Please Let There Be A Second Part. It Hit Me Right In Da 💔😭

HOLY SHI- 😁👀😲😌😍

I NEED EVERYONE’S ATTENTION PLEASE LOOK AT HER

photo creds to Elizabeth Olsen Access on Twitter

Reality

Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Summary - Natasha had always had nightmares, but your imagination seemed to cover your grief as Nat wakes up with tears in her eyes again. Goodbyes never were pleasant.

Warnings; Sad.

Not my GIF!!

The gentle sounds of snores lingered in the air. Natasha's warmth radiated off her body and onto your own, relaxing you into a state of serenity you wished you could keep forever. Still, the quite relaxing atmosphere wasn't enough to put you back to sleep. Your eyes traced Natasha's features as her gentle breathing fanned your face.

She was stunning. Everything about her was so perfect it felt surreal such beauty existed. Her eyes, when they were open of course, were tender while her jawline sharp. The perfect contrast.

You got lucky. Really fucking lucky. Maybe the younger you. The one before the world corrupted your head, the happy you, wouldn't question if you deserved such love. Maybe someday you'll realise that you really loved her, more than life itself.

You were still waiting for that day. The small whine escaped Natasha's mouth pulled you from your thoughts. Her brows were now furrowed, a slight frown visible in her features. You lifted yourself up with the help of your elbow, lightly pressing your palm to her cheek. She flinched, still deep in sleep.

Your brows creased in confusion, your thumb wiping away the single tear that ran across the bridge of her nose.

"Hey, Nat?" You whispered, careful as not to scare her more than she already seemed to be. She only got worse, her body curled up into a ball, her hands flinching up towards her face as if to protect herself. Your heart broke as you sat up fully, carefully grabbing her shoulder and shaking it to wake her up from her nightmare. She flinched yet again at your touch, but relaxed into it when she realised you weren't going to hurt her.

Her breathing became rapid, breaths short. She brought her knees to her chest, burying her head further her into the pillow as one of her hands scratched at your leg when she felt contact on her body. It didn't hurt, you were more concerned about the state she was in.

Sweat appeared on her face, a thin layer covering her forehead as she whimpered pleads into the air.

She woke up with a gasp, her hands instantly grabbing your wrists in self defence. She squeezed your skin harshly, sitting up as her breathing hitched.

"Love, you're okay. It's me." You whispered and she immediately let go of your hands. She was shaking, her whole body now covered in a thin layer of sweat. She wouldn't look you in your eye, only staring at your wrists where she held you seconds before, then her gaze turned to look at your leg where she'd scratched. Then her head dropped completely.

You covered the scratch marks with one of your hands while the other caressed strands of hair behind her ear.

"Nat?"

Her whole body shook, hair sticking to her wet forehead. Gently, you moved your hand so it gripped the back of her neck, bringing her closer to your chest. It wasn't long before she was sobbing into your shoulder, soaking the material of your shirt with her tears.

You kissed the top of her forehead, whispering sweet nothings into her hair while drawing shaped into her shoulder. She hand gripped your shirt, trying to pull you impossibly close to her. You didn't mind, you continued to try and relax her as she calmed down, slowly but surely her breathing returning to normal.

Her hand caressed where she scratched your skin, where she left red marks in your leg. You intertwined your fingers with hers, stopping her from touching the scratches.

"Don't worry about it," you told her, giving her a final kiss before lifting your arm, her hand still interwoven with yours, to lift her head from under her chin. Her eyes glistened with the tears she sobbed out seconds before, eyes red and puffy.

"Love, it wasn't your fault,"

She stared into your eyes a little longer before dropping her head back down and placing it on your chest.

"Why aren't you mad?" She whispered, running her thumb up and down your hand.

"I'd never be mad at you, love."

A scoff left her throat. "No. Why aren't you mad I left?"

"What?"

"I saved you, I brought you back."

