Everyone But Her Pt.32

everyone but her pt.32

Summary: With their freshman year of college out of the way and an entire apartment building bought by the Addamses, it's time for year two. Oh boy.

Word Count: 4.3k Warnings: mentions of murder, mentions of blood, swearing, allusions to abuse Pairing: Wednesday Addams x Reader (everyone but her Masterlist)

“Your parents need to quit buying everything,” you grumbled as you fell down onto the couch. “It’s making me feel bad.”

“They simply bought a new mattress,” Wednesday said from her spot at the typewriter.

“Yeah, they did,” you said. “After they bought the entire apartment building.”

She kept silent, but she knew you were right. Once they hadn’t been required to stay on campus, the Addamses had decided it would be most beneficial to take over an apartment building not too far from campus. And wouldn’t you know it, there was just enough space for the entire group, including Joel and Ash.

“It’s how they show their affection,” she finally said, her fingers returning to the keys of the typewriter.

“They need to quit,” you grumbled again but otherwise fell silent.

Wednesday would admit, she saw nothing wrong with the gift, but she could see how you did. She had learned a lot about “love languages” from Bianca over the past few weeks, and yours was not gift giving. Ash had said it made you uncomfortable because you felt the need to pay back everything you were given. Which Wednesday had known from previous conversations, but she hadn’t known it was actually a thing.

No one had prepared her for the amount of information she would have to learn to have a healthy relationship. It was almost like an information overload, and she was more than capable of handling it, but she hadn’t mentally prepared. She was starting to regret shying away from her parents’ affections.

“Are you working today?” Wednesday asked, turning her head to hear your answer better.

“Yeah,” you sighed. “Simon has been sketched out since the police started making their rounds.”

Wednesday frowned. “They indicated they were through with you.”

“Clearly not,” you said. “They came into the shop a few weeks ago.”

“You never told me,” she said as she finally turned around in her chair.

You were sitting with your legs spread on the couch and your head hanging off the armrest. It was a rather pathetic look, Wednesday wouldn’t deny. More than once you had claimed it was comfortable, but she couldn’t understand how. You were stretched out, your wings were tucked tight underneath you, and it almost looked like the blood was rushing to your head.

“I'm tired of telling you how many times I get interrogated by police," you said. "I feel like I hang out with them more than you now."

Wednesday supposed that, too, was true. More often than not you had texted her - well, texted Enid to tell her - that you were at the station again. They seemed adamant you were aware of what had happened on New Year's Eve. As much as you denied it, they didn't believe you.

But she did. It had been a while since her last vision, but there had been nothing about those boys. If you had done it, or even been a part of it, she would've seen it. You weren't the most skilled liar either, she would have seen through the ruse if you had actually done it.

"When's your next date night with Enid?" You asked, drawing Wednesday out of her thoughts.

"Unknown," she said as she got up from the desk and walked over to sit by you on the couch. "She's busy attempting to volunteer at the kennel in town."

"Why am I not surprised," you whispered. There was a slight smile in your tone. "Have you asked her when she's free?"

"Why would I do that?" Wednesday asked with a frown. "She always tells me when she's available."

"It shows her you care," you said as you sat up, squeezing your eyes shut for a moment while the blood slowly drained from your face. "That you want to spend time with her."

"Of course I do," she said. "She knows this."

"Sometimes people still like to hear it, Wends," you said with a light chuckle.

Wednesday didn't have anything to say to that. She supposed it was nice to hear you were wanted. Although you were far more like her in that aspect, she always felt surprisingly warm when you would bring up your desire to spend time with her. Maybe she should tell Enid she wished to spend time with her.

"You have class, right?" You asked. Her breath caught in her throat for a moment when you pushed a few stray hairs behind her ear.

"Yes," she finally said. "And Ash wanted to come over for dinner."

"While I'm gone?" You asked with your own frown.

"She said that was preferable," Wednesday answered.

"That's so fucking rude," you mumbled to yourself.

“Would you like me to tell her no?” She asked.

Your frown slowly morphed into a soft smile. Usually it would accompany teasing about some sort of social cue Wednesday had managed to miss, but this one seemed genuine. The couch shifted underneath you both as you moved closer and pulled her legs over yours until she was very nearly sitting in your lap.

“Do you plan on seducing her?” You asked.

“No,” she said with a frown.

“Does she plan on seducing you?” You continued.

“Not if she has any common sense,” she said quietly.

“She doesn’t,” you teased. “But those answers are satisfactory.” You leaned forward and kissed her forehead gently. “You’ll both have a nice night.”

Wednesday rested her head on your shoulder as you proceeded to turn the television on. Neither one of you had any plans for the next hour, and she had fallen into a pattern of watching whatever ridiculous show you would put on before going to work. Reruns or something called “Bridezillas.” She didn’t understand how it was humorous, but she could admire the horror in it.

“Would you ever think about getting married?” You asked halfway through the episode.

Wednesday’s body tensed up.

“I guess that’s a no,” you chuckled, but she could feel your fingers twitch where they rested on her thigh.

“I never said no,” she tried to defend.

“I wasn’t proposing,” you said with sparkling eyes. “I was just wondering if you had ever thought about it.”

She opened her mouth to answer but promptly closed it, her eyes falling to the side in thought. Had she ever thought about it? Not particularly, not in such specific terms. There had been no thoughts of venues or dresses or parties. Nothing about such an overly extravagant occasion.

Unless… maybe you didn’t necessarily mean the wedding itself. You had said “married.” Now that… that she supposed she had thought about, in not so many words. There were a few times her mind had wandered. When you came home late from work, tired and clumsy and knocking things over before falling into bed with your work clothes still on. And each time she thought, yeah, she could fall asleep to that every night.

Or those days where you were off work and you both unanimously decided to relax at home. Cleaning, or going grocery shopping, or just watching something. Wednesday could see the appeal in technology when you were with her. All it would take was one peal of laughter from you and her cold heart would warm up. She couldn’t imagine not being able to hear such a sound on a daily basis.

But she was never one to show her cards first.

“Do you?” She asked after far too long of silence.

“Do I what?” You asked, clearly already re-absorbed by your show.

“Do you ever think of getting married?” She clarified.

You stayed silent, your eyes still focused on the television. There was almost an audible sound of gears turning in your head. If Wednesday focused, she could almost even see smoke leaking out of your ears. Your fingers drummed on her thigh as she watched the constant movement of your mouth; an odd habit you had picked up when you were thinking.

“A little,” you finally said with a nod of your head. “Not now, but, you know.” You shrugged. “Eventually.”

That was an answer Wednesday could live with. Eventually. It eased whatever anxiety was starting to well up in her throat. Nothing soon, she could work with that. It gave her plenty of time to think of how she was possibly going to accept such a fact that you had both talked about so casually.

And how she was going to find a way to admit it to her parents.

Now that was going to be a nightmare.

—---

“The giant chicken helps out while you’re in class, right?” Ash asked as she stirred whatever it was she was cooking. It was rather polite for her to come over and offer to cook in yours and Wednesday’s apartment.

It was no wonder you were so intimidated by her; you were both raised with manners.

“Yes,” Wednesday said as she sat in the chair at the island. “With the exception of work.”

“Well of course,” Ash scoffed. “That’s a given.” She cocked her hip and leaned against the counter as she set the spoon down. “She just needs some sort of stability.”

“How so?” Wednesday asked with a tilt of her head. 

She had a feeling she knew, but she wanted to hear it from someone else. Someone who had known you in a way only she had. Of course Yoko knew you well, but not in the same sense. She needed to hear it from someone who you had loved as something other than family.

Oh you were making her soft, god damn you.

“She thinks too much without a sense of purpose,” Ash said with a shrug. “Even if that purpose is as simple as cleaning the apartment.”

When Ash continued cooking, Wednesday thought about the simple statement. It might have been accurate. The days you seemed more at ease were the days you had cleaned, or cooked, or done the shopping, or done something to “help.” Or helped in any sense, it didn’t have to be an actual act.

She would need to hint at things for you to do if she ever noticed you acting off.

“Was this something you dealt with?” Wednesday asked.

Ash’s movements faltered. “Not quite to this degree,” she said slowly, “but yes.”

“Was there a cause?” Wednesday asked. “Most people are not naturally so…” Ash gave her a raised brow. “Troubled.”

“Nice word choice,” Ash said with a smile before sliding a plate in front of where Wednesday was sitting. It looked rather good; she wouldn’t dare try to figure out what it was. “What do you know about her past?”

Images of you standing in a room, crying about how your parents had abandoned you flooded Wednesday’s mind. She had nearly forgotten the vision from so long ago. It was enough to have anger burning through her veins as she set her jaw and looked down at the plate, actively avoiding Ash’s gaze.

