Summary:Penny wasn't good at many things — her ballet was sub-par, her lies easy to see through, and her inventions only decent enough to keep her alive. That's what she had always been told. But there were two things she knew she was good at: fighting and watching .
In a lifetime of missions, Penny had learned people didn't tend to look up a lot. They looked down, studying the flooring as if treasure was hidden among the crevices. They looked out windows or at clocks. Underneath beds and in closets. No one paid attention to the ceiling.
Or, by the time they did, it was already too late.
She tended to absorb information like a sponge, able to repeat conversations exactly and recall corrections she was given at ten, so it was a wonder that she still hadn't figured out the rules of this place yet.
AKA the fem!peter raised in the red room au that you didn't know you needed :)
Notes:So, I'm aware that maybemarvel also posted a fic with a very similar premise, so please do check it out, but !! I've been working on this for a while and I recently was like 'fuck it, let's publish' (I was peer-pressure by my (1) friend).
- I chose the name Petra because it's pretty similar to Peter, and they have the same meanings (i.e "rock" or "stone"), ig you want the reason I had her change it to Penny, I figured similar reasoning to Nat, the name Petra has a lot of baggage and trauma attached to it/ doesn't really fit her (plus I just like Penny better lol)
-So, the reason why Penny is acting so disoriented and doesn't notice Oksana at first is that she was just freed from the chemical subjugation, and is at a higher vantage point which makes her feel (relatively) safe which allows her to take stock of everything else before Oksana + Oksana isn't trying to fight her & isn't a target --- I imagine coming out from the chemical subjugation is a bit like coming out of anesthesia like ur groggy and confused, not knowing exactly where u r or what ur doing (if that makes sense?)
- anything with the "<< >>" is in russian, hope yall understood that.
- there is a reason Penny has green, rather than brown eyes, but I can't reveal it just yet ;) (I mean if you've read literally any of my other fics you probably know why... but pretend you don't ok?)
-I felt like maybe she trusted Oksana a little too quickly? But I needed a way to get to ✨healing✨ so.... sorry??
- I'm bad at endings so uh, don't get mad if they're bad lmao
angays, I hope that this answered any questions you had. have a great day/night & thanks for reading!
don't remember what else I put here, but please comment, and I'm very sorry for whatever fuck up happened.
(See the end of the work for more notes.)
Chapter 1: i am made from those that diedChapter TextPetra's green eyes darted around as she assessed the area. What is this place?
She found herself in a small alley squished between two large concrete buildings. The smell of garbage permeated the air, and, as she scampered back, she found herself climbing onto one of the walls of the alley. Her brows furrowed slightly in confusion before she finally took in the woman in front of her.
She had light brown skin, dark hair, and sharp cheekbones. Probably around her mid-thirties at most.
<< "Where… am I?" >> Petra whispered.
The woman stepped forward, and Petra scampered higher up in response. Her breaths were coming out in heavy pants as panic gripped her chest. People passed by the alley, but no one stopped to even look at them in the dark of the setting sun.
<< "You're in the state of Pennsylvania, in the U.S.,">> the woman replied calmly. <<"My name is Oksana.">>
Petra felt the unfamiliar feeling recede, as she inhaled and exhaled a few times. Embarrassment filled up the gaps that anxiety had left, and the teen's finger twitched against the rough brick. Somewhere, in the back of her mind, there was a distinctly familiar feeling. As if Petra knows — had known , Oksana.
<< "I didn't ask who you are," >> She snapped suddenly, as a wave of emotions overcame her.
Oksana's expression didn't waver, staying the same kind of stupidly blank that all the other Widows — Oh.
Petra suddenly understood. A defector. The teenager had heard of them, through whispers from some of her peers, but she had never believed it before. Being out, being free… it felt too much like a fairy tale.
Slowly, Petra's memories started to come back. She knew Oksana. The Asian woman had been one of her instructors long ago. A slight shift confirmed to the teen that she had been injured. Petra's ribs throbbed with every breath. She bowed her head in an apology.
She pulled on the sleeve of her skintight suit. She met Oksana's eyes carefully, steeling herself. << "I apologize for my tone, ma'am. I was not my best." >>
Oksana nodded curtly. << "Don't let it happen again," >>
Petra swallowed, tilting her head in acknowledgement. << "Of course, ma'am. If it's not too presumptuous of me… what are you doing here?" >>
The teenager cringed at the bluntness of her question. She had never been good at using flowery language, which often earned her a baton to the backside. She hoped the defector would be kinder.
<< "Helping you, little one. It was not easy,">> Oksana raised her eyebrows, << "You put up quite the fight,">>
Despite the fact Petra knew that she was an excellent fighter, she still perked up a little at the praise. Oksana motioned her forward, and Petra warily watched the older woman as she pointed to a sleek black motorcycle parked on the curb.
Petra furrowed her brows and tilted her head. What are you doing?
Oksana raised an eyebrow. Leaving. She motioned Petra forward, eyebrows raising in a silent question. Join me?
Petra leaped from the wall and landed beside Oksana. The teen's hand hovered near the Glock fastened to her hip. Why?
Oksana didn't respond to the curly-haired girl's silent question, opting to slink towards the unattended vehicle, frowning as she fiddled with something or other. She ended up pulling a screwdriver from her pocket, popping off the ignition cap, and jamming it into the key area.
Petra concealed a flinch as the engine revved loudly. Oksana smiled slightly, before looking back at her. The teen had stayed in the shadows of the alley, still wary of the woman.
<< "C'mon. We must get going before they find us," >> Oksana's Russian was clipped, to the point, as she stepped over to the motorcycle and sat down on the seat. Petra cast an anxious glance behind her, almost expecting Red Room agents to jump the duo, before swiftly joining Oksana.
If she wanted to kill me, I'd be dead right now. Petra might be smaller, but the older woman was more experienced. Wrapping her arms around the Asian woman's midsection, Petra's ears perked up as she heard the sound of footsteps above her. She tilted her head up, green eyes darting around the rooftops, trying to find the source of the noise.
<< "Go," >> Petra whispered anxiously. << "They'll realize I'm gone soon," >>
Oksana revved up the machine, muscles tensing underneath Petra's hold. << "Then let's make sure you're far gone before they do," >>
Petra was not ready for the feeling of the wind whipping past her shoulders and against the sides of her head. Her cheeks flushed from the cool night air as the girl made sure to watch the area around them. Since Oksana had been kind enough to allow Petra to accompany her, she would at least watch her back in return.
