Untitled

You weren't even that pretty... looking down at her with the same anticipation as one of a little fawn. Your curves were fine, at best... nothing she would to caress until you were writhing with impatience. And your pussy ? Well not as pretty as hers but she had to admit, it made her salivate.

As she laid on her belly, still fully dressed compared to you who laid there completly bare, she face your core directly. Her thumbs opened your lips, your quivering hole clenching around nothing. Rosalie hummed thoughtfuly. Your cheeks burned, you were never inspected this way before. Humiliation and arousal mixed and twirled in belly, pulling a thick thread of tension in your guts.

You wanted to please her so bad, god if you had known you would have shaved better than this ! To your immense shock, Rosalie leaned in and inhaled your musk direcly from the source. She ignored your gasp and scoffed.

"Not bad... let's see if it was worth driving me crazy."

She took longue, wide lick of your folds, going from down, just above your ass, all the way up to your hidden clit. You covered your mouth, a whimper threatning to escape once you realized Rosalie Hale was licking you to see if you were to her taste.

Slowly, she pulled away. You gulped, silently waiting for the result of this test, as you thought it was. And what Rosalie thought would make all interest for you disappear just multipled it by a fucking million. Her eyes flashed bright red, and before you could even process the information, her mouth engulfed your cunt.

A growl came from the depth of her chest, the vibrations causing to arch your back, fleeing the sensations. You let out startled moan when Rosalie spanked your asscheek as a warning.

"Don't move, fawn. Or I will tie you down." She didn't bother to move back to talk.

You did as you were told, doing your best to stay still even if her threat sounded like a way too good of a time for the innocent image you tried to uphold. Obedient as you were, your hands stayed clenched around the sheets while the blond kept slurping your juices. There was no way you were gonna ruin her hair without her explicit green light.

However, Rosalie couldn't give a rat's ass what the hell you did with your hands. All her mine could focus on was keeping the flow of nectar coming, to push you over the edge just to catch you right back. Her next victim was your clit, which she nudged the hood off to suck the little bundle of nerves of all it's worth.

As mewls ans whines kept pouring from your lips, she mumbled something along the lines of. "You kept this hidden from me ? Now it's all for me, just for me, you hear ?"

All you could do was nod, lost in unexpected pleasure. Her hands massaging your thighs traveled up to your breasts, kneading one of them generously and pinching the sensitive nipples there. Damn, even your tits were cute...

More moans slid from your throat, the pleasure she felt from eating you out was incredible. She never thought she would do that, ever in all her life, but god, fucking a woman is the best. Unable to resist her own lust, her hands undid her pants with a speed that would make you question if she hadn't turned your brain to mush.

You glanced down, curious in your hazy state, and the sight that awaited you made you whimper. Rosalie was rubbing herself furiously, her pussy dripping with arousal. Her hips rocked into her hand as she worked her orgasm. Which was as close as yours.

"Oh fuck- Oh yes, yes.. cum with me, come on fawn.." She whimpered into yout hole, eyes squeeze shut

You threw your head, eyes widening from the overwhelming pleasure. This felt unreal, this felt like your bones were melting, feeding your veins to make your heart pound, and pound, and pound. With a final glimpse at the ceiling and by the sinful moan from Rosalie glistening lips, your vision turned bright white and you came undone onto her mouth.

Rosalie drank greedily, taking everything in like a gambler addict receiving their precious treasure. She came with you, creaming in her pants, leaving a big wet patch.

Her hands trembled as they found their place on your belly, her head nuzzling against your lap. Finally, you indulged and gently caressed her hair in a soothing gesture.

*-*-*

Sukuna doesn’t bother to look at him. His gaze stays glued to you, watching you laugh with Shoko, and a small, proud tilt curls at the corner of his mouth.

"Hard not to," Sukuna rumbles. "She looks way too damn good for a place like this."

"Right?" the stranger says, taking another slow sip of his drink, clearly taking that agreement as an invitation to keep talking. His gaze drags over Sukuna’s massive build, the plain shirt, joggers, and face tattoos, and a cocky smirk appears on his face, like he’s already decided he’s got the upper hand. “Hottest woman in here, hands down. Gorgeous, carries herself well, and that smile… I was just about to head over, buy her a drink, see where the night takes us.”

Sukuna finally turns his head, sizing the man up with calm, almost lazy interest. He’s objectively handsome—tall, impeccably groomed, his shirt tailored tight over a sharp, well-built frame. He looks like the type who’s used to getting whatever he wants and moves through the world with the confidence that says he’s never had to fight for attention.

"Yeah?" Sukuna rasps, amusement flickering in his eyes as the man keeps embarrassing himself.

"I mean, c'mon, look at her," the stranger continues, sipping his drink. "She looks like she’s got real standards. Probably has a great job, drinks the good stuff. She needs a guy who knows how to keep up with her and actually treat her right."

Leaning back against the bar, Sukuna crosses his massive arms over his chest, thoroughly entertained by the sheer audacity of it all. Listening to a complete stranger explain what kind of man his wife needs is absurd enough that he's more than happy to let him keep digging his own grave.

"Yeah, she’s something else alright," Sukuna drawls. "You really think she'd go for you?"

"Oh, I know she would," the man replies, adjusting his cuff with a smug grin. "I've got the job, the car, the looks. Women like her know a good thing when they see it."

A deep, amused huff rumbles out of Sukuna. If this idiot so much as crossed a real line, he’d snap his neck without a second thought. For now, though, watching this polished suit walk himself straight into a wall is way too funny to interrupt.

"You've got it all figured out, huh?"

"Hey, confidence gets results," the stranger says, grinning. “Tell you what—friendly wager.” He reaches into his pocket, pulls out his leather wallet, fishes out a crisp, high-value bill, and slides it across the bar between them. "This says I'll have her number and a kiss before the night's out."

Sukuna tilts his head, a wicked smirk slowly spreading across his face.

"Alright,” he says. “Mind if I go first?"

The stranger gives Sukuna one last once-over, lingering on the intimidating ink on his face, the back of his neck, and the lines wrapping around his wrists and biceps. To him, Sukuna looks like someone who got lost on his way home from the gym, or maybe a prison, though he’s a little too well-kept for that. He lets out a dismissive chuckle, already certain there's no way a woman like you would give a brute in joggers the time of day.

"Go right ahead, man," the guy says, waving him on. "Show me how it's done. No chance in hell you're pulling her."

"Watch," Sukuna says simply, pushing off the bar and walking across the floor, his massive frame cutting right through the crowded room.

Over by the bar, you're mid-sentence when a broad, warm palm gently taps your shoulder. You turn around, and the moment your eyes land on your husband, your whole face lights up.

"Hey," you breathe, the sight of him instantly making your cheeks flush warm. He looks stupid hot tonight, towering over everyone around him.

Sukuna steps in so close that your back presses into the edge of the bar, his body boxing you in until there's nowhere else to go. He pulls his phone from his pocket, unlocks it, and hands it to you, leaning down until his mouth hovers right at your ear.

"Can you look up that Korean place we went to, like, two months ago?" he rumbles, his voice low and soft against your ear, his warm breath sending a shiver racing down your spine. "I can't remember the name."

"Oh, so now you need me?" you tease, but your fingers are already flying over the screen. "Yeah, hang on…"

Across the room, the man at the bar narrows his eyes, watching you take Sukuna's phone without a hint of hesitation and immediately start tapping away. He smirks, swirling the melting ice in his glass, already convinced he's seen this play before. Classic move, he thinks, assuming you're just typing in a fake number to get the giant out of your personal space. He's already rehearsing his opening line for when Sukuna walks away empty-handed.

You hand the phone back to Sukuna, a triumphant little smile tugging at your lips. "Found it."

“Thanks, baby,” Sukuna murmurs, sliding the phone into his pocket.

His palm reaches up, fingers gently catching your chin, and he tilts your face up to his. Leaning down, he presses a soft kiss to your lips, sweet, unhurried, and so deliberate it makes your heart skip a beat. When he pulls back just a breath, his crimson eyes catch yours, gleaming with smug, mischievous heat. A knowing smirk tugs at his mouth as he shifts his weight, about to step away.

Across the bar, the guy rolls his eyes, muttering, “A polite peck? That doesn't count for shit—"

He doesn’t even get to finish the thought. The second Sukuna starts to pull away, your hands fly up, and your fingers twist tight into the front of his shirt. You yank him back down, but even then, you still have to rise onto your toes, stretching just to reach him. Your mouth crashes into his in a kiss that’s deep, intense, and filthy enough to strip away any composure he might have had left.

A low, surprised rumble vibrates against your lips before Sukuna's arm snaps around your waist and his other hand finds the nape of your neck, pulling you flush against his chest. He only deepens the kiss, his thumb digging into your hip while you cling to his shirt just to keep him close.

The stranger hasn’t moved at all, his jaw practically welded to the floor. His eyes are wide, blown out in pure shock, watching as the gorgeous woman he’d been so sure about just yanked a terrifying brute down for a kiss that leaves nothing to the imagination.

"What the fuck..." he mutters, staring in disbelief. "No way he actually pulled that off..."

Toji passes by on his way to the bathroom and hears the words. Without even slowing his pace, he just glances at the man’s stunned expression, lets out a dry, wheezing chuckle, and deadpans over his shoulder, “That's his wife, moron."

By the time your grip loosens and you drop back onto your heels, your breath is ragged, lips flushed and tingling, and you’re staring up at your husband with nothing but shameless, unfiltered adoration.

Sukuna’s thumb drags slowly across your lower lip, tugging it just a little, while a broad, utterly satisfied grin stretches across his face.

“Good girl,” he rasps, lowering his voice, and the praise sends a jolt right between your legs.

"Every fucking time," Shoko groans from the side. "One drink and you're attached to him again."

"You say that like I'm complaining," Sukuna chuckles.

"I fail to see the problem either," you chirp with a shameless grin.

Shoko shakes her head at you, then looks at your husband. "You know, I used to have a lot less patience for you. It's annoying how much harder you've become to stay mad at."

Sukuna just snorts at that.

"Anyway," he says, giving your waist one last squeeze before glancing at the rest of the group. "You girls joining us at the booth?"

"Yeah, yeah, we'll be there in a minute. Now shoo," Yuki says, waving him away. "We've got gossip to catch up on first."

Sukuna just lifts his hands in mock surrender, huffing an amused laugh as he turns on his heel and heads back toward the stranger waiting at the end of the bar.

“Easiest money I've made all week,” he drawls, picking up the bill. He gives the stunned man a small nod and walks toward his friends at the booth.

"Baby, I really don't know what you want," she tells you, picking you up effortlessly. "I'm Mama. Mama's here."

"Nuh uh!" you retort, poking a small toddler finger at her chest. "You mommy!"

The door to your apartment opens then, Wanda. You squeal, clapping once. "Mama!"

Wanda had helped look after you and Natasha, and then babysat you pretty much since you were born. But she wasn't your Mama.

"No, sweetheart, I'm not Mama. We talked about this, remember?" Wanda chides gently as she hangs her jacket on the rack.

"Mama!"

"No, malysh-" Natasha cuts herself off, giving up for the moment. "Hey, Wanda."

"Hi," Wanda replies, sweeping her hair from her neck. You immediately launch yourself out of Natasha's arms toward her. "Woah-" Wanda catches you automatically against her hip, laughing softly when you bury your face against her shoulder. "Hi to you too."

"Mama came back," you mumble happily into her neck.

Natasha pinches the bridge of her nose. "See? This is what I've been dealing with all afternoon."

Wanda bites back a smile. "You know, usually kids accidentally call teachers 'mom.' I think she's just...advanced."

"She called the mailman 'sir' this morning and then called you Mama five minutes later."

"Smart girl."

Natasha snorts despite herself. You pull back suddenly to hold Wanda's face in both tiny hands. "Stay."

Wanda's expression softens instantly. "I am staying, detka. I'm babysitting tonight, remember?"

"No." You shake your head firmly enough that little strands of hair stick to your forehead. "Forever."

The apartment goes quiet. Natasha looks away first. Wanda's cheeks turn pink almost immediately as she adjusts you slightly on her hip. "That's... a very big commitment."

"She likes you," Natasha says carefully, quieter now.

"I noticed."

You nod enthusiastically, like this is all obvious. "Mama reads stories better."

"Oh, betrayal," Natasha mutters.

"And Mama makes smiley pancakes."

"That was one time."

"And Mama sings Sokovian songs."

Wanda laughs softly. "Okay, now you're just showing off."

Natasha watches the two of you for a second too long.It's dangerous, honestly. Not in the mission sense. Not in the assassin sense. Worse. Domestic. Wanda standing in her apartment holding her daughter like she belongs there. Your tiny hands tangled in Wanda's sweater. The easy warmth in the room whenever she walks in.

Natasha spent years training herself not to want things she couldn't keep. But this is starting to feel possible. Then you cup Wanda's face again very seriously. "Mama kiss Mommy hello." Both women freeze instantly. You gasp dramatically. "You forgot!"

Wanda nearly chokes. Natasha outright laughs this time, covering her face briefly with one hand. "Okay, that one's definitely not my fault."

"She's learning from somewhere," Wanda says weakly.

"You watched one romcom with her and now she thinks everyone's supposed to kiss in doorways."

"That is how the movie ended."

You huff impatiently between them. "Kiss!"

Natasha raises an eyebrow toward Wanda slowly, amusement dancing in her eyes now. "Well," she says casually, "the boss has spoken."

Wanda looks like she wants the floor to swallow her whole. You grab Natasha's sleeve next. "Mommy!"

"I heard you, malysh."

"You got' kiss Mama."

Natasha's smirk grows impossibly smug at Wanda's horrified expression. "Seems important."

"You are enjoying this far too much," Wanda mutters.

"Immensely."

You groan loudly like they're both being unreasonable. "Pleeeease."

Wanda finally hides her burning face against the top of your head while Natasha watches her with entirely too much fondness for someone pretending this is all a joke. And that's the problem, really. Because somewhere between bedtime stories and pancake breakfasts and your tiny voice calling Wanda "Mama," pretending starts becoming harder and harder.

________________________________________

Later that night, you spike a fever.

Not dangerously high, but enough that Natasha's entire body goes tight the second she presses a hand to your forehead. Years of training, missions, injuries, none of it compares to seeing her daughter flushed and miserable beneath blankets. And worse? You are clingy. Specifically, clingy toward Wanda

"No, Mama," you whine weakly when Natasha tries taking the thermometer from Wanda's hands. Tiny fingers fist stubbornly in Wanda's sleeve. "Mama stay."

Natasha sighs deeply through her nose. "Traitor."

Wanda tries not to smile despite the concern in her eyes. "She's sick. I think I outrank you right now."

"Apparently."

You sniffle miserably against Wanda's chest while she rubs slow circles against your back. Natasha watches from the edge of the couch holding children's medicine and feeling strangely useless.

Which is ridiculous. Natasha Romanoff has broken into government facilities. She's fought aliens. Taken down assassins. Yet one tiny fever and suddenly Wanda Maximoff walks into her apartment and takes control like she was made for this. "Did you already check her temperature?" Wanda asks softly.

Natasha blinks once before answering. "Three times."

"And?"

"...I panicked all three."

That earns the tiniest smile from Wanda. Fond. Warm. "Natasha."

"I know it's not rational."

"No," Wanda says gently, "it's maternal."

Something in Natasha's chest twists painfully at the word. Maternal. Because Wanda says it so naturally. Like Natasha is a good mother. Like she belongs in this soft little domestic moment instead of wrecking it.

Then you let out another tiny whine, reaching sleepy grabby hands toward Natasha now too. "Mommy..."

Natasha immediately melts. "Oh, now you want me," she mutters, scooping you carefully into her arms despite your protest noises.

"She contains multitudes," Wanda says solemnly.

Natasha snorts quietly before sitting beside Wanda again, your sleepy body curled between them both. Your head drops against Natasha's shoulder while your hand still grips Wanda's sleeve tightly like you're making sure she can't disappear. Neither woman mentions it. The apartment grows quieter as the night stretches on. Children's cartoons play softly in the background completely ignored. Wanda eventually rests her head against the back of the couch with a tired sigh.

"You know," Natasha says quietly after a while, "you really don't have to stay all night."

Wanda glances sideways at her. Then down at you curled happily between them. "I know." She doesn't move to leave.

Instead, your hand tugs at Wanda's sleeve, pulling her arm over you and closer to Natasha. "Mommy...Mama."

"We're here, Malysh. Mommy and Mama," Natasha whispers, her fingers grazing Wanda's hand as she moves to brush hair from your face.

"I enjoy being here, y'know," Wanda admits quietly after you fall asleep between them. Natasha glances down at your sleeping face before looking back at Wanda properly for the first time all evening. The apartment is dim except for the TV glow flickering across Wanda's features. Soft. Comfortable. Dangerous.

"Yeah?" Natasha asks quietly.

Wanda nods once, fingers still absentmindedly smoothing over your hair. "It's nice here."

Nobody had ever really called Natasha's apartment nice before. Efficient. Secure. Minimal. Clint once called it "aggressively beige." But nice? Natasha's chest does something deeply inconvenient at the thought.

"You're good at this," Wanda says after a moment.

Natasha lets out a quiet laugh. "Keeping tiny humans alive?"

"Being her mom."

The words hit harder than they should. Natasha looks away instinctively, eyes landing on the half-finished bottle of children's medicine sitting abandoned on the coffee table. "I don't know about that."

Wanda frowns slightly. "Natasha."

"She deserves..." Natasha exhales slowly through her nose. "Normal."

Wanda is quiet for a second. "Normal is overrated."

"That sounds like something someone who can throw cars with her mind would say."

That earns a soft laugh from Wanda. Then her expression gentles again. "You know what she sees?" she asks quietly. Natasha raises an eyebrow.

"She sees someone who makes pancakes shaped like dinosaurs even though they always burn." Wanda smiles faintly. "Someone who checks under the bed for monsters even though she's literally an Avenger. Someone who memorized every single one of her stuffed animals' names because apparently they all have complicated backstories."

Natasha groans softly. "The rabbit has a criminal record."

"The rabbit stole from the government, Natasha."

"He was framed."

Wanda laughs again, quieter this time so she doesn't wake you. The sound settles warm in Natasha's chest. "She adores you," Wanda says eventually. "And honestly? You're kind of incredible with her."

Natasha stares at her for a long second after that. Because Wanda says things so simply sometimes. No manipulation. No expectation. Just truth. It's terrifying.

