.”

Your knees buckled slightly, your whole frame shaking, and finally, Wanda moved. “Oh, Sweetheart,” she whispered, rushing to your side, gently wrapping an arm around your waist before you could collapse completely.

Her hand cupped the back of your head, pulling you in, holding you like you might break apart. “No, no, darling, no one’s mad at you, okay? You’re okay, I promise, you’re safe.”

Natasha hadn’t moved. She was still standing in place, her jaw slack, her hand slowly lowering as her chest rose and fell with shallow, uneven breaths. Her eyes were locked on you, wide and glassy.

“I thought—” she tried, but her voice failed. She swallowed hard, blinking fast, like she couldn’t quite breathe. “I thought it was happening again.”

Wanda glanced over her shoulder at her wife, her voice still low but firm. “She didn’t know, Nat...It was just fate.”

“I know,” Natasha whispered. “I know that now. I just, when I saw her in that room, it felt like before.” She let out a breath like she’d been holding it since the moment she walked into the classroom.

You peeked up through your lashes, finally daring to meet her eyes. The anger was gone. All that was left was guilt and something painfully soft.

“I wasn’t going to hurt you,” Natasha said, slowly, deliberately, her voice aching with apology. “I was, shit, I was trying to comfort you. I didn’t think—”

“I’m sorry,” you whispered again, because it was all you knew how to say.

Wanda stroked your hair gently, her voice firm. “You don’t need to be sorry, you didn’t do anything wrong. Not one thing.”

But still, the words hung between the three of you like smoke.

Natasha stepped forward, painfully slow, eyes flicking from you to Wanda and back again. She crouched a little, dropping down to your level, her voice raw and barely holding together. “Can I…?” she asked, hand hovering just inches from your arm. “Can I touch you?”

Your breath hitched, but you gave the smallest nod.

The moment her fingers brushed your skin, everything in Natasha crumbled. She sank the rest of the way down, arms folding around you gently as Wanda kept one around your shoulders. The weight of both of them wrapped around you, solid and warm.

“I’ve got you,” Natasha murmured. “ We’ve got you.”

Natasha didn’t let go. Not for a long moment. Her arms stayed around you, gentle and steady, never demanding, just there, like a tether, like she was trying to imprint your shape into her bones, as if by holding you now she could somehow make up for every second she hadn’t before. You felt the way her hands trembled, how her breath caught against your skin.

“I’m so sorry,” she breathed, the words cracking on the way out. “You didn’t do anything wrong. Not a single fucking thing. This is on me. All of it.”

Your body was still stiff, every muscle drawn tight like a bowstring, your breaths coming in hiccupping, uneven bursts, your chest aching from how fast your heart was racing. But even through the storm inside you, you didn’t pull away. Couldn’t. Not when her voice sounded like it was breaking apart just to reach you.

“I should’ve seen you,” Natasha murmured, forehead pressed gently to your shoulder. “I should’ve looked. I should’ve listened. You were terrified, and I was too wrapped up in my own shit, too scared of being used, too angry to even ask. I didn’t give you a chance. I just assumed the worst. And I...”

“Nat…” Wanda said softly, a hand on her back now, grounding her.

But Natasha shook her head, voice raw. “No. She needs to hear this.”

She shifted just enough that you could feel the ghost of her breath against your throat, her hands still steady on your sides, but now you noticed the shake in her fingers. Not from rage. Not anymore.

“You looked at me like I was going to hit you,” she whispered. “And I don’t think I’ll ever forget that. But I need you to hear this, I will never hurt you like that. Not ever. Not unless you ask for it. Not unless we talk about it, plan for it, and make it safe.”

Your voice was barely audible, crushed beneath the weight of your own guilt. “It’s okay. It’s my fault. I didn’t know. I should’ve…I should’ve guessed, I should’ve asked, I’m so stupid—”

“Stop.” Wanda’s voice broke through, warm and firm. Her fingers tipped your chin up, her eyes locking with yours, full of calm and command. “You didn’t do anything wrong. You don’t have to know everything.”

You whimpered, a soft sound full of doubt and disbelief, but you didn’t look away.

“You’re not stupid,” Natasha echoed, gentler now, her hand brushing your cheek in the softest touch. “I can tell you’ve been taught to expect the worst. To believe it’s always your fault. You’ve been made to apologise for existing, haven’t you?”

You nodded without meaning to, like your body had been waiting for someone to say it out loud for years.

And Natasha’s whole expression shifted, darkening, not with fury at you, but at the unseen ghosts still haunting you. Her voice dropped, low and furious, like a promise carved in steel. “Just one word from you, and I’ll destroy them, just tell me, Little One, and I’ll fix it.”

The title caught you off guard, like a splash of sunlight after days of rain. Your chest fluttered. Your heart squeezed.

“Little One?” Your voice trembled, barely a whisper, fragile and shaking under the weight of your doubt. “I’m still your Little One? After everything? You didn’t even want me in the first place…surely you can’t want me now?”

Natasha’s face crumpled, like it physically pained her to hear you say that, and in that instant, everything she had been holding back cracked wide open.

“Sweet girl…” she whispered, her voice raw, fingers trembling as they cupped your face. “Stop. Please. I wanted you. I want you. I care about you more than I ever thought possible.” Her voice was thick with emotion. “I was scared of how you made me feel. It came on so fast, and I didn't expect to care so soon. But you were so perfect with Wanda. So soft, so beautiful. And I pulled away because I was so afraid of getting lost in you, but fuck, I don’t care anymore. I’m done being scared.”

Behind you, Wanda’s arms tightened around your waist, pressing herself into you as if she, too, needed this moment of vulnerability. “We want you. Both of us, ” Wanda said quietly, her voice steady but full of feeling. “Don’t ever think we don’t.”

Your voice cracked as you looked at Natasha, your eyes full of uncertainty. “But…what about college?”

Natasha gave a small, determined shrug, the weight of her resolve settling in her gaze. “We’ll make it work. I’m not letting you go. Not now. Not ever. You’re ours.”

And in that moment, with both of them holding you, Natasha’s forehead pressed to yours, her grip grounding you like she was afraid to let go, Wanda’s warmth surrounding you from behind, you finally leaned into them completely.

That day had changed everything for both you and Natasha. For the first time in your life, you knew, without any doubt, that you could finally drop your walls.

Natasha, too, had her own shift. She realised, with a painful clarity, that by clinging to her past wounds, she wasn’t just hurting herself. She was hurting you. She was hurting Wanda. And even though you’d only known each other for a matter of days, there was a deep understanding between the three of you.

You felt it in your bones, the unspoken certainty that this was just the beginning. Something beautiful, something real, was waiting to grow between you all.

At first, despite the growing trust, things weren’t always easy. Especially when it came to punishment. There were moments, early on, when the balance wasn’t yet settled, when the rules were still new, still unfamiliar. Punishments were more frequent as you navigated this delicate dynamic, learning where the boundaries lay.

But any time you flinched in that way, any time your mind betrayed you, when the old instincts to recoil and protect yourself kicked in, they were there. They’d stop. They’d call the safeword, and the world would pause.

In those moments, no matter how intense the scene, no matter how harsh the lesson, they always made sure you knew one thing: you were safe. “Safe” wasn’t just a word; it was a promise.

With each moment they showed you that you were cared for, each time they respected your limits, it became easier. And then, eventually, there was a shift. You stopped flinching. You stopped questioning, stopped second-guessing.

The trust settled into you like a warm embrace, a sensation so profound you hadn’t even known it was possible. In their presence, you were safe, utterly, completely safe, and the weight of that truth was something you’d never imagined could exist.

Vulnerability no longer felt like a weight; it became a gift, something you could offer freely, without fear, because they had shown you that you didn’t need to protect yourself anymore. They would do that for you now. And in that space, you learned to give them everything, your trust, your heart, your willingness to surrender it all.

Because you knew, deep within your bones, that they would handle it with a tenderness, a devotion, that made you feel like you had finally come home.

—

Did I need to make this as angsty as I did? Probably not. But did I do it because I love exploring how trust builds after darkness? Definitely. What can I say, a damaged girl needing care and love is my thing. Sorry, not sorry. Hope you still enjoyed it!

Taglist: @angelicbrats @chansawrelier

#natasha romanoff x reader #wanda maximoff x reader #wandanat x reader #wanda maximoff #natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff smut #wanda maximoff smut #mommy wanda #daddy natasha #wlw smut #marvel fanfic #marvel smut #switch wanda #Bishovapls Fics #kate bishop #yelena belova #rio vidal

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wandamaximoffsbadgirl · 9 months ago

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Ley's Kinktober Masterlist || 2024

Header image credit: @hopelesslygaysstuff

🕸 ⋆｡°✩ ⋆｡°✩🕸 ⋆｡°✩ ⋆｡°✩🕸 ⋆｡°✩ ⋆｡°✩🕸

🕸Coming Soon🕸

🎃 October 1st

Temp play (Soft!Daddy!Yelena Belova x bratty!fem!reader)

🎃 October 2nd

Piercing (Dom!Wandanat x sub!fem!reader)

🎃 October 3rd

Pet play (Puppy!Kate Bishop x Domme!Fem!Reader)

🎃 October 4th

Watersports (Mean!Mommy!Wanda Maximoff x fem!reader)

🎃 October 5th

Bondage (Domme!Maria Hill x subby!fem!reader)

🎃 October 6th

A/B/O (dom!alpha!Agatha Harkness x omega!reader)

🎃 October 7th

Markings (Agatha Harkness x fem!reader)

🎃 October 8th

Praise kink (Carol Danvers x fem!reader)

🎃 October 9th

Flogging (Dom!Scarlet Witch x subby!fem!reader)

🎃 October 10th

Overstimulated (Soft Mommy!Agatha Harkness x Mean Daddy!Rio Vidal x fem!reader)

🎃 October 11th

Knife and gun play (Mob!Boss Natasha Romanoff x fem!reader)

🎃 October 12th

Breath play (Bishova x fem!reader)

🎃 October 13th

Collaring (Stepmom!Wanda Maximoff x fem!reader)

🎃 October 14th

Gangbang (Mob boss!Wandanat, Carol, Val, and Kate x fem!reader)

🎃 October 15th

Hair pulling (Valkyrie x fem!reader)

🎃 October 16th

Lactation (Step Mom!Wanda Maximoff x fem!reader)

🎃 October 17th

Period sex (Wandanat x fem!reader)

🎃 October 18th

Shower sex (Mommy!Wanda Maximoff x fem!reader)

🎃 October 19th

Mirror sex (Wandanat x fem!reader)

🎃 October 20th

Stockholm (Dark!Agatha Harkness x fem!reader)

🎃 October 21st

Monster fucking (Tentacle!Agatha Harkness x fem!reader)

🎃 October 22nd

Thigh riding (Dom!Kate Bishop x subby!fem!reader)

🎃 October 23rd

Breeding (G!P!Natsha Romanoff x fem!reader)

🎃 October 24th

Somnophilia (Dark Witch!Agatha Harkness x fem!reader)

🎃 October 25th

Pussy slapping (Domme!Maria Hill x fem!reader)

🎃 October 26th

Edge play (Corrupted!Wanda Maximoff x innocent!fem!reader)

🎃 October 27th

Lap dances (G!P!Natasha Romanoff x stripper!fem!reader)

🎃 October 28th

Phone sex (Carol Danvers x fem!reader)

🎃 October 29th

Hunter/Prey (Stalker!Natasha Romanoff x fem!reader)

🎃October 30th

Aphrodisiac (Valkyrie x fem!reader)

🎃October 31st

Masks (Serial killer!Kate Bishop x innocent!fem!reader)

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lowkeyerror · 5 days ago

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Always, I'm With You

Yelena Belova x Reader

Word Count: 10k

Notes: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, fluff, FULL THUNDERBOLTS* SPOILERS, Happy Ending, mentions of torture, Hydra, cannon typical violence, possible ooc, (Tell me if I miss something I'll add it)

Summary: Your relationship with Yelena has been littered with challenges, but there isn't anything that you can't face together.

An: The summary is shit but I don't want to give too much away. So I implore you to trust me because I swear this delivers. Also its my civic duty to notify the masses that Ao3 is down rn.

Masterlist | Masterlist 2

Yelena had always been the optimist of your relationship. She was a beacon of light that was ever glowing. No matter the trauma she suffered, she held her chin high and kept a smile on her face.

She had pulled you out of the darkness more times than you could remember. Every time you began drowning in your past, she was there to remind you of the present. You were no longer alone, you’d never be alone again, because you had her.

You weren’t prepared for the day when her light was snuffed out. Life had already been so unnecessarily cruel to her, but you had never seen her broken like this. The universe put Natasha in her path for a tenth of a second. It gave her the family that she spent years chasing and then snatched it so ruthlessly.

