missmonsters2's fic library

And it was like the ground crumbled underneath you. It was such a sickening realization—not that Wanda was in any way sickening—it was the fact that you might just be subconsciously a pervert. 

The more you thought about the words, the more horrifying it became. Every one-night stand, every situationship, every girlfriend—god, they all looked like Wanda. 

You're too scared to think about it deeper in fear of what it would reveal subconsciously every time you kissed or fucked a girl. Were you thinking of Wanda? God, you just couldn't think about it.

This was all Bucky's fault. You wished you had never gone out onto that balcony that night. 

3 months prior to that night at the bar with Wanda & Steve

The cool air felt better, and the breeze settled on the back of your neck. There was definitely too much wine going around, and you only managed to escape as Tony brought out the hard liquor. 

The crowd dispersed after several shots you didn't partake in. You stared into the distance, thinking idly how Tony had way too much money. Old money was ridiculous. Why does someone need a garden fountain as big as a pool?

Movement caught the corner of your eye, and you saw Wanda and Vision walking through the dimly lit garden. You smiled fondly at your best friend as she laughed at whatever charming thing Vision had managed to say. 

Vision was...just okay, in your opinion. You thought he was too nonchalant about Wanda, and that was why they were so on and off rather than consistently being together. Wanda deserved someone who loved her fiercely, and you couldn't imagine Vision always putting Wanda first. 

You watched with slight melancholy when Wanda linked her arms through his as they sat on the ledge of the garden fountain. You wished you had also brought someone along for this party. 

"Hey, thought I saw you sneak out here."

You turned around and saw Bucky holding a glass of beer. You smirked at him with mirth. "You know what I must do when Tony starts bringing out the grey goose."

Bucky shuddered, clearly having been roped into a few shots. He came and stood next to you, catching the scene you were staring at. "Guess they're back on then?"

You shrugged. "Guess so. We'll see how long it lasts. I'm betting 3 months."

"Be realistic. It'll be 2 and a half months," Bucky snorted. 

"Ye of little faith," you teased and then sighed. "I wish I also brought someone along. I should've brought that girl I met at my photoshoot."

"The brunette with green eyes?" Bucky asked, and you nod. "You know what I've noticed?"

"Hm?" you hummed in response to Bucky's casual tone. 

"You seem to have a very specific type when it comes to dating," Bucky mused. "They're always brunette—save those two girls from university—and they always have green eyes." 

You furrow your brows in serious thought. "I suppose so."

"Yeah," Bucky nodded, his tone still casual. "They always remind me of Wanda, especially from the back. I always have to make sure I'm careful not to mix up your date with Wanda." 

Bucky ended it with a chuckle, stating he was getting cold before he left without another world, leaving you alone outside.

The connect dots snapped into place almost instantly, horrifying you as you continued to stare at Wanda from above. 

Oh, fuck. 

Maybe it was a good thing you didn't bring anyone tonight. You're not sure how you'd be able to take someone home into your bed with the daunting realization you go after girls who look like your best friend...because you actually want your best friend. 

The three months since that discovery had nearly driven you to insanity. Since you refused to talk to anyone about it, most of your thought process was, " Oh no, oh no, oh no, oh no."

But in the end, you resolved that it couldn't happen. Wanda would never reciprocate your feelings in a million years, especially since she had Vision. Wanda occasionally even talked about the possibility of marrying him down the road. 

It wasn't happening. It was never going to happen. 

Wanda was more important to you than anyone in the whole entire world. You would never allow anything to risk the friendship—even your feelings. 

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

You felt like a sick sexual deviant. 

Despite your resolve to bury your feelings and continue on as normal, it was getting increasingly weird to continue to see girls who looked like Wanda. Yet, you couldn't stop. It wasn't doing it for you otherwise. 

But now, every time you kissed a girl, all you could see was Wanda in her. Sex was beginning to become a guilty pleasure for all the wrong reasons. 

When you met Raye, it felt like another sinful thing to lust after, knowing how much she physically reminded you of Wanda. But you could see a big personality difference in the short time you spent chatting with Raye. 

Wanda was the type you spoiled, indulging in her strange, wacky ideas. She could be very emotional, swinging from one side of the spectrum to another. She had such a big heart, willing to love, but also held grudges and was wicked if crossed. Wanda was a brat in all the loving ways you could mean. 

Raye could be best described as emotionally consistent. On the surface, she portrayed a wicked sense of humor and was fun to be around, but she was much more guarded than Wanda. She was very independent, not liking anything that might even intrude on her freedom. Raye kept her true feelings close to herself and seemed to be teasing you to come find out. 

It was different. You didn't mind, maybe liking it even (purely in the sense it was the opposite of Wanda, and you couldn't afford to keep lusting after your best friend in all possible ways).

Even so, your mind was distracted on the first date.

"Have you ever done a boudoir photoshoot?" Raye asks, her tone low and seductive.

"Can't say that I have," you smile, trying to remind yourself to be present during the date. It's been long since you've properly wined and dined someone, and Wanda kept entering your thoughts. 

"Well, there's a first for everything and you might even have a willing model," Raye bit her bottom lip suggestively, her index finger stroking the back of your hand. 

And while the southern twang does stir something in you, and you feel your stomach tingling, you're very aware that it's because Raye physically reminds you of Wanda. So, your mind traitorously imagines Wanda biting her lip and saying seductive things to you. 

"THEY WOULD NEVER—"

You whip your head around, swearing you heard Wanda. When there was no sign of her, you furrowed your brows in confusion, turning back to Raye.

Was this a sign of insanity?

You resolve right then and there to focus on the lovely brunette before you and enjoy the date. It was easy enough if you relaxed and earnestly asked Raye questions about herself. 

It was easy enough to hold Raye's hand and swing it back and forth if you just thought about how warm they were. 

It was enough to giggle when Raye leaned in closer to whisper something silly or naughty in your ear if you just thought about how her breath felt on the shell of your ear.

Suddenly, the car next to you went off, the alarm beeping loudly enough to make you and Raye jump in surprise. You turned around and noticed the couple behind you were gone. You thought they looked slightly familiar, but it was too difficult to determine when they were so far away in the dark under passing streetlights. 

Ultimately, you walk Raye up her steps, unsure what you want your next move to be. Everything feels strange since the revelation. You feel guilty for your lust, but specifically what causes it. 

But when Raye pulled you in for a hot, searing kiss, you decided to just go with the flow...which also ended up being nothing as she got a call from her sister while clothes were discarded. 

The call was only bordering on 40 seconds, but you decided your momentum was lost, and you needed that momentum to have sex with someone else while you tried (unsuccessfully) to not think about Wanda. 

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

Fuck. Darcy.

Those were the only words that could come to your mind after Wanda texted her vague answer about whether or not she was returning home tonight. 

You sighed as you scrolled through the videos and photos, trying to get a headstart on putting together the video for Tony and Pepper. As you began opening up files, many were corrupted by the inability to open or glitchy images. 

With another sigh, your chair scraped against the floor as you shifted back, pulling out your phone and shooting a quick text to the videographer asking if you could meet up tomorrow to get the SD card for the originals. You got a prompt reply with a thumbs-up emoji with a time and place. 

You thought you might've just heard something shuffle in your room, but you forget about it when it's quiet again.

In the end, you spent another 45 minutes scrolling through some other photos that weren't corrupted, catching Wanda in the background and staring with a lingering thought about how absolutely pretty she was.

A part of you was in disbelief that Wanda was interested in women. You had so many questions that still lingered, but you didn't want to push Wanda or make it seem like you were interrogating her, and she needed to prove it.  

Still, you wondered what exactly made Wanda come to terms with the fact that she liked women.

Specifically, why couldn't you be the reason she was interested in women? You shoved those forbidden feelings down, beating them back into its box to put away. 

It didn't matter. 

It shouldn't matter.

You're with Raye, and Wanda may be with Darcy. Or some other girl, or maybe even with a guy again.

It's just not going to be you. 

And that's okay, you tell yourself. You can love someone without having to pursue anything. You just want to be there for Wanda. 

Of course, all of this changed the moment you watched a slanted confession video from an unaware Wanda while your roommate was out for lunch with a client.

Shock is the only thing that registers upon the video finishing. Were you hallucinating again? Was this like the first date with Raye where you kept thinking you could hear or see glimpses of Wanda?

But you played the video over and over, blinking every time it was finished.

Then a burst of strange laughter bubbled from your mouth, and then horror dawned on you that, 'oh, fuck. She actually feels the same way.'

It was unclear whether or not Wanda was trying to let her feelings be known or if she was also facing the same issue as you, where she was suppressing them. Either way, Wanda would unlikely be brave enough to say anything soon. 

You spent the week humming and hawing about what pursuing a relationship with your best friend would mean. What would the consequences be if things didn't work out? What would the consequences be if you declined to pursue anything more despite if Wanda confessed? What would the consequences be to watch Wanda move on and love someone else?

Your stomach dropped. 

You needed to break up with Raye. 

Your stomach dropped. 

You wait 3 more days before confronting Wanda since she's clearly a chicken.

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

"You knew you had feelings for me for at least 3 months?" Wanda screeches. "And you said nothing?!"

"Okay, relax, you banshee," you wince at the sound. "How is that the only thing you hung onto out of everything I just told you?"

"But...but!" Wanda narrows her eyes on you. "It was getting serious with Raye!"

"Serious?" you raise your brow at Wanda. "What gave you the idea it was getting serious? We were dating but I saw her maybe a few days out of a month with how much she flies out for work."

"So, it wasn't getting serious at all?" Wanda frowns.

"Well," you purse your lips. "Maybe for Raye. She was considering transferring to another department so she wouldn't have to fly out anymore."

Wanda's mouth hangs open, her face pale with the worst thoughts of what might've been if they never confessed their feelings.

"Which," you cut in like you're able to read her mind, "obviously, I told her to not do as I wanted to end things with her."

"How did she take it?" Wanda asks curiously.

You look uncomfortable as you shift in bed, but Wanda waits patiently. "I think she just emotionally shut down. There were no tears, no screaming, or any accusations about why I was ending things. She just looked impassive as she accepted it and asked me to leave."

"Oh," Wanda bit her bottom lip. She feels bad in a way, but not bad enough to regret making you hers. "I'm sorry, bug."

You sigh as you reach over and pull Wanda close, pressing a kiss to her bare shoulder. The blanket shifts down, exposing Wanda's neck and collarbone where you had unabashedly marked up.

"Now, are you done with the questions, or can we resume where we left off?" You ask mischievously, pressing languid kisses against the side of her neck. 

Wanda closes her eyes with a soft hum, pressing her body closer to yours until you shift and move over Wanda. 

"I notice that you didn't mention anything about Darcy."

"Mention what exactly?" You say between kisses, stroking Wanda's hip. "That I was insanely jealous and wished her ill? Although, now that I know it was a fake date and neither of you had interest in each other, she seems nice."

Wanda laughs. "Even after she hacked your laptop?"

"With your help, might I remind you," you pull up and pointedly look at her. "But if she never corrupted those wedding files, I would've never got the original SD card and found out about your feelings."

"Very true," Wanda muses as she throws her head around your neck and pulls you close. She pecks your lips charmingly. "We should get her a nice bottle of wine."

"What about Steve and Bucky."

Wanda scoffs. "They're meddling little school girls who are probably kicking their feet and giggling."

You can't help but laugh before you dive in for another kiss, eager but slow. Oh, man. You were going to love Wanda for the rest of your life.

After a moment, Wanda sighs. "Okay, fine. We can give our McDonald's coupons to Steve and Bucky."

You laugh again. "Alright, brat."

"Okay, stinky."

"Chicken."

"Stupid."

"Witch."

"Here we go again with that," Wanda rolls her eyes with a smile. "I'll have you know that if I were a witch, I'd be the most powerful and best witch ever."

"I bet you would," you agree very readily. "Instead of cursing people to death, you'd be saving their lives...or causing mass chaos. Huh, I guess that's not so different from now." 

Wanda scoffs indignantly before she starts tickling you. You laugh, trying to jerk away, but Wanda is persistent in keeping you in place. 

"Mercy!" You laugh as you roll to the side. 

"Take that back! I do not cause chaos!"

"I take it back! You're clearly an A-List superhero!"

Wanda continues to tickle you anyway. "Say you love me!"

"I love you!"

Only then does Wanda stop, grinning wickedly as she presses a chaste kiss to your lips, and you're breathing heavily.

You want to call her a menace, but you're afraid that will only result in another tickle fight. 

Wanda smiles warmly.

"I love you, too."

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

"See, I told you Wanda would be the one to confess!" Steve smirks.

"That's because you're a little cheater who went and nudged Wanda along," Bucky rolls his eyes with a smile.

"Oh, yeah, like you're the perfect picture of fair," Steve narrows his eyes. "Don't think I don't know that you went to Bug first. I had to step in and nudge Wanda to make the odds even."

"Was it really Wanda who confessed when it was Bug who technically discovered her secret."

Steve seems to think about it before he slumps into the sofa, "I feel like that's a gray area." Then, Steve frowns. "Ugh, but then that means neither of us wins the bet."

"We can just call it even," Bucky shrugs, laying his head on Steve's shoulder.

"Oh, no," Steve shakes his head. "I won't let you wriggle out of our bet. We will watch all the Lord of the Rings movies if you lose."

Bucky groans loudly. "But there's so many and they're so long."

"You really think I want to watch the Star Wars movies?" Steve rolls his eyes.

"They're a classic!" Bucky argues.

"So is Lord of the Rings."

Bucky huffs but concedes. "Fine," he wrinkles his nose. "Should we bet on something else?"

"No, I like the thrill of two people getting together, even if it takes time. Besides, we have the time since we have to finish a whole bunch of shows," Steve says.

"Hm, which ones of our friends are due to get together?" Bucky muses.

"We could try Nat and Maria," Steve suggests.

"No, too hard since Maria doesn't live here," Bucky shakes his head and then offers, "Yelena and Kate?"

"I think they're actually already together," Steve furrows his brows. "But if they're not, I'm too scared of Yelena to get involved in her affairs."

"I think that's all our friends who are technically single with a viable date option," Bucky sighs.

Silence falls between them before Steve suggests, "Want to bet when Tony and Pepper will announce they're pregnant?"

They stare at each other for a moment before they yell out their guess at the same time. 

"6 months!"

"6 months!"

She pulls out the chair and sits down before she opens it up. The first thing that greets her is the password page. Wanda pulls out the USB that Darcy gave her and plugs it in. All she can do now is wait since Darcy said she'd text Wanda once she made it home. 

The next 15 minutes feel like a bottomless pit of hell. Wanda checks her watch every couple of minutes, tapping her foot impatiently. 

"Come on, come on, come on," Wanda huffs quietly. She's extremely paranoid about what you might be doing. It's unlikely you'd be returning home tonight, and even if you were, it'd be a couple of hours from now.

Yet, the unhinged part of Wanda wants to pull out her phone and text you, "Hey, what's up? You're still busy sexing up Raye, right? Definitely not ideal, but you're not checking your emails or on your way home, right?

Wanda wishes she made Natasha go stakeout Raye's house to alert her when you were leaving the place. Before she can think more insane thoughts, her phone vibrates in her hand, and Wanda checks it with speed. It was from Darcy confirming she'd made it home and it'd be any minute now. 

Wanda looks up at your laptop screen, pushing her finger against the mousepad to ensure the screen doesn't time out. The USB must give Darcy some kind of access because, true to her word, something does start happening. 

Wanda watches the screen with mild interest as a separate window pops up. The background is black, but it's clearly some kind of coding as random words begin running. It takes a few minutes, but then asterisks fill your password box. It only takes 3 times before the right password is entered and Wanda's gained access.

"Yes!" She celebrates before she sends Darcy a quick text. 

Wanda pulls up your email and finds the latest one sent to you is a link to a Google Drive. There are many videos and some photos, but Wanda recognizes herself in one of the thumbnails and clicks on it.

"I don't see what's so great about Raye—"

Wanda immediately stops playing it, unable to bear the embarrassment of hearing herself. She quickly deletes the clip, also going to the trash bin to make sure it's permanently deleted. Wanda checks everything several times to ensure there are no other clips and any trace of her confession is gone. 

Mission completed. 

Relief floods her system, knowing that the clip has been deleted. 

Wanda closed everything she opened, making sure she changed the status of the email to unread. Once everything is as it was, Wanda closes your laptop and unplugs the USB.  

Stuffing the USB into her pocket, she's about to send another text to Darcy when Wanda hears the front door open, and you call out her name. You must've seen her shoes at the door, but Wanda still doesn't answer. She hears you walking back down the hallway toward your room and panics. 

Oh, god, she couldn't walk back out that door without bumping into you, and she couldn't jump out the window either with them living on the 10th floor. 

Oh, fuck, what does she do? Wanda's panicking as she shakes her hands in hysteria and looks around frantically. 

Shit, shit, shit, shit!

Wanda carefully makes her way to your closet, but it's filled wall to wall with your clothes, and the floor is filled with your shoes and other boxes. There was no room to hide in there.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!

Wanda's walking around your room and has no idea where to hide. She looks at your bed and internally groans. Dropping to her knees, she scoots herself until she's fully underneath, flat on her stomach, but her head is kept off the floor. She quickly opens her phone and turns it from vibration mode to silence—Wanda refuses to be caught. She would rather die than even try and explain all of this.

The door opens, and Wanda only gets a few of your slippers as you make your way back to your desk. She hears a soft clank on the desk, and Wanda can only assume it's the mug of tea you have every night. 

Wanda hears you sigh quietly as you seem to settle in for the night. This is not good. This is fucking terrible. 

Wanda can't tell how long she's been stuck under your bed. She's too worried about moving and accidentally making a noise. All she hears is the soft music playing and your mouse and keyboard clicking. 

Suddenly, her phone lights up with a notification. It's a text from you.

Wanda bites her lip, trying to decide if she should answer. Ultimately, she decides she should because it's possible you might try to call her if she doesn't, and she definitely can't answer it if you do. Wanda would also feel bad about not answering you if you're worried. 

But, god fucking dammit, she's going to have to lie. Again. 

Wanda hears a breathy chuckle from you and tries not to smile. 

Fuck. 

Wanda doesn't know if she should say yes or no. If she says yes, will you wait until she gets home? Wanda can only dread how long she might be stuck under your bed.

The chair you're sitting scrapes against the floor a little. A reply doesn't come for a few minutes, and Wanda wishes she could see what you were doing. 

Wanda stares at the text, trying to see if she can decipher your tone from just the words alone. It's something you've told her countless times when she told you she'd be staying at Vision's place. Yet, somehow, this feels different. 

You stop replying to her after that. It's both a relief that Wanda could stop digging herself into another hole and a torture she's left without much to do again. 

Wanda checks some of her other texts and replies to them, but her battery life is getting exceedingly low, and she doesn't want it to die on her accidentally if you do decide to text her again. 

The last time she opened the phone to check the time, an hour and a half had passed. There's almost a desperation to give herself up and come clean to relinquish herself from the sheer boredom, but Wanda holds strong since she reasons she'd already made it this far. 

"Hmm," Wanda hears you let out a deep hum. The mouse clicks a few times, and Wanda wishes she could see what you were staring at. 

Definitely not her confession video; that much comforts Wanda. 

God, she's bored. She's so bored that the fear has long left her body. 

It's a miracle when Wanda hears you get up and stretch, a few cricks released from your back. You leave the room, and Wanda hears the bathroom door shut. 

Wanda scrambles to get out from under the bed, nearly hitting her head 5 times. She quickly tiptoes out of your room, heading for the front door and opening it. Just as you're coming out of the bathroom, Wanda shuts the door as if she's just gotten in. 

"Wanda, is that you?" You call from the hallway.

"Yep! You're still up?" Wanda calls back, laughing nervously to herself about how stupid this all was, but relief she was clearly getting away with it. 

"Yeah, just thought I'd get a start on the editing stuff for Tony," you say as Wanda walks towards you. 

"Oh, cool," Wanda doesn't inquire further but says, "I thought you were staying at Raye's tonight?"

"Oh, uh," you seem surprised that Wanda asks. "I was having a hard time falling asleep on her bed. The mattress is too soft and gives me the worst cricks."

"Oh," Wanda nods, knowing that your mattress is memory foam but on the firmer side. 

"What about you?" You ask back. "Didn't go home with Darcy?"

"Uh, no," Wanda fumbles slightly. "Uh, it was good, but I, uh, was getting a slight stomachache from the McDonald's so I decided to go home."

You frown. "Do you want some tea? Maybe some Tums?"

"Maybe some ginger and honey tea?"

You nod. "Alright, I'll get some ready for you. Why don't you go take your makeup off and whatnot? We could watch some TV before we sleep."

"Oo," Wanda grins. "I think I saw some things come out on Disney+, let's see what they have!"

The rollercoaster of the night comes to a satisfying end for Wanda. 

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

The next three weeks are odd for Wanda. During the first and second weeks, she was so busy with her clients and a whole PR mess that she barely had time to see you. 

She spends more time collaborating with her team about how they will dig one of their clients out of the mess they'd made or if they should just drop the client. She's barely been able to think about her feelings for you and what to do about it. 

By the time the third week arrives, everything at work finally slows down, and she has time to herself like a regular person again. Wanda reflects back on her position and the entire video-deleting debacle. 

With the fear and adrenaline long gone, Wanda can't actually tell if she's disappointed that you haven't discovered her feelings. Would things have just been easier if you had watched the video?

At the very least, it might be better in the sense Wanda wouldn't be stuck in the same place. 

Wanda's sitting on the couch, lazily trying to focus on her book but can't with her mind continuously drifting. You haven't been home as of late—Wanda only realized you've been out a lot for a week and a half now. 

Sighing, Wanda closes her book. She was getting bored again. You wouldn't be home until later, and she already spent an hour on the phone with Natasha earlier. 

Just as Wanda was about to text you to ask if there was any possibility you'd be home earlier, the front doorknob jiggled, signaling someone was putting in their key.

Wanda smiles, hoping she'll see you walk through the door, but smiles even wider when she sees who walks through it. 

Getting up from the couch, Wanda runs and jumps, latching onto the person. 

"Oof," the voice was gruff.

"Bucky!" Wanda yells excitedly as Bucky catches her, wrapping his arm around her to ensure she doesn't fall, even though her legs are around him. 

"Hi, nutball," Bucky says, but his mouth is muffled by Wanda's shoulder and some of her hair. 

Wanda slowly slides back down onto the floor, taking a good look at Bucky. Of all the people she adores besides you, Bucky is at the top of her list, along with Natasha, which is why they both have key fobs to the apartment. 

Bucky kind of reminds her of Pietro in certain ways, if Pietro would ever grow up and get a little serious. Bucky seems to know that and has cared for Wanda in Pietro's stead now that the guy has left for Europe since they turned 18. 

"When did you get back?" Wanda asks. "Why didn't you call? I would've arranged to pick you up from the airport."

"It's fine. Steve picked me up from the airport and we relaxed a little bit before he had to leave to the station to do some kind of sketch for a case," Bucky says as he takes off his shoes.

They wander back into the living room space and take a seat. Bucky had brought her some coffee and pastries that Wanda delighted over.

"So," Wanda says after a sip of her coffee. "How was California?"

"Hot," Bucky smiles. 

"You said you were going to train an upcoming actor in a movie, right?"

Bucky nods, sipping his own coffee. "Yeah, some new superhero movie. Pretty young; I think he just turned 18. Definitely now super ripped for an 18 year old," Bucky laughs.

"Does he need a PR agent?" Wanda grins. 

Bucky rolls his eyes with mirth. "Probably not since he has his manager handling everything, but I did pass your card along."

"You're good people."

Bucky snorts, and they spend another half hour catching up before he finally comes to the topic he's been waiting to discuss. "You know, Steve brought up something interesting."

"Oh, yeah?" Wanda raises her brow.

"Steve was bringing up how Bug seems to be seeing someone," Bucky says slowly. "And she looks a lot like you...like everyone else Bug has dated."

Wanda lets out a huge groan. "Steve should eat rocks and jump into the ocean."

Bucky laughs, leaning back onto the couch, and smiles. "So? What do you think?" 

"About what?"

Bucky gives her a side-eye, and she groans quietly this time.

"Fine," she grumbles. "It was strange to realize, but like, a good strange. I don't know. I want...I want her to look at me."

Wanda's blushing at the admittance to Bucky. It makes her feel shy, but also good that someone else close to her knows and will be on her side. 

"Have you confessed?"

"Not exactly."

"Ah, so you haven't done shit except probably rope people into your weird schemes that turn out poorly."

Wanda's jaw drops. "I have not—okay, well, I mean, I wouldn't say they turned out poorly." She would never tell Bucky about the videotaping incident. She was taking that to her grave. 

Bucky eyes Wanda, taking in the small expressions on her face and the muted longing in her eyes as she picks at her nails. "You're so much like me, sometimes I'm convinced that you're actually my little sister," Bucky grins, and Wanda mirrors him. "Don't tell Pietro that, though. He's gets so jealous."

Wanda just gives him an, 'obviously,' look.

"When I started realizing my feelings for Steve, I didn't say anything for a long, long time, and I've known I've liked Steve since we were boys making mudpies," Bucky leans his head back against the couch, the coffee resting between his hands on his stomach. "I kept thinking about what if Steve didn't feel the same? And then there was the whole Peggy situation, and I didn't want to break that up."

"You're better than me," Wanda sighs. "I would break them up in a heartbeat if I knew how she felt about me."

Bucky can't hold his laugh in for that but continues on. "I think a lot of those fears I had paralyzed me. I kept thinking I'd have more time and there was a right moment, or if I did certain things, Steve would feel the same. I just had to wait it out."

"So, what happened?"

Bucky gave her a wan smile. "Steve and Peggy, even though they'd be on and off, were getting more serious. One night, Steve told me he was thinking about proposing."

"What?" Wanda's jaw drops. She's never heard of this. "But obviously he didn't because you guys are together now."

"Yeah," Bucky laughs, "because I totally freaked out. I started saying he couldn't and then kissed him, and then started crying. It was a mess."

"Oh, god," Wanda rests her hand against her mouth. She could totally see herself doing that to you if you said the same thing. Now, she's starting to freak out if you're getting serious with Raye. 

"I think you know what I'm getting at," Bucky says, turning his head to look over at Wanda, and she feels vaguely uncomfortable. "You need to say something—now. There's no perfect timing. There's nothing extra you can do to magically know, and you're not gonna always have more time."

Wanda lets her head fall back against the couch, closing her eyes. They start to sting with tears, and she feels that same fear creep into her belly. Yet, Bucky's words resonate with her, and she suppresses that fear until it settles into a muted nervousness. 

"Fuck, I swear you and Steve planned this."

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

Despite Wanda's talk with Bucky, she says absolutely nothing to you when you arrive home late in the evening. Wanda's eyes are glued to the TV, watching How I Met Your Mother absently. 

You seemed to have a long day yourself as you carefully sat next to her on the couch. 

The air feels weird, and there's a tension in your shoulders. It starts to make Wanda tense until you suddenly relax with a deep breath. You shuffle in your seat before scooting until you're pressed against Wanda's side, resting your head against her shoulder. 

The smell of clean laundry and leaves fills Wanda's nose, and she relaxes against you. 

"Wanna order in?" You say.

"Yeah," Wanda replies, pulling out her phone to see what she was in the mood for. The two of you quickly place an order and continue to sit in silence, watching the TV.

You seem deep in thought, but you grab Wanda's hand at some point, holding it with keen interest.

Wanda doesn't say anything. Her cheeks and the tips of her ears are warm as you stroke the back of her hand with your thumb. Her heart doesn't speed up, but it begins to thud noticeably harder in her chest. 

It continues like that until the food arrives, and it's also eaten in silence with the background noise of the TV. Yet, whenever Wanda looks up, she finds you staring at her, and you don't break eye contact. 

It's strange, and it's making Wanda feel somewhat nauseous. 

When the food is done and put away, the two of you settle back onto the couch, but Wanda doesn't think she can handle the silence anymore. 

"How was your day?"

You turn your head, staring at Wanda, and reply softly. "Okay...how was yours? Bucky told me he stopped by to see you."

Wanda tenses. "Yeah," she mumbles. "It was good seeing him again."

