B

Hi, I’m ThreeStainedPulse. I’m a cinephile and I write from time to time. I plan on exploring and expanding my writing experience. You may find me on Wattpad and AO3.

Master-list is found here.

» I will not write any triggering topic in explicit detail (rape, illegal age gaps, SA, or anything that I’m not comfortable with.). There are triggering topics that I will write for such as abuse, death, and self-harm.

» I will write comfort, angst, platonic, romantic, and family bond fics. Smut isn’t my forte, so I won’t be writing any of that.

» I write LGBTQ+ based content.

Wanda Maximoff!Client x Natasha Romanov!Attorney ┆AO3

Summary: It’s the holidays and Wanda has been gifted divorce papers from her lovely wedded husband, Vision.

Word Count: 4K+

TW: none

A/N: Not proof-read. I absolutely adore this idea. I’m pleased to say that this is one of my favs. I may make it into a series if requested ;)

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

Wanda peers out the window to her right, watching through the foggy glass as pinches of snow fall to the ground and softly glow with the sun. It was that time of year when hot cocoa with snowman marshmallows warmed your hands, Christmas movies aired on local channels, and schools were closed for several weeks. Here came the holidays.

But this is not how Wanda wished to spend her time one week before Christmas. Nothing could’ve prepared her for the papers and the disposed ring—all perfectly displayed like some sick gift tied together with a red ribbon.

“Ms. Maximoff, I assure you, this is not an embarrassment on your part. Unfortunately, many women get divorced during the holidays—even on Christmas.” The older woman folded her hands on the oak desk, looking over Wanda and watched as she shrunk into herself at the idea of falling through this. Everything she did was for stability and she was so sure she had it in her grasp with white knuckles, clutching to the last of her resilience.

I mean, who would expect themselves to spend all day in an attorney's office? She should be baking cookies and assembling gingerbread houses with Billy and Tommy, but instead she was in Ms. Romanoff’s office, ready to divorce her not-so-lovely husband, Vision. Several years she spent slaving her ass away and it all meant nothing because she simply wasn’t enough for the pitiful man. She vowed to god that if another man disappointed her, she’d remain single for the rest of her life. It’s about time she came to terms with the legitimacy of that vow.

Chewing the chapped skin off on her lower lip quietly, Wanda shakes her tilted head then murmurs, “That doesn’t make me feel any better.”

Her gaze glides over Natasha’s black slick-suit and snuggled maroon tie, lingering (in a “not gay way”) on how it fits in all the right places. Natasha was quite attractive, high regarded in her field of profession, and a well-known lawyer who worked with gay couples. With an attorney of this caliber, she wasn’t sure how she was affording all of this. Hell, she wasn’t sure how she was gonna financially recover from this, but she had hoped that everything would work out for the better.

But one question arose from the whole thing: Since Wanda wasn’t into women like Natasha—or at least that’s what she told herself—why did Natasha choose to specifically work with her?

“I’m sorry,” Natasha sighed, turning her wrist and checking the time on her silver watch, “I understand this is a hard time for you, but I will do my best to help your case. You’ll live a normal life again…If you’d like to contact me with more information then here’s my card. In the meantime, I recommend renting a room to minimize contact with Vision. And stay out of trouble.”

She pulls an agency card from her drawer and twirls it towards Wanda, their fingers brushing as the card passes on. Not bothering to look at the contact details, Wanda shoves the card into her carhartt pocket. She really should’ve expected this sooner. Even be the first to call it off, but she refused to accept the reality for the sake of her kids.

“Thank you,” Wanda replied with a gracious nod, her cheeks slightly rosy as she grabbed her purse and pulled it over her shoulder. Mentally she was cursing everything. Why did she have to stay at a hotel when she wasn’t the cheater? Why was she being punished for Vision’s behavior?

Damn the man.

…

Wanda rented a room at a hotel nearest her neighborhood after the initial session, and she walked in, shoulders slumped from carrying bags. Settling them down, she ran a shaky hand through her hair, her mind rattling with the festivities she was looking forward to. Why couldn’t Vision have waited until after the holidays? Because there was now a dent in her heart, and their children were spending Christmas break with him and his girlfriend since he had requested sole custody — and the last thing she wanted was to cause any legal issues that would complicate their children’s lives more.