"What are you talking about?" You questioned. Her body disconnected from yours, lifting her head she smiled up at you, bringing a hand up to your cheek.

"You need to move on. I brought you back. Go live it with someone real. Someone who'll take care of you." A tear escaped your eye. Nat was quick to wipe it away.

"Don't leave me again," you cried in a whisper. "I need you Nat."

She smiled again, the tears that once represented sadness now gone, eyes filled up with hope, a feeling that told you that you were ready.

"I need to go now. Don't push everyone away. For me please. Remember I loved you so much,"

"Come visit me again?" You sobbed, still holding her in your arms. "I can't do this without you. Just one more time, please. I love you so much,"

"You said last time 3 times ago." She giggled, dropping her arm from your cheek. "Promise me, you'll let me go,"

You shook your head immediately, breaking eye contact from her gaze. You wiped your nose with the sleeve of the hoodie you wore.

"It's okay." She cooed.

"Let me go,"

You blinked down at her. Her body no longer there. Tears rolled down your cheeks, arms holding the pillow she used to sleep on. You sniffed, trying to regulate your breathing, trying to fight to urge to call her back. But you knew. You knew she wouldn't come back. Maybe the younger you, the one when Natasha was alive, didn't realise that you were unconditionally in love with her.

Now that day has come. And you spend it alone, cradling the pillow she slept on while you lay in bed with her favourite hoodie hugging your shoulders.

You were ready. Both of you were.

At least she knew you loved her in the end.

And you knew she loved you back.

Ohh ok

*Y/N getting a tour of the Avenger Compound*

Natasha: There are so many rooms in this building you will inevitably get lost, but don't worry the only one you'll need to know is down the hall. You'll be spending most of your time in there anyways.

Y/N: *Curious* Oh, what room is at the end of the hall?

Natasha: My bedroom.

Y/N: Oh.

Y/N: Oh.

Ummm... I have questions that needs to be answered. This was beautifully written. I'm heartbroken and now I'm left questioning everything. I need help..... Also is Natasha going to attack us since she's in the 'familiar' apartment or is she going to listen to us.... Furthermore wtf I- I wonder what's going to happen now. Yelena is off trying to kill Clint so how will it be impacted. How is it going to work out.

What If...? (Part Two)

Thanks @rebeliz777 for asking me to write part two, dream come true to work with one of my favourite authors.

Make sure you go check out part one here before reading this part.

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x f.reader

Request: A Natasha variant (preferably the one in What If.. who was a survivor of the Ultron apocalypse and then moved to a different timeline where the Avengers Initiative failed) arrived in the ‘canon’ timeline and then meets the reader who happens to be the wife of the ‘canon’ dead Natasha and reader also happens to be dead on Natasha variant’s own different timelines.

Am I making sense? Lol. Anyway, basically, the multiverse is in complete chaos here and different variants arrive in different timelines and Natasha and the love of her life meet each other again in the midst of all chaos. It would also be cool if Natasha variant gets shocked that her wife reader is in fact close to her Russian family. Would also really love Yelena to show up in this fic.

Words: 3.6k

What If...? is a collaborative writing project. Each chapter will be written by a different author but will follow the same storyline based on the request. Each author will add to the story until the request has been fulfilled.

Part Two

The past few hours had been a whirlwind. Yelena had taken you to a small private airport on the outskirts of the city where she led you to a light aircraft. You shouldn’t have been surprised when she had begun to set up for take off, Natasha was able to pilot most aircrafts so it made sense that her sister, a fellow widow, would possess the same skills.

You had strapped into the remaining seat in the cockpit, a wave of nostalgia washing over you as you recalled the countless times you had been a co-pilot for your wife. The memories of the easy smiles she would give you from the pilot's seat, headset resting atop her red locks as she looked over at you with nothing but love and adoration causing your heart to constrict painfully.

You turn away from Yelena, not wanting her to see the tears that were beginning to well in your eyes. You press the heel of your hand to your eyes, rubbing at them to try and get your emotions under control.

