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thinking1bee · 4 hours ago

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I’m actually going to shit myself and sobbbbbbbb 😭😭😭😭😭 this was so cute, and sweet, and fluffy, and hilarious, and hot, and smutty. Wow this was a balm on my soul ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

will you do werewolf!kate again? :3

Title: All Mine. All Mine. All Mine. [A Once Bitten, Twice the Idiot Oneshot]

Summary: Three Years into your stay at the compound, both you and Kate decide to take it to the next level. But the choice has some consequences that you weren't quite prepared for.

Trigger warnings[18+]: Fingering (r receiving), Edging (if you squint), biting, marking, claiming, A/B/O (If you squint, it's a werewolf story come on), slight overstimulation, shovel talks, mentions of drunk driving, death, cannon typical violence, horrible grammar- I don't proofread.

[A/n:Hell yeah you can have more! This is probably a little spicer than you wanted but it's been in my drafts for awhile and it's about damn time they fucking did this. Plus I've had a hard day, so they fuck nasty.]

Read the Full Series:

Her nose was glacier cold against the nape of your neck, exploring the expanse and breathing in the scent that lingered there. Kate had nipped the skin before, but didn’t quite bite down the way she wanted to, the way that every cell in her body screamed and pleaded for her to. She held herself over you, reveled in the way you pushed yourself closer, arched to feel her warmth with each desperate inhale.

“Katie, please.”

She smiled into your throat, you sounded so breathless, hand splayed against Kate’s chest, fingers curled just enough to create the slightest bit of sting. Kate shifted her knee and centered it against your core, drawing a moan from your lips. A perfect, beautiful moan that she wanted to hear over and over again until the day she died.

You grabbed her chin, directed her hazy eyes to your own, muzzy and glazed over but not too far gone, not just yet “Stop teasing, for the love of God, just fuck me.”

“Oh baby,” Kate mocked you, jutting out her lower lip “I don’t think you’re in the position to make demands right now.”

A frustrated and animalistic growl escaped you as you attempted to grind down on her clothed knee. It didn’t’ satiate a thing, not like you wanted it to. Kate silenced any further protests with another kiss, all teeth and tongue and licking hungrily into your mouth. It did the trick. Really, she was quite the expert with her tongue, and her fingers started to wander below the elastic waistband of your pants, making your stomach flutter in anticipation.

Kate wanted to bite you. God did she want to bite you. Of course she’d done it before. Multiple times in multiple places. It sent a rush through her in a way she couldn’t’ describe. You were hers and though the rest of the house knew that just by your intertwined scents, there was something invigorating about the temporary markings.

She didn’t’ want it to be temporary. She wanted to latch her teeth onto that one tender spot that meant more than that. The one her wolf knew claimed you as hers forever. Something that worked almost as a ring did for humans. Hell- Kate would get you a ring too. She’d get you a million rings. She’d get you anything your heart desired if it elicited delicious noises like the one that just rumbled through you when she swiped two fingers through your wet folds.

“Oh… fuck”

Your nails started to drag up her back, nose now in the crook of her neck, breath molten against a forbidden expanse of skin. You pulled her tighter against you as Kate slipped seamlessly into you. You couldn’t possibly get any closer to her, but you tried nonetheless as she fucked into you, slow and steady and sensual.

“K-Kate, shit, just like that.” You panted timidly “I need,”

“What baby?”

There was no uptilt to her voice this time. She’d cave in a second to whatever demand you purred out. Kate would drop to her knees in a second. She’d worship and kiss across every inch of your body. She felt you clench around her, mewl then swallow roughly as if building up to something. She knew you were close.

“Bite me, mark me.” You dug your nails in deeper. Kate stilled her movements, her chest heaving up and down in stuttered pants as her eyes softened from primal to something of wonder. She stared down at you, slightly pointed teeth glinting in the low-light of the waning moon. “Make me yours, I… fuck, Kate. I want this.”

“You’re…” She hesitated, that goofy grin that you loved so damn much on her face, strands of sweaty hair falling into her slate stare. “Not just saying that because I’m edging you right?”

“You’re edging me?”

“Was going to.”

“Well forget I said anything,”

Kate curled her fingers, and you whined, dragging your fingers across her chest, leaving pink marks raised across her collarbone. “Not something you can walk back on, darling. Those are some big words.”

You ghosted your lips against the sharp cut of her jaw, hot and tantalizing enough to raise goosebumps against every inch of Kate’s body. She shuddered against you, felt your devilish smile at her reaction , her fingers pumping slowly in and out of you, making your words wobble “Good thing I don’t want to walk back on it, Ah-”

Kate was robbed of your brilliant stare once more in exchange for a breathy, wonderous exhale. Your damp breasts pushed against the plush fabric of her bra. You’d voiced in the past how frustrating it was when you were nude and she was mostly clothed. A severe disadvantage for you to get your paws on her skin. But it gave Kate all the more opportunity to tease you.

“Can’t go back if I do this, baby.” Kate dropped her head back onto your shoulder. Your scent was so sweet, so primal. She felt an ache in her jaw, your wetness soaking into the sheets, sticky around her fingers and across your thighs as she worked you closer to pure bliss, adding a third finger. “You’re mine forever.”

“Wanna be yours.”

Kate could hear your own words slurring with lust, but more than anything, she knew what you sounded like when your teeth became too crowded for your mouth. When your wolf wanted something to bite into. Namely her. When your eyes shot back open, they were a deep and primal yellow, so golden they reminded Kate of the sunset, of hellfire.

Kate’s voice was a snarl “Say it again.”

“I want to be yours forever.”

Her breath quickened, a thrill rushing through her. Kate rewarded your obedience, brushing her thumb steadily over your swollen clit. Your breath pitched as you pressed into her. Kate knew you were getting closer, knew your tells. You were shivering underneath her, hands traveling from a desperate grip on her back to a gentle caress on her sides. Switching tactics from begging to coercing and pouting out of needy abandon.

Kate felt the saliva fill her mouth, licked a stripe across your collarbone and stopped right at the salted strip that she wanted to claim the most. She sped up, nipped lightly. She had to bite you first. But true to her nature, she dragged it out in an infuriating way.

It was embarrassing, the way you whined for her. “Katie, please.”

She smiled devilishly, so close and hot against the nave of your neck, before an even more delicious sensation filled out. The moan that you were meant to release died in your throat. Your orgasm ripped through you as you clenched around Kate’s fingers, her teeth sharp enough in your shoulder to touch bone.