When the blip happened, you were with her. One minute you were sitting on the counter watching her wash her face and the next she was gone. You were hysterical. The panic was instant, it felt like someone had a death grip on your heart.

The first thing you did was call Natasha. You rambled on the phone, incoherent to most, but Natasha had known why you were calling. How could she not, when she was watching the same thing happen to the people on the battlefield?

She got to you as quickly as she could. You weren’t in good shape when she got to you. In your mind you were ready. You needed to get justice, revenge, something that would fill the hole left by Yelena’s absence.

When what was left of the Avengers killed Thanos, you were there. You had felt how empty the act was. How meaningless it all felt. With your beacon of light gone nothing felt worth it anymore.

You wanted to go off on your own. Maybe just walk into the ocean never to be seen again, but Natasha wouldn’t allow it. She kept you close to her though for a long time you were useless, empty without Yelena in your life. You ached for her. You saw her everywhere you looked. She was on the couch with a bowl of mac and cheese, she was on the counter playing with her knife, she was in bed with her arms open for you to climb into. Then you’d blink and she’d be gone just as quick.

Your past became more haunting without her. You started to think about all of the sins you committed while you were brainwashed by Hydra. They had kidnapped you somewhere in the early 2000’s injecting you with their version of the super soldier serum. You did unthinkable things. Some you could never forgive yourself for. Yelena was the one to free you of the mind control. You’d stuck with her ever since then. She was the only person capable of making you feel like you weren’t a monster. Now she was gone. All your mind did was bounce between memories of her and your brainwashed past. It was a torturous loop that you couldn’t escape.

Natasha let you grieve. She didn’t pressure you to help her with hero work. She didn’t force you to come out of your room to socialize. All she wanted from you was to see you eat at least twice a day. She’d talk and you’d listen, not saying much back.

One day when you came down for dinner you saw her at the table with her head in her hands, a bottle of Russian vodka perched by her elbows. It was nearly half empty.

You sat across from her silently. She lifted her head up to look at you. Her eyes were bloodshot, but you couldn’t tell if it was from the alcohol or the tears.

“You two are so alike sometimes that it scares me.”

You can see Natasha morphing into her younger sister right before your eyes. There wasn’t a problem that vodka couldn’t outrun. At least that’s what Yelena said on her worst days.

“I miss her too, you know? I had- I just got her back,” more tears well in her eyes. “I found a family with the Avengers and now I have nothing left to show of it. Then right after I found the closest thing to blood relatives I have it gets stolen from me. There’s not a day that goes by that I’m not missing someone.”

You try to find some words of comfort, “I was never good at this, but your sister was. This hopeful glow that you couldn’t help but follow. She’d probably say something about not giving up so easily, it’d be a half-joke. Then she’d probably say something like the world will always need heroes like you. People that continuously sacrifice for the sake of humanity.”

“And are you a hero?”

Natasha shoots the question at you.

You reach for the bottle of vodka, taking a large swig, “I was whatever she needed me to be. Sometimes a hero, sometimes less than that, but never evil.”

“Malicious?”

You shrug, “On occasion.”

She laughs through her tears, “I’m glad she had you when I wasn’t around.”

You shake your head, “It’s the other way around. She taught me how to stay afloat. I leaned on her for support for so many things. Without her, I just feel myself falling into the void. How can anything I do be worth it, if she’s not here?”

She places her hand on top of yours, “I’m not going to give up until she’s back, until they’re all back.”

Natasha meant it. You could tell she believed with her entire being. She had never been an optimist, often grounded in unobjectionable truths. You couldn’t tell if it was desperation or just another way she had become like her sister.

You started being useful that day.

Rather than letting Natasha carry all of the weight and responsibility, you let her give some of it to you. You started thinking like her. You had to see Yelena again, you’d do whatever it took just to see her one more time.

When the opportunity to rewrite history came about, you were vexed that it appeared in the form of Scott Lang. He was annoying, but without him there wasn’t a chance the remaining Avengers would’ve reformed. Natasha had called upon them many times, but they’d only seemed to care about the big one.

“Natasha.”

You have this pit in your stomach that won’t go away. You aren’t fond of this plan, of everyone splitting up. Maybe you’d feel better if you were going with Natasha and Clint, but you weren’t.

“Y/n, I know-"

You don’t let her finish her sentence. You wrap your arms around her. You’re squeezing her tightly with your eyes shut.

“Be safe,” is what you say initially as you let go of her.

“I love you too, kid. If something happens…”

You shake your head, “No. You’re going to come back here, for Yelena.”

Natasha’s smile is bittersweet, “I will do what I can.”

You shake your head once again, “Not good enough. Promise me, promise me you’ll come back. We’re going to do this together. Nat, she has to come home to the both of us.”

She pulls you into her embrace again, she kisses the crown of your head, “I promise.”

She lied.

“Where is she?”

Clint couldn’t look you in the eye. He tossed the stone to Tony and tried to walk away. You grabbed him by the shoulder, so he was face to face with you.

“Clint,” your voice was stern.

You could see the tears welling in his eyes even though he avoided your gaze, “You have to trade a soul for the stone. I tried- I tried, but she was always better than me.”

Your grip on his shoulder only tightened as you felt your knees buckle. You refused to believe him, “She promised.”

Clint tried to hug you, but you shoved him away, “None of you would even be here without her. You all gave up, turned your back on the world. You took your ball and went home and now you’re here and she’s not. This is bullshit. You already owed her so much and she gave her life up for you pieces of shit.”

Bruce threw a bench, “We cared about her too.”

“Funny way of showing it,” you countered him.

The Hulk got in your face, the team tried to step between you two, “You wouldn’t like me when I’m angry.”

“I thought you were always angry,” you shot back at him.

“Now is not the time for this,” Steve interjected.

You scoffed, “Fuck off Steve. Yelena got blipped right in front of me. I thought I lost everything, but I still had Natasha. Now I don’t have either of them because of this stupid fucking team. I’m alone all over again.”

“We’re going to get Yelena back,” Tony chimed in.

You chuckled bitterly, tears now streaming down your face, “Fantastic, and the first thing I have to tell her is that her sister is gone forever. They had just found each other. Fuck.”

Your legs gave out from underneath you. Any arguments that you had stopped as sobs violently struck you. Your body folded in on itself.

The men stared at you, but Clint was the first one to move again. He wrapped his arms around you, but you didn’t shove him off this time. You allowed him to hold you. The only thing you managed to say was ‘she promised' over and over again.

When you couldn’t cry anymore, his grip didn’t falter.

“She told me that you have to be strong for Yelena like you were strong for her. She couldn’t have done this without you.”

“How can I do this without her?”

He was slow to stand, his hand stretched out, “You do it for her instead. Don’t let her sacrifice be for nothing.”

You took his hand.

In the midst of battle, sweat dripping down your dirt-stained face, you couldn’t help, but wonder if you’d die here. If you’d go out a hero, fighting against a mad titan’s army.

Somewhere between the 9th and 13th enemy you take down, you realize you can’t die. Yelena would come back to no one. Well she’d have Alexei, but would he be able to save her from herself?

When the portals opened, you felt a little relieved. Any help was welcomed in your mind. The people who disappeared were back, and you wondered if she was too.

It was somber when it was all said and done, but you didn’t need to stick around for a reunion.

“I can get you to her,” Stephen Strange offered.

You didn’t ask any questions, instead you gave him a curt nod. He opened a portal and you stepped right through.

The last time you were in this apartment, Natasha was basically dragging you out of it. Your protests fell on deaf ears as you tried to stay here. It wouldn’t have been good for you, surrounded by things that reminded you of Yelena.

You hear the rummaging around before you see her. Your heart thuds in your chest, and you curse your legs for not being able to move.

When she comes charging down the hallway. Your breath catches. Five long years, you’ve waited for this moment.

She almost doesn’t recognize you, pulling out her weapon. When she gets closer, she begins to analyze you.

Older, eyes more tired, new lines across your forehead, different hair. It was hard to tell with all the dirt and debris of battle all over you.

“Yelena.”

She can hear how broken you are. So she doesn’t stop you when you surge forward, holding onto her like she would vanish out of thin air.

You shake in her arms whispering against her skin, the same thing over and over, “I’m sorry.”

She backs away only enough to hold your face in her hands, “What happened?”

You attempt to take a deep breath, but wince. Yelena finds a cut on the side of your suit. Gently she presses it and you groan.

“Tell me after I patch you up.”

She drags you along, trying to pull you into the restroom. You stop outside and shake your head, “Bedroom.”

Yelena furrows her brows, but she grabs the first aid out of the bathroom, before following you to the bedroom.

The cut on your side is nastier than you would’ve thought. It takes her a while to tend to the wound. When she finished the cut is in a better state, but you aren’t. All you can do is stare at her.

She asks you to tell her again. You finally pull your eyes away from her’s, instead focusing on your hands. You tell her everything, from the moment she disappeared until now.

“My sister,” everything else seems of little importance to Yelena.

You can’t look at her, “I’m so sorry.”

She takes your hand, intertwining your fingers, “It’s not your fault.”

Your lip begins to quiver, “Stop.”

“Y/n, look at me.”

“I have to be strong,” you say it more to yourself than her.

“Detka, please,” Yelena pleads with you.

Your teary eyes meet her’s. It breaks you to see her like this. You open your arms, and she leans into your hold. She doesn’t care about the remnants of war all over you.

“We are stronger together.”

Your hands are on her stomach. She places her hands on top of yours, keeping you in place.

There are a million more things that you want to say to her. You want to tell her you missed her, that life without her was dull, that you were sorry you couldn’t save her sister, but you don’t. Instead your lips kiss the top of her head, lingering as you hold her. You hope it translates to something.

When she raises your conjoined hands to her lips to press a delicate kiss to the back of your hand, you know it does.

“I love you,” she says it first.

“I love you too.”

Neither of you attend Tony’s funeral. Instead you find yourselves in a small suburban town. You wish you could say that it was where they grew up, but you knew it wasn’t.

You both stare at her grave. Yelena gets close to the tombstone putting her head against it. She mutters something in Russian. You don’t fully understand it but you pick up a few key words.

She raises her volume for you to hear, “This is where we became sisters.”

“She was always thinking of you. I think it’s half of the reason she took me in when you were gone. The other half was because she was a good person. I think she kept some blonde in her hair for you. Being with her saved my life because sometimes when I looked at her I saw small pieces of you. I hope… I hope that sometimes she felt the same when she looked at me. It was a comfort I think we both needed. I didn’t know how similar you were until I found her nursing a bottle of vodka trying to drink away the pain, just like you do.”

She catches your gaze, locked as tears fall down your face, “I’m sure she did, because you are the best part of me.”

You disagree with her, “ You saved me.”

She stands to cup your face in her hands. You still have a few scrapes from the battle with Thanos. Her hands are cold against the skin of your face. She searches your eyes for something, she doesn’t find it. Her forehead rests against yours. Her breath mingles with yours and for a moment all the tears are forgotten.

“Why can’t you see that you saved me too?”

She kisses you, almost like it would break you. You relax into her, relishing in the way her lips feel against yours. It’s like breathing.

You waited 5 years to experience this again. This is your first kiss since returning. You both were in fragile states. You’d never rush Yelena into anything she didn’t want to do. In truth you could’ve kissed her the second you saw her, but you had too much to tell her then.

Your eyes stay closed even when your lips are no longer touching her’s.

“Sorry to interrupt such a touching moment.”

Your moment is over just like that. Yelena has an unimpressed look on her face as she turns her attention to the woman.

“What do you want Valentina?” Yelena’s voice is gruff as she speaks.

“I have a job for you. The both of you if you’re interested,” she flashes a Hollywood smile as she speaks.

Yelena’s jaw clenches, “How many times do I have to tell you that she doesn’t do this?”

You sigh, “What’s the job?”

Your girlfriend looks at you like you’ve grown a second head, “No.”

“If you think you’re going on your own, you’re mistaken,” you tell her.

She runs a hand through her hair, looking between you and Valentina. The sigh that leaves her lips is heavier than the one that had left yours, “You heard what she said.”

Valentina’s smile stretches even wider than it already was, “Wonderful, a couple of shadow agents.”

That's how you started working for Valentina.

There wasn’t any chance that you’d be letting Yelena out of your sight. Not with everything so fresh. You knew the kind of person she was.

She would throw herself into this work to numb herself from the pain. You couldn’t stop all of the hurt, but you could feel it with her. She’d do the same for you.

“Lena,” you call her name through the hotel you’re currently stationed at. “It took me a few stores, but I’ve got the boxed mac n cheese.”

There’s no answer. You feel a little panic start to set into your bones. You call her a few more times but you don’t get a response. Just when you’re about to start investigating every inch of the apartment, you find her.

