Movie Night Pt Ii

movie night pt ii

Summary: After your previous movie night was disrupted by Sam, you finally manage to get a real date with Tara. Or so you thought.

Word Count: 3.6k Warnings: swearing, mentions of stabbings, suggestive themes Pairing: Tara Carpenter x Reader (movie night pt i)

"I demand a do over," you said as you sat directly opposite Tara in the little café.

"It's not my fault you got caught," she said without looking up from her textbook. "I agreed to one movie, nothing more."

"Okay, then no movie," you said.  "Go on a date with me."

"And they say romance is dead."

"Please go on a date with me," you corrected.

Tara sighed and looked up at you with bored, beautiful eyes. It wasn’t like you could blame her; you had been annoying her since you had been unceremoniously kicked out of the apartment by Sam. But the least she could do was humour you. It wasn’t your fault Sam had come home early and cockblocked you both.

You leaned forward on the table. “One date,” you said softly.

Tara leaned forward too until you could feel her breath on your lips. “You said that about the movie,” she replied just as softly before leaning back once again.

“Why won’t you go on a date with me?” You asked with a huff.

And just like that, Tara got silent. Not the “I’m ignoring you” type of silence she usually had around you, but a genuine silence. One that you weren’t entirely sure how to deal with. Your family was rather loud and rambunctious, and that was on purpose, so whenever someone was silent you were at a loss. Did you crack a joke? Ask what was wrong? Change the subject?

The longer the silence went on, the more your palms started to sweat. Through all the teasing and bickering between you both, did Tara genuinely not enjoy being around you? Sure, she played it off and still kept you around, but was it just because she was being polite? Did she share the same sentiments as her sister?

“I was just kidding,” you finally said with a humourless chuckle as you leaned back in the booth and picked up your coffee. “You don’t actually have to-”

“-I’ll go.”

“What?” You asked, nearly choking on your coffee.

Tara looked up at you. “I’ll go on a date with you.”

“Seriously?” You asked.

“Don’t make me say it again,” she said with a huff and the smallest crinkle at the corner of her eyes.

“You’re agreeing because you want to go, right?” You asked, your eyes still glued to her face even though she wasn’t sparing you a second glance. “Not because you-”

“-oh my god, do you want me to go or not?”

“Yes I do,” you said as quickly as you could manage.

“Good,” Tara said with an exasperated nod of her head before she started packing up her things. “We can go after our media class tomorrow.”

“Wait but I don’t-”

“-this is your one chance,” she said with a pointed look and a move toward the front door. “Don’t blow it.”

“Tara!”

“See you in class!”

And just like that, she was gone and you were stuck at the table with a cup of coffee you didn’t even want and your stomach twisted into knots. This whole situation was your fault, of course, but you would never admit it. Your determination ramped up instantly. You were going to make this the best first date. It was going to be so perfect that even Tara fucking Carpenter would have to admit it.

“Do you try to sound as stupid as possible?” Tara asked when you held the classroom door open for her to leave.

“You’re just mad because I refuted your theory about one of my favourite movies,” you argued back before stepping in line beside her.

It had been a good class and, though you wouldn’t admit it aloud, you had done your best to rile Tara up. You couldn’t help it, she just got so passionate and then she would wave her hands and her facial expressions gave her away. Everything about it was adorable, and you didn’t care if you had to sound like an idiot to make it happen.

Although you weren’t an idiot and you were right about your theory.

“You need to improve your movie tastes,” Tara said once you were both walking down the steps of the Liberal Arts building and out into the quad. It was a beautiful day.

“My movie taste is flawless, thank you very much,” you said. Her knuckles brushed against your thigh, sending a jolt across your skin. “You’re just an elitist snob when it comes to media.”

“Elitist snob, huh?” She asked with a nonchalant nod of her head. “That’s really how you want to start this date?”

Shit.

“So where to, your highness?” You asked, completely ignoring her question and keeping your head up. She could humiliate you, but you were at least going to try and keep your dignity intact.

“You’re the one who wanted the date,” Tara said; her knuckles brushed against your hand this time. You suspected she was doing it on purpose. “You lead the way.”

Fuck. She was insufferable. God you were obsessed with her.

Wait.

“Come on,” you said with a giddy smile as you reached out and grabbed her left hand. She flinched but quickly settled. “I know a place.”

“Sounds like something a creep would say,” she mumbled, but still let you pull her along with you. 

“You’re the one who entrusted me with the date,” you said as you started dodging between people and cars that honked at you both even though they were still in park. “So shut up and come on.”

“If you get us killed and prove Sam right, I’m never going to forgive you,” she said but still followed suit.

“Sam thinks I’ll get us killed?” You asked when you slowed down, finally only a block or so away from your final destination.

“Yes she does,” Tara said with pursed lips and a nod. “Even called you a liability.”

“Well now that’s just rude,” you grumbled, but otherwise kept silent.

You pushed open the door to the abandoned building and pulled Tara until she walked in. With only a glance outside, you let the door click shut behind you. Your hand placed itself on the small of her back until you could lead her further into the building, quickly making your way to the empty arena.

“What is this place?” Tara asked as she stepped away from your touch to look around.

“Some sort of indoor sports arena, I think,” you called out on your way to the wall where you kept a projector screen. “Don’t know for sure, but it’s been abandoned for ages.”

“You brought a Woodsboro survivor to an abandoned building?” Tara asked. You froze. “Maybe Sam was right.”

“I… did not think that through,” you said as you turned to look at her. “We can go if you want.”

“It’s okay,” Tara said before walking closer, stopping when she was directly in front of you. “It’s a thing of the past.”

Was it though? As much as Sam hated you, you knew she meant well. She was traumatised, understandably, by her sister getting attacked three times and having to kill hers and her sister’s partners. That was enough to make anyone paranoid, and even with Sam going to therapy, it was evident that it still haunted her.

You weren’t so sure it didn’t still haunt Tara too.

“I’ve got stuff in my bag,” you said with a gesture toward the small duffle you had left on the floor. “I’ll set up the movie if you set everything else up.”

“Deal,” she said with a small smile that had your stomach doing somersaults.

It only took a few minutes to finish getting everything set up. For the first time, you were genuinely thankful to your dad for getting you the small portable projector. Sure you had used it before, but now you were going to use it to hopefully make it the best date ever. Failure was not an option.

“Pick a movie,” you said when you sat back down beside Tara and handed over your phone. “I won’t change it this time.”

“That a promise?” She asked, but took your phone nonetheless and started scrolling through.

She barely even looked through the plethora of movies on your phone before picking one and starting it. You raised your brow at her when you heard the beginning notes of Titanic playing, but kept quiet. If she wanted to put on a cheesy romance movie then you weren’t going to judge.

Tara quickly laid back on the blankets and pillows she had gotten out of your duffle bag, and you followed suit almost immediately after she was settled. The small space between you both vanished after only a few moments when Tara rolled onto her side and rested her head on your chest. Your breath caught in your throat before you exhaled and got comfortable.

“You picked a cheesy movie,” you said eventually as the movie continued to play.

“I figured you would like the score,” she said without looking at you. Her hand was now resting underneath the hem of your shirt while her fingers scratched your hip. “Since you’re a nerd for that kind of thing.”

“Uh huh,” you said; your own hand was rubbing small circles on her back. “I think you just wanted an excuse to watch a romantic movie.”

“Oh please,” she huffed. “Romance? With you around? You wish.”

“I most certainly do not,” you retorted quickly. “If I wanted romance I would find someone else.”

“You don’t think I’m romantic?” Tara said, finally sitting up just enough to turn her head and look at you. Her hand still stayed pressed to the stretch of exposed skin on your hip.

“No I don’t,” you said, your eyes stuck on hers. She was staring into your very soul and you didn’t want her to stop. “I think you’re a brat who knows how to get what she wants.”

“And what do you think I want?” She asked, now resting her chin on your chest, right over your heart that you knew she could feel racing.

She was teasing you, you knew that much. It was in the well-concealed smile on her lips and the way her eyes stayed locked with yours. Her question gave you pause and you knew you couldn’t answer. Tara had a habit of leading you on and then pushing you away once you were close enough for something to actually happen. If you hadn’t both been drunk at the frat party all those weeks ago, nothing would have ever happened.

“I don’t know,” you said softly, quietly.

Her smile grew slightly as she moved, pushing herself up until she was straddling your waist and looking down at you. The movie continued in the background but you didn’t care. All you could focus on was the feel of her small hands splayed across your chest and your hands on her hips as she leaned so close you were breathing the same air.

“Sam can’t interrupt this time,” Tara spoke slowly, her lips barely brushing against your own. “Does anyone else know where this place is?”

You opened your mouth to speak, but the words got caught in your throat when you felt the slightest roll of her hips. It was small, barely noticeable, but you certainly felt it. Had she done it on purpose? She probably had, Tara was cunning. With a singular huff, you closed your mouth and shook your head in the negative.

“Then I know what I want,” she said, and you didn’t have to guess what she meant before she pressed her lips to yours.

You felt more than heard her exhale softly through her nose, the warm air brushing against your cheek. Her lips were soft and tasted of strawberry cheesecake; a chapstick Mindy had admitted to giving her after your first movie night. Her fingers curled in against your chest, and her nails left the most delicious sting.

Both of your hands slid under her shirt, resting on the warm skin of her waist. Your thumb accidentally brushed against one of her scars, leaving her to shiver above you only for a moment before she leaned further into you, her kiss now feverish. You tried it again, brushing your thumb over the scar with a gentleness you usually kept reserved. In return, her nails dug deeper into your chest and she lightly bit your bottom lip until you let out a small groan.

She leaned in to kiss you again as her hands left your chest. With the warmth gone, you wanted to pull them back until she grabbed your own hands. Your breath caught in your throat again as she guided your hands up her sides, pushing her shirt up until you could feel the lace of her bra. She let go of your hands before grabbing her shirt and pulling it over her own head, tossing it onto the blanket beside you.

You wanted her to sit up so you could look at her, admire every inch of skin currently exposed to you. The frat party had been so crazy, and you had both been so drunk, you hadn’t been able to even look at her. Then Sam had interrupted before you had gotten the chance. Now was the perfect time. 

You tried to pull back, pushing her softly with your hands so you could see, but her hands quickly flew to your cheeks to hold you still. Her lips found yours again and refused to let you go. As much as you loved kissing her and feeling her hands on your skin, you just wanted to get the chance to see her every curve and freckle and scar.

“Let me see you,” you mumbled against her lips, but she was already shaking her head before you could finish.

“Just kiss me,” she said; she didn’t give you much of a choice before leaning in once again.

When her hands held your face a little tighter, you knew she wasn’t going to give in. And as much as you wanted to admire her, you would let her make the choices this time. Besides, there were other ways you could admire her. Your hands went around her back to find the clasp of her bra, and even though you were no professional, it only took you a little bit of fumbling before the straps fell down her shoulders.

Tara removed the useless bra as quickly as she had her shirt, and even though you tried to look at her for even a second, her hands found your face once again. It would have been comical how much she didn’t want you to see her if you hadn’t been so distracted with her soft skin against your fingertips.

With feather light touches, you dragged your fingers across her skin until you could brush your knuckles against the side of her breasts. She exhaled through her nose again, but you didn’t move. If she wouldn’t pull away long enough for you to look at her, then you weren’t going to make a move without her say so. You just wondered how long it would take her before she-

-a door slammed shut.

You sat up quickly, nearly knocking Tara off your lap in the process. With wide eyes, you looked around the empty room, scanning for the source of the noise. It had sounded like the outside door, but that didn’t make any sense. In all your years of visiting the abandoned building, no one had ever come in.

Titanic continued to play in the background.

“Should we-”

-you cut Tara off with a finger pressed to her lips. You did your best to tune out the movie, listening intently in the direction of the only open door of the building. Focus. It almost sounded like…

“Come on,” you whispered as you grabbed Tara’s hand and pulled her after you. You were still vaguely aware of the fact that she was topless, but as the footsteps came closer, you didn’t care. You could fix that after you pulled her into a closet with you.

The door clicked closed behind your back as you pushed Tara further into the empty equipment closet. You pulled your shirt over your head and handed it to her quickly before pressing your ear to the door, listening for any other sounds of an intruder. Once she had put your shirt on, you felt her body pressed up against yours, listening just as intently.

Through the door, you couldn’t hear footsteps, but you did hear the movie stop suddenly. Tara’s body shook slightly against yours, and you looked down to see the rapid rise and fall of her chest. Her eyes were wide and she was holding her stomach. Where she got stabbed, your brain pieced together.

You continued to listen far after all sounds had vanished from the empty room. No footsteps, no movie, nothing moving around, nothing. Part of you was telling you to stay in the closet; there was no need for anyone to get killed. But you couldn’t stay in there forever…

“What are you doing?” Tara hissed when you grabbed the doorknob.

“I’m gonna make sure they’re gone,” you whispered back.

“Are you stupid?” She asked. “You’re gonna get yourself killed.”

“I grew up in the closet, Tara, I’m not gonna die in one too,” you shot back.

“Please don’t go out there,” she said softly as she reached out to grab your arm. “I don’t want you to go out there.”

The quiver of her bottom lip was enough to break your heart. Try as she might, you knew Tara was still scarred from Woodsboro, both physically and mentally. And you understood, you did, but someone had to be brave for the both of you. There was no way in hell you were going to make her go check for a murderer.

“I’ll be right back,” you said before leaning down and pressing a chaste kiss to her lips. “Promise.”

You didn’t give her time to argue with you before easing the door open slowly, closing it just as quietly once you were on the other side. Even just the few seconds with your back to the room was enough to have your pulse rushing so fast you were dizzy. But when you turned around, the room was as empty as you had left it.

Each potential hiding spot you knew of was empty. Not the other closets, or the hallway, or behind the bleachers pushed up against the wall. There was no one there, and that both made you feel better and more terrified. But with no one around, you needed to hurry and get Tara and get the hell out of there.

“It’s me,” you said through the door before Tara opened it quickly, throwing her arms around your neck and pressing herself into you.

“Let’s just get out of here,” she said quickly, and you only nodded in agreement before you went over to the pallet and started packing everything up.

It only took a few moments, but Tara was on edge the entire time. She tried to act like she was fine, but you could see the shake of her hands and the glazed over look in her eyes. She wasn’t fine by any means, and that was more than okay, but guilt started to crawl its way up your throat. She kept your shirt on, and you weren’t going to bring it up. Lucky for you, you always kept a jacket in your bag, and you quickly threw it on.

“I’m sorry,” you said once you finally dragged Tara out of the building and back onto the streets. Thankfully the sun was still out, or you swore she would have had a panic attack. “No one has ever come by before.”

“It’s fine,” she said quickly.

“Can I walk you home?” You asked.

She didn’t say anything, but grabbed your hand and held it tight. You took that as a yes and started making your way down the streets of New York, knowing how to get to her apartment by heart. It was a silent trip, but quick, and before you knew it you were standing on the stoop of her apartment building.

“I’m sorry again,” you repeated. “Guess I blew my chance, huh?”

“You didn’t blow it,” Tara said with a quiet sigh. “How about a do over?”

“Seriously?” You asked incredulously.

“Yeah.” She smiled softly. “But no more abandoned buildings.”

“Deal,” you said with your own smile and a light chuckle. “I don’t even think I’m going back for my projector.”

“Get going before Sam sees you,” Tara said as she pushed lightly against your stomach. “I don’t think I can handle her scolding.”

“Yes ma’am,” you said while stepping backwards. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“If you’re lucky,” she said before turning around and walking into her apartment building without a second glance.

With a small smile to yourself, you turned around and started the long trek back to your own apartment. You would need to come up with something not quite so risky for the next date. There were only so many do overs she would grant you, and if you got cockblocked one more time, you were going to combust. 

But third time’s the charm, right?

WHO LIVES, WHO DIES, WHO TELLS YOUR STORY CHAPTER 12

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:5.4k

Warning: Brief mentions of R’s time in HYDRA. 

Note: Sometimes Tumblr deletes entire paragraphs and sentences. You can read the chapters here on my a03

The grey light of dawn crept through the curtains, casting delicate shadows on the worn wooden floors of Natasha’s bedroom as she sat on the edge of the bed, a tangle of emotions twisted within her, threatening to consume her fragile heart. Her fingers gripped the photographs delicately. Today, was different. Today she had received something she’d never expected. Something that tore her world apart and made it whole again. Pictures of her mother, a woman she had never met before. A woman she only dreamed about. 

Natasha could only wonder what she was like. Was her voice as deep as hers? Did her eyes shine when she was happy? Did she have calloused hands or soft, delicate fingers only made for her? She wondered what their life was like. Did she have siblings? A father? A home? The longer she sat the more she thought. 

