“oh my..” you gasped out, your hands gripping the silk material of wanda’s sheets that lay a mess on her bed.

“so… how long have you worked here for?” a customer asks in front of you, one you had forgotten the name of, and as the night before plays in your mind in broken pieces, you force yourself to pay attention.

“a while.” you stare down at the glass in your hand and take a sip of the rum and coke. “it’s always smart to stay at a place that looks after you, you know?”

“i couldn’t agree more,” the customer replied with a smile. “i’ve been with my firm for ten years.”

your hands thread through thick auburn hair, your gaze stuck to the woman as her tongue, which she had flattened out, lapped at your clit, and as she shifted to leave open-mouth kisses against the bundle of nerves that throbbed against her touch, you moan and continue to watch the way wanda’s mouth shines from your wetness.

your left leg begins to bounce gently, and you close your eyes briefly. you needed something stronger than conversation to cloud over the distracting memory. “care to tell me about it in a dance?” you ask with a smile, and when the man’s eyes dropped down to your chest, which was clad in your usual red attire, you knew you had him hooked.

“lead the way.” he replies with a grin.

ᗢ

as you sighed in a chair you now resided in, you leaned back in it, looking up at the dimly lit chandelier hanging above you.

It was now the quiet period before another busy one came, and although you wouldn’t be around to witness it, you relished in the peaceful atmosphere anyway. a majority of the customers had begun to filter out of ‘house of harkness’, and as you lowered your head, you pulled your phone out from the clutch upon your lap, and looked down at it.

it illuminated the time eight-fifty pm, and when you unlocked it, you decided to scroll absentmindedly on twitter whilst you finished off the drink that had been bought for you.

“i had an amazing time with you, y/n.”

the words echoed in your mind, and you smiled like an idiot. wanda’s voice; so sickly sweet and husky. god, you were impatient, and you wish you could hear it now, have her in front of you, her laughing at one of your jokes, or you admiring her suit-clad body.

as you continued to look down, your phone blurred in your hand as you ruminated on your afternoon.

“i had an amazing time, too,” you replied, the seat beginning to vibrate under you from the rumbling of the car's exhaust as wanda started it up. “and thank you for taking me home.”

“oh, nonsense, pretty girl. i will happily do this again for you.”

“yeah?” you asked with an excited smirk you couldn’t quite hide. she wanted to see you again. god, the exhilaration was almost too much to bear. “i would really like that. but only because of that house of yours.”

“naturally,” wanda laughs, her eyes focused on the road that now looks different to you, compared to the previous night drive to her huge abode. the sunny day now illuminated the stunning greenery on either side of the road. “i come with more perks, though. i can be quite the cook sometimes.” she adds.

“talented in bed, talented in the kitchen… what else are you good at?”

the redhead shoots a glance at you. “how about i tell you more tonight? over dinner.”

“that sounds lovely,” you respond, your stomach doing a flip at the thought of being wined and dined by wanda. “although i’ll be working at the club first…”

“that’s okay, darling. if you can play pretend, i’d like another dance, i’m afraid yesterday's was too short for my liking.”

you felt your cheeks blush at the prospect of it. this wasn’t something that crossed your mind, one that had been filled with nothing but wanda’s skin and lips, and every inch of her body. you can’t believe you hadn’t thought about it sooner - you had been awake for a couple of hours and at no point did you think how a situation like this would progress.

“well then,” you cooed, deciding you liked the idea wanda had presented to you. “let’s say nine pm? i’ll show you my dancing skills again, and you can showcase your cooking skills.”

and as you waited in anticipation as the minutes inched closer and closer to your scheduled time with wanda, you continued to scroll past boring tweets until one caught your eye. more specifically, a certain someone.

wanda maximoff pictured last week with her brother pietro maximoff at a conference.

the image attached made you gape in awe. you paid no mind to the woman’s brother and instead your eyes burned into wanda, and how gorgeous beyond belief she looked. she donned a grey tweed dior suit, with a matching jacket and black boots, and as luscious locks of ginger curls hung over her shoulders, you felt a knot form in your stomach.

with your body temperature rising all too quickly, you locked your phone and returned it to your clutch.

“scarlet. it’s nice to see you again.”

your head whipped up from your lap to the familiar voice in front of you. “wanda.” you smiled brightly, the embarrassing thought briefly passing in your mind that you had no idea how long she had been standing there for, and if she saw the contents on your phone. but with no indication written on her face, you ignore the mortifying thought and instead observe the classy raiment she wore.

wanda shot you a sultry look as you took in the cinched black blazer and the ankle-grazing skirt to match. you gulped dryly. wanda not wearing pants, was new to you, and your eyes raked up and down her body, appreciating the sight.

you outstretched a heel-clad foot to slightly push back the seat opposite you, which wanda happily sat down on, a leg crossing over the other as she rested her hands on the arms of the chair.

“you look incredible.” the sight of her made your head spin. “i mean… really, really, incredible.”

“thank you, darling.” wanda replied with a smile. her eyes bore into you, and you felt like she was drinking you in. “i like the silk robe you have on tonight.”

the compliment made you shift in your seat, and you grabbed your glass and raised it to gulp down the rest of the alcohol before placing it back on the small table between you. “thank you,” you purred, feeling your cheeks grow hot, “so, did you miss me?”

wanda nodded, a smirk spread on her plump lips, “you were quite a distraction for me in meetings today.”

“i was?” the knot in your stomach tightened from the exciting confession, “well then, you should know you’ve also been quite disruptive to my attention tonight.”

you didn’t miss the way wanda’s eyes fell to your thighs, and the red garter belts that hugged them. “a good night, though, i hope?” she asked.

“yes, but it’s about to get even better.”

ᗢ

after wanda had paid for another dance at the till, this one longer than the last, you led her by the hand through the corridor, purple fairy lights that hung overhead illuminating the way. and then, when you reached your desired booth, you felt your body buzz with great thrill.

after stepping into the purple-lit booth, the colour of your attire changed in the light to a shade that almost matched wanda’s. and as the redhead shifted to take her place on the seat, you glanced at the mirror beside you, one of many that littered the small room, and took in the two of you together. and god what a sight it was. you couldn’t believe your luck of being in close quarters with such a woman.

as you mused on the thought, you plugged your phone into the speaker behind the redhead and pressed play on your go-to playlist, and as the slow beat kicked in, you gazed down at wanda. intense eyes enraptured you as she softly bit down on her plump lower lip.

“mommy, you look so fucking good.” every fibre of your being urged you to kiss her. it took everything in you not to as you began to move your body to the music, your hips swaying gently.

“baby…” wanda gasped out at your words, her hands that rested on either side of her hips shifted to grip the edge of the seat. “i thought of you calling me that again, you sound so perfect when you do.”

though you couldn’t press your lips against the redheads, you needed to be closer to her, so you instead of standing, you straddled wanda, leaving a small gap between your thong and the material of her skirt, which you know would feel soft and expensive to the touch.

you began to move your hips, grinding in the space above her lap as you let your hands rest on her shoulders.

“and those legs of yours,” the redhead continued, her hips instinctively jutting upwards slightly, and inadvertently bumping against your clit. your breath caught in your throat at the sensation, and your hands on wanda’s shoulders tensed, your fingers pressing into her blazer. “so smooth and grabbable.”

“shit.” you panted, and although your mind whirled with wanda and the pleasure you were already feeling, you continued to dance and move your hips, following the sensual beat of the song. “i can’t wait for later, it’s been on my mind since i left you.”

“likewise, darling,” wanda beamed, “same plan I assume?”

It had been a full week since you’d last seen your girlfriend. It had also been a full week since you showered or left your room; barely getting up to pee and have a snack. You had tons of unread texts buzzing through your phone from Wanda. She was begging you to talk to her.

In that very long week, you’d gone through every scenario in your head. Everything from ‘she’ll probably just break up with me’, to ‘maybe I should just join her’. None of it made any sense. After all, Wanda told you she applied long before she moved here and you know she was telling the truth. Why was it so hard for you to believe that she forgot? You were so incredibly proud of her for getting a full ride to Columbia. Why were you also so sad?

*buzz buzz*

‘Please baby, I need to see you so I can explain!’

You picked up your phone and decided to respond. There were only two weeks left of summer break before Wanda would inevitably move across the country without you. Maybe she didn’t burn for you like you thought she did. Maybe you’ll always love her more. You ran your hands over your face in exasperation.

‘Ok’.

That’s all you responded with. You didn’t have much else in you. You didn’t even care to shower. You didn’t hear her text back since you had fallen asleep; dreaming of what could be if the world was a perfect place.

“Wanda, if you had your way you would’ve been late to your own wedding!”

“Baby please, I wasn’t late!”

“Only because I insisted that your brother be in charge of getting you here as quick as possible! You know that man is never late for anything.” The two of you laughed.

Salem walked over to Wanda and plopped himself in her lap, purring as she sat on the couch. You closed your eyes and sighed, picking up the black cat who gave you a stink eye as he walked away.

“Baby-“

“Wanda, please! You need to get dressed and we need to put our “smoking paraphernalia” away before your parents get here!”

Almost on cue, there was a knock on the front door, opening it up to see-

You sat up, tears about to stream down your cheeks as you were awoken to chip bags crumbling and a trash bag shuffling. Wanda had started cleaning up your depressive episode, and for a moment you forgot she had your spare key. Your parents’ house was nothing to brag about; a modern double wide with just enough bedrooms so you didn’t have to share with your sister growing up.

“Wanda-“

“Shhh, just let me do this, please,” she begged.

“Wanda, we need to talk,” you insisted. “Isn’t that why you asked to come over?”

“Well… yes but I do miss you,” she said quietly.

You didn’t respond as she continued to pick up the trash that had scattered around your bedroom. You weren’t a messy person by any means but this latest development had sent you spiraling. Wanda was your best friend, your lover, your partner, your soulmate. How could you let her move across the country when you were right here?

You didn’t realize tears were streaming down your cheeks now at full force. Wanda looked up from her cleaning spree and cooed. “Baby!”

“Baby please talk to me, the silent treatment has been killing me!” Wanda exclaimed.

“Killing you?! How do you think I feel?!” You asked. “We had this amazing, dream come true relationship, and a giant envelope comes in the mail and ruins it all!”

“Baby, I really did forget about it! I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. This doesn’t have to be the end of us though,” Wanda said, sitting on the edge of the bed.

“How can it not?! You’ll be three thousand plus miles away! And you’ll be busy with school and your new friends and probably a new girlfriend!” You cried out.

“Who said anything about a new girlfriend?!” Wanda asked incredulously. “You’re my girlfriend. You’re it for me, pretty girl. From the moment you stalked me at the skate park!”

Wanda’s comment did make you chuckle a bit. “But-“

“Just because I’ll be far away, doesn’t mean we can’t make this work! I can fly you out for weekend visits and we can FaceTime on all the days we can’t be there together in person! And we can still have our date nights and-“ Wanda sighed. “But… only if you want to try.”

“Wanda,” you whispered through tears. “I love you, but what if this doesn’t work?”

“I love you most, pretty girl. But we won’t know if it doesn’t work if we don’t try. I know it’s scary and I know the unknown is well… unknown… but what if it works and the time apart only brings us closer together?” Wanda said.

Wanda scooted further up in the bed to wrap her arms around you, pressing a kiss to your dirty hair. “Okay,” you said weakly.

“Okay?” Wanda asked.

“Okay, I’m willing to try. I don’t want to lose you Wanda, and I trust you with all that I have,” you said. “Just promise me one thing.”

“Anything baby! Anything at all!”

“You go out there and you kick Columbia’s ass!” You said, giggling slightly.

Wanda chuckled. “There’s my girl!”

She pulled you even closer to her and you had forgotten that it had been a week since you’d showered and you knew in that moment what she was about to say. “Can you promise me something in return?”

“Of course, my love.”

“Please don’t ever go an entire week without showering ever again?”