Damn it.

This was the loneliest Christmas she had in a while since Pietro’s passing.

She exhaustedly brushed out the wrinkles in her sweater before shrugging her carhartt jacket off then taking a few steps around the room. It was quite small, with one bed in the center, a television, and her own bathroom. The scent of warm linen and cotton soothed her chills, bringing with it a warm welcome. It was manageable, for now.

Staring around the room, she noticed the gleaming neon lights through the curtains and walked to the window, pushing back the curtains. Most of the town was quite festive, unlike this part, but hey, at least they got a bar across the street.

One thing about Wanda was that she wasn’t much of a drinker. Especially after having kids.

It never appealed to her. But in the back of her mind, an urge had gripped and shook her shoulders, shoving her last bit of restraint toward the bar. As much as she wanted to fight against it, she gave in and was quick to fix her appearance in the bathroom mirror, smoothing the loose strands of hair.

She could get dolled up with makeup, but during a time like this — it didn’t feel right. Even if she had the freedom to.

…

Walking into the small bar, the smell of smokey liquor, cigarette butts, and the sound of a distant stereo humming was mixed with the mounted television by the bar (island?). A drunken fight had left peanuts and glass scattered all over the floor. This was the last place Wanda would ever find herself at.

She moved to the cushioned stool by the bar, taking a seat as she looked at the bartender with an awkward grin, “Hi. I’d like a, uh, glass of Bourbon please?”

Normally, she’d only drink wine, but she decided to dip into something stronger. Just this once she needed it.

The chick behind the counter turned over her shoulder while wiping the inside of a glass, her dark emerald eyes peered down at Wanda and her dark-tinged lips gradually curled into a bright smile, “Just a sec, honey.”

Wanda thanked the bartender before looking away and shifting her hips to cross one leg over the other, her hands resting on her thigh. Hopefully, this drink would relieve her mind for the time being, and despite missing her social life, she didn’t approach the few girls far down the bar. She had problems that she needed to tend to alone, and she refused to get mildly tipsy and spew her heart out to strangers.

She made that mistake before at an office party. Tony, another lawyer from her firm, spread around her embarrassing stories and photos of her head hanging over a toilet, chunks of vomit sticking to her parched lips. It was truly a dark and pathetic time that she would always cringe at.

Wanda hadn’t made many friends or spoken with many people since she got married and started a family. It’s the downside of having a busy schedule. Plus nobody wants to spend time with a mother. At first, it didn’t seem to bother her as much. She never felt lonely when she was with her family and caring for her children, but now?…

Her kids were with their disloyal father and she was at a bar drinking. Yeah, it’s no surprise why she felt shitty.

And in this state, reckless temptations were pounding at her door. Perhaps it was time for the mother-of-the-year to get wasted and pull some strings together to repair the stripped knot in her heart. One thing terrified her though: that she would give in and go home with someone. No, that wasn’t like her at all. She truly loved her ex-husband, and it would make her feel guilty for acting something so irrationally — just like him.

Within an hour, she had downed two glasses of bourbon and was on her third. A buzz was brewing in her mind, making her even sleepier than she was before. Almost in a trance, she rhythmically tapped her nail against her glass and studied the dark liquid, silently wishing for someone to talk to.

As if on cue, the door opened and Natasha walked into the bar, her hips swaying, her red tie now peeking out the back pocket of her silk pants, and a single button from her undershirt was loosened from its grip. She smelled of coffee and warm vanilla perfume, and exhaustion was painted on her face.

“Vodka.” She nodded to the bartender and exchanged a friendly smile before settling in a stool beside Wanda, causing her client to glance over.

Her eyes widened ever-so-slightly before resting into a faux relaxation.

Shit. Why her?

“So, this is what the Wanda Maximoff does in her spare time,” Natasha observed with a smile, leaning toward her client. “Want some company?”

Wanda shook her head, attempting to politely decline the offer, “Oh, no. It’s fine. I don’t want to be a bother or cross any boundaries.”

“Ah, right…but they don’t apply when I’m off the clock,” She has a tiny smile growing on her face as she nods a thanks to the bartender, attempting to start a conversation while bringing her relaxant up to her lips, “So…any change of mind?”