Her trembling hands clutched the photographs, each one a window into a past she had been denied. The images, yellowed with age and a touch wrinkled from years of neglect, revealed a woman whose eyes mirror her own. Whose hair fell on her shoulders the same way Natasha’s did when she allowed it to grow as long. Natasha switches between the two photos, admiring the woman inside of them. Her face adorned a bittersweet smile that hinted at a life filled with untold stories. 

The weight of guilt pressed heavily on Natasha’s chest. For years, she had harbored a deep-seated sense of shame, a belief that she was somehow unworthy of knowing her mother. Questions had plagued her thoughts like relentless echoes, but the answers remained elusive, lost in the murky depths of her tangled history. One she didn’t even know. A mix of joy and sorrow washed over her, the contradictory emotions leaving her overwhelmed and uncertain. She yearned to feel the warmth of her mother's embrace, to hear her voice whispering words of love and understanding. But alongside that longing came the knowledge that she had missed out on so much, that the years between them were an unbridgeable abyss of lost moments and untold stories.

The room felt suffocating as if the weight of her mother's absence had seeped into the very air she breathed. Natasha rose from the bed, the photographs clutched tightly in her hand and moved toward the window. She drew back the heavy curtains, exposing herself to the world outside. The forest skyline greeted her with a mixture of gloom and faded hope, a reflection of her inner turmoil. There was a thick layer of fresh snow covering the ground and trees. It’s Christmas and she’s here in her bedroom feeling sorry for herself. 

She leaned her head against the cold glass, hoping for a second to feel anything other than the emotions coursing through her. In this moment of vulnerability, Natasha realized that the photographs were not just a glimpse into her mother's life, but also a painful reminder of her fractured existence. The weight of her mother's absence threatened to consume her, the guilt of not knowing her tugging at her soul like an anchor dragging her down into the depths of despair. As she gazed at the images in her trembling hands, Natasha made a silent promise to herself. She would embark on a journey of discovery, a quest to unravel the secrets of her past. She knew it would not be easy, that the path ahead was shrouded in uncertainty and emotional turmoil. But she also knew that she owed it to herself and the woman in those photographs to uncover the truth, to find consolation in the answers she sought.  

She moves over to her bed, stuffing everything back into the package just as she found it before she walks over to the wall opposite her bed. She taps the paneling, wondering if she can trust her shotty memories, and the panel opens. It only does so with her fingerprint. There’s nothing inside this time. Just as she expected. She places the box inside and closes the panel again. She remains kneeling, breathing in and out, wiping the tears from her eyes. She hasn’t slept a wink. There might still be time to fall into a restless slumber before she has to wake up to be with the girls. She wouldn’t miss this moment for the world. She couldn’t. Natasha looks back to her bed, not at all ready to fall asleep, as she stands to her feet. She walks towards her bathroom instead. Her muscles still ache, her limbs are stiff, and her eyes are puffy and red from all of the cryings she’s done. 

This isn’t the way things are supposed to go. It’s not supposed to be like this. Yet it is. Because she’s made it so. Natasha ruins everything she touches. Right now in her haze of self-deprecation and guilt, Natasha can’t help but think of it as the truth. Why couldn’t she just stop thinking with her head? Forget about all of her reservations and talk to you. Talk to her wife. Why wouldn’t she stop being a coward?

Natasha stood in front of the mirror, her reflection a source of both familiarity and uncertainty. Her gaze met the piercing green eyes that stared back at her, searching for answers she feared she might never find. The weight of her past as a former spy pressed upon her shoulders, intertwining with the intricacies of her amnesia, creating a tangled web of doubt within her mind.

She leans over to splash water on her face. Her heart thudded in her chest as she wrestled with a decision that felt both monumental and terrifying. Should she confide in you, her partner and lover, about her feelings? Should she expose her vulnerability, and the fractures in her memory, and risk everything she’s been taught? Natasha's fingers traced the jagged scar on her hip, a silent reminder of the dangers she had faced in her former life. She had built walls around her heart, fortified by years of secrets and self-preservation. But now, as she stood on the precipice of rediscovering love, the fear of vulnerability threatened to shatter those walls and expose her to a pain she wasn't sure she could bear.

Her mind became a battlefield, torn between the instinct to protect herself and the desire to trust in the possibility of love. What if her amnesia prevented her from fully reciprocating your affection? What if the pieces of her past would forever haunt your relationship, whispering doubt into the spaces between your hearts?

A sense of longing surged within Natasha, a yearning to remember the love that had drawn her to you in the first place. She paced back and forth in her bedroom, the sound of her footsteps echoing in the silence. The weight of indecision pressed heavily upon her, threatening to drown her in a sea of uncertainty. But amidst the turmoil, a flicker of courage emerged, a voice urging her to take a leap of faith, to trust in the resilience of her heart. Natasha stopped in her tracks, her eyes drawn to the photograph on the mantel. She’d tried to ignore it in the little time she’s spent here. It captured a moment of stolen intimacy between her and you, your smiles radiant with the promise of a future filled with love. The photograph seemed to taunt her, a reminder of the passion she couldn't fully remember but could sense lingering in the depths of her being.

Taking a deep breath, Natasha steeled herself for the vulnerability that lay ahead. She walked across the hall with your bedroom in mind. She raised her hand to knock, wondering if she was doing the right thing before her fists land against the door in rapid succession. No answer. Of course. It’s early in the morning and you could be asleep. Were you able to sleep after a day like yesterday?

Natasha knocks again with no answer. She tries the doorknob, twisting it, finding that it’s unlocked. Every cynical part of her tells her you don’t want to be bothered with her. She opens the door, hoping you wouldn’t be angry if it’s the opposite, and she steps inside. The bed is unmade, a sign that you had been there, but otherwise looked untouched. The bathroom is empty if the lights being off is any indication. 

Natasha tries the girls’ room next. They’re sleeping just as peacefully. They would be up soon. All of her courage seems to dwindle as she begins to wonder where you are. Has she missed her chance? 

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

Down the hall, on the other side of the living quarters, you lay on Wanda’s bed, wrapped up in her arms with tear-stained cheeks. The warmth of your shared connection, the comfort in the familiarity of sibling love, offer a brief respite from the storm raging in your heart. Your body trembled, the attempts to contain your magic taking a toll on your weary soul. You had always prided yourself on your strength. Your ability to weather any storm had been admirable. Not that you had some inflated sense of ego. It was Natasha who taught you to wear it with confidence. So, you always held your head up high. You listened to your body. You marched forward. 

But now, facing the possible end of your relationship with Natasha, that strength wavered, threatened by a weakness that you had long tried to keep hidden. 

Wanda’s touch was a soothing balm, her presence served as a beacon of understanding and support. With each rhythmic rise and fall of her breath, you found a resemblance of calm, a reminder that you are not alone in your pain. You cling to your little sister, your fingers tangling in the fabric of Wanda’s shirt, seeking comfort in your shared bond. 

As the sun continued its ascent, casting a golden hue over the room, you closed your eyes. Your mind churned with thoughts and doubts. You love Natasha with a depth that could only be matched by the intensity of your magic. The growing distance between you only intensified your feelings. 

Your heart physically ached at the thought of losing Natasha, of watching your love slip through your fingers like sand. You longed for the laughter and intimacy, the moments when your connection felt unbreakable. Wanda, even in her sleep, could feel your unease, tugging you closer to her before she presses a kiss to your forehead. You remember the days when you were the one protecting her. Keeping her safe. Making her feel better. 

You shudder at the memory of your shared living space. The cell in which you and your siblings slept was a cold and desolate place, devoid of any warmth or comfort. Its bare concrete walls rose high, trapping the echoes of your whispered hopes and dreams within its confines. The only source of light came from a dim, flickering bulb suspended from the ceiling, casting eerie shadows that danced along the frigid floor. After many years of dedication to HYDRA, your loyalty meant nothing. The air was heavy with a stale, musty scent, a reminder of the isolation that enveloped you. The small, narrow window, its glass covered in layers of grime, offered a glimpse of the outside world, teasing you with a mere sliver of the freedom you longed for. The sound of distant footsteps and muffled voices drifted in a constant reminder of the guarded existence you were forced to endure.

You would pull Wanda and Pietro closer to you, covering them with your single blanket, watching the door for signs of life. You had grown protective over them from your time spent with them. Though they seemed content only being together. They took to you like moths in a flame. Wanda is the one to model her behavior after you. Some days, she wouldn’t talk, only looking to Pietro to be her voice. He would do it willingly. He was defiant. He was resilient. Funny even. He would crack jokes and make fun of Strucker. His favorite pastime. There in the confines of your hell, you would listen to Pietro go on and on about his adventures with training as Wanda cuddled into you. She would tangle her fingers in your shirt, her hands brushing against the skin of your belly, as she cracked a smile at her brother. Even with chapped lips and paled skin from lack of sunlight, Pietro never lost his smile. With you by his side, he wouldn’t. 

You’re brought back to reality when Wanda begins to shift. She takes deep breaths and your eyes flicker to her face. 

“Did you sleep?” She rasps, the lilt of her accent apparent, as she covers her mouth to yawn. 

“Some,” You nod. You return your gaze to the ceiling. 

“You’re not calm,” Wanda taps her hands. The magic seeping from them only further proves her point. You sigh, allowing the purple tendrils to recede into your skin before you turn to your side to look at her. 

“I’m fine,” You assure her. “I just need time. It’s not easy.”

“I know,” Wanda says. Her voice held no judgment whatsoever. You believe her. 

“Tell me something,” You encourage. “Maybe something about you and Monica perhaps?” You smirk and Wanda groans. 

“Nice way to change the subject,” Wanda shakes her head. “We’re not dating. I don’t think. It…it’s new. We’ve been together a few times but we lead different lives.”

“And you like her?” You can see it in her eyes. 

“I do,” Wanda confirms. With a smile that only radiated happiness, she begins to tell you all about Monica. “She’s gentle. She listens to everything I say. She doesn’t make fun of me for not knowing some things in English. Which is huge for me.” You’re appreciative of that. “She makes me feel seen in ways I’ve never felt before.” She praised her infectious laughter, which had the power to chase away the shadows of her past, and Monica’s unwavering support that emboldened her to chase her dreams. But above all, Wanda cherished the way she made her feel safe and cherished, igniting a flame of love that burned brighter with each passing day. At that moment, as the world swirled around you, you couldn't help but share in Wanda's joy, knowing that your sister had found someone who cherished her as fiercely as she deserved. 

“I’m sorry,” Wanda frowns. “I didn't mean to be selfish when you’re going through-”

“Never apologize for your happiness,” You interrupt her. “I like the look of love on you. It’s nice. It suits you.”

“Thank you,” Wanda curls into you again. There’s a shared silence between you. Neither of you is ready to get out of bed and face the day just yet. “Are you going to be okay?”

“I’ll be fine,” You say. Wanda doesn’t seem so convinced. You tap at her shoulders, forcing her to look into your eyes before you promise her again. “I’ll be fine.”

Wanda nods silently. She wouldn’t push. “The girls will be awake soon.”

“I’m excited to see their faces,” You tell her. “I want them to be happy. Even with everything going on. I think Olivia’s starting to notice something is wrong. She’s so young but so perceptive.”

“Blunt too,” Wanda jokes and you share a laugh. “Did you buy a lot?”

“Tons,” You gesture with your hands. “I’m thinking I may have gone a bit overboard considering how small they are.”

“You’re making up for lost time?” Wanda tries to use the right phrase. 

“For my childhood,” You take her hand in yours again. “I mean, I remember with my birth dad, for Christmas we would do things. It wasn’t traditional like decorating a tree or getting gifts. He would let me watch Christmas movies in the lab while he worked with Strucker.” Wanda knows this story already but she lets you tell it as if it’s the first time. 

Wanda’s phone receives a ping, breaking you from your cocoon, and she turns to inspect it. 

“Sam is inviting us down to breakfast. Says everyone wants to come up to open presents with the girls,” She waves her phone. 

“They can,” You begin to sit up. “I have to go and get them awake. I’ll meet you guys in my den in twenty.”

“Okay, see you there.” 

You rush out of Wanda’s suite and back down to your own. The lights are still off, it’s quiet, and there’s no sign of life. It’s still quite early in the morning. Too early even. Though no one in this entire compound has a habit of sleeping in. It could be attributed to the odd hours of Avenging and training and an assortment of other things. You glance over to Natasha’s bedroom door, noticing it closed, fighting the urge to go and knock. You instead walk to the girls’ bedroom. You find Lily awake in her crib, sitting up with a tired expression on her face, as she looks at you. She stands to her feet, waving her arms with grabbing motions, as she reaches out to you. 

“Good morning, Lovebug,” You kiss her forehead as you take her into your arms. “Merry Christmas.” You whisper to her. You walk over to the changing table, wasting no time in getting her clean, as she signs to you. Milk. She wants milk. Which of course means she wants some time with Natasha. It would probably be a while before that happens. You zip her onesie closed and carry her on your hip now. You kneel to gently shake Olivia awake. Olivia gives a big stretch, touching the headboard of her bed before her arms return to her side. 

“Mommy, it’s Christmas?” Olivia blinks sleepily. 

“Mhmm,” You grin. “Are you awake? Your presents are all lonely in the den waiting for you.”

“Presents?” Olivia’s still quite tired if her responses are any indication. 

“Do you want to go see it?” You offer. She takes your hand and you walk with her towards the living room. 

“I have to potty,” Olivia announces before she races ahead of you for the bathroom. You follow her detour, monitoring her as she relieves herself before you help her wash her hands. It’s then Natasha appears in the doorway, with a solemn expression on her face. 

“Hey,” She nods to you tersely. She doesn’t look like she’s had a wink of sleep. Though her hair is brushed and she has on a new outfit. She’s showered. Though that doesn’t cover the slight dark circles under her eyes. 

“Good.” You can’t help but think. Maybe you wanted her to feel just as bad as you. You’re not a terrible person for thinking so. In your arms, Lily wiggles out of your grasp to toddle over to Natasha. You can see the moment Natasha winces as she raises the twenty two pound girl in her arms. She’s in pain too. That part you feel a bit guilty about. 

“Mommy, I’m done,” Olivia finishes her business and walks to the sink where you lift her to wash her hands. 

“We have to get Lily’s cochlear,” You begin but Natasha raises a hand. She reaches into her pocket and pulls both devices out. Lily pats her ears in recognition while she settles long enough for Natasha to put them on. 

“Mama, we got presents!’ Olivia informs her other mother. She’s more awake than she was a few minutes ago. 

“You do?” Natasha fakes her enthusiasm for Olivia’s benefit. “Let’s go see.” They race towards the living room and you take your time following after them. 

“Wow! Mommy, Mama, look,” Olivia points to all of the presents. It’s even cuter when you consider she can’t pronounce her L’s. Olivia stalks over to the stacked presents, running her fingers across the papers, as she grabs one. Lily is set on the floor for her to do the same. Nothing could prepare you for the joy of seeing your kids excited about Christmas. Their wide smiles and twinkling eyes made your heart soar. 

“I, um, the guys and everyone wanted to see the girls open their presents,” You inform Natasha when someone knocks at the door. You go to open it, smiling widely when you notice a few of them have wrapped gifts in their hands. 

“That’s what I’m talking about,” Sam cheers as he walks into the suite. “Merry Christmas!” He cheers as he’s followed by Steve, Wanda, and Yelena. Somehow you know Melina and Alexei stayed back not to overwhelm Natasha. The room was adorned with festive decorations, casting a warm glow that reflected the love and unity shared by the team as they piled in. Tony and Pepper were probably still asleep or helping Morgan tear through the mountains of her presents. They opted to have family mornings alone for Christmas. You could respect it. 

The Christmas morning was filled with an air of anticipation and subtle tension as you gathered around the twinkling tree in the cozy living room. As the children's excited giggles filled the room, you and Natasha exchanged hesitant glances, your unspoken emotions echoing between you. It has been a challenging time for your relationship, with uncertainty holding you back, and the strain lingering beneath the surface. But amidst the awkwardness, you remained determined to provide your daughters with a joyful Christmas. 

With a nod of agreement, you and Natasha took your places beside Olivia and Lily. Your smile masks the complexities of your heart. The room fell into a hushed silence as the children eagerly tore into the brightly wrapped presents, their eyes wide with wonder and delight. 