Then you stir between them with a sleepy little whine. "Mama..."

Wanda immediately looks down. "I'm here, detka."

Your eyes barely crack open. Tiny feverish face squished against Natasha's shoulder, one hand still tangled stubbornly in Wanda's sleeve. "Mama kiss Mommy now?"

Silence. Then Natasha actually chokes on air. Wanda's entire face goes scarlet instantly. "She is half asleep!"

"And still committed to the bit," Natasha mutters weakly.

You frown tiredly at their lack of cooperation. "Kiss."

"Sweetheart," Wanda says gently, very obviously avoiding Natasha's eyes now, "I think maybe we should focus on your fever-"

"No fever kisses."

Natasha bites the inside of her cheek hard enough not to laugh. Your tiny hand reaches up blindly and pats Natasha's jaw. "Mommy sad."

That wipes the amusement from Natasha's face immediately. Because kids notice everything. "I'm not sad, malysh."

You squint at her suspiciously through sleepy eyes. "Little sad."

Wanda's gaze softens instantly at that. Slowly, carefully, she reaches across you to brush her fingers lightly against Natasha's wrist. "She worries about you," Wanda says quietly.

Natasha's eyes flick downward to where Wanda's hand still rests against her skin. "Both of us," Wanda adds softly.

Something shifts in the room then. Small. Fragile. Real. Your sleepy little voice interrupts it immediately. "Kiss now."

Natasha bursts out laughing this time, head falling back against the couch. Wanda hides her burning face in her hands. "Your child is a menace."

"Our child," Natasha says automatically. The words slip out before she can stop them. The apartment goes completely still. Natasha freezes. Wanda looks up slowly.

Between them, you smile sleepily like you've just solved world peace. "Yeah."

Natasha opens her mouth. Closes it again. Because she doesn't take words like that lightly. Neither of them do. But Wanda doesn't pull away.

Instead, her fingers curl carefully around Natasha's wrist for just a second longer before she whispers, "Yeah."

________________________________________

Your breathing evens out not long after that. One tiny hand still clutches Wanda's sleeve stubbornly while your cheek squishes against Natasha's shoulder, completely unaware of the emotional damage you've just inflicted on two grown women. Neither Natasha nor Wanda speaks for a while.

The TV drones quietly in the background. Some late-night cooking show neither of them is paying attention to. Outside the compound windows, the city glows gold and silver beneath the dark sky. Natasha stares ahead for a long moment before murmuring quietly, "She's going to hold that over us forever now."

Wanda smiles faintly, eyes fixed on your sleeping face. "Definitely."

Another silence settles. Softer this time. Then Natasha says quietly, "I didn't mean to say that."

Wanda glances toward her slowly. "I know."

Natasha swallows once. "It just... came out."

Wanda's fingers continue smoothing gently through your hair. "Did you mean it?"

Dangerous question. Natasha looks down at you curled safely between them. Then at Wanda beside her. Warm apartment. Cartoons humming softly. Tiny socks abandoned near the coffee table. Domesticity wrapping around her ribs so tightly it almost hurts. "I think," Natasha says carefully, "she already decided for us."

Wanda laughs softly under her breath. "She's very bossy. She gets that from you."

"That is slander."

Wanda's smile lingers another second before fading quieter around the edges. "You know," she murmurs, "I never really had this growing up."

Natasha turns slightly toward her. "A family that was..." Wanda searches for the word. "Safe."

Something in Natasha's chest twists painfully at that. Because she understands. Too well.

"I keep thinking," Wanda admits softly, "that eventually one of us is going to ruin this somehow."

Natasha exhales slowly through her nose. "Probably."

Wanda snorts quietly. "Wow. Very reassuring."

"I'm serious." Natasha finally looks at her fully now. "People like us don't exactly get soft endings."

Wanda studies her face carefully in the dim light. "Maybe not." Her voice gentles. "But we're here anyway."

That shuts Natasha up. Because Wanda always does this. Says things simply enough that there's nowhere to hide from them.

Your tiny sleepy sigh interrupts the silence briefly before settling again. Wanda smiles faintly down at you. "She really loves you, you know."

Natasha raises an eyebrow. "Pretty sure she loves you more. I've been replaced."

"She looks at you like you hung the moon."

Natasha's expression softens instantly despite herself. "Yeah," she says quietly. "Well." Her eyes drift toward Wanda now. "She's not the only one."

The words land heavily between them. Wanda stills completely. Natasha very clearly did not mean to say that out loud either. For a second neither of them moves. Then Wanda's voice comes quieter than before. "Natasha..."

Natasha should pull back. Make a joke. Deflect. That's what she's good at. Instead she finds herself staring at Wanda's mouth. Wanda notices. The air changes immediately.

Slowly, carefully, Wanda reaches over you again; not rushing, giving Natasha every possible chance to stop this. Natasha doesn't. Their foreheads brush first. Then finally, softly, Wanda kisses her. It's small. Gentle.Nothing like the chaos both of them expected. Just warm lips and tired smiles and years of wanting something neither thought they were allowed to keep. Natasha's hand slides instinctively to Wanda's wrist while she kisses her back softly enough not to wake you.

Which, unfortunately, lasts all of three seconds. Tiny movement. Blanket rustling. Then "OH!

Both women jump apart so fast Wanda nearly falls off the couch. You sit bolt upright between them, hair sticking up wildly, fever-flushed face absolutely delighted. "YOU KISSED!"

Natasha closes her eyes instantly. "Jesus Christ."

"MAMA KISSED MOMMY!"

"Yes, okay, volume-"

You gasp so dramatically it's honestly impressive for a child your size. "YOU LIKE EACH OTHER!"

Wanda is visibly dying beside you. "Kid, sweetheart, maybe inside voice-"

"I KNEW IT!" you yell triumphantly, bouncing hard enough to nearly headbutt Natasha in the chin. "I TOLD YOU!"

"Told who?" Natasha asks weakly.

"Everybody."

Silence. Natasha stares. "...Everybody?"

"The toaster." Wanda makes a strangled noise halfway between a laugh and choking. "The rabbit too," you continue proudly. "And Bruce."

Natasha drops her face into one hand. "Of course Bruce knows."

You beam between them happily, like you've personally orchestrated the greatest romance of the century. "Now Mama REALLY Mama."

It was a careful kind of look. A cautious smile and a long stare. 

It was gratitude. 

Usually, you’d reach for her hand. You’d give it a small squeeze and let her smile widen with the easy pleasure of being together. 

You didn’t say anything because she didn’t need to be grateful. You had no right to expect a beautiful life to be simple. For one thing, it wouldn’t be half as interesting.

.

The introduction to Scarlett’s daughter was always going to be a slow one. You supported it readily. It was easy to tell that they were each other’s world.

When Scarlett talked about her daughter, you could tell you were listening to her biggest fan. It was the kind of endless love that can’t hide itself. A dry comment about her never-ending princess phase, sounded too tender to be sarcasm.

Scarlett asked you about the future after only a few dates. You could tell she was nervous about bringing it up. She told you that she knew it was stupid to be asking. She told you she didn’t really expect any answers. 

You’d been expecting the conversation. With her career, an international co-parenting arrangement and a young daughter. Scarlett was like the sun in a complicated solar system. There was no question of expecting all the sunlight for yourself.

You told her that. In a stumbling explanation that sounded silly to your own ears.

Scarlett’s smile softened. She gave you a careful kind of look.

‘I’m not really the sun.’ She said after a moment. ‘Sometimes none of it is easy. I’m not easy. Sometimes I’m horrible. I’m mean and tired and stressed because everything is going wrong and it feels like my fault.’ 

You remembered the last date you’d had with her. It had been the evening after Scarlett’s daughter had left to stay with her father. Scarlett had barely mentioned that fact in passing when she’d invited you to her house.

Something had felt off from the start. A quiet exhaustion from her that you couldn’t place. Scarlett kept closer to you than usual but you could tell her mind was farther away. She started telling you she was worried about a new project she’d signed up for, and then she trailed off halfway forgetting her train of thought.  

She’d offered to cook on the phone, but when it got late she just shrugged and suggested take out instead. She drank more wine than usual, in that melancholy way that means it’s not about the wine. You could tell she didn’t like her home so empty. When you suggested staying over, she’d looked relieved. 

Scarlett’s life was complicated in ways that you knew you didn’t understand.

.

‘I’m not the sun.’ Scarlett repeated carefully, her tired stare willing you to heed the warning.

‘Okay.’ You’d shrugged, with a smile full of playful disagreement. You reached out casually until your hand brushed her arm.

You pretended to hiss out as you yanked your hand back. You pretended to cradle it to your chest.

‘Wow you’re like a million degrees.’ You muttered. You glanced back up to Scarlett and her smile full of exasperated fondness. 

You pretended to squint, shading your eyes. ‘Sorry, you’re just so blindingly bright.’

Scarlett smacked your arm playfully and then she kissed you with an urgency that told you everything she didn’t say.

.

You first met Scarlett’s daughter through a series of carefully constructed casual meetings. You came to hang out with her and Scarlett for a few hours one Saturday. You’d arrived more prepared than you’d ever been for a job interview.

Your Disney Princess knowledge was immediately to the test and you rattled off information confidently about Elsa and Anna and the overall state of Arendelle. 

After you made a comment about something being ‘so Olaf’, Scarlett turned to you with an exaggerated look of surprise.

‘I studied.’ You whispered with a wink as you grabbed her empty coffee mug and left to go refill it. Scarlett’s lips pressed together as she tried not to give you her widest smile. 

You smirked knowingly as you left.

.

It took six months to get to an easy rhythm. 

The first time it happened, Scarlett called you with barely hidden delight in her voice. She told you that her daughter had asked if you were free that Saturday. And if you’d ever been to see the ducks at the local park.

The stamp of approval from Scarlett’s daughter was slow to achieve and then unwaveringly absolute. She held your hand for an hour, pointing out the best parts of a park that was very ordinary. She explained which ducks were nicer than the others.

That night, after her daughter had gone to bed, Scarlett stood with you in the kitchen. You were going to leave any minute but the triumph of the day had kept you a little longer. A glass of white wine in one hand. Scarlett undid her hairstyle, letting the loose hair frame her face. Her eyes glittered when she looked at you. Unthinkingly perfect. 

Scarlett moved closer to you, she let her head rest on your shoulder. You swayed together to imaginary music. You kissed her hair and let the golden waves fill your mind. She was daylight in the morning, even at night. 

.

Going public was a phrase that you started to hear more and more. You must have missed the first time Scarlett had tentatively dropped it into a conversation. You’d clearly missed a few more cues. 

That’s what you learned when Scarlett returned to the bedroom to wake you up, still in her gym clothes from an early morning workout.

There was something confrontational about her stance at the end of the bed. The sharpness in the way she busied herself, changing into her clothes for the rest of the day.

‘You practically live here already.’ She told you in a slightly tense tone. 

‘I do.’ You agreed unsurely, trying not to look as sleepy as you felt. 

‘I know it’s horrible when a relationship goes public.’ Scarlett continued with a brittle kind of force. ‘No-one knows that better than me. It’s always horrible. It’s never easy. Last time -.’ She hesitated as she caught herself falling into a story about her ex. 

‘He hated it.’ You surmised carefully, offering her a cautious smile. 

‘Yes.’ Scarlett’s gaze turned worried now. She threw her t-shirt into the laundry basket. She paused for a moment, pretending to look out at the view of the backyard. After a moment, she asked quietly.

‘So, what about you? Would you hate it too?’

‘Being with you?’ You teased, leaning forward to touch her bare back reassuringly. You felt her relax at your touch. ‘Being with you anywhere, any time, any place. That’s the dream.’ 

Scarlett pressed her back against you and you heard her sigh. She reached for your hand and gave it a wordless squeeze. 

You yawned suddenly, your body reluctantly accepting that you were definitely awake. 

‘I don’t know how you can sleep so long.’ Scarlett teased suddenly as she turned and reached around your body for a fresh t-shirt. 

You rolled your eyes and pretended to look outraged. ‘Hey! Do you know how hard it is to try and fall asleep next to the sun?’

You felt the playful whip of the t-shirt against your shoulder and the stupid smile spreading across your face. 

.

Nothing was going to plan. 

The live Frozen show was everything Scarlett’s daughter had dreamed about. 

The traffic meant you were probably going to miss the first ten minutes. 

You were all officially blaming the traffic and not Scarlett’s urgent work call that had delayed leaving in the first place.

You sat in the back of the taxi, talking to her daughter and pretending Scarlett didn’t look stressed out of her mind. You watched her in the corner of your eye, refreshing her email impatiently for whatever they’d promised to send on the call. 

You were engaged in a lengthy discussion of ranking all the best Disney princesses. You were asking every follow up question you could think of, just to make the conversation stretch out. 

Scarlett shot you a look of quiet stress and you tried to give her a small smile. Her expression shifted into one of disappointment. At herself, at her unrelenting work life. The complicated balance you would never understand. 

‘Which princess is your Mom?’ You asked loudly, giving Scarlett a pointed grin as you sat back and let her daughter present one of her favourite discussion topics. 

When the taxi finally pulled up outside the theatre, there was a brief moment when everything felt lighter than air. Your arm was around Scarlett’s waist, her hand was on her daughter’s shoulder.

As you left the taxi, you realised you were just down the street, as close as the taxi could get to the front of the theater. 

You heard the first click and felt Scarlett tense instantly beside you.

It was something like facing a swarm of animals. 

You met an onslaught of paparazzi like you had never experienced before. You moved forward instinctively, leaving Scarlett’s daughter sandwiched safely in the space between yourself and her mother. You pushed forward, trying to clear a path through the sea of shouting people. 

Despite the bedlam, you heard one of the worst noises you’d ever heard. 

Scarlett’s daughter let out a quiet, worried cry. You felt yourself react before your mind had engaged. 

You spun around, lifting her up easily. You didn’t have time to understand what had scared her.

‘Hey. Watch it.’ You snapped at the crowd. ‘You could hurt my kid.’

You felt the burrowing of a small face against your neck and knew your only option was to get to the theater as fast as possible. 

You didn’t pause until you were inside the silent theater lobby. A member of staff gave you a wide eyed look. 

Scarlett came in behind you a moment later. 

‘Sorry.’ You murmured, as you walked over to give her a careful hug. ‘I thought hurrying was our best option.’ You gave a meaningful glance at her daughter. 

Scarlett wrapped her arms around the pair of you. She kissed her daughter’s head. She gave you a look full of warmth. It told you everything you needed to know. You smiled back and reached down to let her daughter stand back on the ground. 

You took one of her daughter’s hands and Scarlett took the other.

‘Please can we hurry up.’ You pretended to whine suddenly. ‘I really don’t want to miss my favourite songs.’

Scarlett gave you your favourite fond smile as you all walked together to join the audience. 

.

In the brief respite between two songs enthusiastically chanted by the very loud audience, you leaned over to Scarlett.

‘Two suns.’ You told her with a smile. Scarlett’s head tilted in confusion as she leaned closer. 

‘I’m the next Copernicus.’ You told her stupidly. ‘I’m the first person to realise.’ 

Scarlett looked at her daughter, standing out of her seat and ready to sing loudly again. 

‘Two suns.’ She murmured. 

You nodded with fake solemnity. 

‘No wonder we always need the air conditioning on.’

Scarlett gave you a look. It was a careful kind of look. A cautious smile and a long stare. 

You reached for her hand and gave it a small squeeze. You let her smile widen with the easy pleasure of being together. 

You couldn’t ask for anything else.

.

.

Requests are still very welcome for future January fics. More info in the pinned post if you're interested in requesting. <3

Clint smirks, he knows he shouldn't. “Kids got your mouth, Nat.”

“Hey, don't look at me. I didn't say anything. Blame JARVIS. It was the AI, yeah,” Tony mutters defensively.

“We were concerned—” Bruce starts.

“Oh Asgard,” Thor interrupts. “Honesty is a virtue. I merely suggested that Lady Natasha may wish to know the exploits of her daughter.”

Natasha finally speak, her voice calm but with a knife-like edge. “You're grounded by the way.”

“Seriously?!” you spin, turning to face her. “After everything you taught me? Oh my God, I didn't even throw the first punch!”

Natasha's eyes narrow. “Arguing with teachers, sneaking out to parties, putting yourself at risk...that's not what I taught you. I taught you to defend yourself, not self destrut.”

The air in the room tightened. You could feel every Avenger watching, half-amused, half-sympathetic. Clint whistled low under his breath. Steve rubbed the back of his neck. Bruce coughed. Tony mouthed 'ouch'.

“I'm not self destructing, I'm living! I'm sixteen, you can't spy on me forever!“

Natasha steps closer, her eyes narrowing again. “I'm not spying, I'm protecting you. You're not a soldier, Y/N. You're my kid. And one day, when your older, you'll understand the difference.”

“Fir Gods sake! God forbid I'm just being a kid!”

“I know. I was your age too, I know what making mistakes feels like—”

“No,” you interrupt. “You don't! What do you know about being a kid! You never were one! You don't know anything about being a kid or having a normal childhood, so why are you trying to control mine like they controlled your!” you snap. Shit. You immediately regret the words the second they came out, but anger, stubbornness prevent you from apologising, or even just looking regretful.

The room goes silent. Thor stops smiling. Bruce looks like he wants to disappear. Even Tony and Clint can't crack a joke or something sarcastic.

Natasha doesn't yell. Maybe that makes it worse, because god you wish she would. Thad make it easier. “Get out.” she says, her voice icy.

“Mom—”

“Nat—” Steve tries to reason.

“Get out.” she repeats, her voice too calm, too steady for comfort. Icily cold. You stand in front of her a moment, frozen. You hated that tone. The one that screamed 'i'm not angry,, just disappointed.' You think that makes it worse. For the first time in your life, she doesn't look angry. She looks wounded.

“Fine,” you snap, storming out of the front door of the tower, grabbing a jacket off the hook. Her jacket.

The streets of New York are cold. That kind of night time air that chills you to the bone. You slide her jacket over your arms, wrapping them around your waist. The streets are fairly empty now, most people already home from work and school. Streetlights blink lazily above you as you walk, protesting the dark night.

In a local park, you find a bench. Brown painted wood, though chipping in most places. Normally, there'd be dozens of kids running around playing in the park, or tag or chasing each other on bikes. Not now though. Most kids were asleep, dreaming, not outside because they shouted something unforgivable at their mother. You sigh, slouching back against the bench. “Fucking idiot...”