There was no pain, only pleasure. So much pleasure you figured you were about to black out. Kate hummed happily into your shoulder, the heat of your blood spilling against the pillow combined with the rush of your slick against Kate’s palm was pure bliss, something she worked you diligently through.

Your body worked on instinct then. Over the combination of your heartbeats and the loud inner howl of the beast inside of you, you dug your own sharpened teeth into the expanse of unmarked skin between Kate’s neck and shoulder.

All mine. All mine. All mine.

The mantra was loud, almost deafening. The taste of Kate’s blood was sweet, so spiced, against your tongue. She trembled, moaned so sultry as your teeth sunk in. A blanket of understanding swept over you both, feelings so comforting and complete. As if two halves were melted together after resisting one another for centuries.

Kate released her bite, smoothing her tongue over the puncture marks in an effort to quell the sting. It was an instant balm. You groaned when her fingers were pulled from you as gently as she could manage, your noises muffled by her shoulder as you cleaned her own wounds with your tongue.

Primal. Instinct. You wanted so badly to care for her.

Her sweaty forehead pressed against yours as the two of you caught your breath. Covered in sweat and slick and blood. It was late into the night, and you were beyond thankful that Steve had splurged for soundproofing on the walls. Kate seemed to be thinking the same thing, both of you bursting into a fit of giggles, your hands moving to hide your face.

“Oh no, sweetheart. No getting shy on me now. You were just licking my shoulder a second ago.” Kate flopped onto her designated side of the bed with a groan. She had a dopey grin on her face as if she were the one who just got brought to orgasmic bliss.

A hum escaped you, eyes darting to the mark on Kate’s shoulder. It looked fresh in the pale moonlight. Pride filled your chest at the sight of it. You’d branded her, claimed her just as she’d done to you. You’d read about this over and over again in the library. The books were always at your disposal but there was nothing like this feeling. This rush of adrenaline.

You were eternally Kate’s, and she was eternally yours. Your wolves were intertwined. Your scents would mingle and your pulse’s would synch. She’d know when you were hurt and vice versa. There was a thrill to it. To knowing one another so intimately.

“God, you’re so beautiful.” Kate’s eyes were glossed over, an orange tint to them. “And mine. My girl.”

You curled into her side carefully, hand stretching over her bare stomach. She twitched, sensitive there. You could smell the metal of her blood. But you could smell yourself too. “All yours.” You sighed contentedly, tracing small patterns on her side, fingers eventually playing with the waistband of her pants. “Will you let me return the favor? Take care of you?”

Kate blinked at you tiredly, her smile lazy “You take care of me enough, darling.”

“You know what I mean.” Your fingers dipped lower. “I think… I can feel your heartbeat now.”

“Can you?” Kate seemed to catch her second wind, using her strength to pull you on top of her in a smooth motion. You could most definitely feel her heartbeat. It was rapid, impossibly to contain. She gazed up at you hungrily. “Care to test that theory?”

Natasha Romanoff stared dark green daggers directly at you. She hadn’t blinked in the last fifteen minutes, and she certainly hadn’t averted her attention in the last thirty. You’d let your cereal go soggy, the floaters spinning around milk that had turned a sickly gray. She took a bite of dry toast, chewing slowly. Still not taking her eyes off you.

The easy conversation at the kitchen table seemed to float naturally around you. Not many people converged for breakfast. The most vigilant today being the woman who had clocked you the second you walked in. Peter was excitedly rambling to Thor about his latest video game and Wanda, if she had noticed her wife’s staring problem, promptly ignored it in favor for the pancakes she was preparing.

You tried your darndest to focus back on your meal. But you couldn’t’ very well ignore the Beta’s attention. It made you sit up straighter, almost like the top of your spine was tied with fishing line and pulled taut with a string.

Kate, while you loved her dearly, had some business to attend to in the city with Clint. You silently cursed her. Would have not so silently if there wasn’t a high-ranking pack member watching your every move. Not that you were moving very much. Or at all. You subconsciously scratched at the bite on your shoulder, hidden by the black of your t-shirt and a bandage soaked in herbs to dull the scent.

While there was nothing to be ashamed of about the fact that you and Kate had officially exchanged bites, it wasn’t something you wanted to shout from the rooftops just yet. It was a big deal. It could change the dynamics of the home that you lived in. The people that you lived with.

“Natalia, stop slouching.” Wanda had finally joined the table, tapping her partner on the shoulder before setting a plate in front of her. There was a momentary relief. The spell seeming to break. “Ty povredish' spinu.”

She scrunched her nose, huffed, but picked up her fork like an admonished child before digging into her eggs and returning her stare back to you. This time, it was softer, but still curious, following the way your hand cupped your shoulder. The pressure was soothing over the ever-healing bite. It would be weeks until it scarred over.

“Y/n, is that all you’re eating?” Wanda asked “There’s some extra food on the stove. Help yourself.”

“I’m not very hungry,” You smiled, “Thank you though.”

Natasha lilted her head “Is your shoulder bothering you?”

“No, no. Just a little tired.”

You shook your head and stood quickly from your chair, the legs scraping against the linoleum. It caught the attention of Thor and Peter, a lull in their conversation at the sky darkened outside. You could smell the rain in the air. The last thing you wanted was to be trapped in the house with Natasha today. In the confines with any of them where they could corner and grill you. You placed the bowl in the sink and rinsed it to keep from answering any questions.

It was hard to keep things from Natasha, harder to keep things from Wanda. They’d been in synch with each other longer than you’d been alive. The Sokovian stared at you with a curiousness now that you couldn’t escape.

You’d nearly squeaked when Kate said she’d be away today. Not in the needy way, but in the panicky way that screamed ‘I can’t be left alone with these people’. Especially the two women who chewed slowly in front of you now.

It didn’t help that you awkwardly saluted before grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge and retreating to the library upstairs. Your safe space. A space where you’d dutifully worked your way through all of the werewolf fiction and non-fiction at your disposal before moving on to the rest of the leather-bound fantasy that Steve had collected over the years.

A summer thunderstorm had started up in earnest now, leaving you with the orange glow of lamplight as sheets of rain sheathed the large bay windows in a dull gray. You found yourself curled up on the window seat, a blanket over your legs, watching the forest sway through the distorted glass. You weren’t getting much reading done. But you were thankfully alone. At least for a while.

Until you caught their scent.