"It's nice that he's home," you nod. "I'm sure Steve is happy."

Steve doesn't deserve to be happy, Wanda pettily thinks. It was his fault that Wanda felt so nervous that she felt like she would puke. 

Wanda needs to say something.

She knows she needs to say something now like Bucky told her to. 

All those same fears and anxiety creep up, but frustration has also lingered in her since the day she realized her feelings for you. 

Wanda's tired, she realizes. She's also sick of saying nothing and watching you be with someone else. She's scared but would rather say something and be put out of her misery than continue saying nothing. 

Just as Wanda is about to say something else, you say something first. 

"I broke up with Raye."

Just like that, the wind is blown out of her sails, and Wanda's brain stalls. "What?"

"I," you clear your throat, "broke up with Raye."

"When?"

"A week and a half ago."

"And you're just telling me now?"

Your brow scrunches, and you turn in your seat to fully face Wanda as you cross your legs on the couch. You're fidgeting with your fingers in your lap. "Yes...I needed to think."

"Think about what?"

You wet your lips. "If...if it was worth it potentially ruining our friendship for something more."

Wanda's heart drops like an amusement park ride. Her stomach feels the same way it does when an airplane is ascending. 

She had all these things she was going to say to you just a minute ago, and now her head was empty, and all she could think about was what you were trying to say.

"I think it is...if you feel the same, which I know you do unless something's changed in the last three weeks."

"How do you know?" Wanda frowns. Then again, she wasn't trying to be sly about it the last few months. Maybe you've finally caught on. 

Wait, Wanda pauses. Three weeks? That was when—

You pull out an SD card from your pocket. Wanda's around you enough to know what that is, and her stomach sinks. 

"You know," you give her a small smile. "I was trying to edit the video together for Tony the night after the party, but as I was going through the footage, a third of the photos or videos were corrupted."

Wanda thinks back to the USB she returned to Darcy. Dammit, Darcy! That lying, sneaking, betraying—

"I didn't think much of it, but I had to meet up with the videographer to get the original files. You'd never guess what was on there," you smile wryly. "Or maybe you do since you've somehow deleted it from my Google Drive...and corrupted the other files, so I'd have to get the originals. Very conflicting motives I was getting."

"I didn't mean to corrupt the other files," Wanda mumbles. "But you should probably get your laptop professionally cleaned..."

You give her a weird look but chuckle with a shake of your head. "You're super kooky, you know."

"I do know," Wanda rolls her eyes. "I think you know as well."

"I thought I might've seen you on my first date with Raye. That rock that hit that car wouldn't happen to be something you know about, do you?"

"Not at all," Wanda replies quickly. "But if I did, I'm sure the person would want to say she wasn't aiming for the car or your head."

"So, just Raye's head?"

"Once again, not a clue what the intention was as it wasn't me."

You laugh, and Wanda joins in until it fades, and you bite your bottom lip. "I don't know how any of this works, Wanda. I've never dated anyone I consider my best friend."

"I would hope not," Wanda raises her brow at you. "That means someone else was your best friend and you've committed the ultimate betrayal."

You roll your eyes with a mirth and a smile. 

"I haven't either," Wanda says softly, slowly turning fully toward you, grabbing your hand, and lacing your fingers together. "But I want to. And no matter what happens, we're gonna be okay. I don't think I'll ever love anyone the way I love you. I think I've loved you for a really, really long time."

"Me too," you mumble, squeezing Wanda's hand, feeling shy. "I don't think I ever really thought about it. I just love you. You're my best friend and I love you."

"Now I'm your girlfriend," Wanda grins, leaning closer and closing her eyes.

"Whoa, okay, let's not get ahead of ourselves now. What if we're not even sexually compatible?" 

Wanda pulls back and looks at your face, shocked. It's stony and serious until your lip twitches and Wanda smacks you.

"Ugh, you're such a brat!"

"No, that's you. I'm stinky."

"Stinky."

"Brat."

"Bug."

"Witch."

"Oh, we're bringing back middle school nicknames, are we?" Wanda narrows her eyes at you. You're about to say something else, but Wanda's had enough.

Didn't she think something earlier about being sick of saying nothing? What was she thinking? Saying nothing sounds ideal.

Wanda launches herself across the seat into you, hearing you grunt as she topples you over onto the couch and presses her lips against yours. 

It's not a dream this time, Wanda's very sure. 

This was much, much better than any dream could give her. It feels better. 

Your lips are soft, and you taste faintly like the cookie you split with her earlier. 

Oh god, oh god, oh god, Wanda's mind is racing. She's finally kissing you.

Oh my god, she was kissing you!

You were kissing her back!

Wanda kisses you, pressing her lips over yours over and over as your fingers trail over the outside of her thighs and stroke up to her back. You're bolder than her as your fingers dip under her shirt, pressing her against bare skin. 

It's thrilling; Wanda almost can't lie still on top of you. Goosebumps are forming, and it's forming everywhere. 

You break the kiss, lips caressing her jaw, and scatter light kisses as they trail down her throat. 

Your hand moves higher up Wanda's back and pauses. 

"No bra?" You raise an eyebrow at her. 

"I didn't leave the house today," Wanda mumbles, pressing a chaste kiss to your temple. 

You hum. "No complaints here," you resume your caresses of her bare skin but pause again. "Wanna move to the bedroom?"

No, Wanda thinks. She doesn't want to detach herself from this position. She doesn't want your touch or your kisses to stop. 

You can tell that Wanda's debating the pros and cons, and you try to persuade her. "A bed will give us more room to do things...and I want to do a lot of things..." You nibble on her collarbone. 

Wanda lets out a soft moan, and her toes curl. 

"Okay, fine," Wanda acquiesces, getting up and pulling you along with her. "Move quickly, though. No dallying."

"Dallying? I would never," you smile as Wanda pulls you down the hall. "I'll mirror you perfectly."

"I think you always have," Wanda says softly, turning to look at you. "That's why it's taken us so long to get here. We're stupid."

You laugh. "Seems like one of us deviated from our mirror, mirror dance."

The two of you enter Wanda's bedroom, and she falls back onto it, pulling you on top of her. 

Your body heat spreads across hers, and Wanda thinks she's dizzy again. 

"Good," Wanda mumbles, cupping your face, her thumb stroking your cheek. "I'm tired of us being chickens."

You press a kiss to her, smiling against her lips. One arm wraps around Wanda while the other trails under the front of Wanda's shirt. 

"Speak for yourself," your fingers trail higher and higher. "Maybe I'm just stupid." You press another kiss, lingering a moment longer, and then pull away. "Chicken."

"Stupid," Wanda smiles, her lips grazing yours when she does. 

"Witch."

"Bug."

"Brat."

"Stinky."

"I love you."

"I love you more."

Wanda feels something so peaceful settle over her. The butterflies in her stomach flutter around from your touch, but she's so happy. She thinks she might cry if she thinks about it too much because this was all she ever wanted. 

Wanda focuses on the feel of your hands on her skin instead and how you're making her feel hot. She focuses on the feel of your lips against her skin, the sound of her breaths, and your soft moans. 

There's no way the two of you aren't sexually compatible, but Wanda's eager to find out exactly how compatible they are...over and over. 

The entire thing is starting to feel like a bad idea, but Wanda doesn't know what to do. If she calls it off, you'll ask why, and Wanda's still too scared to admit her feelings to you. Or what if you end up thinking that Wanda wasn't actually capable of dating girls?

These repetitive lines of thought would make Wanda feel nauseated. She wishes you would simply wake up and realize your feelings for her. Wanda's never had to really chase anyone before, and chasing you is probably the hardest thing she's doing, but if it works out, then it'll also be the best thing she's ever done. 

Wanda sits up, her knees pulled to her chest, as she hears shuffling around her door before a knock. 

"Come in," Wanda clears her throat, pulling the blanket slightly higher up. Her heart is racing, some of it from an irrational fear of it being a murderer, and some of it knowing it was you on the other side. 

When the door opens, you step in before closing the door behind you. You're in your PJs, another oversized shirt, and Wanda can't tell if you're wearing pants or not.

"Hey," Wanda smiles but realizes you can't make out the details of her face in the dark so far away. "What's wrong? It's so late, why aren't you sleeping?"

You don't answer her initially, letting the silence nip at Wanda's growing unease. Before she can say anything else, you finally speak.

"Don't do it."

"Huh?" Wanda's confused, shifting in the bed to sit closer to the end, closer to you. "What are you—"

"Don't do it," you repeat. "Don't go on a date with Darcy."

Wanda's heart leaps in her chest, and she needs to blink multiple times because there's no way you're saying that, right? There's no way you're telling her not to do this because would that mean—

"I think I'm going crazy," you mutter as you push yourself off the door and make your way toward her. 

"What do you mean?" Wanda asks nervously but excited as you climb onto the bed until you're face to face with her. 

As you get closer, Wanda can make out your silhouette and the expression of desire on your face. She can feel your breath on her face lightly, and it's minty and warm. 

"I can't stop thinking about you," you admit, and your tone is nervous but desperate. "The more I think about you going on a date with a girl, the more I hate it."

"You do?" Wanda bites her bottom lip. She wants to feel hopeful, but your words are leaving too much open for interpretation. 

You place your hand on Wanda's cheek, something you've done so many times before, but it feels different now. Every touch you give her feels electric and wired like you're grazing every nerve along her skin. 

Wanda's heart is thudding painfully inside her chest. It pounds like it wants to jump out of her chest and into your hands, making a home in your warmth and softness. 

Your thumb presses against her lips, getting Wanda to release her bottom lip from her teeth. "Yeah," you breathe like your heart is pounding too. "I hate it...because if you're going to date a girl, it should be me."

When your lips descend upon Wanda's, she thinks she might actually die. Your lips are soft and warm, inviting Wanda to kiss you deeper. When Wanda pushes against you eagerly, you open your mouth slightly, your tongue swiping at her bottom lip softly.

Arousal shoots through Wanda, hot and needy. She can't help the small moan that leaves her mouth, and her head is completely dizzy with want. 

You take the noise as an open invitation, using your weight to push Wanda back onto the bed, straddling her lap, and keeping yourself up on your elbow. 

The kiss feels never-ending, with it only ever stopping for a second for air before coming back for more. You kiss her until her lips are swollen and Wanda's throbbing for more. 

When your lips start kissing the edge of her jaw and down her throat, Wanda doesn't feel like she's going to make it. Just this, and it feels like too much and too little at the same time. 

"I don't think I can give you to anyone," you mumble against the skin of her collarbone. "How could I let anyone touch you like this?"

Your fingers are fiddling with the edge of her shirt before they trail along the bare skin of her stomach.

"More, more, more," Wanda's muttering with her eyes closed. She can't open them—it'd be too much. Her toes are curled in anticipation. 

Your hands brush the underside of her breast, and Wanda's breath hitches. You kiss places that Wanda hasn't been kissed in a long time. Your fingers trail and touch places only Wanda's hand has been in lately. It feels completely different under your touch, working Wanda up into a spot just between the edge and falling. 

Wanda's been moaning and muttering pleas for you to give her more, but you seem steadfast and taking things at your pace. Even Wanda can't rush you into enjoying and exploring her body. 

"I think I've always been yours," your lips brush against Wanda's. "And you've always been my best friend. But now, you're just mine—mine in every way."

Wanda agrees. She agrees wholeheartedly and enthusiastically. She'll agree to anything you say if you just give her what she wants. It's finally rewarding her to be agreeable with you, and just as she's about to get what she wants, your mouth opens, and music comes out. 

Wanda wakes up. 

The faint light in her room is disorienting, and her head is still heady with desire. The music is still playing, and Wanda turns over to grab her phone, unplugging it from her charger. 

7:06AM.

Turning off her alarm, Wanda tosses her phone to the side of her bed, falling back into her pillow. She stares at the ceiling, now able to make out every single detail on it with daylight.

Wanda's body is aching, and the region between her legs is still throbbing. Arousal was still trickling through her, and Wanda knew there wouldn't be enough time this morning to take care of it. 

Wanda grabs the pillow beside her, smushing it to her face as she lets out a muffled scream and a long line of obscenities before she gets up. 

The day would surely be long with arousal edging her.

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

It's been somewhat awkward to meet your eyes the last few days since that sex dream. Once the hazy lust cleared from her mind, Wanda could actually realize how mortifying it was to want you so badly that it was affecting her sleep. 

Wanda tries to play it off as just being distracted, but she can tell you're starting to think something's wrong. Still, it was too difficult to look you directly in the eyes. Every time she did, she could clearly remember her erotic dream. 

The way your eyes looked at her with such intensity, which was only heightened by the dark. She could still feel how warm your body was and how minty your kiss was. Goosebumps would form on her arm when she thought about how your lips were both liquid fire and icy cold against her skin. 

The entire thing would get Wanda so riled up that sometimes she needed to leave your vicinity and go on a walk to cool herself down. 

It was the day of the party, and the dream was finally tapering off enough that Wanda could look you in the eyes again. You seemed perplexed but relieved by the change, and you didn't push the issue since Wanda hadn't seemed upset with you. 

The morning of Tony and Pepper's party, you and Wanda are running around the apartment trying to get everything in order for different things. 

"Did you grab the present?" 

"Um," you scrunch your nose. "Yes, it's here."

"Awesome, can you bring it with you? I'll lose it if I bring it with me," Wanda says while carefully putting on mascara in front of her standing mirror. 

"What do you mean? I thought you were coming with me to pick Raye up?" You ask while looking for the ring you always wear on your middle finger. 

"Um, no," Wanda's half-distracted, but it's good timing as she finishes her mascara. "I'm meeting Darcy for coffee before the party."

You're looking for your ring in Wanda's room because you vaguely recall leaving it there yesterday night when you were drinking tea with Wanda and chatting in her room. You pause your search and look at Wanda with a confused face.

"You haven't met her yet?"

"I will be in," Wanda pauses and pulls out her phone, "a couple minutes. She just texted that she's pulling up."

"What if you don't get along with her? I thought she was coming to the party," you ask, seemingly concerned about everything.

"Then I'll find out since I have an hour with her before the party. If I don't like her, then I'll Uber to the party alone," Wanda shrugs. Besides, it didn't matter if Wanda liked Darcy or not. As long as Darcy wasn't a raging asshole with boundary issues, then it would be fine. They were both aware this date was a farce. 

"Are you sure you don't want me to tag along? What if she's, like, a serial killer or something?" You frown, and Wanda can't help but laugh.

"I don't think Nat would be working with a serial killer," Wanda shakes her head at your nonsense. "We're going to be at the Starbucks near Tony's house. I have my location on, so you can check it to make sure we're not deviating on the road."

You're about to say something else when the buzzer at your door rings. 

"Can you let her in through the front doors? I should be ready by the time she's at our door," Wanda asks as she turns back to the mirror, applying the last touches to her match-up.

"Sure," you say, somewhat huffy, but leave. 

It takes a few minutes, but Wanda eventually hears knocking and the door opening. The words exchanged between you and Darcy are muffled, but Wanda finishes, giving herself one last look in the mirror and running her fingers through her hair. As she's leaving, she finds the ring you were looking for on her desk and takes it with her. 

As she enters the living room, Wanda sees Darcy immediately and assesses right away that the other woman is drop-dead gorgeous. She has dark curled hair with warm undertones in the light. Her makeup was simple, with an accentuated dark red lipstick. 

"Wow," Darcy smiles as she catches eyes with Wanda, and you turn to look at her. "Natasha didn't do you justice with the photo she sent."

"You got a photo?" Wanda smiles back, able to tell that the compliment was sincere. "I didn't get anything. That seems unfair."

"Well," Darcy drags out. "Sent is a generous word. Natasha brought in a photo album. I'm sorry to say I have seen your high school and university pictures."

Wanda groans as she stands beside you, passing your ring into your palm. The entire action is wordless, which Darcy takes note of. 

"You shall speak nothing of these photos," Wanda warns the other girl playfully. "And just for that, you're buying coffee."

Darcy lets out a laugh, adjusting her glasses. "Alright, Natasha did warn me you were sassy. Let's go get our luxury coffee that will be my treat."

Wanda turns to you, and you're smiling, but it seems tight. "I'll see you at the party?" 

"Of course," you tell her before scrutinizing Darcy. "I'll see you in an hour on the dot."

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

"So," Darcy says as they're both holding their coffees. "That's the girl you're in love with?"

"Yes," Wanda sighs, finding it somehow easier to admit to a stranger that she's in love with you. Like, really insanely in love with you.

"You're playing it pretty cool. I gotta give you props for that," Darcy nods, sipping her drink. 

"Do you think so?" Wanda asks, and then her eyes brighten. "Do you think she looked jealous at all? I thought she might've looked a little off or being overprotective, but then again, that could also be her just being my best friend. But she's never really acted this way before. Well, she does make sure she always knows my location for dates. But I don't know, it felt like she was being—"

"Oh my god," Darcy cuts Wanda off, blinking at the word vomit. "You're actually insanely in love with her. Emphasis on the insane."

Wanda huffs. "I know," she sighs. "I'm going crazy and I just want to know if she could feel the same way about me...without asking, obviously."

"Obviously," Darcy repeats with a smirk. "Alright, let's go over a game plan for today then. We want to show off just enough that maybe it'll make your best friend jealous but also not too much that it'll be weird if we don't have a second date. No offense and all, you're hot, but I only signed up for one date."

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

You and Raye are already at the party when Wanda and Darcy arrive. 

"Ugh, great," Wanda grunts. "Little Miss Southern Belle is here."

"You mean Raye?" Darcy stares in the same direction and sees her coworker. "She's really nice and funny."

"Hey, you're my date," Wanda narrows her eyes. "And she's my enemy."

Darcy just raises her brow in response but says nothing. 

"Wanda!" You call and wave the two of them over. 

"Alright, we got this," Darcy looks over at Wanda, and they nod subtly at each other. 

As they make their way over, Wanda can tell you're assessing them, but Wanda merely gives another nod that she's okay, which you seem conflicted about. 

"Hey, Darcy," Raye greets her with a smile and a hug. "Fancy seein' you around here. You sure you're not using another pretty girl to sneak into a party?"

Wanda knows the comment is a compliment to her. Darcy is right that Raye is genuinely nice, and Wanda knows that Raye's eager to get along with Wanda since she's your best friend. Wanda knows all of this, but the comment still makes her bristle. 

"I actually know Tony and Pepper, too," Darcy says casually after they pull apart from their hug, her lips in a half-quirk. "I've done some work for them before."

"What exactly is it that you do?" You ask.

"Cyber security," Darcy answers. "Although that may sound exciting, it's not much day to day."

"Bug was telling me over here that you two went on a date!" Raye smiles even wider. 

Now she was even calling you Bug? She wasn't even there when your nickname came to be. She should create her own nickname, or better yet, just use your government name. 

"That we did," Darcy says when Wanda doesn't reply. "It was pretty decent," Darcy says with a half-quirk of her lips, indicating that it was more than decent, and Wanda remembers that she needs to smile too.

"I'm just surprised that you didn't go and scare her off with your personality," Raye smirks at Darcy before she looks back at Wanda. "Everyone knows Darcy at work to be blunt and sarcastic. She usually scares away all the cute interns."

"I thought she was hilarious," Wanda smiles somewhat tightly back. 

"Thank you!" Darcy cuts in dramatically, grabbing Wanda's hand. "I knew someone would inevitably see my charm. Are you thirsty? Let's go get a drink."

Darcy's about to drag you off when you suddenly grab Wanda's other hand, stopping them.

"Wait," your eyes are wide as if you're surprised yourself. "There's a videographer hired for the party. Everyone is supposed to go on camera to do a short video to say something to Tony and Pepper. I thought we should do ours together since we got their gift together."

Wanda turns back to Darcy, who looks confused and amused by the situation. 

"Alright," Darcy lets go of Wanda's hand. "I'll be waiting by the bar for you. C'mon, Raye, I'll buy you a drink."

"It's a free bar, Darcy."

"I know, I'm too generous."

With that, Wanda is alone with you as you drag her towards the videographer.

"Are you okay?" Wanda asks.

"Why wouldn't I be?" You say lightly.

"I don't know," Wanda flexes her fingers in your hand. "Feels like you don't like Darcy."

"I like her just as much as you like Raye."

Wanda grunts at that. She's told you multiple times that she's neutral about Raye. Wanda doesn't dislike her, but she has no reason to like her. It's all a lie, of course. Wanda fuckings hates Raye and wishes the other girl would evaporate. 

The second the camera points at their faces, the two of you smile brightly as you wish Tony and Pepper another 10 years of happy marriage so they can have this party again and continue to wish them a happy marriage in 10-year increments. 

As soon as it's finished, You and Wanda seem to be dragging your feet to get to the bar.

"So," Wanda drags out before taking a deep breath and looking at you. You stare back at her, and Wanda has to bite her tongue to say she just utterly loves you, and they should both ditch their dates. "What do you think?"

"Of what?" You mumble as you look away.

"Does it look weird? Me being with a girl?" 

Wanda can notice how you visibly clench your jaw, something you do when thinking about your next words carefully. 

"No," you say slowly, "but you don't look any happier."

"I don't?" Wanda hums. "Darcy and I have a lot in common. She's really funny too. Besides, it's not like I'm gunning to settle down with Darcy. It could just lead to having fun."

You're silent after that, and Wanda looks at your face. You seem contemplative, but she can't read your expression further than that, so she looks away.

"I'm probably going to be home late tonight," you say after a moment, and Wanda turns her head towards you again.

"Going to be with Raye?" Wanda asks, trying to make sure she sounds airy and light, but her stomach knots tight.

"Yes," you answer, and there's not a particular inflection in your tone, leaving Wanda with no clue about how you feel. 

"Sounds great," Wanda puts on a fake smile and picks up her pace to meet Darcy and Raye at the bar.

"Oh, you're back," Raye smiles at you, her pearly white teeth showing. Her cheeks are a dusty pink from the champagne she's been drinking as she drapes her arms over you, tilting her head to the side. "Wanna be naughty and steal a tray with bacon-wrapped scallops?"

Wanda has to resist the urge to loudly gag as you chuckle. 

"I got you a drink," Darcy catches Wanda's attention. "One of those fruity cocktails that will definitely lead us to make bad decisions if we have three more."

Wanda smiles sultrily as she opens her body language toward Darcy, pointing to the maraschino cherry in Darcy's drink. Darcy nods that she can have it, and Wanda seductively eats the cherry before she sticks the stem into her mouth, rolling it around with her tongue before the end of the stem pops back out of her mouth. Wanda grabs it with her fingers, the other end gripped by her teeth as she pulls and tightens the visible knot. 

"Wanna have four and see what happens?" Wanda smirks. 

From the corner of Wanda's eyes, she can see that you saw and heard everything. Your face is expressionless as you walk off with Raye, and Wanda wants to scream with frustration.

Was that a jealous expressionless look or an indifferent expressionless?

Once they are out of earshot, Darcy snorts. "Remember when I said you're playing it cool? I take it back. You're a hot mess. You look like you're always two seconds away from pulling out Raye's 250 individual extensions."

Their conversation is briefly interrupted by the videographer as he comes up to the bar. "Hey, man," he says to the bartender. "Do you mind if I leave my camera here for a second? I really need to run to the toilet and can't leave it on the table. These kids are surprisingly grabby with their sticky hands."

"Sure, dude," the bartender agrees, and the videographer runs off after he sets down the camera a foot away from Wanda.

Wanda stirs her drink with her straw aggressively, and some ice falls out of her glass.

"I don't see what's so great about Raye," Wanda huffs. "Sure, she's pretty, and I guess she's funny. But so what? She's clearly selfish. Who the hell steals a whole tray of bacon-wrapped scallops?! Those are the best appetizers!"

Wanda throws the straw aside and drinks her fruity cocktail in one go. 

"Man, you are so down bad," Darcy shakes her head. "At least you don't seem completely alone in it."

"Really?" Wanda brightens. "Why? Does she look jealous?"

"Well," Darcy sighs. "I don't know about jealous, but your friend definitely doesn't like me. Every time she smiles at me, it's a tight-lipped smile that seems to be a thinly veiled way of saying she doesn't think I'm good enough for you."

Wanda slumps. "That's nothing new. All the people I date get that look."

"Where's Natasha when I need her?" Wanda looks around but finds the redhead with Tony and Pepper. She seems to sense someone is looking at her, locks eyes with Wanda, and waves and winks.

"Listen," Darcy grabs Wanda's attention back. "Maybe you should just tell your friend your feelings. What's the worst that could happen?"

"She would know about my feelings and reject me," Wanda deadpans.

"Okay...so how exactly to plan to get with—how did you describe it at the café? The love of your life and the mother to your future children."

Wanda sighs. "I don't know. I know I should confess, but it's harder than you think. There are moments when she gets me so riled up that I wanna scream in her perfect face that I love her and probably always have, and then kiss her until we lose a couple brain cells from lack of oxygen. Then, I get so scared that she won't feel the same way and the moment dies like my will to live every time I see her with Raye."

"But you won't know until you actually say something," Darcy cocks her brow. "What if she does feel the same?"

"Then she wouldn't be with Raye!" Wanda snips but then takes a deep breath. "Sorry, it's just been hard lately. I feel like this whole fake dating scheme Nat cooked up is a bust. You're pretty cool and all, but I think I'm too in love to even pretend."

Darcy is about to say something else when the videographer returns.

"Thanks for watching it, man. Can you pour me some water with a lemon?" 

"Sure."

The videographer picks up the camera, and Wanda notices that it was placed on its side but had been facing them. Once he drinks his glass of water, he takes off.

The rest of the party isn't too exciting as Wanda doesn't see you often after that. You sit at the same table as her for dinner, but Raye is too busy chatting up a storm. Raye seems intent on keeping you busy until 10PM hits, and she decides she wants to leave the party.

"I'll see you later," you tell Wanda as you say goodbye to everyone.

"I guess," Wanda shrugs, and you tilt your head at it.

Wanda knows where all of this is leading for you, but for once, she's too tired to even try to stop it. Besides, Wanda is pretty sure you've already had sex with Raye, even if it was a quickie in the back of your car when you dropped her off or picked her up at the airport. 

The entire thing is too disparaging for Wanda to think about; she just wants to go home and be dead to the world. 

"I think I wanna head out too," Wanda looks at Darcy, who's been sipping on water for the last few hours. Neither of you specify exactly where in the moment despite how you seem to be waiting for them to say. 

The videographer approaches the group, and Wanda's confused as he greets you.

"Hey, I emailed you all the footage earlier after dinner," he says.

"Great," you smile at him. "Thanks for doing all the legwork. Sorry that Tony and Pepper want me to edit it together instead."

"You're editing the video together for Tony?" Wanda asks. "Why didn't you say?"

"Tony sprung it on me earlier today. Guess he forgot? Pepper bitched him out with love. I think," you grin. "But I don't mind. I have some free time before my next project," you shrug.

"Nah," he smiles. "I'm not complaining. I got paid twice my rate and I don't have to do the other legwork? Must be my lucky day."

"Sounds good, I'll let you know if I need anything."

"Oh, just a heads up, there was a lot of footage I didn't have time to go through, so I sent you everything. There might be some useless stuff you'll have to go through. I accidentally left my camera on a couple times. Just earlier, I realized I left my camera on every time I left it at the bar to go to the washroom," the guy laughs, but all the color drains from Wanda's face. 

"No problem," you tell him, and he leaves with a wave. "Raye and I are heading out now. Have a great night, guys."

Raye is already dragging you off, but Wanda doesn't have time to be annoyed. 

Oh, God, there was video evidence of Wanda confessing her feelings about you. 

"I need to get that video back!" Wanda cries, her hand flying to her forehead. 

She tries to not think about how you'll react or what you'll do if you see the video. She can't think about it; it will literally send Wanda into cardiac arrest. 

"Alright, alright, calm down!" Darcy placates her, realizing the same thing Wanda has. "He said he emailed it to her, right? It's not like she's going to go through the footage tonight. All you need to do is get into her email and go through the footage yourself and delete it before she comes home."

Wanda starts biting her thumbnail, a terrible habit she thought she had long outgrew. "I guess, but I'd have to access her laptop, and I don't know the password. She keeps work stuff on there."

