男性

It was about time. Your boss announced that you'd been promoted and to say that you were happy was an understatement.

Eleven months — day by day, nine to five, even sometimes on Saturday mornings — you'd given work your all and you'd finally been compensated for your hard work but at the cost of what?

Your family. Your happiness. Your wife.

It was 9:39pm as you'd been driving home after getting a couple of drink with Kate and Yelena to celebrate, although you made sure not to drink enough to get drunk.

Once you stepped inside your and your family's home, you were greeted with a complete silence. It wasn't exactly surprising since it was past the twins' bedtime by now.

Walking in further, the sound of water flushing from the kitchen's sink could be heard. You'd gotten rid of your coat and shoes, knowing that your wife didn't like it when anyone went further inside the house with shoes from the outside on.

There she was, your beautiful auburn haired woman.

Even though, her back was facing you, you still thought she was the most beauteous human being on this earth. You walked up behind her, arms around her waist as you placed a kiss on her neck.

“Hello, darling.” you greeted, placing kisses on her shoulder too. “Missed you.”

She didn't answer and you didn't particularly pay attention at the moment but when you leaned in to kiss her cheek, she stepped away from your embrace to go dry her hands.

That's when you started noticing that something was off—because Wanda doesn't ignore you.

Well, she certainly has given you the silent treatment before but at least, you knew what you'd done. Although, you'd just gotten back home from work, what could you have possibly done wrong?

You decided not to ask and instead, “Long day?”

“If by long day you mean me picking up the boys from school, making lunch, working from home, and then cooking a very nice dinner that I had expected to share with my wife AND our kids but only for said wife to text me from her colleague's phone, saying that she'll be  getting drinks instead of coming home to her family? Yes, my love, it was a very long day.”

You can hear the harshness, next up, the disappointment, then the sarcasm in her tone very clearly and your entire being was immediately filled with culpability. She wasn't even looking at you. Her back was still what faced you.

“Wanda, baby, I'm really—”

“Save it. I don't want to hear it.”

“But I assure you that—”

She finally turns to look at you and you should be glad that she was finally visually acknowledging you but no, you're not. Not when she's looking at you like this, not when there's not even a smile on her face and the look in her eyes is not the usual happy, loving one but replaced by a hard, angry look  instead. “I told you, I don't want to hear it.”

You shut up. What else can you do? You don't wish to anger her further, anyway.

“I never once stopped you from doing what you wanted, because that's not how marriage works.” She says. “Marriage isn't about control or dominance but commitment, trust, love, care, honesty,  communication. And I'm not saying that you have failed at being or doing any of those things because you have, God, you have! Otherwise, I wouldn't be here, wearing this ring.”

She gestured at her left hand before keeping up on her speech.

“But do you know what you've been lacking?” you don't answer and let her do it instead because you're not sure if you're allowed to speak yet. “Presence. You're barely around, Y/N.”

For the first time tonight, she speaks your name and your heart simply shatters at her tone—it's not harsh or sarcastic anymore, even tho the disappointment remains—but it's sorrowful, broken.

And you're hit with a wave of remorse.

“I can handle you missing out of a date night or- or even an anniversary but—”

Shit.

Wanda's words drown to the back of your head as your stupid mind reminds you now instead of earlier. Tommy's big soccer game day was today and you'd fucking forgotten about it.

“Darling, please..” you try to step closer.

“No. No. You're not doing that. You're not going to apologize to me but to your son. You did him wrong, not me.” She tells you. “Do you know how upset he was? Thank God Pietro was there otherwise, he probably would've not played at all.”

“You know I didn't mean to forget about it—”

“But do I?” she asks you. “Because I'm not really sure I do.”

“It was a really long day, okay? It all went by so fast and my phone was off. I truly didn't mean to miss it, baby.”

She scoffs and throws the kitchen cloth she used to wipe her hands dry on the counter.

“If you're able to forget about your own son's game day, I wonder why you can't forget—even just for one day—about your job.”

You shake your head, “Sweetheart, you know it's not like that..”

“Don't bother, I know the answer.” She quips as she ignores your words. The Sokovian steps closer to you, and in any other circumstances, you would've been happily reaching out for her but you can't. “Because that's all you care about. In the morning, at night. You even forget to eat just because you're consumed by your damned job!”

“I'm doing it for us, you know this.” You state, poorly attempting to defend yourself and your actions. “So we can secure our backs, our children's backs.”

“Yes, but at the cost of what, huh? Said children. Me.”

“Wanda—”

“I want a divorce.”

Everything stilled as she uttered those words. Those dreadful, alarming words that made your heart sink within your lungs. It's only then, as she gestures to it, that you notice the piece of envelope by the kitchen table. It was as white as the marble table, hence why you had missed it.

For a moment, you felt as if your ears had failed you, as if you'd made that up and you found yourself hoping that indeed, for a second, you'd gone crazy and made all of that up.

But by the look in her eyes, that determined intonation of hers, you knew you were fucked.

Your first instinct is to utter a small, nervous laugh, “You c— You can't mean that, love. You don't mean that.”

“Yes. I can and I do.” She tells you as you feel the panic rise within you.

This can't be happening, you think to yourself, it must be a fucking fucked up nightmare.

“Wait, Wanda, wait, wait, just wait a second, baby, ee have to talk about this. Y-You can't just come up with this decision— I-I mean, think about everything we built together! Think about our boys!”

“That is exactly what I am doing, Y/N. You should've thought about them before you started prioritizing your job over them. Over us.” 

You felt a pit in your stomach at her words. She was right. You should've thought about the kind of impact working day and night would have on your family. But you hadn't and it was too late now.

I mean, how could you when you were simply doing what you thought was best for them. You didn't want Tommy and Billy to grow up like you. You wanted them to never have to worry about money because that was their parents' role and not theirs. You didn't want them to stress or worry about such things until they were old enough and/or parents themselves. You would give them the world if you could — that's how much you loved them.

And Wanda loved that about you.

But when it feels like loosing you in the process, she can't let herself bear it.

“You might as well marry your job now, since you love it so much to the point you spend the majority of your time working.”

Not even a second after she was done speaking, you'd dropped to your knees, your arms encircled her waist as your forehead rested against her stomach.

“You don't have to do this. Please don't do this, my love.” You hadn't even realized it but you had started crying by now. “Please, don't leave me. I can't do this without you, please. I love you, Wanda, I love you.”

The ginger didn't answer, she didn't move — not yet at least. As much as she was upset with you, it was challenging to see you cry like this, on your knees for her, without comforting you. But she had to. When she married you, she didn't sign up for piece of attention. Much less when you both decided to become parents — she wasn't going to let the kids see you be slowly pulled away from them because of your determination.

“I love you too, Y/N.” she tells you gently although, it's not as endearing as usual and you know that she's not saying this because she's forgiven you. “But it's not only you and I anymore. As I told you before, I would've handled it all if it was on me — buf you've been neglecting our children and I cannot handle it. Which is why I'm doing this.”

You look up at her, eyes already puffy and red, full of tears as you sniffle. “Just— please, let us talk about it, hm? Please, my love, please.”

She didn't look at you as she spoke, “We already did talk about it, Y/N. My decision is final. You'll have to give my lawyer an answer within the next 21 days. If not, I think you know what happens.”

Wanda removed your arms from around her so she could step out of your embrace and then left the kitchen, leaving you to drown in your sorrows on your own.

You start to think about everything. The path it took to loose the love of your life and your children. Because, no, it wasn't only about dinner or Tommy's game day you'd missed but it has been a continuous pattern : arriving late during parent-teacher meetings, missing some of Billy's karate practice because he wanted you to see how much he'd improved, or that time during the boys' birthday party you were supposed to go pick up the cake but you'd been called in to work due to an emergency instead and on top of that, you'd forgotten to warn Wanda about it. They waited a full hour until she'd called you. That evening, there was a huge argument and you'd slept in the boys' bedroom instead. The list is probably fuller.

.   .   .  .  .

You never would've imagined that this could've ever happened to you.

You always believed that Wanda and you were meant to last together until death does you both apart — as your vows sermonized. But, here you were.

It has been eleven days—a week and four days—since that teary evening. And your mind was only filled with the thoughts of those cursed divorce papers. Day and night, you dreaded the fact that clock kept ticking, time wasn't going to slow down for you, and soon enough, you'd have to agree and officially start the divorce process.

In those eleven days, not once have you slept by Wanda's side nor had she spoken to you.

Billy and Tommy started to notice that their moms weren't being their usual selves—clingy, kissing one another, or even teasing one another—Billy had asked you “Is Mamma upset with you?” and Tommy giggled it off, saying that his brother shouldn't worry because Mommy always makes Mama angry but that everything would be alright soon.

But oh wrong were they.

At that, you couldn't help yourself but started tearing up.

You had excused yourself and went to the bathroom to cry. Of course, you had to muffle it. They couldn't know that something was wrong. They couldn't hear you cry or they would start asking questions and you don't want to lie to them.

Nothing was ever going to be okay again, not unless you tried one last time to fix your mess.

You'd always been compentitive—both Wanda and you—to the point where, once, everything had been a competition and even now, you couldn't let Wanda win this. No. You couldn't let her go that easily.

So that was it. One last fight.

You had been sitting in your car for fifteen minutes now, revising your words carefully in your head. You weren't exactly in a position where you could ask for conditions but after a nice chat with your lawyer, you discovered that you had the rights. Even it sounded selfish, you would still use it because you don't give up easily. No, you're not a coward.

Not when it concerns her, at least.

Entering what would probably not be your home anymore, you carefully closed the door behind you and stepped inside. The bedroom was bathed in a soft glow from the bedside's lamp. Wanda was seated on the bed as she read a book, hair loose, glasses and a red sweater on. She seemed relaxed and you almost gave up and left because you didn't want to disturb her, but you didn't. You couldn't. If disturbing her meant repatching your marriage back together then so be it.

“Can we talk?”

She deliberately flipped the page of her book, not even sparing you a glance as she replied — her tone calm but distant, “I don't recall having anything to say to you.”

“No, probably not.” you agree before continuing. “Just as you haven't for the last eleven days. But about that, I think you will.”

You knew you were treading on eggshells from the glare she gave you  but she didn't say anything. Instead, her gaze traveled to the envelope you held between your right hand's fingers. She immediately recognized it. “I agree to the divorce.”

“It was about time.”

“Only after two months.” You continue and notice her gaze faltering oh so slightly. “Allow me two more months to be with you and our kids, after that, I promise to let you go without any hesitation.” if you still haven't changed your mind, is what you don't add.

“Please.” You pursue when she doesn't answer. You know where to press to get things to go your way. You know she still loves you and you know that deep down, even if she'll never admit it out loud, she wants you to fight for her, for the kids. “I love you, Wanda. I will never stop loving you. But you can't expect me to just let you go like this, not when I am not even prepared. So, please, this will be the last thing I ever request from you. Two months, and then you're free.”

She exhales but eventually nods reluctantly. “Fine. As if it would change anything — whatever.”

Her words hurt but you deserved them because you had been the one to hurt her first, and she's only returning the equivalent.

That night—after each and everyone's night routine—instead of going taking the couch or the guest bedroom, you went back to sleep in your shared bedroom, spooning her as she unwillingly let you.

.  .  .  .  .

From that moment on, every single minutes counted.

Every single movements, words, actions : it all mattered. You couldn't— no, wouldn't permit yourself to commit any mistakes because you knew it would mean being one step away from Wanda and two steps closer to the divorce.

As of now, spending your time with your family was your top priority. Because they were your happiness, your anchor, the reason why you were fulfilled in this life and if you lost them?

Well, nothing really mattered anymore.

You were, henceforth, on a clock.

During those 60 more days that Wanda approved of, you had to ensure everything would be in your favor in the end. You always did some things that would at least remind the Sokovian of the great times you spent together, of the life you had before everything went downhill.

First of, you took two months off work so you could be home 24/7. You decided to improve your cooking skills so you could make lunch and dinner for them. Obviously, the boys were the only one delighted by the meals as Wanda would either say that she wasn't hungry or that she had already eaten. That didn't stop you from giving up, anyway.

You continually cuddled her at night until the both of you fell asleep, regardless of the fact that she remained with her back facing you.

You'd still say wish her good night and let her know that you loved her albeit despite that she wouldn't answer.

Whenever the morning rolled by, you weren't by her side — not because you'd already left for the office but because you were getting the boys up and ready for school. You'd make breakfast for her and leave it on the table and when you returned from dropping off the boys, you'd find it still on the table, untouched.

She was both distant and quiet. Whenever you'd try to have a conversation with her, she'd always respond drily or not at all.

It has been going on like this for the first three weeks and it was really hard to handle. You didn't like the fact she was so close yet so far away from you.

.  .  .  .  .

“Guess what, little gremlins?” you exclaimed as you crouched down in front of your sons. They began to excitedly question you, demanding that you tell them what was going on.”

“I got us tickets for the zoo.”

Billy squealed and his brother followed. The said zoo had recently opened and they'd both been dying to go there for a while now but due to the lack of time you, couldn't and they didn't want to go without neither Wanda or you.

So now sounded like the perfect time.

It wasn just a simple zoo—it had an aquarium and some amusement park-like rides. Also, some classmates of theirs had been bragging about the hotdogs they served there.

First of, Wanda said that she couldn't come because she had some things to do with Pietro but then Billy started crying because of it. You tried to persuade him that if Mama was busy this time then you could still go a second time but when he'd yelled back at her, “No, I don't want next time. I want us all together now! We're barely all together. Why can't you both be like Morgan's parents.”

You felt Wanda's cold gaze and you brain kept mocking you, telling you that you deserved just that. Because it was your fault if you couldn't be like Morgan's parents or Nate's.

Nonetheless, she ended up cancelling her plans with her twin, which eventually led Billy calm down.

The entire drive there, your heart was thudding in your chest. Neither of you spoke, aside from your sons in the back seat. You desperately wanted to apologize but it wouldn't make a difference — if anything, it would just upset the auburn haired woman more.

That remorseful feeling you had during the drive disappeared the moment you heard the enthusiastic yells of the twins. They got to see real life wild animals for the first time in their six years of existence and it was timeless.

You'd gotten cotton candy first—they even got to choose which color they wanted—then, went on an educational tour. Afterwards, you did the rides.

After visiting the aquarium and getting the infamous hotdogs, which were indeed delicious, a photographer proposed to take a picture of you. You'd already agreed—Tommy and Billy too—before even asking Wanda if she was comfortable with it.

When you have her an apologetic look, she simply rolled her eyes and muttered a “Whatever.” then went to pose where the boys gestured to—in front of the giang water fountain—she was only doing this for the boys.

“What a beautiful family we have here.” An old passing by lady said, making you smile and thanked her.

Even though, now, you only had about a month left, you wished the four would remain just that — a happy, beautiful family.

.  .  .  .  .

That evening, you'd been the one to take care of the twins and get them to bed. It had been a long, eventful day and they were surely very tired. You marched inside the boys' room and first off went to Billy's bed since Tommy was still using the restroom.

“Hey, B. Ready for bed?”

“I don't know,” He counts “I think I would prefer watching cartoons right now.”

You let out a chuckle, “You would, wouldn't you? Well, I also know better. By the time you lay down, you'll be out like a light.”

“That's because I have amazing dreams awaiting for me. I can't be up too long or the night will pass.”

You laughed at his antics. He always has had a wild imagination, and who could blame him? That's a mindset for a six year old.

“About earlier, you shouldn't have gotten upset at Mama like this. You know she loves you and cares for you.”

“I do and I'm sorry.”

“You should be mad at me, Billy Bear. She's the one who's home with you and your brother all the time, not me. She's the one who constantly looks after you and you shouldn't hurt her like that, do you understand?”

“Yes, Mommy.”

“Good. You can say sorry to her tomorrow, yeah? I love you.”

As you predicted, within the next upcoming minutes, he falls asleep and you're not surprised by that.

Tommy exits the bathroom, his feet dragging him over to his bed. You follow suit, a gentle smile in your lips.

Tommy slides inside the sheets, and you expect the tucking in to go even smoother, if not quicker, than Billy's.

“Mommy, what's divroce?”

However, this question wasn't what you expected. At least not from your six years old son, at the crack of night. Your movements falter slightly at this interrogation and before too much time can go by and he starts to call for you again, your hands go back into motion — straightening the sheets as you speak.

“Where did you heard that from?” You gently ask him then proceed to correct him. “And it's a di-vor-ce, darling, not divroce.”

“Uncle Pietro. I heard him speak about it with i-don't-know-who on the phone when he picked us up from school the other day. Then I asked him about it and he said that it's when two married people get unmarried.”

Tommy is smart. Everyone knows it. And the fact that he was able to note all of that and say it to you again is shocking and not, at the same time.

“Are you and Mommy getting a divorce?”

You swallow the lump in your throat. Is it really that obvious that things aren't going well in your marriage anymore?

You can't lie to him, but you can't tell him the truth because it is all so complicated. The tears gather in your eyes—both from his words and because there's your auburn haired soon-to-be ex-wife in the back of your mind.

“I... want to be honest with you, Tommy.” You utter softly. “I really love your mom, with my whole heart. And sometimes, adults have disagreements, just like you do with Billy when he takes your toys without asking you first.”

“And is that what's happening with Mama?”

The corner of your lip shifts slightly, a waterly chuckle escaping your throat. “A bit, yes.” It's more than that — much more than that. But he's too young to understand, too sweet to be hit with reality of things just yet. “You should know that Mama loves you both very much and..every decision she'll ever take will always be for your you and your brother's well-being. I don't know for certain yet that we will proceed with a divorce so i can't give you an answer. But if it were to happen, I need you, along with your brother, to be strong and look after your mom for me. Could you do that?”

“Yes, Mommy. But I don't want you to leave us.”

“I know that, sweetheart. And I don't want to leave you either. But sometimes, things like that happen and there's nothing any of us can do.”

Your heart's hurting. He doesn't deserve this, Billy doesn't deserve this and much less, Wanda. You wish you could take it all back but it's only what it is — a wish.

Tears slid down your cheeks and Tommy brings his palm up, guiding it down your skin. “No tears, Mommy. I don't want you to cry.”

“Im sorry, my love.” You sniffle, wipping the tears away from your other cheek. You don't know if it's the sight of him that makes you still have a smile on your face or if it's just a natural reaction — either way, you're smiling while crying at the same time. “It's just... you're already so grown.”

Tommy grins, pleased by that. He doesn't want to stay little forever, obviously. Not that he could. “I love you, Mommy.”

You hug him and tell him you love him too. As slumber lulls him, you remain laying by his side, hugging him as hot tears silently slide down your cheeks. All you can do is stay here, wallow in on your sadness until you could calm down.

You know that they don't deserve to be in this situation. You know you don't deserve them. You know that if you could, you would take it all back and make things better. What you don't know is that your wife is right out of the door, listening to this conversation from the very beginning, and she just hates the way you're so good with words.

She hates the fact that even when she wants to despise you, you just manage to make her love you, even unknowingly. So when you step inside the bedroom, thirty minutes later after composing yourself, she's standing there, looking at you. Her green orbs filled with a look that crosses confusion between love and hate.

“You're enjoying this, aren't you? Making me want you even when you don't deserve it.” Her speech doesn't falter at the look of confusion on your face. “Tell me.”

You try to explain to her that you don't understand what she meant, but she doesn't let you. She's too angry for that. She's too sad for that. She's too disappointed for that. She's too in love for that. Somewhere along the line, you're close — closer than she's allowed you to be in weeks and it almost makes you cry. You missed her. All of her. And she missed you too.

She missed so much that even if you're both not on so great terms, even if you don't deserve it — she allows you to touch her. Her lips meet yours and it's not slow and soft, no—It's rushed. messy.

Somewhere along the way, your both on the bed. She's laying on her back while you're in between her legs. Your hands are working down past the hem of her sleep shorts, panties and landing right on her throbbing cunt. She's wet. She's been wanting this and you can't blame her. You've been wanting to touch her for a while and half of you feels glad that she's permitting this but the other half isn't. Because you don't want her to be angry at you. Because you know she's rushing this because she can't stand you. Because you wish you could make love to her and not fuck her.

Her sounds shifts between breathy gasps and whines. She's mostly trying to keep quiet for the kids. You fingers curls inside her and her back arches off the bed. Your busy your lips at her neck, marking her skin because it will probably be the last time this ever happens. Because soon, you'll never get to have her like this.

You mutter apologies, despite yourself, while pleasing her. Your mouth makes it way further down to her chest, latching on one nipple while rolling the other one in between the fingers of your unoccupied hand. Her fingernails dig into your shoulders as she moans. You switch and give her other nipple the same attention by your mouth. If it's for her, you can multitask.

After a while, she comes at your hand, chest heaving, sweat all over her forehead. She's beautiful every day but even more like this — cheeks flushed, lips parted as melodic moans escape them. You almost cry at it. But no, tonight was about her and only her.

The next day, you wake up alone in bed. Not that you expected her to be there cuddled in your arms, but it still hurt a little.

You make your way out of your shared bedroom and get the boys up and ready for school. Once they finish eating breakfast, the three of you are out and about for drop off.

Once you drop Tommy and Billy off at school, you drive your way back home.

Everything in the living room looks the same. You don't question it. 'Maybe she's going to spend the entire day out to avoid me, you think to yourself. Because, yes, when you're about to divorce, you don't let your soon-to-be ex wife fuck you. But you don't blame Wanda. You're thankful that she allowed you this one last time. What surprises you is the missing covered breakfast plate on the dining table. Wanda never ate nor touched any of the meals you've cooked ever since the divorce announcement.

Suddenly, a familiar voice resonates from behind you. “What's got you frozen over there?”

Your head whip in the voice's direction and you're met with the sight of Wanda. She's dressed in a sportswear, her reddish-brown curls are pulled in a messy bun and she's munching on the breakfast you kept aside for her.

Your lips part very slightly. Her chest area and neck area looks a bit damp — even after a run (which is obvious she went for) you can't help but think she's beautiful like this. You force yourself to snap out of it. She's talking to you for God's sake, for the first time in weeks, (and it doesn't concern the twins) she's initiating a talk. You clear your throat. “Uh, nothing, I was just... Nevermind. I didn't know you were out.”

Well, technically you did. But you couldn't exactly say "you didn't tell me you were going out." as if everything was still the same.

“I sent you a text. But it seems you didn't check your phone.”

You mentally curse yourself at her response. Of course, that damned device again. You can't feel it in your pockets, as a matter of fact, you know you didn't even have it in the car with you.

“Well, uhm, I didn't check it when I woke up..”

Your wife shrugs, not that she expected anything else. You never check your phone.

“I should've. I'm sorry. ” you add but she doesn't say anything. fuck.

Wanda simply goes to seat on the couch. She doesn't seem upset but you can't exactly read her.

“Is...” you begin hesitantly, unsure if making a conversation is a good move now. She spoke first, sure. But what if it should've stopped just at that. Nonetheless, you keep going. “Is it good?”

She sees you gesturing to the plated meal in her hands and she raises a brow, “I'm eating it, no?”

“Yeah.. yeah, you're um— yeah.”

You decide to let her be. Again, the last thing you want it to piss her off when she was finally addressing you more than a single word.

You don't dare mention what happened the night prior. You can't. She'll probably pull her walls back up fully again and that damned divorce would be certain.

. . . . .

For the two remaining weeks, the tension had dimmed.

It wasn't enough to indicate that Wanda had changed her mind but it was progress. Her blank expressions, eye rolls or annoyance at your mère presence seemed to cease. The two of you were talking and sitting all together during meals again even if it got awkward at times, but it was better than the past month and a half. She even let you take her out one night when the twins were over at Pietro's for the weekend. Also, she started facing you in bed again.

But there was just one slip—Wanda didn't mention the divorce papers.

At all.

Not even once in passing, while laying comfortably in her arms or while you brushed your teeths together in the early mornings.

And that was the reason why you couldn't fully relax.

You couldn't allow yourself to let your guard down, to stop worrying just yet because even if she didn't voice it and was seemingly considering you again, it didn't mean you were forgiven. It didn't mean she changed her mind. It didn't mean you wouldn't loose her, still.

So, while doing your best not ruin the good times you're having both as a couple and a family by showcasing your distress, you're slowly, sort of dying inside. Because without your wife, life doesn't make make sense.

Without your family, it's just you, wine and your thoughts.

But at the same time, you force yourself to enjoy it. You tell yourself that maybe—just maybe, it's all going to go away. Maybe it didn't even happen, that it simply was a cruel, regrettable nightmare to make you realize how of a shitty partner and parent you'd been.

However, it's definitely not just going to go away. It all comes crashing down once you allow yourself drown in those short-lived moments of happiness.

The calendar stares back at you — the due date circled in a red marker ink, as if mocking you. You had completely forgotten about . Today was the day you were supposed to let go of Wanda, with no difficulties, as promised.

It was cruel but simply what it was. Your own promise.

It was better to honor your own words, rather than make her have to remind you what you said.

So, you quickly finished cleaning around and began packing your stuff. Maybe she simply didn't bring it up because she doesn't love me anymore. Maybe she simply wanted to allow me— us a good time one last time to remember.

Half of your clothes are neatly packed already. You found yourself looking around what was once your shared safe space with your wife and tears gather in your eyes. You don't want to do this, you don't want things to end up like this but it is what it is. It's not like you didn't fight. You had but it simply wasn't enough to stop the divorce from happening and there was none else to blame.

You pick up the not-yet framed family picture on the shelf. The recent one you took at the zoo. It wasn't the happiest moment you've had but you knew you could take this without Wanda minding.

Your fingers trace her beautiful face as tears threaten to fall. This is certainly not going to do you any good but you know she has a better shot at being happy again, and that comforts you.

Because you'd be content as long as she's happy. Even if you weren't the origin of it.

As you kiss over Tommy and Billy's face, hot tears are streaming down your cheeks. “Mommy's sorry.” you mutter, kissing over their pictured faces over and over. “Mommy's really, really sorry.”

“Who are you talking to?” Your body goes rigid at the familiar tone. She's standing by the doorway, you can tell because your back is facing it and she's a few feet behind you. She wasn't supposed to be home just yet, was she. Fuck, you weren't even supposed to be there anymore. Now it's probably just going to cause another argument.

You take a breath, bringing your palms up to wipe away your tears. You only hope your eyes aren't red or puffy enough for her to notice you've been crying. You don't want her to think you're trying to make her feel sorry for you or pity you for something you're at fault for.

So, you quickly fold the picture and tuck it in the back pocket of your jeans. You nervously wipe your hands down your pants, finally turning to face her.

As predicted, she's standing in the bedroom's doorway, a confused look on her face and a .. flower bouquet in hands.

“I uhm .. I don't know if you recall but.. today's the last day of the two more months you allowed me to spend with you and the boys.. ” you approach delicately, as to not make her think you're trying to make her feel bad about it or something of sort, your voice shaky. “I was thinking I wouldn't let you waste your time by telling me I had to leave and just do it myself. I was just about to finish, if you could just.. allow me a few more minutes to get the rest of my stuff, then I'll lea—”

Wanda's arms fall at her side, the bouquet dropping right beside her feet.

You step forward, picking it up and holding it beside her hand again. “Wanda, your flowers..” you trail off once your eyes meet her again. You understand she'd done this just because she wanted to confirm her doubts. She wanted you closer so she could see your face. You simply looked away again, take a step back with a baby feeling of unease settling in the pit of your stomach.

“They're not mine, Y/N. These are yours.” She tells you, motioning at the bouquet. You blink, lips parting slightly. You don't know what to say, you weren't expecting this. Why would she bring you flowers?

“I.. ”

But you're unable to speak again. She's always been able to take your breath away. In every sense of the word. In any possible situation.

“Were you just going to leave? Without even taking to me first?”

“I.. I thought you'd want me gone by the time you came back, I figured it'd be better..”

“God, Y/N,” she exhales and you hear the shakiness in her voice. “We were finally doing better! We were finally being a family again. You didn't even know what was my final say!”

“You never once mentioned your decision about the divorce, Wanda.” you calmly retort. “I didn't want to assume you had changed your mind.”

“Oh, right, so you preferred assuming I'd want you—the mother of our children—gone just like that as if you were, I don't know, a parasite?”

“No..” a shake of head, a shaky tone. “No, no, it's— it's not like that, Wanda. I just wanted to make things easier for you. It was better than to already assume you'd want me again, since I hurt you a lot and as long as you hadn't said anything, the safest thing to do was this..”

You don't even notice it but tears are in your eyes again. There's a knot in your chest. A mix of feelings — worry, fear, sadness, panic. a rush of panic.

