Can We Talk About How In The Very First Episode Of Stuck In The Middle Not Even 3 Mins In Jenna Ortega

Oh Sarah betta watch out calling Charlie the n-word? I fight kids and they parents.

The Loud House Chapter Twenty One

The Loud House

Natasha Romanoff x Fem!Reader

Masterlist | General Masterlist 

Follow my side blog for fic updates @natsxaddiction2

Summary: Natasha and Reader are happily married with a family that rivals the Brady bunch. When they get the call for another child both moms have to adjust to married life with six children, a new space, parents living with them, and teenage woes - based on the family from It’s Christmas

Pt 1

W/c: 5.7k

Notes: The not-so-calm before the storm. Charlie and R centered af .

You arrive at The Summit Country Day School an hour before lunch. The grand building exudes an air of elegance and tradition, with vermillion-covered brick walls and manicured gardens. You pull into an empty parking space, cutting the engine and unbuckling your seatbelt. You’re on a mission today. 

On the car speaker, your best friend Denise chimes in, and you engage in light-hearted chit-chat about something random. The conversation brings a sense of comfort and familiarity, like a warm blanket wrapping around you.

“Denise, they drive me up the wall constantly,” You sigh. “Not like work. Work is another beast entirely. I’d rather be a stay-at-home mom.”

“You could be,” Denise points out. 

“I could,” You nod in agreement. “I’d also go crazy doing that. The grass is always greener.”

“Indeed it is,” Denise says. 

“Well, I’m going to go into this school and get Charlie,” You inform her, gathering your purse and belongings, before you hover your fingers over the end call button. “Going to have a girl's day just us two. Talk with her a bit.”

“Okay, sounds good. Tell my niece I said hello.” Denise ends the call as you both say goodbyes. 

As you step out of the car, you take a moment to soak in the picturesque scene. The greenery at the school has transformed into a serene winter wonderland as delicate snowflakes gently blanket the landscape. The once lush and vibrant foliage now wears a coat of pure white, creating a captivating contrast against the school's buildings and structures.

The overall scene exudes a sense of tranquility and stillness. It's not just a regular school pick-up today; it's a special occasion—a girls' day with Charlie. You’ve been suspicious about her feelings for a while. So, you wanted to give her some time to talk and be with you until you got to the bottom of it. Seeing your daughter change, even as she tried to hide it, was hard to witness. You’ve been busy. Allowing each of the children to fall through the cracks a little. This was something that was more than important. Charlie’s usually bubbly, princess-coded personality was overshadowed by her recent crankiness and unwillingness to even play with her siblings like she used to. This needed to be addressed now. 

The thought of spending quality time with Charlie fills your heart with joy. As you enter the school, the familiar sights and sounds greet you, evoking a sense of belonging. You step into the warm and bustling front office of the school, wrapped in your cozy winter coat. The inviting scent of hot cocoa fills the air as you approach the front desk, where staff members attend to various tasks.

With a friendly smile, you kindly request, "Excuse me, I'm here to pick up my daughter, Charlotte Romanoff, in second grade. Mrs. Auburn is her teacher.  Is it possible for her to be brought to the front office? I’m taking her home."

The receptionist, warm and approachable, nods understandingly. They consult the appointment book, searching for Charlie's name. Finding the details, they assure you, "Of course! Let me notify her teacher. Please have a seat, and we'll bring her to you shortly."

You find a cozy spot on a nearby cushioned chair, taking in the vibrant surroundings of the front office. Display boards proudly showcase student achievements, colorful artwork, and upcoming school events, creating an atmosphere of pride and community.

As you wait, your thoughts drift to the things you have planned for the rest of the day. You imagine the laughter, conversations, and memories that will unfold during your girls' day. 

Within a few minutes, a school staff member approaches with a warm smile, accompanied by Charlie, radiating with infectious energy. Your face lights up as you embrace your daughter, feeling an overwhelming surge of love and joy.

“Mommy, I’m going home early?” Charlie asks with wide eyes. 

“Yes ma’am,” You pinch her cheek. “Are you ready?” You ask her as you notice her lack of backpack and coat. “Where are your things?”

“Aww,” Charlie pouts. “We were going to watch a movie today after lunch.”

“Well, if you’d rather stay be my guest,” You shrug. “I guess I’ll do the entire plans I had today for myself.”

“No way,” Charlie shakes her head. 

“You can show her to her cubby,” The staffing assistant, Perry, asks you to follow her back to Charlie’s class. In classroom 229, the air was alive with the vibrant energy of children engrossed in various activities, and colorful artwork adorned the walls. Mrs. Auburn, a warm and nurturing teacher, with pepper-colored hair, greeted you with a smile.

"Hello, Charlie and Mom," Mrs. Auburn said warmly. "It's wonderful to see you. Are you ready to gather Charlie's belongings?"

With a beaming smile, you replied, "Yes. We’re almost all set."

Charlie led the way to her cubby, a small personal space where her backpack and cherished items were neatly stored. As you helped her gather her belongings, you could feel the stares of the children in the class. 

Suddenly, a little girl with long blonde hair and blue eyes approached, her eyes filled with admiration and a hint of shyness. "Wow, Charlie! Your mom is so pretty!" she exclaimed.

“Why thank you, you’re pretty too,” You smile. “So polite also.”

From the corner of your eye, you can see Charlie roll her eyes as she stuffs her arms into her coat. 

“I thought you have two moms,” Sarah questions. Charlie sighs. 

“I have two,” She doesn’t seem to be up to answering the little girl’s nosiness. “My mama is away for work right now,” Charlie says. You can see a subtle tension hanging in the air between Charlie and the girl in the class. You, perceptive as ever, chose not to mention it, letting the moment pass without disruption.

Savannah, Charlie's close friend, joined in, grinning from ear to ear. "Hi, Mrs. R.” 

“Hi, girlie, I love your shoes today,” You comment on her sparkling pink boots. 

“Thank you-” Savannah grins. 