“Is it really that bad?” You asked, covering your face.

“It’s that bad,” Wanda said, giggling. “Let me help you out of bed so we can see if your legs still work.”

Wanda helped you stand, watching in disgust at how crumpled you looked but she was determined to take care of you. “Stay right there!”

You frowned, sitting on the edge of the bed, not knowing if you’d be able to stand so long without her. You could hear the running water from the bathroom, smiling to yourself a little as you could tell she was running a bath for you. Wanda came back to take your hand and bring you to the bathroom, where she had set up a nice warm bubble bath, lit some candles, and grabbed you a large glass of water; forcing you to drink it even though you’re not a fan.

“Wanda-“

“Shhhh, c’mere beautiful,” she cooed.

You blushed as Wanda removed your oversized shirt and underwear. “Sorry,” you mumbled.

“No my love, I’m sorry. My application and acceptance to Columbia should’ve been something that was talked about before this whole thing blew up. Let me make it up to you, baby,” Wanda said, as she removed her clothing as well. You couldn’t help but drool as usual. Wanda stepped in the bathtub first, before holding out a hand to help you follow suit.

The calming scent of lavender overwhelmed your senses as you sat in the bathtub with your girlfriend. You reached out to grab your wash cloth but Wanda swatted your hand away. “Let me,” she said quietly.

She washed your hair first, taking the time to massage your scalp, almost putting you to sleep with how good she is at that. After your hair was shampooed and conditioned, she helped wash your body, using a new gentle exfoliating scrub that you’d never seen before.

“Did my sister put you up to this?” You asked.

“No, it was my idea after she told me you smelled so bad that the neighbors down the street could smell you!”

“Hey!” You exclaimed, chuckling as you splashed her.

“I just wanted to make sure my baby was being taken care of is all,” Wanda cooed.

“I wasn’t doing a very good job of that myself,” you sighed. “I don’t know what I’ll do once you move, Wanda.”

“Shhh we will cross that bridge when we get to it, baby. Just let mommy take care of you tonight,” Wanda said softly. You hummed at the title and closed your eyes as she washed the filth and stink away.

“Baby we have to stand up so we can properly rinse the bubbles off,” Wanda said.

“Mmmm but you’re so cozy!” You whined.

“C’mon baby we can get cozy after we’re rinsed and dry,” Wanda cooed.

You huffed but obliged, slowly and carefully standing up so you didn’t slip. The two of you rinsed and stepped out of the tub; Wanda wrapping you in a warm, fluffy towel before guiding you back to your room. You’d never felt so pampered before; Wanda sitting behind you on your bed as she brushed your hair. The two of you went through your nighttime routines, almost as if living together was normal. And for just a moment, your thoughts weren’t plagued with the reality of Wanda leaving in a few short weeks.

“You need to eat,” Wanda said, kissing your shoulder after finishing with your hair.

“Can we just order a pizza?” You asked. “I don’t wanna cook or go out.”

“Of course, sweet girl,” Wanda cooed. “The usual?”

If your eyes could produce hearts, you were sure they would. You nodded, grabbing your vape pen and taking a few hits. You could definitely tell that after a week’s worth of rotting, you’d need to replace your cart sooner rather than later.

“That tasted like an email,” you said, coughing, and sputtering. Wanda laughed and you forgot how much you missed her in that moment.

“Here baby,” she said, handing you a fresh cart. She leaned in but then stopped herself. “May I kiss you?”

You nodded, but she frowned. “Yes please,” you whispered. Wanda leaned in again, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips. You grabbed her face and pulled her close, kissing her with so much emotion and love that maybe would somehow make up for the week away. Her hands were wandering your body, the two of you still not dressed after your relaxing bath. Wanda’s hands traveled to your ass, scooping you up into her lap to face her, with a little yelp of surprise from you in the process.

“Please,” you whispered as her kisses trailed down your neck, leaving little bites in their wake.

“Please what, baby?” Wanda tortured. Her lips were now trailing down your chest, getting closer and closer to your hardened nipples.

“Please mommy! I need you,” you whined.

“Patience, my sweet girl,” Wanda said, taking one of your nipples in her mouth. She closed her lips around it, gently sucking and nibbling, her tongue soothing over the bites. She took her time on each one, undoubtably able to feel how wet you were as you sat in her lap. You hadn’t noticed that your hips had started moving, in an attempt to get some relief from her teasing.

“Aww my needy baby,” Wanda teased, pulling away. “Tell mommy what you want so badly.”

You blushed, your head falling forward onto her shoulder, all of a sudden feeling very exposed and shy. “I can’t hear you baby,” Wanda said.

You felt her reach out to your nightstand, grabbing your pen so you could take a few more hits. Or so you thought. Wanda lifted your head and you watched as she took a hit from your pen first. And then she grabbed your face, allowing you to shotgun from her, just like your first time, sitting in this exact position, just with more clothes on. The moment brought you back and you were feeling suddenly even more needy. This continued for a few more times and you were most definitely feeling the high now.

“Need you Mommy,” you said, your high letting you be a little more brave. “Need you to touch me.”

“Aw my love, but I am already touching you! Is that all you wanted?”

“N-no! I wantyoutotouchmypussy!” You stammered out. Wanda giggled and figured she’d tortured you enough. She helped you off her lap and down onto the bed, spreading your legs while admiring how messy your pussy had become.

Wanda hesitated no longer and took a long, thick lick over your exposed cunt. “Oh fuck!”

Your hands flew to Wanda’s hair, holding it away from her face as she ate you out. Gentle sucks on your clit had your hips arching, but she pushed you back down. Wanda always made sure to finish her meal. “Doing so well for me baby,” Wanda teased against your pussy. Every time the two of you end up like this, it feels like the very first time. It wasn’t long before her ministrations sent you over the edge, not once but twice.

“Wanda,” you gasped as she climbed up next to you, while she placed her hand flat over your pussy.

“Mine. This will always be mine. Do you understand?”

“Y-yes, mommy!”

“Good girl! Now go get cleaned up, I think the pizza is here!”

You had forgotten about the pizza delivery and rushed to the bathroom to use the toilet and grab some clean clothes to put on. Wanda had already grabbed plates and napkins from the kitchen, reheating a few slices in the microwave. You found Wanda setting up a little “picnic” on your bed, a blanket out on top and the plates and pizza on that too. Wanda had turned on the television to the celebrity gossip channel (her favorite).

“You got my favorite!” You exclaimed. You took a big bite of the pepperoni and pineapple topped slice and moaned.

“Careful there, baby,” Wanda teased. You shoved her gently and the two of you sat and ate, listening to Entertainment Tonight as you finished. You leaned back in bed and rubbed your tummy, four slices later, you and Wanda had devoured that pizza.

“My love, I’ve been thinking,” Wanda said. “What if…. What if we didn’t have to do long distance.”

“Wanda, I’m not that good at math but I think three thousand plus miles is a bit of a distance!” You said, looking at her a little crazily.

“Well yes, you are right about that but… hear me out,” she started. “What if…. What if we moved in together?”

“I-,” you stuttered.

“My dad could get me a little apartment! He owes me anyway.. and we could decorate it super cute and history will say we were roommates and-“

“Wanda, wait. And what would I do while you’re in school? I can’t go to Columbia! I didn’t even care to apply to college!” You said, starting to get upset again.

“Baby wait, listen. You could do whatever you want! If you wanted to take classes online, you could. If you wanted to get a job out there, you could, but you wouldn’t have to, or you could be my little stay at home wife and do whatever you want!” Wanda exclaimed. “It’s an entirely different world over there!”

“Can I think about it?” You asked, hating that you didn’t have a single answer right this moment.

“Of course my love,” Wanda reassured. She gave you a smile, and a kiss and you picked up your dinner picnic to throw away the trash. On your walk to the kitchen, you contemplated Wanda’s proposal. It really is a different world there. You’d never been to New York, or the east coast in general. Maybe you’d find a cool job and the thrill of coming back to your own place that you lived in with Wanda made you feel excited. You were thinking about the opportunities you’d have to go to different museums and see Broadway musicals and try tons of New York pizza. But then there was leaving your parents and your sister… They’d understand, right? You and Wanda have been together an entire year now. Not unheard of for a couple to move in together after that.

You hadn’t realized you were standing and staring out the kitchen window when Wanda tapped you lightly on the shoulder. “Those gears are really turning, huh, my love?”

“They are.. I’d really like to talk to my parents first if that’s okay. Not that I need their permission but I’m sure you understand. I hope,” you said, eyes softening as you turned to face your girlfriend.

“Of course baby,” Wanda said, smiling. She placed a kiss on your forehead and grabbed your hand back to go back to bed. “Can I stay the night? Or would you rather I not, so you can talk to your parents tomorrow?”

“Hmm as much as I love sleeping with you, I think it’s best I talk to my parents alone,” you said, hanging your head.

“Hey pretty girl, it’s okay! It’s a big ask, a big step, a big proposition. Whatever the outcome, I love you so much no matter what, okay?” Wanda said softly, pulling you in for a tight hug. “I love you, beautiful.”

“I love you most,” you responded.

——

“This box is so damn heavy, what’s in here, bricks?!” Your older sister asked.

“I should’ve just asked Pietro to help if all you’re going to do is complain!” You cried out. The box was heavy but your sister did help you pack so she should know.

Wanda’s stuff was already packed away neatly in the truck, with some furniture already at the new place across the country, waiting to be unboxed. You both agreed to buy a new bed just so you’d have somewhere to sleep when you visit home. The two of you had picked out the perfect little flat in New York City, and planned on adopting a cat as soon as you’re both settled.

“You ready for this, baby?” Wanda asked, stepping next to you inside the large moving truck.

“Yes and no, I’m nervous, but I’ll go anywhere with you,” you said, taking Wanda’s hand.

“I’ll be there every step of the way. We’ll be together,” Wanda said, pulling you into her side.

But at some point, Natasha had started seeking you out more frequently.

“I’m sorry, kiddo, your mom kicked me out of our room,” she murmurs apologetically against your neck after slipping into your bed one warm summer night. “Not my fault, baby, I’m sorry.”

Your bedroom is dim, your childhood nightlight struggling to light up the room. You hum gently as Natasha’s arms wrap around your waist, her front pressed against your back, and for a moment you think she’s getting ready to shut her eyes and fall asleep, but then a wandering hand brushes the hem of your soft sleep shirt, fingertips cool against your abdomen, and you gasp softly.

“Dad,” you whisper, and Natasha hums lazily. “Dad, you can’t. Mom’s next door.”

“She’s not gonna hear,” your stepdad says, though it does little to soothe your worries. The same wandering hand starts to inch upwards, and when she finally grasps at your chest, you can’t help but arch your back against her. Your ass presses against her front — with the thin material of both of your pyjamas, you can feel her hips stir against you as she stiffens under your touch. She hisses softly. “Fuck, baby, it’s like you want this more than me.”

“You have to be quick,” you mumble, but now Natasha’s up, pushing you onto your back until you’re looking up at her with wide eyes. 

Your chest rises and falls steadily with every breath, and you glance at the door. It’s unlocked. If you were too loud, there was every chance of being discovered, and that couldn’t happen at any cost.

Natasha lifts your legs up and you wordlessly acquiesce, lifting your hips for her to shimmy your pants off. “Pretty baby,” she murmurs, pressing a kiss to your calf. “My pretty little girl.” Next are your panties, a frilly white pair that Natasha had mentioned offhandedly once about finding cute and girly, so you’d bought three more hoping she’d be able to take them off.

You squirm with warmth. “Take it off,” you demand, voice wavering. Natasha huffs.

“Should get up and leave just for that,” she says, though without any real anger, and then your panties slide down your thighs too easily. “I’m your fucking dad, I make the rules, okay?”

The firmness of her voice makes you throb. “Y-yes, Daddy,” you reply, and you see Natasha’s brow soften. She leaves another kiss on your calf, and then she’s spreading your legs apart with her work-rough hands.