The night is calm around you, quiet save for the buzzing and humming of insects in the grass. It's peaceful, you can feel yourself calming down as you sit back on the bench.

Something is off though. Like the darkness is watching you. You sit up slightly, turning your head to look behind you. Nothing. Just your imagination. The hair on the back of your neck don't settle, still raised like a sixth sense. You flip around again, eyes searching the brush behind the bench. Scanning...nothing again. But suddenly, in your peripherals as you turn around again, you catch movement. Not big, not obvious. Small, careful, hidden movements, coming closer and closer to you.

You stay forzen for a moment, checking. It could just be an elderly lady, slowly taking a late night walk. Or a small, scared kid who'd played too hard at the park and got lost from their parents. Or even a single parent, tired but trying to get home from a late shift to see their children. You try desperately to tell yourself that's all it it, but deep down you know it's unlikely.

The shadow gets closer, closer still. Moving definitely towards the bench, not along the path. You're suddenly aware of how empty the park is. No dog walkers. No traffic. No voices. Just you.You barely manage to linge forwards off the bench as a gloved hand flies towards where your head was. Shit. You duck again, spinning back towards the person.

“You're coming with us,” the person hisses. Female. The woman leaves the shadows slightly, black leather jumpsuit shining slightly in the warm, flickering streetlight.

“I'm not going anywhere—” you're cut off as the woman lungers again, forcing you to drop to the ground to avoid her arms. Controlled, you notice. Clearly knows what she's doing. Shit.

The hand shoots toward you. You stumble back so quickly your heel catches on the bench. The figure keeps coming. Wrong. Wrong, wrong, wrong. Your heartbeat slams against your ribs. You shove at them and try to bolt, but your legs feel clumsy, heavy with panic.

"Get off me!" you snap, the words coming out far thinner than you meant. Not angry at all. Suddenly this isn't some stranger in a park. This is danger. And all you can think is, I want my mom.

A pair of arms wrap around your waist before you can escape, pulling you against her front. One hand moves up to force your jaw up, your breathing heavy, heart pounding in your ears, jaw, head. You slam your elbow backwards. The woman grunts. You wrench free for half a second and run. Three steps. That's all you get before something catches your ankle and sends you crashing onto the pavement. "Stubborn," the woman mutters, hauling you upright. "Just like her."

The woman forces you to walk forwards with her, towards a cul-de-sac nearby. Empty, isolated. Shit. You grunt as she forces you forwards again, towards a large dark shadow pulled up at the side of the road. Something slides open. “Get off me,” you snap, trying to sound braver than you feel.

“Shutbup, girl. You're coming back home,” she hisses back, continuing closer and closer to whatever has slid. Was that a van?

“I am home—”

“Shut. Up.”

You do, remaining silent, until you're shoved forwards into the back of a van, the woman tying your hands behind you back before sliding the door shut again. Shit.

The engine hums, vibrating beneath you. You manage to manuveur yourself to sit up. You whimper slightly as the rough driving shoves you into the wall, banging your shoulder.

You need your mom.

Your phone, shoved in your hoodie pocket, isn't exactly an easy reach. Your tied hands grasp desperately at your hoodie, trying to tug the pocket round so you can slide your phone out. A small thud on the metal flooring. Your hands fumble around for where it dropped until they find something small and rectangular. Your fingers work numbly to type in your pin number. Your neck ached from craning it almost behind you to allow your hands to use the phone.

Finally, finally, you press on Natasha's number. Mama ♡︎

The phone rings. Once. “Come on...”

Twice. “Mom..pick up ”

A third time. “Please.”

Nothing.

Natasha watches it ring, taking another swig from her bottle of vodka. The towers flat roof is quiet, just the wind blowing past her routinely. The vodka burns going down. Good. Her phone buzzes again.

Detka is calling...

Her thumb hovers over the green button. She lets it ring. She can't do this tonight because you were both angry and he can't bare to hear your voice now, angry and defensive, calling her controlling.

“Please, mom...” you whisper, eyes glued to the 'calling Mama ♡︎...' on the screen. The call ends. You try a text, fingers moving slowly across the keyboard.

'Mim'

No reply. Not even read by Natasha.

'wuick'

Another sip of vodka burns down her throat. She'd heard worse.Had knives held to her throat. Been called a monster. 'You never were one.' That one stayed. Her phone vibrates. 2 missed calls. 3 text messages.

'Mim'

'wuick'

'please'

Natasha sighs. You weren't even bothering to apologise, yet you were begging her to reply to you? Her jaw clenches. “I can't deal with this right now...” she mutters, running her hands down her face. Besides, you were fine. Maybe you'd dropped your phone.Maybe you were drunk at some stupid party.

The fourth text buzzes through — 'hekp'

What the hell does that mean?, Natasha wonders. Her brain dismissed it at first. Then it rearranged itself. Help. Help? Why would you be asking for help? Because if you just wanted her to apologise for telling you to leave, you had another thing coming. But something knaws at her, low in her stomach. What if you weren't just texting bullshit for the sake of it? What if you really did need help?

“JARVIS,” she says quickly the second she's back inside. “Track my daughter. Now.”

“Y/N Romanoff is moving rapidly near the local park, Ms Romanoff,” the AI responds.

“Shit,” she mutters, grabbing her keys off the counter, pressing her phone to her ear again as she calls you. “Come on...”

Two rings. “Please, baby...”

On the bottom floor of the Tower, Natasha slings a leg over her motorcycle, clicking the key in the ignition. Third ring. “Come on, kid...pick up.”

She lets the bike idle under her for a minute, just hoping you'll pick up. Just as Natasha is about to hang up and set off, the line clicks.

“Y/N?” Natasha asks, holding the phone on her shoulder as she revs the bike.

“Mom...?” your voice whispers through, high pitched and chocked, like you were close to tears. You manage to maneuver your tied wrists under your body to the front of you, holding the phone closer to your ear. Natasha's heart shatters. Hearing her baby, her world, her daughter's voice break in fear like that? None of it matters anymore. Not the argument, or what you'd said or the vodka. None of it matters. Her baby sounds terrified.

“What's happening? What's 'help', baby? That's what you meant, right?” Natasha asks, pulling out of the garage.

Your voice shakes. “Mom I'm so scared, I— I don't...I don't know where I— I'm going a— and...”

“Come on, sweetheart...slow down. Breathe. You can't help me find you if you pass out, okay?”

“Okay...” you whisper, your breathing coming through the phone heavoly. You can hear Natasha's bike revving and swerving between other cars.

“Slowly. What happened, baby?”

“I— I was sitting, um...on a bench at the park, and...it was calm, and then— then some woman just um, just lunged at me and...and now I'm in a van...I'm scared, I'm so scared mom...”

“I know...I know darling. Just breathe. Nice, deep breaths for me,” Natasha replies calmly, wind whipping in the background. “Did you see what they looked like?”

“It— it was a woman...”

“Clothes?”

“I...I don't...” you hesitate.

Natasha sighs slightly. Her baby...you shouldn't have to be dealing with this. “Come on, malysh. Try for me.”

You pause, furrowing your brows in concentration. The van rattles around you, wrists starting to chafe at the restraints rubbing. “I think...like, a leather jumpsuit thing, um...black...kinda shiny..” You pause again. “Kinda looks like your Black Widow suit, actually..”

Natasha's heart skips a beat. That could not be good. Someone wearing a Widow suit could only be... Natasha's blood turns cold. Black leather. Controlled movements. A woman. Widow. “Shit.”

“What— shit what, what's shit? Mom?” your voice echoes through, more panicked now if that was possible.

“No ,nothing. Don't panic. listen to me. You're okay. I'm coming to get you. Do you hear me? I'm coming,” she replies. “I nerd you to do something for me, okay?”

“...okay.”

“You need to text Tony, and tell him to get JARVIS to send me directions to your location through Comms, okay?” she asks.

You nod, even though she can't see you. Shaky fingers click on Tony's name.

'nerd jarvis to grt mom locdtion over coms'

“He said thumbs up,” you murmur, tugging her jacket sleeves over your hands.

Natahsa keeps talking to you. Calm, collected. The way someone who's trained to be calm in every situation is. But deep down, she's panicking. Because you're her world. The one thing she never thought she'd be able to have.

Suddenly you shush her over the phone. “Shh! She's talking about you...”

From the front seat, you can hear the woman talking to an older lady. “The defected Widow's daughter. You have her?”

“Yes, ma'am.”

“And she's in one piece?”

“Yes ma'am.”

Shit. Natasha thinks. This wasn't just a random coincidence. This was a targeted attempt to take her child from her.

“Next left, Nat,” Tony's voice comes through her comms, repeating JARVIS' instructions.

“Dont panic, don't panic baby. JARVIS is tracking you... we'll find you.”

“Mom?” you say after a moment. She hums. “I'm sorry. I didn't mean it, I was just...”

“I know. I know, baby. You were angry. I was angry too. When I was your age, and now.”

“I shouldn't,” you hiccup. “I shouldn't have left.”

"No, sweetheart. Listen to me. You could've walked out ten times tonight and none of this would've been your fault.”

“Nat, duck right through that park and you should be able to catch up with her.”

She swerves hard right, multiple cars honking angrily at her as she cuts them off. She doesn't care. Her daughter is being taken to the place Natasha was raised. They wanted her and took her daughter instead.

“I'm coming, detka. Hold on.”

The van suddenly swerves hard, throwing you uncontrollably face first into the metal walls of the van, your phone clattering to the floor from your loose grip. You hiss. “Agh...fuck...”

“What? What happened? Y/N? Answer me,” Natasha says quickly, ducking under branches and jumping the motorcycle over loose roots.

“Ow...my nose.”

Natasha's heart nearly stops. “Your nose?” she asks quickly. "Baby, are you bleeding?”

You sniff, touching your face with shaky fingers. “I...I think so. Not a lot. It just hurts.”

“Okay. That's okay. You're okay.” Her voice stays calm despite the fact she's gripping the handlebars hard enough that her knuckles are white. “Can you still hear me?”

"Yeah.”

“Good girl. Stay with me.”

The van rattles again. You pull her jacket sleeve over your hand and wipe under your nose. Your breathing is still shaky. “Mom?”

“I'm here.”

“I don't wanna go there.”

The words come out so small that they nearly break her. You're sixteen. Too old to sound like that. Too old to sound like a little kid. But you're scared. And all Natasha hears is her baby. “You're not going there,” she says firmly.

“You don't know where they are taking me.”

”No.” She swallows hard. “But I know you're coming home.”

Silence. “...Promise?”

Natasha's eyes sting. “I promise.”

A voice suddenly sounds from the front of the van. “She's still on the phone.”

You freeze. Natasha hears it too. The woman on comms sighs. "Take it.”

Your breathing picks up. “Mom—”

“I'm here.”

The van slows. The door handle rattles. “Mom—”

“Look at me, detka.”She knows you can't actually see her, but she keeps talking anyway. “Listen to my voice. I'm right here.”

The doors slide open. Cold air rushes inside. The woman appears.

Her eyes narrow at the sight of the phone. She reaches for it. You pull back instinctively. ”Mom—”

“Y/N.”

“I don't want—” you start.

“I know.”

The woman grabs your wrist. You gasp. Natasha hears it. Every protective instinct in her detonates.

“Do not touch my daughter.” The words come out low. Deadly. The woman pauses. The woman hesitates. Only for a second. A motorcycle bursts out from the tree line. Headlights flood the road. The Widow flinches. Natasha doesn't even wait for the bike to stop completely. She throws herself off it, boots hitting the pavement hard. "Mom!" you sob.

You have never been so happy to see anyone in your life. The woman recovers quickly, one hand still gripping your wrist. “Back off, Romanoff.”

Natasha goes terrifyingly still. “You know me?” she asks.

“Everyone knows you.”

Natasha's eyes flick over you. Your tied wrists. The blood beneath your nose. The way you're shaking. Something dark settles behind her expression. “Let. Her. Go.”

The woman straightens. “Orders.”

“I don't care.”

“They want you.”

"I know.” A pause. “Take me instead.”

You freeze. “Mom, no.”

Natasha doesn't look at you. The woman studies her carefully. ”You'd trade places?”

“Without hesitation.”

“Mom!”

Natasha finally glances at you. And the expression on her face nearly breaks you all over again. She's terrified. Not for herself. For you. “You don't ever have to be brave for me, detka,” she says softly. Tears spill down your face. “I can be brave enough for both of us.”

The woman frowns. “You really would do it.”

Natasha almost looks offended. “She's my daughter.”

Silence. Noise. Not police. Avengers.

Red and gold streaks overhead. A shadow lands beside Natasha. "Wow,” Tony says, looking between everyone. ”I leave for five minutes and suddenly we're doing kidnappings now?”

Another figure drops beside him. Steve. Then Clint. Then Thor. Then Hulk. The woman's grip on your wrist loosens. She knows she's lost.

Natasha notices immediately. She moves. One second she's standing several feet away. The next she's beside you. Her hand catches your face. “Hey. Hey, look at me.”

You can't stop crying. “I'm sorry," you choke out.

Natasha looks like you've punched her. "No.”

“I'm sorry I said—”

“No. Her hands move to your face properly now. “Not one word right now.”

“I didn't mean—”

“I know.” Your chin wobbles. "I know, baby.”

The woman behind you makes a move. Steve steps forward. “Don't.”

She stops. You don't even notice. Because Natasha is here. She's kneeling in front of you, hands cupping your cheeks, and suddenly you can't breathe properly. “I thought you weren't coming,” you whisper.

The words destroy her. She pulls you against her immediately. “I was always coming.”

You break completely. Her arms wrap around you so tightly it almost hurts. You cling back just as hard. “I was so scared.”

“I know.”

“I didn't know where I was.”

“I know.”

“I thought—”

“I know, detka.” Her hand finds the back of your head. You're crying into her shoulder. She's shaking too. “I've got you.” A kiss presses into your hair. “I've got you.” Another. “You're okay.” She smooths some dirt on your face “You're getting blood in my hair...but we're okay.”

Y/n POV

I sat staring at the giant green tree in front of me, unsure of what was going on. My moms had mentioned something about Christmas but I had no idea what that was. When they came in carrying a couple of boxes I finally looked up at them in confusion. “What is all this again?” I asked quietly, picking at my finger nails. I hated that i didn’t know what this was because it seemed so normal for everyone else.

“It’s Christmas detka.” Wanda said distracted as she put the box down and opened it up looking through. I simply hummed as Natasha did the same. They started placing little figurines and balls on the tree as well as some lights.

I didn’t know what to say. What to do besides watch them. Natasha put on some music that kept mentioning this Christmas thing. I had a faint smile on my face as i watched the two of them dance around together as they placed things all around the room.

It wasn’t until Wanda spotted me that she paused, looking at me quizzically, her head tilting slightly, confusion all over her face. “Why aren’t you helping detka?”

“I- well i-“ I stuttered out trying to blink back the tears that were forming. “I-“ I picked at my nails as i dropped my gaze, the tears finally breaking through. How could i tell them i have no idea what they are talking about or what’s going on? It seems like such a normal thing. The rest of the team had been talking about it recently as well. I was the only one who didn’t understand.

I felt a pair of hands grab mine as my vision blurred from the tears. One of the hands cupped my chin and pulled my head up to face them, I blinked once allowing the tears to fall and saw the face of my sokovian mother. “Darling. What’s going on? Why the tears?”

We both looked over at Natasha when we heard her whisper. “She doesn’t know what Christmas is… how could I forget?” She sat beside me, and placed an arm over my shoulder. “I am so sorry malyshka. I should have remembered.” I nodded looking back down at my hands that were currently being held by Wanda’s soft hands, her thumb stroking the back of my hand subconsciously.

“In the r- that place where i was raised, we didn’t do christmas. i didn’t have a life before there…” I muttered, more tears falling, sniffling afterwards. Wanda almost fell, barely catching herself as she looked at me. “It looks fun I just… don’t know what to do.” I shrugged.

“Oh detka… i didn’t know… i’m so sorry…” Wanda said cupping my face, her thumb wiping the tears. “It’s alright. We’ll tell you all about it. Hmm?”

I felt Natasha hold me just a little tighter as I nodded looking at my blue eyed mother. “Please momma.” A small smile graced her face as she sat on the other side of me.

They explained the story of how christmas came to be and I was left with more questions. “So… we celebrate for what exactly?” I asked, my brain going a mile a minute.

“We, as your parents, celebrate Christmas for being together, for getting to be our family and be with each other. For love and happiness. This year, we’re celebrating you detka. Your first christmas with us, you being our daughter.” Natasha said tucking a strand of hair behind my ear.

I smiled widely at that and looked up at them. “To being together.” I whispered before throwing myself into her arms. “A family mama.”

“A family malyshka.” She responded, kissing my head. Wanda then pulled me over and kissed my head as well.

“For everything you have overcome this year. And your life.” She said smoothing my hair down. I nodded looking over at the tree that they finished. “We’re just missing the star at the top of the tree detka. Would you like to put it on?” Wanda asked walking over to the box. She pulled out a silver star with gold details on it.

Natasha’s POV

Wanda and I were so excited for our first christmas with our daughter. We had brought the tree yesterday and today we brought out the decorations. “What is all this again?” I heard a soft whisper come from the young girl on the couch.

“It’s christmas detka.” Wanda replied as she dug through the box she had brought in. I went over to the radio after hearing a small hum and put on a christmas music playlist. Wanda and I started decoration the tree, we got so caught up with the music and dancing and decorating, neither of us noticed that y/n wasn’t helping.

Wanda stopped and tilted her head making me stop. “Why aren’t you helping Detka?” She asked, I turned to face the young girl and my heart froze as her green eyes teared up.

“I well- I” She looked down and i noticed tears starting to fall. “I-“ My heart stopped as I realized what was happening. She didn’t know. She didn’t know what christmas was or the traditions or anything. Of course she doesn’t. She was raised purely in the red room. Like me, she had no life before and unlike me, she never went on missions that were over a christmas.

“She doesn’t know what Christmas is… how could I forget that?” I muttered, a lump forming in my throat. How could I have forgotten? That was such a rookie move! She must feel awful! I ran over to her and sat beside her, one arm naturally drifting up and holding her shoulders. “I am so sorry malyshka. I should have remembered.”

“In the r- that place where i was raised, we didn’t do christmas. I didn’t have a life before there…” She mumbled, Wanda stumbled when she heard that. “It looks fun I just… don’t know what to do.” She shrugged slightly making my arm go up slightly.