"Charlie, guess what?" Sarah said, demanding the attention be on her. “I have a new dollhouse at home. It’s huge.”

Charlie's scrunched her nose. "Oh, cool.”

Observing the unspoken dynamics between Sarah and Charlie, you maintained your composure, choosing to focus on the positive interaction unfolding between her and Savannah. You’ll have questions later. 

With a warm smile, you bid farewell to Sarah and Savannah. "It was great talking with you both. Have a good day.”

Excitement radiated from Charlie as she tightly held your hand. "Ready for our girls' day, Boo?" you asked, your smile filled with anticipation.

Charlie nodded eagerly. "Yes, Mommy. Even though I don’t know what it is.”

Leaving the busy classroom behind, the sound of laughter and chatter gradually faded into the background. At that moment, as you stepped into the hallway, you listened as Charlie began to chatter about her day. 

She was more than excited about what was in store for her. 

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

The first stop of the day was your favorite nail salon a few miles from home. The nail salon enveloped you and Charlie in a cheerful ambiance, filled with the soothing scent of aromatic lotions and the gentle hum of soft music. Lively colors adorned the space, along with delicate decorations and plush pedicure chairs.

You guided Charlie towards the array of nail polish bottles, giving her the freedom to choose her colors for the manicure and pedicure. Her eyes widened with excitement as she spotted a delightfully childish and girlie shade—a whimsical glittery pink that shimmered with possibility.

Charlie's voice bubbled with excitement as she eagerly presented her choice.

"Mom, can I get this one? It's so pretty!"

A warm smile crossed your face, fully embracing the spirit of the girls' day. "Of course, sweetie. It's perfect!"

With Charlie settled into a cozy pedicure chair, her little feet dangling just above the bubbling water, you took your place in the adjacent chair. The comforting warmth of the water enveloped your feet as you both prepared to indulge in some pampering together.

As the nail technician approached, Charlie's eyes sparkled with curiosity, ready to embark on her first manicure and pedicure adventure.

"Hello there!" the technician greeted, a warm smile gracing her face. "Are you excited for your manicure and pedicure today?"

Charlie nodded eagerly, her enthusiasm evident. "Yes! I've never had one before. How does it work?"

You watched proudly as the nail technician patiently explained the process to Charlie, taking her through each step. Charlie absorbed the information with genuine fascination, eager to learn more.

"So, what's the base coat for?" Charlie asked, her curiosity shining through. "Does it make the color last longer?"

The technician's eyes lit up, impressed by Charlie's keen observation. "Absolutely! The base coat helps the polish adhere better to your nails, creating a smooth surface. It also aids in the longevity of the color and prevents staining."

Charlie beamed with pride, reveling in her newfound knowledge. Her desire to understand the process and engage in meaningful conversation warmed your heart.

As the technician began working on Charlie's toes, a friendly exchange unfolded between Charlie and the technician. Charlie couldn't contain her excitement and started sharing stories about her school experience.

"Guess what ?" Charlie exclaimed, her voice filled with excitement. "We're learning different languages at school! I know how to say 'hello' in French. It's 'bonjour'!"

The technician's eyes twinkled with delight. "That's wonderful, Charlie! How about you teach me something new?"

Charlie's face lit up, embracing the opportunity to share her knowledge and teach others.

"Sure!" Charlie replied with a wide grin. "Once you're done with my toes, I'll teach you how to say 'thank you' in Spanish. It's 'gracias'!"

You watched with pride as Charlie engaged in a delightful conversation with the technician, witnessing her curiosity and eagerness to share her knowledge. It was a testament to Charlie's natural curiosity and love for discovering new things.

As the technician continued to pamper Charlie's toes, Charlie confidently began to converse with the woman about all the reasons she loved her school. Your heart swelled with pride, cherishing the moment of connection between your daughter and the nail technician. It was a testament to Charlie's growing confidence, something you hadn’t seen in a while, and her ability to engage with others in a warm and friendly manner.

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

You and Charlie arrive at Taste of Belgium, a charming restaurant in Cincinnati that she has been eagerly begging to visit. The restaurant's inviting ambiance and mouthwatering scents greet you as you step inside, heightening your anticipation.

The interior of Taste of Belgium exudes warmth and comfort, with its rustic wooden accents and the smell of freshly baked bread filling the air. Conversations mingle with the clinking of cutlery, though it’s quite empty considering the time of day, creating a lively atmosphere that envelops you and Charlie as you enter.

Together, you find a booth toward the back of the restaurant, seeking a touch of privacy amidst the bustling crowd. As you settle into the cozy booth, Charlie can't contain her excitement, proudly displaying her new sparkly pink nails, the light reflecting off the glitter.

"Mom, look at my nails! They're so pretty! I love the glittery pink!" Charlie exclaims, a radiant smile lighting her face. You can't help but share in Charlie's excitement, admiring her newfound sense of confidence and self-expression.

"They do look good on you, Boo!"You respond affectionately. "The pink suits you perfectly. You have impeccable taste."

A friendly server approaches your booth, ready to take your order. Charlie's eyes widen as she peruses the menu, her anticipation growing.

"Can we get the Belgian frites, Mom?" she asks eagerly. "They're supposed to be the best here!"

You nod, embracing Charlie's enthusiasm for the iconic Belgian fries. "Sure. We'll have the Belgian frites."

The server jots down your order, and you also request glasses of refreshing water to accompany the meal.

As you wait for the food to arrive, conversation flows effortlessly between you and Charlie. You delve into her day at school, exploring her favorite subjects, and discussing the adventures she hopes to embark on during the upcoming break.

Excitement fills Charlie's voice as she shares her latest discovery.

"Mom, guess what? Mrs. Auburn said we're going to have a science fair soon! I can't wait to come up with a cool experiment!" she exclaims, her eyes shining with anticipation.

You listen intently, impressed by Charlie's enthusiasm for learning and her growing curiosity about the world.