She’s leaned against the bathtub, sitting on the floor. Her head hangs down letting you know she’s unconscious. The bottle of vodka in her hand is nearly half empty. There’s another one on the side of her that’s completely gone.

You crouch down to look at her. Your hand reaches to move some of her hair out of her face. She had cut it short since you reunited. You liked it, but that wasn’t surprising. There were minimal things you didn't like about her.

When you attempt to take the bottle from her hand Yelena wakes up. She goes on the offensive immediately trying to trap you against the wall. You slip from her grasp on your shoulders, slinking around her back, so that you can hug her from behind. She thrashes a little until you whisper in her ear.

“Lena, baby.”

She stops her movements. She nearly leans into you until something stops her. She rips herself out of your hold. She doesn’t look at you. The grip on the bottle tightens, “Sorry.”

She starts to march out of the room, but you don’t allow it. Instead of reaching for her, you set your sights on the bottle. She tries to fight you for it, but your grip is unrelenting.

“Let go.”

You take stern tone with her, “You don’t need it.”

“How are you going to tell me what I need?”

“Because I know you Yelena. Now give me the bottle,” you try to yank it from her hands.

“NO!”

She screams at you and throws the bottle in the corner of the bathroom. Glass shatters all over the white tile. Liquid spreads around the floor. Your eyes are wide, as you look at the scene. You look back to Yelena to find similar shock on her face.

She starts running and you chase after her. She books it out of the hotel. You follow her down the steps and out of the front. You can feel your heart pound in your ears as your feet slap against the concrete. You watch as she tries to loose you in the crowd.

Your eyes follow the trail she takes, but your legs carry you a different way. You’re going to cut her off. You push yourself, knowing that the blonde is faster than you.

When you round the corner her body collides with yours. She’s looking back to see if you’re behind her.

Your chest heaves up and down as you try to catch your breath. She doesn’t look at you, the anxiety clear on her face. You take her hand into yours, she flinches, but allows it.

You pull her away from the crowded street, into a private alleyway.

“I love you,” you start. “And nothing is going to change that. Not a thousands shards of glass on the floor and not a river of vodka.”

“I shouldn’t have done that,” she still refuses to look at you.

You nod, your lips briefly folding into your mouth, “You shouldn’t have, but I know you won’t do it again.”

“How can you possibly know that?”

“Like I said, I know you. That and… I think we both could benefit from going dry.”

She frowns, “Just because I can’t control myself, doesn’t mean you have to suffer too.”

“Lena you act like you haven’t found me in that same position a thousand times. If not with a bottle, then with a pipe. I know how you feel because I feel it too, but you’re not alone.”

She meets your eyes with a childlike hope burning though them. You can tell you’re getting through to her.

“I’m here. I will always be here,” you hold her gaze.

She crumples into your arms. You support her weight as she clutches onto your top. You can feel the dampness of her tears seeping through your shirt.

“Ya tebya lyublyu,” she whispers into the fabric of your clothing.

“I love you so much Yelena,” you rub soothing circles on her back.

She straightens up a little sniffing and wiping her eyes, “Ok, ok, I feel better now.”

You smile at her, “Good, because we have to go back to the hotel. I have boxed macaroni ready to be cooked.”

“With hot sauce?”

You kiss the side of her temple, “Of course I got the sauce.”

When you get back to the hotel the blonde wordlessly cleans up the mess she made in the bathroom. While she does that you cook the macaroni. By the time she’s done, so are you.

You make dumb jokes as you eat together. Lightening the mood exponentially. It’s something that’s bound to happen when the two of you are together. She’s your light and you’re finally beginning to understand you’re her’s too.

As much as you pressure Valentina to only send jobs that both of you can do, there are times where the woman doesn’t concede. Yelena was sent off to Malaysia, something about a lab. It wasn’t your mission so you didn’t know all of the details.

All you knew was that you had some anxieties about being apart. Things were better now, but there were still hard days.

Recently you could tell that something was bothering Yelena. She was keeping something from you. It only spiked your anxiety about her going on this mission alone. She wasn’t pulling away like she would’ve in the past, but she wasn’t letting you in.

It was a weird place to be in your relationship.

You check the time again, wondering when she would be home. You knew it would be late, but you predicted something earlier than this. It had been a few hours of you sitting on the couch of your home and waiting for her to walk through the door.

You had your fill of television and doom scrolling on the phone. All you want to do is cuddle in bed next to your girlfriend.

When she finally comes through the door, she leans her back against it while it’s closed. She stays there taking a few deep breaths, grounding herself. You watch her curiously, but let her have the moment.

When she opens her eyes, they land on you on the couch.

She smiles at you, “You didn’t have to wait for me dorogoy.”

You nod a few times, “I missed you, wanted to know you were safe.”

You walk over to her, she pulls you in for a chaste kiss, “I missed you too.”

The two of you make your way to the bedroom. You get in the bed while the Russian undresses.

“I thought you'd be home a while ago,” you say to her with no malice.

She freezes up a little, but doesn’t stop changing, “I made a little pit stop before coming home.”

You raise your eyebrow, “A pit stop?”

“You know a little errand before coming home,” she explains, climbing into bed.

“I know what a pit stop is Lena. Where’d you go?”

She mumbles an answer, but you don’t hear her.

“Yelena Fyodorovna Belova.”

She gasps, “Do not call me that.”

You scoff, “It’s your name, isn’t it?”

She squints her eyes, “I told you my middle name in confidence. Not so you could use it as ammunition.”

“Well, if you stop mumbling then I won’t resort to using it,” you counter.

She lets out an exasperated sigh, “Fine. I went to see Alexei.”

“Oh.”

She shakes her head, “This is why I didn’t want to tell you.”

“All I said was oh,” you defend.

“Because you hate my dad,” Yelena says it like it’s a fact.

“I don’t hate your dad.”

She sits up in the bed, crossing her arms, “You don’t?”

“No, I just hate how emotionally constipated and fixated on the past he is."

She throws her hands in the air, “So his whole personality?”

You change the subject, “How was seeing him?”

“I think you’re supposed to ask how he is doing first. If you are so keen about changing the topic.”

You let out a huff of annoyance, “How is he?”

She laughs, pulling you closer to her. Your head lies in her lap. Her fingers get tangled in your hair.

“He’s miserable, he misses being a hero.”

“Shocker,” you mutter under your breath.

“Now who is doing the mumbling?”

You smile up at her, “Sorry. Why’d you go see him anyway? It’s been like a year, hasn’t it?”

You see something in her demeanor change. She looks back down at you, “I was thinking of quitting.”

“Oh.”

She chuckles, “There you go with the ‘oh’ again. What does that even mean?”

You shrug, “Unexpected. I’m assuming he talked you out of it.”

“I asked Valentina for a more front facing role.”

“Oh.”

Yelena groans, “Can you please stop saying that?”

“Front facing like Natasha,” you ask, reaching up to cup her face.

“Yes.”

You trace the line of her jaw with your finger, “I’m proud of you.”

Yelena grabs your hand, placing a kiss on your palm, “Maybe you could join me.”

“Do I need to start powdering my nose? Do people still do that?” You joke.

Yelena rolls her eyes, “Your jokes remind me of my dad. Please stop.”

You pout, “My jokes are better than his.”

She kisses your wrist, “I’m serious though, would you do this with me?”

You move from your lying position to straddle the blonde’s waist. Your arms loosely hang on her shoulders. Her hands are planted on your hips.

You play with the hairs on the base of her neck, “I’d do anything with you, Lena. If you wanted to pull the stars from the sky, then I’d find a way to help you.”

“If I asked you to do that, you need to have me committed. I would be unwell to ask you such a thing.”

You stare at her blankly, “I’m trying to be romantic here.”

Yelena smirks at you, “Skill issue.”

You gasp, feigning offense, “You’ve never complained about my skill level before.”

Her faces scrunches up, “Get your head out of the gutter.”

You wiggle your eyebrows, “Trying to get my head between your-”

You don’t get to finish the sentence as Yelena attempts to toss you to your side of the bed. She doesn’t calculate it quite right and you end up on the floor.

You groan, “Ouch.”

She giggles at you looking over the edge of the bed, “It was an accident.”

You give her a sideways glance, “Sure it was. I can tell by the boisterous laughter.”

She offers you her hand, helping you get back in the bed. Once you’re in, she lays her head on your chest. You sling an arm around her.

“Do you think she'd be proud of me?”

She’s already drifting when she asks.

“More than you'd be able to comprehend,” you say, closing your eyes to follow in her footsteps.

You’re already awake when there’s a harsh banging on your front door. You’re waiting for Yelena to come back from her latest assignment. It was something with a vault and that was as much as you knew.

The banging startles you as it is unstopping. You pull your knife out immediately as you make your way to the door. You check the peephole and let out and irritated sigh. Yanking the door open, you stare at Alexei unimpressed.

He's wearing the red guardian costume.

“Hello Alexei.”

“Yelena is in danger.”

Those four words are all it takes for you to get into his raggedy limo.

You have your gear on, leg bouncing as you wish you would’ve opted on taking your car instead. The limo is big and flashy, easily noticeable. It’s also slow as shit.

Alexei fills you in about what he heard while driving Valentina. Your hands twitch as you picture yourself strangling the women.

“Why didn’t she send me too?”

Alexei’s incessant rambling almost stops in its track. His tone sobers up a bit, “She didn’t think you’d be a problem. If anything happened to Lena, she said you wouldn’t forgive yourself.”

You clench your fist together, “She’s right, but I’d kill her if anything happened to Yelena.”

Alexei lets out a laugh, “I knew I liked you when we first met.”

You roll your eyes, “Less laughing, more driving.”

He straightens up his posture, “We will find her.”

You’re trapped with the man for hours. The night shifts into day as worry starts to take over your system. He has just as much energy as when he was banging on your door.

It takes a minute, but you can notice that there is genuine concern under all of his semantics.

“Why did you come get me first? You could’ve left without me?”

He shook his head, “You are family. You care about her. I would not keep all of this glory for myself, when I know you want to save her as much as I do. That and I think she will be less mad if you are with me.”

His explanation makes you laugh to yourself, “Look who’s learning about their emotions.”

He keeps his attention on the road, “For her, I try.”

Once you’re far into the desert Alexei stops the car without warning. He gets out and starts screaming like a psycho before you even have the chance to stop him.

You hop out of the limo, pushing him in the chest, “Are you trying to let the entire world know that we’re here? What if there are enemies around?”

“Then we fight them. We are super soldiers, we can take them.”

You glare up at him, “Do not call me a super soldier.”

“You have serum in you, you are soldier. I don’t make rules,” he shrugs.

You shove him in the chest, “I’m serious. If you call me that again, I’ll drop you where you stand.”

He laughs in your face, “I like to see you try. I am red guardian, protector of-”

He doesn’t get to finish his sentence before you sweep his leg. He tumbles onto the ground with a heavy thud. You stand over him with a twinkle in your eyes.

“Fine, you’re not soldier. Happy now?”

You give him a tight-lipped smile, “Elated.”

You scan your surroundings, when you see three figures headed towards you. Reluctantly you help Alexei to his feet.

“See, you need to have faith in my plans,” he claps you on the back.

He begins to jog over, but you stop him, “I’ll jog. You bring the car.”

You waste no time sprinting in the direction of the figures. As they come more into focus, you pick up your speed.

When you’re in front of the three of them. You disregard the other two going straight for Yelena. You grab her by the face and start looking over her for injuries.

“Are you hurt? I’ll kill her, if you’re hurt.”

She grabs your arms, “I’m fine. How are you here right now?”

“Alexei brought me. He was driving Valentina and overheard her plan.”

You pull her into your embrace, squeezing her tightly. She senses the anxiety in the hug. Even though she would rather not let the other’s see, she keeps holding onto the hug.

“I’m right here,” she whispers so that only you can hear.

“I thought I lost you,” you tell her, freeing her from your hold.

She scoffs, “And leave you with Alexei? Absolutely not.”

“Y/n?”

“You have to be kidding me,” You say turning your attention to the man who called your name.

“Do you know her?” The woman with the Bristish accent asks the white man.

He nods, “All of us super-”

Yelena butts in, “She is not a super soldier. Do not call her that.”

He blinks at her, “Right, right, except she totally is. Winter Soldier level, super soldier created by Hydra. She might even be better than the Winter Soldier.”

“Shut up Walker, before I throw that shield through your head,” you feel your blood boiling.

“If this how you treat all your partners then I feel sorry for your girlfriend.”

You’re about to punch him, when Alexei honks his horn, signaling you all to get in his deathtrap of a limo. Ava drags Walker over first to create space between the two of you.

“You partnered with him?” Yelena asks before you get in.

“Valentina set us up on a few jobs together. That’s all.”

Yelena eyes go wide, “This is the egotistical maniac that you were talking about.”