Despite how Petra's heart pounded, she stayed cool on the outside. She went through the motions as she used her enhanced sight to focus on the silver Sedan behind them. Petra swallowed, pressing the tiniest bit more into Oksana as she identified the vehicle as the one that had brought her in.
After two more turns, and the Sedan not leaving her sight, Petra leaned forward to hiss. << "Behind us, on the left. Silver car. It's been trailing us for two blocks,">>
She felt the muscles in Oksana's shoulders tense. << "Employer or Dreykov? >>
Petra paused in thought. << "Employer. Dreykov would not care for us this much," >>
Oksana nodded, curving her neck slightly before speeding up. Her long hair whipped into Petra's face, making the teenager huff in annoyance as her vision was obscured. << "Were you the only Widow he hired?" >>
It took a second for Petra to hear the question through the sound of the wind whistling past her ears, but once she did, the girl felt herself freeze. Widows are made of marble. Widows are made of marble. She repeated the mantra to herself.
<< "... I believe so. He seemed to enjoy my company over the other Widows," >> Her voice was cold, detached, as she pushed back unwanted memories. Petra didn't know why she added the last part. It was unnecessary, but she felt a strange sort of kinship toward her former instructor. Oksana had always been much more lenient than her other handlers.
Petra looked behind them to find the Sedan picking up speed. She pulled out her gun as the automobile became much too close for her liking and fired several bullets into the tinted front window, attempting to identify whoever was inside.
Petra found herself relieved as the car derailed, flipping onto its side as whoever was driving had been shot. Oksana made several more zig-zagging turns, the bike tires screeching against the concrete as if this was some sort of bad action movie.
After what felt like twenty minutes of driving aimlessly, Petra felt her adrenaline begin to fade. Her fingers were laced together, hovering right above the woman's solar plexus. She felt her stomach growl lightly, but she ignored it in favour of keeping watch, making sure that no one was there. They passed underneath streetlights, moths fluttered around the brightness, which cast large shadows on the pavement.
They weren't in the city anymore.
Oksana slowed down in front of a lone Dennys, letting out a breath as she shook her head. Petra let go of the woman like she was burned, unsure if the Widow would be okay with being held any longer than necessary. Petra took a moment to take in the area — it was a small, out-of-the-way dining stop. Or, it was, once. Now, the majority of the storefronts were boarded up, with barely even half a dozen cars parked in the lot.
<< "We need to find another way out of here. There's a safe house in Ohio you can stay at. It's still a bit away. We go there," >> Oksana motioned to the restaurant in front of them. << "Eat something. It would not be good to have either of us pass out from hunger,">>
Petra pressed her lips together, before reluctantly agreeing. She had no other plan, and since Oksana hadn't expressed any ill intent so far , she might as well listen. The older lady appraised her outfit with a thoughtful expression, before unceremoniously taking off her jacket and tossing it at Petra.
The girl caught it, not allowing the other woman to see the confusion she was feeling.
<< "Put it on," >> Oksana told her, in no uncertain terms, as her eyes scanned the area for potential threats. Petra did so, but reluctantly. Ditch the jacket when you can. She reminded herself, there must be a tracker.
The clothing was soft, and the ghost of a smile played on Petra's lips as she zipped it up. She looked up, panic flaring through her chest for a moment when she couldn't locate Oksana — only to realize the woman was inside the Denny's.
The fifteen-year-old scampered in behind Oksana, putting a fake smile on her lips. "Auntie!" She chirped, the English crisp on her tongue. "I can't believe you went in without me!"
The Asian woman looked back, brows lightly furrowed as she smiled kindly at the waitstaff. She gestured vaguely at Petra. "This is my niece, Anna. She's the other one I was talking about,"
She raised an eyebrow, lightly chastising Petra. "I wouldn't have left you there if you weren't taking so long honey," Her head tilted a little, eyes crinkling at the corners, but the teen felt like she had been slapped. Petra narrowed her eyes slightly, a honey-sweet grin on her lips.
"Well, Auntie," She bumped her shoulder against Oksana's, quickly scanning the menu taped up against the wall. "then you owe me some French Toast, hm?"
The dark-haired woman's eyebrows raised as she let out a fake laugh, high and pitchy. "I guess I do!"
"Well, we have plenty of free tables," The waiter smiled, though his gaze seemed annoyed, like he didn't want them there. He quickly ushered the duo to a booth near a window, and Petra grimaced as she felt something sticky on her menu.
She had to pry open the pages, pretending like she was looking at the options when her real focus was on Oksana. The woman peered at Petra over the menu. << "French Toast, really?">>
<< "I like French Toast," >> Petra shot back. << "If we're criticizing people's choices, I'd like to have some words about 'Anna'">> Her voice became high-pitched, before lowering again. << "If you're going to use a name, I'd rather my actual one,">>
Oksana rolled her eyes. << "You never told me your name, little one. Do you want me to go through every name in the book?">> She flicked to the next page, putting her menu down before waving over the waiter, fake expression back in full swing. "I'd love some sunny-side-up eggs, please. No bacon,"
The waiter nodded, scribbling the order down on his paper. "For bread, would you like rye or regular?"
"Regular, thank you,"
The waiter finished writing down Oksana's order, muttering it to himself under his breath. "And for you, miss?"
Petra blinked. "Oh!" Her small smile grew slightly as she kept up the image of Aunt and Niece. "I'd love some French Toast. However you usually make it,"
He nodded, pointing the back of his pen at her. "I remember. That's great. Any drinks I can start you, ladies, with?"
"Water for both of us would be great," Oksana said, folding her hands over one another on the table. Petra nodded in agreement, just wanting him to leave. Finally , after scribbling the rest of the order down, he left, leaving just Petra and Oksana.
<< "Technically, my name is Petra,">> She ignored the soft sting in her chest at the fact Oksana didn't remember her name. Petra quickly shook it off. Why would she remember you? The teen chided herself. You had one mission together nine years ago. It would be odder if she knew you.
<< "But I would prefer if you called me Penny," >> The girl's eyes flickered down to the menu as she tentatively offered the olive branch. << "If I'm going to be in America, I should have an American name, no?" >>
Oksana sighed a little, faint amusement lining her expression. << "Petra is a fine name, but I will call you Penny if you truly wish for me to do so." >>
Penny perked up. She could smell oil in the kitchen being warmed. It hissed and sizzled. The girl switched back to English. "I can't wait for the food. Thank you,"
Oksana's smile almost seemed genuine as she shook her head. "No need to thank me. We have to look out for each other, no?"