“Marcus and Kristi left her and Nicky at Nevermore,” she said slowly. “I believe that’s the extent of my knowledge.”

“Not much less than the rest of us,” Ash said with a sigh. She took her time to take a bite of food before continuing. “All I know is they were abusive. Made her feel like she was a burden.”

“Which would explain the desire to be useful.”

“Exactly,” Ash said with a point of her fork. “I have no doubt there’s more to it, but I’d bet my bottom dollar that’s a decent chunk.”

Both girls fell silent as they stared at their food. If Ash was anything like Wednesday, she was no longer very hungry. Why would you not tell anyone what had happened in your past? She understood bad memories were never pleasant, but part of moving on was the acceptance stage, was it not? How could you accept something if you never acknowledged its very existence?

“You’re doing well though,” Ash finally said once they had both finished eating. “Y/N is known to run when things get hard.”

“Explain,” Wednesday said as she got up and started helping with the dishes.

“Well,” Ash sighed, “take when we were together.” She turned the sink on. “After the accident, she got angry and mean and pushed everyone away.”

“And you left?” Wednesday clarified. She took the first dish from Ash and started drying it.

“Not at first,” she admitted with a slight shake of her head. “I tried to stay and help.” She handed over another plate. “But I drew the line at being told I didn’t care.”

Wednesday fell silent and focused on drying off the dishes Ash handed to her. It didn’t sound like something you would do. You had never given her any sort of indication that you believed such a thing, or even that you would accuse someone of such a thing. The most she had seen you do was withdraw and hide away. Would you really accuse someone of not caring?

She reached over to take the last fork from Ash and felt her fingers touch. Her head was thrown back as a volt of electricity ran through her fingers, locking her muscles. The apartment ceiling disappeared, turning into something more. Something open. Something with stars.

A sigh fell from Wednesday’s lips as she spun around and took in her surroundings. It was a forest, or something close to it. There was something familiar about it, but she couldn’t quite place it. Something about it reminded her of the night you had gone bug hunting with Eugene and gotten hurt by the werewolf. It sent a shiver down her spine.

An unfamiliar scream echoed through the forests, sounding as if it was pushing through water. Faded, hazy, coming from everywhere and nowhere all at once. Her feet started moving on their own accord, leading her between trees until she found a small clearing. A full moon was illuminating the area enough for her to see the carnage.

One body was on the ground a few feet away, crumpled and broken. Wednesday couldn’t see any blood in the dark, but she could practically smell it. On the other side of the clearing was a tall figure, monstrous in form, almost like a corrupt werewolf. In front of it, trapped in another figure’s arms, was someone familiar.

It was Ash.

Wednesday stepped forward slowly, her eyes stuck on the scene. A twig snapped under her feet, and all three figures turned their heads to look at her. Ash was the only one who had a face, the others were blurred out, almost as if they were being censored. Blood trickled from Ash’s mouth, which she opened wide-

“-Wednesday!”

Her head was thrown forward and suddenly she was back in her apartment. Ash was holding her up by her shoulders, eyes wide with concern and checking over every inch of her. The sounds of the forest were gone, there was no smell of blood, and everything was back to normal. Normal.

“Are you okay?” Ash asked in a shaky voice.

“Yes,” Wednesday said, surprisingly confident in her tone. “I’m fine.”

“What was that?” She continued, only just letting Wednesday go after being extra sure she was steady on her feet.

“A vision,” Wednesday said, her voice lowering to barely more than a whisper.

“A vision?” Ash clarified. When Wednesday looked up at her, she was shaking her head and chuckling humourlessly. “I nearly forgot you were one of the freaks.” Wednesday looked at her with a raised brow. “It’s a term of endearment.”

At any other point in time, she would have found an excuse to harass Ash for the term. Even though it was abundantly clear that she had no dislike for Outcasts, she was one of the few Normies in the group. Wednesday wasn’t entirely known for teasing, but she had learned to lighten up just a little. At least that’s how Bianca had phrased it a few months ago.

An unusual sound rang through the air. Both girls looked around for a moment before Ash picked up her phone and unlocked it. Her eyes moved from side to side as she read something. Whatever it was made her smile and roll her eyes before she put the phone back down.

“Y/N says she’s running to a late night anger management class,” Ash said. “And wanted me to let you know.”

“Thank you,” Wednesday said with a simple nod.

“You two really just communicate through everyone else?” Ash asked, heading over to the couch and grabbing the television remote. Wednesday quickly followed suit.

“Technology is a soul sucking void that I do not wish to be forced into,” Wednesday said even as Ash turned the television on and put on what looked like… true crime? Maybe technology wasn’t entirely awful.

“You sure that’s all it is?” Ash asked. “Because I know she gave you Nicky’s old phone.”

Wednesday sighed. “I don’t want to accidentally erase what he left on it,” she finally admitted. “So I would rather leave it as untouched as possible.”

“That’s surprisingly sweet,” Ash said softly. “You know, there are ways to back it up so it’s not lost.”

“I did not know,” Wednesday said. “Would you be able to help me with it?”

“Sure, Addams,” Ash said with a slight chuckle. “But only because you asked so nicely.”

Wednesday turned back to the television to watch whatever Ash had put on. It was fascinating, and both girls managed to talk and figure out the real perp each and every time. Maybe she wasn’t so bad, Wednesday thought. This was a friendship that she was more than happy to nurture.

—---

When Wednesday awoke the next morning, you weren’t in bed. Not entirely surprising, she knew if you were too late you would usually just sleep on the couch in an effort not to wake her. A pointless endeavour, she would rather you wake her than she wake up alone. But she supposed she could understand the polite intention behind it.

She took a moment to let her brain catch up with reality. All night she had been plagued by the vision of Ash being attacked by those figures. What were they? They hadn’t seemed human, but she couldn’t see any distinguishing features. That was unusual on its own, she had never had parts of her visions censored. Something about it rubbed her the wrong way.

Your voice floated down the hallway and through the open bedroom door, and Wednesday pushed aside her concerns and got out of bed. She didn’t bother putting clothes on, just wrapped one of your jackets around her to keep herself modest. The floor was still warm from the time of year, so it wasn’t too unbearable to walk down the hall and into the living room.

She stopped in her tracks when she saw you sitting at the table across from Weems.

“Good morning, Miss Addams,” Weems said softly with a gentle smile that reminded her of her mother.

You were quick to turn around, and the smile you gave her started a warmth in her chest. Thoughts of your question about marriage ran rampant as she thought that yes, she would like to see you like that every morning. Simply excited to see her each morning. That was something she could live with for the rest of her life.

“I’m sorry for coming unannounced,” Weems continued. “I ran into Y/N last night after grabbing groceries.”

“She works at the university!” You said quickly with a toothy smile. “Isn’t that cool?”

“You will be teaching?” Wednesday asked. She finally walked over and sat down beside you at the table, gratefully accepting the mug of coffee you slid in front of her.

“Outcast History, yes,” Weems said with a nod. “We’re testing it out as a course to see if it catches any traction.”

“How is Nevermore?” Wednesday asked.

“It’s in good hands,” Weems answered, though her smile turned a little sad. “So, how has everything been?”

The three of you got to talking, and by god Wednesday forgot how much you could talk. It wasn’t that you didn’t talk with her, but some people just managed to bring out every thought in your mind. Weems was one of those people. Truthfully, she and Wednesday didn’t even have to say much, you managed to talk the entire time.

Wednesday gladly sat back and watched you go over everything; skipping over Mack’s death, of course. She would need to remember to fill Weems in on that piece of information. But you talked, and talked, and talked some more. She was almost afraid to look at the time. Her gut told her that you had been talking for far over an hour.

“Oh!” You exclaimed, pulling Wednesday out of her thoughts. “Did you hear some rich dude was murdered last night?”

“In town?” Weems asked.

“No, not here, down in DC,” you said with a dismissive wave of your hand. “Some old guy was practically slaughtered in his fancy house.”

“You seem far too nonchalant about the situation,” Weems said softly, more to herself than to you.

“Eat the rich,” you said with a shrug.

Weems turned to look at Wednesday with raised brows, and she just shook her head. You seemed blissfully unaware of the irony of your statement, but it wasn’t the time to bring it up. She would let you live with your beliefs. It was a conversation for another day.

“Make sure you both stay safe, yes?” Weems asked, her eyes falling to where you had grabbed Wednesday’s hand and were playing with her fingers. “Together.”

“Yes mother,” you huffed. “But you have nothing to worry about, anyone who slaughters old white men is a friend of mine.”