"No problem," Darcy says as she pulls out a USB and gives it to Wanda. "Just plug this in and I can help you get into it."

Wanda takes the USB and stares at it dumbfounded. She stares back at Darcy. "You're insanely cool. Emphasis on the insane," Wanda parrots back to her with a smile. "We're gonna be great friends."

"Ah, I love becoming friends with my fake dates who are deeply in love with their best friend. They're so fulfilling and not weird at all."

"You're the one carrying around a hacking USB, don't talk to me about weird."

"Alright, sassy pants, let's just get you home, shall we? Although, not before we go to McDonald's. That dinner was just unnecessary fancy food that was half the size of my fist. I've been hungry for the last hour," Darcy starts to walk off with Wanda trailing her.

Wanda had also been hungry for the last hour, but now, knowing that you could potentially see the video of her professing her love—aggressively, might she add—Wanda wanted to throw up.

You and Wanda have cuddled many times in the past. It was nice to have someone to snuggle up to when watching a movie; the habit slid right into place so easily. 

But those times had been innocent. Wanda hadn't been thinking anything about it other than how comforting it was. 

Now—Wanda's thinking about other things. Touching would be exciting—exhilarating, even. 

Yet, the more Wanda thinks about it, the more rigid she becomes. 

Should she...should she just try to wrap her arms around you like usual? Or should she try to get a little frisky and "accidentally" let her fingers trail underneath your shirt?

Wanda blushes so hard, rolling over completely, and pushes her face into her pillow. She screws her eyes shut. 

God, she wanted to scream. 

"Are you trying to suffocate yourself to go to sleep?"

The sudden voice makes Wanda turn over. You enter the room with a tiny smile on your lips as you toss your worn clothes onto a chair in the corner. Your PJs consist of a worn-in oversized t-shirt and shorts, though Wanda knows the shorts are mostly for her sake as you prefer to sleep without them. 

Oh, if you only knew Wanda had absolutely no qualms about you sleeping without them. In fact, to be generous, Wanda could insist you sleep without your shirt, too. 

Wanda takes a deep breath, trying to will the blood in her cheeks to leave. Her head is slightly dizzy from the thoughts.  

"You know how I am if I wake up in the middle of the night," Wanda sits up and replies wryly, clearing her throat as it's suddenly dry. 

You grab a water bottle from your desk, opening it to take a sip before you close it and toss it towards her. Wanda catches it, opening it immediately to take a gulp of water. She stares at you as you apply chapstick to your lips for the night before you shut off the lights and make your way toward the bed. 

In the dark, Wanda feels her heart start to race with anticipation. The bed dips, and Wanda takes a shaky breath as she closes the water bottle and sets it aside. She lays back, staring at the ceiling, hearing your soft sigh of contentment of finally being in bed. 

You're lying on your side facing Wanda, but when she turns her head to the side, your eyes are closed as you breathe steadily, trying to fall asleep.

Wanda swallows. She wants things to change so badly. Wanda wants you to look at her differently, to notice that as the blueprint to your type, you could just have the original—if that was what this is all about.

So, Wanda turns on her side, blood pumping in her ears, making it nearly impossible to hear anything as she shuffles closer to you. You've only been on one date with Raye, and it didn't even end with sex. It's not cheating, Wanda tells herself. It's really not. 

When Wanda's face to face with you, her limbs almost feel numb. She wants to do something, but she doesn't even know what. The more she thinks about being bold, the shyer she's getting. 

Wanda's starting to chicken out. 

Wanda's hand pauses right in the middle of the space between you two. 

This is so stupid, Wanda thinks. She's never going to be more to you than just a friend. You're never going to think about her the way she thinks about you. You—

Fingers slide between hers, grasping her hand flat against the bed. 

"Do you remember the first time we had a sleepover?" Your voice carries through the quiet of the night, somehow gentle but crisp as it makes its way to Wanda's ears. 

"You mean when I cried because I'd never slept anywhere other than at home and was scared of the dark?" Wanda replies wryly. 

Those days were long gone, and right now, she's grateful the dark can hide her red cheeks. 

You laugh. "Yeah, but then you still didn't want to leave and made me hold your hand the entire night."

Wanda groans, caught between wanting to pull her hand away in embarrassment but liking the feel of your hand too much.

"I remember holding your hand so seriously because I couldn't let my best friend be so sad, especially after she wanted to stay despite crying," you chuckle quieter this time. "I kind of miss those days; they were simpler."

"What do you mean?" Wanda feels you stroking the back of her hand with your index finger in a small line.

"Back then, you used to cry about the dark and scraped knees, and I could make it better by just holding your hand. Now, you cry about boys breaking your heart and homesickness, and you're still sad after I hold your hand," You sigh like it's your fault.

"I'm not sad," Wanda insists, a whine in her tone. 

"That's why you crawled into my bed at midnight?" Even though Wanda can't see, she can tell you have your brow raised. 

"Maybe I just want you to hold me," Wanda bravely says. Her heart is doing that thing again, and she thinks she might actually be entering into cardiac arrest. The cowardly part of her backs out and softens the statement. "Maybe at 14, hand-holding was enough to solve the dark and scraped knees, but as adults, we need something else."

It's quiet, and for a second, Wanda thinks she might've made a terrible decision and wants to burst out crying. Her words are caught in her throat, and her breathing feels shallow. Even though she doesn't really want to, she's about to tell you she's just joking, but you move closer.

It's slow as if you're trying to be careful not to make the wrong move, like accidentally kneeing her in the crotch. You move like you're trying to make sure everything slots together perfectly. 

The hand-holding is gone with her arms over your waist, and yours are over hers. Your hand settles loosely against her back, the warmth of your palm seeping through her shirt. Her face is pressed against your chest, and the embrace is warm. 

Wanda doesn't know what to feel; it's too much at once. She feels warm, nervous, horny, content, and mostly dizzy. 

"So, you admit you are sad," you joke quietly in the dark. "I knew it, you lying brat."

Despite the dizziness, Wanda gumbles, "I'm not sad, you stinky accuser."

"So, you don't feel better then?"

There's a moment of silence again. Wanda doesn't know how to quite articulate how she's feeling. She is better, she supposes. But she also feels crazier. 

"Yeah, this is better," Wanda manages to say. "14-year-old us wouldn't even be able to wrap our heads around this."

Your chest rises and falls in quick succession with laughter. "Oh my god, shut up and sleep."

Wanda mutters something, but it's completely unintelligible. Time passes too quickly, and Wanda slowly starts falling asleep again. 

It's not quite the sexual tension she hoped for, but this was just as good. 

"Just a heads up, I expect to be the little spoon at some point. Return the favor, brat."

Wanda smiles. No, this was perfect.

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

Wanda takes a deep breath, letting her eyes flutter close momentarily. 

She knows she can't delay this anymore. Wanda's hit a wall in her progress, and she needs to admit that she doesn't know what she's doing anymore—not that she really knew what she was doing in the first place.

This was going to change everything—somehow make it more real. The thought of it makes Wanda somewhat glum, but she resigns herself before she takes another breath and rings the doorbell. 

Wanda hears footsteps approaching the door before it opens, and Natasha stands there with an iced coffee in her hand. 

"Oh, Wanda," she blinks in surprise, "I didn't expect to see you."

"Really?" Wanda asks dryly. "Even after you texted me that you were bored with nothing to do today 6 times in a row this morning?"

"Yes, and like the terrible friend you are, you were pointedly ignoring it," Natasha raises her brow at Wanda.

"I wasn't ignoring it," Wanda denies. "I'm here, aren't I?"

Natasha snorts but then opens her door wider, stepping to the side to let Wanda in. Once inside, they make their way to the kitchen, and Natasha begins fixing Wanda a cup of cold brew.

"Want anything in it?"

"Do you have oat milk?"

Natasha hums absently, but Wanda knows the redhead heard her. As her drink is being made, Wanda taps her fingers against the counter, feeling the nerves thrum against her veins. She's unsure how to bring it up but doesn't want to beat around the bush. There's a time crunch, and Wanda can't afford to waste any more time. 

"Natasha," Wanda says just as Natasha sets her cup down. "I'm in love with—"

"Bug?" Natasha cuts in. "Yeah, I know."

Wanda's jaw drops. "What?" She says before she slumps in her seat. "Is it because of our phone call a couple of weeks ago, or did you suspect all along?"

"No, I mean, kind of yes," Natasha scrunches her nose. "I don't know if I would say I suspected all along. You've always been close to Bug, but she was always quick to correct anyone back then that you were just friends, and to be fair, nothing happened. I think soulmates can exist as friends too." 

Wanda purses her lips but nods, and Natasha gives her a smile.

"But," Natasha interjects. "I did start to suspect after our phone call. I mean, you and Bug do everything together, so honestly, I wasn't that shocked if you both wanted to get married at the same time and live in houses next to each other. I think it was more the fact of how upset you got."

"Yeah," Wanda sighs, rubbing her temples.

"But mostly, I knew because Yelena told me."

"What!?" Wanda squawks. "She wasn't supposed to tell anyone!"

"I'm not anyone," Natasha sticks her tongue out. "I'm her sister. We gossip almost daily."

"Ugh, did she tell you—"

"How you took her on the worst date of her life and stalked Bug and Raye? Yeah," Natasha looks sympathetic. "I'm glad you went home instead of waiting outside while they did it."

"They didn't do it!" Wanda jumps up in her seat. "Apparently Raye got hung up on a phone call, so it didn't happen and she came home."

"Oh, really?" Natasha's brow scrunches together. "Raye—"

"What?" Wanda interjects. "Is Raye saying they slept together? What a dirty liar—"

"God, no—" Natasha rolls her eyes. "Calm the fuck down, jeez. Raye didn't say they did, but she didn't say they didn't either. Unfortunately, you won't be able to use that as an excuse to break them up."

Wanda groans, slumping back into her chair again. She reaches for her cold brew and sips at it dejectedly. 

"So, spill," Natasha prods. "After all these years, why did you suddenly get a change in feelings? Is that why you ended things with Vision on Yelena's birthday?"

"I don't know if it's sudden," Wanda mumbles but launches into a long monologue of everything that's happened since Stupid Steve dropped the information bomb on her and every single thought that accompanied each event.  

45 long minutes pass before Wanda finishes with how she's been more cuddly the last week but is having trouble moving past that. 

"Have you managed to create any sexual tension?"

"No," Wanda sighs frustratedly. "I don't know what to do! In our years of friendship, I've changed in front of her before and worn sexy outfits, and we already have physical affection between us. Nothing has ever happened and it was never weird. I don't know how to change things!"

"Why don't you just confess to her?" Natasha asks with a tilt of her head.

Wanda scoffs as if that's the most ridiculous thing she's ever heard. "Because she only sees me as a friend, so I can't confess until she sees me as a potential partner. It will clearly boost the odds of my confession being accepted, duh."

"Right," Natasha replies dryly. 

"So?" Wanda taps her nails on the counter impatiently. "Do you have any advice or should I ask Yelena?"

"As if," Natasha snorts. "Yelena's idea of flirting is bullying. It's a miracle that Kate hasn't tried to cancel her on social media. I highly doubt Yelena's method will work for you."

"So, what should I do?" Wanda laments. 

Natasha hums. "I guess it's true you've been friends so long that normal things other people would do wouldn't work for you. She has seen you in so many sexy clubbing outfits and hasn't done anything, and unless you start groping her private bits, I don't think physical touch will spark anything new."

"This is great advice," Wanda says sarcastically.

"But do you know how to make those things work?" Natasha asks, rolling her eyes at Wanda's tone. "You need to make her aware that you could potentially be hers."

"I've literally just said—"

"Right now, you're just her best friend that's probably going to end up dating another guy. And as long as she thinks that, those things will never work because in her brain, she can only see you as a friend," Natasha cuts Wanda off. 

"Okay, so..." Wanda drags out so that Natasha will continue on. This was making sense and leading somewhere!

"So, there's two new things you need to add to your relationship," Natasha pauses. "Awareness and jealousy—and not the jealousy like 6 years ago when you thought that exchange student was replacing you as her best friend."

"In my defense, Shuri was trying to," Wanda gripes.

"You know what you need to do?" Natasha ignores Wanda's comment. 

"What?" Wanda asks warily because Natasha has that smile on her face. And when she gets that smile, something crazy is about to come out of her mouth.

"Tony and Pepper's 10-year anniversary party is next Saturday, right? You need to bring a date. A girl date," Natasha grins. 

"But I don't want to date other girls," Wanda groans. "Plus, how am I supposed to get a girl to go on a date with me if I need to tell her it's actually to make someone else jealous. That's literally terrible to hide."

"Oh, don't worry about it," Natasha waves her hand nonchalantly. "I have a coworker who can help. She owes me one, so she'll do it without actually expecting anything."

Wanda is in disbelief. 

Natasha then perks up. "Actually, this is perfect because to really open up Bug's eyes, the person you go on a date with should be similar to her. Then, she'll think about how she could be dating you. This coworker is perfect for it; she's nice, if a little sarcastic, and has similar humor."

"Is she hot?" Wanda asks.

"Yeah, of course she is. I can't set you up with an uggo. That would never make her jealous."

"And she's into girls?"

"Yeah, she's single right now, though."

Wanda's eye twitches. 

"What?"

Wanda tries to take a calming breath before nearly yelling, "Why didn't you set up Raye with your other coworker then!?"

"How the hell was I supposed to know you'd fallen for her at that point?" Natasha winces.

It's a fair point, a completely valid one to make, but Wanda still holds a grudge against Nat for putting Raye in your path. 

"Also, why does your company have so many sad, single coworkers? I mean, I guess you're also single—"

"Don't get mean, or else I won't help you go shopping for a dress."

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

Another few days pass, and Wanda finds herself taking deep breaths to give herself courage again. 

Natasha just texted her that the coworker, Darcy, confirmed she was available, and everything was set. 

So now, Wanda just has to work up the nerve to tell you she has a date for Tony and Pepper's party. A girl date. 

"So," Wanda's voice is slightly shaky. The two of you are eating dinner while watching some trashy reality TV show that Wanda can't even focus on right now. Wanda wishes she hadn't said anything because now she doesn't know what else to say. "Are you, uh, excited for Tony and Pepper's party?"

You don't take your eyes off the TV, completely invested in what is happening even though you never watch reality TV on your own. 

"Yeah," you answer. "Raye will be back in town, and I'm bringing her along."

Wanda chokes on the potato that's just starting to slide down her throat. You turn over to look at her with concern as she grabs her drink. 

"You okay?" 

"Wrong pipe," Wanda gasps as she clears her throat. "What were you saying? Raye's coming with you?"

You smile, "Yeah, she's back in town later this week, but my photoshoots conflict with her schedule until the party."

"Awesome," Wanda grits out through her teeth with a forced smile. Suddenly, all that missing courage builds up in Wanda, along with pettiness. "That brings me to the fact I wanted to tell you I have a date to the party too."

"Oh?" You pause the TV, fully accepting that neither of you is watching it now with the conversation at hand. "Who's the lucky lad?"

Wanda actually hesitates. A part of her is nervous to tell you, even though she knows you'd never think of her differently or judge her. She sometimes wonders what's going on in her brain because if Wanda actually got with you, it would inevitably mean you'd know she was into girls. 

Or was she just into you?

Now was so not the time to be trying to figure this out, Wanda swallows. 

"Uh," Wanda starts, feeling a little sweaty. "It's actually with a girl. Natasha is introducing me to someone."

There's silence for a moment, and Wanda's gripping her plate of food so hard, even if she's trying to pretend she's not. In an attempt to take the pressure off herself, she stares pointedly down at her plate. 

Wanda's heart still feels like it will leap out of her chest and run to her bedroom to hide under her pillow.

"You're into girls?" You finally say after a long moment of silence.

"I think so," Wanda mumbles weakly. Well, she was definitely for sure into you. "I think I've always been but never really given it too much thought since I was dating Vis for a long time." AKA, Wanda's always been into you but never realized until recently. 

"So...now that it's really over between you and Vis, you want to try dating girls?" Your tone is careful, and Wanda wishes she could dive straight into your brain to find out what you were thinking. 

"Yeah," Wanda says, still looking at her plate. 

"I'm a little hurt."

The words make Wanda's head snap up. Your face does look a little crestfallen, even if you're smiling. 

"I guess you told Natasha first since she's setting you up on a date?"

"Oh," Wanda is caught off guard. "I mean, kind of? It just...sort of came out when I was with Natasha last. I wanted to tell you first, I just didn't know how. I think I was nervous. But I swear—"

"Relax," you smile at her. "You don't need to explain it."

"No," Wanda insists. "I did really want to tell you, but I just didn't know how to broach the subject, and I was trying to ask Nat for advice on what to do, and then it just spiraled."

You start laughing, which stuns Wanda.

"Man," you laugh into your fist, trying to balance your plate with one hand on your thighs. "Sometimes I forget how spastic you can be."

"Shut up," Wanda would throw a cushion at you, but you'd probably spill your food everywhere. 

"It's fine," you tell her sincerely. "I'm just...shocked is all."

"How come?" Wanda asks carefully, cutting up her already bite-sized potatoes even smaller to seem nonchalant. 

There's a pause, and Wanda peers through her eyelashes at you. You're lost in thought, trying to absorb the information.

"I guess...I just never thought about it either," you shrug. "I always thought you'd marry Vision and if not him, then another guy who is just barely good enough for you."

Wanda can't help but laugh at that because you've been somewhat vocal throughout the years that while you didn't mind Vision, you didn't think he was good enough for her. You got more vocal each time they broke up after getting back together. 

"So," Wanda says after the laughter dies down. "Do you think it'd be weird? Seeing me with another girl?"

You shift your weight, adjusting on the couch. Your face doesn't show much of what you're thinking, and Wanda's wondering if you're doing it to spare her feelings in any way. 

"I don't know," you finally say. "I guess maybe it depends on the girl."

The words give Wanda something to think about as you take it that the conversation has ended. You resume the TV, quietly eating your dinner, just as Wanda does. 

Wanda wonders if you're imagining yourself with her. She could definitely feel the shift in your thoughts as you process the information. 

It was out there. It was really out there that Wanda didn't just date boys. A part of her is actually curious about her date with Darcy, even though she knows that it's not really real. Wanda wants to know if she actually would enjoy dating other women or if she's only in love with you.

Natasha's right, Wanda thinks listlessly. If Darcy was anything like you personality-wise, as Natasha suggested, would Wanda be interested? If Wanda couldn't have you, would she resort to dating women like you?

Would you notice such a pattern? 

Everything is getting more complicated, and Wanda is starting to think she's digging herself into a deeper and deeper hole. In some ways, it would be easier to just confess to you outright. Yet, she can't bring herself to do it. 

There's a deep longing to make sure her odds are at their best when Wanda does. She badly wants you to feel the same, or at least be open to trying with her. 

It's probably wrong, but Wanda needs to know if it was a possibility that you'd get jealous—jealous like Wanda's been. 

Wanda really, really hopes you get jealous in the way it means you want to be the one dating her. 

"So," you say, breaking the silence. "Kind of weird that Natasha has a bunch of single coworkers, right? Wonder how they haven't started dating each other."

Wanda turns to you, a giant smile on her face. "That's what I said!"

There's logic and reasoning behind this because don't most people think about their best friend? Don't most people plan to have their best friend in the future? If not, then why would they be best friends in the first place?

Sadly, there's a rude awakening in Wanda's wobbly defense. Natasha is the only person to blame for blowing down her defense made of straw when Wanda chats with her on the phone in the evening while you're out for a photoshoot. 

"How's Maria doing?" Wanda asks.

"Good," Natasha answers, and Wanda can hear the tap water running and realizes the redhead is doing the dishes. "She'll be coming to visit during Christmas."

"Oh, you must be very excited!" Wanda beams. If it were her, she'd be ecstatic to be seeing you after so long. 

"Yeah, it'll be good to see her. I think she's bringing her girlfriend, Sharon. They've been seeing each other for a few months, and she doesn't have anyone to spend Christmas with since her grand-aunt passed away.

"Oh," Wanda's voice is low, brows furrowing. "That seems very fast if she's coming to spend a holiday with Maria. How do you feel about it?"

Natasha hums. "Happy, I guess? I haven't met Sharon, but I've been hearing good things about her. She's able to keep up with Maria's busy life as she's got her own, but they make time for each other."

"But what if Sharon's wrong for Maria, or Maria ends up getting hurt."

"Then I'll break Sharon's legs, but Maria's a big girl. I'll be there for her, but she'll be okay," Natasha chuckles.

"But—"

"Wanda, what's with the questions about Maria?" Natasha cuts off. "Is it something with Bug? Are you worried about Raye? She's told me they haven't even gone on a first date yet; why are you so worried?"

"It's not about that!" Wanda said defensively. "I mean—I am worried, but I just don't want her getting hurt. She's my best friend; she deserves someone perfect. Don't you want someone perfect for Maria?"

Even as the words came out of Wanda's mouth, she grimaced because she was nowhere near perfect herself. 

"Of course I do," Natasha sighs. "But unless Maria is hurting, I'm not going to get overly involved with her love life. She'll go at her own pace and update me as she goes."

"But how will you know if Maria is going to continue living away? If she gets serious with Sharon, will Maria still plan to move back here? How will you guys plan on having a wedding at the same time and picking a house in the same neighborhood?" Wanda asks seriously. Her tone is distraught because it feels like Natasha doesn't care about her best friend at all! 

There's a moment of silence on the other line before Natasha says, "We don't plan for that. I mean, I'll be bummed for sure if Maria doesn't move back but we'll always be best friends. We'll visit each other and keep in contact as often as we need, but we don't need to physically be in the same place."

And another realization slides into place. 

"How are you guys best friends?!" Wanda yells into the phone before she hangs up without another word. 

Wanda knows that she'll have to call Natasha later and apologize and say she's on her period or something, but right now, with her eyes hot and wet, she digs her face into her pillow and cries instead.

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷ 

"Hey, I need to head out for another shoot today. Do you want me to pick up anything for you?"

Your voice muffles through Wanda's closed door. You've come in a few times, but Wanda had stayed in bed and pretended that she might've been under the weather. 

"No," Wanda says loud enough so you can hear it. "Have fun, though."

"I'll be home soon and make you some paprikash, but there's some chicken soup in the fridge for you if you want some while I'm gone," you reply. Wanda momentarily hears your hand land on the doorknob, but you don't turn it and come in. "Feel better, brat."

You don't wait for Wanda's response even though it is a quiet, "Thanks, stinky."

Alone in the apartment once more, Wanda sighs. She's been all over the place emotionally since she last talked to Natasha on the phone. She later sent a voice memo through text apologizing and said her period just came, which explained all the craziness. Luckily, Natasha was kind enough to leave it be, but they haven't chatted much since then—mostly on Wanda's end. 

Wanda's been caught between wanting to spend more time with you and distancing herself while sorting through her feelings. It was so easy at that moment to leave Vision and feel intense jealousy of Raye, but now in their own little bubble, everything was unraveling like a poorly wrapped present. 

The only saving grace was that you and Raye couldn't align your schedules to go on a date anytime soon. Raye was out of state currently and was supposed to be traveling for work for the next few weeks, and you were confirming projects that were supposed to be for the entire month. 

The extra time was sorely appreciated. 

In short, Wanda has cried 8 times in the last week while equally getting the inspiration almost to confess 7 times. 

There was a nagging fear, though. What if you didn't feel the same? What if Wanda was reading this one gigantic sign wrong, and you simply just liked brunettes with green eyes?

Or, what if you did feel the same and things didn't work out? What if the two of you date, and it goes wonderfully well before it ends? It doesn't matter what causes the end; just what if it did?

In either scenario, things would never be the same, and Wanda would lose her best friend of 10 years. 

Although, Wanda reasons that even if she confessed and you didn't feel the same, she wouldn't actually lose you. Sure, things would never be quite the same, but the friendship would continue. They've endured much worse, and Wanda would probably get over her feelings. 

Probably. 

Because if she didn't, well, Wanda wouldn't know what to do. She's lived too long of her life with you; she can't think of what it'd be like without you. Logically, she knew she'd survive, but there'd always be a part of her missing. 

Sometimes, Wanda thinks there was always a part of her missing until the day she met you. She can still remember 10 years ago like it was yesterday.

"Wanda, it'll be fine," Pietro's accent was thick and heavy, and Wanda refused to say anything out loud to acknowledge it. 

The girls in her class were already making fun of her accent, and her attempts to talk to them were rebuffed with looks as if they couldn't believe she dared to speak to them. 

It was too difficult, Wanda thought. It was too difficult to make friends when she transferred here mid-year, and everyone had already formed their cliques since elementary.

It was hard enough with the growing changes in her 14-year-old body, and she already felt awkward all the time—the giggling behind her back and to her face wasn't helping. 

Wanda wanted to go back home to Sokovia, except there was nothing left to return to. The war had reduced everything to shambles, and everyone else in her family was happy to have been able to seek refuge in America—Rochester, specifically. 

Wanda knew she should be grateful, especially since many of her aunts, uncles, cousins, and other extended family couldn't escape. She never really had too many friends, but the few she did went to Canada, and she knew she'd unlikely ever talk to them again. 

It was a lot of change, and Pietro was the only person who understood her at this new school, but even he couldn't do much since they shared no classes together. Plus, Pietro had still managed to make a friend, and Wanda didn't have the heart to make him sit with her at lunch every day. 

"Do you want me to eat lunch with you? I can ask Sam to sit with us," Pietro offered, but Wanda shook her head. 

"Are you sure?" Pietro asked again, preparing to sit with Wanda anyway, but Wanda shook her head.

"No, it's fine. I'm just going to eat my lunch quick and head to the library to catch up on some assignments," Wanda mumbled quietly, waiting for some girls in her class to pass by before she said it. 

"Okay," Pietro said, sighing since he was conflicted about staying with his sister or heading off to hang out with his friend. But at Wanda's insistence, he merely told her where she could find him if there was anything and took off with one last glance.

When Pietro was fully out of sight, Wanda took a seat alone at an empty table, pulling out her lunch reluctantly. She was quick to notice that the American kids typically brought a plain sandwich or bought food from the cafeteria, which usually consisted of the same foods like pizza or mac and cheese. 

While the comments about the food she brought were also embarrassing, Wanda didn't have it in her to ask her mother to make something else. Money was tight, and asking to add other things to the grocery list just so she could fit in didn't seem worth it when it wouldn't do anything about the fact no one wanted to talk to her. 

So, Wanda pulled out the finomfőzelék with her breaded chicken breast. She still didn't open it and let her containers sit on the table. 

Wanda wasn't quite sure what was causing it. Maybe it was just this specific instance of sitting alone, or maybe it was the last week and a half of enduring this, but Wanda felt her eyes burn and water. She willed it with everything she had inside to not let it fall and took a deep breath. 

"Hi."

The sudden sound made Wanda's head snap up, eyes wide with surprise. You stood there, and Wanda sort of recognized you from her classes. She thought she shared all but one with you. You've never contributed to the bullying but never stopped it or talked to her, either. 

Wanda vaguely recalled you've been sick with a cold the last few days. Her eyes shifted to look behind you, and she could see your friends looking very confused and beckoning you to come back to their lunch table.

"Hi," Wanda quietly greeted you back, wincing at how the accent could even come out with one syllable. 

You sat down suddenly, clearing your throat. "Can I ask you something?"

"Okay," Wanda replied warily. 

"Do you practice witchcraft?"

The question stumped Wanda.

"What?" 

"Do you practice witchcraft?" You repeated, looking serious. 

"No," Wanda frowned, so perplexed that she couldn't even be upset about her accent. "I don't. Why would you think that?"

"Well, Hela has been spreading rumors that you're a witch from Sokovia, and that's why Mr. Coulson passed away suddenly when you came."

Then, it's suddenly so clear why no one has been talking to her. 

"But if you're not a witch cursing people to death, then that's cool," you said, interrupting Wanda's thoughts. "I wanted to ask you that earlier but then I got sick for a few days. So, do you want to hang out with me?"

Wanda just stared at you, her heart racing because finally, finally, she was going to have a friend. "Yes," Wanda replied quickly, smiling. "That'd be...cool," she repeated your slang. 