Penny opened her mouth to respond, some sort of warmth spreading from her chest to the tips of her fingers, only to be interrupted by the waiter — she was starting to hate that guy — bringing them their waters. Two large glasses were put in front of them, full enough to splash slightly onto the table.
She thanked the man, the warm feeling in her stomach refusing to dissipate. Penny cast a glance at Oksana, who turned to hand him their menus, and thought that maybe, the woman was okay.
She sipped the cool water slowly, testing for any sort of drug or poison, her eyes fixed on the singular streetlamp outside the window. A moth slammed into the windowpane, falling to the ledge before righting itself. It skittered against the glass, its fuzzy body facing toward them. She was mildly surprised to find the drink was safe.
<< "So, are we taking the bus after this or…?" >> Penny's expression twinkled with mischief, as she took a long, slow sip of her drink. Oksana snorted lightly.
<< "Russian again?" >> The woman seemed playful, so Penny batted right back, shrugging her shoulders. But she hadn't missed how Oksana hadn't answered her question.
<< "Have to keep you on your toes," >> She huffed. The smell of sugar and fake syrup was almost overwhelming as something cooked. Penny was pretty sure it was her meal. She licked her lips, looking back out the window. She could see Oksana's reflection pause as if she was unsure of something.
The sound of some generic pop singer filled the silence, and Penny had to wonder why a breakfast place was open at… whatever time of night it currently was.
The smell of syrup became stronger, and out of the corner of her eye, Penny could see the waiter coming back with their orders. The restaurant was still empty, which only compounded the uncomfortable feeling in her chest. She smiled gratefully as he plopped the French toast in front of her, covered in a layer of fruit, maple syrup, and strawberry sauce.
Her mouth watered at the sight, and the teen waited no time before beginning to attack the food, barely even stopping to breathe. She inhaled the food, cheeks bulging like a chipmunk's as she attempted to shove as much as possible into her mouth.
Penny's eating was stopped by the sound of a soft chuckle. She lifted her head, meeting Oksana's amused gaze with her own, narrowed eyes. She swallowed. "What?" Penny said grumpily. "I'm hungry,"
Oksana cut a piece of her egg, bringing it up to her lips and biting into it. She raised an eyebrow.
"I see that," She commented lightly.
The teen raised her eyebrows, expression unamused, as she shoved another bite into her mouth. It was much sweeter than she was used to — Americans tended to use lots of preservatives and junk in their food — but Penny loved it. She plowed through the rest of the meal, letting out an appreciative hum when the plate was clear.
<< "What would you like for the food?" >> Penny murmured, tapping her fork a little against the plate. The teen was old enough to understand that nothing came for free. << " I can make you feel good," >>
Oksana blinked a little before she shook her head. Penny swallowed, gaze moving to the table. Humiliation made her cheeks burn. It took a second before Oksana finally spoke.
<< "Look,">> Oksana went to touch Penny, but suddenly stopped, and retracted her hand. <<"You see that car there?">> Oksana pointed with her fork, the tips crusted with the yolk. Penny looked out the window, realizing she was referring to a sleek red car parked across the lot. << "You know how to hotwire a car?">>
Immediately, she understood what the woman was asking her to do. The first emotion she felt was relief. It filled her whole being, making her shoulders relax. Stealing a car was easy. Penny could do that in her sleep.
She switched back to English with a nod, noting the waiter coming back with the bill. "I'll see you in the car, Auntie?" Penny smiled sweetly, tilting her head just so.
Oksana switched just as easily, something indiscernible in her gaze. "Of course, kiddo. I'll meet you out there in a minute,"
Chapter 2: how to bare my teeth and growlSummary:Penny meets Yelena and Natasha, has a panic attack, remembers, and eats dinner. not in that order.
Notes:(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text"Gwen!" Petra giggled as her blonde-haired friend dragged her across the grass. They were barefoot, but the duo didn't care as they lay down in the sun. Their monochrome clothing contrasted greatly against the bright colours of spring, the greys dull against the soft greens, blues, and purples of the grass and flowers at the edges of the field.
"Our clothes are boringggg," Gwen whined, kicking a patch of grass. Petra immediately looked around, anxious that a Madame had heard her friend. She put her finger to her lips, making a 'shhh' sound.
Gwen crossed her arms with a pout. "But they are!" She whisper-complained.
Petra pursed her lips, nodding a little in agreement. "Yeah, but what'd we do?" She hummed. Out of the corner of her eye, she spotted a berry bush that was growing through the fence. An idea popped into her mind.
The little girl grinned, dragging Gwen toward the edge of the fence. Gwen let out a confused sound, but allowed Petra to bring her to the edge of the field, a big grin lighting up her face, brightening her soft blue eyes as she noticed the juicy berries just in reach.
The curly-haired kid grabbed a bunch of the berries, smearing the dark purples and blues over her face and shirt. Gwen, realizing what Petra was doing, quickly followed suit, the biggest smiles on their faces as juice dripped down their cheeks and their necks—
A hand on her shoulder jolted the girl awake. She gripped the unknown appendage, eyes shooting open only for recognition to flood her as she met a pair of tired brown eyes. Penny quickly let go, embarrassment making her cheek turn pink.
She avoided Oksana's knowing gaze as she sat up, looking out the window. The sun was high in the sky, signaling the fact it was late morning. The car had stopped in front of a quaint, two-story farmhouse, with a small barn attached to the back.
Penny stifled a yawn, shaking off her tiredness. << "This is the safe house?" >> She asked curiously.
Oksana nodded, unclipping her seatbelt before exiting the car. Penny followed suit, stretching her arms above her head as she looked around. She followed the older woman nervously — though Penny was much too talented to show it. Both of their footsteps were silent, even on the gravelly terrain, an engrained habit from their time together.
Penny's eyes flickered to the shuttered windows, noting the silhouette of a person. The grass crunched underfoot, and she pulled Oksana's sweater tighter around her body as they approached the door. Anxiety made her fingers twitch, but she just dug her nails deeper into the fabric of the sweater.
Oksana gave her a curious look as she knocked, making Penny realize she was holding the fabric in a death grip. Penny took in a few deep breaths, letting her hands move to hang loosely by her sides.