“Yeah, alright.” Wanda lets a timid smile slip as she accepts the offer. The woman was saving her life as it was falling apart; the least she could do was join her for a few appropriate drinks.

For some time, they sat in an uncomfortable silence (at least that’s how Wanda felt). Natasha, on the other hand, was seemingly content with her distraction by the bar television, sipping her Vodka as if it were water. It was quite impressive.

“How are you holding up? Be honest.” Natasha asked sincerely, not pulling her gaze away from the random sitcom which played the most obnoxious laughing track every 5 seconds. Although it didn’t seem like it, she was more worried about Wanda than focused on the show.

Truth be told, when Wanda thought about Vision, she felt a sense of serenity, which weighed on her conscience. Billy and Tommy were the only things that raised all her alarms. Their safety, happiness, and love are what matters most. No mother would ever want this for her children.

Wanda hums, her lips pursing together in a thought, “I’m handling it better than I expected. Maybe it hasn’t sunk in yet. I have plenty of time to think, but that’s the one thing I can’t seem to do right now,” she chuckles hoarsely.

“I know what you’re feeling. I’ve been there before,” Natasha grimaced, remembering the moments leading up to her own divorce, “My ex-wife, I didn’t think I could ever fall for someone that hard, let alone at all. We were starting a life together, planning to be parents, up until I caught her in bed with a man. You’d think she’d at least cheat on me with another woman—being the lesbian she claimed to be—but unfortunately she used me to figure out her sexuality.”

Despite being the embodiment of confidence and resilience, her eyes were glossing over with nostalgia. She hadn’t spoken of her failed marriage since it happened. Natasha wasn’t sure why she was telling Wanda about this, but it could be because of her welcoming nature. Or maybe this was some common ground.

Wanda had no idea what to say to her lawyer as she watched her. She could see that the other woman’s wound was still bleeding into her life. Whoever hurt Natasha must have been her lifeline, because Wanda could almost feel her lifelessness even when her tone contradicted it.

“She doesn’t know what she missed out on,” Wanda said, itching to place her hand on top of Natasha’s, which was resting on the hickory bar. Her hand pressed against the smooth surface, fingers inching before closing beneath her palm. It was a weird sensation of need that Wanda craved. Had Vision made her this starved..? Deprived of touch?

“Thanks, Wanda. But I’m better on my own anyway,” Natasha said with an appreciative, softer tone. Her gaze shifted to Wanda’s hand, noticing the urge she suppressed.

Taking a mental note, the smile slowly faded off Natasha’s lips as she returned her focus to the television, deep in thought. Tonight, she was supposed to be alone in this bar, drinking till she returned to her empty home to begin some tedious paperwork, then she would pass out on the couch after eating a bowl of ice cream while watching a television movie. It was a dreadful cycle, but it was routine. Routine was good and reliable, something she could control. Something she needed in her life, even if it meant living alone with her walls built sky high. But she couldn’t say she wasn’t glad she bent the cycle for Wanda.

“I thought you only worked with gay couples,” Wanda grinned, speaking into her glass before sipping. She was now resting her cheek on her palm and studying the older woman in front of her.

The sentence made Natasha’s eyebrow furrow, her gaze fixing on the woman with an almost monotonous tone, “That’s an odd assumption, don’t you think?”

Wanda wiped the smirk off her face, growing embarrassed as she muttered, “Sorry, I- Wow. I didn’t mean be rude-“

“I’m kidding.” Natasha chuckled softly, brushing loose strands away from her lips, “No. I work with gay couples more because I know how difficult it is for their to get divorces to go through legally. It’s a shame that I even have to step up to it. But I chose to work on your case since I am very familiar with the jurisdiction…and it would look good on my record.”

Wanda brushed back the hair that draped over her hooded eyes as she watched Natasha speak. She was remarkably stunning under the dim bar lights, with the orange cast bringing out her hazel eyes and the light reddish tint on her lips. Her face was sculpted by a goddess. Her beauty was almost ethereal, causing the hazy glaze over Wanda’s eyes to believe that she was finally dreaming again.