"That sounds fantastic, Charlie!" you reply, beaming with pride. "Just let me know and I’m sure Melina will help too. That’s her subject.”

“I think it would be cool,” Charlie nods. 

Just as the conversation reaches its peak, the server arrives, carrying a generous plate of crispy Belgian frites. The golden fries are accompanied by an assortment of tasty dipping sauces, tempting both you and Charlie. You reach for fries at the same time, biting into one as Charlie kicks her legs happily.

"Mommy, I really want to join ballet!" Charlie informs you. She double-dips her fries, before stuffing a few into her mouth. "Savannah is in it, and she says it's so much fun. And guess what? Mama did ballet when she was a kid too!"

You listened attentively, a warm smile gracing your lips. You were taking in all of the information she was giving you as it came. 

"I think that’s a good idea,” You replied.  "Ballet is a beautiful art form, and it sounds like you have a true passion for it. I'm so proud of you for wanting to explore new interests."

Charlie's eyes lit up with hope, eagerly awaiting your response.

"So can I join?" she asked, her voice filled with anticipation.

You took a moment to reflect, fully aware of the demanding schedule that already filled your days. But as you looked into Charlie's eager eyes and heard the genuine excitement in her voice, you understood the significance of nurturing her passions.

With a tender gaze, you replied, "Charlie, I want nothing more than to see you pursue your dreams. Ballet is a wonderful opportunity, and I'll do my best to make it work in our schedule. We'll find a way."

Charlie's face was illuminated with joy, gratitude shining through her expressive eyes.

Taking a deep breath, you gathered the courage to broach a topic that had been on your mind.

"Charlie, sweetheart, can I ask you something?" You began gently, your voice filled with love and concern. You observed Charlie's expression change, her once bright eyes now clouded with uncertainty.

"What is it?" Charlie responded, her voice tinged with caution as if anticipating a difficult question.

“I was wondering why you asked me for a haircut the other day?”

You reached out and gently clasped Charlie's hand, wanting to convey your unwavering support and understanding. "You know you can tell me anything, right, I'm here for you, no matter what."

Charlie's gaze wavered for a moment, searching your eyes for reassurance. With a deep sigh, she finally relented, allowing her true feelings to come to the surface.

"Mommy," Charlie began, her voice tinged with vulnerability, "I just want a short haircut. Like Aunt Maria’s.”

“Is that all?” You encourage her to go on.

“My hair is different from the other kids'.” Charlie points out. “Savannah is the only one that looks like me in my class. Her hair is nice. Mine isn’t. It's so curly and big, and sometimes people make fun of it, like Sarah."

Your heart ached at Charlie's admission, the weight of her words echoing in the air. You had suspected that there might be more to her desire for a haircut, but hearing her articulate her struggles tugged at your heartstrings.

Gently brushing a strand of hair away from Charlie's face, you looked into her eyes with unwavering love and compassion. "I'm so sorry to hear that. Please know that your hair is absolutely beautiful, and it's part of what makes you uniquely you."

Charlie's eyes welled up with tears, a mixture of relief and vulnerability. "But Mom, it's hard sometimes. I just want to fit in and not be different. Sarah is a popular girl and she rules the whole second grade.”

Cupping Charlie's face in your hands, you spoke with tenderness, your voice filled with reassurance. "I understand that it can be difficult when others don't appreciate the wonderful qualities that make you special. But remember, fitting in isn't about changing who you are. It's about finding the people who love and accept you exactly as you are."

Charlie's tearful eyes met yours, seeking comfort and understanding.

"You are perfect, my baby," You continued, your voice filled with unwavering belief. "And if a haircut will make you feel more confident and happy, then we can certainly explore that together. But always remember, your worth and beauty go far beyond your appearance."

Taking a moment to gather your emotions, you looked at Charlie with a mixture of concern and determination.

"Charlie, I want to understand what Sarah does exactly, "You said, your voice steady but filled with an undercurrent of anger. "Can you tell me more about it?"

Charlie hesitated for a moment, her eyes searching yours, before she took a deep breath and began to explain.

"Well, sometimes Sarah tugs at my hair like she's trying to pull it out," Charlie began, her voice trembling with vulnerability. "And she calls me the n-word. I never heard that word before. Well, in music sometimes but you told us it's bad. Savannah told me it was bad. That’s how I know. She keeps saying hurtful things about my mom being the Black Widow and how she's a bad person. She even tells other kids not to hang out with me because of it."

Your heart ached at the cruelty that Charlie had endured, the weight of her words resonating deep within you. Anger swelled within your chest, but you knew you had to rein in your emotions for Charlie's sake.

With a gentle touch, you reached out and held Charlie's hand, conveying your unwavering support and love. "Charlie, I am so sorry that you've had to go through such hurtful experiences. You don't deserve any of that." You sigh. “It is a bad word. It’s a mean and nasty word and no one should ever call you that. Not now not ever.”

Charlie's eyes welled up with tears, the pain is evident in her voice. "It makes me so sad, Mama. I just want to be treated like everyone else."

Your voice filled with empathy as you reassured her, "Charlie, you are a wonderful and beautiful person. You deserve to be treated with kindness and respect. I will do everything in my power to make sure that happens." You push your chair back to gesture for her to come and sit on your lap. “I didn't know this was going on. I’m so sorry baby. I’m so sorry.” You whisper to her as you kiss her head. 

Concern etched on your face, you asked, "Has Mrs. Auburn ever noticed anything that's been going on?"

Charlie's expression grew solemn as she nodded slowly. "There was one time when Sarah said something mean to me in class, but Mrs. Auburn didn't seem to notice. She's usually busy with all the other kids."

Your heart sank, realizing that the one person who should be ensuring Charlie's safety and well-being in the classroom seemed unaware of the extent of the situation. Determination filled your eyes as you made a silent vow to address the issue with Mrs. Auburn and find a resolution.

Taking a deep breath, you looked at Charlie, your voice filled with love and determination. "Charlie, I want you to know that you're not alone in this. We will work together to make sure that things change. You deserve to be treated with kindness and respect, and I will do everything I can to ensure that happens. I will talk with Mrs. Auburn about doing better.”