Olivia squealed in joy as she unwrapped a stuffed animal, hugging it tightly against her chest. Lily clapped her tiny hands in glee, discovering a set of colorful blocks. The room filled with laughter and the delightful chaos of torn gift wrappings. Meanwhile, the Avengers watched on, their presence offering a comforting backdrop to the strained atmosphere. They exchanged knowing glances, their eyes conveying support for you and Natasha, understanding the intricacies of your relationship and the delicate dance they now navigated.

“Oh, open that one,” Yelena was so engrossed in her niece’s gift opening she didn’t have time to question you or Natasha. She was enjoying this way too much. Olivia, under the guidance of her aunt, opens a giant box. 

“A baby!” Olivia cheers. Lily, always in her sister’s business, walks over to Olivia to try and snatch the doll. 

“Uh oh,” Steve voices as there’s a hint of a fight in the midst. 

“This one is yours,” You sign to Lily as you show her an identical box. Lily waits with her hands on her tummy, bending over in excitement, as she bounces with her knees. You open the box, turning the front to her to watch as her mouth forms a perfect oh.

“Baby!” Lily grabs the box and clutches it to her. “Open.” She demands. There’s a slight roar of laughter and she startles. She doesn’t understand how that was funny. You open the box for her and pass her doll to her. She walks over to sit in Natasha’s lap to show off her new doll. “Mama, baby.” She practically shoves the toy into Natasha’s face. 

“I see,” Natasha signs. “She’s your baby.”

“Mine,” Lily nods. She tucks the baby’s head in the crook of her elbow, the body and legs dangling from her arm, and moves on to the next present. So much for taking care of her toy. 

“There is so much presents,” Olivia smiles. 

“I know right,” Yelena agrees. “Your parents are loaded.”

“What’s that mean?” Olivia tilts her head. 

“It means you still have more presents to open,” Natasha doesn’t think now is the time to explain the concept of money and wealth to a three-year-old. 

“So, Natasha, what did you get R for Christmas?” Sam questions, either oblivious or not caring about the tension between the two of you. 

You look over to Natasha, not offering any reprieve, as she stumbles for only a second. 

“Nothing that is of your concern,” Natasha answers. Truthfully she hadn’t been expecting him to ask. 

“Oh, is that code word for an inappropriate toy,” Sam questions and he receives a wack from Steve. 

“Ouch,” Sam rubs the sore spot on his arm. 

“Oh, no hitting, that’s bad Uncle Steve,” Olivia scolds the man. 

“You’re right it is bad, Olivia,” Steve agrees. “I’m sorry Sam that I bruised your puny arm.”

“My arms are not puny,” Sam begins to flex his muscles. Steve rolls his eyes. Out of your peripheral, you can see Natasha smile at their exchange. She’s missed the guys. Maybe staying in the compound will be a good thing for her. 

As the gift opening continued, you and Natasha find yourselves sharing brief smiles and stolen glances. You remained civil, respecting the sanctity of the day and the shared memories you’re building with the girls. Amid the festive chaos, Olivia and Lily, oblivious to the complexness of the adult world, radiated innocence and love. Their laughter and excitement were contagious, their innocent joy a reminder of the preciousness of family bonds. 

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

When all is done, everyone begins to crave breakfast. The girls jump at the chance to go down to the kitchen to sit with Steve and Sam. They chase after the guys with shrieks and shouts. Yelena and Wanda linger as you offer to stay behind and clean. 

“I can help,” Wanda offers but you shake your head. 

“Go, eat,” You shoo her. “I’ll be fine.”

“Okay,” Wanda nods. She looks to see if Yelena is coming too. The blonde nods but looks between the two of you. It’s then you notice Natasha has been staring at you. 

“I’m going to stay behind and help,” Natasha decides for the both of you. Wanda’s eyes flash to you. Would you approve of that?

“Yeah, you two go ahead,” You lick your lips nervously. The women both shuffle out slowly, probably in hopes to hear your conversation, but nothing is said. You get straight to work cleaning. The room was scattered with discarded wrapping paper, a colorful aftermath of the Christmas morning festivities. Natasha stood there, her hands absentmindedly clutching a crumpled piece of paper, her thoughts swirling with uncertainty. She felt a knot in her stomach, unsure of how to approach you and mend the fractures that had formed between you.

You, on the other hand, moved about with a touch of distance, your body language guarded. The remnants of your argument still lingered in the air, casting a shadow over the otherwise joyous occasion. Natasha could feel the walls you had put up, a barrier that seemed impenetrable, and it weighed heavily on her heart. The silence hung between you, heavy with unspoken words and unresolved emotions. Natasha's mind raced, searching for the right words, but finding none that seemed adequate to heal the wounds that had formed. In her life as a spy, she had been trained to navigate treacherous situations, to infiltrate and extract information, but matters of the heart were foreign territory.

As she moved about the room, picking up wrapping paper and carefully folding it, Natasha racked her brain for something, anything, to bridge the gap between you. And then, as if by a stroke of inspiration, a question formed on her lips. "What's your favorite childhood memory?" she asked, her voice soft but filled with genuine curiosity.

Your eyes flickered with surprise at the unexpected question, momentarily caught off guard. But slowly, a hint of a smile tugged at the corners of your lips, your guard softening just a touch. You would humor her for now. 

“I wasn’t a child, but I certainly acted like one at times,” You begin, your voice tinged with a hint of nostalgia. “Back at the lab, we… me, Pietro, and Wanda would sneak out of our room, courtesy of magic.” You continue. “When the guards were at their lowest, drinking or watching sports or whatever it is they were doing, we would rush through the hallways. We would sneak up to the roof. We could see the city lights, what was left of them at least, from the top. We would laugh, dance, and tell stories. I wanted them to experience some form of happiness. The twins were fifteen when I met them. Scared and lonely. I did everything I could to make sure they felt like they had someone.” You look to Natasha before turning away. “In those moments, on the roof, we were just siblings. They always believed they joined HYDRA to serve the greater good. They were naive. I knew better. Still, I didn’t take away their hope.” 

“I’m sorry you had to go through that,” 

“I’m not,” You shrug. “Who knows where I would be.” 

Natasha nods silently. 

“I was determined to be something other than what they raised me for,” You informed her. The last of the wrapping paper in your hands as you drop everything into the trash can. “My father didn’t die in vain.”

Natasha takes this moment to reflect on her feelings and what she wants this moment to be. As the last remnants of wrapping paper were tidied away, Natasha mustered up the courage to address the elephant in the room. She took a tentative step towards you, her voice soft yet laced with trepidation. You want to think her intentions are good. You want to listen to whatever she has to say. Instead, you take a step back. 

“Y/n,” Natasha begins. Her eyes searched your face for any signs of receptiveness. Your expression remained guarded, a flicker of defiance in your eyes. 

Natasha’s heart sank, her instincts telling her that now might not be the right time to push further. She had noticed the control of your magic seemed more strained than usual, the subtle flickers of energy escaping your grasp as she’d stepped closer to you. It was a sign your emotions were beginning to run high, and she didn’t want to add fuel to the fire. Silently, Natasha withdrew her approach, giving you the space you seemed to need. She watches as your gaze shifts, your eyes cast downward, avoiding any direct contact. 

“I want the girls every weekend,” Natasha begins. “I take it you’re going to keep them.”

You lift your head. You weren’t expecting that. “T-that’s fine. I can drive them up or you can pick them up. I’m sure, um, Tony has a car you can borrow.”

“Thank you,” Natasha nods. 

The room grew uncomfortably silent, tension hanging heavy in the air. Natasha swallowed the words that lingered on the tip of her tongue, understanding that pushing you further might only deepen the divide between you. Instead, Natasha chose to respect the silence, allowing it to envelop you in its uneasy embrace. She knew that sometimes words weren't enough, that silence could hold its power—a moment to reflect, to gather thoughts, and to find solace in one's presence. And so, in that stillness, you stood, two souls struggling to find common ground amidst the turmoil of their emotions. Each passing second felt heavy with unspoken thoughts and unaddressed fears, yet neither of you dared to break the silence.

With a gentle sigh, Natasha turned away, her footsteps barely audible as she retreated to her bedroom. She didn't know what the future held for you, but she was determined to give you the space you needed. 

You stood alone in the living room, emotions swirling within you. Natasha seemed like she was opening up to you and you had pushed her away. The silence in her absence enveloped you, amplifying the turmoil that had been building up inside. 

In that solitary moment, your control over your magic wavered. A surge of raw energy crackled through your veins, sparks of vibrant colors dancing around your fingertips. For a second, you wanted to allow it to consume you. Oh, how good it would feel to let it all out. Your powers run off emotion. They only work as best as you allow them. You’re not some animal waiting to be uncaged. It’s just, you’re tired, and you're hurt, and you’re confused. As quickly as it had appeared, your magic subsided. You closed your eyes, taking a deep breath, desperately trying to regain your composure. The room returned to its calm state, the remnants of your unleashed magic fading into the air. 

legally binded - drabble (1)

Jenna Ortega x F!Reader

masterlist | series mast. |

Drabble #1: The Week in Coachella

Summary: After getting caught in some hot waters with the press, you are forced into an unexpected agreement with America's sweetheart, Jenna Ortega to save your career.

Warnings/Tags: dual!pov, famous!reader, actress!reader, mentions of substances, intoxication, mature language, real people. (do not read if any of these make you uncomfortable)

(this is all fiction!)

Note: a little insight as to the ‘domestic bliss’ J was referring to 👀 this takes place during chapter 4, the week leading up to R’s peformance. the first of many drabbles (hopefully)

Word Count: 3.8k+

Monday: 

“Turn it off… Jenna, turn it off!”

You whined, aimlessly swiping your hand on the covers in hopes it hits the other actress. 

The alarm blaring rudely in the dark, quiet air interrupted the solitude of the early morning.

You hear her groans but it sounded muffled under the lump of covers and pillows. “You turn it off…”

“Jenna…” You groaned but she still refused to move from her seemingly comfortable position. With a huff, you throw the covers off your head, squinting in the unlit room. The sun hasn’t even risen yet, what the fuck?

Reaching over Jenna’s body, you grabbed your phone on her bedside table. You must have fallen asleep with it in your hand again and Jenna must have placed it there for you. 

“It’s not even mine.” You muttered, reaching for her phone instead and snoozing the alarm. Then you flung yourself back into your side of the bed, sighing in satisfaction because the annoying alarm wasn’t blaring in your eardrums anymore.

“Was it my phone?” Jenna lifted the cover off her head but remained under. Her hair is a mess after a night of tossing and turning and yet she still looked… pretty. You’re not blind, she’s gorgeous but there’s something about her, being the first thing you wake up to that makes your heart palpitate uncomfortably.

Probably heartburn from last night’s dinner. Yeah. That’s it.

“Mhmm.” You hummed. It’s too early for words.

She groaned dropping the covers to hide again. “I have pick up at 5.”

“You’re working?” You questioned.

“Yeah, I forgot to tell you.” You hear and feel the shuffles of Jenna climbing out of the covers. “Are you going to be okay being alone with my family today?”

Cracking a single eye open and even through the darkness in the room, you see her brows knitted worriedly. “I’ll be fine, Jenna. I’ve been here for two days now, I’m settled in.”

“Are you sure? You can come with me to set if you want. I think I’m only filming some promo videos of Dior.” She urged. When you hear the concern in her voice, you opened your eyes fully, sitting up. 

“Jen, I’ll be okay. I promise. It’ll be nice to just chill today too ‘cause I’m not needed for soundcheck again until Thursday.” You reassured, blindly placing your hand on her bare thigh.

You feel her tense under your touch and you were about to pull away and apologize, not meaning to place your hand there but she placed her palm atop yours. “Okay… but if you need me to come back–”

“I won’t need to, but I will text you if anything happens, stop worrying.” You rolled your eyes, pulling your burning hand away. “Now go get ready before you’re late. I will be going to bed.”

“How can you go back to sleep so easily?” She questioned, climbing out of the covers. 

“Mhmm… magic.” You slur, already on the verge of sleeping.

You miss Jenna watching you for a few, long seconds with a fond smile after you’ve fallen asleep. You also miss her panic once she realized what she was doing, promptly turning on her heel to walk into the bathroom.

*** 

It was around 8:30 when you woke up again and like last time, it wasn’t on your own accord.

“Dad says wake up.” You spring up from the bed, eyes still closed.

You weren’t even sure if you were still dreaming but you swore you heard a voice.

“Over here.” Blinking your eyes open, you see Aliyah leaning against the doorframe with a smug smile. “Nice hair, is this what Jenna’s been waking up to every morning?”

“I see you and her share the same need to make fun of me.” You grumbled, wiping your eyes as they adjusted to the sunlight peering into the room.

“Mhmm. That’s how the family shows we care, we tease.” The younger girl shrugged, “Now come on, there’s breakfast downstairs and then chores.”

“Chores?” You asked but she already left.

Fucking chores? What the hell did you sign up for?

Swiftly, you threw on a presentable sweatsuit and brushed your teeth before hopping down the steps. From the moment you opened the door, you could already smell savoury waft of the morning meal awaiting you in the kitchen.

When you round the corner, entering the dining room everyone was already there, “Good morning.”

“Good morning, sweetheart.” Natalie smiled when she saw you. “Sorry Aliyah woke you up like that,”

You see her send her daughter a warning glance but you just laughed, waving it off. “No, it’s alright. Worked like a charm.”

“Come sit and eat.” She ushered, and you noted her uniform. 

“I assume you’re working today?” 

“Yes, it’s just going to be you kids in the house today.”

With Coachella weekend coming up, you had forgotten you were currently staying in a house with people who worked regular, 9-5 jobs.

“Oh, alright.” You smiled gratefully when the matriarch placed a plate of food in front of you.

“Dad and I have to go, you guys be safe okay? Call if you need anything.” She called out to the rest of her kids.

“You guys are carpooling?” Mia asked.

“Yup, the car’s not starting again.” The man grumbled, rising from his seat.

You perk up at that comment. “I can take a look at it for you if you want?”

All heads turn to you.

“You know cars?” Jenna’s dad asked, skeptical. This is the first time you’ve talked directly to the man.

“Yes sir.” You clear your throat, sitting up straighter. There was something about the man, maybe it was his constant silence or just Dads in general that made you a bit tense and feel out of your depth. “Used to work on them with my best friend, just a hobby but I learned a thing or two.”

He raised a brow but didn’t say anything. Natalie spoke up for him. “You don’t have to do that Y/N, but we would appreciate it regardless.”

You nodded, sending them a small smile. Aware that the man still hasn’t given you an answer but hey, you’ll take what you can get.

“We gotta go.” The parents bid goodbye and when the door shut, an awkward silence hung in the hair.

You keep your head down and pretend your breakfast was the most interesting thing on Earth.

“So, you got plans today?” Mia asked.

Lifting your head, you pointed to yourself, “Me?”

“Who else?” She raised a brow, and suddenly you’re made aware that sarcasm runs in the family.

Rolling your eyes playfully, you drop your spoon. “I don’t have plans.”

“Perfect. We’re all doing something.” Mia grinned.

You looked at Aliyah and Markus sending them apprehensive looks. “I… don’t like the way you said that.”

“Relax, superstar… when was the last time you let loose?” Mia grinned leaning on her elbows.

You glanced at the three siblings warily, “Fine… but if Jenna asks, it wasn’t my idea.”

“We’ll deal with her.” Aliyah matched her sister’s grin.

***

“This was your idea of letting loose?” You heaved exasperatedly, leaning against the leather headrest of the driver’s seat. 

The three siblings’ laugh resounds around you, agitating you further. Is this what it was like to have siblings? Maybe you’re not missing out on much.

“I thought you were an action star? Don’t you guys get paid to work out for Marvel?” Aliyah asked from the backseat. 

“I’m out of commission.” You glared through the rearview mirror. “And I hate hiking… why did we pick that?”

You started the ignition, cranking the AC to full blast and sighing in relief as the cool air relieves your sticky-red skin. 

“I don’t know if you’ve noticed. But there isn’t much to do around here.” Markus piqued up from beside his sister. “So when we all get together, we like to go hiking. Jen can’t make it most of the time, but I guess you’re the next best thing.”

He joked prompting his sisters to laugh but you flushed under the suggestion. You chose not to comment, instead pulling out of the parking spot. Clearing your thickening throat, you asked, “Where to?”

When you get back to the house, you're instantly met with an unimpressed look from the actress.

“You guys hung out without me?” Jenna crossed her arms as she stood in the foyer of her home, watching her siblings plus you trickle into the house. It’s fair to say that the younger actress was quite confused when she came back to an empty house. 

“Yup…” Mia responded, sipping on her drink as she walked passed the shorter actress. 

One by one, she glared at each of her siblings as they walked passed her until only you remained. You smiled sheepishly, holding out a drink. “They said you always get this smoothie… don’t be mad?”