“Look at that pretty pussy,” Natasha says, almost to herself, and a hand absently trails to your cunt, gently petting with two wide fingers and spreading your folds. A loud exhale leaves her nose when her fingers come back sticky with arousal. “Already wet. Why’re you wet, baby?”

You whimper softly. Natasha’s pulling her pants down, and God, you can’t even look at her cock with the way your cheeks are burning.

Natasha settles on top of you, bracing herself with a hand, the other on your waist. From this close you can see her lips twitch into a smirk, something the low light was hiding. “You wanted Daddy to come to your little bed and fuck you, huh?” but judging by her smile, she already knows the answer. Her hand on your waist squeezes roughly, making you cry out. 

Instantly her hand flies to your mouth, clamping tightly, and both of your eyes are wide. “Shh! You want your mom coming in?” Her hips press against yours. You moan softly at the feeling of her nudging at your cunt, leaking pre-cum all over. “Stay quiet.”

And then your stepdad is slipping into you so easily with how wet you are, making you stretch around her, and you’re gasping behind her palm, tears prickling in your eyes. Natasha kisses your forehead softly as she pushes herself in, inch by inch, and then she’s completely in you, soothing an ache deep inside you that you hadn’t even realized you had.

“Good girl,” she says in a hushed whisper against your temple, leaving another kiss. “Took me so well, baby, good girl.” The praise makes your thighs shake a little.

She pulls out just enough, and then she’s fucking you roughly, her other hand still on your waist and groping hard. Your bed creaks with every movement, and you see the furrow of Natasha’s brow as she tries to balance the need to be quiet with the need to be as deep in you as possible. 

Your cunt clenches around her with each deep thrust as she drives her hips forward relentlessly, and the bed starts creaking louder, headboard hitting the shitty thin wall behind you, but it's your moans that are too loud, even muffled behind her palm. You’re sure you’re drooling as your stepdad pulls her hand away to grab at your face.

“You wanna fucking wake her up?” Natasha hisses, though not unkindly, but her hips aren’t stopping and the heat in your stomach is getting stronger. Her mouth moves to your neck, nipping against sensitive skin as she slams into you harder, like she wants to fuck all the moans out of you.

“D-Daddy…” you whine high in your throat, then bite your lip to stop a loud moan in your throat, but it’s almost impossible with the way her cock is hitting the perfect spot inside you, the spot that makes your hips lift off the bed involuntarily.

“Shut up,” Natasha says, and then her fingers are prying your mouth open, your jaw hanging as she presses two fingers against your wet tongue for you to suck. She’s still fucking you, a little faster now with desperation, but you know how to do this, how to use your mouth, Natasha taught you, so you suck on her fingers with little whimpers trapped behind them.

The hand at your waist slides to your hip, steadying your bucking with a firm grip as she picks up the pace. Her fingers stifle your desperate moans as your tongue swirls around them. Her cock keeps hitting the spot that makes your limbs tighten and your stomach flutter, and now you definitely know you’re drooling down your chin. 

You can tell she’s close from the way her eyes screw shut, her brows knitting. The heat in your abdomen is coming to a head, too, but her hips impossibly speed up, fucking you raw and gasping, and suddenly your orgasm hits you full force, washing over you from head to toe.

Your eyes widen. You moan as loudly as you possibly can with Natasha’s fingers still in your mouth. You’re squeezing around her cock and Natasha lets out a whimper, her lower lip trembling before she lets out one, two soft gasps, and she’s cumming inside you, your legs shaking with the sensation. 

She lays on top of you for a moment, gasping for air greedily, before she slowly slides her fingers out of your mouth, saliva cooling in the warm bedroom air.

“Fuck,” Natasha says, her lips twitching into a real grin now. Her cock is still warm, throbbing gently inside you, and the sensation makes you tingle a little. You’re smiling a little too now, even with your lips wet with spit, but Natasha leans down to kiss your mouth clean anyway. When she rests her head on your shoulder, her eyes half-lidded with exhaustion, you almost want to wrap your legs and flip her over, but you’re falling asleep yourself.

“Was I too loud?” you ask in a sleepy mumble, now much, much quieter. Natasha hums against your skin, and you can almost hear her smile.

When Natasha walks into your restaurant for the first time, you don’t think much of it. She’s just another customer for you to serve… albeit a beautiful one.

“Hi! Welcome in! How’s your night treating you?” you ask cheerily, giving her your best smile.

She offers you a huff through her nose and brushes off your question.

Okay, well, you can try and work with that. You persevere despite her lack of receptive response. “Here’s our menu. I’ll be back shortly to take your order,” you tell her, flashing her another smile.

Natasha grabs the menu from you without another word, so you take the hint and give her some space and time to peruse her options.

When you return to her table, she orders one of the simplest things on the menu—a burger, fries, and a water.

She doesn’t address or speak to you any further, ignoring your continued polite attempts at a small, pleasant conversation.

She leaves without a “thank you” or a “have a good night”, exiting the restaurant without a backward glance.

And she doesn’t tip.

Oh, so she’s not just another customer. She’s the fucking worst.

One week has passed since you last saw Natasha, and yet, you’re still ranting about the minimal interaction. You can’t stop; anger and irritation have been present every moment of your shifts since that day no matter what you do.

“She was just so rude,” you say hotly for what is probably the umpteenth time, “Literally, infuriating.”

“Uh huh,” your coworker responds, bored, having heard this basically on repeat.

“I just- I can’t fucking believe the nerve of her.”

“I hear you.”

“The absolute audacity to walk in here, barely say a word to me, and then not leave a tip.”

“Yeah.”

“I mean, I’m a great server, a fucking delight… and, not to mention, I’m downright adorable. No one doesn’t tip me.”

Your coworker has finally had enough of your tirades. “Dude, just let it go,” she sighs exasperatedly, “You’re, like, obsessed with her.”

“The fuck? I am not obsessed with her,” you deny immediately, spitting out the words as if just the thought disgusts you.

“You haven’t shut up about her since you saw her. Just admit you thought she had that super hot aloof and mysterious thing going on and you liked it.”

“I didn’t find her hot!” you argue, taking genuine offense at the fact that your coworker could think something like that about you.

“Sure, you didn’t.”

“No, seriously, I didn’t. I don’t,” you declare vehemently before muttering under your breath, “I swear, if she shows her face again, I’m going to-”

“Well, you’ve got your chance.”

“What?”

“She’s here.” Your coworker nods her head in the direction of where Natasha is, seated at the same table as the last time she was here. “She’s been here. Eavesdropping probably. You haven’t been quiet.”

Your gaze snaps over to Natasha, finding her already staring. One of her eyebrows quirks up as you make eye contact. “You didn’t think to warn me?” you hiss, alarmed, voice finally dropping to a lower volume as you look back at your coworker.

Your coworker just shrugs, unbothered, and then she walks away from you, heading to the back, leaving you alone behind the counter.

Natasha’s still watching you, eyes intense and unmeetable. You’re fleeing to the back after your coworker in just seconds.

You don’t emerge until you’re sure the redhead has left the restaurant, too sheepish and embarrassed to face her. You make your way over to her booth to clean up her dishes, and there, left on the table, is several crumpled bills. It’s the biggest tip you’ve ever received—the biggest tip you’ve ever seen—and, written on the merchant copy of the receipt in sloppy scrawl underneath her signature… ‘Fair enough’.

You don’t know how or why; the whole situation doesn’t make sense to you. You insulted Natasha, and yet she left that huge tip and agreeing note… and she continues to show up, over and over, arriving at the same time every week. She becomes a regular, always coming in during your shifts, always seating herself in your section, and always alone.

Your coworker teases you relentlessly. “She likes you,” she singsongs.

You have to frantically shush her every time, her loudness way too much for the small restaurant, the redhead surely able to overhear. “There’s no way she does,” you reject her statement, “I insulted her. A lot. Multiple times. And she made it clear that she heard me.”

“Yeah, and she also told you that you were right.”

“That doesn’t mean she likes me.”

“Don’t play dumb, and don’t pretend you don’t like her too.”

“How many times do we have to do this. I don’t like her.”

Despite the less-than-respectful-on-her-part first interaction, despite the less-than-respectful-on-your-part second interaction, you two do develop a sort of routine. Natasha sits in the same booth every visit; you memorize her order and put it in with the kitchen before she has to ask. She begins to smile and talk a bit more; you learn that her silences, when present, aren’t impolite.

You don’t want to admit it—because how could your heart possibly betray you like this by fluttering every time you see her stroll through the restaurant doors?—but you can’t keep lying to yourself about how you aren’tbeginning to like her. She’s not totally unpleasant anymore, you guess.

“Your usual,” you say as you deliver the burger, fries, and water glass to Natasha’s table.

She flashes you a small grin, and, like what’s typical for her now, thanks you, her voice soft when she talks. “You always know just what I need.”

You roll your eyes but can’t suppress your own smile. “You ‘need’ the same thing every time. It’s not hard.”

Unconsciously, you find yourself happy that she’s always unaccompanied, with no one in tow, and although you don’t think you’ll ever stop ignoring your coworker’s claims—“Just accept that she has a crush on you”—you’re secretly pleased at being told that perhaps Natasha likes you. Your coworker was right. She really does have a super hot aloof and mysterious thing going on.

It’s a Thursday when Natasha next comes in, which is… weird. She’s a Wednesday patron, a 6:30pm Wednesday patron, to be exact. She’s always on time. So, when she arrives at the restaurant on a different day than normal, at a different time than normal—right before you’re off, actually—and sits at a different table than normal, it’s beyond unexpected.

Your coworker shoots you a confused look when she watches the redhead make her way into her section instead of yours, and although you’re puzzled and perhaps ever so slightly jealous, you technically are supposed to be clocking out in a few minutes, so it’s not like you could serve her anyway.

Maybe she just really wanted another burger earlier than normal, and maybe she just didn’t want to sit by the window tonight.

You can’t help but eavesdrop on Natasha’s order. Will she be switching that up too?

“Can I get you your usual?” your coworker asks her.

Natasha shakes her head. “Not yet,” she answers, “I’m actually waiting for someone this time.”

You falter, heart sinking in your chest in a funny way that you don’t want to acknowledge. She’s on a date. Your eyes flick to the front doors, wondering just when the person meeting with her will be walking through them. You don’t want to be here for that.

You remove your apron and fold it over your forearm with maybe a little too much force, you grab your bag from the back possibly somewhat too roughly, and you make your way out of the back room, heading toward the exit with purpose. You happen to have to pass Natasha’s booth on your way. You don’t make eye contact.

You’re stopped by a hand reaching out to grab your wrist, and you whip around, confused and surprised at being stopped by her.

“Where are you going?” she asks, voice gentle as she tries to soothe your clear agitation.

“I’m off,” you reply, and you can’t help but throw something a bit more bitter her way as well. “But you know that already.” It’s a definitive statement. She’s familiar with your schedule by now; she’s been here enough times to have learned it.

“I do know,” she confirms.

It makes you even angrier, and your annoyance, stemming from jealousy, flares. You open your mouth to shoot back some retort, but she beats you to it.

“Well? Are you just going to stand there? Aren’t you going to sit?”

You freeze, brows furrowing. “What?”

“Table for two today,” she informs you even though you’re well aware, grinning in amusement at how obvious it is that you’re trying to connect the dots.

And then it clicks… and you slowly slip your bag off your shoulder… and you slowly take a seat across from her… and you slowly find yourself smiling instead of frowning in hurt.

Your coworker returns to the table, smirking knowingly, an ‘I so told you so’ expression on her face as she gives you a pointed look. “Your date finallyshow? Ready to order now?” she addresses Natasha.

Natasha nods, turning to face your coworker. “Yeah, I’ll take my usual, and…” She then looks at you expectantly, waiting for you to relay what you want to eat. “Get whatever you’d like. It’s on me.”

