Legally Binded - Drabble (1)

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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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 - 5

Jenna Ortega x F!Reader

masterlist | series mast. | prev. part | next part

Chapter 5: Strobe Lights and a Strong Drink

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)

Note: Oof, what do you guys think? Thanks for reading and all the support guys!

Word Count: 6k+

Shit.

She kissed you.

She didn’t know why she kissed you.

Her fingers trembled even when you were gone minutes later. She brought the shaky fingers up to touch her burning lips, ignoring her sisters’ amused yet quizzical stares.

This whole week with you at her parents house has been nothing short of blissful. It was almost like domestic how you two acted around her family. Unspoken touches and longing stares.

She doesn’t know what to make of it.

All she knows is when she turned to wish you luck, her stomach churned at how delicately you were looking at her.

But before Jenna can think on it some more, her sisters are pulling her away to find a good spot for your performance; Mia, asking passersby which stage people had flocked to.

You didn’t tell her who you were performing with so they didn’t know where to go. Jenna had forgotten to ask.

“Do you know what time she’s going on stage?” Aliyah asks, holding the actress's hand firmly.

“No…” Jenna replied.

“Okay, do you at least know which stage?” Mia asked.

“No.”

“Do you guys ever talk or do you just share silent looks all day?” Mia sighs, fishing for her phone.

Jenna blushes. “I’ll text Link and ask.”

—

She’s buzzing with excitement but she’s impatient. It’s been two hours since you left her.

Jenna keeps sending texts asking when you are coming out to perform but of course, all you do is tease.

You: Stop being impatient, you’ll see soon ;)

Jenna isn’t sure if her suspicions are true but people around her are talking about a surprise guest for Metro Boomin’s set but she doesn’t remember having heard if you had worked with the producer before.

This could be the song you were working tirelessly over this last week.

“Do you think it’s Y/N?” Aliyah asks, peeking her head past the others in the crowd.

They can practically feel the excitement as the music pumps loudly through the gigantic stage.

“I’m not sure.” Jenna shouts, “This is a good set though!”

“Yeah!” Her sister agreed, pulling her to dance. 

The cheers get louder when the song finishes, setting up to transition to the next one; the crowd is amped with anticipation. 

“Everyone, give it up for The Weeknd!”

The crowd explodes as he comes out in an all-white jumpsuit and blacked-out sunglasses.

“Give it up  for Metro Boomin, Coachella!” He praises as he comes out; talking to the crowd as they cheer audibly.

Jenna feels disappointed that it wasn’t you but is still excited when she sees the familiar face. Her sister Mia is practically jumping in her spot, he's one of her favourite artists.

“Jen, come on!” Mia laughs, tugging her closer to the stage, smiling largely.

She fights the urge to pull out her phone and text you again.

10 minutes go by of The Weeknd performing and Jenna’s enjoying herself; forgetting about you for a moment as she dances with her sisters; taking pictures and videos; allowing the music to consume her.

The Weeknd performs well and the crowd is evidently loving him.

Eventually, the music quiets down and the singer starts speaking.

“Can we play some new shit for a second, Coachella?” The crowd screams, excited to be the first to hear a new song. “Alright… then make some noise for Y/N motherfucking L/N.”

A synthesized deep reverberating beat drops and strobe lights flash blindingly in Jenna's eyes making her squint as you ascend through a cloud of thick fog from backstage.

Her jaw drops.

When Jenna gets clear sight of you, she knew you were a sight to behold. "Wow..."

The outfit you are wearing hung off your figure so well and so tight that Jenna wouldn’t be surprised if she was drooling. The heeled boots paired with it give you height accentuating the rest of your clothes well. You changed your hair and makeup and suddenly she understands why everyone she has spoken to has been enamoured by you.

“Woah…” Aliyah trails off, in awe and then turns to her sister with an amused smirk watching her sister's comically enormous round eyes as she continued to stare at you.

You looked like a superstar on that stage.

At first, she thought Link called you that as a joke but as she watched you walk to centre stage, she understood why.

You start singing and Jenna thinks she can pass away now. She can barely hear you as the crowd starts freaking out when seeing you. A sea of phones are immediately pulled out to capture the rare moment of you on stage. Jenna feels like the ground is shaking as the crowd gets ridiculously noisier the longer you sang the unfamiliar words along with the melody.

The beat drops again and Jenna watches as you bounce around on stage with the largest smile plastered on your face as you expertly performed with the other singer.

That's when Jenna felt it.

She knew it then.

Fuck.

She’s so screwed.

—

“Thank you so much for having me Coachella! It's been such a blast!” The crowd screamed thunderously prompting you to painfully clutch your in-ears when you hear just how deafening the audience was now that the backing track wasn't playing.

“Oh shit,” You wince.

You feel loved as you look at the vast and far ocean of blinding lights. This feeling never gets old. It’s been a while since you’ve been on stage; taking a step back to focus on film. When your good friend asked you to do a surprise performance, there was no way you were going to say no.

“You killed it!” Abel laughs in your ear, planting a kiss on your cheek.

“Thanks!” You say bashfully, leaning into the embrace.

“Everyone, give it up for the King of Coachella and Metro Boomin!” You praise, pulling away to yell into the mic, smiling wide and large. 

For a hopeful moment, you scan the crowd, trying to find Jenna knowing she’s watching you somewhere.

Somehow, you spot her past the masses immediately. 

Like a moth to a flame, you find her through the faceless crowd. Jenna had her hands cupped around her mouth as she cheered for you, trying to peek her head above the others.  She drops her hands, landing back on the balls of her feet when you make eye contact and just smiled at you proudly.

As if time stops; you and her just stare at each other for a couple of seconds.

Longer than usual.

Longer than necessary for this PR relationship.

You have no doubts that videos of you and Jenna’s stare-off will be trending by tonight when you see people swinging their arms to pan between you and the other actress when they see your line of sight.

Briefly, you hear mutterings of people in the front row saying Jenna’s name and pointing; getting louder.

You blink, realizing where you were and wave goodbye one last time, steadily springing off stage — itching to get all the eyes off of you.

“That was great Y/N!” Link smiles, hugging you immediately. “Did you hear how loud the crowd was? Holy shit!”

“Thanks, Link… and yeah that was crazy.” You laughed appreciatively, the high of performing and having tens of thousands of eyes on you was starting its comedown. “Come on, I’m dying to get these boots off… no matter how pretty they are.”

“Don’t let your stylist hear that. She was excited about the boots — talked my ear off for 10 minutes.” He rolled his eyes, leading you to a tent backstage.

You follow him, ducking and nodding your head in appreciation as people cheer and compliment your performance.

“Yeah, she does that.” You chuckle.

“So what was that?” He asks lowly.

“What?”

“That kiss.” He looks at you sternly.

“Oh. I’m not sure. She just pulled me in.” You answer honestly, not really having the words to describe it yet.

You’ve been pulled left and right as you got ready for the performance.

“Can you sound anymore like a guy? Give me details how was it?” He leans in.

“I—I don’t know.”

“What do you mean I don’t know. She kissed you! That has to mean something! Maybe you two can finally say goodbye to all that weird silent pining you guys have going on.” He wrinkled his nose in memory of how often he caught the two of you staring into each other’s eyes or swinging hands as you walked in tandem.

The two of you are the very definition of oblivious.

“It’s not pining.”

“Call it whatever you want.”

You sigh, “I don’t really know what it means, Link. It’s just a kiss, it might not mean anything to her..”

“To her?” He takes special note.

You roll your eyes, swinging open the flap of the tent. “Yes for her.”

“What did it mean for you, then?” He turns his back to face the wall as you rapidly change.