Jenna stared at the drink in your hands. Her heart fluttered wildly in her chest. “Thanks…”

You send a large, goofy smile, pleased with yourself, “No worries.”

***

Tuesday:

The jury’s still up for debate if you’re enjoying yourself.

See you thought you were. Sure sharing a single queen bed with Jenna is… less than ideal, the home-cooked dinners have been delicious, and her family has been nothing but hospitable. You should be having a good time, right? Except, right now you’re seriously debating changing your answer cause you’re stuck.

Tied down, would be a better description.

“Jenna, please. Help!” You managed to pull out a free arm from one of her cousin’s firm grip.

Why do these kids have such strong hands?

Jenna turned at the sound of your desperation, cutting her conversation with her sisters short then she laughed, taking her phone out to record.

“No, please.” You nearly cried out, flailing your free hand.

“Show us your superpowers, Spider-Woman!” Another child yelled, jumping in front of you.

“Ow..” Your footing stumbles with the added weight, trying to hold the kid up in your arms.

“I count… one, two, three… oh and there's a fourth one hiding behind your legs, how cute.” Jenna circles you, recording all the children clinging onto you for dear life.

“Jenna, please. I’m gonna drop this child…” You begged again, arms burning uncomfortably.

You’re one kid away from toppling over if she doesn’t help you. If you do, you’re taking her down with you.

“I thought you do action movies? Use that action star training…” Jenna teased just like her sister, in turn, you glared menacingly.

“If I do go down, I’m taking you with me…”

She rolled her eyes, put her phone away then walked over to grab the kid in your arms. “Come on, guys… let’s give her some space.” She shooed off.

They groaned, echoing ‘you’re no fun’ at Jenna,  and you’d laugh at her offended face if you weren’t thankful that you feel 100 pounds lighter.

“You sure took your time,” You scoffed at her, watching as Jenna lets the toddler down on the ground after she got too fussy in her arms.

“Mmm… it was just too adorable.” She pulled out her phone to show you the multiple pictures of your panicked face, flailing hand and the small army of kids sticking to your side.

“Delete that…” You attempted to swipe her phone, but she stuck her arm out of reach, too quick for you.

“No!” She laughed, leaning back. You leaned forward, trying to swipe at the phone again but she pressed her hips against yours — pushing you back.

“Delete it!” You grabbed the dip in her waist with one hand; the phone now just at the tip of your fingers.

Jenna curled into a ball, clutching the phone to her chest making you wrap your arms around her body – practically embracing her.

“Seriously?” You laughed at the childish antics.

“Let me keep it!” She snickered, body shaking as she laughed and you couldn’t help but join in, forgetting about the embarrassing photos.

“Fine.” Rolling your eyes, you dropped your arms to your side, stepping back. “But if you post that, you’re dead.”

Jenna uncurled, standing straight with a lop-sided smile, “Who’s gonna stop me?”

You stare back challengingly but once you saw the up flick of her brow, you knew it was a done deal. With a sigh and a drop of a head, you muttered. “Whatever…”

Then you walked back to your seat beside her sisters.

Reaching down on the grass to grab your drink, you pretend not to hear Aliyah and Mia telling Jenna that you two are cute.

Pulling out your phone, you ignore everything going on around you. You feel Jenna take her seat beside you. 

“Hey Y/N,” Aliyah spoke up, phone in hand.

You flick a brow up, “What’s up?”

“You know this song?” She tapped her phone, connecting it to the speaker and playing a song that sounded faintly familiar.

Furrowing your brows, you shake your head, glancing at Jenna who had a confused look as well. “No? Did I write it?”

“You don’t know what songs you wrote?” Jenna asked, turning to you.

“No? There’s too many and sometimes if it doesn’t fit me, I just take writing credit or I produce it for someone else.” You shrugged.

Aaliyah shook her head, gaining your attention. “No, listen.” She smirked.

When the singer started singing, you froze, the tips of your ears reddening.

“I don’t get it?” Jenna asked.

“This is Nonsense by Sabrina Carpenter,” Aaliyah commented.

“Okay?” Jenna was lost. “Am I missing something?”

“Nope. I don’t think so— you wanna go for a walk?” You stood up swiftly, nearly giving Jenna whiplash as her eyes followed your movements.

You wiggle your fingers for her to take, but Jenna stayed put. 

“Later —“ She dismissed you, turning to her sisters who wore smug smiles on their faces, “What’s so special about this song?”

“Ask her…” Aliyah nodded toward you, currently pretending like you couldn’t hear the conversation around you.

She raised her brow, noting your weird demeanour. “What’s so special about this song?”

“Nothing.” Jenna raised a brow. You sighed, sitting back down beside her with a slump, ignoring the three others piercing stares. “Except it’s about…. me, or so I’ve heard, I don’t know.”

Jenna’s brows raised in surprise, her cheeks reddening when the next line plays. “It feels so good I had to jump the octave?”

You flushed, covering your face in embarrassment. “God, this is my worst nightmare.”

Her sisters’ watched with satisfied smiles as you continued to be embarrassed, actively avoiding everyone’s eyes and Jenna, who was stunned in silence but honestly looked more bothered the longer the song played.

You’ve never actually heard the song in its entirety, too embarrassed when someone said it was about you. You only saw the other singer one, two, three maybe even four times — so you were shocked.

“How fast can you take your clothes off, pop quiz?” Jenna reiterated as the song ended.

“Please, stop!” You groaned into your palms.

If Jenna wasn’t so satisfied with your embarrassment already, she might even admit that she’s a bit… irritated, for reasons unknown.

“Okay, Aliyah enough.” Jenna glared when the song replayed by accident.

Her sisters tried to chuckle lowly, but Jenna glared until they took the hint and scurried away, leaving just you and her.

“Are they gone?” You peeked through the opening in your fingers. 

“They're gone.” She chuckled, but the silence that followed was slightly awkward. “So… you and Sabrina? Didn’t know that.”

You cleared your throat, dropping your hands. “Yeah—uh. It wasn’t really anything.”

“Sounds like it was something…I mean she wrote a whole song about you.” Jenna questioned and for a second you wondered if she was jealous.

No, no way.

“That’s just fan theories and shit. I actually don’t know if it’s about me.” You felt the need to clear up. “It didn’t mean anything to me, at least.”

Jenna scanned you for a few seconds, feeling slightly uncomfortable under the intense gaze. “Mhmm. Cool.”

You blinked, unsure what that meant. But before you could say anything she’s standing, holding her hand out for you to take.

“Wanna go on that walk now?”

You nodded, slipping your fingers in between hers.

***

Wednesday: 

“Have you seen Y/N?” Jenna peeked her head inside her brother’s room.

“Not recently…” Markus responded, not looking away from his computer screen. “I think I saw her an hour ago though.”

“Where?” She huffed, leaning against the door frame.

“Don’t remember…” He replied distractedly. Jenna sighed, knowing she wasn’t gonna get a straight answer from him. 

Making her way down the stairs, she rounded the corner, entering the living room. “Has anybody seen Y/N?” 

She was met with silence. “Hello?” Jenna spoke up agitated.

“She’s with Dad, relax,” Aliyah answered and the actress couldn't even hide her shock. “She’s checking the car or something.”

“They’re together? Alone?”

Her sister nodded, confused.

“Yes? Why?’

“No reason…” Jenna lied.

“Is she scared of Dad?” Aliyah asked, a smirk on her lips.

Jenna rolled her eyes, not answering. Turning on her heel, she walked swiftly to the garage. You never admitted it out loud but she could see how tense you are around her Dad. It amused her more than anything.

Upon opening the door, she’s expecting to be met with silence as you worked on the car. Instead, her Dad’s laughter filled the room. 

“That’ll teach you to make a bet with her…” Her dad continued to joke. 

Stepping closer, she can make out your muffled chuckles from under the car. “Yeah… that one was on me, honestly. Robbed me clean of a thousand dollars.”

“Oh hey, honey. What are you doing here?” Her dad asked, noticing her standing by the door with a dumbfounded look on her face.

“Is that Jenna?” You asked.

“Yeah…” He responded.

Jenna blinked out of her stupor, walking to the hood of the car where her Dad waited patiently as you lay underneath the vehicle. “What’s going on here?”

You slid out from under the engine, using an old skateboard as a mechanic creeper; some oil splotched on your cheek. “Your Dad said the car wasn’t starting, so I offered to have a look at it.”

Jenna watches on as her Dad extended a hand out to haul you up. Exchanging the wrench in your hand for a wet rag to wipe the dirt off. She flicked a brow up in surprise. “I didn’t know you knew cars like that…”

You match her raised brow, “what, you think my cars are just for show?”

She rolled her eyes, not answering while you grinned, taking it as a win. She allowed her gaze to drop, noting your engine oil-stained white shirt hugging your arms tight and dark washed-out denim jeans. Looking like a real mechanic. 

“I think it was the transmission, try turning it on.” You said to her Dad. 

He follows your instructions, pushing the key into the ignition and turning it. Sputtered sounds of the engine roughly kicked back until eventually, it settled into a low, even rumble. You send her Dad a gratified smile. “What’d I say?”

“Impressive…” He scratched his chin, “I went to three different mechanics and none of them could tell me what was wrong.”

“Those guys are useless. You call me anytime there’s something wrong with her.” You popped off the hood struts, putting it back in its place before dropping the car hood closed with a loud slam, tapping on the top contently.

“You actually fixed that old junk?” Jenna crossed her arms, a little impressed but she’d never say it out loud.

You spin, flicking an unamused brow. “You doubting my skills, Ortega?”

Jenna tried shrugging impassively, walking closer to observe the running car. “Every single one of my siblings learned how to drive in this car, including me. Dad refuses to get rid of it.”

You run a hand over the hood again. What the younger actress said must’ve added to your satisfaction. “Just makes it more special then…”

“See, she gets it.” Her Dad peeks his head out from the driver's seat. 

“We’re not starting this…” Jenna spun in her heels, walking back into the house. She ignored her thudding chest.

***

Thursday:

“Hey, how was Soundcheck?” Jenna looked up from her book, watching as you trudge into her childhood bedroom in slow steps.

“S’okay…” You mumbled,  lazily dropping your shoulder bag on the foot of the bed. With a heavy sigh, you sat down and let gravity do all the work as you fell onto your back. Sighing in relief when your it connects with the soft mattress. 

“What’s wrong?” Jenna crawled to the foot of the bed, rubbing your shoulder. She watched as your eyes fluttered closed in fatigue.

“Long day… too hot.” You muttered causing Jenna to chuckle.

“Well, we are in the desert.”

“Should have thought about that when I agreed to perform…” By now, Jenna’s fingers worked their way through your hair. Softly scratching your scalp. 

“Speaking of performing…” Jenna tried not to pay attention to the way you practically purred under her touch. “Who are going on with?”

You grinned adorably, like when a baby smiled in their sleep. “Nice try…”

She tugged on your roots a bit, “Tease…”

“You’re the one tugging on my hair…” You cracked an eye open, staring up at her. Jenna flushed, choosing to ignore your words. 

“Why don’t you take a shower and we can finish watching Breaking Bad? Relax before your performance tomorrow?”

“That sounds perfect.” You scrambled up to grab some clothes from your suitcase before running to the adjoining bathroom. 

Jenna shook her head in amusement, ignoring the butterflies thrashing in her stomach. She moved up the bed, getting your side ready, and propping up the pillows to your preferred angle. Then she grabbed the remote, exiting out of the trashy reality show that she wasn’t really paying attention to. Only choosing the program to pass the time as she waited for you to come… home. But only because she’s honourable and chooses to uphold her side of the agreement; not to watch Breaking Bad without the other. 

20 minutes pass when the bathroom door creaked open and you stepped out, looking far more relaxed than when you first came in. 

Sliding into your side, you wiggled around, trying to get comfortable. “You kept your promise and didn’t watch the next episode.”

“Surprised?” She raised a brow.

“Mmm… a little.” You shrug, shooting her a chaffing smile. 

She elbowed your side, “idiot.”

“Okay, okay, just play the episode. I’ve been looking forward to watching it with you all day.” You covered a blanket over your lap, not realizing what you just said. Jenna stares at you, not speaking.

You turn, pulling a face before it contorts to an amused smile. You grab the remote out of her hands, not calling her out on her silence. “Come on, get down here.”

Still unspeaking, Jenna’s body moves automatically, sliding in close beside you; shoulders pressed together. The younger actress doesn’t have it in her to admit that she’s been waiting for you to come back because recently, she finds she can’t sleep without you.

Jenna chooses not to comment when she feels your head lean comfortably against hers.

—

(a little treat before ch 7🫢 )

***

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everyone but her pt.33

Summary: You're angry. You're angry, and Wednesday doesn't know how to help you. At least she's not afraid to look for outside help.

Word Count: 4.1k Warnings: swearing, mentions of murder, mentions of abuse Pairing: Wednesday Addams x Reader (everyone but her Masterlist)

You had been particularly irate after seeing Marcus and Kristi on the television a few weeks ago. And unlike most of your usual bouts of anger, Wednesday couldn’t fix this one. She had done her best to help, to find things for you to do, to distract you. None of it worked.

Her attempts to keep you busy in the apartment had been a bust. She had gone out and bought more furniture, all of which needed to be put together by hand. Once you had gotten home from work one evening, she had asked for your assistance, to which your scowl had dropped for a second and she had almost seen you smile. But unfortunately, you helped create furniture for a living, and what was supposed to be a long distraction ended up taking only a singular weekend.

Then she had asked you to have a "movie marathon," or at least that's what Ajax had called it. All of your favourite movies, one right after the other with the only exceptions being class or work. It seemed to ease your irritation for the most part, but once the movies were over, so was your peace.

More than once Wednesday had even asked you to teach her how to cook. It was a failed endeavour from start to finish. But her pride could look past her embarrassment when she heard you laugh at yet another failed attempt at cooking something so simple. Your laugh was such a beautiful sound, and she would decimate a hundred meals if it meant she could hear you laugh.

However, even that plan eventually fell short when you no longer found the time to teach, instead opting to do it yourself before she got home for class or even going so far as to skip meals entirely. She had only attempted to bring it up to you once before you immediately shut her down. It was a mindless decision not to bring it up again.

Which left her with her current predicament; how to help ease you back into a calm that was sustainable.

When you practically stormed out of the apartment once again, Wednesday realised she was unaware of what to do. It was an odd feeling. To not have any indication or clue as to what would help you. There was something unsettling about it, and more than once she found herself getting increasingly frustrated right alongside you, though for different reasons.

It only took a few moments to make sure you weren’t coming back before Wednesday, with gritted teeth, pulled out the family crystal ball. It had been a long while since she had used it, in fact you had used it far more often to talk with Pugsley. Why you wanted to talk with him, she had no idea, but you did. Which left her in the uncomfortable position she was currently in.

“Hello, darling,” Mother answered almost immediately. “How is school?”

“It’s going well,” Wednesday answered.

“And how is Y/N?” She asked.

Wednesday hesitated. “That’s precisely why I’m calling.”

“I knew you would eventually,” Mother said with a kind smile. “Pugsley mentioned she has been unusually agitated the past few calls.”

“And he would know?” Wednesday asked with a barely concealed scoff.

“Yes he would,” Mother said. “They play some sort of game together every week.”

Wednesday’s eyes fell to the side. Yes, she supposed you did usually play a game with Pugsley when you were on a call. She couldn’t recall what it was called, but it was clearly something you got excited about. More than once she could hear you shouting or cheering or complaining about something. In actuality, she was more surprised you had gotten Pugsley in on your technology craze.

“How can I help you, dear?” Mother asked, pulling her gaze back to the crystal ball. “There will be no judgement.”

As if that was what Wednesday was concerned about.

“I’m unsure of how to help,” she finally said. “The usual distractions no longer work.” Mother waited silently. “Seeing her so tormented is-” she exhaled deeply “-not enjoyable.”

“What have you tried so far?” Mother asked.

Wednesday sighed before going into excruciating detail about everything she had tried. Mother listened politely, nodding when appropriate and asking clarifying questions when necessary. It was infuriating how understanding she was being. Wednesday almost wished she would refuse to listen. At least then she would be warranted in her frustration.

“And this all occurred after her parents appeared on the news?” Mother asked. Wednesday nodded. “Have you asked what she needs?”

“I-” Wednesday quickly closed her mouth. She would rather die than answer that question.

“You cannot know it all, darling,” Mother said simply. “Through no fault of your own, of course.”

Wednesday remained silent even as her face started to heat up.

“Communication is far more important than figuring it out on your own,” Mother continued. “You are incredibly intelligent, Wednesday, but sometimes the easy way is the smartest way.”