You raise an eyebrow. “I work here. I get all my meals for free.”

So here you were, stripping for a man in his late thirties, while he sips on a beer bottle and tries his hardest to respect the no touching rule that you just know he’s itching to break. The way his eyes run over your body and the way he palms himself and adjusts on the seat…

Men are all so predictable. 

You liked him though, much more than some of the other clients you’ve had. 

He comes about twice a month and always calls for a 30 minute private strip tease from you. Sometimes you feel generous and need the extra tip, and you’d let him grab on your tits. 

Everything comes with a price for you. 

You don’t fucking eat your greens because you liked them, keeping this body in good shape was a chore, one that you didn’t hate, but still a chore nonetheless. 

Your hips sway to the music that you let him choose, a slow one that got you teasing more than stripping. He seems to have a particular interest in your ass today, his eyes never leaving it whenever you would turn or grind down on him. 

And then it happened. 

You heard her before you saw her. The door slamming open and the familiar sight of a gun and a man blazing in. You weren’t even concerned at your lack of clothes, merely scared that you might not make it out tonight. 

You hear your client cuss and try to draw his own gun, hands clumsy and face red from embarrassment or fear, you’re not quite sure. He didn't even manage to touch his gun before the man whacked him on the head and knocked him unconscious.

And then you finally saw her.

You were peeking out from the bedside table, eyes firmly set on the man who hauled your client's body onto his shoulder and carried him out. He stopped right at the door, speaking to her.

Red hair.

Leather jacket.

Piercing green eyes staring right back at you.

Fuck, was your first thought.

She is gorgeous, your brain unhelpfully supplied. Not that it mattered, when she was looking at you with furrowed brows.

Gosh, maybe you are taking your last few breaths.

Being in this industry, it was sketchy. People were nasty. Everyone did something illegal, either professionally or personally. So you weren't exactly surprised by tonight's events.

But damn it, you didn't wanna die.

Not today, at least.

She spoke a few sentences to the man, gesturing for him to leave the room with your client.

And then the door shut.

And there were two.

Fuck, again.

"Come on out, sweetheart."

Oh shit, fuck, shit, fuck, were the only words going through your mind right now.

She walked over to the leather chair that your client was sat on earlier, and dropped her gun onto the table right beside it. You distinctly register that your client's wallet is still on the table as well.

Thinking that there really was no other choice for you, you stood up and slowly made your way over to her. Briefly, you felt exposed at your naked body despite being in this state in front of strangers, many times.

She turned and shrugged off her leather jacket, your brain can't help but notice and take in her toned arms and tattoos that peaked out above her collarbone from her shirt's neckline.

Draping the jacket on the back of the leather chair, she started talking to you, "Sorry about the interruption, but he's really good at slipping away so I had to stop the show before he did it again."

You faintly register a slight Russian accent in her voice, but she must've been in the States for long because it's not too obvious.

You give her your stage name when she asks, and with a raised brow, you relented and gave her your first name.

She tested it out, saying it softly with a smirk on her face, and for some god damn reason your heart started beating faster hearing your name from her lips.

What is wrong with me?

She grabs the wallet left on table, "He pay you any good, sweetheart?"

"Sometimes."

"Let's see…man's not broke, that's for sure," she pulls out a stack of hundreds from his wallet and then leaves it all on the table.

Turning around and taking a seat on the leather chair, she finally looks at you. Really looks at you.

She didn't hide the way her eyes were taking in your body, from your hair to the swell of your breasts, down to you curves and back up again. "You're pretty, I like pretty girls. You think you can give me a dance?"

"If you pay me," came out before you even processed the question.

What the fuck is wrong with me?

She laughs, which sounded frankly, quite sexy.

And you think everything is going well until she spoke again, "Of course, how about this…you give me a little performance, and I don't kill you for witnessing whatever that happened just now."

Gulp.

Right.

Definitely not the time for snark and laughs.

"And all the cash you just dig out, I want them too," your mouth is so going to get yourself killed one day.

Natasha smirks, "I like pretty girls with a bit of attitude, deal."

“Now this is why you’re my favorite.”

“Really?” You questioned. “It wasn’t my good looks and charming personality.” Maria rolled her eyes.

“Timely reports just do it for me.” You chuckled and shook your head.

“You seem tired, Detka,” Natasha said. Her right hand left her drink on the bar and traced the bags underneath your eyes. Her fingers were cold from the ice, and that sent a shiver down your spine.

“Mission was long,” you mumbled. “Might call it early.”

“Are you okay?” Maria asked. Her hand rested on your upper back. This was how it always was. The three of you are touching in some way or another. Natasha’s feet were thrown over you while her head was in Maria’s lap. During meetings, you’d play with the ring on Maria’s hand, tracing each line and scar. It was normal. But tonight it felt wrong. The second Natasha’s fingers touched your face, and Maria’s hand on your back, it felt like it burned. The turtle neck you wore and the closeness of their bodies made you feel claustrophobic.

Natasha was right. You were avoiding them because they were the ones to see through your fake smiles and jokes. “I’m okay,” you said as you stood up from the bar stool, and they stepped back. “Don’t make too many bad choices tonight.”

It was easy to sneak out of the party and venture to your room. Once the door was closed, you shed the turtle neck, and it felt easier to breathe. Sighing, you went to the bathroom and turned on the lights. You kept your eyes down as you brushed your teeth and cleaned your face. Then you had to do the worst part of your routine. You made quick work of it, opening the medicated lotion on your fingers and rubbing it on the scar on your neck.

This wasn’t a small scar, something that was easy to cover up. It ran from one side of your throat to the other. The doctor who saved your life told you the scar would never fully go away. It would serve as a constant reminder of what happened to you.

Once you were satisfied, you washed your hands and crawled into your bed. The scar was always covered, whether it be a turtle neck, a ribbon, or a bandana. No one could see it because no one knew who you were before the Avengers.

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

“Something was off with her.” Natasha pulled back the covers to climb into bed next to Maria. “I didn’t get one compliment on my skirt, and I wore it for her.” Maria raised an eyebrow at her.

“I thought you wore it for me.”

“I wore it for both of you.” Maria chuckled and went back to reading the file in her hands. “Is that her mission report?” Natasha asked, then rolled onto her side. Maria hummed. “Well, what does it say?” The brunette sighed.

“Easy in and out. They got the intel and came back.” Maria closed the file and tossed it onto the nightstand.

“Then they omitted something,” the redhead said. Maria brought her into her arms. “Ria, they weren’t themselves tonight.”

“I know,” Maria kissed the top of her head. “But we can’t do anything until they come to us, and when they do, we’ll be ready.”

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

Gods, you were exhausted. Nightmares plagued your mind and kept you up. You were a zombie when you woke up. You stared at the bowl of cereal that rested on the counter. “Hey, sweetheart,” Natasha walked behind you with a gentle touch to your back. The sleepless night was getting to you, and you flinched from her touch. “How did you sleep?”

“Fine,” you answered. “Kept waking up.” Natasha poured the coffee into a mug.

“You know you can always come to us if you are having trouble sleeping.”

“You and Maria are gonna tire me out,” you heard Natasha scuff. In a quick motion, Natasha spun you around. Her hands are on either side of you to cage you in. “Damn, Red, I didn’t think this look would do it for you.” You were standing in a hoodie that was 2 sizes too big for you (you were 90% sure it belonged to Thor) and sleep shorts. Like always, a piece of fabric wrapped around your neck like a scarf.

“Something is wrong,” she said. “I know there is.” You frowned.

“Nothing is wrong,” you said simply. “Tasha,” you spoke softly, hand coming up to cup her cheek. It seemed second nature for her to lean into it. “I’m fine. I’d tell you if I wasn’t.”

She snapped out of her haze when you removed your hand. “You omitted something from your report.” She accused you.

“How did you-” you stopped yourself, lips snapped shut. “Don’t do this, Natasha.” Her name felt so foreign on your lips that it sounded like you spoke a different language. She was always Tasha, Red, or Nat. Never Natasha. Her face crumbled slightly. It was a small change that no one would notice besides you, Maria, and maybe her sister. She acted as if you slapped her. You ducked underneath her arm.

“Why did you leave something out of the report?” She questioned.

“Because it didn’t affect the mission or was relevant to it.” Or because you desperately wanted to forget the feeling of their hands on you. It reminded you so much of that night.

“Helen reported no injuries.” She continued.

“I wasn’t injured.” You snapped. No, you weren’t injured. You came damn near close, but you weren’t hurt. The men who grabbed you were a different story. Sighing, you pinched the bridge of your nose. “I’m fine.” Even the lie wasn’t convincing because it was Natasha who was tearing down the walls you were desperately trying to keep up. The redhead had seen you after nightmares and brutal missions that had left you drained. She and Maria had been there for you like you’ve been there for them.

“I’m not gonna let this go.” And you knew she wouldn’t.

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

This time you wore shorts and tight-fitted long sleeves. Instead of the loose fabric around your neck, you traded it for a neck gaiter. The black fabric was pulled up to below your nose. You had this cover-up in a million different colors, wearing it with your tactical suit and during training. The scarves, bandana, and ribbons were a part of you; no one on the team questioned it anymore. Sure, they asked when you first joined the team, and you gave them the same answer you gave everyone - ‘I just like having it covered.’ Yelena said you looked badass.

Over the sound of your fist hitting the sandbags, you heard her footsteps. Maria. You figured you had a good hour before she came to find you after your couple argument with Natasha. She leaned against the wall, hair in a neat bun, and her usual uniform on. She must have had a few meetings this morning. “Like what you see, Director?” You questioned as you caught the sandbag and pulled the gaiter below your mouth.

“You know I do.” You chuckled, pulled the boxing gloves off your hand, and picked up your water bottle.

“Are you here to write me up?” You questioned.

“Withholding information on a mission report is grounds for immediate removal,” you watched as she closed the distance between you and her. Your eyes stayed locked on hers. “It’s important we know everything that occurs during the mission, regardless of whether you feel like it was necessary.”

“Okay,” you simply said, choosing not to elaborate more. Maria sighed your name and went to grab your forearm. Her fingers barely touched you before you flinched away. The brunette’s eyes narrowed her. Her eyes cataloged your movements. You’ve seen this look during meetings as she tried to figure out the missing piece.

“You flinched,” she stated. “You flinched last night and this morning with Natasha.” So she noticed it but chose not to say anything to you. “Who hurt you, baby?”

“Ria,” you whimpered. “Please just let it this go.”

“Okay,” she gave in. “You can come to me with anything. I hope you know that.”

“I do,” you nodded. “Just - just not with this. I’m not ready for that.” You turned on your heels and left the gym, ignoring the heartbroken expression on Maria’s face.

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

You had no idea how you found yourself here - sandwiched between Yelena and Wanda at some bar in New York City that the blonde Russian swore by. It was a decent place. Management allowed you to enter through the back and to the right of the VIP area. You were pretty sure Kate was the one to declare a girl’s night out, and she gave you her best puppy dog eyes that seemed impossible to say no to.

The alcohol from the two shots Yelena forced into your hand and the Long Island you were nursing was making you feel warm and a little loose. It was a dangerous combination, especially with Natasha wearing the black dress and Maria the white button-up. You were only human.

The couple came back with another round of shots that you skipped on. “Are you tapping out early?” Yelena yelled in your ear. You winced at the noise.

“Pacing myself.” You replied.

“Are you worried you’ll end up in bed with my sister and Hill?” You slapped the blonde underneath the table.

“You are disgusting.”

“She’s not wrong, though,” you turned your attention to the witch. “You’ve been avoiding them since you got back from Nigeria.” That solo mission was two weeks ago. You’ve done everything to avoid them. Frankly, it was killing you. You missed them so much, and it was your dumb fault. You looked at the other end of the table. Natasha was talking with Carol. Maria had her arm around the redhead’s shoulder, but she was looking at you. She gave you a smile, and you returned it.