“Why do you care so much? When was the last time you were on a date?” You huff; tugging the leather boots off your feet. “Did you try that dating app I told you about? I promise it won’t be like last time.”

“Don’t change the subject.” He growled deeply.

You’re no longer allowed to set him up on dates after that experience.

Huffing, you give in, “I’m not really sure what it meant to me, yet. It all happened so fast but… I don’t think I hated it.”

“Mhm.” You were like a toddler learning to walk. He had to slowly coax you as you learn to do things; like talk about your feelings. “So, what do you wanna do?”

“Do? Nothing, why would I do something?”

“God, you’re dense.”

“Dude!” You throw your hands up.

He rolls his eyes, “Yes, you should do something! Did you not see the way she was looking at you?” He asks confused. 

How did you not see how you two looked at each other?

“I–I, maybe. But I don’t wanna read into it.” You admit. 

“That look from her seemed like it meant something, I don’t know.”

“What? No way.” You wave off, despite your heart darting wildly in your chest at his words.

You don't want to get your hopes up.

“Dude, I’m this close to knocking you out. I don’t care who you are.” You hear his loud puff echo in the room. “Why is the thought of being with Jenna so bad to you? You guys are practically acting like you’re together – you’ve been sharing a bed with the girl when there’s a whole mansion here in the Valley for you. You even started doing chores around her parent’s house Y/N... In all my years of knowing you, you have never even turned on the dishwasher at home. Be honest with yourself for once, really.”

“How do you know about the chores?” You peek your head out the divider, sending him a confused look.

“Jenna… who else. We talk, you know.” He says, back still facing you.

“What do you guys talk about?” 

“None of your concern.”

You rolled your eyes, sighing out long and tired.

“We’re both so busy all the time, there’s no way it’ll work. Do you remember the last person I tried to date? I don’t want that with Jenna. ” Link shudders; he‘s had his fair share of close calls with filing a restraining order… given your history of flings and relationships.

“They’re all either psycho or it just ends up crashing in flames. I don’t want to have to show up at an award show and awkwardly smile at Jenna, pretending like I don’t know her. Or have a song or movie made about me.. again. I knew this PR stunt was bad news.” You shove your head in the t-shirt, feeling much more comfortable in the soft, loose fabric.

“Okay, you don't mean that. Don’t you think you’re –I don’t know–overthinking this a little? Also, I don’t see Jenna as the songwriting type. Maybe an essay about you?”

“Are you done?” You scoffed at the timing of his joke, stepping out from the wall divider. “Also, I think what I said was very reasonable.”

“I’m just saying, maybe she’s different.”

“I doubt it.” Much like your lyrics; you were just as much a pessimist.

But you know you’re lying — you felt instantly just how different she is from anyone you’ve ever met before.

You just didn’t know it could develop into… this.

Even through thousands of people, you managed to find her from that stage. 

Jenna has an omnipotent pull on you that was getting harder to evade.

Something tells you the harder you try to yank away, the tighter the leash will start to feel.

You hated feeling suffocated.

“Y/N.” He says disapprovingly. “You don’t mean that.”

“I don’t know, maybe I do.” You try to appear indifferent; looking away from your best friend to find the matching sweater to your pants.

“Hey. I’m serious. Don’t shut yourself out from the potential of something good just because you’re a little scared.”

“That’s not what I’m doing, Link.” You grow annoyed.

When were you going to get some time for yourself? Without someone questioning you or bombarding you?

"Really? Cause it sounds to me like you're a little scared. I mean, think about it. How different would it be if you two actually dated? Everyone already thinks you're together and you've already been travelling apart for work. Not to mention... you two already act like a couple. It's crazy that you don't see it."

"What?" You look at him bewildered. "No, we don't. It's all for the cameras."

"Dude, it's me. Who are you trying to bullshit? Even Enrique won't stop talking about you two. And you know that guy’s around Jenna all the time.”

You scoff, "That—that doesn't mean anything."

"Please, " He holds a hand up, "I can't handle this today, I'm clocking out. Jenna can deal with you now." Then turns and walks out of the tent.

You huff, not wanting to think about his words.

You could play the fool and say that you have no idea what he's talking about. But you see the longing glances from the other actress.

You pretended not to notice her stares when you were around her family this past week. When her dad was complaining about his car not starting so you offered to look at it for him; a chance for you to get to know her dad a little more (if people asked you, his constant silence still kinda scared you). Or when you were the only one who could get her niece to calm down after fussing that one afternoon. Or when you played basketball with her brother Marcus – trying desperately not to trash-talk and cuss out the young, competitive teen.

You get the point, she was always watching and you’re not dumb. You definitely see it; the little hairs on the back of your neck always stand when she’s near. Like your own version of Spidey-senses but with… Jenna. But that doesn't mean anything? 

The two of you are at her parent’s house – she’s bound to be around.

Maybe she was drunk? You did order some cocktails throughout the night and she’d begged you for a couple of sips — even offering to hold it for you when you saw some friendly faces amidst the crowd. You may have indulged her. Hey, she's drank before, you know she can handle her alcohol.

Yeah, that has to be it right? Just the high of the crowd and the buzz of a strong drink.

You certainly felt like you needed one if you had to face Jenna soon.

Walking over to the bottle of tequila gifted to you by the producer’s team, you pop the top off and grab a shot glass. You pour yourself a generous shot and immediately down it, wincing at the burn it leaves in your throat.

You pour another one and another one before you feel like you've had enough — you're taking too long in here.

"Hey, there you are!" Jenna's voice exclaimed behind you after the sound of a tarp being pulled open.

You turn, surprised, still holding the shot glass and bottle of Don Julio 1942.

She perks a brow up, amused. "Celebrating alone?"

"We live alone—"

"We die alone. Orson Welles. Somebody to Love." She cuts in.

"Snob." You laugh then turned and grabbed another glass. "Want one? I won't tell."

"Yes." Jenna grinned and walked closer. "Why does no one ever talk about the second part of that quote?"

"There's a second part?" You wrinkled your nose in confusion.

"Yeah, only through our love and friendship can we create the illusion for the moment that we're not alone." Jenna quotes, grabbing the shot you held out for her.

"Oh... that's sweet I guess." You place the bottle down, turning to her; ignoring the added meaning behind her words.

"Yeah, it's one of my favourite quotes." Jenna clinks glasses with you.

"Salud." You raise the glass, tap the table and then take the shot heartily.

"You're a dork." Jenna coughs out, wincing at the burn.

"It's customary, darling." You reply teasingly, pulling out a posh English accent.

Jenna laughs a little too hard at your joke, crinkling her nose. "Is that the Little Women accent?"

You blink, taken aback. "You've seen my movie?"

Jenna reddens. "Yeah..." coughing, "like five times. It got you an Oscar nomination."

"That's cute." You grin, heart practically leaping out of your chest.

"I thought I was supposed to find you?" You remembered.

“You were taking too long… and there’s a steady crowd waiting to congratulate you outside but... I wanted to be the first one.” She looks down, kicking the carpet with her booted toe. 

You grinned, “You liked it?”

She glanced up, laughing, “Liked it? You were amazing! The crowd was so loud, I definitely lost some of my hearing… I think my Mia and Aliyah might even want you as a sister instead.”

You laugh, shrugging. “Thank you, Jenna… but nah, I think the one they got is pretty cool too. They’re lucky to have you.”

She smiles up at you. And like earlier, you find yourself getting lost in her soft, kind eyes. You two have come a long way since that first meeting…

A part of you thinks, how it feels nice to have someone waiting for you backstage after a performance. Someone that doesn't work for you.

"Hey, so um— are we gonna talk about it?" You gain the courage to ask. Usually, you'd beat around the bush, hating confrontation. You're probably the first person to take a hike at the sign of an inconvenience. But this is Jenna.