"Cool," you smiled back before pointing at her food. "Noticed you bring different food every other day. Can I try some? I'll trade you some of my sandwich. Heads up, though, my mom has been experimenting with food. This week was Chinese food, so beef and broccoli might be between the bread."

Wanda smiled at the memory, the ends of it tapering off. You changed her life, and even when Hela made fun of you, you shut her up with a comment about how she stuffed her bra. It was devastating to a 14-year-old. 

After that, the two of you were inseparable. You still occasionally hung out with your group of friends, but you definitely drifted to spend time with Wanda. 

Wanda wonders if it was actually at that moment that she fell in love with you, but at 14, she didn't know how else to interpret it other than friendship. 

You and Wanda didn't meet Nat, Steve, Bucky, and all the others until high school when the other districts were poured into one school. Since then, so much has happened. 

Your parents divorced.

Wanda's mother passed away from cancer. 

You dated Sam very briefly, giving him your first kiss and then shortly breaking up with him after. 

You came out to her, scared, hesitant, and so happy when Wanda didn't care. 

Wanda started to date Vision.

Wanda wanted to go to NYU, and you happily went there with her. 

You confessed you had a crush on Natasha but didn't want to pursue it. 

Wanda's first break-up with Vision. 

You dated Jean Grey and cried when she left you for Scott. 

When you wanted to stay in New York City, Wanda decided to stay here too, rooting her career here with you. 

Wanda wonders if maybe actually she'd fallen in love with you several times over and over but didn't know how to interpret any of her strong feelings for you, categorizing them as friendship just as she did when she was 14.

"I'm home!" 

Wanda hears the apartment door close and the shuffling of you taking off your shoes. She looks at the time and realizes two hours have already passed. Deciding that she's wallowed enough, Wanda decides to get out of bed and leave her room, running her fingers through her hair to tame it.

When she enters the kitchen, Wanda finds you starting the process of making paprikash. It's something you've always done for her when she's sick, feeling down, or homesick. Yet, in this moment, something swells inside Wanda's chest, and she wants to burst out crying again.

"Oh, hey," you turn around and smile as you see her, and Wanda clears her throat and blinks the tears quickly away.

"Hey," Wanda smiles back as she makes her way towards you. "You didn't have to do that, you know. I'm feeling better."

You open your arms for her to dive into a tight hug. You smell like clean laundry and mint, and Wanda wants to bottle your smell. The tension in Wanda lately starts to drain from her body as you rub her back comfortingly. 

"Some paprikash never hurt nobody," you joke. "I'm glad you're feeling better, though, brat. Is it the break-up with Vis?"

"Huh?" Wanda's brows furrow. "No, not really. I haven't really thought about it."

"Homesickness?"

"Er," Wanda fiddles with the back of your shirt. "Kinda, I guess."

"Well, good thing Thanksgiving is in a few months. Your dad and brother are coming here this year, right?"

Wanda nods, brightening at the thought of seeing her family. "Yes, I hope papa and Tony don't get into it again this year."

"I think your dad gets a sick sense of joy of torturing the son of man responsible for all the weapons that destroyed Sokovia," you say dryly. "I think Tony's starting to catch on he's not serious, though."

Wanda chuckles, and you pat her shoulders before you pull away and take out a knife and chopping board. Watch sits on the bar stool, watching you cook, letting things fall into a comfortable silence. 

This was everything, Wanda thought.

Nothing could ruin this moment, and Wanda thought long and hard, building up the courage to say something about her feelings. She wasn't sure what to say, so she might start with something flirtatious, but Wanda would say it more sensually instead of the usual joking tone. 

"Oh!" You say without looking at Wanda, chopping the onion and garlic. "I forgot to tell you. Raye's flying back in a few days before heading out again, and we planned a date this weekend."

Everything is ruined, and Wanda can't tell if the onion or the devastating news is causing her eyes to water.

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷ 

"Why did you bring me here?" Yelena hisses.

"Because I can't bring Natasha!" Wanda hisses back. "And be quiet or else they're going to hear us!"

"Why not Natasha? She's your other closest friend," Yelena says, quieter as she grumbles. "You're making me miss movie night with Kate. We're supposed to watch Insidious and you're ruining my chances of making fun of her being scared."

"Because," Wanda exasperatedly says. "I've already had a meltdown with Natasha, and she's going to make all sorts of comments if she knows I'm doing this now. I can't be here alone since this is the type of restaurant only couples go to."

"You think I won't make comments?" Yelena raises her brow at Wanda, looking frighteningly similar to Natasha at that moment. "I thought you grew out of stalking Bug's dates in university."

Wanda doesn't reply, too busy staring at your table. Raye is making some kind of flirty comment, reaching across the table and lacing your fingers through hers. You're laughing—Wanda can tell with how your shoulders shake. 

The restaurant you've chosen to take Raye to is a slightly upscale steak restaurant. You've ordered cocktails, a bottle of wine, and two appetizers to start. 

Raye's biting her bottom lip suggestively before she takes a sip of her wine, her index finger is stroking the back of your hand, and Wanda's wondering if she can bribe a waiter to spill a glass of beer on Raye accidentally. 

"Seriously, I know you're best friends, but this is out of hand. Just confess before Raye steals your girl and they get married."

Wanda whips her head back towards Yelena, eyes filled with indignation. 

"THEY WOULD NEVER—"

"SHHH," Yelena hisses, and they both have to hide behind their menus when you turn around and look. "Jesus Christ, Maximoff."

"They would never get married," Wanda huffs before peeking outside her menu to see that you've returned to your conversation with Raye. But then she turns back to Yelena. "You know about my feelings? Did you always know? Did you—"

"Shut up," Yelena groans. "No, I was just fishing, and you're the sucker I caught. I mean, was there a time I thought you guys were too close? Yes, but it eventually became normal."

The two of them put their menu's down when it's safe, and Yelena seems to be carefully planning how to explain her thoughts. 

"We've all accepted that you guys are very close, but you both kept dating different people—you specifically only dating boys and then Vision. It worked out that we were all going to NYU, but did you know that Bug had an offer to study abroad and do an internship that would've accelerated her graduation and then career?" Yelena carefully looks at Wanda's face.

"What?" Wanda frowns. She vaguely remembers you mentioning the program but recalled you dismissing it. You didn't tell her you were offered a spot in the program. "No, but I mean, she was building her online platform, and it was taking off. She didn't need to do an internship."

"No," Yelena agreed with a shrug, "but it wouldn't have hurt. I suspect she couldn't stand the idea of being away from you for a year. Just like how you turned down the job offer in LA at graduation when you knew she would stay in NYC."

"That wasn't—I just—" Wanda huffs. "I like where I am now. My work is flexible." 

"Yeah, but being in public relations, you could've been making twice the amount you are now," Yelena raises her brow again. "Although, at this point, I suspect you both chose adaptable careers in case one of you wanted to move to another city."

"That's not true," Wanda protests.

"Do you even like being a PR?" Yelena asks. "At least Bug loves photography. You, on the other hand, have a talent for PR, but it'd be just as easy for you to do anything else."

"I do like it," Wanda stresses. "It's easy, and the clients I've got keep me busy enough. Just because I don't spend all my time on it or talk about it doesn't mean I don't like it."

"But—"

"Enough talking, our food is coming, and you better be ready to leave at a moment's notice," Wanda cuts Yelena off as the waiter arrives and sets their food down. 

"Worst. Date. Ever," Yelena deadpans.

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷ 

As it turns out, Raye lives relatively close to the restaurant as you walk hand-in-hand back to her place.

And not too far behind, Wanda and a reluctant Yelena trail from a distance. 

"She's not going to Raye's house, is she?" Wanda whispers with a frown.

"Why not?" Yelena grunts, adjusting her leather jacket. "She has casual flings all the time, and by the looks of their date earlier, it went very well."

"Not. Helping," Wanda glares at Yelena. They enter a street filled with apartments, and Wanda is careful about not following too close and walking under the streetlights.

"This is psychotic," Yelena groans. "Can't we go home? I feel like a literal serial killer out here."

Wanda doesn't respond, just staring ahead as they continue to walk. You're swinging your hand back and forth, interlaced with Raye's. There's giggling, and Raye keeps leaning closer to say something to you. 

There's so much sexual tension that it's palpable from here, and Wanda wishes there was a serial killer out here. 

How was Wanda going to stop this? How was Wanda going to prevent you from going home with someone else?

Wanda picks up a small rock and chucks it hard toward your general direction, hoping to spook the two of you apart. Except, her aim is so terrible that it flies completely left and hits the car beside you instead.

The car alarm goes off, setting off flashing lights and a very, very loud beeping noise.

"Wanda, what the fuck—" Yelena is cut off when Wanda suddenly shoves her down into a bush and dives next to her. "Ow, you fucking—" Wanda slaps her hand over Yelena's mouth.

You and Raye look behind, completely perplexed, when no one is there. You try to check out the vehicle, but other than a small dent, nothing is wrong with the car otherwise. Since neither you nor Raye caused it, you continued walking.

It turns out Raye lived in the building just a few steps ahead. You both stand at the door, holding hands before Raye throws her arms around your neck, smirking. 

Wanda's about to pick up another rock when Raye moves in suddenly for a hot, searing kiss.

And when Wanda watches you kiss back, her hand goes slack. Something awful builds in the pit of her stomach, and there's nothing Wanda can do when she watches you go into the apartment. 

Yelena watches Wanda's crestfallen face and sighs. "Wanda—"

"Let's just get back to the car and go home," Wanda mutters as she stands up, not bothering to brush off the dirt, leaves, or twigs from her hair. 

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷ 

The car ride home is sickeningly pathetic—a new low for Wanda. 

"PLEASE DON'T BE IN LOVE WITH SOMEONE ELSE. PLEASE DON'T HAVE SOMEONE WAITING ON YOUUUU—" Wanda hoarsely cries out, tears streaming down her face. She's off-tune, and she's screaming more than she is singing. 

"Oh, god," Yelena sighs, bringing her hand to her face in embarrassment in the passenger seat. They've stopped at a red light, and the car beside them is staring at them strangely. "This is sad for even you, Maximoff."

Wanda doesn't even acknowledge that she heard Yelena, only belting out, "I'LL SPEND FOREVER WONDERING IF YOU KNEW—"

"Just kill me, just kill me, just crash this car and kill us both," Yelena mutters to herself. 

The house is dark when Wanda returns, not that it should be any surprise. Deep down, though, Wanda hoped you'd return home and somehow beat her to it. 

Wanda's eyes feel tired and raw from crying the entire way home. Yelena gave her a reluctant hug, mustering all her kindness into rubbing Wanda's back and kissing the crown of her head when it was buried in her friend's shoulder. 

Pulling out her phone, Wanda looks at her texts. One from work, a couple of Natasha, one from Vis, and one from Pietro. She stares at your name in her messages, but nothing comes even if she wills it. 

Instead, she shoots you a quick "hey :)" and puts her phone away. You'd unlikely answer, but Wanda couldn't help herself. 

Sighing, Wanda gets ready for the night, trying to not let her mind drift on what activities you and Raye could be doing.

Please let it be scrabble, please let it be scrabble, Wanda thinks as she finishes brushing her teeth. 

As she walks towards her room, she pauses. It's unlikely you'd return until tomorrow morning, maybe even noon. Biting her lip, Wanda turns and walks into your room instead, crawling into your bed under the sheets. She pulls the blanket up to her chin, inhaling your scent slowly.

It both comforts her and makes her heart twinge. 

After an hour, sleep falls upon Wanda easily, and she's nearly in a deep sleep when the lights suddenly turn on, and a yelp is heard.

Wanda wakes up suddenly, shooting up with her heart pounding that it's a robber, but it's just you standing at the door with your hand over your heart and chest heaving. 

"Oh my god, you scared the shit out of me!" You scold Wanda. "I totally thought you were my sleep paralysis demon!"

Wanda rolls her eyes at the comment but frowns as you calm yourself and rummage through your closet for sleeping clothes. "What are you doing at home? I thought you were going to sleep over at Raye's."

"She got a call in the middle of everything. It was her sister or something having some kind of meltdown. Raye says her sister can be dramatic, and it happens once a month, but she couldn't really hang up. I got sleepy waiting, but I didn't wanna crash there to just sleep on a first date," you answer. 

"I'm sure you would've gotten some in the morning," Wanda mutters.

"I guess, but feels weird since it'd definitely be rushed," you take off your jacket and socks before heading to the bathroom. "It's fine, we'll probably reschedule for another date." 

"Perfect," Wanda sighs as she starts to get up. 

"Stay there, brat," you tell her as you stand at the door. "If you're gonna sleep in my bed, you better commit to the sleepover."

Wanda sticks her tongue out at you, which you return before you leave.

And don't get Wanda wrong. It wasn't a morbid or depressing change; it was just...a change. An irrevocable change because now, Wanda couldn't stop thinking about it or noticing it. 

This was all Steve's fault. 

Because if someone like Stupid Steve could notice something like that, it had to mean something, right? But as Wanda remembers about the past girls you've hooked up with and brought around, she doesn't know what to make of it.

A part of Wanda wishes she had never talked to Steve that night at the bar. 

"Where's Vis?" Steve asked, looking around.

"With Tony playing pool, I think," Wanda shrugged. She doesn't particularly keep track of where her on-and-off boyfriend goes. She thinks they might be on an off-period right now, anyway. 

"And where's—oh, nevermind, there she is," Steve started to say but cut off when they both saw you across the bar talking with the bartender, flirting over drinks—which were probably free if Wanda could guess. 

Wanda's slightly annoyed because it's been a long week without seeing you, and Wanda's been used to seeing you almost every day for the past several years of her life. But you've been gone on a work trip this week for a wedding shoot and only came home just a little after lunch and needed an immediate long nap before tonight's get-together. 

That meant Wanda was sorely missing out on best-friend time, and now you were off flirting shamelessly with the hot bartender. Wanda's rooting for you, make no mistake. The bartender is definitely easy on the eyes, luscious hair, and lips—something Wanda knows you're weak for. 

Plus, Wanda's worried you're not anywhere near getting close to settling down. She wants you to be in a happy, fulfilling relationship. But she supposes she's in no position to talk herself. 

Wanda loves Vision without a doubt, but their relationship is definitely chaotic, and Vision keeps pushing for something more serious now that they've been dating (sporadically) for a long time. She's been considering it in her downtime and thinks it might make sense as the next step.

Best friends do everything together, right? So, maybe if Wanda decided to take the next step in a serious relationship, you'd find someone to commit to seriously as well. 

Then, both of you could get married at the same time. Then, they could buy a house in the same neighborhood right next to each other. There'd be endless double dates and vacations together. Wanda wouldn't have to miss you.

But first, Wanda needed to regain lost best-friend time, one-on-one style.  

"Hey, you know what I just noticed?" Steve said, breaking Wanda's drifting thoughts. 

"What?"

"Bug—" 

Wanda makes a face at your nickname. Granted, it was Wanda's fault you ended up with it back in your first year of university. You never let her forget it, especially now that you're a professional photographer.

"—over there has a very specific type she goes after for girls," Steve mused, sipping his whiskey before continuing. "I mean, they always have green eyes and brunette—wait, that's not true. She had two red-headed girlfriends in our last year of university. They still had green eyes, though." 

"Oh," Wanda said, unsure what to say since she's never paid attention to the girls you were dating. On average, they were a brief fling, and only a few lasted longer than half a year. "I guess so?"

Wanda distantly thinks about how she dyed her hair auburn in her last year of university because she was looking for a change that year and Natasha was insistent that she'd look amazing. Wanda recalls you were a fan of the look.

"Yeah," Steve nodded along. "Ironically, they always look like you in some way. Check out that bartender now—long, wavy-haired brunette with green eyes. She's got thick, long lips and even does that dark eye-shadow makeup thingy like you."

Steve just laughed it off, finishing his drink, thinking nothing more of it before he started talking about Bucky.

But it was like something clicked into place in Wanda's brain. A daunting realization that she was wholly unprepared for and not equipped to do anything about. 

Wanda watched as the bartender clocked off for the night and dragged you into a corner booth, drinks in hand. It gave Wanda the perfect view that the bartender wore many rings just like she did. 

In the poor privacy of the dimly lit corner booth, there was a staunch and needy kiss from the two of you, and Wanda swallowed roughly. 

From here, if you were none the wiser, Wanda could be easily mistaken for the girl in the booth with you. 

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷ 

Sometimes, Wanda believes she's just being absolutely ridiculous. So what if you go after girls who share the same features as her? That didn't have to mean anything. You've always told Wanda she was beautiful, and it was perfect how you said it. 

It didn't feel insincere or creepy. It felt good to know her best friend thought she was absolutely gorgeous. But just because you thought she was beautiful doesn't mean you harbored secret feelings for her. 

You'd be insulted if you knew Wanda had ever thought that. She'd just be another one of those girls Wanda's seen you humble on multiple occasions when they found out you dated women, and they were worried you might have a crush on them. 

But then, Wanda couldn't stop thinking she actually might be one of those girls because then she'd think about if you didn't consider her like that, it wasn't about her looks but something about her personality that wasn't your type. 

And what could that be?

Wanda thought long and hard, trying to remember the girls you've introduced her to. 

Sometimes they were funny, and Wanda was funny. She made you laugh all the time. She specifically remembered one time in high school when she made you laugh so hard you peed your pants just a little. 

Sometimes they were intellectual, and while Wanda didn't have an IQ of 160, she did fairly well academically and was on the right track in her career. 

Sometimes they were charming, and Wanda was the type where she got more charming the more you got to know her. 

So, Wanda just doesn't understand. She's nowhere further with her thinking ever since this weird information has been bestowed upon her.

Maybe it all just means nothing. You just didn't feel that way about Wanda despite the type of girls you dated suggesting otherwise. You didn't need a reason for it, and maybe the fact you only felt friendship for her was the reason. 

"Wanna order pizza in tonight?"

Wanda turns her head from the tv and notices you've put your book down. "Hm, not really. We had pizza last week," Wanda shakes her head. 

"How about that Greek place that just opened up on Willington Ave?" You suggest. "Pretty sure I heard you grumbling about wanting Greek food earlier this week."

"I was not grumbling!" Wanda scoffs but smiles when you raise your eyebrow at her. "Okay, I was grumbling a little."

You snicker as you pull out your phone to order delivery. "Oh, sweet golden best friend of mine, whatever shall you do when you get married to Vis, who hates Greek food. Do I foresee a life of Greekless cuisine? Oh, the suffering you'll go through!"

"I don't need him to like it," Wanda slaps your arm, sticking her tongue out before she cuddles you. "I have you to eat it with."

You laugh unabashedly, a sound that Wanda's accustomed to hearing the joyful sound. "Better hope the person I marry also hates Greek cuisine. I don't know if I can live a life of eating double the Greek food. I love tzatziki sauce, but if I grow to hate it from eating it too much, I will make you suffer the consequences of that."

Your voice trails off as you focus on ordering food, unable to see the cogs in Wanda's head turning. 

It's all so easy. There's no tension, no electric vibes happening. Just best friends enjoying the banter and making plans to eat. 

It was all in Wanda's head, right? You're her best friend, so of course you'd know everything about her. 

The right type of friendship is fulfilling and soul-connecting, and that's what Wanda has with you. When you have a one-in-a-million connection like that, the line between friendship and romance is thin, isn't it?

Wanda hates Steve. She'd never think about this if it wasn't for Stupid Steve. She can hear his dumb laugh, blissfully ignorant about the observation bomb he dropped upon her. 

"Do you wanna get ice cream after?" You ask, throwing your phone to the side. "I'll even treat you to the gelato despite knowing I'm going to suffer through your crazy farts later."

"Oh my god, I'm going to trap you under the blanket with it just for that!" 

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷ 

Within two months, Wanda forgets about it. Forgets, as in that she decides to drop it (let it linger in the deep depths of her brain that she refuses to acknowledge), and resolves that Steve has no brain cells and has no idea what he's saying. 

"Have you seen my strapless black top?" Wanda shouts from her room with the door open. "The one with the v-shaped front!"

"In your closet!" You yelled back from the living room, not taking your eyes off your phone. 

"I can't find it," Wanda whines, and she hears you sigh as you get up. The footsteps approach her room, and she finds you standing at the door with an unimpressed look.

"I don't want to hear it," Wanda sniffs. 

"Hear what, brat?" You say with a brow raised before you start rummaging through her closet. The nickname was a joke you started that Wanda was entirely a spoiled person, exhibiting bratty behavior at times. "That I'm not gonna be your roommate forever, so you need to learn to fold it yourself before putting it away?"

Wanda makes grumbling noises that are mostly nonsensical but smiles when you pull out the top she was looking for. 

"You are the apple of my eye, stinky," Wanda grabs the top from you before she runs into her washroom to briefly change into it. 

"A match made in heaven, yeah, yeah," you roll your eyes with good humor. "Hurry up, Natasha will kill us if we're late for Yelena's birthday. They're on an upwards mend in their relationship, so she's been so unbearably uptight lately to make sure nothing goes wrong."

"I know, I know," Wanda mutters, carefully pulling the top over her head to not ruin her makeup. 

"Alright, I'll hail us a cab, meet me outside."

"Wait, wait!" Wanda calls out. "I need help putting on my necklace."

You chuckle, walking back just as Wanda steps out of the bathroom with the delicate necklace she wants to wear. 

"Alright, alright, relax," you tell her. "Your accent gets really strong when you're stressed."

"You're stressing me out by rushing me," Wanda scrunches her nose even though you can't see it. "I'm also stressed knowing that you have to rush me, or I'll spend the party getting lectured by Natasha."

Wanda's voice comes out husked with the accent, something she's struggled between hating or loving, but mostly loving since you've expressed how lovely it is.

You grab the necklace from her hand, and Wanda moves her hair out of the way. The routine of it all starts to bleed the tension out of her shoulders. 

Then, that horrible Stupid Steve Sentence kicks into her brain. 

 It's only as you put your arms over, placing the necklace against Wanda's chest, and focusing on trying to get the clasp in. Wanda can feel your warm breath against her neck, summoning goosebumps along her arms. You're so close, and she can feel the heat of your body radiating onto her, your fingers just barely brushing against her.

The tension comes suddenly, squeezing inside her chest as her breathing slows and shakes. Her body warms in an unexpected way. 

"Ah, got it," you say, but Wanda can only focus on your voice and breath on the shell of her ear. "Cute necklace but the clasp is so annoying."

You pull away and start walking off. "C'mon, I bet if we tip our taxi driver an extra $20 bucks, they'll speed and we can pray we're on time."

Wanda's left standing there, knowing she probably sounds like she's fresh out of Sokovia with how stressed she is. Her right eye twitches.

Was that...Wanda gulps. Was that sexual tension?

And was she the only one who felt it?

Fuck.

She's going to kill Steve.

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷ 

Natasha's absolutely neurotic when they arrive. It's just a simple backyard party, but it almost looks like a wedding venue with all the catering and flowers. 

Wanda's pretty sure Natasha's only being like this because she's overthinking about whether to cling to Yelena or give her sister some space to mingle with others. She seems to be sizing up Kate, who Yelena might be seeing, but it hasn't been confirmed. 

Yelena looks between exasperated with Natasha and secretly happy about the entire thing. Wanda can sympathize with her. After all, she's also a little sister, and Pietro can also be way too overprotective. Sometimes she's glad he's abroad in Europe for work while she remains in New York, but she misses him more often than she admits. 

"Alright, alright, Natasha," you groan, and Wanda's mind slips back into the conversation. "We're 3 minutes late, relax, will you? Damn, are you always gonna be like this until you and Yelena get back into whatever sibling bond you had before? Hope you're just like this with us because otherwise, you're gonna scare away all her friends, and she's going to hate you."

"Oh my god, do you think she'll really hate me?" Natasha bites her bottom lip in worry while looking around at all the people that they can only assume she's nagged about being late or whatever mishap. 

"Oh, man," you sigh, putting your hand on her shoulders before pushing her towards the bar. "You need some drinks and maybe some desserts in you."

Wanda's about to follow you when you turn around and nod your head in a different direction. She looks over and sees you're nodding toward Vision.

"You should go say hi to him," you tell her. "You've been complaining about not seeing him all last week, even though I don't know why you guys won't just FaceTime, but I digress. Come find me later, or I'll find you after."

You look over at Natasha, who's peering on her tippy toes to see if she can find Yelena.

"And, hopefully, I'll have ditched this nutjob," you whisper conspiratorially and laugh when Natasha turns around to smack your arm. 

"I heard that!"

Wanda chuckles as you walk off with Natasha while she turns and heads toward Vision. Despite how she was complaining about not seeing Vision last week because she did miss him, her expression was sour as she made her way toward him. 

Vision spots her immediately and waves at her with a warm smile. Wanda feels herself somewhat loosened at his expression. They'd also been friends a long time before they started on-and-off dating, so at the very least, she does miss his easy friendship. 

"Hey," Vision hugs her, slightly rubbing her back before he pulls away but keeps his arm around her. "It's been a while; you look lovely."

"Thanks," Wanda smiles with a shrug. She looks around and sees he's standing with Tony and Pepper. "How are you guys?"

"Could be better," Tony sighs dramatically. "Natasha won't let me do any of my cool party tricks as if I'm going to ruin her little sister's party. If anything, I could make it the party of the century!"

Pepper rolls her eyes good-naturedly. "We were just talking about how we're thinking of going to the Bahamas for vacation in December and escaping the cold. We've invited you and Vision along since it's been awhile since we've all gone together. Of course, we can also invite Bug and Natasha."

"Oh," Wanda says for a lack of anything else to say. She doesn't know how to feel about it, but she peers over at Vision, who's just smiling at her and looking eager about it. 

"I need another drink if I'm going to suffer through this party," Tony sighs. "Maybe I can convince Yelena instead!" He grins, dragging Pepper along, and they walk off together. 

"So, what do you think?" Vision asks when they're alone. "I didn't want to reply on your behalf since I wasn't sure, but I think it'd be good for us. I've missed you," Vision pauses as if he's about his next words but then says, "a lot."

"Yeah, me too," Wanda starts to say, but then her brain gets all haywire because it feels like a lie. She did miss him, but did she miss him a lot? "I think."

"You think?"

Wanda wants to smack her forehead because she didn't mean to say that out loud. "I mean, I was complaining a lot that I haven't seen you in a while all last week."

"Yeah, work has just been overwhelming. I get so tired after work, I just can't keep up with the texting or calls."

But you can, Wanda thinks. Granted, you're her roommate, so it's easier. But even when you have to go on work trips, you regularly text her no matter what time and squeeze in a quick call, even if it's just to say goodnight. 

The entire thing makes Wanda bite her tongue because why was she even thinking about that? That was completely irrelevant to Vision. 

Then—because as if just thinking about you wasn't enough—her eyes trail across the room, and the scene before her makes Wanda even more confused about her feelings.

You're standing there with Natasha at the bar, but it looks like Natasha's calling someone over to introduce you to them.

Another brunette with long, wavy hair, like she just had a blowout done. Wanda's not 100% sure from this distance, but she has an inkling that the brunette also has green eyes. She's wearing a white halter top and wide-legged sage green pants. She wears a lot of rings, but her makeup is lighter and more summery compared to Wanda's darker, smokey eye makeup.

In short, this woman was the clean girl aesthetic version of Wanda. 

And you look interested. 

This was ridiculous, Wanda fumes, feeling her stomach sink and cheeks flare hot in anger. As quick as the anger came, it dissipated.

Why was she so angry?

She feels betrayed, and her thoughts are turning very ugly. Wanda is definitely not being a girl's girl right now with how much she's thinking she's better than the girl in front of you. 

But that just makes everything so much more confusing. 

"Wanda?"

Wanda turns her head back to Vision. He looks concerned, and even when his eyes trail toward what Wanda's staring at, there's no additional reaction. He's not upset that she's staring at you, and that has to mean something, right?

It must mean there was never a concern about how Wanda might've felt about you. Sure, there were a few things Wanda couldn't be without, and you were one of them, but nobody can't be without their best friend. 

No one had ever blinked twice about you and Wanda.

Except now.

And that person was Wanda herself. 

The more Wanda thought about the entire thing, the more she became curious. The idea of you dating people who looked like Wanda was intriguing. She wanted to ask questions but didn't know what to ask.

It might mean nothing, but it also might mean something. 