Sighing, you fixed the scarf around your neck. “You should just get out of your head and kiss them.” Yelena flicked the center of your forehead. “Simple.”

“Simple,” you repeated, rubbing the spot she flicked. “How’s that advice working for you with Kate? You’re just going to start making out with her.” Even in the low light of the bar, you saw the blush appear on her cheeks. Wanda laughed, trying to hide it behind a drink.

“Shut it, Maximoff,” the blonde snapped. “Maybe we are both idiots.” You tilted your head back as you laughed. That was the most accurate statement you’ve heard in weeks.

“Let me out, Wands,” you said to the witch after you downed half your drink. “I gotta pee.” You squeezed out of the table and maneuvered around the sea of bodies to the bathroom. You locked the door behind you, quickly peed, and went to the sink to wash your hands. When you looked into the mirror, Natasha was standing behind you. “I locked that,” you said. She hummed. “Your girlfriend knows you’re following other people into the bathroom.”

“Figured it was the only place I could talk to you without you running away.”

“I haven’t been running,” you said, drying your hands with the paper towel and throwing it in the trash. You grabbed the door handle as Natasha grabbed your wrist. You stared into her green eyes.

“I’ve missed you,” she whispered, barely long enough over the bass of the music on the other side. “We’ve missed you.” And gods, you’ve missed them too. You crumpled at how sad she looked.

“Fuck it,” you mumbled. Before she could question it, you pushed her against the door and kissed her. Her body went tense. Then her brain caught up, she relaxed into you, and her arms wrapped around your shoulders. The number of times you’ve thought about kissing the Black Widow was unhealthy. You moved your hands down her sides, squeezed her ass through the dress, and picked her up by her thighs.

Her legs wrapped tightly around your waist as you moved her to the sink to set her down. You moved your lips to her cheek and down her neck. Natasha’s head hit the mirror, giving you more space to work. “We will need to talk,” Natasha said, moaning slightly as you bite down on her neck and soothed it over with her tongue.

“Talk later,” you mumbled against her skin. “Let me have this, baby, please.” You whispered against her lips. “I promise we’ll talk.” Before she could respond, you brought your lips back to hers. You wasted no time deepening the kiss, and you groaned as you felt her tongue meet yours. Natasha was addicted - her natural taste mixed with the alcohol she had. And maybe if you concentrated hard enough, you could taste Maria lingering on her lips. Shit. You were so down bad for these two. The world could end, and you couldn’t care as long as you had them.

Then you were pulled out of a feeling of bliss when you felt the usual tight fabric around your neck come loose and fall between you two. You jumped back, immediately rubbing at your neck that was fully exposed, and panic raced through your body. Natasha narrowed her eyes at the scar on your neck. “How old is that?” She went to touch the skin, but you recoiled away. The redhead whispered your name, but you were already leaving the bathroom.

There was no stopping you. You ignored the call of your name and grabbed your jacket from the back of the booth. “Whoa,” Yelena said. “Where is the -” the blonde stopped herself. “That is a wicked scar.” Again, your hand went to your bare skin. All of their eyes were on you. You had to get the fuck out of here.

You left the bar through the back and disappeared into the night.

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

“Where did they go?” Natasha appeared suddenly. Maria looked at her girlfriend, who was a little disheveled, holding the fabric you always wore. Maria wasn’t stupid. In fact, she was quick to put the pieces together. Natasha followed you to the bathroom. It was taking longer than she expected, but Maria trusted you and Natasha. So she stared at her girlfriend, who no doubt was returning from a steamy make-out session that resulted in your scarf falling and revealing a rather gruesome scar.

Strange enough, Maria was jealous. Not because you and Natasha kissed. No, she couldn’t give a fuck about that. She was jealous because Natasha got to kiss you first, or she couldn’t watch. “They just took off,” Kate said.

“I don’t know why,” Yelena mumbled. “That scar is so cool.” A scar you clearly did not find cool because you always had it covered. Natasha sighed, placing her hands behind her head.

“We’ll find her,” Maria said as she stood up. “I promise.”

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

Despite the rain, you continued walking. Your jacket was zipped up and pulled to your chin. You had no destination in mind but continued to walk the streets of New York City. You were so stupid. It seemed the universe liked to play a cruel joke on you. Whenever you thought you were close to being happy, the rug got pulled out from underneath you. “You are going to get sick.” You heard Maria’s voice from the car that pulled up next to you.

“I hope I do.” You said. You heard Maria’s laugh over the rain; it almost made you smile.

“Get in the car, sweetheart. We are all worried about you.” You kept walking.

“I kissed your girlfriend,” you deflected for some reason. “She’s a good kisser.”

“Trust me, I know,” you could hear the smirk in her voice. “Get in the car.” You stopped and leaned against the car to look into the passenger window.

“Would you still want me when you learn how much of a monster I truly am?” You questioned. Maria looked you over, eyes on your neck, which was covered by your jacket.

“Yes,” she answered. “Now get your ass in the car.” You huffed but got into the passenger seat. Maria reached in the back and threw you a towel.

“Thanks,” you mumbled and dried off your hair. Maria pulled onto the street and headed back to the tower with a hand on your thigh like it was the most natural thing.

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

Maria had something to do with it because you were able to walk into the tower and to your room without being surrounded. Maria walked you to your door, kissed your cheek, and told you to take your time. You promised Natasha that you would talk to her.

You smiled, went to your shower, and stayed under the water until it went cold. Then you got out, dried quickly, changed into baggy clothes, and wrapped a scarf around your neck. Everyone knew, but it felt second nature. Sighing, you grabbed the lotion and walked over to Natasha and Maria’s room. You only knocked once before the door swung open. “Hey, Red,” you whispered. She offered you her hand, and you took it. You stepped into their room and closed the door behind you. Maria was changed and sitting in their bed.

“Come sit,” Natasha led you to their bed. You sat down and crossed your legs. “Are you okay?” The redhead asked. You sighed.

“I’m tired,” you admitted. “I’ve carried this for so long?” Maria asked.

“16,” you answered. Slowly, you unwrapped the scarf. It felt weird having it exposed and under the gaze of the two people you cared for so deeply. You untwisted the cap of the lotion and took some on two of your fingers. “I know it’s ugly and hard to look at. I-”

“Stop.” “Enough.” They said at the same time.

“Stop putting words in our mouths,” Natasha added. You opened and closed your mouth to come up with something, but decided against it. You rubbed the lotion on your scar while they watched intensely.

“I was working with a group called The Liberty,” the slight hitch in Natasha’s breath told you she knew who they were. “I was a gun for hire. I wasn’t proud of the work, but it provided money, food, and a roof over my head.” You tried to justify some of the kills all the time. They were dirty politicians or drug lords. “I refused to kill one of my targets. She was just 6 years old.”

You would never forget her name: Alana Peterson, the daughter of Tina Peterson, who was married to David. David was the CEO of Zeus Enterprises. Tina had an affair with a competitor, which resulted in an unplanned pregnancy. For 6 years, David raised Alana as if she were his flesh and blood. Like always, the truth came to light, and as Tina’s punishment, Alana was going to be killed. You were hired to do it.

“This was my punishment. They left me to die on the concert floor. I could feel the blood pooling around me.” You were surprised when Natasha placed her hand on your arm. You were shaking. “I blacked out and woke up in a bed.”

“Why do you hide it?” Maria questioned.

“I don’t want pity when people see it,” you whispered. “And,” you sighed. Well, you’ve come this far. “It’s a constant reminder of when I was at my most vulnerable. The doctor who saved my life, the payment terms were not conventional.” He was 30 years your senior. You spent the next 4 years recovering under him more than living. Once you’ve gotten your strength back, you killed him to escape him. Fury found you when you were 25, so you had 5 years tracking down the group and killing them for leaving you to die. It took one comment from random people of disgust or strange fascination that made you cover your neck. People looked at you like a freak. A science experiment that they were trying to understand.

Carefully, Natasha grabbed the lotion you placed next to Maria. “Do you trust us?” You hesitated.

The simple answer was yes. Time and time again, they saved your life. You had no reason not to trust them, aside from fear. “Yes,” your voice shook as you tried to act confidently. Natasha smiled and opened the lotion. Your eyes followed her hands as they traveled closer to your neck.

Your back was taunt, and you tried to keep yourself from flinching. Her touch was soft and warm. You never allowed another person to touch your scar. The sensation was different but not unwelcome. Soon, you felt the tension leave your shoulders. It felt nice to have someone else hold the weight.

Natasha passed the lotion to Maria. You gave the agent a smile as she put lotion on her fingers and touched your skin. It was overkill, but the feeling was too nice to push them away. “You’re safe with us,” Maria whispered. “You will always be safe with us.” A shaky breath left your lips, and your throat burned as you kept back your tears.

“Yeah?” You questioned. Sometimes it was hard to believe even when they said it. Natasha put her hand on your shoulder and pulled you closer to her. You felt your body slump against her, and her lips brushed against the side of your head.

“Always,” Natasha promised.

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

Natasha unlocks the front door to the apartment she’d moved into with you five years ago. Your relationship had been going well at the time and you’d hinted more than once that you’d like to take things a step further. Eventually Natasha had relented, agreeing to move out of the Avengers compound into an apartment with you. It was small, none of the windows closed properly so there was always a draught, and every so often the shower randomly leaked with no rhythm or reason, but it had quickly become home. Natasha loved looking around and seeing pieces of you everywhere. Books strewn across the floor, the necklace you always wore left absentmindedly by the kitchen sink, your cardigan thrown over the back of a chair.

You’d gotten married two years ago, and Natasha couldn’t be happier. Marriage had always been something Natasha thought she wouldn’t experience. Even when she escaped the Red Room she’d figured, who could love someone as broken as her? You could, apparently. You were Natasha’s everything, and she was so glad she’d found you.

Maybe it’s because she’s been feeling so safe lately but Natasha doesn’t immediately notice anything out of place. It’s only when she’s kicked off her shoes that she notices the overturned coffee table, your plant pot broken with the soil spilt across the floor. You weren’t always the tidiest person around but Natasha knows if you’d bumped into it, you wouldn’t have just left it like that. This looked almost like-

“Baby?” Natasha calls out. “Are you home?”

There’s music playing in the living room and Natasha recognises it as Tchaikovsky, the ‘Swan Lake’ soundtrack. Why would you be listening to that? It’s playing loudly and it gets quieter as she creeps slowly down the corridor, and as the music quietens she begins to hear the sound of panicked sobs, and a voice calling her name. Your voice.

The moment Natasha steps into the living room someone kicks her in the leg, knocking her off her feet. Before she can react a series of punches get thrown on her, several to her face, and several to her stomach, disorienting her completely. Natasha tries to scramble to her feet, to reach for her weapon but two women grab her arms, pulling them behind her back. She squirms weakly in their grip, her alarmed gaze searching the room, finally landing on you.

You’re tied to one of the dining chairs, tears streaming down your cheeks, blood everywhere, your face battered and bruised as you let out pained pants through your tears. On either side of you stand two people Natasha remembers well, no matter how hard she wants to forget them. Madame B, her supervisor from the Red Room, and Dreykov, the man who’d put her there. Holding her back are presumably two Widow’s, and on either side of Madame B and Dreykov are four more Widow’s, each of them expressionless.

“What are you doing?” Natasha asks, thrashing in the grip of the women holding her. “What are you doing to her?”