Wednesday shook her head and did her best to hold back her smile as she took a sip of her coffee. You were starting to act far more like you had when she had first met you at Nevermore. Carefree, a little silly, happy. Maybe you were finally starting to get better.

She could definitely live with that for the rest of her life.

Weems didn’t stay for much longer, claiming she needed to go back home and work on her learning plan for her classes. You both bid her goodbye, and you gave her a lingering hug that she also seemed to melt into. She gave you a chaste kiss on the cheek before bidding goodbye, and you were quick to pull Wednesday over to the couch.

“Do you have class?” You asked, even though she knew that you knew she didn’t.

“No,” she said simply.

“Good, then you have no excuse to not cuddle with me,” you said.

You didn’t give her the chance to argue before pulling her down until she was laying in front of you, her back pressed to your front. She knew it wasn’t the most comfortable position for you thanks to your wings, but you seemed to enjoy it nonetheless. Maybe she could look into designing a couch that would be more comfortable for you. She was sure her parents knew someone that could assist in the endeavour.

“What are you in the mood to watch?” You asked. The hand that wasn’t holding the remote was slipping under her shirt, and your fingers were starting to draw little shapes on her stomach.

“Ash put on something about crimes last night,” Wednesday said.

“Stop bonding with her,” you said instantly. Regardless, you flipped through the channels. “Was it Unsolved Mysteries?”

“Possibly,” she said.

You nodded and changed the channel before setting the remote down and pulling her closer. It was clear you were trying your hardest to engage with the crimes. Were you wrong the majority of the time? Yes. Did you still keep trying to come up with more and more convoluted theories that, realistically, weren’t even close to viable? Yes.

Did Wednesday love it? Absolutely.

“I so could’ve been a detective,” you mumbled after you had managed, for the first time, to figure something out. “I’m practically a natural.”

Wednesday didn’t say anything, just pulled your arms tighter around her. Behind her, she could feel your heart beating steadily. Your heart beat was always a little faster than everyone else’s, reminiscent of a hummingbird, but it was steady. A constant that kept Wednesday’s mind focused and uncluttered.

You shifted, leaning forward to press a kiss to Wednesday’s cheek before she heard you whisper an “oops.” The channel on the television changed and she felt you moving around to try and find the remote. Some news channel appeared, and Wednesday would have been more than happy to ignore it until she saw two familiar faces.

She didn’t say anything, but squeezed your arm.

“What?” You asked as you halted your movements.

Your body stiffened behind her when you looked back at the television as well. Marcus and Kristi were on the screen, doing what looked like a press interview. The message “retired DA Malcolm Hart victim of vicious homicide” scrawled across the bottom of the screen in a red banner. Your nails dug a little harder into Wednesday’s skin.

“We were saddened to learn of Malcom’s passing,” Marcus said. Your body shivered the moment he started talking. “He was a dear friend of mine, and we will be doing everything we can to assist the DCPD in their efforts to find and apprehend the perpetrator.”

Wednesday couldn’t properly focus on the television after that, instead turning her head to look at you. There was a glassy haze over your eyes and a tight set of your jaw. Your arms were holding her a little too tight, but she didn’t pay it any mind. All she was focused on was the clear distress you couldn’t quite voice.

“I hope it kills them next,” you mumbled before settling back into the couch and placing your face in the crook of her neck.

Maybe healing wasn’t going to come as effortlessly as she had originally believed.

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

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everyone but her pt.33

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It’s going well,” Wednesday answered.

“And how is Y/N?” She asked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

As if that was what Wednesday was concerned about.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—---

“You seem tense.”

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

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

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

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

“Y/N?”

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

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

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

You shrugged.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But it was.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"You think that would make you feel better?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Your homework sucks," you said.

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

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

“Good night, Y/N,” Shaun said.

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

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

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

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

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

“-Y/N Smith?”

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

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

They knew your Nicky.

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

“I live here,” was all you said.

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

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

“That must be nice.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But there was no proof of the opposite either.

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

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

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

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

“And out of trouble,” Devon chimed in.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“How can I help ease your anxiety?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Do you truly wish to know those answers?”

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

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

Right?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Ah.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Make him beg some more.

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

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

“Do you need anything?” She asked.

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

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

“Did you see the news?” Ash asked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

All three girls looked at you before following your eyes.

“Um-”

“-Don’t get mad-”

“-What do you mean?”

All three of them looked guilty.

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

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

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

They quickly shut the door behind them.

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

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

oblivious

Summary: You've been Vada's roommate for a while now and she still has yet to notice that you have feelings for her. You hoped accepting a date with someone else would force her hand. In a way, it did

Word Count: 4.2k Warnings: swearing, smut 18+, weed and alcohol mention Pairing: Vada Cavell x Fem!Reader (no pronouns used) A/N: I'm still getting the hang of Vada's personality so y'all bear with me, but I'm workin on it, I'll get there

“Honey, I’m home,” Vada called out, stopping you in your tracks on the way to the bathroom.

You couldn’t help smiling at Vada’s ridiculous phrase that she had started using whenever she got back to the shared apartment. If you were being honest, you couldn’t remember when she had started it; it hadn’t been too long after you had first agreed to rent an apartment together with her friends Mia and Nick. All you knew was one day she practically crashed into the apartment, said her now-famous tagline, and it stuck.

The best part of it all? She only ever said it to you. Never to Mia, never to Nick, only to you. It made your crush on her grow each time, even though you certainly didn’t need the help. Just the words alone had your stomach twisting into knots in the most delicious way.

And that little dumbass didn’t even know what she was doing.

“Don’t you have another class?” You asked with a tilt of your head. It was a bit too early for her to be home, especially on a Tuesday.

“Skipped it,” she said with her cheesy grin that never failed to make your heart race. “Why take Lit when I can have you teach me?”

“That’s not how it works, V,” you chuckled. “I can’t give you credit.”

“But you can- are you getting in the shower?”

There it was; the attention change. It happened a bit sooner than usual, but you weren’t entirely surprised. At first you had been confused at Vada’s change of topic and attention at such a fast pace, but now it was expected. At least she looked cute.

“Yes I am,” you said with a nod. “Did the towel give it away?”

“It’s Tuesday,” Vada said, completely ignoring your attempt at teasing her. “You don’t shower on Tuesdays.”

Ah. So she did pay attention to a few things.

“I got asked on a date,” you shrugged.

“A date?” She asked incredulously. Rude. “With who?”

You sighed and leaned against the doorframe. “Know that guy from my Fluid Flow class? Jacob?”

“The one with the stupid lip piercing?”

“It’s not stupid,” you said with a huff. “But yes.”

“You agreed to go on a date with him?” Vada asked incredulously. “What happened to your standards?”

“It’s not like I’m getting asked on many dates,” you argued.

“But him?” She continued.

“Well who else should I go with?” You asked. “You?”

Vada froze, her mouth still flopping open at the revelation of your plans for the evening. You wanted her to tell you not to go. To say that yes, you should go on a date with her. Maybe you were being a bit cruel to just not tell her, but you wanted her to say something. Although in hindsight maybe you shouldn’t have expected Vada Cavell to pick up on all the signs you had given her.

Which were numerous.

She shifted her weight and looked down at her feet. You could see her scuffing the toe of her shoe into the floor, a nervous habit of hers. Part of you got hopeful; she was nervous, maybe she would finally say something. Hell, you would be happy if she simply said she didn’t want you to go.

“You should go shower,” she finally said, and you felt your heart drop. “I’ll help you pick out what to wear once you’re out.”

“Right,” you said with a sigh.

The entire time you were in the shower you were seething. No, not quite seething, you were disappointed. You knew it was a bit unrealistic of you to expect Vada to know how you were feeling, especially about her, but you couldn’t help it. How could she not see that you wanted her to ask you on a date? Yes you should just do it yourself, especially at this point, but you weren’t going to risk anything.

Your father would’ve just told you to task her on your own. You were the one with the feelings, you should ask. And he would have been right, you knew that, but you didn’t want to ask. What if Vada didn’t actually like you that way? She acted goofy with Mia and Nick too, so you couldn’t use that as justification for your hopes.

By the time you got out of the shower and finished getting ready, Vada was already waiting in your room. She was hanging her head upside down on the bed while scrolling through her phone. Her brows were scrunched in an adorable frown from whatever she was looking at. The minute she noticed you standing in the doorway, she smiled wide and sat up.

“About time,” she said as she stood up and went to your closet, “I’ve got the perfect thing for tonight.”

“Perfect as in “I’ll look great” or as in “it’ll get me laid?” Because there’s a difference,” you said as you sat down on the bed and waited for Vada to come out of the closet.