Her lips look so soft. Are they really that soft?-

Wanda cleared her throat weakly, her voice treading on the verge of a breakdown, “I only want to see my kids happy. I need to mend whatever I can,” perhaps it was the alcohol that made her more susceptible to a vulnerable conversation — or maybe this was just what she needed. To reel in reality. To allow herself this sense of comfort before the destruction sets.

Natasha looked over the woman beside her, she could hear her swallow back the tears. Dealing with cases that involved kids were always much more difficult — and it was so painful to be unsure of the outcome. Her voice softened, giving Wanda a reassuring look as she nudged her gently, “You will. I won’t let him take them from you. I promise.”

At this point, Wanda was relieved that Natasha had accompanied her. She probably would’ve regretted any one else’s offer.

“So, any plans on leaving with someone tonight?” Natasha asked, a teasing smirk gracing her lips innocently as she looked over with sparkling doe eyes.

That takes her off guard. Wanda needed to remind herself that right now, there were no professional boundaries. This wasn’t her office nor court room. Anyone would have asked the same question, but coming from Natasha, it felt more anxiety inducing and personal. And it wasn’t because she was her lawyer.

“Are you making a move on me?” Wanda asked in disbelief, seemingly more flustered than she’d like to admit. How was Natasha making her feel this way?

She places her empty glass on the counter as the bartender walks by, mouthing a quick thank you as it’s refilled with vodka, “No. I’m asking because the girl behind us has been eyeing you down. I think she’s trying to figure you out. It’s admirable, really.”

Wanda turned over her shoulder to follow Natasha’s pointed nail to meet eyes with a stunning woman who seemed to be glancing from her table of friends. She appeared shy behind her own glass, but deep down there was an animalistic tone.

“Oh, I’m not—“

“No? You’re not? I mean, I thought you were since this is a gay bar.”

A shock realization crosses over Wanda’s face as she pieced it together. There were women all over this bar talking to one another—and a little too friendly like. There were a couple of men close to one another in one of the booths. How did this go over her head? And why did Natasha’s smirk falter as the pieces fell into place.

“Oh…you didn’t know.” Natasha chuckled, eyeing the other woman over her glass, “Well, that’s rather disappointing.”

The words made Wanda’s cheeks flare to a beet red. Even when she hoped the comment was unintentional teasing, her heart fluttered against her chest, echoing in her mind. She tried to drown it out by finishing the last drops of her bourbon. As the liquid stung her throat, it was a clear sign that she needed to return to her room before the words on the edge of her tongue spilled out.

This cannot be another shit-show.

“I should be heading back. It’s going to be a long day tomorrow. Trying to find a new place,” Wanda muttered a half-assed excuse as she pulled out her wallet to dig for loose cash, but Natasha placed her hand on hers, stopping the client in her tracks.

“Let me walk you back,” Natasha said, fishing her wallet from the front pocket of her jacket. She paid both of their tabs without accepting Wanda’s objection. If it was Vision, he’d let her pay for her own tab.

She sighed in acceptance of the friendly gesture — there really was no room for arguing, “Natasha, really, you don’t have to.”

“I know, but it's late. I don’t need my client being attacked at this hour. And I should head home anyway. I need to work out some of our things,” her tone was earnest, drawing her hand out as an offer, “Trust me.”

Even though Wanda wanted to leave alone, the thought of Natasha walking her to her room was endearing. Maybe even a little flattering. So, she took the other’s hand carefully and accepted the offer. But one thing stood out to her and oddly enough, disappointed her: she was referred to as a client. Only a client.

No. This shouldn’t bother me. I am her client. We’re nothing more and never will be. Why did Vis have to ruin me all over? He was the one thing that held my world together. I don’t know what I want anymore.

…

Wanda felt a soft palm on her lower back, guiding her to her hotel room. Natasha had to reflexively grab Wanda’s arms every few steps to keep her from falling over. The two were staggering, giggling drunks, but the older woman held her liquor a bit better than the other.

“Careful now,” Natasha hooked an arm around her client’s waist, keeping their drunken stances sturdy and upright. Walking a drunk woman home while you’re also drunk was not an easy task. If anything, it was messy and awkward…especially when you’re working for the other. Thank the gods that room 215 was only a few staggering feet away.