And if it does mean something, Wanda wants to know what exactly it is. 

Therefore, Wanda needs nothing in her way to find out the truth and exactly what she wants, regardless of the answer. 

This was insane, wasn't it? Wanda's always been ambivalent about dating women. She's never gone out of her way to try it since she had Vision. Never mind entertaining thoughts about dating her best (girl)friend. And now, she was giving everything up in the pursuit of finding out what it could mean that her best friend was dating her lookalikes—and why she cared.

Wanda doesn't even know what she'll want to do with that information. 

Wanda looks at Vision, peering at his features she's always found handsome. When she thinks back, she's not even sure why she complained to you about how she hasn't seen or heard from him lately. She hadn't even gone out of her own way to do something about it.

"I'm not going on the trip. I don't think I actually missed you like that."

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷ 

The girl introduced to you was named Raye, Natasha's coworker that recently moved from Nashville. It was also confirmed she has green eyes, though they had specks of brown in them. She was a southern belle with a bold attitude, witty, and a wicked sense of humor. All in all, undeniably charismatic. 

At least, that's what you told her in private because all Wanda could feel was unrestricted aggravation with the other girl. The southern twang made Wanda's eye twitch, mostly because she knew you were head over heels for accents.  

"And then before I knew it, I was panicked and more lost than a blindfolded turkey on thanksgiving!"

You burst out laughing while Wanda's expression is stony, but when you look at Wanda, she forces a smile on her lips.

"Hahaha," Wanda dryly let out. "So funny."

But it wasn't. What the fuck did that even mean?

Raye continues to talk while you listen with rapt interest, and Wanda takes the time to observe your features in a way she's done many times before but with a different mindset. 

Your lips are curved in a smile, glistening from your chapstick. They're shapely, and they look soft. It rivals her favorite feature of yours, which is your eyes. They've always been so expressive with her, and Wanda's been around long enough that she knows what every expression means. She can tell when they glint with mischievousness or are soft with immense compassion and empathy. 

"So, what did you think of Raye?" You ask Wanda as you leave the party.

"She's cool, I guess," Wanda answers nonchalantly. 

The rest of the party was excruciating between Raye constantly hanging around you and Wanda also being too nervous to be alone with you. 

"Really cool," you sigh with a grin. "Glad I got her number. It's been a while since I've met someone so funny."

Was she funny, though? Wanda wonders.

"Funnier than me?" Wanda finds herself asking.

"No one could be funnier than you, brat," you smirk. "I almost peed myself laughing again when you almost knocked off Yelena's cake. I thought Natasha was about to enter into a coma." You snicker while Wanda rolls her eyes with a smile. 

"Glad I can always give you the biggest laughs, stinky."

Wanda glances over at your face, recognizing the excitement by the brightness in them. It's just another reminder that, as your best friend, she knows you like the back of her hand. 

But lately, when Wanda watches you pick up girls, she can tell when they're heady with desire. That look hasn't been directed at her, and Wanda wants to know what it'd be like if it were.

Wanda recalls the night you kissed the bartender and imagines if it had been her instead. She pictures your hand sliding across her jaw and cheek while your other pulls her closer at the waist. 

It's horrifying when a slow pit of arousal builds in Wanda's gut and...other regions. It feels utterly frightening and wrong like she's betraying the friendship for having and then reacting to such thoughts about you. 

But there's another part—the part that tells Wanda there's nobody in this world that she loves more than you. The mere idea of ever being apart from you was unfathomable. Wanda could and has endured so many things, and it would always be okay as long as she had you. 

So, knowing that Southern Belle Raye has the potential to be more than a one-night stand to you, Wanda realizes that she has a very small window to not only come to terms with her newfound feelings but also act on them as well. 

It's been easier to spend time with you lately, with Yoko being incredibly busy with her club activities, and Enid has been keeping herself busy on purpose to leave you with no choice but to spend time with Wednesday. 

Wednesday doesn't think you particularly hate spending time with her. You're always cordial and friendly. You've thanked her multiple times for taking the time to help you catch up on your studies and assistance with your current assignments. 

Just a few days ago, you gifted her 99% dark chocolate for all the help. Wednesday had been intrigued, thinking you recalled how she preferred the bitter taste. But the intrigue swiftly died when you informed her Enid let you know as you wanted to do something for her. 

It didn't matter. It was the fact alone that you went out of your way to give Wednesday something she'd like that mattered. 

"Where are we going?" You ask, your voice tinged with curiosity and wariness the further you walk past the school entrance, clearly leaving. "Are we actually studying?"

Wednesday's eyes peer to the corner of her eyes to look at you. 

"You study too much."

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷†⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷ 

Then.

"You spend too much time investigating, Wednesday." 

Wednesday didn't even look up at you as she continued to pack her backpack for the day. 

"I thought you were interested in coming along to find answers?" Wednesday's voice was dispassionate. There was a part of her that was tinged with annoyance that you constantly invited yourself along to her trips if you were just going to get sick of tagging along now. 

"I very much am, but we've clearly hit a wall and I'm not particularly looking forward to walking around in circles in the forest today," you pursed your lip but then smiled. "Why don't we take a little bit of a break today? If you really want to, we can continue investigating tonight instead."

"You're willing to sneak out?" Wednesday raised her brow at you. She thought you were ridiculous for trying to bargain with her. The investigation was important, and Wednesday had no desire to lose any time. 

She would investigate, and you were free to come along or not. 

"I'll break any rule for you, Wednesday."

You said it in such a natural way, and Wednesday found that she was unable to reply right away. She looked back down at the ground for a moment, blinking before she looked back up at you.

"Where are we going?"

Wednesday had several ideas of where you might take her. There was the music hall, the planetarium, or even the garden. But what she hadn't expected was that you'd take her to the carnival.

"You didn't get to enjoy it, right?" You asked as you stepped out of the taxi, paying the driver cash. Wednesday didn't answer, but you knew the answer. "I mean, probably hard to enjoy since you were chasing the Hyde and almost died after Rowan did."

That was another one of the reasons why Wednesday didn't mind that you came along with her investigations. You were the only person who believed her when she said Rowan was dead, despite also being of the people who saw him in the aftermath. 

When Wednesday asked why you believed her, you simply said she didn't come across as someone who would lie about it. So, if he was dead, he was dead. 

"I suppose," Wednesday looked at the carnival before her. It was moderately busy for a weekend, and she wasn't particularly interested in doing any of these mundane activities. 

"Alright," you clapped your hands, bringing Wednesday's attention to you. "We're on a mission today. I come here every year the carnival opens up to win the biggest prize, but my tickets were short since the carnival got cut short last time with the entire…situation."

"What are you trying to win?" Wednesday asked.

You grin at her, pointing far down the carnival with a specific booth. "That mini motorcycle."

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷†⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷ 

"This is rigged," Wednesday seethed, glaring at the booth worker who was nervously sweating ever since she approached. 

You laughed, grabbing Wednesday's attention and the relief of the worker. "I know, right? We're totally just losing money at this point."

It was a simple game. A gun with 9 rubber bullets and 10 balloons to pop, and you had to win 5 times in a row with no supernatural abilities to get enough tickets to win the motorcycle. 

It was not impossible, Wednesday knew that, but the balloons were not close enough where she could get away with hitting two with one rubber bullet. 

They've both spent $100 at this point and while Wednesday would get 9 of 10 balloons every time, you would hit one balloon before you missed every other shot, hitting the corner of the wooden target. 

As often as you refilled, it was starting to wear a dent. 

"You're terrible at this," Wednesday bluntly said, but you merely smiled and shrugged. 

A bit of wind was picking up, making the balloons circle around in their spot. Wednesday spotted her opportunity and chance when two balloons circled close enough towards each other, barely grazing. 

Wednesday timed it perfectly and shot her 9 bullets, using her last one to wait as they circled towards each other before shooting and getting them both. 

"Oh," you grinned. "That was really impressive." 

Wednesday didn't react to your praise, waiting for the worker to rotate the next round of balloons and repeating her actions while the wind continued. 

So far, Wednesday has won 4 times in a row. She had to pause as the wind died down, but it was sure to come back in a few moments.  

"What do you want if we both win?" You asked. "There's only one motorcycle, so you may have to settle for something else."

Wednesday snorted. "I'm not sure I should get my hopes up on getting anything." It was a dig at the fact you've been absolutely terrible with your shots.

"C'mon, Wednesday," you grinned. "Dream a little."

"I don't dream."

"Nightmare it up a little," you quickly rebuttal.

Wednesday sighed, looking at the prizes that hung and framed the booth. Outside of random useless knick knacks, there were just stuffed animals—which were also useless.

But Wednesday's eye caught on a large scorpion stuffed animal. She wasn't one for being sentimental, but this was as good as it would get.

"That," Wednesday pointed at the scorpion stuffed animal.

You looked at it, grinning as you knew the story behind it. "Sure thing."

The wind picked up again, and Wednesday took the opportunity to win the 5th time in a row. The booth worker, whom Wednesday also assumed was the owner, looked relieved and reluctant to hand over the mini-motorcycle.

"I don't want to stand here for hours," Wednesday deadpanned, having already spent 2 and a half hours winning this prize for you. You would be here for 2 and a half days at the rate you were going.

"We're just about finished," you told Wednesday, and she raises her brow, thinking you'd given up. 

But you slap down another $20 bill, smirking. Wednesday looked to your side of the targets and noticed the small dent you've managed to create with the rubber bullets. She narrowed her eyes, wondering if that was your plan all along. 

Wednesday gets her answer within minutes. Suddenly, you've turned into a master marksman, shooting every balloon precisely until you were down the last two side by side. You tilted your gun, aiming it at the target, where you created a dent in the side. When you shot the bullet, it shot inside the hole and bounced against the wood, flying out with just enough force to hit the two balloons from the side. 

Wednesday furrowed her brows in disbelief. 

It continued like that until you won 5 times in a row without pausing. The owner looked like he wanted to say something but merely rolled his eyes with a certain kind of fondness Wednesday was sure you earned over the years coming here. 

"The tickets get you two of these," the owner said, handing you two large scorpion stuffed animals.

"Did you have fun?" you grinned at Wednesday.

"It was passable," Wednesday admits, unable to fully say that even mundane activities like carnival games were interesting if she was with you. 

As you left the booth, you handed Wednesday the stuffed scorpions to hold while taking the mini motorcycle. 

"Look," you said. "Now your scorpion has a little friend to keep them company, or a little girlfriend," you wriggled your brows at her while Wednesday sighed, not commenting back.

She looks at the motorcycle and then at you. "Do you even know how to operate this?"

You smiled at Wednesday. "Not at all."

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷†⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷ 

Now.

The biggest prize of the carnival is still the mini motorcycle, as they don't change the award until next year. It seems they've stocked up since the last time the two of you were here. 

Wednesday knows you already have one, but it wouldn't hurt to have another one. 

You seem spirited to be at the carnival playing games, as it's obviously familiar to you. 

They walk up to the same booth with the same owner, who clearly recognizes them.

"Oh, not again," he sighs. "You're going to run me out of business. Any chance I can talk you out of winning again?"

You look confused, but when you see the motorcycle as the prize, a moment of recognition dawns on your face from the one in the corner of your room. "I've already won this," you slowly say as a confirmation but not as a memory. 

"Close," Wednesday drawls. "I won it."

You look confused as to why Wednesday would win the big prize for you, but before you question it, Wednesday speaks again. "It's time to repay the favor and win me one too."

You smile weakly as if the pressure is on, but you pick up the gun, studying the targets. The dent you created on the target was gone as the owner replaced it. You play a couple of rounds to get a feel of the game, while Wednesday puts little effort into her own game. It's unlikely there'd be wind again this time around. Even if Wednesday now knew the other method, it was something Wednesday hoped you would get on your own. 

As time goes on, you're starting to get the idea of how to win. It's rather satisfying to watch you get to the same conclusion. 

Wednesday takes her time achieving the same method as you. You're focused on your own game, not checking how Wednesday's faring. 

You both created a dent relatively around the same time before shooting in sync, winning 5 times in a row. 

The owner sighs, shaking his head and muttering about changing the rules about damaging the targets to win. Still, he hands you the motorcycle before asking what else you want.

"Uh," you hesitate, looking at the various prizes before you. Your eyes spot two stuffed animals that make you grin. "The bat and the wolf, please."

With the prizes in tow, the two of you leave the booth. 

"What are you going to do with the mini motorcycle?" You ask. 

"Teach you how to ride," Wednesday bluntly tells you. 

You look surprised. "Oh," you chuckled weakly. "Right, I guess I probably told you I wouldn't know how to ride one."

Wednesday doesn't know what to say about your comment, so she veers off topic. "What are you going to do with the stuffed animals?" Wednesday internally sighs at the ridiculousness of the question. There are very limited things you can do with stuffed animals. 

"I'm going to give them to Yoko and Enid," you smile. 

"Right," Wednesday mutters, feeling something bitter rise in her throat but unable to identify it. Despite coming here and doing it correspondingly, none of this feels the same. "Did you enjoy yourself?"

You shrug your shoulders before nodding. "It's not bad to take a break from studying."

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷†⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷ 

The second time Wednesday takes you somewhere, you give her a confused smile.

"I'm pretty behind on my classes still," you gently point out, hinting that you're not up for another day of playing hooky, and Wednesday concedes with a nod.

"I'm aware. We aren't taking a break today," Wednesday clarifies, "we're merely studying in a different scenery." 

The walk is silent as you follow Wednesday's lead. She takes you further down the river to an area you haven't explored before until you eventually reach a tall wisteria tree, probably the only one in Vermont, preserved with magic. 

"Wow," you breathe in awe, "I didn't know we had one so near campus."

The gothic girl is lost in her thoughts as she settles near the base of the tree, grabbing the books from her backpack on autopilot. 

You used to trail beside her, and now you always walk one step behind. 

It's something Wednesday noticed as she took you around various parts of the school during your study sessions in an attempt to recreate the memories. She knows you're starting to find her odd, but Wednesday can't afford to tell you what she's really trying to do.

Wednesday's goal wasn't necessarily to make you remember everything by taking you to these places that hold special memories. If you never remember, that's okay. What Wednesday wants is to recreate the memories in hopes they'll lead the two of you down the same path it did the first time.

But instead of growing closer like you did the first time, it feels like you're pulling further away. 

Even so, Wednesday can't stop trying. 

"Um," you mumble as you search through your notebooks. "I was hoping we could pick up where we left off on ancient languages?"

Wednesday nods, and the two of you delve into the usual strict business of studying. 

Everything is fine, and Wednesday is grading one of your practice sheets while you work on another. It's fine until she notices your trembling fingers. It's subtle as you were obviously trying to hide it, tightening your hands into fists and keeping them at your sides as you attentively look at the worksheet.

"I can't seem to understand the syntax—" you start to say but abruptly stop when Wednesday suddenly stands up, reaches up, and rips off a wisteria flower stock from the tree. She sits back down, reaching over and grabbing your wrist. The gentle squeezing of her hold prompts you to open your hand up, and Wednesday places wisteria stock into your hand.

The shaking stops, and Wednesday begins explaining the syntax to you without skipping a beat while you stare at her, stunned.

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷†⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷ 

Then.

"Let's go to the wisteria tree," you were holding Wednesday's hand as you dragged her along. "Today is such a beautiful day, and your skin is way too fair—I mean pale—I mean pallor—to be out in the sun."

Wednesday merely gave you an unimpressed look. 

"Once again, you're disrupting my investigations. At this rate, it will take me a lifetime to solve the murders going on here," Wednesday's tone was disgruntled. "It would tarnish not only my reputation but also my ego, and I will make sure you die a miserable death for doing so."

"Ignoring the fact that everyone on campus would totally be dead," you turned around and grinned, "We'd have spent a lifetime together—before you killed me, of course."

You didn't add anything else to your words, but Wednesday could catch the insinuations between the lines. 

A lifetime together. 

A lifetime with you. 

The idea didn't displease Wednesday at all; if anything, the fact that it didn't was more disgruntling. 

A large wisteria tree appeared, and the two of you easily settled in. Wednesday was grateful that she had an inkling she should bring a book today in her bag. 

"I love this place," you sighed with happiness. "I can't believe you found this place, and I've never noticed it in the years I've been going here."

"It's colorful," Wednesday drawled in response. The flowers that grew were vibrant violet and lavender, something she thought was entirely putrid, but she knew you would love it. 

Wednesday was about to say something else when she noticed your fingers were shaking.

"What's wrong with your hands?" Wednesday asked with narrowed eyes.

You looked down, finding you were shaking, before clenching your hands into fists. "It's nothing, it just happens sometimes."

"It's not nothing," Wednesday seethed, angered that you would dare lie to her face. "Why is it shaking? What's wrong?"

You looked like you were debating something for a long moment before you asked her. "Can you grab me one of the wisteria flower stocks?"

Wednesday narrows her eyes at your avoidance, but she gets up, pulls a flower stock off from one of the branches, and passes it to you as she sits down.

"Why does it shake like that?" Wednesday demanded again.

"It's my power," you answer softly, wrapping your fingers around the flower. Wednesday watched as the flower in your handle steadily withered and died. You were smiling at her, but your eyes had a distinct melancholy look.

"This happens when I don't use my powers enough or use them too much. Air is generally made up of a lot of different gases but too little or too much of one causes disruptions in my body because the equilibrium between the air outside and the air inside my body isn't stabilized," you shrugged, holding the withered wisteria flowers in your hands that no longer shook. "I try not to if I can, but plants are a cheat way for me to expel and absorb air to find the equilibrium."

"Why not? It's obviously the most efficient way to stop the shaking," Wednesday frowned. 

You shrugged. "I don't think it's a good idea for people to realize there are drawbacks to my powers and how to fix them. It may start with plants, but people will eventually start fearing I can use people the same way."

"Can you?"

You quirked your lip in response, and Wednesday knew the answer. 

"Besides," you sighed, dropping the dead wisteria stock with a regretful frown. "Some plants are really beautiful. It's a shame to kill them."

Wednesday looked up at the hanging flowers and scrunched her nose in disgust. "I encourage you to kill this offensively colorful tree."

"When it makes you so miserable? I can't deprive you of that."

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷†⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷ 

Now.

The silence drags on too long, and your lack of response prompts Wednesday to look at you.

You're staring at her before Wednesday watches peer down at your hand, intensely in thought. There's a mix of disbelief and curiosity in your eyes, and Wednesday doesn't understand why. 

This was normal.

"Wednesday," you call her name softly, making Wednesday's eyes nearly flutter at the sound. But the next words make her freeze. "Was I in love with you?"

It's something in the way you say it, curious and accepting. Something rushes into Wednesday's chest like a stampede, and she realizes it's hope.

Your tone doesn't suggest you remember anything, but Wednesday rationalizes that it's fine. While it would be ideal that you remember everything, it's not a condition Wednesday holds. 

You’re biting your bottom lip, looking reluctant. The silence falls again and lingers until you speak up again, trying to be firm.

"Wednesday, I don't know you—at least not anymore. I don't know what I felt about you before the accident...but that's gone. I'm not going to feel it just because you bring me to places that mattered to us. I don't remember it and I don’t understand it."

Stop talking.

Wednesday wants you to stop talking. She closes her eyes, turning her head away as if that would stop her from hearing your words. 

You don't take the hint. 

"I don't feel that way about you anymore." 

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷†⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷ 

It was fine—it was. 

Wednesday spends the rest of her week doing various things. She writes, then she goes to the library; she briefly goes to the bee club until she can't stand Eugene's chattering and leaves. She goes on walks with Enid, who smartly avoids talking about you, and sometimes subjects herself to Xavier's monologuing and brooding in his art studio. 

Wednesday fills the days with various activities while simultaneously avoiding areas you'd be in. It's not that she's afraid of seeing you, but simply that she doesn't want to. 

This is fine. 

The day has come to an end, and the sun has long gone from the sky. Wednesday decides to return to her room and play the cello before bed.

This is for the best. 

Wednesday focuses her thoughts on her cello and what she'll play, and perhaps Thing will be there to turn the pages for her. 

It is meant to be this way. 

The room is dark when she enters, and Wednesday knows Enid is not around. There's a small feeling of relief that she doesn't need to face her roommate right now. 

The silence in the room feels jilting in a way Wednesday's not used to. She used to be content in the quiet...until you. Then she grew used to your presence and soft chatter around this hour. 

Wednesday clenches her fists.

Good riddance. 

You were a mistake, and you did her a favor by cutting ties. This was something Wednesday should've done herself a long time ago. 

Thing greets her on her bed, and she acknowledges him with a nod. She shreds off her backpack and changes out of her uniform before grabbing her cello and heading out onto the balcony.

The scuttling footsteps behind Wednesday tell her that Thing is quickly following. 

"Bring me the new music sheet to play," Wednesday directs. She needs to play something different that would require her focus instead of her usual repertoire, which would allow her mind to drift.

Wednesday starts playing immediately, eyes focusing on the notes she's playing while Thing diligently flips the pages for her. 

This is good.

This keeps her mind focused and sharp. Wednesday doesn't have time to think about anything else when she has to focus on what note she'll be playing next. 

Despite the new piece, though, Wednesday's mind begins to drift. She has to make a conscious effort to keep her focus on the music sheet in front of her, but you pop up in her mind interspersedly.

"Wednesday, I don't know you—at least not anymore."

Her fingers falter, her cello emitting a jagged sound from her mistake. It's so unbelievably frustrating. She hasn't ever made a mistake while playing her cello since she first started learning it as a child. Years and years have gone by without a single mistake, and it was all ruined because of you.

You plague her like a disease that festers under her skin. Wednesday's done her best to ignore you for days now. She's been ignoring the sight of you, the talks of you, and everything down to the thought of you. 

Yet, you were still there, underneath everything. You simmer like a slow boiling kettle until you can't be ignored anymore. 

Wednesday closes her eyes frustratingly, willing you to leave her mind. She threatens her brain to erase the thought of you. It'd clearly be so much easier to forget you. After all, look how simply you live now without a memory of Wednesday. 

But you don't go away. The memories remain with Wednesday, torturing her for what will likely be the rest of her life. 

This was not a form of torture Wednesday ever thought she'd have to endure. 

Wednesday opens her eyes and stands abruptly as she walks back inside. She didn't bother turning on the lights, and the only thing illuminating the room was the moonlight shining through the balcony.

"I don't feel that way about you anymore."

Wednesday clenches her jaw and tightens her grip on her cello. 

How entirely damning. 

Suddenly, a white-hot ball of rage forms in Wednesday's chest; everything she's been trying to push down for the last few days spills over. Emotions run a rampage inside her, unable to be controlled and ignored any longer. 

Wednesday lifts her cello before violently smashing it into the floor, the body of it breaking in an uneven half, wood splitting into multiple pieces. The tailpiece cracks, and the strings snap, one of them into Wednesday's hand and cutting it.

The rage and adrenaline in her body don't allow the pain to register, even if she can see the blood. 

How could you forget?

Wednesday begins destroying other parts of her side of the room—her bed, her clothes, her books. She pushes her wardrobe over and knocks over the chair at her desk, the loud banging ringing in her ears but not loud enough to cover the pain in her chest.

Thing scuttles back and forth in worry, but he cannot do anything to help his friend. He immediately leaves out the door with a mission. 

How could you not want to fall in love with her again?

Wednesday pushes her typewriter off her desk—she thrashes everything off her desk. Her beloved typewriter crashes into the floor, the carriage breaking off along with other various parts. Keys pop off, making a ruckus on the floor as they hit it, but it doesn't bring any relief. 

None of this is. 

Wednesday pulls open the drawer, grabs out her manuscript, and looks at the last few pages she's written. Viper falls in love with someone who helps her with her investigations, and Wednesday has written up to the part where Viper begrudgingly accepts that fact she has feelings for this person and accepts their confession. 

Wednesday has never gotten rid of any parts of her work all these years. Sure, she's done revisions and draft editing, but every scene down to its core idea has never been removed. Wednesday is a stern believer that every scene is meant to happen, and she cannot change the course of her writing when she looks back. 

But Wednesday begins to shred multiple pages. She shreds page after page but doesn't know when to stop. Should she stop before Viper gets involved with this person? 

Along with the anger settles in hollowness. 

It's the realization that even if Wednesday destroys these pages, she can't really undo the fact that Viper has met someone and fallen in love with them. 

How could you leave Wednesday to remember everything alone?

Wednesday hears the door open, but she doesn't turn around. 

"Wednesday?" Enid's voice is soft and unsure, full of concern. 

Wednesday doesn't answer. 

Enid steps further into the room, shutting the door behind her as she looks around. The room is a mess with so many broken items on the floor, but her side remains untouched, nearly down to the tape they removed ages ago. 

Enid is careful as she makes her way to Wednesday, the girl's shoulder tense with obvious rage. But even so, Enid knows her roommate would never hurt her. So, she places a hand on her roommate's shoulder when she's next to Wednesday. 

"Wednesday—"

Wednesday is quick to whip around and look at Enid with violently accusing eyes. "This is your fault," Wednesday spits out. "I wouldn't be feeling this—this loneliness if you haven't been spurring lies to me about love." The tone is filled with disgust at the last word.

Wednesday has never expressed any ounce of emotion that would allow her to scream at someone, but she wants to scream at Enid and can't. Even if she wanted to, her throat feels so raw with something Wednesday can only detect is the urge to cry. 

But even if Wednesday threatens her body to refrain from crying, the salty water spills from her eyes without permission. The spill and spill, even if Wednesday doesn't make a single sound. 

Enid doesn't care if Wednesday punches, stabs, or even kills her—she pulls Wednesday into a bone-crushing hug. Her roommate resists at first, pushing against Enid, but it's useless against her werewolf strength. Enid holds on, even as Wednesday's pushing turns into desperate clinging. 

Wednesday's tears are hot, and Enid knows logically tears are always hot, but she finds herself surprised they are. It's just another sign her roommate is all too human too. 

"It's okay, Wednesday, I swear," Enid whispers, rubbing Wednesday's back in soothing circles, even caressing her messy braids. 

There's no heaving or loud sobbing, as that would be too much for the somber girl. Even so, Enid can feel the tears soak her neck and dampen her shoulder. 

"It's not," Wednesday's voice is so raw, as if the girl had been violently sobbing. She clutches at Enid's back, her eyes blankly staring at the mess she's made of her room. Everything is out of place or broken. 

It shouldn't be Enid here, but the person Wednesday wants will never show up.

One moment, she was being strangled by Tyler in his hyde form, and the next, she was released, and you were on Tyler's back, arms wrapped around his large neck as you squeezed with everything you had and then some. 

But you were so small compared to Tyler, and the second he grabbed your arm and slung you around to face him, Wednesday knew it was over. He crushed your wrist, broke your elbow, and hung you like a ragdoll before whipping you into the nearest tree before Enid came and saved you both. 

Wednesday only briefly had a moment to check on you, to feel your weak pulse before she had to keep going, especially at Enid's wordless insistence that she would take care of you. 

And only because it was Enid that Wednesday left to take care of the rest of the job of killing Crackstone. 

It was only because it was Enid, who adored you nearly as much as Wednesday did, that she knew Tyler wouldn't be escaping mercifully, and Wednesday could go do what only she could do. 

But after that fight? After capturing Thornhill? Wednesday didn't stay to gloat. She turned and immediately returned to you, her heart feeling heavy, weighing her steps down when she found you exactly where she had left you.

Too scared, Enid said. She was too afraid to move you in case there was some serious damage. 

Wednesday doesn't remember the ambulance and the medics. She doesn't remember them carrying you on a stretcher into the vehicle. She does remember vaguely throwing out haunting threats if they didn't let her ride with you. 

Lucky, the doctor said. You were incredibly lucky that your gift of air manipulation softened the blow of your head against the tree, and you didn't die upon impact. 

Wednesday looks at you, how your head is wrapped around in bandages, and covers your eyes. The machines and tubes that are hooked up to you and assist in making your chest move up and down in almost too slow of breaths. She looks at the discoloration of the skin of your arms and legs and wants to scoff. 

Wednesday reaches out, her hand stopping just inches above yours. She hesitates, worried that even the weight of her small hands will hurt you. It's a familiar feeling she has now. 

Worry.

Consideration.

The depth of how she feels it is only meant for you.