Charlie's eyes met yours, a mixture of sadness and hope shining through. 

"Is Mama a bad person?" Charlie asked, her voice filled with uncertainty and concern.

You squeezed Charlie a little tighter to you. You look around making sure you’re still relatively alone as you continue your conversation. 

"Oh, Charlie, it's not as simple as that," You began, your voice filled with a mix of compassion and understanding. "Mama, like all of us, has made some bad choices in the past. But that doesn't mean she is a bad person."

Charlie's brow furrowed, her eyes searching yours for answers. It was a heavy topic to navigate, but you knew it was crucial to help Charlie grasp the complexities of human nature.

"People make mistakes, my love,"You continued, your voice steady and patient. "Sometimes those mistakes can hurt others, and that's where the problem lies. But what's important is what happens next. If someone recognizes their mistakes, takes responsibility, and makes a genuine effort to change and grow, they can make amends and become a better person."

You know it’s entirely too complicated to explain to a seven-year-old. Sometimes it's too complicated for you. You can only provide her with what you can. Charlie listened intently, her expression shifting from confusion to contemplation.

"So, even if someone has done bad things in the past, it doesn't mean they can't change and be better?" She asked, her voice filled with a glimmer of hope.

You nodded, squeezing Charlie's hands gently. "Exactly, my love. Apologies, growth, and making better choices can make a world of difference. It's about learning from our mistakes and striving to do better, to be kinder and more compassionate. However, I want to say these things are entirely different. Forgiveness also looks different for everyone. If someone is hurting you and making you feel that way you don’t have to forgive them.”

Charlie's eyes softened, and a small smile graced her lips. It was a relief to see the weight of judgment lifting from her shoulders.

"You see, "You continued, your voice filled with warmth, "People are complex. We all have our struggles and flaws, but it's how we respond to them that defines us. It's about choosing to be better and treating others with kindness, even when we've made mistakes."

Charlie nodded slowly, a newfound understanding and acceptance taking hold. At that moment, you knew you had planted a seed of empathy and forgiveness within her.

You leaned in, wrapping Charlie in a comforting embrace, letting the love and reassurance envelop her.

"We will always strive to be better," you whispered, your voice filled with unwavering devotion. "And remember, the most important thing is that we love each other."

Charlie nodded, a sense of peace washing over her. In this quiet corner of the restaurant, you shared a powerful lesson about forgiveness, growth, and the capacity for change.

“Now, I have something else planned,” You wipe away her tears with your thumbs. “If you really want that haircut I can take you. Or I can allow you to get any style you want. You have a choice to make.”

“I can get pink?” Charlie questions. 

“If that’s what you want,” You shrug. “What are you thinking?”

“I want braids,” Charlie nods decisively. “I don’t want to cut my hair. Cara has long hair and Paige has long hair. We’re sisters so we can match in that way. I think.”

“I think that’s very insightful,” You pat her leg. “Braids will look great on you. I do have to warn you with your hair length this could take a while. Hours even.”

“Can I have your iPad?” She suggests. 

“Sure kid. Dessert or no dessert?” You gesture to the menu. 

“Definitely dessert,” Charlie pulls the menu towards you so you both can look. “I’m glad you’re my mommy. You and Mama make me feel better all the time. I miss her.”

“I’m glad I’m your mommy too,” You kiss her head again. “It’s the best job in the world. Also, Mama will be home soon. I know it’s scary for all of you but she will be home soon.” You hope. You could only hope. 

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

As you approached the reception desk of the hair salon, a warm smile welcomed you. The receptionist, sensing Charlie's anticipation, led you both to a comfortable corner where a hair washing station awaited. The soothing sound of running water and the comforting scent of gentle shampoos wafted through the room.

Charlie's eyes widened in wonder, taking in the bustling activity surrounding her. This was all new to her—the traditions and rituals of the salon were unfamiliar, but she was eager to embark on this journey of transformation.

The friendly hairstylist assigned to Charlie's care introduced herself as Nyla. With grace and patience, Nyla guided Charlie through the process, tenderly washing and blow-drying her hair. Each stroke and movement seemed like a work of art, creating a sense of care and reverence.

The salon buzzed with lively conversations, laughter, and a vigorous exchange of stories. The women around you shared tales of their own experiences, offered beauty tips, and reveled in the community spirit that permeated the space.

Charlie, enthralled by the warm and welcoming atmosphere, eagerly engaged with those around her. Her curiosity sparked conversations and forged connections as she delved into stories of her family.

“Nyla, did you know I have four siblings?” Charlie listed off. “Cara is my oldest sister, and she's fifteen. She's incredibly smart and she plays sports. She’s my best friend. Even when she’s mean.” This causes a chuckle from the salon attendees. “James is my little brother—he's five and always up to something. He just broke his arm. Paige is so funny. She plays Barbies the best. And then there's Luke, who's almost one. He doesn’t walk yet but my Mommy says soon.”

Nyla listened with genuine interest, her skilled hands moving with practiced precision as she weaved Charlie's hair into intricate patterns.

“Wow, Charlie, your family sounds amazing!” Nyla distractedly responded.

You joined in the conversation, your voice filled with a mix of exhaustion and affection.

“Life is never dull. That’s for sure.” You quip. 

The salon buzzed with a sense of camaraderie, as the women understood the beauty and challenges of motherhood. They shared a collective understanding, knowing that amidst the chaos, there was an unwavering bond that held families together.

As Nyla skillfully completed the final touches of Charlie's exquisite braided hairstyle, the salon erupted into applause, celebrating the transformation. Charlie's face beamed with pride, her confidence radiating from within as Nyla held up a mirror for her. 

“Oh girl, you are a show stopper,” Nyla smiled.  “All that beautiful hair. Wow.”

“Thank you,” Charlie gushed shyly. “I really like my new braids.”