Your Jenna.

She had kissed you.

Somethings you can brush off and forget, but not this. You find yourself not wanting to do so, so easily either. Something tells you that it's a memory that'll stick with you for a while, if not forever.

You could probably get Alzheimer's and you still won't forget you and Jenna under the strobe lights and rip-roaring crowd.

A tiny part of you held onto the hope that she’d say she meant it but you would never say that out loud.

"Yeah, I guess we should. Um— did you hate it?" She bit her lip in question.

"Did you?" You cowardly cop-out.

She rolls her eyes, smiling a bit but taking the bait and stepping closer to you. "Not really no..."

"Me too." You blurted and Jenna looks pleased.

"Good." Stepping closer. "Do you think, we can, I don’t know maybe do it again?" She whispers, looking up at you.

"Maybe..." You breathe out; arms stiff by your sides as she leans into your personal space.

"Maybe?" She cocks a coy brow, smirking. "You gonna make me work for it?"

She runs her fingers up your hands to your arm to your shoulder before resting them on your neck. A trail of goosebumps litters your skin.

You bit your lip, not missing how her eyes followed your movements. "I—uh,"

"What? Did I finally make you speechless?" She scrapes her nails against the back of your neck as her other hand rested on your stomach anchoring herself. "If I knew all it had to take was kissing you to shut you up I would've done it a long ti—"

You cut her gloating off, pushing your lips firmly to hers; tightly gripping her sheer button-down shirt. You pray a thousand blessings come to whoever bought this shirt for her because the way her skin burned through the fabric had you clutching her tighter than ever.

She groans against the sudden pressure but melts against you; pulling you down by the hand on your neck; kissing you back. Jenna tilts her head to the side, allowing you to slip your tongue past her lips and into her mouth.

When you traced your hand down her back relishing the way she shuddered under the touch — you made sure to stop and toy with the hook of her bra, just teasing before shamelessly moving your hand on her waist; lower than what should be considered modest for a second kiss.

But you don't care because Jenna is in your arms, kissing you back with the same intensity and for the first time, you feel all the tension between you and her fizzle away.

Like two teenagers who finally managed to find some time alone —she's slotting her leg in between yours making you flinch back.

"Mhmm. Jen not here." You mumble against her lips.

"Sorry, sorry. I got carried away." She blinks, unwrapping herself from you.

You laugh, tugging her closer. "I didn't say move."

Jenna gulps at your tone, feeling flushed. "Okay..."

"We should definitely talk about this though, right?" You sighed, leaning your head on top of hers. Jenna leans into your chest.

"Yeah probably. But this is nice too." She wraps her arms around your waist. She decides she likes the way the curves of your waist made a perfect mould for her arms to rest on.

She looks up, chin on your chest to link eyes. "Maybe it can wait until we're home? My sisters are still waiting outside..."

You look down at her, gently smiling. "Yeah, at home."

Your heart skips a beat.

"Okay." She pulls herself away; linking hands to tug you outside.

But she stops walking just before she can open the flap, promptly spinning on her toes and pulling you down to kiss you again. You only hear her satisfied sighs fanning against your skin.

Then she's pulling away too fast for your liking. "Now we can go."

You can't help but grin ear to ear at that.

—

“The Weeknd, really? I guessed him.” She grumbles from beside you as you two walk back to her sisters.

"I told you, he's a friend. We’re working on some of the soundtrack for his new HBO show." You chuckle, swinging your arm over her shoulder to link hands and tugging her close; wanting to feel closer to the young actress.

"The Idol?" She perks up, having heard about the show.

"Mhmm. Just the music." You hum and Jenna wants to laugh at how nonchalant you sound. How did you have time to do music, act and play your part in this PR relationship? "I composed the arrangement of the song."

"What? That's so cool, I actually want to get into composing." She mentions excitedly.

"You're gonna have to come by the studio sometime then, maybe I can show you a couple of things." You grin, eyes tinged with interest.

"Maybe... but don't change the subject, I guessed The Weeknd." She squeezes your hand, mulling over the idea.

"What do you want? A reward?" You chuckle.

"Yes." She mutters.

"Okay. What would you like? I have a lot to offer?" You say teasingly as you approach her sisters.

But Jenna doesn’t say anything, just takes her free hand and wraps it around your neck to pull you down; connecting your lips in another sensible kiss. You couldn’t fight the sigh that leaves your nose when you feel her tilt her head to the side; deepening the kiss.

Multiple bright flashes breaks your moment.

"Mia! Aliyah!" Jenna glares as they keep smiling.

"What?" Mia asks pretending to sound confused, "Oh shit, these are kinda cute, Jenna you might want this."

Jenna grumbles under her breath, embarrassed and tugged you along to stand a fair distance away from her sisters and closer to the stage.

"Send me those!" You manage to yell before she pulls you out of earshot.

"You two are a match made in heaven." She stands in front of you, leaning against your chest with your arms wrapped around her waist— like before you were pulled away from her to perform.

"Is that jealousy I hear, Ortega? I already told you, there's only one that I care enough to impress. You place your head over her shoulder tugging her close.

Not even the humid desert heat can keep you from wanting to feel closer to the other actress. Jenna seems to be just as comfortable as you so you don't pull away.

"Mhmm. Just checking." She traces a finger over the arm steadily wrapped around her midsection; sending shivers down your spine.

—

“A wedding dress?” You perk up, scanning yourself in the mirror. The Prada x Thom Browne custom gown made just for you made you feel like a Disney princess; hints of gothic design and golden tassels hung haphazardly on the train of dress as it’s still in its work-in-progress stage.

“Mhmm.” Your stylist mumbles, watching the fabric flow down your figure. “With its own flair, this is just the base of the dress. We’ll be adding more details to match the theme.”

“It’s stunning but why this?” You ask, twirling on the podium making the seamstress and tailor scowl beside you.

“To match Jenna, darling, what else for?” She says like you’re stupid — which in hindsight, you might be. But hey, it’s been a long week.

"What is she wearing?" You couldn't help but ask.

She snorts an obnoxious laugh, "Nice try sweetie. You'll see what she wears on the day. Thom would also kill me.”

"I thought you worked for me." You grumbled.

“Not for the Met — I don’t. I’ve seen that tiny girl’s wrath. I’ll deal with you over her.”

After Coachella weekend, there was no 'going home' and 'talking about it' with Jenna because you were already being pulled by Link in the other direction by the end of the night. Telling you about how you need to drive back to L.A. to pack for New York, once again.

Sometimes you felt like you were living most of your life on planes.

This meant you had to leave Jenna (and your dog with her) behind in California as you prepare for the annual fashion gala — where this year, you were tasked with the honour of co-hosting among a panel of other stars and Anna Wintour.

Jenna made sure to send you daily updates on their daily walks. You might have saved a couple of those photos… but as of the last few days, you hadn’t heard from the other actress.

"Now go, Link wants you back in your hotel room to go over your duties for the Met." She holds your hand as you step off the podium. The rest of your fashion team scattered off to their own respective corners; taking notes.

"Thank you, darling. It's always a pleasure to work with you." You say appreciatively.

"The pleasure is all mine." She kisses both of your cheeks before ushering you to a room to change.

—

“Hey, you gotta see this.” Link says as soon as you walk into your hotel suite.

“What is it now?” You ask, sliding in to see what he was looking at.

‘Y/N caught with cocaine? Rumours of a possible arrest. Will this be the end of this young star’s career?’

“How did they find out about the coke?” You grabbed the phone out of his hands, re-reading the article for a possible source.

“Not sure. But Liv has her suspicions. She said she’s looking into it and not to worry. Lawyers are saying they don’t have basis to charge you. Some people don’t believe it but you know, people love to stir shit up.” He watches your creased forward. “I wouldn’t worry about it.”