You get in the limo, “Yep.”

“That makes a lot of sense.”

While you’re in the limo they fill you in about what happened at the vault. When they’re done Alexei fills them in on what he heard Valentina talking about. It’s a lot of information for everyone to process.

“So did Bob die or?”

“We don’t know,” Ava answers honestly.

You frown, ��Poor guy.”

Yelena goes to comment, but that’s when she notices the trucks following behind you.

“We have company.”

The group springs into action trying to take out the vehicle, but it’s proving to be damn near indestructible. The back window of the limo gets shot out. Ava is shooting out of the window, but John quickly pulls her in once the fire begins to get too much.

“Doesn’t this thing go any faster?”

“I’m on it,” Alexei calls out, he steps on the gas, but you’re barely up to 55.

It’s then that the cars begin to get disarmed, one by one You’re not entirely relieved when you see who’s responsible for it, but at least Valentina’s guys are off of you.

“It’s Bucky!” John on the other hand is more enthusiastic.

The group starts cheering thinking they evaded, danger, but you know better. Bucky is a complex individual. You’re proven right when he shoots something at the limo causing the back to explode as you all tip up into the air and then crash onto the floor.

You find yourselves tied up on a plane, with the former Winter Soldier turned congressman looking over you. You all try to explain to him what happened, but he doesn’t believe you.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

John drops the pretense, “It means you know me Bucky, so cut the shit and listen to what we’re trying to tell you.”

“Yeah, I know you John, and you made your choices. I know it’s been hard since Olivia left you and took your kid, but it’s still on you.”

John shuts up after that, but you don’t.

“That’s rich coming from you, Bucky. What happened to Steve again? Talk about people leaving, not only did he abandon his team when they needed him the most. He gets to live his happy ending while we all suffer. He gets to relive his glory days while we get relieve our nightmares.”

Your words shake him and you know it, but he just pushes past them.

“You’re all evidence in Valentina’s trial.”

You let out an annoyed groan, “From hydra agent to government puppet, what a change.”

He steps over to you calmly, “And what have you done since being free besides follow her around like a lost dog? Maybe she should collar you and call you Fanny.”

You stand, breaking the restraints he tied you in, “ I was being a goddamn hero. I’m one of the people that helped saved half of the universe. I’ve repented for what I’ve done and I’ve earned the right to my happy ending.”

“Did you earn it or did Natasha hand it to you?”

You push him. Hard.

His back slams against the wall of the plane. The sound echoed in the space. You feel yourself, losing control.

“And who scrubbed your ledger clean Winter Soldier?”

There’s an indent from where his metal arm braced for impact against the plane. He sucks his teeth, “You want to do this?”

“Do you?” You challenge him.

“Let’s go super soldier.”

He charges at you, but you side step his attack.

“Is now really the time for this?” Ava asks the rest of the group.

Walker shrugs, “Don’t know, but I’m rooting for Y/n.”

“Me too,” Alexei nods.

Ava shares a pleading look with Yelena. The blonde huffs in annoyance, “He shouldn’t have brought up my sister.”

“If they break the plane, we will die,” Ava deadpans.

Bucky takes your arm, and twists it behind your back. You throw your head back knocking him square in the nose. He releases the hold and you quickly turn to throw a fury of strikes his way. He dodges most of the punches but when you send a hard kick to his chest he stumbles backwards.

He holds his abdomen and you smirk at him. As he goes for the next attack his phone rings. You let him answer it. You all hear the person on the phone basically reiterate what you were saying.

“Bob?”

“BOB,” you all say in unison.

He looks at you, and then the rest. Before hanging up the phone. He starts with Ava’s restraints. You take initiative and break Yelena’s.

“How come you could break out of yours, I was pulling these with everything I had,” Walker comments when he’s freed.

You shrug, “Ask Hydra.”

Alexei chimes in, “Must be difference between real deal and knock off.”

Bucky rallies the team the best he can, not like they have much of a choice. You aren’t necessarily thrilled, but you do want to get your hands on Valentina. Yelena seems very keen on saving Bob. So that’s the plan. When you’re on the ground, you’re loaded into a van.

Alexei takes shotgun with Bucky, while the rest of you were loaded into the back. It’s quiet for a few minutes before Yelena starts talking about her weapons. Ava pulls out hers next, and then Walker. He asks about his helmet and it gets you to chuckle.

“What about you Y/n?”

“I have widow bites like Lena. Hunter blade, 9inch dagger, throwing knives, retractable knuckle blade,” you show off some of your knives.

“No gun?” Ava comments.

You shake your head, “Don’t need it.”

“And if you did?” Walker questions.

Yelena answers for you, “Then I have an extra for her, but I can guarantee you that she doesn’t need one.”

“Well aren’t you two adorable,” Ava gushes.

You grow bashful at her words.

“How long have you been together?” Walker questions.

You tilt your head to the side a bit, “We met at the tail end of 2016. Got together like beginning of February 2017. Then we’re together until Thanos happens. Lena got blipped. I obviously wasn’t moving on but I can’t say we were together. Then from when the blip was over until now, we’ve been together. So 5 years, but also like 10 years.”

“And no ring?” Ava teases and it makes you blush even harder.

“I- we’ve been busy.”

Yelena takes over, “We've never really talked about marriage. The whole shadow operative thing kind of gets in the way of that.”

John looks at you both incredulously, “Have you ever heard of eloping? What kind of couple is together for 5 years and hasn’t talked about marriage.”

“I knew from the moment we got together, that I’d spend the rest of my life with her. There was nothing to talk about. I’ve never questioned it,” you answer him honestly.

Her hand slides into yours, “Me too. Marriage or no marriage, she is stuck with me.”

John pretends to barf, “Disgustingly cute.”

You lean your head against her shoulder, “She’s my everything.”

Yelena doesn’t shy from the PDA, she kisses the crown of your head. You relishes in the moments, knowing that in just a few short minutes it would be over.

It’s sudden when you feel the van crash into a building. As soon as you hop out, you begin fighting. The group goes to work almost resembling a team as you fight the people in the lobby.

When Valentina’s voice rings out from the intercom the fighting comes to a halt. You all pile into an elevator up to her office. When it dings you are in a very open room. Valentina stands alone, like she had been waiting for you.

Bucky takes the lead. He tells her that it's all over that she has lost. With all of her loose ends in this room, she’d be going away for a long time. Yelena asks her about Bob, but Valentina ignores her.

“Are you still ready for your close up, Yelena?”

“Eat shit Valentina,” she responds unamused.

Bucky gets in her space as she sets her drink down. He goes to grab her, but something stops him.

“I’m not alone,” you can hear the smile in her voice.

Aa blonde man emerges from the stairs. He’s wearing a golden suit with a big ‘S’ on the waist line. A blue cape flows behind him as he makes his descent.

“Hey guys,” he says it casually.

“Bob what happened to you?” Yelena sounds utterly crushed.

Valentina answers for him. She calls him the Sentry and explains that he will be disposing of your little rag tag group. She calls him Earth’s Mightiest hero.

“I’m not going to let you erase them from history,” you step forward.

The Sentry blocks your path, “I don’t want to fight you guys. How about you just turn yourselves in.”

Valentina scoffs, “The Avengers aren’t coming back Y/n. Natasha isn’t coming back. It’s time for you to move on.”

“Enough talking, let’s fight,” Alexei charges the Sentry.

The fight begins. Everyone springs on their own individual attacks on the blonde man, but it doesn’t last. He disarms Ava and Walker first. Then he throws Alexei out of the window before dragging the man back in just to toss him aside.

Meanwhile Yelena is trying to keep the peace. You hold back listening to her pleas. She looks at you, turmoil on her face.

“I’m with you,” you tell her.

She nods before going for Sentry. She gets on his shoulders trying to choke him out. She pleads with him from the position, “Bob, stop.”

He slings her off. You’re going to attack him right then but Bucky puts a hand on your chest. He stares at the blonde, before taking one of his shirts off.

He goes for Bob, activating the part of him that he can’t forget. That same demon that lives inside of you.

Sentry blocks every attempt of contact, eventually grabbing hold of Bucky’s metal arm. While he has his grip on Bucky you move in throwing your strongest punch at his chest.

The force has the Sentry sliding back, taking Bucky’s arm with him. It’s not terribly far back, but it’s something. You don’t get a chance to follow it up, before you feel a vibranium arm knock you across the face. You go sliding with the others.

He tosses Bucky’s arm to the floor. Ava scrambles to grab it an you all pile back into the elevator, retreat the only thing on your minds.

When they get out of the building the arguing starts immediately. There’s a bunch of accusations and finger pointing going around.

All you can focus on is the look on Yelena’s face you reach for her, but she pulls away from you.

“Oh my god stop. There is no us. There is no we. Bob changed into that thing and there’s nothing any of you can do about it.”

Ava goes against her, “And what did you do exactly? I seem to remember you getting your ass beat way more than mine.”

“Yeah, yeah I suck. I’m terrible. We’re all terrible. Ava you’re not a hero, you’re not even a good person,” her arms are moving wildly as she speaks.

“Bitch,” Ava relents.

Alexei intervenes, “Slow down amishka.”

Yelena cuts him off, “Alexei, I am not your amishka. I haven’t heard from you or seen you in a year.”

John tries to de-escalate the situation, “Go easy on him.”

She whips her head around to him, “Oh so you're nice now?”

“It’s my turn?”

“No, you know you’re a piece of trash Walker. So does your family.”

He doesn’t have a comeback, “Jesus.”

She throws her hands up, “We’re all losers and we lost.”

She starts to walk off. The rest of them look at you, expecting you to say something. All you do is sigh, and start to walk after your girl.

Alexei follows after you, “Let me try.”

Against your better judgement, you let him go ahead of you. You keep a steady pace as he runs to catch up with Yelena.

“Oh my god stop. If you cared you would’ve called. I would’ve heard from you.”

He stares at her, with sorrow in his eyes.

Her eyes water and her voice breaks, “I lost my sister again, but forever. And you disappeared.”

“I’m sorry. I don't know how to do this. I’m not good at it,” he steps towards her.

“Papa it’s all just too heavy. All I do is sit and scroll on my phone and think about all of the terrible things that I’ve done. Even with an attentive partner I just feel like a burden. She works like this because I work like this. I can’t handle my drinks, so she doesn't drink. All I do is take up space.”

Alexei looks back at you.

“I didn’t think you needed me,” he answered.

“I did.”

He nods, “I see that. I’m late but I'm here now.”

You walk past Alexei, right up to Yelena. You take both her hands in yours. She doesn’t pull away like she did before.

“I don’t care about the work. I don’t care about the drinking. Yelena the only thing I care about is you. If you feel empty, baby I’ll do whatever it takes, for however long it takes, to make you feel something more. It’ll never be a burden to me because I love you. My love for you is the only thing in my entire life that has never felt like a burden. Not when you were sad, not when you were drunk, not even when you were gone. It keeps me strong, you keep me strong. I like it when you take up space because it means you feel comfortable and I always want that for you.”

You don’t break eye contact. You need her to feel what you’re saying, to believe it.

“Lena, I’m here always.”

That’s all it takes for her to pull you into a kiss. It feels like understanding. The way her lips fit with yours, makes you hopeful that you got through to her. Her forehead rests against yours when it’s over, “I love you.”

You smile, “I love you too.”

Alexei breaks up the moment by engulfing the two of you in a hug.

“Perfect family dynamic. Very healthy and happy,” he boasts.

It’s then that you notice people around you looking into the sky. You step from under the terrace, to see what they’re seeing. There’s a dark shadow floating in the sky. It sort of resembles…

“Bob,” it comes off of her lips as a whisper.

You look around, and people are vanishing out of thin air. The citizens begin to panic, you all spring into action.

Rubble falls from the buildings above when Sentry flings a plane into one. You move to punch through it before it lands on anyone.

Alexei and Yelena are working together to move others out of harms way.

It’s like you’re fighting Thanos again, but this time the field is full of civilians.

You help free a man from his car after the rubble blocks him in. You’re constantly surveying the area looking for to get people off of the streets.

You see Walker struggling to hold the weight of a massive piece of rubble. Your makeshift group attempting to help him. Part of you wants to laugh at their struggles, three super soldiers vs big concrete.

You’re quick to join them, taking a spot next to Yelena. You put one hand on the rubble and give it a little shove. It almost instantly topples over. They all look at you and you fight the urge to flex in front of the crowd.

The citizens around you start to clap. It’s unlike anything you ever experienced. It puts warmth in your chest.

The celebration doesn’t last long as Alexei uses his body to protect a little girl from falling debris. As he checks in with her to tell her she’s safe she vanishes right in front of him.

You don’t hold back your gasps. You feel your heart pounding in your chest, but you don’t have time to panic. The people need to be evacuated from the streets. You can feel the impending horror as you watch more and more people vanish. You’re helping herd people into a building when you realize Yelena is not with you.