“Y/N, I don't want this divorce anymore..” she finally says, stepping closer.

A rush of relief floods you, but you're not completely out of it. You're tired, very tired. You blink a few times, exhaling, trying to stop what's starting to come.

Wanda immediately wraps her arms around you. You bury your face in her neck, allowing yourself to cry like you haven't been able to in a while. All that repressed pain? You're letting it all out.

“I'm sorry, baby, I'm so sorry.” she tells you, kissing your temple as she cries herself. Wanda doesn't feel at her best right now. She's seen how much of a toll it took on you. She's seen all the effort you made so she could forgive you. She knows you love her and would do anything for her. She just didn't know how bad it was. How broke you felt inside because you'd been a step away from loosing your why.

“No.” You shake your head, lifting your face away from her neck, sniffling. “Don't apologize. I didn't treat you and the boys right. I deserved this. You had to suffer for longer than I have. I'm sorry, Wanda.”

“I promise to do better from now on, ” you tell her again. “I'll spend more time with and the boys. I'll even quit.”

She shakes her own head, wipping your tears away. “You're not gonna do that. You love doing what you do, Y/N. I'm not going to take that away from you, it would be selfish. All I wanted was for you to realize that you also had us.”

“Are you sure? Because I want you to know that this job doesn't matter if I don't have you and the boys by my side—”

The memories of the foster care facility had been popping into your mind more often lately. They were usually a mixture of sad or painful events. Prospective parents passing you over for kids who were brighter, more talkative, or openly craving affection. Volunteers assuming you didn't want to be bothered, leaving you to read or draw alone at the table. The facility staff scolding you, frustrated that you didn't try harder to be chosen.

It wasn't that you didn't try on purpose.

You had been there since the day you were born, spending six years inside that building. When you were a newborn, people thought you were too much responsibility. A blank slate where one slip-up could ruin a life. Then you became a toddler, making friends with the other kids. You would play outside, screaming at the top of your lungs and laughing until you couldn't breathe.

But then one day, your best friend left with a foster family. Then another. And another. You were happy for them, but beneath it all, you started to close in on yourself. You grew scared of the pain of opening up to someone who could leave at any moment. So, you started to keep your distance. You talked less, stayed inside, and kept your head down.

But one day, shortly after you turned six, a happy memory formed.

You were drawing at one of the tables by yourself. The sleeves of your oversized t-shirt were folded up, and the hem fell past your shorts. The other kids were talking excitedly with one another, a noise you were used to drowning out.

Suddenly, a hand larger than yours, adorned with rings, appeared next to your crayons.

"Hi," a soft, slightly accented voice said.

You turned your head, meeting wide, green eyes. The corners of them crinkled as she smiled brightly, her face level with yours from where she crouched beside the table. You scanned her face, noticing her dark brown hair before looking down at her name tag. It listed her as a volunteer.

You wish you had committed her name to memory, but assuming she would be like the rest, you hadn't looked closely.

"Hi," you mumbled, wanting to get back to your coloring.

She picked up a blue crayon, twirling it between her fingers. "I'm a new volunteer here. I saw you coloring and wondered if I could join you."

You looked down at your drawing. She would probably get bored and leave to play with the others. The thought made you pout as you stared at the yellow duck you had drawn.

"I guess..." you responded quietly, continuing your coloring to distract yourself.

She giggled softly. Before you could react, she lightly pinched your cheek between her index finger and thumb. You turned to her, her fingers still holding your cheek, and gave her a little glare. She only giggled more.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," she said, trying to sound apologetic despite her grin. "You just looked too cute."

You looked away, your cheeks heating up. You shook your head, forcing her fingers to fall away. "If you're gonna draw, do it quietly," you said with the biggest sigh your small body could muster.

With one last giggle, she pulled out the small, plastic chair beside you. She settled in, grabbing a sheet of paper from the stack in the center of the table. You could see her glancing at your drawing repeatedly before finally starting her own.

You sat silently, trying to keep your lines smooth even though they always wobbled in the middle. Other kids came up to her, asking her to play and wanting to get to know the new volunteer. Your chest tightened every time, even when you tried not to care.

But she always rejected them kindly, telling them she was in the middle of spending time with you. Your heart warmed just a little, despite your best efforts to act indifferent.

Half an hour into drawing, she started to speak to you. She acted as though you were answering her questions even when you stayed silent, the smile never leaving her voice.

You learned she was a high school senior completing volunteer hours. You found out she had an annoying twin brother who always brought up that he was a few minutes older. She told you about being from Sokovia, how she had only been in the States for a few years, the foods she liked, and the classes that bored her. She talked about her plans for the future, wanting to do something meaningful with her life.

Time passed like that—her talking about herself while you sat there, pretending not to listen but absorbing it all.

When she stopped talking, you peeked up. She was holding her drawing out to you with a shy grin.

It was a drawing of you. More specifically, of you sitting right in front of her, the little splotches of color from your own paper captured in her sketch. Even though there were other kids behind you, you were the only person in the drawing.

Your eyes widened as you looked between her and the paper. She was about to speak when one of the workers called your name, announcing it was bath time. Disappointment washed over you. Surely she would find someone more interesting after this.

You gathered your drawing, but her warm hand enveloped yours completely, stopping you. Your eyes met her green ones.

"Can we trade?" she asked, smiling softly as she looked down at the paper in your hands.

You weren't attached to your drawing. You had messed up the lines far too many times for it to look like anything, and it wasn't anywhere near what she had made. But you found yourself nodding shyly before you could think twice.

She swapped the papers but kept her hand on top of yours, holding it there for a moment. "See you later, alligator," she said gently. Her eyes didn't waver, and somehow, you believed her.

"See you," you whispered.

Her hand finally released yours. You hopped off the plastic chair and walked across the room toward the worker. You looked back, fully prepared to see her talking to another kid. Instead, you found her watching you leave with delicate affection in her eyes.

She started coming every other day. Sometimes she wore her backpack, arriving straight from school. On colder days, she would stop at the coat rack to hang her jacket. But despite those little differences, her searching for you was a constant. She would locate you with a single glance, walking over quickly with a bright smile that lit up the room.

You always ignored her for the first few minutes while she told you about her day. She would join you in whatever you were doing, even if you were just sitting silently outside, staring at the sky. At first, she sat an arm's length away. But as the months went on, the distance closed. And your heart opened.

You remember the first time you sought her out. It was right after a nap with the other kids your age. Bad dreams had plagued you—memories of the friends who had left, telling you that you would never be loved. You had gripped the front of your oversized shirt with small hands, your chest aching because you believed them. Tears streamed down your cheeks, even as you tried to swipe them away with the back of your hand.

It was then that she showed up. The door opened just a crack so the hallway light wouldn't flood the dark room. You could recognize her silhouette easily by that point. Shimmying out of your blankets, you quietly stepped over the other kids, your vision blurred with tears.

You remember her surprised face. Her eyes widened when she saw you standing right in front of her, forcing her to look down. Your fingers curled into the denim of her jeans while you sniffled. She crouched down, her eyebrows furrowed with worry as she brushed the tears off your cheeks with her thumbs.

"What's wrong, baby?" she whispered, keeping her voice low so she wouldn't wake anyone.

You shook your head, staring at her with shiny eyes. You let go of her jeans and lifted your arms. She scooped you up immediately, rocking you back and forth. Holding one hand against the back of your head, she pressed your cheek into her shoulder. You breathed in. The comforting scent of sweet flowers, like the ones that grew by the swing set outside, washed over your senses.

More bright memories formed after that, multiplying over the weeks. You started talking a little more, telling her what you planned to draw. You sought her out whenever your shoes were untied. When you watched the sky, you sat in her lap instead of leaving that empty space between you.

In the picture books you read, the mom was always there for her child, whether they were sad or happy. Always wiping away tears after a bad dream. Always listening to them talk, even if it was nonsense about nothing at all.

Just like she did for you.

You remembered when one of the other kids got fostered. Their foster parents had come to pick them up from the facility, and the way the new mother beamed when the child called her "Mommy" always stuck with you.

Wanting to see that same look on her face, you walked up to her the next day just like you had after your nightmare. You tugged on the hem of her shirt to make her look down, tilting your chin to meet her smiling eyes.

"Hi, mommy," you said quietly, your voice shy.

Her eyes widened. Tears immediately began to shine in them before she scooped you up, hugging you tightly. She held you like that for a long time, her breathing shaky against your shoulder. You remember wondering if you had done something wrong. But then she spoke, her voice watery and thick with emotion.

"If only I were older... more stable..." she whispered, her voice shaking. "Then I could take you away from this place."

You hadn't understood why she was crying. She didn't have to take you away from there. You were happy as long as she came to visit. You thought it would last forever.

After that day, you became her precious baby. She would call you that every time she greeted you. She started staying past her volunteer hours, right up until the moment you had to go to sleep. The farewell was always the same.

"See you later, alligator."

"Bye-bye, mommy."

She would smile brightly whenever you called her that, as if you had given her the greatest gift in the world. Holding hands while walking, sitting in her lap while she read to you, her pushing you on the swings. They were pure, happy memories.

But the sunny days ended abruptly.

A couple who had visited you a few weeks prior appeared out of nowhere one afternoon. You had assumed they would choose someone else, since they had stopped talking to you weeks ago. Instead, they walked up to you with small smiles that didn't reach their eyes and told you that you were leaving with them.

She wasn't there that day. You never got to say goodbye. All you had from her was the drawings she'd trade with you that you begged to take with you.

You were in another state by the next day. In a spacious new apartment, a new room, a new school. You tried to be grateful for it all, but your foster parents weren't parents. You would try to get their attention, showing them your grades or asking for help, but their polite, distant smiles made you realize something quickly. The love you had read about in picture books wouldn't be found here.

It was more of an arrangement of convenience. They received money from the state for fostering you, and they got to look like a complete family from the outside. Even after they adopted you once the six month period passed, inside the home, you were just a guest.

That's how you lived for the next twelve years until you became an adult. And for the two years after that, you were on your own, refusing to accept their charity anymore.

Frankly, it wasn't something you chose to reminisce on. The ache in your chest from remembering her, from never being able to see her again, would always feel too painful.

But it's the green eyes in front of you that had been awakening these memories lately.

"Hi, honey, not too busy today?" Wanda asks, pulling an array of fruits and vegetables from her reusable bag and placing them onto the conveyor belt.

You pick up a package of cherry tomatoes, scan it, and set it to the side. "No, not today. It's been pretty quiet," you respond, continuing to scan the rest of the items.

You make a conscious effort to keep your head down, not wanting her to see the excitement on your face from her arrival.

You met Wanda a few weeks ago when you first started this job as a checkout clerk. It fits into your university class schedule well and pays decently because of the nicer neighborhood it's located in.

Your first day had been horrendous. In the last few minutes of your shift, a customer began complaining about their total, claiming they had a coupon that should reduce the price significantly. You tried scanning the coupon they held out, but it came back invalid every single time. Even when you tried to explain the situation calmly, they began to raise their voice until everyone in the front of the store was looking your way.

Situations like these have never been easy for you. You hated being the center of attention. You hoped they would just get it out of their system, pay, and leave so you could go home, but they wouldn't budge.

It wasn't until a voice came from behind them that the situation resolved itself.

"If you can't afford it, then just say so and move on so the rest of us can have our turn."

You craned your head back, meeting a pair of green eyes that you could swear you've seen before. It reminded you instantly of the volunteer who doted on you when you were still at the facility. But this woman had reddish-orange hair and no accent in her voice.

The customer's face turned beet red. They finally tapped their card against the reader, grabbed their bags, and walked away muttering under their breath.

The woman stared the customer down all the way until they exited the sliding glass doors. The moment she looked back at you, her expression instantly softened into something bright.

"I'm sorry you have to deal with customers like that, sweetheart. I don't think I've seen you here before. I'm Wanda. What's your name?"

There was something about the cadence of her voice that made your heart beat faster. The array of crayons on the small table back at the facility immediately came to mind. You quickly shook the thought off when she gazed at you expectantly.

You introduced yourself shyly, admitting it was your first day.

It took off from there.

Wanda visited a few times a week on random days, except for Fridays, which were a constant. You'd share short conversations with her. She'd stay longer sometimes on days where there was no line, chatting about her own time in university and letting you vent about stuck-up professors

Thankfully, today is Friday.

Unfortunately, you're exhausted from classes and your roommates being loud in the living room. It was taking everything in you to not close your eyes. The sunlight glinting off the cars in the parking lot were simultaneously blinding you and keeping you awake, but it was getting harder to keep your shoulders upright.

You take a breath, forcing a smile onto your face when you notice Wanda helping pack her groceries. You've reminded her over and over that this is part of what you're paid to do, but she never listens.

"They might replace you with me at this rate," you say jokingly, the tiredness dulling the inflections in your voice.

Wanda looks up from one of the bags, raising a brow. "Then would you be the customer?"

You huff out a little laugh. "This grocery store is a bit out of my price range."

"Then that arrangement won't do," she responds with a small smile, looking back down. "How else would I see you and that shy smile?"

Your gaze drops down to the scanner, heat rising up your neck to your cheeks and ears.

"See?" Wanda points out, laughing brightly.

Suddenly, her voice drops into something quieter. "Are you sleeping enough, darling?" she asks, gathering her bags nonchalantly. You see her peering at you when she thinks you don't notice.

Don't bother her with your problems, the rational part of you reminds you. It was one thing to complain about professors. It was a whole other thing to tell her about your living situation.

"I slept enough," you respond, meeting her gaze with a smile that doesn't reach your eyes.

She stares at you, scanning your face carefully before giving you a quick smile, like she's thought of something satisfactory.

"Do you get off soon?" she asks, glancing at the watch resting on her left wrist.

You glance at the register screen, finding that you're almost at the finish line.

"I only have around ten more minutes." You breathe out a sigh of relief.

She looks to the side for a moment, nervously biting her lower lip.

You can't help but find her beautiful with the way the sunlight shining in splays perfectly across her face. She's wearing a plain blue blouse and white trousers. No logos. No heavy gold rings or designer bags like the women who usually patronize this neighborhood. Just a silver watch on her left wrist. That modesty was one of the things that had made it easier for you to talk to her.

"I know your parents probably told you not to follow strangers. But hopefully, I'm not a stranger at this point," she starts, speaking quickly. "Would you like to take a walk with me after this at the park across the street? I saw there were a few food trucks, so maybe we could grab an early dinner?"

Frankly, your parents hadn't told you much of anything. You had figured out how to navigate the world on your own. But Wanda isn't a stranger, and the park across the street is always crowded. You wouldn't be in any danger. Perhaps it was naive of you, but with Wanda, you never felt afraid. Just her presence made you feel safe.

The prospect of spending more than a few minutes with her makes something in your chest flutter. It's a feeling you haven't felt since you were six years old.

"O-okay," you stutter, mentally cursing yourself for the slip.

Wanda beams at you, adjusting the bags of groceries hanging on her wrists. "I'll be waiting outside for you, honey. Take your time coming out," she calls out, already turning around and walking out the door.

You watch her walk away before finally turning back to the register. You stare down at the scanner in front of you. Your bottom lip finds its way between your teeth, but it doesn't stop the smile forming on your lips.

The sound of footsteps approaching cuts the moment short. You quickly smooth down the front of your apron, erasing the smile from your face before looking up to meet the next customer a few paces away.

"Next," you call out politely.

—

You step out into the parking lot, squinting against the blinding rays. Lifting your arms, you stretch your tight shoulders and release a yawn. Your t-shirt rides up with the motion, the hem resting just above your belly button before you finally let your arms drop.

Looking around, you find Wanda leaning against her car a few paces away. She's already staring in your direction, but her gaze is low. It takes a few steps in her direction before she finally glances up, her eyes widening slightly before she quickly slaps a smile onto her face.

"Ready to go, darling?" she asks, her voice a bit breathless.

You adjust your bag hanging on your shoulder before responding. "All set."

It's a quiet, comfortable walk across the street. You and Wanda stroll between the food trucks, pointing out options before ultimately deciding on sandwiches. Wanda pays for the food before you even have a chance to unzip your wallet.

"I-I could've paid for my own food," you mumble, a stubborn pout forming on your lips.

You both take a seat on an open bench facing the pond. Wanda turns her torso toward you, her expression softening into something you can't quite name. There's a distant sadness in her eyes that doesn't match the small smile on her face.

Before you can think to look away, she reaches out and pinches your cheek gently between her index finger and thumb.

"Let's just say I wanted to treat you. I'm the one who invited you out, after all," she says gently.

Her hand falls away, but her fingers linger close for a moment. Her gaze remains locked on your face, watching you quietly, as if she's studying you.

You stare back at her, your eyes wide. The familiarity of the gesture has your mind racing, your thoughts rushing straight to the one person you could never forget. You never allowed anyone to touch your face like this. Even when friends tried to do it jokingly, you always flinched away. It felt like if you allowed anyone else to repeat the gesture, you would start forgetting her. The memory of the first person who loved you.

Wanda isn't her, you chastise yourself internally.

Your heart twists sharply in your chest. A wave of guilt washes over you, eating away at your stomach just for letting Wanda cross that line without a fight.

But for some reason, it didn't feel uncomfortable. Usually, when others even reached for your face, you felt a wave of unease. If anything, Wanda's touch felt like coming home. The realization makes your heart ache—you don't want the volunteer to fade from your memory.

You look down at the bench, focusing on the arm's length of distance separating you two. The sandwiches she bought sit untouched between you. For a few long moments, the chatter of people walking by the pond fades into background noise as your thoughts consume you.

It isn't until Wanda speaks that you finally snap out of it.

"I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable, darling," she starts quietly. Her expression looks distant, as if she's watching old memories float past.

You open your mouth to tell her the truth, that it didn't make you uncomfortable at all, but she continues, forcing your jaw to snap shut so you can hear her clearly.

"There's someone I've been missing for a very long time. Your smile and that cute pout... they remind me of her so much," she whispers, meeting your eyes with a sad smile. "She would be your age by now. Sometimes I wonder what she's doing. If she's eating okay, if she's receiving the love she deserves... if she still remembers me. But I always hope she's happy, even if that happiness didn't come from me."

The ache in Wanda's voice is almost palpable. It makes your chest tighten in the same way it does whenever you let yourself look back at the past.

Wanda's expression suddenly morphs into a grimace. "Maybe this is just me easing my own guilt. I'm sorry if this is bothersome, sweetheart. It must be weird, being compared to someone you've never met. But talking to you recently... it's been making me think of her more."

Her eyes widen suddenly, her posture stiffening as her voice turns frantic.

"That's not why I've been talking to you, though!" she exclaims, her voice rising enough to draw a glance from a passing couple. "I love our conversations. Genuinely. Seeing you so tired today just made me want to do something to help, even if it wasn't much."

You look out at the pond, watching the light breeze track ripples across the surface.

So she's missing someone too, you think.

The realization eases the guilt churning in your stomach. The puzzle pieces fit together now. The comfort and protection you only ever found from one person—the most important person in your life—had suddenly reappeared in a matter of weeks through Wanda. It makes sense now.

Wanda reminds you of her.

Secretly, you've known this all along. Probably from the very moment you locked eyes with her at the register.

You're not replacing her. The thought immediately making your frantic mind rest. She'll always be your mommy.

You and Wanda are just finding comfort in each other.

"Can we keep meeting like this?" you ask shyly, turning your head toward her. You let your eyes drift up to the sky. "There's someone I've been missing too. When I talk to you, I feel like I remember her more clearly."

You let your gaze drop back to Wanda's face. She's staring at you, her green eyes bright, as if she's looking right at a memory.

"Of course," she breathes.

You shift on the bench, scooting a little bit closer to her. It reminds you of when you were younger—the distance closing slowly, piece by piece.

—

You step into your shared apartment, barely sparing a glance at the kitchen counter littered with dirty plates and utensils. You make your way down the hall, feeling the heavy bass of music vibrating from beneath one of your roommates' doors.

Closing your bedroom door, you lean your back against it and finally breathe out. You let your bag drop to the floor, the heavy thud of it barely audible over the noise outside.

Reaching up, you let your fingertips brush slowly across your cheekbone. You can still feel the lingering warmth from where Wanda’s hand had cupped your face before you parted ways. Her eyes had locked onto yours for a long second before she finally turned around.

You can't help but wonder who it is that she's missing so desperately. But you didn't want to ask. You know that if she threw the question back at you, you would have a hard time answering.

How do you explain to a woman you just met recently that you miss a teenage volunteer from fourteen years ago? How do you explain that you still can't forget her? It would be like admitting to Wanda that she reminds you of the only person you ever viewed as a mother.

You walk across the small, cold space of your room and pull open the bottom drawer of your desk. Reaching inside, you run your fingertips across the rough, waxy lines of the papers hidden at the bottom.

All of her drawings are stored here. Some are messy pieces you had colored together. Most are the clean, detailed sketches drawn just by her.

You miss her so much it aches. The parallels between her and Wanda are almost eerie, pulling your heart in entirely different directions.

But it's exactly that conflict that makes you want to see Wanda again. You want to feel that safety you haven't felt since you were six years old.

You pick up the very first drawing she ever gave you. The sketch of you sitting and drawing at the table.

"Is this okay, mommy?" you whisper into the quiet room, the memory of her smiling green eyes flashing behind your eyelids. Wanda's face appears for a split second before fading away.

—

You start meeting with Wanda every Friday after your shift. She's always waiting for you, leaning against her car, her smile dazzling the moment she notices you.

The second time you meet, she takes you to a cute bakery down the street. You've noticed the inviting exterior before, but knowing the area, you knew it would be far out of your budget. Wanda doesn't let you pay, even when you try handing the barista your card. She just glances at you, raising a single brow. Your arm automatically lowers, and Wanda pays anyway.

It reminds you instantly of the look She would give you when you tried to avoid bedtime at the facility, just wanting to spend more time with her. You would automatically listen back then, wanting to be her obedient baby.

With Wanda, you get to experience many of the things you never could in the city. A flaky, buttery croissant at the bakery. A French restaurant you always wanted to try but could never get a reservation for even if you could afford it. Even just sitting peacefully on the park bench. You're always in a rush, jumping from classes to work, then back home to study. This is the first time you've truly gotten to take in the city you've lived in for fourteen years.

You and Wanda always end up at the park, no matter where you go first. You sit on the same bench in front of the pond. It's where you have the deep conversations that aren't just about university or daily life. It's there that you find out Wanda is the chairwoman for a massive charity—one even you've heard of. She tells you it was something she always wanted to do. To do something meaningful with her life.

The phrasing is so familiar. You remember Her saying the exact same thing. It makes you look at Wanda differently. The passing interest you had because of her looks and her similarities to the person you miss, growing into something much greater with every meeting.

It's your third meeting when you learn more about the person she's missing. You make a passing comment without really thinking. It's only then that you realize how much more willing you're to speak lately, usually being so reserved.

"When I was a kid, I used to think all ducks were yellow," you recount, your voice airy from reminiscing. "Then I found out only the ducklings are."

You let out a little giggle. Staring at the ducks slowly crossing the pond with little ducklings following behind, you think of the yellow duck drawing you made the day you first traded drawings. Your feet swing back and forth beneath the bench, your fingers curled tightly over the front edge of the wood.

It's a few moments before the heavy silence really hits you. You turn your head to look at Wanda. She's staring straight ahead at the pond. You track her eyes, finding that she's fixed on the tiny ducklings trailing behind the mother duck.

Her voice is shaky when she finally speaks.

"My precious baby thought the same thing," she says, a watery smile stretching across her face.

Precious baby.

You close your eyes, biting the inside of your mouth to stop the emotions threatening to surface. You haven't heard that phrase in fourteen years. Her smiling face immediately comes to mind—the way she would look down at you, crouching to be at eye level before gently stroking your cheek.

"My precious baby."

You always loved it when she called you that. Your lips would immediately curve into a wide grin before you called her your mommy.

Remembering it makes your heart ache for Wanda. From what she's told you, it seems she had to let go of someone she loved, just like you did.

You scooch a bit closer to Wanda, though a sliver of distance still remains between you. As you move, the scent of sweet flowers suddenly washes over your senses.

The swing set. Your cheek pressed against her shoulder.

Your head snaps up, looking for the source, but the tree branches above you just sway gently. It must be the breeze, you think wryly.

But it's that familiar, comforting scent that gives you the confidence.

You reach out, your fingers gently tugging on the hem of Wanda's blouse.

She turns to you. Her green eyes are wide, glimmering with unshed tears, and her mouth is slightly agape. She looks at you as if she's staring straight at a ghost from her past. You figure she must be reminiscing just like you are.

"I'm sure she's out there thriving," you say, your voice adamant despite the slight tremble of your shyness.

Wanda holds her gaze on you, not saying a word. You peer up at the sky, anxiousness setting in the longer she stays silent. Maybe you shouldn't have said anything.

It's only when you feel Wanda's warm palm settle against your cheek that you meet her eyes again. Her expression is soft, her lips curved into a gentle smile. But it's the delicate affection in her green eyes that makes your heart jump. It's how you know she's only looking at you, completely tuning out the crowds of people sitting on the grass and walking by the pond.

Her thumb brushes your cheekbone before tracing lower, brushing slowly against your bottom lip instead.

You feel her movement freeze suddenly. The affection in her eyes remains, but you can see a layer of guilt churning just beneath the surface. She pulls her thumb away from your lip but keeps her palm resting against your cheek.

"I'm sure she is," Wanda whispers. Her voice sounds hopeful, but it's swirling with an array of heavy emotions you can't decipher.

—

With every meeting, you and Wanda only become closer.

Sometimes you’d catch her staring at you in your peripheral vision whenever you looked up at the sky. Watching the clouds drift by and finding shapes in them had become a habit again, just like when you were younger. On clear days, letting the blue expanse amaze you cleared your mind.

You figure that maybe the person Wanda misses used to do the same. The first time you noticed her doing that, you’d honestly felt a bit uncomfortable, but a mixture of guilt lay within that as well.

Because you weren't the person she was thinking of. Maybe seeing you was hurting her more.

It wasn't like you couldn't relate.

After the day Wanda had brushed your lip with her thumb, her touches became more constant. Sometimes she’d rub away the crumbs at the corner of your mouth after you ate a pastry. Sometimes she’d run her fingers through your hair and carefully move stray strands out of your face. Sometimes, when you were sharing a funny customer interaction, her hand would land on your thigh, squeezing it gently as she laughed.

Shame would creep up your neck when your body reacted. You’d press your thighs together, trying to ignore the ache settling in your lower stomach. Your chest warmed from the familiar, comforting touch that you'd only experienced from Her, but now you were feeling the exact same way from Wanda.

Some days, you felt like you were betraying the person you had been forced to leave behind. Even after you were fostered, you had never found that same love. It was a rare, safe feeling that you had reserved just for Her.

But here you were, opening your heart up in the exact same way to someone else.

It was a constant push and pull. You keep reminding yourself that Wanda is a completely different person. They just happen to be similar. You weren't replacing Her. You refuse to.

And it wasn't like you could just walk away from Wanda now. Even in the short period of time you've known her, you've become deeply attached. You sought Wanda out whenever you needed advice, had questions about your university classes, or really just wanted to talk about anything at all. She listened every single time, even when the things you said didn't make much sense or lead anywhere.

Wanda's touch was always kind, but slowly, it began to cross the blurry boundaries between you two. Her hand began to linger higher up your thigh, holding it there and squeezing occasionally. You remembered the intense heat burning through your skin the first time she did it. But whenever you looked up at her, her green eyes were always full of that same gentle, consuming affection.

Sometimes when she looked into your eyes in these moments, her gaze would immediately avert, her lips curving downward like she was upset with herself. She'd blink a few times, her eyes brightening more with every blink before she'd look at you again and let her fingers curve around your thigh confidently.

You know this desire you feel for Wanda is twisted. Wanda reminded you of the only mother figure you had in your life. But, you like Wanda, and being around her feels like you're creating memories that you should've had with Her.

—

It's a month and a half later when you first slip up and tell Wanda a little bit about Her.

You're sitting on the park bench like usual, your arm pressed against Wanda's. You and Wanda had started a book series together. Wanda had the second volume in her hand, reading aloud to you. Your head slowly drifted to the side until it landed on Wanda's shoulder.

You noticed you'd been doing this more often, subconsciously, finding comfort in Wanda whether it be emotionally or physically.

You could hear the smile in her voice as she continued reading. Birds chirped in the distance. Children giggled behind you. But Wanda's voice drowned them all out. It reminded you of sitting outside with Her in front of the swing sets, sitting in her lap as she read one of your picture books to you while pointing at the pictures she liked. You found yourself speaking before you could even think to stop.