A redhead greeted them at the door, who was, funnily enough, shorter than Penny. She squinted lightly in annoyance, before ushering the two inside. "Welcome to our place, Oksana and…?" She trailed off purposefully, raising an eyebrow.
"Penny," The teen said, disguising the slight tremble in her tone. The redhead smiled, gesturing for Penny to sit on a gray couch. The teenager did, very relieved that Oksana joined them. The redhead perched on the edge of the coffee table, legs crossed over one another.
"Nice to have you back, Oksana. Nice to meet you, Penny." It felt like the redhead's green eyes were piercing through Penny, and she helplessly looked at Oksana. The Asian woman smirked before sighing, gesturing between the two of them.
"Penny, meet Natalia, or Natasha," Oksana narrowed her eyes slightly at Natalia/Natasha, "if you want to bastardize it,"
The redhead sighed, rolling her eyes. "Please, ignore Oksana. My name is Natasha," She drawled tiredly.
Penny sat as straight as possible, eyes focused on the woman's nose. It was high enough that it wasn't cowardly, but low enough not to be disrespectful.
"Yes, Natasha," She spoke slowly and deliberately, sounding out the name to ensure she was pronouncing it correctly. Oksana and Natasha exchanged a glance, but before they could say anything, another person joined the trio in the room.
"Natashka!" Penny stiffened, turning to look at the addition — a wiry blonde with blue eyes wearing an army vest. She held an empty chip bag and was waving it around. "I cannot believe you ate all of my chips!"
Natasha pinched the bridge of her nose, letting out an exasperated breath, but there was undeniable fondness in her eyes as she said: " Yelena, you ate those all last night, remember ?"
Yelena paused, blinking for a moment as she contemplated Natasha's words. She then frowned. "No, I don't think so," Yelena had a heavy Russian accent on her words, unlike everyone else here. "Who's the new one?"
Penny was startled at suddenly being the center of attention. Her hands shook slightly, but she tucked them underneath her legs to hide the fact. "My name is Petra, but I prefer Penny if that's okay ma'am," She informed Yelena politely.
She was confused when Yelena made a sound that was a mixture of an offended squawk and a laugh. "Pff, ma'am . Not that old yet, Penny," She smirked, perching on the arm of the couch closest to Penny.
Yelena crumpled the Lays bag into a ball, still snickering to herself. Penny eyed the blonde warily, scooting a bit nearer to Oksana. Resisting the urge to chew her bottom lip, Penny itched at her wrist, the tips of her nails snagging on the area of the flap of skin that holds her webbing. Her thumb traced the bump repeatedly, the motion soothing to the girl.
The older Widows started chatting in Russian, their stances were much more open and relaxed than Penny had ever seen before.
<< "So how was the op? You two don't seem too bad," >> Natasha's gaze raked over Penny, making the teen pull the sweatshirt tighter over her chest.
<< "It was pretty standard, but her,">> Oksana tilted her head towards Penny, <<"employer was a bit annoying to shake off," >>
Yelena perked up, a frown creasing her features. << "Employer? Not Red Room affiliates?" >>
Oksana brought her hands back, pulling her hair out of the ponytail. << "I believe so. They were too uncoordinated to be one of Dreykov's old lackeys," >>
<< "Penny ever say what she was doing there?" >> Natasha braced her palm against the wood, gazing at Oksana as she spoke.
Oksana stifled a yawn. << "You know she's right there, right? Ask her. I'm going to sleep,">> The Asian woman stood up, joints cracking as she stretched her arms. Penny gave the woman a panicked look as she felt the full brunt of the blonde and redhead's attention on her.
She wanted to sink into the soft cushions and never reappear. Penny took in a deep breath, allowing herself a moment to gather herself. She looked resolutely at Natasha's nose, noting her pale skin and the large, almost purple-ish bags under her eyes.
<< "I was his escort and bodyguard,">> Penny said, her voice remarkably even as her stomach twisted into knots. << "I do not wish to discuss this further if that is okay." >>
The curly-haired brunette almost stood up but thought better of it. Instead, she swallowed, her mouth feeling suddenly dry. She rarely was so openly defiant. Penny was a moment away from apologizing and retracting her words until she noticed Yelena and Natasha exchanging another look.
The three of them sat in awkward silence for a minute, before Natasha softly cleared her throat in an attempt to dispel some of the tension in the room. "That's fine, Penny. You've had a tough … journey ."
Natasha paused for a moment before continuing, her voice annoyingly gentle. "Why don't you check out your room? It's the third bedroom on the right, down that hall." The redhead pointed past the kitchenette, to a cramped hallway where Penny could vaguely see the outline of several rooms.
Penny swallowed, nodding. She understood when she was being dismissed. << "I will, thank you." >>
She shuffled around the couch, feeling their gazes burning holes in her back as she took another breath, tilting up her chin. Penny focused only on her destination, attempting to ignore the sound of the duo's whispers behind her. Her fingertips dragged against the wall, the texture slightly bumpy against her overly sensitive touch.
Third door on the right. Third door on the right. Penny's green eyes darted side to side as she counted down the rooms she passed, lightly pressing herself toward the leftmost wall. A stray draft made her shiver, and she realized she still hadn't gotten rid of Oksana's sweater.
Her eyes lit up slightly as Penny found the room they had provided her. She reached out, wrapping her fingers around the copper door handle and twisting it.
The room was very spacious, with a twin-sized bed in the center, and the headboard pressed against the wall. A small closet resided in the bottom left corner of the room, partially obscured by the door. A window sat just above the headboard, shutters pulled up to allow light to drift through the empty area. There was an oak wood dresser to the right of the bed, with a small black reading lamp perched upon it.
Closing the door behind her, Penny saw some discarded items on the floor. Nothing of note, just some candy wrappers, but she told herself to take a closer look at them later to ensure that no cameras were hidden.
Despite her hesitancy, Penny couldn't help the grin that grew on her lips, almost splitting her face open at the idea of this all being hers — at least for a little while.
Her feet padded silently over the wood, and she ditched her shoes in favour of collapsing sideways onto the plush comforter. Penny slowly took off Oksana's jacket, a small pang appearing in her chest as the teen folded it, before placing the jacket next to her on the bed.
She let out a breath, looking up at the ceiling fan. Penny held her hands close to her chest, clasping them over one another. The fan's blades were a dark brown. Blood rushed through her head and past her ears, as she lay diagonally across the mattress.
