Everyone But Her Pt.25

everyone but her pt.25

Summary: College is a big step in any young adult's life. The biggest concern should be tests and not sleeping past the alarm for your morning classes. But murder always seems to follow Wednesday Addams around, and this time, she isn't sure she likes it.

Word Count: 4.8k Warnings: swearing, murder, vague descriptions of murder Pairing: Wednesday Addams x Reader (everyone but her Masterlist) Taglist: @extinctspino @basichextechml @cfvgbhndun-new-blog @jinxscatbomb @awolfcsworld @suzhiman @gengen64 @eclipsesmoonshine14 @alexkolax @thenextdawn @cacciatricediartemide @cozwaenot @the-night-owl-blr @natashasapphic @elliesbabygirl @alilbitlesbian @irish-piece-of-trash @rainbow-love4ever @audigay @bakugounuggets @myfturn @rockwyn @bigbadsofty07 @andsoigotabutterfly @smromanoff @notheoneforlove

“Authorities have been unable to find any answers about the murder that occurred on Quaker street around midnight last night.”

The news continued to drone on the television you had helped set up in the common space of the dorm suite. Everyone was either already out of the dorm for the morning or still sleeping. You were rushing around the common space looking for your other boot to head to work, tripping over your own feet in an attempt to do everything all at once.

“Authorities have yet to announce any details about the grisly murder-”

“-shit, is that another one?” You mumbled around the toothbrush still hanging out of your mouth. Wednesday very much wished you wouldn’t do that right beside her ear.

“Third murder since school started,” Wednesday answered, her eyes still glued to the television.

“Don’t leave the dorm without your pocket mace,” you said slowly as you straightened back up and continued brushing your teeth.

“You seem to forget I am more than capable of staying safe,” she said as she turned around on the couch to look you in the eye.

“You know what? Never mind, I’m more worried about him encountering you,” you said with a roll of your eyes.

“You worry too much,” She said softly. You walked over to the kitchen sink and spit out the toothpaste, wiping your mouth off before walking back.

“Yes I do,” you said as you leaned down and planted a minty kiss on her lips. “I’ll see you after work.”

“Refrain from arguing with the elderly lady at the bus stop again,” Wednesday called out before you could leave.

“I’ll behave if she does,” you answered with a shit-eating grin that she was slowly coming to enjoy. At least you were smiling. “I’ll tell Tio you said hi!”

Wednesday watched the door until she heard the click of the lock sliding into place. It was something you had started doing after the first murder in town. Whether someone was in the apartment or not, you made double and triple sure that the doors were locked. If anyone was going to leave or stay home alone, they would need to double and triple check that the doors were locked at all times.

Even with that being the case, everyone heading to university had been good for you. When they had all told you they were going to the same university - one that was more than favourable for Outcasts - and they planned on taking you with them, it was like a godsend. She hated emotion, but when your eyes teared up at the new plan, it almost made her feel something.

Your Tio had come around to help get everyone settled and show you the ropes of his construction company. To get you started, he had said; claimed he wanted to expand a bit anyway. Everyone knew it was a nonsensical excuse, even you, but you took it anyway. At least it gave you something to do and helped you stay on your feet.

The only downside to all of this? Wednesday was now living with seven other people in a confined space. These people were ones she cared about - though she would never admit it out loud - but that didn’t change the fact that none of them were pleasant to be living with. At least not when a shared living space and kitchen was a requirement.

“Omg, is that another dead guy?” Enid asked in her sleepy voice.

“Yes,” Wednesday said as she turned back to look at the television. As much as she hated technology, she would admit it had its occasional use.

“Should we be worried?” Enid asked, quickly stepping into the common room to sit on the couch beside Wednesday, both of their thighs touching ever so slightly from the proximity.

“It appears they are targeting normies,” Wednesday said. “A wise decision in a town full of Outcasts.”

“So we’re safe?” Enid asked hesitantly, an underlying whine accenting her concern.

“Enid,” Wednesday said, turning to look her best friend in the eyes. “You are a 300 pound werewolf with vampires, gorgons, and sirens as your family. No one would dare even look at you wrong.”

“You promise?” She asked with furrowed brows and a pout that Divina would have described as cute. Wednesday sighed softly.

“I promise,” she said, to which Enid surged forward to force her into a hug.

“I knew you wouldn’t let anything happen to me,” Enid said before getting up from the couch and going back to her room as if she hadn’t just hugged Wednesday.

If she was turning this soft, she hoped the murderer would come for her next.

—---

“Pollito!”

You set your pencil down and looked around until you caught Tio’s eyes. Shit, you thought as a sudden fear coursed through your veins. Had you fucked up? Surely not, you were just sketching a bit, you hadn’t even started on the cabinets. Wait, maybe that was the problem, you hadn’t started the cabinets. Oh fuck, you were going to get fired.

“Can you help Mack with that custom table?” Tio asked once he was standing in front of your desk. “You have steadier hands.”

Oh.

“Sure thing,” you said with a closed-mouth smile.

“Gracias,” he said as he patted you on the back. “I’m heading out, can you lock up later?”

“Sure thing,” you said as you stood up and started walking with him. “Doing anything exciting?”

“Making the drive back home,” he said. “Abuelita is a little under the weather.”

“Since when?” You asked, pulling to a stop. “No one told me she was sick-”

“-slow down, pollito,” Tio said with a gentle smile. “It’s just a cold. Nothing some caldo de pollo can’t fix, huh?”

You didn’t like that. Not one bit. Abuelita was tough, but she was a normie and she was old. No, a cold was nothing compared to her, but what if? The thought was enough to make your mouth feel like cotton and your hands sweat profusely. Would they even tell you if she wasn’t okay?

“Hey,” Tio said softly. His hand was warm on your shoulder. “She’s too stubborn to let a cold take her out, no?”

“You promise she’s alright?” You asked hesitantly.

“I promise,” he said. “I’ll even tell her you said hello.”

“Don’t tell her that,” you grumbled as you started walking again, heading to the front with Tio. “She’ll get a big head.”

“See? You agree, she’s fine,” he laughed, his deep laugh that made your stomach flip.

“See you in a week?” You asked when you finally approached the door and could lean on the frame.

“Two at most,” he nodded. “Keep the shop safe?”

“Claro,” you said with a shrug. “Nothing gets past me.”

“Claro que no.” He leaned forward to press a kiss to your cheek. “Call if you need anything.”

“Get out,” you said with your own small smile. “It’s my shop now.”

“Stay safe!” He called out as he backed away, his hand raised in a halfhearted wave.

You waited until he was in his car and out on the street before walking back inside. It was a big deal to hold the keys to the shop, especially right now. Sure, everyone in the shop treated you well, you liked them, but you were still the youngest. And, quite frankly, you were probably the only one with a violent offense on their record, so that was both a positive and a negative.

With only a quick sweep over the shop, you made your way over to the table Mack was working at. He looked beyond concentrated even though he was simply staring at the table. His premature greys were peeking out from under his backwards cap and you almost wanted to laugh at him. Almost.

“Need help, Big Mack?” You asked after you watched him stare for another two or three minutes.

“Not from you, pollito,” he said in the most obnoxious Jersey accent. His smile gave him away though.

“Move over,” you said anyway, gently shoving him with your shoulder to get a look at what he was trying to do.

“Big shoes to fill this week,” Mack said once you both got started on the table. “Think you can handle it?”

“I think so,” you said as you sharpened the pencil to make a few more marks. “As long as you guys aren’t too hard on me.”

“Now what makes you think we would do that?” He asked with a barely concealed smile.

You just shook your head and blew the pencil shavings off the table. He was full of shit, you both knew it. Still, it eased a bit of the stress starting to close around your chest. All the guys were nice, genuinely nice, and they certainly wouldn’t leave you to flounder.

There was an easy flow throughout the shop. Every now and then you would look up, make sure no one needed help, then go back to carving out certain patterns on the legs of the table so no one questioned you. You weren’t better than anyone in the shop, you never claimed to be, but you had been tasked with keeping everything under control. It instilled a certain air of authority that, deserved or not, you hoped everyone would respect.

The morning flew by quickly, and you and Mack were making excellent progress on the table. Most of the guys were milling about trying to decide what they wanted to do for lunch, but you continued to work. It made a wonderful distraction from the thought of some budding murderer out and about in town while your girlfriend, who had a penchant for murder, was also out and about.

“You got plans for this evening?” Mack asked when you finally stood up to stretch your back.

“Might force Wednesday to watch a movie with me,” you said with a tired smile. “You?”

“It’s my little girl’s birthday today,” he said with a nod. He crossed his arms over his chest and leaned his hip against the table.

“Happy birthday,” you said quickly. “How old is she?”

“Just turned eight,” he said.

“Eight, huh?” You said with a slow nod. “That’s…”

You shut the bathroom door quickly to drown out the screaming from downstairs. Mean words that felt like they were crawling into your brain and making it a home. Your hands closed around your ears and you squeezed your eyes shut as your new little wings fluttered, leaving a comforting *swoosh* sound. Daddy’s mean words kept bouncing around your head.

“That’s a big birthday,” you finally said around the lump in your throat. If Mack noticed you spacing out, he didn’t bring it up. “Gonna do something nice for her?”

“Not today,” he sighed, picking up his pencil and drawing out a few more designs.

“Why not?” You asked. It was your turn to lean back against the table. “Today is the big day.”

“Don’t get paid till Friday,” he said as he shot you a quick smile.

You opened your mouth to say something, but quickly closed it. What could you say? Everyone working in the shop lived paycheck to paycheck, that was how it worked. Not because Tio didn’t pay well, but life was just expensive, especially since most of these men had families. You had grown up in the same kind of situation; life revolved around paychecks.

But it was her birthday…

With a simple “excuse me,” you walked away from the table and back to your own desk which was, thankfully, out of Mack’s view. You tapped on your phone to see that Enid had sent a message from Wednesday - who still refused to use the phone you had given her - but it was nothing serious. With a tired sigh, you plopped down into your chair and let your head fall into your hands.

You knew what Wednesday would tell you. It wasn’t your problem; you had no control over paychecks and it wasn’t your child. And she would be right, just like she usually was. But it was her birthday. Just because your eighth birthday had been fucked didn’t mean some other kid’s birthday had to be less than spectacular. Eight was a big age, after all.

Another heavy sigh left your lips as your eyes trailed to where your wallet was sitting, nice and hidden on your messy desk. Don’t do it, the voice in your head warned. Don’t be a doormat. You bit your lip and sat back in your chair, looking out into thin air.

The wallet taunted you.

“Fuck it,” you mumbled to yourself as you grabbed the wallet and started thumbing through whatever cash you had.

How expensive would a night out be? Well, you supposed that would depend on how many people were going. Mack had… three kids? Plus his wife? So that would be five people. Okay, then you would add your last $20. How much would dessert be? If they only got it for baby girl, then that wouldn’t be too bad, you would just add another $10.

You’re pathetic, the voice said. Just for that, you pulled all the cash out of your wallet. A migraine started to build in your right temple.

“Suck my dick,” you mumbled as you tossed your now-empty wallet onto your desk and stood up, cash in hand.

Most of the shop was fairly empty now that everyone was either out at lunch or fucking around in the break room. Good, that would make it less obvious when you got back to Mack’s table. He was still marking out the designs, face so close to the table there was no way it was healthy for his eyes.

You hit his shoulder lightly with the hand that was holding the cash. He looked at you for a second before doing a double take and standing up. You just held your hand out for him. All he did was look at it with furrowed brows.

“What’s that?” He asked.

“Go on home,” you said with a shrug, “and take your girl out for a birthday dinner.”

“I’m not taking your money, kid,” he said with a shake of his head. But he didn’t look away from your hand.

“You’re not taking it, I’m giving it,” you said as you moved your hand closer to him. “I get paid Friday too.”

“Come on-”

“-take it and get the fuck out,” you said.

When he still didn’t take it, you exhaled harshly through your nose and grabbed his hand, shoving the cash into it before closing his fingers around the bills. You could feel him staring at you. It made your stomach turn into knots. He knows you’re pathetic.

“Thank you,” he said in a voice that was far too soft. “Your daddy raised you right.”

“No one wants charity,” daddy said as you sat in the back of the car, now without your stuffed rabbit. “No one wants your pity.”

“She didn’t have a friend,” you said.

“People will walk all over you,” daddy continued. “Never do it again.”

“Someone did,” you said with a forced smile. “Now get the fuck out of my shop.”

“I’ll give Lily an extra hug from you,” Mack said with a giant smile that showed off his crooked bottom teeth. It was a nice smile.

He patted you on the shoulder twice before practically running out of the shop, more than eager to go see Lily for her birthday. It was sweet, truly it was, that he was so excited to spend the day with his little girl. Hell, there was practically a skip in his step.

But then your own smile fell as you looked back down at the table that was very much not finished.

“Seems you’ve got yourself some overtime, pollito,” Simon said, suddenly appearing behind you.

“Shut the hell up and get back to work,” you grumbled, to which he only laughed and went back to his own project.

Your daddy raised you right, the voice in your head echoed as you grabbed the chisel and started carving out another pattern.

The migraine got worse.