“How can I not worry about it? They’re drug allegations, lawyers are involved. Jake said that part wouldn’t get out to the press because they weren’t mine. He promised.” You give the phone back to him and start pacing the room.

“Hey, hey. Jake and Liv are handling it and Sarah is already in talks of tracking down whoever the possible source is.”

“Sarah… Sarah’s involved.” You mutter.

“Yeah? This kinda affects Jenna too.” He shrugs.

“Fuck. Fuck Jenna knows…” Your eyes widen in realization. Is this why she hasn’t reached out?

The two of you haven’t had time to talk these last few days. She’s been busy with her family and her Dior event while you’ve been on the East Coast prepping for the MET.

Does she know?

“I’m not sure. But if Sarah is involved. Good chances are… Jenna’s heard about it ‘cause she’s been warned.”

“Fuck.” You groan into your hands.

“Does Jenna not know?” Link asks confused.

“I don’t know what she knows, to be honest. I think she might have heard about the coke in the beginning but Jake and Liv made sure to keep that part under wraps. Only my drunken disorderly got out to the press. I–I’m not sure if Jenna ever knew it was true…”

“Y/N, it’s okay. It’s Jenna. I’m sure she’ll understand once you two get a chance to talk.” He places his hand on your shoulder.

“I don’t want to talk about that night, Jake. Especially not with her. It’s not exactly my best moment…”

“Well… I feel like she’s gonna have questions, regardless.” He walks off to the kitchen.

You head to your room to nap away the bad news you just got.

Met Gala duties can wait.

—

“You'll look great beside Jenna."

“Where is she, Enrique?” You tugged on the base of the dress.

“In her room.” He plainly answers, brushing down any wrinkles.

“Can I see her? I need to talk to her.”

His eyes flicker up to you, stopping his fretting. You don’t miss the slight judgment in his eyes. “No can do. She’s still getting ready.”

“I thought we were walking the carpet together?"

“You are. But you’ll see her when she’s done getting ready.”

“Are you mad at me or something?” You couldn’t help but ask, making your makeup artist stop for a moment.

He flicks a brow up, “It’s not my place to be mad at you. You should talk to Jenna.”

“What does that mean?” You furrow your brows.

“Like I said, just talk to her. She’ll be ready in a bit. Meet us on her floor.” Then he walks off

You sighed.

“You’re good to go, hun.” Your glam team confirms.

Eventually, your team trickles out one by one leaving you with a moment to yourself. Closing your eyes, you lean back against your chair and let out a heavy sigh.

You really wanted to talk to Jenna before tonight’s gala.

The news of your ‘possible arrest’ and ‘charges’ is abuzz all over the internet and social media.

It seems like whoever leaked that you were caught with coke made you public enemy number one on certain news outlets, once again.

But people on the internet have differing opinions. Some make fun of the situation, some defend you, and some are outright bashing you.

You’ve deactivated various social media’s, only keeping your Instagram to check on Jenna and her family’s posts from Coachella weekend, but your comments are limited.

The slew of hate you've been hit with from randoms is overwhelming despite you not caring about their thoughts on your life and the way you chose to live it.

There's only so much you can take when the first thing you read when you open social media is your name.

But, you’ve been so swamped with rehearsals and duties as a host that you couldn’t even greet the other actress when she landed. By the time you made it back to your hotel room in the dead of night, you didn’t feel you should disturb Jenna’s much-needed rest — knowing she’s a bit of an insomniac.

“Hey, I just got the okay. We’re good to go. We can meet Jenna.” Link pops his head through the door breaking you out of your thoughts.

You open your eyes, and sighed, taking your time to get up making Link raise his brow. “Hey, it’ll be okay.”

He reassures you once you stepped out of the door, holding the lavish train of your dress behind you.

“Yeah…” You mutter distantly, bunching your dress up with one hand to walk to the elevator.

When you make it to Jenna’s floor your hands begin to perspire. Enrique’s words from earlier ringing loudly in your ears, he definitely made it sound like Jenna was mad at you.

She was right, you do jump to conclusions.

You force yourself to take a calm, deep breath as you wait for her door to open; nervously tapping your high-heeled foot on the carpet.

When the door creaks open, your eyes are snapping to it immediately.

“Wow…” You do a double-take, with a wide-eyed goggle — taking a step back to admire her custom tuxedo dress.

“Thanks…” She tucks a hair behind her ear, glancing down shyly.

“Jenna… I mean it, you look— wow. I mean—“ You stutter embarrassingly. 

In all your ears as a performer, you have never been so tongue-tied. What is this girl doing to you?

Even Enrique couldn’t help but laugh behind her, easing the tension as Jenna just flicks an amused brow at you, despite her reddening cheeks.

Clearing your throat, attempting to hide your unabashed staring, “Sorry, I just mean— you look beautiful.”

“Thank you… so do you.” She muttered gingerly.

“You like it? It’s a little on the nose.” It was your turn to blush as you glanced between your outfit and hers — a bride and groom. You try not to put too much meaning on the implication.

“It was my idea, actually.” She admitted.

“Really?” You asked, surprised.

“Yeah,” She steps out, walking ahead of you. “It’ll be great for the press.”

That word was starting to grind your gears whenever it left her mouth.

You frowned as she walked further away.

"Can we talk? I need to tell you something." You slide in next to her.

Damn her and those heels.

"Not now, Y/N," Jenna whispers coldly, sparing you a warning look.

"It's important Jenn—"

"Y/N. I'm serious. Don't make things worse." She says with certainty that made you slightly afraid but knowing when to keep your mouth shut has never been your strong suit.

"You know... about the article." You trail off, unsure how you feel.

"Of course. I know, Y/N. God." She rolls her eyes and walks into the elevator.

You keep your head down and shove yourself into the opposite corner of the metal box; not wanting to be close to the other actress as you attempt to cool down.

She really believed a gossip article?

When the door opens, you couldn’t help but slide in beside her. “And you really believe it? Over me?”

She sighed, pulling you aside to a secluded corner and let both of your teams walk ahead; ignoring their prying eyes.

“I don’t know what to believe Y/N.”

You scoff, brows furrowing, “Me… believe me, Jenna.”

“How?” She says bluntly and you feel your heart drop at her tone and how sure she sounded about her accusations. 

You know you’re the farthest from a saint. Did what you do warrant this reaction from her? 

Maybe. 

But you felt like you should still be able to explain your side.

She takes your stunned silence as a prompt to keep talking.

“This is what you do. You run away from things until it catches up to you. We’ve spent the last few months by each other sides and you never brought up the—“She takes a deep breath, glancing around wearily, “Coke… so you tell me Y/N, what should I believe? ‘Cause it feels like you haven’t been upfront with me.”

“Upfront with you–” You laugh resentfully.

“Guys, we gotta go!” Link yells before you can give in to your rising anger.

I guess you know where you stand with her. 

“We—We’ll talk about it later,” Jenna sighs, hanging her head low as if she were tired.

Deep breath...

“Don’t bother. Point made."

“What was that?” Link asks, holding his elbow out for you to take as you walked away from the other actress.

“My answer.” You mumbled, bitterly.

Maybe she is just like the rest of them.

–

not even sorry about it…

(fun fact: my @ is a play-off of House of Balloons by The Weeknd)🫢

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—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)

movie night pt.v

Summary: Sam doesn't distrust you quite as much and Tara scares you. Guess that means it's time for them to meet the family.

Word Count: 6.4k Warnings: Excessive swearing, suggestive themes, Scream levels of violence/mentions of violence Pairing: Tara Carpenter x Reader (pt.i) (pt.ii) (pt.iii) (pt.iv) (pt.v)

“One more attack and I’m takin’ you to Mercy,” Aunt Sherry said as she finished cleaning the dried blood on your neck. “Conscious or not.”