Yelena begins to nudge the small plane down the runway, the wheels lifting from the ground as the two of you become airborne. You adjust the headset over your ears, the noise from outside dulled by the noise suppression as your sister-in-law adjusts the dials on the control panel as you reach the desired altitude.

“So where are we going anyway?” you ask, your voice crackling through the headphones. You hadn’t thought to ask before now, too caught up with Yelena’s sudden appearance in your life and the prospect of meeting the rest of Natasha’s family.

She doesn’t even glance at you as she answers, her eyes fixed on the sky ahead as the plane glides through the air.

“Ohio.”

//

Thankfully the flight wasn’t long, an awkward silence filling the cockpit for the entire duration. You had so many questions but you were unsure how to bring them up, not wanting to dredge up any unpleasant memories for the woman who was clearly still struggling with the loss of her sister.

Instead, you watched the clouds as they rolled by, the sky a bright blue backdrop to one of the strangest days you had experienced in a long time. You hadn’t really done anything since Thanos, spending your days in your small apartment lost in the memories of happier times. The life you once led, days filled with missions and time spent training for the next threat were long behind you. You doubted you would ever be able to go back to it.

Not without Natasha.

When you land, the sun is high in the sky but the heat barely cuts through the late November chill. You’re glad you thought to bring your coat with you, wrapping it tighter around you as you climb down from the plane.

You’re surprised when you see the vehicle that Yelena is leading you towards, a blue pickup is not what you would have expected the blonde assassin to be driving. You don’t say anything as you clamber inside and neither does Yelena as she starts the car and begins the journey to your destination.

After ten minutes of driving, you can’t take the silence anymore and you reach for the radio. You thumb through the stations, trying to find a song that you recognised and smiling when the familiar notes of American Pie float through the air.

You close your eyes as you remember the look on Natasha’s face every time it would come on, the serene smile that would cross her face as she would close her eyes and sway gently to the beat. She never mentioned it but you knew it was one of her favourites and you were glad that the memory didn’t bring with it the usual wave of grief.

The music cuts off abruptly and your eyes fly open, looking over at Yelena and seeing the scowl across her features as she stares at the road ahead.

“No.”

She doesn’t offer any explanation and your stomach lurches as you realise that the song must be tied to one of her childhood memories with Natasha. Why else would the song elicit reactions from the both of them?

You turn your head to the window once more, watching as the truck navigates through the town. You pass shopfronts, football fields and rows and rows of houses; the neat, manicured lawns reflecting the ideal suburban life. You watch kids running around their yards, their laughter ringing through the air.

Yelena turns down a side street and you spy bikes resting against houses, trampolines standing tall in backyards and you even spot a tire swing hanging from one of the many trees. The houses are more spread out here, surrounded by trees and bushes and creating an almost magical, forest feel.

“This is where you grew up.” You don’t pose it as a question, not even looking to Yelena for confirmation.

Natasha had mentioned her time spent in Ohio, a wistful look on her face as she described the idyllic life she was able to lead for those few short years. Your heart had broken for her, knowing that the majority of her childhood had been filled with fear and pain. But you were glad she would always have the memories of her perfect life in the suburbs, even if it was all for show.

Yelena doesn’t respond, pulling into a driveway on the street and cutting the engine of the truck. She sits there for a moment, hands resting on the wheel as she gazes at the house before her. You catch the shimmer of her eyes and you know that the house represents more than you could ever imagine for her.

“C’mon,” she begins after a moment, reaching for the door handle. “Better not keep them waiting.”

She doesn’t wait for you, opening the door and exiting the vehicle. You watch her walk up the driveway, her plaid, yellow coat swaying as she moved. You take a deep breath, steeling your nerves as you follow suit.

Yelena is already waiting at the door by the time you catch up to her, the sound of the doorbell echoing from within the house. You hear footsteps moving closer and before you have time to worry about what awaits you on the other side, the door swings open and you’re face to face with a tall, middle-aged man whose wide smile you can only just make out through his thick beard.