Hey, Gwen. Penny mouthed the words, but couldn't dare speak aloud the name of her first — and only — friend. I'm out… Or at least I think I am. A defector named Oksana freed me from the chemical subjugation. The teen sighed, chest heavy. Or, as you would call it, mind control. I wish you could be here with me.
She sat up quickly, ignoring the dizziness it caused, as her eyes grew hot. Penny inhaled deeply, rubbing at her eyes furiously. Maybe I'm selfish for that. You deserved so much better than the Red Room, Gwen. She pulled her knee to her chest, propping her chin on it. You were too kind for this world.
Penny could still see the round cheeks of her friend, stained with tears and mulberry juice. Gwen's eyes were as bright and round as the sky — with an imagination that spanned far beyond it. The fifteen-year-old's hands trembled as she sat up. They felt unclean and stained. Her nails dug into the skin of her palm like if she pressed hard enough, she would finally be free of the imaginary blood coating her hands.
The teenage Widow didn't know how long she sat there, gaze unfocused, but eventually, she felt her stomach rumble. Looking down, Penny felt her body move on its own accord as her hands hovered over her stomach, pinching the fat through the fabric of her clothing.
Turning her head to look out the window, Penny was nearly blinded by the brightness.
Jesus fucking– The expected light snapped the fuzziness out of Penny's mind. She squinted, trying to determine the time from the sun's position. Eventually, after a minute or two of staring out the window, Penny concluded it was probably mid to late afternoon. Then, a faint stinging feeling made itself known.
Furrowing her brows in confusion, she looked at her hands. The skin there was no longer a soft pink, but rather an irritated red, with beads of crimson beginning to pool in the crevices of her palms. Penny prodded at the sensitive area, only to hiss lightly as the nerves in her hand twinged in pain. The injury would heal soon, but she didn't want anyone else to know of her weakness.
Her head jerked up as someone knocked on the door.
<< "Penny?" >> Oksana said through the wood. The girl could have collapsed into a puddle from the relief of the familiar tone. << "Natalia and Yelena are making lunch," >>
<< "Coming!" >> Penny called, scrambling out of bed. She was careful to wait until Oksana's footsteps receded before poking her head out the door. Squinting, she could vaguely see the three women in the kitchen.
She was still wearing her skintight suit from the night before, and it made her feel oddly exposed. Still, she casually sauntered into the room, stance full of false confidence. It offered Penny the tiniest bit of comfort that the conversation continued even as she leaned against the wall, attempting to hide as much as physically possible.
She can smell onions — Penny hates the sharp, tangy scent — chicken, and mayo.
The chicken was cooked well, and seasoned, which she could appreciate. Her gaze shifted from the stovetop to the area next to the fridge as a soft sizzling made itself known to her eardrums. Penny's eyebrows raised slightly. Bread. Whole wheat.
Yelena partially obscured the black contraption, but it was impossible to ignore for the girl. If she was cornered, Penny could see herself yanking the toaster out of the wall, knocking the carefully-arranged spice rack in the process. It wouldn't be the best weapon, but it could give one of them a nasty concussion — or even a burn, depending on how hot the metal inside was, or which area hit the women first.
Penny balled that hand into a fist, ignoring the sharp pain that travelled up her arm as a result. There were plates in the sink that she had not noticed before — briefly, she wondered if a knife was hidden amongst the porcelain dishes, one that Natasha could grab.
She took a few breaths, steady and calm, as Penny tuned herself into their conversation.
<< "Y'know, I'm starting to miss New York," >> Yelena commented lightly. She was perched on the edge of the stone countertop, legs swinging. << "At least over there I don't have to deal with annoying sisters who eat all of your chips," >> She was looking straight at Natasha when she said the words, making the redhead sigh, putting her head in her hands.
<< "As I already said," >> Natasha drawled tiredly, plucking a piece of chicken from a pan and tossing it in her mouth. << "I don't like BBQ chips. Why would I eat them?">>
Yelena threw her hands into the air in mock exasperation. << "Well, someone must have! Delicious BBQ chips don't eat themselves!">>
It was a mirror of the conversation from this morning. When Oksana objected, a small smile on her lips as she chopped several leaves of lettuce, Penny found herself relaxing slightly. Of course, only for a moment. The toaster made a popping sound, and Penny had to conceal her flinch at the sound.
Oksana looked up. <<"'Lena,">> She said distractedly, << "pass the toast, please? And put another two in the toaster. I'll make yours next.">>
The blonde listened to Oksana, sliding off the countertop before passing the toast and re-inserting slices from the open bag between the toaster and the spice rack. The sound of a butter knife against toast was grating as Oksana spread the mayo.
Natasha grabbed the chicken, plopping it onto the cutting board where Oksana assembled the sandwich. The woman gave Natasha a little nod, and after a moment, the food was ready.
The teenager jumped slightly when Oksana met her eyes. << "Penny, here's your food. Try it out,">> She put the sandwich onto a plate, offering it to the girl.
Hesitantly, Penny moved towards the three women, nodding. Her stomach grumbled, excited at the prospect of lunch. It will also help you heal more quickly. Her brain helpfully supplied. Penny didn't know where or when she learned this, but it was a helpful fact.
<< "Thank you,">> Penny muttered, grabbing the plate.
Scanning the area, she saw a table a few paces away, next to a window covered by opaque curtains. She sat down in the closest chair, before taking a small bite of the food. Penny chewed slowly, swirling the food in her cheeks, tasting for anything off.
After waiting a minute and not feeling any effects, Penny took a second, bigger bite. Now that she was pretty sure the food was safe, she had to admit, it tasted delicious. The lettuce was crisp, and the chicken, though the tiniest bit overcooked, but still savoury.
Maybe I'm just really hungry. A life of baked beans and sad porridge doesn't give someone a chance for variety. Before the women could change their minds, Penny ate as quickly as she could, barely even stopping to breathe.
<< "Looks like you're enjoying the food,">> Penny wiped some mayo from her cheek with the back of her hand, turning to look at Natasha, who had sat next to her. The woman raised her eyebrows with a wry grin, motioning to the almost-finished meal.
The teen nodded, unable to speak due to her mouth being full. After taking a moment to swallow the food, Penny turned in her seat to face the redhead, before speaking: << "Thank you for lunch, Natasha," >>
It is polite to thank people. It is also polite to look them in the eyes when you thank them, but, hey, one of two isn't bad. Penny thought lightly, before turning back to her food, silently grateful that the others hadn't taken it when she wasn't looking. She stuffed the remaining two bites into her mouth, almost choking as she attempted to breathe and swallow her food at the same time.
