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reversedanatomy · 2 months

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Finding Peace: Chapter 5

TW: Self-pleasure, swearing

Author's Note: I threw this together in like a little over an hour in-between studying so it's messy, but I have IDEAS I want to throw out

You felt flushed, frustrated, and embarrassed. You rubbed your thumbs against your forefingers inside your pockets until they felt raw, and you counted the steps you took in-between each sidewalk crack. Your head fuzzed with compulsive thoughts. You felt yourself drowning in your introverted insecurities.

You were still mulling over the events that took place yesterday at the coffee shop. You replayed the redhead’s words in your head again and again, followed by your flighty response to get the fuck out of there due to your uncomfortableness. She was just trying to be nice, maybe even be your friend, but your anxiety made you jump to conclusions without any forethought.

In addition to this, you were panicking as you started towards your first day at work. The office wasn’t too far from home, but you still made use of the public transit system to give yourself plenty of time to pace outside the building to calm yourself down. You had no idea how work was going to react to your inability to speak Norwegian. The interviewer ensured that the office primarily spoke English, but you still felt like an asshole for not being able to speak in their native tongue.

You peered out of the bus windows as you rounded the street corner. Your eyes widened at the sight of a large, modernized office building with large glass windows wrapping around each story. With the rest of the city’s aesthetic, it caught you off guard how “American” this place was. American might be a very selfish, small-minded opinion about the building, but you quickly related this place to Chicago’s infrastructure.

After giving yourself some time outside of the bus to practice a few, reassuring breathing techniques, you headed inside to your first day at work. You met the practice manager, made quick acquaintances, and found yourself quickly at peace with the hospitality of the office employees. The job itself was not far from what you were used to, and so you found yourself useful quickly. Everyone appreciated this. You felt appreciated.

Time passed slowly, as it usually does on everyone’s first day of work. There was a lot of learning, especially becoming accustomed to new systems that you had never seen before in the States. Your manager was patient with you as you adjusted. As time felt slow, however, the clock was quick to click to 5 pm. A standard 9-5 never lasts as long as you think.

One of your coworkers you acquainted yourself with walked up to you as you were readying your things to leave. “Hey, some coworkers and I were planning on getting an afternoon coffee and we wanted you to come with,” he spoke politely. You already felt invited through his low, smooth voice.

“Yeah! I’d love to,” you turned to him with a smile. You packed up a textbook that your office had given you regarding the technicalities of the common systems you were going to use at work and slung your bag over your shoulder.

“Perfect,” he returned your smile warmly and walked you outside, where a man and another woman waited. You knew the coworker who invited you as David. David was also from the States, and you two connected quickly over how nervous you two both were first moving to Norway. The other two coworkers who you met outside were named Oskar and Olivia. They were siblings born in Norway to parents who immigrated from the UK. They found themselves speaking English more often than Norwegian growing up, but they were still fluent in both languages.

You followed the other three as they entered the bus towards downtown. You entertained the small talk as everyone asked you about where you specifically came from, what traditions are true versus exaggerated, and how you’re faring in a new country thus far. You responded with questions about their traditions, customs, and the language. You knew you’d always be viewed as an American here, but you wanted to do your best to seem at least a little less confused.

All four of you exited the bus, and they led you several blocks down the walkable streets. “This is our favorite place to go to unwind after work,” David said. “I hope you like it just as much as us.”

“I’m sure it’ll be great,” you replied reassuringly. You were too caught up in conversation to recognize the familiarity of the street, however. When you all arrived at the coffee shop, you felt your breath escape you as you realized this was the same coffee shop you had been at the day prior. The same coffee shop where you had made a fool of yourself. You froze.

“Something wrong?” David asked as he held the door open for you. You broke from your shock and shook your head.

“Oh, no, haha it’s fine,” you laughed uncomfortably. “I was here yesterday. The coffee was really good, but I made a fool of myself trying to order.”

“Don’t worry, I can order for you,” David looked amused. “Just let me know what you want.”

“As long as you teach me how to order after. I still want to get it right.” David nodded in agreement to your request.

You all entered the building, and you quickly looked around to make sure the redhead wasn’t here again. Nothing would be more embarrassing than having to explain that you were nervous to be here for more reasons than just stuttering over your broken Norwegian. You asked David to order you a hot vanilla latte. He gave you a thumbs up and turned to the barista. For a man who was born and raised in the States, you couldn’t even tell he was an American. He spoke in perfect, unbroken Norwegian with a respectable accent. Of course, you probably couldn’t tell much of a difference coming from your background, but it was still impressive.

Despite your efforts to pay yourself, David paid for you. All four of you sat down at a rounded table with ample seating, and the conversation continued. You had a lot of fun laughing and sharing old memories with new people. Time continued to pass, and the conversation began to dwindle as your coworkers shared their mutual interest in parting for the night. You let them know you’d be staying a bit longer to decompress, and the three politely left to head home.

You leaned back into your chair and let out a content sigh. You felt pleased with the new friendships that you had made with your coworkers. Your mind was so preoccupied that you hadn’t had time to worry about adjusting to a new life and leaving your old life behind. You were excited that every day could be like this, and you felt confident you came to the right place. You let your mind wander.

“Is this seat taken?” A familiar, thick Russian voice shocked your mind back to reality. The redhead was standing across from you, holding the top of one of the other chairs in one hand and a coffee in the other. You felt yourself grow hot with embarrassment once again.

“Uh..” you felt yourself stumble over your words as you tried to formulate some coherent thought. “Oh, yeah, no, go ahead,” you presented your most signature, lingering, awkward thumbs-up. The redhead smiled back at you and took a seat at the table. She pulled out her phone and began sipping her coffee. A few moments later, she glanced up.

“Oh, I should’ve asked. Is this table taken, too?”

“Um, it was but they all left,” you felt stiff and anxious in her presence. Maybe she didn’t remember what happened yesterday, and she’s just trying to have a nice time with some new people. Maybe she was also decompressing after work just like you were.

“Bummer. Hey, you were reading a Norwegian-English dictionary yesterday, right?” Ding, ding, ding. She remembered. You felt a pit rise in your throat.

“Oh, uh… yeah that was me.”

“You ran away before I could talk to you about that,” she chuckled, but hid her smile as she sipped from her coffee again. Cute, you found yourself thinking. You quickly found yourself lost in her green eyes. She held your gaze with a very familiar sense of confidence. It was that familiarity that helped you lower your shoulders and unclench your jaw in her presence. She continued, “I was in the same boat as you whenever I moved here, so if you want any tips and tricks to learn it a bit faster, I’d love to help.”