“Lena,” he exclaims, wrapping the blonde in a tight hug. “Your mother said you were coming but I didn’t believe her. You haven’t been to see the house since we moved in.”

Yelena pushes herself from his grasp trying to act annoyed by his attention but you catch the smile tugging at her lips. You realise this must be Alexi, the pseudo father that Natasha had told you about. She had always said he had a way of putting his foot in it despite his good intentions and you could see what she meant.

But still, the way he looked at Yelena, you could have sworn he was her biological father.

“And you’ve brought a friend?” His attention was now turned to you and you fight the urge to shrink under his gaze, despite the friendly look on his face.

“No, she’s not a friend,” Yelena answers him, her tone leaving no room for argument. “She’s family.”

You turn to look at her but she’s already pushing past Alexi to walk inside the house, leaving the man standing there looking at you dumbfounded.

“Well,” you say after a few moments of awkward silence, “this wasn’t how I expected to meet my in-laws.”

//

After the initial shock had worn off, Alexi had ushered you inside. You had followed him through the house to a small kitchen at the back where you saw Yelena being embraced by an older woman with dark hair. As they parted, the woman cupped Yelena's face in her hands while smiling down at her and you knew that it had to be Melina, no one else would look at her with such motherly affection.

Alexi cleared his throat and Melina’s attention fell to you, her smile faltering for only a second before she took a step toward you.

“And this must be Natasha’s wife, I’m so glad to finally meet you.” Her hand was stretched out toward you and you took it in yours, trying not to react to the grip so similar to your wife's’.

“Wait, you knew?” Alexi cut in, the outrage clear on his face.

“Of course I knew,” Melina rolled her eyes as she guided you to the table nearby, her hand gently gripping your elbow. “I knew our Natasha was in love the second I saw her again at the Petersburg house. Plus, she’s still wearing her ring”

You sit at the table, Yelena taking the spot across from you and looking at you with an unreadable expression. Melina moved back to the kitchen, busying herself with arranging food onto dishes and bringing them to the table. Alexi sat down at the head of the table, eyeing you warily as he methodically buttered a roll that Melina had placed in front of him.

“She never really talked about you,” Melina continued as she worked, her eyes flitting to you, “but I wouldn’t take that personally, dear. She was still so guarded around me, even after we took down the Red Room. I don’t blame her, we lost so many years together and I betrayed her trust.”

“She talked about you,” you say after a beat, Melina's eyes flicking to you hopefully. “She had a lot of things she kept secret, it was hard for her to open up, even with me. But sometimes she’d mention something from her time in Ohio and she always seemed happy when she was remembering her time here.”

You feel a warm weight on your hand and your gaze travels from Alexis hand resting over yours to see his eyes shining with emotion. You offer him a smile in return, realising how loved Natasha truly was.

You just hoped that she realised it too.

Melina placed the last dish on the table and the tension is broken as Alexi clears his throat and begins to pile food onto his plate. The rest of you follow suit and soon the room is filled with cutlery clinking against plates and the satisfied sounds of people eating.

“So,” Melina turns to you after a few minutes, “tell us about your Natasha.”

You pause, finishing the food in your mouth before you begin. Once you start, it's hard to stop. You share stories about your time with Natasha, talking about how you first met all those years ago. You share details of missions with her, how proud she always made you, how she always made sure to keep you safe.

It wasn’t all one-sided though. In between your stories, the others would share their own anecdotes about your wife. It was nice to see her through their eyes and to know that the strength she radiated around you was noticed by others.

As emotional as it was, it was nice to be able to talk about her with people who really knew her. They were her family and talking to them made you feel connected to her, something you hadn’t felt for many months. They were all you had left of her and you were glad they had welcomed you so openly.

