#pregnant Wanda maximoff

[spaghettiposts]

Unspoken Truths

Summery: You and Wanda have been friends for years, but never once has she showed up at your doorstep in this state. Pregnant, alone, and hurt. You take her in and you both dive into the difficulties of pregnancy, and hiding feelings.

Warnings: Pregnancy, Dickhead Vision, Friends to lovers, Attempts at comedy, Reader being a sweetheart like always, Mutual Pinning, Faint talks of Abortion, talks of nausea and vomiting.

Words: 4k

There was a knock at the door. Which was weird since it was- what time was it? 

Your arm reached for your phone resting on the bedside table. 2:04 am. Your brows furrowed in confusion, feeling discomfort. Who would be knocking at your door at 2 in the morning? Wiping your eyes you rose to your feet, questioning if this was really worth getting up for. 

Slowly you found your courage, and a baseball bat in your hands. You stumbled through the hallway, trying to wake yourself up to face the potential threat at your door. You felt like you were walking right into a classic horror scene, was it Ghostface maybe? Nah he’d call, you think. 

Through the peephole you saw the last person you’d ever expect at this ungodly hour.

“Wanda?” You yawned, hand still on the door. “It’s 2 in the morn- Woah.” You grunted in surprise as her arms wrapped around your waist, instinctively you wrapped your arms around her too. Your surprise quickly shifted into concern at her small sniffles, the brunette tightly gripping at your shirt. “Wanda? What’s wrong?”

The girl in your arms said nothing, merely shaking her head against your shirt. You took that as your cue to close the door behind you, leading Wanda inside. Not once did you separate from her, allowing her to cling onto you. Despite the circumstances you couldn’t help the blush from rising. 

Unfortunately you don’t dwell on how nice it feels to be hugging Wanda, not now, not when she’s still crying. Removing an arm around her, you place it on the small of her back. “Why don’t we go sit on the couch?” 

It’s then that Wanda realizes her current position, she takes a shuddering breath, agreeing with a nod of her head. You ignore the flutter in your chest from the way her grip tightened on your forearm as you lead the way. 

When you sit on the couch Wanda follows suit, sitting a safe distance away from you. You figure she’s composing her thoughts from the way she plays with the rings on her fingers. 

Without thinking you reach for her hand, missing the way her breath hitches from the contact. “What’s wrong Wanda? You can tell me.” 

The brunette looks up at you through tearful eyes, she only feels herself tear up further by the look you give her. An adoring look, a soft comforting smile. It hurts to look at, it hurts even more when your eyebrows furrow. 

“You don’t have to talk about it if it’s bothering you so much…” You add, she’s quick to wipe her eyes and take a deep breath.

“Y/n, I’m pregnant.” She sighs out, feeling some relief. She cringes at the way your eyes widen in surprise. Now you were certainly awake.

Out of all the things Wanda would say, that was certainly not one you would’ve predicted. Pregnant. Of course you could see Wanda being a mom but you recalled her mentioning how she’d like to finish college first.

Clearly…that didn’t happen.

“I just found out.” Wanda let out one of many sighs to come, rubbing her swollen eyes with her hoodie sleeves. She leaned back on the couch, giving you a forced smile.

You remained flabbergasted. Pregnant.

Wanda was pregnant. And came to you. For comfort? Advice? A secret revelation that your love for her was strong enough to get her pregnant? That last one was still part of your sleepy brain talking. 

You had many questions, the most important one was where was the father? You assumed Vision was the father, at least. Even if part of you didn’t like that idea so much. 

Taking in consideration how the brunette arrived at your house, with red bloodshot eyes, and tear stains on her cheeks from crying so much. You worded your next question carefully. “I’m assuming it’s bad?”

A watery laugh escapes her lips, she shakes her head in disbelief. “Bad is an understatement.” And although she’s laughing, her eyes continue to water until she’s tired of pretending everything’s going okay. Her crying turns to sobs, leaning against you for support again. This time you don’t disconnect, letting her rest her weight on you.

You stare up at the ceiling, Wanda laying on your chest having fallen fast asleep. The couch is comfortable enough to make you feel better, but not enough to silence your worries for the woman on top of you. Unsure of what to think you simply conclude it’s best if you don’t, not right now. 

Letting out a deep breath, you close your eyes, tightening your arms around the girl.

Tomorrow, tomorrow you could talk about it.

/-/

It was tomorrow, and you were dreading talking about it. It’s not even yours, chill out, you reminded yourself. First thing you woke up to was an empty couch, with just you laying on it. Where was Wanda?  Rubbing your eyes to wake up fully you noticed the small sticky note on your arm. 

Turning it around revealed Wanda’s whereabouts.

I wanted to make you breakfast, so I went to the market. Your pantry sucks ♥️ 

Okay, breakfast. You loved Wanda’s meals, you figured the least you could do was clean up the kitchen for her. Forcing yourself to get up you threw your arms over your head, letting your back pop. Looking towards the kitchen in all honesty it didn’t look too bad. 

Just some pots that needed to be cleaned, remove the grease. A bag of flour on the counter…you didn’t quite remember why and how that was there. And a sock on the stovetop, you held it up in disgust. When did that get there? 

Feeling embarrassed for yourself, you got to work. Quickly. Socks were placed in the hamper. Flour, back in the pantry in its designated compartment. Then you dropped some flour, falling all over yourself and the items around you.

“Great…” you muttered, eying all the powder on the floor. 

Sweeping it is. 

Aside from the mess, and making more of a mess things went quite smoothly. You were satisfied with your work, the kitchen looked like a kitchen again. However pots still remained, making quick work of them you rinsed them off. 

Not noticing how the front door opened and a certain brunette looked your way. She smiled fondly at the small cusses you let out, shaking your hand from the hot water. Carefully she placed down all the grocery bags, a little louder than she intended.

“Oh shit!” You gasped, dropping the pot. “Wanda! You scared me.” You chuckled, turning off the tap, you could finish washing that later.

“You bought a lot…” You pointed out, drying your hands. Six paper bags were on the table, you were very glad you took time to clean it. 

Wanda snorted, unloading the frozen products from one bag. “Y/n you didn’t even have tomatoes. Absolutely no produce.” 

You rolled your eyes. You never cooked much, tomatoes would’ve gone bad under your care. Wanda on the other hand lived for cooking. A perfect balance in your opinion, she could cook, and you could taste. You walked over, taking the frozen foods from her hands to put them away, ignoring the pointed look.

She muttered something about your organizational skills—lack of. Probably a complaint.

“How much was it?” You asked from the freezer.