It was going to be a long day.

—---

Wednesday sighed and checked the clock on the wall once again. 7:04pm. Far past time for you to be back at the dorm. It wasn’t the first time you were late for the evening, and it certainly wouldn’t be the last. If you got into a genuine flow at work, sometimes you wouldn’t be home until well after midnight. Even though it left her grumpy because she had to fall asleep on her own - and she would kill anyone who discovered that fact - she understood you were proud of your work.

But there was a murderer in town now, and you were known for finding yourself in trouble whether you wanted it or not.

“If you sigh one more time, I’m going to lose it,” Bianca said with a huff.

“Just go already,” Ajax said as he grabbed his burger from the takeout bag Kent had brought home for everyone for dinner. “We’ll save dinner for you guys.”

“But don’t forget this!” Enid called out from her room.

It took only a few seconds for her to show back up with a pink mace keychain. Wednesday looked at it in disgust - not because it was mace, but because it was pink - before exhaling through her nose and taking it anyway. There was no way anyone was going to try and catch her unawares, but she appreciated everyone trying to keep each other safe. She supposed she could understand why you loved having everyone around.

Everyone bid her goodbye as she left the dorm, keys and mace in her pocket and determination on her mind. The weather was finally starting to get cold in the evenings so it was a wonderful walk. You worked just a little further than a comfortable walk away from campus, but you made the trek every day anyway. Although she had told you that if you would just take the bus, it would be a far more efficient trip to work.

You adamantly refused.

A small part at the back of Wednesday’s mind was consciously aware of the possibility of someone sneaking up on her. She was prepared, of course she was, but it was always possible. And given her… smaller than average stature, it was even probable. They would be a fool to try, but it still might happen.

Yet, as luck would have it, she walked into Tio’s shop as if she owned the place with nary a scratch. It was almost a bit disappointing that no one had tried anything; she would have enjoyed the challenge. But you didn’t need her trying to fight off rising murderers, and she supposed it was worth keeping your anger metre down.

Or so she thought until you were nowhere to be found.

“Hola, Wednesday,” Simon said as he walked over while wiping his hands off on the hand towel that was, admittedly, almost dirtier than his hands.

“Good evening,” Wednesday said, straightening her back to look up and meet his eyes. “Do you know where-”

“-pollito is in Felix’s office,” he said with a gesture of his head in the proper direction. “Make her sleep at home, no? She’s getting cranky.”

She nodded once, to which Simon smiled and lowered his head in a silent “goodbye.” While he was walking out the door, she made her way to Tio’s office where, just as directed, you were sitting behind the desk with your head in your hands. Papers were scattered around you haphazardly and it was truly a wonder how you ever managed to get any work done in such conditions.

“You’re late,” Wednesday said. She had to fight down the spiders crawling up her throat at the little jump your body made.

“No I’m not,” you retorted instantly. A beat of silence. “What time is it?”

“Precisely 7:43 in the evening,” Wednesday said as she glanced at the clock on the wall.

“Fuck,” you said even as you leaned back and raked your hands down your face. “Explains why my back hurts, I guess.”

“If you would sit properly then you-”

“-yeah yeah, it wouldn’t hurt so bad,” you said with a dismissive wave of your hand. “Thanks for the tip, mom.”

Wednesday frowned as you stood up and started stretching out your back. She was not particularly fond of you calling her “mom,” even dismissively. It left a bitter taste in her mouth that she couldn’t quite place. Why would she want to be your mother? She was very happy to be your girlfriend. What part of her made you think that way?

“You ready?” You asked, drawing Wednesday out of her thoughts. You were putting your wallet and phone into the pockets of your jeans.

She nodded and started walking out. There was no need to look back, you followed her everywhere. If she had asked, you would have followed her through hell and she knew it. The sound of your boots on the concrete immediately behind her was all the proof she needed.

It only took you a moment to lock up, triple checking everything before deeming it good enough for the night. Your hand was sweaty when you took hers but she didn’t mind. It was warm, and even though she wasn’t cold, it was comforting. Although she would never let Enid know that she was right; having a warm partner was… nice.

You both stayed fairly silent during the walk. Occasionally one of you would ask a question about the other’s day, but it was otherwise uneventful. It was a wonderful thing, Wednesday realised, to walk with you and feel comfortable in the silence. She knew the amount of talking you did directly correlated to your comfort, and to know you could happily be silent with her? Well, that had her own palms feeling clammy.

“Oh shit,” you said as you slowed down at the flashing red and blue lights around the corner.

“Another one,” Wednesday said, her eyes trailing over the newly erected crime scene tape.

There was no ambulance which indicated that either the victims were already transported, or they were now casualties. Three police cars were parked around, and there were seven officers milling around as well. She could hear the radios from the car going off and there in the distance was the body.

“Wait.” You dropped Wednesday’s hand. “Wait, that’s Mack.”

There was no chance to stop you before you were running full speed toward the scene. She had to watch as a police officer grabbed you by the arms, pulling you back and keeping you from crossing the tape. Your hands were gesturing wildly and you tried again to get past the tape.

Your shouts and cries sent a shock through her heart as she walked nearer.

“I need you to tell me when you saw him last,” the police officer’s voice became more clear as Wednesday approached.

“I- I- we-.” You inhaled, held it, and exhaled slowly. “He left around noon.”

“Do you know where he was going?”

Wednesday saw your shoulders fall.

“It’s his daughter’s birthday.”

The officer sighed before looking back at the corpse that was now being blocked from Wednesday’s view. You were still staring in the same direction but she could tell you weren’t seeing anything. It was in the way your eye twitched every few seconds. In the way your hands and legs shook.

Without thinking, she reached out and took your hand. Almost instantly, you squeezed it tight. Painfully tight. But she didn’t dare pull away because she could see the quickening rise and fall of your chest and the flare of your nostrils and the slightest quiver of your bottom lip.

“Can I call you if we have any more questions?” The police officer asked you. He was shorter than you by a few inches, so his attempt to look up at you was almost comical.

When you didn’t say anything, Wednesday elbowed you lightly in the side. You blinked rapidly a few times before meeting his eyes.

“Yeah,” you said as if through a fog. “Yeah, of course.”

You gave the police officer your name and phone number. While you were answering a few more questions, Wednesday was able to get a better look at Mack’s body. Blood was pooled around him and the photographer was taking a picture of a knife that was on the ground a few feet away.

“You kids get home,” the police officer said. “It’s not safe.”

Wednesday didn’t say anything but nodded once before pulling you away from the scene gently. It was as if your feet were made of lead with how you barely managed to drag them across the asphalt. Your eyes were unfocused and your bottom lip continued to shake just enough for her to notice. She knew you were close to Mack.

This was going to kill you.

You were still in a daze when Wednesday walked you through the door to the dorm. Everyone was already in the common room, watching the news as they talked about the most recent murder. From her position so close to you, she felt your body shake.

“Oh thank god,” Enid said. She nearly tripped over herself in her rush to check you and Wednesday over. “We thought you were goners.”

“Don’t you walk by this place every night?” Divina asked.

Your face started to pale when the news mentioned Mack’s name.

“We’re going to bed,” Wednesday said.

All it took was one look at you before everyone closed their mouths. Kent turned down the volume on the TV and changed the channel. Enid gave you both an apologetic smile and stood aside so Wednesday could gently usher you to your shared room. Thankfully, you let her.

You still didn’t say a word as you stood unmoving in the middle of the room. You still had on your work clothes and Wednesday knew what she was going to have to do. Slowly so as not to startle you, she stood in front of you and started taking your work clothes off.

First your shirt, which was buttoned all the way up to your neck. It was one of your old ones; the one with the oil stains and the hole in the breast pocket. She didn’t bother folding it before tossing it into the dirty clothes hamper in the corner. Then it was your harness, which was the easiest part. Your wings stretched themselves out before settling comfortably against your back.

“Sit down,” Wednesday ordered not unkindly. Even then, she helped guide you to the bed until you were sitting slouched over as if the weight of the world rested on your shoulders.

She was thankful for the work boots you had picked out because there were no laces. It made it so much easier to just slip off your feet and place them back by the door. You sat, still unmoving aside from the occasional shiver that wracked your body. At least you assisted her in sliding your jeans off your hips so she could fold them and place them neatly by the closet.

When Wednesday turned back around, you had already curled yourself into a ball on your side of the bed. You hadn’t even given her the chance to get your pyjamas out, instead staying in your boxers and tank top. With how comatose you appeared, she figured it wouldn’t hurt for her to go ahead and get ready for bed on her own anyway.

The moment she was ready, she climbed into bed beside you and waited. Times like these were where she was most uncertain with how to act. Sometimes when you were upset, you would want to pull her close and press a kiss to her neck, feeling her pulse underneath your lips. But other times, you wouldn’t want any contact at all, instead deciding to be upset all on your own.

It was the good night, Wednesday realised when you reached out with shaking hands to pull her closer. She turned until her back was pressed against your front and you could wrap an arm securely around her waist. You kept her head tucked right underneath your chin. Even from that position she could feel your erratic heartbeat against her skin.

“It’s his daughter’s birthday,” you whispered in a broken voice.

Wednesday didn’t know what to say. So she just lifted your hand to her lips and pressed a kiss to each individual knuckle. She held your hand against her until she felt your heartbeat slow to a normal rate for you. Your breaths came out evenly and your grip on her waist relaxed.

“I’m sorry,” Wednesday whispered only after she was sure you were asleep.

She hoped you were too exhausted for the nightmares to make another appearance.

get to it

Summary: Lorraine is the only one who won't cause a scene when you go to the gym. Well. You thought Lorraine was the only one who wouldn't cause a scene at the gym.

Word Count: 1.8k Warnings: implications of smut, language, suggestive themes Pairing: Lorraine Day x Fem!Reader (Birb Cinematic Universe Masterlist)

“I’m heading out to the gym!” You called out from the entryway. A range of acknowledgements echoed down the stairs and you nodded to yourself as you grabbed your keys.

“Hang on.”

You froze, your head swinging around to see Lorraine grabbing her jacket from the hall closet. Well, clarification, she grabbed your jacket from the closet and slid it over her head. It swallowed her, almost dropping to her knees and hanging far past her fingers. With a barely concealed sigh, you offered her your hand and led her out of the house.

There was no way you were getting that jacket back.

It was a nice walk to the gym; late enough in the evening for most people to be at home, but not too late where it was pitch black outside. The spring air was full of pollen that had Lorraine sneezing nearly the entire walk. An adorable little kitten sneeze that you made sure to tease her for, leading to an even more adorable blush to dust her cheeks.

“Evening, kids,” Travis said when you and Lorraine stepped into the warm gym.

“Evening,” you both said in unison with small waves.

“Looking beautiful as always, Raine,” he said with a smile before turning around to continue sanitising some of the equipment.

“Thanks, Travis,” Lorraine said softly.

“Thanks, Travis,” you mocked as you pulled her in the opposite direction. “Don’t accept his compliment.”

“You can not be jealous of him,” Lorraine said with a raised brow and arms crossed over her chest. She stepped aside to let you start setting up for your first workout. “He says it every time.”

“I know he does,” you grumbled. The plate slid a little too fast and squashed your finger. And oh did it sting. “He needs to quit.”

“Don’t you think I’m beautiful?” She asked once you sat on the bench.

“Of course I do.”

If you hadn’t known Lorraine as well as you did, you would have missed the change. It was in the way she held herself, the slightest tilt at the corner of her lips, her eyes locking with yours. She stepped forward and rested her small hands on your shoulders, her smile growing a little bigger as she sat in your lap, one leg on either side of your hips.

“Then you have nothin’ to worry about,” she said before leaning forward to give you a quick kiss. Her hands pushed against your shoulders until you were laying flat on the bench. “Now get goin’.”

“I haven’t warmed up yet,” you said, but you really didn’t care. Not when Lorraine’s hands were starting to move from your shoulders down to your stomach.

“I think you’ll be alright,” she said as she slid her hands under your shirt to rest on your hips. It sent a shiver down your spine.

Oh. Oh, you shouldn’t have brought Lorraine.

With an audible gulp, you nodded to yourself and did your best to focus on the bar above you. If you could just get your workout down quickly, then you could go back home and give Lorraine what she wanted. Easy, right? You could probably even cut it short, claim to be too tired.

And once you felt Lorraine’s nails scratch lightly against your skin, your mind was made up. You were definitely going to cut it short. Your breath left you in frustrated huffs as she did everything in her power to make your workout an impossible task.

It started with her deciding to hold onto your waist and lean her weight on you when you attempted to push the bar up for your final rep. Normally it would have been too bad, but you felt the slightest movement of her hips against yours. Your breath caught in your throat at the action, but you thought nothing of it.

Until she did it again.

She gripped your waist to help her grind down into your lap. It was subtle - clever girl - but you felt it. Felt her nails lightly dig into your skin and her thighs tighten around your hips. Any control in your body vanished and the bar fell onto your chest, forcing the air out of your lungs.

“Focus, baby,” Lorraine said with a tilt of her head. “Just one more.”

It took everything in you to push that damn bar up and wrack it.