Alexei calls out to her, “Yelena!”

That’s when you see her at the edge of the shadows, talking to the Sentry. If she’s heard him you can’t tell. Your legs start carrying you towards her.

“YELENA!” Your voice booms in the empty streets.

She looks back briefly. Her eyes meet yours. It feels like an eternity yet, she takes a step into the void.

You scream, you scream like your heart has been pulled from your chest.

“No, no, no, no, no, no,” you start to blink rapidly, hoping that what you saw was a vision.

There are tears streaming down your face. You could feel people trying to hold you back, when all you want to do is run head first into the darkness.

“I can’t, not again. I can’t,” you’re hysterical, but your feet are planted.

You can’t move back. Last time she disappeared you couldn’t do anything about it. You’d lost 5 years, but this time was different. You could step into that void and chase after her.

“Y/n come on,” Bucky tries but you shrug him off.

You push them all away, “I am not losing her again!”

You stare up at the dark mass floating in the sky. He looks down at you curiously.

“I can make it all go away. All of your pain, all of your suffering.”

“You can’t and I don’t want you to,” you take step closer to the dark edge. “I will save Yelena, but I’m going to save you too Bob.”

You step into the darkness.

“We will continue until you break through the stone.”

You freeze at the voice.

“I can’t it’s too hard,” you recognize your own voice, begging.

“I didn’t ask what you could do. I said you will keep punching until you can break through the stone. Now punch.”

They had pulled you off the streets about a month ago, injected you with the serum. You were around 11. The fact that the serum alone didn’t kill you made it a success.

You knew what would happen next. The younger version of you punched the block of concrete over and over and over again. Even after you broke your hand, the cement barely gave.

When you hear the bones in your hands break, you try to intervene. You place your hand between the younger version of yourself and the target.

“Enough,” you mutter staring at yourself.

“It doesn’t work like that here,” the child's eyes are blank.

She sweeps your leg to take you down and begins to climb on top of you, punching you repeatedly. The broken hand doesn’t stop her.

You grab it and it’s as if the scene resets. You’re on your back watching the younger version of yourself punch the concrete again.

You stand, looking for a way out of the room. You see a metal door bolted shut. Without hesitation you begin slamming your shoulder against it.

The timing begins to line up with the sound of your younger self punch the concrete. You don’t take any solace in knowing that eventually the concrete does break.

With that thought at the front of your mind the steel door falls off its hinges and rush into what you believe to be an open hall.

It’s only when you’re fully inside that you realize it’s not a hallway. It’s a bathroom.

You can tell by the cracks in the porcelain sink that it is the day after Yelena was blipped. Shards of the mirror are scattered inside of it. The younger version of yourself has one hand gripping the sink and another on a gun.

Her head is down and her body is tense.

That day you had slammed your hand against the mirror and instantly felt stupid. You held the sink so hard it cracked. It had been less than 24 hours without her and you were falling apart. You remember the feeling of gun against your skull.

You pulled the trigger, but it wasn’t loaded. You kept pulling it, wishing you could leave all of this behind.

The illusion of you begins to sob as the gun falls from her hand. She crumples onto the floor, head in her hands.

You walk over to pick up the gun. Your hand rests on top of her head, stroking the hair calmly.

“She will come back to us,” you say as you aim the gun at the ceiling.

You shoot and the room moves, allowing you to crawl through the opening.

“Where is she?”

Clint couldn’t look you in the eye. He tossed the stone to Tony and tried to walk away. You grabbed him by the shoulder, so he was face to face with you.

“Clint,” your voice was stern.

You walked past the scene. This is moment in life when you thought you’d never have anything worth loving again. Yelena was gone, Natasha was gone, all you had was your past. All the wrongs you did, all the mistakes you made, all the people you’d kill. You felt hopeless.

That isn’t the case anymore. Yelena is here, you won this war. You got her back not only for yourself, but for Natasha.

You will find Yelena, there is not a doubt in your mind. You are certain, hopeful even. No matter how many traumas you have to go through, seeing her at the end makes it all worth it.

In the glass window of the building, you can see what looks like an old attic. It’s not something from your memories, but you know it doesn’t belong here.

You put your hand into the window first, watching it disappear, then your body follows it. There’s chaos around as furniture flies at you. You are able to dodge the stray pillows that are coming right for your head.

Then it all stops. The rest of the team has found their way here as well. It fills you with relief to know that you don’t have to do this alone.

“What did you see? Are you ok?”

Walker answers first, “Oh I’m fine.

Then Bucky, “I have a great past.”

Then Ava, “Totally fine.”

Yelena turns her attention to you. She’s waiting for you to say something.

“That fucking sucked,” you let out a broken laugh at the end of it.

“Well at least we’re all together now,” Ava finds the silver lining.

“Thanks guys,” Bob says.

You can’t help but size him up a little. He’s different than when you saw him in Valentina’s office. He seems a little shy, buy there’s a kindness that’s clearly on his face. You know that he essentially sacrificed himself to help these strangers escape. He probably saved your girlfriend’s life.

This isn’t the guy in the gold suit with dyed blonde hair, it’s not the dark ominous cloud terrorizing New York, this is Bob. A real man with intense emotions that can sometimes overtake him. He deserves to be saved.

So that’s what you do. You fight through Bob’s most painful memories. From his abusive parents to his drug induced psychosis, all the up to the moment the Void was created.

The Void pins everyone down except for Bob. You’re against the floor with a table pushing down on to your legs. You watch as Bob goes up against the physical embodiment of his darkness. For a moment you think he’s winning, until you see the shadow climb up his pant leg.

“Bob, this is what it wants you have to stop,” you call out to him.

It falls on deaf ears as he throws punch after punch to the Void.

You glance over at Yelena, who is trapped against a door next to Alexei. You use all of the strength that you have to get the table off your legs. Your steps are making dents in floor as you walk over to them.

Alexei tries to create enough space for Yelena to slip out. You extend your hand towards her and she grabs it.

“Trust me,” she says.

You nod, “Always.”

She signals for you to fling her across the room. You do it with no hesitation. You’re not too far behind her, though you feel the Void trying to create distance between Bob and the rest of the team.

Yelena gets to him first, wrapping her arms around the man. You are on the other side of him, squeezing him with all that you have. Soon the rest break free from their confines and join in to make Bob feel less alone.

Then suddenly it’s all over.

You’re back in New York, sprawled out on the floor. You let out a breath that you didn’t know you were holding.

You kept close to Bob, partially enjoying the comfort. Yelena’s gets up first, extending her hand towards you. You allow her to pull you up.

She doesn’t get to say anything before you’re kissing her. You hold her face in your hands as your lips move against hers delicately. It’s a fragile kiss, something like the one you first shared.

“I thought I lost you again.”

Her lips touch yours once more, “I will always be here.”

“We still have one last thing to deal with guys,” Bucky says as he gets his eyes on Valentina.

You can’t stop yourself from throwing a small knife in her direction. You miss, but it's on purpose.

“We get to kill her right?” Alexei comments as you all zero in on the woman.

“Alright guys, I know we’re going through a lot of feelings right now. Just give me half second,” Valentina holds her hands up as she backs away.

“Oh I'd like to kill her,” Ava says gleefully.

Bucky shakes his head, “We’re taking her in.”

You see Bob hanging behind a bit. You place your hand on his shoulder, “Come on.”

“Me too?”

You flash him a small smile, “From now on we stick together.”

He returns the gesture, “That’s nice.”

The two of you are the last to walk through the curtain. There’s press everywhere. Cameras flash pictures of all you standing behind Valentina.

Bob stands off to the side with Valentina’s assistant while you stand next to Yelena.

You lean over to whisper in her ear, “What the fuck is she doing?”

“Saving her own ass.”

Valentina turns to look at the group with her arms wide, “Ladies and gentlemen, without further ado, meet the new Avengers.”

There are alarms going off in your head as she says that. The press’s cameras flash more frequently, as soon as she makes that announcement.

“Is this real?”

Walker claps a hand down on your shoulder, “Feels pretty real to me."

Your eyes cut over to Yelena, who says something to Valentina before taking a step back. You move to stand next to her.

“Front facing looks good on you,” you smirk at her.

She gives you a once over, “I could say the same about you.”

“So what now?” Ava asks the team.

Bucky speaks up, “You guys like shawarma?”

Alexei laughs happily, “I love shawarma."

“I could eat,” Walker replies.

Bob agrees, “Me too. Kind of starving actually.”

You sling your arm around Yelena’s waist, “I guess we’re getting shawarma then.”

You keep her close as you walk away from the press. The team follows Bucky’s lead and you end up back in a van.

Yelena’s head rests against your shoulder during the car ride. The rest of your companions chatter, filling the silence.

“Do you want to elope?” Yelena say so that only you can hear.

“Your last name is cooler than mine, so I guess it only makes sense,” you reply.

“What does that have to do with anything?”

You roll your eyes, “It’s just a creative way of saying yes. Is fun no longer allowed, because we’re Avengers?”

“You have a weird idea of fun.”

You kiss her forehead, “Yet you still asked me to marry you, checkmate.”

“Whatever,” she buries her head further into your neck.

“I love you,” you say as you begin to rest your eyes, exhaustion finally taking over.

“I love you too."

#lowkeyerror #yelena belova imagine #yelena belova #yelena belova x reader #thunderbolts imagine #john walker #alexei shostakov #ava starr #bucky barnes #the avengers #Natasha Romanoff #thunderbolts

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upat4amwiththemoon · 1 year ago

Note

Hi, I know this is 2 years after you wrote it, but I just found the piece you wrote between Kate Bishop and Natasha’s Daughter Reader. ‘A goddess’. What can I say. I found myself liking the idea and as I was reading it through. I realised I would be curious to see a part 2 if you were up for it. No doubt along the lines of Yelena finding out Kate is dating her niece. Let’s just say the whole concept with Clint finding out was amusing and wondered how it would then play out with Yelena.

A goddess | 2

Summary: Mysterious girl with an assassin mother.

Pairing: Kate Bishop x female!Romanoff!reader, Natasha Romanoff x daughter!reader, Yelena Belova x niece!reader

Warnings: mother bear Natasha, auntie bear Yelena

Word count: 1516

a/n: I actually started writing a second part two years ago but then kinda forgot it :DD

Tags: @thought-of-you-and-me @rafecameronswhore @natashamaximoff69 @scarsw1fe

masterlists | guidelines

All parts: part 1, part 2

”We’re home!” Y/N yells into the seemingly empty house, slamming the door shut after Kate steps inside.

“Kitchen.”

Y/N snorts at the short answer from her mother. “She doesn’t sound too excited.” Kate mumbles, taking off her shoes and jacket.

“She is.” Y/N reassures. “She’s just..cautious. You know how she is.” She mumbles quiet enough so her mother doesn’t hear.

The couple walk into the kitchen, where they see Natasha stirring a pot of mac and cheese while looking at her phone intently. “Why are you cooking?” Y/N frowns, looking at her mother’s mess of a braid.

“What? You’re the only one allowed to cook in this house?”

“I’m the only why knows how to cook.” She comments with a teasing grin that Natasha ignores with a roll of her eyes. “We’re going to my room.”

“No, no, no.” Now Natasha turns to look at them, though she mostly ignores Kate. “If you two want to spend time here, you do it on the living room.” She stares at Y/N with raised brows.

“Wh-“

“Living room, where I can see you two.” Natasha states. “Or, Kate leaves.”

Letting out a huff, Y/N grabs Kate’s hand and pulls her to the living room that is in the clear view of the kitchen. Kate sits on the couch with a perfect posture, her eyes straight forward, staring at the empty television screen.

“You can calm down.” Y/N whispers, bumping Kate’s shoulder with her own as she puts the television on.

“She’s staring at me.”

Y/N glances at Natasha. The woman is glancing at the two often, but she isn’t full on staring at them. “She’s busy cooking, for some reason.” She smiles, leaning against Kate. Their touches are always as innocent as possible around Natasha.

For the next hour or so they talk, quietly, and watch the television, until a knock on the front door interrupts them.

Frowning, Y/N turns to look at Natasha, who is cleaning her hands and about to go to the door. “Who is coming over?”

“Yelena.”

With widened eyes, she curses and stands up quickly, turning off the television. Kate is staring at her, starting to panic too. “What? What’s going on?”

“If you are afraid of someone in my family, be afraid of Yelena.” She whispers harshly, carefully listening to Natasha and Yelena’s voices by the door.

Kate’s eyes widens too as she stands up, her body rigid again. “Fuck, right, she’s your aunt.” She quickly starts brushing invisible dust off of her clothes. “Are you…going to tell her about us?”

“Of course not, she’d kill us both.”