Nobody answers her. Madame B turns back to you and you whimper, trying to squirm away from her touch as she presses a knife to your throat. Natasha thrashes harder, reaching desperately for you, “Don’t do this! Leave her alone, please, please, leave her alone-”

Natasha tries to scream but her words are coming out croaked, like her voice is slowly disappearing. She’s panicking now, so desperate to get to you. What are they doing here? How did they find her? Why are they targeting you? Questions fly through Natasha’s head but she tries to push them away, focusing on you, pulling desperately in the grip of the Widow’s but they hang on, and she’s still disoriented from the punches. For a moment she’s certain the Widow standing behind Dreykov is Yelena, when she blinks she turns into Melina, another blink and it’s Natasha herself. She shakes her head, mumbling desperately, “No, no, no, this isn’t happening, this isn’t happening…”

Dreykov smiles, gesturing with his head, and Madame B drags the knife across your throat, blood beginning to pour out like a fountain. Your eyes are wide as you look towards Natasha, unable to speak as you cough and splutter, blood spilling out of your mouth. Natasha’s crying now, trying her best to scream over and over again, “No! No, please! Please! Not her! I’ll do anything, please! Please-”

But it’s too late and Natasha knows it. Your horrified gaze remains on her until your eyes glaze over, your expression stuck in permanent terror as your body slumps awkwardly in the chair, held up now only by the ropes. Dreykov turns to Natasha and she shakes her head, stammering over her words and her tears. You’re gone. Why did they do this to you? Natasha doesn’t care what happens to her now, you were her only reason for waking up in the morning, and now you’re gone, you’re gone-

Natasha bolts awake, sitting upright in bed and panting heavily. The bedroom is dark and for a moment she’s completely disoriented. Natasha reaches over to switch on the bedside lamp, her breathing coming out in erratic pants as she looks around the room. Finally her gaze lands on you and she chokes back a sob. You’re lying next to her, fast asleep, and before Natasha can think about what she’s doing she shakes your shoulder roughly, “Y/N! Y/N!”

You wake up with a start, looking up at her with wide eyes, “Wha- What?”

“Oh- Y/N…”

Natasha pulls you upright and into her arms, crying into your shoulder. For a moment you’re irritated by the sudden wakeup call but when you realise Natasha’s crying you instantly soften, wrapping your own arms around her.  You know Natasha better than anyone but you’ve only seen her cry twice, and both times she’d left the room immediately so you wouldn’t see. This is the very first time she’s allowed herself to cry so openly. “I thought there was a house fire for a minute,” You tease softly, your own heart pounding in your chest. “But I guess there must’ve been another reason that you woke me up.”

Natasha doesn’t reply and that’s when you feel her shaking, her hands digging into the fabric of the baggy t-shirt you wear to sleep in. You try to pull back to look at her but she hangs on, desperate to hold onto you, so you relent, letting her just hold you if that’s what she wants. Her breathing is still coming out in erratic pants, so you rub your hand up and down her back, mumbling, “Hey... Nat, baby, it’s okay… Everything’s okay…”

Natasha can’t speak, letting out a gulping sob as she presses a shaky kiss to your forehead, letting herself feel that you’re safe and that more importantly, you’re alive. Eventually she pulls back to look at you, cupping your cheek in her hand, “Are you okay?”

“Yeah… Yeah, I was just asleep. Are you okay?”

Natasha suddenly pulls away, grabbing her sidearm that she keeps in the bedside drawer and creeping into the hallway. You start to say her name but Natasha holds up a finger to silence you, so you quieten, letting her do whatever she feels she needs to do. Natasha checks every room of the small apartment, every possible hiding spot until she’s satisfied that there’s no one else there. She checks the front door is definitely locked before heading back to bed and pulling you into her arms again.

You reach up to gently wipe a tear on her cheek, “Tell me what’s wrong.”

“You were dead.” Just saying the words out loud makes Natasha sob again, and your expression softens, kissing her tearstained cheek. “I couldn’t do anything, I was- I couldn’t save you, God, I couldn’t save you-”

“I’m fine. Okay? Nothing happened, it was just a bad dream.”

“It was worse than a bad dream, it was… Fuck, it was so real. You were-” Natasha lets out a shaky breath, leaning her forehead against yours. “I thought I’d lost you. I thought I’d fucking lost you.”

You tilt your head to press a slow, loving kiss to her lips, and mumble, “I’m right here. Nothing’s gonna happen to me-”

“You don’t know that,” Natasha says urgently. “I wasn’t there to protect you and they got the upper hand and then I couldn’t- I couldn’t-”

“Nat, baby, it wasn’t real. I don’t know what happened but it was just a bad dream.”

“What if it wasn’t though?” Natasha sobs. “This apartment isn’t the most secure and I worry about you here all by yourself while I’m away on missions. Anything could happen and if I- If I lost you, I don’t know if I could- I wouldn’t be able to-”

You consider her words for a moment, your fingers gently running over her cheek, wiping away a tear that slips down, “What would make you feel better?”

Natasha hesitates, swallowing down another sob as she tries to get a hold of her emotions. What would make her feel better? “I- I want to teach you basic self defence.”

“Okay.”

“What, you’re going to agree just like that?”

“I’d agree to anything if it made you feel better. Besides, I’ve wanted to learn for a while, I’d rather get taught by you.”

“And I want to install a security system,” Natasha says. “I’m not even asking the landlord, I’m just gonna do it.”

“We’re not getting our deposit back, are we?”

“You’re more important to me.”

You meet her gaze, seeing the way she’s looking at you. Her eyes are red, her eyelashes glistening as another tear trickles down her flushed cheek. It’s the most vulnerable you’ve ever seen her and you know it’s rare. A sign that she trusts you. It’s only taken her six years of being together, two of them in which you’ve been married. You kiss her teary cheek again, “You’re important to me too. Okay? And if I have to take all the self defence courses in New York, start carrying pepper spray, have the fanciest, most expensive security system that money can buy, then I will. Anything to make you feel better.”

Natasha sniffles, looking down at the bed, “I know I’m being a lot right now-”

“No, you’re being real, and I appreciate it. I love you.”

“I love you more,” Natasha replies without hesitation. “I still shouldn’t have cried.”

“It’s okay to cry, you know?” You say gently, tucking a strand of her red hair behind her ear. “It’s not a weakness, it’s just… Having a good cry makes me feel better. Do you know how many times a day I sneak to the bathroom at work to have a little cry?”

“That often? Do you like… Need help?”

“Okay, it’s not that often but sometimes things get on top of you and crying does help.” You cup her cheek with your hand again, your voice dropping quieter, “I know you didn’t cry as a kid. I know what they said to you, what they did to you if you cried… But you’re not there anymore, you’re here with me. And if you need to cry then you can just cry.”

“You’re my soulmate, you know that?” Natasha says with a small, tearful smile. “You’re the only person I fully trust.”

“What about Clint?”

“I trust Clint with my life but I trust you with my emotions.”

You smile, unable to resist kissing her cheek again. Her breathing has calmed somewhat and you run your fingers through her hair, before pressing a kiss to her forehead this time, “Do you wanna stay up a bit longer? We could put a movie on, just for some background noise and cuddle for a bit.”

Natasha hadn’t even realised that was what she needed until you suggested it. You know her even better than she knows herself sometimes. She nods mutely, cuddling into your side as you scroll through Netflix looking for something comforting to watch. Her arm snakes around your waist and she presses a kiss to your neck, “I’m sorry, I know you have work in the morning-”

“It’s one night of slightly broken sleep, I’m sure I’ll survive. Besides, I’d choose cuddles with you over sleep anytime.”

Natasha kisses you again as you finally settle on ‘Mean Girls’, an old comfort film you both enjoy. Natasha relaxes as the familiar opening begins to play and you wrap your arms around her, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. She’s still on edge from her nightmare but the movie combined with your comforting presence helps to soothe her. You run your fingers through her hair and she sighs, loving when you do that. If anyone else tried to touch her hair she’d slap them, but you’re different. Your touch relaxes her and she feels a rush of love and gratitude for you.

ᱬ

Afternoon light poured through the floor-to-ceiling windows of the boardroom as Wanda stood beside the screen, calmly walking Pepper through her latest pitch.

"Senator Hartley's pushing harder toward infrastructure lately," Wanda explained smoothly, clicking to the next slide. "And considering his new relationship with a lobbyist connected to major construction firms, there's a good chance the next bill swings heavily in that direction."

Pepper stayed quiet, listening carefully while Wanda continued.

"If we move our assets now, we'll be ahead before everyone else catches on."

"Well, that's honestly a very good pitch," Pepper leaned back slightly, clearly impressed. "If this pays off, I'll personally talk to Tony about making you a partner."

Wanda blinked once, genuinely caught off guard.

A partner

She only came in expecting to present her pitch. Instead, this might've been the opportunity she'd been chasing for years.

"Wow…I mean, thank you, Pepper," she said, keeping her voice calm and professional even while her chest tightened slightly with adrenaline. "I won't disappoint you."

Wanda needs someone to share this good news with.

Which was honestly pathetic.

It was already 10 PM by the time she arrived at another work dinner, walking into another restaurant filled with people who smiled too much but trusted each other too little.

That was basically her entire industry.

A bunch of rich people drinking overpriced alcohol while secretly waiting for the perfect moment to screw each other over professionally.

The hostess led her toward the private dining area where her colleagues were already gathered around the table laughing like they actually liked each other.

Fake

Every fucking single one of them.

"Maximoff," one of them greeted with a grin the second she sat down. "Heard Pepper loved your Hartley pitch."

Wanda gave a small smile. "Guess she did."

Another guy laughed while pouring himself a drink. "Careful. That usually means someone's about to get promoted."

The table went quieter after that. Not obvious enough for normal people to notice but of course Wanda noticed. Those quick glances. The sudden shift in tone. The way they started mentally recalculating where she stood compared to them.

Competition

Funny how fast admiration turned into quiet resentment in corporate spaces.

By the time the gathering finally started dying down, it was already almost one in the morning and Wanda had mentally checked out at least an hour ago.

At some point the conversations all started sounding the same—fake laughs, fake compliments, fake interest. People talking just to hear themselves speak while subtly fishing for information they could use later. One coworker spent twenty minutes pretending to congratulate another guy for closing a deal while obviously trying to figure out how much commission he made from it.

It was exhausting.

Wanda gave a few polite goodbyes before she left. The cold night air hit her the second she stepped outside.

Finally—silence.

And the city was still awake like her. Not even a slight hint of sleepiness.

1:52 AM

She still had an hour before her usual drive around the city—one of the things she did whenever she couldn't sleep. But instead of driving aimlessly tonight, she found herself heading somewhere else.

By the time Wanda parked outside the coffee shop, it was already a little past three in the morning. The place was still open, warm lights glowing through the windows while the nearly empty streets stayed quiet around it. Wanda stepped inside, immediately catching the smell of brewing coffee.

A guy behind the counter looked up first.

"Uh, hi," Wanda said awkwardly, adjusting the suit jacket hanging over her arm. "Is Y/N here?"

The man immediately narrowed his eyes at her suspiciously. "Why?" he asked slowly. "Who are you?"

Wanda blinked at his tone.

"I'm her friend."

The guy stared at her for a long second.

"You? Her friend?" he repeated like the idea itself sounded ridiculous. The man looked at her up and down—long sleeves, slacks, expensive pointed boots, her suit hanging neatly over her arm, and her phone with three burner cameras flexing in her hand.

"Why?" Wanda asked defensively. "I can't be friends with her?"

Before the guy who turned out to be your manager could answer, another voice suddenly cut in.

"Wait—"

A woman near one of the tables was staring at her with immediate recognition while another guy beside her practically looked ready to combust from panic.

"You're Wanda, right?" the woman asked carefully.

Wanda pointed slightly. "And you're Kate? Do you know where Y/N is?"

Then somehow, Wanda found herself parking outside a public clinic at nearly four in the morning. And she had barely turned the engine off when she saw you.

You were inside the gate of the clinic carrying a baby in your arms.

Wanda froze immediately. Her brain short-circuited so hard she genuinely considered driving away before you noticed her.

Unfortunately, you already had.

Your eyes landed on her car instantly before your face lit up with disbelief. You will never forget that 2025 Mazda 3. A second later, you walked straight toward her car with the baby balanced carefully against your chest. Then you knocked dramatically on her window so hard like a street beggar asking for spare change before immediately laughing at yourself.