You latched on to the subtle enthusiasm that graced her tongue when she said the word ‘love.’ You nodded in agreement a little quicker than you intended to. You must’ve looked like some obedient puppy the way you jumped on that opportunity. The redhead was firm in keeping her calm demeanor.

“Great,” she smiled brightly. Her face lit up, and you thought you saw a sparkle in her eyes. “How do you feel about meeting this Saturday in the morning? I might have some errands I need to run, but I can text you when I’m free.”

“Yeah, I’ll definitely be free.” You took a deep breath in and felt the clarity wash over you. “I guess I’ll be seeing you on Saturday, then, you.. uh…”

“Natasha.” What a beautiful name, you thought to yourself.

“Natasha,” you repeated it just to hear it roll over your tongue. There was a pause. Two pauses. Your heart started racing even faster. She was still looking at you, and you forced yourself to keep eye contact as if you were scared to be rude by looking away. There was this unbelievable tension that started to build, but it wasn’t the good kind of tension. It was the kind that made you want to scratch your arms and beat your head into the wall. Natasha seemed unfazed, however. She was fine. You, however, weren’t fine, and you wanted to scream to break this silence. Did you say her name wrong? Did she catch on to the way you said it? Why wasn’t she saying anything? Why couldn’t you say anything?

“So…” Natasha broke the silence. “I’m going to need your number if I’m going to be texting you, y’know.” Ten seconds of silence between the both of you, and you spent it wondering if you had said something earth-shatteringly wrong. She just wanted your number. This was just a professional interaction between the both of you so she could share her recommendations on learning Norwegian. You, on the other hand, were making everything uncomfortable and awkward. You didn’t know why you felt this way, but you knew there was some blatantly different feeling that you felt towards her that was unrelated to the previous encounter the day before.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry,” you found yourself laughing over your own confused way of thinking. Natasha held her phone out for you to put your contact information into. She was smiling amusedly. You were glad that she could keep her confidence even when you froze from overthinking. You gave her your number, and decided then and there that you should probably call it for the night. “I’m sorry to be leaving so soon, but I’ve already been here a few hours and I should probably get home to start getting ready for work tomorrow.”

“Well, it was nice meeting you and having an actual conversation with you…”

“Y/n,” you had forgotten to properly introduce yourself when she gave her name.

“Y/n.” Natasha looked saddened that you weren’t staying long, but she was respectful towards your boundaries. “I’ll be texting you.” Her tone changed a bit when she said that last part. You didn’t want to analyze the way she said it the way you overanalyzed everything else she said, but you couldn’t help but feel that she was intentionally being flirty towards you.

You left the coffee shop feeling some weird feeling in your chest. You didn’t want to put any labels to it just yet. You had just met the woman, so putting labels to a new name felt rushed. You just wanted to feel it. You wanted to feel it so badly as you took the bus home.

You wanted to feel her it so badly when you walked through your apartment door and threw yourself onto your mattress. You quickly threw down your pants and recovered your memory of the way her red hair framed her face and complemented those stunning green eyes. You felt every part of her accent rolling off her tongue, pushing her words deep inside of you. Your entire body pulsated and throbbed with her flirtatious invitation. Sure, you wanted this to remain a professional encounter for this weekend, but you wanted this other side of her, too.

You produced naked scenes of her in your head from whatever silhouette you gathered of her from earlier this evening. Her clothes framed her body so well, and you wanted to believe desperately that, even though the two of you just properly met, she dressed with her body in mind for you. It was a selfish thought, but you were doing selfish things to your body in the name of her. You felt yourself slip her name from your throat as an orgasm erupted from your body.

Once you came, you felt a twinge of guilt settle into you. You felt wrong for how you were feeling, but nonetheless you wanted this new woman, Natasha, to be in your life in more ways than one. You pondered over the thought of her (clothed) as you lay awake, tucked underneath your blankets. This was a newfound interest, and you were really excited for your next interaction with her this weekend.

#IM SO TIRED OF STUDYING FOR PHYSICS #marvel wlw #slow burn #natasha romanoff x reader #marvel fanfic #natasha romanoff #nat x reader #wlw fanfic

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reversedanatomy · 3 months

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Happy 1000 followers to the love of my life @anotherthatswhatshesaid

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reversedanatomy · 3 months

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TW: Dissociation, psychosis

Just a poem I threw together in 10 minutes trying to cope with the idea I might have to go back on meds.

I set a pot on the stove and fill it with water. I watch as it boils.

I sit with the recommendation that I should start taking meds.

I sit with the idea that I failed. The idea that I couldn’t do it alone, naturally.

I sit and watch the water boil.

It starts slow, steam rising.

Once again, blackness shrouds my line of sight.

I stare at the cup I planned to fill with tea, and suddenly it becomes unreal.

There’s an unnaturalness to it. Its very essence of being a cup starts to dissolve.

It becomes a figure. Nothing. No purpose.

Maybe I am the cup. Unnatural. A figure. Losing its touch with reality until I am

A cup. Existing with no ability to conceive my surroundings.

My arms shrink away from my body.

I recognize when my mind starts to boil.

I recognize when the cup starts to watch the water.

I recognize when the water becomes a figure.

The water starts to bubble.

Maybe I failed when I couldn’t watch the water boil any longer.

Maybe I failed when the cup became the walls and the walls became the floor and the floor became unreachable with my small, shrunken arms.

The water starts to boil,

but I couldn’t recognize it when I was the cup watching my figure,

and the water was watching the water,

and my mind was watching the walls become the floor.

If I take the meds, take the water from the heat, will it stop boiling?

It’s pouring over now, but I’m frozen. A cup without its tea.

I cannot recognize reality from delusion. It’s all the walls and the floors, now.

I sit with the idea that I failed for waiting so long.

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reversedanatomy · 3 months

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Finding Peace: Chapter 4

Summary: Y/N goes to a new country

TW: swearing

Author's note: This is a much smaller chapter. I'm not super proud of the writing, but I'm studying for midterms and tests a lot this week and pretty much the rest of the term so I'm exhausted :(

Wanda texted you at three in the morning to let you know that she would be home at around seven. It had been nearly a month since she had unexpectedly left for that work trip overseas. It saddened you that you had to work around her schedule, but you had your own life, work, and hobbies to preoccupy yourself. When you received that text, however, all of that sadness was pulled from your chest in a sigh of deep relief, and you felt nothing but the dancing of butterflies in your stomach.

Your excitement prevented you from falling back asleep. You were so lovesick for Wanda in your newfound relationship with her. Every time her name popped up as a notification on your phone, your eyes lit up and your heart fluttered. Sparks would shoot through your body and down your legs, tingling everything inside of you. It all made you feel real, wanted, and accepted.