“Here. This is my room.” Hiccupped the copper-haired woman, her cheeks flushing as she lazily unlocked her door, keys slipping between her fingertips.

Standing off to the side, Natasha smiled, quietly captivated with the woman in front of her. Her drunken state blurred her sight of professionalism and she became fixated on Wanda, who was now staring at her with a different attitude.

“Thank you for tonight,” she lazily smiled to Natasha, gratitude filling her drunken haze, “You didn’t have to do all this.”

Natasha knew she didn’t have to. Hell, she wouldn’t have if it was anyone else. She had told herself so many times to not let her guard down, not to make any more mistakes, no more friends — just live in her own bubble by herself. She spent months curating this type of restriction just for her to break it down for one girl. And she didn’t even know why.

So, naturally, Natasha shook her head dismissively, “I wanted to. It was nice talking to someone outside of work.”

A silence washed over the two till Wanda entered her room, the door cracked, and she peeked out with her nails grazing the door shyly and calmly said, “Have a good night. And thanks, again. I appreciate it more than you may think.”

Natasha nodded a polite (and awkward) thank you as she looked to the patterned floor before responding, “No need to thank me. Get some rest, Wanda. I’ll see you in the morning.”

The door came to a close, the lock clicking into place as Wanda stood against it. Her eyelids tightly shut as she fought back the strange feeling of anamore. She couldn’t feel this way about a woman; it wasn’t like her at all. But if Natasha was a man—she’d be the perfect one for her, one she could be with until the end of time.

She regulated her breathing before rubbing her palm over her forehead to wipe away the glued thoughts, but a part of her couldn’t resist one thought. Calling Natasha. It took her a couple of minutes to wallow in that crave until she hastily took her phone and the business card from her pocket, pressing her prints shakily into the keys on her flip phone.

“Do I really want this?” She ponders the possibilities. One, Natasha could answer and talk to her until she fell asleep. Two, Natasha could get rather annoyed and pull away from her case. Or, three, no answer whatsoever.

No, Wanda, you need to put the phone down. You. Are. Drunk.

She stares at the screen for a beat before clicking the call button and nervously bringing the phone up to her ear. Her heart fluttered loudly in her ears, but was drowned out by the sound of ringing on the other side of the door.

She unlocked the door and pulled it open, revealing an awkward Natasha who was shifting on her heels, standing there looking at her phone. She hadn’t moved. The words she had planned were lodged in her throat as she unintentionally choked up. This was her moment to ask Wanda out, but she remained tongue tied. Geez, it’s been a long time since she’s done this.

Wanda stood in the doorframe, staring at Natasha with an unreadable expression. Isn’t this what she wanted? To speak to Nat while she mustered up the courage?

Wanda’s feet picked up, staggering towards the older woman before halting and tilting her head close enough to feel Natasha’s breath stutter against her lips, her cheeks flushing in anticipation. After a few seconds of staring in silence, Wanda gently connects their lips with a slow tenderness, mixing their liquor with Wanda’s cherry chapstick.

Natasha’s fingertips wander under her sweatshirt and graze at the sensitive skin underneath, eliciting a warm hum from Wanda. She attempted to pull back from the kiss, but she remained attached by the red nails tangling in her auburn hair. Something about it felt right, but really…really wrong.

But mostly right. It never felt like this when Wanda was with Vision or any guy before him? What would he say about this?…

Why do I care? I shouldn’t.

Natasha stumbles with Wanda in her arms, exhaling softly as her knees grow weaker, and it doesn't take long for them to pass the door frame, making the attorney to kick back the door shut.

If requested enough, I may make it into a small series.

Andromache x F!Reader ┆AO3

Summary: It’s been 500 years since the trials and you run into the past.

Word Count: 3.7K

TW: Mentions of Salem

A/N: Apologies for the long wait. I hope you enjoy this! Click here for part 1!

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

As you stroll through the marketplace, the aroma of spices, citrus, and meats clings to the threads of your clothing. It felt quite homely. Coming across a small flea market, a dangling necklace calls your attention. You brush your fingertips over the silver antique, inspecting its distinct design. It was remarkably similar to the one Quynh wore when you first met her, and you had forgotten she had given it to Andy.