Does cheese go in there?

“It’s on me.” She shrugged, opening the onions and placing them in the basket. Her nose crinkled watching you attempt to be useful, gently her fingers wrapped around your wrist, taking the cheese away and putting it in the fridge. 

You let out a shaky exhale from the contact, watching her walk away. Shaking off the feeling you remember her words, scrunching your face. “No Wanda, how much?”  Pulling out your wallet you handed her $120 “Here.”

Wanda laughed, pushing your hand away “No. It’s on me. For last night.”

“Seriously?” You scoffed not believing it, waving the money at her. If she wouldn’t take it you knew you’d have to put it in her purse when she wasn’t looking. Like usual. “Well at least let me cook if you’re not gonna take it.”

“I said I was making breakfast!” She whined. Cute.

You pouted at your friend, stuffing your hands in your pockets. “Yeah but I want to do something…”

Wanda smiled, placing a hand on your forearm. “You’ve done enough for me.” She said, leaning up to place a small peck on your cheek. “Thank you Y/n.”

Your breath caught in your throat, knowing you didn’t win this battle. Of course not, she cheated, but she didn’t know that. She’s with Vision, having no clue of the effects she has on you. You still felt hot on the inside, and were probably blushing on the outside too.

Damnit Y/n pull it together, she’s pregnant and needs your support. Not your gayness.

Once everything was put away, mainly Wanda doing the work and correcting whatever you did wrong. She pushed you down on the chair, telling you to sit while she cooked. Then you could talk, talk.

Right, the talk.

Fuck. 

You wondered why you were still so nervous. Around Wanda? Well that one was given. But a pregnant Wanda? That felt…odd. Nevertheless you gave her, her space not wanting to overwhelm the pregnant person. 

She didn’t look pregnant…obviously. She just found out…hasn't even been a month. God was it hot in this room? Or were you just sweating? Nervous. 

“It is Visions.” You turned your head to look at Wanda. She spoke calmly with a tense figure. She flipped the bacon, turning her eyes to you. “And- You know I didn’t want…kids right now but things happen. We’ve talked about it before and Vision said he’d love that.”

You tilted your head, knowing there was more to it.

She let out a shaky breath “After college, he's still building his business a-and he said he doesn’t have time to raise a family. He wants nothing to do with them but I-“

“Abortion isn’t…?”

“No.” She said firmly, turning off the stove, using her sleeves to wipe her blurred eyes. “Your bacon might be a little salty by the way.” She smiled sadly, handing you a plate with two pancakes.

Seeing past the smile, you squeezed her arm in understanding, grabbing the plate from her hands. She sat down across from you, eating from her own plate giving you the opportunity to do the same. 

“These are great Wands.” You mumbled after swallowing your food, wiping your mouth. “You’d be a good mom.” Digging your fork into the pancakes for more. They were truly delicious, you don’t think you’d ever get used to how spectacular she made them. 

Wanda gave you a scrunched look, a sheepish smile on her lips. “You’re just saying that.” She shrugged it off, ignoring the way it made her feel.

“I'm not though. You’re kind, patient, compassionate, giving, and understanding. Aren't those motherly qualities?” You teased, though your tone remained reassuring. 

Still Wanda remained in disbelief, shaking her head lightly letting out a breathy laugh “I’m just not sure where to go from here. I’m keeping them.” She stared at you, seriously, as if you would try to change her mind. 

“But that’s all I know.” She rubbed her head with her hands, feeling frustrated. She had no plan.

You reached over for Wanda’s hand, rubbing soft circles with your thumb. “It’s okay, we can figure it out together.”

Her mouth curved into a smile, looking at both of your hands. Together, that was a nice word. Then she took in what you said, her head tilting to the side. “We?”

Wanda’s smile turned into a teasing one, as you stammered over your words, tensing your hand from their ministrations. “Well yeah I mean since Vision isn’t really in the picture and you shared the apartment with him I’m assuming- offering if you wanted to stay with me.” You bit the inside of your cheek.

Smooth.  

“It was just a thought I had…” You finished, feeling intimidated by her gaze. Your heart pounded against your chest, waiting for her answer. You had basically just proposed she move in with you, with a kid. Like couples do. With a kid. 

The more you thought about it the more you wanted her to say yes. You wanted to care for her, god knows she needed it. An idea came into your head about rearranging the guest bedroom into Wanda’s, only if she said yes- god we’re getting ahead of ourselves what if she says n-

“Yes.” She blurted, squeezing your hand in excitement, a little harder than intended. 

“Wait- yes?”

“Yes! Oh my god yes,” She practically squealed, standing up from her seat to pace. “I mean I was also thinking about where I’d go…I’m not ready to tell my parents, you know how they feel about pregnancy before marriage, and Pietro already knows but he’s barely thriving.” She gestured with her hands, clasping them together and looking at you expectantly.

You nodded, growing even more excited with her. “Then it’s settled, you’ll stay here.” You beamed up at the brunette. She was quick to pull you out of your chair with a toothy grin, pulling you into a hug. 

You both sighed at the contact, holding each other tighter. 

“Thank you, again.” She mumbled, nuzzling further into your neck. You could only smile, what else could you do? This girl was amazing, you squeezed her back in response. 

“It’s no problem, I’d love having you here. And the kid, or kids? Wouldn’t it be crazy if you had twins- worse triplets.” You mumbled to yourself, Wanda giggled.

Maybe Wanda would need help moving in. Getting her stuff, avoiding Vision. You thought to yourself about skipping work for the day- maybe a week. The guest bedroom had the essentials, but not anything baby related…

As you continued rambling on about the move, Wanda sighed, tugging you closer with a loving smile on her face. Then it dawned on her, was she in love with her best friend? Her eyes widened at the realization, trying to bury her panic and listen to your voice instead. 

You raised a hand to your chin, not noticing how tense she had become. “I think I could skip work today and go to the hardware store. We might need a crib, the guest bedroom is yours but the baby gosh it needs its space too-“ 

/-/

The move had gone smoothly, a little too smoothly. Wanda insisted you stay outside the door to Visions apartment while she took care of things. Reluctantly you agreed standing outside waiting, only coming in when Wanda signaled for you to come in. 

His apartment was quite nice, you could see why Wanda liked it so much. Unsurprisingly his home was decorated with small luxuries, perks of being a Stark.

Boxes after boxes went by packed, you insisted Wanda do the lighter loads, not wanting her to hurt her back. And before noon all of Wanda’s stuff was ready to go, no Vision in sight. He must’ve been busy today, Wanda only muttering something about his Chess club. 