“I understand,” you said quietly. You supposed after another 17 stitches, you couldn’t really argue with her.

“Your Ma never wanted this life for you,” she said, her hand resting on your shoulder.

You knew she meant well, but this conversation wasn’t helping. Clearly Ma never wanted this for you, she hadn’t even wanted it for herself and Pop. Trouble was always quick to follow your family, and you were more than adept at figuring out how to navigate it. This was a different obstacle, sure, but you were clever, you could make it work.

None of you had been taught how to keep others out of trouble, though.

“I’ll see you at Mass,” you said with a smile before hopping out of the ambulance for the second time in 24 hours.

Anika had already been rushed to the hospital. As far as you knew, they were confident she would pull through. Damn, she was one tough sonofabitch. You would need to make sure you sent flowers or chocolates or something. What would she even like? Maybe you should ask Mindy.

“Who knows where you live?” Sam asked once you shuffled your way to the group. All these Ghostface attacks were giving you major deja vu.

“No one,” you said when you stopped beside Tony. “Did you tell anyone?”

“Course not,” he scoffed, “I know the family rules.”

“Well he found out somehow,” Chad said.

“Well it wasn’t from us, smart guy,” Tony said defensively. “We don’t tell nobody where we live.”

“Only ones who know are Garret and the lot of you,” you said. “And I only called Tara.”

“And where is Garret?” Mindy asked as she held her now-bandaged arm.

“His dad’s house up in the Hamptons,” you said with a shrug. “Not gettin’ back till next weekend.”

“And you’re sure he’s up there?” Tara asked.

“Yes I’m sure, now quit with the interrogation,” you huffed. “Got enough of a headache as it is.”

Tara didn’t say anything but reached down and grabbed your hand, slotting her fingers between yours. You gave her hand a gentle squeeze. It was starting to become abundantly clear why she had kept her distance. Was this going to happen to anyone that got close to the Woodsboro gang? Because that was enough to have anyone on edge.

“So what now?” Tara asked.

“Chad and I are going to the hospital with Anika,” Mindy said softly, her eyes hazy.

“Quinn is already being escorted to the police station,” Sam said.

A phone rang.

Everyone’s eyes darted to Tony, who was already digging in his pocket for his phone. He pulled it out and showed you the screen, and you gulped. Oh god, this was so bad. You couldn’t do this again, you were barely holding it together as it was.

“Is it him?” Tara asked.

“Worse,” Tony said as he handed you the phone.

You watched it ring two more times before closing your eyes and answering it. The moment you held it up to your ear, you heard the static on the other end. It didn’t matter how tough you were, you weren’t prepared. Hell, nothing could have prepared you for it.

“Hey, Ma,” you said in the sweetest voice you could muster.

“If the two ‘a youse don’t get your sorry asses over here in the next 20 minutes, I’m chainin’ your ankles and throwin’ ya in the Hudson.”

“Just calm down-”

“-don’t you dare tell me to calm down, you don’t even call me to tell me about this bastard?”

You sighed. “No I don’t because you start actin’ like a wise guy!”

“Get your asses over here, Y/N.”

“Ma-”

“-Now.”

You exhaled through your nose and looked over at Tony. He mouthed a “sorry” before he shrugged. Lot of good he was. Sam and Tara were still looking at you with a mix of concern and… were they laughing?

“Can we bring two visitors?” You finally asked.

There was a bit of silence.

“Only if you follow the rules.”

“We will,” you said.

“Then yes.” A beat of silence. “And hurry.”

“Yes ma’am,” you said. “We’ll see you soon-”

-the call hung up and you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. Well, that went well. On the other hand, you had been on the receiving end of worse calls from your Ma. This honestly wasn’t all that bad, at least she didn’t curse your bloodline. Well, not that time.

“You threw me under the bus,” you mumbled as you handed the phone back to Tony.

“I ain’t puttin’ up with her rage,” he said even as he slid the phone back into his back pocket.

“What’s going on?” Sam asked.

“We’re goin’ somewhere safe,” you said. “Well. Safe for you.”

“She’s gonna kill ya,” Tony mumbled.

“Shut up, I know,” you mumbled back as you placed your hand on Tara’s lower back and started guiding her down the streets.

“Shouldn’t you make sure the police don’t need anything?” Tara asked, looking back at your crime-scene of an apartment building.

“Absolutely not,” you said, “they let this happen, they can do it on their own.”

You all bid goodbye to Chad and Mindy before everyone went silent as you and Tony led them through the streets of New York. It was late, the lights were blinding, and the grating sounds of sirens faded into the usual chaos. There was something comforting about it; you didn’t think you’d ever be able to live somewhere that was quiet. How Tara had managed to live in Woodsboro forever was beyond you.

But that didn’t mean you weren’t keeping an eye out for suspicious characters. Namely a certain motherfucker who had quickly moved to the top of your shit list. Oh if he just gave you the chance, you were going to make him pay. No way on God’s green earth were you going to let him get away with any of this bullshit.

“Where exactly are we going?” Sam asked when you took them into an unassuming bakery in the Bronx.

“Can’t tell you,” Tony said.

You made sure to wave at Chris when you walked by the counter and guided everyone through a back door. It was a bit suspicious, you wouldn’t lie. Come to think of it, you didn’t think your family had invited anyone over since… well, since Dicky had brought Carol over a few years ago, actually. Oh man, maybe you all needed to reconsider your rules.

“It’s not as sketchy as it seems,” you said when you turned to look at them. “But I need you both to close your eyes.”

“Excuse me?” Tara asked.

“I said it’s not as sketchy as it seems,” you huffed.

“I’m not letting you lead us into some back room,” Sam said with crossed arms.

“If you don’t close your eyes, I can’t take you in,” you said. “It’s family rules.”

“Really?” Tara asked.

“Yes,” you said with a nod. They both looked at you in silence. “I know how it sounds.”

“If we close our eyes will you quit floundering?” Tara asked. “You’re going to catch flies.”

“Shut up,” you grumbled. “Please just follow the rules, I’m tired of just standing here like a psycho.”

Sam and Tara shared a look, opposite of the one you shared with Tony. You both knew it was a bit sketchy, you knew. But when Ma and Pop made the rules, they made the rules. How were you supposed to argue? You weren’t, that’s how. Besides, if Ma and Pop found out you were breaking the rules they would have your heads.

“Fine,” Sam said with a sigh before closing her eyes. Tara quickly followed suit.

Both you and Tony shared a sigh before guiding the two girls through the back door. You each held on to them to make sure they didn’t trip over something as you took them down through a cellar and into one of the underground tunnels. Most people didn’t know about the tunnels under New York City, but your family had memorised them as if your lives depended on it.

Which, sometimes they did.

You took them through a dizzying amount of turns until you got to the door that led up to your house. If the family was smart, they would’ve locked it. And unfortunately for you, it was locked. Damn, you had hoped they would’ve lost their mind for a few seconds, you weren’t in the mood to dig around for the new location of the spare key.

The tip of your ear started to throb when you bent down to look for the key under the crate of bootleg whiskey.

“Found you,” you mumbled to yourself when your fingers brushed against the ridiculously oversized skeleton key.

“Can we open our eyes now?” Tara asked.

“No,” you said without hesitation. “We gotta get you inside first.”

“This is how people die in horror movies,” she continued while you shoved the skeleton key into the similarly oversized keyhole. “You know that, right?”

“Yes, Tara, I know that,” you bit back, finally pushing the door open. “Now come on.”