Natasha hadn't responded to Penny, but the girl didn't expect her to, honestly. The older Widow was currently eating her sandwich — though much slower than Penny had, taking time to enjoy each bite.
Turning her head, she warily watched Oksana and Yelena. The two of them were still in the kitchen, partway through their lunch. The sound of her chair's legs screeching against the wooden floorboards as Penny stood up made her cringe. She grabbed her dirty plate, if only because she needed to clean her hand, and this was the least suspicious way to do so.
Honestly, she was surprised no one had noticed it yet. Especially Natasha, since the woman had been the closest to her, but Penny isn't going to, as Americans would say, 'look a gift horse in the mouth' — by the way, why what up with all these weird sayings? Why did the horse have a gift? Why would you look in its mouth? Were you receiving the horse as a gift?
Anyway, confusing vernacular aside, Penny needed to clean the broken skin before it potentially got infected. She placed the dish in the sink, ignoring the feeling of eyes on her as she turned on the tap.
Penny swiftly washed her hands, using the flowery-smelling soap probably meant for the dishes. Her eyes darted to the blonde and dark-haired women, but they seemed to be engaged in some sort of conversation surrounding a TV show she had never heard of before. She also took a moment to clean her plate, figuring it was the polite thing to do.
It was very easy for Penny to clean the dish, barely noticing Natasha when she joined Oksana and Yelena's conversation with some sort of witty remark that made them both roar with laughter. Penny had just left the plate to dry when she felt someone's hand on her shoulder.
The touch was feather-light, but Penny's mind immediately screamed DANGER! And, before she could even take a chance to blink, Penny had already twisted their arm, jammed her elbow to their stomach, and pinned them against the sink.
Oksana's expression flashed with something indiscernible, her hands raised in mock- surrender. Penny stepped back, a mix of horror and terror painting her expression as she let go of the ex-Widow as if she had been burned.
<< "Oh, my god, I am so sorry, ma'am. please, forgive me. I-">> Penny stumbled over her words, frozen like a deer in headlights, before hanging her head guiltily. << "Please punish me so I may be better," >> She mumbled. Penny swallowed. Perhaps they had been lenient for her disobedience before, but this must be the tipping point. Opening attacking a superior like that was grounds for the belt in the Red Room. Penny could feel herself shaking.
The silence was deafening, but Penny kept her gaze trained on Oksana's feet. She wasn't wearing combat boots anymore but a pair of light pink socks that reached just underneath her ankle. Vaguely, Penny wondered if she should get on her knees, but quickly discarded the thought. She did not know what Oksana's punishments were like. She was better off waiting for her instructions.
After an excruciatingly long minute, Oksana spoke: << "Look at me," >>
Penny's gaze shot up obediently, straightening her hunched shoulders. Oksana's expression was intense as she scrutinized the teen. << "We are not the Red Room. I snuck up on you, and you reacted appropriately. You will not be punished.">> Oksana's mouth curved ever-so-slightly down as she spoke. << "Understand?">>
The brunette nodded quickly, avoiding Oksana's gaze. << "Of course, ma'am. It will not happen again,">>
Oksana snorted, the sound adding a little levity to the room. << "To borrow a phrase —">> Her eyes darted to Yelena, eyebrow raising << "Don't call me ma'am. I'm not yet that old,">> There was the tiniest ghost of a smile on Oksana's lips as she spoke.
Yelena inclined her head with an eye roll. << "Just my luck. One is a poser and the other is a copycat. Am I the only cool person here?" >>
Penny swallowed, slowly backing away from them. The teen was sure they had noticed, but the ex-Widows allowed Penny to in a word — flee — to the safety of the room. None of them confronted her, and Penny felt her chest tightening with every faux-relaxed step.
Both too slowly and too quickly, Penny found herself in the room. It was the same as she left it, shoes thrown messily on the floor, candy wrappers tossed sparingly around the floor. She gasped for air as if she had just been thrown into a raging tsunami, her spine pressed harshly against the wood.
She didn't know what to believe. Penny would like to think that Oksana was being truthful, but they were trained liars. All that the teen knew was that she had been exceedingly careless today — and she was very lucky to still be in one piece after attacking Oksana like that.
Perhaps the defector didn't want to punish Penny in public, but rather in private. The teen felt a chill travel down her spine at the thought. Something wet dripped down her cheeks and onto her jaw. Slowly, noting how the injury on her palm was now slowly disappearing, Penny wiped the back of her hand against her jaw.
Tears. She realized. I'm crying.
Penny's expression suddenly hardened, and she scrubbed at her cheeks furiously. Weak. Pathetic.
Self-hatred swelled like an overfull balloon, overpowering every other thing in Penny's brain. Pulling her knees up to her chest, she found her nails digging into her skin through her suit. Widows are marble. They don't cry.
Something inside her cracked. Like a shard of glass scattered on the ground. Penny slowly stood up. Useless girl. The voices taunted her. You couldn't even wash dishes without fucking up. Maybe Oksana just doesn't care enough to punish you. You're insignificant. Unneeded.
Her feet dragged against the floor, and she unceremoniously flopped into bed. Pulling the pillow overtop her head, Penny flailed her feet like a toddler having a tantrum. "Shut up. Shut up!" She wanted to scream, but the sound that came out was defeated.
Broken.
Notes:so... uh, funny story, my computer did a Thing and this fic got deleted, I'm very sorry to anyone who was reading it who's confused why it got deleted idk why either.
hopefully you'll appreciate this new chapter as an apology <3 also please comment, it makes me do a little jig
Chapter 3: keep it together, you know you could go farSummary:more of a filler. Extremely angsty, and TW for SA mentions
Notes:chapter title from Heathers lol
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter TextPenny was up before the sun had even risen in the sky. She would say she slept well, but that would be a lie. Despite how she had been taught, Penny didn't enjoy lying. It was a necessity, not something to enjoy, like ice cream or a sunny day.
So, consequently, the girl never lied to herself — or at least she tried not to.
She slid silently out of bed, opened the door, and did a double-take as she noticed the neatly folded clothing just outside of it. Black underwear, socks, a white bra, a blue t-shirt, and dark blue jeans.
Immediately, Penny's head jerked up, scanning the hall for… anything. Unsurprisingly, she couldn't find any evidence of who had gifted her these things. After taking a minute to look closely at the clothes, and scanning the hallways — Penny admitted defeat. One of the other Widows must've gifted it to her. It was nice. Her suit already felt grimy and gross against her skin.