When you heard the bells attached to your door handle jingle as the doorknob turned, you rolled over to your other side and squeezed your eyes shut. You had a reoccurring ritual when Wanda arrived home from her international work travels. You’d close your eyes, pretend you were asleep, and wait for Wanda to greet you lovingly in bed. It was silly and juvenile, but you loved the directed attention from your girlfriend.

You could hear Wanda trying her best to be quiet as she gently closed the door behind her. You heard her set a bag down by the entryway and slip off her boots. The heels of the boots bounced against the floor heavily, and you heard Wanda hush them. It was comedic the way she tried to reason with inanimate objects, and you couldn’t contain your smile. You then heard the closet door open as Wanda hung up her coat. Next, footsteps towards your door.

Your door was left slightly ajar. Your mother always taught you to leave the door open, at least slightly, in case there was a fire in the house and you needed a quick escape. Wanda liked this preparedness about you, so you started leaving your door open for her rather than a rare chance of an emergency. Your girlfriend gently creaked it open and stepped on her tip toes towards your bed. You could now smell the sweet cologne she always wore for you since that first date at the bar—lavender and vanilla.

At your bedside, you felt Wanda place a hand on the curve of your waist as she leaned in to kiss the side of your cheek. She then planted kisses down from your cheek onto your neck, collarbone, and finally the side of your waist. You felt warmth spread throughout your body, grounding every piece inside of you to respond to the safety of her presence. You pretendedly rolled onto your back and stretched your arms out above your head, slowly blinking your eyes open.

“Good morning, sleepyhead,” Wanda’s pupils dilated at the sight of you, and her contagious smile had you infected. A huge grin spread across your face, and you sharply pulled Wanda into you. The beautiful woman you got to call your girlfriend let out a giddy yelp as she fell across your body into your arms. Her body rolled across yours until she was settled beside you, her head resting perfectly in the nook of your arm.

“I missed you so much,” you rolled onto your side to face Wanda, letting your unoccupied hand fumble with her sweet-smelling auburn hair. Your hand trailed down to where you then caressed the smoothness of her cheek. You stared deeply into her eyes, studying how the sunlight peeking through the curtains revealed rings of different colors around her pupils.

“I’ve missed you, too, Y/N,” Wanda replied softly. “I can’t tell you how much I was thinking about you, how every day I prayed that that would be the day I could come home to this.” She felt like home. This all felt like home. You drew Wanda into your chest, and both of you fell asleep from the relief you two felt from being in each other’s arms.

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You woke up. The interview with the office from Norway went better than you expected, and you were now hundreds of miles away from home on a plane heading towards a new country, new life. Darcy had come with you to the airport to say goodbye to you as you boarded the plane. You two shared an extended hug, and you left without looking back. If you looked back, you’d see Darcy crying. You couldn’t bear that guilt of leaving your best friend behind like that. Plus, if you looked back, she’d see you crying, too.

Your mom was hesitant about you leaving alone to a new country. You reassured her that this was much better than moving back home to work a job that would provide you no upwards mobility. She agreed, but she still worried for you. You let her know you’d call every day once you figured out how the time zone difference worked. She let out an exasperated sigh before letting you have your space to pack for the move.

It took nearly thirteen hours for you to arrive in Bergen, Norway. Once you landed, you didn’t hesitate to get up and stretch your legs. You felt all of the blood rush back into your body, followed by a painful tingling in your feet that felt like sharp ants crawling across you. When your body (and the plane attendants) permitted, you rushed eagerly out of the plane and made your way to get your bags.

You already felt different the second you stepped out of the airport and into the new country. Mountains stretched across the landscape for miles. The sky was a wonderful blue that complimented the greenery that decorated the earth. The air felt crisp, but reassuring. You previously checked your phone, where the weather report stated that snow would be coming tomorrow. It was best you got here today to prepare for a winter indoors.

You made your way to your new apartment after taking the Light Rail towards the center of Bergen. You were wary about renting an apartment without seeing it first, but you trusted the photos on the website and the realtor you spoke with. In USD, it was only $900 per month. With your new job, this would be easy to afford.

The new apartment was quaint and lovely. It had light wooden floors, an adorable kitchen, a bathroom with walls of white tile, and the most beautiful view of the city. The apartment was on a mountainside, and the windows overlooked the North Sea. You could see all the other houses that overlooked the sea, as well, and you wondered if they felt in as much awe as you did when walking through those apartment doors for the first time.

You had been undeniably nervous, bile churning in your stomach at the thought of leaving everything behind to come here. Now that you were moved in, however, the anxiety dissipated, leaving you with confidence that you had made the right choice. You set the rest of your things down and decided that you needed a break from the stress that came with moving. You packed your purse with your dictionary and a traveler’s guide to Bergen, and headed towards the first coffee shop you’d stumble upon.

It wasn’t long before you noticed a coffee shop with indoor plants stretching across the windows. There were several people already inside seated at barstools, sharing looks of enjoyment with their inviting conversations. You could smell the sweet aroma of coffee drive your body towards the door like a Tom and Jerry’s cartoon scene. It was your favorite scent, lavender and vanilla. While you had regrets about the origin of this favorite scent, you wanted to give this place a try.

With your limited Norwegian vocabulary and horrific Americanized accent, you ordered a latte and settled down at a table in the corner of the shop. You brought your dictionary out, and studied up on different terms that you could use for day-to-day use. You were going to work in an English-speaking office, but you realized soon you had no idea how to even ask for simple requests like, “where’s the bathroom?” or, “how the hell do I stop sounding like an American?”

While you were drinking what was probably the best coffee you’ve tasted in your life, you noticed a redheaded woman peeking up from her book at the table directly in front of yours. She was meeting your eyes with a small, amused smile. Oh, god, you thought to yourself. She probably overheard me trying to order in Norwegian and she’s judging the hell out of me right now. You didn’t want to think about it. Hey, at least you were being a good American and trying to learn the language of the country you were living in, right?

You returned to your dictionary, but you kept glancing up to see if the woman was still watching you. She was, and you felt your face grow hot with embarrassment as you felt yourself become an outsider. She must’ve noticed that she was making you uncomfortable, because the smile fell away from her face, and she set her book down in preparation to get up. She was cute, the type you’d call Darcy home about, but you were unbearably nervous about having any conversation with a Norwegian when you couldn’t speak the language yourself.

The redhead stepped towards you, letting out a welcoming smile. “Hey, I noticed-,” but before she could finish her sentence, you hurriedly packed your things into your purse and took one last sip of your coffee.