They had the decency to knock like any parental figure did. It didn’t’ stop you from jolting and pulling the throw blanket up to your chin like it would protect you from their wrath. Your heart was in your throat, and you let out a measly “Come in” as you folded your pages over a bookmark, eyes wide.

Wanda was meant to disarm you. That’s why she entered first. She was a softer presence with her ease of a smile and fern-colored eyes. Her oversized cardigan that compensated for the chill of the rain. When it came down to it, you were more frightened of her. She drew harder lines and was more difficult to convince when you wanted something. The difficult parent.

Natasha followed. A hard scowl on her features. One that you could soften if you pouted hard enough. Not that you wanted to test that theory. You knew damn well that she’d caught your scent earlier. They were cornering you due to the fact and without Kate here you were very liable to crack.

“What are you reading?” Wanda asked.

“Not really reading. Watching the storm.” You shrugged, attempted to hide the wince as the bandage pulled at the sensitive skin around your bite. Warmth pooled in your gut in compensation. “It’s really coming down out there.”

You’d returned your attention to the collection of water at the edge of the tree line. Wanda sat on the other end of the window seat, Natasha at her feet with a throw pillow hugged to her chest. She looked softer down there, unassuming compared to the scrutinization in the kitchen. You didn’t outwardly look at either of them.

“They’ll make it back safely. Clint’s one hell of a driver.” Natasha assured softly. Her fingers played with the edge of the throw pillow. “It’s normal to feel more anxiety when you’re separated from your mate during a storm.”

You swallowed thickly, but didn’t take your eyes away from the windowpane. The slush of water was more interesting. At least, you told yourself that. There was a distinct uptick in your heartbeat that you knew both Wanda and Natasha could hear. It was deafening compared to the thunder that rumbled past the compound walls.

“malen'kiy volk” Wanda nudged your knee softly with her own.

Her affectionate nickname was enough of a nudge already. Yelena had adopted the nickname after your first transition, always ribbing you for how small your wolf form was compared to the rest of them, slowly growing in stature and size and strength. The nickname seemed to stick regardless of your posturing now. You were nearly the same height as Kate, but didn’t match her intimidation.

Her pitch fur, her dark fulvous eyes. If she crouched down low to the ground and let a rumble from deep in her chest, she could startle something fierce. Sometimes, most times, you couldn’t imagine how you’d gotten so far in the first place. That night that you were darting through the woods. You’d both come so far, grown into yourselves and into one another.

“Not so little anymore.” Natasha grumbled what you all were thinking as if she were a wary parent. It’d been three long years since you’d moved into the compound. She seemed like a disgruntled mom, her fingers flexing around the pillow. “Was this… impulsive?”

“Legko, Natalia”

You weren’t outwardly going to admit to anything. There was nothing to admit to. Not without Kate here. For all either of them knew, you were sitting in your little nook reading a fantasy book in the middle of a storm. All of you could pick up on the scent of the rain, down-trodden and filling the room with a heavy feeling. A damp one that coated your skin.

“If we’re talking in hypotheticals here,”

“Which we are” Wanda purred out “Strictly.”

“Right. Then no. It was not impulsive. It’s the only thing I’ve ever been sure of in my entire life. Long before that first night in the woods when Kate” you frowned, swallowed the dryness in your throat “When Kate lost control, there was something missing, she was missing. It’s easy, you know? To mistake comfort for safety and safety for love but with Kate, with Kate it’s all three. With Kate, it’s everything. She’s everything.” You finally met Natasha’s eyes in understanding. “Hypothetically.”

“startling, isn’t it?” Wanda asked, hazel eyes filled with stars “How subtly we fall in love.”

“Sometimes it helps when you accidently pour gourmet coffee on them. They find it charming.

“No, they do not.”

A comfortable silence lulled over the three of you. Wanda and Natasha were to only two mated in the house. At least, they were. Clint had a wife, had children of his own that he spent time with just outside of the compound. He’d travel back and fourth throughout the day, but preferred his space. And a few looks were exchanged between Tony and Bruce that lingered, but no one ever dared to mention it.

The soft thud of a car door and the way your entire body thrummed with familiarity alerted you to Kate’s return to the compound. A blush inadvertently shaded your cheeks, head turning towards the library door. You could sense the way Wanda and Natasha smiled unabashedly at your barely contained excitement.

“It’ll feel like that for,” Wanda tried to pinpoint when it stopped, couldn’t seem to. “It’ll feel like that.”

You blew a fond breath from your nose, knees pulled tight against your chest as you rested your chin against them, perfectly content. Kate would find you. She always did. And until then, you were surrounded by the warmth of Wanda and Natasha and the storm. A beautiful family. A quiet hodgepodge of beasts.

When Kate entered, she did so hesitantly. She could probably scent Natasha and Wanda and yourself, crowded amongst the books, the stories that lie there. Her hair was damp and stringy with water, clinging to her forehead and soaked through her jacket. Standing there, in the doorway, you wanted nothing more than to accept her into your arms, to warm her diligently with heat that was your own.

However, the hardness in Natasha’s stare, the way the beta rose to her feet, kept you in your place. You had a deep sense that her shovel talking was going to be worse than yours. A lot worse. With the pillow discarded and Wanda rolling her eyes but keeping a comfortable hand on your calf with a gentle squeeze. A fond warning to keep whatever growl that threatened to bubble up deep in your throat.

Natasha’s hand wicked into Kate’s shirt as she backed her into the nearest wall. “You marked her, huh pup?”

“What? I don’t… would you believe me if I said no?”

The deep snarl that Nat let out was a decisive answer to Kate’s floundering. You wanted to feel bad, really. But you knew that Natasha was posturing and Kate was digging her own grave by stumbling through little fibs that probably tasted bad on her tongue. If there was real panic, you would feel it.

“Okay, okay” She swallowed hard “Natasha, I love her. It’s not like the first time. Not my wolf stirring something deep and wild within me that was uncontrollable and feral. I can’t apologize for that day enough. I can’t. But I don’t regret it because I wouldn’t have her now.”

Natasha’s hold loosened, but the intensity of her stare remained. Kate’s head thumped against the wall, chest heaving. She’d been through this song and dance before, as had you. On more than one occasion you’d answered to Natasha’s anger. To Steve’s sternness.

Kate’s head lolled to the side, a lazy smile on her face, she repeated. “I love her. So goddamn much. And the second we exchanged bites, something washed over me that I never thought I’d have. And I know what you’re doing. I know you feel some type of responsibility as a parent here because neither of us...”