"This reminds me of when I was a kid," you murmur wistfully, closing your eyes.

"Did someone else use to read for you?" Wanda asks, her voice unusually tight.

You nod softly, your cheek swishing against her shoulder. "Mhm," you confirm, your voice relaxed. "My mo—"

Your eyes widen. Your posture straightens out. Gnawing lightly on your bottom lip, you look away. You've never talked about Her with anyone before. It felt sacred, like something that was just for you. Your hand tightens around the front of your shirt.

It's confusing. All these habits you used to have starting to come back since you met Wanda.

Wanda’s hand envelops yours, her touch gentle but firm as she coaxes your fingers to release the fabric of your shirt. Sliding her palm against yours, she interlocks your fingers together. She rubs her thumb in slow circles against the back of your hand.

"It's okay if you don't want to talk about the person you miss," she starts slowly. "But if you do... I'm always here, darling." You turn your head automatically, wanting to see Wanda's face that always manages to comfort you.

You don't know how she knew who you were talking about. It feels like Wanda is able to read you with a single glance. It makes you a bit anxious if she can see the feelings you have for her that are muddied by your past.

You meet Wanda's eyes. She's looking at you with an aching softness that you can feel in your bones. Your shoulders droop, melting at the comforting warmth coming from her hand.

Tears glisten in your eyes despite yourself.

It's confusing.

The complicated, messy feelings swirling inside you. There's the intense comfort you're receiving from Wanda, slammed right against the terrifying feeling that you're somehow betraying Her.

But you find your fingers tightening, squeezing Wanda's hand anyway. The motion reminds you instantly of when you used to swing Her hand back and forth while walking around the playground. You tilt your chin up, trying to stop the tears threatening to spill over your lashes.

You hear Wanda inhale shakily. Maybe this is too troublesome for her, you think, trying even harder to rein in your rogue emotions.

Suddenly, Wanda pulls you in closer by your interlocked hands. Her free hand rises to rest firmly against your cheek, her fingers spanning your jaw as she tilts your face up to force you to look at her.

"It's okay to cry," she whispers, her tone incredibly low and soothing. "My baby."

Your eyes widen, a wave of panic hitting you. You know Wanda is probably just seeing someone else in you. You know you shouldn't be letting her call you that. Only one person was ever allowed to use that title.

But you don't stop her.

Instead, a consuming warmth blooms from your chest and outwards. You squeeze her hand tighter. Her thumb brushes slowly against your lips as she gazes down at your mouth. You expect her to freeze like she usually does after a few moments. For the guilt to make her pull away.

But this time, she just continues.

—

Every time you come back to your apartment after meeting Wanda, you always go straight to your desk. You pull out the bottom drawer, running your fingers along the rough, waxy lines of the crayon sketches.

The guilt is starting to ease the longer you meet with her.

This isn't you replacing her, you remind yourself, staring down at the stack of drawings. You're finding something else in Wanda.

You try to ignore the nagging question in your head—the one threatening to shatter the fragile resolution you've finally found.

But what is it that you're finding in Wanda, then?

—

You're sitting on the park bench with Wanda. Your legs are stretched across her lap, your hand locked firmly in hers. Her other hand rests on your knee, her fingers pressed against the bare skin of your inner thigh.

She's telling you about her day while you listen silently, absorbing every word. Your gaze tracks the ducklings as they follow the mother duck across the surface of the pond. Something about the scene makes you speak up suddenly, cutting Wanda off right in the middle of her sentence.

"—and then he told the staff that he knew me, and that I would—"

"Wanda," you interject.

Her eyes widen, her mouth parting slightly as she turns to look at you. You're normally polite, always staying quiet and listening intently until she finishes her thoughts.

"Yes, baby?" she responds, her voice soft but clearly confused by the interruption.

You turn your head toward her. Your heart hammers against your ribs, the sudden rush of adrenaline making your throat tight as the question finally slips past your lips.

"What are we doing?"

She tilts her head, her expression full of feigned confusion, but her eyes tell you everything. She knows exactly what you're referring to.

"We're spending time together," she says with a light chuckle. She brings your joined hands up to her mouth, pressing a soft kiss against the back of your hand.

"I… I know that," you start, your confidence beginning to wane. "I just mean..."

You trail off. You can't bring yourself to say it out loud. You can't ask if she's projecting, or tell her that she somehow makes you feel the exact same safety your mommy did while you also crave a romantic connection. Instead, you just freeze under her gaze, your lower lip trembling slightly.

Wanda leans in closer to you. Her hand slides higher up your thigh until her index finger rests right in the deep crevice where your leg meets your hip. Your breath hitches when she taps her finger in slow, rhythmic beats against the sensitive skin there.

"I know I shouldn't feel this way," she starts. Her face showing the conflicting, messy emotions that are churning inside you. "Not when you remind me..."

She trails off, refusing to finish the sentence. Her lips curve into a soft, vulnerable smile.

"But being with you brings me so much joy," she whispers, her thumb grazing your hip. "I love when you get crumbs all over your lips and I have to brush them away for you. I love when your feet swing under the bench when you're happy. I love hearing your little ramblings. Can that just be enough for now?"

She looks at you, her green eyes wide, desperate, and hopeful.

"Being with you makes me happy too," you admit in a whisper.

Wanda beams at you, the warmth of her hand making your own lips curve upward as well.

Suddenly, a sharp vibration buzzes against your side. You pull out your phone, finding a new text message from your parents. They've been reaching out more often lately. Something about wanting to make up for the time they should've spent being real parents to you.

Are you okay for rent this month? We can send money if you need. Let's meet sometime to catch up over a meal.

You release a tired sigh as you read the text from your adoptive dad.

"Everything okay?" Wanda asks, her voice tinged with worry.

You lock your phone screen without responding to him, looking up with a small smile that falls flat. "Everything's okay," you respond, trying to keep your tone bright. "It's just my parents."

Wanda's hand tightens around your upper thigh suddenly, making you jolt slightly on the bench.

"Did they need something?" Wanda asks.

Her voice is colder than you've ever heard it. The gentle, soft lines of her face are completely gone, her lips pulled into a rigid line.

"Yeah..." you start slowly, still in shock from the sudden shift. "They were just checking to see if I have enough for rent. And... if I want to meet up for a meal."

Her fingers tighten even more against your skin, making a sudden swarm of butterflies erupt in your lower stomach. You try to look away, but Wanda releases your joined hands, bringing her palm up to scoop your jaw and tilt your chin back up.

Her eyes are incredibly dark as she stares down at you. You know you should probably feel afraid of the intensity radiating off her, but instead, the butterflies morph into a low, throbbing ache that makes you shift slightly.

"If you don't have enough for rent, then I can take care of it," she says. Her gaze never wavers, making you realize she's dead serious.

You release a shaky laugh. "I'm okay for rent, Wanda. I promise."

"Then are you meeting them for a meal?" she asks quickly, her tone demanding as she watches your eyes intently.

You shake your head as much as you can while she holds your face in her palm. "No. There's no need to," you start, a wry smile pulling at your lips before you grin up at her. "I'd rather eat with you."

You wonder if she knows just how true that is.

Her tight grip finally releases on your face and your thigh. She uses her thumb to softly stroke the skin of your chin where she had held a little too hard. Before you can even blink, she leans down, pressing a lingering kiss against your chin before pulling back with a thoroughly satisfied smile.

"I'll have to take you somewhere nice then," she says simply, the warmth returning to her voice.

She pinches your cheek lightly between her index finger and thumb. Your eyes close automatically, your head leaning heavily into her hand at the familiar gesture.

You both sit there like that for a long while. Her hand remains resting on your thigh, while her other hand releases the soft skin of your cheek, pressing her warm palm against your face instead. You giggle brightly when the tiny ducklings try to snuggle up against the mother duck's feathers.

Wanda chuckles beside you, her thumb stroking your cheek delicately like you're something precious.

"What's funny, baby?" Wanda's voice raises a pitch, like the way you naturally do when you're speaking to a child. But for some reason, it doesn't bother you. It reminds you of Her and the way her voice would brighten when she'd see you.

You turn your head, giving Wanda a cute, little smile without really thinking about your words.

"They look like us."

Her eyes soften immediately, and she leans forward to press her lips softly against your cheek. "They do," she agrees, pulling back just enough to give you a smile filled with pure affection.

You both stare at the pond for a while, until Wanda glances down at her watch. You hear her take in a sharp breath before she finally releases your face. Her hand slides away from your inner thigh, leaving a sudden, chilling patch of cold skin behind.

"I'm sorry, baby, but I have to go now," she says quickly, though the profound softness remains in her voice.

Your lips instantly jut out in a pout. You move your legs off her lap, shifting on the wooden bench so you're sitting properly again. "Okay," you respond, your voice quiet and tinged with sadness. "I'll see you next time."

You force a wide smile onto your face, desperately reminding your frantic mind that you'll see her again soon.

She stands up, turning around to give you one last bright smile. "See you later, alligator," she says, her voice raised to that higher pitch again.

"Bye-bye, mommy," you respond automatically, waving your hand at her.

It's only when Wanda takes a few slow steps down the gravel path that your blood turns to ice.

Wanda freezes, suddenly coming to a stop. It feels like everything around you has paused, only Wanda's motions continuing. She turns around slowly to face you.

"S-Sorry," you stutter, your pulse hammering in your throat making your mouth turn dry. "I don't know why I said that."

She stares at you. Her green eyes are blown wide, her mouth agape as she looks at you with breathless intensity.

"Are you—"

"Moya lyubov, I'm here to pick you up," a raspy voice sounds from right behind Wanda.

Wanda's mouth freezes, but she doesn't turn around, her eyes staying on you. Your heart is beating erratically, the pounding of it almost making your ribs ache.

"Wanda?" the voice asks, but she still doesn't move, like her gaze can't leave your body.

You lean forward slightly, meeting a pair of green eyes, slightly more vibrant than Wanda's. Her hair color is similar to Wanda's, but this woman wears a power suit, nothing like the comfortable, modest clothing you see Wanda wear.

The woman walks past Wanda to you, shaking Wanda out of her stupor.

"Natash—"

"Hi, you must be the one that Wanda's been talking about," the woman starts. "I'm Natasha. Wanda's wife." Natasha lifts her hand up to you for a handshake.

Your hand lifts automatically, though it feels like your mind has gone completely blank. You shake her hand, her firm grip doing nothing to bring you back to reality.

Wife? you think frantically.

Your gaze darts down to Wanda's left hand, tracking a gold band resting on her ring finger. A ring you're absolutely certain you've never seen on her hand before today.

Then what was all of this? Eating together at restaurants, sitting side by side. Holding hands at farmer's markets because Wanda didn't want you to get lost. All the conversations you've had here a this bench.

Natasha's hand continues to hold yours in a firm grip. She scans your face, observing you closely.

"I can see why Wanda is so taken with you," she says with a small smile, though there's something else brewing behind her eyes.

You look past her to Wanda. Her eyes are wide, her face pale, like she's been caught in a terrible lie.

But Natasha knows about you. Wanda's talked to her about you.

You look back at Natasha. She doesn't look angry. Rather, she looks down at you with pity in her eyes, her lips pulled downward. The betrayal you expect to see on her face, replaced by something else entirely, sends your mind into a blur.

"What…" you start, your voice barely a whisper.

What did you just get yourself into? —

you stir the batter in the bowl more vigorously than before. this was the third time you had tried to perfect the consistency. it either had lumps impossible to beat, or was too runny to pour onto the hot skillet. normally, pancake batter wouldn’t hold so much importance, but today, you needed this one thing to go right.

last night, you’d been tossing and turning through most of the evening. when the sun started to peak through the curtains of your bedroom, you sighed and quietly slipped out of bed, abandoning all hope of feeling rested.

today, your boss’s boss and several colleagues were visiting the office. as office manager, any shortcomings from your team had a way of becoming your responsibility. the thought alone made your stomach curl. handling failure has never been one of your strengths.

lost in thought, your whisk scraping loudly against the porcelain bowl, you accidentally splash yourself with some of the batter. you hardly notice as you stare straight ahead out the glass window in the kitchen. bacon sizzling on the stove next to you pops in protest, being left on one side for too long.

“shit.” you mutter to yourself, setting the bowl to the side. you grab a pair of tongs, flipping the pieces of bacon you had haphazardly lined the pan with. you scrub a hand over your face, trying to take a deep, regulating breath.

“i see my busy bee is already buzzing this morning.” you hear a voice, still raspy from sleep, ring from the entryway to the kitchen. you turn, your face a little flushed as you’re faced with your favorite pair of sage green eyes.

“i’m sorry, did i wake you?” you ask. suddenly, you feel a little self conscious about the mess coloring the counters. not to mention, you’re sure your face is a clear reflection of your current state.

“yes, but i don’t mind.” wanda shuffles closer to you when you make no move to close the gap. her hands find your waist with easy recollection. she holds you steady—you didn’t realize your body was nearly vibrating before. her thumbs stroke you through your pajama shirt. you look at her, feeling something tug in your chest at the way she looks at you. she studies you carefully. you try to mask the worry and stress on your face, offering a small smile that doesn’t quite reach your eyes.

“you know..” wanda starts, reaching up to wipe away some wayward flour that was caked onto your cheeks and chin. “breakfast is usually my job.” her hand returns to your waist, pulling you an inch closer. you exhale shakily. something about the warmth of her body pulls you from your thoughts.

“i like to do it sometimes.” you insist, reaching behind you for a cup meant to pour the pancake batter onto the pan. wanda regards you for a moment and then releases your waist. she grabs the cup from your unsuspecting hands.

“i’ll help.” she says, and the way she says it leaves no room for argument. she steps around you, taking your place in front of the stove. you stare at her back, swaying on your toes.

“wanda, you really don’t need to help.” you step closer so you’re shoulder to shoulder.

“and you don’t need to make breakfast. sometimes we do things we don’t have to do.” she pours generous sized circles of batter onto the heated pan. they sizzle, smoke rising off them. she reaches for the temperature knob, turning the heat down.

you exhale through your nose and step aside, bumping your shoulder lightly against wanda’s before reaching for the coffee mugs instead.

“do you think ‘tasha will be up soon?” you ask as you place a coffee pod into the machine. you’re the only one who uses the flavored pods—wanda and natasha prefer the plain coffee grounds.

“she was starting to wake up when i left the room.” wanda replies, flipping the pancakes. you nod, getting a third mug out of the cabinet.

as if on cue, you hear natasha’s footsteps coming down the hall, always louder when her body is heavy with sleepiness.

“it’s 6AM.” natasha grumbles, her eyes squint to adjust to both the sun streaming through the open window and the kitchen lights you had turned on when you first started making breakfast. she looks so soft standing there that guilt tugs at your chest for waking them both.

“the sun is coming up?” you offer, your shoulders shrugging. she can read the guilt creeping into your expression. she scrubs her hands over her tired face.

“come here.” she holds her hands out in front of her. you abandon your spot in front of the coffee maker, padding into her open arms. she gathers you against her with the same practiced familiarity as wanda. the embrace is heavier though, drawing you closer.

“you were tossing and turning most of the night. you wanna talk about it?” her hands glide lower down your back, her hands warm even through your pajamas.

you shake your head. “no, i’m okay. or i will be later …maybe.” you shrug. you look off to the side, suddenly finding a spot on your wrist very interesting.

you feel her hands tighten around your hips until you’re suddenly being lifted into the air, your bum now resting against the cold granite top counter. you shiver at the unexpected temperature difference. you cross your ankles, but natasha steps between your legs before you can, her palms resting flat against your bare thighs.

“you’re not wiggling out of this that easily, little bee.” her voice is firm, but there’s a softness to her eyes that tells you she’s not actually upset. “you’re stressed about the people visiting your work today.” it’s not a question. you frown, squirming under her close observation. “talk to me. what’s going on in that head of yours?” her finger gently pokes at your forehead.

you look at natasha through your lashes, your eyes darting to wanda who still has her back to you as she wraps up breakfast. you watch her plate the food and your stomach almost turns at the sight. you’re really not hungry. making breakfast had simply been a distraction.

“(y/n).” natasha calls your attention back to her. your eyes find her emerald green ones. you frown deeper, your posture falling.

“i don’t know… i’m just stressed. what if i fail? what if i’m held accountable for something i didn’t do wrong, but my team did? you know my boss is a total asshole and he always makes me feel stupid—like nothing i do is good enough. i just really don’t want to be reminded of that today.” you exhale forcefully when you finish. your body is tense with the confession.

natasha reaches up to cradle your face with gentle, yet firm hands. “hey, listen to me.” she doesn’t continue until she can tell you’re really listening to her. it takes a few beats.

“it’s going to be okay—really. you’ve been doing a very good job about helping your team stay in line. plus, they all love you. i’m sure they’re just as eager to perform well today for your guests as you are to please them.” she speaks with such a surety that you almost internalize her words. you think over them for a second, and then your boss’s face flashes into your mind. you sigh, eyes closing, shoulders falling again.

“natasha’s right, (y/n). you have nothing to worry about. you’ll see later tonight once this is all over with.” wanda chimes in, sliding your refillable water bottle over to you. you don’t reach for it.

“i want it to be over with now.” you groan stubbornly. it’s so petulant sounding, it has both of them chuckling softly despite themselves.

“i know, sweet girl. it’ll be okay.” wanda assures, standing next to her wife now. “for now, let’s try and get some food in that tummy. then after we can talk about it a little more before sending you off to work.”

—

“hey, (y/n), did you grab yesterday’s report off the printer?” your coworker kate asks. she was basically your unofficial assistant, always running around with you, willing to tackle whatever task you needed to take down. you were grateful for someone like her. sometimes she was the only thing keeping you sane throughout the work day.

“yep. first thing i did when i walked in this morning.” you nod your head, your fingers vigorously typing away at the keyboard in front of you. kate lingers in the doorway to your office, rocking back on her heels.

“what’re you typing up?” she asks curiously, stepping into the room.

“notes i forgot to add to yesterday’s report.” you mumble, eyes not even sparing a blink until you had the revised version ready to go. your “special” guests were due to arrive any moment now. you needed this done.

your phone buzzes next to you on your desk. your eyes don’t even glance in that direction. kate, being the nosy thing she is, steps closer, looking at your lit up phone screen.

“it’s natasha!” she declares cheerily. she was particularly supportive of your throuple relationship. she was also the only one in the office that really knew. she steps closer, getting a better look at the text before the screen goes dark. “she asking if you got to work okay.” she reads, taking a step back.

“shit.” you mutter, your hand on the mouse as you navigate to the print button. “i’m supposed to text them when i get to work. making sure i’m safe and all that.” you click on the print button. “i’ll text her back later.”

before you can think about it any longer, someone calls your name from the conference room.

—

“jesus christ, they were intense.” steve comments when your whole team is huddled together in the break room at the end of the work day.

your visitors had come and gone, all without rattling the office too much. everyone was on their best behavior, which you were very grateful for. even steve and bucky seemed to keep their obnoxious inside jokes to a minimum around prying ears.

“i’ll say.” you agree, smoothing a hand over your hair.

“i’m glad that’s over with.” kate comments, clutching her water bottle close to her chest with two hands. “this one has been extra stressed more than normal for weeks.” she jabs a finger in your direction, her eyes light with her teasing comment. your whole team chuckles softly at your expense. you roll your eyes.

“okay, yeah, yeah, yeah. laugh it up. they could have had my ass if they found anything wrong today.” you try to defend yourself, but you can’t hide the smile threatening to stretch across your face. it was such a relief now that they were gone.

“oh, please, (y/n), you’re the best of us. the only reason tony gives you shit is because he’s probably threatened by you,” carol chimes in. you snort at her comment.

“threatened? please. like i’d want his job.” you feel your phone buzzing in your pocket. you pick it up without thinking too much about it. it’s from wanda.

We haven’t heard anything from you today. Did everything go okay at work?

you curse under your breath. you forgot to text both of them all day today. you know their expectation is at least one check-in. you quickly type out a brief response as the rest of your team talks amongst themselves.

went great. talk more about it a little later.

you hit send, shoving your phone back into your pocket.

“ready to go, everyone?” you ask, gathering your personal items you had set on a little table. your water bottle feels heavier than it should at the end of the day. you can’t remember taking a single sip.

kate walks you to your car once the rest of your team parts ways. “proud of you, chica. everything went amazing today.” she compliments as you round the drivers side of your car.

“couldn’t of done it without you katie girl.”

—

the house is quiet when you step inside. you shuck off your shoes, placing your car keys on a small table under a mirror that hangs adjacent to the front door.

the house feels still without wanda or natasha. they must have gotten called into the office for the day. you guessed they would be home in a little bit, but for now it was just you in the empty space. you place your empty water bottle on the kitchen counter. it waits there, beads of condensation trailing lazily down its sides. it sat there almost as full as it had been that morning. your stomach twists at the realization of disregarding yet another rule today. it wasn’t on purpose.

you stare at it for a moment longer before picking the bottle back up to take a small sip. you still didn’t feel very thirsty. you set it back down, leaving it to sit alone on the edge of the counter while you head for the couch in the living room.

the soft cushions envelop you as soon as you sit down, and you sigh heavily. more silence surrounds you as you lean back against the cushions, your eyes fixed on a random spot on the ceiling. your hands are clasped over your stomach, fingers tapping back and forth absentmindedly. you wait for the relief you’d been promising yourself all day.

it never comes.

you’re unsure how many minutes have passed when you hear the soft hum of the garage door opening through the walls. you sit up at once, a soft smile on your lips you didn’t even realize is there.

they’re home.

voices drift in from the entryway and you can feel your body relax at the sound. you glance towards the walkway, your eyes landing on your water bottle perched on the kitchen countertop. evidence. you look away before either of them can follow your gaze.

natasha rounds the corner first, her expression warm as her eyes find you. “hi, honeybee.” you’re already crossing the room before she can reach for you. her embrace eases an ache you’d been carrying all day. “hi.” you mumble into her shoulder, your arms wrapped tightly around her waist. she presses her lips to the top of your head, lingering there before she feels you loosen your arms to greet her wife.

wanda smiles warmly, her gaze taking in your small frame. she pecks your lips before you can bury your face into her neck, her arms wrapping around you automatically. you inhale her scent, the action just as comforting as her arms around you. she sways back and forth just a little as you linger in her arms.

“what do you say we make dinner?” wanda murmurs next to your ear after another beat of silence. you nod into her neck, loosening your grasp as you step back from the embrace.

the three of you moved around the kitchen with practiced ease. dinner was made, plates were set and you were all in your respective seats before you knew it.

“i wanna hear all about your special visitors today. how did it go?” wanda asks as she cuts into her steak.

“it actually went really well.” you start, smiling a bit as you recall your surprisingly successful day. “kate was a huge help. she reminded me to calm down whenever i was getting a little too stressed out. steve too. he kept trying to make me laugh. i was able to share my reports without forgetting key things or stumbling over my words. it almost went too well. like i was waiting for the other shoe to drop the whole time,” you stab a piece of steamed broccoli with your fork, popping it into your mouth when you finish your sentence.

“i’m not surprised to hear that it went well. i knew it would.” natasha says. you can hear a twinge of pride in her voice.

“we’re very proud of you, little love.” wanda places her hand over yours, giving it an affectionate squeeze. you glow under her praise, your stomach fluttering at both the gesture and her words.

“thank you.” you reply in a soft tone, your gaze falling towards your plate as you smile gently.

forks and knives clank against plates as you all enjoy your food. you reach for your water that natasha had placed in front of you when you first sat down. she hadn’t said anything about it being full, and neither did wanda. perhaps they forgot to mention it.

“how was work for you guys?” you ask before you take a drink. they recall their day, which sounded like it was just as successful as yours had been. the call into work had been unexpected, but they were able to smooth all the ruffled feathers. they’ve always been good at that.

after you were all done eating, the three of you work together to clean up. wanda stood at the sink, washing the dishes while natasha wiped off counters and you put away the leftover food.

you open the fridge, setting the tupperware of steamed vegetables on the top shelf.

wanda becomes more quiet, her movements slowing as she scrubs each plate before carefully placing it in the dishwasher. natasha doesn’t ask any more questions or spark up a new conversation as you all work together. she doesn’t glance at you even as she can feel you watching her, instead turning to wipe down the table.

you linger where you are, eyes darting between them. the silence makes your belly curl.

you forgot to text them. only after being texted multiple times did you reply, and even then, it was very brief. you also had neglected your water almost all day. the expectation was at least one gone by the time you got home.

your disobedience wasn’t intentional, just small actions you told yourself you’d eventually get to and then never did.

you watch wanda place the last dish into the dishwasher. her back is still to you as she dries her hands. she uses the same small towel to dry splashes of water that had gotten onto the counter surrounding the sink.

“little bee?” natasha’s voice cuts into the silence. your eyes dart to where she stands several feet away. “can we talk for a minute?”

the knot in your belly tightens, but you nod regardless. subconsciously, your legs carry you over to the living room couch. you sit in the middle of the long sofa, a practiced routine as wanda and natasha assume their spots on either side of you.

you stare at your hands in your lap. wanda curls one leg under the other as she faces you, the other hanging off the end of the couch. natasha sits with both her feet flat on the floor, her torso twisted to face you. silence settles over the three of you for a long moment.

“bee, look at me.” wanda says gently. she doesn’t reach for you yet. you lift your head, sage green eyes boring into yours with a softness you’re not sure made you feel better or worse. “did you drink your water today? or was what we saw from when i filled it this morning?” they’re both almost positive it was the latter, but she wanted to double check just in case.

“from this morning.” you mumble, eyes falling back to your lap. this wasn’t the first time this had happened. you hear natasha exhale through her nose beside you. it’s quiet for another few beats.

“this is becoming a pattern, isn’t it?” wanda still speaks gently. the words echo in your mind. memories of other instances you’ve neglected the small tasks begin to run through your mind.

“i don’t mean to do it.” you whisper, your fingers fidgeting with the hair tie you always kept on your wrist.

“we know.” wanda replies. “but it's still happening.”

more silence washes over the room. it’s deafening. the knot in your stomach twists even more.

“none of this is about the water bottle.” natasha speaks, her words echoing in your right ear.

“the water isn’t important because we want you hydrated. it’s important because we asked you to take care of yourself.” she adds, her voice even, without a trace of harshness.

“when you don’t, you tell yourself you’ll do it later. later becomes tomorrow. tomorrow becomes next week. eventually your needs become the last thing on your list.” your shoulders fall when wanda speaks again. her words begin to resonate as you listen to them, almost as if she’s painting the full picture of which you’ve never fully looked at before.

“i… i guess it’s just a habit. it’s not on purpose.” your defense is weak, but you have nothing else to offer but the honest truth.

“we know, honey.” wanda soothes.

“intent explains behavior. it doesn’t erase the impact of it.” natasha adds. you feel tears begin to prick your eyes, your cheeks growing warm. it’s silent for another couple seconds.

“this morning you didn’t let me make breakfast.” wanda says. you glance up at her for the first time in several minutes. you’re slightly confused at why she brings it up.

“today you wouldn’t let yourself drink water.” she continues. she pauses a moment, letting it sit there before going on. “you let us hold you when it’s easy. when you’re exhausted or falling apart..” another small pause. “but the little moments before that…you decide you can carry those alone.” a tear rolls down your cheek you didn’t realize was balancing on your lower lid. the weight of what they’re saying begins to wash over you.

you sniff, the clock ticking on the wall the only other sound in the room.

“this dynamic doesn’t work unless you allow us to take care of you. we can’t carry something you won't hand to us.” natasha speaks again. you can’t look at either of them, your vision suddenly blurry as more unshed tears brim in your eyes. you twist the hair elastic around your fingers with trembling hands.

“i didn’t really realize it looked like that.” your voice cracks at the end, another tear slipping down your cheek.

“we know.” they both say in unison.

they don’t fill the gaps of silence as the three of you sit there. wanda watches your face carefully as the realization washes over you in waves. neither of them rush to comfort you, instead letting you linger in the silence. when your shoulders begin to shake and the hair tie slips from your fingers, natasha places a hand on your thigh, squeezing gently. wanda lifts your chin, tilting your face towards her. you blink, causing a couple more silent tears to fall. she wipes them away with her thumbs, cradling your face with tender hands.

“we’re not mad, little bee.” she assures, stroking your cheeks until your eyes finally meet hers.

“we’re very proud of you for hearing us.” her gentle praise causes warmth to bloom in your chest despite everything else.

you sniffle, blinking away the rest of your tears. natasha reaches for the tissue box on the coffee table, handing the tissue to wanda. she gently wipes away the salty tears, running the tissue under your nose that was getting a little runny. you exhale slowly through your mouth, letting the emotion run through you.

natasha leans forward, her face coming into your peripheral vision. she squeezes your thigh again, a silent call for you to look at her. your eyes lift to her gaze without much thought.