“Oh detka… i didn’t know… i’m so sorry…” Wanda said cupping her face, her thumb wiping the tears. “It’s alright. We’ll tell you all about it. Hmm?”

I pulled our daughter a little closer to me as she stared at my girlfriend with hope in her eyes. “Please momma.” Wanda smiled as she sat next to the girl.

Wanda’s POV

My heart shattered as the sweet girl in front of me told me about not knowing about Christmas.

After we told her about christmas, she naturally had some questions. “So… we celebrate for what exactly?” She asked and i could practically see her brain going a mile a minute.

“We, as your parents, celebrate Christmas for being together, for getting to be our family and be with each other. For love and happiness. This year, we’re celebrating you detka. Your first christmas with us, you being our daughter.” Natasha said tucking a strand of hair behind our daughter’s ear. My heart melting at the words she spoke.

Y/n smiled widely at that and looked up at us. “To being together.” She whispered before throwing myself into Nat’s arms. “A family mama.”

“A family malyshka.” Nat responded, kissing her head. I then pulled her over and kissed her head as well.

“For everything you have overcome this year. And your life.” I said smoothing her crazy hair down. She nodded looking over at the tree that we had finished. “We’re just missing the star at the top of the tree detka. Would you like to put it on?” I asked walking over to the box. I smiled and pulled out a silver star with gold details on it. A star that reminded me of our beautiful girl.

“We had it specially made for this year.” I said looking at the three initials engraved into the middle. N, W, Y. Our little family.

Y/n looked up at me and cautiously stood, making her way over to me, i held it down so she could see and the biggest smile we had seen in a while graced her face. “That’s my initial there too!” She said, her eyes shining like the star she now held in her hands. She looked excitedly between Natasha and I before she looked up at the tree.

You were like wind to his fire; you might amp it down or fuel it, but you were always there. Your snarky remarks and witty comebacks offered him the perfect challenge; he’d hit the jackpot. You two could joke and laugh without offence or insecurity, without late nights wondering if a joke had a hidden meaning behind it because you read each other effortlessly. He never thought he’d fall for a Slytherin, especially not one with a family like yours. 

You were part of the sacred twenty-eight and additionally were a very distant relative of Bellatrix Lestrange, Narcissa Malfoy, and Andromeda Tonks. They were your second or third aunts. Purebloods always married within their circle; people had complex relative histories. It even technically made you Draco’s distant cousin. The thought alone should’ve driven him away, but he wasn’t like that. Even if you were Bellatrix’s own daughter, he’d go up to you, because that’s how he is; what he does. He was fearless in a way that made one question whether it was rooted in stupidity, naivety, or maybe possible genius.

“Freddie,” you breathed, eyes soft with guilt. “I’m not sure I should, you know, your parents aren’t very fond of me,” you said softly.

It hurt you immensely that his parents had a distaste for you despite your best efforts. You saw it in the way Fred never showed you any letters his mother sent him unless he was sure you weren’t mentioned once in them. His mother wasn’t exactly subtle.

You couldn’t blame them for it, though a part of you was still bitter. Your family name was loud, your parents were sharp-tongued and prejudiced against anything that wasn’t a rich pureblood elitist. People heard your name and already drew conclusions that lingered; impressions of a cold-hearted, calculating, ruthless heir without empathy or tolerance. 

Because of these assumptions, no one bothered to disprove them, opting to avoid you instead. Everyone but Fred. People called it stupidity, a death wish. But all those whispers and anticipation of a hex hitting his chest were eliminated after you threw your head back in a cackle, not even ten minutes after he came up to you.

The image was broken as soon as your laughter was heard; saccharine and normal like any other girl in the castle. And just like that, people came up to you more, returned smiles in the hallways, and didn’t stiffen when you walked past. Hogwarts turned comforting, more like home than your own. Fred stuck to you through it all, and you slowly won over each and every one of his siblings over the past seven years. You won over Charlie before he graduated when you were in your third year, and Percy warmed up to you when he caught you tutoring the twins in your second year. Ron was the toughest to break, but you finally got him when he was in his second year and you in your fourth, right after you and Fred began to date. He had passed the courtyard on his way between classes and saw you and Fred sitting out there, together. You were going on a tangent, hands on your hips as you scolded him for something he didn’t hear, but what really did it was how Fred reacted.

Fred Weasley, his big brother, was affected by nothing, brushing off punishments and detentions like dust on a coat, was pouting, head hanging as he stared at the floor, hands behind his back in compliance as you chided him. Ron decided something that day; if Fred let someone do that to him, he was exactly where he wanted to be. Ginny was by far the easiest to connect with. The poor girl screamed and nearly cried when she saw you, yelping about finally having another sister. You didn’t dare correct her. You even charmed Bill when you met him at the 1994 Quidditch World Cup Finals between Bulgaria and Finland. 

You hadn’t realised Mr and Mrs Weasley themselves would be the toughest nuts to crack; they were stereotypical. It’s unsurprising given their age, but their persistence was staggering. Firmly written opinions sent to all their children about you, and long, long lectures Fred had to sit through about deceit and how people are images of their parents. It didn’t matter how much Fred defended you, how much his siblings vouched for your character; Molly was clear, and Arthur never opposed his wife.

“My love, light of my life, honeybear,” Fred continued, his hands travelling further up your arm as he pulled you closer to him. You let him with a lingering pout. “My parents can bugger off for all I care; they can’t do or say anything if I’m there. Trust me on that,” he continued, his eyes wide and pleading. He didn’t play with you; you were the most important thing in his life, and he made sure you were treated like such.

You went silent, thinking about it, but you were weak; you knew that. Fred Weasley, knowingly or not, was your weakness. You weren’t smiley, friendly, or easy; with him, you turned impossibly soft. It was almost a sickness; he calmed your rage within seconds, and you shut down his life-threatening pranks with a single look. “Okay,” you relented. He lit up completely with a gasp, pulling you into a bone-crushing hug, face in your hair.

“Ginny might cry when I tell her.” He said with a breathy laugh, making your heart swell. God, you loved that girl. “I’ll tell her myself.” You mumbled back, turning your head to kiss his neck before pulling back.

You were a bundle of nerves the entire train ride to the Burrow, everyone noticed. Ginny offered up her skincare, Ron passed you extra chicken from the lunch he packed from Hogwarts, even George didn’t try to slip you a nosebleed nougat; he had more sense than that.

Fred kept you close the entire time, tucked into his side. You saw the tension in the hard set of his jaw as he looked out the window. His hands flexed from where they were on your waist, squeezing the soft flesh every once in a while merely to assure himself of your presence.

When you reached, one thing became abundantly clear: Molly and Arthur had certainly not been told of your visit. You saw it in the way her beaming smile harshly fell from her face once she spotted you next to Fred. She grabbed him, pulling him away.

You felt nauseous, smiling politely at Arthur as he gave you a forced smile in turn, his hesitance to shake your hand only added to the twist in your stomach. Ron took your suitcase, and Ginny took your hand, squeezing it in support as she tugged you to the car.

You turned your head to see Fred now proper scowling at his mother before he simply turned and walked off in the middle of her rant, face changing when he saw you look over, giving you as soft a smile as he could manage.

It didn’t get better at the burrow. Molly never looked directly at you, spoke to you through her children. ‘Ginny, she’ll sleep in your room.’ ‘Is she going to eat, Fred?’ ‘Ron, will she need her very own sheets?’ You saw the way Arthur winced, but said nothing. He himself was incredibly awkward near you. 

You didn’t like it, Fred absolutely didn’t. Glaring and hissing a sharp “why don’t you ask her herself?” that Molly always promptly ignored. It went on for two weeks; Molly stopped laughing when you entered a room, and Arthur found excuses to leave. Whenever you were with their kids, something always came up. You and Ginny giggling and eating ice cream in bed? Molly needed her help sewing. You and Percy discussing the NEWTS? Arthur needed him to proofread something. 

Fred was the main victim. Suddenly, he was needed all around the house as soon as the two of you were able to be together. The dishes, setting the table, helping with lunch, and helping load the laundry. It was so targeted and so obvious.

It all shattered during dinner one night. Fred and George decided this was the perfect time to talk about the fact that they’d be dropping out to open their own joke shop. Everyone knew Molly wouldn’t support it; she’d faced poverty. The thought of her sons not completing their education to start a shop made her all kinds of angry.

So, on went the screaming. Arguing at the table as George and Fred quite literally fought for their business with their mother, while Molly kept screaming about homelessness and how they’d never succeed.

It reached a point where she looked at you for the first time since the railway station and growled a low “You.”

You stiffened; everyone did. “You did this, didn’t you? Think it’s amusing, girl, making these two believe they can make it? Without suppliers? Investors? Nothing? You’re ruining my son's life!” She hissed, screaming the last part. You flinched, eyes widening.

“M-Misses Weasley, I don’t– I just want him to be happy-” You choked, but she slammed her hand on the table with a scoff of outrage. 

“You don’t understand anything. People like you, sheltered, protected–you’ve never had to work for anything a day in your life, never struggled. ” She continued, the rage in her voice something no one at the table had ever heard before. “Rich, pompous, overconfident people like you are exactly the folk we don’t want to get mixed with—”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake, shut up!” 

Everyone whipped their heads around to Fred, the usually cheeky and unserious boy, now straight scowling. “George and I are doing this with or without your approval, Mum. I truly don’t care about what you say in accordance with the business, nor about your hopes for our success, but you will watch it when you talk to her.” He hissed, pushing back his chair with a harsh screech before throwing his napkin on the table, grabbing your hand to pull you up as well.

Molly was mortified, and Arthur looked like he’d been spat on. “Frederick Gideon Weasley, you will sit–”

“Mum, please!” Ginny huffed, making your heart clench. The poor girl looked close to tears. She sniffled, turning to hug George’s arm. Molly’s scowl broke at the sight of her only daughter in such peril.

Fred dragged you up the stairs to his room. He’d gotten his own ever since Charlie moved into his own cottage somewhere in Scotland, closer to the dragons had been his only justification before taking off.

Your eyes were wide, heart pounding horrifically loud in your chest. You looked at the back of his head the entire walk to his room until he finally slammed the door. “Fred!” You whisper-hissed, hands trembling with adrenaline. He dragged a hand down his face as he turned to you, the other wrapping around the small of your back. “This doesn’t help my whole image with your mother, she’s gonna think I’m manipulating you against her or something—”

“She’s not that manic.” He mumbled, ducking his head into your neck before taking a deep inhale. “Hopefully.” 

He hugged you around your waist, tugging you into him as he leaned into you. You could feel he was doing this more to calm himself than offer any comfort, but you didn’t mind much, dragging a hand through his hair. You felt the breath leaving him.

You could hear the thud of footsteps climbing up to his room, and feel the way his shoulders tightened. He nudged you behind him as he turned to the door, half expecting his mother to come bursting in, but all he heard was three soft knocks.

“Fred?” Came a soft, older tone. His father, Arthur.

He didn’t hesitate opening it, letting the lesser of two evils in. Arthur looks guilty, almost hesitant, when he steps in, mouth open, before he shuts it. “Fred, my boy, your mother— both of us, we want the best for you. The shop, I-I’m not saying you shouldn’t follow your dreams, but you can’t expect her to be okay with it.”

“That’s not why I stormed out of there, Dad.” Fred huffed in turn, narrowing his eyes as he grabbed your waist, pulling you to stand next to him. “You know that.”

His father clasped his hands together, glancing towards you for a moment. It was clear he was choosing his words as carefully as he could. “Freddie, she– she’s not what we had in mind for you.” He said delicately, you could see Fred’s shoulders tighten.

“Her family, people like her, haven’t been good to people like us.” He continued, you took Fred’s hand as a reminder to keep himself regulated. It was odd, having to regulate his anger instead of him regulating yours. “Do her parents even know about you?”

That made you stiffen, hanging your head. You hadn’t told your parents, certain they’d forbid you from seeing him. You’d talked to Fred. He understood. Still, admitting he was a secret boyfriend was degrading.

“It doesn’t matter whether she’s told her parents. I trust her, that’s my choice. She’s brilliant, dad, you and mum would know if you gave her a singular chance.” Fred muttered, venom dripping from each syllable. Arthur felt the bitter truth in his words, nodding solemnly.

“No, you’re.. You’re right. I know.” He relented, looking at you apologetically. “I’m sorry, dear.” He all but breathed. You just offered a soft smile, nodding. 

“It’s– We have lived through a lot, Fred.” Now it was Fred’s turn to stiffen. “Your mother lost Fabian and Gideon in the war. To people from families like.. Well, hers.”

Fred sighed, squeezing your hand. “I know about them. She’s told us. But, Dad, things are changing. Times are changing. She can’t be bitter forever. Your mother was Cedrella Black! Does that mean she hates that part of you?!”

Arthur stammered. That was enough. “Why is it different for y/n, huh? Haven’t you been cruel enough? I’d like you two grown adults to realise you’ve been bedevilling a girl who’s nearly three times younger than you!” Fred continued, finishing with a scoff. He knew he was loud—knew the whole damn house probably heard. He couldn’t find it in him to care; he almost hoped his mother heard.

Arthur just nodded, unable to gather the words to continue the conversation, exiting the room.

You shuddered, Fred pulled you in. 

Safe to say, no one minded if you spent the night in Fred’s room that night.

Morning rolled around, the tension still present like a living, breathing presence. Fred didn’t leave you for a single second, and no one tried. Neither Arthur nor Molly pretended he was needed anywhere; they knew Fred wouldn’t entertain it.

To his credit, Arthur really did seem like he was trying. Wished you good morning, offered you tea when he was making any, even went as far as to ask for your future job plans. Fred was already grateful, smiling whenever he heard it. He eased up on his father, let himself relax around you when his father was near.

But Molly was a woman on a mission. She made sure it was known that Arthur was alone in his acceptance. She let you serve yourself during meals, dramatically moved away from you like you had Spattergoit. You chose to ignore it, a smaller, pettier part of you made you extra nice to her in turn.

All of the Weaslings (apart from Bill and Charlie) were around the coffee table, playing exploding snap. The air was filled with hysterical giggles and pure orange-haired competitiveness. Arthur was off at work, and Molly was serving snacks, very pointedly placing the plates as far from you as she could. 

You shot her a smile dipped in honey. “Oh, thank you, Miss Weasley! You’re so good to me. I couldn’t be more grateful.” You cooed, making Fred stifle a snort. His mother looked appalled, muttering a quick ‘no matter’ before rushing back to the kitchen. 

You’d come to accept it, almost took it as a sad fact of life. Ready to fight Molly Weasley for the rest of your life.

Then came that fated night.

You couldn’t sleep. George thought it was genius to watch some low-budget horror movie. You crept down the stairs of the burrow to the kitchen to take a glass of water and, potentially, a cookie Molly made.

You filled the glass before the light flicked on from behind you, startling you. Damn you, George.

“Oh.” Molly mumbled when she saw it was you, hesitantly walking into her kitchen to grab something from the fridge. It was rather early, four am. You didn’t think she’d be up so early.

There was a horribly awkward moment where neither spoke; you simply drank your water at the counter. Then, the silence was shattered.

“I had brothers, you know.” She mumbled; you immediately knew where this was going. You looked over at her; her expression was something you couldn’t pick apart.

You nodded, she continued.

“They joined the order. First Wizarding War. I’m sure you’ve met Harry. They met his parents there. Young, stupid and ready to fight.”

Her voice thickened, your heart sank. 

“Twins. Like my Fred and George. Good people, amazing to me.” She kept going, unwrapping dough she got from the freezer. “Died when I was pregnant with Percy.” Her voice broke around the word died and you suddenly felt like a monster.

“Took five deatheaters to kill them. Antonin Volohov was the only one who was named in the report, the rest having taken their own lives once captured.” It was unsettling, the things this woman had gone through. It made your heart ache for her.

“Volohov worked closely with Bellatrix. I guess I just… can’t accept that a trace of what killed my brothers lives in you.”

You felt your throat tighten, tears stinging your eyes as the woman placed the small balls of frozen dough on a baking tray.

You cleared your throat, moving to wash your hands, drying them, then wordlessly assisting her. 

“My mum once killed my pet mouse because attachment was a weakness to her.” You mumbled, and she shifted to make room for you. Not to get away, but to make space. You noticed.

“I cried to my father, but he offered no solace. He said nothing should be important enough to bring me to tears.” You rolled the dough into a ball, passing it to her. “Met Bellatrix once. I was.. Maybe seven. She threw her shoes at me when I touched her wand, grabbed me by the hair and presented me to my parents like a fox she killed.”

Molly hummed in acknowledgement, but there was something softer. A sympathy.

“I may not hate her as much as you do, I may never will, but I truly despise and loathe her very being. She’s hurt you much more than she hurt me, but her cruelty to more and more people gives me more and more reason to be as different from her as I can.”

The room settled into comfortable silence after that. She put the cookies in the oven, and you washed your hands. 

As soon as you turned to leave, she took your hand. It was gentle, not like she was trying to restrain you. You turned, and she placed a kiss to your forehead before walking away. “Goodnight, dearie.”

You bit back the smile growing on your face, sheer joy filling your chest. 

“Goodnight, Miss Weasley.”

“Better now that they’re about to be avenged,” Neville snarled, raising his wand at the dark witch.

Harry crossed his arm over him and stopped the taller boy from doing something stupid.

“Shove off Malfoy, Lestrange,” you growled, stepping in front of the group.

“Ah, the traitorous Slytherin half-breed,” Lucius said, his hand still outstretched for the prophecy.

You felt Harry place his hand on your shoulder, a silent reminder that you weren’t alone.

“What would dear old mummy say to you parading around with Potter and his friends?” The blond man asked.

“I heard she’s all bark and no bite,” Bellatrix laughed, biting her teeth together at you.

You fought the urge to flinch and step back at the action. As intimidating as she was, it was hard to deny that Bellatrix Lestrange was a beautiful witch, even after over a decade in Azkaban she was still as striking as you had always been told. You forced your eyes to remain on the dark witch's face and not to travel down her body.

“Now, let’s everybody just calm down, shall we?” Lucius said, “All we want is that prophecy.”

He held out his hand and raised his eyebrow in expectation.

“Why did Voldemort need me to come and get this?” Harry asked, his eyes glancing down to the ball in his hand.

“You dare speak his name?!” Bellatrix shouted, “You filthy half-blood!”

You narrowed your eyes at the ravenette, her words making everyone grimace a little, you most of all.