She swallowed hard, averting her stare. Natahsa had released her hold entirely, stare softening to something of affection and hand splayed over Kate’s chest. Their breaths had evened out.

“I’m not going to hurt her Nat. I’d never hurt her.”

After a few deep breaths, Natasha patted her roughly on the cheek a few times. “Okay, kid. Okay.”

“Natasha,” Kate said softly, grabbing softly at the woman’s wrist. Instinctively the redhead swept her thumb over rain-tinged skin. “We appreciate you. Both of you. For being there. For taking care of us.”

“Thank you for letting us care.” Natasha whispered, smoothing away rain, and maybe something more.

Steve Rodgers brought the axe down with a practiced crack on the center of the log. It halved with a deafening echo, just as the last twelve had. The scent of pine filled your lungs. Each half falling to the side before Steve picked them up and tossed them into the pile with the rest. He did so with ease, didn’t’ pay any mind to you and Kate as you watched him.

He only did this when he was stressed. Went out to his happy place, a beautiful spot next to the lake. You could see why he enjoyed it so much. The clean air was a sedative to any type of anxiety that you had about speaking with him. You hoped it dulled the mix of your combined scents.

Kate had her hand on the small of her back. Both of your postures were assured. Your hands were clasped at the front and Kate’s jaw was steady, hardly showing the fear that you both admittedly felt. Eventually, after another three logs, Steve panted and let the tip of the axe remain in dirt, his blue stare flicking between you both. He pulled in a damp breath, edges of his lips pulled back from exertion.

“Something you two want to tell me?”

You didn’t want to throw Kate under the bus. That would just be rude. But she had fed you to the wolves at breakfast yesterday so could she really blame you for giving her a little shove forward that attracted Steves stare her way? She probably would later. But for now, she didn’t even protest.

“Steve, sir. Hi. Is that a new shirt? It looks fantastic.”

“Kate.”

“It’s a nice shirt.” She defended.

“What she means to say, sir.” You stepped forward, rescuing your mate from shoving her paw further into her mouth. “Is that we did… have something to tell you about. Though, I’m sure Natasha has already spoken with you.”

Steve had a coy smile on his face, watching the way you smoothed your hand over Kate’s arm until you joined hands with hers. The warmth was overwhelming, her scent tantalizing and cool in your lungs. You wanted to lean your entire weight against her. The excitement of the day was starting to weigh on you, but you maintained a level of respect for the man in front of you.

He chuckled, shook his head “Y/n, you remind me of my mate.”

It was impossible to hide your shock. Both yours and Kate’s eyes widened at the same time, studying Steve as if he had grown a second head. He may as well have. In the years that you had known him, he had never mentioned having one. From the way Kate’s pulse picked up against your joined wrists, you figured she was in the same boat as you. Her perfectly shaped eyebrow lifted, head lilting in curiosity.

“She uh, she died in 2016. When you grow up with what we are in your veins it’s easy to forget how something as simple as a drunk driver can take things away from us.” Steve clenched and unclenched his jaw, held his eyes contact but shoved his hands into his pockets to keep his fingers from trembling. “We’re not invincible.”

“What was her name?” You whispered.

“Peggy” Steve beamed a brilliant smile “She was as stubborn as you could get. She had her values and would not let you forget it. But she was caring, loyal and kind. So, kind. And most importantly, she was there when I needed her. She was my rock.”

When he shook his head, he did so to reorient himself, to situate the fondness that overtook him. Steve had more heart than anyone you had ever encountered. It oozed off him. It made following his orders on the night of a full moon effortless. When there wasn’t a full moon, you’d follow him into war without question.

“From the outside, I might look like I have it together. But behind every man. Behind every woman is a support system. And for me, that was Peggy. For you, Kate, from day one, I knew that was y/n. It was only a matter of time. And I’m not going to waste my time threatening you into treating her the way she deserves or vice versa. I know you both will. I know what fate looks like.”

He picked up his axe, the dirt crumbling as it dislodged. Another log ended up on the pedestal. “As for pack dynamics, we’ll figure it out as it comes. We always do. Ranks change, people change. I don’t want either of you to worry about that. Enjoy your honeymoon phase just… for the love of god, lock the door.”

Kate laughed, not trying to hide the blush on her cheeks. “Thank you, sir, of course.”

“Captain,” You asked, giving Kate’s hand a squeeze to keep her in place. “Who helps you keep it together now?”

Steve let out an amused breath, the sweat on his brown glinting in the orange light of the sun. He brought the axe down on the log and you watched as it split perfectly in two, each half falling with a dull thud to the sides. “All of you. My family.”

#kate bishop #kate bishop x reader #kate bishop x y/n #kate bishop x you #kate bishop x female reader #wanda maximoff #natasha romanoff #wandanat #steve rodgers #tony stark

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fratboykate · 2 days ago

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Okay woahhh!! What was Yelena’s reaction to the interview? Something tells me she’ll be a little bit pissed/guarded at first? Cuz why after all this time is Kate saying that on tv and not to her? Or is Kate just so hot in the interview cuz I get it, Yelena is only human. Is she not with Monica anymore at this point? How do they break up? I am foaming at the mouth. BG wasn’t even my favorite AU of yours but your obsession with it has roped me in and now it’s haunting my every thought!!!

oh boy Yelena is not going to be happy is she. I do not see this confrontation ending well. we technically still have one year left sooo 👀👀👀

//-\\

Here's 4.8k of...yeah...lol

---

Yelena wakes before the sun.

The alarm buzzes at 4:30AM, low and discreet, just enough to rouse her without disturbing the body taking up the other half of the bed. The room is still. Painted in shadows. She lies for a moment, eyes open, listening. The hush of the house. The distant bark of a dog. The slow, even rhythm of breath beside her.

Jemma Simmons is sprawled on her stomach, one arm slung across Yelena’s ribs, the other tucked beneath the pillow. Brown hair tousled, fanned across the mattress. Yelena’s old t-shirt bunched high on her thigh and one bare shoulder exposed in the faint moonlight. Cheek pressed into the sheets, lips parted.

Yelena moves carefully. Untangles. Rolls free of the blankets with precision. Her feet hit the floorboards exactly where they always do. The floor is cold. It doesn’t bother her.

Jemma shifts. Her breathing changes, but she doesn’t wake. Yelena glances back once. She lets herself look.