“understanding why this happened doesn’t mean we skip our responsibilities.” she says.

you cast your eyes back down to your lap.

“i know…” you say, resigned.

“do you understand why there still needs to be accountability?” she asks.

you nod.

“can you tell us why?” she presses gently.

“because if we only talked about it…” you swallow before continuing, “i’d probably tell myself i’ll do better,” you exhale shakily, “and then i’d do the same thing over again.”

“exactly.” natasha reaches up to tuck some hair behind your ear before lifting your chin.

“we still love you very much.” she reassures, her eyes are tender but firm, conveying the weight of her words. your lip juts into a pout without consciously thinking about it, the softness of the moment almost overwhelming.

there’s some more silence as you hold her gaze before she speaks again.

“stand up for me, baby love.” you stand on slightly shaky legs, turning slowly until you’re standing facing her. her hands find the button of your pants, fingers pinching to undo it before she slides down your zipper. it echoes in the otherwise quiet room. your heart begins to race in anticipation.

she peels your pants down your legs, and you place a hand on your shoulder to steady yourself as you step out of them. she takes her time to fold them carefully before setting them aside.

“com’ere.” she murmurs gently, holding her hands out. she helps to guide your body down into her lap. your head rests comfortably in wanda’s lap, propped up by your folded arms while your lower half is draped across natasha’s. you exhale shakily as natasha hooks her fingers into your underwear, carefully shimmying them off your hips until they’re bunched at your thighs. you shiver at the new exposure, feeling the cool air on your legs.

“you don’t need to count, little bee. just lie your head there in mommy’s lap and feel.” she smooths a palm over your bare asscheeks. wanda runs a hand down your hair at the same time.

you nod when natasha doesn’t continue, figuring she was waiting for your acknowledgment.

your body tenses slightly as you lie there in anticipation. you flinch when her hand comes down for the first time. the first always felt like a shock to your system.

she rubs out the sting and then hits you in the same place. your asscheek begins to bloom with heat, the weight of her hand heavy against your sensitive skin.

her palm comes down on the other cheek. this time, she doesn’t soothe the sting before hitting you again.

she builds a predictable rhythm, careful not to spank you in the same spot too many times without rubbing your increasingly sensitive backside.

the more she hits, the more inflamed your skin becomes, each one hurting more than the last. tears begin to prick your eyes again.

another slap lands in the spot where your buttcheek and thigh meet, the sensation causing your whole body to jerk. she spanks you there twice, a sob ripping up from your throat. your fingers curl around the material of wanda’s pants, your knuckles turning white from how firmly you were grasping on.

“that’s it, honey. let it all out.” wanda encourages as her nails gently scratch along your back.

natasha doesn’t let up, maintaining her rhythm until she can see the visible shake of your shoulders—like the weight finally lifting off of them.

“there we go, baby. just feel.” natasha croons, another smack landing on your left asscheek. she soothes it this time.

“doesn’t it feel good to let us take care of you?” natasha murmurs, hand coming down on your right cheek again. you sob, nodding your head against wanda’s leg.

you can feel when the last of the tension dissipates from your body.

your weight suddenly feels heavier in their laps as your body fully surrenders to them. you even feel it in your mind; the thoughts quieting, the pressure to carry everything all on your own fading into nothing.

natasha spanks you twice more, sealing the end of your consequence. your whole body shakes with sobs. the release feels euphoric.

your limbs are heavy as wanda carefully gathers you until you’re sitting in her lap, your body pulled tightly against her as her arms wrap around you. she doesn’t shush you, simply rocking you back and forth and stroking along your spine as you ride out the emotion.

you’re unsure how much time passes as she sways you back and forth or when you finally stop crying.

it’s not until your sobs die down and turn into sniffles that you finally lift your face from where it was buried in wanda’s neck.

you glance around you, slightly disoriented as you sway in her lap. your cheeks are pink and tear stained, eyes puffy from all the crying, but you feel lighter than you’ve felt in weeks.

“there’s my little honeybee.” wanda cradles your face in her hands. her green eyes are endlessly soft, a gentle smile on her face. you sniffle, her hands wiping away the wetness on your cheeks.

natasha appears in your vision, sitting closely next to her wife. she’s holding a bottle of water.

she smiles, wanda chuckling affectionately when you lean forward and your lips part, like you’re waiting expectantly.

natasha unscrews the cap, bringing it to your lips and carefully tipping it back. you swallow the liquid easily, suddenly feeling very thirsty after everything that just happened. when you pull back, natasha pulls the bottle away, screwing the cap back on.

“you did so good, baby.” she praises, caressing your cheek.

“so good.” wanda echoes.

your mind is hazy, full of nothing but the warm fuzziness of your submission. you look between both of them with glossy eyes.

“next time, we’ll carry it together.” wanda says, hands holding firmly to your hips in a grounding manner.

“together.” you nod, the word barely above a whisper.

・・・・・

agatha’s neck strained as she looked up at the towering building, and then, as she eyed the large letter m that displayed itself proudly on the front of the high-rise, a shudder ran through her.

whether it was caused by the daunting feeling of something so huge looming over her or the gust of wind that picked up and blew against the back of her neck, the brunette was unsure. but… what she did know was that she had come to this building with a purpose: to try to protect you.

so, as agatha removed her hands from her coat pockets, she wormed her way through the swarm of strangers who rushed past her on the pavement and stalked towards the entrance until she was in front of two glass doors.

a right hand reached for one of the solid brass silver pull handles, and with the metal feeling icier than her palm could handle, she rushed inside.

“evening, ma’am.”

with her hands smoothing her jacket, agatha raised her head to be greeted by a tall man in a black suit and an earpiece. he stepped towards her from behind an access-control barrier, and she couldn’t help but look back and forth between the electronic sensor and the man’s appearance.

“oh my,” agatha chukled, albeit awkwardly. her hands moved to tidy her wind-swept brown hair, and with a curious tilt of her head, she said, “you look like men in black.”

the security guard, who seemed unfazed by the comparison, took another step forward and shot her a soft smile. “how can i help you?” he asked, and when the words left his lips, agatha paused.

a moment of doubt settled in her chest along with the feeling that this somehow felt like a betrayal to you… like she was going behind your back.

but, with the reminder that trouble was in your life, she shoved away the saddening feeling and smiled - a little tightly - at the man. “i’m here to see miss maximoff,” she replied.

“do you have an appointment?”

“no…” agatha drawled. “though, and i’m sure you’ve heard this before, i don’t need one.”

the security guard tutted as he stepped back from the sensor. “i’m sorry, ma’am, but without an appointment, i’m afraid there’s nothing i can do.”

“you don’t understand i-”

“i understand completely, but it’s protocol and policy…” his eyes glanced to the security barrier in front of him.

agatha followed his gaze and looked at the electronic gate that separated her from wanda.

she knew it wouldn’t be as easy as freely walking in, finding her office floor and talking to her. no, with a stature like the redhead’s, she’d of course have security during work hours.

but agatha was determined, whether she needed an appointment or not, so with a rise and fall of her shoulders, she told herself to remain steadfast. “that being said, it’s important that i see her,” agatha maintained, and with a movement towards the split-half doors that remained locked, her eyes returned to the man’s. “if you could please-”

“ma’am,” he interrupted, and with a soft sigh, he stepped back once more. “i’m not even sure if miss maximoff is in the building right now. you may be wasting your time…”

“she has to be,” agatha declared, her eyebrows creasing in slight frustration. she wasn’t a simpleton, and with a phone call to your landline a couple of hours prior, agatha had eventually, and casually, broached the question of whether you were spending the day with wanda. to the brunette’s relief, you had said you wouldn’t be and stated that wanda would be in the office for most of the day. but now… did you lie to her? agatha shook her head at the thought. “can you check? i was told she would be.”

“no can do, i’m sorry.”

“look!” agatha spoke, her voice louder than intended, and she took a step closer until the barrier pressed against her hips. “i- you’ve got to help me out here, man… i cannot begin to explain how important it is that i see wanda.”

“agatha?”

the brunette’s eyes widened upon hearing the familiar voice, and with a snap of her head to the left, she watched the redhead stalk over to the barrier, papers stacked in the crook of an arm and a puzzled look on her face.

“wanda!” agatha chorused, and if she wasn’t so thankful for the chance of the redhead walking through the foyer, she would have shot the security guard a look of vindication.

but, instead of acting on the petty feeling, agatha’s eyes stayed focused on the redhead as wanda motioned for the man to let her through.

when the machine chimed and a green light lit up, the split-half doors opened, allowing agatha to enter. with a glance at the man, she watched as wanda thanked the security guard, and then she turned on her heels.

agatha immediately followed the redhead, and as her eyes roamed over her form, agatha wondered how much the maroon tailored suit she wore cost her. she looked expensive.

“what can i do for you agatha?” wanda asked, her heels clicking hard against the tiled floor as she strode past a sitting area and towards the back of the foyer, where three lifts were located.

agatha persisted with the pace of the businesswoman, who was surprisingly brisk considering the type of shoe she wore, and, as they drew closer to the section with lifts, she felt a surge of panic at realising that wanda was clearly too busy and most likely heading back to her office floor.

“well i…” there were people all around, and she knew this conversation couldn’t happen here. “i need to talk to you,” agatha replied, her steps finally slowing as did wanda’s.

the redhead shot her a look, and with furrowed eyebrows, she pushed one of the connected buttons. “i will say, you visiting here was foreboding enough. but… i’m all ears.”

the lift in the middle sounded as it began to descend to the ground floor, and agatha felt a little ashamed at not thinking about what wanda might have assumed when she stepped through those doors and stressed that she needed to see her.

but, instead of apologising, which rested on the tip of her tongue, agatha moved a hand to wanda’s right elbow. “is there somewhere private we could go?”

wanda’s eyebrows weren’t furrowed anymore, but she did arch one as she looked down at the contact. “you grow more intriguing by the minute, agatha.” the remark made the brunette return the hand by her side, and before she could utter another response, wanda spoke again. “look, i-” she glanced at the analogue clock that hung above the middle lift, “you’ve caught me at a bad time. i have back-to-back meetings all day, and i’m actually running behind for one now.”

there was no way agatha could let the day pass and end without explaining the interaction she’d had the night prior. “but it’s about victor.”

the redhead whirled to agatha, and as a loud ding sounded, the doors opened, and before the brunette knew it, she was being pulled by her forearm and into the empty space of the lift.

“jesus…” agatha muttered. her thick hair swayed in front of her face, and as she felt like she’d been whiplashed, she heard the lift doors close behind her. “you are surprisingly strong.”

“what do you mean, it’s about victor?” wanda whispered harshly, ignoring the comment, and with her free hand, she pressed the button to the sixteenth floor before facing the brunette again.

agatha tried not to think too deeply about the fact that they were about to ascend close to the top floor of the building, and with the daunting feeling kicking in as the lift started to move, her right hand grabbed the handrail that travelled around the walls. “he visited the club last night.”

wanda’s face hardened, and with a flare of her nostrils, her eye contact with agatha broke as she looked at the digital screen in the lift, which displayed the floor number; she turned her gaze too, watching as it counted up.

one.

two.

“what did he say?” wanda asked lowly. agatha looked at her again, and when the redhead turned to face her, the brunette caught sight of green eyes brimming with tears.

“he…” the daunting feeling of travelling higher was subdued by the staggering urge to check on wanda, and with her grip on the handle loosening, agatha stepped closer to the woman before her, and placed a comforting hand on her bicep. “he said a lot of things.” agatha answered, and the look on wanda’s face made her heart ache. “he knows my doorman’s name, he knows my name, he knows…” the words died on agatha’s lips. the very ones she had come to utter. but now that she was here and about to voice them out loud, it made her want to cry and throw up all at the same time. “he knows…” agatha tried again, her hand on wanda’s arm falling back to her side.

the way the brunette struggled to finish her sentence made wanda crinkle the stack of papers in the crook of her arm, and as it resounded in the space, she took a deep breath. “he knows who she is, doesn’t he?”

agatha could only nod. she briefly glanced at the lift's display again as she felt the familiar feeling of her throat tighten. this was a fear being made real for her; the promise to your mother potentially being broken. the brunette took a step back, and her palm found the handrail again.

five.

six.

a brief silence filled the space, and then, as wanda’s free hand pressed another button, this one for the eighteenth floor, the sound of wanda receiving a phone call reverberated in the lift.

it didn’t take long for her to reach into the right pocket of her maroon trousers, and with a soft “oh” falling from wanda’s lips, she cleared her throat before putting the phone to her ear. “hi darling,” the redhead greeted.

agatha blinked at that. what were the chances? she thought.

wanda hummed into the phone. “work is going well,” she said, and with green eyes landing on her face, agatha felt the unnecessary need to hold her breath. you couldn’t know she had visited today… what if wanda tells you that she is looking at me as you speak? “oh, you know the usual, meetings upon meetings today….” wanda’s gaze turned from the brunette's face, clearly feeling the familiar guilt from leaving an important detail out, and she looked at the digital screen again.

nine.

ten.

“that’s a nice idea.” wanda spoke again after a moment as she began to smile. “i think i’ll be back by then; if not, i’ll be slightly late.” turning back to face agatha, she continued. “something has come up… i know, honey. okay, i’ll see you later.”

agatha watched as the redhead ended the call, and with the phone slipping back into her pocket, she quirked an eyebrow at wanda. “you didn’t tell her?” she asked hesitantly, a hint of gratefulness in her tone.

adjusting the stack of papers in the crook of her arm, she shook her head. “no, y/n doesn’t-” wanda looked down at her heels briefly. “she seems less anxious, especially this past week, and…” she shook her head slightly and with a look back to the digital display, wanda continued. “she doesn’t need to know just yet.”

agatha wholeheartedly agreed, and she followed her gaze. with a wishful guess that they were almost finished in what felt like riding the box of death, she almost groaned at seeing what floor they were on.

twelve.

thirteen.

“apart from her name,” wanda started, looking back at the brunette. “what else did he say?”

the act of reiterating his words made her feel nauseous all over again, and with her grip on the handrail hardening, she gazed back at the display.

fourteen.

“that he’s been watching you two,” agatha stated, turning to the businesswoman again. “when i ordered him to leave, he just looked at me like…” and with a knowing gaze from wanda, a look of ‘he enjoyed it, didn’t he?’ agatha let the sentence linger in the air. if anyone could imagine what victor had been like, the redhead was the person to do it. “he told me that you would come back to him eventually.”

wanda shook her head in disbelief, and her attention was brought to the digital display when the lift came to a stop. agatha looked too as another ding sounded.

sixteen.

wanda didn’t move, nor look at the brunette, and as she watched the doors linger wide-open, agatha wondered what she was doing. why had she pressed eighteen?

the lift doors closed, and with her hand gripping the rail harder, she cleared her throat, “then he called y/n a whore and a problem.” silence filled the space again, and agatha’s heart started to beat wildly in her chest as it continued to ascend. “i… i slapped him, wanda.”

the redhead’s eyes remained on the screen, and agatha wondered if she had just broken the woman.

then, with bated breath and a passing thought that she wished she had the magic to read wanda’s mind, the brunette watched her finally look away from the display.

seventeen.

“then what?” is all she asked, her voice low and bitter. as wanda’s jaw tightened and her eyes looked back at agatha, hard and unblinking, her heels clicked twice as she moved to stand between the lift doors; ready and waiting.

with a shaky exhale, the brunette responded. “then nothing. he left…” agatha ignored the way the woman’s demeanour, which had grown cold, spooked her and instead focused on the gnawing question that lingered in her mind. where are we going?

“he didn’t touch you?”

agatha shook her head. to her surprise, he didn’t, and though she would do it all over again to defend your honour, the brunette was wholly grateful victor hadn’t retaliated.

wanda chuckled sardonically and turned away from the brunette to face the lift’s doors. “well, that’s a first.”

eighteen.

a ding echoed in the lift, and with a faint mechanical hiss sounding, it settled, and the doors opened.

before agatha had the chance to ask wanda, if that meant what she thought it meant, the redhead hightailed it out of the lift. she strode through a sprucewood corridor, and with the doors about to close, agatha hurried to catch up.

“wanda? where are we going?”

“to see my father.”

ᗢ

the door to olek maximoff’s office swung open, and as the redhead stepped through, agatha in tow, she tried to calm her racing thoughts.

ones that ranged from protecting you to ways of ridding victor, and to her astonishment, the question of: if he didn’t hit agatha, then why did he hit me? it was pointless to ruminate on, but it made her want to scream and throw one of her father’s chairs out of the large window that faced away from her as she entered the office.

“oh, my cherub,” olek chirped, his eyes widening. he looked past two bald-suited men who sat in front of his long mahogany desk and grinned at her. “we were just talking about you.”

the term of endearment would usually have made wanda smile, but not even she could force her lips upwards; instead, her hardened face looked at her father, then at the two men who faced away from her. “rob… bradley, i require the room with my father,” wanda announced, “i apologise for the inconvenience.”

It didn’t take more than a few seconds for the two men to rise from their seats, and as agatha stood close to her, she watched as the men bade goodbye to olek and then swiftly left through the door that sounded with a thud as it closed.

“wanda…” her father uttered, his voice a mix of reprovement and surprise as he leaned back in his large leather chair, his eyes glancing to the quiet woman beside her.

“father, please,” wanda hushed, her tone low as she felt herself almost crying abruptly. a sensation of weakness travelled to her knees, and it took everything in her to hold herself upright; she wanted to fall to the floor in exhaustion. the mental load that came along with victor was overbearing, and the only person she knew would help her, as he’d done in the past, was the man before her now. “it’s about him,” she added, wearily.

her father’s face dropped. “what?” olek asked through gritted teeth. “what are you talking about?”

she turned to agatha, and with a motion of her head to the two empty chairs, she forced herself to move; if she could just sit down, then maybe the trembling in her legs would subside.

the brunette followed in her footsteps, and as wanda took the seat to the left, agatha sat beside her.

“i haven’t…” she looked down at her lap, feeling regretful about her lack of sincerity when it came to you. the night of the corporate party, she hadn’t told him what you did for work, and when you spoke the half-truth to her father, wanda let it justify the urge to keep pretending like you had met under different circumstances. “I haven’t been entirely honest with you about y/n.”

he quirked an eyebrow out of curiosity, but instead of replying, he nodded for her to continue. one of the many qualities her father had was that he always listened to her first; he was truly the only man who heard her. because despite pietro caring, his witty mouth usually got the best of him…

“she works at a nightclub, yes,” wanda began. “but a specific type...” her head turned right, her eyes landing on the brunette, who was already looking at her. “y/n works for agatha here, at a place named house of harkness,” she looked back to her father, who frowned slightly, still confused. “it’s a strip club.” she declared.

olek’s eyebrows raised, and wanda couldn’t help but notice the way his lips twitched with a small smirk. the sentence was clearly amusing to him, but he leaned forward, now even more confused. “okay,” he drawled, unsure where the conversation was leading to. “continue.”

with a deep rise and fall of her shoulders, the redhead told herself to stay composed as she continued with her explanation. “two months ago, he visited house of harkness,” wanda stated. “i think victor saw a paparazzi photo of us together, and he must have followed the breadcrumbs… when y/n told me what he’d done, i threatened him to leave her alone, and i even mentioned the time you got involved after the annulment but…”

despite the information that was spewing from wanda’s mouth, her father remained remarkably calm and listened closely. “but, what?” he asked.

“but last night, he told agatha that he’d been watching us from a distance, and then he spoke y/n’s name,” the redhead continued, and with a look down at her lap, tears welled in her eyes again. though this time, she couldn’t will them away as she had done in the lift. “but papa, if he-” her throat tightened, and as her vision blurred slightly, she looked back at him. “if he knows her name…” she quavered. then he knows where she lives, she finished in her mind; it had been at the forefront since agatha told her.

a hand touched her right, and as the redhead turned at the contact, agatha was gazing at her with a hard frown. the touch made her feel grounded, and with a clasp of the woman’s hand, wanda felt tears fall down her cheeks. then, with her left hand wiping them away, she said: “i need your help again.”

wanda watched her father and the cogs turning behind his eyes, and if it weren’t for the reality of the situation, she’d be sighing in relief at finally vocalising all of this to him; a weight on her shoulders had been lifted just an inch, but that inch wanted to travel a mile.

olek gazed back at the redhead, and then, without uttering a word, he turned to agatha. this made wanda’s eyes follow his, and the woman beside her darted between her and her father, warily.

“agatha, was it?” he asked, his voice wavering just slightly as anger threatened to break his exterior. “thank you for bringing this information to wanda… but most importantly, to me.” then with the sound of wheels rolling against the wood floor, wanda turned her head to see her father standing. “but i’m afraid our conversation ends here. do you need a ride home? i’d be happy for my driver to escort you.”

wanda knew instantly what her father would want to happen, and agatha could not be around to hear it. as she turned back to the brunette, her lips parting slightly, she knew, for agatha's sake, it was best she left.

with a soft smile, wanda rose from her seat. “i’ll walk you back to the lift.”

agatha glanced to olek, and as she mirrored wanda, she cleared her throat and smoothed out her jacket. “of course, and thank you, but i’ll be fine,” she smiled at him.

she faced wanda once more, and agatha walked with her towards the door and back through the hallway again.

“wanda…” agatha voiced her name hesitantly, and as they both moved closer to the lift, she glimpsed orange hair that covered a part of the woman’s face. “whatever you talk about in there. whatever plan you make, will it be worth… would it not be better to let y/n go?”

the redhead’s pace faltered slightly, and with a frown, she glanced from her view of the lift to agatha. “no, she- that’s exactly what victor wants.” with her left hand raised to press the button to signal the lift, she felt such frustration rumbling in her chest that she was worried about what she was about to say next. “just give me some time,” wanda insisted, and then as the lift’s display blinked with an arrow pointing up, she took a step back. “i can fix this.”

ᗢ

as the sun cascaded in your living room, you sat in front of the tv. the warmth of it was shining across your bare legs, and as you adjusted a stiff-feeling one from under you, you rose from the couch-sofa. you had been watching your favourite show for the past couple of hours whilst you waited for wanda, and with your eyes still on the screen, you stretched.

in only a t-shirt and underwear, it rode up slightly as your arms moved above your head, and as the thought of grabbing a drink passed your mind, you stopped stretching and rounded the couch to step towards your kitchen.

then, with the sound of a key turning in your front door, you turned your head to the left. wanda… you mused with a smile.

you walked towards the space of your open doorway, and as you made your way toward it, you caught a glimpse of the door opening, and red hair swayed into view.

with the sound of shuffling and a frustrated groan falling from wanda’s lips, you frowned and stepped closer. “mommy?” you asked, tentatively, your eyes falling on two black duffel bags in her hands. then as you looked back at the redhead, you frowned even harder at the look on her face.

“wha-” you strode towards her in a panic, and with your hands moving to her cheeks, you chewed on your bottom lip as you examined her. “wanda, what’s the matter?”

“it’s okay,” she whispered, and the dull thud of the bags being dropped to the floor resounded as you continued to gaze at her. her skin was flushed, her eyes were bloodshot and slightly puffy, and she looked beyond uneasy. “it’s okay, you’re right here.” her voice was hoarse, and before you could linger on what she had said, wanda pulled you in for a hug.

the action almost knocked the wind out of you, but you blinked, confused and surprised, and your arms moved around her neck. “of course,” you breathed out after a moment, “i’m right here.”

wanda was silent for a minute, and as you continued to hold her, you heard the intro of your favourite show play in the background as a new episode started. apart from wanda’s slightly laboured breathing, it was the only thing that could be heard throughout your home… minus your heartbeat that thumped loudly in your ears. you were so puzzled and concerned; you didn’t know what to think.

“we need to talk,” wanda murmured against you, and with her body moving out of the hug, her hands moved to grasp yours. “we need to stay somewhere else for a little while.”

your face contorted in confusion, and you took a small step back at the unexpected words. “what do you mean?” you asked.

the redhead’s gaze dropped to the floor for a brief moment, and a look of shame flashed across her face. “i’m sorry…” she sniffled. “victor he…” wanda glanced behind you, and with her eyes landing back on your face, she continued. “let’s go sit down, shall we?”

the disappointing thought that you had just started to feel secure made your bottom lip jut out slightly, and at the mention of his name, a jolt of trepidation shot through you. “what are you- what did he do?” you stammered.

you felt wanda’s hands, which still held yours, squeeze softly. “please, let’s not stand here,” she replied.

with no answer to your question, you frowned impossibly harder and pulled your hands from her hold with another step back. “wanda, tell me.”

the redhead looked down at her empty hands, and as she returned them to her side, the sight of her demeanour stung; hurt, fearful, and most of all surprised. “honey,” she quavered, “don’t be mad at me.”

wanda’s equivocal response made your mind jump into a frenzy, and at the rash thought that victor had seen her today, your posture straightened. “did he do something to you?” you asked, your tone now firm.

“no, he-” wanda shook her head. “there really isn’t an easy way to say this….”

as the redhead explained that agatha had visited her at work and what she had said, you listened attentively, and with each passing second, you could feel dread and anger swirling in your chest like a bad storm.

you couldn’t stay in your doorway anymore, and without thinking, you started to retreat towards the kitchen after wanda had finished.

“y/n, wait,” you heard her utter behind you, her heels clicking against the floor as she followed. “i’m sorry.”

with a shaky breath, you paused near your fridge and spun around to face her. “this is fucking exhausting,” you fumed with a heavy sigh. “i just want you.” a derisive laugh fell from your lips as a seemingly impossible thought came to mind. “will i get that?” you asked, voicing the notion. you gazed down at the tiled floor as you rested your lower back against the kitchen countertop.

“baby,” wanda muttered with a glower, “you already have me.” she slowly stepped closer to you, and her right hand tilted your chin up to look at her. “i-” her eyes glanced down to your lips briefly. “i care about you a lot. do you know that?”

her words and her voice began to muffle the turmoil inside you, and as you gazed at piercing green eyes, you nodded in her hand; you did know. it was written in the way she looked at you, touched you, spoke to you, and embraced you.

“good,” a gentle smile spread across her plump lips. “and though it hasn’t been said yet…” she spoke softly, “it’s you and me, together. girlfriend, partner, or whatever you’d like to call each other.” wanda’s hand moved from your chin to your right cheek, and with her thumb stroking softly against your flushed skin, she continued. “my father and i will fix this, we just need to get away from your place for a little while, okay?”

your heartbeat was in your throat, and you couldn’t think of anything else but wanda’s words: you and me together. girlfriend, partner.

you surged forward, and with a surprised squeak coming from the older woman as your lips connected, you kissed her. wanda melted into it, and with her hand hardening against your cheek slightly, you felt her chest press against yours.

you pulled away from wanda with a smile, and as her hands moved to rest on your hips, her fingers grazing your underwear under your t-shirt, your right hand landed on her bicep, squeezing it softly.

“you and me together. girlfriend, partner. i like that.” your words ghosted over her lips, and a soft laugh came from you when she stole a kiss. you mimicked wanda, and as you pulled away from her mouth once more, you spoke again. “where will we- wait…” your eyebrows furrowed as the latter of wanda’s words hit you. “your father?”

“yes, he…” the redhead wavered, and there was a look on her face that doubted whether or not she should continue. “after the annulment, victor became more troublesome, and one day… my father ensnared him and broke three of his ribs.”

a soft gasp fell from your lips at the unexpected words, ones you could not have guessed wanda would have uttered. “jesus…” you whispered, “and that’s why he left you alone for a while?”

wanda nodded. “yes, until recently.” she glanced down at her heels for a moment, chewing on her bottom lip before speaking again. “agatha she… she asked me if the plan would be worthwhile, and if it would be better to let you go instead, but…” wanda’s hand on your hips grew hard. “how could my life be better without you in it?”

your lips parted. “she asked that of you?” you didn’t know whether to be offended or grateful that agatha would do such a thing. it was meddlesome, that much was certain, though without your mother, you knew the brunette had a responsibility to you that you couldn’t deny was there. “agatha’s just-”

“i know,” the redhead interrupted with a smile. “i understand why she’d do that, and i guess if i wasn’t so selfish, i would agree with her. but i need you, y/n,” her nose lightly nuzzled against yours, and then, as her lips lingered, you could feel her breath against your mouth. “i need you,” wanda repeated, her voice just above a whisper.

the redhead’s hands still grasping your hips pulled you closer, and your pelvis was now flush against hers.

you hummed at the sensation, and you felt your stomach backflip at the way wanda spoke those three words so hotly. your hands moved around her neck once more. “say it again, mommy,” you breathed. “please.”

the redhead’s mouth opened into a grin, and her hands on your hips snaked down to palm your ass, and with a soft moan falling from your lips at the touch, you could feel every bit of chaos within you ceasing.