“I, uh, I don’t speak, I’m sorry,” you blurted out in broken Norwegian. You drew yourself up in a frenzy and rushed out of the door. Just like at the airport terminal, you didn’t look back. You knew you were flighty, and you recognized this, but you weren’t ready to talk yet. You decided it was better if you just waited until you were better at speaking the language before trying to hold a conversation.

You rushed home, but not before stopping in your tracks as you replayed what happened at the coffee shop over and over.

The redhead spoke English to you.

#i'm slowly burning too #ppl asked me to tag them in the next chapter but idk how tumblr works #slow burn #marvel wlw #wandanat #fanfiction #marvel #natasha romanoff x reader #wanda x reader

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reversedanatomy · 3 months

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Finding Peace: Chapter 3

Summary: Reader and Darcy go to the bookstore and talk about R's big plans.

TW: swearing, talking about relationship issues

You stood in front of your bathroom mirror, fixing your hair after your morning shower and applying your skincare routine. First came toner, then serum, eye cream, lotion, and finally sunscreen. It was therapeutic the way you patted each application into your skin. You especially spent time pressing the eye cream into your eyebags, naïve to believe you’d relieve those dark circles in a matter of seconds.

You finished by brushing your teeth and scrunching leave-in conditioner into the mids and roots of your hair. You glanced into your own eyes through the mirror and forced a smile. Your daily routines made you feel secure, pretty, and slightly more confident despite your persistent anxiety.

You used to insist that Wanda should join you for every morning routine. You both had different wake-up times, but often she’d roll out of bed with a grunt to join you for a few moments of companionship. You two used to shower together, sharing the intimacy that came with massaging shampoo and conditioner into each others’ hairs. After, you’d both wait for the steam to defog from the mirror. You two would watch your reflections unveil as you laughed and hugged and shared kisses in the relaxation of your bathroom’s humidity.

Bargaining. You clutched the corners of your bathroom counter and felt tears begin to well from the corners of your eyes. You missed the routine, the intimacy, and the love so, so much. You weren’t religious, but if a god could bring Wanda back, you’d pray and pray and pray to them until they answered your calls. I’d give anything, you thought to yourself. I’ll go to church, I’ll go to therapy, I’ll deal with the drinking, I won’t complain about how bad it gets, you began brainstorming everything you could do to absolve yourself in the eyes of a higher being. Maybe then they’ll reward you with a visit from Wanda. Then we could talk, you continued as the tears asymmetrically fell from your eyes. Maybe then we could work things out and I could apologize for everything.

You brought the back of your hand to your eyes and wiped the tears. The sunscreen from your eyes intermingled with your tears, burning your eyes. You couldn’t help but shake your head, letting out a chuckle of disbelief as the stinging from your eyes caused you to wince. You reached for where your hand towel normally was but grabbed nothing. It was laundry day, and you messed up again by washing your hand towels without any backup.

You’d wait out the stinging by stumbling to your bedroom to dress yourself. You traced your fingers along the walls to exaggerate your minor, temporary blindness. You pulled a t-shirt laying on the top of your dresser and dabbed your eyes. A few heartbeats later, the stinging stopped, and you could make sense of your surroundings.

Your head was cloudy from all the memories of Wanda that pooled to the surface of your thoughts. What made everything worse was that the t-shirt you were holding was Wanda’s. It was from a band you two had seen together last summer. “For fuck’s sake,” you threw the shirt against the wall behind your dresser and turned towards your closet to put together an outfit for the day.

It took you some time, but you settled on a collection of neutrals to compliment the coming winter. You wore a form-fitting white t-shirt, a sherpa-lined brown jacket, and baggy blue jeans. Since the temperature was dropping, you pulled a yellow beanie over your head. You’d finalize the outfit with your white high-top sneakers.

You headed to the kitchen to begin brewing your first mug of coffee for the day. It was 10:11 in the morning. Darcy’s apartment was a 25-minute walk from your apartment, so you needed to leave in a little over an hour to make it on-time for the plans you had at the bookstore. You waited for your coffee to brew by grabbing a quick snack from the pantry. You had your coffee and ate light, assuming Darcy would want to go out for lunch later in the day.

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The cold air bit against your skin as you strolled through the streets of Chicago towards Darcy’s apartment. You tucked your chin down to keep the air from numbing your face and reddening your cheeks. You didn’t think it was going to get this cold so early in the year. It was barely November, but it felt like early January. You clenched your arms against your body, hugging your jacket into you.

You arrived outside Darcy’s apartment complex at five-before noon. She lived in an old brick apartment building along a side street that stretched up only three stories. It was a small building, tucked away from the main roads to provide a preferable quietness when living in a bigger city. There were two large windows that peeked into the lobby, revealing old wooden walls and muddy carpet. It was… cute. You reached for your phone and quickly sent Darcy a text stating you were waiting outside. It was read almost immediately. Darcy replied she’d be out soon.

“You look gay,” Darcy shuffled out of the apartment lobby and met you by the front entrance.

“Is it the shoes?” You promptly replied, glancing down and clicking your heels together.

“Sure,” Darcy laughed and leaned in for a hug. You received it warmly and the two of you started towards the bookstore. Darcy originally picked her apartment based on how close it was to the nearest bookstore. She played it off like she needed easy access to textbooks for her studies, but you often found her staring a little too long in the romance fiction aisle. As if clockwork, Darcy added, “I’m glad you agreed to go to the bookstore with me, Y/N. I needed some new textbooks for school.”

“Aren’t you only halfway through your term?” You asked, already knowing the answer. Darcy shrugged.

“Can’t have too many books,” she replied, puffing her cheeks. You rolled your eyes and kept your gaze down towards your feet. There was an uncomfortable silence, one where you knew that Darcy was holding in her questions. You refrained making eye contact with her. You were worried she would catch on to the stiffness in your posture that came as a side salad to your anxiety.

You two rounded the corner several blocks down and reached the bookstore on the main road. Its grand appearance always caught you by surprise. You weren’t a big reader anymore, but you always enjoyed the hospitable ambiance of new and well-loved books lining aisle after aisle. You didn’t need to be a reader to fall in love with the solitude.

You turned to Darcy, who was well-acquainted with this bookstore already. She’d been living in the area for years, so she frequented it often for whatever she needed. She pulled you inside and led you immediately to the section on foreign languages. “I haven’t really been in this section, so forgive me if I can’t help you much,” she said as she started checking the shelves.

“You’re fine,” you smiled warmly. “I just appreciate you coming with me.” Darcy was quick to look for the books you needed, so you joined her immediately. You scrolled your fingers along the titles of the books, scanning for the letter “N.” You couldn’t find much until you came across a small English-Norwegian dictionary tucked away between books on Mandarin and Portuguese. Darcy perked up towards you when she saw what you pulled from the shelves.