Then she moves. Like a soldier. She dresses in the dark. Sports bra, sweats, old sneakers. Pulls her hair into a tight braid.

///

Her gym downstairs is state-of-the-art, and already humming to life by 4:42. Protein powder, filtered water, a banana she hates but forces down. She moves through the space in silence. Reps, sets, pull-ups. Bag work. Fifteen minutes on the rowing machine. Her bra darkens with perspiration. Sweat beads at the small of her back. Her skin glows with heat.

She trains in silence. No music. Just the rhythm of her breath and the soft clack of weights, the churn of the treadmill, the occasional grunt as she pushes through a last set.

Two scars catch the overhead light when she rotates. One beneath her ribs. One under her clavicle. Clean entry wounds. Clean exits. Two bullets she never dodged. Both taken for the same woman.

She doesn’t think about that anymore.

///

By 5:30 she’s got a second protein shake in one hand and a phone in the other. Her Bluetooth buds are in. She’s halfway through a video call with her team in Tokyo while simultaneously scanning an incident report from a venue in São Paulo. One of her clients, a pop star barely old enough to rent a car, had a stalker get too close during a meet and greet. The guy was apprehended. Security held. But Yelena still rips into them in two separate languages.

Her phone pings. Updates from the London team. A CEO’s daughter got spooked mid-vacation. Wants her detail reassessed before the next stop. Yelena sends a voice note:

“Pull Rollins and Falsworth from the production in South Africa, reassign them to her. Put two advance on the ground. Sweep the primary lodging top to bottom before touchdown. Perimeter, locks, staff, and adjacent units. If anything’s off, scrap it. Have her team relocate her. Give them options we’ve already cleared on previous runs.”

///

Yelena showers at 7:00 sharp. The water runs hot. She leans into it. Eyes closed. Head tilted back. Steam curling to her skin. She exhales slowly, centering herself.

When she steps out, towel slung low, Jemma’s already up…propped against pillows, tablet in hand, glasses slipping down her nose.

“You’re terrifying when you talk logistics,” Jemma murmurs without looking up.

“Did I wake you up?” Yelena asks, toweling off.

“Sort of. They must’ve fucked up bad.”

“They let someone on our watch list get close enough to grab a mic stand. Should’ve never made it past secondary. I have no patience for bullshit mistakes.”

Jemma looks over her glasses. Smirks.

“You’re sexy when you’re bossy.”

Yelena’s eyebrows lift. A hum, deep in her throat. Yelena climbs back into bed. Jemma tugs the towel loose from Yelena’s body.

"Yeah?"

Jemma tosses the tablet aside. “Yeah.”

Jemma pulls her in by the wrist. Kisses her slow. Familiar. Body still warm from sleep, tongue lazy and teasing. What follows isn’t rushed. It’s the opposite. Familiar. Slow. Hands tracing territory already claimed. Jemma mouths at the edge of one scar. Then the other. Yelena doesn’t stop her. They move together like people who’ve mapped and memorized each other’s bodies. Grounded. The rhythm easy, natural, no fumbling. No urgency. Just heat and trust and skin.

Jemma rolls on top. Yelena lets her.

///

A faint gold glow across the sheets. The sun’s high in the sky by the time it ends. Jemma sprawled half on top of her. Yelena’s hands threaded in her hair. Their breaths syncing again. Jemma pulls back, eyes still heavy.

“You’re not as scary in the morning as you pretend to be.”

“Not with you…But I can be if you want me to.”

“You can be mean to me tonight.” Jemma says playfully.

Yelena smiles, hums.

“Do I have to wait?”

Jemma shakes her head no. Yelena grins, rolls them over. Her turn to be on top.

///

By 8:30 they’re barefoot in the kitchen. Yelena makes omelets. Jemma handles coffee. Jemma insists on grapefruit today. Yelena grimaces through it.

The news plays softly in the background. Jemma leans against the counter in one of Yelena’s hoodies, texting someone from the lab. There’s laughter. Eye contact. Shared glances over mugs of coffee. There’s a rhythm to the way they move. Brushing shoulders, grazing knuckles as they pass plates around, things handed over before the other even asks. A domesticity that used to feel foreign and now just…is.

They talk about scheduling. About whose turn it is to pick up the dry cleaning. About a conference Jemma’s supposed to fly out for next month. About someone needing to make a toilet paper run.

It’s solid. Happy. The kind of quiet, stable, good that doesn’t have to declare itself out loud. Normal in a way Yelena never imagined for herself.

They’re talking about kids. Not casually. Not vaguely. Not someday. Not maybe. Real conversations. Late at night. About timelines. About space. About where the nursery would go. Maybe Yelena has to live without an office? Yelena never thought she’d want that. Now it’s all she can think about.

Jemma leans in to kiss her goodbye. Then leans in again, just because.

///

At 9AM, Yelena’s at HQ. Her office is in West Hollywood. Sleek, secure, top floor of a building she now owns. Her firm’s name is not on the directory. On purpose.

Inside: organized chaos. A war room humming with screens, feeds, overlapping time zones. Field teams repporting in. Voices cutting in over comms.

She moves through it like this is her kingdom. It is.

Conference calls. Secure transfers. Clearance checks. She personally interviews a last-minute hire because the background check smells off. She wasn’t wrong.

By noon she’s reviewed three clients’ travel itineraries, coordinated a security sweep for a private retreat in Napa, and told a Netflix VP to fire an entire on-site detail after a leak to TMZ.

Her clients are all famous. Or rich. Or both. People who live under glass and pretend they don’t feel the heat through it. Her day is tour schedules, film sets, and paparazzi choke points. Yelena makes sure they’re protected. She sees the threats no one else does. She’s not the kind of CEO who delegates and disappears. She’s hands-on. Present. Sharp enough to catch shit before it happens.

She handles it all with crisp efficiency, reading off her tablet while pacing the length of her office.

When an intern knocks, Yelena doesn’t stop moving.

“Double espresso,” Yelena says.

“Of course,” the girl stammers. “Your mother called. Said she’ll meet you at the café. Said you’ll know which one.”

Yelena nods. Doesn’t look up. The girl vanishes.

///

At 2PM, she meets her mother for lunch.

They always pick the same place. A quiet Russian café tucked into a side street in Culver City. No signage in English. Chairs that creak when you shift your weight. Melina likes it because “the pelmeni still taste like home.”

The waitstaff knows them. Yelena doesn’t need a menu. Orders on autopilot. They share everything.