“Does it hurt?” You ask as you poke her head and she flinches away. “Core memory unlocked.” You chuckle. “How much do I owe you?”

“One hundred fifty even.” Nyla helps to put place pink lotion into her hair. “Now do you sleep with a bonnet every night?”

“Yes,” Charlie nods. She listens attentively as Nyla explains to her how to take care of her braids. You pay, offering a tip also before you help Charlie out of the chair. Walking out of the salon hand in hand, Charlie's braids swaying with every step, even her beads made noise. She seemed so much happier than when you picked her up that morning. 

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

The car glided smoothly into the garage, and you turned to your daughter, instructing her to join you in the front seat. You settled into the driver's seat, watching with anticipation as Charlie climbed into the front, her youthful energy filling the space beside you.

"Hey, sweetie, how are you feeling? Are you okay?" You asked, your voice infused with a tenderness that only a mother could provide.

“Yep, I’m fine,” Charlie nodded, her braids swinging as she shook her head. 

Charlie took a moment to collect her thoughts, her expression contemplative. Her emotions were written across her face, a delicate balance of vulnerability and resilience.

With a gentle touch, you placed your hand on her cheek, offering reassurance and understanding.

"You know, Charlie, I want to make sure you're always okay," You began, your voice filled with love. "Sometimes people can be unkind, and it's important to stand up for yourself."

Charlie's eyes met yours, a flicker of uncertainty dancing within them.

“Like fighting?”

"I want to be clear," You continued, your tone steady and unwavering. "I don't condone violence, and hurting others should never be the answer. But when someone is violating your space, crossing your boundaries, you have every right to defend yourself."

You watched as Charlie absorbed your words, a mixture of contemplation and relief playing across her face. It was crucial for her to understand the distinction between self-defense and aggression.

"You see, Charlie, boundaries are important," You explained, your voice filled with conviction. "Your personal space and well-being should always be respected. If someone is making you feel unsafe or uncomfortable, you have the right to protect yourself."

Charlie's gaze met yours, her understanding deepening. She wanted to be kind, but she also needed to feel safe. “I don’t want to hurt anyone.”

"I know you have a gentle heart, baby," you said, your voice softening with empathy. "But remember, defending yourself when your boundaries are being violated is a special case. It's about asserting your right to safety and making sure that others understand the importance of treating you with respect."

A sense of relief washed over Charlie, her shoulders relaxing as she absorbed your words. At that moment, you knew you had empowered her to navigate the complexities of standing up for herself while upholding her compassionate nature.

"I love you, Charlie," you whispered, your voice filled with unwavering support. 

Charlie nodded, a mixture of gratitude and understanding reflected in her eyes. 

“Can I go show everyone my hair now?”

“You absolutely can.”

Charlie eagerly stepped through the front door, her heart brimming with excitement. She couldn't wait to show her new hairstyle to her siblings, knowing they would be just as excited as she was. The sound of laughter and playful chatter filled the air, drawing her attention to the living room.

As Charlie entered the room, her eyes lit up with delight. There, gathered together, were her siblings, each engaged in their own playful activities. Cara sat with a book in hand, James was building a tower with colorful blocks, and Paige was busy scribbling on a notepad. 

With a joyful smile, Charlie approached them, her braids swaying with each step. Her heart skipped a beat as she caught sight of little Luke, who seemed both curious and impatient.

“Guess what, everyone! Look at my new braids!” She did a spin for dramatic effect. 

The room fell momentarily silent as Charlie's siblings turned their attention toward her.

“They look amazing. Love the beads.” Cara gave a thumbs up. 

James stood to approach her. “Cool! Can I touch them?” He asked politely, already having a hand out for him to take. 

Charlie's face beamed with pride, her heart swelling with joy at their positive reactions. She nodded, granting permission for James to explore her braids.

“Can I have beads in my hair too, Charlie?”

Charlie giggled, enjoying the playfulness of her little brother. She gently shook her head, explaining that beads in his short hair might not work as well.

“You look like a princess, Charlie! Like Mommy,” Paige pointed out. 

Charlie blushed, her cheeks turning a rosy shade of pink. The loving support of her siblings filled her with warmth and happiness.

Luke watched with wide eyes, his little hands reaching out to touch the shiny beads in Charlie's hair as she sat next to him on the couch.  Frustration crept onto his face when he realized he couldn't grasp them.

“Oh, Luke, those beads are special for my hair. You can't take them off, but you can look at them, okay?”

You scooped Luke into your arms as his attention shifted to welcoming you home. 

As the room filled with chatter and laughter once more, Charlie basked in the love and acceptance of her siblings.

You carry Luke in your arms, making your way toward the kitchen, ready to set up for homework time and prepare dinner. But just as you were about to step into the kitchen, your phone buzzed, indicating an incoming call. You pulled it from your pocket, glancing at the screen, and saw Peyton's name flashing across it.

Your heart skipped a beat, a mixture of anticipation and concern flooding your thoughts. You answered the call, holding Luke securely in your arms.

"Hey, Peyton! What's going on?" Your voice carried warmth and concern.

Peyton's worried voice echoed through the phone. "Hey, sis. I talked to Mom earlier, and she mentioned that things seem to be tough for you lately. Have you heard from Natasha? Is everything okay?"

Your expression softened, gratitude mixed with a hint of stubborn independence. You had always been fiercely protective of your family and hesitant to ask for help, even when things were difficult.

"Thanks for your concern, Peyton. I appreciate it. Things have been a bit challenging, but I'm managing. I don't need any help right now. We're doing just fine," You reassured her. You cradled the phone between your neck and shoulder as you began to gather pots and pans. “Hey, kids, homework, at the table. Now.” You instruct.

Peyton's voice softened, laced with sibling love and concern. "Are you sure, y/n? You know we're here for you, right? We're family."

You took a deep breath, your love for your sister is evident in your voice. "I know, Peyton, and I appreciate that. But I've got enough on my plate, and I want to make sure I can handle it on my own for now. Trust me, we're going to be okay."