“Oh, shit, you found one?” She met you by your side. “Is that all they have?” She looked up from the dictionary you were holding and rechecked the shelves. She let out a small, “huh” and came back to you.

“If it’s the only one, then maybe it’s a sign,” you leafed through the book. Darcy’s demeanor fell quiet, and she held her arm with her other hand.

“So… do you really want to move away?” Darcy’s eye’s started anxiously scanning the books lining the shelves. You closed the dictionary and stared at your shoes.

“Yeah. I told you. I think it’ll be good for my mental health to get away.” Silence. You could feel your heart stuttering against your chest. “I’ve been thinking a lot about what happened between Wanda and I, and I really want to just start over in general. I know I didn’t open up much about what happened between her and I, but it really fucking ruined me-“

“Y/N…”

“-and I haven’t been able to eat properly, think straight, sleep, or anything. I’ve been missing her so much.” You brought your hand to your mouth and held back your tears. “I’m sorry. Every time I think about her, I just get emotional. I don’t know what to do except leave.” Darcy put her hand on your arm in a nervous attempt to console you, but you were already in the process of breaking down.

“Hey. It’s going to be okay,” Darcy smoothed her voice out and gently traced her thumb along your arm. You nodded, sniffling. Clutched in your hand was the dictionary. You stared at the words and imagined yourself in Norway. You pictured a life in that small, unnamable town, surrounded by mountains that stretched over the horizon. You could almost breathe in the fresh, cold air that hinted at the coming of the first frost.

“If I move there and it doesn’t work out, you have my full permission to tell me you told me so,” you glanced at Darcy from the side of your eye.

“And if it does work out,” Darcy pushed away from you with a smile, “I get first dibs on knowing what kinda girls you’re taking home. I heard the redheads there are really cute.” You squinted your eyes in half disgust, half denial. Darcy was always right, though. Who’s to say that she wouldn’t speak this luck into existence?

“You’d get first dibs on knowing everything regardless,” you reassured her. You lifted the dictionary up into her line of sight and gave it a small shake. “We should really check out, though, unless you need to get those textbooks you were talking about.”

“It’s only halfway through the semester. I think I’ll be fine.” Darcy lifted one finger, signaling for you to wait. She reached into her purse and pulled out her phone. “If you’re going to move to Norway, though, we should at least take some pictures of your baby steps. Momma’s proud of you, y’know.” You wanted to throw up, but this was Darcy, and this was the reason you stayed so long in this friendship.

“Fuck, fine, but you’re using my phone. Your camera quality is shit, and, if we’re creating memories, I’d at least like to be able to recognize myself when I look back on them twenty years from now.” You reached into your coat pocket and produced your phone. “Also, there’s still no guarantee I’ll be moving there.”

Darcy took your phone with a grunt and told you to line up against the bookshelves with your new dictionary. You looked like a child at her first day of preschool, only taller and more butch. Darcy held up the phone. “Say cheese.”

Ding.

“Um. Y/N?” Darcy lowered your phone and you saw her swipe at a notification. You suddenly felt off.

“Yeah?”

“That was your email. You got a notification. That Norway job wants to schedule an interview.”

You felt breathless.

#maybe ill actually start introducing nat next chapter #or maybe i'll just make more silly goofy hints #or maybe i'll just actually write a novel length POS bc idk shit about writing but i know how to make it long #marvel #natasha romanoff #wanda maximoff #marvel wlw #wlw marvel #natasha romanov #fanfiction #marvel fanfic #wandanat #wanda x reader #natasha romanoff x reader #wanda maximoff x reader #slow burn

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reversedanatomy · 3 months

Text

Finding Peace: Chapter 2

Summary: More of an in-between from the last chapter. Reader processing emotions after the breakup and making big decisions.

TW: swearing, some mentions of violence

Denial. This was the first step of recovering from a breakup. The note Wanda had written for you the morning she left was unlike her. When there was a serious topic that needed to be addressed, she always preferred face-to-face conversations, even when she was away for long periods of time on her international trips. Your mind raced like cars on a track, revisiting the same thoughts again and again until you grew weary from worry. You settled on an unlikely, but possible conclusion that maybe she was kidnapped. Yes, you thought, her kidnapper forced her to write this note with the intent play it off like one of her work trips.

You knew this was stupid, but you held onto the idea that she would be coming back. You always left your cellphone ringer on, now, in the slim chance that Wanda would be contacting you. You’d rush to answer your phone at every buzz, ding, or alarm you heard, even when you were out with company.

Your mom started to worry. She knew the situation between you and Wanda had been rocky for some time, and she expressed her relief that you two had parted. She would call you frequently, however, to reassure you and offer for you to come visit and stay with her.

“Maybe what you need is a new change of scenery,” your mom quietly suggested. You held the phone in between your shoulder and ear as you cooked over the stovetop.

“Yeah, but I’ve got a job here that I can’t just leave,” you retorted. You went to check the vegetables you set in the oven.

“It’s a pretty big company you work for. Can’t you ask them to relocate you?” You opened the oven door, feeling the heat burn across your face. You reached to check if your carrots were fork tender, and you shot back as you accidentally bumped your hand on the hot glass baking dish. You bit your tongue to keep yourself quiet, but the phone dropped to the floor.

“Shit, mom, I’m sorry,” you went to pick the phone back up and return it to your ear. “I missed what you said.”

“Don’t swear at me, Y/N,” your mother was direct.

“I’m sorry.”

“What I was saying was that you should ask to be relocated. Your lease is ending soon, and I know rent is increasing where you’re at. Without Wanda there, you’re going to need some help staying financially secure in a place like Chicago.” She was right. You didn’t have much of an option once your lease ended. You could either move somewhere cheaper, alone, or move back in with your mom in southern California. Both options stressed you. “I’ve already looked into it. There’s a position opening up to be a direct assistant under management here. It’s a bit less than what you make now, but, with your dad and I making dual income, you can stay here rent-free and bulk up your savings.”

“I’ll think about it.” If you gave her an open-ended answer, she’d pressure you less.

“Alright, hon. Let me know what you decide. I’ll call again tomorrow in the afternoon. Does three work for you?”

“Yeah, that works for me. Talk to you then.” You made quick goodbyes with each other before hanging up the phone and returning to your cooking. You held your hand under the cold water, letting the rush cool the anxiety in your head. You thought for a moment how your life was going to change when you moved out of your apartment, when you moved out of Chicago.