Wanda stared at you for half a second before finally getting out of the car.

"What are you doing here?" you asked, still laughing a little like you genuinely couldn't believe she existed outside expensive bars and corporate buildings.

Wanda opened her mouth to answer, but nothing came out. Instead, her eyes dropped toward the baby sleeping quietly in your arms.

"Is that your baby?"

You looked down at the sleeping child before immediately laughing.

"What? No."

You adjusted the blanket around the baby more securely before glancing toward the clinic behind you.

"Her mom is in the clinic. She's sick," Your expression softened slightly as you looked down at the baby again. "I just felt bad. She's been awake the whole time too, so I told her I'll take care of her while she naps."

Wanda just stared at you quietly for a second before slowly nodding once.

"What about you?" she asked after a moment. "Why are you here at three in the morning? Why is…why are there people in here at this hour?"

You immediately pointed toward the small scratch injected-like wound near your cheekbone.

"Oh, Manager scratched me. I was feeding them earlier. There were new cats." You sighed dramatically. "And I think Manager got jealous because I was giving the new ones more attention."

Her fingers reached your jaw gently which surprised you, she turns your head slightly so she could inspect the scratch properly.

"It might look small," she said quietly, her thumb brushing lightly near the mark, "but scratches and bites near the head and neck are dangerous. The virus reaches the brain faster from there." She finally let go and glanced toward the clinic entrance. "But…don't government clinics open at eight in the morning?"

You looked at her for a second before motioning with your head for her to follow you inside.

The moment Wanda stepped through the gate, her expression shifted.

The clinic was already crowded despite the hour. Plastic chairs lined the walls, nearly all occupied by exhausted people waiting silently under harsh fluorescent lights.

An old man sat slumped in a wheelchair near the wall, one foot heavily wrapped in gauze while his wife fanned him gently with a folder. A mother slept sitting upright with a baby against her chest while a little kid stretched across connected chairs beside her using folded jackets as blankets. Near the registration area, a construction worker with dried cement still on his clothes held an ice pack against his swollen wrist while staring blankly at the floor. A teenager coughed weakly into a towel beside his grandmother.

Nobody looked comfortable.

Nobody looked rested.

Just tired people waiting because they couldn't afford not to.

You adjusted the sleeping baby carefully before speaking again, your voice softer this time but Wanda could notice how tired you are.

"You have to come early if you want a chance to get checked fast," you explained casually. Then you smiled a little, though there was something quietly sad underneath it. "If you come at eight, you're already late." You glanced around the waiting area. "Some people stay here the whole day just waiting for their number to get called. And if the doctors run out of slots…" you shrugged lightly. "You just come back tomorrow and hope you still don't die before then."

Wanda stayed quiet while taking everything in. And somehow, underneath all that she's seeing, nobody was even complaining anymore. Like this was normal and suffering quietly had simply become part of the process.

She felt everything at once—pity, irritation, guilt she couldn't fully explain. Not because clinics like this shocked her—she knew places like this existed. Of course she did. She just never actually stood inside one long enough to feel it.

You were watching her carefully while she absorbed everything around her, almost like you were waiting to see what kind of person she'd become after seeing this side of the city.

Then after a moment, you looked away.

"What about you?" you asked quietly, adjusting the sleeping baby in your arms. "What are you even doing here?"

The redhead hesitated for a moment, then quietly said, "Uhm…I think I will become a partner now. Not just a partner, but a part owner of the company." She paused right after, almost like she regretted saying it here, in a place like this, at this hour. It felt a bit insensitive, like she was bringing up success while surrounded by people who are literally struggling.

You laughed lightly at that. "Why are you telling me this?" you asked. "Where's your girlfriend?"

"She's out of the country."

You clicked your tongue immediately. The sound was full of judgment. "Just admit it. You're not faithful."

That earned a small snort from her. But she didn't argue or defend herself. She didn't deny it either.

"Be like me."

That caught her attention.

"Oh?"

You nodded seriously. "I'm already faithful to her, even though we're only in the talking stage."

"You have a girlfriend?" her eyebrow slowly rose.

"Not yet, but hopefully."

There was something oddly dreamy about the way you said it, Wanda noticed. But for once, she didn't tease you about it. She just lets you keep that smile to yourself.

Then you tilted your head at her. "You really have no friends, do you?"

That made her look down for a moment, like she didn't know what to do with the question. Then her eyes met yours again, and there was something softer there—something almost embarrassed, almost exposed. This is a woman who had everything—money, power, looks. And yet, here she was, completely alone. It's kind of heartbreaking and pathetic.

"Okay," you said after a beat, exhaling. "We're friends now. But my rate will be higher—forty to fifty dollars per hour. And I will be strict on time too. If you go over three hours, there's an extra charge." You smirked at her slightly, watching her listen like she was actually considering it. "And no touching below the neck."

"Okay, deal." Her agreement came out fast—way faster than you expected.

You blinked at her. "Wait, what?"

She just nodded once like it was already settled. "Your terms are fine."

"You gotta be kidding me," you muttered under your breath, blinking at her. You were just joking, but this woman didn't even flinch. She said it so casually, like agreeing to your ridiculous pricing was just another line item in her day.

Wanda didn't hesitate for long.

"What about this?" she said suddenly. She glanced around the clinic before pointing toward a young kid in the corner who had been coughing nonstop for what felt like forever. "Give up your line here. Let the kid take it instead."

You followed her finger, then frowned slightly. The baby in your arms is still deeply asleep. You went straight here after work instead of going home to sleep, you were about to curse the shit out of her when she landed her offer.

"I'll pay for your vaccine at a private clinic. You'll get it faster, no need to wait here." She glanced at you briefly, unfazed. "And your paid three hours with me doesn't count," she added smoothly. "Let's just say this is your…HMO coverage."

You stared at her. "You're ridiculous."

"It makes sense," she said without looking up. "You get your vaccine—your HMO. You don't wait here until mister sun comes, and the kid gets your slot." She finally glanced at you again. "Everyone wins."

You bite your lip, glancing between her and the baby sleeping in your arms. You'd be stupid to decline that kind of offer.

"Fine," you said at last. "But I need to bring this baby back first."

Wanda tilted her head slightly, then said in a low, joking tone, "Don't. Let's keep her."

You shot Wanda a look, then walked back to the baby's mom without saying anything else. You made sure the baby was properly handed over, said a quick thanks, then headed straight out of the clinic.

Wanda was already waiting by her car when you came back.

You checked your phone before getting into the car. It was almost 5 AM, the sky started to lighten a bit but the city was still mostly asleep.

Wanda started driving and after a bit, you finally spoke. "How did you even know I was there?"

"I asked your coworker. Kate, right?" she said, eyes on the road.

You just hummed. "Hm."

Silence followed after that. A few minutes later, Wanda noticed you weren't endlessly talking—very surprising. She glanced over, she thought you were simply staring out the window or you just at one point, be silent. Her eyes lingered for a moment. You really had fallen asleep.

Your head rested awkwardly against the glass, arms loosely folded, breathing slow and even. Whatever energy had been keeping you upright earlier had clearly run out.

The next thing you knew, consciousness returned in fragments. Your eyes slowly opened. For several long seconds, your brain struggled to piece everything together through the lingering fog of sleep.

Where—

Oh yes, Wanda's car.

A groggy frown crossed your face as you pushed yourself upright, trying to gather your bearings. Your neck protested immediately, stiff from sleeping in an awkward position.

"Hey." Wanda's voice cut through your thoughts.

You turned toward her. The best response you could manage was a sleepy, half-conscious hum.

"Mmh."

Your arms stretched overhead instinctively. Every muscle in your body seemed determined to announce its existence all at once. Several joints cracked loudly as you twisted in your seat.

You rubbed your face. "How long am I asleep?"

"Almost two hours."

"What about you?"

"What about me?" she asked, though the answer seemed obvious.

"You really didn't sleep?"

"No." Wanda's fingers tapped lightly against the steering wheel. "I really can't."

You blinked.

You studied her for a moment. The exhaustion from earlier was impossible to ignore now. Not just today. Thinking back on everything she'd told you, it sounded like she carried that exhaustion around constantly. You shifted slightly in your seat.

"Do you see anyone?"

She raised an eyebrow. "Anyone?"

"A doctor. A psychiatrist. Therapist. Something."

For a moment you expected her to dodge the question or brush it off. Instead, Wanda surprised you.

"Yes."

"Really?" your eyebrows lifted.

She nodded. "I've seen psychiatrists before." The answer came easily without embarrassment or defensiveness.

"As part of treatment?"

"Partly. But right now I am just on meds."

You nodded slowly. That made sense. Honestly, it was reassuring. A lot of people ignored things until they became impossible to ignore. At least she wasn't doing that.

You looked at her for another moment.

"I have a goal now."

"A goal?" Wanda immediately looked suspicious.

"Yep."

She sighed as she started the engine of her car. "I don't like the sound of that."

You pointed at her dramatically. "My goal is to make you sleep."

Wanda stared then barked out a short laugh. "Well, that's terrifying."

"It shouldn't be."

"It absolutely should be." She shook her head. "You saying you have a plan to make me unconscious is not comforting."

"Sleep, Wanda." You correct while rolling your eyes.

"How exactly are you planning to accomplish it?" She gestured vaguely with one hand.

You sat back confidently. "I'll have my ways."

Wanda laughed. "That is somehow even more alarming."

You waved her off. Then a thought crossed your mind. "Actually."

Wanda immediately groaned at that. But you just ignored her.

"You know they say sex helps people sleep."

In Wanda's mind she had already crashed her car with what you just said.

You continued anyway. "It is science. It releases endorphins, oxytocin. Apparently people get sleepy afterward because it helps reduce stress and relaxes the body which makes people fall asleep faster."

Wanda slowly turned her head toward you.

Not fully because she's still driving but enough to give you a look. A look that clearly said, Where exactly are you going with this?

Meanwhile, you appeared completely unaware of the effect your statement had. Or maybe you just didn't care.

"So, you should have sex."

She glanced over at you again before looking back at the road. The thing that made it difficult not to laugh was how genuinely invested you seemed in the explanation. You weren't being flirtatious or trying to be suggestive. You were talking the same way someone might explain the benefits of drinking tea before bed—completely earnest.

She shook her head slowly, one hand resting on the steering wheel while the city lights slid across the windshield in long streaks of gold and white. Wanda bit the inside of her cheek despite her obvious attempts to remain composed.

Then, without warning, she leaned toward to face you. One eyebrow lifted. A mischievous glint appeared in her eyes.

"So, you wanna test that theory?"

Everything inside your brain immediately stopped working. You don't know if it was because her face was inches closer to yours or for what she just said. For one full second, you panicked. Your eyes widened before your finger flicked directly with the center of her forehead.

"Aw!"

Wanda immediately recoiled. One hand abandoned the steering wheel for half a second to clutch her forehead while she stared at you in disbelief.

"What the hell?!"

"Fuck you!" You pointed at her with genuine outrage. "No, seriously. Fuck you. You have a girlfriend and the first person your brain comes up to that idea is me? Pervert. You really aren't faithful!"

The accusation hung in the air for a few seconds before Wanda finally let out a laugh of pure disbelief. She wasn't offended, but she genuinely couldn't believe she was being scolded over what had been, in her mind, a harmless joke. Unfortunately for her, you were completely committed to this now. The more she laughed, the more serious you became. You sat straighter in your seat and folded your arms across your chest, looking every bit like a disappointed parent preparing to lecture a troublesome child.

"I was joking." Wanda groaned dramatically, still rubbing her forehead with exaggerated misery as though you'd inflicted a life-changing injury.

"You know," you said casually, "I actually have a better way to make you sleep."

"What is it now?" She groans.

"Punch. One good punch."

She barked out a laugh. "You can't be serious."

"Wanna test that theory?"

"Want me to crash this car?"

"Go. I would even say thank you."