As the conversation continued, a doorbell rang, interrupting the exchange. Your curiosity was piqued, wondering who could be at the door. Setting your phone down for a moment, you carefully balanced Luke in one arm and made your way toward the front entrance.

Opening the door, you were greeted by the unexpected sight of Peyton, accompanied by Brandon and Willow. Surprise spread across your face. You weren't expecting them at all.

i need validation for this one obvi

next part

apple.news

Biden signs "historic" executive order to protect LGBTQ people — Axios

President Biden signed an executive order Wednesday to strengthen protections for people in the LGBTQ community as states attempt to pass a

This is genuinely a major good story that needs to be shared! Biden has also been active in pushing the DOJ to fight in the courts the Republican laws that have been set up against lgbt youths and their families across republican led states.

So glad that didn’t run with that. Because for one I wouldn’t make sense. If casita was made by the miracle that was meant to protect them … why would he bully someone of the family that keeps that miracle that keeps the house alive?

oh what the fuck

So apparently, in the drafts, Casita itself would bully Mirabel? Since the failed gift ceremony? That's just sad

Happiness Will Come To You.

Lately I’ve been getting a lot of Shuri fics on my timeline and I just feel like … if r is white it don’t fit well. Now I’m not tryna be discriminative or prejudice. But I also don’t think they’ll take it well in Wakanda. I mean they call white folks colonizers and such…

He is the most precious cinnamon roll and I shall protect him ❤️

Antonio: *eating a cinnamon roll*

The rest of the Madrigal family: cannibalism

Antonio: *confused chewing*

I … wow …

𝐁𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐊 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐑𝐔𝐋𝐄𝐒 | n.romanoff

you visit the strip club downtown with your co-workers to let off some steam, but it seems like you've caught the eye of none other than the 'black widow'.

🖤 pairing: sub!stripper!natasha x fem!cop!reader

🖤 word count: 3145

🖤 note: SMUT (18+), this one been marinating in my drafts like im preserving wine

main m.list | AO3

You don’t know why you let your co-workers drag you to a strip club on a Friday night, but you’re sure as hell not complaining.

There are plenty of women, everywhere. Women in bikinis, women in stockings, women in thigh garters. You're in wonderland, honestly.

Hey, cops needed to let off some steam too, okay?

The cheers and hoots surround your table as Carol gets a lap dance by a brunette stripper. The blonde woman is blushing – you didn’t know she could do that – but she’s having the time of her life.

As Carol slides a bill between the stripper's tits with no lack of embarrassment, you laugh and get up to go get another drink.

It wasn't an overly rare occasion for you to be letting loose, but it was infrequent enough that your co-workers quite physically hauled you to this adult entertainment facility after a particularly taxing case.

ULTRAVIOLET was the most popular strip club in Queens, New York City. They served both men and women, with sparkling reviews about customer service and atmospheric aesthetics.

Carol, Valkyrie, and Maria would simply not shut up about the 'Black Widow', who was supposedly the sexiest, most stunning stripper any of them had ever laid their eyes on.

"She fuckin' looked at me in the eye," Valkyrie had moaned on a Monday morning, speaking of this stripper they so revered. "I can't look at anyone the same no more." 

You were about to make a quick-witted retort about Valkyrie’s dramatization of mere eye contact, but Maria had only nodded solemnly in agreement and you had to admit you didn’t take Maria’s judgment lightly.

Aside from the talk about the Black Widow, you were hit with the novelty of the strip club once you stepped foot within.

As the Commanding Officer of the New York City Police Department, 104th Precinct, the boundless freeness of this place was quite a sight to behold. What with the heavy music, and the beer-tinged scent of the air, and nude women – the sensory overload did wonders to take your mind off work.

"You here alone?"

You spin on the barstool at the sound of a sultry voice. You have to physically stop your jaw from dropping to the floor at the sight of a breathtakingly gorgeous woman.

Scantily clad in matching sequined undergarments and fishnet stockings, stands a redheaded woman leaning against the bar counter, looking at you with magnificent green eyes.

"I'm not alone- I mean, not in that way, because I'm just here with friends. Well, co-workers, but they're my friends as well-"

Splendid job, Deputy Inspector Y/N L/N, you say internally. You can look in the eye of murderers and terrorists, but one look at a pretty woman and you're fuckin' gone.

"You're cute," the lady interrupts with a small tilt of her head, saving you from digging your own grave further.

You swallow harshly, feeling her manicured nails trace the curvature of your bicep. 

"Just cute?" you ask, trying not to sound too hopeful. Her fingers move down to the collar of your white shirt, fiddling with the fabric. Call it stupidity, but you feel the urge to reciprocate the contact. You move your hands to her hips.

The lady smirks. "Hm, maybe not just cute. But I think you need to show me." 

The redhead hasn't broken eye-contact all the while. Your eyes feel like they're burning. You slide your left hand down to the hem of her panties, and tug slightly. When her panties snap against her skin, she jolts with the impact.

You smirk with victory, pulling her in by her waist so your mouth is pressed against her skin. "I'll show you," you murmur, kissing the warm with a fervour you didn't know you possessed. 

The woman's breath hitches and she pulls your head closer. You accept the invitation, beginning to leave a hickey on the sensitive spot of her neck.

After a few moments of your concentrated work on her neck, the woman finally lets out a sigh-turned-moan of pleasure, and you nearly pass out from how sexy it is.

She tugs your head away and pulls you in by the collar for a kiss. Your eyelids flutter close.

Your quavering breaths meet in a frantic harmony, and you want to explore her mouth, but she ends it as quickly as it begins.

"What's your name?" the redhead asks, warm breath on your lips. "Y/N," you say hoarsely, trying and failing not to sound like you were left high and dry. 

You slide your hands to the bare skin of her torso, silently delighting in the way it raises goosebumps. You need to get more of her, feel more of her. "Do I get to know your name?" you ask.

The lights in the strip club suddenly dim, and the music takes on a far more sensual tone. 