“i need you,” wanda expressed again. her right hand travelled from behind you, and with it moving to your neck, she tilted your head back to create space. “more than anything,” the redhead added, her breath hot against the skin of your neck.

your eyes fluttered closed, and when the flat of wanda’s tongue travelled upwards until the warmth of it touched your jawline, another moan came from you. “i need you too.”

you could feel yourself becoming putty under her touch, but before you could relish the feeling, the redhead stepped back a pace, and her hands moved to your underarms. in a swift and surprising motion, you felt the coolness of your kitchen counter hit your skin as she sat you on top of it. “wanda,” you gasped with a slight giggle escaping you.

“listen to mommy,” the older woman said as her hands moved back to your hips. “this is important.”

with a soft bite on your bottom lip, you nodded at wanda and tried your hardest to focus on what she was about to say, instead of the way her hands felt against your skin and the way your clit throbbed gently against your underwear.

the redhead smiled at you and placed a kiss on your left cheek. “after, i’m going to help you pack what you’ll need, and then i’ll have a car take us to a penthouse i have near my office.”

“okay.” you voiced with another nod, not at all shocked that wanda would have another place than the one you knew of. if you had her millions, you certainly would too. “but, after what?” you asked, bemused.

with a smirk beginning to twitch at wanda’s plump lips, you assumed the answer instantly, and when her hands hardened against your hips and she pulled you to the edge of the countertop, the action concreted the notion you had. a quiet moan fell from your lips whilst you watched in amazement as wanda began to retreat to a kneeling position on the floor.

ᗢ

a breeze passed by the back of your neck, and as you marvelled outward, with your eyes focused on the sunset, you heard the sound of the penthouse’s sliding door open and close from behind you.

the wine glass in your right hand that you had been nursing for the past twenty minutes was almost empty, and with one last gulp, you turned your head around.

“you really enjoy this view, don’t you?”

with your lips turning into a bright smile, you set the empty wine glass on a small table closest to you and watched as wanda walked towards you as you stood on the terraced space before the frameless glass railing.

“it’s amazing,” you replied, looking back to the blood orange sky that highlighted a large cloud that hung over several tall buildings in your view. “i could never grow tired of this.”

wanda giggled as she drew closer to you, and with her arms moving around your waist, she stopped behind you. “i think you’d get more use out of this place than i do.”

“why don’t you sell it?” you asked, pulling your gaze from the sky that you had been looking at every night for the past month and looking down at the redhead’s hands. with her chest pressing against the back of the maroon turtleneck you wore, you hummed and leaned back into her touch. “and buy one that you would use.”

“honestly?” wanda uttered against the back of your head, “this was my safe haven before i bought the house. selling it… i don’t know, i think i like knowing i still have a place that’s hard to get to.” the older woman nuzzled her right cheek against the back of your head, and the warmth that radiated from her made your eyes flutter closed for a brief moment as you relished in it. “it’s not like the paparazzi can get all the way up here.” wanda joked.

or victor… you thought, bitterly; the man who had been in your life for three exhausting months, and with each passing day, you knew he was somewhere on the outside looking in. wanda had since told you that her father had no idea on the man’s whereabouts, and must have realised olek’s hunt to find him.

victor was nowhere to be seen; it was a sickening notion. but… instead of letting the haunting feeling settle within you and ruin the good mood you were in, you turned in wanda’s hold and placed your hands on the back of her neck.

“it’s just you and me, together.” you smiled, your fingers threading through thick red hair that hung over her back.

“girlfriend, partner…” she beamed at you, her green eyes illuminated by the bright sunset. wanda’s hands around your sides shifted, and you felt her fingertips softly crawl up your waist from your hip bones. “mommy’s girl,” she added lowly, and as an involuntary laugh fell from your lips, wanda’s hands ceased their moments before they became fiendish.

you bit your bottom lip as the last of your breathy laugh left you, and as your fingertips scratched softly at the nape of wanda’s neck, you inched yourself forward until you were flush against the front of her.

“god, please don’t say that,” you whinged as you felt your body temperature rise at the nickname. “i’m meeting agatha at the bar on the corner and i don’t want to be late…or show up flustered.”

“no, we wouldn’t want that, would we?” wanda laughed softly, and the playful, devilish smile on her lips made you want to drop your plans and drop to your knees.

you shook your head at her, ignoring the enticing urge. “you’re sure you don’t want to come?” you asked softly. she had kindly declined when you asked her the day before, but you loved having the three of you together; it felt right, and it wouldn’t hurt to double-check with her.

“i’ve got to go catch up on a few things at work,” wanda smiled, “my penance, if you will, for staying in bed with you this morning.” her hand moved from your waist to the small of your back before continuing, “but it’s only four o’clock right now, so if you are still there in a couple of hours, i’ll join you?”

“yes,” you said a little too quickly, and wanda chuckled at your eager response. “if i’m still there... i’ll call you from agatha’s phone?” you replied as a shiver ran through you at another gust of chill that blew across the terrace.

“actually…” wanda began, and her hands slipped away from your back and moved to grab yours from her neck. “i have something for you.”

her right hand interlocked with your left, and as she led you towards the sliding terrace door, you gazed at orange hair with confusion written across your face.

“for me?” you voiced, and as you stepped through the threshold of her penthouse after wanda slid the door open, you watched her close it and turn the rotating lock. “i’m having flashbacks to you presenting my dildo to me,” you tittered.

a look of surprise at your words flashed across wanda’s face, and with a slight flush starting to spread across pale cheeks, you had a feeling she was reminiscing about that night; a common occurrence for you.

“that is safely tucked away,” wanda replied with a wry smile, then with her hand returning to yours again, she continued. “this is something for you only.”

“you’ve just set me up for a perfect vibrator joke,” you retorted with a grin, and like music to your ears, a laugh from the redhead sounded in front of you.

your gaze became curious again as she led you through the open living room and past a set of wooden stairs.

then, with a short right turn, you entered the space of her large kitchen - one you adored vehemently - and you spotted something new placed on the oak island ahead of you.

“wanda?” you voiced, glancing at her before looking back at the shape. “is that a….” you narrowed your eyes slightly, and with the distinct look of a boxed phone in the middle of the oak island, you felt your heart rate pick up.

then, with another glance at wanda, you saw the tentative smile on her face and realised she wasn’t flustered from intimate memories anymore; she was flustered from apprehension.

“i hope you won’t be stubborn with me on this…” wanda faltered, and as you both stopped in front of the island, your eyes shot from the older woman to the oak surface. it was indeed a boxed phone. “and if it helps any,” she continued, “i didn’t buy you this; it’s one i don’t use. but, it works like new, and i got a new sim for it… you don’t even have to use it completely. you should- please keep yours if you want, but this too… i need to be able to know you’re safe.”

as you looked back at wanda, you took in everything she said, and despite what you told her of your obstinate view - until your current phone broke, you wouldn’t replace it- all you could think was the significance behind wanda’s gesture.

“okay,” you breathed out, your lips turning into a smile. “thank you.” you felt your chest whirl with warmth, and after you let go of the redhead’s hand that still held yours, you outstretched it to the box.

“okay…?” wanda asked, perplexed, and a laugh of relief fell from her lips. “that was… easier than I thought. why aren’t you debating me on this?” though wanda looked dubious, you watched as your simple answer caused her apprehensive demeanour to fade.

“i couldn’t be stubborn with something as sweet as this,” you laughed softly at her response, and you slid the new phone closer until it rested in front of you before the oak edge. then, with a slight lean to your right, you kissed wanda’s cheek. “if you want me to have it, i will.”

“i do, very much.” the redhead smiled. “I put my number in there already, so all you need to do is call me later…” she took a step away from you and walked around the opposite side of the kitchen island to the black refrigerator that faced you - one you had marvelled at a month prior when you immediately noticed the ice and liquid dispensers on one of its doors. “I’ll meet you at the bar if you’re still there, or we’ll meet back here, okay?”

“whatever you say, gorgeous.” you beamed as your eyes dropped to the phone, and as you heard wanda open one of the refrigerator doors, you bit back an even bigger smile as you slid the box's top lid off and looked at the phone inside.

ᗢ

the loud clatter of balls scattering around the pool table echoed as you and agatha stood around it, and with you at the end where the headstring was, you watched as two solid numbered balls sank down two different pockets.

you had made a clean break, and with pride swirling around your chest, you rose from your bent position and straightened.

“good one,” agatha smiled opposite you, her eyes on the table as she watched the rest of the balls come to a halt in a widespread position across the red velvet. “but remember, there is a drink on the line… don’t go messing this up.”

you rolled your eyes at this, and as you moved around to the left side of the table to where the white ball had landed, you shot agatha a sceptical look. “i know your game, and i bet my mother did too.”

“oh please,” the brunette chuckled, and as she spun the cue between her right fingers and thumb that she held standing up, agatha briefly shook her head. “she was terrible at this. the amount of times henry and i would play each other because she refused to watch herself lose again…”

“or,” you responded with a laugh, “like mother, like daughter; she refused to be a part of your drink scheme.”

as you looked at the table again, you looked around for possible shots. with your eyes settling on a purple ball with the number four on it close to the top-right corner pocket where agatha stood, you readied your cue in your hands and leaned over again to aim.

“yeah, yeah,” the older woman drawled, “don’t let your mouth ruin this shot.” then you heard her step closer to the table. “i win my drinks fair and square,” she added, and as you raised your head slightly, her left hand, free of the cue, moved to the corner you were aiming for. “aim,” agatha’s index fingers touched the wood around the pocket, “right,” she elogenated, “here.”

“where is a referee when you need one?” you huffed sarcastically, and with your eyes returning to the purple you aimed for, you pulled your cue back and hit the white ball with a bit of power. as it rolled forward and tapped the side of the number four ball, you watched it roll gracefully until it sank into the pocket. “oh my god,” you laughed as you straightened up. “i don’t even need one.”

“i bet if red were here you’d be playing as terribly as your mother did,” agatha retorted, and she retreated a couple of steps from the pool table and turned around to the small wooden table with two chairs that held your drinks.

“my ego would actually be on the line if wanda were here, so i think i’d be playing even better,” you quipped, and with your left hand gripping the cue, you walked around the pool table to reach for your glass. as you sipped the rum and lemonade, you felt the gifted phone in the left back pocket of your black jeans buzz and smiled instantly. “oh, speak of the devil.”

you had yet to install anything on the phone, and the only notification you knew you’d received would be from the redhead herself. so, as you set your drink down on the table, you excitedly reached into your pocket and looked at the lit-up screen.

a soft gasp fell from your lips upon seeing the name wanda had set for herself, and your left hand hardened against the sides of the phone.

mommy: hi darling, how’s it going?

“what’s wrong?” agatha asked, and as you felt her shift closer to you, you pressed the lock button on the phone, and your head shot to the brunette as the display blackened. she looked at you, her eyebrows furrowing slightly, and as agatha parted her lips to speak again, you knew you had to beat her to the punch.

“nothing, sorry i-” you sputtered out, and you propped your pool cue against the edge of the table in front of you. “don’t cheat while i’m gone; i just need to call wanda really quick.”

agatha feigned a quick gasp with a hand against her chest, “how dare you… just wait until it’s my turn.”

ᗢ

with a sigh falling from her lips, wanda blinked at the papers she held before her: an operational budget that she had to look over. then, her phone, which was placed to her right on the desk, shattered the silence on the empty office floor as it rang. wanda tore her eyes away from the numbers she felt like she wasn’t registering and smiled upon seeing a call from you.

eagerly, she reached for her phone and answered before raising it to her left ear. “hi honey!”

“well, hello there,” you pronounced through the phone, “that’s quite a contact name you put for yourself.”

from the tone of your voice, she could tell you were flustered and assumedly frustrated, so as her smile grew wider at the reaction, wanda placed the documents down and spun around in her chair. “oh,” the redhead breathed, “am i mistaken? i could’ve sworn you’ve called me that… several times.”

“wanda,” you whined into her ear.

the sound made her cross her black jean-clad legs as she felt that familiar tingle between them, and she glanced at the digital clock to her right that sat on a wooden table. she couldn’t wait to see you again. how had it only been an hour?

“so,” she grinned, ignoring your response, and she leaned back into the chair, with her right hand moving to the dark leather armrest before she continued. “tell mommy how it’s going.”

“it’s-” you began, and with a sigh sounding through the phone, wanda wished she could magic the view of you: the gifted phone against an ear, looking hot and bothered. “it’s going good,” you spoke again, ”agatha and i are playing pool right now, or we were… but i’m now standing out front.”

“who’s winning?” wanda asked, the smile still on her lips as the conjured image in her mind changed to picturing you laughing and having fun with the brunette.

“so far, me, and i intend to keep it that way,” you laughed softly.

the answer made wanda bite her bottom lip softly; she had no idea, and the newfound knowledge of the skill was attractive to her. “well done, baby,” the redhead uttered, and glanced back at the digital clock to see only a few minutes had passed. “i miss you.”

“mommy,” you whispered into the phone; your hushed tone was laced with yearning. “i miss you too,” you replied, your voice returning to normal volume. then, you paused before speaking again. “how’s work going?”

“it’s going…” wanda chuckled, and as she spun back to face her desk, she looked at the rest of the papers she had yet to read through. “i think i’m the only one left in the building now… except the third floor; they’re notorious for staying after hours.”

“they purposely stay there? doesn’t everybody finish early today?” you asked, a sound of displeasure following it. “surely your father doesn’t pay them that much.”

“you would think,” wanda hummed with a soft chuckle, “some people’s entire lives revolve around work, i guess, but i’m not complaining too much; it’s slightly relieving to know i’m not totally alone in this building.”

“well in that case, i’m glad they are…” you replied. “i’ve got to go back in now, but i can’t wait to see you. be safe, and i’ll call you in an hour?”

wanda smiled. just an hour left, she mused; that’s all she needed, and then she’d be done for the evening. “yes an hour, honey, and i can’t wait to see you too. speak soon.”

ᗢ

as the digital timepiece flashed six o’clock, the redhead sighed as she neatly stacked documents together with a paperclip, and after she placed them to her left on the desk, she rose from her chair.

as she rolled the sleeves up of her black jumper as she stood upright, a muffled clatter outside her office door sounded, and with wanda’s ears pricking at the noise, her eyebrows furrowed with her gaze landing on the closed blinds that hung over the length of the door.

wanda could feel the atmosphere change before the strange tone had even seeped in the space of her office. so, with a quiet, hesitant step to her left, despite the insulated frosted glass that surrounded her, she stalked around her desk and paused to listen.

she waited a few moments, and she was greeted with nothing but silence. with one last look of scepticism toward the door, she let out a shaky sigh and turned around to collect her things from the desk.

as she opened up the small handbag placed near her phone, a metallic click resounded from behind her, and with the familiar sound of the doorknob completing its rotation, wanda’s gaze shot up from her bag, and she froze. her heart rate picked up moderately at the unexpected noise, and as she forced herself to turn around, nausea and fear hit her all at once.

“oh my love, i’ve missed being this close to you.”

ᗢ

as you pulled away from agatha’s hold, you smiled at her and then turned to your left, where her taxi had pulled up beside the pavement. “i’ll see you soon?” you guessed, looking back at her. “wanda and i have plans tomorrow, but how about we meet at the cafe across the street the day after?”

“sounds good, kid.” agatha smiled. “is wanda on her way?” she asked, her tone full of worry as the evening sky sat dark around you both. the sun had long since set after your view of it on wanda’s terrace, and she was understandably feeling guilty about parting ways.

“it’s just past six now, so she might be, but i told her i’d call her. so i’ll wait in the bar until she gets here,” you replied. with a right hand squeezing her arm reassuringly, you spoke again. “you go on ahead! i’ll be okay.”

“text me when you’re safe,” she uttered sternly, and with a step backwards, she glanced at the taxi before smiling at you. “thank god for red; now you are finally reachable.”

you chuckled softly, “i will.” and with a small wave, you watched as she walked to the back passenger door and swiftly entered the car.

with your hand reaching into your back pocket for your new phone, you felt it buzz in your hold and with a thought of… another odd timing striking your mind, you looked at the notification on your lock screen and saw the knowing text from wanda.

mommy: hey sweetheart, come to my office? i have a surprise for you here.

with an eyebrow raising slightly at the nickname wanda had never called you before, you pushed it out of your mind and blinked at the latter part of her text. two surprises in one day? you thought.

you: another one? colour me shocked. i’ll call a taxi from the bar. agatha just left, and you’ll be proud to know i won three more games after we last spoke!

you swiped off the messaging app and clicked on the one with the keypad to make a call.

as you entered the number for the local taxi firm, you waited for it to ring out, and soon enough, a click sounded before a woman spoke. you told her of the bar's address and that you wanted to go to maximoff industries, and with the promise of a five-minute wait, you hung up after thanking the operator.

with the curious thought of what wanda had planned for you, you entered the bar again and waited near the glass door until you saw your driver pull up.

ᗢ

“hi, it’s wanda. i can’t come to the phone right now, but please leave a message, and i’ll call you back.”

before the beep sounded against your ear, you pulled your phone away from it, and with your eyebrows furrowing, you ended the call and swiped to the messaging app.

you eagerly typed as you stood at the entrance of a very tall building that felt like it travelled higher into the sky as the darkness of the night engulfed the top of the high-rise.

you: i’m here, gorgeous. do i just walk in?

from what you could see, and like wanda had mentioned, the third floor was lit up, and then, as you eyed higher than that, you saw a faint glow of light at least ten floors up. that had to be wanda, you thought.

as the gifted phone buzzed in your hand, you looked down to see she had responded.

mommy: yes, the door’s open and security barriers are too. use the elevator. floor sixteen, scarlet ;)

you: why the alias? you really are full of surprises today… see you soon, beautiful.

“scarlet?” you murmured to yourself, and as you practically frowned in bewilderment at your phone, you pushed it into your back pocket again and reached for one of the solid brass silver pull handles.

with a gust of wind blowing behind you again, you shivered, but even with the thankful relief from the cold in the maroon turtleneck you wore, you quickly stepped inside.

as you eyed around the dark foyer, your left hand brought the door to a slow close before it eventually shut.

the deafening silence radiated through the empty floor, and it made your heart beat slightly faster as you looked at the open security barriers wanda had mentioned. you stepped through and stalked towards the right side of the building and away from the front desk and entrance.

then to your left, you saw, at the end of the room, three distinct lifts situated there. so with a curious thought of what it would feel like to travel so high up in a building, you walked swiftly to them and eventually pressed one of the buttons to signal a lift.

with the lift on the left coming to life as it descended, you waited until a ding sounded, and after a moment, it echoed in the empty foyer, and you watched the doors open.

the entire time you rode up to the sixteenth floor, you watched the numbers grow higher. then, with the sensation of your stomach doing a backflip as the lift shifted slightly and began to slow, you gazed at the digital screen.

fifteen.

sixteen.

another ding sounded, and as the doors opened, you were greeted by an empty hallway that had dim lights hanging overhead. stepping out, the lift closed behind you, and you looked at a few doors with names unknown to you attached to them.

you continued your walk through and past the empty rooms, and with only a right turn at the end of the hallway, you veered and had your eyes peeled for wanda’s name. after a forced turn, this one left, you saw a sizeable frosted glass room at the end of the hallway.

eyeing it, you drew closer, almost certain it would be the redhead’s office and not a meeting room and then, on your left, was the opening you were looking for.

w. maximoff was written in block letters on the door that had closed blinds hung on the inside, and as you knocked on the glass, you waited a brief moment before turning the doorknob.

“wanda?” you spoke out hesitantly as the door opened, and with your eyes peering into the room only lit by a lamp, you frowned at the emptiness. “what the fuck?” you whispered to yourself.

in the back pocket of your jeans, you felt the phone wanda gave you buzz violently and with your left hand reaching into it, you saw a call from her displayed on the screen. with a sigh, you guessed she was about to tell you that she was waiting for you in the foyer, so as you answered, you put it against your ear before speaking.

“hey, where are you?” you asked, your hand on the doorknob hardening as you pulled it towards you and closed it. “i’m at your office door.”

“you know, scarlet… or y/n,” you heard victor chuckle darkly into your ear. your body immediately tensed, and as you felt your heart start to thump hard in your chest, your hand slipped from the doorknob whilst your stomach dropped. “god, it’s nice to call you that,” he crowed, and with your eyes darting back down the hallway you had walked, you felt overwhelming panic begin to hit you. “i wish i could see the look on your face right now, but i’m on the tippy top of this building with our beloved.”

ᗢ

your legs, which started to feel like jelly, pounded against the floor as you turned left, and with the lift now in view, you gasped softly, and your right hand flew to the button to signal it to the floor.

two of your fingers hammered against it, and with one last push, you took a slight step back and watched as the digital screen showed an arrow pointing up.

“get back in that lift and come join us!”

“how do i-?” you faltered, your hand on the phone hardening as your mouth grew dry. “is she really with you?”

“and looking as gorgeous as ever…” victor retorted. “time’s ticking, little miss dancer; get up here.”

the lift dinged, and as your right shoulder nudged the sliding door as you entered with haste, you scanned the buttons below the digital screen and looked for one that vaguely could be considered the roof. you were unsure, and you just wanted to yell: take me to wanda.

with a button separate from the numbers labelled ‘rt’, you pushed it and waited with bated breath for the lift to move. a mechanical sound reverberated from the lift after the doors closed, then it soon began to rise.

as you glanced up at the digital screen, you felt your eyes beginning to burn with tears.

eighteen.

nineteen.

then, after a few moments had passed and you had willed yourself not to cry, the lift opened into a dark room with a staircase that rose in a z-shape to an exit.

you sighed heavily upon seeing the door to the rooftop, and with the lift’s ride terminating and the doors shutting behind you, you climbed the stairs with nothing but wanda in your mind.

your breath hitched in your throat as your hand flew to the doorknob and, with a twist of it, you stopped dead when you felt it refuse to move… as you hastily looked down the staircase and back to the door, your gaze rose from the doorknob to a black scanner above it.

with your lips parting slightly, you realised you couldn’t get through without some sort of keycard. “wanda,” you spoke, your voice tight as your right hand balled into a fist. you raised it to hit against the silver metal door, “wanda! i’m-” you hit it harder. “victor, let me through!”

despite knowing the doorknob wouldn’t turn, you twisted it anyway, and as you continued to pound against the door, your right hand began to grow tired against the metal.

though, with the thought of wanda alone with him, you didn’t care. you would pummel the door for as long as it took.

suddenly, you felt your body jerk forward harshly, and before you knew it, you were falling forward and onto your knees. as hard gravel came into contact with the palm of your hands, you braced for impact, and with a groan, you hissed as you confusingly raised your head from the ground.

to your right, close to the roof door that was wide open, were black leather pointed shoes, and as you continued to look upwards, the looming sight of victor in a dark suit gazing down at you made you feel sick.

“you needed wanda’s master key, silly…” he smirked, holding a black card in his right hand and giving it a wave above you. “how do you think i got on here?”

“where is-” your words were cut off with another hiss as you pushed yourself onto your bent knees. then, your eyes glanced down to see a bloody graze across your left palm. “wanda?!” you panted, ignoring the sting that came from it and instead glancing around the large roof that was almost void of light beside the moon that beamed overhead and a small light that hung next to the roof door.

“she’s here,” victor cooed with a simpering smile on his lips, and your eyes followed him as he stalked around your form before pausing to stand in front of you.

the roof door came to a slow close behind you, and as your head snapped to it, the daunting thought came that whether or not wanda was on this roof, with the keycard in the man’s hand, you were trapped up here with him.

“you know what’s funny?” victor asked rhetorically, and with your breathing ragged as you stood up on shaky legs, he continued. “you’ve been on my mind so much, i hardly thought about olek… i had to leave for a little while…get away from him and the two bastards he brought last time.”

“if someone…” your eyes glanced around the roof, and with a slight step to your left, you peered for any sight of the redhead. “broke my ribs, i wouldn’t let them slip my mind.”

“oh?” the man voiced, his tone full of intrigue, and it caused you to face him again. victor then shot you a look of surprise. “bedroom talk…?” he winked. “well, i guess you are right,” he said with a tut, and then took a step back from you.

you watched his every move with your heart in your throat, and as he walked past the gap between the roof door and large vent to your right, he spoke again. “but you have no idea what it’s like to see someone you love with a twenty-something slut,” he chided, and his form disapeared as he then rounded the large vent. “it does nothing but consume the mind.”

you paid no attention to the insult as you sank into deep apprehension and your hands tingled with adrenaline at the sight of the man stepping back into view with a limp wanda in his arms.

with a gasp, you watched in repugnance as he looked at her and then your eyes fell to her face, which had a cut along her left cheekbone.

victor laid wanda along the roof, and with a glance at you, he turned back to what your eyes bore into. “that was a mistake…” he mumbled. “but this is not.” and as he swiftly strode around wanda’s body and towards you, your stomach lept as you stumbled to press your back against the door. “you, y/n,” he uttered through gritted teeth as his right hand gripped the hair at the back of your head with a tug. “are going to take a short trip to the ground floor.”

your eyes widened as your hands flew to his large one that grabbed at your hair strands even harder.

“wanda!” you yelled with a groan, your eyes clamping shut at the firm grip victor had on you. “wake up!” your scalp stung, and with another yell of the older woman’s name, your chest heaved as the threat from victor filled you with horror.

a moan sounded in front of you, and as your eyes flew open, you saw the redhead’s face contort before she shifted slightly on her right side.

“wake her up,” victor chuckled. “what do i care? let her watch.” then, as he pulled your body away from the roof’s door slightly, he barked wanda’s name. “my love, your pet wants you to wake up.”

wanda’s eyes fluttered open; you felt yours burn with tears again, and a sob broke out from you as you watched her stir awake.

with a groan and a narrow gaze, she looked at you, and then at victor. then, as she gasped, wanda’s eyes widened with her mouth agape, and she scrambled to stand up as she looked at you and the tears that began to stream down your face.

“y/n,” she whimpered out, and with a hiss, she raised a hand to the cut on her left cheek. “stay…” the redhead breathed out, shooting the man who had you firmly in his grip a horrified glance. “stay calm.” she lowered her hand from her cheek and took a shaky step forward. “i’m so sorry, i don’t know what happened.”

“you got careless, wands,” victor seethed next to your ear, causing you to wince, and as you did, the hair in his hold pulled tighter, and you squeaked in pain as your fingers clawed at his hand. “that’s what happened.”

“don’t call her that!” you yelped, your fingers shifting to his in an attempt to pry them from your hair, and with the inch you felt of freedom, your shoes hit the gravel, and you tried to surge your body forward.

“get…” you felt victor grip harder, and with a yank of your hair towards him, you stumbled into his chest with a moan. “back here. i’ve told you where you are going…”

“please,” you mewled, and your vision began to blur as more tears came and the pain in your head heightened. “let go,” you begged. you couldn’t die here, not now, and not like this.

you heard a panicked yell sound from wanda as she scrambled forward. “victor, what-” the redhead gasped out as you blinked away the tears. wanda became clear in your vision as she moved until she was close enough that you could clearly see the dried blood along the cut on her cheekbone. “what is your endgame here?” wanda asked, her voice trembling.

“you know what i want!” he barked desperately, then, with a deep sigh into your ear, you felt his fingers tense against the strands of your baby hairs. “you know what i want…” victor said again, his voice attempting to be calmer. “just me and you, dearest.”

you wanted to cry out, yell that she was yours and that you were hers… but the fear of victor potentially ripping your hair out grew stronger, and you felt your body unable to move. “wanda,” was all you could muster, and with another sob leaving your lips, you closed your eyes as you felt the world coming down on you.

“hey. no, no-” the redhead hushed out frantically. “y/n, look at me,” she ordered.

reluctantly, you opened your wet eyes, and with your tired arms falling from victor’s hand to your sides, you looked at wanda.

“i’m so sorry…” she breathed out with a shake of her head. “but i have to do this.” wanda stepped closer and looked at victor, a heavy sigh falling from her lips. “fine.” was all she said. “just give y/n the key.”

as your eyes widened at wanda’s words, you followed her as she grew closer to the tall man and his unrelenting grip on your hair. “wanda?” you voiced in disbelief, and you frowned hard at the woman as her gaze remained on victor.