“You ask Father those things as well?” Wednesday asked. If her face got any hotter she fully believed she would explode.

“And he asks me,” she said with a nod. “There’s no shame in it.”

“I see,” was all Wednesday had to say in reply.

“Ask,” Mother said with yet another smile that made her skin crawl. “If that doesn’t work, I would love to help you come up with something else.”

“That seems acceptable,” Wednesday said, her brows pinching together. “Thank you, mother.”

“Of course, darling,” Mother said. “Now, tell me about everything else.”

—---

“You seem tense.”

“No shit, Shaun,” you grumbled as you continued to pace the floor. You rolled your shoulders a few times to relieve the pressure near your wings; it didn’t work.

“Why don’t you take a seat and tell me about it,” Shaun said in his overly-understanding-therapist tone.

You hated this. You hated calling him, hated making appointments, hated being in the fucking room with him. No one else had to go to therapy for all of their problems. Why did you have to go? If anyone should be in therapy, it was Enid. You had met her mother, you knew the hell she put up with on a regular basis.

Actually, maybe you should recommend therapy to her, it would probably help.

“Y/N?”

He was looking at you like you were some sort of lost cause.

With a sharp exhale through your nose, you resigned yourself to sitting down in the chair across from Shaun’s. At least it was a comfortable armchair. You pulled your knees up and wrapped your arms around them; he could make you sit, but he couldn’t tell you how to sit. If you were going to be forced to bare your soul then you were going to be comfortable.

“What’s your anger metre at right now?” Shaun asked once you had stopped fidgeting.

You shrugged.

“Do you talk to Wednesday about your anger?” He asked instead.

“Not anymore,” you said. Suddenly, you couldn’t meet his eyes anymore.

“Is there a specific reason?” He leaned back in his own chair.

“This isn’t couples counseling,” you said quickly. “Don’t bring her into this.”

“You brought her into it, Y/N,” Shaun said. “As your girlfriend, isn’t she automatically involved?”

“Ask a different question,” you said, a little quieter.

“Okay,” he said with a few nods of his head. “How did it make you feel to see your parents on the news?”

“Ask a different different question,” you huffed instantly.

“Clearly that’s what’s upsetting you,” he said, “so we should talk about it.”

Damn him for being right. It was no wonder people hated therapy; it sucked. You didn’t want to talk about them. They didn’t deserve to be talked about. Nicky had tried so hard to keep their negative memory out of your head, and now Shaun wanted you to unpack it? No, just the thought made your skin crawl.

You hated them. And it made you sick that you hated them. Why would they make you do that? They were your parents. Why would they make you hate them? Shouldn't they be desperate for your love too? It shouldn't be just you.

But it was.

"I don't like seeing them," you said softly.

"Why not?" Shaun asked, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees.

"They only show up when I'm getting better," you said with a sniffle. "Maybe that's what their Outcast ability is; impeccable timing."

"You feel like their appearance sets you back in your healing journey," he said.

"Don't make it sound so… pathetic," you said, your nose scrunched as you leaned back in your chair. "It just pisses me off, that's all."

"Right," he said with a small smile. "My mistake."

"Listen," you said. You let go of your legs and your feet touched down on the ground. "Just tell me I'm crazy, give me some homework, and let me go back home."

"You think that would make you feel better?"

"No," you said. "But I need some genuine comfort, and I'll be honest Shaun, you're not giving it to me."

"You want Wednesday," he said with a single raised brow.

It wasn't a question, and you both knew it. Wednesday was becoming a crutch for you to ignore everything. Not that it was her fault, and no one was blaming her for it. But it wasn't fair to her. No one was perfect, but she didn't deserve to become a crutch for something you couldn't even talk to her about.

"I want Wednesday," you confirmed with a nod.

"Then I've got homework for you," Shaun said as he stood up from his chair. You quickly followed suit. "Ask her if there's a day in the week that you can have an emotional talk, and tell her one thing about your parents."

"What if I don't want to talk about them?" You asked.

"Just one thing," he reiterated. "Big, small, it doesn't matter, but say one thing. It will open the door without overwhelming either one of you."

"Your homework sucks," you said.

"I know," he replied with a smile. “Now get home, I’ll see you again next week.”

“I think you just want to get rid of me,” you said even as you walked out of the door.

“Good night, Y/N,” Shaun said.

“Night,” you answered with a wave over your shoulder.

It thankfully wasn’t too late in the evening for you to be walking home. Sure, it was starting to get cold, but it was nice. The cold never hit you quite as hard as everyone else; maybe it was just because of your hot blooded nature. Or stubborn, Yoko had told you that one before too. Whatever the case, the temperature was actually quite lovely and was making for a wonderful walk home. It gave you plenty of time to think.

Maybe talking with Wednesday wouldn’t be as devastating as you worried it would be. After all, she had told you that you could. The only thing she asked for was a bit of preemptive warning so she could prepare to react properly. You could do that, it would give you time to mentally prepare as well. It wouldn’t do either of you any good to both freak out about the talk.

Although knowing your luck, that was probably exactly what would happen.

But aside from that, you could see how it would benefit you both to talk about it. You could get a bit of it off your shoulders, and she could learn a bit more about your past. Your pace slowed as you thought about that. What if she felt you had kept things from her? Or that you had lied about your past by not telling her anything? Oh, you hoped not. You had only just fully remembered it, it wasn’t your fault-

“-Y/N Smith?”

“You can talk to my lawyer,” you said before you even finished turning around.

Except you weren’t met with police officers like you usually were. No, you were met with two people that you had only met once, but you would never forget their faces. They had been present at the funeral. They had been witness to your assault on your father.

They knew your Nicky.

“Fancy seeing you here,” Casey said with a charming smile. Was that something Nicky had liked about them?

“I live here,” was all you said.

“Going to school?” They asked. Devon was too busy scuffing their shoes against the sidewalk to chime in.

“No I-” you inhaled deeply, “-Wednesday is,” you said. “I’m just working.”

“That must be nice.”

“I guess,” you huffed. “What are you two doing here?”

“Oh,” Casey said with a quiet exhale and a smile. “We work here too. I’m working on my doctorates and this one-” they nudged Devon, “-is about to graduate from the police academy.”

“Oh,” you said as your smile fell. “The Academy, huh?”

Finally Devon looked up to meet your eyes. “Your name has circulated,” they said, voice far deeper than you had been expecting. More gruff. It reminded you a bit of Enid’s brothers, actually.

“I’m sure it has,” you mumbled to yourself.

“I’m sorry,” Casey said with a humourless chuckle, “we’re keeping you out late.”

“It’s fine,” you said with a dismissive wave, “I was just heading home.”

“Let me give you my number,” they said as they pulled out their own phone, “and we can meet for coffee or something.”

You looked down at the phone in their hand and froze. Memories of the funeral flashed through your mind like a slideshow put on fast forward. You knew nothing of these two. For all you knew, they could have been lying about being Nicky’s partners. No proof, no Nicky, nothing.

But there was no proof of the opposite either.

“Yeah, okay,” you said, shaking your head and digging for your own phone. You switched the phones and put each number in. “Might as well,” you mumbled when you took your phone back.

“We’ll be in touch,” Casey said with a smile and a nod in your direction.

“Sure,” you said with your own tight-lipped smile.

“We’ll let you get home,” they said. “Stay safe.”

“And out of trouble,” Devon chimed in.

“You too,” you said with a halfhearted wave as you started walking backwards. “Night.”

“Good night,” they both said before starting their own walk in the opposite direction.

The entire walk home suddenly became more of a struggle than a relaxing trip. The weather was no longer enjoyable, it was suffocating. Your wings strained against the harness in a desperate attempt to take you far away from whatever predicament you had gotten yourself stuck in. How were you going to go have coffee with your late brother’s partners that you hadn’t even known had existed until he had passed? How fucked up was that?

So fucked up, in fact, that you didn’t even remember the rest of the walk to the apartment. You didn’t recall passing anyone, unlocking the door, or even re-locking it and sitting down on the couch. The last thing you remembered was passing the little cafe a few blocks down and then… you were on your couch.

It had been a while since your last blackout. The accompanying migraine was just gravy.

“Oh.” You turned to see Wednesday standing in the doorway between your room and the common room. “I didn’t hear you return.”

“I didn’t either,” you mumbled. The couch shifted underneath you as you stood up. “Do anything productive today?”

“I believe so,” she said while following you into the kitchen. “I talked with Mother.”

“Oh?” You asked. You peered your head into the fridge and frowned; it was time for a grocery run.

“How can I help ease your anxiety?”

“Wh-” your head hit the top of the fridge, “-ouch.” You pulled away completely before standing up, rubbing the now sore spot on the top of your head. “Say again?”

Wednesday quickly opened the freezer and pulled out an ice pack, placing it gently on your head. “What can I do to ease some of your anxiety?”

There was a gentleness in her eyes that she normally kept reserved. You knew Wednesday cared greatly for her friends and family and loved ones. She just didn’t show it like most people; she showed it more in the subtle actions or how she phrased things to avoid hurting someone’s feelings. It was a delicate care, one that more often than not went unnoticed. But you all had learned how to see them.

This was more overt. There was an incredibly visible softness around her eyes, a lack of worry lines or that furrow between her brows. Not that it was your main focus, how could you focus on those things when she was looking at you with those stunning eyes of hers? No, focus, she was asking you something serious.

“I don’t-” you huffed, “-why are you asking?”

Wednesday raised a single brow. “Mother said if I wished to help you properly, I should ask you what would help.” She sighed. “So what would help?”

“I don’t- I don’t know,” you admitted as your shoulders slumped. “Can I think about it?”

“Of course,” she said with a single nod. “How was your day?”

“You remember those two dudes I bummed a smoke off of at the funeral?” You asked. Wednesday nodded once. “Bumped into them on the walk home.”

“That’s quite the coincidence,” she said. You both started moving back to the common room; dinner would have to be takeout again.

“Said we should catch up over coffee some time,” you continued as you practically fell to the couch. Wednesday was quick to follow, basically landing on your lap. Before she had the chance to move, you wrapped your arms around her waist.

“Is that something you would be interested in doing?” She asked as she grabbed the remote and put something on TV. Neither one of you knew what it was, but that was okay. It didn’t matter anyway.

“I don’t know,” you huffed. “I feel like Nicky lied to me about a lot. They might know a few answers.”

“Do you truly wish to know those answers?”

You exhaled slowly and stared at the TV. That was a pretty damn good question, and you weren’t sure you knew. There was no doubt some of the answers would just make you more angry, like why he had lied to you about them in the first place or why he had suppressed everything. You didn’t want to be angry with him, not when he couldn’t even defend himself.

But there was also the possibility it would give you some peace and clarity. Maybe you could find out why he did some things and you could forgive him for it. You were still furious that he had meddled in your head without permission. No one had permission to be in your head, it was your only safe place. But surely there had been a good reason.

Right?

“I don’t know,” you finally said softly.

The cold touch of Wednesday’s hand on your jaw sent a slight shiver down your spine. She pulled your jaw until you were looking at her, directly at her. Just her touch alone was enough to send your pulse skyrocketing, rushing loudly in your ears until it was all you could hear. It was humiliating.

Your gaze flickered down to her lips only once before she got the hint and pulled you into a kiss. It felt subdued, like she was holding something back. But it also felt gentle, like she was afraid she would break you. Maybe she would. You would have been okay with breaking if it was at her hand.

Her fingers tightened on your jaw, keeping you completely still. It told you everything you needed to know about her current mood; she was in control. She shifted in your arms, moving until she was straddling your lap. It hadn’t taken very long for you to realise it was one of her preferred positions, and you certainly weren’t complaining. As long as she was in your arms, you were happy.

Your own hands tightened around her waist when she nipped at your bottom lip. It was almost painful, but wonderfully so. A beautiful feeling that stopped all thoughts in your head and left you with nothing but ragged breath and a racing heart. There was nothing more you wanted than to just feel her-

“-We ask for anyone with knowledge of the crime to come forward.”

“For fuck’s sake,” you groaned when you heard Marcus’ voice.

Wednesday turned slightly to see the TV and frowned. “I don’t believe I turned on the news.”

“You didn’t,” you grumbled. One arm held her tightly around her waist while you shifted around, digging in the couch for the remote. That you had sat on. “But we really need to stop leaving this on the couch.”

“Malcolm's family is holding another vigil this weekend,” Kristi said. “We encourage you all to come and pay your respects to a brave man.”

“I think I remember him,” you mumbled as you continued to watch the screen.

Wednesday stayed silent. A stock photo of Malcolm appeared on the screen, dressed to the nines. Probably a work photo, you thought to yourself. His face was worn and old, and white, but you vaguely remembered him. Surely there had been one instance where you had met him. If Marcus knew him, then there was no doubt he had come to the house at least once.

Ah.

“Yeah,” you said with a nod of your head. “He brought me and Nicky some comic books one day when he came over to work on a case with dad.” The title tasted bitter in your mouth. “Told us if we stayed out of trouble, he would bring us some more.”

“Did you stay out of trouble?” Wednesday asked.

You scoffed. “Of course not.” She almost smiled. “We tried to throw the comics like frisbees and broke a vase.”

“So no more comics?” She asked with the most adorable smirk.

“No more anything,” you chuckled, “we were grounded for three weeks.”

“If you have any knowledge of the crime, please, report it to the police immediately,” Marcus said. Begged. It was nice to see him begging for once.

Make him beg some more.

“Are you alright?” Wednesday asked, her hand on your jaw pulling your face away from the TV and directly to her.

“Yeah,” you said as you focused on unclenching your jaw. “I’m okay.”

“Do you need anything?” She asked.

You leaned forward until you could kiss her, which she quickly reciprocated. It was answer enough.

The door of your apartment flew open right as your hands slipped under Wednesday’s shirt. You both turned to see Ash and Bianca walking in; Bianca’s shirt looked… familiar?

“Did you see the news?” Ash asked.

“Didn’t your momma teach you to knock?” You asked back.

“We have seen Y/N’s parents, yes,” Wednesday answered.

“No, they think they finally have a lead for those frat boys,” Bianca said.

Both of them came to sit on the couch, completely ignoring the fact that you still had your hands up Wednesday’s shirt. Your cheeks flushed when they sat beside you, but that embarrassment quickly turned to frustration. They had their own apartments for a reason.

“Why are you two together anyway?” You asked.

“Hush,” Ash said while Wednesday changed the channel to the local news station.

“The medical examiner has come to the conclusion that the wounds were inflicted by the claws of a werewolf,” the police chief said. “If any of you know of a werewolf that was present at the fraternity party on New Year’s Eve, please let officers know.”

“A werewolf?” You asked. “That doesn’t sound right.”

“It wasn’t even a full moon,” Wednesday said.

“Think they’re looking for a scapegoat?” Ash asked.

“Better keep a leash on Enid,” Bianca said. “They’ll look for any excuse to lock someone up.”

“Yeah they-” you stopped when you saw Ash’s fingers lock with Bianca’s. “-What’s that?”

All three girls looked at you before following your eyes.

“Um-”

“-Don’t get mad-”

“-What do you mean?”

All three of them looked guilty.

“Well,” Bianca said with a huff before standing up and pulling Ash with her, “that was all we had to show you.”

“Bye!” Ash called as they both rushed out of the apartment.

“Get back here!” You shouted. “I’m not done with you yet!”

They quickly shut the door behind them.

--------------------------------------

Taglist: @extinctspino @basichextechml @cfvgbhndun-new-blog @jinxscatbomb @awolfcsworld @suzhiman @gengen64 @eclipsesmoonshine14 @alexkolax @thenextdawn @cacciatricediartemide @cozwaenot @the-night-owl-blr @natashasapphic @elliesbabygirl @alilbitlesbian @rainbow-love4ever @audigay @bakugounuggets @myfturn @rockwyn @bigbadsofty07 @andsoigotabutterfly @smromanoff @notheoneforlove @karsonromanoff @elduster@mil0isvalid

—Just Last Lifetime

Please do not copy, repost, or translate my work anywhere else.

Pairing: Wednesday Addams x Fem!Reader/OFC

Summary: You didn't move after Tyler knocked you down, and it would've been over had Enid not come when she did. Wednesday stays beside your hospital bed diligently, hand tracing yours as she plans how to torture you for the rest of her life and how she looks forward to letting you plague her. But the moment you wake up, nothing will ever be the same again.

Warnings: Angst. Sad!Wednesday. DestinedToBeAlone!Wednesday. Amnesia. Flashbacks.

Masterlist | Library Blog | AO3

Reminder there's no taglist but you can follow my library blog for notifications 💘

Note: wondering if I've lost my touch on angst 🥹 so I hope this makes you all suffer <3 Part 2 will be out next Wednesday!