The woman slides out of your grasp like sand falling through your fingertips, and you're left with the ghost of her burning embrace. Your question remains unanswered.

"Let's give it up for our next dancer," the bar owner says into his mic, and the noise dramatically fades away. "The Black Widow!"

Blue and violet lights dance in your vision as the woman who had kissed you just moments before, approaches the stage, hips swaying in time to the music. 

Your eyes narrow, and you down the bourbon in one shot. You'd need it.

When the beat drops, The Black Widow throws her head back and she begins to move.

God, it's criminally sensual, the way she danced, unlike anything you'd ever seen before. You couldn't put into words the allure she possessed.

The redheaded woman runs a hand over her own skin, dipping into every curve, as the music crescendos, and you know you're not the only patron with their heart thrumming in their chest.

When she begins twirling on the pole, you see men clearing out a month's paycheck for this divine woman, and honestly? You don't blame them.

Money gets flung onto the stage and catcalls get yelled as perhaps the most erotic scene unfolds before your very eyes.

When The Black Widow lifts up a thigh to show off her tight stockings, you're unable to hold back any longer, drawn to the stage like a moth to a flame.

Sitting back down into your original seat, leaving the empty glass of bourbon behind, all else fades away. Your world stumbles on its axis as the woman makes her way over to you, running a hand through her luscious locks of hair.

Your mouth dries up as The Black Widow turns around in front of you and fully bends over, exposing the delicious curve of her ass. You sink back into your seat, bringing two fingers to your lips in silent contemplation. Internally, you're fighting the goddamned World War II with your libido.

She's still swaying in beat to the music, and spins around as the sound of a saxophone starts playing. The last thing you see is a playful wink from the gorgeous woman before an ample asset of tits covers your vision.

Fuck, you're not going to survive.

Your nose quite literally gets buried between her tits as the woman climbs onto you. You would pay to see your co-workers' faces right now. How would you ever face them at work again?

“Get it, Y/N!” you hear Maria call in the distance, and a shrill whistle follows. 

You smirk against the pair of tits in your face, inhaling the scent of her perfume, and her sweat, and simlply her. You let the stripper work her magic.

After a few more minutes of your paradise, she pulls away, skin flushed. 

You regard her with a darkened gaze, pulling out your wallet. You stuff a bill in the side of her thong, making sure to snap the fabric in the same spot as you had previously.

The woman's face flickers in recognition. She shakes her head, then dips her head down to whisper in your ear.

"11pm. Room 8. Private session. Don't be late."

Like it was planned, the music comes to an end. The redhead doesn't wait for your response before she gets off your lap, raising her arm in acknowledgement of the roaring cheers. Her hips sway as she walks away from you, and you don’t even pretend that your eyes are glued to her curves.

Money gets thrown onto the stage once again, all in hopes of earning a fraction of what you had just experienced. 

"Holy shit, Y/N, what was that?" Carol yells at you over the noise, slapping your back. You shrug plainly with a stupid smug smirk as Valkyrie whines in jealousy. 

Oh, you were so fucking ready for 11pm.

.

"A private, fuckin' session for Deputy Inspector Y/N fucking L/N. Who would'a thought," Carol slurs, banging a shot glass onto the round table.

You roll your eyes at Carol's dramatization. It wasn't as if your status as Commanding Officer steered women away from you – in fact, some of them were quite into it.

But for your prevalently horny friends who had women over just about every week, you were considered starved of sweet pussy and were in dire need of quenching that thirst.

So when you broke the news that the most sought-after stripper in the most famous strip club in Queens, had just offered you a private session, lo and behold the chaos that ensued.

"Shit, girl, I would get down on my knees for that lady. You are one lucky bastard," Valkyrie adds in, ruffling your hair as you grumble. 

"You'd get down on your knees for any woman, actually," Maria says, the usually composed woman more laid back in the environment of the strip club. Or maybe it was the alcohol.

Valkyrie lets out an aggrieved noise, sitting up to whack Maria's arm, but in her drunken state she misses and slaps Carol's drink out of her hands. 

"Oi!" The blonde cries out indignantly, looking at the drink that had splattered onto her clothing. 

Carol grabs Maria's martini out of her hands and throws it at Valkyrie in retaliation.

Before you know it, your three idiot friends have gotten temporarily suspended from the strip club for 'causing a ruckus'.

Just like that, and the clock ticks down to eleven o’clock.

.

It’s 11pm, and you're overly aware of your police badge at your belt and your gun in your holster.

Or at least, you were, until Natasha swung one leg across your lap and sat herself down with an unspoken grace, effectively sitting on your lap. In the privacy of the enclosed room, you unashamedly stare down at her cleavage, eyes several hues darker than they were before.

“See something you like?” Natasha asks breathily, running her hands over her full breasts, pushing them up to elicit a reaction from you.

The moving lights in the dark room cast shadows, and when you back look up with a sinful smirk and half-lidded eyes, Natasha swears she feels herself get wet.

All the air in your lungs dissipates when Natasha begins grinding on your thigh in beat to the music, hips moving skilfully in the sexiest fashion imaginable. 

Fuck, this woman was going to be your demise.

Your hands feel like they’re on fire as you watch her put on a show, simply aching to move and touch. Natasha trails her fingertips down your tensed arms, running over the curve of your biceps. She smirks at the goosebumps it raises, her hands dwelling to the edge of your pants.

Your breath catches as her fingers find the outline of your police badge tucked underneath your shirt. The Black Widow looks up at you, expression a no-tell. “You on duty?”

“Nope.”

“Is that why you’ve got a gun in your belt?”

“Nah, that one’s just for pretty girls like you,” you respond slowly, hands tentatively going to rest on her thighs. When the smirk reappears on the stripper's face, you relax and let your shoulders untense.

“If you say so, officer,” she comments huskily, leaning forward to nip at your earlobe. The shiver runs through your bones. 