Not wanting to stay any longer you packed up the truck, heading to your place. So in short, yes, everything was going great. Wanda made herself an even more important figure in your life, you didn’t think that was possible. Although she had a way of proving you wrong.

She fell quickly into your daily routine, and so easily too. Every morning she’d make you coffee for work, and when she was feeling sick you made her breakfast in return. Wanda had been getting sick a lot more than usual, you assumed it was morning sickness. If only you had realized sooner how bad it had gotten. 

Wanda could not sleep.

There were days when she’d have nightmares as a kid that prevented her from sleeping, often nightmares of a bomb being dropped on her house. Nights waiting up for Vision where she couldn’t sleep in hopes he’d return soon. Many times in her life Wanda found it difficult to sleep, this time the horrors of pregnancy guiding her to insomnia.

Until she felt that familiar feeling again, nausea. Quickly she threw the covers off herself, booking it towards the bathroom. Wanda was so grateful your guest bedroom had a bathroom connected to it, it had given her more privacy and spared her the embarrassment.

Her fingertips barely grazed on the door to close it before she was kneeling on the floor by the toilet, emptying the compartments in her stomach.

Hunched over on the toilet she didn’t realize how much time had passed, time passed slowly for her during this part. All she remembered was the door creaking a little and her hair being collected into a ponytail.

Wanda swore she could hear your voice, she preferred to focus on how nice your hand felt rubbing on her back, how soothing it felt. Your touch brought her back, wiping the side of her lips she turned to meet your concerned eyes. 

Only turning more concerned by the look of exhaustion Wanda held. Words weren’t necessary to communicate where Wanda would be staying that night, or any other nights. Really, as Wanda was pulled up to her feet, and guided to your bedroom she found herself unwilling to care. You kissed her forehead so tenderly whispering goodnight that made Wanda realize it wasn’t so bad.

Sleeping in your arms was worth a little sickness. 

/-/

“Twins.” You heard Wanda mutter from beside, laying on the bed. You couldn’t quite decipher her tone, but her squeeze on your hand made you feel uneasy. Not wanting to overwhelm her, you decided to keep silent, biting the inside of your cheek. 

Weeks had flown by pretty fast, Wanda being on her 15th. Poor girl was already feeling the pain of carrying not one but two kids in her stomach. She’d often ask you to hold her stomach which you easily complied too. 

The doctor turned in his chair, away from the monitor looking at you both with a grin. “Yep! Looks like two healthy babies, would you like to know the gender?” He asked.

Your eyes glanced at Wanda, her face indifferent. Thankfully you caught the slight quiver of her lips letting you know all you needed to. 

“Uh no. Thank you Doctor Stephen but I think” She squeezed your hand again. “…we’re fine for now.” You mustered up a polite smile. 

He nodded his head, mirroring the same smile “Of course! I’ll just go put this in your file and clean things up then you’re good to go.” He tossed his gloves in the bin, finally leaving you two alone. 

You sucked your teeth, hearing the door click shut. Knowing Wanda, she was never used to change even though throughout her childhood all the brunette did was suffer through it. She liked to be in control, prepared for what to expect.

Now it seemed you were expecting two. 

You let out a small noise as your back hit the chair next to her side. Deciding to break the silence, you spoke calmly, “So twins, I guess that means we might need another crib.”

Her eyes only twitched in response, barely acknowledging the way you tried to subtly cheer her up. Make her feel this wasn’t a sudden change she wasn’t prepared for. The thought of another kid shook Wanda, it made her feel nervous. She fidgeted from her place, picking at the bedsheets.

Wanda shook her head, letting out a sigh. She took her hand off yours, using them to rub her temple. “God I- this wasn’t supposed to happen. Y/n I-“ Her throat closed up, she hated the way her immediate response was to cry, tears starting to prickle at her eyes. She hated even more how your face softened, “I can barely fathom one kid, now I’m supposed to mother two.” 

Her head hung lowly as small tears started to stream down her cheeks. Not wanting you to see her that way she tried her best to turn away only for you to grab her cheeks with both hands, thumbs rubbing soft circles against her skin. Wanda let out a choked sob, staring at you so hopelessly. The sight broke your heart.

“Wanda hey, it’s okay.” You whispered.

“No Y/n I just-  two. That’s two new people coming into your home, and me included- I can’t do this to you. You don’t deserve it.” She croaked out, sniffling between words.

You scrunch your face in protest, giving her a stern shake of your head. “Wanda you’ve always been welcome in my home, pregnant or not and it’s not just mine now it’s yours too. I want to help you.” You affirmed, moving your hands to wipe at her tears before coming down to hold her own.

“Why?” She asked.

“Because I care about you, and I love you.” You confessed, the words coming out with more meaning than you intended. Wanda stared up at you in adoration, her eyes crinkling, and a small blush dusting her cheeks. It was then you noticed how close you were, how close Wanda's face was to your own. Feeling overwhelmed by her stare, you looked away, taking a couple steps back. “And I love them too, whatever they are…”

Missing the disappointed look on her face.

Leaning back into the bed, Wanda turns her head to look at you, and if you were looking back you would’ve seen the loving look on her face “I really don’t deserve a friend like you.” She said softly, her voice so fragile.

Then you turned back this time, meeting her gaze, her words registering in your head. Quickly your face turned into a frown, “Don’t say that.”

Ignoring your words Wanda took a hold of your hand. A gesture that came so naturally now, both of you latching onto each other, wanting to feel one another. “I love you too, so much detka.” 

More than you realize.

/-/

“Y/n.” Wanda murmured hurriedly, shaking at your arm. “Detka, wake up.”

Letting out a snort, you woke up with a cough, turning away to cover yourself. Your eyes fluttered wide open, wrestling with the sheets in a panic, “Huh? Yeah- Wands? What's wrong, are they here?”

A small smile crept up her lips at the mention of the twins, “No silly, I'm just…hungry again.” She whispered, turning away from your gaze in embarrassment.

“Again?” You clarified.

“Yeah…sorry.” She chuckled awkwardly.

Leaning on your elbows for support you lifted yourself up, sitting up. Scratching the back of your head you turned to look at your clock. Naturally it was 2 am, usually the time when Wanda would get hungry. 

“No, no, that's fine.” You muttered hoarsely, clearing your throat. “I don’t mind, what are you craving?” 

“Steves burgers…” She beamed.

“Steves? Okay I’ll get you some, with onions or without?” You said as you walked towards the closet, shrugging on your jacket. 

“With, and grilled please.”