“It’s alright, he’s just a curious lad, aren’t you?” Lucius said, taking a step forward, “Prophecies can only be retrieved by those about whom they are made. Which is lucky for you, really.”

More streaks of black appeared and you began to realise that you were likely surrounded on all sides.

“Haven’t you always wondered what was the reason for the connection between you and the Dark Lord? Hm?” Lucius said, taking another step forward, “Why he was unable to kill you when you were just an infant? Don’t you want to know the secret of your scar?” He was closer now, “All the answers are there, Potter, in your hand. All you have to do is give it to me, and I can show you everything.”

The death eaters began to approach slowly from all sides. You flicked your eyes to sides and watched as each of your friends turned to see them, everyone backing up a little into a tighter clump.

“I’ve waited fourteen years,” Harry said.

“I know.”

“I guess I can wait a little longer,” Harry muttered, “Now!”

Spells began flying everywhere, you blocked what you could and fired back your own. You ran down the walkway between shelves and fired more spells behind you. You’re heartbeat thudded in your ears and you felt another spell wiz past your head, barely missing your face. You ran for your life, the sound of your shoes echoing as you finally met the rest of the group, almost colliding with them as you came to a stop.

“Reducto!” Ginny yelled, pointing her wand at the encroaching death eaters.

You watched as the shelves of prophecies began to collapse and you began to run.

“Get back to the door!” Harry yelled.

You saw the door at the same time Harry did and the both of you pushed it open. You screamed out as you began to fall, wind whipping past you as you neared the ground. You braced yourself for the impact, a feeling of fear washing over you at the realisation that this could be your death. You squeezed your eyes shut and felt your body stop, as if gravity no longer worked and you slowly opened your eyes. The ground was only inches away from you and you grunted as you finally hit it, whatever spell that was suspending you finally stopped.

You all began to stand, looking around the space and taking in your surroundings. There was an archway of sorts in the middle, it seemed empty and almost pointless, but, like everything in the Ministry, you knew it probably wasn’t.

“Department of Mysteries,” Ron said, “They had that bit right, didn’t they?”

Silence filled the room as Harry took a step closer.

“The voices,” he said, “can you tell what they’re saying?”

“There aren’t any voices, Harry,” Hermione said, “let’s get out of here.”

Luna took a step forward, her voice light and airy as she spoke.

“I hear them too.”

The two of them walked closer to the archway, almost transfixed by it.

“Harry, it’s just an empty archway,” Hermione said, "please, Harry.”

“Get behind me!” Harry yelled.

Before you could react, streaks of black began to descend upon you and the rest of the group. You tried to curl in on yourself but you felt a hand wrap into your hair and pull, the action pulling you up into the stream of inky blackness.

Your feet felt solid ground and you were about to move when you felt a cold body press against yours, the tip of a curved wand digging into your neck. You heard her shrill giggle and you didn’t need to turn to know who was holding you.

Bellatrix’s hand fisted your hair and pulled, exposing your neck to her wand and she jabbed the wood deeper into the soft skin of your throat. You glanced your eyes over to where Harry stood, Lucius now holding his palm outstretched.

“Don’t do it Harry!” You yelled and felt Bellatrix’s wand press harder.

“Shut up,” the dark witch hissed in your ear, pulling your hair tighter.

“Bite me, Lestrange,” you shot back and immediately regretted it as you felt her teeth dig into your shoulder.

You cried out in pain and struggled against her hold, desperate to get her filthy mouth off you. Harry flashed his eyes over to you for a second and you could hear Lucius’ voice but you couldn’t make out what he said. Bellatrix finally removed her teeth from your shoulder and you whimpered quietly at the pain her bite had caused. You could feel blood trickling down your collarbone and you forced yourself to stay as still as possible.

Your eyes were wide as you watched Harry hand over the prophecy, his arm shaking slightly at the weight of his decision. You saw a flash of white and smiled, knowing that the Order had arrived.

Being an older student had its advantages, you were privy to more information then the others and seeing Sirius through that flash of white had hope budding within you.

“Step away from my godson,” Sirius said, watching as Malfoy turned around.

You heard the sound of the punch he landed against the blond man and you smiled wider. More flashes of white filled the room, hurtling straight towards the death eaters holding your friends. One came towards you and instead of letting you go and disappearing into her own black smoke, Bellatrix kept her hold on you and took you with her.

It felt strange to be travelling in the smoke, you had seen it various times but being inside it was a whole different experience. The world around you was warped slightly as Bellatrix pulled you with her. You felt solid ground again and groaned as your back collided with the rock. Bellatrix turned around with a spin and before you could even reach for your wand, you heard it. The unforgivable spell leaving her lips as a blast of green shot straight at Sirius.

Time seemed to stand still for a moment as everyone watched the only family Harry had left float away into the stone archway. Remus wrapped his arms around Harry as the boy screamed, you felt the sound rattling in your bones and you didn’t even think before you jumped up to tackle the curly haired witch. Bellatrix was faster than you, she could see you moving out of the corner of her eye and she pointed her wand at you and shot a wordless spell that had you flying backwards. You felt a burning sensation on your right hip and you writhed in pain as Tonks rushed over to you.

She pulled up the fabric of your shirt only slightly to see the damage Bellatrix had done and recoiled in horror. Hermione was next to you in an instant, her eyes landing on your exposed skin and she gasped, reaching for her wand.

“Episkey,” she said, pointing at the skin.

She furrowed her brow and tried again, huffing out a frustrated sigh when it still didn’t work.

“W-what did she do?” You asked, wincing in pain as you tried to sit up.

You felt Luna’s hand on your shoulders, a silent command to remain laying down. Tonks and Remus shared a look before the purple haired witch pulled out her wand and pointed it at your stomach. A mirror-like surface began to glisten and you could now read the words that were being etched onto your skin.

‘Property of Bellatrix Black Lestrange’

You felt silent tears fall from your eyes and you pulled your shirt down before rolling over and curling up as best as you could.

“Dumbledore will know how to fix it, or Snape,” Remus said softly.

You looked up at him with glassy eyes and nodded your head. You could sit up now, the fire of words being carved in your skin no longer making you writhe in pain. You looked around the group that had huddled around you, everyone was accounted for except Sirius and…

“Where’s Harry?” You asked, your eyes wide as you looked at Remus.

Voldemort was back and had been seen at the ministry and you were sitting in a hospital bed at Hogwarts. Everybody had looked at the markings on your skin and no matter how hard they tried, no one could erase the words. They burned hot at least once a day, a painful reminder that Bellatrix had marked you as hers and would eventually come and collect her property.

You were thankful when holidays came around but you refused to go home, you couldn’t be around your mother with this mark on your body. The Weasley’s had been kind enough to offer you a room in their home and you were more than happy to accept. You hated that they all looked at you with pity everytime you came out of your room, their eyes always glancing down to your stomach for a moment before going back up to meet your eyes. You accepted that this would be your new normal, everyone knew that Bellatrix had carved your stomach, the rumours flying around about what it said.

You got very few letters during the break, only ones from the rest of the Order and one peculiar one from Draco that you were hesitant to open. You gave in eventually, mostly due to Ginny constantly asking what it said and she sat with you as you unfolded the paper.

Y/n,

I’m sorry.

Draco

You ripped it up as soon as you were finished reading the words. You never wanted to see him again and you were thankful that you wouldn’t have to. His deranged aunt had carved her name into your skin and he sent an apology, what an arsehole.

“Before you leave,” Severus said, his eyes trained on Bellatrix, “does Linetta know what you did to her daughter?”

Bellatrix smiled and pulled her younger sister by the arm as they walked back out into the rain. Narcissa looked at her sister with a horrified look on her face as she wrestled out of Bellatrix’s hold.

“What did you do to y/n?” Narcissa asked, eyes wide.

“You mean the traitorous half-breed?” Bellatrix cackled, “don’t you worry your pretty little head about it Cissy.”

“I’d appreciate you not carving your name into my students,” Severus snarled at the dark witch.

Bellatrix just giggled as she ran her eyes over the potions teacher.

“Well from what I heard, she’s not your student anymore,” she said, stepping towards the professor, “looking for your half-blood princess, are we Severus?”

Snape’s face twisted into a scowl for a moment before he slammed the door in the Black sisters’ faces.

Christmas was a happy time in the Weasley household, you hated that it had been overshadowed by Harry’s news about Snape's unbreakable vow.

“Y/n got a letter from Draco over the holidays,” Arthur said, leaning forward in his seat, “it was an apology, we assume for his aunt's actions.”

“Well any part of him that was sorry is well gone by now,” Harry replied, his eyes glancing over at you.

You could feel the pity in his stare as it dropped down to your stomach for a split second before he turned away from you. You hated it, you weren’t some damaged little toy that had to be looked after. You felt a snarl rising to your face at the thought but you pushed it aside and silently walked out of the room.

You sat outside for the rest of the night, enjoying the way the cold bit at your skin. You didn’t pay attention to your surroundings, too lost in thought to think of anything else. What did it mean, her words on your skin, you knew it wasn’t a trace of some kind but they weren’t empty words.

“The first night of the cycle’s always the worst.”

The sound of Tonks' voice dragged you out of your trance and you looked up at them. Remus looked out into the silence of the night, his eyes lost in search of something in the distance. You came and put a hand on his shoulder but your presence did nothing to shake him from his trance.

That’s when it happened. That fiery streak in the sky that followed with smoke. A ring of fire circled the house and there she was, looking almost the exact same as she did the last time you saw her. Bellatrix’s eyes landed on you and you saw the manic smile on her lips.

You ran after her without even thinking, you wanted answers, you wanted to know why she carved your skin, called you her property. You chased after her, the tall plants scratching at your skin as you ran faster than you’d ever run before.

“I killed Sirius Black! I killed Sirius Black!” The dark witch cackled, “You coming to get me?”

You could tell Harry was behind you, his breathing heavy. You could see the ravenette now, flashes of her curly hair visible through the tall wheat. She was within reach and just managed to grab her, yanking at the curls as hard as you could and pulling her down. You pressed your wand to her neck, your breathing heavy as you locked eyes with her.

“Hello, pet,” Bellatrix giggled, grabbing your shoulders and flipping you.

Your wand was no longer in your hand and you felt your heartbeat in your throat as her wand pressed against it. You looked up at her with wide eyes, fear making your body shake as you tried to fight her hold. You opened your mouth to try and scream when you felt her clamp her hand over your mouth.

“Harry!” You heard Ginny call and you stiffened against Bellatrix’s hold.

The ravenette wrapped her hand tighter around your mouth and pulled you up, holding you tight against her. You could see Ginny and Harry standing in a clearing, their wands out. Bellatrix shot a wordless spell past your head that Harry was quick to deflect. Then there were more spells, fired past you and deflected, all while Bellatrix held you tight against herself.

The spells stopped once Remus, Tonks, and Arthur surrounded them. You tried to bite at her hand but Bellatrix was smarter, her nails digging into your cheeks as she glanced over to Greyback. You felt her lips press against your temple and you made a noise of surprise that was muffled by her palm. You could just barely see the five people react to your noise before Bellatrix’s other hand was pulling at your hair and you were once again inside that black smoke.

“Y/n!” One of them yelled, but you couldn’t tell who.

You chanced a glance down before you felt her pull at your hair again, forcing you to keep your eyes on her. You felt tears fall silently down your cheeks as you flew, the wind making you dizzy. You were flying for what felt like hours and the grip in your hair was starting to hurt. You didn’t know where she was taking you but you knew your life was going to change.

You were unconscious when you arrived at Malfoy manor and Bellatrix pulled you by your hair into the main sitting room.

“Linetta,” Bellatrix said with a smile, “how fortunate you’re here.”

The blond woman turned around and saw you, a snarl on her face.

“Oh you found my traitorous daughter,” Linetta said, placing her cup of tea down.

Narcissa looked at her older sister with shock in her eyes. Bella had just waltzed into her home and thrown an unconscious girl onto the floor that she had gotten from god knows where and to top it all off, that girl was Linetta’s daughter.

“Bella!” Narcissa yelled, helping you to stand as you slowly regained consciousness, “what are you doing?”

You leaned into the woman’s touch, her body warming you from the cold air that surrounded you.

“Give her back Cissy,” Bellatrix said, holding out her hand, “she’s mine.”

Narcissa looked over to where your mother sat and the older woman just rolled her eyes at the whole situation.

“You can have her, Bellatrix, maybe you can teach her some manners while you’re at it,” your mother said, standing to leave.

“Missed you too mum,” you said, standing up straight and pushing yourself out of Narcissa’s hold.

Your mother just snarled at you before apparating and leaving you standing between the two black sisters.

You reached into your pocket and searched for your wand, grasping desperately at the lining in an attempt to find what wasn’t there.

“Give me back my wand,” you hissed at the dark witch, holding your hand out.

Instead of answering you Bellatrix just stepped forward and pointed her wand at you. You pushed it away and swung a punch at her face. The sound your fist made as it collided with her nose was particularly satisfying and you didn’t fight as Narcissa grabbed your arms and restrained you. You pressed your hand against her leg and tried to find the outline of her wand. Narcissa pulled your arms tighter behind your back and removed her wand and held it in front of your face. She pointed it at her sister and cleared her throat to get the older woman’s attention.

“Episkey,” Narcissa said, fixing the broken nose on her sister's face.

You kept your eyes on the wand, it was the only opportunity you could see that would mean you could get a wand, Bellatrix certainly wasn’t going to give yours to you.

“Maybe I’ll help you…” Narcissa said, leaning in close to your ear, “break her in.”

You whimpered, the realisation of what they might actually do to you setting in.

“No, please,” you said, struggling against Narcissa’s hold, “just torture me, do-don’t-”

“Don’t what?” Bellatrix laughed, stepping closer to you, “take what belongs to me?”

You managed to break out of Narcissa’s hold for only a moment before you saw the blast from her wand.

“Crucio!” Bellatrix yelled.

You collapsed to the ground, writhing in pain and screaming out. She kept her wand pointed at you and your whole body shook in pain. She finally let it stop and you glared up at her, your breathing ragged.

“Not here, Bella,” Narcissa said, grabbing your arm, “take her to your room.”

Bellatrix hummed in response and you felt her nails dig into your arm as she pulled you along.

“Bellatrix, please,” you said, fighting back tears.

“You will call me mistress,” Bellatrix hissed, throwing you against the nearest wall and pressing her forearm against your throat, “and make no mistake, pet, you belong to me.”

You whimpered and nodded your head, knowing better than to talk back to someone who is so fond of the cruciatus curse. Bellatrix smiled and pulled you off the wall and back towards her room. She pushed the door open and threw you into the room before slamming it shut behind her.

Bellatrix was on top of you in an instant, her hands holding you down against the floor as her mouth pressed against yours. You tried to push her off you but her hands held firm and she bit your lower lip. You cried out and she took the opportunity to push her tongue down your throat. You clawed at her shoulders and bit down on her tongue and she pulled away.

“Ungrateful little bitch,” Bellatrix hissed.

You pushed yourself back and pressed your back against the wall in an effort to get away from her. You covered your body despite the fact that you still had all your clothes on, you felt naked under her stare. Bellatrix looked at you with hungry eyes, blood dripping from her mouth from the way you bit her.

“Imperio!” Bellatrix yelled, pointing her wand at your face.

You gasped for a moment before you felt your brain become cloudy.

“Come here, pet.”

You felt your body begin to move, your hands resting on the floor as you crawled towards your mistress. It was as if your consciousness had taken a backseat in your mind as your limbs moved at her command. You wanted to yell, to scream, to beg her to stop but you were mute, she had not given you permission to speak. You came to a stop in front of her and looked up at your mistress.

“See, you can be a good girl,” Bellatrix cooed, patting your head softly.

You nodded your head and leant into her touch.

“Good pet, now apologise,” Bellatrix said, leaning back and opening her legs to give you space to sit between.

You opened your mouth to talk but you felt all the words die in your throat. Instead your body began to move again and you laid yourself flat on your stomach between her legs. Bellatrix smiled at you, her eyes crazed as she pointed her wand at her clothes. They disappeared and you hated the fact that you wanted to see her body and that had nothing to do with the imperious curse she had placed on you.

You felt your mouth water at the sight of her body, even after years in Azkaban she was as striking as you remembered, even if you were a child the last time.

“Come on pet, I haven’t got all day,” Bellatrix sighed, spreading her legs further apart.

You pushed yourself forward and stuck your tongue out. You licked up her centre and wrapped your lips around her clit. Bellatrix leaned back and hummed in appreciation as you dipped your tongue down to her entrance.

“Wouldn’t it be fun if I held you there and lifted the curse?” Bellatrix asked, “I know you’d enjoy it, I bet your pretty little pussy is all wet for me.”

You wanted to argue back but she wasn’t entirely wrong, you hated that your body was betraying you, making a mess in your underwear as she forced you to eat her out. You slipped your tongue into her entrance and genuinely enjoyed the low moan she let out.

“I guess the Slytherin common rooms are the same as always,” Bellatrix laughed, “eager little sluts tongue-fucking eachother in an effort to become top bitch.”

You wanted to cry at her words, deny everything she said but instead your body ignored your wants and continued to lick at her. Her hands found your hair and she pushed you even closer to her, your nose brushing against her curls as you sucked on her clit. You felt like you were watching your body act on its own and you tried so hard to fight against the curse. Every desire you had to break past it rose and fell again and again.

“Gods, you certainly know what you’re doing,” Bellatrix groaned, “use your fingers.”

You did as she asked, your hands moving under her instruction and you slid two fingers into her. Bellatrix let out a small moan as you curled your fingers and continued to suck at her clit. You fought against the curse, your mind arguing with your body and Bellatrix watched as she saw the smallest flicker of defiance in your eyes. She pushed your face harder against herself and ignored the look in your eye, very few people can break out of the imperius curse and if you could, she’d be more impressed than angry.

Her moans grew louder in pitch and it didn’t take much more for her to cum, her walls squeezing around your fingers as you continued to push your fingers into her.

“S-stop, you can stop,” Bellatrix said, pushing you away.

You sat back on your heels and watched as the older witch caught her breath. She lazily pointed her wand at you and you felt the curse lift. You recoiled sharply and backed yourself against the wall. You wiped your mouth clean with the back of your sleeve and spat out the remaining taste of her from your mouth.

“D-don’t do that again,” you said, wiping your mouth again, “please.”