Count: ~4.6k

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷†⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

The smell of disinfecting spray, pine, and bleach filled Wednesday's noise. There are sounds of people briskly walking and doors sliding open and shut. A TV in the room is turned on at a low volume, meant to keep her distracted, but all she can focus on is that her chair is too squeaky. 

The taste of burnt coffee Enid brought her earlier has long been forgotten despite how it lingers on her tongue. 

Wednesday doesn't remember getting to the hospital. 

Well, she does—in bits and pieces. 

One moment, she was being strangled by Tyler in his hyde form, and the next, she was released, and you were on Tyler's back, arms wrapped around his large neck as you squeezed with everything you had and then some. 

But you were so small compared to Tyler, and the second he grabbed your arm and slung you around to face him, Wednesday knew it was over. He crushed your wrist, broke your elbow, and hung you like a ragdoll before whipping you into the nearest tree before Enid came and saved you both. 

Wednesday only briefly had a moment to check on you, to feel your weak pulse before she had to keep going, especially at Enid's wordless insistence that she would take care of you. 

And only because it was Enid that Wednesday left to take care of the rest of the job of killing Crackstone. 

It was only because it was Enid, who adored you nearly as much as Wednesday did, that she knew Tyler wouldn't be escaping mercifully, and Wednesday could go do what only she could do. 

But after that fight? After capturing Thornhill? Wednesday didn't stay to gloat. She turned and immediately returned to you, her heart feeling heavy, weighing her steps down when she found you exactly where she had left you.

Too scared, Enid said. She was too afraid to move you in case there was some serious damage. 

Wednesday doesn't remember the ambulance and the medics. She doesn't remember them carrying you on a stretcher into the vehicle. She does remember vaguely throwing out haunting threats if they didn't let her ride with you. 

Lucky, the doctor said. You were incredibly lucky that your gift of air manipulation softened the blow of your head against the tree, and you didn't die upon impact. 

Wednesday looks at you, how your head is wrapped around in bandages, and covers your eyes. The machines and tubes that are hooked up to you and assist in making your chest move up and down in almost too slow of breaths. She looks at the discoloration of the skin of your arms and legs and wants to scoff. 

Wednesday reaches out, her hand stopping just inches above yours. She hesitates, worried that even the weight of her small hands will hurt you. It's a familiar feeling she has now. 

Worry.

Consideration.

The depth of how she feels it is only meant for you.

Wednesday pulls her hand back, placing it back into her lap, where she holds her hands tightly together. 

It doesn't feel so lucky. 

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷†⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

Then.

"Why do you insist on following me?" Wednesday turned around, glaring at you while you came to a stop to avoid bumping into her. 

"Well," you tilted your head, smiling crookedly at the gloomy girl before you. "Why do you insist on being alone?"

It was already a bad sign that Wednesday was beginning to find the familiarity of your crooked smile something she wanted to keep for herself. 

Wednesday knew then that she should make you go away, that she should open her mouth and say the most horrific things that she knows could shred your heart and pride into nothing more than cuts of misery as a reminder you should stay away from her. 

But Wednesday didn't.  

"I'm meant to be alone," Wednesday warned you, Goody's words flashing through her mind as a warning—a condemnation. "I prefer to be alone."

"I don't think so," you shook your head. "I mean, I've followed you this far along. I think you've grown used to my presence."

"Growing used to something doesn't mean I'll miss it if it's gone."

You quirked your brow at Wednesday. "Do you want me to go then?"

Wednesday's eyes flickered away from your face, staring into nothing with her blank face before she looked back at you. 

Your crooked smile returned, and Wednesday clenched her jaw.

"No."

"Then, shall we continue on to investigate...wherever you're taking us?"

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷†⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

Now.

The days drift and bleed together. Wednesday is a girl used to strict routines. Still, she's finding something rotting about her monotonous day that starts with waking early, getting her hour of writing in the morning, and attending classes (because Weems has bargained her attendance in exchange for a car to take her to and from the hospital every day after class and whenever she wanted on the weekends), sitting in the hospital chair for hours by your bedside, returning home, playing the cello, and going to bed. 

The silence has never bothered Wednesday before, but the lack of your voice—the way you teased her and laughed—Wednesday wants it back. 

The bruising on your arms is fading into something that's an even more gruesome color. She knows it's a sign of healing, but Wednesday remains true to the fact she hates colors.

Wednesday lifts her hand, tracing the lines of your hand so faint and delicately. If those who knew her saw her now, they'd never be able to believe that she was capable of such gentleness. 

You don't flinch. You never do. 

Wednesday can't tell if she's hurting you or not, but you've always been too capable of hiding your feelings and thoughts—perhaps Wednesday never knew all along if she was hurting you. 

The irony of Enid's words calling her out for her callousness and disregard for others rings so true now. 

Wednesday closes her eyes. If she closes them long enough, she can almost hallucinate hearing your voice laugh weakly and telling her it's not as bad as it looks. 

Wednesday opens her eyes, staring back down at your too-still body. 

But it was. It was that bad.

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷†⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

Then.

"Did you fight with Enid?"

"That's none of your concern."

You laughed, and it sounded like the strings of her cello that carry during the late hours of the night. 

Wednesday worshipped the sound of her cello.

"Well, fair enough. I don't know why I asked since it's so clear from Enid's huffiness all day that you two clearly did fight. She's been ranting to Yoko and me non-stop that she's not returning to this room."

The words twinged in Wednesday's heart, plucking at its strings in an unfamiliar rhythm. 

"Good," Wednesday bit out anyway. "This room can finally look more dreary."

You smiled as you sat on Wednesday's bed while she sat at her desk. You hooked your feet at the legs of her chair and began to drag it until it was turned towards you before pulling her closer. 

Wednesday looked displeased, her lips pressed in a thin line, and her eyebrows knitted in uncompromising sternness. 

"Admit it, Wednesday," you said in a sing-song tone that Wednesday detested because you were about to say something ridiculous. "You feel alone, and it doesn't feel as good as you thought."

Your words pricked at her, but Wednesday remained stubborn. 

"Enid wasn't the only one in my company."

It was such a roundabout way of saying it; it made Wednesday want to roll her eyes into the back of her head and slice out her tongue.

You smiled wider. "I suppose not," you agreed with a conceding nod. Wednesday felt victorious, but the feeling was fleeting with your next words. "But every person is different and fills your life in an irreplaceable way. You must admit that Enid can't be replaced by another."

"And why must I admit that?" Wednesday glared, kicking your feet away from her chair. "I don't need Enid. I have Thing, and I have—" Wednesday's nose scrunched in displeasure. "You." 

You seemed adamant about shaking up her life ever since you entered it. Wednesday, particularly, was disturbed by the constant barrage of emotions you keep trying to drag her into. It was becoming a slippery slope. 

Wednesday's assault didn't seem to bother you as you kept your relaxed expression. 

"As flattering as it is to be the only person, with a body and head attached to my hand, that you need—"

"I didn't say I needed you."

"—You should make up with Enid. I know you miss her, Wednesday."

Wednesday said nothing. She wanted to spout curses at you and make you take back everything you were saying. So ridiculous. So...defeatingly correct.  

You grinned at her. 

"Surround yourself with people you appreciate, Wednesday. There's no way someone as lovely as you could be destined to be alone. Ravens are still known to feed with other flocks and play with the wolves, dogs, and otters."

"Did you just call me lovely?" Wednesday's lip curled in disgust.

You laughed. "Sorry, someone as hellishly morbid as you."

Wednesday let a rare smile slip. "Finally, a real compliment."

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷†⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

Now.

It's just another day, but Wednesday can admit it to herself now.

It's easy now when you're unaware of anything around yourself for Wednesday to admit she appreciates you—more than appreciates you. 

Your weeks of silence have given Wednesday plenty of time on what she'll say when you wake up. Declarations that you belong with her and her treacherous heart belongs to you, so you will do well to treasure it. There might be interrogations about how you've managed to do it, but Wednesday knows the answer, even as simple and stupid as it sounds.

Time.

It was merely just time and your consistency by her side that lured Wednesday to you. 

Wednesday's palm lies flat against yours, her fingers slide down yours until they shift slightly to the side, and then she's holding your limp hand. 

Inane.

Waiting for you was entirely ridiculous and foolish, but nothing could convince Wednesday to be elsewhere. For once, she's at a loss at what else she could do besides wait. 

Wednesday's eyes trail over your face, taking in your long lashes pressed against your cheeks like an everlasting kiss. She takes in the bridge of your nose and down to your lips. 

They've been a little dry since the nurses aren't attentive to such things, so Wednesday has taken it upon herself to occasionally apply chapstick to your lips. 

It's such an intimate gesture, one she'd know you'd appreciate. Yet, you were solely unaware of it. 

Wednesday rests her cheek on the back of your hand while she still holds it. Her eyes flutter shut as she mumbles into the quiet room, "Wake up, so I can tell you that everything I am is yours."

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷†⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

Then.

"I don't like him."

"Who?"

You gave Wednesday a look with your brow raised. "Tyler, obviously."

"You can join the queue," Wednesday looked uninterested in your words. "There seems to be a long line."

"Shouldn't that be an obvious sign that he sucks?" You sighed but kept your eyes on the barista. "Why do you keep spending time with him?"

"There are plenty of people that don't like me, and I find myself to be far superior to most people," Wednesday flipped the page of her book, not quite paying attention to you. 

You look back at Wednesday with a lopsided smile. "I don't think people dislike you, Wednesday. I think they're scared of you."

"As they should be."

You let out another sigh. "So, I guess there's no convincing you that you should stop spending time with Tyler?"

"Do you have any sound reason other than 'his vibes are off'?"

"I don't like the way he looks at you," you spouted off immediately, looking at Tyler again with a reproachful look he seemed unaware of.

Wednesday scoffed, looking up at you. "You sound jealous." 

The words were meant to make you back off. Wednesday imagined that you'd scoff back at her and deny it in a way that would secretly make Wednesday think about late at night.

But then you looked right back at Wednesday with such a serious look in your eyes that made Wednesday clutch her book tightly in caution. 

"I am."

Wednesday had no idea what to make of your blunt words, so she merely turned her attention back to her book, wishing her braids would cover her ears more as they burned. 

It didn't stop Wednesday from spending time with Tyler, but now she kept thinking about you each time she did.

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷†⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷ 

Now. 

Wednesday is at the vending machine, staring blankly at the snacks and drinks. Enid insisted that she should stretch her legs and sent Wednesday on a mission to grab snacks for everyone. The werewolf had shoved money into her hand and practically pushed Wednesday out the door. 

Her own reflection stares back at her, and Wednesday admits that she looks worse than she normally does. It's subtle, and perhaps no one but Enid could tell how her eyes are sunken in a little more than usual. Her braids are not completely symmetrical, and the air around her is stale. 

Wednesday's about to put the money given to her into the machine when the phone in her pocket vibrates non-stop. The sensation of it makes Wednesday grimace as she pulls it out. Her eyes roam quickly over the words before she turns around and takes off back to your room. 

The vending machine was two floors down, and Wednesday ran up the stairs instead of taking the excruciatingly slow elevator. She's by no means unfit in any way, but the anticipation makes her breathless as she enters your room. 

Everyone in the room is waiting with bated breath as you shift in your bed, the air suddenly moving around in the room and creating a slight breeze. 

There's a small groan from your lips, and Wednesday is immediately at your side, grasping your hand in hers. The sudden contact makes the breeze disappear as you settle back into stillness. Your eyes flutter a couple of times before they open blearily. 

The room's harsh light blinds you momentarily, and Wednesday immediately uses her other hand and places it just inches above your head to shield you from the direct light. 

You open your eyes more easily, letting things come into focus. Wednesday watches as you seem slightly confused, and Enid rushes to your side, her head popping into view along with Wednesday's hand. 

Your bedside was slightly propped up, but Enid moved to press the button to slowly recline you up further so that you could see everyone. 

"You're awake!" Enid is half-yelling, trying to keep quiet because Wednesday would kill her if her yelling disturbed you in any way, but unable to contain her excitement. "How are you feeling? Should we call the doctor? I think Yoko already did. Oh my god, you're finally awake. The bruising looks like it's gone away for the most part, but now that you're up, it should get better quickly!"

"Jesus, Sinclair," Bianca drawls with a half-scowl. "Give her some breathing room. She's already got Wednesday up in her space, protecting her from the light like a knight in gothic armor."

Enid turns to glare at Bianca, but Wednesday doesn't pay attention to any of it. Her eyes are focused on yours. Your eyes are looking everywhere in the room, looking uncomfortable. Your eyes finally drift to Wednesday, and while they're undoubtedly your eyes, Wednesday feels something amiss. 

It's you...but not. 

The moment you lock eyes with Wednesday, you finally seem to notice that she's holding your hand, and you pull it away awkwardly. The action makes Wednesday slowly pull both her hands back to herself. 

Dread fills her.

You wince a little at the light fully unobstructed, but you adjust. 

"Enid?" You sound confused as you look at the blonde with pink and blue streaks in her hair.

"Yes!" Enid smiles at you, and you smile back unsurely. 

"Am I at the hospital?" You ask slowly, wincing as you touch your head softly and feel the bandage.

"Yeah..." Enid purses her lips. "What's the last thing you remember?"

You blink at the question, silent as you consider your answer. 

"I...I don't know," you eventually say. "I think at the library? People were making such a racket about the news, and I was trying to get away from all the noise in the quad."

Enid's brows furrow at the answer. That was too vague to determine anything. 

You swallow, turning your head to look at Wednesday, who has no expression, and for once, she knows you can't tell what she's really feeling.

"Um...you're the new girl, right?" You fiddle with your blanket awkwardly. "Wednesday, I think? Enid was excited about you arriving, and she'd finally have a roommate."

The words she's been saving for you die in her throat, leaving something hollow for her to swallow down.

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷†⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷ 

Wednesday knew that the damage to your head was serious. However, she didn't think you'd lose a couple months' worth of your memories. 

Amnesia.

That's what the doctor said, but he couldn't determine whether you'd regain them. He seemed hopeful, and while your parents failed to show up and Weems stepped in as acting guardian, he spouted suggestions on how to help you regain them.

But then he also reiterated that it might not come back.

How utterly useless. 

You would be discharged in a few days, free to return to school, where you'd have to take it easy. 

Your roommate Yoko practically assigned herself to look after you since you'd be stuck in your dorm for a few days to fully recover. 

There was a moment when Enid was about to catch you up on everything, but Wednesday pulled her aside first. 

"Don't tell her about me," Wednesday orders.

"What?" Enid's jaw drops before she whisper-yells, "What do you mean?! I've been pulling my hair out for the last couple of months because of you two and you're finally about to get together and you want me to not tell her about it? It better be because you're going to."

Wednesday shakes her head. "She doesn't remember."

"Which is why we should tell her!" Enid is exasperated. 

"There's no point in telling her if she doesn't remember how she felt," Wednesday snaps back, trying to remain quiet. Her eyes peer past Enid's shoulder at you. You're talking with Yoko, staying cautious about Bianca and Xavier there but not saying anything about it. You look briefly at Wednesday as well, pursing your lips in what she thinks is a smile but can't really tell anymore. It's not a look you've given her before.

Wednesday looks back at Enid. "Just because she'll know doesn't mean she'll suddenly feel it again. The knowledge of it all might burden her instead, and I—" Wednesday clenches her jaw and fist tightly. "I don't want to risk that she'll feel burdened or obligated to me."

The words sting in a way Wednesday's not used to. 

There's no way for her to express to Enid that Wednesday wants you to know every possible way you love her. She wants you to feel it the way you forced her to. 

Despite Wednesday's extensive vocabulary, there are no words to describe the desperation that lingers under her skin, clawing around with desire with how she just wants you to look at her and know. 

Enid takes in her roommate's bitter expression and sighs, relenting. "Fine. I won't tell her exactly what went on between you two—not that I fully know anyhow. I'll just tell her that you were friends. That will at least explain why you're at the hospital."

Wednesday nods stiffly, and Enid lifts her hands towards the other girl's shoulder, hesitating briefly before placing her hand on Wednesday comfortingly. Wednesday allows it briefly before shrugging it away, and the two of them return to your bedside. 

You smile at Enid, eyes trailing over to Wednesday's curiously, and it brings her some comfort.

After all, everything started with your curiosity. 

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷†⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷ 

"So, we're friends?" You ask slowly, taking in Wednesday's stiff sitting posture. There was a distinctive space between the two of you, and you had your legs crossed, slanted away from her.