I need to take a shower. Penny hummed at the thought. Her hair was already much itchier and wilder than she preferred.
She clutched the clothes tightly against her chest. Penny smiled the smallest bit, noticing a slightly ajar door a few paces away. That must be it.
The washroom was nice, though, at this point, even a hose in the backyard would've seemed 'nice' to her. The washroom housed a closed-off shower to one side, with a handful of white towels underneath the sink. Taking care to make sure she fully closed the door, Penny sighed in relief when she finally peeled the sweat-laden spandex from her skin. The suit pooled around her ankles as Penny went to turn the shower to the hottest setting.
She padded into the shower, and almost mechanically, she found herself stepping underneath the scorching spray. Her skin turned red and it felt a little as if she'd just jumped into an active volcano, but Penny found herself unable to muster up the energy even to move the shower's handle.
Taking a moment to breathe, Penny could feel her memories coming back. She rubbed the soap against her skin. It frothed up on her arms, her thighs, and her chest.
She remembered rough hands on her body, digging his short nails into her breasts and ass.
Penny dug her nails into the soap. She scrubbed furiously against the back of her thighs and the planes of her stomach.
She remembered how much it hurt .
The soap was between her fingers. The shower water slid down her back like a waterfall.
She remembered how numb she was to all of it.
Penny still felt so dirty. The soap slipped out of her hands.
She used to cry. She doesn't bother anymore. No one would come to save her, anyway.
Penny dug her chipped nails into her skin in an attempt to bring herself back to reality. Dimly, she realized the shower water was cooling. But, she couldn't bring herself to move from the floor (when did she sit down?).
The teen scratched at her skin, feeling like maggots were crawling underneath her flesh, buried deep in the marrow of her bones. And if only she could peel back her skin enough it would reveal her twisted, rotting insides.
I still haven't washed my hair. Penny almost laughed at the absurd thought.
She spied a bottle of… something or other, next to her on the ground. At this point, she could only hope it was shampoo because she couldn't even bother to check the label before dumping the stuff into her hair. It bubbled up and frothed when Penny rubbed it into her scalp, smelling faintly of jasmine.
It's probably fine. The teen figured, turning around on the floor of the shower and tilting her head back, allowing the water to wash through it. Penny closed her eyes for a moment, trying to pinpoint why the shampoo smelled familiar. She could've sworn…
A flash of red curls appeared in her mind's eye and Penny almost flicked her hair into her face with how quickly her neck snapped up. Fuck. I just stole Natasha's shampoo.
Penny quickly ducked her head as the water went into her eyes and down her nose. She rubbed her eyes furiously, hacking like a cat attempting to dislodge a hairball. The water soon cooled more, moving from room temperature to freezing.
Finally, that's when she felt herself snap out of the haze that had been clouding her brain for the last several days. Not fully — she could never be that lucky, but enough that Penny could stand up, and finally turn off the water. A frigid draft made goosebumps appear on her skin as she padded onto the cool floor tiles, water dripping from every part of her body.
Wrapping one of the towels around her chest and underneath her armpits, Penny felt much cleaner.
It was nice.
After drying off her body, Penny began to wring some of the water from her curls, while at the same time stepping towards her new outfit. Soon enough, the towel was discarded next to Penny's suit, and she swiftly donned her new very soft, very comfortable, probably very expensive clothing.
Unlike everything else she'd worn, the shirt wasn't tight on her and didn't highlight the curve of her waist or the scoop of her breast. The bra was purely utilitarian, with no frills or laces to be seen. The pants were a little small on her, riding up above her ankles, but they didn't seem purposefully tight, more just accidentally that way. Still, Penny appreciated it.
Bundling up the used towel and her suit in her arms, Penny slowly opened the door, mildly surprised to find the soft sound of chatter and music flowing through the hall.
" — done, yet?"
"Give her time. She'll come around eventually,"
"Thanks, Oksana, for getting —"
Penny closed her bedroom door behind her.
Notes:sorry that this chapter is short, I promise the next one will be longer tho! I hope last week's 4k makes up for today's :)
Question: Turtles or Dogs?
(this will have plot significance later lol)
Please comment!!! It gives me motivation <3
Chapter 4: and leave this fucked-up place behindSummary:Natasha and Penny bond <3
Notes:chapter title from Christmas Kids by Roar
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter TextTap. Tap.
Penny looked up. Someone was knocking on the bedroom door.
"Come in," The girl called softly, silently glad for the break from her boredom. She had barely been here a week and she was already itching to do something , anything. The defectors were nice enough, feeding her three times a day, and providing a completely new set of clothing, which was much more than Penny had ever expected.
The door opened with a creak, and a familiar redhead smiled at her. "Hey, Penny. How are you?"
The question was so basic, but it released a tsunami's worth of emotions in the teen's chest. It took a sort of incredible strength to shut it down and think rationally.
Penny hesitated, debating her answers, before settling on: "Fine. You?"
Natasha kept the bedroom door open as she walked in, perched on the edge of Penny's — no not hers, the — bed. In the afternoon light, the redhead appeared much older, with eyes that spoke of unspeakable things. Penny knew that look well. After all, she had it, too.
Natasha pursed her lips, turning her head so that Penny could meet her gaze, before saying one single word: "Bullshit,"
Penny's eyebrows raised, and a quip shot out of her mouth before she had a chance to think. "Careful, I'm impressionable," Penny smirked, but it was hollow. The teen had been caught off-guard by Natasha and had spoken before she could think of the possible consequences.
Thankfully, the redhead seemed to find it more amusing than disrespectful, letting out a bark of laughter before her expression turned serious once again. "Funny. Now answer the question."
"How am I doing?" Penny paused, taking a few deep breaths to dampen the odd surge of irritation that swelled in her chest. "Fine." She eventually ground out.
Natasha leaned back, looking at her for a moment before her gaze shifted to the ceiling. "Well, I can tell you, when I was first free of the Red Room, I was scared."
Penny let out a disbelieving sound, suppressing the urge to say Widows are made of marble . Something told her that the ex-Widow was already aware of this saying, probably having it drilled into her mind, as well.
Natasha pressed her lips into a thin line. "I was, believe it or not. Prisoner of SHIELD, with decades of red in my ledger, and trapped in a tiny room for days on end. I was terrified,"
Natasha sat back up, looking intently at Penny. The redhead reached over and gently squeezed Penny's hand. "You're not a prisoner here, little one. You're allowed to come out of your room. You won't be punished."