“Aww, but you enjoyed that, pet,” Bellatrix laughed, crawling over to you, “now I want to see my mark.”

She pounced on you and before you could even fight back she had your hands pressed against the wall and her other hand traveled down your body. You winced as her palm pressed against the mark through your clothes. You whimpered as you felt her hand against your bare skin and you suddenly felt very cold. You looked down for a brief second and realised she had made your clothes disappear.

“B-Bellatrix,” you gasped, “p-please, stop.”

You knew you were crying, you could feel the tears against your skin, but no noise was escaping you.

“It’s mistress to you,” she hissed, pressing harder against the scarring skin.

You gasped out a whimper and squeezed your eyes shut.

“Someone will come for me,” you said, your voice steadier than you expected, “T-they know I ran after you, they’ll know I’m missing.”

Bellatrix leaned forward and brushed her lips against yours, a wicked smile on her face.

“Let them,” she hissed before pressing her lips firmly against yours.

You pushed against her hold, hot tears streaming down your face as she slipped her tongue past your lips. You didn’t bite her again, not wanting it to lead to her using the imperius curse on you again. Bellatrix kissed down your jaw and you sobbed as you tried to escape her hold once more.

“Stop fighting me, pet,” Bellatrix growled, nipping at your neck.

You screamed as she bit you, her teeth sinking into the scar that her teeth left a year ago. Her hand was still firmly pressed against the words that marked your skin. Bellatrix laughed as she sucked marks into your skin, leaving your neck various shades of red and purple. She finally moved her hands away from the scars but, much to your dismay, she moved them lower, grazing the skin of your thighs.

“Tell me,” Bellatrix said, “are you a virgin?”

You stilled for a second at her question, unsure whether to be honest or not. Bellatrix didn’t move, just kept her dark eyes trained on you as she held you in place. You worried your bottom lip between your teeth and shook your head softly.

Bellatrix’s lips curled into a slow and lazy smile as she gripped the soft skin of your thigh. She hummed and pressed her lips back against yours, softer than before and it took you by surprise. For a moment you moaned against her before you remembered where you were and who was kissing you.

You tried to push her off you but despite her small frame, the witch was much stronger than you. She bit your lip and the action made you yelp in pain. Bellatrix took the opportunity to slide her tongue into your mouth and it made you gag. She pushed your legs further apart and brushed her fingertips through your folds.

You couldn’t help the choked off moan it brought from you, the feeling sending an unwanted jolt of pleasure through you.

“Please, don’t,” you begged, tears sliding down your cheeks.

Bellatrix giggled and licked the tears off your face, two fingers prodding at your entrance. You sobbed as she pushed into you, her lithe fingers curling instantly. You cried out, hating the way your body reacted.

“Good girl,” Bellatrix cooed, beginning to slowly pump her fingers, “I know you’re enjoying it.”

You sobbed harder and shook your head, trying to fight against her hold. Bellatrix only laughed at the way you squirmed, she could feel you squeezing around her fingers. Even as you cried out your protests, your body couldn’t help the way it reacted. You felt her thumb press against your clit and you tried your hardest to clamp down on the moan that escaped you. The sound made the witch above you giggle, the sound resonating against your throat as she began to kiss down your neck.

You whimpered and squeezed your eyes shut as tight as you could, you could feel the coil inside your abdomen tightening and it made you want to throw up. Your pleas to stop fell of deaf ears as Bellatrix curled her fingers, hitting a spot that, much to your dismay, made you stars. It was not fair for her to be nearly as good at this as she was.

“That’s it,” Bellatrix hummed, “cum on fingers like a good little slut.”

You desperately tried once again to pull out of her grip before she could make you cum but the ravenette pressed her weight against yours harder, effectively pinning you in place. You came with a sob, your body spasming against the wall as she fucked you through it. Bellatrix finally let you go and you collapsed down the wall, hugging your body as you sobbed. You heard a soft hum and glanced over to see her licking her fingers clean. You turned further in on yourself, hugging your knees to your chest.

You’d been in Bellatrix’s room for six days now, you’d been keeping count by slicing thin lines on your shoulder with your nail. You hadn’t been given any clothes since she had magicked them away, all you had was the sheets on the bed and even if you wanted to search the room for any, you couldn’t, not with your ankle tied to the bed post. You heard the door open and you glanced up to see familiar white blond hair. You pushed yourself up, clutching the sheet high up your chest to cover not only yourself but the marks that Bellatrix had left behind.

“Get out, Draco,” you hissed.

“Y/n…” he said, his eyes wide, “I heard but- I-”

“Get the fuck out!” You hissed again.

You knew it wasn’t his fault that you were in here, and that’s not really why you wanted him to leave, you just didn’t want him to see you like this. He was still only sixteen.

“Draco! Get out of there!” Another voice hissed.

You watched as the boy shot you one last look before turning away.

“Draco!” You called, gaining his attention, “It’s not your fault.”

You watched as he furrowed his brow for a moment before looking down and walking out. You looked down at the bedsheets covering you and you heard hushed whispers for a second before the door was shut. The sound of footsteps made you look up. Midnight brown eyes met yours and the familiar two toned hair made you frown at the sight of Narcissa. In her hands she held a small pot of some kind and bandages.

She walked towards you and sat on the edge of the bed, laying the objects onto the sheets. You pushed yourself back, taking the sheet with you to try and remain covered. Your ankle hurt from the restraints as you tried to tuck your knees under your chest.

“I’m here to try and heal you,” Narcissa sighed, opening the pot, “so I need you to lower the sheet.”

You stretched your neck a little to see what was inside the pot and your frown deepened when you realised it was a healing salve.

“I can do it myself,” you said, holding your hand out.

“I’m sure you can,” she smiled, grabbing your arm and pulling you forward, “but Bella insisted I do it.”

You yelped at the pull, scrambling to try and cover yourself again while the two-toned brunette held it away from you.

“I don’t want to hurt you, y/n,” she hissed, “so stop resisting and let me heal you.”

You kept fighting against her hold, trying to kick at her now as you reached for the sheet. Narcissa grunted in annoyance at your behaviour and she didn’t let herself think about it before she slapped you across the face. You stopped moving instantly, your whole body freezing at the unexpected contact. Narcissa watched the way your eyes widened before beginning to water slightly. She sighed softly, your name a soft whisper as you collapsed backwards onto the bed, no longer caring about your state of undress.

“I told you I didn’t want to hurt you,” Narcissa sighed, taking the pot of salve and dipping two of her fingers into it.

You didn’t say anything as she began to apply the balm to the various cuts and bruises Bellatrix had left behind. She placed a little extra over the re-opened bite on your shoulder, shaking her head at the sight. She moved down to the bruises on your stomach, her hand hovering over the carving her sister had left behind.

“This will never heal, not fully,” Narcissa said, meeting your eyes.

You frowned and looked away, your cheek brushing against the pillowcase. You felt the fabric dampen as silent tears began to fall. You knew it would never heal, you’d had it for the better half of a year by now and it looked as fresh at the day she carved it.

“What did she do to your arm?” Narcissa asked, gripping your upper arm where your own marks were.

You stiffened and tried to pull out of her hold but her grip just tightened. She didn’t say anything but you saw her dip her fingers back into the salve and that’s when you started thrashing. Narcissa growled and dug her nails into your arm but you just fought harder.

“No!” You screamed, trying to curl in on yourself and hide the marks, “Let me count! Please!”

“If Bella sees them it’ll be much worse, so stop your sulking and let me do this, please,” Narcissa said, “I can’t help you very much but let me do this, y/n.”

You curled in on yourself further and hugged yourself tighter.

“If you want to help me, let me go.”

“You know I can’t do that,” Narcissa sighed, placing her hand gently on your arm, “please, y/n, I don’t want you to be any worse off than you already are.”

You sighed and rolled back over, letting her hands gently rub the salve over the cuts.

“I just want something to do,” you mumbled, feeling her slide the sheets back over your body, stopping at your chest, “I’m bored out of my mind just sitting here.”

“I’ll see what I can find,” Narcissa said, her voice soft as she stretched the bandage over the bite mark on your shoulder.

You whimpered at the pain the pressure caused but didn't make much more of a sound. She brushed your hair away from your face and your whole body tensed. With all the softness she’d been giving you, you wanted to lean into the touch.

“I’m sure Bella has a brush around here,” Narcissa murmured, standing from the bed.

You furrowed your brows as you watched her move around the room in search of a hairbrush. She returned a moment later, a soft bristle brush in hand, before instructing you to sit up and turn around. You stared at her for a moment before sitting up but not moving to turn your back to her, all you did was shuffle forward a little. Narcissa sighed but didn’t scold you like you expected, instead, she placed herself behind you and began to assess how knotty your hair was. You’d had it out when Bellatrix had taken you and it had only gotten dirty and tangled since then.

Narcissa began to separate your hair, starting at the ends of your hair to avoid making the knots worse. You let her work through your hair, the movements soothing and you felt yourself relaxing a little.

“When will Bellatrix be back?” You asked, wanting to know how much time you had before the abuse continued.

She’d been gone since the first night and you’d been more than thankful for that but you knew it would come to an end soon.

“I’m not sure,” Narcissa replied, “could be tonight, could be tomorrow.”

You nodded your head, softly so as not to disrupt her work. She hummed to herself as she brushed, working slowly to make sure that she didn’t hurt you. You could almost believe that she wanted a daughter with the way she was acting, gently soothing you with small actions.

“I am sorry for hitting you,” Narcissa said, her voice soft, “I really don’t want to hurt you, and I am sorry about… everything.”

You didn’t say anything, just sat in silence as she continued to work.

The sound of the door opening made the both of you look up, and you couldn’t help but feel fear as those onyx eyes met yours.

“Hello, pet,” Bellatrix smiled.

Narcissa didn’t say anything as she moved from behind you, placing the brush on the bedside table next to you, glancing at you for a moment so that you could see it was within reach. You looked at it for a moment before moving your eyes back to Bellatrix. You could see the silent words in it, the acknowledgment that it was there for you if you wanted to brush your hair again.

“Hello there, Cissy,” Bellatrix hummed, coming up to her sister, “taking care of my pet for me?”

Narcissa offered the ravenette a small smile, bringing her into a hug.

“Are you injured?” She asked, pulling back a little to assess Bellatrix.

Bellatrix just giggled and set her eyes to you.

“Weren’t you saying you’d help me ‘break her in’?” Bellatrix smiled, tracing her finger over her sister's jaw.

The younger woman stilled and glanced her eyes back to you for a moment.

“Bella…”

“Hush hush,” Bellatrix said, wrapping her arms around her younger sister and spinning her around to face you, “isn’t she just so pretty, hm?”

Narcissa didn’t say anything as she looked at you, seeing the mix of hurt and fear on your face. You didn’t know what to say, or even do, she just said she didn’t want to hurt you, that she was sorry about her sister's actions. You tensed your jaw and looked down, not wanting to look at either of them. You’d heard the rumours, about the Black sisters relationship, and how… close they were.

“I heard Draco walked in this afternoon,” Bellatrix murmured, “it would truly be a shame if something happened to him while carrying out his task.”

Narcissa stilled at Bellatrix’s words, a soft gasp escaping her at the threat. Her eyes moved to you and the way you were hugging your knees.

“She’s barely eighteen, Bella,” the younger woman murmured.

“And delicious,” Bellatrix hummed, “good with her mouth, too.”

Narcissa closed her eyes and tried to even her breathing. There was little she could do in this situation, she loved her sister, and she didn’t want anything to happen to her son, even if it wasn’t directly by Bella’s hand. But she didn’t want to hurt you, not after she’s just built up a small amount of trust with you.

“I won’t fuck her, Bella,” Narcissa said, her voice firm and stronger than she felt.

“Oh, that’s fine, Cissy,” the ravenette hummed, “but I’ve missed you.”

Narcissa couldn’t help but smile at her sister’s words, turning around in her hold and wrapping her arms around her neck. You glanced up and saw them just as they kissed, your eyes widening at the sight. You didn’t actually think the rumours were true, that the two sisters actually had a sexual relationship. You watched for a moment, your mouth hanging open in shock as one of them moaned.

Bellatrix pulled away first and giggled when she saw your face. Narcissa looked behind to see as well as a light flush brushed her pale cheeks. Bellatrix laughed again and pulled her sister towards the bed. Before the two reached the mattress, Bellatrix pulled the zipper of Narcissa's dress down and pushed it off her shoulders.

You looked away instantly, your face flushing as more of Narcissa’s pale skin came into view. You heard Bellatrix giggle, her fingers trailing gently over Narcissa's soft skin.

“I want you to watch, pet,” Bellatrix said, her voice dampened with her lips in her sister’s hair.

You already knew better than to go against what was asked of you so you did, keeping your eyes trained on both women. Bellatrix pushed her sister onto the bed and smiled at the way you shifted, unsure if you should move away or not. Narcissa’s arm was pressed against yours and both of you watched as Bellatrix reached into a drawer of her nightstand.

Narcissa instantly shot up, pulling her sister into her with a kiss as she pulled at her clothes. Bellatrix moaned, letting the younger woman kiss along her neck as she undid her corset. You could see a harness of some kind in Bellatrix’s hand and your eyes widened as you realised what exactly was in her hand. Bellatrix locked eyes with you and her smile widened as she pushed her sister back onto the bed. You watched as the ravenette stripped herself the rest of the way and pulled the harness up her legs, her eyes trained on Narcissa. You flicked your eyes down to the two-toned brunette who was biting her lip at the sight.

Jutting out from between Bellatrix’s legs was a Slytherin green dildo that looked intimidating. Narcissa hummed at the sight, pulling her underwear down and throwing them somewhere unseen. The two were on each other in an instant, kissing and groping at each other like teenagers. Narcissa let out a low and long moan as her sister filled her up in one smooth stroke.

“Bella…” she whimpered, her hands tangling in the curly mane.

“That’s it, Cissy,” Bellatrix cooed, her crazed eyes dark as she looked down.

You watched with wide eyes as Narcissa arched from the bed, craving her older sisters touch as she fucked her. You swallowed thickly at the sight, trying desperately to not have such a physical reaction to the two of them like this.

“Missed… you…” Narcissa moaned, pulling the older witch into a kiss.

Bellatrix hummed and you felt strange watching the two of them in what was clearly an intimate moment. Narcissa’s moans became louder as she threw her head back, her hips rising to meet Bellatrix’s thrusts.

“Bella… need…” Narcissa whined, gripping tight to her sister.

“I know, Cissy,” Bellatrix cooed, “pet,” she turned to look at you, “come here.”

Your eyes widened further and you contemplated not moving before deciding that the punishment would be worse than whatever you would have to do. You pushed yourself forward and Bellatrix grabbed your hair, pulling you even closer until your face was pressed against Narcissa’s bare chest. Your shriek of surprise was muffled against her skin and she moaned at the vibration. Her hands found your hair and her hold was much more gentle than her sister's was and you almost felt inclined to do what she was silently asking.

You hesitantly wrapped your lips around Narcissa’s dusty nipple, squeezing your eyes shut as sucked at them. Her moan was louder than she’d been all night and you felt the effect of it between your legs. Bellatrix cackled from behind you, her hand snaking into your hair and pushing you harder against her sister. You couldn’t breathe with the added pressure and you began to struggle, pushing against her hold. When she didn’t let up, you did the only thing you could think of that would make her stop.

You bit Narcissa. Not extremely hard, but enough that it wasn’t pleasure mixed with pain but just pain. Narcissa screamed, pushing you away and clutching her breast.

“She bit me!” Narcissa gasped.

“You bitch!” Bellatrix hissed, pulling out of her sister and pushing you to the ground.

You yelped in pain, your leg straining against the binds. You didn’t get a moment to react properly before you felt her kick you, straight in the stomach. You cried out and tried to cover yourself when she kicked you again, more of a stomp this time. You tried to hug yourself and curl into a ball to avoid her blows but she stomped on your back instead.

“Bella, calm down,” Narcissa said, grabbing her sister's arm, “it’s okay, I’m alright.”

Bellatrix didn’t say anything, just glared at your shaking body as you curled tighter in yourself.

“Get on the fucking bed,” the ravenette hissed, grabbing you by your hair.

You cried out in pain, trying to scratch at her hands to make her let go.

“You better behave or I’ll stop being so nice.”

You whimpered and tried to nod your head as she pulled you up.

“Sit up, Cissy,” Bellatrix ordered, “y/n here is going to learn her place.”

Narcissa’s eyes widened as she realised what her sister meant and despite what she’d said earlier, she found that after what you did, she didn’t really mind anymore. After all, you did interrupt right as she was on the edge. Narcissa did as she was asked, shuffling back so that she was leaning against the headboard with her legs spread.

“Play nice,” Bellatrix hissed in your ear, “pull another stunt like that and I’ll let anyone in here to use your pretty little cunt.”

Your eyes widened with the realisation that she would really do that, letting any death eater who came into the house come in and abuse you.

“I’ll be good! I swear! Please!” You gasped.

Bellatrix giggled and pushed you forward, positioning you so that you were face to face with Narcissa’s dripping entrance. You felt her gripping your hips and lifting you onto your knees and you felt tears well in your eyes as reality sunk in of what she was about to do.

“If you cum before Cissy, this-” Bellatrix said, rubbing the toy through your folds, “-is going into your pretty arse.”

You swallowed thickly and nodded your head before leaning forward. You stuck your tongue out and licked through the wetness between Narcissa’s legs, a soft whimper escaping you as her taste filled your mouth. Bellatrix gave you all of five seconds before thrusting into you. You screamed out in pain as she filled you until her hips were flush against yours. You panted against Narcissa in an effort to try and gain control of your brain over the mind numbing pain of Bellatrix’s thrust. You felt hands in your hair and you didn’t need to look up to know that the gentle touch was coming from Narcissa.

“Shh, darling, it’s okay,” she cooed, “just breathe.”

“You should see how wet she is,” Bellatrix giggled, “it just slipped right in.”

You felt tears in your eyes because for some unknown reason, you were wet, and that fact only made you want to curl up and cry. You didn’t, you knew that if Bellatrix began to move it wouldn’t take long for you to cum, and the second last thing you wanted was for her fuck your arse.

You swallowed thickly once again and got back to work, doubling down on making Narcissa cum. You wrapped your lips around her clit and sucked, letting your body relax. There was something in the threats and the beating that made you accept the fact that you’d be here for a while, so you might as well allow yourself to try and enjoy what you could.

Or at least make things easier on yourself.