“Okay, yeah.” You hummed, slipping on your shoes. “I’ll uh be back try to get some sleep yeah? It's pretty late.” Kneeling up from the floor you reached for your wallet, stuffing it in your pockets. 

Wanda made a disagreeing grunt but pulled the sheets back on herself anyway. “I guess.”

You nodded, giving her a sheepish smile. Grabbing your keys from the nightstand you made your way to the door, a small tug on your jacket stopping you. Curiously you turned around to meet Wanda, tilting your head in question. Her hand traveled up your forearm, pulling you down to press a lingering kiss on your cheek.  

“Stay safe, and put on your glasses when you drive. Your astigmatism gets bad at this hour.” She husked out, letting you go. 

Your breath catches in your throat, not trusting your words you nod again. Stumbling through a few items you rush towards the door, leaving with a small goodbye unsure why Wanda was teasing you. What was that?

/-/

“Hey.” You said, a surprised look on your face as you closed the door behind you. Wanda gave a small smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes from the dimly lit dining room. She was sitting comfortably in the chair, wearing one of your hoodies.

“Hi.”

“What are you doing out of bed? You should be resting, it’s really late.” Checking at the clock once again you confirmed your suspicions, you assumed perhaps she’d enjoy her burger in bed like she always does. This time however Wanda had different plans, fiddling with her sleeves.

“You know I can’t sleep without you.” She retorted, gazing into your eyes “I like it when you’re here.” She confesses profoundly.

You give her a sheepish smile, unsure what to say. The look in her eyes does nothing but make you even more nervous, what was going on with her? “I like it when you’re here too. Is everything okay?” 

Wanda lets out a sigh, you choose to ignore it thinking she’s probably starving by now. You place the plastic bag on the table, taking out the bags and giving Wanda her burger. A number 2 with grilled onions, two pickles, and no cheese. “And I got you these.” You slide the container to her.

Wanda gives you a questioning look before opening it, she lets out a gasp when she does. Animal style fries. The annoyed quirk of her eyebrows long gone. Closing the lid she gives you a thankful pout, her eyes glossing.  “Thank you…”

“I got you a strawberry milkshake too since I know you like dipping them with the animal fries.” You chuckled, putting the glass on the table. 

That’s when Wanda wanted to cry, cry pathetically into her perfect burger brought by your perfect, kind, compassionate self. Instead she tossed the burger aside and pulled you in for a passionate kiss. Your eyes widened in surprise, but pressed back with the same intensity, quickly melting into the kiss. 

Wanda sighing against your lips easily became your new favorite sound, eager to get her to make more, your hands coming up to cup her face. Eventually you realize that this isn’t just any girl, but your best friend. Your best friend who you’d have been crushing on for years, your best friend who just kissed you.

She kissed you.

And you almost break the kiss by how much you’re smiling but Wanda beats you to it, leaving lingering kisses on your lips, slowing the pace until her forehead is against yours. “I’m in love with you Y/n.”

Your breath hitches “M-Me too.”

Wanda shakes her head, moving to nuzzle against your collarbone. “No detka, as in more than just a friend.” She says, reminded of your previous statements on what friends do. Fuck being friends, you wanted Wanda. Wanted to show her how good of a partner you could be.

“So you like me?” You asked shyly, still processing the revelation.

Wanda picked up her head from your shoulder, correcting you with a mischievous glint in her eyes. “Love you.”

You swallowed dryly, feeling your heart race. “That's great- thats- I.”

“Just kiss me already.” She orders breathlessly, barely giving you time to mutter ‘okay’ before your lips are on hers again. 

It's not until the morning when you both come downstairs, lovesick smiles on your faces, that you realize the mess you left behind. Both burgers remain uneaten, but as your eyes glance down to yours and Wanda's intertwined fingers, you could care less. 

[olsenmyolsen]

HEY SO WHAT THE FUCK I PASSED 1,000 FOLLOWERS!!!??? UMMM WHERE THE HELL DID YOU ALL COME FROM!?!

I swear I made this blog yesterday?

So anyways!!!! I plan on maybe doing a one-shot or special idea to celebrate??? I don't know??? I've never done this before???

I have some ideas that I'll list below!!??

I'll stop rambling and questioning my own abilities now and let you all get back to what you do best which is reading your little gay smut!

Love you guys!!!

[fangirlmermaid]

You're it for me

Summary: Wanda is sick of being pregnant and her powers took over when she saw you sleep peacefully beside her

pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Fem!Reader

Warning: Pregnancy, Cursing, boobs are mentioned (oh no!!), and Pregnancy fetishism (I guess) is mentioned but not played out!

Note: I promise I won't only write pregnant fic or popstar!reader, if you guys have any ideas DM me, I think I have that open. Also another fanfic so quickly???

(Might be some grammar and punctuation errors.) (Kind of long)

I made a part two and a part three

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Like clockwork, Wanda woke up at two in the morning. She sighed in frustration as she felt the twins kicking her.

You and Wanda always talked about starting a family together. She even found a way to make the baby's blood related to you both.

Wanda said she would carry the babies. Ever since the whole fighting Thanos, Wanda wanted to lay low and live a normal life with you (her wife) on your guy’s farm.

Wanda rubbed her eight-month-pregnant belly, hopefully, it would lure Billy and Tommy back to sleep. Wanda couldn’t wait to be a mother but she wanted these nine months to be over. She was tired of always having to go to the bathroom, of something hurting, and not getting a full night's sleep.

Wanda glared at you who was passed out snoring lightly. How dare you rub it in her face that you could sleep without interruptions. You rolled onto your side, your back facing her.

If you both decide to have more kids, Wanda decided that you're carrying them.

Once the babies had calmed down, Wanda placed her hand on your stomach. With Wanda’s swollen belly, it’s been hard to have you close to her. This is how Wanda has been cuddling you since her bump got big. She hates it!!!!

Wanda sighed in frustration when she felt the twins kicking her again. Wanda tried to lean close to your ear “You’re carrying them” Wanda stated for next time. Wanda stayed there waiting for the babies to tire themselves out.

Next Day

Beep Beep Beep Beep You hit snooze on your alarm, in your opinion, the worst part about working on a farm is having to wake up at the ass crack of dawn because you have a shit ton of things to do.

You throw your legs over the bed about to get up, but you stop. You sit there frozen too scared to move. Did something… No, no, that’s crazy.

You were about to get up but that’s when you felt it again, something flutter inside you.

You pulled your quilt off and you gasped at what your eyes laid on. Your stomach was swollen, and your pajama shirt which was originally a little big on you is now bunched up under your boobs.

You rubbed your eyes hoping you were hallucinating but nope, it was still there.