Wednesday pulls her hand back, placing it back into her lap, where she holds her hands tightly together. 

It doesn't feel so lucky. 

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷†⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

Then.

"Why do you insist on following me?" Wednesday turned around, glaring at you while you came to a stop to avoid bumping into her. 

"Well," you tilted your head, smiling crookedly at the gloomy girl before you. "Why do you insist on being alone?"

It was already a bad sign that Wednesday was beginning to find the familiarity of your crooked smile something she wanted to keep for herself. 

Wednesday knew then that she should make you go away, that she should open her mouth and say the most horrific things that she knows could shred your heart and pride into nothing more than cuts of misery as a reminder you should stay away from her. 

But Wednesday didn't.  

"I'm meant to be alone," Wednesday warned you, Goody's words flashing through her mind as a warning—a condemnation. "I prefer to be alone."

"I don't think so," you shook your head. "I mean, I've followed you this far along. I think you've grown used to my presence."

"Growing used to something doesn't mean I'll miss it if it's gone."

You quirked your brow at Wednesday. "Do you want me to go then?"

Wednesday's eyes flickered away from your face, staring into nothing with her blank face before she looked back at you. 

Your crooked smile returned, and Wednesday clenched her jaw.

"No."

"Then, shall we continue on to investigate...wherever you're taking us?"

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷†⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

Now.

The days drift and bleed together. Wednesday is a girl used to strict routines. Still, she's finding something rotting about her monotonous day that starts with waking early, getting her hour of writing in the morning, and attending classes (because Weems has bargained her attendance in exchange for a car to take her to and from the hospital every day after class and whenever she wanted on the weekends), sitting in the hospital chair for hours by your bedside, returning home, playing the cello, and going to bed. 

The silence has never bothered Wednesday before, but the lack of your voice—the way you teased her and laughed—Wednesday wants it back. 

The bruising on your arms is fading into something that's an even more gruesome color. She knows it's a sign of healing, but Wednesday remains true to the fact she hates colors.

Wednesday lifts her hand, tracing the lines of your hand so faint and delicately. If those who knew her saw her now, they'd never be able to believe that she was capable of such gentleness. 

You don't flinch. You never do. 

Wednesday can't tell if she's hurting you or not, but you've always been too capable of hiding your feelings and thoughts—perhaps Wednesday never knew all along if she was hurting you. 

The irony of Enid's words calling her out for her callousness and disregard for others rings so true now. 

Wednesday closes her eyes. If she closes them long enough, she can almost hallucinate hearing your voice laugh weakly and telling her it's not as bad as it looks. 

Wednesday opens her eyes, staring back down at your too-still body. 

But it was. It was that bad.

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷†⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

Then.

"Did you fight with Enid?"

"That's none of your concern."

You laughed, and it sounded like the strings of her cello that carry during the late hours of the night. 

Wednesday worshipped the sound of her cello.

"Well, fair enough. I don't know why I asked since it's so clear from Enid's huffiness all day that you two clearly did fight. She's been ranting to Yoko and me non-stop that she's not returning to this room."

The words twinged in Wednesday's heart, plucking at its strings in an unfamiliar rhythm. 

"Good," Wednesday bit out anyway. "This room can finally look more dreary."

You smiled as you sat on Wednesday's bed while she sat at her desk. You hooked your feet at the legs of her chair and began to drag it until it was turned towards you before pulling her closer. 

Wednesday looked displeased, her lips pressed in a thin line, and her eyebrows knitted in uncompromising sternness. 

"Admit it, Wednesday," you said in a sing-song tone that Wednesday detested because you were about to say something ridiculous. "You feel alone, and it doesn't feel as good as you thought."

Your words pricked at her, but Wednesday remained stubborn. 

"Enid wasn't the only one in my company."

It was such a roundabout way of saying it; it made Wednesday want to roll her eyes into the back of her head and slice out her tongue.

You smiled wider. "I suppose not," you agreed with a conceding nod. Wednesday felt victorious, but the feeling was fleeting with your next words. "But every person is different and fills your life in an irreplaceable way. You must admit that Enid can't be replaced by another."

"And why must I admit that?" Wednesday glared, kicking your feet away from her chair. "I don't need Enid. I have Thing, and I have—" Wednesday's nose scrunched in displeasure. "You." 

You seemed adamant about shaking up her life ever since you entered it. Wednesday, particularly, was disturbed by the constant barrage of emotions you keep trying to drag her into. It was becoming a slippery slope. 

Wednesday's assault didn't seem to bother you as you kept your relaxed expression. 

"As flattering as it is to be the only person, with a body and head attached to my hand, that you need—"

"I didn't say I needed you."

"—You should make up with Enid. I know you miss her, Wednesday."

Wednesday said nothing. She wanted to spout curses at you and make you take back everything you were saying. So ridiculous. So...defeatingly correct.  

You grinned at her. 

"Surround yourself with people you appreciate, Wednesday. There's no way someone as lovely as you could be destined to be alone. Ravens are still known to feed with other flocks and play with the wolves, dogs, and otters."

"Did you just call me lovely?" Wednesday's lip curled in disgust.

You laughed. "Sorry, someone as hellishly morbid as you."

Wednesday let a rare smile slip. "Finally, a real compliment."

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷†⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

Now.

It's just another day, but Wednesday can admit it to herself now.

It's easy now when you're unaware of anything around yourself for Wednesday to admit she appreciates you—more than appreciates you. 

Your weeks of silence have given Wednesday plenty of time on what she'll say when you wake up. Declarations that you belong with her and her treacherous heart belongs to you, so you will do well to treasure it. There might be interrogations about how you've managed to do it, but Wednesday knows the answer, even as simple and stupid as it sounds.

Time.

It was merely just time and your consistency by her side that lured Wednesday to you. 

Wednesday's palm lies flat against yours, her fingers slide down yours until they shift slightly to the side, and then she's holding your limp hand. 

Inane.

Waiting for you was entirely ridiculous and foolish, but nothing could convince Wednesday to be elsewhere. For once, she's at a loss at what else she could do besides wait. 

Wednesday's eyes trail over your face, taking in your long lashes pressed against your cheeks like an everlasting kiss. She takes in the bridge of your nose and down to your lips. 

They've been a little dry since the nurses aren't attentive to such things, so Wednesday has taken it upon herself to occasionally apply chapstick to your lips. 

It's such an intimate gesture, one she'd know you'd appreciate. Yet, you were solely unaware of it. 

Wednesday rests her cheek on the back of your hand while she still holds it. Her eyes flutter shut as she mumbles into the quiet room, "Wake up, so I can tell you that everything I am is yours."

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷†⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

Then.

"I don't like him."

"Who?"

You gave Wednesday a look with your brow raised. "Tyler, obviously."

"You can join the queue," Wednesday looked uninterested in your words. "There seems to be a long line."

"Shouldn't that be an obvious sign that he sucks?" You sighed but kept your eyes on the barista. "Why do you keep spending time with him?"

"There are plenty of people that don't like me, and I find myself to be far superior to most people," Wednesday flipped the page of her book, not quite paying attention to you. 

You look back at Wednesday with a lopsided smile. "I don't think people dislike you, Wednesday. I think they're scared of you."

"As they should be."

You let out another sigh. "So, I guess there's no convincing you that you should stop spending time with Tyler?"

"Do you have any sound reason other than 'his vibes are off'?"

"I don't like the way he looks at you," you spouted off immediately, looking at Tyler again with a reproachful look he seemed unaware of.

Wednesday scoffed, looking up at you. "You sound jealous." 

The words were meant to make you back off. Wednesday imagined that you'd scoff back at her and deny it in a way that would secretly make Wednesday think about late at night.

But then you looked right back at Wednesday with such a serious look in your eyes that made Wednesday clutch her book tightly in caution. 

"I am."

Wednesday had no idea what to make of your blunt words, so she merely turned her attention back to her book, wishing her braids would cover her ears more as they burned. 

It didn't stop Wednesday from spending time with Tyler, but now she kept thinking about you each time she did.

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷†⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷ 

Now. 

Wednesday is at the vending machine, staring blankly at the snacks and drinks. Enid insisted that she should stretch her legs and sent Wednesday on a mission to grab snacks for everyone. The werewolf had shoved money into her hand and practically pushed Wednesday out the door. 

Her own reflection stares back at her, and Wednesday admits that she looks worse than she normally does. It's subtle, and perhaps no one but Enid could tell how her eyes are sunken in a little more than usual. Her braids are not completely symmetrical, and the air around her is stale. 

Wednesday's about to put the money given to her into the machine when the phone in her pocket vibrates non-stop. The sensation of it makes Wednesday grimace as she pulls it out. Her eyes roam quickly over the words before she turns around and takes off back to your room. 

The vending machine was two floors down, and Wednesday ran up the stairs instead of taking the excruciatingly slow elevator. She's by no means unfit in any way, but the anticipation makes her breathless as she enters your room. 

Everyone in the room is waiting with bated breath as you shift in your bed, the air suddenly moving around in the room and creating a slight breeze. 

There's a small groan from your lips, and Wednesday is immediately at your side, grasping your hand in hers. The sudden contact makes the breeze disappear as you settle back into stillness. Your eyes flutter a couple of times before they open blearily. 

The room's harsh light blinds you momentarily, and Wednesday immediately uses her other hand and places it just inches above your head to shield you from the direct light. 

You open your eyes more easily, letting things come into focus. Wednesday watches as you seem slightly confused, and Enid rushes to your side, her head popping into view along with Wednesday's hand. 

Your bedside was slightly propped up, but Enid moved to press the button to slowly recline you up further so that you could see everyone. 

"You're awake!" Enid is half-yelling, trying to keep quiet because Wednesday would kill her if her yelling disturbed you in any way, but unable to contain her excitement. "How are you feeling? Should we call the doctor? I think Yoko already did. Oh my god, you're finally awake. The bruising looks like it's gone away for the most part, but now that you're up, it should get better quickly!"

"Jesus, Sinclair," Bianca drawls with a half-scowl. "Give her some breathing room. She's already got Wednesday up in her space, protecting her from the light like a knight in gothic armor."

Enid turns to glare at Bianca, but Wednesday doesn't pay attention to any of it. Her eyes are focused on yours. Your eyes are looking everywhere in the room, looking uncomfortable. Your eyes finally drift to Wednesday, and while they're undoubtedly your eyes, Wednesday feels something amiss. 

It's you...but not. 

The moment you lock eyes with Wednesday, you finally seem to notice that she's holding your hand, and you pull it away awkwardly. The action makes Wednesday slowly pull both her hands back to herself. 

Dread fills her.

You wince a little at the light fully unobstructed, but you adjust. 

"Enid?" You sound confused as you look at the blonde with pink and blue streaks in her hair.

"Yes!" Enid smiles at you, and you smile back unsurely. 

"Am I at the hospital?" You ask slowly, wincing as you touch your head softly and feel the bandage.

"Yeah..." Enid purses her lips. "What's the last thing you remember?"

You blink at the question, silent as you consider your answer. 

"I...I don't know," you eventually say. "I think at the library? People were making such a racket about the news, and I was trying to get away from all the noise in the quad."

Enid's brows furrow at the answer. That was too vague to determine anything. 

You swallow, turning your head to look at Wednesday, who has no expression, and for once, she knows you can't tell what she's really feeling.

"Um...you're the new girl, right?" You fiddle with your blanket awkwardly. "Wednesday, I think? Enid was excited about you arriving, and she'd finally have a roommate."

The words she's been saving for you die in her throat, leaving something hollow for her to swallow down.

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷†⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷ 

Wednesday knew that the damage to your head was serious. However, she didn't think you'd lose a couple months' worth of your memories. 

Amnesia.

That's what the doctor said, but he couldn't determine whether you'd regain them. He seemed hopeful, and while your parents failed to show up and Weems stepped in as acting guardian, he spouted suggestions on how to help you regain them.

But then he also reiterated that it might not come back.

How utterly useless. 

You would be discharged in a few days, free to return to school, where you'd have to take it easy. 

Your roommate Yoko practically assigned herself to look after you since you'd be stuck in your dorm for a few days to fully recover. 

There was a moment when Enid was about to catch you up on everything, but Wednesday pulled her aside first. 

"Don't tell her about me," Wednesday orders.

"What?" Enid's jaw drops before she whisper-yells, "What do you mean?! I've been pulling my hair out for the last couple of months because of you two and you're finally about to get together and you want me to not tell her about it? It better be because you're going to."

Wednesday shakes her head. "She doesn't remember."

"Which is why we should tell her!" Enid is exasperated. 

"There's no point in telling her if she doesn't remember how she felt," Wednesday snaps back, trying to remain quiet. Her eyes peer past Enid's shoulder at you. You're talking with Yoko, staying cautious about Bianca and Xavier there but not saying anything about it. You look briefly at Wednesday as well, pursing your lips in what she thinks is a smile but can't really tell anymore. It's not a look you've given her before.

Wednesday looks back at Enid. "Just because she'll know doesn't mean she'll suddenly feel it again. The knowledge of it all might burden her instead, and I—" Wednesday clenches her jaw and fist tightly. "I don't want to risk that she'll feel burdened or obligated to me."

The words sting in a way Wednesday's not used to. 

There's no way for her to express to Enid that Wednesday wants you to know every possible way you love her. She wants you to feel it the way you forced her to. 

Despite Wednesday's extensive vocabulary, there are no words to describe the desperation that lingers under her skin, clawing around with desire with how she just wants you to look at her and know. 

Enid takes in her roommate's bitter expression and sighs, relenting. "Fine. I won't tell her exactly what went on between you two—not that I fully know anyhow. I'll just tell her that you were friends. That will at least explain why you're at the hospital."

Wednesday nods stiffly, and Enid lifts her hands towards the other girl's shoulder, hesitating briefly before placing her hand on Wednesday comfortingly. Wednesday allows it briefly before shrugging it away, and the two of them return to your bedside. 

You smile at Enid, eyes trailing over to Wednesday's curiously, and it brings her some comfort.

After all, everything started with your curiosity. 

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷†⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷ 

"So, we're friends?" You ask slowly, taking in Wednesday's stiff sitting posture. There was a distinctive space between the two of you, and you had your legs crossed, slanted away from her.

A couple of weeks have passed, and it was in the midst of winter. Despite Enid regaling the last couple of months to you, Wednesday hasn't had much opportunity to see you. In the same breath, you didn't seem to be seeking out Wednesday's company for answers, either.  

The only reason Wednesday was sitting with you now was because both Yoko and Enid were busy with their after-school activities, and you needed help going to the library to catch up on your studies. 

It became clear quickly that because you didn't remember getting closer to Bianca and Xavier, you were uncomfortable being alone with either of them. 

So, Wednesday was quick to volunteer despite you still remaining uncomfortable at the suggestion. 

"It's fine," Yoko reassured you. "Wednesday excels in all her classes and can definitely help you."

It had felt like a jagged knife slowly ripped across Wednesday's heart that you needed to be reassured to be alone with her. 

It feels like that cut was endlessly bleeding, unable to stitch itself back together while you remained ignorant about her, about yourself, about everything. This heart that Wednesday caged in for so long was finally free and yours…and you didn’t even want to hold it. 

"Yes," Wednesday confirms, despite how the words feel stale on her tongue. 

The library was, for the most part, empty, leaving the two of you with privacy. Wednesday was helping you catch up on assignments and going through lessons until you determined you needed a break. 

Now, you seem to be asking for answers nonchalantly, as if you were only asking because there happened to be an opportunity—not because you were interested in actually knowing. 

"We must've been pretty close if I was willing to tag along with you during these seemingly dangerous investigations, and even willing to take a hit for you," you comment thoughtfully as you consider what you've been told.

"I suppose," Wednesday bites out. 

"Did we do anything else than risk our lives together?" You ask, and Wednesday grips the pen she'd holding tighter. 

Sometimes—when you're not talking and focused on something else—it feels like nothing has changed. Or at least, Wednesday can pretend nothing changed. 

But it was moments like these, where you look at her like she's nothing but a stranger and ask these questions, that she becomes acutely aware that nothing has been the same since you woke up.

Wednesday takes a quiet deep breath before she answers. "We studied—like this. You often kept me company while I wrote or played my cello."

"Oh, those are pretty cool hobbies. And I just sat there?"

Wednesday nods. "Sometimes you'd paint Thing's nails."

"Thing?" Your brows furrowed in confusion. 

Wednesday closes her eyes and sighs.

"Sorry," you mumble. "It must be hard for you that I don't remember anything."

You sound genuinely sorry about it, but there's an underlying tone that suggests you feel sorry for Wednesday, not that you're aching to remember yourself. 

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷†⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷ 

Then.

"No investigating tonight."

Your voice was firm as you blocked Wednesday's way from the door. The goth girl raised her brow at you but said nothing as she waited for you to continue talking. 

"We have a test and a paper due tomorrow and I know you haven't started."

"I can finish it before you even finish showering," Wednesday drawled. "And I don't need to study. These classes are incredibly rudimentary, and I've learned it all before I even started attending school."

You rolled your eyes, but Wednesday caught you smiling with amusement. "Wonderful, Matilda. That means you can help me study and read over my paper then."

Wednesday narrowed her eyes at the nickname, but you were already walking inside her room, shutting the door behind you. 

"And if I say no?" 

You hummed in thought. "Then I'll hint at Xavier that you want him to ask you to hang out."

"You don't want to live anymore?" Wednesday threatened. 

"If you're going to be like that, I'll have to make it worth my while and tell him you've got feelings for him," you smiled.

"Feelings of aggravation," Wednesday muttered, dropping her backpack with a grunt and walking back to her desk. She looked at you pointedly, and you made your way over and set your things down.

"I imagine even your blunt rejection will make him think you're in denial," you laughed.

"You must want Xavier to die," Wednesday deadpanned. "You can simply ask me without making disturbing threats."

"I thought you liked threats," you smirked. 

"I'm both revolted and delighted by it," Wednesday admits with a sigh through her nose. "At the very least, delighted you know how to make them."

Wednesday pulled Enid's chair from her desk across the room and offered it to you. "Since you've decided to be a nuisance in my investigations tonight, we won't be done until you've gotten every single practice question correctly and I can be assured you'll be getting 100% on both your test and paper."

You grimaced slightly. "Why do I have a feeling I'm going to regret this?"

Wednesday smiled in a truly wicked way. "Let's begin."

Wednesday didn't say anything about how your calf rested against hers the entire night, and you said nothing about how she didn't move away once. 

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷†⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷ 

Now.

The days are passing by again, drifting and bleeding together. Instead of watching your motionless body and waiting for your recovery, Wednesday watches you walk about, carrying on with your life...without her. 

You seem fine if you have to spend time with Wednesday, but you don't seek her out on your own. It was becoming apparent you were uninterested in her. 

The knowledge of it is something Wednesday can't admit because it feels like abandonment. The idea of it has crescent-shaped dents pressed into her palms from clenching her fist so tightly.

You're content to spend your days laughing with Yoko at the cafeteria, finding comfort in the vampire as the only thing that seemed to remain consistent as your roommate and friend. 

"Don't give up," Enid encourages when she stands next to Wednesday, who is watching you from a distance. "She's just...anxious. She won't admit it, but she's scared. Everything around her has suddenly changed; the only thing that's remained the same is Yoko."

It was annoying. If anything, it should be a testament that Yoko experienced no growth during the hectic months.

"I'm not giving up," Wednesday said, unable to remove her eyes from you.

Wednesday can't give up on you. You've invested far too much time into her, and everything you've done to her is irreversible now. 

You're unaware of it, but Wednesday loves you...that wasn't going to suddenly change. 

And just as you've used time and consistency to lure Wednesday towards you, she would do the same. She just needed to jumpstart your brain into remembering. But even if you didn't, she just needed to redo it over again.

It was still possible. You were still hers, even if you didn’t know it. You had to be because the alternative—

"I'm not giving up," Wednesday reiterates. 

"What are you going to do?" Enid asks unsurely. 

A plan starts to formulate in Wednesday's head. 

"Recreate the memories."

"Hi, Wednesday," you grin at her, leaning in to kiss her cool cheek. Wednesday feels the warmth of your lips and threads her fingers through yours, squeezing them firmly. 

You linger, and Wednesday doesn't move to pull away. Your wings unfurl and flutter in excitement at how much you adore your girlfriend.

"Careful," Wednesday sternly warns you. "You'll split open your wounds."

You look sheepish, but only because it would undo all the careful and tender caring Wednesday has poured into healing your wings. 

"Why are you here?" Wednesday asks as she pulls you toward her desk. She was in the middle of her hourly writing when you showed up, and it was the perfect time as she was aware you were supposed to go shopping with Enid and Yoko today.

"I wanted to see you before I left to go shopping," you admit softly. "It just felt like I might not make it through the dresses and frills if I didn't see you first."

Wednesday remains silent. Her eyes move away, looking downwards. If you didn't know Wednesday Addams, you'd think she was losing interest in your words since there was no physical difference to see. But you knew better.

The way she continued to hold your hand and—you lift one hand to caress her cheek as your fingers land on her ear—the hot shell of her ears.

"Cheesy?" You ask, a smile on your lips. 

"Disgustingly so," Wednesday grimaces, but you only laugh. "You're disgusting."

"I think you like it...and me."

Wednesday knows there's no point in denying it ever since you've discovered the horrible secret of her blush being in her ears. She merely sighs, turning her face to kiss the inside of your palm as she looks at you warningly. 

"Tell anyone and—" Wednesday pauses. She takes a deep breath in frustration. She can't even plot your murder, something she typically excels at.

You grin wider as if you know.

"Tell anyone, and you'll be sleeping alone all next week."

Your jaw drops. 

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷†⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷ 

Wednesday's typing rhythm has been thrown off since you left. She typically leaves her phone tucked away elsewhere to not distract her during her ritual writing hour, but today was an exception. 

Any day you're not with her during the writing hour is an exception. 

Wednesday types a few sentences before pausing, her mind drifting. She tries to threaten herself with suffering if she doesn't focus, but nothing could make her suffer more than what distracts her.

She thinks back to why you're going shopping with Enid in the first place.

"The Rave'N Dance is coming up."

Wednesday paused her reading but didn't set her book down. The day was still a little cool, with spring not quite in full effect, and the two of you had opted to spend time together near the river under the shade of a tree.

"Is that so," Wednesday answered with no particular interest in her voice.

"Mhm," you hummed, placing your hand over Wednesday's on the grass. "I've never been before."

Wednesday felt the warmth of your hand over hers and was slightly impressed with how you generate and retain heat despite being in the cold. She turned over to look at you, taking in how you didn't hold any singular expression on your face, but Wednesday knew better. She could see the glint in your eye, the way your throat constricted when you swallowed. 

"It's nothing special," Wednesday advised, her voice disinterested as she recalled last year's dance. "Even when someone tried to sabotage it, it was done poorly."

"Oh," you said quietly, and Wednesday turned her hand upwards so you could hold hands, easing your disappointment. You stroked the inside of her palm as you asked softly, "So, you don't want to go this year?"

It was silent momentarily as Wednesday carefully considered her words. "I admit I have no vested interest, but if you're interested, I encourage you to experience it with Enid and her pack of gazelles."

"Gazelles?" You raised your brow at your girlfriend. "And that makes you what?"

"I believe I told Enid last year that I was a wounded fawn."

You snorted, shaking your head at her. "That seems inherently wrong for some reason—I just can't put my finger on it."

"Nevertheless, go enjoy the frivolities if you so choose."

You looked at her, obviously disappointed but doing well to accept it. It was a quality that Wednesday appreciated in you. You never pushed Wednesday to change her answer or forced her to attend things she had no desire to be a part of. 

You kissed her cheek. "Okay," you said. "If you say so."

But what a blunder that was. 

What an inherently foolish mistake to make, and Wednesday only wishes she could turn back time to halt her mouth from opening and rejecting your obvious advances to get her to be your date to the stupid dance. 

Wednesday's used to keeping people at a distance, fully enjoying they wouldn't be brave enough to bother her—except for Xavier, whose offer has been declined with a hollow laugh and walking away—but that wouldn't be the case for you.

The second the student body discovered that Wednesday Addams was not taking her girlfriend to the Rave'N Dance, it was like all hell broke loose.

Every single day for weeks, Wednesday had to deal with some insufferable outcast muster up the courage to ask you to be their date. Watching them physically take a deep breath and drag their feet towards you was aggravating.

Wednesday just wasn't going with you; it wasn't like you were going separate ways forever. 

But it was bearable, especially watching you decline all of them in that polite façade you put on for others. It was a reminder that they would never see the real you. That version of you only belonged to Wednesday, and even on the slim chance someone saw it, they could never have it.

It placated Wednesday into only silently glaring at those stupid enough to approach and ask you. Watching them stutter from her look before being declined by you was adequate—until that gorgon girl you so senselessly continued to be friends with came to ask you.

Wednesday huffs as she types a few more sentences, her mind drifting again.

The clatter of noises rattled around in Wednesday's ear as she refused to move to the side as students filed out of the classroom. She arrived punctually as always to your class so that the two of you could walk to botany together. 

Wednesday spotted you packing your things up with little haste as you usually did. You turned and saw Wednesday, waving as you put the last things in your bag. You were walking towards her, getting closer, when someone stopped you.

That annoying gorgon girl, the one that you insist, was merely enthused and with a firm touch. 

The one that Wednesday had stoned over and over when she put mirrors into the bathroom where the gorgon girls were. 

Wednesday still detested her despite your reassurance and pleading.

You were stopped and listening to whatever was being said to you. You seemed deep in thought after, looking up in contemplation before you looked back at your friend, nodding. 

You continued walking along with her, smiling as she grinned at you.

"Alright, I'll see you later!" 

"Bye," you waved, continuing to smile until the gorgon girl passed Wednesday with an unsure nod of acknowledgment before she kept going. 

Once it was just the two of them, you turned to Wednesday, your smiling shifting into something only Wednesday was allowed to see.

"Hi, Wednesday."

"What was that?"

"What?"

"That," Wednesday deadpanned. "What did that girl want?"

"Oh, Thea?" You tilted your head as you walked, Wednesday following along. "She just asked if I wanted to go to the Rave'N Dance with her."

"I see," Wednesday unclenched her fist. "She's surprisingly chirpy for someone who's just been turned down."

You turned your head to look at Wednesday, blinking as you said, "I said yes."

Wednesday stopped in her tracks, causing you to stop as well.

"What?" Wednesday asked but then followed up with, "Why?"

You shrugged, tilting your head as if you were confused. "We're just going as friends. We'll be hanging out with Enid and stuff."

"Then why did she need to ask you?"

"Well, I'm sure we can do other stuff together when everyone pairs off. Like the games and oh—the slow dancing. As friends."

Wednesday wonders if she still had those mirrors lying around somewhere.

Wednesday stopped typing. She looks at the time and finds the hour has nearly passed. Looking at her paper, she decides she cannot continue writing despite how little work was done, and Wednesday refuses to compromise the quality of her work.

With a reluctant sigh, she grabs her phone and sees she has yet to receive a text from you. Contemplating her options, Wednesday quickly sends you a text before putting her phone back on the table, screen-side down. 

Deciding to go on a walk, Wednesday makes her way around the academy. With it being the weekend, most of the campus was dead, with students out in Jericho town to get shopping done for the dance. 

The school is abuzz with excitement, and Wednesday can't find it more nauseating. She's passing by the greenhouse when she hears a familiar voice.

"Oh, what about this one? This one matches her eyes."

Wednesday peers in and sees the gorgon girl—Thea—with another student and holding a flower.

"Can you turn this into a corset?"

"Hm, it'll be hard but I probably can. You're really putting a lot into this Rave'N Dance," the other student says. Probably the head of the gardening club. "I thought you said you were going with a friend."

"Yeah, but no reason I can't do the date stuff with her. I'm sure she'd appreciate a corset—"

More words were coming from Thea's mouth, but Wednesday couldn't hear them over the burning rage building up in her chest and thundering in her ears. 

Mirrors wouldn't cut it, Wednesday decides. Stoned and then shattered into a million tiny pieces, and the ground into dust was the only acceptable answer. 

Wednesday's about to step in when her phone vibrates in her pocket. 

It's from Enid. 