Narcissa moaned loudly and her grip tightened in your hair, not enough to really hurt but enough that you couldn’t stop a small moan escaping. Bellatrix laughed above you, her hips drawing back until only the tip of the toy remained inside you. She slammed back in just as fast as before and set a truly brutal pace. You moaned openly against Narcissa’s cunt, the vibrations sending sparks up her spine.

“Merlin, Bella,” she moaned, “she is good with her mouth.”

You felt a strange sense of pride at the praise and an even stranger tightness in your stomach. You slid your tongue down, slipping into Narcissa and her resulting moan made the squelching sounds from between your own legs louder. You grazed your teeth over Narcissa’s clit but made sure not to bite down in any way for fear of what Bellatrix would do.

The ravenette witch however, seemed to be lost in the sight of your cunt swallowing her strap with such eagerness. It made her moan and when you squeezed around it, she felt it, her thrusts losing their rhythm for a split second.

“Such a tight little cunt,” Bellatrix huffed, her nails digging into your arse cheeks.

You moaned against Narcissa and the resulting vibration made her hips roll against your mouth, desperately seeking release. A string of curses fell from her mouth, words that someone of such noble blood had no business saying. With each thrust of Bellatrix’s hips, your face was pressed deeper into Narcissa and you honestly couldn’t find in yourself to complain, not when the taste was so sweet on your tongue.

You glanced up to see Narcissa’s hand grasping at her own breast, her fingers pinching her nipples as she arched into the touch. You reached your hand upwards and squeezed her breast, your fingers replacing hers as you ran your thumb over her nipple. Narcissa moaned and ground down harder against your face. You wrapped your lips back around her clit and sucked at the bud until you felt her thighs clench around your head, her breathing stopping for a moment as her orgasm washed over her.

“See,” Bellatrix smiled, her hand tangling in your hair and yanking you up, “you can be good.”

You couldn’t stop the moan that escaped you, your eyes rolling further back with each thrust the ravenette gave. Your eyes managed to focus enough to see Narcissa and the blush-red flush that dusted most of her skin as her breathing began to even out. Bellatrix pulled your hair again so the back of your head was resting against her shoulder. She bit down, on the side that wasn’t bandaged, but she was much gentler this time, not fully breaking the skin, just marking. The action made you moan and clench around the toy pumping into you.

“Pretty little slut,” Bellatrix hummed, licking up the sweat of your neck.

You felt tears in your eyes but you knew it wasn’t from pain or fear but from pleasure. Your body arched into Bellatrix’s touch and you were completely lost in the tightening in your abdomen that you didn’t feel the bed shifting under you. It wasn’t until you felt soft fingers tracing up your stomach and over your chest that you realised Narcissa had moved. You felt her lips on your jaw, the action making you gasp and Narcissa took the opportunity to claim your mouth, her lips moving steadily against yours as her tongue slid into your mouth.

Your moans we’re muffled now but more consistent as Narcissa’s fingers found their way between your legs, rubbing fast and tight circles over your clit. You came with a cry that not even you could pretend was from disgust at what was happening. Bellatrix slowed her thrusts down but didn’t stop, letting you ride out your orgasm.

“That’s it,” Narcissa cooed, her breath warm on your ear, “so pretty when you cum.”

You whined softly, especially when Bellatrix pulled out of you, and Narcissa caught you as you began to cante forward. She cooed gentle praise in your ear as she helped you lay down, pressing a soft and almost tender kiss to your temple.

“Grown a soft spot, Cissy?” Bellatrix giggled, pulling her sister back to her.

“Shut up,” Narcissa smiled, giving the ravenette a kiss, “but do stop biting her, it’s really annoying to heal.”

I don’t remember my parents’ faces the way I’m supposed to. I remember fragments. My mom’s laugh- too loud, always apologetic after. My dad’s hands, rough and warm when he lifted me onto his shoulders. I remember headlights cutting through rain, the smell of wet asphalt, and the sound of my own heartbeat pounding so hard I thought it might tear me open. Then screaming. 

Then silence. 

The Cullens tell me they found me hiding in the trees behind what was left of our car. Eight years old. Covered in blood that wasn’t mine. Shocked so deeply, I didn’t even cry when Rosalie wrapped me in her arms. Nomad vampires had killed my parents. And somehow… spared me. Carlisle says it was luck. Edward says fate. Alice won’t say anything at all, just smiles at me like she always knew I’d be here. Rosalie became my mother that night. 

At sixteen, I’ve learned to live between worlds. I’m human in a house of marble statues. My heart beats too fast, too loud. I bruise easily. I get sick. I bleed. They’ve never let me forget how precious that makes me. Rosalie packs my lunches with obsessive care. Emmett walks me to school like a bodyguard who forgot subtlety exists. Carlisle monitors my health like I’m a glass ornament that might shatter if he blinks wrong. And I love them for it. I really do. But some days, being human feels like a ticking clock. 

The pain wakes me before dawn. At first, I think I’m dreaming. It’s a deep, sharp ache low in my abdomen- hot and insistent, like something twisting inside me. I curl instinctively, breath hitching as the pain spikes suddenly, violently enough that a gasp tears out of me. 

“Okay,” I whisper to the dark. “Okay, breathe.” 

I try to sit up. 

Bad idea. 

The room spins, nausea rising fast and ugly. I press a hand to my stomach, fingers trembling, and bite down on a cry when the pain flares again- worse this time, focused and unforgiving. 

Something’s wrong. 

Really wrong.

“Mom?” I call, voice thing. “Mom?” 

The words barely leave my mouth before she’s there. The door opens silently, light spilling in as Rosalie appears beside my bed like she’s been summoned. Her face is calm for exactly half a second, until she sees me curled in on myself, pale and shaking. 

“Y/N,” She says sharply, already at my side. “What hurts?” 

“My stomach,” I whisper. “It-It really hurts.” 

Her hand is gentle when it presses to my forehead, brushing my hair back. I can feel her trying not to panic. Trying to be composed. She fails. 

“This isn’t right…” She says, voice tight. “You were fine last night.” 

Another wave of pain crashes through me, and I groan despite myself, clutching at the sheets. Rosalie straightens suddenly, fear flashing bright and unmasked across her perfect face. 

“Carlisle!” She calls, loud enough to shake the house. “Carlisle, now!” 

Footsteps thunder- impossibly fast- and suddenly the room is full. Carlisle is at my side, eyes already focused, hands warm and steady as they press carefully along my abdomen. 

“Does it hurt here?” He asks. 

“Yes!” I gasp. 

“And here?”

“Yes! Worse!” 

He stops. Rosalie is watching his face like it holds the fate of the world. Carlisle exhales slowly. 

“Rosalie,” He says calmly. “She has appendicitis.” 

The word hits me like ice. 

“I-I have what?” I ask weakly. 

Rosalie’s hands clench into fists. “Is that dangerous?” 

“It can be,” Carlisle says. “If it ruptures.” 

I suddenly feel very small. 

“And we need to go,” He adds firmly. “Now.” 

Everything moves too fast after that. Rosalie helps me dress with shaking hands, murmuring reassurances she doesn’t believe yet. Emmett appears in the doorway, face splitting into concern the second he sees me pale and bent in half. 

“What happened?” He demands. 

“She’s sick.” Rosalie snaps. “Get the car.” 

Emmett is gone in a blur. 

I’m half carried, half walked down the stairs, every step sending sharp jolts of pain through me. Carlisle keeps one hand on my shoulder, grounding, steady. 

“You’re going to be fine.” He tells me gently. “Appendectomies are routine.” 

“For humans…” I mutter. 

His smile is soft. “You’re surrounded by vampires who love you. That helps.” 

The ride to the hospital is a blur of red taillights and clenched teeth. Rosalie holds my hand the whole way, grip tight enough to hurt, but I don’t pull away. I don’t think she realizes she’s shaking. 

“I’m sorry.” I whisper suddenly. “I didn’t mean to-” 

“Don’t.” She cuts in immediately. “Don’t you dare apologize.” 

Emmet glances back at us from the driver’s seat, jaw tight. 

“You’re our kid,” He says. “This is literally our job.” 

That almost makes me cry. 

The hospital smells like antiseptic and fear. Carlisle becomes Dr. Cullen in an instant. Calm, professional, and commanding respect without trying. I’m rushed through triage, poked, prodded, and scanned. The pain keeps building. 

By the time they confirm it- acute appendicitis, surgery, needed immediately- I’m exhausted, tears slipping down my temples as the world pulses in and out of focus. Rosalie stands at the foot of my bed, face paler than usual. Emmett is right beside her, arms crossed.  

“They’re taking her now.” Carlisle says quietly. 

Rosalie nods once. Then she breaks. She rushes forward, gripping my face gently but desperately, forehead pressed to mine. 

“I should have known…” She whispered fiercely. “I should have seen it coming.” 

I swallow hard. “You’re not Aunt Alice.” 

Her eyes shine. “I can’t lose you.” 

“You won’t.” I promise, even though fear coils tight in my chest. 

Emmett leans down and kisses my forehead, careful and reverent. “Be tough, kiddo.” 

“I learned from you.” I manage. 

They wheel me away before anyone can say more. The last thing I see before the anesthesia pulls me under is Rosalie’s face- beautiful, terrified, and so full of love it hurts.

I wake up hours later, groggy, sore, and alive. Rosalie is there instantly, sitting beside my bed. 

“It’s over,” She says softly. “You’re okay.” 

I breathe out shakily. 

“I hate being human sometimes.” I admit. 

She smiles sadly and squeezes my hand. “And I love you for it. Every fragile, fleeting second.” 

I close my eyes, comforted. Because I survived. Because I’m loved. Because even in a house of immortals, I belong. 

You sit at your desk near the window, fingers curled around the edge, eyes fixed on the trees outside.

It’s easier that way.

“Y/N?”

Your shoulders tense.

You know that voice.

Soft.

Careful.

Like it doesn’t want to scare you.

You turn your head just a little. Your teacher, Ms. Maximoff, is kneeling beside your desk now.

Her red hair falls forward slightly as she tilts her head, studying you with gentle concern.

“You’ve been awfully quiet today,” she says. “Is everything okay?”

You nod immediately.

Her expression doesn’t change much, but something in her eyes softens even more, like she doesn’t believe you, but she won’t push. Not yet, at least.

“That’s alright,” she murmurs. “If you ever want to talk about anything, I’m here.”

You look back at the window, not wanting to continue the conversation.

Wanda notices patterns. It’s something she’s always been good at. Like, small shifts, quiet changes, the things other people overlook.

It’s part of what makes her such a good teacher.

And you… You don’t fit.

Not in the way the other children do. You don’t laugh loudly. You don’t raise your hand. You flinch when someone moves too fast near you. You freeze when voices get too sharp.

And sometimes—this is what unsettles her the most—you look tired.

Not sleepy.

Tired.

That deep, bone-heavy kind of tired no child should carry.

She tries again a few days later.

“Y/N,” she says gently after class, when the other students have left.

You pause at the door, your small backpack hanging off one shoulder.

“Can you stay for a moment?”

You hesitate.

Then nod.

You step closer, but you don’t meet her eyes.

Wanda keeps her voice soft. “I just wanted to check in. I’ve noticed you’ve been a little… quiet lately.”

Silence.

Your fingers tighten around your sleeve.

“You know,” she continues, “sometimes when something is bothering us, it can help to talk about it. Even a little.”

You shake your head.

Still not looking at her.

“I’m okay,” you whisper.

The words sound practiced.

Rehearsed.

Wanda feels her chest tighten.

“Alright,” she says, just as gently. “You can go.”

You leave quickly.

Too quickly.

-///-

That night, Wanda doesn’t stop thinking about you.

Her wife, Natasha, notices.

She always does, too.

“You’re doing that thing again,” Natasha says from the kitchen, leaning against the counter with a mug in her hand.

Wanda looks up from the couch. “What thing?”

“The ‘I’m worried but trying not to say it out loud’ thing.”

Wanda exhales softly, rubbing her hands together. “There’s a student in my class.”

Natasha raises an eyebrow. “Only one?”

Wanda almost smiles, patting the seat next to her.

“She’s… different. Quiet. Withdrawn. But it’s more than that.” She hesitates, meeting Natasha’s eyes as she moves towards the couch. “She flinches. A lot. And she looks… exhausted.”

Natasha’s expression shifts instantly. Sharper now. Focused.

She sits down next to Wanda, knees touching her thigh as she tucks her legs underneath herself.

“How old?”

“Six.”

Natasha sets her mug down.

“Has she said anything?”

Wanda shakes her head. “Every time I ask, she shuts down. It’s like she’s… afraid of saying the wrong thing.”

That’s what does it.

Natasha straightens slightly, something cold and precise settling behind her eyes.

“Tomorrow,” she says, “I’m coming with you.”

Wanda blinks. “Nat—”

"Wands, I work in children's welfare. What you said is reason enough for me to look into it,” Natasha says calmly. “And if something’s wrong…” She trails off, but she doesn’t need to finish.

Wanda nods.

She trusts her.

Always has.

-///-

The next day, you notice her immediately.

She doesn’t belong in a classroom.

Not like Ms. Maximoff does.

This woman is… different.

She stands near the doorway at first, speaking quietly with your teacher.

She’s dressed simply, but there’s something about the way she holds herself, straight, alert, like she’s always watching.

Her eyes scan the room.

And then they land on you.

You look away quickly.

But it’s too late.

She’s already noticed.

Natasha takes her time.

She doesn’t approach you right away.

Instead, she observes.

The way you sit too stiff in your chair. The way your gaze flickers toward the door every few minutes. The way you hesitate before answering even the simplest question.

And then—

A boy runs past your desk too fast, and a chair scrapes loudly.

You flinch.

Not a small reaction.

Not subtle.

A full-body recoil, like you were expecting something worse.

Natasha’s jaw tightens.

Yeah.

Something’s wrong.

Later, during lunch break, Wanda sits beside you on the bench.

Natasha lingers a few steps away, pretending to check something on her phone.

“You remember my wife, Ms. Romanoff?” Wanda asks gently.

You nod.

“She works with children, too,” Wanda continues. “She just wants to make sure everyone is safe and happy.”

Safe.

The word makes your stomach twist.

Natasha steps closer, crouching down so she’s at your level.

Her voice is calm and steady.

“Hi, Y/N. I’m Natasha.”

You don’t answer.

“You don’t have to talk if you don’t want to.”

You glance at her.

Just for a second.

Her eyes are different from everyone else’s.

They’re not soft like Wanda’s.

But they’re not harsh either.

They’re… certain.

As if she already knows something.

“Can I ask you something?” she says.

You hesitate.

Then shrug slightly.

It’s not quite a yes.

But it’s not a no.

Natasha nods once, like that’s enough.

“Do you feel safe at home?”

Your heart stops.

The world goes very, very quiet.

You stare at the ground.

You don’t respond.

You can’t.

Because if you say the wrong thing—

If you say anything—

Your fingers curl tightly into your sleeves.

Natasha watches the silence stretch.

The way your shoulders tense.

The way your breathing changes.

And that’s all she needs.

She doesn’t ask again.

Instead, her voice softens—just slightly.

“You’re not in trouble,” she says. “And whatever is going on… it’s not your fault.”

Your throat tightens.

You blink hard.

Still, you say nothing.

But Natasha doesn’t push.

She stands slowly, exchanging a look with Wanda.

A silent understanding passes between them.

This isn’t nothing.

This is something.

And they’re not going to ignore it.

-///-

That afternoon, as you sit by the window again, the classroom feels a little different.

Not louder.

Not quieter.

Just… different.

Because now, someone has seen you.

Even if you didn’t say a word.

And for the first time in a long while, you’re not completely invisible anymore.

The man introduces himself as Steve.

He doesn’t stand over you like most adults do when they want something. Instead, he pulls a chair out slowly and turns it so he’s sitting across from you—not too close, not too far.

Just enough that you know he’s there, but not enough to make you feel trapped.

“Hi,” he says, offering a small, careful smile. “I’m Steve.”

You don’t answer.

You keep your eyes on the desk, tracing a faint scratch in the wood with your fingertip. You’ve already counted it before—three fingers long, slightly curved—but counting it again feels easier than looking up.

“That’s okay,” Steve says gently, like he expected the silence. “You don’t have to say anything right away.”

The room is quiet. Too quiet.

Outside the classroom, you can hear the distant noise of other students—chairs moving, someone laughing, a teacher calling out instructions. It feels far away. Like it belongs to a different world.

“I heard you like sitting by the window,” Steve continues after a moment.

Your finger stills.

He notices things.

You don’t like that.

“It’s a good spot,” he adds. “Lots of light. And you can see outside.”

You don’t respond.

But you don’t move away either.

Steve shifts slightly in his chair, resting his forearms on his knees. He doesn’t take out a notebook. Doesn’t write anything down.

He just… sits.

“I work with kids sometimes,” he says. “Mostly I just make sure they’re okay.”

Okay.

You swallow.

“I talk to teachers. Sometimes parents. Sometimes kids, if they want to.” He pauses. “But only if they want to.”

Silence stretches again.

Your shoulders feel tight.

Your chest feels tight.

“Do you feel safe at home?”

There it is.

The question.

It drops into the room like something heavy.

Your heart starts beating faster. You can feel it in your throat, in your ears, and in your fingertips.

You nod.

Too fast.

Too automatic.

Steve doesn’t react right away.

He just watches you.

Not in a scary way.

Not like he’s angry.

But like he’s… thinking.

Like he’s trying to understand something you didn’t say.

“Okay,” he says finally.

That’s it.

No follow-up.

No pressure.

But somehow that makes it worse.

-///-

He comes to your house two days later.

You know it’s him before anyone says his name.

There’s something about the knock, firm but not aggressive.

Steady.

Your stomach twists so hard it almost hurts.

“Stay in your room,” your parent says sharply, already moving toward the door.

You don’t argue.

You never argue.

You close your door quietly and sit on the floor, your back pressed against the side of your bed. It feels safer down here. Smaller. Like, if you make yourself small enough, you won’t be noticed.

Voices drift through the house.

Muffled at first.

Then clearer.

“…just a routine check…”

“…she’s a quiet child…”

“…always been sensitive…”

You pull your knees to your chest and wrap your arms around them, pressing your face down.

You try to make yourself even smaller.

“…we would never…”

“…of course, we understand your concern…”

Their voices sound normal.

You know that tone.

You’ve heard it before.

It’s the voice they use for other people.

Not for you.

You squeeze your eyes shut.