A couple of weeks have passed, and it was in the midst of winter. Despite Enid regaling the last couple of months to you, Wednesday hasn't had much opportunity to see you. In the same breath, you didn't seem to be seeking out Wednesday's company for answers, either.  

The only reason Wednesday was sitting with you now was because both Yoko and Enid were busy with their after-school activities, and you needed help going to the library to catch up on your studies. 

It became clear quickly that because you didn't remember getting closer to Bianca and Xavier, you were uncomfortable being alone with either of them. 

So, Wednesday was quick to volunteer despite you still remaining uncomfortable at the suggestion. 

"It's fine," Yoko reassured you. "Wednesday excels in all her classes and can definitely help you."

It had felt like a jagged knife slowly ripped across Wednesday's heart that you needed to be reassured to be alone with her. 

It feels like that cut was endlessly bleeding, unable to stitch itself back together while you remained ignorant about her, about yourself, about everything. This heart that Wednesday caged in for so long was finally free and yours…and you didn’t even want to hold it. 

"Yes," Wednesday confirms, despite how the words feel stale on her tongue. 

The library was, for the most part, empty, leaving the two of you with privacy. Wednesday was helping you catch up on assignments and going through lessons until you determined you needed a break. 

Now, you seem to be asking for answers nonchalantly, as if you were only asking because there happened to be an opportunity—not because you were interested in actually knowing. 

"We must've been pretty close if I was willing to tag along with you during these seemingly dangerous investigations, and even willing to take a hit for you," you comment thoughtfully as you consider what you've been told.

"I suppose," Wednesday bites out. 

"Did we do anything else than risk our lives together?" You ask, and Wednesday grips the pen she'd holding tighter. 

Sometimes—when you're not talking and focused on something else—it feels like nothing has changed. Or at least, Wednesday can pretend nothing changed. 

But it was moments like these, where you look at her like she's nothing but a stranger and ask these questions, that she becomes acutely aware that nothing has been the same since you woke up.

Wednesday takes a quiet deep breath before she answers. "We studied—like this. You often kept me company while I wrote or played my cello."

"Oh, those are pretty cool hobbies. And I just sat there?"

Wednesday nods. "Sometimes you'd paint Thing's nails."

"Thing?" Your brows furrowed in confusion. 

Wednesday closes her eyes and sighs.

"Sorry," you mumble. "It must be hard for you that I don't remember anything."

You sound genuinely sorry about it, but there's an underlying tone that suggests you feel sorry for Wednesday, not that you're aching to remember yourself. 

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷†⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷ 

Then.

"No investigating tonight."

Your voice was firm as you blocked Wednesday's way from the door. The goth girl raised her brow at you but said nothing as she waited for you to continue talking. 

"We have a test and a paper due tomorrow and I know you haven't started."

"I can finish it before you even finish showering," Wednesday drawled. "And I don't need to study. These classes are incredibly rudimentary, and I've learned it all before I even started attending school."

You rolled your eyes, but Wednesday caught you smiling with amusement. "Wonderful, Matilda. That means you can help me study and read over my paper then."

Wednesday narrowed her eyes at the nickname, but you were already walking inside her room, shutting the door behind you. 

"And if I say no?" 

You hummed in thought. "Then I'll hint at Xavier that you want him to ask you to hang out."

"You don't want to live anymore?" Wednesday threatened. 

"If you're going to be like that, I'll have to make it worth my while and tell him you've got feelings for him," you smiled.

"Feelings of aggravation," Wednesday muttered, dropping her backpack with a grunt and walking back to her desk. She looked at you pointedly, and you made your way over and set your things down.

"I imagine even your blunt rejection will make him think you're in denial," you laughed.

"You must want Xavier to die," Wednesday deadpanned. "You can simply ask me without making disturbing threats."

"I thought you liked threats," you smirked. 

"I'm both revolted and delighted by it," Wednesday admits with a sigh through her nose. "At the very least, delighted you know how to make them."

Wednesday pulled Enid's chair from her desk across the room and offered it to you. "Since you've decided to be a nuisance in my investigations tonight, we won't be done until you've gotten every single practice question correctly and I can be assured you'll be getting 100% on both your test and paper."

You grimaced slightly. "Why do I have a feeling I'm going to regret this?"

Wednesday smiled in a truly wicked way. "Let's begin."

Wednesday didn't say anything about how your calf rested against hers the entire night, and you said nothing about how she didn't move away once. 

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷†⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷ 

Now.

The days are passing by again, drifting and bleeding together. Instead of watching your motionless body and waiting for your recovery, Wednesday watches you walk about, carrying on with your life...without her. 

You seem fine if you have to spend time with Wednesday, but you don't seek her out on your own. It was becoming apparent you were uninterested in her. 

The knowledge of it is something Wednesday can't admit because it feels like abandonment. The idea of it has crescent-shaped dents pressed into her palms from clenching her fist so tightly.

You're content to spend your days laughing with Yoko at the cafeteria, finding comfort in the vampire as the only thing that seemed to remain consistent as your roommate and friend. 

"Don't give up," Enid encourages when she stands next to Wednesday, who is watching you from a distance. "She's just...anxious. She won't admit it, but she's scared. Everything around her has suddenly changed; the only thing that's remained the same is Yoko."

It was annoying. If anything, it should be a testament that Yoko experienced no growth during the hectic months.

"I'm not giving up," Wednesday said, unable to remove her eyes from you.

Wednesday can't give up on you. You've invested far too much time into her, and everything you've done to her is irreversible now. 

You're unaware of it, but Wednesday loves you...that wasn't going to suddenly change. 

And just as you've used time and consistency to lure Wednesday towards you, she would do the same. She just needed to jumpstart your brain into remembering. But even if you didn't, she just needed to redo it over again.

It was still possible. You were still hers, even if you didn’t know it. You had to be because the alternative—

"I'm not giving up," Wednesday reiterates. 

"What are you going to do?" Enid asks unsurely. 

A plan starts to formulate in Wednesday's head. 

"Recreate the memories."

Part 2 (5/17/2023)

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

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:5.5k

Natasha stood in the expansive training room of the Avengers' compound, her lean frame tense with anticipation. The room echoed with the sounds of her footsteps as she paced back and forth, her mind a whirlwind of confusion and frustration. Her heart pounded in her chest, a constant reminder of the void she felt within her, the absence of memories that should have been there.

Amnesia had stolen her past, leaving her adrift in a sea of uncertainty. The accident had taken so much from her—the memories of her wife, her two beloved children. Even with her love growing and her fierce protectiveness of the girls they were mere names to her now, their faces like faded photographs in an old album.

She knew you had tried to fill in the gaps, tried to help her remember the life you had built together. But your interactions had been strained, filled with tension and hostility. Natasha couldn't help but feel guilty for breaking your family, for being the cause of the fractures that ran deep within the once-solid foundation.

So she stands here, wishing she could force herself to remember, and still coming up short. She wipes a sheen of sweat from her forehead before dropping her hands. It’s so early here. Just barely reaching six a.m. and she’s been here for hours. She had pushed her body to its limits, even while still nursing the wounds and injuries sustained in that fateful car crash.

With a deep breath, Natasha stepped toward the training equipment, the scent of sweat and metal filling her nostrils. She felt the coolness of the room envelop her, the familiar sensation of anticipation settling over her like a second skin. Her body ached, a constant reminder of her physical limitations, but she ignored the pain, pushing herself harder, faster, and stronger.

As she began her routine, the world around her faded away, her focus narrowing to the rhythmic cadence of her movements. The weight of her past, the guilt that threatened to consume her, momentarily lifted as her muscles flexed and her body contorted with precision. Each punch, kick, and somersault was a testament to her resilience, a testament to the fighter she had always been.

At that moment, alone in the training room, Natasha found solace in the physicality of her training. The motion became her refuge, the only constant in a world that felt unfamiliar and foreign. With every step, every leap, she fought to reclaim her identity, to find the fragments of her past that remained buried within her subconscious.

Natasha’s fists clenched tightly as she executed a series of precise punches, her muscles flexing with each strike. Lost in her world of determination, she barely noticed Clint Barton's arrival in the training room.

Clint approached cautiously, waiting for a break in Natasha's relentless assault before calling out to her. "Hey, Nat, mind taking a breather for a sec?"

Startled, Natasha turned toward him, her chest heaving with exertion. "It’s the day after Christmas. Shouldn’t you be home?” She doesn’t seem the slightest bit phased that he’s here. 

“A friend called in a favor,” Clint shrugged. He stepped closer, concern etched on his face. "Just wanted to check in on you.”

Without a second thought, Natasha continues her punching against the bag.  

“How are you feeling?"

Natasha took a moment to catch her breath, wiping the sweat from her brow. She glanced at Clint, her gaze flickering with a mix of determination and frustration. “I’m fine,”

Clint's brow furrowed as he said bluntly. “Bullshit.”

"Y/n asked me to come back to the compound," Natasha admitted, her voice tinged with uncertainty. "She thinks it might help me regain my memories, and piece together who I used to be. Also, give her some space. I think things have been intense."

Clint's eyes softened with understanding. "That's a lot to take in, Nat. But maybe it's worth a shot. You've been through so much, and having familiar surroundings might trigger something."

Natasha sighed, her shoulders sagging. "I know. It's just... I feel guilty, Clint. I've broken our family."

Clint placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. "Nat, we all have our battles to fight. And while it's true that you're dealing with amnesia, you can't blame yourself for everything. I highly doubt it’s broken. You’re both better than that."

A flicker of gratitude flashed across Natasha's eyes as she absorbed Clint's words. "I hope so."

A mischievous smile tugged at the corners of Clint's lips. "We could all use a little downtime. How about we head to the bar after you've cooled down? It might be good for you to unwind."

“It’s six am,” Natasha shakes her head. “I’m also still nursing. I don’t know the mechanics of it. Lily needs it. I don’t want to taint it.”

“One cup won’t hurt,” Clint shrugs. Knowing Natasha won’t give in he tries for something else. “How bout a strong cup of coffee then?”

Natasha considered his suggestion for a moment, a small frown playing on her lips. "Just one."

Together, Clint and Natasha left the training room, walking side by side towards the kitchen, ready to engage in a little therapy session. Even if Natasha wasn’t in the mood to talk, she knew having Clint be a sounding board was better than nothing. 

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

Clint led Natasha to a quiet corner of the kitchen, away from the prying eyes and eager ears of the compound. He starts up the Keurig before grabbing two mugs for both of them. He settled into a chair opposite her, a serious expression on his face. Neither of them speaks for a while. They simply enjoy the other’s company. Clint knows how stubborn Natasha is. She won’t break first. 

“So, clearly things haven’t been going well since I last talked with you,” Clint clears his throat. 

Natasha's gaze dropped, her fingers tracing the rim of her glass. She took a deep breath, trying to gather her thoughts. "It's been... difficult," she admitted, her voice laced with frustration. "Losing my memories, seeing this family that’s supposed to be mine, it's like a constant voice telling me not to trust it."

Clint nodded, his eyes filled with empathy. "I get it, Nat. It's a lot to process, to suddenly have this person claiming to be such a significant part of your life. But have you been kind to y/n? Have you tried to see things from her perspective?"

Natasha's shoulders slumped as she shook her head. "No, I haven't. I've been distant, cold even. I can't shake the feeling that it's all a trap, a manipulation to exploit my vulnerability. My instincts as a spy are telling me to be cautious, to question everything." She murmurs. 

Clint leaned forward, his voice gentle but firm. "Nat, I understand your reservations, but remember, y/n has been here by your side since the accident. She’s supported you, cared for you, and loved you despite your memory loss. She deserves your kindness and consideration."

Natasha sighed, a mix of guilt and uncertainty washing over her. "I’m well aware." 

Clint placed a reassuring hand on Natasha's, his gaze filled with understanding. "It's not easy, Nat. But maybe it's time to give her a chance. Try to see her as the person she claims to be, the person who loves you unconditionally. You might find that your heart remembers what your mind cannot."

Natasha nodded slowly, a flicker of hope glimmering in her eyes. "When did you get so wise?” She tries to ease the pressure. At his serious face, she closes her eyes. “She won’t talk to me."

“Give it time,” Clint replied. 

Natasha sits with a torn expression on her face. She studies the liquid inside of her cup as if it would turn into something else. Something stronger. She’s been so conflicted and she doesn’t think it’s her place to ask these questions. Who better to ask them than Clint?

“She grew up with Hydra,” She says finally. Clint nods, though his expression has morphed into confusion. 

“You two are alike in a lot of ways,” He pushes his mug away. 

“Did they hurt her there?” She asks. Then she sharks her head as if to say forget it. It’s not truly her business to know. 

“If you’re asking what I think you’re asking then I don’t know,” Clint shifts in his chair. “She would never tell us. Not even the therapist. She’s secretive.” Clint looks at her to gauge her reaction. “I can’t imagine her time there was fun or easy. When they came back with us. They were weird. She and Wanda. I hate to describe it like that. She would wander the halls at night sometimes. She had nightmares. She and Wanda were practically joined at the hip. The only difference was Wanda was more open to the idea of a family. Which is a stretch. Y/n would only talk to her or you.”

“I thought we hated each other then?” Natasha raises a brow. 

“Like I said before,” Clint fiddles with his fingers. “When you weren’t sleeping together that might have been true. It’s hard to be mad at someone you’re with in that way.”

“Laura loves her,” Natasha says suddenly. 

“She’s the only girl you’ve ever brought home to us,” Clint reminds her. Besides Maria Hill, you are the only person Natasha’s ever felt the need to introduce people to. You’re the only person she’s ever bragged about. The only person she’s ever loved. She doesn’t even remember it. 

“She’s good with the girls and she’s kind.” Natasha lists. 

“She is,” Clint agrees. “You don’t have to convince yourself to love her.”

“What if I want to? What if I need to and I don’t know how?” Natasha’s hand trembles, her frustration growing. She drops them to her lap. “Everyone keeps telling me that we had this great love. I want to see it for myself. I almost hurt her, Clint.”

“You hit her?” Clint doesn’t want to accuse her of such a thing. 

“Course not,” Natasha frowns. “Doesn’t mean the alternative is any better. That’s not what a marriage is supposed to be.”

“We all make mistakes,” Clint says gently. 

“A mistake is if I forgot she asked me to pick up the milk,” Natasha becomes frustrated with herself. “A mistake is if I add a pink shirt to the wrong laundry piles. It’s not putting a knife to my wife’s throat and expecting her to accept my apology.”

“A knife?” Clint rubs a hand over his face. “Jesus, Nat.” 

“Tell me which apology speech fixes that,” Natasha leans back in her chair. 

“And have you?” Clint tilts his head. There’s a look of confusion on her face. “Have you tried apologizing? Talking to her? Or are you doing the thing where you keep pushing her away because you’re afraid? Things won't heal if you don’t do the work.”

Natasha looks away from him. She squares her jaw and shakes her head. 

“I did yesterday,” Natasha takes the empty mugs to carry over to the sink. Anything to keep her from seeing the disappointment in his eyes. “She’s not really receptive to it. I don’t blame her.” She sets the mugs into the near-empty sink. She turns back to Clint, folding her arms before she looks up at the ceiling to blink back tears. “She’s struggling with her magic. I can um, see the stress maybe, it’s bothering her. She takes anxiety pills.”

“Did you learn that from snooping?”

“No, she told me,” Natasha bites her lip. “I think she’s been using some sort of glamor this entire time. Her face the first day I was in the hospital had a few cuts and scrapes. A gash on her head covered by a bandage.” Natasha gestures. “ I didn’t really pay attention to her after that.” 

Clint listened intently as Natasha shared her concerns about your struggles with your magic. His brow furrowed, showing his genuine concern for the both of you. "Nat, I can see how torn you are. It's tough to be in a situation where you want to help but feel like you're causing the stress."

Natasha nodded, appreciating Clint's understanding. "I know, Clint. I want to support her, to help in any way I can. But I feel so new to relationships, especially with my memory loss. I'm navigating uncharted territory, and sometimes, I don't even know where to begin."

Clint's gaze softened, and he leaned closer, his voice filled with reassurance. “Relationships are all about growth and learning together. It's okay to feel unsure or make mistakes. What matters is that you're willing to try, communicate openly with y/n, and support each other through it all. Remember, love is a journey, not a destination."

“That’s the corniest yet loveliest thing I ever heard you say,” Natasha shakes her head. “I’ll try.” Natasha nods. Clint cracks a smile. That’s all he needed to hear. As they delved deeper into their conversation, discussing the intricacies of relationships and the importance of communication, their dialogue was suddenly interrupted by the entrance of Wanda. The air seemed to grow tense as Wanda made her way through the kitchen, her expression guarded and her eyes fixed on her own thoughts.