“Shit, shit, shit.” Kate whispers to herself, taking a step back from Y/N so they wouldn’t be so close to each other.

Yelena and Natasha finally walk into the living room. “There’s my niece!” Yelena yells out with her arms wide. Y/N smiles, walking to her to be embraced by her aunt.

“Hey, Yel.” She lets out a giggle as she gets bear hugged. Once they pull away from each other, Y/N gestures towards Kate, who Yelena finally notices. “This is-“

“Kate Bishop!” Yelena grins. “I know you. You are an Avenger too.”

Kate’s eyes are widen when she gets addressed. “Uhh, yeah.” She nods a couple times too many to be considered normal. “Yeah, that’s…that’s me.”

“So shy this one, eh?” Yelena glances at Natasha, who answers by nodding with a small smirk on her face.

“You don’t know the half of it.”

Y/N glares at her mom, not wanting Yelena to know about her relationship, not yet at least. She knows her aunt will always be supportive of her, but dating Kate Bishop, the young and reckless Avenger, would cause too much stress for her.

“Let’s go eat.” Natasha gestures for everyone to go to the kitchen. “I made enough mac and cheese to feed a town.”

“That’s why you’re my favourite sister.” Yelena’s sing songy voice makes Natasha roll her eyes.

Y/N and Kate glance at each other as the two adults go into the kitchen. They walk into the kitchen right after, taking their seats opposite of them. Natasha brings the pot to the table, opening the lid and putting a ladle inside. “Guests first.” Yelena picks the ladle right away, scooping a generous amount of food on her plate. “Yelena!”

“What?” She frowns, taking one more scoop just in case. “You said guests first.”

“I meant Kate. You basically live here.”

Yelena scoffs, already eating. “Whatever. Kate Bishop can wait.”

“Yes, I can wait.” Kate states with a tight lipped smile on her face. She takes the ladle for escape the looks she gets.

Y/N bumps her leg against Kate’s under the table, it’s meant to be a comforting touch, but it makes Kate spill some of the mac and cheese on the table.

“Shit!” Her face turns red. “Sorry! I didn’t…curse.” She clears her throat, eyes wide from as the mortification settles in her body.

Y/N stares at her, trying to give her some sort of subtle look to get a grip, but nothing hoes unnoticed by the two ex spies. “What’s going on here?” Yelena waves her fork between Kate and Y/N.

“Nothing!”

“I’m just a clutz!”

“They’re dating.”

A silence falls over the table. Kate and Y/N’s eyes are wide as they stare at smirking Natasha, the latter is glaring at her mother.

Yelena sets her fork down. “Say that again?”

“They’re dating.”

“Why is Kate Bishop dating my niece?” Yelena is staring at the couple with stern eyes, neither of them knowing if the question was directed at them. “Well?”

Y/N rolls her eyes. “Because.” Is all she says, her arms crossed over her chest.

An extremely dramatic gasp leaves Yelena’s mouth. “Do not because me! I taught you how to sass, you aren’t supposed use it against me.” She furrows her brows, a look of betrayal on her face as she keeps her eyes on her niece. Y/N has always found her dramatics amusing, but they seem less fun when they’re directed at her.

“I don’t have to explain my relationship to you. To either of you.” She glances at both of them.

“Yes you do. You were supposed to tell me first, so I could scare your girlfriend around and then I’d help you tell Natasha.” Yelena states, having thought this situation through many times. “Why was I not the first one to know?”

“Because mom walked in on us.” Yelena’s whole face screws up. “No!” Y/N quickly points at her. “She walked in on us kissing, we were only kissing.”

Shaking away the disgusting thoughts, Yelena turns to Kate with a glare. “What are your intentions with my niece? Why are you dating her?”

Her eyes widen. “I-“ she looks between Yelena and Natasha, suddenly feeling like the room is overheating, “because I love her.”

“You love me?”

She turns to look at Y/N. “Of course I do.”

“This is how you tell my niece you love her for the first time?” Yelena gapes at her, the look on her face not getting any better. “Where are the flowers and romantic gestures?”

“Yelena!” Y/N groans, throwing a piece of napkin her way. It doesn’t fly far.

Kate’s mind is short circuiting, everything is happening so quickly. She doesn’t know whether to fear Yelena or continue confessing her love to Y/N. So, she stands up. “I can get flowers!”

“Sit down, Kate.” Y/N pulls her down back to the chair. “Everybody calm down. We are dating, neither you or mom can do anything about it, and that’s it.” She turns to Kate. “I don’t need flowers or romantic gestures, I love you too.”

Letting out a breath, Kate nods with a somewhat relieved smile. “Okay.” She nods and turns to Yelena. “I really love Y/N, and just like I told Natasha, I really hope to get your support to continue seeing her. I will never ever hurt her, I know you will hunt me down if I do.”

“Damn right I will.” Yelena mumbles. “Fine, Kate Bishop. But I will keep my eyes on you.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Yelena gives her a look. “Miss. Belova, Yelena, I mean.” Kate coughs, downing half of her water so she wouldn’t keep talking.

“Kids these days.” She shakes her head and goes back to eating the mac and cheese like nothing happened.

Natasha, who preferred to enjoy the show rather than contribute to it, grins at Y/N. “Eat up honey, the food’ll get cold.”

“I will get back at you.” She mumbles, sending a soft glare at her mother’s way, though she really doesn’t mean it. “You okay?” Y/N sets her hand on Kate’s thigh.

“Yeah, yeah I’m good.” Kate shoves a forkful of food in her mouth.

Y/N giggles and kisses her cheek, ignoring the the looks her mom and aunt give her. She starts eating, hoping the rest of Yelena’s visit would be less eventful.

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roanofarcc · 17 days ago

Text

THE BLEEDING, BEATING HEART

pairing: yelena belova x reader (requested)

summary: yelena struggles to find her footing in a team dynamic after so many years of working alone, but when things get tough she has you to lean on.

warnings: self-doubt, sad yelena, a little bit of hurt with comfort! mentions of the OG avengers

word count. 1.2k || masterlist

It was early, too early to be awake, but your mind decided to wake long before your body was ready to take on the day. With a groan, you forced yourself out of bed and dragged yourself to the kitchen of the Watchtower, desperate for a mug of coffee.

It was a rare day off for the team, as long as no major threats decided to sweep in, so you believed everyone to still be sleeping until you noticed a pot of coffee already made and at least two cups missing.

No one was in the kitchen or the living room. Curious as to who was awake at such an early hour, you quietly made your way through the spots in the tower where anyone else could have been. Landing outside the training room, which was still half under construction, you heard repetitive grunts in time with hits on one of the punching bags.

Stepping inside, holding the warm mug of coffee between your hands, you spotted Yelena. She was wide awake, dressed in her training gear, and a good while into her set. Her blonde hair was slicked back and sweat beaded her forehead.

“Yelena,” you called out. She stopped, holding her balled fists at her chest. “This doesn’t look like taking a day off.”

She rolled her eyes playfully. “I’m relaxing.”

You raised your brows, stepping closer to her. “You seem awfully tense, actually.” It looked as if her whole body was pulled like a rubber band waiting to be snapped. You had noticed her odd behavior for the past week, but you had chalked it up to the shit-show that was the latest mission.

As the ‘woman in the chair,’ you weren’t on site for their missions, but rather managing comms, taking down intel, and acting as their eyes from above if you were able to hack your way into a security system. Even without being on site, you knew the mission hadn’t gone as everyone had hoped. It was messy, dangerous, and almost resulted in major injuries if it hadn’t been for the team's watchful eye for one another. Despite the mission being completed and deemed a technical success, when they arrived home, you knew their mistakes and missteps weighed on them. You especially saw it in Yelena.

Yelena huffed, dropping her hands at her sides before grabbing a towel to wipe the sweat from her face. “You know, I could ask you the same question. Why are you awake?”

“Well, I thought it was because my mind refuses to shut off for too many hours, but now I’m thinking it was gut telling me to check up on you.”

“I don’t need to be checked up on,” Yelena said, turning her back to you as she rummaged through her training bag for a water bottle.

If it had been months prior, you would have let her be after that, but you had grown to know Yelena over your time spent living at the tower together. She was impossibly tough, but there was a softness that wasn’t often taken care of and overlooked by other herself and everyone else. But you saw it, a little weakness that made her human, much to her dismay.

You placed a hand on her shoulder, half expecting her to shrug you off, but she didn’t. Instead, she turned around to face you and hung her head. “Fine,” she muttered. “I screwed up. I made a bad call during the mission, and I…I don’t know what I was thinking, but now I can’t think of anything else. Okay? Happy?” She fell back on the bench, and you followed, sitting beside her with enough space between you so as to not make her feel suffocated.

“You’re not perfect, Yelena. No one is. You made a call that you thought was right, and it wasn’t,” you said. “It happens. It’ll probably happen again, but the important thing is you realized it and you corrected it.”

“Yeah, but not before Walker took a bullet in the arm,” Yelena sighed, fidgeting with her hands in her lap. “They looked to me to take the call, and I…I let them down. I don’t know how to do this.”

You furrowed your brows, watching her intently. “Do what?”

She didn’t meet your gaze but rather kept her focus forward. “Work as a team. I’ve been on my own, doing missions on my own for so long. Reporting to someone else is one thing, but being the one others look at to make decisions is pressure I don’t know if I can handle. Why me? Why do they look to me?”

Despite the hurt that her words drew, you smiled softly, itching to reach out for her but refraining. Yelena was a complicated person with an even more complicated past. You didn’t want to push her, even if you ached to hold her hand, hug her, even brush some loose strands of hair behind her ear.

“Probably for the same reason the Avengers looked at your sister during the Blip.”

Yelena snapped her attention onto you, startled and confused. You had been there during the Blip, when the disbanded team crawled back together. It was Nastasha who called you in, once having you aid in undercover missions when you were a fresh-faced S.H.I.E.L.D operative who had a hunch something darker was going on within the organization. You had been young, inexperienced in the world of super-powered humans, betrayal, and complicated politics, but you had helped regardless, getting yourself in a fair amount of trouble. You had been lying low when the Blip happened, only to find Nastasha at your front door asking you if you wanted to help save the universe.

You couldn’t give much, but you had nothing else to lose or to do. You watched the Avengers and company bring everyone back, only to lose Natasha and others in the process.

“Steve had said, even before then, that your sister was the heart of the Avengers. The bleeding, beating heart. I think you, Yelena, are so much like her.” You turned toward her, bumping your knees against hers. “You’re the heart of this team; that’s why they look to you.”

Many emotions flickered across Yelena’s face, but she landed on a glossy-eyed gaze with her lips pointed downwards in a frown. “My sister was a hero. She helped save the universe. I could hardly lead the team through a standard intel removal.”

“Everyone else seems to think you’re a hero.”

She laughed humorlessly, looking up at the light like she was trying to prevent any tears from leaking out. “Because Valentina set us up so we wouldn’t kill her right there on the street.”

“Fair, but that was after you guys saved Bob and the city. That sounds like a hero to me,” you said. “This team trusts you because they can see what I see. What the Avengers saw in your sister, they see it in you.”

Yelena’s head tipped down, a few tears falling with it. She grumbled under her breath and wiped her cheeks. “Shit. You cannot say things that make me cry this early.”

With a hesitant hand, you softly squeezed Yelena’s knee. She stared at it for a moment before letting herself linger in her feelings a little longer. She leaned in and wrapped her arms around you, her head falling onto your shoulder. You hugged her back tightly.

“Maybe you should start doing the pep talks before missions instead of Alexei,” Yelena mumbled into your shoulder, tired body heavy against yours.

You snorted out a laugh. “Yeah, you try telling him that.”

#yelena belova #yelena belova x reader #yelena belova x you #thunderbolts*#natasha romanoff #the avengers #the new avengers #mcu #marvel #mcu fanfiction

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mommykye · 1 month ago

Text

Big Bad Wolf

alpha!ceo!Natasha Romanoff x omega!fem!reader

summary: Rushed by loss and besieged by enemies, Natasha seeks an heir in the enigmatic omega, Y/N. Their first encounter sparks intrigue, but Natasha's iron walls threaten to extinguish the fragile connection before it ignites, leaving the future of her empire shrouded in mystery.

part 1

word count: 4.9k

Request are open

masterlist

The panoramic windows of Natasha’s penthouse suite, usually a canvas displaying the vibrant, sprawling cityscape, now served only as vast, reflective surfaces. They mirrored the disquiet churning within her, a turbulent sea trapped behind a polished facade. Days had bled into one another since the support group meeting, yet the encounter with Y/N replayed endlessly in her mind. It was a fragmented, jarring film reel she couldn't seem to stop, each awkward pause, each sharp word, each flicker of hurt in Y/N’s expressive eyes, and the quiet finality of her departure echoing against the backdrop of her luxurious, yet profoundly isolating, living space.