Penny was quiet as she mulled over Natasha's words. The woman had been unexpectedly vulnerable. She felt something inside her shift. Penny's stance softened and she met Natasha's eyes — they were a soft green, with some specks of brown in them— and nodded, just a little.
"Okay," Penny mumbled. She still didn't fully believe the redhead (she was still waiting for the punishment due to her actions with Oksana the other day), but something in the girl's gut told her that Natasha was being honest with her. "What should I do?"
"I'll be making dinner soon. How about you stay after? We can watch some American movies," Natasha offered.
Penny tilted her head slightly. Movies. The girl knew about them, but she had never really been allowed to enjoy them. They were things to be studied, to learn from. Was this some sort of trial?
The older woman must have sensed Penny's hesitation because she then clarified: "This isn't a test. It's for fun,"
She doesn't remember the last time she had 'fun'. Maybe that's why, after only a moment, Penny agreed. A small smile played on Natasha's lips, and her eyes crinkled in the corners. She patted Penny's knee, the touch lingering long after the brief moment was over, making the hairs on the back of her neck raise.
Natasha jumped a little on the bed, shifting like an unruly toddler until her back was pressed against the bottom of the frame. She then stretched her body in a way not too dissimilar to how a cat would stretch itself after being curled up in one position for too long.
Her heel brushed Penny's lower thigh — a seemingly innocuous action that, at any other time, the teen probably wouldn't have even noticed. But she was already on high alert, her skin feeling pricklier than a cactus. Penny had the sudden, childish, urge to lean into the older woman, but resisted it.
Penny fiddled with the hem of her shirt, picking lightly at the stitching at the bottom. The fabric was soft against her skin. She liked it a lot. Penny looked at the wall in an attempt to avoid Natasha's knowing gaze. Penny feared if she met it, she might give up control completely.
There was a light stain on the wall, as if someone had thrown some sort of liquid, and it wasn't able to be cleaned.
If she squinted, it looked a bit like a long-legged giraffe.
"...Do you…" Penny paused to collect her thoughts, suddenly unsure. "My clothes. Do you know who got them?"
Out of the corner of her eye, Penny saw Natasha blink, and lean forward slightly. "Oksana did. She thought you'd prefer something other than your suit to wear,"
Oh. Penny swallowed, something in her belly flickering like a firelight. "Well, uh, I'll thank her. I do like the outfit. It's very nice," She wrapped her arms around herself, digging her nails into the exposed skin of her arms.
Natasha shot her a ghost of a smile, before slowly standing up. Her back cracked as she slid off the bed, making Penny crack a light smile. The redhead rolled her eyes fondly as Yelena's voice carried throughout the hall.
"Natashka! Hurry up! You said you'd wash the dishes!" Yelena complained.
"Coming , 'Lena!" She yelled in response, raising her eyebrow at Penny. "Sisters , " Natasha whispered, mock-groaning.
Penny gave a little wave as the older woman left. Natasha didn't see it, but Penny didn't care, busy replaying the conversation to herself.
Natasha had been vulnerable in a way that Widows were never allowed to be. If she wanted, Penny could use that against her, twist the knife deeper until the woman was screaming, begging for it to end, praying to a fake God for mercy that Petra could not give — Wait. No.
It felt like Penny's brain had screeched to a full stop. That's wrong. That's awful. Natasha has been nothing but kind. She doesn't deserve that. It was almost like Penny's intrusive thoughts had confirmed everything bad that she had ever thought about herself.
The girl recoiled, almost as if she was trying to escape her own mind.
Natasha is right. Penny concluded, albeit a little hesitantly. I do need to get out. Perhaps one of those American movies will help. She picked at the skin on her bottom lip in an unconscious motion.
Penny softly exhaled, pulling one of her knees to her chest and placing her chin on top of them. Penny stared, unseeing, unblinking, out her open door, as the sound of chatter and laughter wrapped around her body like a straightjacket. She was stuck in place, despite how she wanted to move, to join them, to talk, to do something.
Aw, poor little girl. Penny almost growled at the return of the voices. Why do you keep lying to yourself? Her demons whispered, tone dripping with faux pity. What use do you have to them? A body too weak to fight, and a mind too fractured to think? You're just their little charity case—the poor abused girl with a bleeding heart and a broken brain.
Logically, Penny knew no one was there, but she could feel their claws digging into her shoulder. Their frigid breaths against the side of her neck. They cackled like hyenas as Penny pressed her palms against her ears.
You're not real. She thought, despite the way her eyes began to grow hot. You're just a figment of my imagination. Penny felt their claws dig deeper into the soft flesh of her shoulder. She was trembling like a leaf in the wind.
Weak. They spat. Pathetic.
Penny inhaled deeply and opened her eyes. Slowly, her green eyes began to categorize everything around her.
Towel.
Giraffe Stain on the wall.
Closet.
Suit on the floor.
She could still feel herself shaking.
Penny brought her hand up to her mouth, and bit down. Hard.
The sharp jolt of pain made Penny recoil, but it succeeded in distracting her from her thoughts.
The teen took a few deep breaths, exhaling heavily each time as she tried to calm the rapid beating of her heart. She felt a bit like a twitchy jackrabbit, always on alert, always watching, always listening, ready to scurry away at the faintest snap of a twig.
Okay. She wiggled in place as the pins and needles feeling in her feet made itself known. A frown creased her features, and Penny sighed. Well, I guess I'm not moving.
She flopped backwards, the mattress making a muffled thump sound as her head hit the pillow. Penny pursed her lips, gaze fixed on the open doorway. The teen felt discomfort itch underneath her skin, feeling oddly exposed.
Penny groaned a little as she sat up, then stood up, shuffling towards her door and closing it. She couldn't understand why, but she suddenly felt a lot more at peace, even though the door wouldn't be a major deterrent if the defectors truly wanted to hurt her.
Yet, despite that, Penny found her shoulders had relaxed, and the lightest of smiles beginning to curve up on her lips. As she flopped back into the mattress, she felt her muscles uncoiling, maybe for the first time since she was young.
Maybe. Penny thought. I might like it here.
Notes:sosososososo idk about this chapter but I hope y'all like it! Do you have any prompts/suggestions for chapters? (I have writers block lol)
anygays though, I hope u all enjoyed this!!! Please comment, I'll do a little guy dance <3