Your shaky finger poked the stomach, and at first, nothing happened. Then you poked it again, and the bump was rocking side to side causing you to jump a little.

Your heart was running, no matter how hard you tried to come up with how it happened it wasn’t logical.

You felt whatever was inside of you hit your ribs hard, almost as if it punched you.

“Ow” You whispered not wanting to wake up Wanda.

You lightly slap the bump which causes it to punch you in the ribs again.

“Bitch!” You yelled glaring at your stomach

“Love, what’s wrong?” Wanda asked

In a panic, you threw the blanket over your shoulder making sure to cover your stomach. You didn’t want Wanda to stress because you love her and it could hurt the babies.

Grabbing the short bed frame to help you up, you felt like someone gorilla glued five sixteen-pound bowling balls to your stomach. “Fuck, it’s heavy” You mumbled placing your free hand under your stomach for support.

You slowly turned around “Nothing baby, go back to sl-”

Your eyes widen, Wanda isn’t pregnant anymore. Like her bump just vanished.

You felt ashamed of how long it took you to figure it out.

You let the blanket slip onto the ground, exposing Wanda to your state.

Wanda’s mouth dropped, she looked down at her flat stomach and then back at you.

Wanda slowly made her way over to you, she was trying to pretend she wasn’t freaking out.

Wanda poked your stomach nothing happened, then she poked again and the twins kicked you hard.

“Fuck” you hissed bending over in pain, Wanda apologized.

“How did this happen?” Wanda asked her eyes staying on the bump, you shrugged “I don’t know! You’re the one with the red wiggly woos!” You whispered yelled.

Realization hit Wanda, she looked down at her hands before giving you a nervous smile. Your shoulder dropped “What did you do?!” You panicked, Wanda couldn’t meet your eyes “Last night Billy and Tommy woke me up, seeing you sleeping peacefully made me mad. So I placed my hand on your stomach while I cuddled you and I said your…carrying…them” Wanda's voice grew quiet your eyes widened and your mouth dropped too stunned to speak “I totally meant for next time!” Wanda explained pointing her finger at you.

You started to hyperventilate. You’re not prepared to give birth, you barely even read the parenting books Wanda bought for you. Your body hasn’t been preparing for the two human beings you're going to be pushing out. What if something happens and you have to go into surgery or you die?!

Also, how are you going to explain to people how you are suddenly eight months pregnant? You always do the socializing part of business so Wanda doesn’t have to!

“Love, Love” Wanda called rubbing your back “You need to calm down” Wanda explained in a hushed tone. You knew she was right but how could you be calm in this moment?

“Wanda, Alan is coming over around lunch to pick up some apples for the farmers market” You stated, Wanda squeezed your arms “Let’s get you back to bed, and I’ll look at the book” Wanda assured. You nodded, Wanda grabbed your hand to ease you back into bed, and she placed a mountain of pillows to support your back.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Wanda sat in the kitchen at the dining table flipping through the Darkhold, she didn’t even know what she was looking for.

Deep down Wanda was happy to have a break from being pregnant, she knows that you are right of course but still. There’s a part of her hoping you change your mind to stay that way.

“Ah, shit!” a voice from outside yelled, Wanda look out the window where she found you waddling towards the chicken coop with a basket in your hand. Wanda closed the book “What is she…” Wanda trailed off walking towards the back door.

Wanda walked towards you crossing her arms over her chest “Um, (Y/N)” Your wife called, you let out a soft hmmm while throwing chicken feed onto the ground “What are you doing?” Wanda wondered her voice stern, you kept throwing the chickens their food “What does it look like?” you sassed still focusing on your task. Wanda finally reached you, she pulled the empty basket out of your hands and placed it on the ground “Not resting like you should be” Wanda stated. You faced your wife sighing in frustration, “Wanda I have things to do, I can’t lay in bed” you reminded, Wanda stood behind you placing a hand on your hip and her other hand grabbing your hand “I’ll do the chores, I don’t want you on your feet until I figure out how to undo this” Wanda told guiding her wife back inside the house.

Wanda eased you back into bed “There we go, love” Wanda smiled pulling the blankets up to your chest. You groaned pushing the blanket under your bump “It’s so itchy” you whined scratching your belly, Wanda grabbed the lotion from her bedside table.

Wanda’s eyes landed on you. Seeing you carrying her children made her smile. It also turned her on, but she knew that was the last thing on your mind.

“Baby?” Your voice brought Wanda back. “Sorry, Love.” Wanda blushed, squirting the lotion onto your bump. Billy and Tommy started to move around “Do they ever stop?” You groaned throwing your head against your pillow, Wanda chuckled as she rubbed the lotion into your skin. Wanda loved that she got to take care of you for a change, she could get used to this. Maybe she could brainwash everyone into thinking that you were the one pregnant all along.

“That feels so good thank you, baby” you moaned, your breathing hitched, You were making it harder for Wanda to not go down on you. Wanda could only smile, “I got chores, do you need anything?” Wanda interlocked your hand with hers you shook your head, Wanda gave you a quick peck on the lips.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Pain shot down your back causing you to wake up “Motherfucker” You hissed placing your hand on your back. You opened your eyes seeing that it wasn’t a dream and that you’re still very pregnant. Wanda is a fucking boss for dealing with this shit for eight months.

You stood up hoping a quick walk around the house could relieve the back pain.

After you waddle around the house, you head toward the kitchen where you see Wanda at the dining table flipping through the Darkhold.

Wanda looked exhausted, she had paint smeared on her cheek. She sighed in frustration, she kept drifting to sleep. From growing your babies to doing a shit ton of chores along with researching on how to reverse the pregnancy. You sighed guilt had a grip on your heart, you looked down at your bump placing a hand on it before looking up at Wanda. Your mind was made up.

You entered the kitchen “Hi, Love” You smiled, Wanda rubbed sleep out of her eyes “Hi, love” Wanda gave a sleepy smile. You sat in the chair next to Wanda whose attention went back to the Darkhold, both of you sat in silence. You twist your wedding ring to soothe your anxiety trying to find the nerve to tell Wanda, hopefully she would understand.

You grabbed Wanda’s hand gaining her attention “What’s wrong?” Wanda wondered her voice laced with concern, you gathered your courage “I don’t want you to reverse this anymore” You admitted pointing to the baby bump Wanda knit her eyebrows “What?” Wanda asked, you took a deep breath “You’ve been crushing it at carrying these two. Seeing you in pain hurts me and I wish I could’ve done something to help you. So let me carry them, you deserve a break” You admitted, you knew your little speech was corny but it was the truth, Wanda’s eyes glossed looking relieved “I love you! You are IT for me! We are never getting divorced” Wanda admitted squeezing your hand, you gave a light laugh “I thought that was a no-brainer” You smiled, and Wanda kissed you passionately.