Ha. You might be disappointed, but at least you were still funny. See? That was what Vada was missing out on and she didn’t even know it!

“Perfect as in “he’d be stupid not to ask you out again”,” she said with a grin as she turned around to show you what she had picked.

“Vada that’s,” you exhaled slowly, “that’s the most mundane outfit I’ve got.”

“Which is why he’d be stupid not to ask you out again,” she said, tossing everything your way. “I won’t look, promise.”

“Gee, thanks,” you mumbled to yourself as you nonetheless stood up and got dressed.

Part of you was thankful Vada had picked out a regular outfit; at least it was comfortable, and that was always a plus. Did you think Jacob would ask you out again? Absolutely not, he was a frat boy, you knew he wouldn’t ask you out again the moment you decided you weren’t going to put out. At least you would be comfortable when you were rejected.

“How do I look?” You asked, and Vada turned around so quickly she nearly fell.

The moment she actually managed to focus on you, she fell into what looked like a daze. Her jaw dropped and her eyes were looking you up and down. And for a moment, she looked like she wanted to say something. Say it, you mentally urged her, tell me to stay. You played with your fingers and watched her with hopeful eyes.

“You’re so getting laid tonight,” she whispered.

“Yippee,” you said with another huff. She was getting a lot of those out of you tonight.

“You’d better get going,” she said as she practically pushed you out of your room toward the front door. “You don’t want to be late.”

“Thought you didn’t like Jacob?” You asked.

“I don’t, but I wanna watch a movie,” she said, now opening the front door. “And you’re not invited.”

“Well that’s just rude,” you said.

“Have fun!” Vada called out as she shut the front door in your face.

You just stood there in complete shock. Had you really just gotten kicked out of your own apartment by the girl you were quite possibly in love with? Simply because she wanted to watch a movie? It was so on par for Vada that you honestly weren’t even surprised.

The door opened again and you looked in, hopeful that Vada had changed her mind. She stood in the doorway and looked at you again. Please ask me to stay, you silently begged her. But then she pushed something into your arms, which you scrambled to hold onto.

“Forgot your phone and wallet,” she said before slamming the door shut again. “Have fun!”

“Oh fuck me,” you grumbled, but nonetheless put your phone and wallet in your back pocket and left the apartment.

—---

Life sucked. It sucked and it was out to get you personally. You could get over the fact that it had started raining on the walk over to the restaurant. Then there was the fact that you had gotten lost at least three times, but that could also be forgiven. And your phone dying? Well, that was also shitty even though you had forgotten to charge it at home, so it happened.

But then you got to the restaurant and sat at the bar, like you were supposed to, and waited. And then you ordered a drink and waited some more. And some more. And wouldn’t you know it, an hour and a half and three drinks later, you were closing your tab and heading back to the apartment. The apartment that you had been kicked out of by someone who was supposed to pick up on your cues.

There was just enough alcohol in your system to have you thoroughly pissed off by the time you got back to the apartment. You could smell the weed from out in the hallway and knew Vada was either high as a kite or well on her way to it. Normally you wouldn’t care; she was respectful with it and was, honestly, pretty adorable under the influence.

Unfortunately for Vada, it just wasn’t your night.

You unintentionally slammed the door shut behind you when you entered, leaning back against it to get yourself back under control. The music was loud and obnoxious and the smell of weed was giving you a headache. Or maybe it was the alcohol. Or maybe it was the fact you got stood up. Actually, maybe it was just everything.

“Nick?” Vada’s voice came from her room. At least she wasn’t smoking out in the living room like you had initially thought.

“Just me,” you called back before exhaling slowly and walking further into the apartment. The sloshing sound of your wet shoes on the floor was horrible.

“Y/N?” Something fell to the floor with a hard thud. You looked down the hallway until you saw Vada practically falling out of her room, hitting the opposite wall fairly hard. “You’re back early.”

“Yup,” you said, popping the “p” for emphasis.

“So… did he like your outfit?” She asked as she stood up, her hands instantly going to play with the hem of her shirt. Wait… was that your shirt?

“I don’t know,” you said before finally tossing your soaking wet wallet and hopefully-dry phone onto the couch. “He never showed.”

“What?” Vada asked incredulously, her sleepy eyes suddenly widening.

You huffed. “He stood me up, V.”

“But… but he asked you,” she said in a soft voice.

“It’s whatever,” you said with a sigh as you made your way into your room with Vada hot on your heels. “He wasn’t exactly the one I wanted anyway.”

“He wasn’t?” She asked. You didn’t bother turning around to look at her as you started digging in your closet for something dry to put on. “Then why did you say yes?”

“Because I was hoping a certain someone would get the hint,” you grumbled. Truthfully you didn’t care if she even heard you or not. She was high, it was not the proper time for this revelation to come out.

“If they didn’t get the hint then they’re a complete dumbass,” she said after a moment of silence. You closed your eyes and exhaled slowly once again. “Because they’d be stupid not to ask you out.”

“Yeah they would,” you agreed quickly before grabbing a t-shirt from your closet. “Don’t look.”

You checked over your shoulder to see Vada on your bed, dutifully covering her eyes with both hands. Why did she have to actually listen? You were standing in the middle of your room, soaking wet, about to take your shirt off, and she wasn’t going to look? Dammit, Vada, lose your morals!

“Anyone would be lucky to date you,” she said while you peeled your wet clothes off. “And if they don’t realise that then they’re an idiot.”

“Keep talking, Cavell,” you mumbled to yourself; you knew she couldn’t hear you.

“If I ever had the chance to date you, I certainly wouldn’t screw it up,” she continued talking.

Now that had you slowing your movements, taking your time to finish kicking your pants off. It left you in your shirt and underwear, but that wasn’t on your mind. You slowly turned to look at Vada, who still had her hands over her eyes, as you went over her words.

Did she really think that? Was that the sign you had needed to know that she actually liked you back? Yes you had been playing this game for around three years at that point. And yes, you should have said something ages ago, even your dad had said so. But was she admitting that she liked you?

“Who said you didn’t have a chance?” You asked slowly, your eyes still glued to where Vada was playfully swinging her legs over the side of your bed.

“Who said I did have a chance?” She asked in reply. “I’m not stupid, I’m not your type.” You stepped closer to the bed. “Your type is a bunch of nerds who are way below your league.” You sat down on the bed beside her. “Which you should change, by the way, you can do so much better than all those other-”

-you leaned forward to capture Vada’s lips with yours, silencing her rant. It wasn’t a long kiss, you didn’t want to give off the wrong idea. Or maybe you did, you weren’t sure yet. All you knew was she was going to keep talking until she either fell asleep or you silenced her, and honestly, a kiss was the best way. It killed two birds with one stone.

When you pulled away, you watched as her hands pulled down her face and she looked up at you. Her eyes were still bloodshot and you could still smell the weed on her clothes, but she was looking at you clearly. There was a slight flush to her freckled cheeks, and you would have kissed her again if it meant she would stay looking just like that.

“You kissed me,” she said softly.

“Yeah,” you said with a nod and a poor attempt at hiding your smile. “I did.”

“I thought you liked someone though?”

“Oh my god,” you groaned. “Are you serious?”

“What?” She asked as she sat up. “Are you serious? What about that person you like-”

“-I like you, Vada,” you practically shouted. She fell silent, something she didn’t do often. “You’re the other person that I like.”

“You- you like me?” She asked with wide eyes. “Me?”

“For fuck’s sake,” you groaned, “yes you.”

Vada nodded slowly as her eyes fell to a spot on the bed, close to where your hand was resting. You could practically see the gears turning in her head, going over this new revelation. Part of you was upset at yourself for telling her such a thing now, when you were grumpy and a little tipsy and she was high and unexpecting. Terrible timing, really.

“I thought I was the only one with those feelings,” she finally said, slowly so as to get her thoughts out properly. Something you adored about her. “That you weren’t interested.”

“Vada, I’ve been dropping hints for the past year,” you said with a soft sight. Not a frustrated one, simply to break the tension. “Even Nick and Mia knew.”

“I didn’t want to assume,” she said without looking at you. “I didn’t want to risk not having you around just because I caught feelings.”

“You don’t just catch feelings, you know,” you said as you leaned forward a little more so you could force her to look at you.

“And you really do like me?” She asked, looking up into your eyes; suddenly, she seemed a hell of a lot more sober. “Like, for real?”

“What is this, high school?” You asked with a snort. “Yes, Vada, I like you for real.”