The food was long gone, the remnants of lunch littering the plates as you all continued to talk. You laughed as Melina told the story of Natasha dying her hair blue when she was younger, an act of rebellion on her part. You even caught Yelena smiling a few times, something you were sure she was incapable of from the solemn attitude she had presented up till now.

“You should go visit her,” Melina says and you catch Yelena stiffen beside you.

You’re confused, unsure exactly what Melina’s words meant, your gut telling you that Yelena’s reaction wasn’t a good sign.

“Visit who?” you question quietly, the light atmosphere that had settled around the table now thick with tension once more.

“Natasha,” she answers you and your breath catches, hope filling you for the briefest of moments. “There was no body to bury but we had a gravestone made and placed nearby. Yelena can take you to see it if you want.”

You try not to let the disappointment show on your face, of course Natasha wasn’t still alive. If she had been, she would have found you before now, she wouldn’t have let you suffer in your grief all those long months.

You can sense from Yelena’s posture that she isn’t thrilled with the idea and to be honest neither are you. You don’t want to be faced with yet another reminder of your loss, of the fact that you were all alone in this world. But Melina’s offer didn’t really leave much room to decline the invitation and you had just found this piece of your wife to cling onto, you didn’t want to ruin your relationship with them before it had really begun.

“Okay,” you agree, trying to return Melina’s smile.

//

The blue pickup rumbled down the road, the crisp November air swirling through the open windows of the cabin and filling your lungs.

Yelena doesn’t talk and neither do you, the two of you sitting in silence once more as she drives to your destination, every second that passes filling you with dread. The truck turns off the main road, following a dirt track carved out between the trees.

Suddenly, Yelena stops the pickup, the engine idling for a moment before she turns the key and the air is silent around you aside from the sound of birds nearby. You take a deep breath, eyes darting around trying to find what you had come here for.

Your heart clenches as you spot it, a small collection of stones at the end of the path. You don’t have to ask which one is Natasha's, even from where you sat you could make out the Black Widow symbol, her gravestone littered with flowers and other small tokens. You weren’t sure who had put them there but you knew that even though they didn’t know what had happened exactly, the world was thankful for all that she had done for them.

If only they knew what her sacrifice meant, how responsible she was in bringing everyone back.

“Are you ready?” Yelena’s voice catches you off guard, tears springing to your eyes at the thought of leaving the car.

“I can’t do it,” you reply, your voice trembling as you shake you head. “Even though she’s not really there, I just- I can’t.”

Yelena just nods in response, her hands tightening on the wheel for a moment before she reaches over to open the door.

“Come on, Fanny,” she grunts as she steps down from the pickup, the tan dog that Yelena had retrieved from the house following her out.

You smile as a memory of Natasha flashes to your mind, her complaining about one of the aliases she had been given and how ridiculous the name was. You were once again reminded how much Natasha’s legacy was interwoven in other people’s lives, not just your own.

You were glad that you weren’t the only person who was fighting so hard to keep her memory alive.

You watch Yelena as she walks up the path towards the headstone, sitting solitary under a tree. She crouches down for a few minutes, tidying up around the stone. You see her fingers tugging at the weeds that were growing there, adjusting the items that had been placed in Natasha’s memory.

She moves to the side of the headstone then, pressing her head against it and you have to look away, not wanting to intrude on such a private moment of grief. You had lost your wife but Yelena had lost her sister. You were lucky that you had the last five years with Natasha, time was something that Yelena never got.

She rises after a moment, walking to stand in front of the gravestone. You watch as the bottom of her yellow coat sways with the breeze, the cool air whipping through the still open window and making you shiver. You reach over to wind the glass up and by the time you look back to Yelena, she’s no longer alone.

A lady in a black coat is now standing beside her, the two of them seeming to be engaged in a conversation. You wonder if Yelena knows this person, the stiff set of her shoulders radiating annoyance.

The mystery woman reaches into her bag, handing something to Yelena. They talk for a few more minutes and then Yelena is walking back toward you, leaving the woman standing over Natasha’s grave.