Melina arrives in sunglasses, hair pulled back, posture queen-straight. She slides a plate across the table. Pickled vegetables, black bread, fresh dill. Always the same.

“I’m not dead yet,” she says when Yelena raises an eyebrow. “You should still eat.”

They do. They gossip. Melina tells a scandalous story about her neighbor’s new pool boy. Yelena rolls her eyes and snorts into her tea.

Then Melina tilts her head. Watches her. Smiles.

“You are different. Less…angry.”

“I’m too old for angry.” Yelena argues with a laugh.

“It suits you.” Yelena shrugs, not quite denying it. “She is good for you.” Melina adds, casual but direct. “Are you going to do it?”

“What?”

“The baby.”

Yelena sips her tea. Lets the steam fog her sunglasses for a moment before she answers.

“We’re talking about it.” A pause. Then, Yelena speaks again. A quiet admission that comes with a small smile. “More than talking…We made the appointment.”

Melina stills. Her fork pauses mid-air. Then she smiles, not just with her mouth, but fully, deeply, and reaches across the table. Squeezes Yelena’s hand. Once. Firm.

“You will be great mother.”

“Nothing’s happened yet.” Yelena deflects. “We’re keeping expectations low. It might be a while.”

Melina nods but doesn’t let go of her hand. Yelena hesitates. Her voice goes even lower, less certain:

“She wants to get married.”

Melina lifts a brow. “And?”

“I just…” Melina waits. “Not again, you know? I don’t have it in me again. But she wants it. And if we’re bringing a kid into this, maybe it shouldn’t matter what I want.”

Melina looks at her. Really looks.

“It matters,” Melina argues. “But so does being honest about what you are capable of giving.”

Yelena nods. Drains the rest of her tea. Doesn’t say more.

///

Yelena gets home just after seven.

Dinner’s already on. The house smells like garlic and lemon and butter and something roasted. Jemma’s in the kitchen. Hair twisted up, dancing barefoot in an oversized t-shirt as she stirs something fragrant.

Music plays low. Wine waits on the counter, half-poured. The scene is stupidly homely. Lovely in a way that used to scare her.

Jamma sings a few lines under her breath. Yelena pads up behind her. Wraps her arms around her waist. Kisses the side of her neck. Says nothing.

They take advantage of the nice weather and eat on the patio. The city hums around them. Legs are tangled under the chairs. No makeup. No rush. No pretense. Just clinking forks, passing glances, chuckles. Just this. Just them.

“Thoughts on Phil if it’s a boy,” Jemma tosses out between bites, clearly joking.

“Only if his middle name is Jerome.”

“Absolutely not.”

///

After dinner, they curl into the plush couch.

Jemma picks a documentary. Some Midwest cold case. It’s her thing. Yelena’s already internally mocking but tolerating for the sake of harmony. Her hand drapes on Jemma’s thigh. They’re warm. Safe. Quiet.

Jemma throws a blanket over them both. Mutters theories under her breath about the murder weapon. Yelena hums in vague agreement and half-listens as she curls against Jemma, tablet in hand, scrolling through reports.

///

Half an hour in, her phone buzzes.

Once. Then again. Then a flood. A dozen times in under a minute. Texts, calls, group chat pings, Instagram tags. Her lock screen is a storm.

Melina: “Are you seeing this?”

Friend: “stay off twitter”

Yelena frowns, confused. Jemma’s phone lights up too. She checks a message. Her expression shifts.

Instinct tells Yelena she should not stay off Twitter. The minute she opens the app…Her name is trending. So is Kate’s. It takes three seconds to find the clip.

Are you still IN LOVE with her? Yes…I’ll always love her.

The quote’s everywhere. Block-lettered across screenshots. Sliced into reaction edits. Millions of views. Millions more to come.

Yelena doesn’t move. Jemma looks over. Concerned. Quiet.

“You okay?”

Yelena stares at the screen. Then sets the phone down, walks into the kitchen, and pours a glass of water she doesn’t touch.

“You want to talk about it?” Jemma follows, voice soft.

“No.”

Yelena leans against the counter. Arms crossed. Jaw set. Silent. She doesn’t go back to the couch. Doesn’t finish the documentary. Jemma leaves her be.

///

Yelena doesn’t sleep. Not a minute.

Jemma dozes off sometime after midnight, warm against Yelena's back. But Yelena just lies there. Staring at the ceiling. Jaw clenched. Mind racing.

The clock hits 2:04 AM.

Then 3:17.

Yelena reaches for her phone. Notifications are still coming in. She clears them, texts Alexei.

Yelena: Were you on set for the interview?

She gets an instant reply.

Alexei: yes

Yelena: Why didn’t you warn me?

Alexei: not my place. and u would have avoided it. u needed to hear

Yelena stares at the screen. Doesn’t type anything else. She sets the phone down, turns it over on the nightstand. Lies back, eyes wide open. Jemma shifts in her sleep, reaching for her in the dark.

Yelena doesn't avoid her sleepy grip. She closes her eyes. Sleep never comes.

///

The morning after the interview, Yelena and Jemma open the front door and see hell.

Kate has the gates, the security booth, the ten-foot walls. Yelena has a quiet house on a regular block. Open driveway. Clear line of sight. She now realizes…too late…that was a catastrophic security oversight.

Because the second the door swung open, the flashes exploded.

A wall of paparazzi stands at the edge of her property. Lenses already lifted. At least twenty deep. The sound of shutters like a swarm of mechanical insects. Low murmurs crest into shouts. A few push forward into the hedges. One jackass calls, “Smile for Kate!” like he thinks he’s clever.

Yelena levels him with a stare that could shatter concrete.

Jemma pauses mid-step, briefcase in hand, frozen in the threshold. Yelena pulls her back inside. She rams the door shut, thinks for a beat, then steps directly in front of her.

“Stay behind me.” Yelena orders, tense.

Jemma nods. Offers a comforting smile. Calm.

“Are you gonna bodyguard me? Hot.”

Yelena can’t bring herself to smile back. She grabs Jemma’s hand, swings the door open, and charges straight into the circus. She pushes through them, fury in every step.

Yelena hears a loud whirr. Glances up…A fucking drone? Seriously?!

The shouting intensifies. Questions are barked in three languages. About the interview. About Kate. About the marriage. About whether she’s seen it. What she thought.

Yelena shouts over them, commanding.

“BACK. THE. FUCK. UP.”