“So does that mean I can kiss you again?” She asked, perking up at the mere thought. “Because your lips are really soft and I think I could kiss them forever if you would let me-”

-you leaned forward and kissed her again, immediately cutting her off. But this time you didn’t pull back; you leaned even further into her, your hand moving to rest on the back of her neck. She grabbed you by the front of your shirt and pulled until she was laying down and you were leaning over her.

“Wait,” she mumbled against your lips, “you like me enough to have sex with me, right?”

“Just shut up, V,” you groaned as you kissed her again.

She didn’t argue.

You weren’t sure if you should blame it on the alcohol, or the weed, or the revelation of it all, but you weren’t in the mood to be patient. Night after night you had dreamed of having Vada in your bed, teasing her until she was a mess underneath you. But now that you had her, you just wanted to hear her fall apart.

Clearly she was in the same mood as you because her hands quickly found their way under your shirt until they brushed against your ribs. It tickled and sent a shiver down your spine, which you felt her smile about. You knew it wasn’t a competition. That didn’t stop you from placing your knee between her thighs and pressing up against her.

“Oh shit,” she groaned against your lips as her nails scratched against your skin.

You kept your knee stationary as she grinding against it hesitantly. Even through her boxers you could feel how wet she was; it wouldn’t take long before she left your thigh wet too. You started kissing your way across her jaw, leaving small kisses below her ear before moving down her neck.

Her hands left a fire in their wake as she moved them up, quickly sliding them up to your breasts that were no longer confined by the wet bra you had been wearing earlier. You both inhaled sharply when she brushed her knuckles against your nipples; her hips stuttered for only a moment before resuming.

“Hang on,” Vada whispered into your ear, and you stiffened before sitting up.

Had you done something wrong? There hadn’t been much, but what if she had decided she wasn’t okay with it anymore? It was fine, you would respect it and wouldn’t do anything else, but fuck. Fuck, maybe you had just pushed it a little too fast. You knew you should have kept your cool.

“Take it off,” she said as she pulled on your shirt lightly before struggling to get her own shirt off.

Oh. Oh right.

“Never hesitate to free the titties,” she said with a cheesy smile.

“Never say that again,” you groaned, only smiling when your shirt was hiding your face.

“I just know how to appreciate a- holy shit.”

You watched Vada’s jaw drop - again - once your shirt was finally off. Her eyes were zeroed in on one thing. Well, two things, and even though you felt a little self-conscious, you knew it was just Vada. No, not just Vada, it was your Vada. Who was still halfway in her shirt and clearly too distracted to continue.

“You’re such a horndog,” you mumbled as you leaned forward to help her pull her shirt the rest of the way over her head.

“I hit the jackpot,” she whispered.

“Just lay back down,” you said as you pushed her shoulder lightly and watched her fall back onto the bed, her eyes still glued to your breasts.

“I can still touch?” She asked.

“Yes, V,” you chuckled, “you can still touch.”

“Oh fuck yes,” she whispered before pulling you back in for a kiss.

Just as you figured, her hands instantly found your breasts again. Each touch sent a tingling sensation down to your core. Maybe you shouldn’t have mentally teased Vada earlier for being so wet. Even though you had no proof yet, you just knew you were going to be soaked if this went on much longer.

While Vada continued focusing on her newest obsession, you just let yourself feel her. Her skin was so incredibly soft and warm. It was exactly what you had expected from her. The muscles in her stomach tensed underneath your fingers before relaxing again. When you brushed your knuckles against her hip, she giggled into your mouth.

“I’m ticklish,” she said.

“I can tell,” you answered with your own smile and another kiss.

“You’re just being too soft,” she continued. Oh Vada. You kept moving your hand. “Soft touches tickle.” Your hand effortlessly slipped past the waistband of her boxers that were far too big. “Especially on my hips-”

-she stopped herself with a moan when you finally managed to rub your fingers over her clit. Oh god she was wet, you almost struggled to stay in the right spot. But when you heard her moan again, her head thrown back against your mattress, well it was worth the struggle.

“Fuck you’re good at this,” Vada managed to gasp out when you circled her clit again.

“Baby?”

“Yeah?”

“Shut up,” you mumbled before leaving kisses on Vada’s neck. Her hands tangled in your hair as she pulled you up into a real kiss.

“Did you have a martini tonight?” Vada asked.

“Seriously?”

“You taste like a martini,” she said, her breath coming out in huffs as you continued to slowly circle her clit. Not enough to get her off, but fast enough to keep building her up.

And then it hit you. Oh. Oh, Vada was nervous. You had both talked of your personal exploits and experiences so you knew she wasn’t a virgin. Yet she had always seemed a bit bashful about the whole thing. It all made sense now; she was simply nervous.

You removed your hand and tried not to smile at Vada’s whine at the loss of sensation. But she quickly shut up when you grabbed one of her hands and slid it under your own underwear, doing your best not to moan at the feel of her fingers on you. And just as you had expected, and much like Vada, you were soaked. Embarrassingly so.

“Holy fuck,” Vada groaned against your lips before leaning up and capturing your lips.

She bit your bottom lip when you replaced your hand and continued circling her clit. Usually you would tease, but with Vada? Right then and there, when you were so humiliatingly sensitive and probably wouldn’t last very long? No, you wanted to make her cum until she was seeing stars.

And as you moved your fingers faster, you knew it wouldn’t take long. It was in the little pants and moans she let out, the squirming of her hips, the spastic movements of her fingers. Not that you could judge, you were losing your rhythm as well, doing your best to keep your composure even as she continued to turn you to putty under her fingers.

“I’m close,” she panted. 

Thank god, you thought as you rubbed your finger in faster, tighter circles. Unlike Vada, you couldn’t bring yourself to talk, knowing the second you opened your mouth you would let out a moan that would haunt you for the rest of your life. It was only a few more seconds before Vada pulled back, her eyes squeezed shut as she stilled beneath you. Her fingers continued moving, and you felt your own orgasm wash over you. You let out a groan as you rutted against her fingers to chase the high, only letting yourself fall beside her when the feeling had dissipated.

“Holy shit,” Vada whispered. “We can do that again, right?”

“Oh my god,” you chuckled as you lifted your hands to cover your eyes. “We just finished.”

“But we can do it again, right?” She asked.

You rolled over onto your side and looked at her. At the sheen of sweat covering her half-naked body and left her practically glowing under the singular ceiling light in your room. The rise and fall of her chest that was slowly but steadily returning back to normal. The absolutely stunning smile on her face that had your chest feeling warm and your stomach swarming with butterflies.

“How about we shower and then sleep,” you suggested. “And maybe we can do it again tomorrow.”

Vada turned her head to look at you, her smile still present although looking a little more mischievous.

“Can we do it in the shower?”

“Never mind, I’m going without you.”

“Wait, hang on!”

You smiled to yourself as you quickly shut the bathroom door behind you, effectively locking Vada out. She stomped her foot - which you could imagine perfectly - before walking off. You half expected her to stay gone until you heard more shuffling on the other side and something slid under the door. With a half-cocked head, you picked up the piece of paper.

No boobs? :(

“Not anymore,” you called out through the door, to which Vada replied with a groan as she finally walked away, presumably to your room.

As you got in the shower, you couldn’t help but smile. Maybe you should thank Jacob for standing you up. He had accidentally made a fantastic wingman.

the cave

Summary: You show Wednesday just how much she means to you.

Word Count: 3.3k Warnings: smut (awkward first time), swearing Pairing: Wednesday Addams x Reader (everyone but her Masterlist)

Wednesday’s grip on your chin never lessened as she held you still. Her knees were on either side of your hips while she sat directly in your lap. Well, no, she wasn’t sitting in your lap, she was full on straddling you. Your hands stayed planted to the ground, clawing at the blanket because you had no idea where to put them. Did you put them on her waist? Her thighs? Her arms? Oh geez.

"You're stiff," she mumbled against your lips.

She caught on, the voice said.

Yeah, no shit.

She pulled away slowly, her weight on your lap shifting ever so slightly. Her grip on your chin remained, but her eyes searched your face for something. Oh no, had you messed up already? God, you had barely even started, now you had blown it and you didn't even know how! Damn Nicky for never teaching you anything good!

"Would you like me to stop?" Wednesday asked, her softened gaze completely focused on you.

"Please no," you said a little too quickly. "I just- I don't- I don't know what to do."

Wednesday looked at you with the slightest furrow of your brow and a tilt of her head. It felt like you were being studied. Were you? Oh geez, you probably were, now you were probably just going to turn into her little lab experiment. You should've just gone right back to the dorm and gone to sleep, this was such a bad idea.

"You don't?" She asked, her tone neutral but with the smallest upward lilt at the end of her question. It would've been indiscernible to anyone else. Not to you.

"I've never done this before," you said even softer.