For the most part she behaved for the other few, though that didn’t mean you actually made any progress. Because no matter which one you decided on - whatever plan you had made beforehand had long been forgotten - she was there to be a distraction. Shamelessly letting her eyes roam over you, or running her hands over you when you were resetting, or even pulling you down into kisses that left your stomach in knots.

“How many more?” Lorraine asked when she let you go after kissing you so hard you couldn’t breathe right.

“I- uh-” you tried to blink the haze out of your mind.

“Use your words,” she whispered.

“Just- just- uh, just a finisher,” you managed to get out. “Then I’m done.”

“Then get going,” she said with a smile and a light pat on your chest.

She was having too much fun with the whole situation, that’s what she was doing. You grabbed her hand and took her over to the pullup bars hanging on the far wall. Travis waved to you both when you walked by, and Lorraine made it a point to wave and smile back. She could be such a dick.

You locked your fingers together and held your hands steady for Lorraine to step up on. It was a joint effort, but she quickly found herself sitting atop the pullup bars, her legs hanging over and swinging carelessly. With the hood of your jacket now firmly pulled over her head, she looked adorable. Nothing like the minx she had been for the past hour.

With a deep breath in, you wiped your hands on your sweats to get them nice and dry. Then, without any chance to change your mind, you jumped up just enough to grab the pullup bar. Only a second of readjustment, and you pulled yourself up, feeling the burn of your muscles from the past hour of workouts.

Lorraine leaned forward and gave you a peck on the lips when you were up all the way, and for a moment, you were rejuvenated. Your pulse was racing and the fatigue in your body disappeared when you lowered yourself back down. The second pullup, she gave you another quick kiss, and you smiled at her before lowering yourself back down.

But then she made you suffer.

You pulled yourself up for the third time and expected nothing more than a quick, light kiss. Nothing scandalous, nothing distracting, a welcome encouragement to keep going. Something that she usually did when she came to the gym with you.

But this time was different. The moment your head popped above the bar again, you felt Lorraine’s hands grab the collar of your shirt and hold you tight. Your back and shoulders and arms already started to ache when you felt her lips on yours. It wasn’t a quick kiss, it was much hungrier, more needy.

Her tongue swept across your bottom lip and without hesitation you parted your lips slightly. She sighed into your mouth and leaned closer. Your arms started to shake when she let her hands trail up your neck and to your cheeks where she held you just as steady.

Lorraine overtook all your senses. The smell of her body wash, the warmth of her fingers on your skin, the taste of her on your tongue, the soft sighs she let out. She had you completely captivated and all you wanted to do was pull her in, envelop yourself in her.

Your muscles didn’t agree.

With a whispered yelp, your grip gave out and you fell back to the ground. You could feel your upper body visibly shake from fatigue as Lorraine climbed down without a care in the world. Her feet hit the foam ground with a soft thud before she walked over and placed her hands on your chest.

“Seems like a good workout,” she said, letting her eyes roam over you again before meeting your own. “We should head home.”

“Gonna reward me?” You asked with a raised brow. Her smile gave her away.

“Of course,” she said. “I think you’ve earned it.”

“I think so too,” you said. You reached out to grab her hips and pull her closer to you, the smell of her shampoo becoming all-encompassing once again.

“Then let’s go,” she said.

She grabbed your hand and started pulling you out of the gym. You made sure to wave to Travis - taking note that Lorraine gave a half-hearted goodbye - and let her lead the way. Your hand was still shaking, and your arms felt like jello, but her hand felt warm in yours.

It was almost comical how quickly Lorraine walked to get home. She didn’t tell anyone hi when she walked into the house, barely even giving you time to shut the door before dragging you up to her room. Her foot closed the door as she shoved you to the bed and quickly climbed on top of you after removing her sweats.

“I forgot to tell you something,” you said when her hands found their way to your bare waist once again. She cocked her head to listen without taking her eyes off the small expanse of skin she had exposed. “I think I’m a bit too fatigued to help you out.”

She froze.

“Beg pardon?” She asked, her eyes wide and searching yours.

“That finisher killed me,” you said with a shrug. “I can’t be of any help tonight.”

She blinked rapidly twice.

“But-”

“-Don’t let me stop you though,” you interrupted. You sat up and placed your own hands on her hips; it always amazed you how soft her skin was. “Go on. Get your reward.”

She looked into your eyes before looking down to where she was straddling your thigh. Her hips moved against your thigh experimentally, a soft sigh falling from her lips as her eyes fell shut. It was mesmerising, watching her grind against your thigh in practically nothing more than your jacket. She was definitely a beautiful sight.

You were brought back to the present when she let out a frustrated groan.

“It’s not enough,” she practically whined, staring you down with her beautiful brown eyes. Usually that worked.

But not that time.

“If you wanted help, you shouldn’t have worked me so hard,” you said with a shrug. Her jaw dropped.

“You can’t be serious,” she said.

“As a heart attack,” you answered with your own smile. You lightly pinched her hip and gestured to her with your head as you waited for her to continue. “Guess you better get to it, sweetheart.”

It Will Come Back

Summary: The cabin was becoming a distant memory but you and Wanda had been anything but. Missions continued with the team but when it was time relax, you were no longer alone. And for the first time, you never wanted to be alone again

Pairing: Wanda x Reader

Genre/Warnings: Fluff (mention of alcohol, alcohol consumption, blood)

Word Count: 4.9k

A/N: The rhythm is slowly coming back and of course, I can't leave this series alone for too long. Here’s chapter 17 of AOP. I’ll be testing out if I have major writer’s block with a fic not related to this a bit later 😂 Happy Reading everyone! 💕

*please do not repost or translate my material or claim as yours. reblogs, comments and likes are always appreciated!*

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Your chair squeaks beneath you as your leg quietly bounces, hands trying to pop already cracked fingers. It's taking everything within you not to let out a sigh, trying to remind Steve that you all had plans later tonight and there was still things to do. He was even involved, you just knew he didn't want to set up the decorations.

You knew this was a fact as you glance over at Nat, her eyes peering up from the time on her phone. Even she knew he was cutting it close and she needed him to climb the ladder.

As you glance around the room, you catch a pair of emerald eyes across the way. Your stare softens as you watch Wanda cock her brow, you pen tapping silently against your temple. You wait for her to tap her fingers against her journal, the silent confirmation that she was connected to you. A secret language the two of you had developed over time.

You're beautiful, the words fill your mind and you watch the smallest upturn in Wanda's lips as she tries to pretend to pay attention to Steve.

The mission, her distant voice echoes in your mind as you sigh, leaning forward onto the table. You feel the pull to find her eyes again, to find her across that table but you hold yourself together for the moment. You'd have all the time in the world to stare into those emerald eyes, as you trace along her silk skin and listen to her alluring whispers all night long.

The clicking of the air-conditioning brings a soft rush of air from the vents. You noticed the slight shift in Wanda's hair and smell that sweet amber flow from across the table. Breathing in deeply, you feel yourself relax your cheek even more into your hand. You stare at Steve but your attention is far from him.

You smell wonderful, you think.

Y/N...we're in a meeting, Wanda warns and you move your hand to hide the grin on you face,

You smell wonderful at this meeting.

Wanda doesn't respond but you watch as she stares down at her notes, biting softly against her lips to keep her beaming smile from escaping. You don't stop your thoughts but simply readjust yourself in your seat.

Haven't seen each other in a few days. I say, we go get a solitary cottage by the sea. Lock myself inside with you. Stay there for a week.

Green eyes curiously flash up to you, What would we do for a week?

Got a lot of ideas, you shrugged.

Wanda catches the hum she nearly lets go and clears her throat, Perhaps. And even more, I like what I see.

You can't pull away from her stare this time. A teasing glint in her eyes and a glowing warmth in her cheeks. Your thoughts start to continue through everything the two of you can do in that solitary time together. All the recipes that could be attempted, all the kisses that could be stolen.

A sharp pain in your knees makes you jump in your seat as you sit up straight, your hand rubbing against the throbbing pain.

"Alright, we'll check on this lead. Y/N, check in with Yelena and we'll meet back here. Hopefully we'll have a triangulated location of where Strucker is."

You nod at Steve's works and glance over Nat, gratefulness whispered from your lips to her. She makes a noise as she stands and beings to walk out with Wanda. You sigh, closing your journal and trying your hardest not to look at Wanda. As you glance up, you shift your eyes and see a different pair of green eyes already looking at you. She was waiting. Expecting you to fail at your only objective, not to be obvious.

Quickly, you jog out of the room and past the pair, attempting to catch up with Sam. Mostly you were trying to put as much distance between you and Wanda. To get the Russian off your scent before she sent Yelena to ask a billion questions to break you. Besides, you had the rest of the day to preoccupy yourself with getting things prepared for the party.

And the rest of the day was tiring burden. To avoid Wanda and the peering eyes of Nat, you picked up other people's responsibilities. You walked into the compound with an armful of party decorations as Wanda was finishing decorating a batch of cupcakes. Your eyes connected, both of you knowing the redhead could come around a corner at any moment. There would be time to share cake later, no matter how much your stomach was growling.

________________________________

You make it through the afternoon though. Finding yourself leaning up against a doorway with a grin on your face. Nat was out of the Compound, you were a bit safer to knock on the door in front of you. As it opened, your brow rises slightly.

"That's a nice sweater you got there," you eye the slightly oversized sweater on Wanda. She pulls softly at the sleeves as you push yourself away from the threshold.

"I picked it up from somewhere,"

You step forward, "Somewhere or someone?"

"Oh, I don't remember actually," Wanda closes the door softly behind you, 'But I'm sure," she leans against you as your arms wrap around her, "Or someone could spark my memory."

Your lips press against hers, feeling her arms slink around your neck. She steps into you, practically leaning as your arms tighten around her waist.

"We can't stay here forever," you whispered to her, "You have to make a good first impression,"

Wanda grins against your lips, stealing one more peck, "Just knowing I put up with you, she's going to love me."

You let her slip from your grasp and watch her put the finishing touches on her hair, "That might draw some suspicion, Princess. Putting up with me as... an acquaintance?"

"Exactly," Wanda nods as she steps out of her slippers, "Who sometimes wear each other's clothes."

You laugh, "You do look amazing. I might have to steal it back later, though."

"You do know I’m not wearing this tonight right?," she teases and reaches for the closet handle. You press your hand over hers, softly clasping your fingers around hers.

You hover your lips over her neck, watching how her breath catches, “Even better,”

As your lips press against her soft skin, you hand that wraps around her waist sneaks beneath the sweater. Her contented hums vibrate through you as she cranes herself closer to your lips. Until you feel her hand rise up, pressing your face just to side.

For a moment, you fight to continue kissing down to her collarbone but you feel her body shift. Her lips find yours as she peeks over her shoulder. You feel your body relax in a way that’s only possible with Wanda.

Every muscle her fingers run across, relaxes at her touch. The sighs that brush over you when you grip her tightly and press the softest kiss beneath her jaw. They pull you from the world around you and truly show you just how vulnerable you are. But you don’t worry about made up dangers anymore.

All your focus doesn’t belong to fear now. Only to her.

“You don’t want to wear yourself out too soon do you,” Wanda whispers against your lips, sucking in a breath when you nip along the tender spot on her neck.

You hum as you nuzzle into her, “A warmup before strenuous activities is highly recommended,”

Wanda giggles, trying to pry your locked arms from around her, “There won’t be any strenuous activities if you don’t let me get dressed,”

You let out a defeated groan, watching her open her closet, “Isn’t the point to not let you-,”

She holds her hand out the door and with a flick of her wrist, her duvet is twisted around you.

“This! Is!” You struggle against the unending maze of fabric, “Unfair!” By the time you rip the sheet off your head and give it a few good stomps, Wanda has already undressed and dressed.

“It was for your own good. We’d never make to down those stairs.”

Jabbing at her sides with a grin, you press a kiss to the side of her head, "Should we be walking down those steps together? Y'know, all this secrecy stuff."

Wanda glances back at you, "We shouldn't really take all the attention away from your sister, right? Besides, we still have things to talk about. Serious," her finger stabs into your chest and flicks up to your nose, "Adult things."

You hum, "After some serious, adult activities?"

She rolls her eyes, "Is it serious when you fall off the bed?"

"Get movin', Maximoff," you pinch her side and steal one last kiss before you slink out of her bedroom. As you check the hallway before sauntering down the stairs, you hold onto the smile on your face for one moment longer.

No matter how hard you tried, that smile would find its way back on your face. Glancing across the room and crowd, you find that red headed witch in her own conversation. You watch how her eyes glowed as she laughs, the spinning of her rings when she stood and listened. When those green eyes finally found yours as you turned and found her already looking your way, your chest falls into itself. A tightening you had never felt before. A warmth throughout your limbs you wish you had felt sooner.

You both tried to keep your distance for most of the evening. Interacting with the rest of the team and the moments you did run into each other, it was a friendly conversation. A comment on a past mission or when the two of you were going to train again.

As you sit at the bar, you wonder if it was too nonchalant.

"So," a voice comes from beside you and you know it'll confirm your thought, 'You're in an interesting mood."

You glance up from your drink, "Is that so?"