The words crack, loud and lethal. It lands. The front row jolts. Cameras lower. They’re not dealing with some delicate publicist or panicked assistant. They weren’t expecting a guard dog with high cheekbones. It buys Yelena a five-second window.

Yelena clears the path in three steps. She yanks open Jemma’s door and shields her as she slides in. Then she leans into the car.

“Take the canyon route. Don’t stop. I’ll have guys waiting at your office.”

Jemma squeezes Yelena’s hand. Yelena steals a kiss. Fast, intimate, tired. The flashes catch it from five angles.

“Be safe.” Jemma urges, soft.

Yelena shuts the door, turns. Her eyes say 'don’t even think about it'. The photographers part. She watches Jemma’s car vanish down the street. Then, without a glance back, she walks inside and slams the door.

///

Ten minutes later, Yelena is behind the wheel. Driving to Calabasas. To Kate.

By the time she gets there, she’s boiling hot.

If her house was bad, Kate’s is a siege. Kate’s street looks like a premiere. Cars double-parked. Photographers pacing. Reporters waiting with notepads in hand. Lenses glint like sniper scopes. Everyone is hunting for a quote, a sighting, a slip.

They’re not at the door…her team’s trained too well for that…but they’re everywhere else.

Her guys clock her immediately. One steps out of the gate and gives a silent nod. She rolls the window down just enough.

“If anyone breaches, I want them face-down on the pavement.”

He nods. Awkward.

Inside, the tension’s thick enough to choke on. Every single person on the property has at least seen The Clip. Everyone knows what Kate said.

And now Yelena’s here.

She feels the change as she rides up. Eyes flick toward her then back away. No one on shift makes a peep. No one has to.

Not a word is spoken when Yelena charges right up to the door and simply…….walks in. No knocking. No announcing herself. Just straight in.

///

Yelena storms down the hall. Her boots crush the floor, every step echoing like a war drum. She storms past the framed art, the grand piano, the little touches she picked out back when this house still felt theirs.

Kate leans out of the kitchen, dish towel in hand, confusion clouding her features. Then she sees her. Sees the fervor in her eyes. The rage in her stance. Sees the way Yelena is coming directly at her like a missile. Kate doesn’t even get to speak.

“Are you out of your fucking mind?” She snarls. “There’s a sea of paps outside my house.” Kate opens her mouth, but Yelena’s already steamrolling her. “They’re camped outside my driveway. I had to scream just so Jem…so my girlfriend could back out without getting blinded. They’re hounding my office. My mother, Kate. My mother. Have you looked outside? I’m going to have to double your detail.”

Kate leans against the counter. Calm. Irritatingly so. Her smirk is soft, not smug.

“Not exactly what I thought you’d be worried about.”

Wrong answer. The fucking audacity. Yelena’s voice booms, points hard enough to jab the air.

“You think this is funny?”

“No.”

“You don’t get to do this. You don’t get to blow up my life because you’re feeling reflective on camera.”

“I’m not trying to blow up your life.” Kate retorts, maddeningly even.

“You’re a goddamn bomb, Kate.”

“And you used to love that.”

“Fucking Christ.”

“I didn’t plan for it to happen like this.”

“Didn’t plan for it?! You sat on global television and told the entire world you’re still in love with me.”

“Because I am.” Kate’s eyes don’t waver.

The silence that follows is knife-edged. Then Yelena laughs. Bitter. Humorless.

“You really think you can just say that and what…I’ll fall into your arms? That’s not how this works.” Yelena’s eyes flash. Her chest rises and falls too fast.

“I don’t want to unravel your life. I want you to live it. With me.” Kate steps forward. Not threatening. Just certain.

“You can’t say that.” Yelena snaps.

“It’s the truth.”

“I built something. Piece by piece. A good life. Really fucking good, Kate. I earned the peace. I earned the quiet. And you…YOU…don’t get to show up and set it on fire.”

“You did earn that.”

“Don’t fucking patronize me.”

“I’m not. I want that peace for you. I just want to be part of it.”

“Fuck you.”

“I meant what I said.” Kate steps closer.

“You always do. You just never care what it costs. You pull the pin, walk away smiling, then act surprised when the room explodes.”

“I didn’t walk away. I’m right here.”

“That’s your problem. It’s always Kate’s fucking world. Kate’s fucking timing. You get to decide when it matters. And the rest of us just have to fall in line. What did you think was going to happen? Huh? I’d come running? You think I’d what…drop everything because you got brave ten years too late?”

“I just want you to come home. Because I never stopped loving you. And you never stopped loving me.”

Yelena’s eyes narrow. Her breathing sharpens. But she doesn’t move.

“You have no clue how I feel.”

Kate steps forward again.

“You think I haven’t tried to be happy for you?” Closer. “That I haven’t wanted to call every single day?”

Another step. Yelena backs off. Once. Kate keeps moving. They’re only inches apart now. This time, Yelena doesn’t move. She holds her ground. Kate lifts her hands. Reverent. She cradles Yelena’s face like it’s breakable.

“I fucked up,” Kate’s voice is steady. Assured. “I fucked up when I let you walk out of that trailer. When I didn’t fight. When I let you not talk to me. When I signed the papers. I thought it was the right thing. The respectful thing. Letting you go. I was wrong. I’ve always been wrong.”

Kate’s thumb brushes the edge of Yelena’s cheekbone. Then her jaw. The same touch she’s carried in memory for almost a decade. Her voice is quiet.

Yelena’s breath is warm. Close. Kate’s eyes dart to her lips. Yelena shoves her and her hands away.

“I’m not a fucking cheater.”

“I never said you were.”

“You need to fuck off.” Yelena hurries toward the door. Then whirls around double speed. Right up to Kate. “We’re going in for an IVF consult next week. We’re having a baby. You don’t get to come back and play emotional goddamn chicken with my life.”

“Do it with me. Have a baby with me.” Kate’s voice doesn’t waver. Not an inch.

Yelena stares like she’s just been stabbed. She backs off. Puts distance between them.

“Are you fucking insane?”

“I’ve never felt clearer actually.”

“You’re actually deranged.”

“I want everything we talked about. The family. The life. The future. All of it. I meant it then. I still do.”

“You’ve lost your mind.”

“No, I'm just...stupidly in love with you.”

“You’re fired.” Yelena hisses. Her whole body shakes with rage. “Hire new security. We’ll cover you through the end of the month. After that? I’m done. Forever. And don’t even try the whole ‘I won’t hire anyone else’ martyr bullshit. I don’t care what happens to you.”