She didn’t say anything.

“I don’t even know what to do with my hands.” You chuckled nervously and held your hands up in between the both of you. “You know, like Ricky Bobby in-”

-your mouth closed immediately when Wednesday grabbed your hands. Her fingers were a little colder than normal from the cool spring air. Your heart was beating wildly in your chest as she pulled your hands, using them to push the hem of her shirt up so she could place your hands on her bare waist. Now there; there she was warm. You gulped loudly at the same time she exhaled softly.

Fuck, her skin was soft. She let go of your hands and brought them back up to wrap around your neck, but you couldn’t take your eyes off where you were touching her. Her fingers played with the hair on the back of your neck as your thumbs lightly rubbed the skin on her hips. You were well aware that you two were in the process of something, but you just couldn’t stop.

Fucking virgin, the voice teased.

“Do you need step-by-step instructions?” Wednesday asked. You nearly jumped at the sudden intrusion to your mental debate with yourself. Or the voice. Ah, same difference.

“I-” be smooth “-or you could, you know, show me.”

She tilted her head again as you finally looked up to meet her eyes. Her pupils were still blown and thanks to the proximity you could practically hear her own heart racing in sync with yours. You wondered if she could feel your own pulse under her fingertips.

"I suppose I do have more knowledge on the subject," she said. Her breath fanned across your face, leaving your eyelids to flutter for the moment.

"I'm guessing your parents taught you more than mine," you joked with an awkward laugh.

It was a shitty joke. You quickly closed your mouth.

"You're nervous," she pointed out.

"Very," you admitted with a single nod of your head.

"Perhaps this will help."

There was the slightest pressure on your neck as Wednesday pulled you into a kiss. It was soft, almost painfully so. Like she was hesitant about something. And maybe she was, you had just admitted you had no idea what you were doing. Which you shouldn’t have done, you had a reputation to maintain.

A reputation that quickly went down the drain when she bit your bottom lip, drawing a very pathetic moan from you.

“Oh,” she mumbled against your lips; out of fear of seeing a smile, you kept your eyes closed. “This will be fun.”

She’s taunting you, the voice said when Wednesday kissed you again. She swiped her tongue along your bottom lip and you quickly parted your lips for her. She’s testing you, it continued. Your grip on Wednesday’s waist tightened. She reacted by lightly scratching the back of your neck. She knows you don’t know anything.

Oh, fuck that noise.

You held Wednesday tighter with one hand as your other went back to the blanket. Her grip on your neck stayed constant as you held her closer and - surprisingly - managed to flip you both until she was on her back and you were hovering over her. With a skill that you were secretly going to congratulate yourself for, not once did you ever have to break the kiss.

But then you froze. Okay, you had put yourself on top, but now what? Oh geez, maybe you shouldn’t have tried to prove a point. The scratching on the back of your neck lightened until Wednesday’s fingers were merely massaging the skin. That alone was enough to ease your racing pulse and your shoulders could relax once again. You exhaled softly through your nose.

Okay, you knew how this worked, it wasn’t rocket science. You knew how the female body worked, you knew what it looked like, you could do this. With your weight shifted to the hand on the ground, you let your other hand finally start to move. Wednesday shivered under your touch as your fingers grazed her side, moving up and stopping on her rib cage.

Your mind started racing when you felt the underwire of her bra. She would tell you to stop if she didn’t want you to, right? Wednesday was bold, she wasn’t afraid to speak her mind or tell you no. But, like, she would tell you, right? Yes she had initiated it, but you didn’t want to make her feel like she had to do anything, especially not on a cliff’s edge.

She tugged on your bottom lip again, forcing you out of your own head. You let out a shaky exhale when she let go, and you finally opened your eyes. She was looking at you with a softness that she usually reserved for when you were losing your mind. And, well, technically you were, but not in a bad way.

You didn’t have time to ask her if everything was okay, if she wanted you to stop. Wednesday pushed at your shoulders until you were sitting back on your knees and she sat up with you. She let your jacket fall off her shoulders to the ground before grabbing the bottom of her shirt, swiftly pulling it over her head until she was left in her bra.

In a move that was entirely cool of you, you turned your head away when she reached behind her back to unhook her bra. Now of all times you were going to try and be modest? The whole point of this was to be immodest! Would it be wrong to turn back? No, it would probably make you seem weird, you were being utterly ridiculous at this point-

-Wednesday grabbed you by the jaw and pulled your head back around until you were looking at her. She wasn’t quite laughing at you, but you could tell she wanted to. It was in the shameless smirk she was giving you as your face heated up at the mere fact that she was now topless in front of you.

Oh geez.

“You are allowed to look,” she said. You gulped loudly. Again. “In fact, it’s encouraged.”

“You’re making it very difficult to…” your words faded off into nothing as you finally turned your eyes back to look at her.

Oh Jesus fuck she was gorgeous. You knew she was stunning before, it had never even been a doubt in your mind but fuck. Every single thought in your head was silenced as you stared shamelessly. It wasn’t smooth, you probably looked rather ridiculous, but you just couldn’t help it. You could feel your wings puff up a little too.

Oh now that was embarrassing.

Wednesday pulled you with her as she laid back down on her back, leaving you leaning over her once again. She grabbed your hand that was hovering over her hip and guided it up, placing it on her ribs right below her breast. Your eyes kept flicking between her breast and her eyes, mesmerised by both.

God you were pathetic.

Your knuckles followed the curve of her breast before brushing lightly against her nipple. She inhaled a little sharper than usual, and your gaze flew up to watch her face. Her eyes opened slowly; incredibly out of character for her. Your wings twitched.

Well, that was a good reaction. Okay, you could do this. You repeated the action, watching Wednesday’s face carefully for any sort of change or indication of what she liked. Again, she inhaled sharply and her eyes closed for a moment. Okay, don’t be weird, you thought before leaning forward to kiss her again.

Her arms wrapped around your neck again, holding you to her. You continued with the gentle touches, brushing your knuckles over her nipple, occasionally rolling it between two fingers. Now that nearly got a noise out of her; not quite, but it was pretty damn close.

You moved your hand to place it on the ground, ignoring her little noise of protest as you shifted your weight and brought your other hand up. She stopped, sighing softly when you did the exact same thing as you had to her other breast. You weren’t stupid, you could get the hang of it, and her little sighs were more than enough to have your stomach turning in delectable knots.

But then Wednesday pulled away and held you still so you couldn’t follow.

“Are you okay?” You asked, your mind suddenly consumed with everything you could have done wrong.

She pinched the fabric of your shirt between her thumb and forefinger. “This needs to come off.”

Your mouth formed a small “o” before you nodded and sat up on your knees once again. The hair on the back of your neck stood up when you noticed Wednesday watching your every move. Nonetheless, you reached over your head to grab the back of your shirt and pulled, the velcro on the back pulling apart the moment it hit the base of your wings. It wasn’t exactly comfortable, it certainly wasn’t sexy, but it worked the way it was supposed to.

Almost as soon as the shirt was off, your wings shook themselves out before tucking tight against your back again. The dust from your feathers fell, and you felt that little tickle in your nose. There was no time for you to move before you sneezed, your wings extending at the action before taking their place again.

“Your sneeze is rather dainty,” Wednesday said, and when you looked back down at her she had a smirk on her lips once again.

“Shut up,” you mumbled as you let your body fall forward, catching yourself at the last second so you wouldn’t squish her.

You weren’t one to be self-conscious without clothes. Thanks to your wings, you had grown up needing help with things anyway, so most people had seen you without at least some article of clothing. But as Wednesday stared at you like you were nothing more than a piece of meat, you felt your face heat up and your heart race.

Her hands studied every inch of skin that she could reach. Over your neck, your shoulders, down your arms. Each time she would touch the sensitive scars, a shiver would travel down your spine, leaving your wings to ruffle in reply. It was almost humiliating that you couldn’t handle even just that simple touch, but you would keep your mouth shut if it meant she wouldn’t stop.

“Do you still require guidance?” Wednesday asked even as she continued running her fingers over your hips.

“I-” you closed your mouth and considered what you were about to say. 

Did you need more guidance? Not that you necessarily needed it, but did you want it? It would probably help so you could figure out what you were doing. But then again, the fun part was figuring it out, learning what she enjoyed and what she didn’t. Besides, it was Wednesday, she would warn you if she didn’t like something. It might be a violent warning, but a warning nonetheless.

“No,” you finally said slowly, drawing the word out as you looked back at her. “As long as you let me know if something doesn’t feel good.”

“That’s acceptable,” she said, finally looking back up at you.

“Okay,” you said with a few erratic nods. But then you froze.