You held Tara’s hand tightly as you helped her up the stairs to your house. Well, it was your parents’ house, but that didn’t really matter. Only once you and Tony had brought both girls up to the living room did you finally pull them to a stop. The blood rushed in your ears. You hadn’t ever brought anyone home.

“Okay, you can open ‘em,” Tony said before you found your voice again.

Both girls opened their eyes slowly; you almost wanted to laugh at how wide they got when they looked around. Sure, maybe the brownstone was a bit extravagant. All the exploits of the past were on display; trophies, if you would. From the old paintings, to old newspaper clippings of heists, to the Tommy gun your great grandfather had owned before he passed down the mantle. You supposed it was a bit of a shock to the average person.

“Are you…” Sam trailed off before looking back at you. “Are you-”

“-yeah,” you said with a nod. “We’re Italian.”

“Y/N Vitale, you be nice to those girls.”

“Oh shit,” Tony said as the four of you turned around quickly.

Your eyes went wide - much like Sam’s and Tara’s - when you saw your Ma walking towards you with violence in her step. Oh, you were in trouble. You were in deep shit and no one was going to be able to save you. Maybe you should’ve just taken your chances with Ghostface; he scared you less than your mother.

“Hey Ma-”

-you were cut off by her harshly gripping your jaw and pulling you down until you were eye level with her. She twisted your head and looked at the injured ear you were sporting. Everyone flinched when your neck popped. What was one more injury in the long list of injuries you were starting to get?

She turned your head again until you could look her in the eyes. As much as you feared your Ma - respectfully, of course - you knew concern when you saw it. It never came off the way normal people did, but you knew it. It was in the crinkles around her eyes as they checked every inch of your skin.

“Are you ladies hurt?” Ma asked as she let go of your face. You rubbed your jaw as you straightened back up.

“No- um, no ma’am,” Sam stammered.

“We’re okay,” Tara followed.

“Good,” Ma said, turning to look at them and putting on her motherly smile that you certainly never got to see. “Then welcome home.”

“How come they get a welcome and I get a once-over?” You asked.

“Because they stayed safe and responsible and you didn’t,” Ma shot back. Tara snickered while Sam turned her head to hide a smile.

“As if that’s my fault,” you grumbled.

“And what did I say about tracking blood into my house?” Ma asked, raising her brows at you.

“I didn’t!” You argued. “But I’m sorry, they don’t let you grab clean clothes out of an active crime scene, Ma.”

“I’m talkin’ about your feet,” she said with a gesture down.

All five of you looked down at your feet, and you flinched when you saw the tracks you had left in the house. Adrenaline was one hell of a drug, you hadn’t even noticed you hadn’t grabbed shoes. But as you lifted one of your feet and checked the bottom, all the pain you had ignored came rushing to the surface.

Glass, dirt, and who knew what else was embedded in the skin. When you looked back, it seemed you had been leaving bloody footprints for who knew how long. Part of you figured you hadn’t tracked them through the Bronx, but you had most definitely tracked them through the tunnel. Damn. Pop was going to make you clean it all up.

“I put some spare clothes in the bathroom,” Ma said. “So get your raggedy ass upstairs and clean up before dinner.”

“Yes ma’am,” you muttered as your shoulders fell.

You ignored Tara’s barely-concealed laughter as you pushed past her to head upstairs to your bathroom. Well, you supposed technically it wasn’t your bathroom anymore, it was Ma’s, but she could suck your dick. The nerve of that woman, to call you raggedy. You were the perfect gentleman, it wasn’t your fault some psycho had decided to target you.

Just as Ma had said, she had left a folded set of clothes on the bathroom counter for you. It looked a little too formal if you were being honest, but beggars couldn’t be choosers. And you certainly couldn’t afford to be a chooser. Ma would have your head if she found out you had even thought about different clothes.

The stitches of your ever increasing wounds pulled tight, leaving a throbbing sensation around the jagged skin. Aunt Sherry had done a wonderful job, but that didn’t mean it didn’t hurt. In the end, you grabbed a pair of hair scissors and just cut your shirt off. It was old, torn, and blood soaked; you could get a new one.

You couldn’t take your eyes off the shirt as you managed to wriggle out of your sweats. Not all of that blood had been yours. Some of it had been Mindy’s, and a lot of it had been Anika’s.  Your friends’ blood was soaked into your shirt. Each breath you took felt laboured as you wallowed in the thought that the very thing that kept your friends alive was staining your shirt.

With a shake of your head, you put the thoughts aside. This wasn’t new, you had seen blood before, you were fine. One step at a time. Finish getting out of your clothes, start the shower, wash your feet. And the rest of the dried blood that was becoming itchy. Oh, Ma was gonna kill you for dirtying up her shower.

The water was steaming by the time you finally stepped in. You let out a hiss when it hit your skin, creating more than just a throb in your wounds. It stung, bad. But surely it would clean you right up, right? Sanitisation, yeah, that’s what it would be. You get clean and fight infection; two birds, one stone.

By the time you were down to your feet, you were sitting on the edge of the tub while the water fell on your back. Your hair dripped into your eyes and you were constantly trying to push it back so you could see. The pair of tweezers in your hands was slick from water and you just needed to get a few more pieces of glass out so you could finish up.

You weren’t looking at the door when you heard it open.

“I told your sorry ass I’d be out in a minute, this is delicate work,” you called out.

A small hand appeared in front of your face and, without lifting your head, you looked up to see Tara standing in front of you. She, too, had been given a spare set of clothing that looked a little too big. Whose shirt was she wearing anyway? Her hand never moved until you sighed and placed the tweezers on her palm.

“You’re shit at this,” she said as she knelt down and started looking for the few remaining pieces of glass.

“Don’t have to be good, just have to be effici- ouch.” She swatted your hand away when you went to stop her from hurting you again. “You’re so rough,” you grumbled.

“Don’t have to be gentle,” she said as she looked up at you, “just have to be efficient.”

“You’re so mean,” you whispered even as you shifted your position to ease a certain… uncomfortable feeling.

Maybe you liked when she was mean. Maybe you liked it a little too much. Oh god, your family was going to see how whipped you were for a girl you hadn’t even properly been on a date with. Bringing Tara to the house maybe wasn’t such a smart idea on your part.

“Do you have gauze?” She asked, setting the tweezers down in the sink so more blood than necessary wouldn’t get on the floor.

“Underneath the sink,” you said with a gesture of your head. “Got a whole first aid kit.”

You watched her as she got up and checked under the sink. It only took a moment, it was a giant metal kit, no one could miss it. In fact, when she brought it out it was almost bigger than she was. You bit the inside of your cheek so you wouldn’t laugh at her. If your body wasn’t at her mercy, you wouldn’t have been so polite.

She quickly dug around and got to work finding everything she needed before getting started. Her hands moved expertly as she started cleaning and bandaging your feet. If you hadn’t known any better, you would’ve guessed she had been a nurse in a past life. Unfortunately you did know better, and the scar on her hand just reminded you of how she knew so much.

“I never said thank you,” she said after she finished wrapping your left foot.

“For what?” You asked as you leaned back to turn the water off; you weren’t going to need it anymore.

“For saving Mindy and Anika,” she continued.

She wasn’t looking up at you. Quite the contrary, it was almost like she was avoiding your eyes. Why would she thank you for such a thing? It wasn’t like you were going to leave them behind to die. You weren’t always the sharpest tool in the shed - Ma made sure to remind you of that every now and then - but you weren’t that selfish.

“You don’t gotta thank me for that,” you said softly.

“I just did,” she said as she finished wrapping your right foot. “You’re done.”

You placed your feet on the ground and stood up slowly, easing your feet back into holding your weight. It hurt, ached even, but at least they were clean. How you hadn’t noticed the injuries before Ma, you had no idea. But quite frankly, Tara did a phenomenal job of wrapping them securely. 