Yelena opens the door, ushering the dog inside before climbing in herself. You want to ask about what you just saw but you don’t know if you should, or if she would answer your question anyway.

“I need to go back to New York,” Yelena tells you. “I have something to take care of there.”

It’s the only explanation you get.

//

It had been a few weeks since your trip to Ohio. November had ended and the days were getting colder. You found yourself dreading the upcoming Christmas, not wanting to spend yet another holiday without your wife.

You hadn’t seen Yelena since she dropped you back home but you had heard from her a few times. You didn’t want to ask how she had acquired your number but every few days she would send you a message checking in, or a random memory of Natasha to share.

The two of you had started to form a tentative friendship but you still had no idea what it was that she had to take care of in the city. Anytime you brought it up she would just brush it off, saying she was getting ready for a job.

You had no idea what she even did for work and to be honest, you were too scared to ask.

//

Things had been strange in the city the past few days.

Some strange creatures had been spotted around, destroying buildings and terrorising the people of New York.

You had thought about helping whatever team was left but Strange had been in contact with you, telling you he had it all under control for now and that he’d let you know if he needed help. You were fine with that, not really wanting to get caught up in all that craziness again.

Last night had been the worst of it, the sky had lit up across the city, looking like it was about to crack open. You had no idea what it all meant, but by the time you had woken up this morning, things had looked like they had settled down.

There were no more sightings of giant lizard men or people dressed in green suits flying around and dropping explosives. You hoped that Strange had fixed everything, you knew that he had the potential to do some wild things with his magic and you wondered what exactly he had gotten himself into.

You spent the day wandering the city, the biting cold distracting you from your thoughts as you walked. The closer it got to Christmas, the more you were thinking about Natasha and all the traditions you usually shared with her.

You thought about reaching out to Wanda, but you hadn’t heard back from her in months and you figured that she didn’t want to be contacted. So instead you let your feet carry you through the city, the snow falling around you as you shoved your hands deeper into your pocket to try and fight off the cold.

The sky was beginning to darken, so you decided to return home, not wanting to get caught outside at night in the snow. You trekked the familiar path to your apartment, admiring the lights of the city along the way.

You had to hand it to New York, they certainly knew how to celebrate Christmas.

You step off the elevator, walking towards your apartment door. You’re almost there before you notice it, the flicker of a shadow underneath your closed door. Your breath stops short, someone was in your apartment.

You figure it must be Yelena again and you vow to have a talk to her about breaking into people’s houses instead of knocking but just in case, you retrieve the gun hidden in the vent across from your door.

You unlock the front door, opening it slowly and stepping into the dark entryway. You flick the light on, gun raised as you move inside. The door clicks behind you and you strain to hear any kind of movement but all you’re met with is silence.

You decide to do a sweep of the apartment, maybe you had imagined the shadow but your years of training wouldn’t let you rest until you had checked every room.

Taking a deep breath, you turn the corner with your gun still raised and you’re met with another gun pointing back at you.

Your instinct tells you to pull the trigger but you hesitate, the flash of red hair behind the gun stopping you in your tracks.

You take in the intruder. Her hair was shorter than you remembered, her green eyes looking more haunted than they had before the Time Heist but it was her. Or at least a version of her.

You see her falter as well, her gun lowering slightly as she looks at you in recognition and disbelief. She whispers your name, your chest constricting as you hear her voice. Something you never thought you would hear again.

Your voice sounds choked as you reply, your whole world shifting in one moment.

“Natasha?”

Onto part three, take it away @vancityfire13 ! I can’t wait to see where you go with it ❤️

Why do you reblog your own fics so much?

Because someone might as well!? And look at this. Look. At. This.

Does this look right to you??

These are just the last three fics I wrote. I appreciate the likes, believe me I do, but you have to understand. Likes do nothing for content creators. It’s the reblogs. Because that’s how you find shit on your dashboard. Through reblogs. Not likes. This isn’t twitter or tiktok or instagram. This is a website that’s run by the reblog system.