Did you just… get to it? You knew what you wanted to do, but how did you build up to it? Or maybe you should just go for it, Wednesday always liked when you took initiative. But you really needed to check with her to make sure it was okay, you didn’t want to seem aggressive or anything like that. Fuck, why were you making this so complicated, it wasn’t a difficult thing!

“May I offer a suggestion?” Wednesday asked.

You sighed. “Yes.”

“It might be helpful if we both removed the rest of our clothes,” she said, her eyes gesturing down to where you were both still wearing pants.

“Well I knew that,” you grumbled. “I just… didn’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

“And you all believe I’m the one with trust issues,” she said. She was teasing you again. “Trust that I will tell you if I’m uncomfortable.”

Her little smirk was gone, now replaced by a soft look. No smile, that would be misleading, but just soft eyes. You nodded slowly, for once unable to get any words out of your mouth. Trusting her was definitely something you could do. If you trusted anyone, it was her.

You looked at her with raised brows for a moment, just to double check she was okay before you let your hand fall to the waistband of her shorts. Well, no, they were your shorts, and you could tell because of how far they fell down her legs. The sight of her in your clothes never failed to initiate that spark in your core, and your mouth went dry before you started moving again.

With yet another look at her to double check, she rolled her eyes playfully but nodded and you sat back to pull the shorts slowly down her legs. You let your fingers brush against the skin of her thighs as you continued to marvel at each inch that was revealed to you. Thankfully she had gotten rid of her shoes at some point - you honestly couldn’t say when - so it was easy enough to rid her of the shorts.

If she would let you, you would have stayed kneeled in front of her for millenia. You would have set her upon a pedestal so you could worship at her feet until the day you died. There was nothing you loved more than anything else, instead just admiring every inch, every freckle, every curve.

She shivered when your fingers traced the band of her black panties from one hip to the other. It was a beautiful contrast to her tanned skin. All the noise and thoughts and doubts in your mind started to pound on the inside of your skull, telling you to stop. For once, you pushed them back and leaned down, pressing a single soft kiss right below her navel.

Her usual scent was accompanied by something different, something far more intoxicating. You placed another kiss on her skin, leaving a trail to her hip. The muscles of her stomach jumped, and you could feel her thighs tense up. You made sure to give extra attention to her other hip as you let your hands massage her inner thighs, being gentle but firm.

You stopped when you made your way back to her stomach, your fingers toying with the piece of fabric that was, quite frankly, in the way. Would it be too soon to take them off? No, you thought, just do it. As you slid the fabric down Wednesday’s legs, you followed it with soft kisses. Above you, you heard a hushed exhale. With one final kiss right on her pubic bone, you pulled away.

Wednesday’s sigh turned into a grumble when she noticed you weren’t where you were supposed to be. It was dark, but you could imagine the scowl she was sending your way. Any other time you would have teased her, but at the moment you were too focused. You slid back until you could lay on your stomach and hooked your arms around her thighs. She gasped lightly when you pulled her closer.

Even though you had never done it before, you weren’t stupid, you knew how this worked. If you waited any longer then you would work yourself up until you were too anxious to continue. Without giving yourself more time to back out, you leaned forward and licked one long strip from her entrance to her clit, and oh god was she delectable.

The littlest whimper you pulled from her was all it took for you to lose any sense of gentleness. Your grip on her thighs tightened as you dove back in, eating her out like it was your first meal in years. It was sloppy, but the way Wednesday’s heels dug into your back painfully was more than enough motivation to keep going.

A mix of a groan and a moan left your mouth when one of Wednesday’s hands went to your head, holding you closer to where she wanted you. No, at this point it was where she needed you. And who were you to deny the love of your life? She instructed you on what felt best, and you were thankful you were a fast learner. 

You focused on her clit when you felt her thighs start to shake, and you knew the exact moment you pushed her over the edge. It was in the way her thighs clenched around your head and her nails dug into your scalp. Her heels pressed tight against your back, right above your wings. And it was in the whimper she let out, the loudest sound you had heard from her throughout the entire night.

Your movements slowed down as you eased her back down to earth. Only when her thighs released you did you stop, moving instead to leave kisses on the insides of her thighs. She tasted of salt from the sweat you had both worked up, but you didn’t care. All you cared about was if she had enjoyed herself, if she had felt good, if you had proved just how much you loved her.

Both of Wednesday’s hands held your face and pulled gently, and you quickly moved back up her body until you were directly above her again. It was a little too dark for you to see all the features of her face, but you could see her looking at you. All the thoughts and doubts started to come rushing back.

But when she pulled you down into a kiss, soft and gentle and loving, the thoughts faded, dissipating into the very wind that surrounded you both.

“I love you,” you said softly against her lips.

“I love you too, cara mia,” she whispered back, pulling you down into another kiss.

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

—Just Last Lifetime

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

Pairing: Wednesday Addams x Fem!Reader/OFC

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

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

Masterlist | Library Blog | AO3

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

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

Count: ~4.6k

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷†⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

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

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

Wednesday doesn't remember getting to the hospital. 

Well, she does—in bits and pieces. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Worry.

Consideration.

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

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

It doesn't feel so lucky. 

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷†⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

Then.

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

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

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

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

But Wednesday didn't.  

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

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

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

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

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

Your crooked smile returned, and Wednesday clenched her jaw.

"No."

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

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷†⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

Now.

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

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

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

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

You don't flinch. You never do. 

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

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

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

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

But it was. It was that bad.

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷†⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

Then.

"Did you fight with Enid?"

"That's none of your concern."

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

Wednesday worshipped the sound of her cello.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your words pricked at her, but Wednesday remained stubborn. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I didn't say I needed you."

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

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

You grinned at her. 

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

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

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

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

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷†⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

Now.

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

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

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

Time.

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

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

Inane.

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

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

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

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

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

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷†⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

Then.

"I don't like him."

"Who?"

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

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

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

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

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

"As they should be."

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I am."

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

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

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷†⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷ 

Now. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It's you...but not. 

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

Dread fills her.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷†⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷ 

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

Amnesia.

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

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

How utterly useless. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

After all, everything started with your curiosity. 

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷†⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷ 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I suppose," Wednesday bites out. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Thing?" Your brows furrowed in confusion. 

Wednesday closes her eyes and sighs.

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

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

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷†⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷ 

Then.

"No investigating tonight."

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

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

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

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

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

"And if I say no?" 

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I thought you liked threats," you smirked. 

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

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

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

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

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

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷†⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷ 

Now.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A plan starts to formulate in Wednesday's head. 

"Recreate the memories."

Part 2 (5/17/2023)

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

Who Lives, Who Dies Who Tells Your Story

Natasha Romanoff x Fem!Reader

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

Masterlist | General Masterlist

Follow my update page @natsxaddiction2

w/c:5.5k

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“How are you feeling?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Give it time,” Clint replied. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Laura loves her,” Natasha says suddenly. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“We all make mistakes,” Clint says gently. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Did you learn that from snooping?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Olivia's lower lip trembled, tears welling up in her eyes. "But I want Mama to go home with me and my sister."

You fought back your own tears, desperately wishing Natasha would step up and handle these conversations herself. It pained you to be the one delivering the news, feeling the weight of both Olivia's disappointment and your own longing for things to be different. You rubbed Olivia’s back, your voice filled with a mix of frustration and sadness. "I know, my love. I wish Mama could do all those things too. But right now, this is what's best for her, and we have to support her."

Olivia's tears spilled over, her voice filled with a mix of defiance and sadness. "I don't like it,” She shook her head. “I don't like it at all."

Your heart shattered as you kissed Olivia's forehead, your own voice choked with emotion. "I know, Olivia. I don't like it either. Things will get better, I promise.” You know it could possibly be a false promise but you have hope. 

As you wiped away your own tears, the sound of footsteps echoed in the room, drawing your attention. Natasha entered, her presence immediately capturing Olivia's attention. Without hesitation, Olivia rushed towards her, tears streaming down her face. She threw her small arms around Natasha’s legs, seeking solace and comfort.

Confusion etched Natasha's face as she held Olivia tightly, her voice filled with concern. "Olivia, why are you crying? What's wrong?"

You watched the scene unfold, your heart breaking at the sight of your daughter's distress. You quickly composed yourself, hiding your tears behind a forced smile. "She's upset because I explained that you'll be staying at the compound for a little while, Natasha."

Natasha's brow furrowed in a mix of realization and remorse. She gently brushed Olivia's hair, her voice tender and filled with reassurance. "Oh, sweetheart, I'm so sorry for making you sad. But guess what? I promise that I'll come and get you every weekend. We'll have a special time together, just you, me, and Lily."