You ate dinner while searching for jobs on your computer. You investigated the job your mother was talking about. It was an assistant-to-the-manager position that offered significantly less pay than the social media manager position you currently held. Sure, you could put all your money into savings, but you sneered at the idea of moving back in with your parents when you were in your mid-twenties.

You continued to browse through the list of jobs your company offered until your eyes laid upon an office manager position that paid the same rate you were making now, but in a small, incomprehensible name of a town in Norway. You always admired the idea of visiting Norway. It reminded you of the mountains you and your family would drive through to go camping in the Pacific Northwest every summer. You also loved the idea of living near the water. Chicago’s waterfront was nice, but the pollution of the city ruined your connection to the water. Maybe this could be the change of scenery that your mother was suggesting.

It was a risky application considering you weren’t a Norwegian citizen, but you had more than enough experience from your current position to secure this job. You put your heart and soul into this application. When you finally submitted it, you leaned back into the kitchen stool and sighed. It creaked under your weight as you tilted your head back. For a moment you studied the stipples decorated across your ceiling. It was unlikely you’d be offered the position, but you felt more confident in leaving Chicago behind when you finished.

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

You waited several days. Every morning, afternoon, and night you checked your email both at work and at home, praying for a response from your job application. You hadn’t made your application aware to anybody yet. It wasn’t like you had a lot of people to tell, anyway. Since dating Wanda, you two had fallen into a state of codependency with each other. Wanda had possessive traits, and you were a doormat whenever those traits were expressed in an argument. Regarding your family and your closest friend Darcy, however, you’d need to be prepared to convincingly tell them why you were leaving the country to seek ‘refuge’ somewhere else if offered an interview.

You thought about this from the comfort of your bed. You held your phone clutched against your chest and continued to stare at the ceiling just as you had when you submitted your application. Your mind felt all kinds of queasy and restless. Nauseating. It was the type of nausea that bubbled in your stomach rather than your throat. You were thinking about Wanda. What if she came back when you left the country? What if she came back bruised and bloody after escaping her hypothetical kidnapper, looking for solace with you, but you weren’t there? It felt like torture waiting for that damned email. Waiting and worrying became more of a reason to keep your mind off of Wanda, off of the breakup.

You were so hyper-focused on if a decision had been made that you were neglecting the rest of your notifications. There were several texts from Darcy, one text from your father, and several missed calls and voicemails from your mother. You had turned the ‘Read Receipts’ option off on your phone so you could still peek at the messages without getting an earful from Darcy. She was wondering where you were, if you died, or if someone had by chance stolen you off of the streets. She then sent a copy-paste message that if you didn’t reply to her message you’d have bad luck for 7 years. You couldn’t help but giggle at that.

Right then, you got another message from Darcy. It read: I CAN SEE THAT YOU’RE READING MY MESSAGES, ASSHOLE!!!

Shit.

You rechecked your phone settings. You forgot to turn the ‘Read Receipts’ option off. Or, you had accidentally had turned it on sometime and just forgot about it. Shit, shit, shit, you started fumbling with your phone. Your heart started racing when a notification popped up that Darcy was trying to call you. Your phone buzzed and slipped from your hands, landing on your face. Your nose unfortunately answered the call, and you could hear Darcy’s animated voice booming from the other side.

“I’ve been trying to contact you for almost a week!” She whisper-shouted through gritted teeth. Her voice was breathy. Maybe her heart was twisting and beating just as fast as yours. You picked your phone up off of your face and brought it to your ear. The room started spinning as you tried to muster a response.

“I-I-I’m sorry?” You squinted your eyes and furrowed your eyebrows.

“You’re sorry? I’ve been trying to contact you with no response and you’re sorry?” You could hear Darcy exhale through her nose and scoff. “Look, I get it. Wanda ran away from you, but you need to stop running away from everybody else.” She was right. It hurt to hear, but Darcy was right, and you didn’t know how to respond. The words you were forming from your mouth lost all form and function, and they came out in a twisted scramble. You were playing a piano and pressing all the broken keys. You slid your fingers through your hair and gripped into your scalp.

Darcy just sighed.

“What’s going on?” Darcy lowered her voice until it was soothing and silvery. Her voice instantly settled into your muscles, relaxing you in preparation for the news you were to deliver.

“I…may or may not have applied to a job in Norway,” you closed your eyes and waited for Darcy to berate you about running away again. You heard Darcy exhale from her nose once more.

“Y/N, you’re acting irrationally because Wanda left. Look, you and I both knew this was coming. Fleeing the country isn’t going to get her out of your head. It’s just going to isolate you from the only support you have now.”

“Yeah, but what if I meet some hot MILF out there who turns my life upside down and fixes all of my problems?” You attempted to lighten the mood and forced out a laugh. Nothing.

“This isn’t funny, Y/N,” she emphasized your name to bring your attention back to the topic at hand.

“I know.”

“Then stay. There’s another internship opening up with Dr. Foster and you don’t need to be a college student to get in. You can work with me,” Darcy offered in the same tone your mother did when bringing up the assistant position back home.

“No, Darcy. I really do want this position. I think it could be good for my mental health to get out of the country and be somewhere new.”

“Do you even speak Norwegian?”

“No, but I can learn.”

“God,” there was a pause. “…okay. Wanna run by the bookstore with me tomorrow and see if they have learning material for that?” Darcy was being patient with you regardless of your spontaneous decision to leave the USA. She really cared about you, but you could tell from her voice she was worried, maybe even scared about you leaving. You felt sorrow fill your heart as you heard her voice break while speaking. You nodded to yourself.

“You don’t have to do that, Darce,” you replied.

“I want to.”

“Okay. Can I at least pick you up from your apartment?”

“Yeah. I’ll see you then. Noon work?”

“Yeah. See you, Darce. Love you.”

Click.

#im just gonna make this really slow #marvel #natasha romanoff #wanda maximoff #marvel wlw #wlw marvel #natasha romanov #fanfiction #marvel fanfic #wandanat #wanda x reader #natasha romanoff x reader #wanda maximoff x reader #slow burn

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reversedanatomy · 3 months

Text

Wanda: Hey, so our 1 week anniversary is tomorrow and I was thinking-

Nat: say less

pic credit: Google images/SimplePlanes

#marvel wlw #wandanat #wanda x natasha #wlw memes

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reversedanatomy · 3 months

Text

Finding Peace: Chapter 1

Summary: The first chapter to a slow-burn Nat x Reader fic. Building the relationship between Wanda x Reader. First Marvel fic and post here so I'm still getting used to preferable layouts, writing styles, tags, etc!!

TW: 18+!!! sexual themes, bad relationship themes, alcoholism, swearing, aggressiveness, uncomfortable topics.