"Yeah," the redhead settles into the stool next to you and holds up two fingers, "Curious timing with Wanda walking down those stairs. Hope you guys got to spend some time together since last mission."

Your brows clench as you take a long drink from your glass, "What's that supposed to mean?"

"What it means is..." Nat slides the shot of vodka to you, "The way you act when she's away, it's something. Maybe that same something that has you giddy as a pig in shit."

A grin forms on your face, letting her go and have her fun, "Alright, well she is my friend,"

Nat scoffs but you point at her and continue pointing to the rest of the team that is scattered around the floor, "I act the same whenever any of you are out without me. I'm always saving your asses on mission."

She raises her brows and waits to sip on the vodka with you, "Friends don't do any of this."

You clear your throat, "Don't what? Protect each other?"

"They don't cancel plans to watch a stupid show," you clench your jaw slightly, knowing she said that to see your response, "Have conversations with nothing but their eyes or forget the world exists when you hear your name."

Your clear drink is warming in your fist as Nat finishes hers in a single gulp, 'How many times can you really take the scenic route?"

You shiver, downing the rest of the drink so you can get far away from this conversation. As you gag to your right, you see a blonde making her way to you. It was a trap and you figured it out too late.

"Look. From where I am," Yelena slides in next to you, cornering you, "Which is from the sidelines because someone hates family."

You glare over at the blonde, "I took your dumb vest didn't I?"

Her brown eyes roll, "You two make a lot of sense together. It'd be a shame if you can't see that yourself."

You flip over your empty glass and push away from the bar, Yelena quickly downing the shot she just ordered. She presses her hand against you, "Where the hell do you think you're going."

You look up at the Russian, the answer should've been obvious as you look at the time, "Out? With all of you?"

"Absolutely not, you have some things to take care of tonight," her eyes glance back towards a certain redhead that jokes with Barton, "Go show some of that sensitive side. Don't be so serious,"

"I hate you," you grimace as the refill on your drink is stolen and the two sisters take off to continue the night in the city.

You groan as the night finally reaches its end here in the building. You don't want to have this conversation yet. You were fine having fun. Having fun with her. But you wonder how much more fun it could be when you weren't meeting at different times to grab a cup of coffee together.

Or having Thor interrupt the two of you watching a movie together in the living room.

You wanted to blame all of this on your want to keep things casual and not put a label on any of this. But you know, deep down, that you are scared. Terrified, even. You are terrified of ruining her.

The world around you is lost as you get lost in your own mind. A cold chill brings you back to the world and the door you find yourself in front of, opens without a sound. You feel yourself shoved inside with a quiet giggle and tip over onto your bed.

"You're very distracting," she whispers against your lips,

You shrug, "You weren't even paying attention to Stark and his thrusters,"

Wanda smiles, placing her hand on your cheek, "The team's scattering. What're we doing tonight?"

You sigh as you breath her in, alcohol teasing your nose, "Right now? I don't know. But I bet Nat's cashing in on a bet,"

"Let her," she giggles as her lips brush against yours, a tense kiss relaxing with each moment.

Your hand cups her face, "Everything alright in that little head of yours, Maximoff?"

She nods, "It's just... we're so close to Strucker. You and I know more about him and his tortures than anyone. If we get caught, we know how unlikely it is we come back," Wanda presses her hands against your chest as she sits up, "Who thought now was a good time for love."

You raise your brows with a grin, "Who said anything about love? I'm just trying to get you back into bed."

She chuckles but her eyes stay glued on her rings, "Still an asshole,"

"Hey," you whisper, "I'm not going anywhere. I told you."

"Your thoughts were quite loud tonight," Wanda's eyes flash to yours, "You wanted to run,"

You wrap your arms around her waist and push yourself up from the bed, "I just... I'm scared,"

Her fingers rub the back of your neck, her body resting on your thighs, "Y/N, what could you be scared of?"

"I've never really been scared," you chuckle but it falls flat, "I was always faster or smarter but then... Then I met you," you play with the rings on her fingers and find why they calm her so much. "I wasn't faster or smarter when that bullet hit you or when I made you slam your head on those steps,"

"Hey now, you saved-,"

You don't let her finish, "I'm terrified. So terrified to lose you. Or to ruin you."

Wanda runs her fingers through your hair, you know what she wanted to say. To deny everything that you were saying. That you've grown so much from who you were when you first met in that HYDRA building. But she knew, your past wouldn't let you believe it.

"I don't feel so angry all the time when you're around. You shake the frost from my bones every morning you're next to me. But I..." you forced yourself to look up from her rings, 'I don't know where I'd be if..."

"Probably falling out of windows, "Wanda grins through her tears, "Getting your ass beat."

You click your tongue and feel her hands press against your chest. You listen to her silent commands, falling back onto the bed as her lips press against yours. You breathe in slowly, slowly filling your lungs, "There's no world in which I'm good for you,"

"You have nothing to prove, Y/N. It's you and me," Wanda whispers against your lips as her hands cup your face gently, "It was worth putting up with you. But even think about leaving," those soft hands squish your cheeks as she leans forward, "And I'll rip your limbs off,"

You move quickly, arms wrapping around her as you flip her over onto the bed. She giggles, sending your heart soaring as you peer down at her, "I love when your grin grows," your own lips tug upwards, copying Wanda. Every time you saw that grin, it made you lighter than air.

"Life gave and took so much from you," you sigh as your thumb runs down her jaw, "And that same one reminds me every day, I could never deal with me like you do,"

"You are a pain sometimes," she wraps her hand around yours, "But I still have time to fix you up. It's not like we're getting married."

With a grin, Wanda settles down into the crook of your arm, "Man, we'd never hear the end of it. Still, love?"

Wanda chuckles, "Who would've thought. I love you,"

Guiding your finger down her face, you push a strand of hair from her eyes. Her green eyes had never looked brighter than in this moment. Their beauty would never fail at blowing you away. The life behind them awoke the life inside of you, "Even when I snore?"

She gives a tight smile, "No. You really need to get that under control, actually. Like, that could end all of this."

"Oh yeah?" you laugh, rolling onto her and pinning her to the bed. She lets out a groan as she tries to push you off,

"Someone had a heavy breakfast," she jokes, straining to push you off still.

You rest your face in the crook of her neck, snoring loudly into her. She laughs, trying to get you off now with tickling fingers against your side. You fight against the panic in your body as you quickly pin her wrists to the bed. She cries out for mercy and with a long raspberry blown on her neck, you look down at her reddened face.

"You have all of me," your words are slow and firm, making sure she understands everything you're telling her, "I can't do any of this without you,"

You let her arms slide out from your hands and she curls up into you. Rolling softly and entangling her legs into yours, listening to the words that come from your lips, "I promise to take care of you,"

She smiles, her hand resting on your face, "I love you," the words are slow and drawn out. Everything you're saying in this moment that you're drawing out, she's saying it all in those three words. Three words you never thought would be uttered from you. Three words that feel like guiding a thread through a needle. As you stare at her, you know this should all be easier than it's feeling. It all feels so right and yet something still hods you back from giving her everything.

As you look at her, you see no malice in her eyes. No impatience to get you to step on the gas and repeat those words to her. You take in a deep breath, watching her bite her lip and hold back a smile.

"I have to say," she whispers, her breath washing over you, "It's kinda fun seeing you out of control."

You let out a hearty laugh and roll onto your back and pat your stomach as she gets as close as possible to you. You draw her even closer and press your lips atop her head. She rests her head on your chest, breathing in deeply as she feels your heartbeat.

You both lay there in silence. Your hand subconsciously runs through her hair, feeling her body relax into you with each passing moment.

She sighs, her telltale sign that she was moment from falling asleep.

As you glance down at her, you see everything in her. Your past, your present and all of your future. Even if you wanted to fight against Nat and Yelena about how wrong they were about anything between you and Wanda, it was impossible. Your entire world is merging with hers and you were doing nothing to stop it. You want nothing to stop it.

You press a soft kiss against the top of her head.

"I love you, Wanda," you whisper as her breathing turns quiet and deep, "I... am so in love with you."

Resting your head back onto the pillow with a soft grin, you feel a pair of lips press under your chin, "I know,"

You look down at her, a smile that nearly squeezes your eyes shuts on your face, "I really fucking love you,"

Her lips plaster to yours before you can gather a breath. You pull her into you, each of your movements so slow and your breaths so deep. You just want to be one with her, just together.

As her lips move with yours, you feel a sharp pinch, "Ow! What was that?"

"Can't let you get complacent," Wanda's smile presses against your lips,

You hum, "Funny, we've done that a few times now,"

She chuckles, remembering everything between stolen kisses, quick peck and long lazy kisses the past weeks.

"It felt like our first kiss to me,"

"I've heard that once you say, 'I love you,'" Wanda's thumbs slides across your hand, "A kiss tastes differently."

You hum, "Maybe we oughta test a few other things out? I think Stark has a cabin tucked away somewhere,"

Wanda's fingers climb up your chest, "Not so fast. We'll have plenty of time to visit cozy cabins," you pout a little but she kisses your chin and watches the frown disappear, "But... I doubt the world will end if we sit here a while,"

____________________________

You hum to yourself as you clean your room. Snatching up clothes thrown around and making sure your bed has fresh sheets on it. Wanda was away on a mission and all you can think about was the quiet moment shared between the two of you. The moment the two of you admitted just how far you had fallen into each other. 

As you pick up the papers that litter your desk, your eyes fall on a torn piece of paper. In it, you see Wanda’s handwriting. A small note to you so you wouldn’t forget how much she’d be looking forward to coming back to you.

And an even smaller reminder to not watch any of the show’s episodes without her. Sticking the note onto your laptop, you shuffle your files together and decide to get to them at a later time. A later time as in, when Nat smacks the back of your head with them. 

Tying the garbage bag off, you start to make your way towards the trash chute down the hall. Whistling the theme of the show you’re dying to watch, your flat notes are deafened. A blaring alarm explodes throughout the Compound and there isn’t a single thought in your head. 

The bag tumbles to the floor as your feet are whipped around and back into your room. Your thumb presses against the small box on your bedside table. A quick scan, a click and the box door shoots open. You reach inside, your hand wrapping around the grip of the gun inside. 

As you walk, your hand slams the magazine into the grip. Rising up to yank the slide back, listening to it click as it settles forward with a bullet resting in the chamber. You peek subconsciously already around the corners of walls as you make your way down the hall, swiftly bypassing rooms. You don’t hear any fighting inside so you’re wondering if it’s a break in. 

Peeking over the edge of the stairs, you wait and listen. Besides the blaring alarm, there’s no crashing or shouting. Light comes from underneath the doorway that leads towards the garage. Adjusting how you hold the gun, you cant the pistol as you wait for someone to come through that door. 

The alarm is silenced. You clench your brows, no one breaking in would know the code or certainly wait that long to silence it. The alarm leaves a deep ringing in your eyes and it only grows in pitch as the scene in front of you slowly plays through that garage door. 

First, Steve limps into the safety of the Compound. He drags a half conscious Sam through the door and towards the infirmary at the end of what must seem like a never ending hallway. Banner jogs past them, calling out to FRIDAY to start turning on the machines that might be needed to save Sam’s life. 

You stand there. Staring at the blood that is dragged and smeared across the floor. Remembering the tears and burned portions of Steve’s suit, half of his helmet missing and his unprotected face covered in dried blood. The whole side of his face was red and the whole front of Sam’s suit was red. Head hanging limply as his feet stumbled over themselves.

Your eyes rose back up to the door another straggler makes their way inside. 

Nat drops her bag of equipment in the threshold, pressing against her bandaged side with a tight grimace. Slowly, you raise the pistol up towards your chest, the muzzle pointed towards the wall. The magazine dumps out and tumbles down the stairs with echoing thuds as your stomach flips just like it.

The slide cracks backwards as you lock it in place, a single bullet following after the magazine. Wrapping your hand around the slide, you rack the slide backwards once, twice and three times before locking it again, feeling it pinch the skin of your thumb. Feeling something.

You moved slowly through the process. Usually it took you less than three seconds. But you were deliberate in each movement you made. Your eyes never leaving the door in front of you. You were waiting and you wanted a pair of feet to come through that door by the time the bullet reached the last step. 

You stare down into the empty chamber. You’re not sure why you wait to look up again. Everything is finished. Inside you though, you feel like you might be finished too.

“Y/N,” Nat groans out, stopping the rolling bullet with her torn up boot. 

You don’t look at her. If you don’t look at her, she can’t tell you why that door isn’t being shoved open and that bag being thrown across the Compound in a hazy red cloud. 

“Y/N,” Nat tries once again to get through to you, “She isn’t coming.”

The plastic of the gun snaps in your hand as the metal of the frame is slowly bent out of place, “What happened?”

“Please,” her eyes are red and now you know it’s not from exhaustion. They complement the dried blood in her ears and the tears that stain her dirty face. You watch her limp her way into the conference room, holding open the door for you.

You follow her inside, dropping the twisted metal and plastic that was once a gun. Your next victim is the chair you stand behind as she tells you everything. The ambush and betrayal. How Yelena’s contact had been bought out for twice as much by Strucker.