“Hurry up and get dressed,” Tara ordered, and you looked up just in time to catch the towel she had thrown in your direction. “Your mom is torturing Sam by giving her a lecture on street safety.”

“You should’ve listened to it too,” you said, but you quickly started drying off. “You hippies can’t handle these streets.”

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me,” you said through gritted teeth as you pulled your pants up. It hurt your feet to be moving on them so much. “Notice your bunch weren’t even here for a few months before getting attacked.”

“And you know so much about street safety?” Tara asked. “The one who got shot at a protest?”

You hesitated. “Yeah, I do.”

You were facing the mirror as you started buttoning up your shirt, and you could see Tara staring at you with furrowed brows. Maybe you should’ve just kept your big trap shut. It wasn’t exactly the greatest time to be getting into backstory now, was it? No, it most certainly wasn’t.

“You didn’t get shot at a protest,” she said slowly. “Did you?”

You turned around as you finished tucking your shirt into your pants. “Sorry, doll,” you said with a smile, “only girlfriends get to know that information.” With a wink, you gently pushed past her and exited the bathroom.

“Oh you dick,” you heard her say even as she followed after you.

You waited at the bottom of the stairs before placing your hand on her lower back and guiding her through the brownstone to the dining room. Everyone’s obscenely loud voices reverberated off the brick walls. Seemed the whole family was invited for dinner. A little unusual considering it was a Thursday night, but given the circumstances it could be forgiven.

A wide variety of “hello”s deafened you when you and Tara walked into the dining room. Everyone was dressed well - the same dress shirt and pants as you, which was typical - and they had pulled out a few extra seats for Sam and Tara. Gale was sitting beside your Pop; she gave you a smile and a small wave, which you returned.

“Oy, Street Rat,” Mitch called, “be a good pup and show your girl to her seat.”

“Shut up,” you shot back, but nonetheless led Tara to one of the two empty seats next to each other.

Out of pure mercy, you let her sit between you and Sam so she wasn’t having to deal with any of the other family members. The others heckled you when you helped push her seat in. You could feel your cheeks heating up while you grumbled and plopped down in your own seat, refusing to look up at any of them.

“Quiet,” Pop said, and the room immediately fell silent. “Who’s gonna say grace?”

“Can’t be me,” Joel said with a shrug. “He clearly don’t listen cause Y/N is still here.”

“You really wanna be a wise guy tonight?” You asked. “Cause I still got a lot of pent up anger.”

“Enough,” Ma said quietly, but you all listened. “I’ll say grace.”

"Yes, Ma," everyone said in unison.

"Bow your heads," she said, and everyone slowly did as instructed.

You cheated a little bit. While Ma was saying grace, blessing the food and yours and the Carpenters' lives, you looked at Tara out of the corner of your eye. If you looked a little harder you almost thought you could see a flush on her cheeks. For what, you had no idea, but you made the split decision to reach over and take her hand.

She linked her fingers with yours right before Ma finished.

"Amen," each person said before all normal talk resumed.

You helped Tara and Sam get their food, making sure everyone behaved. They did, they all knew the family rules, but the Carpenters didn't and you knew the lot of you could be… a little chaotic. Eight kids, two parents, sometimes the spouses and nieces and nephews. Lucky for the girls, it was only the immediate family.

"Oy, show me the ear," Dicky said right as you tried to start eating.

"So you can point and laugh?" You asked. "No way."

"I just wanna see," he said.

"I got it," Alfie said around a mouthful of food.

The look on Tara's and Sam's faces was comical when Alfie reached across the table, gripped your jaw, and turned your head. You did your best to smile at the two of them to let them know it was normal, but they didn't seem to believe you. If anything, it almost made Tara look a little frustrated. Maybe even angry.

"That's it?" Dicky asked when you snapped at Alfie and he let you go. "All that hubbub for that?"

"What do you mean?" You asked. "I got a notch outta my ear, I was gonna get that part pierced."

"All he's sayin' is you took on Ghostface twice, and that's what you walk away with?" Joel butted in. "Pass the salt, wouldya?"

"It's more than you ever walked away with," Martha defended you. "Don't listen to a word he says."

"The two 'a youse walk away with any cool scars?" Mitch asked, turning to look at Sam and Tara.

You could see them squirm in their seats.

"Watch it-"

"-fuck off-"

"-none of your business." Martha, you, and Mercy all said at the same time.

You felt Tara squeeze your hand once.

“Hey Street Rat, you down to make a run for me?” Dicky asked.

You didn’t bother swallowing before you answered. “I’m kinda in the middle of somethin’ this week.”

“I didn’t mean this second, jackass.”

You glared at him and swiped your tongue over your bottom teeth. “Sure,” you finally said with a shrug, “just give me a week and I’ll be back in action.”

"So," Sam started, wiping her mouth off on the napkin before looking around the table. “What do you all do for a living?”

“Accounting,” every single one of you said at the same time. Pop squeezed the bridge of his eyes as you all looked at each other sheepishly.

“All of you?” Sam asked.

“Mercy’s a doctor,” Tony chimed in.

“Accounting’s a family business,” Dicky said with a gentle nod.

“Right,” Sam said with her own nod and a polite smile. Something told you she didn’t exactly believe him.

Conversation continued as normal, with everyone talking over each other. Thankfully, they all started asking Sam and Tara normal questions, and you could visibly see them start to relax. You wondered when the last time was that they had a family dinner. Not including Chad and Mindy; they were family, but they weren’t family. There was a bit of a difference.

“Ladies,” Pop said once Ma had brought out the cannoli. Everyone froze, only their eyes moving between him and the Carpenters. “It’s been a pleasure to have you, but there’s something I need to talk to you about.”

The girls stiffened in their seats, and Tara squeezed your hand again. You tried to give Pop a look that said to calm down, but he wasn’t even looking at you. His eyes were trained on Sam and Tara, and you couldn’t blame him. Hell, you didn’t know when non-family had been over last. Hopefully he was going to behave.

“You might not understand the gravity of this statement, but Vitale blood has been spilled for you two,” he said as he leaned back in his chair, his hands folded in front of him on the table.

“Oh brother,” you whispered.

Tara looked at you and you shook your head lightly and rolled your eyes. This was going to be ridiculous.

“One of us,” everyone looked at you, “felt you were worth dyin’ for.” You sighed. “We don’t take that lightly.”

“We greatly appreciate it-”

“-we have a family rule,” he interrupted Sam. “If one of us voluntarily spills blood for someone, we all follow suit.” He leaned forward on the table and waited until both Sam and Tara were looking him in the eye. “We’ll put that Ghostface character at the bottom of the Hudson.”

“Tone it down a smidge,” you whispered and gestured down with your hand.

Pop opened his mouth and closed it once. “We’ll, uh, protect you with our lives.” You gestured again. “Welcome… to the family?”

“Better,” you whispered with a scrunch of your nose that was followed by a gentle smile.

“We really do appreciate it,” Tara said.

“It’s nice to know we have, um,” Sam inhaled deeply and looked around, “Italians on our side.”

“Atta girl,” Mercy said.

“You catch on quick,” Martha agreed.

Dinner finished soon after, and everyone went about collecting the dishes and cleaning. Martha, in all her pregnant glory, kept Sam and Tara at the table, talking their ears off. At one point, you took the still-full coffee cups from in front of them and heard her talking about… something. You weren’t entirely sure, you just knew the word “family” was being thrown around a lot.

Tara looked at you and mouthed “help me.” You just smiled, shook your head, and mouthed “no” in return. The glare she gave you… it was no question she and Sam were related, they both had killer eyes. Tara’s were particularly beautiful at that moment though, did she know that? They almost reminded you of a warm hazelnut-

“-You’d best keep movin’,” Martha said. She was watching you with a ridiculous smirk. “She’s got a look that could kill.”