“you mean it, baby?” the suited man asked, his voice laced with hope as his hold loosened against your head. “i promise it won’t be like before.”

yes, the world was definitely coming down on you now, and as you listened to wanda speak a soft yes to him, you felt victor let go of your hair.

he pushed you by the back of your head until the roof suddenly grew closer and loose gravel dug into your palms once more, and with a groan on impact, you breathed out and turned your head.

the redhead didn’t face you, not when you hissed as your already grazed palm burned with pain, and not when you sobbed her name.

“now my key…” wanda murmured, and with her right hand raising to his suited arm, you felt nausea whirl within you at the contact. “let her at least get out of the door first before i kiss you.”

her words stung, and as your bottom lip trembled, you moved to sit on your legs as you felt your chest begin to ache with grief. your palms throbbed and your knees hurt, but all you could focus on was the scene before you; a tragedy. “please,” you pleaded. “stop.”

before you had registered victor’s movement, he tossed the master key card he had used to let you on to the roof, and as you looked down at it on the gravel in front of you in despair, you returned your gaze to wanda… who still wouldn’t look in your direction.

you needed her to look at you; you needed to see her face and the look on it that would tell you she didn’t mean a word of it.

“y/n,” wanda spoke firmly as she looked at victor, and with her left hand moving to rest on his chest, she guided him backwards slightly until he stood out of the way of the exit and in the gap between the hinges of the roof door and the large vent. you kept your eyes trained on her, and as anger and sadness swirled in your chest, which threatened to rise like bile, she spoke once more. “stand up and take the key.”

you didn’t want to, and even if you did, you weren’t sure your legs would stand the weight of your turmoil. “don’t…” don’t do this, you thought, and the urge to lower your head built within you as victor grinned at wanda.

“now.” the redhead insisted.

with another sob coming from you, you outstretched your right arm, and with a trembling hand, you picked up the card and pushed yourself off of the gravel that dug into your jeans as you rose.

then, with your eyes landing on wanda’s hands that touched his chest and right arm, you sluggishly walked forward and turned to face the door. with a heavy heart and your right hand raised, you touched it against the black scanner above the doorknob.

as you saw a small flash of green light on the device, your left hand moved to the doorknob, and you twisted it to pull it open.

“victor,” wanda said to your left, “i promise… i will not miss you.” in the blink of an eye, the redhead rushed forward, and a yelp of panic from victor sounded as he lost his footing.

wanda’s hands let go of him, and she quickly threw herself onto her back with a groan. as the man’s hands frantically grasped for nothing in the air with fear on his face, you watched as he fell over the edge of the roof and out of your view into the darkness.

you gasped loudly, and your hand that was on the doorknob flew to your mouth as you heard victor’s cry of terror start to fade and the roof door slowly closed once again. your chest heaved, and as the loud and sharp sound of his body hitting concrete resounded, you could only look forward at the night sky that faced you in stupor and repulsion.

ᗢ

the tragic death of victor von doom: suicide and sadness

another linked article on twitter caught your eye, and with a sharp intake, you swiped the app away from your phone’s screen and looked towards your left and out toward the skyline as you sat on a chair on wanda’s penthouse terrace.

with a sigh, the urge to use your phone faded quickly, and you turned your head and placed it on a small table to your right.

“honey?”

you looked up to wanda staring at you, as she sat on a matching chair, and as she reached her right hand up to her sunglasses, she tilted them down until green eyes gazed back at you.

“even after death, that man is still creeping around my life,” you muttered darkly, and with your arms clasped across your chest in frustration, you looked away from her.

“they’ll stop talking about him eventually,” wanda replied knowingly, her tone soft. you felt one of her hands touch your right bicep, and as you looked back at her, you saw she had removed her sunglasses, and her eyebrows were furrowed as she pouted slightly. “it’s only been two months; just give it time.” she motioned her head to the view of the blue sky around you, and with the winter months now fading away, she shot you a smile. “enjoy the sun, baby. it’s been gloomy for far too long.”

you weren’t sure if that was a euphemism or not, but regardless, she was, of course, right. it had been a while since you felt the sun on your skin like this, and since that evening on the rooftop of the office building, you knew your life was different now… safer. you should enjoy it.

there was no certain blame here; there are no cameras in the maximoff building to show you three were in there that night, and with only a guess in an open-and-shut case by the police that victor climbed the fire escape of the building opposite the maximoff office and took his life in a frenzy or drunken accident, you and the older woman finally felt free to do as you pleased without anxiety lingering around.

“you’re right,” you spoke, a smile on your lips as your arms unfolded. you shifted slightly in the chair to lean to your right, and took wanda’s left hand, which was on your bicep, to hold it. “how about…” you intoned, your smile growing bigger as the thought of victor grew smaller in your mind. “we talk about the dream i had last night instead?”

“how intriguing,” wanda grinned at you, sitting up straighter as she listened, and as you looked at her face and her left cheekbone that was now rid of the mark victor had inflicted upon her, you hummed agreeingly.

“just before i met you, i travelled to england,” you began to explain with a smile, your mind flashing with the sights you had seen when you’d visited. “and on my journey home, i told myself i would visit scotland next…” wanda looked at you curiously as she listened, biting her lip softly. “i will tell you all about it in a moment…” you added with a giggle as you saw the urge in the woman to ask questions about your time there. “i can’t believe i haven’t told you about that yet. but i had a dream of you and i in scotland, and i- i want that.”

“oh my sweet,” wanda cooed, her grin unfaltering as she leaned forward slightly. “i would love to.”

“yeah?” you gasped excitedly, sitting up in your chair at the words and dream that would come into fruition. the trip was one you had already been excited for, but now with wanda coming with you… you couldn’t think of anything better.

wanda smiled at you with a small tilt of her head, “without a doubt.”

ᗢ

as the redhead grinned at you, you pulled your gaze away from her with a turn of your head to agatha who stood to your right. “and this…” you bubbled, your hands motioning at the towering and charming country house that faced you. “this is where we’ll be getting married.” you smiled at her.

with a gasp falling from her lips, agatha took a step back and admired the ivory walls of the large house that wanda had rented out for the two of you in dundee when you had visited two years prior.

you had a phenomenal time with her, and the day after wanda proposed to you - two months ago, with her heart on her sleeve and on one knee on her lit-up terrace- you had the awe-filled thought that scotland is where you wanted to marry her.

“this is gorgeous,” agatha breathed out with a smile, “and you’re sure you want me to be your maid of honour?” she questioned hesitantly.

“of course!” you exulted. “that, and to walk me down the aisle…” you added, a flush of heat spreading across your face as you saw agatha’s drop and her eyes, which welled with tears. the brunette turned away from you briefly, and as she cleared her throat, you spoke again. “only three months left to go.”

ᗢ

“what do you mean, you don’t want it?” you asked, your eyebrows furrowing as you looked at wanda. “you said you liked it when i last cooked it for you.”

“i did,” wanda laughed softly as she sat to your left at the hardwood circle table in wanda’s penthouse kitchen; the safe haven she chose to keep even after the time that had passed since you both cried happy tears when you spoke the words “i do.” five years ago.

the tall building had long since started to feel like a safe place for you too, especially since you moved out of your apartment after victor’s death. you had no need for it, and wherever wanda wanted to reside, well… that’s where you’d be.

“but i didn’t like the burn that came with it,” wanda continued, her orange hair moving around her face as she shook her head slightly. “i just think, out of the two of us, my love… i should watch the food instead.”

you gasped, shifting in the chair as you sat up with offence evident in your demeanour. “it wasn’t that burnt!” you attested, and with your eyebrows raising slightly, you thought of the reason why the meal you had been making for the two of you hadn’t been perfect. “and need i remind you why that occurred?”

wanda’s lips twitched with a smirk, and she leaned forward slightly, her gorgeous face growing closer- thirty-nine had never looked better on anyone else - and she outstretched a hand to one of yours and pulled you by it until you rose from the chair. “i think it went a little something like this…” she uttered whilst she guided you towards her, and as you straddled the soft cotton of her trousers, you bit your lip as déjà vu struck you, and her hands landed on your hips.

“mommy,” you gasped out as you rocked yourself on two of wanda’s fingers that she had rested firmly on her lap as you straddled it in black shorts and a matching bralette.

the edge of her palm hit your clit deliciously, and as her slender digits touched you in ways that made you pant desperately against her left ear, you felt her hum against your neck.

“you feel so good,” wanda spoke against the skin she had been softly sucking on, and with a warm tongue running up to your jaw, she groaned as you felt your walls contract around her fingers that had pushed past your shorts and underwear. “and you look so hot like that.”

the drilling thought of the oven cooking what you had prepared had since left your mind, and with the noises from wanda’s lips residing there instead, you continued to fuck yourself on her digits. “you’re so hot, mommy. all mine….” you gasped out with a moan. “my wife.”

“fuck, y/n.” wanda cursed with a groan against your neck, and as she returned her lips to the skin, you could feel your orgasm building as the knot in your stomach twisted tighter.

“fine,” wanda voiced, pulling you from your thoughts as green eyes gazed at you. “i admit it’s not entirely your fault.” she smiled, her breath ghosting your lips as your face stayed close to hers. “you can redeem yourself and cook it again… but,” she pronounced teasingly, and her hands on your hips squeezed softly. “instead of during cooking time, i take you right now.”

you moaned softly at her words as your stomach jumped with excitement. the spark of arousal that had transpired when she guided you onto her lap a few moments ago then ignited into a roaring flame, and you closed the small gap and kissed wanda.

since the day the redhead came back to house of harkness and asked for a dance from you, you couldn’t believe your luck. you still couldn’t… and now, after the years that had passed with wanda remaining a perfect constant in your life, you looked at the woman before you in pure adoration. despite what had happened and the danger she put herself in to rid victor from both of your lives, she was under you, warm and safe; all yours.

you cherished her so much, and you needed to voice it. with a gasp, the redhead deepened the kiss, and as your mind reeled at the sensation of her tongue against yours, you slowly pulled away from her lips to speak.

“i love you.”

Countless cereal boxes are scattered along the floor, some slowly seeping out more work for you as pebbles and crumbs ooze from the broken plastic seals. Drifting in an ocean of Captain Crunch, Lucky Charms, and Cheerios, you get closer to the source of your interrupted break.

It seems that during your fifteen-minute lunch break, the cereal aisle exploded.

Clusters of cereal lie strewn along the floor with strange voids in the middle, like a shitty murder mystery, just that instead of a body being outlined by white tape, it was more like a blob monster drawn with Cheerios.

It wasn’t the first time either- this is the third time just this week that you’ve had to clean it up.

Safe to say, your workplace has a cereal killer on the loose.

The squeak of obnoxiously loud sneakers screeches to a halt on the opposite side of the murder scene. A shadow falls across the dire situation as murder suspect #1 completely disregards the mess in front of you. Instead, the boom of hands colliding with each other has you raising your brows in annoyance.

“Why are you just standing there? Come on, we need you at the registers, chop chop!” Kyle, your asshole of a manager, doesn’t waste a second to hear your response, already halfway across the room before you can open your mouth. His condescending clapping still echoing down the hall with his retreat.

If it weren’t for the fact that he always gave you the shifts you wanted, you would’ve made him the murder outline by now. However, as it stands, he’s the only reason you get out of the house as much as you do, so with a huff, you get to work.

To say your time back from Uni has been dull would be an understatement. The thought drifts somewhat loosely in your head as you clock out at the end of your shift. It’s late, the time trickling into midnight as you make your way across the parking lot.

Mindlessly kicking a rock around, it jumps over bumps and crashes against divots in the pavement. The gentle clatter of stone striking is suddenly overpowered by the honk of a car.

The air shifts, her presence layers itself like something tangible until it slathers against the inside of your throat. You can’t escape the jump of your pulse or the squeeze of your lungs as headlights illuminate you in the darkness.

You attempt an on-foot escape from the familiar Porsche closing in on you. Your shoe digs into your heel, the bent material has become a near-constant ache as it aggravates the blister that brewed long ago. A slick dribble of blood smears itself against your white sock, spreading until a ring of red peeks over the edge of your shoe.

The voice of your stepmother follows your hasty retreat, but your ignorance is short-lived as Wanda points an accusatory finger through her rolled-down window.

“Nuh uh, no avoiding me today, baby Bambi.” The pet name runs through you like a splash of cold water, sending chills down your spine as you freeze in your path.

Wanda points to the passenger seat, undeterred by your initial resistance. It has become a dance between you and your stepmother since you came home for the summer. She would insist that you both do something together, to bond or whatever, while you would take on extra hours and avoid her religiously.

She has tried to pick you up from work multiple times now, but you would pretend you didn’t see her, simply walking past or hitching a ride with a coworker.

You know it’s rude, but you’d rather be rude than admit that you have a crush on your own stepmother.

There is no telling how it festered, but since the moment you laid your eyes on her, she’s consumed you. The idea of spending more time with her than strictly necessary sinks like a weight into the pit of your stomach.

You’d rather she hate you than be disgusted by your perverted crush.

Besides, you are well over the age where you need to bond with your father’s partner. It’s not like it will last anyway, anyone with a pair of eyes can tell they married for business’s sake. Your father owns a rather lucrative business in the corporate world, a business that just so happens to have been your stepmother’s business rival until the two CEOs supposedly found love.

Yeah, love is what you would call the new car in your dad’s driveway and him stepping down to let Wanda handle both businesses.

There was no telling why she hadn’t left him yet.

Today would be another one of your elusive instances if it weren’t for the look she is giving you. It’s stricter than usual, with a tightness around her mouth and firmness in her eyes.

With a sigh, you climb into the passenger seat. A waft of rich perfume engulfs your tired frame. It creeps over your skin like a second layer, spreading the warm scent of cinnamon and cherry over your sweat-stained uniform. Wanda regards you with a strange fondness in her eyes as your slumped frame not so subtly leans toward her in pursuit of the smell's source.

Wanda is dressed more homely today, her blond hair slung into a side part and her face void of makeup. Even her clothing choice is far beyond the usual. You’ve gotten used to the blazers and form-fitting dress pants over the past few weeks, but today she’s in a simple white shirt coupled with some washed jeans.

The sluggishness of your exhaustion must be doing a number on you, as you don’t even realize you’re staring until a touch against your leg startles you.

A hand settles, palm up, on your thigh as she drives out of the parking lot. The shitty fabric of your work pants does little to diffuse the heat that radiates from her. A strange lump forms in your stomach at the thought of heat spreading elsewhere, as her patience seems to run thin. “Come on, hand it over.”

You blink in confusion, looking over to where her eyes stay glued to the road, in question.

She glances at you, a hint of amusement and something you’ve never seen on her, flashing across her features, “Your phone. You know the rules, honey.” 

Ah right…

It was one of the weird things she had started implementing into your life.

The rules.

Most of them were fairly easy: keep your room clean, wash the dishes when it’s your turn, and help make dinner when you aren’t working. Then there were the stranger ones. Suddenly, you had a curfew at 10 pm outside of work hours, you weren’t allowed on your phone in Wanda’s vicinity, and only approved guests could stay over.

Knowing there is no point in making a fuss about it, you fish your phone out before dropping it gently into Wanda’s waiting palm. She opens the middle console and puts it in before leaning over slightly to pat your thigh in reward.

“Well done, darling. Thank you.”

The pet names are another odd addition to Wanda’s involvement in your life. Though they are always sweet, they make you squirm. People in your life never really use nicknames, or pet names, or anything other than your name when they are referring to you.

Wanda is an anomaly in your preferably predictable life.

The crunch of gravel beneath the tires lulls you out of your thoughts. The car drums gently atop the small rocks, some of them knocking against the rim in a soothing hiss that rings through the quiet car.

However, it does confuse you. The road back to your dad’s place doesn’t have any gravel roads. Now that you’re thinking about it, you're pretty sure Wanda is driving the wrong direction altogether.

“Where are we going?”

The slim silence while Wanda seems to ponder her wording makes a drop of sweat drip down your back, “My apartment. Your father is gone for the weekend, and I thought we girls should bond a little.”  

Your sluggish mind takes a moment to catch up, merely staring at her, until it hits you like a slap in the face. Spending more time with her addicting presence is the last thing you should be doing. If Wanda had any sense in her, she would see why you avoid her and run for the hills.

“Wan-”

Her hand, not currently occupying the steering wheel, is in your face. Squishing your cheeks together harsher than necessary, Wanda tsks, “No. I don’t want to hear it. Is it really that horrible to spend time with me?”

Fingertips release you from her hold, instead, they glide softly along your cheek. It hypnotizes you, your need to comfort her is stronger than your will to stay away: “No, of course not.”

A happy hum is all you get before her warmth is gone, both hands on the wheel and eyes staying strictly forward as Wanda keeps driving. “Good. Then it’s decided.”

You sigh your agreement.

────୨ৎ────

A lone chair sits in Wanda's luxurious hallway. It’s the first thing you notice, its rich brown color absorbs some of the warm light filtering from above. It’s a stark contrast from the rest of the white hall.

Paintings are scattered across both sides of the hallway, the illustrations vary, some abstract pieces hanging above the coatrack while a far too explicit painting of a woman engaging in… some interesting acts… sits atop the door that you assume leads to the living room.

You squirm where you stand, twisting your fingers as blush crawls up your neck. Wanda’s soft chuckle directly behind you does little to diffuse the sudden tension tightening your stance.

“Come here.”

There is no time to react before Wanda pushes you onto that neat little chair.

The groan of wood falls on deaf ears as all your senses hone in on Wanda’s hands. Fingers slide against your knees, the pressure of her fingertips pushing against the stiff material of your pants before grasping your ankle. Words choke themselves, stuck as your stepmother inspects your bloodied sock.

Blond tresses sway against your exposed skin as she lifts your pants for a better look. A dried slab of blood clings to your skin, a smudge of red festering on the back of your shoe where the broken back resides.

A suspiciously handy med-kit resides under the chair, Wanda getting to work with a quiet, “Poor baby.”

You stay silent as she goes through the motions of cleaning your bloody blister before adding a silly-themed band-aid over it. Leaning back on her knees with one last pat to your heel, Wanda eyes your destroyed shoes before looking back at you.

“I fear those will have to go.”

You know she’s right: if not for your bleeding heel, then the fact that the soles are practically nonexistent by now. Still, you can’t help the tears that build in your eyes at the news. You know you’re just tired and being stupid, but you really like these shoes.

The thought of fighting against her words must flash across your face because Wanda clicks her tongue before you have the chance to open your mouth.

“Now now, I know you’re tired, but there is no reason to throw a tantrum, baby Bambi.”

A stunned stillness settles over you at her words, it’s infuriating how she belittles you, yet some small part of you blooms under the condescending tone that drips so sweetly from her tongue.

The pitter-patter of Wanda’s socked feet hitting the wooden flooring as she starts walking away from you almost has you on your knees begging for forgiveness before she stops.

Illuminated by the bathing light of the living room, Wanda stands directly under her unique art. The warm orange bounces against her loose curls, leaving a strange dreamlike effect as her words float around the far too empty space between the two of you.

“Now, come, it’s late and mo- and I don’t want more attitude in the morning.” The soft murmur of her voice fades away from you as she turns, leaving you to force your depleting strength into your muscles and dart after her at what you hope is an appropriate speed.

Wanda leads you into a guest room, leaving with a curt goodnight.

It all seems awfully rushed to you. You know it’s probably for the best, the mere sliver of affection she granted you today already having left an addiction buzz inside your head.

But you’re greedy.

You want more.  

It’s the last thought you have before you succumb to the strangeness of tonight, drifting in an ocean of cinnamon and cherry as your head hits red silk.

────୨ৎ────

The cusp of darkness lies like a shroud above you as you wake up. Something is pushing toward you, heat engulfing your tired frame. Seconds tick by in a meaningless fashion before your mind catches up to the tickle of blonde tresses against your back.

It seems that sometime in the night, Wanda has come back for you. She cocoons around you, pushing in at strange intervals.  

You almost ask her if something is wrong before a sound submerges your train of thought.

Wanda’s scattered breath weighs heavily in the air. Sounds you have never heard from her before now moaned directly into your ear.

It stuns you into silence as you focus on her movements.

Hips buck against your back, seeking pleasure in your unassuming form. Wanda grinds gently, like waves cruising along the coastline, back and forth in smooth motions. Her sleeping shorts ruffle on your lower back, bunching with the movement of her hips and pressing into you.

You can hear her breath grow heavier by the second, puffing against the shell of your ear. The last remnants of slumber burn away from you as your own breath hitches in your throat. You wonder what she’s dreaming about.

At least you think she’s dreaming…

The lips resting against your neck expose Wanda's pleasure as she moans silently, “Fuck, I can’t stop… Baby Bambi, fuck.”

The sound of her sends a shiver through you. She isn’t dreaming. Your stepmother is humping your sleeping form because she wants you.

Needs you.

 You have to suppress the need to grind back into her desperately. It’s like a sickness, her desperation bleeding into your own as your breath grows quicker.

A hand sneaks beneath your t-shirt. The warmth of her palm travels up- up- up until she’s cupping one of your tits gently. Fingers circle the sensitive flesh of your nipple, not hard enough to rouse any real reaction, but constant enough for the wetness between your thighs to grow.

“You feel so good, baby Bambi.”

The ache in your chest explodes at her words, leaving you to pant against the sheets as you try to keep quiet. You fear what would happen if she knew you were awake, the thought of her stopping almost lets a whine slip past your slack lips.

Her other hand palms against your side now, gripping your hips lightly before braving the path down. She skims over your lower stomach, pushing you deeper against Wanda’s moving hips before she’s rubbing a teasing pressure against your underwear.

Two fingers rub in circular motions, only interrupted by her wild jerking. Wanda’s fingers drag a path across the sticky wetness of your pussy. She tests the stretch of your underwear, pushing against your opening before retreating and returning to your clit.

The bucking turns rougher, with sporadic jumps followed by a drawn-out “Baby, fuck-”

You squeeze your eyes shut, begging for the mercy of her mounting pleasure before you come in your panties, untouched, and reveal yourself. Instead, there is a murmur against your neck, something that sounds suspiciously like “fuck it,” before soft lips trail kisses against the back of your neck.

The movement of her hips stops, then her haughty voice breaks the newfound stillness: “I know you’re awake.”

For a moment, the world freezes as a thousand thoughts drift through your head.

Has she known the entire time?

Were you not supposed to wake up?

Is she mad at you?

But your inner panic is cut short as a thigh pushes itself between your legs. The warmth of her is a stark contrast to the wet patch sticking to the inside of your thigh.

Her hands shift to hold your hips firmly as she starts rocking you with her movement, surrendering you to her mercy as she drags you against the meat of her thigh. Your swollen clit strains against the soaked fabric of your underwear, the flimsy material the only hindrance between your flesh and hers.

“Let mommy take care of you, hm, what do you say, baby?”

A desperate keen is the only response she gets as she flips you.

The weight of a body pins you flat against the bed, coarse fabric pushing along your back as her chest settles atop you. Rougher hands lift until your hips wag in the air.

“You really thought mommy wouldn’t notice, baby?”

There is not a moment of wasted breath before your underwear is quickly pushed to the side and her fingers plunge into you. The naughty noise of wet squealing and your surprised moans bounce against the bedroom walls.

“Fuck, well done, baby Bambi, you take me so well.” The hair on the back of your neck drifts with her words as they blow over your skin. Wanda’s pushing against her hand, humping you as she fucks you roughly.

She grunts deeply, “Can mommy tell you a secret?”

The pads of Wanda’s fingertips rail against your sweet spot repeatedly, her words barely hanging on to meaning. She laughs at your pathetic cries, pushing your head further into the sheets. A pool of saliva turns the white fabric sheer.

Her moans grow in volume with your own, the both of you speeding toward pure bliss.

“Shit, I've been thinking about this for so long.”

Your skin surrenders to her teeth as they lodge into your shoulder.

“Ever since I first saw you, mommy knew you needed her.”

She forces your head to the side before she’s kissing you deeply, a tongue forcing its way down your throat. Wanda licks into you as if she's starving, drinking your spit like it’s one of her expensive wines. Her pace speeds up, hurling you toward pleasure faster than you can keep up.

The pressure in your stomach grows and grows, your crying spreading spit across both of your faces.

Wanda hushes you, “Oh, I know, baby, I know.”

“You’ve been working so hard trying to hide from mommy, haven’t you, baby Bambi?”

Her voice grows louder, hinting at how deeply she is affected by her own words.

“It’s why you’re going to quit your job and spend your time with me.”

The fingers inside of you are the only thing you can focus on as you moan your answer.

Wanda releases you from her hold, sitting up on her knees until she towers over your frame. The sweet bliss of your orgasm fades away as she takes her fingers with her. You whine, tears springing to your eyes as the taste of your denied relief sits strong on your tongue.

“Will you do what mommy tells you?

Your ass pushes against her crotch, a small cry of frustration the only sound you manage to make as she palms your ass. You twist your neck all the way to see her, her question going unheard as the sight of her licking your arousal off her fingers consumes you.

The pink of her tongue curls around her digits, dragging across the wet pads of her fingertips seductively slowly. Wanda holds eye contact all the while you watch helplessly, wanting nothing more than for the fingers to drive back into you. A moan rumbles from deep in Wanda’s throat, your answering whine going ignored as she refuses to touch you.

Wanda clicks her tongue, the mental timer ticking down to its end tally.

A slap rings through the bedroom like a gunshot, almost louder than the keening moan that tears through you.

It startles you enough to have words spilling out of you faster than you can comprehend them,

“Yes! Yes, whatever you want! Please, mommy, anything!”

You barely know what you’re saying. Your words are nothing more than nonsensical babble, but it must have made her happy because her fingers come back, railing you harder than ever before. Wanda is back to humping you too, pushing her fingers deeper as she grinds into you.

“There you go, good girl!”

You can’t hear her anymore, the pressure in your stomach is now balancing on a needle’s point. It’s overwhelming: the thickness of your desire choking you, and you begin to fight against her grip. You don’t know what you’re doing, your mind far away as your body fights the inevitable.

Her weight settles back over you as she shushes you gently, her words soft even as her fingers continue their drilling into your wet hole.

“Hush, baby, you’re okay. You’re okay, give in. You can give in now.”

You whine, a panicked noise your only response as the feeling inside of you reaches its limit. It feels like you’re going to explode, the feeling stronger than you have ever felt it before. It blisters inside you, festering onto every nerve, expanding the numbing pleasure from the tips of your fingertips and down to your toes.

Wanda pushes your face into the pillows, the suffocating lack of air, strangely enough, sending you flying over the edge. The loud moaning and jerking against your back tell you that Wanda came right with you.

It’s the last thought you have before the void plunges you in headfirst.

A hazy flicker of static hums inside you as you float far above your own mind. Dim lights simmer beneath your eyelids, a pattern of no sense or reason drawing across your mind like a gentle embrace. Warmth envelopes you, a soothing voice cooing at you while wetness and sweat are wiped away with soft hands.

You’ve just returned to your body when Wanda slides back next to you in bed—all resemblance of space a laughable notion now. Her voice drifts along your residual softness, “Well done, my beautiful girl. You’ll call your manager in the morning, and then we’ll talk. Let's sleep.”

Her palm brushes your cheek before she leans down to plant a sweet kiss atop the red flush. You hum your agreement, the previous conversation long gone from memory. But if it’s what mommy wants, then it’s what she’ll get.

Wanda wraps around you, her body curling into your own as her hand cups you carefully.

“Good girl. Mommy will train you well.”

You have a long weekend ahead of you.

“Uh-uh, sweet girl,” She purred, her voice a low, raspy velvet that vibrated straight to your core—or was it not the toy tucked nicely in between your legs?

You were entirely at her mercy, pinned beneath her weight. Wanda hovered over you like a dark, intoxicating shadow, her dark eyes hooded and heavy as she watched every single twitch, every shiver, and every desperate arch of your hips.

The bedroom was thick with heat, the only sound being the quiet, unrelenting hum of the vibrator pressed firmly against your cunt and the erratic, frantic rhythm of your own breathing.

She had been doing this for what felt like an eternity.

Every time you reached that breathless, agonizing edge—every time your thighs began to tremble violently and you tried to chase that final, overwhelming release—Wanda would pull the toy back just an inch, reducing the intensity to a excruciating, maddening buzz.

She leaned down, her lips brushing the sensitive line of your jaw, her warm breath making you shudder. “I didn't say you could finish yet.”

“Mommy, please,” you sobbed out, your voice cracking, completely undone by the torture. Your hips instinctively tried to rise again, desperately seeking the pressure, but her grip on your wrists tightened just enough to anchor you, keeping you entirely helpless beneath her.