The answer came so quickly that Wanda actually glanced over at you. You were completely serious. Or at least serious enough to make it concerning.

Your head rested against the seat, your expression carrying the exhausted look of someone who had already accepted too many responsibilities for one day. Between classes, work, and whatever sleep deprivation had convinced you to nap for two hours in a stranger's car, the threat apparently wasn't as effective as Wanda had hoped.

In fact, you looked mildly tempted.

"I'd finally get some rest," you added with a small shrug.

Wanda stared at you for a moment before letting out a disbelieving laugh.

"That is not a normal response."

You merely looked out the window.

"At least I wouldn't have to go to work."

The fact that you said it so casually somehow made it funnier and sadder at the same time.

The car pulled into the parking lot of a private animal bite and vaccination center. Five minutes later, you found yourself sitting inside a small consultation room while Wanda occupied the chair beside you. The room smelled faintly of disinfectant. A metal examination tray sat against one wall. Medical posters about animal bites, rabies prevention, and wound care decorated the room.

You were currently trying very hard not to look like someone who's out of place again because even as a clinic, this place looks luxurious.

The door opened and a doctor stepped inside carrying a clipboard. After exchanging brief greetings and questions towards you, the doctor took a seat across from you and adjusted their glasses.

"Since the scratch is on the face," they explained, "we'll need to administer ERIG around the area where you were scratched, okay?"

For a moment, you simply stared at the man. The words registered individually.

Face

Inject

Then your brain finally puts the sentence together.

He's going to inject your face.

Your eyes widened immediately. "Wait." You sat up straighter. Your heart rate seemed to double in less than three seconds. You shifted back in your chair instinctively, as though distance alone could somehow solve the problem.

"Do I need to call for an assistant nurse?"

The question was delivered with complete seriousness. You weren't causing trouble but he could very clearly see your panic.

You immediately shook your head, then nodded. You weren't even sure yourself.

Meanwhile, Wanda had been watching the entire breakdown unfold. At first there was amusement. She wanted to laugh at you but she knows you would really do that plan of yours to make her sleep with a punch. A small smirk tugged briefly at her lips before she pushed herself up from her seat.

"I got her, doc. Don't worry," she said as she stood beside you.

The moment the doctor prepared the syringe, every ounce of confidence you had been pretending to possess throughout the appointment vanished completely. One second you were sitting normally in the examination chair. The next, you were staring at the needle with the expression of someone who had just received the worst news of their life.

"Alright," he said. "Just stay still for me."

Stay still. As if that were a reasonable request.

Your survival instincts completely abandoned logic. Sitting in the examination chair, you immediately reached for the closest source of emotional support available. Unfortunately for Wanda, that source happened to be her. You immediately wrapped your arms around her, burying your face on her stomach. Before anyone could comment on it, you were fully hugging her while she stood beside your chair.

The doctor chuckled before gently positioning your head giving you a last warning.

"Okay. Hold still."

You immediately squeezed your eyes shut. Then you felt the first injection. Instantly, every muscle in your body locks. Your grip around Wanda tightened and she started caressing your head which surprisingly helped you.

The sensation wasn't unbearable. It wasn't even particularly painful. But the knowledge that a needle was involved somehow made everything ten times worse!

"Okay, it's done."

Only then did you cautiously lift your head. Your expression looked as though you'd just survived a major surgical procedure rather than a few injections around a scratch.

"Thank, God." You sighed.

The doctor shook his head with an amused smile while finishing his notes. "You know," he said casually, "you're terrified of a small needle." Then he added, in a tone that suggested he was entertaining himself more than anyone else, "But you're not afraid of the big needle."

Wanda immediately turned away and a laugh escaped her. She was trying very hard to suppress it.

Meanwhile, you simply stared at the doctor.

"What big needle?"

The doctor only smiled and Wanda was now covering her mouth. Neither of them answered. Which somehow made the situation even more confusing.

"What?" You looked between them.

The doctor simply wished you well and continued writing prescriptions. While Wanda refused to make eye contact with you. The entire exchange made absolutely no sense.

Several minutes later, the two of you were outside. The evening air felt nice after being stuck inside the clinic. You walked beside Wanda toward the parking lot while she still looked suspiciously amused about something.

Eventually, your curiosity won.

"What was that about?"

"Hm?" Wanda glanced back.

"What did he mean by big injection?" You frowned.

The moment the question left your mouth, Wanda stopped walking. For a second she simply stared at you and she freaking laughed again. Not a polite laugh. Not a small laugh. A full laugh that irritated you.

You waited—completely serious. "What?"

Wanda looked at you, still laughing. "You seriously don't know?"

"No."

Another laugh. Then she finally shook her head.

"A cock."

You blinked. "What?"

"A penis."

Your brain took a moment to catch up. Your face immediately twisted in disbelief.

The realization hit you all at once.

For several seconds, you simply stood there in the parking lot staring at Wanda as your brain replayed the conversation inside the clinic from beginning to end. The fact that you had stood there asking, "What big injection?" with complete sincerity while apparently being the only person in the room who didn't understand the joke.

"Is that even ethical?!"

The outrage in your voice only made Wanda laugh harder.

"No, seriously!" you continued, genuinely horrified now that everything finally made sense. "He said that to a patient."

At this point Wanda wasn't even pretending to hold herself together anymore. The image of your confused expression inside the clinic combined with your current outrage was simply too much.

Meanwhile, the more you thought about it, the more offended you became.

The look Wanda gave you suggested she couldn't decide whether you were being dramatic on purpose or whether this was simply how your brain naturally functioned.

"You're ridiculous."

"No. He is." You pointed toward the building again. "That man has a medical license."

"I know."

"He should know better."

"I think he was joking."

"That's what concerns me."

Wanda laughed so hard she actually had to lean against the side of her car for support. Eventually she managed to compose herself enough to unlock the car.

"Okay."

You looked over suspiciously. "Okay what?"

Wanda opened the driver's side door before glancing back at you. "Now, now." She made a small calming gesture with one hand. "Let's calm down."

You immediately frowned. "I am calm."

"Sure, darling." Wanda shook her head, smiling despite herself. "Get in the car."

You continued staring at her. "I still think that was unprofessional."

"Get in."

"I want that on record."

"Get in."

The smile never left her face. With one final grumble, you finally climbed into the passenger seat.

Wanda had parked the car again in a quiet area overlooking a stretch of city streets. You sat sideways in your seat, one arm resting against the door while Wanda stared through the windshield, absentmindedly tapping her fingers against the steering wheel.

A few moments later, she reached into her purse and pulled out a small stack of bills.

"We've been together for almost four hours. Fifty times four..." Wanda calculated. "Two hundred."

She held the money out.

You shook your head and laughed, but took the money anyway because refusing it felt pointless at this stage. The second it touched your hand, however, you peeled off some bucks and handed it back.

Wanda looked down. Forty dollars. Then back at you.

"What are you doing?"

"I was joking when I said my rates went up." You pushed the bills toward her.

"So the original package remains unchanged."

"Yeah."

Wanda shrugged and accepted the money back. "You have plans after this?" She glanced over.

"Yeah." You stretched slightly before answering. "Classes later and then I have a night shift at work.

That earned a small look from her.

"Again?"

"Unfortunately."

"You don't stop, do you?"

A laugh escaped you. Not a particularly cheerful one. A laugh someone develops after repeating the same routine so many times that it stops feeling unusual.

"In this economy?" you said, shaking your head. "I can't."

You leaned back further into the seat, one hand absentmindedly rubbing your jaw.

"I have a lot of children to feed, you know."

Wanda raised an eyebrow.

"The children of politicians."

That made her snort. But you weren't finished.

"Every time I work, every time I pay taxes, every time I buy something, every time I pay a fee for a document, a permit, a license, a registration, somewhere out there a politician's third child gets another thousand dollar Gucci bag."

Wanda laughed.

You pointed accusingly at the windshield as though the system of corruption itself was standing outside.

"I'm basically sponsoring private school tuition at this point." Your expression remained serious for exactly one second before cracking into a grin. "I don't even know their names and somehow I'm helping fund their future."

The amusement in your voice couldn't quite hide the truth underneath. Because as ridiculous as the joke was, it came from a very real frustration. The frustration of watching prices rise faster than wages. Of seeing people work harder and harder while somehow falling behind anyway. And hearing corruption scandals so often that they barely felt surprising anymore.

You started counting on your fingers.

"Food wants money."

Another finger.

"Transportation wants money."

Another.

"School wants money."

Another.

"Corruption wants money."

Another.

"Corruption isn't a bill." Wanda counters.

"It feels like one." You looked at her with complete sincerity, the joke still present in your voice but softer now. Less playful. More tired. "I never subscribed to it, but somehow the charges keep showing up. The second people elected those politicians, I started paying the price too."

For a few seconds, Wanda expected herself to laugh. The setup sounded like another joke but the laugh never came.

For the first time since you'd started joking, she didn't have a comeback.

Because you were right. About the rampant corruption. About how expensive it had become just to exist. About how hard people worked only to find themselves running in place or how some people had no choice but to keep moving because stopping simply wasn't an option.

The uncomfortable truth was that Wanda wouldn't really know what that felt like. She had worked hard in her life. Nobody could take that away from her. She had spent years building her career, surviving impossible hours, competing against people who wanted the same opportunities she did.

But even then—there had always been a safety net. A family with money, connections, resources.

The knowledge that if everything somehow collapsed tomorrow, she wouldn't end up wondering how to pay rent next month. She wouldn't have to choose between groceries and transportation. Or worry about having to work a night shift after classes just to stay afloat.

And because of that, she found herself unusually quiet.

You, meanwhile, seemed completely unaware of the effect your words had. You were still looking out the window, smiling faintly as though you'd just told a series of dumb jokes and nothing more.

The fact that you could still laugh about it somehow made it worse.

For a few moments, the car remained quiet. The money still sat in your hand, you looked down at it for a second before letting out a small breath.

"Thank you." You lifted the money slightly. "For this." The words came quietly. "It's a huge help." You leaned back against the seat and looked down at the bills again, absently straightening the edges with your thumb.

Wanda noticed how you sounded really tired.

"You're welcome." The words came softer than usual. "Thank you too for being my friend..."

You opened your mouth to say you're welcome but Wanda continued.

"...friends with benefits."

"Oh, fuck you." Your curse came automatically then a laugh followed immediately afterward.

The conversation had somehow drifted into comfortable silence again. Eventually, Wanda glanced toward you as you reached for the door handle.

"Wait."

You paused. "What?"

She pulled her phone out from her pocket. "Give me your number."

"Oh." You blinked then immediately grinned.

"Don't make it weird." Wanda rolled her eyes at the expression.

"I'm not making it weird."

"You are already making it weird."

You laughed but rattled off your number anyway.

A few seconds later she finished entering the last digit then she looked up. "What name should I put?"

The question should have had a normal answer. A reasonable answer. Your actual name, for example.

Instead, you immediately pointed at yourself.

"FWB"

Wanda stared. The silence lasted exactly two seconds before she barked out a laugh. The sound escaped before she could stop it.

"And that stands for what?" She giggles.

"Fabulously Wicked Baddie." You winked before reaching for the door handle.

A thoughtful hum escaped her.

"I think..." she began, a smirk slowly appearing on her face, "it's Frustratingly Wonderful Brat."

"Wrong, Frustratingly Wonderful Being." You shrugged. Your hand remained on the car door. "Just put whatever you want me to be." The air outside immediately greeted you as you stepped out of the car. "I'll head now. Thanks again."

And as you began walking away, you lifted the money one last time in a farewell wave before disappearing.

Wanda remained sitting behind the wheel for a few moments longer. Her attention remained fixed on her phone. Specifically, on the blank contact name waiting to be filled in.

She just ended up just typing your name.

But as she saved the contact and set her phone aside, she couldn't help hearing your voice one last time.

"Just put whatever you want me to be."

For some reason, that felt less like a joke and more like the beginning of a problem.