Using his own home as the fallout zone of a huge explosion. He played all of you like a damn fiddle, thinking Strucker would let his location get out that easily. And you learned how easily it was for him to take back one of his prized possessions. 

Yelena was already on her way to help, taking care of this loose end before coming here. She recognized the group that became involved when Nat contacted her on the Quinjet. Nat pulls out a tattered patch from her belt pouch and drops it onto the table. You glare at the black circular patch, red outline of a skull with six tentacles and a red star inside the skull. You have a stack of these patches hidden in your belongings and you hoped you’d never have to see it again. 

A special Hydra division you had been a part of. The same division that nearly executed you in a warehouse. You surrendered to them and all their experiments to save your family and now, you were going to have to make sure no one ever wore this patch again.

You narrow your eyes, lip twitching in rage as the chair creaks. Everytime you thought their head was finally chopped off, it always came back. This time though, you were coming back. 

“We’re gonna hit these fuckers where it hurts.”

“Hey,” Nat calls after you as you slam the chair into the table and walk to your locker, “I think you should wait,”

You open your locker, swinging the door slowly until the metal just clangs against another locker, ‘What are you talking about,”

Shuffling through your gear, you pull out your empty magazines and place them on the bench behind you. You’d go down to the armory and start to load everything up. And you’d unlock a part of your past that you tried to bury away, even hide from Wanda. 

Nat sighs, “When was the last time you conducted a ‘brunch chit chat’?”

You glare over at her, “Are you thinking I’ve gone soft?”

“No, no, quite the opposite,” Nat takes the keys to your past and yanks them slowly from your finger, “I don’t want you killing them before we learn anything.”

“I’m not stupid, Natasha,”

“But you’re angry,” your finger loosens on the key ring, “I haven’t seen you this angry in a long time.”

You sigh, gripping your locker and talking more for yourself than to Nat, “We just follow a trail. Soldiers, general then Strucker. And then we all come home, right?”

Natasha looks at how you try to hide the shaking in your hands, an itch you’ve always had starting to surface, “Y/N…”

“Right?” you plead, her eyes widening as she sees the terror in your eyes. It’s stronger than the anger that rages through your body, a chill that settles into your bones. 

Nat closes your locker slowly, “I’m not asking you to do any of that,” you watch as the key she took is hidden away in her gloves, “Let’s just start up a plan and wait for Yel to get here. Okay?”

But you knew it wasn’t going to be okay.

everyone but her pt.26

Summary: Wednesday makes it her mission to help you through your grieving, even if it means taking you back home for a few weeks. But of course nothing is ever that simple

Word Count: 4.5k Warnings: swearing, grief, mentions of murder Pairing: Wednesday x Fem!Reader (everyone but her Masterlist) Taglist: @extinctspino @basichextechml @cfvgbhndun-new-blog @jinxscatbomb @awolfcsworld @suzhiman @gengen64 @eclipsesmoonshine14 @alexkolax @thenextdawn @cacciatricediartemide @cozwaenot @the-night-owl-blr @natashasapphic @elliesbabygirl @alilbitlesbian @irish-piece-of-trash @rainbow-love4ever @audigay @bakugounuggets @myfturn @rockwyn @bigbadsofty07 @andsoigotabutterfly @smromanoff @notheoneforlove

Wednesday cared for you. Truly she did, in a way she didn’t care for many people. If you simply gave her a look, she would fall to her knees and do whatever you asked of her, no matter how heinous or selfless or charitable. Without hesitation, she would burn the world down for you and stand in the ashes with a smile.

And she was aware that you were grieving. She hadn’t known Mack well, but she knew you had been close with the man. More than once you had mentioned him, or his wife, or his kids. So you must have been close enough, and she couldn’t understand your grief but she knew you felt it, and you felt it deeply.

But if you interrupted her sleep once more, she was going to snap.

You had managed to teach her how to feel things a little closer to how the normal population felt things. She felt a little more understanding, even if she didn’t agree. More than once, you had told her that you just couldn’t sleep because your brain wouldn’t stop, and she could understand. Not comprehend, but understand. So the first few times, when you had been restless and finally got up in the middle of the night, she understood.

However, it was coming up on three weeks after the murder, and she no longer understood.

Wednesday heard you sigh before you tried to get out of bed as quietly as possible. She would hand it to you, you were getting rather good at it. Now, she was barely even jostled when you crawled over the footboard of the bed and opened and closed the door with little more than a barely-audible click.

She debated leaving you to your devices. More often than not, you turned away her pitiful attempts at comfort. Silence was sometimes the preferred method of grieving in your mind. But something in her mind told her she needed to get up and check on you.

With a sigh, she pushed herself off the bed and padded her bare feet across the cold wooden floor until she saw you sitting on the couch with the light from the television illuminating your face. You were facing the screen but she could tell you weren’t really watching. At least that’s what she was convinced of until she heard what you were watching.

“Authorities have closed the Malcom Riley case, having put out a statement early this week claiming it to be a mugging gone wrong.”

A mugging gone wrong was a bit extreme in Wednesday’s opinion, but she had heard worse. Although the knowledge seemed to upset you even more if your hunched shoulders were anything to go by. Your knees pulled up to your chest and you rested your chin on them as you kept your eyes glued to the television.

There was no telling if you had seen her standing in the hallway, or noticed her walk toward the couch. You didn’t move when she sat down beside you and pulled the designated couch blanket over hers and your legs. The television continued to play in the background, but she just sat there with you in silence.

“You could’ve gone back to sleep,” you said once the third commercial of the night aired. It was something about a restaurant that she cared nothing about.

“Your incessant moving woke me,” she said without hesitation. You didn’t even flinch. She’s grieving.  “And your absence left the bed cold.”

“Then come here,” you said as you held your arm out for her. When she didn’t move, you sighed. “I’ll wake you up before anyone sees.”

Wednesday cursed herself for the blind trust she was putting in you. But your body was soft and comfortable and she supposed she was still tired. Though she refused to fall asleep before you. She didn’t know how to help you, but she was convinced you didn’t need to stay awake alone.

“Services for Mr. Riley will be held this Saturday at Resthaven on-”

Wait. Saturday? Wednesday knew the day had to mean something, but what was it…

Oh.

No. No, you certainly didn’t need to be left alone.

She let herself lean into your side and breathe you in. In other circumstances she would scold you for smelling of sweat, coffee, and sawdust. The lack of dust was a nice change of pace, but it didn’t change the others. Though she supposed the coffee and sawdust wasn’t truly too bad, it made you smell rather homely.

“Quit smelling me,” you said in a hushed voice. “I can feel your nose moving against my neck.”

“Why would I be smelling you?” Wednesday defended. “It’s not like your scent is anything pleasant.”

“Sounds like something one would say if they knew what I smelled like,” you said. She didn’t have to look up to see the smile on your face.

“I would avoid continuing that train of thought,” she said even as she continued to wrap herself around you, “before I wish more nightmares upon your sleep.”

"I'm quaking," you said simply before leaving a lingering kiss on the top of her head.

It was difficult to tell when exactly Wednesday had fallen asleep. She remembered listening to the news prattle on about the weather for the rest of the week, as if it was the most important thing. But the next thing she knew was hearing your voice, quiet and soft. Her head had ended up in your lap and your fingers were absentmindedly scratching her scalp.

Maybe, for a moment, she understood why Enid loved it so much.

There had been no intention to eavesdrop on your conversation that she then realised was over the phone. Your constant scratching and soft voice very nearly put her back to sleep. Paired with something quietly playing on the television - no longer the news, it seemed - and it would have made the perfect morning.

Not that she would ever let anyone know that it would make a perfect morning.

“Of course, Mrs. Riley,” you said softly with a sigh that wouldn’t have been picked up over the phone. “I’ll see you Saturday morning.”

Wednesday kept her eyes closed but kept her senses focused on you. The indistinguishable sound of you ending the call was quickly followed by a sniffle. You shifted underneath her and jostled her only for a second before you froze again. There was a shakiness to your fingers that hadn’t been there before, and as much as she would have loved to stay still, she supposed “waking up” would be the proper thing to do.

“I don’t want to go.”

With bated breath, Wednesday stilled and waited. Waited to hear if you would say anything else, or if you were even talking to her. Had you noticed she was actually awake and just waiting for you? She hoped not. Of course she had been eavesdropping, but surprisingly it hadn’t been intentional.

You didn’t say anything else. Your fingers continued to scratch her scalp while your other hand slid under her shirt to rest on her waist. She had thought it a million times, but the warmth of your skin always amazed her. It was warm and an impossible mix of soft and rough. It was so very human.

Although Wednesday quickly realised her eavesdropping was pointless. You had simply filled her in later that day when you headed out far earlier than normal for work. She should have scolded you for working overtime when it was unnecessary. And she especially should have scolded you for working overtime that wouldn’t even go to your own paycheck.

She had asked you who the overtime was going to only once. The tired, worn, hopeless look you gave her was more than enough to convey the answer.

It was a long week for everyone. No one knew how best to console you, instead opting for the more at-home things. Divina would do the shopping while Yoko would cook each night and Enid would pack up leftovers for you to take to work the next day. Ajax and Kent started taking you off the chore wheel and put them on their own names instead.

You never said anything to indicate you were aware of their efforts, but your shoulders stooped a little less when you got back to the dorm. That was confirmation enough for everyone to continue what they were doing. So while you were out before sunup until long after sundown, they all continued to do their best.

And as Wednesday finally revelled in you sleeping through the night for the first time in nearly a month, she supposed it was all working out just fine.

“I don’t want to go,” you said early Saturday morning as Wednesday helped you with your tie. She wondered, not for the first time, if you were ever going to learn how to tie it yourself.

“You promised Mrs. Riley you would go,” Wednesday said simply, her eyes glued to the tie. Oh look, it seemed she accidentally did it wrong. She would have to start over, what a shame.

“It was supposed to be Nicky’s weekend,” you mumbled.

Wednesday lost all desire to fix your tie.

The funeral itself was a small affair, a stark contrast to Nicky’s exactly one year ago. Only family and a handful of friends, which included Tio and you; and Wednesday as your previously approved plus one. The real social gathering occurred afterward for the memorial.

It was startlingly familiar to Nicky’s once it came down to the memorial with only one major difference; everyone at Mack’s funeral seemed to be there for Mack. Every acquaintance of your parents’ had shown their faces for clout, Wednesday had realised quickly, but at Mack’s? Every soul in that building was there for the intent purpose of celebrating the man.

While not the usual atmosphere she enjoyed at a funeral, she found herself appreciating it anyway.

Most of your time was spent with Mack’s daughter; Lily, if Wednesday remembered correctly. Which she did. You sat near her on the brick near the lit fireplace. There was no telling what you talked about, all she could tell was you gave her your best smile. Lily smiled back.

“I went ahead and ordered the headstone,” you said on the walk back to the dorm. Thanks to the extensive distance, it was going to take a solid 35 minutes. You were lucky Wednesday had worn decent walking shoes.

Her fingers itched to interlock with yours, but you were too busy keeping them shoved in your suit pants pockets.

“Think it should get here on Friday,” you kept talking. “No, next Monday.” Your brows furrowed. “Or Tuesday.”

“It will arrive when it arrives,” Wednesday chimed in.

“Suppose so,” you mumbled as your eyes returned to the ground. “Was supposed to clean Nicky’s today.”

“We can go next weekend,” Wednesday offered.

“Yeah,” you nodded in a daze. “Yeah, next weekend.”

Next weekend came and went without any attempt to go see Nicky. Wednesday had debated asking you what you were planning, if you still wanted to go, but judging by the bags under your eyes and the increasingly common nights spent on the couch, she decided better of it. Instead she stayed close, let you cope however you chose, and gave you the silent support she was best at.

“When was the last time your girlfriend took a break?”

Wednesday sighed but refused to look up. If Yoko asked one more question about you while she was trying to study, she was going to put garlic on the next grocery list. It would be easy enough to convince Divina to look the other way. Anyway, didn’t Yoko have her own studying to do? Finals were next week.

“Before Mack,” Ajax chimed in. He was also not studying for his finals. Did no one in the dorm care?

Well. Bianca did, but that was why she was in the library instead of the dorm. Smart move, Wednesday wished she had done the same.

“You should try to take her away for winter break,” Enid said. “Get away from the city for a little while.”

“You guys could always come spend Christmas with us,” Kent offered.

“No you can’t,” Divina said without hesitation. “We’re already running from Enid’s family, we can’t give away our hideout now.”

“Not like it’s much of a secret anymore,” Yoko grumbled. She stirred what was in the pot a few more times. “Dinner’s done.”

“You’re not poisoning us this time, right?” Ajax asked hesitantly, but still got up to grab a bowl.

“Poisoning would be preferable to this conversation,” Wednesday said just softly enough for only Enid to hear.

Everyone got their bowls before settling in their own places, finally getting started on their studying. Why they had to wait until they had food, Wednesday had no idea, but at least it got them out of her space at the small kitchen table. Her own eyes were still focused on her English Lit textbook when a bowl was placed in front of her.

“You really should think about it,” Enid said as she sat opposite Wednesday. “Maybe take her back home.”