Yelena doesn’t wait for a response. Kate doesn’t stop Yelena when she walks. She doesn’t chase. Doesn’t beg.

Yelena slams the door behind her so hard it rattles the windows.

///

Yelena drives.

For hours. All day. She doesn’t shed a single tear. Doesn’t scream. Just asphalt. Just motion. Her face is blank. Cold. Her phone never stops. Calls. Texts. Voicemails. Emails. Work. Jemma. Melina. Alexei. All ignored.

There’s no destination. Just an engine and the battle in her head. Only the hum of tires and the echo of Kate’s voice reverberating in her skull.

Mulholland. Malibu. Some overlook above Silver Lake. The sprawl of the city in her mirrors. Sunset fading in streaks of blood and brass. Then darkness. A canyon. A park she doesn’t remember pulling into. Then the coast again. Hands locked at ten and two like it’s the only thing keeping her stitched together.

At a red light somewhere above the PCH, she finally pulls over.

The sky is ink. The city below flickers, careless and endless. Her car idles. She sits motionless, elbows braced on the wheel, breath shallow. Her hands tremble. The ache in her chest is a vice, slow and relentless. Yelena stares out at the glittering horizon. The city looks like nothing. Like it doesn’t mean shit.

She huffs. Hard. And then the thought crashes in.

What the fuck. What the fuck. What the fuck whatthefuckwhatthefuckwhatthefuck

Her grip tightens. White-knuckled. Like she can hold herself together with ire and tension alone.

Her phone vibrates again. She finally picks it up. Swipes without purpose. Just for distraction. She doesn’t mean to open the photos app. Doesn’t even remember tapping it. But suddenly, there it is.

She scrolls. Fast at first. Past the week. Past the month. Smiling selfies. Sunlight on Jemma’s cheekbones. Beach trips. Work events. Proof of a full life. A real one. She scrolls faster.

Past Jemma. Past Monica. Past everyone in between. She scrolls too far. Then slower. Then she stops. There they are.

Not the posed photos. Not red carpets. Not glossy magazine spreads. The real ones.

Kate asleep on a private jet, atop Yelena’s lap in a hoodie and socks, script wrinkled on her chest. Mouth slightly open. Hair a mess.

Kate cross-legged on their old kitchen floor…no, HER kitchen. Kate’s. Laughing at something offscreen, eyes shining, cheeks flushed, in sweatpants and no makeup.

A blurry video. Kate dancing to her worst single. Truly godawful. Fucking atrocious. Yelena hates every bit of it. Still…she sings the lyrics with Kate. Off-key. Terrible. Glorious. Yelena’s laugh behind the camera is breathless. She forgot that laugh existed. The one she only ever made for Kate.

These aren’t memories. They’re proof.

Yelena scrolls more. Finds a photo she doesn’t even remember taking. Kate in bed. Tank top. One knee bent. No makeup. Hair tousled. A smile that’s all teeth and trouble. That look. Straight into the lens. Direct. Dangerous. Looking at her.

The air leaves her lungs like a body blow.

“Fuck.”

It’s not that she still loves Kate. It’s that she never stopped.

Yelena locks the screen. Drops the phone onto the passenger seat. Drives.

///

By the time she walks into the house, it’s nearly midnight.

The lights are low. The smell of rosemary and onion lingers in the air. The table’s still set. Candles unlit. Plates untouched. Dinner cold.

Yelena stands in the doorway like a stranger. Jemma sits on the couch in leggings and an old MIT sweatshirt. A wine bottle stands empty beside her.

Yelena meets her eyes. Opens her mouth. Nothing comes out. Then the tears hit. It happens without warning. Her face collapses. Her knees almost go. Jemma is up in an instant. Wraps her arms around her. No questions. No hesitation.

“It’s okay.”

“I’m sorry,” Yelena sobs. “I’m so sorry.” She repeats it like a mantra. Over and over. Jemma holds her tighter. “I’m sorry, Jem.”

Jemma pulls back. Hands on Yelena’s face. Her eyes glassy. Her touch careful.

“You don’t have to apologize.” Jemma's voice doesn’t tremble. Her hands do. “I always knew what I was fighting against.”

Yelena chokes, shakes her head. Sinks into Jemma. The weight of everything slams into her at once. Jemma catches her like she always has.

“It was real. I meant it.”

“I know…I know.”

“I didn’t want this.”

Jemma’s voice is shaky now. Her arms tighten around Yelena’s body like she can hold her intact.

“I love you,” Jemma whispers.

Yelena nods, broken. Because she does too. That’s what kills her. Jemma presses her lips to Yelena’s forehead. No bitterness. No anger. No blame. Just love.

“If I have to lose you…” Jemma tries to smile. “…it might as well be to the most famous woman on the planet.” Jemma forces levity but her voice cracks, betraying her. “I’m not sorry it’s to her. I know she’s the only one who ever could.”

Yelena folds. Collapses into Jemma. Lets the grief break her open.

///

Yelena glides into Kate’s property sometime after 3AM. She doesn’t remember getting in the car. Doesn’t remember turning on the ignition. She just...did.

The gate opens. She didn’t even ask. Her nightshift guy clocks her face, says nothing, just hits the button.

Yelena parks on the long, winding drive. The engine rumbles. She doesn’t cut it. She doesn’t move. She presses her head to the headrest. Her pulse thuds in her ears.

The lights are on upstairs. A shadow passes in front of the window. The porch glows golden. Like it’s waiting.

She stops the engine. Sits in the dark. Breath loud in the silence. Her bloodstream pounding. The imprint of Jemma’s hand still lingers on her cheek. Her chest still aches from sobbing. Her back still braced like it might snap in two.

But she opens the door anyway. Not because she’s forgiven. Not because she’s decided. Not because she knows what she’s doing. Because she doesn’t know how to stop herself from moving. Because she doesn’t know how to not.

This time she doesn’t barge in.

Yelena walks the path. Up the steps. Hands cold. No anger now. Just…something hollow.

She rings the bell.

Hears rushed footsteps on stairs. Her heart jumps, tries to climb out of her throat. She sees the movement through the glass. Knew it was coming. Still not ready.

The door opens.

And there Kate is.

They look at each other. No words yet. But everything’s already different.

#kate x yelena #bishova #bishlova #katelena #yelena belova #kate bishop #kybgau #kybgaup #answers #anonymous

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