The rich textures of the room, usually a source of comfort and a testament to her hard-won control, now felt like opulent shackles. The deep pile of the Persian rug, usually soft beneath her feet, now seemed to absorb her restless pacing without offering solace. The smooth coolness of the Italian leather furniture, typically a symbol of her refined taste, now felt cold and unyielding against her touch. Even the warm glow of the strategically placed lighting, designed to create an atmosphere of sophisticated tranquility, now seemed to highlight the emptiness, the echoing silence that had become her unwanted companion. She found herself drawn to the floor-to-ceiling windows, the distant hum of the city a stark and indifferent contrast to the internal storm raging within her.

A fleeting image flickered in her mind, unbidden and surprisingly vivid. The same panoramic view, softened by the warm hues of a setting sun, but different somehow. The stark lines of the modern furniture were softened by colorful throws and plump cushions. Instead of echoing silence, the air was filled with the joyful chaos of children’s laughter, the small, excited voices of little alphas and omegas chasing each other, their tiny hands leaving smudges on the pristine glass. Toys, bright and scattered, lay abandoned mid-play. And in the midst of this delightful disarray, Y/N sat on a comfortable armchair, a gentle curve to her pregnant belly, her eyes radiating a quiet contentment as she watched the children, occasionally offering a soft word or a loving smile. Natasha, in this imagined scene, felt a warmth spread through her chest, a sense of belonging she had never truly known. This wasn’t the sterile perfection of her current life; it was messy, vibrant, real. It was a home.

The vision, however fleeting, was potent. It was a life far removed from the harsh realities of her childhood in the Red Room, a life where vulnerability wasn't a weakness to be exploited but a bond to be cherished. A life where an heir wasn't the sole purpose of connection, but where love and genuine affection formed the foundation. But then, the sharp edges of reality intruded. She barely knew Y/N. This idealized future, this sudden longing for domesticity, was absurd, a phantom limb aching for a connection that hadn't even begun to form. And even if… even if there was a possibility, could she, Natasha, ever truly offer someone like Y/N a safe and loving space, free from the shadows of her past? The thought was both tantalizing and terrifying.

She shook her head slightly, trying to dislodge the fanciful image. It was a dangerous distraction, a sentimental indulgence she couldn't afford. Yet, the contrast between the imagined warmth and her current isolation was stark and unsettling.

A soft click of the door broke through her reverie, pulling her back to the cold reality of her penthouse. Yelena sauntered in, her usual playful energy radiating from her like a tangible aura. She leaned against the doorframe, a knowing smirk already gracing her lips. The faint scent of something sweet and slightly burnt – likely a failed baking experiment – clung to her clothes.

“Still brooding by the window, Nat?” Yelena’s voice was light, but held a teasing edge. “Planning your next corporate takeover or just replaying your disastrous attempt at making a friend?”

Natasha didn’t bother turning from the view. The distant city lights blurred slightly as she focused on the internal landscape of her regret. “It wasn’t a disaster.” The lie felt weak even to her own ears.

“Oh really?” Yelena pushed off the doorframe and strolled further into the room, her footsteps silent on the thick carpet. “Because from where I was sitting, it looked like you managed to scare off a perfectly lovely omega with the grace and charm of a cornered wolverine. And I even caught a whiff of her distress pheromones afterward. Poor thing probably thought she’d stumbled into a den of angry alphas.”

A sigh escaped Natasha’s lips, carrying a hint of genuine remorse. “I didn’t mean to.” The admission felt surprisingly difficult, a crack in the carefully constructed wall of her usual self-assurance. The scent of her own faint alpha pheromones, usually controlled and masked, had likely spiked during the tense exchange, adding to Y/N’s discomfort.

Yelena perched on the arm of a velvet armchair, her gaze sharp and perceptive. “I know you didn’t mean to, Nat. That’s the problem, isn’t it? You don’t mean to be prickly, but it just… happens. Like a reflex. Years of deflecting and guarding yourself don’t just vanish overnight.”

Natasha finally turned, leaning against the cool glass. The reflection staring back at her was a familiar stranger – sharp, composed, but with a flicker of something akin to… longing? “I’m used to people having agendas. To looking for weaknesses. Their omega sub-gender often plays into those manipulations. She just… seemed genuine. Unassuming.” She remembered the soft curve of Y/N’s cheeks, the way her eyes held a warmth that seemed to radiate from within, the comfortable fullness of her figure that spoke of a gentle acceptance of herself. It was a stark contrast to the polished, often performative, interactions she was accustomed to.

“And that threw you, didn’t it?” Yelena’s tone softened, a hint of understanding replacing the teasing. “Someone being genuinely kind, genuinely curious… especially an omega who didn't seem to be playing any games… it’s not exactly your everyday boardroom encounter.”

A small, almost imperceptible nod was Natasha’s only response. The memory of the subtle floral and earthy notes of Y/N’s natural omega pheromones, a comforting blend that had felt surprisingly grounding, lingered in her senses.

“So,” Yelena continued, rubbing her hands together with a mischievous glint in her eyes. “Operation ‘Win Back the Intriguing Omega’ is a go?”

Natasha raised an eyebrow, a hint of her usual skepticism returning. “There is no ‘operation.’”

“Oh, come on,” Yelena scoffed. “You’ve been staring out that window for days. You’re practically radiating regret. Besides,” she added with a wink, “Kate’s been singing Y/N’s praises non-stop. Apparently, her sourdough starter is legendary. And she makes the most incredible, slightly oversized, but utterly delicious cookies.”

A faint smile touched Natasha’s lips despite herself. “Her sourdough starter? And oversized cookies?” The image of Y/N, her hands dusted with flour, carefully shaping imperfect but heartfelt treats, was surprisingly appealing.

“Apparently,” Yelena confirmed. “And her knowledge of obscure herbs is unparalleled. Kate’s convinced she could single-handedly cure the common cold with a sprig of something she foraged in the woods. She even mentioned Y/N’s incredibly soothing natural scent when she’s calm, something about chamomile and warm earth.”

“Kate exaggerates,” Natasha said, but the edge in her voice was gone. The thought of Y/N possessing such a calming presence was intriguing.

“Maybe,” Yelena conceded. “But she also said Y/N is resilient. That she’s been through things and come out stronger. That she has a quiet confidence that’s rather… disarming. That sounds like someone who could handle a grumpy alpha, don’t you think?”

The thought resonated with Natasha. Strength wasn’t just about physical prowess or corporate power. Y/N possessed a different kind of strength, a quiet inner fortitude that had shone through even in their brief, tense encounter. The way she had held her gaze, even when clearly uncomfortable, spoke volumes.

“So,” Yelena pressed, her enthusiasm building. “What’s the plan? Grand gesture? Public apology? Maybe a strategic deployment of highly trained operatives to locate her favorite bakery and shower her with those legendary oversized cookies?”

Natasha shook her head, a genuine smile finally breaking through her usual reserve. “No operatives. No grand gestures. I just… I’d like to talk to her again. Properly this time.”

“Properly,” Yelena echoed, a hint of amusement in her voice. “As opposed to your usual method of communication, which involves veiled threats and intimidating eye contact, possibly accompanied by a subtle release of dominant alpha pheromones?”

“Something like that,” Natasha admitted, a wry smile playing on her lips. “But I don’t even know where to find her.”

“Leave that to me,” Yelena said, pulling out her phone. “Kate’s got contacts. Besides,” she added with a sly grin, “a little intel gathering never hurt anyone. Especially when it involves a potentially legendary sourdough starter.”

A few taps and a brief conversation later, Yelena hung up, her expression triumphant. “Got her. Apparently, she volunteers at a local community garden a few days a week. And today is one of those days.”

Natasha’s heart gave a small, unexpected flutter. A community garden. It seemed a world away from the polished steel and glass of her corporate life, yet somehow, the image of Y/N tending to plants, her hands in the soil, felt… right. Grounded.

“So?” Yelena prompted, already heading towards the door. “Are we going to go cultivate some… understanding?”

Natasha hesitated for a moment, a flicker of her old apprehension returning. But the image of Y/N’s gentle smile, the quiet strength in her eyes, and the unexpected pull of her calming pheromones spurred her forward. “Let’s go.”

They descended the numerous floors in the private elevator, the silence punctuated only by the soft whoosh of the mechanism. As they stepped out into the bustling lobby of Romanoff Industries, Natasha felt a strange sense of shedding her corporate armor, if only slightly. Today wasn’t about mergers or acquisitions; it was about something far more personal, far more uncertain. The usual respect bordering on fear in the eyes of her employees felt oddly distant.

Yelena, ever attuned to her sister’s moods, clapped her on the shoulder. “Relax, Nat. Just be yourself. Well, the slightly less intimidating version of yourself. Maybe try not to accidentally trigger her flight response with your alpha aura this time.”

Natasha managed a weak smile. “No promises.”

——timeskip——

As the sleek black car idled across the street from the vibrant green space, Natasha felt a familiar knot of anxiety tighten in her chest. The community garden buzzed with a gentle energy – the murmur of voices, the snip of shears, the earthy scent of soil mingling with the sweet perfume of blooming flowers. It was a stark contrast to the sterile efficiency of her usual environment, and for a fleeting moment, she wondered if she’d made a mistake even agreeing to this. The air itself felt different, less controlled, more alive.

“See? Nothing to be afraid of, sestra,” Yelena chirped, her gaze fixed on the activity outside. “Just a bunch of… well, gardeners. Harmless, mostly.” She paused, sniffing the air dramatically. “Definitely a lot of beta pheromones. A few other omegas, judging by the sweeter notes. And… hmm, a couple of other alphas. Keep your claws sheathed, big sister.”

Natasha didn’t reply, her eyes scanning the figures tending to the plots. The sunlight glinted off watering cans and tools, and the air, thick with the promise of spring, carried a subtle mix of pheromones – the grounding earthiness of betas, the bright floral notes of other omegas, and even a faint, underlying hum that she instinctively recognized as belonging to other alphas. It was a sensory tapestry so different from the carefully controlled atmosphere of her penthouse, where even the air filtration system minimized natural scents.

“You’re going to psych yourself out before we even get out of the car, Nat,” Yelena said, a playful nudge in her tone. “Remember what we talked about. Be… approachable. Like a fluffy kitten. Or at least a slightly less grumpy bear. Maybe try suppressing the urge to assert your dominance with a subtle pheromonal pulse every five seconds.”

“I am perfectly capable of being approachable,” Natasha retorted, though her gaze remained fixed on a woman with a wide-brimmed hat carefully pruning a rose bush.

“Sure, and I’m the Queen of England,” Yelena quipped, rolling her eyes. “Just try smiling. You know, the one that doesn’t look like you’re contemplating a hostile takeover. And maybe try not to smell quite so much like you own the entire Eastern Seaboard.”

Natasha huffed, but the corners of her lips twitched almost imperceptibly. This was ridiculous. She was Natasha Romanoff, a woman who negotiated multi-billion dollar deals and commanded the respect of entire industries. Why was the prospect of a simple conversation with one omega, a slightly chubby omega with kind eyes and a talent for sourdough, making her feel like a teenager before her first dance?

Suddenly, Yelena’s breath hitched. “Oy, smotri! Look!”

Natasha followed her sister’s gaze. Walking along the sidewalk beside their car, her figure framed by the dappled sunlight filtering through the trees, was Y/N. She was wearing a flowy sundress, the soft fabric swaying gently with each step, and her hair was pulled back in a loose braid, tendrils escaping to frame her face. She carried a small woven bag over her shoulder, and there was a peaceful, almost ethereal quality to her movements. The faint scent of chamomile and warm earth that Yelena had mentioned was now more distinct, a calming aroma that seemed to cut through Natasha’s anxiety.

Before Natasha could even formulate a coherent thought, Yelena’s door swung open. In a move that was as swift as it was utterly unexpected, Yelena was out of the car and moving towards Y/N with a determined glint in her eyes.

“Yelena, what in God’s name are you doing?” Natasha hissed, mortification flooding her senses. This was not how she had envisioned this… whatever this was supposed to be. The subtle scent of Y/N’s surprise and a flicker of fear began to mix with the calming chamomile.

Yelena reached Y/N just as she was about to pass their car. With a surprising display of strength, she grabbed Y/N’s arm.

“Hello there, golubchik,” Yelena said, her voice deceptively sweet, but her grip firm. The shift in her pheromones was immediate, a subtle but unmistakable hint of alpha dominance underlying the sweetness.

Y/N’s eyes widened in alarm. “Hey! What are you doing? Let go of me!” Her voice was sharp with surprise and a dawning sense of panic. The calming scent of chamomile was abruptly overpowered by a sharp spike of fear and distress.