Gif not mine

You remember the first night that you and Wanda had gone on a date. You two met inorganically through a dating app. It wasn’t something you were too keen on using, but the dating scene was impossible in the area, and you thought you might give it a try. After meeting Wanda for the first night at a sports bar downtown, the sparks between you two were evident. Her confidence spread goosebumps throughout your body as she weaved her way through a crowd of people lined up at the bar to meet you at your table. She was more radiant than any of her pictures on her profile.

“Y/N?” She leaned over you, placing a locked arm on the surface of the table to emphasize her cleavage.

“Y-yeah,” you stuttered, in awe of the outfit she chose to shape her body. She then smiled and slid into your lap. Caressing your face with her hands, she pressed her lips into yours as if she’d known you for years. You let yourself feel every spark, every firework she set off inside of your chest. The callouses of her hands cupped your jawline. They slid up your face to push your hair behind your ear. Her kiss was warm as it traveled from your lips to the corner of your mouth and down your neck. Her hands followed.

“You waste no time,” you smirked and pushed her deeper towards you. It was all so warm, so familiar. “This doesn’t seem like the place we should be doing this, though. How about we skip the small talk and head back to my place?” You lifted her chin with the tips of your fingers and presented your offer. She gave you a toothy smile that reached ear to ear.

“That’s rather bold of you,” she replied with a twinge of sarcasm. You snorted and let your thumb glide across her cheek. "How about a few drinks first? I get a bit nervous on first dates unless I've had a few." You admired her forwardness albeit it wasn’t something you were familiar with.

“Could’ve fooled me,” a chuckle slipped from your chest. “I thought you were already a few deep and I needed to catch up.” Wanda smiled in response. She moved from your lap onto the seat next to you and pulled a five from her coat pocket. She slid it towards you.

“Catch me up, then,” she whispered into your ear and patted the five before crossing her legs and folding her arms in an act of seductive defiance. A grin curled at the corners of your mouth, and you rolled your eyes in response and clicked your tongue. You took the five and made your way to the bar.

After a few drinks and some small talk, you two left the bar hand-in-hand to wander the downtown streets. Winter was arriving soon, and the biting cold left you breathless. Wanda noticed quickly and drew you into her long, black overcoat with a light tan trim. Already, you felt warmer. Already, you felt safe.

The two of you wandered for hours, but it only felt like minutes. Once your feet started hurting, you two both settled onto the stair steps outside of some unlabeled Baroque-style building. Your hands interlocked perfectly together as you both shared her coat. Wanda made you laugh. It was a genuine, hearty laugh that you hadn’t laughed in years. She was laughing, too. She said that she loved your humor, and that made you grin even more. Your grin was followed, however, with a yawn.

“Starting to get tired?” Wanda yawned in response. You nodded, another full laugh slipping from your chest.

“I mean…kind of? But… I just don’t want this night to end,” you sighed. Wanda kissed your forehead.

“Who says it has to end?” You looked up at her, meeting her blue-green eyes with admiration. “I figured that was the intention from the beginning, so I may or may not have taken us to my apartment.” Wanda turned around and pointed to the third story of the building, where the faint glow of a lamp illuminated through the window.

“That’s rather bold of you, Wanda,” you made reference to her previous claim at the bar. Wanda struck you a side-eye, her auburn hair falling from behind her ear to frame her face. You shrugged. “Well, what are we waiting for? I’m cold as hell and it looks like there’s an apartment up there calling my name.” You stood up and took her hand into your pocket before turning towards the apartment. She stumbled a bit on the steps while standing up, but was eager and quick to let both of you into the building.

The rest of the night was one to remember. The way Wanda felt underneath you felt just as natural as when she kissed you in the bar earlier that night. When you two were ready to sleep, you held her close to your body. You never wanted to let go of this feeling. Everything inside of you buzzed, and a warmth rushed through your veins. You looked at Wanda sleeping in your arms. You never wanted this night to end.

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

Nearly three and a half years later, all you wanted was for this night to end. You locked yourself in the bathroom as you heard Wanda in the living room smash her liquor bottle on the wall. You held your hands against your ears as you listened to her shouting about how much this relationship was breaking her, how you were breaking her.

Tears fell down your cheeks. This isn’t what you wanted when you two moved in together into a small apartment in Chicago after dating for a year. For as long as you could’ve remembered, the honeymoon stage never left. The butterflies still fluttered through the garden of your body when you held her in your arms. It was all perfect. All perfect, until the first argument.

Wanda drank. A lot. It wasn’t a problem at first when the two of you were frequenting bars on date nights with or without friends. As time progressed, however, and the two of you moved in with each other, you realized she was just as much of a drinker at home as she was at bars. You mentioned your insecurities about it with her when you noticed that it was affecting your relationship, but she turned up her nose to you and poured herself another glass.

She blamed her alcoholism on a shitty childhood and high-stress job. She never told you what she did for a living, but you noticed she was often gone on extended trips to places she said she couldn’t talk about with you. “Think of it like I signed an NDA,” she would say as an excuse. You sighed and accepted there were things you were better off not knowing. If you pried, however, another argument would start. The drinking would start.

This was one of those nights. Wanda said she was leaving in a week for an entire month on an international trip for work. “We had plans for our three-and-a-half-year anniversary and my birthday, remember?” You said.

“I know, but you know how work is,” Wanda pouted and gave you the ‘eyes’ that she always gave you to get her way when it came to leaving for work.

“No, I don’t know how work is,” you snapped in response. “I never know how work is. You never tell me. For all I know, you could be off fucking somebody or somebodies in Spain or China or fuck knows where else.” You felt the heat rise in your face as a pit formed in your throat. You were choking out your words now because you were scared. But… it was okay to feel insecure about this, right? Wanda told you that you shouldn’t, but all of your friends agree with you that if she’s leaving all the time that you at least have the right to know where she is.

“What are you, my mom? Stop being controlling.” Wanda wouldn’t make eye contact with you. She was sitting at the kitchen bar, staring at the ice in her glass as she swirled her drink. You became irate. You ran your fingers through your hair, gripping into your roots.

“I’m controlling? You’re the one who’s disappearing for weeks or months on end without giving me the time of day. Sure, I was fine with your work trips when they were planned in advance and only for a few days at a time. Now, it’s like you’re leaving every other week, and I don’t know when I’m going to see you again.” The tears began welling up in your eyes. They burned. You began pacing back and forth between the living room and the kitchen.

“Jesus Christ, Y/N, I’m sorry,” Wanda put her drink down and began getting up from her stool. “I wish I could tell you. I really do.” She was drunkenly stumbling towards you, arms outstretched. You noticed her coming towards you, and you started for the bathroom. “Y/N, please don’t do this right now.”