Wednesday reads the words, a plan formulating in her mind. Well, there was only one way to fix this without having to murder someone and be expelled (which was a shame), and also without having to directly confront you about her mistake. 

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷†⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷ 

Wednesday hears scuffling approaching the door, and she turns, walking towards the door to open it as she's fully expecting to see Thing back with the dress. 

But all she sees is her roommate.

Her roommate, who looks thoroughly unimpressed with Thing on her shoulder and a clear garment bag with a dress in it, stares at her before passing over the bag.

"Wednesday, if you get Thing to use his five finger discount again, I will put you in jail."

"The fact that you think there's a cell that could keep me locked up is what makes you endearing at times."

"Ha-ha," Enid laughs dryly. She watches as Wednesday inspects the dress a little longer before. "Cutting it a little late, aren't we? Why couldn't you just have said yes when fairy berry asked you in the first place. I'm guessing you're just going to crash her date tonight?"

Wednesday ignores the nickname that Enid stubbornly uses for you. "It's a ‘friend’ date," she dismisses. "I'm aware the hierarchy for events like these would have girlfriend at the top."

"You're so insufferable."

"Thank you."

Enid sighs. "Alright, let's just get ready together. I have a feeling your hair will take ages to get right."

"Weren't you going to get ready with Yoko?"

"I texted her to meet me here. C'mon, let's get going. Also, you owe me for this dress."

"I wouldn't have to if you had just let Thing use his discount."

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷†⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷ 

As Enid predicted, they were late, and the dance started 20 minutes ago. Enid bids Wednesday goodbye the second they arrive before she drags Yoko off to the punch bowl where Ajax and Xavier are. 

Xavier grumpily looks at her again as if to tell her he's annoyed she's at the dance again after turning him down and saying she wasn't going. It's all in jest, but Wednesday raises her brow at him anyway. He merely shakes his head with a chuckle before returning to the group. 

Wednesday sees Bianca talking to Divina, they have boys hanging around them, presumably their dates, but they seem uninterested. 

After that, Wednesday's quick to find you. 

Wednesday feels something crawl into her heart at the sight of you across the dance floor. It was like you were reaching into her chest with your hands, unknowingly dredging deeper to grasp her heart, threatening to take it with you.

There was a part of Wednesday that didn't want to hand it over to you. She didn't want—

You turn sharply and look over at her, somehow always alert to her presence despite being in someone else's company. The way your eyes land on her, seeing Wednesday and lighting up. 

It was yours—her traitorous heart belonged to you. You no longer needed to reach inside her chest because her heart leapt out and crawled into your palms. 

No one has ever looked at Wednesday like that. It wasn't the fact that you were happy, because there were already people who were glad to see her. No, it was—like something was settling in you. 

You look at Wednesday, and it's like you see home. And for someone like you, who has never had a home, Wednesday feels...honored. 

In Spanish, there was a word called querencia: a place from which one's strength is drawn, where one feels at home, the place where you are your most authentic self.

Wednesday would give that to you as long as you stayed with her. 

The song changes, and suddenly, Wednesday feels her feet move toward you. The slow beat reverberates as the sea of students moves out of her way. 

It's almost too long and too short when she reaches you. 

"Hi, Wednesday," you smile, "didn't think you were coming."

"I changed my mind."

"I know."

Wednesday furrows her brows. "What do you mean? I haven’t told anyone I would attend. Enid only discovered earlier today due to Thing’s blunder."

You smile, turning over to your gorgon friend, leaning over to whisper in her ear. Wednesday can't quite make it out over the noise, but she catches parts that suspiciously sound like, "Thanks for asking" and "Enjoy your night," Wednesday has a sinking feeling she's fallen into one of your traps again.

"You tricked me," Wednesday accuses, unsure whether to feel betrayed or impressed. 

"Not really," you smile at her, grabbing hold of her hand. "Thea did ask if I wanted to go as friends, and I said yes, but I later told her that you'd probably show up, and if you did, well," you shrug. "I'd like to spend the evening with you."

"So, you played into my covetousness and practically spurred me into coming to this inane event despite knowing I had no interest?" Wednesday deadpans. 

You shrug, seemingly unsure if Wednesday was actually annoyed or not. 

"I am annoyed," Wednesday confirms, watching your shoulders drop in dread. 

Wednesday smirks. Serves you right. 

She grasps your hand. "But I'm annoyed at the fact that I should've said yes when you were being obvious and attended this event with you, inane or not, because you wanted to go and I strongly despise the idea of you going with anyone else—even as friends." She says the last words with a crinkle on her nose as if she didn't believe your gorgon friend really saw it as just friends. 

You smile, squeezing her hand. "I think this wouldn't be as fun without you here."

"Fun is hardly the adjective I'd use to describe this affair," Wednesday drawls. "But I suppose it's a little better than last year."

"A little?" You say with mock offense. 

"Be quiet and dance with me," Wednesday pulls you closer, lifting your joined hands up, while her other goes to the small of your back.

The two of you sway to slow music, watching others around you dance. You can't help but notice that Enid isn't dancing with Ajax but talking to Yoko against the wall. 

"You're good at this," you comment, returning your attention to Wednesday.

"Of course," Wednesday raises her brow at you. "Dancing is a customary and essential skill in the Addams family."

"Along with torture and mayhem?" You tease but Wednesday smirks.

"And I excel at all."

"I recall Enid telling me you had some unique moves last year," you hum. "Are you going to show me them?"

"I'll show you mine if you show me yours."

"I can try, but most customary fae dances involve their wings and flying," you tell her, your middle finger stroking the back of Wednesday's hand. 

"Oh?" Wednesday muses. "Sounds intriguing. It's unfortunate someone was idiotic enough to rip open their wings and extend their healing time."

You let out a laugh, a warm feeling passing over Wednesday at the sound, and she is at a loss at how much you've entangled her into you. These things you make her feel are simultaneously enjoying and torture. 

Wednesday is obsessed. 

"You're welcome that someone was stupid enough to do that and save your butt."

"I had it handled."

"Uh huh," you say amusedly, raising your brow at her. 

Wednesday doesn't say anything else. She knows she would've been dead without you. And despite your stupidity, she showed her appreciation to you over and over the weeks you were in the depths of your recovery.

Wednesday rolls her eyes at you, and you lean your face closer, not caring who is watching and staring. 

They would probably never understand how you and Wednesday worked. They would never truly get how someone who smiled as much as you did, drawing those into your gravity, could end up with someone who repelled most people. 

But they were getting a glimpse of it right now. 

A hint of a unique smile and an unfamiliar dangerous glint in your eye—something many will tell themselves, was a trick of the light. 

It's all they can do as Wednesday moves her hands to cup your face, shielding it from view as she closes the unbidden gap, noting your lips and tongue faintly taste like a grape lollipop. 

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷†⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷ 

Hope you enjoyed <3

Tony was gone. 

A part of you thinks you keep putting off telling Pepper because then you'd have to face—really face—he was gone. 

Steve was gone. 

What did it matter, really, in the grand scheme of things? Coffee was just coffee, and it'd probably taste fine if you just put a shitload of sugar and creamer in it. 

Vision was gone. 

Honestly, you only really noticed because it was the same brand as whatever was stocked up at the Avengers Compound. 

Natasha was gone. 

But perhaps the coffee always tasted bad at the Compound and it had nothing to do with Tony being gone. Natasha used to bring coffee into the office most days for people, and Clint filled in the other days. 

Maybe Tony Stark just liked shitty coffee, and you were only now just noticing it. 

Natasha was back. 

Your hand faltered at the coffee machine, spilling a little of it on your hand, and the burn stung immediately.

"Are you okay?" Bruce asked as he noticed you inhale a sharp breath.

"Yeah, I'm fine." You smiled awkwardly at him before looking at Pepper. "Morgan's fine. She just has the flu and her fever's gone down. Make sure she gets plenty of rest and fluids. I'm going to set up a humidifier for her and help her settle into bed with a movie and wait for her to fall asleep before I head out."

Pepper let out a heavy breath, putting her hand over her chest in relief. "Oh, perfect. Thank you so much for coming suddenly. I just—Morgan doesn't really like going to the hospital, and suddenly she started throwing up and having a fever—"

"It's fine, Pepper," you waved off her ramblings after you wiped what you spilled on the counter. "You can always call me if you need me."

"Seriously, I think I might just employ you full-time as a live-in doctor if you say that," Pepper joked, and you laughed. 

"I am already your live-in doctor, just for one of your research labs. instead."

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

You don't think about Natasha—at least, you try not to. 

You heard things here and there about it through Pepper. Apparently, she's being held in a government facility similar to The Raft, detained like some criminal they needed to study instead of the war hero who sacrificed everything to save the world. 

It made you sick to your stomach. 

But you hear that Clint, Bruce, and Nick Fury have been fighting to get custody of her, so you don't think about it. There were people who knew Natasha far better than you did and were way closer to her than you were. 

She was in good hands. 

So, you continue on with your daily routine to pass your monotonous days, unaware you're waiting for some kind of update.

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

The next time you heard about Natasha Romanoff, it was Clint and Bruce cornering you at your lab.

"What?" You panicked, tensing up. "Why me?"

"You're the only person Natasha ever sought out to treat her," Clint answered, and you felt even more lost at the fact he knew. "Natasha allows medical professionals onsite to help her, but there were times she left to go see you. That has to mean something."

But, of course, he knew. He was Natasha's...best friend. And Clint was an incredibly nosy person, even if Natasha didn't tell him. 

"I've only treated her a handful of times—literally only five times. I don't know her that well," you shook your head, trying to walk around them. "I didn't even know she had a sister until you told me."

"Please," Clint begged. "I'm fighting to get her out, and the doctors they have looking after her are shady and callous with her. I can only visit her with Nick's influence, but it's not enough to get her out of there."

"And what do you suppose I can do?"

"You're a renowned cellular biologist," Bruce cut in. "If they're holding her for research, we want someone on our side who will at least treat her like a human being. The faster we get answers, the faster we can get her out."

"Please," Clint begged again. "Natasha needs help. She's...different. And it's only going to get worse if she remains in there. She's not talking, and they won't let her go until they can find some answers."

It felt wrong. 

You don't want to study Natasha Romanoff like an animal. Despite being a scientist with an inquisitive mind, you don't care about how she returned.

But it sounded like Natasha would be researched whether you liked it or not. And if that was the case, you do wonder how the other doctors may be treating her.

"Fine, we're going first thing in the morning," you gritted out, unable to block out the handful of memories of times you've treated her.

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

June 2012

"Oo, that looks painful," you hissed in sympathy as a redhead with a busted lip and nasty gash on her temple entered the med bay.

There was a snort that sounded like a half-grunt. "It looks worse than it feels. I hope I'm not intruding, but Tony said I should see you to be treated."

"Natasha, right?" You asked slowly, gesturing to a seat for her to take as you grabbed some medical supplies. 

"Yes," Natasha replied, equally slow with caution.

"Tony talks about you a lot," you tried to reassure her of whatever paranoia she might have. It probably didn't help that Natasha was still in her catsuit and probably would've preferred to be called by her alias.

"Well, don't believe everything he says," Natasha gives a light but somewhat tight smile. 

"Oh, so you aren't a unique woman with high intellect, sneaky, and rightfully smug?" You teased, and it was flattering that you could make a superhero laugh. 

You began treating Natasha's wound carefully. 

"You're pretty good at this, doc," Natasha commented as you blew on her brow, even if it didn't sting. "You're pretty gentle. Must be why Tony says you're his personal doctor."

You chuckled. "I'm actually a cellular biologist. Tony is funding my research and pretty much my lifestyle. With the money he's paying me, he can come crying about his boo-boos anytime. Although, he doesn't really come to me for serious stuff. It's usually if he has something ridiculous like a papercut."

"But you can treat wounds and other medical things?" 

"I was on my way to becoming a medical doctor before I decided to go into research instead."

"Huh," Natasha hummed, raising her brow at you. "Smart cookie."

"I'd like to think so," you finished cleaning Natasha's wound and putting a bandaid over it. "Feel free to come see me if you need any other basic medical aid. For a pretty redhead, it's free of charge."

"And if I come back blonde?"

"We'll cross that bridge when we get to it," you smiled, and Natasha smirked back at you.

"Smart and funny. Tony has it too good."

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

April 2014

"This is the worst bandage job I've ever seen. Who did you go to see for this? A grocery clerk?"

Natasha grunted. "Hi, to you too, doc."

You looked at Natasha, noticing how different her hair is now. But it's been about two years since you have seen her. Despite your offer for her to come to you anytime she needed help, she never did. Or she rarely did, you supposed. 

You could only deduce that Natasha was used to caring for her wounds on her own. That, or she didn't trust you. 

"Alright, let's go to my office," you sighed. 

"Am I interrupting?"

"Not really, kind of hit a brick wall."

"Oh, me too."

You looked over at Natasha, who had a straight face, but you noticed the bruise on her temple outside the obvious gun wound on her shoulder.

You pursed your lips. "Will you hate me if I laugh?"

"Not at all. On the contrary, I may like you less if you don't."

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

June 2015

"You know, when I told you that you could come for me for basic medical aid, I feel like you didn't understand the meaning of basic."

"Is this too complicated for you?"

"No."

"Then am I unwelcomed?"

You pursed your lips at the redhead, who stared at you with a tiny upward quirk on her lip. "No," you sighed. "Just not sure why you'd want to see me for such serious wounds. There are other more experienced doctors."

You lift Natasha's shirt up, looking at the long gash on the side of her stomach. "We're gonna need to stitch this up. I've been doing research with Dr. Cho, and we have a new machine that can help with cell tissue generation. It would be faster than me manually stitching—"

"It's fine," Natasha declined. "I'd prefer if you manually did it."

You frown lightly at the fact but relent to the redhead's wishes. Another year passes, and Natasha's hair has changed again. 

You worked silently on cleaning Natasha's wound, and she also declined the anesthetic. You focus on stitching up the wound with precision and care.

"I like to go to you for some things because your touch is gentle," Natasha said quietly, but it felt so loud in the silent room. "It makes me feel human when I can feel your touch."

You looked over at her face briefly, but Natasha wasn't looking at you. You don't take any deeper meaning into it. She's someone who's probably felt dehumanized most of her life. The machines that can heal her twice as fast would be fine for life-threatening injuries, but it probably all feels clinical. 

You looked back down at the stitch. "Well, as long as you're a redhead, it's free of charge."

"Don't kid yourself, I would look perfect blonde."

"Yeah, you keep telling yourself that."

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

September 2016

"What are you doing here?" You hissed as you pulled Natasha in quickly, peering outside before shutting the door. 

"Why? Am I unwelcomed now?" Natasha's tone sounded a little hurt, and you scan her body. She didn't seem to be bleeding anywhere that required immediate attention, but you did notice crusted blood at the edge of her nostrils. 

"No, but you could get caught here," you shook your head at her. "They're looking for you and the rest of team cap everywhere."

Natasha shrugged. "I highly doubt Tony has your place under surveillance. We don't meet enough for anyone to consider looking for me through you."

You sighed, not sure what to feel about the statement. "I suppose. I don't work for Tony anymore, anyway."

Natasha's brows furrowed.

"Why?"

"I don't agree with what he's doing."

"So you're on Steve's side?"

"No, I think Steve was obstinate too. They're both stupid. Men are stupid."

Natasha laughed before wincing as she held her nose.

"What happened?" You brought her over to your couch before finding your first aid kit.

"I broke my nose," Natasha shrugged. "Can you believe breaking my nose saved millions of girls?"

"With you? Yes." You smirked as you tilted her head to look at the injury closer. "Lucky you. Looks like you don't need surgery. Do you always come here immediately after you save the world?"

"Yep."

"Couldn't even clean your nose before you did?"

"And deprive you of giving me care? I wouldn't dare."

You snorted, carefully cleaning the blood in and around her nose. It was silent again before Natasha spoke up.

"So, what happened with your research stuff now that Tony's not sponsoring your work?"

"Pepper is funding it, even though she knows I won't share anything with Stark Industries at the moment. She doesn't want me to sell my research or provide any data to other companies."

"Smart cookie."

"And a really hot blonde."

"This feels targeted. It's like you know I might dye my hair blonde soon."

"You're still a redhead; I have no idea what you mean. I like your hair, though. Braids look good on you."

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

June 2018

Natasha showed up at your front step, holding her rib. There's a look of genuine relief at seeing you.

"You're still here," her voice sounds empty and hollow. "You're still here."

You pulled her inside gently. You're still in shock yourself. You were on a walk when people started disappearing left and right. The sheer panic on the streets was chaos as you were dialing Pepper frantically, almost crying when she picked up the phone. Then there were actual tears when you called other people in your life, and half of them didn't pick up...and they weren't going to. 

"I'm here," you swallowed. "What happened to your rib?"

"I don't know." Natasha looked so lost. There was the look of failure and self-blame all over her face. 

"Does it hurt?"

"I don't know."

You grasp her wrist, carefully moving her hand away from her rib before gently putting your fingertips against them. Your fingers trail up, down, and around. 

Suddenly, Natasha broke into tears. 

"Does it hurt?" You asked, panicked.

"You're still here," was all Natasha choked through her tears.

You didn't know what to do other than treat her wounds more gently than ever before while reassuring her you hadn't disappeared. You were one of the many people on this planet still here. And when she was better, she'd get the rest of them back. 

It was a long and exhausting night, and Natasha fell asleep in your bed, and you made sure she was comfortable before leaving to sleep on the couch.

Natasha's hair has changed again.

"You look good blonde."

That was the last time you saw her. 

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

Natasha's hair has changed again. She's gone back to being a redhead with blonde tips. Her hair was a mess, barely brushed, and looked knotted. 

The room was big and had padded walls, a singular bed in one corner, and a toilet and sink in another. There were lights in parts of the cell but also areas of darkness. It looked like a fucking prison cell. 

You were looking through an unbreakable glass window, the middle holding up a microphone you assumed was linked to the speaker in the room.

Natasha stood in the middle of the room under the light in a hospital gown falling off her shoulder. Her hands were covered in scars, and her lips were so chapped, you were sure they'd split even if Natasha breathed the wrong way. 

Natasha was only a few feet away from you, but it felt like she was a million miles away.

They let you see her alone under the guise of privacy as you saw her.

You felt you weren't supposed to see this—see her like this. 

A sense of dread filled you at the blank expression on Natasha's face at what she'd gone through—what she was still going through. 

She was a hero, and this was how they were treating her? This was someone who had fought wars repeatedly for this stupid country and the rest of the world, and they had her locked up like a mental ward patient from the 1600s.

You thought the government had gotten better. There were reforms and peace after people came back from the snap. This wasn't how they were supposed to treat someone who'd given up their life to ensure everyone got theirs. 

It shouldn't matter that she came back; she had still given it up in the first place for them. 

Natasha didn't even seem to recognize you through the glass as you stepped closer to the microphone. She looked past you as if she could tell the exit was somewhere behind you. 

"Natasha?" You said into the mic, and it bellowed into the room.

Nothing. 

"Nat?" 

Natasha's eyes were listless. She was a broken, empty shell that seemed more like an animated corpse than actually being alive.

You swallowed, trying one more time. "You're still a redhead. Looks like it's still free of charge."

Natasha's eyes flickered this time, her head tilts towards you as she blinked with focus. It was just a spark, but it was something, and relief spreads through you. 

"Not completely." You could barely hear her voice, but it was coarse. Cold.

There should've been a joke about some kind of discount, but Natasha didn't make it. You were speechless.

You didn't know what to say. Don't worry, you're trapped in here, but I'm going to help with the research, and hopefully, we'll get you out soon?

It was like prolonging a death sentence. You were horrified.

"Just—wait for me," the words flew out of your mouth so fast but you meant them with every ounce of your being. "You're gonna go home with me today."

Natasha's eyes sparked at the words but just as quick as you saw it, they died out, falling back into listlessness. She turned, stepping into a darkened corner away from your view and prying eyes of the cameras as she said, "No, I'm not."

You realized she's probably spent weeks watching Clint, Bruce, and Fury try to get her out unsuccessfully.

The resignation made something lurch in your throat and eyes sting with desperation and rage. 

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

"So, we can send you a contract—"

"You're going to release her to my custody," you cut off some government official. He was old, wearing some kind of toupee that was slicked back to hide his balding head. 

He looked at you in disbelief, almost laughing like you were some stupid, naive young girl. 

He looks at Clint and Bruce, who are also just looking at you in shock.

"As I've told your friends and Nick Fury, this is out of their hands. The Accords are still intact as of right now, therefore—"

"I don't care about the Accords. You will release her into my care. I'm more than qualified and I have the resources to find the inane answers you're looking for while rehabilitating Agent Romanoff," you cut him off again, able to tell that it was irking him. 

"That won't be necessary as you can see we have the resources here," the government official raised his brow at you.

"Your resources can't compete with Stark's resources."

It was no secret that Tony had left a very sizable fortune to you in his will, outside of everything he gave to Pepper and Morgan. And it was also no secret how close you were with the surviving Starks. 

"Doctor," the government official sighed, obviously making it sound like you were a nuisance. "If you're not here to join our research team, I suggest you go on your way and remember the NDA you signed."

You glared at him even more. "I'm not leaving without Agent Romanoff. You will hand her over to me, or you will regret it."

"And exactly how will I regret it?" The government official looked smug, and you smirked back at him.

"I'm still in talks with the government regarding my research, and I will pull out and sell that information outside of this country as I'm free to do so. I know Dr. Cho is in talks between the US and South Korea about her nano-technology. One word from me, and America can fall behind on those advancements as well." You pulled out your cell phone in a threatening manner. "Pepper and I will pull out all of our money from the very same banks and company investments that you're supporting and make you watch as they collapse one after another."

"You'd ruin our entire economy—our country by doing so!" The official was red in the face. "You'd put your entire country into chaos?" He sneered at you.

"I will if you don't give me Agent Romanoff!" You sneered back at him. "It's not like you won't eventually get your research and answers if she's in my custody. It works in both our favor."

The official is staring at you, glaring and seething.

"I imagine your colleagues and superiors will pin the blame on you if this entire economy and country goes into ruin because if I have to do that, I will say that it's the government's fault. The NDA said I can't specifically talk about Natasha and this place, which I won't. But I'm sure some journalist will discover the truth and plaster all over the news what you're doing to a war hero," your voice was so vindictive; you're not sure if you've ever been so cold before. 

"So," your voice was flat, devoid of emotion now. "What will it be?"

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

It was agreed that Natasha would stay in a cabin that Pepper owned out in the countryside. You were to provide monthly updates on your research and rehabilitation progress. And while this was in headway, neither you nor Natasha was free to leave the country or this planet. 

Clint initially wanted you and Natasha to stay with him and his family, but you declined. You pointed out that it would be hard for him and his family—his children, especially—to see Natasha like this. 

Pepper had everything prepared while you gingerly collected Natasha.

"We're going home, Natasha," you said softly, shrugging off your jacket to wrap around her shoulders. But Natasha still didn't react, even if she let you take her hand and drag her out of the facility. 

During the car ride, you mentally planned what you needed to do. Natasha needed to eat, take a bath, and rest. 

"Have you eaten yet?" You asked the redhead, sitting stoically in the car, straight as a rod. 

There was no answer. Natasha was peering out the windshield, her hands perfectly on both thighs. Clint looked worried as he looked at you.

"Natasha?" You gently placed her hand over hers. You could feel the bumps of the white scars over her hand. A part of you is too frightened to ask where she got these from. 

Natasha looked down at your hand over hers before looking at you. Her eyes were so empty. Such a dull green like dying grass.

"Did you eat?" 

Natasha nodded once before looking back outside the windshield. 

You looked at Clint, trying to give him a reassuring smile, but deep down, you were afraid you had no idea what the fuck you were doing. 

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

"Pepper says you've been here before, but let me know if you need help finding anything," you brought her into the house where Natasha just stood, looking at nothing in particular. 

"Um," you took a shaky breath. "How about a bath? I'm sure it'll be good to get the grime and stale air off of you." 

Natasha didn't move on her own, so you began to lead her up the stairs to the bathroom. 

It was a detached tub near the high window to get plenty of sunlight without anyone being able to peer in. 

"I'll just get this started for you," you offered. Turning on the tap and pouring in a liquid that formed into bubbles. "Just make sure to check the temperature and adjust. Pepper says that sometimes that faucet can be a little finicky."

You turned to Natasha, who stood there, staring at the wall. She was unmoving, making no gesture if she was waiting for you to get out or to start undressing.

"Do you, um, need help?" You asked, but there was no answer. 

Maybe it would wake her up a little once she was in the water. 

"I'm—" you took a long breath in. "I'm gonna help you undress and get into the tub. If you get uncomfortable at any point, let me know and I can stop or do something else."

It wasn't like you've never seen a naked body before. You've seen plenty both in your sex life and field of work. You've even seen parts of Natasha's body when you've treated her. You just never thought you'd see Natasha fully naked. 

You slid your jacket off her shoulders, letting out a puff of breath. You looked past her as you undid the string of her hospital gown. You looked up when you slid down her underwear before guiding her towards the tub. Your gentle guiding seemed to spark Natasha into mechanically climbing into it herself the rest of the way. 

"Okay, cool. Um," you stuttered. "I'm sure you've been through a lot. Once you're done, we can get you into bed and if you're hungry later, I can make you something."

You were getting used to the lack of answers, but it didn't make your stomach drop any less. "Just let me know if you need anything."

You don't wait for a response this time, leaving without shutting the door fully. Down the hall, you leaned against the wall, swallowing harshly. 

It feels like you brought a lifeless shell home. A part of you wonders if Natasha really did return or if this was just some lifeless doll. 

You didn't want to think about it anymore, so you pushed yourself off the wall and into a bedroom with a suitcase and unzipped it open to grab some clothes.

When you were heading back, you heard the water still running and frowned. 

"Natasha?" You called as you opened the door. The tub was overfilling, and you rushed to turn off the faucet, trying to not slip.

Natasha was sitting how you left her, staring ahead at the running water but not really looking at it.

You sighed, relieved that the bathroom floor was designed with wood and curved so that any water would naturally run towards a drain in the floor. 

You go to check the temperature of the water and find that while it was initially fine when you turned it on, Natasha hadn't attempted to adjust it, and the finicky faucet ran nearly scalding water. 

"Jesus, Natasha, you're going to hurt yourself," you yelped. You braced through it and stuck your hand in to drain the tub halfway.

You inwardly sighed, knowing you would have to help Natasha through the entire process. You began to refill the tub, monitoring the temperature and shut it off when it was filled adequately. 

"I'm going to help wash you if that's okay," you muttered. "Just let me know if you prefer to do it yourself at any point."

You grabbed a nearby stool and sat on it before grabbing the loofa. You began with Natasha's shoulders and arms, trying to wash parts of her that were easy to access.

Natasha tensed as you washed her, so you tried to be more slow and careful. 

"It's just me," you said softly, trying to reassure the redhead. "I've always taken care of you."

Natasha said nothing, but her shoulders relaxed slightly as you continued. There wasn't much dirt on her, but the stale air that was surrounding her began to fade away. 

Her knees were propped up, folded to her chest, and you washed down her thighs and legs, trying to not think of anything too much as you did it. You tried not to think about the scars on her hands and feet. 

Readjusting your stool, you went to sit behind her. You used a cup to wet Natasha's hair, trying to detangle some of it gently first. It was then you discovered a shaven spot in the back of her head, where there was a large scar. You realized that was where Natasha's head hit the ground when she—

You swallowed, trying to suppress the anger that they shaved her head to get a look at something so private. 

You squeezed a considerable amount of shampoo in your hands and gently rubbed it into her scalp. Natasha tensed at first before your fingers massaging her scalp made her relax, her body leaning back against the tub and her head into your hands. 

It was quiet as you did this. You shampooed her hair twice before slathering it up in conditioner and finally getting out the rest of the knots. You drained the tub, grabbing the shower head to rinse her down once more before you grabbed a towel and helped her out. 

You helped put a bathrobe around her to help dry her as you didn't think you had the gall to fully dry every part of her by hand. Grabbing her clothes, you led her to her bedroom, setting her down on the bed. 

Natasha sat silently as you towel-dried her hair with gentle hands. Her eyes fell closed as you began to blow dry it. Your soft fingers tousling her hair. 

So delicate. 