Silence hung in the air, unspoken tension threading its way through the room. Natasha glanced at Wanda, recognizing the loyalty she felt toward you. Understanding the unspoken dynamic, she kept her gaze lowered, allowing Wanda the space to express herself.

Clint, ever the mediator, attempted to break the heavy atmosphere with a random conversation starter. "Hey, Wanda, going out for a run?"

Wanda's lips twitched with a barely noticeable response, but it was clear she was intentionally ignoring Natasha. She busied herself with preparing a smoothie for herself, seemingly engrossed in the task at hand.

“Yep,” Wanda continues dumping frozen ingredients into the blender. “Usually, I would go with y/n while she’s here. She has the girls on her own today.” There’s a hidden undertone to her words. It doesn’t take long for Natasha to decipher them. 

Clint smiled, trying to lighten the atmosphere. "That sounds refreshing. Mind sharing the recipe for the smoothie with me? I could use some variety in my own morning routine."

Wanda hesitated for a moment, seemingly torn between engaging in conversation and maintaining her distance from Natasha. Eventually, she sighed softly and shrugged. "Sure, Clint. I'll give you the details later."

Natasha watched the interaction, her gaze shifting between Clint and Wanda. It was clear that Wanda was purposefully ignoring her. The realization stung, but Natasha understood the complexity of the situation. She was still a stranger to herself and to those who had once been her closest allies.

Silence settled over the room as Wanda finished blending her smoothie and grabbed a glass from the cabinet. She moved with calculated efficiency, her focus solely on her task. It became clear that Wanda was not perceptive of Natasha's presence or the emotions swirling within her.

Clint cast a sympathetic glance toward Natasha, silently acknowledging the tension in the room. 

As Wanda took a sip of her smoothie, she turned away, seemingly oblivious to the weight of the situation. The moment lingered, the unspoken words hanging in the air, a stark reminder of the fractures that still existed within their once unbreakable bond.

For now, Natasha would have to accept the distance and work towards rebuilding the connections that had been severed by her amnesia. She understood that healing would take time, patience, and understanding, not just from others but also from herself.

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

You settle onto the couch, carefully cradling Lily in your lap. The little one looks up at you with wide, innocent eyes, her chubby fingers reaching out for the hot dog you hold in your hand. She's learning to feed herself, and you can't help but smile at her determination.

Gently, you guide her tiny hand toward the hot dog, watching as she grasps it with a mix of excitement and concentration. Her face lights up with delight as she takes a tentative bite, a sprinkle of ketchup smearing across her cheek. You can't help but chuckle at the messy sight.

Meanwhile, Olivia is a whirlwind of energy, bouncing off the walls nearby. Her favorite show, Gracie's Corner, is playing on the TV, but her attention is split between the animated characters and the fascinating world she creates in her own imagination. Her laughter fills the air, a symphony of joy that echoes through the room.

As Lily continues to explore her newfound independence, you marvel at the way she's growing, the way she's starting to carve out her own path in the world. She may be small, but her determination is mighty. You lean in closer, gently wiping away the ketchup from her cheek with your thumb, earning a toothy grin in response.

Olivia suddenly pauses in her bouncing, her gaze shifting from the TV to her little sister. Curiosity shines in her eyes as she watches Lily clumsily handle her food. With an impish grin, Olivia abandons Gracie's Corner and bounds over to join you on the couch.

"Look, Lily!" Olivia exclaims, her voice filled with excitement. "I can eat hot dogs all by myself too!" She holds up her own hot dog, taking a big bite and mimicking Lily's messy eating style. You can't help but laugh at the adorable sight, your heart swelling with love for your two precious children.

You lean down and press a kiss to the top of Lily's head, then reach out to tousle Olivia's hair. "You're both amazing," you whisper, your voice filled with pride. As Lily sat in your lap, happily devouring her hot dog, Olivia's wide eyes scanned the room, searching for someone she dearly missed. Her tiny voice filled with innocence and curiosity, she tugged at your sleeve, her face filled with anticipation. "Mommy? Where's Mama?"

Your heart sank at Olivia's innocent question, the weight of the situation weighing heavily on your shoulders. You knew that Natasha's absence during the wake-up time hadn't gone unnoticed by the perceptive three-year-old. You took a deep breath, mustering a smile to mask your worries. "Mama's busy, sweetheart. She'll be here soon."

Olivia's brows furrowed, her young mind struggling to comprehend the tension in the room and the noticeable absence of her other parent. "Why Mama always busy? Why she not here like before?"

Your heart ached as you wrapped your arm around Olivia, pulling her close. "Oh, sweetie, Mama has some things she's working through right now. It's complicated, but she loves you very much. Sometimes people need a little time to figure things out."

Olivia's face scrunched up in confusion, her innocent eyes searching your face for answers. "But Mama always with us. Why not now?"

You swallowed the lump in your throat, wishing you had the perfect words to explain the situation to your young daughter. You gently brushed a hand through Olivia's hair, trying to offer some semblance of comfort. "It's hard to explain, love. Mama is going through something called amnesia, it means she can't remember things very well right now. But we're here for her, and we'll figure it out together."

Olivia's brows furrowed even deeper, her young mind grappling with the concept of amnesia. "Amnem-what?"

You chuckled softly, grateful for Olivia's innocence at that moment. "It's just a big word that means Mama's memory is a bit mixed up right now. I told you before. But don't worry, we're going to help her get better."

Olivia's eyes lit up with a glimmer of understanding, her young heart full of love and compassion. "I love Mama. I can help too!"

Your heart swelled with pride and gratitude for your caring and resilient daughter. You leaned in, planting a gentle kiss on Olivia's forehead. "You're such a good helper, my sweet Olivia. Mama will appreciate that more than you know." With Oliva asking questions now was a good time to talk about the big elephant in the room. At least for you. 

You took a deep breath, preparing yourself for the difficult conversation ahead. You pulled Olivia closer, gently stroking her hair as you spoke. "Olivia, sweetheart, Mama is going to be staying here at the compound for a little while, while we go back home to the city."

Olivia's eyes widened with a mix of confusion and disappointment. She clung to you, a hint of resistance in her voice. "But I want Mama to come home with us! Why does she have to stay here?"

Your heart sank at Olivia's response, the weight of your own frustration and sadness mingling with your attempts to explain. You tightened your embrace, trying to find the right words. "I know, love. It's hard to understand, but Mama needs some time and space to figure things out. She needs to be here for a little while, but we'll visit her often, I promise."

Olivia's lower lip trembled, tears welling up in her eyes. "But I want Mama to go home with me and my sister."

You fought back your own tears, desperately wishing Natasha would step up and handle these conversations herself. It pained you to be the one delivering the news, feeling the weight of both Olivia's disappointment and your own longing for things to be different. You rubbed Olivia’s back, your voice filled with a mix of frustration and sadness. "I know, my love. I wish Mama could do all those things too. But right now, this is what's best for her, and we have to support her."

Olivia's tears spilled over, her voice filled with a mix of defiance and sadness. "I don't like it,” She shook her head. “I don't like it at all."

Your heart shattered as you kissed Olivia's forehead, your own voice choked with emotion. "I know, Olivia. I don't like it either. Things will get better, I promise.” You know it could possibly be a false promise but you have hope. 

As you wiped away your own tears, the sound of footsteps echoed in the room, drawing your attention. Natasha entered, her presence immediately capturing Olivia's attention. Without hesitation, Olivia rushed towards her, tears streaming down her face. She threw her small arms around Natasha’s legs, seeking solace and comfort.

Confusion etched Natasha's face as she held Olivia tightly, her voice filled with concern. "Olivia, why are you crying? What's wrong?"

You watched the scene unfold, your heart breaking at the sight of your daughter's distress. You quickly composed yourself, hiding your tears behind a forced smile. "She's upset because I explained that you'll be staying at the compound for a little while, Natasha."

Natasha's brow furrowed in a mix of realization and remorse. She gently brushed Olivia's hair, her voice tender and filled with reassurance. "Oh, sweetheart, I'm so sorry for making you sad. But guess what? I promise that I'll come and get you every weekend. We'll have a special time together, just you, me, and Lily."

“And Mommy?” 

“And your Mommy if she wants to,” Natasha glances at you but you avoid her gaze. You want to believe those words. 

Olivia's tear-streaked face lit up with a glimmer of hope, her sobs beginning to subside. "Really, Mama? You promise?"

Natasha nodded, her eyes sparkling with sincerity. "I promise, my love. Every weekend, I'll be there to spend time with you, to read your stories, sing you lullabies, and tuck you in at night. You won't be alone, I promise."

Olivia's grip on Natasha tightened, her trust and love for her Mama shining through. She looked up at you, seeking confirmation, and you nodded, your voice filled with gratitude and relief. "That's right, Olivia. Mama is going to make sure she's there for you, no matter what. You'll always be loved and cared for."

As Natasha held Olivia, the weight of her absence and the impact it had on the family settled upon her. She made a silent vow to herself, to do whatever it took to be there for her children, to bridge the gap that her memory loss had created, and to rebuild the bond that was so precious to her.

You watched, your heart swelling with a mixture of emotions as Natasha comforted Olivia. You could only hope things turned out well for all of you. 

As Natasha held Olivia in her arms, the weight of their emotions began to subside, replaced by a glimmer of hope. It was at that moment that Lily slid from your lap and toddled over, a small piece of hotdog clutched in her tiny hand. With a gentle smile, Lily offered the morsel to Natasha, her eyes filled with innocence and acceptance.

Natasha's gaze shifted to Lily, her heart swelling with warmth. She accepted the shared hotdog, taking a bite and savoring the simple act of connection. Lily looked at Natasha and signed a few simple words, a gesture of love and inclusion that bridged the communication gap. The most prominent word is milk. 

“You only want one thing from me,” Natasha chuckles. “In a minute baby.” Natasha brushes a hand over her head. 

You watched the scene unfold, your heart brimming with a mixture of emotions. You observed Lily's small but significant efforts to engage with Natasha, silently appreciating your daughter's ability to bring comfort and ease the tension in the room. You didn't feel up to talking at that moment, but you found solace in witnessing the unspoken bond between Natasha and Lily.

Natasha met Lily's gaze, her eyes shimmering with gratitude and affection. She reached out, gently brushing her fingers against Lily's cheek, a silent acknowledgment of their connection. Lily beamed, her eyes sparkling with joy. 

Natasha could sense the lingering tension between herself and you, the weight of unspoken words and unaddressed emotions hanging in the air. She took a deep breath, gathering her courage to break through the barriers that had formed between you.

With Olivia in her arms and Lily happily occupied with her hotdog, Natasha stood to sit across from you, her voice gentle yet tinged with remorse. "Y/n I…” Natasha swallows thickly. “I want to try and make things right between us. I know I've caused a lot of pain, and I'm sorry. Can we... can we start fresh, for the girls' sake?"

Your posture remained stiff, your eyes guarded with a hint of regret. You hesitated for a moment before responding, your voice laced with a mix of vulnerability and caution. "Natasha, it's not that easy.” You could see her face fall. You would hate to completely shut her down. “We can’t talk about this in front of the girls.” You sigh. “We've been through so much, and your memory loss... it's complicated. I need time to process everything."

“I know,” Natasha nods. Natasha’s attempt at waving a white flag hadn’t gone unnoticed. You know her words are genuine. You could see a sliver of the woman you know peeking out but you’re still hurt. You’re still unsure about so many things. You may need a break more than her at this point in time. 

She could understand that. 

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

As the bitter wind swept through the air, you hurriedly strapped Lily into her car seat, the tiredness evident in the little girl's half-asleep demeanor. Olivia, full of excitement, bounced in her seat, ready for the journey back home. Meanwhile, Yelena packed her belongings into the trunk, unaware of the impending disappointment that awaited Olivia.

Olivia's anticipation quickly turned into confusion, then frustration, as she realized Natasha wasn't joining everyone. Her excitement gave way to an inconsolable tantrum, her little voice filled with tears and anger. "Mama! Mama, why isn't Mama coming with us? I want Mama!" she wailed, her distress echoing through the cold air.

Yelena's attention snapped to Olivia's outburst, her eyes widening with realization. She rushed over to the car, her voice filled with concern and anger. "What's going on?”

Your heart heavy with the weight of the situation, fought back tears as you tried to find the right words. "Olivia, sweetheart, Mama needs to stay at the compound for a little while longer. But she loves you both so much, and she'll always be here for you."

“When did this happen?” Yelena looks at Natasha with her nostrils flared. “What did you do?” She accused. 

Olivia's cries intensified, her frustration at the situation pouring out through her tears. Yelena's anger flared, her voice sharp and filled with protectiveness. "This isn't fair, y/n. Natasha should be here with us. She should be fighting for her family."

With determination,  Natasha approached the car, her breath visible in the frigid air, and knelt down beside Olivia's window. Despite her own emotional turmoil, she summoned a soft, reassuring smile.

"Olivia, my love, I'm here. I may not be able to go with you right now, but I promise, I will always be your Mama," Natasha's voice quivered with a mix of love and regret. "I'll visit you, we'll talk, and we'll make new memories together. You're my heart, and nothing will change that."

“Fuck that, you don’t think she knows that’s bullshit,” Yelena shoves Natasha slightly. 

“Hey, Yelena,” You warn. “Not right now.” You shake your head. You turn towards the backseat to console Olivia. You hate that this is what things have come to. 

As the bitter wind cut through the air, Yelena's anger flared as she forcefully pulled Natasha aside. Her hazel eyes, filled with a mix of frustration and concern, bore into Natasha's soul. Yelena's voice trembled with emotion as she began to speak, her words laced with the weight of their shared history.

"Natasha, do you even realize what you're throwing away? Our family... the love and bonds we've built together?" Yelena's voice quivered, her voice laced with a mixture of disappointment and desperation. "You have two incredible children who love you unconditionally, and y/n, who has stood by your side through everything. How can you let it all slip away?"

Natasha's heart ached as she listened to Yelena's heartfelt plea. She knew the truth in Yelena's words, and the pain of her own actions weighed heavily upon her. Her voice, tinged with regret and determination, echoed in the frigid air. "Yelena, I never wanted any of this. Losing my memories... it shattered my sense of self, my trust in everything, including the love I have for our family."

Yelena's anger softened, her eyes filled with a mix of understanding and empathy. She reached out, her hand finding its way to Natasha's shoulder, offering a touch of sisterly comfort. "Natasha, I get it. I can't even begin to understand the confusion and pain you must be going through. But you can't let it destroy what you built."

Tears welled up in Natasha's eyes as she nodded, her voice choked with emotion. "I don't want to lose them, Yelena. I want to fix this, to find a way back to them. I want to be the wife y/n deserves, the mother our girls need."

Yelena's grip tightened, her voice firm but filled with compassion. "Then fix it, Natasha. Fight for them, for us. You have the strength within you to overcome this. Remember who you were and the love that brought you here. Rebuild those memories, rebuild our family."

Natasha took a shuddering breath, her resolve growing stronger with each passing moment. 

“I don’t even know you that well.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Yelena shrugs. “Memories come and go. I’m your little sister. I’m not going to sit by and let you mess this up.”

Natasha nods. She looks back towards the car. With a heavy heart, she approached the car where you sat, your gaze fixed on the road ahead. The air between you was thick with unspoken words, the longing for something more palpable. Natasha swallowed the lump in her throat, reminding herself of the purpose of her visit.

She leaned in through the open window, her voice gentle but laced with regret. " I've packed some frozen breastmilk for Lily. It should last a few days. I'll be in contact, and I promise, I'll find a way to be there for them, even if I can't physically be here."

Your eyes flickered with a mix of gratitude and sadness, your voice a whisper in the stillness. "Thank you, Natasha. I appreciate it."

Silence settled between you, an unspoken ache lingering in the air. 

She took a step back, her voice filled with a quiet determination. "Thank you for listening earlier."

You met her gaze.  You nodded, their voice barely above a whisper. "It’s the least I could do. I believe you. Take care of yourself, Natasha.”

“You too,” Natasha nodded. 

As she pulled away from the car, her heart heavy with a mix of longing and determination, she felt a pang of sorrow. She watched as you started the car, giving her one last look, a silent goodbye. Yelena rolled her eyes before taking her spot in the front seat. She couldn’t believe any of this. 

The engine roared to life, and the car began to roll away, leaving Natasha standing alone in the cold. She hugged herself tightly, trying to ward off the chill that seeped through her bones. As the car faded into the distance, she took a deep breath, a silent vow echoing in her mind.

With her resolve broken, Natasha turned and made her way back toward the compound.