Honk Honk

You pulled away “Alan’s here” You smiled brushing your nose against your wife’s, Wanda groaned before leaving to meet Alan outside.

[official-cvntified-gay]

Here With You

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅ pregnant wanda x fem! reader

Wanda was radiant. Despite her round belly, the aches, and the mood swings, she had a glow that you couldn’t help but adore. You adore at how she managed to look more beautiful with each passing day. But that didn’t make the journey any easier—for both of you.

It started in the early weeks, when Wanda’s mood swings would hit without warning. You would come home from work to find her curled up on the couch, a mess of emotions unraveling on her face.

"Y/n," Wanda whimpered one evening as you stepped through the door, her eyes already glistening with unshed tears. Her voice is so small and vulnerable that it tugs on your heart.

"Hey, what’s wrong?" you asked, dropping your keys and rushing to her side, concern knitting your brow.

"I just—" She sniffled, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. "I was thinking about the twins, and then... then I realized we’re out of pickles."

You had to bite back a laugh, knowing that what she needed was understanding, not humor. "Oh, baby," you cooed, pulling her into your arms. "I’ll go get you pickles right now, okay?"

She nodded into your chest, her breath evening out as you rubbed slow circles on her back. It wasn’t the first time cravings had taken over her entire mood. You’d gotten used to them by now.

A few minutes later, you were heading back out the door, her pleading eyes following you like you were on a mission to save the world. And in some ways, for her, you were.

The late-night cravings became a ritual of sorts. It didn’t matter what time it was—if Wanda wanted something, you’d go out and get it. There was one night, though, where things went a little differently.

You were both curled up in bed, Wanda resting her head on your shoulder, when she sat up abruptly.

“Y/n,” she whispered, her eyes wide with sudden realization.

You blinked, still half-asleep. “What’s wrong?”

“I want ice cream. The cookie dough kind,” she said, her voice so serious you almost laughed.

“Wanda, it’s two in the morning,” you said, rubbing your eyes.

“I know…” she trailed off, her face contorting into that familiar look of disappointment.

You sighed, already swinging your legs out of bed. “Let me grab my keys.”

But before you could stand, she grabbed your hand, stopping you. “Wait… I don’t want you to leave.”

You looked at her, confused. “Then how am I supposed to get you ice cream?”

“I don’t need ice cream,” she said softly, a small smile playing on her lips. “I just want you here with me.”

The tension in the room eased, and you settled back into the bed, pulling her close. Her cravings weren’t always about food, after all. Sometimes, she just needed you—needed to feel connected, safe, and loved.

By the third trimester, the backaches were in full force. You’d wake up in the middle of the night to find her sitting on the edge of the bed, hands pressed into her lower back, groaning softly.

“Wanda?” you whispered, shifting to sit up beside her.

“My back,” she murmured, her voice strained with discomfort. “It’s killing me.”

Without saying a word, you moved behind her, your hands gently rubbing her lower back. She sighed in relief as your fingers pressed into her aching muscles, slowly working out the tension.

“How’s that?” you asked after a few moments, feeling her relax under your touch.

“Perfect,” she breathed. “You always know just what to do.”

You smiled to yourself, continuing the gentle massage, grateful that you could bring her even a little comfort. As you worked, she leaned back against you, her belly resting against your legs, the weight of it grounding you in the reality of what was coming—your life was about to change in the best way possible.

Some days were harder than others. The mood swings, the cravings, the backaches—sometimes it all hit at once. But you were there for each moment, ready with comfort, food, or just an ear to listen.

One evening, after a particularly long day, Wanda lay on the couch, her swollen feet propped up on a pillow. You were in the kitchen, preparing her latest craving—chocolate-covered strawberries—when you heard her voice, soft and pleading.

“Y/n my feet hurt so much,” she called.

You immediately wiped your hands and came to her side, kneeling in front of her and gently lifting her feet into your lap.

“Let me help with that,” you said, your hands already massaging her swollen ankles. She closed her eyes, sighing contentedly as your fingers worked their magic.

“God, you’re a lifesaver,” she mumbled, a sleepy smile playing on her lips. “How did I get so lucky?”

“You didn’t get lucky. You deserve this and more,” you whispered, continuing your soothing motions. “I’m the lucky one.”

Her eyes fluttered open, and she looked at you with such adoration that it made your heart skip a beat. “I love you, detka,” she said, her voice filled with sincerity. “You’re going to be such an amazing parent.”

Your heart swelled at her words, and you leaned forward, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead. “I love you, too, Wanda. And we’re in this together. Always.”

As the days passed and Wanda’s belly grew, so did the love between the two of you. Every mood swing, every midnight craving, every ache and pain—those were the moments that brought you closer.

One afternoon, you found yourself sitting with her on the balcony, the sun setting in a warm golden glow. Wanda rested her head on your shoulder, her hand gently rubbing her belly as the twins moved inside her.

“I can’t believe we’re going to be parents soon,” she whispered, a hint of awe in her voice.

“I know,” you said softly, squeezing her hand. “It feels surreal.”

“I’m nervous,” she admitted, glancing up at you. “What if I’m not good enough? What if I don’t know what to do?”

You turned to her, cupping her face in your hands. “You’re going to be an incredible mother, Wanda. You’ve already done so much for these babies. And we’ll figure it out together. Just like we always do.”

She smiled, her eyes soft and full of love. “Together.”

And as the sun dipped below the horizon, casting the world in shades of pink and orange, you held her close, knowing that no matter what challenges lay ahead, you would face them side by side. Every craving, every ache, every moment in between—it was all part of the beautiful, messy, wonderful journey of becoming a family. And it was everything you could ask for.

[fandomnerd9602]

Y/N caresses Wanda’s cheek, looking at the young witch in amazement…

Wanda: (giggles) are you ever not gonna look at me like that?

Y/N: the day I do will be the day I die

Wanda: don’t say that.

She rubs her pregnant belly…

Wanda: the three of us need you

Y/N kisses her belly…

GIF belongs to @imthxtgood

[marveldcfandom]

Y/N sneak behind a pregnant Wanda.

Wanda: Detka, what are you doing?

Y/N: Nothing. Just checking our boys.

Wanda: (giggles) They ar—

Wanda felt a kick.

Wanda: (giggles) They kick, Detka.

Y/N: Really. Thank you for this life, my little Witch.