Reblogging helps content creators put their stuff out there. Why do you think so many people stopped writing fanfic and creating beautiful fanart and edits? It’s because they put in hours of work and don’t get nearly enough notes for their masterpieces. Yes we do this because we enjoy it but like...some validation won’t hurt. A boost of confidence here and there might be all someone needs to finish whatever thing they started and left.

Anyway, I’m still going to reblog my shit...

Hey y'all I just wanted to to notify all my followers that I will no longer use this blog I have a newer one in which I will be using. If you would want to follow the newer blog here it is @cat34p

Hi guys please be aware. It's not me that is sending those ridiculous messages. I'm trying to fix the issue as we speak. I've already changed my password. Otherwise I will deactivate this account and create a new one. Thank you to those who brought the issue to me.

I'm not risking it.

“But if you forget to reblog Madame Zeroni, you and your family will be cursed for always and eternity.”

LESBIAN FOLLOW TRAIN

hey cuties REBLOG this if you are lesbian/bi and lets all follow each other and hit one another up!!

"Why do I need a babysitter?!?! I'm 19!"

"Why do I need a babysitter?!?! I'm 19!" Tommy whines as he and his brother follow you and Wanda to the living room - after you opened the door for your neighbor, Agatha. 

“Agatha is not your babysitter, honey.” Wanda comments naturally, checking her documents inside her purse, and you smirk teasingly as you adjust your tie. “Yeah, she’s the jailer.”

The teasing makes the older woman chuckle lightly, and your two teenage sons roll their eyes. “Don’t give us that look, now.” Wanda scolds with a pointed look. “None of this would be happening if you hadn't messed up the last time your mother and I went out.”

“It was just a stupid party!” Tommy argues about the warzone he made on the house last time you and Wanda went out on a date night. Billy, by his side, crosses his arms. “And Tommy threw it, why am I being punished too?”

“It wasn’t a stupid party, you and your caveman friends turned the house upside down and almost broke your mom’s Hanukkah menorah. You know how important it is to her.” You rebuke him sternly, and the boy looks away in shame. “And you, young man, weren't home to keep an eye on your brother as we had discussed.”

“I was with Teddy, as I said I would.” Billy hits back, a bit annoyedly, and this time Wanda steps in. “You said you were going out with him, not that you were going to sleep at his place. We all know what that means and we didn’t have that conversation yet.”

“So what? You and mom slept together long before you were 19.” The boy's argument makes your wife look at you wide-eyed. “You told them about that?!” You stutter on your words for a while before giving up, pointing at the twins as you state, “I’m not the one in trouble here!”

“Right, right.” The redhead agrees, blinking to recollect her thoughts. “The mistakes your mother and I made are not the issue here. The point is that you lied to us. And you blew up our house.” She says as she points to each child, and Agatha steps in with an amused smile. “Therefore, the jailer.”

“Thanks again, Agatha.” You say with an honest smile, receiving one of her own as she shakes her hands dismissively. “Oh please, it's no problem at all. Besides, I love annoying teenagers.” Her last sentence is humorous and, as you and Wanda share a giggle, the boys share a disgruntled grumble.

“We should get going now, or we'll lose our reservation.” You comment as you check your wristwatch. “Of course.” Wanda says as she distractedly drapes the strap of her purse over her shoulder, casting the boys one last stern look as she says, “behave yourselves.”

“Goodbye.” You say in a sing-song voice, clearly having a good time with the situation. After saying goodbye to Agatha again, you and Wanda leave the house. And as you approach the car, you let out a teasing smile. “So, you think it was a mistake to sleep with me in high school?”

“Absolutely not.” She has a smirk on her lips as she answers easily, pulling you closer by the tie to kiss you on the lips. But before you can deepen the kiss, she is pulling away and moving to the passenger seat, and you catch yourself admiring her figure, wondering how the hell you’ll be able to survive dinner without touching her properly.