“She has shown no interest,” Wednesday said. Though, the more she considered the suggestion, the less ridiculous it sounded.

“Ask her when she gets back from therapy,” Enid said with a gentle smile that was reserved for serious conversation. “Might be good for the both of you.”

Enid kept her company as they both finished dinner. There was very little talk, which was perfectly fine with Wednesday, but it was nice to have the company. Usually everyone paired off and went about their evenings, leaving Wednesday alone in the kitchen until you came home. More often than not it was preferred over the needless small talk.

But she did so enjoy Enid’s company. At least, when she didn’t have “the zoomies,” as you and Yoko so kindly called it.

It was nearing midnight when you finally came back to the dorm, closing and locking the front door with nary a sound. You nearly jumped out of your skin when you finally saw her still sitting at the desk, a cup of tea and another textbook laid out in front of her. She nearly felt sorry when you let out a sigh of relief.

“Thought you were asleep,” you said softly. “I would’ve been home sooner.”

“Therapy went well, I presume,” Wednesday said just as quietly. Your shoulders fell.

“So good I decided to work my hands to death for another four hours,” you grumbled.

“Would you…” Wednesday paused, and you glanced at her as you walked to the fridge. Ask her, Enid’s voice echoed in her head. “Would you like to talk about it?”

You froze with your hand on the fridge handle for a second, your head turning slowly until you could look at her from the corner of your eyes. For a moment she thought you were going to say something; your mouth opened slowly and she could see your wings shift against the harness under your jacket. But you quickly closed your mouth again and looked back into the fridge.

Nice try.

“I think I’m gonna go sit in the shower for a bit,” you said before closing the fridge. You hadn’t grabbed anything to eat.

She looked back down at her homework in defeat as you started walking off. It was well known that getting you to talk about anything going on in your head was a long shot. Rarely, if ever, did anyone get you to talk outside of your therapy or anger management sessions. Yes, part of her had hoped you would talk to her, but she hadn’t exactly been expecting it.

Wednesday was already cleaning up her things from the table when soft fingers pulled her chin. She hadn't heard you step closer. Her eyes met your warm ones and all thought faded from her mind. It used to concern her when that happened, but now she embraced it. All she could think about was you.

Your fingers scratched lightly against her jaw as your eyes flicked this way and that. Looking for something, most likely, but what, she had no idea. She was studying you as well, taking note of the dark bags under your eyes and the slightest downturn of your mouth. 

She didn't have to lean forward to meet you; you closed the entire distance yourself. Your lips were soft and tasted of one of the many chapsticks Bianca had gifted you a few months ago. Wednesday wanted to reach out and pull you closer, but kept her hands gripping the chair. There was no chance she was going to ruin the moment.

“Thank you for asking,” you mumbled against her lips once you pulled away slightly. You gave her one more light, quick kiss, your thumb rubbing against her jaw, before you stood back up. “I’ll be in bed soon.”

And you were, and you finally, thankfully, almost slept through the whole night.

Wednesday didn’t have to bring up getting you away for a time. She had planned on it, truly she had because Enid surprisingly had a point. But you came home the next day, slamming the door shut in a rare outward display of anger, grumbling about how Tio was sending you home for the next few weeks.

“Go with her,” Tio said on the phone when he asked to talk with Wednesday. “Keep her distracted.”

Which was exactly how Wednesday found herself on a bus only a few days later after her last final. You had all wished everyone a happy holidays, said you would call to keep everyone updated, and gotten on the bus. Of all the things she hadn’t expected, you picked a bus that stopped near her home with the intent of picking up Thing. Why? She had no idea, but you were insistent. The little menace hung out on your shoulder the rest of the bus ride to your town.

Everyone was still just as excited to see her as they were the first time. They all ran out to say their hellos, gave you their hugs - aside from Hailey who still looked bashful and almost a little guilty - and waved hellos to Wednesday from afar. She certainly appreciated it, and her racing heart slowed significantly.

The sleeping arrangements were similar to how they had been the previous summer with only one difference; your grandfather let you sleep in the room with Wednesday, Hailey, and Emily. A smart decision on his part, considering if he made you sleep on the couch, Wednesday was quickly going to follow suit. She was not afraid to start a battle of will against an old man. It didn’t matter that he was an esteemed vampire.

It wasn’t until night time on the first day that Wednesday visibly saw all of your energy dissipate until you were practically laying on top of her. She was facing you with her hands tucked up between the both of your chests. One of your wings hung off the side of the bed while the other covered you both like a blanket, keeping you warm from the cold and snow outside.

“I can’t sleep,” you whispered only once you were sure the two girls on the other side of the room were fast asleep.

“It would be easier if you closed your eyes,” Wednesday whispered back. She closed her own eyes as an example.

“I can’t,” you said, your voice dropping even quieter, as if it was possible. “I see his body.”

You had some nerve to drop that piece of information in the middle of the night out of nowhere. Her eyes flew open to meet yours, barely visible in the darkness even after her own sight had readjusted. But she didn’t have to see you clearly to feel the stress weighing your wing down over her. It was almost suffocating.

“Is it…” you stopped, and she heard you huff. “Can I still talk about it?”

She almost had half a mind to tell you no. Not because she didn’t want to hear, but she hadn’t emotionally prepared herself to listen to someone talk about their problems, even if it was you. It took a great deal of effort to show the sympathies most people expected, and she couldn’t confirm the effort would be there. If you were going to finally open up, she wanted you to receive the amount of care as you would need.

On the other hand…

Wednesday nodded once, slowly, hoping you could see it because she didn’t think she could speak past the lump of anxiety now settling in the back of her throat. You shifted around, and her pulse accelerated when you moved away and stood up from the bed. Had you not seen her nod and now believed she didn’t wish to hear what you had to say?

But she felt your hand touch her shoulder and rouse her, gently ushering her off the bed. You took hold of her hand instantly and led her out of the room, closing the door just as quietly as usual before taking her downstairs. With the effectiveness of someone who did it on a regular basis, you opened the back and screen door at once until you both finally sat on the large porch swing.

There was a moment’s hesitation before you readjusted, sitting sideways on the swing and pulling Wednesday to sit between your legs. It was cold out, but you quickly pulled the blanket over her legs and wrapped your wings around her shoulders until she was practically sitting in a cocoon of warmth. The weight of your chin settled on her shoulder and she could feel your cool lips press against her skin in languid kisses before settling again.

“I see him when I close my eyes,” you said softly. Wednesday decided then to stay silent until you were done. “Discarded on the pavement like yesterday’s trash.”

You shifted behind her until she could feel your chest rising and falling underneath her. It was steady, but she could vaguely feel the increase in your heartbeat.

“I have nightmares about him,” you continued. “About killing him.” 

Your hand slid under her shirt until it was resting on her stomach and you could rub them over her skin.

“I’m standing in the alley and he’s talking to me, but I can’t say anything.”

Your breathing was faster on Wednesday’s back.

“I walk closer and he’s still talking until I-”

-She can hear your breath catch in your throat and your arms tighten around her waist. Your breath hit her neck and she felt the slightest tremble behind her. The feathers on your wings puffed up for a moment, almost unnoticeable to the untrained eye, before settling around her again.

“Dr. Williams says it’s because I feel guilty,” you finally mumbled. “Maybe he’s right.”

The grip you had on her waist loosened.

“Thank you for listening,” you whispered before pressing another kiss right behind Wednesday’s ear.

She turned around in your arms until she could look at you and see the slightly more relaxed look on your face. If she were being honest, you looked as if you had just let out years worth of anxiety. Did simply listening really help you that much? Was that really all it took? Should she say something in return?

She hoped a gentle kiss would suffice.

Your evident lack of anxiety quickly disappeared after a few days. Almost identical to the night your Tio had told you to go home, Wednesday heard you slam the door all the way from her seat beside Abuelita in the kitchen. It had been a nice, quiet day while you had been out doing some grocery shopping with your Momma.

But the way you stormed into the kitchen and quite literally threw things down on the counter told Wednesday it was not, however, a nice, quiet day.

“Picked up a fuckin’ stray,” you grumbled as you leaned against the counter and crossed your arms over your chest.

Wednesday didn’t have time to ask for clarification when your Momma and Ash walked into the kitchen with the rest of the groceries. The glare you sent Ash’s way was admirable, and Wednesday was almost impressed with the sheer vexation on your face.

“Hey Wednesday,” Ash said with a small smile and a half-hearted shrug that substituted a wave.

“Speak when spoken to,” you grumbled.

“You best behave, young lady,” your momma said with a pointed look at you. “She’s our guest.”

“She’s a pest,” you emphasised with another glare at Ash, who had the good sense to glare right back.

“Least I don’t have fleas,” Ash shot back at you.

“I got rid of those last week,” you argued.

“And the lice?”

“How dare you-”

-Wednesday didn’t bother sticking around the kitchen to listen to you both argue like children. Instead, she gave Abuelita a kiss on the cheek before moving to the common room where she sat beside Daniel on the couch. He was reading yet another book - another reason why he was her favourite - and was nice and silent.

Unlike you and Ash, who were still arguing in the kitchen.

“Don’t worry,” Daniel said when Wednesday frowned at how close Ash was standing next to you.

“What would I possibly be worried about?” She asked even as she continued to observe from afar.

You were both far too close.

“Y/N only loves you,” Daniel said, “and the thought of dating her again makes Ash sick.”

It was almost comical, but after hearing the revelation from Daniel, she supposed it made sense. There was something reminiscent of the way you interacted with Yoko. Petty, childish, at each other’s throats at all hours even though nothing was going to come of it.

“So are you staying?” You asked when all the adults had sat down at the table for dinner. The children were all off running around, causing trouble.

“Until I die,” Ash said without even looking up.

“Then you can sleep outside with the goats.”

“Told you to behave,” your Momma said. You grumbled something in reply that no one could hear. “What was that?”

“I said yes ma’am,” you said a little louder.

No one believed you.

That night, as you held Wednesday close and continued to gripe and complain about Ash being at the house, she almost wanted to smile. If she had known you were so capable of holding grudges, she would have found enemies for you long ago. There was something attractive about your adamant, effortless feud over something that, at that point in time, probably didn’t even matter.

“Don’t let me kill her,” you whispered. “I can’t go to jail again.”

Wednesday just pushed herself further into you and smiled in the dark for no one to see.

WHO LIVES, WHO DIES, WHO TELLS YOUR STORY CHAPTER 11

Who Lives, Who Dies Who Tells Your Story

Natasha Romanoff x Fem!Reader

Summary: Natasha and Reader get into an accident that leaves Natasha in critical condition. When she wakes up, it’s revealed that she has amnesia and doesn’t remember her life, wife, or children.

Masterlist | General Masterlist

Follow my update page @natsxaddiction2

w/c:4.6k

Note: A random picture in here that's not mine meaning i don't own it but it added to the moment lol.

Heartache is an overwhelming feeling. The feeling is pain, devastation, and the end of the world all rolled into one. This version of heartache is the one where you’re in limbo and don’t know what happens next. It’s the worst kind. You walk down one of the many corridors of the compound, your feet feeling as if they’re wrapped with five-pound weights, as your chest heaves. Your breaths are short. Skin slick with sweat. You avoid the lounge for one destination. The only thing on your mind is numb. You need to be so numb you can’t feel your face. You need to distract yourself from this hurricane shitstorm inside of you. Telling Natasha to leave. Telling her you needed space from her? It’s not the bad part. You could handle that. As an adult, you’ve been through worse. No, the hard part was walking away. Not hearing her footsteps after you. Not hearing or seeing her put up much of a fight. You don’t want to address it. You can’t address it. You just need to breathe. You forgot how to do that. You’re not sure how anymore. 

When you spot the bar you make a beeline for it. The girls have the rest of the team to fend for them right now. At this moment you can only worry about yourself. You just need a bit of time to yourself. You go straight for the good stuff. The strongest stuff you can find. Tequila. It’s not the cheap kind either. It’s probably hundreds, if not thousands of dollars, and you could drink the whole thing if it made you feel better. You grip the neck in your hand, fighting through your blurry vision to find a spare glass. It’s too much work. You use your powers, the energy buzzing and vibrating at the tip of your fingers, and you open the bottle with one simple gesture. You down the first half, guzzling the burning liquid, allowing it into your bloodstream. You just need something to take the edge off. It’s either this or blowing something up and neither of them is a very good option. 

“Y/n?” Wanda’s soft, gentle voice reaches your ears. She sounds distant. In another world. You open your eyes, finding the purple mist around you, and you sigh. It’s growing. Festering inside you. Awaiting a moment for you to slip. Waiting for a crack in your armor. You have more control than that. You’ve worked too hard to let it go now. 

Wanda keeps her distance. She stands a few feet away from you. Her curious green eyes survey you. She’s trying to gauge your mood. The violet magic is hot and bright as it sizzles from your fingers. Partly because you want it to. Wanda holds up a hand. 

“Y/n, what’s going on?” Wanda asks. She raises a hand, signaling for you to calm down, and you do. She takes note of your eyes and the purple hue they’ve taken on. 