“I know baby but...You don't get to come yet, sweet girl," she whispered in a faux-apologetic tone, her hand brushing away the few strands of hair that fell down your forehead — lips brushing yours in a teasing, maddeningly soft kiss. “You have to understand that Mommy wants you needy. You're going to stay just like this for me until I say otherwise.”

You whined, not content of the denied pleasure but you also knew you had no other choice but listen to what your Mommy commanded from you.

A slow, devastating smile curved Wanda’s lips. She loved this stage—the complete surrender, the way your body glistened with sweat, the frantic, desperate way you looked at her like she held the key to your entire world.

Because right now? She did.

“Look at you,” she whispered against your lips, her free hand adjusting the dial on the vibrator, turning it back up to its highest, most punishing setting before pressing it directly back against your wet, aching center. “Trembling so hard for me. So sweet, so needy...”

You gasped, a high, broken sound escaping your throat as the intense friction hit you all at once. Your thighs shook uncontrollably, your toes curling into the sheets as you reached for the edge again, practically drowning in the heat.

“Please, Mommy, let me come, please. I promise I'll be good..” you begged, tears of frustration pricking the corners of your eyes, your entire body humming like a live wire.

Wanda held the toy perfectly still, letting you ride the absolute brink of it, her dark eyes alight with a fierce, possessive satisfaction as she listened to you beg for her. She loved hearing her title on your lips, loved knowing that she was the only one who could make you lose control like this.

“Say it again.” The auburn haired elder commanded softly, her thumb brushing a tear from your cheek, her voice dripping with absolute authority and deep, intoxicating affection.“Tell Mommy whose good girl you are, and maybe I'll let you come.”

author's note ; first time trying this concept and to be honest? i deleted and rewrote it too many times to count but i think i prefer this version better :) hope it's not to cliché/basic.

. . . . .

"it was a wild night, what can i say?" giselle shrugs, taking her bass off karina and slinging the strap on. she looks slightly apologetic, but if given the option, she'd probably do it again.

"please don't tell me you were with one of our rival bands," karina near begs. the paparazzi love to sink their teeth into ningning and giselle's late night escapes, the duo often being photographed sneaking out of hotels with satisfied smiles or messing around before the show. if rumours got out they were fraternising with the enemy....

"no, we were with fans," ningning supplies. she takes her time getting to her keyboard, already knowing her skills are perfect.

karina sighs, "that's worse. you do realise that's worse, right?"

"what is it with you and fans, anyways? you have thousands of beautiful women ready to do whatever you please and you just......miserably go to bed?"

"i'm not miserable," karina weakly protests. ningning isn't wrong, though. once she exits the stage, all the energy leaves her body and she's left feeling empty. groupies outside the arena practically beg for her, yet karina always walks past them, returning to her hotel to do nothing but toss and turn with need in bed. "you guys know i have a rule against being with fans. it's too complicated."

winter is rather content to stay out it, keeping her eyes down so they don't rope her into the conversation. giselle notices but doesn't say anything, instead asking, "complicated how? just use protection and you'll be fine."

"getting into a relationship with one of our fans? that's crazy. how are we supposed to manage our schedule and the power imbalance and—"

ningning fails to repress her laughter, cutting karina off. at least now they've gotten to the root of the problem. sweet karina, always thinking about commitment first.

"we're not talking about starting a relationship with these girls, jimin, we're talking about a one night stand. ever heard of those?"

oh.

karina can't help but instantly think of you, her favourite groupie. you've never directly made a proposition, but you've given subtle hints that you're down for something more: a wink from the crowd, a lingering touch when getting her signature. hell, just the way you look at her is confirmation enough.

she always thought your something more meant a relationship, a thing she was sure to fuck up. but maybe you were looking for a one night, no strings attached kinda thing? karina can do that.

sure, she's never separated feelings from sex before, and sure, she has a tendency to get attached, but she can do this. one time to get it out of her system, that's all. then she'll be able to go to sleep without playing the way you bite your lip at her on repeat, pressing her thighs together and wishing she had her bandmates nonchalance.

karina realises she must've made a face because all eyes are trained directly on her, even winter's, who's abandoned her writing to assess karina with an unreadable look.

"oh my god, you have someone in mind," ningning says. it's not a question.

"our karina, all grown up," giselle teases. she honestly thought she'd never see the day, but here karina is, explicit thoughts clearly written all over her face.

"shut up, we have to perform in three hours," karina deflects. it's torture that she has to wait so long before she can see your face. she needs the time to pass as quick as possible, and there's no way that's happening with her members pestering her about you. "get practicing."

like always, the crowd is electric. fans push up against the barricade, arms held out like a brush from one of the girls fingertips will make their whole year. karina winces at the flash of the paparazzi's cameras, grateful her sunglasses shield her from the worst of it.

it's all so disorienting. the four of them left the venue just moments ago and fans are already enclosing in on every side. some of them have even been camping out since this morning, skipping the show just to be first in line to see them when they come out.

karina can admit she was distracted throughout the performance. everyone played well, and no one missed a beat, but her mind wandered as she performed. all she could think about was you and what ningning said.

could you really have a one night stand? how would that even work? does she just come up to you and ask? she hates the fact that it's so clear she's never done this before.

you probably have a lot of experience under your belt. not that she'd have any way of knowing, but still. she'll ask you what to do and you'll laugh in her face, she's sure of it.

she suddenly regrets not asking her bandmates for advice. all of them seem so good with women, and then there's her, who becomes a fumbling mess the second she's face to face with someone pretty.

"are you okay?" the question snaps her out of it, asked by a concerned looking fan whose album she was signing. half way through, her thoughts must've taken over, because her pen stilled on the paper, ink bleeding through to the other side. she bets it'll sell for hundreds.

"yeah, sorry," she apologises, shaking her head and moving on to the next fan without even looking up. god, she needs to get a grip.

"you gonna stain my album too?"

karina's head snaps up immediately. in the grand scheme of things, she's only heard it a couple of times, but she'd recognise your voice anywhere.

you look back at her with amusement. she's so flustered, it's cute. "no but seriously, you good?"

"can we talk?" she blurts out.

people are screaming so loudly you have to strain to hear what she's saying, some fans shouting praises and others complaining she's taking too long to get to them. a lot of them even reach out to grab her, to which her bodyguard has to fend off. "here?"

she shakes her head, clearly thinking what you were, "no, not here. just— hop over the barricade?"

she expects you to act surprised, but you barely even blink, jumping over and landing on your feet with an ease that makes karina think you've done this before. do other musicians regularly ask you to jump the crowd and come to their hotels? the thought makes her more jealous than it should.

she says her apologies to the other waiting, now disappointed fans and takes your wrist, enclosing it in her clammy palms and leading you to the black car waiting for the group. she knows the tabloids are gonna be all over this in the morning.

you both climb into the sleek back seats. the driver does a double take at the sight of karina, of all people, with a girl, but other than that she minds her business. that's what they pay her for.

"do you regularly get into the cars of strangers?" karina asks. she's trying to be flirtatious, but it comes off as more of a serious question than anything else.

"i don't know, are you a stranger?" karina, an extremely famous celebrity, just told you she needed to talk and then practically dragged you to her car, and yet you're confidently flirting with her. she could be trying to kidnap you for all you know. "what did you wanna talk about?"

right, the whole reason karina brought you here in the first place. "do you...like me?"

"you're gonna have to be more specific than that."

"do you wanna sleep with me? cause i wanna sleep with you, but i don't know how people do this. i just ask and then we...? but obviously you can say no! i've just been getting all these signs that you might like me back? and i've been so nervous to make a move because of what that would mean, but then yizho said it's not like we had to get married or anything and we could just hookup. if you're down that is? fuck, that all came out wrong, i—"

fucking finally.

you would've stopped sending karina signals months ago if you didn't think she was into it, but she got flustered every time she saw you at shows and always looked at you like she was trying not to undress you with her eyes. she wanted you as badly as you want her, she was just too nervous to do anything about it. until now.

"karina, i've never been more fucking down in my life. i've been down since the day i came to your first show, but i heard you don't mess with fans, and you never made any moves so i didn't want to pressure you. otherwise, we would've been doing this a long time ago."

"oh thank god," she lets out a sigh of relief, sinking back into her seat. when she thinks about it, the roles really ought to be reversed. she's the world famous rockstar, so she's supposed to be the confident one here, and instead she's resting the urge to hide away in embarrassment while you look completely content, if not even amused.

"sorry, i don't do this much — ever, actually — so i'm not..." she trails off, avoiding eye contact like her life depends on it.

"hey," you cup her face in your hands, voice taking on a more gentle tone. she relaxes into your touch. "we'll go at your pace, okay? we can stop at any time. and there's no strings attached, so there's no pressure."

no strings, she nods and tells herself she can do that. how hard can it be?

taking the movement as confirmation, you slowly shift so you're on top of karina, knees bracketing her thighs. she gasps when her back hits the base of the seat. "just relax and let me do the work, hm?"

you start pressing kisses against her jawline, working your way down to the base of her neck and collarbones. one of her hands finds its way to your back, nails digging into the soft material of your shirt as you pull on hers.

"ma'am?" karina can barely form words, but she gets ahold of herself enough to turn her head to call the driver who's suddenly gotten very interested in reading the information on the back of her food packet and call out, "you can start driving now. back to the hotel, please."

usually, the four girls travel together, but tonight it's just her. before the show, winter said she had plans and had her own ride, while giselle and ningning seemed to be setting up an impromptu interview with a journalist and waved at her to go ahead. seeing you with her, they probably had an idea of what was about to go down and decided better of it.

"and roll up the partition too," she breathlessly adds.

karina wakes up to the sunrise creeping in through the window, having forgotten to close the curtains last night. her body aches as she stretches her arms, but at the same time, she feels more refreshed than she has in months.

she rolls over in bed, almost slipping back into sleep. except, just before she can close her eyes, she notices a crumpled up receipt on her pillow. scribbled on the back of it, reads:

took you long enough ;)

- y/n

the night comes back to her in a blur: you and her, slow and tender in the car. then, once she'd picked up the pace, a bit more intense in the hotel bed, followed by the floor, up against the wall, the shower, then back in bed, then—

karina re-reads your note, talking in every stroke of your handwriting, and smiles. she imagines you padding over to her side of the bed, wearing nothing but an oversized t-shirt of her band, and trying to find a pen without waking her up. she wonders if you would've paused your writing to admire her sleeping, watching the soft rise and fall of her chest as she peacefully dreamed — about what, she can't remember anymore. maybe you hesitated before slipping out the door.

fuck, she's in too deep. as much as she's trying not to get too attached, her heart has already latched on. something tells her this won't be a one time thing.

something won't let it be.

like this? click here for more!!

note: if you're wondering if something's going on with winter....you'll just have to wait for her part ;) and ningselle's....but shh i didn't tell you that. and please don't ask me how their position in the car works....baby idk either (⁠●‿⁠●⁠)

aespa taglist: @wonroha @stewpidchezcat @icecreamcakepopp @femloverkoko @c6keded @katseyeloversgroup6 @pikachuu115 @x-d4cvalentine-x

Breaking through Wanda’s walls wasn’t easy for most of the Avengers. The only people she really listened to were Steve, Clint, her brother when she was in a good mood, Natasha, and you. 

On account of you saving her twin’s life, she felt as though she owed it to you to be kind. Even if you were Tony Stark’s child.  

Right now, you were soaking up her “kindness”. It was difficult to reject her when it meant kissing your lips raw in the center of your bed and feeling you up without allowing you to take off a single piece of clothing. She was such a tease.  

You pull away from her lips, eyes pleading with her. “Need you Wands, please?”  

Your witch sits upright with her weight settled on your middle. She pushes her hair behind her ears before patting your cheeks. You enjoyed the coolness of her rings against your heated skin. 

“Can’t, detka. Weren’t you the one who wanted to beat Sam to the living room?”  

“He’s probably been waiting there since lunch or something. You know how serious he is about watching Top Gun. Please, Wanda?” You pouted and her hands go from playfully tapping your cheeks to squishing them now. 

She loved how silly you looked beneath her. She leans down and leaves a peck on your forcefully puckered lips, not allowing you to deepen it. You whine, frustrated by the way she fanned the flames of your desire, not truly fueling it.  

Wanda's smiles down at you condescendingly. “So needy, are you not?”  

“Just for you.” You reach for one of her hands, bringing it just below your chest to fiddle with her rings. You feel her body relax further.

“Mmm. Show me?” Wanda's eyes flash red and you feel a rush of warmth spread throughout your body.  

Wanda was intimidating. Her power brought the energy she carried to a different level. And when crimson crept into her stare, all you could do was fall weak before her. It had always been this way.

“You want me to beg, witchy? Or do I need to shove your hand in my pants for you to understand how much you turn me on?” Still, you weren’t ready to fold for her just yet.  

“I want you to ride my thigh until you come. Pants stay on. That way, I feel you soak through them, detka. I’ll make sure you beg for me anyway, don’t you worry.” One of her hands began to trace your bra through your shirt as she speaks, leaving goosebumps wherever her fingers fell.

Unfortunately for you, Wanda would never allow you to think you had any power over her in such a moment. You relinquished it the instant her accent grew thicker, her words weighed down by her hunger for you.  

She begins to climb off your hips, moving to sit up against your headboard. Her legs spread wide enough for you to encase one of her thighs with your own. She pats her lap and waits patiently, eyeing you as you start to rise from your place beside her.  

You settle yourself atop her carefully, and she grins, flexing her thigh as your core rests inches above her knee. You gasp and nearly fall into her. She’s quick to hold you steady, hands clutching your hips firmly, heat in her gaze, and seconds away from gloating about how easy it was to get you here.  

But of course, neither of you could have a moment of true peace in this tower.  

Rapid knocks rattle your door as a familiar, irritating, voice sounds out. “Sestra!” His call for Wanda is long and drawn out, stupidly jolly and almost melodic as his first hammers against the wood. “I know you’re in there!”  

You throw yourself to the side, flopping back onto the space beside her as you roll your eyes.  

Wanda exhales sharply and fixes her hair with slightly shaking hands before she gets up, straightens out her skirt, pulls up her knee high socks, and makes her way across the room.  

“You never remind me to have F.R.I.D.A.Y. tell everyone we’re asleep.” You complain quietly.  

“You really think that would matter to him?”  She whispers back harshly.

“Oh, sestra!” You could only imagine the grin spread across his face. 

Wanda pulls open the door, her features drawing out her irritation.  

“What?” Pietro ignores her short tone and leans against the door frame.  

“Everyone is waiting on you two. The bird and the spy lady are arranging a vote between Top Gun and Die Some Other Day.” 

"It's Die Another Day, man." You threw your head back and groaned dramatically.

When those two went head-to-head on movie night, it was the worst. After two years of choosing this as a team building activity, you’re sure you’ve watched either movie at least a dozen times each. None of the Avengers took to exploring film outside their comfort zones, and you were about to add a spin the wheel feature to F.R.I.D.A.Y.’s system if you had to endure torture like this again. 

“Sam and Natasha, Pietro.” His sister reminds him, sighing as she watches him shrug. To him, it was enough that you knew exactly who he was talking about. 

“I’m going to kill both of them. Seriously.” Maybe you could make it board game night instead if you cried.  

Pietro looked between the two of you before his stare lingered on your crumpled comforter.

“Why are you in her room?” The question was abrupt, giving neither of you a chance to respond with practiced ease. 

The both of you stumbled over your words, searching for a plausible excuse. It’s not like Pietro was stupid, it had to be believable. You see his brows begin to furrow the longer the two of you took to come up with something. 

“She wanted to paint my nails before our press conference tomorrow. Told her no.” You chuckle nervously and hold your hands up, making sure he catches the chipping paint and dry cuticles.  

“Obviously. I don’t think my sister could fix that. You need professional help.” Pietro speeds to your side and grabs one of your hands for a closer look. You snatch it away and grumble at him. Your fists clench as you bring them down to your sides.  

“Says you and your bone-dry bleach job.” 

Wanda sees Pietro gear up to argue back and intervenes quickly, her arms stretched out towards you two.

“Alright! Both of you, calm down. You, didn’t you say they were waiting for us?”  In a flash, Pietro's standing back in front of her, eager to get going now.

“I wanted to walk with you.” Wanda’s features soften at that. You understood. It was kinda sweet how the two of them rarely went anywhere without the other.

“Give me some time. I have to change, Pietro.” She raises her finger at him as she passes. She gives you a brief look over the shoulder before walking towards the door and down the hall to her own room.  

You found yourself lucky her twin had arrived when he did. Otherwise, it’d be a bit difficult to explain why the crotch of your jeans were soaked through, and Wanda’s thigh was glistening. 

Out of the three of you, you were the first to change and head downstairs to sit around waiting with the rest of the team. You played with the string of your sweatpants as you watched Sam and Natasha go back and forth about movie night. Bruce read through his lab notes beside you.  

Weirdly, your father was nowhere to be seen. Usually, he’d have already staked his claim on the couch and snuck a disk into the player while no one was looking, easily seizing the spot of first film of the night.

“We should just let one of the twins pick our movie tonight. Whatever they pick won’t be something we’ve watched a hundred times over.” You spoke up, tired of their arguing. 

“Yeah, guys. I don’t think I wanna watch the two of you fight for an hour and a half over which movie to watch after Sam loses the vote.” Bruce agreed with you, his voice calm and clearly avoiding a fight.  

“How do you know I wasn’t going to win?”  

Bruce deadpans. “We’ve watched Top Gun eleven times. At least the franchise Natasha chose has twice the number of movies. Yours doesn’t even have a sequel yet.”  

“Fine. We defer to Speedrunner then. I refuse to watch some cheesy romcom.” 

Before any of you could respond, your father makes his grand entrance. He struts into the living room with purpose and an accusation.  

“Romanoff. Just the spider I’m looking for. Where’s my Metallica shirt? Cough it up.”  

“Why’d you assume I’m the one who took it? It’s probably with your kid.” Natasha stands up from her place in front of the bookshelf.  

Her picks were always on the bottom level. 

“Just ransacked her closet. Found twenty-three articles of clothing that belong to me. Metallica shirt? Nowhere to be found. You’re my only suspect, sticky fingers.”  

"You ransacked my closet?" You went unaddressed.

“Tony, I borrowed your jacket like one time.” He eyes her. “Okay, I kept it for two months and stole your blow dryer on Wednesday. That’s hardly enough to make you think I crept into your room just to take some dumb band-tee.” 

He blinks rapidly at that. “You stole my blow dryer?”  

“It has that rotating brush I needed. Pepper never taught you how to share?”  

Sam laughed loudly at the reveal. “That’s what was happening? I was wondering why you started looking like Farrah Fawcett was the centerpiece of your mood board.” 

“Oh, shut up Wilson.” 

“Look, Carmen Sandiego, if I find my shirt—and my hair dryer—back in their rightful place by noon tomorrow then I’ll look the other way. Otherwise, Salem’s getting the boot.”  

“You can’t kick my cat out over some stupid shirt.”  

As if understanding the threat, you hear a quiet meow from across the room. Liho was hidden somewhere, possibly behind the recliner or under a side table.  

You watch the two of them squabble a little longer. Truthfully, you did jack his closet for that shirt. But you now had no idea where it went. Last you’d seen it, it was stranded somewhere on your floor before your date with Wanda. But you wanted to see how far the two of them would take this before you owned up to it.  

Then your girlfriend walked into the living room, innocent as ever, and your heart dropped into your ass. You were both so over. You closed your eyes and nodded solemnly, accepting your fate.  

“Uh...Tony?” Bruce was the first one to notice. His finger points in Wanda’s direction.  

“Don’t interrupt me, sweet pea. Romanoff hasn’t—” Your dad does a double take.  

His voice falls short at the sight of Wanda. The witch wore dark grey leggings under an oversized band tee. The very band tee he’d ravaged the tower for. She stopped in the entryway, a puzzled expression taking over as she took in the living room’s silence. Pietro isn't far behind her, zooming into the center of the room with an oblivious smile.

“You were saying, Stark?” Natasha sported a smug smirk, her eyebrows raised towards you as she looked to the brunette and back.  

Wanda’s tone held a bit of trepidation as she questioned the room. “What?”  

“Guess we know where your shirt went, Tony.” Bruce chuckles falteringly, eyes darting between your father, your girlfriend, and you.  

Wanda stood uncomfortably, fingers playing with the rings littering her fingers as she came to understand what the rest of the room now knew. If she’d been aware the t-shirt actually belonged to the most exasperating billionaire she knew, there was no doubt she would’ve set it on fire before pulling it over her head. Wanda would’ve later convinced you it was lost in the wash if need be.  

“Clint owes me so much money.” When you hear Nat whisper, amusement coloring her tone as she observed Wanda’s face grow increasingly flushed. 

“I thought we agreed on action for movie night, not a telenovela. But hey, I’m not complaining.” Sam shrugs and slumps back into the couch cushions, growing comfortable as he watches the scene unfold.  

“Sam, I swear to god I’ll rewire Red Wing to self-destruct every time a corny-ass comment comes out your mouth, if you don’t shut up!” You fuss, glaring in his direction. 

“Why am I the only one being threatened?” He asks. His question goes ignored as your dad finally speaks up.  

“Kid, since when?” You recognize the look in your father’s eyes and turn away.  

“Five months.” While you knew it’d hurt him to be blindsided like this, your connection with Wanda was still sensitive. Given the nature of his relationship with the twins, there would have been no right way to tell him, or Pietro, the truth.  

He looked at the Sokovian girl, still frozen at the living room entrance. “The safehouse in Guyana?” Wanda nodded in response.  

Her heart was beating out of her chest, she didn’t have to hone in to feel how erratic your energy was. And even if she tried, she’d never be able to hold onto a single one of the thoughts racing through your mind. Your mind was loud, hers too, as you waited for him to say something else.  

“Are you sure she hasn’t got you under some evil love spell?” He tried to joke, but you could see how the comment hit Wanda from across the room.

“Dad, she’s my girlfriend. Can we just talk about this later?” You tried to keep your voice even as you spoke, wanting to leave enough of a warning without being malicious. 

“Wanda, she is telling the truth?” If possible, you felt even more nervous about Pietro’s reaction than your father’s.  

He was everything to Wanda. If he didn’t approve, what would come of your relationship? Sure, you saved his life, but she was his little sister.  

“Pietro…I was going to tell you. There was just never the right time.” Pietro nodded thoughtfully, taking it all in.  

You watch the twins fall into a daze. A part of your brain monitors their changing expressions as you begin to pick the skin off the side of your left thumb. You knew they were communicating in their own way when Wanda glared his way and Pietro’s lips twitched slightly at the sight.

The living room kept its silence throughout. Natasha and Bruce hadn’t moved an inch since they’d last spoken.  

You knew the two of you were extremely lucky half the team was out on missions. It’d be at least three more days before the mood lightened up and everyone in the tower was teasing the two of you. For now, you could both deal with a little mouth and awkward silences from these few. You just knew Bruce would make some one-off comment about it in the lab and leave it at that. Once the rest of them grew comfortable with the idea of you two dating, it would be never ending snark and teasing. 

Unbelievably, you almost couldn't wait for that moment.

The tension was broken when Sam, munching on his popcorn, became loud enough to be disturbing. You eyed him seriously and went to say something when Wanda snapped out of her daze and marched your way.  

“You.” She grabs your hand. “Are coming with me. Now.” Her face was burning red.  

The embarrassment wasn’t a usual sight for you. You tried to bask in it, knowing the fun wouldn’t last for long once you were alone together, but honestly, you were afraid of the conversation that'd come behind closed doors.

You let Wanda drag you to her bedroom. Once inside, she locks the door and commands F.R.I.D.A.Y. to soundproof the space. She leans her head against the door as you sit stiffly on the edge of her bed.  

“We’ve been so careful.” She mumbles. You bite your lip at her words, feeling guilty she’d been put on the spot like that.  

“Are you mad at me?”  

“Oh, draga. Never. This wasn’t your fault.” She pushes herself away from the door and crosses the room to you.  You let out a long breath of relief and lick your lips.

When she makes it to you, Wanda’s hands cradle your face gently. Her thumbs smooth over the ends of your brow bones before coming to sit in the hollows of your cheeks. They rub there in small circles as she leans down to kiss your forehead.  

“But you do understand what this means for you at the end of the night, don’t you?” 

Wanda eyes glowed with barely restrained chaos, irises a deep and spellbinding red that made you gulp. At a loss for words, you could only nod meekly. You knew she'd take the chance to remind you that embarrassment was fleeting, but her control over you was not.

“Good, draga. Now sit back while I choose a show for us.”  Satisfied, Wanda lets go of you and grabs the remote on her nightstand. 

“You always get to pick!”  

“Right, and why do you think that is?” She tries you and you let her have it, knowing the banter would lead to nowhere—well maybe foreplay.  

“Whatever.” You pouted, crossing your arms as you sat up against her headboard.  

“Charmed is way better than whatever stupid Western Pietro was going to pick out anyways.”  

“Hey! That’s my brother-in-law you’re talking about.” Wanda rolls her eyes at you but there's no hiding the blush coloring her cheeks.

“Shut up, Stark.”  

“Make me.” You challenge.  

Chaos magic begins to wind around her fingers as she turns your way. “You know what being bold gets you, detka. And it’s not a reward.”  

“I just need you to breathe f’me, baby.” Shoko whispers into your ear, before slowly trailing light kisses down the nape of your neck. “Can you do that?”

Shoko had you sprawled out on her bed, back against the headboard and legs spread ever so slightly; just enough to place her hand on the inside of your thigh. She lightly nips at your neck and collarbone as your breath hitches. “Shoko…” you finally let out. “shhh, let me take care of you.” She slowly trails her hand up from your thigh to the collar of your button-up shirt, gently tugging and toying with the top button. “Let’s get you undressed, baby.”

Your head falls back onto the headboard as she unbuttons your blouse at a painfully slow rate. You shimmy your way out of the shirt as she glides her hands up your torso. “So pretty. You wearing this for me?” she gestures to the black laced bra in front of her. “Yes…” you shakily reply. “Good. That’s what I like to hear.” she then cuts herself off by kissing down your torso to just above your waistband.

“Shoko… need you…” your fingers gently fan through her hair as she fiddles with the zipper of your jeans. “I know, I know. So needy today, hm?” she hums. You squeeze your thighs together to try and relieve the aching in your core. Shoko brings your jeans down your legs and carelessly throws them off the bed. “My beautiful pup.” She coos, massaging your thigh.

Pup. Fuck, did that nickname do things to you. Shoko loved to use it on you, anywhere. In public, she would whisper it in your ear during normal conversations, causing you to shrivel away on the inside. But, no matter what happened in public, she always made sure to take care of whatever she started at home.

“May I?” she asks with her fingers twisted in the waistband of your panties. You nod, slowly assisting her with removing the black lace, which matched your bra.

“Fuck, you’re gorgeous. All for me.” Shoko places delicate kisses on the top of your thighs, slowly inching towards your center. “Gonna take good care of you.” she says as she slots herself in-between your legs. “You gon’ be a good puppy for me, right?” her eyes bat up to you.

“Yes…please, just-“ you’re cut off by her tongue gliding up your folds and her hands gripping your waist. Shoko laps at your sensitive core, already sparking a reaction out of you. You let out a moan as she swirls around your center.

Your hand flies back onto her head, gently pulling at her hair from the root. She replies with a low hum which vibrates your lower half. Her tongue slowly circles your nub with the occasional bite, which only makes the heat pool in your stomach further.

Your thighs squeeze her head in place as your back arches off the mattress. “You are doing so well for me.” She mumbles into you, not giving you a single second to catch your breath.

Shoko slides one of her hands down your heat, teasing your entrance. She takes her two fingers and curls up into you as you moan, head thrown back. The combination of her tongue on your clit and her fingers attacking that sensitive spot in you made your head spin. “Shoko…Fuck.” You gasp; she added a third finger.

Your walls clench around her fingers which stretched you out perfectly. “You close?” She doesn’t stop for air. “Yes!” You let out, that familiar ache in your stomach reaching high intensity.

“Let it out for me.” She says, her flat tongue flicking back and forth. The knot in your stomach breaks, forcing out a loud, desperate moan. Shoko allows you to ride out your orgasm, still pumping you full with her fingers. “Oh there it is. Uhuh, good job.” she coos with a light kiss to your inner thigh. Your vision is blurry and sweat beads onto your forehead.

“Let’s get you cleaned up, okay?” you look up. “Don’t you want me to help you…?” You ask worriedly. “No, no. I’m fine, darling. Getting you off is all I need right now.” She places a kiss onto your forehead, you slick still present on her chin.