If you don’t move, if you don’t make a sound, maybe he won’t come up here.

Maybe he’ll just leave.

Maybe everything will stay the same.

You don’t know if that’s what you want.

But it’s what you’re used to.

After a while, the voices fade.

The door opens.

Closes.

Footsteps.

Silence.

He’s gone.

Nothing changes.

At first.

Then everything does.

You don’t go to school the next day.

Or the day after that.

At first, you think you’re sick without knowing you were.

Or maybe in trouble.

You don’t ask.

You’ve learned not to ask.

“There’s no need,” your parent says when you linger near the door on the third morning, your backpack hanging loosely from your shoulder. “You’ll stay home for a while.”

“For how long?” you whisper.

They look at you.

Just look.

Your throat closes.

“…okay,” you say quickly.

Your backpack stays by the door.

You go back to your room.

-///-

Days blur together.

You lose track of time.

Morning feels like evening. Evening feels like nothing.

The window doesn’t help anymore.

You stop looking outside.

There’s no point.

No one is coming.

-///-

Wanda notices on the first day.

The empty chair.

Your chair.

She pauses in the middle of attendance, her eyes lingering just a second longer than they should.

“Y/N?” she calls out automatically.

Silence answers.

A student shifts in their seat.

“She’s not here,” someone says.

Wanda nods slowly, marking it down.

Absent.

It happens.

Kids get sick.

But something about it doesn’t sit right.

On the second day, she asks the office.

“No call or note,” they tell her.

Her concern sharpens.

On the third day, she calls.

No answer.

By the fourth day, she’s pacing.

“You’re wearing a path into the floor,” Natasha says from the kitchen, watching her with quiet focus.

Wanda doesn’t stop. “She hasn’t been in school all week.”

Natasha sets her mug down. “Did the office hear anything?”

“No. No call. No email. Nothing.” Wanda runs a hand through her hair, frustration and worry tangled together. “That’s not normal.”

“No,” Natasha agrees. “It’s not.”

Wanda turns to her. “What if something happened?”

Natasha doesn’t answer right away.

Because they’re both thinking the same thing.

“What if we missed something?” Wanda whispers.

Natasha’s gaze softens slightly. “You didn’t miss anything.”

“But she wouldn’t talk to me,” Wanda says, her voice tightening. “She wouldn’t talk to Steve either, and now she’s just—gone.”

Natasha straightens. “Then we go find her.”

Wanda blinks. “Nat—”

“I mean it,” Natasha says. “This doesn’t feel right. Not after what we saw.”

Wanda hesitates.

Then nods.

“I’m going there,” she says.

Natasha doesn’t argue.

“I’m coming with you.”

The house looks normal.

That’s the first thing Wanda notices, and it makes something deep in her chest twist uncomfortably.

The curtains are neat. The garden is trimmed. The front step is clean.

Everything looks… fine.

Too fine.

“She lives here,” Wanda says quietly.

Natasha stands beside her, eyes already scanning windows, corners, and small details most people would miss.

“Okay,” she replies.

Wanda steps forward and knocks.

The sound echoes too loudly in the still air.

They wait.

Nothing.

Wanda knocks again, harder this time. “Y/N? It’s Ms. Maximoff.”

Silence.

It presses in from all sides, heavy and wrong.

Natasha’s gaze flicks upward. “Second floor. Curtain moved.”

Wanda’s heart stutters. “She’s here.”

“Yeah,” Natasha says, already moving. “She is.”

The door is locked.

Of course it is.

Wanda’s hands are shaking now, panic rising fast and sharp. “Nat—”

“We saw movement,” Natasha says, calm but firm. “We’re not leaving.”

That’s all it takes.

Upstairs, you freeze.

You didn’t mean to make a sound.

You were trying to be quiet.

You’re always quiet.

But when you heard her voice—

When you heard your name—

Something slipped.

Now your heart is pounding so loud it feels like it might give you away.

They’re here.

They came.

You press your hand over your mouth, trying to silence your breathing.

Maybe if you stay still—

Maybe if you don’t move—

They’ll leave.

Like everyone always does.

The door downstairs opens.

Footsteps.

Voices.

Your stomach drops.

They didn’t leave.

Wanda barely registers how they get inside. The house feels too still, too empty in a way that doesn’t make sense.

“Y/N?” she calls, stepping forward.

No answer.

Natasha moves ahead of her slightly. “Upstairs.”

They climb quickly.

Each step creaks.

Wanda winces at the sound, like she’s afraid it might scare you.

At the top of the stairs—three doors.

Two open quickly.

Empty.

The third stays closed.

Wanda’s chest tightens. “This one.”

Her hand trembles on the handle.

“Wanda,” Natasha says quietly behind her.

Wanda pauses.

“Whatever’s on the other side,” Natasha adds, “we handle it together.”

Wanda nods.

Then she opens the door; the room is dim.

Curtains drawn tight.

Air stale.

And there in the corner.

You.

Small.

Curled in on yourself like you’re trying to disappear.

Wanda’s breath catches.

“Y/N…”

You don’t move at first.

Then slowly, your head lifts.

Your eyes find hers.

And something in her chest breaks instantly.

“Hey, sweetheart,” she says softly, stepping closer. “It’s okay. It’s me.”

You flinch.

Even at her voice.

Natasha steps in behind her, taking in everything in one sharp glance—the room, the stillness, you.

Her jaw tightens.

But when she speaks, her voice is gentle.

“Hi, Y/N.”

Your lips part.

“I didn’t say anything,” you blurt out suddenly, panic cracking through your voice. “I didn’t tell him anything, I promise, I didn’t—”

Wanda drops to her knees in front of you. “Oh, honey—”

“I didn’t—” Your voice shakes harder. “I didn’t say anything—”

“Hey,” Natasha says, crouching down in front of you. “You’re okay.”

“I didn’t tell—”

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” she says, firm and steady.

You freeze.

Your breathing stutters.

“I promise,” she adds, softer now.

Wanda’s hand settles carefully against your arm.

“You haven’t been at school,” she says gently. “We were worried.”

“I’m not supposed to go,” you whisper.

The words are small.

Fragile.

But they hit like something heavy.

Natasha’s expression sharpens slightly. “Who told you that?”

You shake your head quickly. “I just—I’m not—I don’t—”

The words won’t come.

Your chest feels too tight.

Everything feels too big.

And then—

The front door downstairs opens.

The sound is loud.

Final.

Your entire body goes rigid.

You try to pull away instantly, panic flooding through you.

“They’re back,” you whisper, your voice breaking. “They’re back—”

Footsteps.

Voices.

Getting closer.

“No, no—” you start, trying to move, trying to make yourself small again, trying to get away—

Natasha doesn’t let you.

Her hand steadies you immediately.

“Hey,” she says, low and firm. “Stay with me.”

You shake your head frantically. “I can’t—”

“You can,” she says.

And then she shifts.

Just slightly.

But enough.

Enough that she’s between you and the door.

Solid.

Unmovable.

Wanda moves closer to your other side, one hand on your back, grounding.

“You’re okay,” she murmurs. “We’re right here.”

The footsteps reach the stairs.

Each step is louder than the last.

Your hands are tight in Natasha’s shirt.

You can’t breathe.

The hallway creaks.

Then—

The doorway fills.

“What is going on?”

The voice is sharp.

Demanding.

Wrong.

You flinch hard.

Instinct.

Natasha notices.

Of course she does.

She rises slowly to her full height, placing herself fully between you and them.

Her posture is calm.

Controlled.

But there’s something underneath it.

Something dangerous.

“We came to check on Y/N,” she says evenly.

“You can’t just break into our house,” your parent snaps, stepping forward.

Natasha doesn’t move.

Doesn’t give an inch.

“You left a minor alone,” she replies, voice still calm—but colder now. “No school. No contact. No supervision.”

“That’s none of your business—”

“It is now.”

The words land hard.

Final.

Wanda feels you shaking beside her. She pulls you gently closer, one arm wrapping around you protectively.

“It’s okay,” she whispers. “You’re okay.”

“I didn’t say anything,” you whisper again, clinging tighter. “I didn’t tell—”

Wanda’s heart cracks all over again. “I know, sweetheart. I know.”

“Don’t talk to her,” your parent says sharply.

You flinch.

Natasha sees it.

And that’s it.

Something in her expression settles completely.

Decision made.

“She’s coming with us,” Natasha says.

“No, she’s not.”

Natasha steps slightly forward.

Just enough.

“You can argue that with child services,” she says, voice low and controlled. “But right now? She’s not staying here.”

There’s a beat of silence.

Tense.

Heavy.

Your parent hesitates.

And that hesitation is everything.

Natasha turns slightly, her voice softening instantly when she looks back at you.

“Hey,” she says gently. “Come on.”

You don’t hesitate.

You move straight into her, clinging tightly, your fingers gripping her shirt like it’s the only solid thing in the world.

“I’ve got you,” she murmurs.

Wanda stays close, her hand never leaving your back.

“You’re safe,” she whispers again.

And this time—

You believe her.

-///-

The car ride is quiet.

You sit in the back at first.

For all of thirty seconds.

Then—

“No.”

Your voice is small.

Panicked.

“I don’t—I don’t want to sit back here—”

Wanda turns immediately. “Okay. That’s okay.”

Natasha has already pulled the car over.

“Come here,” Wanda says softly, opening the door.

You move quickly, climbing out and into the front, into her side, before you even realize what you’re doing.

You cling to her.

Hard.

Your face pressed into her shoulder.

Your hands gripping her sleeve.

She wraps both arms around you instantly.

“I’ve got you,” she murmurs, pressing her cheek gently against your hair.

Natasha glances over.

Something in her gaze softens.

Then she starts driving again.

Slow.

Careful.

Like she’s carrying something fragile.

Like she knows she is.

-///-

Their home is warm.

That’s the first thing you notice.

Not just the temperature.

The feeling.

It’s quiet—but not empty. Soft—but not suffocating.

Wanda guides you inside, her hand never leaving you.

“You’re okay,” she murmurs again.

Natasha locks the door behind you, quick and automatic. Then she looks at you.

Really looks.

Her gaze lingers, taking in your face, your hands, and the way you’re standing.

“Hey,” she says gently, crouching slightly so she’s closer to your level. “When was the last time you ate?”

You blink at her.

You don’t know.

Or maybe you do.

But it feels too far away to explain.

Your shoulders lift in a small shrug.

That’s enough.

Natasha glances at Wanda.

Wanda’s expression softens immediately. “Okay. Food first.”

You sit at the kitchen table, feet dangling slightly above the floor.

The chair feels too big.

Everything does.

But the kitchen smells warm.

Safe.

Natasha sets a plate down in front of you.

Dinosaur-shaped chicken nuggets.

You stare at them.

Really stare.

“Don’t worry, it’s chicken, not dinosaur,” Wanda says softly, a small smile tugging at her lips as she folds laundry at the end of the table.

Your eyes flick up to her.

Then back to the plate.

“Mm,” Natasha hums, settling into the chair beside you. “You say that, but you also insisted heart-shaped pasta tastes better.”

Wanda glances at her. “It does taste better.”

“It’s the same pasta.”

“It’s not the same experience.”

Natasha huffs quietly, something almost like a smile pulling at the corner of her mouth. “Right. Of course.”

You let out a small sound before you can stop it.

A soft, surprised giggle.

Your hand flies to your mouth immediately, like you need to hide it.

But it’s already there.

They both look at you.

Not sharply.

Not suddenly.

Just… gently.

Wanda’s smile softens.

Natasha’s expression shifts—something warmer, quieter.

Neither of them makes a big deal out of it.

They just… let it exist.

And then Wanda goes back to folding.

Natasha stays beside you.

Like nothing’s changed.

Like everything has.

Your hand moves slowly toward the plate.

Careful.

Uncertain.

You pick one up.

Take a bite.

You try to go slow at first.

You really do.

But your hands move faster than you mean them to.

Bite after bite.

Like if you don’t eat it now, it might disappear.

Natasha doesn’t interrupt.

Doesn’t reach in.

Doesn’t tell you to slow down.

She just shifts slightly closer.

Grounding.

Present.

Wanda notices next.

Her hands still for just a second before she quietly reaches for a napkin, placing it within your reach without a word.

No pressure.

No attention drawn.

Just… there.

“Hey,” Natasha murmurs after a moment, her voice low and steady. “It’s okay.”

You freeze for a second.

Still chewing.

“There’s more,” she adds gently. “You don’t have to rush.”

You nod quickly.

A little too quickly.

She doesn’t comment.

Just stands, moving back to the counter.

There’s a quiet clink of a plate.

The soft sound of more food being set down.

No hesitation.

No questions.

When she sets it beside you, her hand lingers for half a second near your shoulder.

Not touching.

Just close.

“I’ve got you,” she says quietly.

Something in your chest tightens.

But it’s not sharp.

Not like before.

Wanda glances up at Natasha, then at you.

And there’s something unspoken in the look she gives her.

Something soft.

Something certain.

Wanda steps closer, brushing lightly past Natasha as she moves.

Her hand rests briefly against Natasha’s side—familiar, absent-minded.

“You’re hovering,” she murmurs.

Natasha exhales softly. “I’m not hovering.”

“You are a little,” Wanda says, but not unkindly.

A pause.

“…it’s okay, though,” she adds quietly.

Natasha doesn’t answer.

But she stays right where she is.

Close.

And you keep eating.

Slower now.

Because for the first time—

You believe it won’t be taken away.

It’s only after you’ve finished eating that Natasha notices.

The smudge of something on your cheek.

The dirt still caught under your nails.

The way your sleeves hang stiff.

Natasha moves to look at Wanda, only to find Wanda already watching her.

“Okay,” Wanda says gently, stepping closer. “How about we get you cleaned up a little?”

You hesitate.

Just a second.

Then nod.

-///-

The bathroom fills with steam.

Warm.

Soft.

You sit in the tub, water wrapping around you, and for a moment you just… stay still.

Let it happen.

Wanda kneels nearby, her voice soft and steady as she talks about nothing—about school, about flowers, about things that don’t hurt.

Natasha moves quietly in and out, grabbing what she needs.

Towel.

Cream.

At one point, she pauses, watching you for a second.

Making sure you’re okay.

You glance at her.

She gives you a small smile.

It stays.

After, everything feels… lighter.

Not fixed.

But softer.

You stand in the bathroom, wrapped in a towel, while Wanda gently helps you into one of Natasha’s shirts.

It’s huge.

It swallows your form.

You glance down at yourself, unsure.

Wanda smiles. “Looks perfect.”

“Alright,” Natasha says, leaning lightly against the counter. “Come here a second.”

You step closer.

She holds up a toothbrush.

You hesitate.

Then step closer anyway.

“Open,” she says gently.

You do.

And then—

She starts brushing your teeth.

Carefully.

Slowly.

And—unexpectedly—

She starts humming.

Then quietly singing.

“Brush, brush, make them shine, Top and bottom, take your time…”

Your eyes widen slightly.

You weren’t expecting that.

“…little circles, nice and neat— Gotta take good care of teeth.”

A small sound escapes you before you can stop it.

A giggle.

It surprises you.

It surprises her too because she pauses for half a second, then—she smiles.

Really smiles.

Soft. Warm. A little amused.

“There it is,” she murmurs. “Knew you had more of those.”

Your face feels warm.

But not in a bad way.

-///-

Afterwards, stand awkwardly in the hallway.

“There’s a room you can use,” Wanda says gently, opening a door.

You look inside.

The bed.

The space.

The quiet.

Your chest tightens.

Too quiet.

Too alone.

You take a small step back.

“I—”

Your voice shakes.

“I don’t want to be by myself.”

The words come out barely above a whisper.

But they’re clear.

Wanda doesn’t hesitate.

“Okay,” she says immediately.

Natasha nods once. “That’s okay.”

They don’t question it.

Don’t push.

Just… accept it.

-///-

You find yourself in their bed, full and clean.

Your legs are tucked under you while you absently play with the wedding ring on Natasha’s finger as she sits beside you.

You twist it gently, careful, like you’re not sure you’re allowed but hoping you are.

She doesn’t stop you.

Doesn’t even comment.

Just lets you.

Wanda stands behind you, gently brushing your hair.

Slow strokes.

Working through tangles without pulling.

“You’re being very patient,” she says softly.

You nod a little.

Your focus is on the ring.

The way it catches the light.

The way it spins.

Natasha and Wanda talk quietly above you.

Low voices.

Calm.

You don’t understand all of it.

Something about calls. Paperwork. Tomorrow.

But their voices are steady.

Not sharp.

Not scary.

Just… there.

Wanda’s fingers begin to braid your hair, movements careful and rhythmic.

You lean slightly into the feeling without realizing it.

Into the warmth.

Into them.

And for the first time, everything feels slow.

Safe.

Yours.

Even if just for tonight.

-///-

The cake is a little uneven.

You notice that first.

The frosting swirls aren’t perfect, and one side dips slightly like it leaned too long, but it’s still the prettiest thing you’ve ever seen.

Because it’s yours.

“Okay,” Wanda says softly, setting it down in front of you, a small smile on her face. “Ready?”

You nod, even though your chest feels full in a way you don’t completely understand.

Natasha stands just behind you, one hand resting lightly on your shoulder.

“Make a wish, baby,” she murmurs.

You close your eyes.

You don’t even have to think about it.

Then you blow out the candles.

Wanda claps softly, laughing a little. Natasha’s hand squeezes your shoulder once, and when you look up at her, she’s smiling—small, but real.

“Presents?” Wanda asks.

You nod again, a little more excited this time.

There aren’t many.

But that doesn’t matter.

Wanda hands you a small box first. Inside is something soft, a sweater in your favourite colour.

You smile, hugging it close.

“Thank you, Mom,” you say quietly.

Her eyes soften instantly.

Natasha hands you the last one.

It’s not wrapped like the others.

Just a folder.

You tilt your head slightly. “What’s this?”

“Open it,” she says gently.

You do.

At first, the words don’t make sense.

They’re too big. Too official.

Then you see it.

Your name.

Their names.

Together.

Something shifts.

Something settles.

You look up, your hands tightening slightly on the paper.

“…Mama?” you whisper.

Natasha’s expression softens completely. “Yeah.”

You turn to Wanda, your voice smaller now but steady.

“…Mom?”

She nods, her eyes shining. “Yeah, sweetheart.”

Your grip on the paper loosens as you move forward without thinking, wrapping your arms around both of them.

And this time—

You know you’re not going anywhere.