Wanda: You also made it happen as well, Detka.

[mintyys-blog]

BABYDADDY — ex convict! pietro maximoff x reader

WARNINGS: mention of dark themes, prison, crime, implied sex, violence, eventually pregnancy, stalking, blood, murder.

The bar was dimly lit, the scent of liquor and cigarettes clinging to the air. Music pulsed through the room, but she barely registered it over the buzz in her head. She was drunk—recklessly so—but that didn’t stop her from leaning in close to the man beside her, her fingers toying with the rim of her glass.

“Your accent is so hot,” she murmured, her words slurring slightly as she tilted her head to look at him. “Where are you from?”

The man chuckled, a smooth, almost amused sound as he took a slow sip of his whiskey. His blue eyes—sharp and knowing—glimmered under the low lights as he regarded her with an air of quiet confidence.

“Sokovia,” he answered, voice thick with his native tongue, making her shiver despite the warmth of the bar.

“Sokovia,” she repeated, rolling the word over her tongue. “That’s sexy.”

He laughed, shaking his head as he studied her. “You are drunk, printsessa,” he mused, voice laced with something close to amusement. “Flirting with strangers… dangerous habit.”

She smirked, undeterred. “And are you dangerous?”

He leaned in, close enough that she could feel the heat of his breath against her skin. “Very.”

That should have been the moment she walked away. That should have been her warning.

Instead, she grabbed the collar of his jacket and pulled him into a heated kiss.

She woke up with a pounding headache and tangled sheets twisted around her bare legs. The scent of whiskey and cologne lingered in the air, mixed with something unmistakably him. Her body ached in the best way, a reminder of the night before, of the way his hands had gripped her, of the way he had whispered in that thick accent against her skin.

She sighed, blinking against the morning light as she turned over in bed—only to freeze when she saw him.

Pietro Maximoff.

A man she had only seen in blurry mugshots on the news.

A man who had been released from prison just a few months ago.

Her blood ran cold.

He was sitting at the small table near the window, casually sipping his coffee, shirtless, his silver hair a mess from the night before. His gaze flicked up, locking onto hers with a slow, knowing smirk.

“Good morning, printsessa,” he murmured, voice deep and smooth.

Panic flooded her veins. She sat up too fast, the sheet clutched tightly to her chest. “I—I need to go.”

Pietro’s brows furrowed, his smirk fading slightly. “What?”

“I—I didn’t—” She stumbled over her words, heart racing. Her hands were shaking. How could I be so stupid?

She barely registered the confusion in his eyes before she bolted.

She nearly tripped over her own feet as she scrambled for her clothes, shoving them on haphazardly. Pietro rose from his chair, brows drawing together as he took a step toward her.

“Hey—wait—”

But she didn’t wait.

She ran out of his apartment before he could stop her, barely breathing as she hit the street.

Anxiety twisted in her stomach, bile rising in her throat as she fumbled with her keys, forcing herself to walk fast—faster—until she reached her own door.

The moment she was inside, she slammed it shut, locking it behind her before pressing her back against it, chest heaving.

What the hell did I just do?

She groaned, covering her face with her hands. She had slept with a man fresh out of prison. A dangerous man. A man seeking revenge. And worst of all—he didn’t seem like the kind of man to let something slip through his fingers.

Even if she ran.

Days passed, then weeks. She threw herself into routine, trying to drown out the memory of him. Work, gym, drinks with friends—anything to keep herself distracted.

But it wasn’t that easy.

She still felt him.

The ghost of his touch lingered on her skin, his voice—low, teasing, dangerous—echoed in her mind at the worst moments. She’d catch glimpses of silver hair in crowded places and feel her stomach drop, only to realize it was just some stranger.

And at night, in the quiet of her apartment, she couldn’t stop herself from remembering.

The way he had looked at her across that bar, like he already knew how the night would end. The way he had touched her—possessive, deliberate, like he had all the time in the world. The way he had been so calm, so steady, sipping his coffee that morning as if he hadn’t just shattered her world with the simple truth of who he was.

She tried to forget.

But the thing about dangerous men is that they don’t like being forgotten.

It started small.

A feeling. A weight on her shoulders, the hairs on the back of her neck standing on end as if someone was watching. She told herself it was paranoia. Guilt.

Then she started noticing things.

A familiar scent lingering in places it shouldn’t. Her apartment door locked when she knew she had forgotten to turn the deadbolt. The feeling of being followed when she walked home late at night.

She told herself she was imagining it.

Until she wasn’t.

She saw him.

She had been coming out of a coffee shop when she spotted him across the street, leaning against a lamppost like he had all the time in the world.

Pietro.

He looked different than that night at the bar. Dressed in all black, his hair shorter, sharper. His arms were crossed, the faintest smirk tugging at his lips as if he had been waiting for her to notice him.

She froze.

Her breath caught in her throat, heart hammering in her chest.

Then, just as quickly as she saw him, he was gone. A blink. A shadow slipping into the crowd.

She could have convinced herself it wasn’t real.

If it hadn’t happened again. And again.

In the grocery store. At the gym. A flicker of silver at the edge of her vision.

Never close enough to touch. Never close enough to prove it wasn’t just in her head.

But she knew.

Pietro Maximoff hadn’t forgotten about her.

And he was making damn sure she wouldn’t forget about him either.

The first time it happened, she nearly screamed.

She had just gotten home, kicking off her heels with an exhausted sigh, when she saw them.

Roses.

A dozen deep red roses sat in a glass vase on her kitchen counter, the petals so perfect they almost didn’t look real. Her breath hitched, her body going rigid.

She hadn’t bought them.

She hadn’t let anyone in.

With shaking fingers, she reached for the small card tucked between the stems. The paper was thick, expensive. The handwriting was elegant, almost old-fashioned.

Missed you, printsessa. Don’t run next time.

Her stomach dropped.

The card slipped from her fingers, floating to the floor as she stumbled back.

No.

This wasn’t happening. This wasn’t real.

Her hands trembled as she grabbed her phone, ready to call someone—the police, anyone—but then she hesitated.

What would she even say?

That a man she had a one-night stand with weeks ago had broken into her home just to leave her flowers? That he hadn’t stolen anything, hadn’t hurt her, hadn’t even stayed to watch her reaction?

It sounded insane.

She forced herself to breathe, pressing her fingers against her temples. Maybe she was overreacting. Maybe someone had delivered them to the wrong apartment. Maybe—

Missed you, printsessa. Have you missed me?

Her blood ran cold.

He had been here. In her home.

Watching. Waiting.