“I-I,” You struggle to breathe. You look down at the bottle, leaving it where it is before you slide down to the floor. Wanda is over faster than you know it, ignoring the slight sting of your angry magic, as she wraps her arms around you. You don’t cry. You don’t do anything. You simply lie there in her embrace. You wonder how you’ve managed to do this twice in the same month. 

“You need to calm down,” Wanda whispers into your hair. “Should we go to the training room?”

“No,” You say a bit too quickly. You shake your head. “She’s in there.” She’s probably right where you left her. Stunned speechless. Hopefully hurting just as much as you are. 

“Hmm,” Wanda hums. “Okay.” She says. She kisses the top of your head. She runs her fingers over your bare arm. She allows the red tendrils to slip from her fingers. It interacts with yours. She feels airy, light, and good. Her mood is that of concern and it’s expressed through the magic. It penetrates your skin, almost like a dance, and you close your eyes. The feeling of love envelops your body. She’s your sister. She wants to you feel it in every part of you. You wish that could be enough to ease all of the hurt. You wish your chest wasn’t so tight. You wish you could take it back. A tiny part of you wishes you never sparred with Natasha. Never told her to leave. What would become of your marriage? Is this the end? 

You squeeze your eyes shut tighter. You’re aware if anyone were to come to the bar they could see you. Distressed, tired, and sad. The glamor is gone and you’re a bit too weak to do anything but allow yourself to feel Wanda. 

“That’s it,” Wanda coos. She doesn’t move for as long as you don’t. When she feels you take your first big gasp of air, she knows you’re okay. 

“I told her to go,” It’s as if you’re afraid of your voice. You’re afraid to say the words out loud. It would make all of this real. It can’t be real. “To stay here.”

“I think you made a good decision,” Wanda says when you raise your head to her. 

“I think so too,” You agree. “Doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt.” You say before lying your head against her chest again. “I need a release.” 

“I see,” Wanda’s tone isn’t accusatory or judging. She sits you up, holding out her palms, and instructs you to give it all to her. “I know this isn't always the best method but…” Wanda sighs. You nod. This isn’t the best place to do any of this. You sit, crossing your legs, before you place your palms over hers. You just need a release. 

*******************************

Natasha sits alone in the gym. Dumbfounded. The new aches and pains in her body, especially her ribs only serve as a reminder of what transpired only moments ago. She remembers the hurried way you exited the room after you told her the news. You didn’t want her home anymore. You want her to move back to the compound. It’s all her fault.  She can’t say she’s angry. She doesn’t know what she is right now. Surprised? No. All of her behavior has built up to this very moment. 

You said you felt alone. So does she. No one understands her feelings. Everyone wants her to remember. She wants to remember. She’s desperately clinging onto a memory of what was and not living in the present. She’s ruining her life. A life she built. One she’d be dumb to lose. She wanted to go after you. She wanted to protest. It’s her house too. They’re her children too. The decision is hers too. Instead, she remained quiet. Stunned. Silent. 

Natasha raises a shaky hand to feel her ribs. They're sore. Another sign that the sparring was not a good idea in the first place. She shouldn’t have pushed you. She should have left things alone. She should have made herself clear. Did she want to?

It’s the truth. She doesn't know if she can love you. For Natasha, in life before the accident love didn’t exist for her. The messy entanglement of a situation with Bruce could have been. She isn’t so sure of that now anyway. Not when she’s been witness to the real thing. Even if she’s given so much pushback. She sees you. She understands what this life has become for her. It terrifies her. It sends a chill up her spine. The way you looked at her. With wild eyes, purple encompassing the irises, and a bit of exhaustion. Even then the love never left your eyes. You didn’t change course to hurt her. You only wanted her to see you and she knows that. Logically, Natasha knows that. She knows you only want the best for her. You only want her. Why can’t she be okay with that? 

She shakes her head. She needs to get up. She needs to shower or sleep or apologize? Would you accept her apology? Would you listen to her and what she has to say? Would she need to plead her case again until her words die in her throat? Natasha moves to kneel, stretching her hands out in front of her, before she takes her time standing to her feet. Out of the corner of her eye, on the far side of the ring, where you once stood, there’s a shiny piece of jewelry. With slow breaths, Natasha walks over to it, eyeing the jewelry until she realizes what it is. 

A necklace with a wedding band attached to it. She bends down with a huff to grip the chain link between her fingers. She’s noticed it around your neck before. It must have fallen off when you were sparring. She raises it to eye level, holding out her palm to inspect it further, when she realizes what the engraving on the inside says. 

“La Vie En Rose,” Natasha reads aloud. She understands the reference. The French flowed from her tongue effortlessly. “Life in Pink.” or “Life in Happy Hues” depending on who gives the definition. She knows the meaning behind it. A song about a woman describing a man and all the love she has for him and how much he makes her happy. She frowns. Could she ever feel that way?

“You’re a widow, you’re made of Marble, Natalia,” The voice is thick and resounding in her head. “Love is for children.” It’s been engrained into her since she was a child. The only one you could depend on was yourself. The only person who has your back is you. Love is messy. It gets in the way. It causes you to see the world in rose-colored glasses. It makes ending things so much harder. Natasha chokes. Was this over? Did she ruin it before she ever really got a chance to experience it?

She tucks the ring into her pocket and sighs. What a mess. 

*****************************

The next few hours are spent avoiding each other. Natasha exits the gym in search of Tony or Steve. She finds them with the rest of the crew just as she left them. She stands before everyone, a permanent scowl on her face, as she clears her throat. 

“If someone could show me to the bedroom I’ll be sleeping in,” Natasha asks when eyes turn to her. The girls, Lily, Olivia, and Morgan are crowded around Pepper as she sticks a wand into what Natasha assumes is a giant bottle of bubbles. 

“Look, Mama, bubbles,” Olivia cheers with a happy giggle. She jumps, clapping her hands in the air in an attempt to catch one, but she fails. She’s not too worried about it. She simply claps her hands again and waits patiently for the next batch. Lily, upon seeing her mother, toddles over to Natasha and raises her arms. 

“I will show you,” Melina volunteers. Natasha's untrusting eyes give her a hard look. She returns her gaze to the floor. She’d rather anyone else but her but she has no fight left in her for the day. She scoops Lily into her arms, even if her body is protesting it, and she follows Melina. They walk in silence, the older Widow in front of her by half a step, as she leads her through a series of automatic sliding doors. 

“Mama.” Lily babbles, clapping her hands together, and making as much noise as she can. She whips her head back to peer up at the ceiling not realizing that she’d almost thrown herself out of Natasha’s arms. Natasha simply fixes on her hips a bit more. Ever so often, Melina will glance back at her. They reach a suite where Melina taps a few buttons. 

“This is yours and y/n’s living quarters,” Melina informs her. They step inside and are immediately flooded with light. The bags and a ton of toys have already been brought in from the car. Melina does a turn to face Natasha. “There are three bedrooms here. It used to be Wanda’s and Y/n’s. I only know half the story.” Melina shrugs. “How are you feeling?”

“No, nope, we’re not doing this,” Natasha shakes her head. 

“Look, Natasha, I know you don’t remember,” Melina begins but Natasha raises a hand. 

“I remember you abandoned me,” Natasha says. “I remember you left me at the hands of a psychopath. You’re not the first mother to do it.” Natasha shrugs. She stares Melina dead in the eyes. Familiar eyes that look at her with such love. Such compassion. Understanding. It heals something inside her. She hates the feeling of it. She dislikes that this woman stands before her and pretends that everything is alright between them. 

“Your mother didn’t abandon you,” Melina says matter-of-factly. She clasps her hands together in front of her and Natasha follows the movement. 

“Mama,” Lily grins and Natasha shares a small smile with her. 

“What’s that supposed to mean, Melina?” Natasha tilts her head. “I’m not really in the mood for riddles or whatever it is you have going on. I’d prefer if you just left.”

“Very well,” Melina nods. It’s too easy for her. “Maybe another time.” Melina bids her a good day. She steps around both girls, offering a wave to Lily before she exits the suite. 

“Okay, show me around, baby girl.” Natasha signs. It’s been an adventure relearning the language. Interestingly, she hasn’t lost it fully. The brain works in mysterious ways. She signs the word bed, noting that it may seem jumbled since she can only use one hand, but Lily gets her anyway. Lily shakes her head. No bed for her. “Mama needs a nap.” Natasha smiles. She walks over to one bedroom opens the door and noting the furniture is for children. This must be for the girls. Next. The next one is further down. A master bedroom. It’s decorated much in the same way it is at home. Muted colors, black-out curtains, king-sized bed. 

Finally, she gets to the final bedroom. A guest room. She kicks off her shoes and crawls into bed. Lily, not quite ready to sleep, sits up to look at Natasha. 

“Mama,” Lily bounces on her bottom. She closes her tiny fist, peeking her thumb out between her index and middle fingers, before she shakes it. Natasha narrows her eyes. She’s trying to decipher what exactly this sign is. “Potty,” Lily announces and Natasha understands. Of course, the little one is wearing a diaper but she’s not too concerned. She springs into action. She ignores her aching muscles to rush the little one to the bathroom. Natasha helps with pulling her pants and diaper off, before setting her on the toilet. She’s only eighteen months old but she’s doing quite well. The expectation of potty training is loose. Any progress is great progress. 

Once Lily is done, Natasha flushes the toilet and moves to dispose of the diaper when Lily sets off for a run. So much for a nap. She chases after the little girl and finds her in the living area amongst the bags. Lily reaches into one of the open bags, finding a toy for her to chew on, and she immediately brings it to her mouth. There in the living room, she sits her bare bottom down on the floor to play. Natasha would have to keep watch for any further accidents. This should be fun. 

******************

When you’re feeling a bit better, you wipe your face and stand. It’s still Christmas and you want to engage in the festivities. Starting with cookies for Santa. You find Olivia already in the kitchen with Morgan and Pepper. You grab a spare apron, tie it around your body, and you wash your hands. Wanda follows you as a concerned mother hen. You’re grateful for her. 

“Mommy, we’s making cookies,” Olivia announces to you. She shows you her hands, messy with homemade cookie dough, with a smile. You nod, laughing at her messiness before kissing her head. 

“I see,” You look around you. “Where can I, um, where can I help?” You take a deep breath. Even though you feel like you want the ground to swallow you whole, you’re ready for this night with your babies. Speaking of babies, you wonder where Lily is. “Where’s your sister?”

“Her is with Mama,” Olivia answers distractedly. With the help of Pepper, she’s using a cookie cutter to cut out the shape of a Christmas tree. 

“Auntie Nat and her Mama went to your room,” Morgan chimes in. 

It’s not a surprise. You would rather avoid that area for the time being. You put on your brave face and get to work. You could do this.  You would get through this night. 

*************************************************

Christmas dinner is intense. For lack of a better word. It’s quiet save for the sound of glasses clinking and children’s chattering. Every so often someone will make a comment about how the food is great. It’s a simple dinner considering the actual holiday will be tomorrow night. You have seated two seats down from Natasha, the children in the middle, and everyone else surrounding you. If the others have noticed your distance no one speaks to it. They don’t mention it. Not even a thinly veiled joke from Tony or Sam. Which is unsettling in itself. They all respect your privacy. Right now at least. The accident has changed your life. They could only hope things were going to work themselves out. 

“Have you heard? There’s a situation down in Miami,” Sam informs everyone. “I think we are going to have to keep an eye on that.”

“Supernatural, spooky, or techy?” Tony sits up in his chair. He’s intrigued and ready for a thrill. 

“Maybe both?” Sam shrugs.

“I thought we weren’t going to do shop talk at dinner,” Pepper reminds them. 

“Sorry,” Sam shrugs. “It’s been slow for work the past year or so. I’m ready for some action.” There’s silent agreement from everyone at the table. While it’s nice to have a break sitting still for so long can get to even the calmest person. 

“Not me,” Alexei’s voice is a bit louder than necessary. His words catch the attention of everyone in the room. “I enjoy simple things in life. I’m a simple man. I have my girls here. My beautiful girls. Two bonus daughters.” He raises his glass in celebration as he refers to you and Wanda. “A beautiful, sexy, and healthy woman by my side every day.” 

From beside you Yelena and Natasha have matching eye rolls. 

“Natasha,” Alexei addresses her. Oh, this won’t be good. You try not to seem so interested in what’s happening but you do keep eyes on them. “I am amazed at your resilience. My girl. I raised you to be strong. I know I make mistakes. I think we did good for a couple of Russian spies yeah? Look at you. Healthy. Bouncing back from a tragic accident done by idiots.”

“What are you talking about?” Natasha raises a brow. She can’t fathom why she’s even here with these people. Entertaining their conversations and their presence. “You didn’t raise me. You abandoned me. Like a coward.” The blow hits him right where she wants. Alexei’s smile falters. 

“Natasha, that’s not fair,” Melina scolds her. Which only proves to irritate her even more. “I think your anger is justified. Though it’s not appropriate at family dinner.” Melina gestures around her. The rest of the Avengers watch the awkward scene wondering what’s going to happen next. 

“No, I don’t know how any of this is even a thing,” Natasha shakes her head. “You don’t get to tell me what is or isn’t appropriate.”