You’re about to counter with a quick retort of your own before Natasha begins grinding on that bulge in your pants, treating your gun like it was a strap.

“Shit,” you say breathlessly, hands burning at being unable to touch. Behind your back, your nails were digging into your palms so hard you swore you had already drawn blood.

Fuck, it was torture. 

Her pretty moans and breathy whines ring in your ears as she moves her hips roughly, a torment to your demise.

After a while, you come to the realisation that you can feel how wet Natasha is through her undergarments, soaked from having just dry-humped your thigh.

“Fuck me,” she says, and your throat dries up. “What?” you ask, dazedly, still staring at her bouncing tits in front of your face.

“I said, fuck me,” Natasha repeats, head tilting to the side, halting all her movements so you would look at her.

You splutter. “But the sign said–”

“What can I say, officer, you wanna make me break the rules.”

That’s all the confirmation you need before your hands can finally touch her, finally, meeting and warm skin and sweat droplets and everything you’d ever wanted. 

You let out a huff of amusement as Natasha wraps her pretty lips around your fingers and sucks, making lewd noises with her tongue. Your ears burn, now, having been tainted with the beautiful symphony of this woman’s pleasure.

“You’re very naughty,” you comment, your other hand slipping under her top to reach her full breasts. Palming at the mounds in your hand, you face moves to the bare skin of her collarbone and begin kissing it.

“Don’t make marks,” Natasha says breathlessly, when you let your teeth nick the soft skin there, and there’s a pit of desire in your stomach that growls in frustration, but you know you have to respect her wishes and instead move your mouth down to her chest.

Natasha doesn’t remember when you slipped off her bra, but she isn’t complaining about your haste and instead throws her head back when your mouth latches onto her breasts.

“Mhm, that feels good,” she moans, weaving her fingers through your hair and scratching at your scalp. You hum in acknowledgement against her flushed skin, your tongue paying special attention to her hardened buds.

When both your hands move to the underside of her thighs and lift her up, Natasha lets out an embarrassing squeak at the sudden change of position. But as you lay her down on the sofa with your body weight pressing into hers, those whimpers turn into filthy moans.

You stall for a moment, hovering above her with your silver necklace dangling right above her face. She looks so pretty like this, her hair all splayed out, the sheen of sweat on her skin making her look tantalizing.

Natasha catches your swinging necklace between her teeth, winking seductively at you, and you’re snapped out of your moment, a laugh taking over.

“Have I told you that you’re incredibly bad?” you say, in between kisses scattered between her breasts, down her sternum and to her stomach. 

“You- you have,” Natasha replies with some difficulty, as your kisses get lower and lower. “Maybe you should punish me for it, officer;” 

She shuts up when you slowly spread open her thighs, revealing the dripping heat that is Natasha’s cunt. You maintain eye contact with her as you lower your mouth to her pussy, her lust-filled stare making your head spin.

When your tongue meets her cunt, it was game over.

“Fuck,” Natasha moans, already unable to continue looking at you in the eye, hands moving to grip the cushion of the sofa. Her thighs clamp around your head, and you’re suffocating, but in a way that feels so good you could die in bliss.

You lap at her dripping cunt like you were starving, like you would die without it. Natasha’s moans get louder. You move your mouth in rocking motions, pushing your tongue further in with each thrust. 

“More,” she gasps out, and you quicken your pace, fingertips digging bruises into her plush thighs. In retrospect, you don’t remember how long you stay there, ravenously eating her out like your life depended on it. 

When you feel her breathing get faster and more shallow, breathy little whines that get louder and louder, and you know she’s about to cum.

Instead of gently bringing her to a high, you internally say fuck it and decide that if this was the one chance you had, with the most sought-after stripper in Queens, you were going to make it an unforgettable one.

You move your mouth up to wrap your lips around her swollen, throbbing clit, and you suck on it, hard. In tandem with that, you easily slide two fingers in, curling them inside her to hit that sweet spot. Natasha positively screams, and you swear it’s the most beautiful sound you’ve ever heard.

Her orgasm floods the lower half of your face and your fingers, and the little mewls of your name Natasha lets out as she comes down from her high is one you’d always remember.

Finally, you emerge from between Natasha’s thighs. Slowly, you kiss up her stomach and her breasts, up the way you came down from, and you meet Natasha’s blissed out face.

You take a moment to take in her tousled hair, her swollen kissable-pink lips, her smudged makeup, her shallow gasps for air, and the pure lust in her eyes.

Just like that, and another jolt of arousal hits you. Before you can act on it, Natasha pulls you into a messy kiss, hot and sweaty.

“You look so fucking good-” Natasha says in between the frantic meeting of your mouths. “With my cum all over your jaw.” 

You bite back a growl at her words, wanting to let her know just how exactly good you can make her cum. Natasha catches your hand that slides down to her wet cunt, before bringing it up and placing a kiss on your fingertips. “Our time is up,” she whispers, nodding to the clock behind you that now reads 11.31pm. “One private session lasts 30 minutes.”

This woman was going to be the death of you.

You turn back to The Black Widow with dilated pupils, slowly reaching into your pocket for that leather Saint Laurent wallet, and the ghost of a smirk on your lips.

In the wee hours of twilight the next day, you leave the strip club with your wallet emptied, a searing cramp in your hand, and the memory of an unforgettable woman whose real name you hadn’t even known.

Boy, you had one hell of a story to tell your friends. 

i think i'm not gonna taglists anymore, sorry yall. there's just so many usernames and i have to constantly update it :(

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I’m not even mad at it. I fully accept this responsibility.

I found this quiz on idrlabs. Who is your avenger personality match?

Avengers test

Tagging: @dadplease @slothspaghettiwrites @overrwritten3 @foxgloveprincess @fanf1ctionwrit1n @divine-mistake @kneel-bitches and @professional-benaddict

Is this even a question? Ofc we do

So WLWD drabbles 👀 y’all want some ?

Please reblog if you think that “they/them/theirs” is a valid set of pronouns.

this post must be reblogged by everyone