“Would you like some tiramisu?” You asked. Tara’s eyes softened, and you couldn’t help but smile back.

“Yes please,” she said.

“I’ll go get it.”

“You’re whipped!” Dicky called from the kitchen before you could even stand up straight.

“Give it a few days, Dick,” Joel said as he leaned on the doorframe. “Tara’ll have ‘em on a leash.”

“Shut up,” you shot back as you pushed past them to get into the kitchen. “It’s called bein’ polite.” You carefully plated the tiramisu. “Somethin’ you clearly know nothin’ about.”

“Seems our little Street Rat’s turnin’ into a Guard Dog,” Mitch chimed in, seemingly coming out of nowhere. Your family really came out of the woodworks, they did.

“Next time Ghostface calls, I’m givin’ him your address,” you said as you walked back into the dining room and placed the plate down in front of Tara. And Sam, you had made her a plate too.

Maybe you were whipped.

“Do it,” Dicky said. “Matter ‘a fact, give him my phone number too, he and I need to have a talk.” He crossed his arms over his chest. “I don’t tolerate that shit on my turf.”

“That’s enough,” Pop said, and everyone quickly shut up. “Go home, the lot of ya.” He looked down at Sam and Tara. “We’ve got beds made up for the both of you.”

“Thank you,” they both said with polite smiles.

“Gale stayin’ tonight too?” You asked.

And just like that, she came in at the mention of her name. Speak of the devil.

“Yes I am,” she said with a smile. “I have something I want to show you three tomorrow when it’s day time.”

“What did you find?” Tara asked quickly.

“We’ll have more time tomorrow,” Gale answered. You watched as Tara slumped back in her seat in defeat.

Everyone finished cleaning up their stuff and started leaving the brownstone. You could see the gears turning in Tara’s head when they all left through the front door, but you shook your head at her. It wasn’t something she needed to know at the moment. It was late, dark, and everyone just needed to get some sleep. If she really wanted to know more later, you would tell her.

Probably.

“She gonna have you in a muzzle next time I see you?” Joel asked as he blocked the doorway.

“Keep movin’,” Tony said as he pushed Joel out. “Call me if ya need somethin’,” he said to you with a smile.

“You got it,” you answered. “Now get out, I’m exhausted.”

Mercy gave you a kiss on the cheek and Martha gave Sam and Tara hugs, but then everyone was gone. You were left with the Carpenters, Gale, and your parents. It was… disturbingly quiet, if you were being honest. You almost missed the chaos of having everyone over. Well, you would see them all at Mass, it would be fine.

“All of you get upstairs and get to bed,” Ma said with a gentle nod of her head. “It’s late and I know you all must be tired.”

“Come on, Sam,” Gale said with a gesture, “I’ll show you to your room.”

“Good night,” Sam said with a polite smile and wave. A chorus of “good nights” followed her as she similarly followed Gale upstairs.

“Tara sweetie, you can sleep in Y/N’s bed,” Ma said before looking at you. “I made you a pallet on your floor.”

“Thanks, Ma,” you said, leaning in to leave a kiss on her cheek. “Good night, you two.” You leaned over to give Pop a kiss on the cheek as well.

“Good night,” Tara said with her own small wave.

You placed your hand on Tara’s lower back as you gently pushed her in front of you up the stairs. Unfortunately for you, your room was right beside the two guest rooms that everyone else was staying in. Not that you necessarily had anything planned, but even if you did, you wouldn’t dare risk Sam or Gale hearing you.

Sometimes life was rather cruel.

“She left you some pyjamas on the bed,” you said once you showed Tara into your room. “Bathroom is down the hall, we’ve got spare toothbrushes in the top left drawer.”

“Thanks,” Tara said softly.

You watched as she grabbed the pyjamas and promptly exited the room, leaving you alone for the first time since your shower. And now that you were alone, you could feel all the wear and tear of the past two days weighing heavy on you. Anika was still in the hospital. Was she even alive? Surely she was, someone would have let you know, right? Or they at least would have let Sam or Tara know.

And what about Quinn? She would be safe at the police station, you knew that much. They didn’t care for anyone else in the city, but they did care for their own. There was no way in hell they would let anything happen to a Detective’s daughter, especially when that daughter was Quinn. No, Quinn was safe.

Chad and Mindy were safe at the hospital with Anika. There was no doubt about it. Your family had people up there, and Pop had already said he told them to stay close and keep their eyes out. They would die before they let anything happen to those three, so they were actually safer than any of you.

When Tara came back into the room, looking mighty adorable in the oversized t-shirt and sleep pants, you gave her a smile and made your own way to the bathroom. You needed to get out of those clothes pronto before you lost your goddamn mind. The clothes were comfortable, but you were starting to feel constricted.

You left your toothbrush hanging out of the side of your mouth as you unbuttoned the shirt. Each inch lower revealed still-forming bruises and the few bouts of stitches. With a grimace, you finally let the shirt fall to the floor. You didn’t mind scars, really you didn’t, but you hadn’t wanted to get them this way.

Maybe that’s how Tara feels too, you thought with a frown as you finished brushing your teeth and cleaning up. You hadn’t entirely planned for it, but you had known it was a possibility. But Tara? She hadn’t had any idea. And it had all been done by her girlfriend’s hand. What kind of havoc did that wreak on a person’s mind?

You were still thinking about Tara and Amber when you walked back into your room. Tara was already on the bed, her back to you. The door closed with a soft *click* and you turned the light off before plodding over to the pallet. There was an art to pallet making, and your family had perfected it. But as you laid down on the floor and tried to pull the blanket up to your chin, your injuries started to throb and sting.

It wasn’t going to be the floor that kept you awake all night.

There was no way you could lay on your right side, you had that cut on your hip and your right ear was missing a piece. But you couldn’t lay on your left side either because you had that cut on your bicep. Maybe if you tried to lay on your front- nope, not that either. If you had to sleep sitting up, so help you god, you were going to snap-

-something shuffled on your bed, and you quickly stilled yourself. Shit, you hadn’t meant to wake Tara. You were practically holding your breath as the shuffling continued, but then you heard the creak of the bed and someone walking across the room. It was dark, but you didn’t have to use anything more than common sense to know it was Tara who was lifting your blanket and crawling into the pallet with you.

“Not a word,” she said softly as she carefully wrapped an arm around your waist and rested her head on your shoulder.

It hurt. You would rather die than tell her that. Instead, you just pulled her closer and tried not to shift when her fingers rubbed the skin on your hip. It was obsessive, incessant, and it was almost becoming uncomfortable. But you weren’t going to tell her to stop, not when something was clearly on her mind.

“I’m sorry you got dragged into all of this,” Tara said softly.

“I’ve been dragged into worse situations,” you said flippantly. “And never by a pretty girl.”

“Don’t get yourself killed,” she said, almost as if she hadn’t heard what you had just said.

“I don’t plan on it, sweetheart,” you chuckled.

Her hand left your hip and you felt her grab your chin and turn your head. You couldn’t really see her, not properly at least, but you knew she was looking at you. Studying you for something; you wouldn’t pretend to know what. It strained your neck, but you kept your mouth shut.

You felt her pull your face down until her lips were on yours. Soft but firm. It wasn’t a kiss that was going to lead anywhere, she wasn’t trying to move any further. But judging by the way her bottom lip quivered, you knew it was important. You held her tighter to you until she pulled back and let go of your jaw, resting her head back on your shoulder.

“That didn’t mean anything,” Tara said softly.

“I know,” you said with a nod of your head that no one could see.

You both knew she was lying; you still fell asleep easily.

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

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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.