“Mama’s upset,” Olivia notes. This seems to calm Natasha down. It snaps her back to a state of submission. Maybe. You’re not sure. It’s probably not your place to question it anymore either. You’re not divorced or even separated. You’re just nothing. It only sends another pang in your chest. 

“I’m going to go to bed,” Natasha looks down at her plate. She’s not hungry. She kisses both girls. When she gets to you, she glances at you, and you look away to avoid eye contact. It hurts too much. You listen for her footsteps, hearing them trail away, and then the table is back in silence. 

“Mom,” Lily begs with messy hands. She passes you her dinner roll. You break it in half for her, giving her both pieces, and she grins big and wide. She holds one in each hand and alternates eating between them. 

“Y/n,” Melina begins. “Is Natasha alright? The amnesia? What did the doctors say?”

“Well, she has an upcoming appointment,” You answer smoothly. “I can’t say much about it. Her memories aren’t back. I think a lot of things are touch and go. They said with her type of amnesia things can come back instantly or never at all. We have to give her time.” Even as you say the words you don’t believe them. Would Natasha’s memories ever come back to her? Even if they did you don’t think they would erase the hurt you feel. 

Steve can see you don’t want this to be a topic of conversation. So he changes the subject. You zone out then. You sit back in your chair, keeping an eye on the girls, as you finish dinner as you feel like you’re obligated to. 

When it’s all said and done you find that it’s nice to be in the company of good people. They’re here with you because they want to be. You’re part of a team. You have a family outside of Natasha. Even if they were her family first. 

You take the girls to bed all on your own, finding a bottle of breastmilk already pumped for Lily to take. You give the girls a warm bath alone, though Natasha does come in to say goodnight to them. She steps inside the bedroom, noting your stiff posture when she gets near, to kiss the girls goodnight. 

Lily is already half asleep in her crib when you set her down. You switch spots with Natasha to kiss Olivia goodnight. 

“I can go to sleep in ten seconds,” Olivia counts on her hands. Though she does skip numbers. A work in progress. You give her an amused smile before you laugh.

“Go to sleep, baby,” You kiss her and sit with her until she does close her eyes. With the exhausting day, you’ve had you want to follow right after her. With both girls asleep, you can finally enjoy the slight buzz you’ve had for a few hours. You make your way into the kitchen for a glass of wine and then to the living room to set up all the toys. You stand with a hand on your hip, sipping from your glass, and then you shake your head. Not tonight. You wave a hand and all of the decorations and gifts show the perfect display. 

“Y/n,” Natasha’s voice gives you anxiety. It’s anxiety-inducing and you never thought it would resort to that again. Natasha decides against it. She looks at you and you don’t turn her way. You don’t even acknowledge that she's spoken. She’s not worth your time right now. “Merry Christmas.” She says. Whatever she wanted to say she knows not to push. 

“Merry Christmas, Natasha.” You mumble. You retreat to your bedroom and close the door behind you. This is your new normal.

Natasha remains glued to her spot for a while. She wants to apologize. Her lips won’t move. Her mouth won’t work. Her brain is too fast. She’s tired. She walks down to her bedroom. Much to her surprise there’s a gift waiting on the bed for her. 

It’s a tiny box wrapped in brown paper. The thin yarn of the string is yellow and neatly cut. it’s cute and doesn’t give away what’s inside at all. Natasha debates about opening it. She doesn’t know if she deserves it. She sits on the bed, running her fingers along the box before she pulls the string. She tears into the paper gently, afraid but curious about what might be inside, before she pauses. 

A handwritten letter. Due to her snooping, she knows exactly what it looks like. It’s shaky, cursive but pretty. It’s uniquely you and she spends a bit of time memorizing it. The letter is dated a few months before the accident. Happier times and all that. 

My Dearest Natasha,

We’ve spent five Christmases together so far. I still don’t know what to get you after all this time. I spent hours in stores and online. Perusing the aisles and wondering what would be the perfect gift when you have it all. I look at you and I see happiness, life, and light. I see our future and our family and I know this is the life I’ve always wanted. There’s not a day that goes by where I don’t know this is where we belong. Together. Raising our girls. I know we can joke about it now. The day in Morroco you stole my heart and I yours. We shared secrets. We’ve lived so many lives. So, when I did a bit, or a lot actually, of digging into my ancestry. Not much came up. No surprise there. We discussed things extensively and I know how much it’s bothered both of us not knowing where we’ve come from. I met with Russian genealogists and diplomats and all sorts of fancy people. Turns out that finding information on someone when you don’t even know their name is tough. Impossible even. For you, I’ve always said I would do the impossible or talk to a God by the name of Thor. Seems he knows a thing or two about genealogy. This is a gift to you from me. I would go to the ends of the earth for you and I hope one day soon we can make a trip to your home to explore and see life from a new lens. I love you forever and always. La Vie En Rose.

Always and forever yours, 

Y/n

Natasha places the letter delicately onto the bed. Her eyes zero in on two small items placed under rose petals. She’s overcome with emotion when she realizes what they are. Two pictures, worn, faded, and torn around the edges. The first one brings Natasha to tears. She doesn’t need to be told what it is. It doesn’t need to be written out for her. Her mother. A woman with luscious red hair, wide eyes, green just like hers, and a jawline that matches hers. There are subtle differences in her features like her dimpled chin and button nose. Her eyes looking into the lens of the camera and inadvertently into Natasha’s soul. Her vision blurs and she wipes her eyes with her arm to view it again. Her hands shake uncontrollably as she takes it all in. Natasha scrambles for the next picture. It’s of the same woman holding a child. A small toddler, Natasha, is in her arms, as the woman smiles at her adoringly. 

This time Natasha doesn’t try to stop the tears. She doesn’t look away for even a second. She flips the picture over. There’s handwriting barely there. 

It reads…

Anika and Natalia, 1986

Natasha has a piece of herself she’s searched for years for. She knows what her mother looks like. She knows that she was loved. She knows that she is loved. So, she sits on the bed, with two pictures from what seems to be thin air. How could she ever repay you for this? How could she ever make things right?

She knows what love is. 

bad dreams ii

Summary: Tara was so used to you coming to save her from the nightmares and fear. Now it seemed it was time for her to return the favour.

Word Count: 1.5k Warnings: swearing, mentions of violence, set after Scream VI (extremely vague spoilers) Pairing: Tara Carpenter x Reader (bad dreams?)

Tara woke with a start. Her eyes flew open and air rushed back into her lungs like she had been drowning for a century. But she immediately squeezed her eyes shut again when the lights finally blinded her, shooting a pain through her brain.

"Fuck," she mumbled before rubbing her eyes, trying to ease the sleepiness and headache at the same time.

Once she eased her eyes open again, she pushed herself into a sitting position and took in her surroundings. Every single light and lamp in the room was turned on, including the nightlights that were plugged into each outlet. A safety bar was locked against the window in two separate places. The door to the room was open and she could see the hallway light was on as well.

"Baby?” She asked as she reached out to your side of the bed.

It was cold and empty.

“Baby?” She called again, a little louder. There was no sound of movement, no indication of where you had gone.

With a shaky exhale, she pushed the covers down her legs and planted her feet on the ground. She silently thanked you for buying the rug to keep her feet warm during the colder months. Not that it mattered much when she stepped onto the cold wooden floor a moment later, but it still made it a little more bearable.

With more hesitation than she was comfortable with, she peeked her head through the doorway and into the hall. Every light was on, which she had been aware of, but there was still no one to be seen. Sam was out with her boy toy so the only ones who should have been present were you and her.

Which meant you were missing.

She took in a few deep, slow breaths, trying to build up the courage to step out into the hall. It took too long, and her own hesitance brought tears of frustration to the brim of her eyes, but she finally forced herself to walk down the hall and into the living room.

Those tears spilled over when she saw you sitting against the far wall, eyes wide and watching every entrance and exit of the apartment.

You still had a few stitches above your eye and peeking out from the collar of your shirt. Thankfully the infection had eased, for the most part, but the wounds still looked agitated. It was clear you were in pain by the way you sat stiffly and grimaced with every other breath.

The wooden baseball bat you had brought all those weeks ago - now stained with blood - rested in your lap as your hands gripped the handle so tightly your bruised knuckles paled. Your eyes flickered back and forth between every window, door, and hallway; looking, but not seeing anything. And it broke Tara’s heart.

“Baby?” She said softly, hoping to not startle you out of your anxiety-driven vigilance. It didn’t really matter, you still flinched anyway.

“Doors are locked,” you said in a scratchy voice.

“I know,” she said as she took slow, deliberate steps over to you. “Thank you for locking them.”

“Phones are off,” you continued, not really looking at her. She finally got close enough to sit down beside you, being careful not to jostle you.

“That’s smart,” she said, keeping her eyes on your face. You looked utterly exhausted.

“Is this what you went through in Woodsboro?” You asked, finally turning to look at her even just for a moment.

She hated hearing the name Woodsboro. Hated all the feelings it evoked within her, all the aches it forced back into her skin and heart. Nothing good came from Woodsboro, and nothing good came from talking about it. So she wanted to tell you that no, it wasn’t, because Woodsboro didn’t matter.

But it did matter, and after the destruction and violence you had been thrust into, you deserved to know. You deserved to know that yes, it is what she went through in Woodsboro. Much like you, she had been stabbed and attacked and used as in Ghostface’s sadistic game. Now you both wore the scars like badges of survival in a game you had never wanted to be a part of.

“It is,” Tara finally said softly. You nodded subconsciously and looked back around the room.

“It sucks,” you said, causing both you and Tara to let out nervous chuckles.

“Yeah it does,” she agreed. “We probably need… so much therapy.”

Your nervous chuckle turned into a watery laugh that died off into slight hyperventilation before fading into nothing more than the occasional sniffle. The colour was slowly returning to your knuckles and, even though the colour was bruised, at least it meant you were easing up.

“Why are you awake?” You asked. Tara shifted a bit before leaning into your side; you quickly wrapped an arm around her shoulder to hold her close.

“I’m always awake at-” she looked at her watch; 2:36am “-2:30 in the morning.”

“It’s not 2:30,” you answered with a small smile.

“I had a bad dream,” she said with a shrug. Her fingers brushed lightly over the bandage still covering your hip. “Why are you awake?”

“I had a bad dream,” you said.

“Wanna talk about it?” Tara asked.

You stayed silent, which was about what she had expected. But you pulled her closer anyway, inhaling sharply when she pressed against another wound, but you didn’t let go. Your fingers ceaselessly rubbed patterns on her shoulder, so much so that she thought you were going to rub the skin off.

“My mom said she could teach us some self defense,” you said, changing the subject. Tara wasn’t going to argue. “Made sure to let me know we probably could’ve avoided getting stabbed.”

“Yeah, I’d like to see her take down Ghostface,” Tara grumbled, and you chuckled in return.

She liked your mom, she really did. The woman was an ex-marine and impressive as hell. But she was also cocky; not just confident, full on cocky. That in itself had its ups and downs, but in this situation? That was the last thing she wanted to hear.

“I told her yes,” you said after a moment’s silence. “It’s not like it would hurt anything.”

“Besides my pride,” Tara said. “Your mom has been looking for an excuse to kick my ass for months.”

“It’s with love,” you said, turning your head to look at Tara once again. There was the beginning of a sparkle that was starting to return. “She wouldn’t waste her time if she didn’t like you.”

“That explains so much about you,” she said with a shake of her head.

“You love it,” you said with your own smile.

“I do,” she whispered before leaning up to press a chaste kiss to your lips.

She didn’t want to push it with you, not now. After the attack in the theatre, you had been distant. It was understandable, of course, you had been brutalised by all accounts. But she had missed touching you, and kissing you, and having you near. If all she could get was one quick kiss, she would be happy.

When you leaned down again, chasing her for another kiss, she couldn’t stop herself from smiling. You still tasted vaguely of copper and coffee, but it was you. The kiss was rushed, clumsy, almost like some teenagers finally getting a moment alone. But it was also filled with an urgency, a desperation that only came from living through a life-or-death situation.

“I love you, Tara,” you whispered against her lips.

“I love you too,” she answered. You pressed another quick kiss to her lips before pulling back and holding her close once again.

“Remember when I said you and Sam are danger magnets?” You asked. You were back to looking all around the room.

“Yeah?”

“I’m revising my statement,” you said with a nod.

“To what?” Tara asked, pulling back just enough to see the expressions on your face.

“You’re not danger magnets,” you said. “You are the danger.”

“Shut up,” Tara said as she pushed against your shoulder.

“Not sure I can sleep in the same bed as a murderer,” you continued even though she could see the smile on your face.

“You’re such a dick.”

“You love me,” you said quickly.

“Do I?” She asked.

“I got stabbed five times for you,” you said. “Plus a bullet, so you better love me.”

“I took over a dozen,” she said with a curl of her lip. “You might need to up your game.”

“We definitely need therapy,” you mumbled, but your smile stayed.

“Yeah we do,” Tara agreed, but wrapped her arms around your waist and held you closer anyway.

It would be a long, grueling journey to healing. But if you were going to be there with her through it all, it would be worth it. After all, you were both Survivors. And Survivors stuck together.