Now you were here, in the bathroom. You turned the lock and slid down with your back against the wall. Wanda pressed her head against the door and started pawing at it.

“Y/N, please don’t do this. Just let m’in ‘nd we c’n talk about it,” Wanda stumbled over her words as she continued to paw at the door. When you didn’t reply, she started knocking. Louder. Louder. Louder, she knocked until you finally responded.

“Wanda, please, just leave me alone. You’re drunk, and I just don’t want to deal with this right now.” You were crying faster than you could wipe your tears, but Wanda wouldn’t leave.

“Then just tell me to leave if you don’t want me around,” Wanda smacked the door before you could hear her walking back to the kitchen. Then came a crash as you heard what sounded like a liquor bottle, or maybe her drink, being thrown to the floor. Jesus, what’s happening to us, Wanda? You thought to yourself as you reached for the tissues to dry your tears and blow your nose. There was more stomping, and the sound of walls being punched before you could hear Wanda trudging back towards the bathroom door.

“This is all your fucking fault, Y/N.” Wanda smacked her hand against the door again. You flinched from behind the door, but you refused to respond. It would only make her angrier if you said anything. “If only you just didn’t question what I did for work like what we agreed on when we first started dating, we wouldn’t be dealing with this problem.” It’s different when we’ve been together for three-and-a-half years as opposed to a few months, you wanted to say, but you held your tongue. Wanda continued.

“I’m not fucking anybody else, if that’s what you want to hear. I’m loyal to you. I’ve only ever been loyal to you,” Wanda started crying and hitting her head against the door. “I love you, Y/N. I only ever show you that I love you. You’re my everything.” The banging stopped. “But if you want me to leave, just tell me.” There was only quiet except for the quiet tears you could barely hear from Wanda. Your breath left your body in a long, exasperated sigh. You lifted your head from between your knees and twisted your upper half towards the door.

“I don’t want you to leave, Wanda. I just want things to go back to the way they were before.” You spoke monotonously, making sure your voice was emotionless enough as to not set Wanda off again.

“It’s never going to go back to the way things were,” you heard Wanda slide her back down the door from the other side. This made you start crying again, even harder. You were scared. If she left, you’d lose three-and-a-half years with the person you thought you were going to marry.

“What happened to us?” You forced a laugh through your tears. You paused after saying that to wait for a response from Wanda. Nothing. Your smile faded back into sorrow as you buried your chin between your knees and looked down at the floor. Maybe Wanda was doing the same. Maybe she was also contemplating the relationship—whether it’d end or whether they’d keep recycling the same arguments and this same drunken routine. You knew nothing was going to change, but you still wanted to try. Maybe it was because you were more scared to be alone than to keep hearing her slam on the bathroom door and smash bottles. When it was good, it was great. But there were so many moments now that left you feeling weak, tired, scared, and unfulfilled that you pondered whether the good moments just made you feel safe, or if they were actually great.

Wanda never responded to your question. You sat up on your knees, took one last breath, and turned to open the door. Your hand settled on the doorknob. Once you opened that door, you knew all the memories you two spent together would shatter like the glass from earlier. You felt that pit rising back into your throat as you unlocked the knob and started opening the door. The idea of facing Wanda right now terrified you—not because she was violent and angry, but because you hated those difficult, uncomfortable conversations about what happens next between you two.

You turned the doorknob and took a step back. You felt the door swing towards you with the weight of Wanda as she collapsed onto the floor. She was passed out. If this was two years ago, you would be rushing to her side and checking her pulse. Now, this was frequent. Weekly. Daily, even. You kneeled beside her to confirm her breathing before grabbing her by the forearms to drag her into the bedroom. As you dragged her, you glanced at the kitchen floor. She only smashed her empty glass, not the entire bottle. At least this time it would be an easy cleanup for tomorrow morning.

Once in the bedroom, you spent no time pulling her arm across your shoulder to help her into bed. You pulled back the bed sheets, set her on her side in the bed, and pulled the sheets up to her chin. You contemplated giving her a kiss on the forehead, but you recognized that this could be the last time you two ever had some kind of physical touch. You leaned in and gave her a quick peck. It tasted bittersweet.

You crawled into bed next to her and studied her face. Wanda was sleeping so peacefully. Her lips were slightly parted, and her auburn hair fell over her face. She always slept with her hand under her face when she laid on her side. You thought one more time about the first night at the bar and the confidence she had upon meeting you. You reminisced on the times you two made love, contemplated marriage, talked about what having kids running around the house would be like, and how you two would grow old together. You wanted so badly for everything to circle back to the sparks you two felt that first night, as that was what kept you going through this mistreatment all these years with her. These memories flooded through your mind, until you finally drifted off into a deep sleep.

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

The next morning, you woke up to the bed empty beside you. “Wanda?” You called out for her. No response. She must either be watching TV, or she left to head to the store for breakfast. The pain from the night before held strong in your chest as you composed yourself before heading into the living room. You scanned for any sight of Wanda. The TV was off and there was no sign of her. The site on the kitchen floor where she smashed her glass was swept and mopped. Then, your eyes lifted, where you noticed a note left on the bar.

You instantly rushed to the note, feeling yourself grow heavy as you got closer and closer to it. You picked it up and felt your hands shaking as you read it:

Y/N, I’m so sorry for last night, and I’m so sorry for everything I’m about to write to you. We both knew this day would come where we would part. You and I both have been going through a lot, and I think it’s time that we spent time apart so that we can work on ourselves. Also, work sent for me this morning. I thought we would have more time together before I left to get some kind of closure, but they needed me urgently. I’ll be gone for a while, they said. Months, maybe even years. Please don’t go looking for me. I’ll be okay. I love you.

-Wanda.

You fell to the floor and broke into tears. You let out an ugly, guttural cry as you held the note to your chest. It was over without any conversation. There was no closure. There was no last goodbye as Wanda would step out the door and leave. There was no watching her from the window as she’d walk through the city streets before melting into the crowd, disappearing from your life together. This note was quick and nonconfrontational. It was unlike her.

You put the note in your kitchen drawer and slumped onto the couch. Whatever came next, you could handle it. You always could. You switched the TV on and felt yourself cry. You let yourself cry. A new chapter would open for you, you just had to accept it.

#ojfuehrggterg it'll get happier i promise #I PROMISE IT'LL BE A SLOW BURN IT'S JUST SAD NOW #marvel #natasha romanoff #wanda maximoff #marvel wlw #wlw marvel #natasha romanov #fanfiction #marvel fanfic #wandanat #wanda x reader #natasha romanoff x reader #wanda maximoff x reader #slow burn

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