“I will go get you a towel, honey.” you nod, still out of it from the earth-shaking orgasm she just gave you. Like always, she acts like it’s no big deal. Nobody can treat you as well as she can. Nobody.

“In here bunny!”

You smiled, chasing her voice and finding her sitting in the living room. The sky had turned stormy, making the room darker than it should be for seven in the evening.

A few candles were lit, the tv still off. She clicked off her phone and threw it on the couch before grabbing onto you and pulling you in to stand between her spread legs.

“Hi baby.” She smiled, leaning up to kiss you. You met her halfway, kissing her sweetly. “Have fun?”

“Mhm.” You hummed into her lips.

“Were you good?”

“Yes.”

“Yes what?”

“Yes mama.”

She leaned back, so you stood back up. “I’ll have to check.”

You whined, stomping your foot slightly. “Please Wans. I’m hungry and I—“

“Shhhh.” Her hands wound up on your hips, right where your purple tanktop had ridden up from your jean skirt.

“Relationships are built on trust, Wans.”

“Relationships are built on devotion.” Her eyes were so dark you couldn’t tell where her iris’s ended and her pupils started. “Look at this house. Look at the clothes on your body. Look at the money constantly flowing in to your bank account every time you want to spend some.”

Her voice was soft, but the grip on your hips had turned violent. You winced, but did your best to stay still. “I am completely and utterly devoted to you and making your life better. So why can’t you do this for me?”

“I-I’m sorry.”

Wanda’s grip softened, her head tilting to the side. “Bunny, will you strip down to your panties now?”

“Yes mama.” You whispered.

Your hands were shaking as they came up to your skirt button, undoing it easily. Wanda leaned back, her arms coming up to rest on the back of the couch. You wished the overhead lights were on so you could see every flicker of expression in her face. The only emotion you could read right now was displeasure.

Your top came off easily, leaving you standing in front of her in just your matching bra and panties. The pair Wanda had picked out for you this morning. A white pair, laced with pink and adorned with a small pink rose right at the top. The top was a balconnette, the bottoms full coverage. The panties had been uncomfortable all day, digging into your skin. But it just served as a reminder.

“Alright.” Wanda leaned back in, her gaze purely predatory in a way that made your head spin. “Now let’s check-in.”

You let out a shiver despite the warm temperature of the room. Her hand splayed over your stomach, her eyes upturned to you. “So soft baby.” She commented, her cold rings making goosebumps erupt.

Her hand traveled down, the other joining it on your hip. “These panties don’t seem messed with. You didn’t go to the bathroom did you sweetie?”

“No mama.”

“Did you drink all your water then?”

You bit your lip and let out a small whine. She just shook her head. “What happens when you don’t do what mama tells you to do?”

“I get—I get punished.”

“That’s right. Such a smart girl.” Her hands traveled up again, wrapping around your front stubly. “How much water did mama tell you to drink?”

“My whole bottle.”

“And how much did you drink?”

“Half.”

She hummed, her hands massaging the skin of your waist. Her thumbs began pressing into your lower stomach. She hummed again, before moving her hands down.

“Alright honey, you passed the first part.” She whispered, though there was a smile on her lips. “Are you ready for round two?”

“Y-yes mama.”

She spread her legs, pulling you to step towards her. She was below you, looking up at you. Yet it didn’t matter. You were completely submissive to her.

Slowly, her hands trecked up your torso, up to the bottom of your bra. Her fingertips slipped underneath, pulling the fabric up enough to reveal your nipples. Without thinking about it, your hands came up to hold the fabric still.

“Such a good girl for me. Hold it up for mama.” She commented, letting go of the fabric to run her thumbs over your nipples.

They hardened quickly under her touch. Only taking one swipe of her thumb to make it happen. “Doesn’t look like these were touched either.” She commented to herself. “Mama knows how sensitive they are, you would’ve been a soaked mess if someone had touched them.”

“Would never let someone touch me mama.”

“Oh I know darling.” She drew her thumb over the hardened nubs again, drawing out a whine from her lips. “Mama knows you’d never let someone touch them. But the world is full of dark, scary people. That’s why you need me to watch out for you right?”

You squirmed as she ran her thumbs over them again. “Right mama.”

“Alright bunny,” She grabbed the fabric from your hands, dropping it back down. Her eyes weren’t on yours, they were staring at the hardness pressed against the fabric. She ran her thumbs over again, mesmerized. She cleared her throat, blinking once before pulling her hands away. “You passed, down on your knees now.”

You nodded, doing as she said, trying to get as close to the couch as possible so she wouldn’t have to move too much. Her hand came down onto your cheek, rubbing your face with her thumb.

“It’s so hard for mama to stay mad at her baby.” She sighed. “You’re just so sweet and so pretty. I could just eat you up.”

You whined under her praise, looking up at her with big eyes that were full of devotion. Her hand moved, her thumb coming to play with your lips, she pulled the chapstick that was lining your lips off with her thumb, pulling her hand away to suck it into her mouth, she pulled it out with a wet pop, smiling as she did so.

“Even used the chapstick I sent with you.”

“I did mama.”

“Sweet girl.

She dragged her now wet thumb across your lips. You were careful to stay still. Last time you had darted a tongue out when she had been in a particularly bad mood and she didn’t let you finish for days.

Soon she popped her thumb into your mouth, pulling out your tongue easily. She ran her thumb up and down it, careful not to go in too far. She pulled her thumb out, pulling it into her mouth again.

“What flavor ice cream did you get, bunny?” Wanda asked once she had sucked your slavia off.

“Strawberry cheesecake.” You replied, returning your tongue to its previous position right after.

She hummed before smiling. “Good girl. That’s exactly what I tasted.”

You beamed under her praise, pulling your tongue back into your mouth. Wanda reached over you, grabbing your water bottle from where it laid on the table. “We’re gonna finish your water right here okay baby.”

It wasn’t a question, you whined nonetheless. You were horrible with drinking water and you were already so worked up from her inspection that you were feeling impatient.

Wanda rolled her eyes, kicking your thighs apart roughly. “Don’t be like that. Not after all that praise I just gave you.

“S-sorry mama.”

“Alright, now open your mouth.”

Even in your protest, you still did directly as she said. You tipped your head back a little to make it easier for the water to flow. She poured until your moth was full, pulling the bottle away enough to stop the flow. “Not yet.”

She leaned over you, her lips forming a pout only for a line of spit to dribble out. It hit the water in your mouth and then she nodded. You swallowed, doing your best to not let anything drop. You felt a little on the corners of your mouth.

She repeated it again and again until the bottle was empty, garnishing each mouthful with some of her spit, just claiming you more and more. Once you swallowed the last of it, she set two fingers into your mouth, running it along. Drool pooled at the corners of your mouth, threatening to quickly spill over.

“See honey,” Wanda cooed, pushing her fingers in and out at a slow pace. “See how much more drooly you are? How much easier it is to do this? Mama doesn’t make rules just for fun, she makes them so you’re better.”

You nodded, drool spilling out now. You were trying to regain some composure but you were threatening to spill over at any second. She pushed her fingers all the way in until you were gagging.

She pulled out, her spit covered fingers resting on your chin. “Good job bunny.” She kissed your forehead. “Such a good girl for me, can you stand up for mama now?”

You nodded, helpless to obey anything she would command. Her hands returned to your waist, her thumbs rubbing against the skin right under your belly button. Her thumbs pushed in, making your jolt. She pressed down on your bladder just enough for you to feel it. You pressed your thighs together to try and stop the feeling but it did little to help.

“Alright bunny, time for the last inspection.”

“But mama I have to go—“

“Bunny.”

You whined but fell back onto your knees. You cried out as you turned around, seeing that the coffee table would only press on your bladder more. She pressed you down, hurrying you along. You were splayed out on the coffee table now, front facing down and knees digging into the hard floor, leaving your ass in the air for her mercy.

“Oh bunny.” She cooed, pressing a thumb over the fabric of your panties. “You’re soaked.” You whined as she rubbed you, touching you gently so it would never be enough to fully satisfy you. “Who got you worked up like this?”

“Y-you did—you did mama.”

“Good girl.”

Her thumb pulled away, her hands grabbing at the top of your panties. You whined, only for her to pull up.

You cried out, feeling the fabric pull into your folds. She shushed you, one of her hands holding your panties up, the other pressing down on your lower back.

“Stop squirming, baby. Stay still for me.”

“I-I’m-‘m sorry!”

“Take your punishment like a good girl.”

You whined as she pulled your panties up more. It was bordering on painful but it was so tight on your clit you couldn’t help but grind your hips.

As soon as you were done, her hand came down swiftly on the sensitive skin of your ass. You cried out, which only meant another smack to your other cheek.

“What did I just tell you?”

“T-to stay st-till mama.”

“Why did you start grinding like a whore?”

“Felt good, mama.”

“Ah so your panties we’re rubbing against you all nice?”

“Y-yeah mama.”

Her fingers relaxed, letting the fabric fall back in place. Her hands came down to grab your ass, pulling you apart. She let your cheeks bounce back into place only to lay a smack to each cheek once they had.

“Oh sweet girl…you’re soaked for me. This inspection won’t be easy.”

“Please mama.” You whined, fingers gripping the edge of the table. “‘m sorry.”

“Sorry for what?”

“For not listening.”

“Mama might forgive you if you take your punishment like a good girl.”

Her fingers grabbed at the elastic band of your panties, pulling it off to let it snap against your skin. You couldn’t help but moan, arching your back a little bit.

Her strong hands pressed down on your lower back, making sure that your navel stayed pressed down. You cried out, doing everything to keep yourself from wetting your panties.

Finally, her fingers pulled your panties down your legs, the wetness completely covering you making your shiver.

She left the panties pooled at your thighs, just enough for her to see you fully. Unlike the rest of it, she got right to work. Her hands pulled you apart, leaving you completely bare to you. “Hands, bunny.”

You moved your hands to hold yourself open, both holes exposed to her. “Do you feel how wet you are?”

“Yeah mama.”

“Were you this wet when you were out with your friends?” 

“N-no mama. Only for you. I promise—mama please—“

“Such a sweet girl.” 

An obscene moan left your mouth as her tongue licked all of you. From your clit all the way up to your puckered hole. She hummed, “Taste so sweet too baby. So good for mama.” 

“Please mama—I’ll be good—i’ll—“

“Shhhhh darling. Let mama finish.” 

Her hands pried you apart further, making your hole clench around nothing. “So tight for me. No one touched you baby.” 

“N-no—no one mama.” 

She spit right above your folds, letting it run down. Her thumb began circling your hole, teasing it as she did so. “So greedy for me baby.” 

Her thumb went down, your entire body jolting as she rubbed your sensitive clit. You cried, tears of desperation threatening to fall from your eyes. The feeling of needing to pee was only amplifying your sensitivity. Her touch moved after an instant, rubbing your folds without touching you where you truly needed it. 

“So sloppy.” She commented, which only made you whine. Her thumb was replaced by two of her fingers, circling your folds at a snails pace. 

She slotted her hands up, dragging over your hole and circling that too. You cried out, your thighs starting to shake with the will it took you to keep the rest of your body still and not wet yourself. 

Her fingers went up, pressing onto your asshole but not inside before falling back down. Then one finger was pressing inside of you. 

You moaned, unafraid of being loud. “So tight for me bunny.” She pulled her finger out, not pushing it back in like you were hoping. A tear sprang free from your eye, unable to hold them in anymore. 

She dragged her finger back through your slick, before pushing it into your asshole. “Sucking me right in honey, like you were made for this.” 

“Mama…” You whined. “Please…”

She shushed you once again, not hearing your pleas. Just dragging her finger out. Her hands went on top of yours, pulling your cheeks further apart. 

She licked your asshole, pulling more tears out of you. It felt good, of course it felt amazing. But you both knew it wasn’t enough. She licked again, pushing the tip of her tongue past the rim. 

The urge to pee was getting harder to ignore, but so was your neglected pussy. “Mama please—please I’ve been good—I need to—“ 

She didn’t listen, just kept licking and sucking your hole, completely ignoring where you needed her most. 

Tears fell freely from your eyes, your entire body was shaking. You tried to clamp your legs together but her feet were keeping your knees in place. 

She pulled away, one of her hands coming down to circle your hole. “You cum from this or you don’t cum. It’s up to you. You have a minute.” 

“No mama please, you know I can’t.” 

Her fingers came down, slapping your hole directly with practiced precision. “One minute.” 

She dove back in, doubling her efforts but it was in vain. You did everything you could, even grinding back onto her face. You were painfully on the edge, only one touch to your clit and you would be cumming. 

You sobbed as she pulled away, frustrated noises leaving your lips as Wanda pulled your hands away. You felt the cloth of your underwear being pulled back up, signalling the end of her attention.

She pulled you up by your hair, pulling you to sit on her lap. You were crying and shaking, still so mad at her for not letting you finish but still tucking your head into her neck. 

“Mama please—“

“Not my fault you didn’t listen to me.” 

You whined, “I’m so sorry mama I’ll never do it again. I promise.” 

“Oh I know honey, but that’s not good enough. You gotta know your place.” 

A pitiful huff left your lips but she stroked your back gently. “What happened to my good bunny? Is mama gonna have to make you hold it in longer?”

“N-no mama. No I-I swear—please don’t—I really have to go.” 

“You wanna go take a shower then? We can order some take out later.” 

𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁

The past few weeks haven’t been your favourite, to say the least. You are dealing with a recent break up and your mind has been anywhere but work.

There has been a decline in your performance and it hasn’t gone unnoticed; your output of work was sloppy, your overall care lacking and you were just trying to get through the day, every day. Your direct manager had an informal chat with you to check in but also made it known that things needed to start changing.

After another week passes by with constant, stupid mistakes and not paying enough attention to all the tasks required of you; your performance issues had been scaled up to higher management.

To Wanda Maximoff.

CEO of the company.

Fuck.

Your heart is beating out of your chest. You feel hot with nausea brewing in your stomach and your colleagues are trying to offer you their best support. “You’re great at your job, Y/N. We all mess up from time to time,” Natasha speaks up, trying to sound reassuring but doesn’t hold back her teasing nature, “just don’t get eaten alive.” She laughs as you groan and kick her chair away from you.

Why the CEO though.

Surely your performance was not THAT bad. How could it have scaled up management so quickly. You sink your face into your hands, elbows resting on your desk, wishing you could dissolve yourself into oblivion.

“Y/N!” You hear your manager's voice shock you out of your glooming state and you raise your head towards her, “Wanda would like to speak with you now.”

You stand from your desk, earning sympathetic looks from the redhead and move your feet one in front of the other. All you hear is the pounding of your heart in your head and the feeling of the butterflies in your stomach twisting in on themselves. However, you do question if your reaction is not solely about the impromptu meeting regarding your shortcomings at work.

Wanda Maximoff is the CEO. She is firm but calm. Bossy but kind. Intimidating yet soft, and she will put you in your place if deemed necessary. Wanda Maximoff is the CEO– and she is the most beautiful woman you have ever laid eyes on.

Your manager knocks on the door of Wanda’s office and you scold yourself for being so distracted in your thoughts that you didn’t realise you had arrived at her door. Wanda says thank you and dismisses her, closing the floor to ceiling wooden door as she leaves.

Wanda is sitting behind her desk, a view of the sunlit skyline as a backdrop illuminating her features. She is wearing a white button up blouse and a fitted black skirt hugging her figure with a slit in the side trailing up her thigh. You swallow dryly at the sight.

You’ve met Wanda before, of course, but it was only ever a polite greeting or small talk one time in the short elevator ride to your floor; and it’s not without stealing short glances at the breathtaking brunette.

“Good morning Y/N, take a seat.” Wanda speaks up from behind the screen and gestures for you to take the chair in front of her desk, her eyes focusing back on the work in front of her.

You take a deep breath and a slow exhale–careful not to draw attention– as you cross the space to the black fabric chair facing Wanda, her desk separating the two of you.

Wanda has a relatively large office, separated from the rest of the building behind closed doors. In addition to her desk and chairs, the space includes a corner lounge tucked beside the window and a separate meeting room furnished with a table and chairs.

Settling in your seat, you can’t help but watch Wanda as she finishes up another work-related matter. Her quiet intensity, the way her lips twitch, her sharp jawline trailing down into—

“So,” Wanda startles you from your thoughts, leaning back in her chair as she takes you in with quiet curiosity, her blouse slipping to expose the elegant line of her collarbone. You shake your head, trying to refocus. “Y/N, I have heard a lot about you over the years.”

Shit. You start to panic before she continues. “Lots of good things,” Wanda rises from her chair, fingers gliding along the desk as she rounds it, settling herself between you and its edge.

You’re close. You’re too close. Your heart is racing again at her proximity. You scold yourself for not being professional right now.

“You’ve been quite an asset to this company.” You glance up, only to meet her eyes – already fixed on yours, unwavering. She pauses for a moment, then leans in, lowering her voice. “Until now.”

You swallow hard, your throat is dry– nervous about what this means for your position and what direction this is heading in. You need this job, it’s the only thing keeping you sane.

“Y/N, do you think you deserve punishment?” Wanda begins to question, her tone slipping into something more intimate, “or do you think you can make up for it?”

The tension held in the small space between you has you gasping for air. Her perfume takes over your senses, soft and consuming, rendering you unable for a moment to register the shock of her question. This is your boss, you remind yourself. You’re about to get fired – you need to fix this.

Wanda sits herself on top of her desk in front of you, crossing her legs awaiting your response. You muster up the confidence, making an effort to conceal any nerves visible. You cannot show any weakness in your voice right now. “I’ll accept whatever is coming my way, where there may be repercussions, or to make up for the decline in my performance.”

She hums in satisfaction at your answer. Her head tilting as she watches you. Thoughtful. Taking in the way your body reacts to her.

Wanda uncrosses her legs and speaks with a tone so low and so dangerous that it sends a shiver through your entire body, “I think you can make up for it.” Wanda then slowly parts her legs to reveal her black lace panties that are already soaked.

You choke.

She lets out a low chuckle, not giving away that she has previously read your mind– knowing this is exactly where you want to be.

Her legs are open on full display for you as Wanda pushes her panties to the side and starts fucking herself. Two fingers deep. Repeating the motion back and forth causing your need to suck in a sharp breath as her face contorts into pleasure.

You’re in shock and in awe of the visual in front of you. You’ve never seen anyone look that good. Wanda is firm and dominant, watching you watch her.

Oh. She is teasing you. With a smirk she throws her head back, letting perfect little sounds escape her mouth mixed with the sounds of her wet pussy getting pumped by her own fingers. She is driving you insane and you feel your own pool of heat between your thighs becoming harder to ignore as a result of Wanda spread out in front of you.

Her chest is rising and falling with quickened breaths, her head cocked back– exposing the skin of her neck you wish you could have your mouth on– while she touches herself intimately inches from you.

You can’t take it anymore.

You shift in your seat but Wanda has already anticipated your actions, swiftly placing her stiletto heel on the chair between your legs before you are able to move a muscle. “Tsk,” she warns, accompanied by a deep crimson force holding you in place.

All employees of the company knew of Wanda’s abilities, but you had never seen it in action. There is something about the quiet control in her power that made her even more irresistible.

Wanda continues to fuck herself and you find yourself groaning– locked in place with no way to move, only able to watch. Is this your punishment? You’re feeling so hot and heavy. Your thoughts spiralling loudly of the things you would do. You need her.

She takes pity on you then, almost as if she could hear the desperation in your thoughts. Your mind is too scattered to question that maybe she could hear them. Wanda removes her fingers from her soaking wet core and you are able to see every movement up close. Your breath hitches with her next move.

“Open that pretty little mouth of yours.”

You obey without a second thought and her slick coated fingers enter your mouth earning a moan from you, her delicious taste taking over your senses. After a few moments, you look up at her with a sinister gaze and a mischievous grin that creates a hot feeling inside Wanda, catching her off guard.

She releases her fingers from your mouth and hovers over you, gaining back her control. Her lips ghost your jaw as she trails upward to whisper in your ear, “Good girl.” A shiver runs up your spine and straight to your core.

Wanda then returns to her side of the desk, regaining her composure, “you may leave, I’ll set up a meeting for your performance review.”

With a polite nod and a smile tugging at the side of your lips, you exit Wanda’s office, closing the door behind you. You catch your breath and head straight for the restroom.

────

Water splashes your face as you try to calm down, forcing your breathing to slow so you can pull it together and get yourself back to work – but all you are able to think about is Wanda. Unknowingly, you lick your lips at the thought of her and hum in satisfaction when you can still taste her. Leaning against the bathroom sink you let out a small laugh of disbelief before heading back to your desk where you know your colleagues are going to have questions.

When you arrive back, Natasha and Bucky give you questioning looks to see if you’re okay. “I’m fine,” you quickly tell them, slumping back in your chair. Natasha arches her eyebrow at you before you continue, “she wants to set up a performance review meeting to… to discuss how to progress,” you hesitated in your answer– which was accepted by the two of them, giving you the relief you needed from having to go into any further details.

And sure enough, when you logged into your computer, there it was:

Meeting Invitation:

Performance Review

4.45pm

You purse your lips together to hide the smile you can feel fighting to break free. Your chest is thudding in anticipation. Only a few more hours.

────

You arrive at Wanda’s office door right on time to find it already open, hesitating for a moment before giving the brown wood a light knock. “Come in, Y/N,” the way she says your name weakens you at the knees. Grabbing onto the door handle, you bite your lip– boldly deciding to close the door for your privacy, then turning on your heel to walk over to the chair you sat in earlier.

Both of you sit in quiet silence for a moment, allowing you the time to observe Wanda while she finishes up her latest task. Eyes flickering as she reads, mouth pursed and brows furrowed in concentration– you notice she looks a little stressed, tired even.

“Big day?” you start. Wanda lets out an exasperated huff and looks up at you, “I’m dealing with morons,” a small laugh escaping her lips, though quickly turning serious again. “Men who think they can overpower any decision my female team-leads make. Employees that are stuck in their old ways, and clients who do not trust the process of what we develop for them,” Wanda sighs, looking up at the ceiling. You give her a moment, then offer a sympathetic smile when she looks back to you.

“And you..?” she questions, “are you feeling any more focused on your work?”

Focused?

After this morning, she thinks you can be more focused?

So you lie– with a smirk forming at the corner of your mouth, “I think I have found some motivation, yes.”

“Mmhm, good.”

Wanda walks her way around to you the same way she did this morning, forcing the beat in your chest to rapidly increase.

“You need more motivation and I’ve had a very stressful day,” Wanda leans over you as she parts your legs, then lowers herself onto your right thigh, “I say we can help each other out.” The air is knocked out of your lungs when you realise the lace panties from earlier were nowhere to be seen as you feel her warmth and already wet centre making contact with your skin.

Wanda chuckles in your ear, knowing exactly what this would be doing to you. You instinctively put your hands around her waist as she starts a slow grind on your thigh. She allows it. But only for a moment, because you get greedy– moving your hand to trace her upper thigh with your fingertips, slowly trailing higher up her leg where Wanda’s skirt has been hitched up.

You push even further to snake around her ass–

“Ah–” a sharp and strong force suddenly tears your hands away from Wanda. You look down and groan, noticing the red wisps encircling your wrists binding you to the chair. She doesn’t scold you this time, only continues to grind herself on your leg.

Wanda starts to whimper out sweet, addicting sounds, making the pool in your centre much, much worse. You pull on the restraints she has you held captive in and you beg– to touch her, to feel her.

“W-Wanda please, fuck.” Wanda quickly covers your mouth with the palm of her hand, snapping a warning look at you. Her eyes are glazed with desire as she rides you, and you just know you are going to do exactly what is asked of you.

Your muffled moans vibrate through Wanda’s hand before she removes it to use your shoulder to balance herself. Her pace becomes more erratic, her breathing quickens and you feel her reaching her high when she squeezes her legs around you– riding out her orgasm with a scream she tries to muffle into the crook of your neck when she doubles over from the intensity of her climax.

You’re throwing your head back in awe, moaning at how she’s using you and the feel of her body on yours as she trembles from the aftershocks. You dare to lift your thigh, granting a shocked gasp from the woman on top of you before she quickly moves to her feet.

Shit. Did I cross a line?

You’re kicking yourself when Wanda sits herself back on her desk– leading you to believe this was the end of your meeting. You wonder if she would be so cruel to leave you in such a messy and needy state.

The room falls silent with only the sound of your shared, ragged breathing filling the space between you. She’s playing with you, working you up and enjoying every minute of it.

Wanda takes a sip from the glass of water sitting next to her and waits a few moments before tilting her head back to lock eyes with you, still bound to your new favourite chair. She’s contemplative.

After a beat, she surprises you with determination and hunger written all over her face. She sits back in your lap, wrapping her legs around you and grabs both sides of your face, pulling you into a searing kiss.

You return her intensity with equal urgency, her lips soft and addicting. Wanda moans into the kiss, eliciting a gasp from you, granting her access to slide her tongue past your lips. Her tongue dances with your own, the way it moves with yours is unmatched– you don’t stop, you can’t.

Wanda slides her fingers beneath your panties and through your folds to feel you sopping wet– you jolt under her touch from how sensitive you have become. Wanda moans when she feels you, a chuckle escaping her, “all this for me?”

“You’ve been teasing me for hours,” you shoot back, breathless. Wanda bites her lip then and gathers your slick on her fingers, inserting them into her mouth with a moan of pleasure.

Her lips find yours again and you part them eagerly for Wanda’s tongue to entwine with yours, her hands now tangled in the back of your hair. You can’t take this anymore. It’s almost painful at how much you need her. How much you want to please her by your own touch.

Wanda parts her lips from yours, pulling your head back ever so slightly by the fingers still threaded in your hair.

“Oh Y/N, did you forget? This is a performance review. Now perform.” The last two words are said firmly and with finality causing a shudder to rip through your body. You have been so caught up in Wanda’s lips and her breath on yours, that you hadn’t noticed she released you from your restraints.

“Fuck,” you let out, and in a split second you’re standing with Wanda’s legs still wrapped around you and the two of you crash against her desk. Your lips stay locked together, sharing mutual desperation. You make quick work to undo her blouse exposing her breasts and a sigh of satisfaction escapes you at the sight.

Creating some distance between you, you take her in; her hazel-green eyes search yours with aching anticipation, you scan over the curve of her waist, the delicate lines defining her body, being this close to her is dangerously intoxicating– but you do not want to test her patience.

Your lips collide with Wanda’s again, then drift along her jaw, as you press hungry kisses to her neck, leaving a trail down to her collarbone– keeping her body flushed against yours with your hands firm at her waist. You explore her chest, swirling your tongue around her right nub and nipping at the sensitive area, which is rewarded with a moan– a sound you don’t think you could ever get tired of hearing driving you more frantic.

You slide two fingers through her sopping wet folds, gathering her slick and moving your fingers in circular motions, rubbing her clit. Wanda is a whimpering mess when you pump two fingers inside her and your eyes lock as she bucks her hips against you. You add a third, earning a cry from the woman below you, feeling full from the slight stretch.

Wanda reaches for the hand you have buried inside her and pushes you impossibly deeper causing a throaty growl to escape you. Snaking your free hand around her lower back for grip, you pick up your pace, curling your fingers and Wanda begins to claw at the skin on your back as she starts to clench around you.

She lifts her gaze to you then with dark, hooded eyes as the tension coils deep within her core. Pleasure courses through her in steady waves– her brows pinch together, lips parting while her stare remains deliberate and commanding.

“God, you look pretty like this,” your thumb dances over her clit, applying a little pressure– which is enough for her to completely come undone, screaming your name before sinking her teeth into the curve of your neck to bite back the noises spilling from her lips.

You give Wanda a few moments to recover before she changes her demeanor, her accent coming through with an authoritative and dangerous tone. “Clean up the mess you made,” she demands, pushing your head down her body.

The heat in her words spreads through you, your cheeks betraying you with a flush– you do as you’re told and lick a stripe up her folds. Using your tongue, you slide into her entrance, lapping up the remnants of her orgasm.

Wanda’s hands are threaded through your hair as you continue to thrust your tongue inside her, then tightening her grip as you capture her clit in your mouth, making out with the sensitive area before settling into a steady, fast rhythm, flicking your tongue up and down.

You pull back momentarily, earning a soft whimper from Wanda, your senses blissfully overwhelmed in its own type of high. Offering her a daring smirk, you tease, “Oh, don’t worry, Maximoff. I am far from done with you.” Your mouth is back on her again, rolling her into her third orgasm of your meeting.

𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁

Series Masterlist

Part Two