When it was dry, you set the blow dryer aside. 

"Hm, your hair is pretty sensitive and might be for the next week. It might be better to braid it so it doesn't tangle and break when you're sleeping," you commented, mostly to yourself. 

You took sections of her hair, delicately beginning to put her hair into a french braid. 

"You've always had beautiful hair, red or blonde," you complimented Natasha as you finished. You moved to sit in front of her to check if you did okay from the front. There wasn't a response, but Natasha opened her eyes. They focused on you, looking at you as they traced over the features of your face. She was studying you apprehensively. 

Natasha lifted a hand, slowly reaching up as her fingers brushed the side of your face. It felt bumpy from the scars, but it made the back of your throat burn. 

"Am I really here?" Natasha mumbled as she then traced your cheek before your lips. "Am I really here with you?"

Your eyes were burning now. You couldn't even answer right away because you were afraid your lips would start trembling. 

You lifted your hand, hesitating at first, before you held her hand against your face. "Yeah, you're really here."

The edges of Natasha's eyes began to brim with tears. 

"When I jumped, I didn't die right away," Natasha whispered. "There was a feeling that something bad was going to happen. It didn't get me yet, but it was going to."

You couldn't help the tears that began to fall over the edge of your eyes when they overfilled. 

"Something bad happened to me," Natasha's lip trembled. "It's still happening to me."

You gripped her hand tighter unintentionally, but it was like it grounded Natasha. 

"I was scared," Natasha admitted. "I was scared that even if you came to me, it wouldn't go away."

Then, Natasha grabbed your hand and placed it against her cheek. It was still warm from the bath and blow dryer. 

"But I can feel your touch," Natasha sighed like it was a relief. "It's gentle and I feel human. I'm scared I'm not really here."

"You are."

Your throat felt clogged with raw emotions, and you didn't know what to do with it. You've only seen Natasha a handful of times, and maybe it's because the more you do, the more emotionally charged you both feel. 

"You're really here," you told Natasha, using your thumb to caress her cheek. You didn't know what else to say. 

It was a blessing and a curse. 

To be seen by Wednesday—it was something more than many people could ever hope for. 

But to be seen when you wanted to be invisible? It was like being dragged without anything to hold onto. 

Nighttime was hellish, and you wanted to disappear into the dark as your nightmares plagued you until you couldn't even tell what was the dream and what was the reality.

But Wednesday Addams saw you. 

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷†⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷ 

You've missed Enid's late-night studying session again. It's the second week in a row that Enid's gotten a text from you two minutes before the session started.

"I guess we can start," Enid told the group with a disappointed smile. "She's not coming today either."

"Fuck," Xavier sighed. "She's the only one who's good at art restoration. I was hoping she'd help me with my assignment."

Wednesday's face scrunched together mildly, and Xavier rolled his eyes. "Except for you, Wednesday. But you hate teaching me and I hate learning from you."

"I can't help it if you're stupid," Wednesday dully replied. 

"Not all of us can do it perfectly after being told what to do—told only once might I add," Xavier raised his brow at her.

Wednesday shrugged, which only seemed to irk Xavier more and to prevent them from bickering further, Yoko turned to Enid and asked, "Why isn't she coming?"

Enid shrugged, her lips quirked to the side as they pressed together. "She texted to say she wasn't feeling well and couldn't make it."

"She does seem tired lately," Bianca commented, her expression in deep thought as she recalled the last two weeks when she saw you. "Also, really quiet. Well, quieter than she normally is."

There were murmurs of agreement around while Wednesday sat silently. Of course, she also noticed, but she was waiting for you to say something to her. You always told her whatever was plaguing you, even when Wednesday told you she didn't ask. Wednesday was used to hearing your mundane thoughts or solving your problems. 

But there was nothing this time, and Wednesday couldn't figure it out. She tried to think back to see if anything had changed—if something had happened, but there was nothing. 

Two weeks of leaving you be was enough, though, Wednesday decided as she packed her things into her bag.

"What! Wednesday, are you leaving too?" Enid groaned. "But I need help with botanical sciences!" 

"Ask Bianca," Wednesday didn't even look up.

Enid looked at the siren, who had a deceitful, happy smile.

"I'd be happy to help you, Sinclair. Let's talk The Poe Cup negotiations first."

"Absolutely not!" Enid scoffed before turning back to Wednesday with pleading eyes. "Wednesday..." she whined.

"Ask Xavier," Wednesday didn't budge.

"But all he does is draw in class. There's no way he's doing well."

"I'll have you know I'm getting a C," Xavier looked affronted.

Enid merely stared at the sullen boy for a long moment before she turned back to Wednesday. "I'll just wait for you tomorrow after school."

Xavier was about to say something else when Wednesday briskly nodded, standing up and leaving the group behind without another word. 

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷†⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷ 

It was completely silent on the other side of your door, and from its looks, it was dark as no lights were shining underneath it.

Wednesday knocked in three successions. 

There was no answer. 

If it were anyone else, they would've believed you weren't there and left, but not Wednesday.

No, she knews you far too well. 

This was a place where you could truly be invisible with no roommate.

Wednesday knocked insistently until she heard shuffling, an agitated huff, and footsteps approaching the door. 

The door only opened marginally. You looked mildly surprised to see her, but Wednesday supposed you had too little energy to manage anything more. 

There were dark circles under your eyes, and they looked puffy and slightly red around the edges from lack of sleep. Your skin was pallor, which suited someone like Wednesday, but she decided it was not on you. Your hair lacked its usual shine, and Wednesday's eyes narrowed as she finished scrutinizing you.

"What are you doing here?" You asked quietly. 

"Are you going to just let me stand out here?"

"I'm not in the mood for company, Wednesday," you blinked slowly. 

It was new.

You were usually happy for Wednesday's company whenever she stopped by, and you often visited her dorm. 

"I have had enough of this," Wednesday glared at you through the gap in the door. "You will let me in."

"And if I don't?" You challenged back, and Wednesday almost wanted to applaud the snippy attitude you've mustered through the tiredness.

"Then I will wait out here and ensure you don't get a. Single. Wink. Of. Sleep." It was a threat that tugged at your nerves. You looked at Wednesday, and for a brief moment, she thought she won before you shut the door in her face. 

Disbelief clouded over Wednesday's eyes. 

Then, Wednesday began to knock incessantly over and over on your door. Her knuckles knock with a vengeance, and she'll be damned if you think she doesn't take absolute joy in torturing you. 

It worked because you open the door wider this time, as you stare at Wednesday with a glare.

"What part of 'I'm not in the mood for company' was unclear, Wednesday?" Your voice was gruff, and Wednesday could tell that you were still trying to not snap at her despite how tired you were. 

And that in itself was everything. It was like that all the time. 

You were always trying to be considerate of whatever feelings you thought Wednesday might have while gently pushing her to admit which ones she was truly feeling. 

Maybe that was why Wednesday could never leave you alone now.

You were a gateway to things Wednesday never wanted, and she genuinely thought you should pay for making her desire things she swore she'd never want. 

"Say you don't want my company then," Wednesday said haughtily. 

Wednesday knew you wouldn't—couldn't, even. You never would. 

Just as you were her exception, she was yours. 

You pursed your lip at her, starting to close the door swiftly, and Wednesday stuck her foot partially into your room, preventing you from shutting the door in her face again.

"Wednesday!" You called her name, concerned you might've hurt her when the door hit her foot, but the macabre girl used the opportunity to press her palm flat against your door and pushed it wide open.

She took a step forward menacingly, forcing you to take a step back. She took another step, and you took another one back. When she was inside your room fully, she used the back of her heel to shut your door.

The resounding click of it made you swallow.

"Wednesday," you clenched your jaw, fighting against something you weren't even really sure why. But you were terrified—of her, you don't think, but rather what she was capable of doing to your heart.

"I have been patient," Wednesday's voice is quiet, but her tone is sharp, expressing every bit of her lost tolerance. "I have waited for you silently."

Wednesday kept walking towards you, backing you up until your back bumped into your desk. She looked positively irritated. "I have even refrained from saying a single unkind thing despite them running through my mind at the sight of you moping at whatever has been keeping you up at night."

"How did you know—"

"Do you take me for an idiot?" Wednesday's eyes flashed dangerously at your insinuation. You shook your head.

"Then you must take me for a fool with endless patience," Wednesday glared at you. "I don't take kindly to the kind of games you're playing."

"I'm not playing anything—"

Wednesday cut you off again. "Then explain concisely what has been keeping you up and why you've been keeping it to yourself."

Silence filled the room as you didn't speak, but Wednesday had already waited this long. She could wait a little more. 

Wednesday watched how you gripped the edge of your desk, your finger tapping underneath in rapid succession before you closed your arms over her chest. 

The stance was defensive, but you looked more reluctant than wary.

"I'm having nightmares about you."

The admittance stunned Wednesday, and she didn't know how to take it. Initially, it felt like a compliment because nightmares were so fascinating and exhilarating to experience, and Wednesday hoped to have nightmares every night she slept based on that logic. 

But you were not her. 

Nightmares, illogically, were typically not desirable.

"Wednesday, I—" You swallowed. "I have feelings for you. You're the best and worst part of my days because I actually feel clinically insane everytime I see you, spend time with you and then have to face the fact that you're not mine and I'm not yours."

Wednesday's jaw clenched, and it was noticeable. She wanted to open her mouth and demand how you could feel the exact same way she did, but she kept her mouth shut, waiting for you to continue on. 

"And I have nightmares about losing you," you confessed. "I have nightmares about losing you to Tyler or another deranged supernatural being. I have nightmares about losing you to Xavier or Enid or somebody like Tyler, minus the whole mass genocide. I have nightmares about losing you in every single imaginable way, only to wake up and realize you're not mine, and you can't lose what you don't have."

"I can't tell if the nightmare is when I'm asleep or when I'm awake." You put your hands to your face, laughing hollowly. Tears well up in the back of your eyes, burning as they were so dry from lack of sleep. "I think I'm going crazy."

Wednesday wanted to tell you that going crazy was supposed to be wonderful. But she, herself, has been experiencing the whirlwind of elation and torment you put her through and believed that going crazy wasn't as wonderful as she thought. 

But Wednesday decided then and there that there was no way up from crazy. And while it's unfortunate that she's not the brand of crazy like Uncle Fester, she's been driven mad nonetheless. It's the only thing that could explain all of this and everything that's about to come. 

Wednesday grabbed your wrist, moving your hand away from her face. No visions plague her, and all she knows is that this meant her decision wouldn't end in misfortune and it wouldn't drive her down a lonely path. 

"Enid's not expecting me back tonight," Wednesday told you as she dragged you over to your bed. Her succinct tone leaves no room for you to ask any questions. 

"Um, okay?" You said anyway, thrown off by her response and feeling exhaustion saw at your bones, dragging the invisible knife back and forth.

Wednesday guided you to get into bed, and you complied. Resignation settled over you as you rested your head on your pillow. It was cold again with you being away from it, but it brought no comfort. 

You lay facing the wall, about to pull the blanket up to your chin, when you heard something drop against the floor. You turned your head and saw that Wednesday had set her backpack down, and now she was zipping off her sweater, hanging it on the pole of your bed frame, leaving her in her black long-sleeve.

Wednesday took her shoes off before using every bit of her vulnerability to steadily and carefully climb into bed with you. It was dark, with only a little light from the moonlight shining just barely into the room, and you could make out the barest hint of her features and knew she was staring intently at you, trying to ascertain if this was a boundary both of you could bear to cross. 

Her touch was slow and hesitant, revealing this was something she's never done before, but the moment you were in her arms, you clicked into place like a puzzle piece. 

Wednesday was cool against your body, but she was warming from your touch and shared heat trapped under the blanket. She smelt like rain and dry leaves, and you felt like you were going insane. You buried your face into her neck. 

Wednesday wrapped her arms around you, holding you close, allowing the things she's been desiring for a while to come to fruition. She couldn't tell if this was making her saner or driving her closer to insanity.

It was deliriously pleasant.

"Who said you're not mine?" Wednesday muttered into the shell of your ear.

It's suddenly not enough, and Wednesday now knew the answer was that it was driving her closer to insanity. 

Wednesday pulled back slightly, looking into your eyes that were so tired just moments ago. The dark circles remained, but you were wide awake, speckles of oblivion in your eyes.

Despite how everything else changed as you became sleep deprived, your lips still remained full and soft. 

Wednesday moved to close the gap, sighing softly as her lips slanted against yours. 

How could she feel like jagged glass, splintered and sharp, while you felt so soft, practically melting around her serrated edges?

Wednesday only pulled back marginally, cupping your jaw and the back of your neck. "Who told you that you don't already have me? I want names."

You couldn't even think straight with how her breath felt on your lips. You pushed forward again, pressing your lips against Wednesday's insistently.

Was it possible for reality to be better than a dream? 

Your lips slotted over Wednesday's over and over and over. Wednesday tugged at your bottom lip, smoothing over it with her tongue before it dipped at the edge of your mouth where your tongue met hers. 

It was dizzying, something that frequently happened to Wednesday when it was too warm. She usually hated the sensation of it, but, of course, as many things were exceptions when it came to you, this was one of them too. 

"Your nightmares are inane."

You couldn't help but laugh against Wednesday's lip. 

"I think I am actually insane," you grinned, and you saw a ghost of something similar on Wednesday's lips. 

"Sleep," Wednesday ordered you, kissing you chastely initially but ending up biting your bottom lip tenderly. Her hands pull you closer, her lips resting on your forehead. "I'm here, so nothing will plague you."

The softness of Wednesday is unimaginable, and you're nearly skeptical.

"But—"

"No." Wednesday countered bluntly. "I'm telling you that I'm here and yours. You may come to regret it, knowing how...difficult I am. But you're stuck with me. Congratulations," Wednesday tilts her head slightly, brushing against yours, "or condolences."

But you could hear Wednesday's heartbeat, and it was dark, and you were so tired, but you were close enough to hear Wednesday's heartbeat. 

Your lips tingle from Wednesday's kisses. You felt your eyelids grow heavy along with your body, and the way Wednesday shifted told you she was satisfied.

Updated 03/28/2023

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WEDNESDAY ADDAMS

S E R I E S

Wednesday's Encyclopedia

» Wednesday's Dictionary of Emotions ✧

Wednesday's second year at Nevermore is a lot less eventful. Unfortunately, there are no murders or psychotic serial killers to find. There are not even any attempts on her life. Yet, somehow, Wednesday finds she's more stressed about the new girl who casually walks around with Wednesday's heart in her hands (not literally, sadly).

» Wednesday's Book of Flowers [TBA]

Sequel to Wedneday's Dictionary of Emotions.

O N E S H O T S

» Oblivion ✧

Everyone has vices, some more than others. Wednesday has quite a few: her morbid curiosity, her vindictive or cruel demeanor, and most recently—finding any reason to kiss you. [soft angst. romance]

» Just Like Silk ✧

Wednesday is a rigid person. She wears the same type of clothes everyday, eats the same thing every morning, and always wears her hair in braids. You find something exhilrating about undoing all those things—undoing her. [Intimacy. Fluff]

» Lips Over Your Nightmare [Post 3/29/2023]

You've been having trouble sleeping. Nightmares haunt you every time you close your eyes, and Wednesday offers a solution in the form of comfort only she is capable of. [soft angst. comfort]

D R A B B L E

» mm.drabble.wednesday

WENCLAIR

S E R I E S

» TBA

O N E S H O T S

» Keep You Warm

Wednesday had warned Enid to dress warm for the weather, knowing the blonde had a penchant for thinking she was invincible because she was a werewolf. Because if Enid caught a cold...

D R A B B L E S

You've only started returning to class recently after reviewing all the notes Wednesday took for you. You were lucky enough to be either given an extension on assignments you missed or given a pass since you were a stellar student. 

Things are slowly returning back to normal. There had been plenty of gossip about Henry's expulsion. Of course, given his family's status, bail was posted, which his father immediately paid so his son could be locked in his own home. There won't be a trial as Weems was very firm about what would happen if Morrison Sr didn't work to take a plea bargain. 

It was only two weeks in that Wednesday declared you were to meet her this Saturday at 7PM sharp, and if you were even half a second late...there would be consequences. You smiled at Wednesday, kissing her cheek at the time, thinking her antics were cute.

But unfortunately, with Saturday here, you find yourself unable to have a moment alone. Enid has been with you all morning, not letting you out of her sight for even a second. Not even when you went to the washroom. 

"Are you sure you don't have anything better to do? I thought you were also supposed to be having a date with Ajax today. I'm just going to hang out here," you offer Enid. It's rare to see her without Yoko or Ajax.

Enid sighs. "No, it's fine. Ajax's been busy lately." Enid gives you a look, a quirk on her brow. "And you hanging out alone was why you got fairy-napped last time. Wednesday will erase my existence from this universe if I leave you alone here, even if it's in our room."

You can hear the forlorn dejection in Enid's sigh, and you look at her curiously. "Are things not going well with Ajax? I thought things were going well just a few weeks ago."

Enid scrunches her nose, seemingly trying to focus on painting your pinky nail. It's silent initially as the normally exuberant werewolf gathers her thoughts. 

"It's not..." Enid sighs with mild frustration, letting out a puff of breath. "It's not that it's not going well. It just feels like we're...drifting. Ajax has his friend group and after-school activities, and so do I. All we seem to do when we hang out is make out, which, don't get me wrong, was awesome at first. But now..." Enid's voice drifts at the end. 

"It's not enough?" You offer, and Enid reluctantly nods. 

"Why don't you ask him on a date?" You suggest curiously. Enid was so outgoing; you couldn't imagine her not asking someone out if she wanted to.

Enid purses her lips. "Well, the thing is...I feel like I was the first to tell him I was interested and basically hinted he needed to ask me out on a date. I just want him to, like, take the initiative for once."

"I see," you hum, mulling over the blonde's answer. "Then, will you break up?"

"You ask really hard questions," Enid groans, gently setting your hand down now that she's finished painting your nails. 

You study them, admiring the black nail polish with a white accent on your ring fingers. On the white nail, Enid had drawn nail art of wings in black. It was simple, yet you found yourself feeling joyful.

"Thanks, Enid," you smile at her, and Enid beams at you back. 

"To answer your question," Enid puts away the nail polish and adjusts herself to sit more comfortably while you're careful not to smudge your nails. "No, I'm not going to break up with him. I just...I guess I'll need to talk to him first."

"Very wise."

Enid pinches your sides, which causes you to yelp in surprise. "Alright, miss bliss, I get you're on cloud nine with your relationship." She gives you a warning look. "Don't tell Wednesday."

"You don't want your boyfriend to become roadkill?"

"Where would Wednesday get a car?"

"I'm sure my girlfriend will be the first person to use a Poe Cup boat to turn someone into roadkill."

Enid gags a little, dramatically throwing herself back onto her bed. "I think I'd rather her just nailgun his heart..."

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Wednesday stares at the space before her in deep, analytical thought. She plans to recreate what she's done the evening the date was originally supposed to happen had you not been taken. 

Only this time, Wednesday was planning to have the date in your room instead of hers and Enid's. There was a particular appeal about having the space and time alone with you, uninterrupted by the possibility of Enid returning to their shared room early for whatever reason. 

Wednesday has noticed that her roommate spends less time with her boyfriend. But since she had no desire to get into that conversation about Enid's feelings unless there was a reason to murder, Wednesday wasn't going to bring it up. 

Wednesday feels a tap on her ankle, and she looks down to see Thing pointing at the small gap between the end of your bed and the wall. 

"Good idea, Thing," Wednesday praises as she lifts the screen projector and angles it so that it will fit between the spaces. 

Your wings were still healing, and Wednesday considered the fact that having the space for you to lie around with your wings out would be beneficial. 

Honestly, it would've been better to utilize your studio space, but you've been weirdly insistent about being holed up in your room as of late. A part of Wednesday wonders if it's because you're reluctant to return to your space that no longer feels safe. 

The thought of it has Wednesday gripping the pole of the project tightly, wishing she had done more than gouge out Henry's eyes. She should've taken out his tongue and his thumbs as well. Wednesday feels regretful. 

"Thing, did you get the lights?"

Thing scuddles to the corner of the room before he starts dragging out a plastic bag.

"And where did you get it?"

There are some hand gestures, and Wednesday scoffs. "Of course, Xavier would have them. Grab the tape and we'll start hanging these up."

While Thing is busy, Wednesday mulls over what's been nagging at her for the past half hour. 

It's not that Wednesday feels fear. No, fear is irrational, and it was definitely irrational to dread not knowing your whereabouts when she knew Enid was with you. 

Still, Wednesday pulls the phone out of her pocket, glaring at the stupid device. She sees that she has multiple texts from Eugene and Xavier that she ignores before she shoots you a text.

Immediately, there's a buzz from under your pillow. 

Wednesday promptly walks over and sticks her hand under your pillow, swiping until she hits something solid. When she retracts her hand, she finds your phone in it. Her eye momentarily twitches as she lets out a deep, annoyed sigh from her nose. 

Wednesday shoots another text from her phone, and the reply is prompt. 

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷†⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

"OMG, I can't wait for you two to get on with your date," Enid groans, tossing her phone further down the bed. 

You turn your attention away from Enid's laptop screen. Enid says that if Wednesday was culturing you on murder-y films and documentaries, she would catch you up on pop culture. Hence, you were currently watching Mean Girls with a deep interest. 

"What's wrong?" You ask Enid, eyeing her phone that seemed to buzz every fifteen minutes for the last hour. 

"What's wrong is that your girlfriend is psychotically paranoid that I can't keep you safe and you've forgotten your own phone back in your own room!" Enid grabs a pillow and smushes it against her face. "This is why having a phone is important! But I almost want to kill Xavier for getting Wednesday one. Only she would be able to find a way to torture me with my beloved technology."

You give Enid an amused look, reaching to grab her phone. You swipe at the notification, but the passcode screen comes up. 

"1031, it's when Yoko and I became friends," Enid's answer was muffled by her pillow. 

You merely raise your brow at the information but enter the passcode. 

The text you see...baffle you. 

You can't help but slightly laugh while Enid glares at you, tossing a pillow at you but carefully ensuring it isn't too rough. 

"Laugh all you want, but I have half a mind to make you late for your date tonight. See how funny you think it is when Wednesday chains you to her for the rest of your life. Think how easy it will be to go to the bathroom in that situation."

You stop laughing.

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷†⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

6:50PM.

Wednesday carefully checks over her preparations for the last time. The food was hot, the movie marathon was set up, and Wednesday turned on the fairy lights while Thing turned off the ceiling light. 

Wednesday opens your window slightly, knowing you like a light breeze before she lit the candles she placed around your room. 

The time grows closer, and Wednesday feels antsy as she thrums her fingers against your desk. 

Wednesday has to refrain from texting Enid again. She admits she enjoyed torturing Enid with her timely texts, but eventually, her roommate put her foot down and told Wednesday she would text if there were any issues and then stopped replying.

This was why phones were so unreliable. 

"Thing—" Wednesday starts to say, but the disembodied hand is already scuttling off to go grab you. She sighs and relents that she was just ensuring you would arrive in a timely manner—a minute earlier even. 

Wednesday waits near the door with her arms crossed over her chest. Minutes pass, but soon, she can hear multiple footsteps. She hears your soft and melodic voice, and the tension in her shoulders seeps out. 

How annoying. 

But when your face is the first thing Wednesday sees at the door, she feels like she can exhale. It's like the satisfying feeling of executing a well-planned strategy, and it might as well have been to make sure you got here. 

"Hi, Wednesday," you greet her with a smile on your lips, clearly happy to see her. 

Wednesday nods, but then Enid's face pops up in front of yours, grinning all wide and excited.

"O-M-G!" Enid squeals. "I still can't believe you planned all this even though it's the second time I'm seeing this. I'm so proud of you, Wednesday!"

"Thanks," Wednesday deadpans. "Now, leave."

Enid scrunches her nose at her roommate, making a disapproving click of her tongue. "You're welcome for playing watchdog today, BTW. You owe me, Addams."

"And I'm sure you will come to collect, but not today," Wednesday grabs your wrist and pulls you into the room. "Bye." Wednesday shuts the door.

You adjust Wednesday's grip on your wrist, letting your fingers trail along the inside of hers before they fall together like puzzle pieces, slotting together perfectly. 

Wednesday turns to look at you, her face blank, but the way her long lashes kiss her eyelids as she blinks enthralls you. The way her eyes trail your form, taking in every last bit, makes you smile.

"I made it in one piece, see?"

"Debatable."

You chuckle, looking around your room, feeling something settle inside you at the obvious amount of effort Wednesday put in. 

Turning back to your girlfriend, you notice that Wednesday seems tense, and you realize she's waiting for you to say something. You squeeze her hand.

You lean close to her, biting your bottom lip at the way Wednesday tilts her face toward you.

"You're so dreadful," you mutter, wanting to compliment her in a way she would find flattering, and you think you saw the corner of Wednesday's lip twitch upward. 

"Flattery will get you nowhere," Wednesday raises her brow at you.

"Oh, I don't know," you smirk. "No harm in trying." 

You're just about to kiss her when you see something from the corner of your eye. You smelled it when you walked into the room, and it smelled delicious, but you had been distracted.

But now...

You stand straighter to look. "Is that a makeshift stove on my desk?"

"We will be having sea witch paella."

You smile but then notice something missing from your desk. You turn to Wednesday with a raised brow.

"And why did you use my picture with Bianca as kindling?"

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷†⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

"I'm surprised you went with this movie choice."

Wednesday sighs, partly in revulsion at the screen. You were lying on your stomach in bed, your wings out and Wednesday massaging medicine into it as you went back for seconds on the paella. It's gone late into the night, and the two of you have binged through several movies. 

"Xavier was adamant that we watch the movies as the 6th one came out and they'll eventually try to ambush us into a movie night with them."

"I mean, it's kind of fascinating, don't you think?" You tilt your head at the screen just as someone is getting stabbed.

"Fascinating in the sense that it's painful to watch everyone in this franchise be so incompetent," Wednesday counters, but then smiles. "But it's amusing. 

You laugh as Wednesday finishes working on your wings and sit up, placing your empty bowl on the coffee table. "Well, I do suppose if we were in Scream—not as supernatural beings, mind you—Ghostface wouldn't stand a chance against you. Unless you were Ghostface, then maybe it'd be a different story."

"Please," Wednesday scoffs. "If this amateur can kill this many people, it'd be dreadfully boring for me."

"Oh?" you grin at her. "So, you'd rather be one of the good guys?"

Wednesday's expression quickly morphs into disgust and disbelief that you'd insult her like that. 

You laugh again but shake your head. "I would hope you'd stop Ghostface because I would definitely die."

"You're that pathetic that you'd let some fool kill you?" Wednesday shook her head. "You might as well let me end your misery then."

"I will be honest," you nudge Wednesday's shoulder, moving your arm to loop through hers as you pull her close. "I'm unfortunately nearly useless without my wings and powers, as I've never known otherwise. I can't imagine I'd do well as a normie if someone tried to kill me."

Wednesday is silent, seemingly in deep thought about your words. 

You hum. "But maybe I'll be like Tara, which is funny because she kind of looks like you."

"Who?" 

You chuckle, nudging your head towards the screen. "The girl that got stabbed in the beginning and is fighting for her life in the hospital right now."

"She's not awful," Wednesday concedes. "Whimpering and feeble, but I suppose she survived."

You were starting to lose interest in the movie, but in all fairness, you've sat through four movies in a row. You begin to lean over Wednesday, hovering over her as you trap her between your bed and arms. Your wings hide her from the world, and despite Wednesday having a neutral expression, you have a glint in your eye at the way she has her hand on your waist. 

"Well, quite honestly, I'm not that worried. Ghostface should be smart enough to not mess with Wednesday Addams' girlfriend. What do you think?" You grin at her, and Wednesday looks annoyed that you seem to be gloating but also is begrudgingly in agreement. 

Wednesday rolls her eyes before she slides one hand behind your neck and pulls you closer until your lips just brush over hers. There's the sound of screams and stabbing noises in the background, and Wednesday can't think of anything more romantic to set the mood. 

"Correct. I'll kill anyone who even thinks of touching a single hair on your head."

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷†⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

Hope you enjoyed! :)