“And Mommy?” 

“And your Mommy if she wants to,” Natasha glances at you but you avoid her gaze. You want to believe those words. 

Olivia's tear-streaked face lit up with a glimmer of hope, her sobs beginning to subside. "Really, Mama? You promise?"

Natasha nodded, her eyes sparkling with sincerity. "I promise, my love. Every weekend, I'll be there to spend time with you, to read your stories, sing you lullabies, and tuck you in at night. You won't be alone, I promise."

Olivia's grip on Natasha tightened, her trust and love for her Mama shining through. She looked up at you, seeking confirmation, and you nodded, your voice filled with gratitude and relief. "That's right, Olivia. Mama is going to make sure she's there for you, no matter what. You'll always be loved and cared for."

As Natasha held Olivia, the weight of her absence and the impact it had on the family settled upon her. She made a silent vow to herself, to do whatever it took to be there for her children, to bridge the gap that her memory loss had created, and to rebuild the bond that was so precious to her.

You watched, your heart swelling with a mixture of emotions as Natasha comforted Olivia. You could only hope things turned out well for all of you. 

As Natasha held Olivia in her arms, the weight of their emotions began to subside, replaced by a glimmer of hope. It was at that moment that Lily slid from your lap and toddled over, a small piece of hotdog clutched in her tiny hand. With a gentle smile, Lily offered the morsel to Natasha, her eyes filled with innocence and acceptance.

Natasha's gaze shifted to Lily, her heart swelling with warmth. She accepted the shared hotdog, taking a bite and savoring the simple act of connection. Lily looked at Natasha and signed a few simple words, a gesture of love and inclusion that bridged the communication gap. The most prominent word is milk. 

“You only want one thing from me,” Natasha chuckles. “In a minute baby.” Natasha brushes a hand over her head. 

You watched the scene unfold, your heart brimming with a mixture of emotions. You observed Lily's small but significant efforts to engage with Natasha, silently appreciating your daughter's ability to bring comfort and ease the tension in the room. You didn't feel up to talking at that moment, but you found solace in witnessing the unspoken bond between Natasha and Lily.

Natasha met Lily's gaze, her eyes shimmering with gratitude and affection. She reached out, gently brushing her fingers against Lily's cheek, a silent acknowledgment of their connection. Lily beamed, her eyes sparkling with joy. 

Natasha could sense the lingering tension between herself and you, the weight of unspoken words and unaddressed emotions hanging in the air. She took a deep breath, gathering her courage to break through the barriers that had formed between you.

With Olivia in her arms and Lily happily occupied with her hotdog, Natasha stood to sit across from you, her voice gentle yet tinged with remorse. "Y/n I…” Natasha swallows thickly. “I want to try and make things right between us. I know I've caused a lot of pain, and I'm sorry. Can we... can we start fresh, for the girls' sake?"

Your posture remained stiff, your eyes guarded with a hint of regret. You hesitated for a moment before responding, your voice laced with a mix of vulnerability and caution. "Natasha, it's not that easy.” You could see her face fall. You would hate to completely shut her down. “We can’t talk about this in front of the girls.” You sigh. “We've been through so much, and your memory loss... it's complicated. I need time to process everything."

“I know,” Natasha nods. Natasha’s attempt at waving a white flag hadn’t gone unnoticed. You know her words are genuine. You could see a sliver of the woman you know peeking out but you’re still hurt. You’re still unsure about so many things. You may need a break more than her at this point in time. 

She could understand that. 

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

As the bitter wind swept through the air, you hurriedly strapped Lily into her car seat, the tiredness evident in the little girl's half-asleep demeanor. Olivia, full of excitement, bounced in her seat, ready for the journey back home. Meanwhile, Yelena packed her belongings into the trunk, unaware of the impending disappointment that awaited Olivia.

Olivia's anticipation quickly turned into confusion, then frustration, as she realized Natasha wasn't joining everyone. Her excitement gave way to an inconsolable tantrum, her little voice filled with tears and anger. "Mama! Mama, why isn't Mama coming with us? I want Mama!" she wailed, her distress echoing through the cold air.

Yelena's attention snapped to Olivia's outburst, her eyes widening with realization. She rushed over to the car, her voice filled with concern and anger. "What's going on?”

Your heart heavy with the weight of the situation, fought back tears as you tried to find the right words. "Olivia, sweetheart, Mama needs to stay at the compound for a little while longer. But she loves you both so much, and she'll always be here for you."

“When did this happen?” Yelena looks at Natasha with her nostrils flared. “What did you do?” She accused. 

Olivia's cries intensified, her frustration at the situation pouring out through her tears. Yelena's anger flared, her voice sharp and filled with protectiveness. "This isn't fair, y/n. Natasha should be here with us. She should be fighting for her family."

With determination,  Natasha approached the car, her breath visible in the frigid air, and knelt down beside Olivia's window. Despite her own emotional turmoil, she summoned a soft, reassuring smile.

"Olivia, my love, I'm here. I may not be able to go with you right now, but I promise, I will always be your Mama," Natasha's voice quivered with a mix of love and regret. "I'll visit you, we'll talk, and we'll make new memories together. You're my heart, and nothing will change that."

“Fuck that, you don’t think she knows that’s bullshit,” Yelena shoves Natasha slightly. 

“Hey, Yelena,” You warn. “Not right now.” You shake your head. You turn towards the backseat to console Olivia. You hate that this is what things have come to. 

As the bitter wind cut through the air, Yelena's anger flared as she forcefully pulled Natasha aside. Her hazel eyes, filled with a mix of frustration and concern, bore into Natasha's soul. Yelena's voice trembled with emotion as she began to speak, her words laced with the weight of their shared history.

"Natasha, do you even realize what you're throwing away? Our family... the love and bonds we've built together?" Yelena's voice quivered, her voice laced with a mixture of disappointment and desperation. "You have two incredible children who love you unconditionally, and y/n, who has stood by your side through everything. How can you let it all slip away?"

Natasha's heart ached as she listened to Yelena's heartfelt plea. She knew the truth in Yelena's words, and the pain of her own actions weighed heavily upon her. Her voice, tinged with regret and determination, echoed in the frigid air. "Yelena, I never wanted any of this. Losing my memories... it shattered my sense of self, my trust in everything, including the love I have for our family."

Yelena's anger softened, her eyes filled with a mix of understanding and empathy. She reached out, her hand finding its way to Natasha's shoulder, offering a touch of sisterly comfort. "Natasha, I get it. I can't even begin to understand the confusion and pain you must be going through. But you can't let it destroy what you built."

Tears welled up in Natasha's eyes as she nodded, her voice choked with emotion. "I don't want to lose them, Yelena. I want to fix this, to find a way back to them. I want to be the wife y/n deserves, the mother our girls need."

Yelena's grip tightened, her voice firm but filled with compassion. "Then fix it, Natasha. Fight for them, for us. You have the strength within you to overcome this. Remember who you were and the love that brought you here. Rebuild those memories, rebuild our family."

Natasha took a shuddering breath, her resolve growing stronger with each passing moment. 

“I don’t even know you that well.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Yelena shrugs. “Memories come and go. I’m your little sister. I’m not going to sit by and let you mess this up.”

Natasha nods. She looks back towards the car. With a heavy heart, she approached the car where you sat, your gaze fixed on the road ahead. The air between you was thick with unspoken words, the longing for something more palpable. Natasha swallowed the lump in her throat, reminding herself of the purpose of her visit.

She leaned in through the open window, her voice gentle but laced with regret. " I've packed some frozen breastmilk for Lily. It should last a few days. I'll be in contact, and I promise, I'll find a way to be there for them, even if I can't physically be here."

Your eyes flickered with a mix of gratitude and sadness, your voice a whisper in the stillness. "Thank you, Natasha. I appreciate it."

Silence settled between you, an unspoken ache lingering in the air. 

She took a step back, her voice filled with a quiet determination. "Thank you for listening earlier."

You met her gaze.  You nodded, their voice barely above a whisper. "It’s the least I could do. I believe you. Take care of yourself, Natasha.”

“You too,” Natasha nodded. 

As she pulled away from the car, her heart heavy with a mix of longing and determination, she felt a pang of sorrow. She watched as you started the car, giving her one last look, a silent goodbye. Yelena rolled her eyes before taking her spot in the front seat. She couldn’t believe any of this. 

The engine roared to life, and the car began to roll away, leaving Natasha standing alone in the cold. She hugged herself tightly, trying to ward off the chill that seeped through her bones. As the car faded into the distance, she took a deep breath, a silent vow echoing in her mind.

With her resolve broken, Natasha turned and made her way back toward the compound.