“We need a little chat,” Yelena said, her smile not reaching her eyes. Before Y/N could fully react, Yelena was practically frog-marching her towards the open car door.

“Get your hands off me! I’m calling the police!” Y/N struggled, her protests growing louder, a mixture of fear and anger in her tone. The peaceful atmosphere of the garden was abruptly shattered by the sounds of her escalating distress. Several nearby gardeners turned, their expressions shifting from mild curiosity to concern. The air now crackled with a palpable tension, the natural pheromonal balance completely disrupted.

Natasha’s face burned with embarrassment. This was a disaster of epic proportions. She scrambled out of the car, her mind racing, trying to salvage this unbelievably chaotic situation. Her own alpha instincts flared momentarily, a protective urge towards Y/N warring with her utter mortification at Yelena’s tactics.

“Yelena! Stop it! What are you thinking?” Natasha’s voice was low and urgent, but Yelena seemed completely unfazed, her focus entirely on the struggling omega.

“Get in the car, mishka,” Yelena commanded, practically shoving a resisting Y/N towards the back seat. Her grip tightened as Y/N tried to pull away, the scent of fear emanating from her now sharp and acrid.

“I said let go of me, you crazy woman!” Y/N yelled, her voice trembling slightly. She tried to pull away, but Yelena’s grip was like iron. Her woven bag slipped from her shoulder and landed on the sidewalk, spilling a few gardening gloves and a small trowel.

“Just get in,” Yelena repeated, her tone brooking no argument. With a final heave, she managed to maneuver a flailing Y/N into the back seat. Yelena then slid in after her, effectively trapping Y/N between herself and the car door. The small space now filled with the clashing scents of Yelena’s forceful alpha, Y/N’s fear, and Natasha’s rising panic.

Natasha stood by the open door, aghast. Passersby were starting to stare, their gardening forgotten as they witnessed the bizarre scene unfolding. The subtle pheromonal balance in the air had shifted, the undercurrent of alarm and distress now palpable. One of the alpha gardeners started to move towards the car, a protective growl rumbling in his chest.

“Yelena, you can’t just kidnap people!” Natasha exclaimed, her voice a strained whisper.

“I’m not kidnapping her,” Yelena said, her tone surprisingly reasonable considering the circumstances. “I’m facilitating a conversation. With a bit of persuasive encouragement.”

“A conversation that started with you physically assaulting me?” Y/N interjected, her voice tight with fury. “Let me out of this car right now! You have no right to touch me!” Her plump cheeks were flushed with anger and fear, and her chest heaved with rapid breaths.

“Now, now, no need for hysterics,” Yelena said, patting Y/N’s arm in a gesture that was anything but comforting. “We just want to talk to you about Natasha.”

Y/N glared at Natasha, her eyes flashing with indignation. “Talk to me? After the way she acted at the support group? I have nothing to say to either of you! You were both incredibly rude and dismissive.”

Natasha finally found her voice, though it was laced with mortification. “Look, Y/N, I m am so sorry about this. Yelena’s methods are… unconventional. To say the least.” Her own pheromones were now a confusing mix of apology and a desperate attempt to defuse the tense situation.

“Unconventional?” Y/N scoffed, her voice rising in disbelief, a sharp contrast to the gentle cadence Natasha had briefly heard at the support group. “This is assault! Physical assault! I could press charges! And frankly,” her gaze sharpened, focusing directly on Natasha, “after your condescending attitude the other day, the way you dismissed my experience like it was nothing, I’m half-tempted to! Maybe a night in a cell would teach you both some manners!” The scent of her anger intensified, a bitter tang now mingling with the lingering fear.

“And you would be entirely within your rights to do so,” Natasha conceded, her gaze unwavering, her voice low and sincere, devoid of any corporate edge. She could feel the weight of Y/N’s anger, the justified indignation radiating from her. “But please, hear me out. This… this,” she gestured vaguely at Yelena, still perched beside a clearly distressed Y/N, “is not how I wanted to approach this. My intention was… different.” The word felt inadequate, a flimsy shield against the reality of Yelena’s actions.

“Different how?” Y/N challenged, her arms still crossed defensively, her body language radiating distrust. “Did you plan on sending your goons to ‘facilitate a conversation’ at my home? Maybe leave a threatening note attached to a bouquet of poisoned flowers?” The sarcasm dripped from her voice, sharp and laced with genuine fear. The subtle tremors in her hands betrayed her outward bravado.

Yelena, ever the pragmatist, though her methods were anything but, cut to the chase. “Alright, here’s the deal, dorogaya. Natasha here,” she gestured towards her sister with a flourish, her hand nearly colliding with Y/N’s nose, “is socially challenged. Think of her as a highly intelligent, incredibly capable, but utterly inept puppy when it comes to feelings. She doesn’t always say what she means, and sometimes what she means comes out sounding like she’s declaring war on your entire existence, possibly including your beloved sourdough starter. It’s a communication quirk. A deeply ingrained, possibly irreversible, communication quirk. But! She actually feels bad – genuinely bad – about how things went at the meeting. She’s been moping around her ridiculously oversized apartment for days, smelling faintly of regret and expensive whiskey, and occasionally sighing dramatically while staring at the city lights.”

Natasha shot Yelena a look that could curdle milk, a silent promise of severe and immediate retribution flickering in her eyes. Her own alpha pheromones flared briefly in annoyance, a low growl of displeasure rumbling in her chest, before she consciously suppressed them, reminding herself of the precariousness of the situation. Her sister was making a mockery of the situation, downplaying her own atrocious behavior, but somehow, amidst the absurdity, there was a kernel of truth to her awkwardness.

“And,” Yelena continued, her tone shifting to something resembling a hostage negotiator laying out terms, “if you agree to go on a date with her… in a few days… say, next Wednesday evening? A proper date, involving polite conversation, actual smiles (from Natasha, hopefully), and the distinct absence of any physical coercion… where she will be charming and attentive and will not say anything even remotely resembling a threat, and will probably even compliment your… lovely dress… then we will let you out of this car, unharmed, right now. What do you say? It’s a simple yes or no. Though, we strongly encourage a yes.”

Y/N stared at Yelena as if she had sprouted a second head, her plump cheeks still flushed with indignation, her breathing still shallow. “Are you out of your mind? A date? With her? After all this? I’d rather be locked in a room full of rabid ferrets! At least then I’d have a legitimate reason to bite someone! And the authorities would probably be more sympathetic!”

“Come on, don’t be like that,” Yelena wheedled, her earlier aggression vanishing as quickly as it had appeared, replaced by a surprisingly earnest expression, her voice softening. “Think of it as a peace offering. A chance for Natasha to show you that she’s not entirely a heartless ice queen. Maybe she’ll even tell you embarrassing stories about her childhood in Russia. Those are always a hit. Besides,” she leaned closer to Y/N, lowering her voice conspiratorially, “she can be surprisingly generous. Think good wine, excellent food maybe even a small, non-threatening gift.”

“She made it pretty clear what she thought of me at the meeting,” Y/N retorted, crossing her arms even tighter over her chest, her chin jutting out defiantly. “I don’t need her pity, or her… generosity. I need her to understand that her words have consequences, that other people have feelings!” The scent of her hurt resurfaced, a subtle undercurrent beneath the anger.

Natasha stepped closer to the car, her expression earnest, her voice low and sincere, the usual steel replaced by a genuine plea. “Y/N, please. I truly didn’t mean to offend you. My… my reaction was rooted in my own… experiences. My own insecurities. It wasn’t about you. I… I’m not very good at… this kind of thing. Social interactions… they don’t come naturally to me. Especially in… emotionally charged environments. I tend to…default to defense.” It was a rare and painful admission of vulnerability, and it cost her a significant amount of pride to say it, to lay bare a weakness she usually guarded fiercely. The scent of her own uncertainty, a faint, almost imperceptible tremor in her alpha pheromones, betrayed her discomfort, a stark contrast to her usual controlled aura.

Yelena seized the opportunity, sensing a crack in Y/N’s resistance. “See? She’s practically begging! Just one date. A few hours of your time. And then, if you still think she’s a monster, if she says anything remotely offensive, you can unleash your inner rabid ferret on her. What have you got to lose? Besides a perfectly lovely Wednesday evening and the potential for a surprisingly good meal?”

Y/N looked from Yelena’s determined face to Natasha’s surprisingly vulnerable one. She was clearly still furious and shaken, the scent of her lingering distress still palpable, a knot of fear and anger radiating from her, but there was a flicker of something else in her eyes – perhaps curiosity, a desire to understand the woman who had so easily dismissed her, or maybe just the sheer absurdity of the situation was starting to wear her down, the outlandishness of it all bordering on the darkly comedic. She glanced at the concerned faces of the onlookers, the alpha gardener still hovering nearby with a protective air, then back at the two sisters.

“And if I say no?” Y/N challenged, her voice still laced with suspicion, her gaze sharp as she assessed their resolve.

Yelena’s smile tightened, the playful facade momentarily slipping to reveal a hint of the steel beneath, a reminder of the ruthlessness that lay beneath her often-teasing exterior. “Then we drive around until you change your mind. And trust me, dorogaya, we have all day. Natasha has… very comfortable car seats. And I have a playlist of truly terrible Russian pop songs that I’m sure you’d just adore.”

Natasha shot Yelena another warning glare, a silent plea for her to stop digging them into an even deeper hole. This was not going the way she had hoped, not that she had any clear idea of how she had hoped it would go. Kidnapping was certainly not on the agenda, nor was the threat of bad Russian music.

After a long, tense silence, the only sound the distant chirping of birds in the garden, Y/N let out a frustrated sigh, the fight seemingly draining out of her. Her shoulders slumped slightly, and the sharp scent of her anger began to recede, replaced by a weary resignation. “Fine,” she conceded, her voice grudging, the word feeling like it was being dragged from her. “One date. Wednesday evening. And if either of you pulls anything like this again, if there’s even a hint of coercion or condescension, I swear I will have you both arrested. And I know a very good lawyer. One who specializes in… unusual cases.”

“Excellent!” Yelena clapped her hands together, her earlier aggression vanishing as quickly as it had appeared, replaced by an almost childlike enthusiasm. “Wednesday it is! Seven o’clock? We’ll pick you up. Where do you live? Is it far? Do you have any… dietary restrictions? Natasha can be surprisingly accommodating when she wants to be.”

Y/N just glared at her, the scent of her lingering annoyance still a palpable barrier. “Just tell me where you’re taking me. I can meet you there. I am not getting into a car with either of you again. Not unless there are flashing blue lights involved.” The thought of being trapped with them was clearly still abhorrent.

“Alright, alright,” Yelena said agreeably, holding up her hands in mock surrender. “We’ll text you the address. Something… classy. Not too intimidating. Maybe that little Italian place with the surprisingly good tiramisu. They also have excellent vegetarian options, if that’s your thing. Now, let’s get you out of here before someone calls the actual police. Or that rather large alpha gardener decides to intervene with his pruning shears.”

Yelena unlocked the car door, and Y/N practically leaped out, putting as much distance between herself and the black sedan as possible. She retrieved her fallen bag and its scattered contents, her movements still stiff with residual anger and fear. She shot Natasha one last, wary look, a complex mix of emotions swirling in her intelligent gaze – anger, suspicion, and a flicker of something Natasha couldn’t quite decipher – before turning and quickly walking away, disappearing back into the leafy paths of the community garden. The calming scent of chamomile slowly began to reassert itself as she moved further away, a fragile peace returning to the disturbed air.

Natasha watched her go, a strange mix of relief and apprehension swirling within her. She had secured a second chance, albeit through the most bizarre and borderline illegal means imaginable. The concerned glances of the remaining gardeners felt like physical accusations, and the nearby alpha’s protective growl still echoed faintly in the air.

“Well,” Yelena said, brushing off her hands as if she’d just completed a particularly challenging task. “That went… interestingly. You have to admit, it was certainly efficient. And now you have a date! See? I told you I could fix things.”

Natasha just shook her head, utterly speechless, the absurdity of the situation washing over her. “Interestingly? Yelena, you practically kidnapped her! That alpha who was heading over here looked ready to tear you limb from limb! We could be facing assault charges!”

“Details, details,” Yelena waved a dismissive hand. “He was probably just worried about his prize-winning tomatoes. The important thing is, you have a date. Now, let’s go home. I think we both need a very fat shot vodka. And maybe you should start practicing your charming smile. The non-hostile takeover version. And perhaps work on your opening lines. ‘So, about that support group…’ is probably not the best way to start.”

As they got back into the car, the scent of blooming flowers and damp earth seemed to linger in the air, now tinged with the faint undercurrent of Y/N’s lingering distress and a surprising hint of her own resilience. Wednesday evening suddenly felt like a very long way away, a looming precipice of potential disaster or, against all odds, a chance at something… more than just another corporate negotiation.

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