And the worst part?

The roses were her favorite.

It didn’t stop there.

The next time, she found another bouquet—this time on her bedside table.

She hadn’t even been gone long. Just a quick run to the store, twenty minutes at most. And yet, when she came back, there they were, the scent of roses thick in the air.

Another note, the same elegant script.

You looked beautiful today.

Her hands shook as she tore the card in half, her breath ragged.

She checked every lock, every window. Nothing was broken. Nothing was out of place.

Except for the flowers.

Except for the knowledge that he had been inside.

And he had taken nothing. Because he didn’t need to. Because he was only leaving things behind.

She tried to tell herself it wasn’t real. That it was some elaborate prank. That it wasn’t him.

Until the third time.

This time, there were no roses.

Just a single black box waiting on her pillow.

With trembling fingers, she opened it.

Inside was a delicate silver necklace. A locket.

She didn’t want to open it. She did anyway.

Inside was a picture. A photo of her—taken at the bar the night they met. Smiling happily at him, while he had his arm wrapped around her shoulders.

She hadn’t known it had been taken.

And underneath it, a second picture.

One of him.

With her, in bed. Her body tangled in his, both of them lost in sleep.

Her stomach twisted.

There was no note this time. There didn’t need to be. The message was clear.

Pietro Maximoff wasn’t going anywhere. And whether she liked it or not— She belonged to him.

She had been feeling sick for days.

At first, she thought it was just stress. The constant anxiety, the sleepless nights, the weight of knowing Pietro was always near—even when she couldn’t see him. It had taken a toll on her body.

Then came the nausea.

She couldn’t stomach coffee. The smell alone made her gag. She barely ate, everything tasting off, her body rejecting even the thought of food.

But the worst part?

Her period was late.

Not just a little late. Three months late.

The realization hit her like a freight train.

No. No, it wasn’t possible. It couldn’t be.

She counted the days again, fingers shaking as she scrolled through her phone calendar. No. No. No.

Her stomach twisted violently.

A cold sweat broke out across her skin as she stared at the unopened box sitting on her bathroom counter. The pregnancy test felt like a death sentence, the plastic stick inside holding an answer she wasn’t ready for.

But she had to know.

With trembling hands, she took the test.

The minutes stretched on forever. Her ears rang, her vision blurred as she sat on the edge of the tub, knees pulled to her chest, rocking slightly.

She told herself it would be negative.

It had to be.

And then— Two pink lines.

Positive.

Her breath hitched. The world tilted. And then she broke. A sob tore through her throat as she curled in on herself, pressing her forehead to her knees. Tears streamed down her face, her body shaking uncontrollably.

This wasn’t supposed to happen.

This couldn’t be happening.

But no matter how much she cried, no matter how hard she tried to deny it— There was a piece of him inside her now.

And she had no idea what to do.

She didn’t leave her apartment for two days.

She barely ate, barely moved. The test sat on her nightstand, a cruel reminder of the reality she couldn’t escape.

Pregnant.

With his child.

Terror clawed at her chest.

Pietro wasn’t just a man fresh out of prison. He was dangerous. A ghost lurking in the shadows, watching her, reminding her with every carefully placed gift that he hadn’t forgotten her.

She had been trying to forget him.

And now?

Now she was carrying his baby.

Her stomach twisted violently, and she barely made it to the bathroom before throwing up.

She clutched the toilet bowl, shaking, gasping for breath. This couldn’t be real. It had to be a mistake.

But she knew it wasn’t.

Three missed periods. The nausea. The exhaustion.

The proof was right there, staring at her in the form of two pink lines.

She had to do something. She had to—

A knock at the door made her freeze.

Her pulse pounded in her ears. No.

Slowly, she pushed herself up, wiping at her mouth with the back of her hand.

The knock came again. This time, softer.

She swallowed hard, forcing her feet to move toward the door. She peered through the peephole, her heart nearly stopping.

Pietro.

He stood there, casual as ever, dressed in all black, his silver hair slightly tousled like he had just run his fingers through it. His hands were in his pockets, his expression unreadable.

She backed away from the door, panic clawing at her throat. No. No. Not now.

But then—

“I know you’re in there, printsessa.” His voice was soft. Amused.

Her stomach lurched.

She didn’t answer.

Her breath was shallow, heart slamming against her ribs as she backed away from the door. Maybe if she stayed silent, he would leave.

But Pietro wasn’t the kind of man who left empty-handed.

“Printsessa.” His voice was smooth, coaxing. “Open the door.”

She pressed a hand over her mouth, willing herself to stay quiet.

Then, she heard it.

The lock clicked.

Her blood ran cold.

The door swung open slowly, and Pietro stepped inside as if he had always belonged there.

“You forgot to lock it,” he murmured, closing it behind him with a soft click. His sharp blue eyes scanned the room before settling on her. His lips curled into a slow smirk. “Miss me?”

She couldn’t move. Couldn’t breathe.

He looked different up close. Or maybe she was different now. The heat of his gaze that had once thrilled her now made her stomach churn with fear.

His smirk faded slightly. “You’ve been avoiding me.”

She forced herself to stand straighter, swallowing the lump in her throat. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

His head tilted, studying her like he could see right through her. “You ran from me, printsessa. That was rude.” He stepped closer, slow and deliberate. “I don’t like being left behind.”

Her fingers curled into fists at her sides. “I—I made a mistake. That night. I just—” She swallowed hard. “I need you to leave.”

Pietro chuckled softly, shaking his head. “You think I’m just going to walk away? After everything?” His eyes darkened. “No, dorogaya. That’s not how this works.”

She stiffened, heart hammering. “I don’t belong to you.”

He exhaled sharply, a ghost of a smile on his lips. “We’ll see about that.”

Then—his eyes flickered past her, to something on the counter. His expression shifted, curiosity sharpening into something else.

Her stomach dropped.

She followed his gaze.

The trash can.

The open pregnancy test box sat right on top, the instructions unfolded beside it. The test itself was gone—hidden in her bedroom—but it didn’t matter. The implication was clear.

Pietro stilled.

For the first time since she had met him, he looked genuinely caught off guard.

Slowly, he turned back to her. His expression unreadable.

“Printsessa,” he murmured. “Is there something you want to tell me?”

Her throat tightened.

This was her worst nightmare.

She could see the way Pietro’s entire demeanor shifted. The amusement was gone. The teasing edge in his voice had vanished. What remained was something far more dangerous—stillness.

Predatory. Calculating.

He was waiting.

She could lie. She should lie. But what good would it do? He wasn’t stupid. He had already put the pieces together.

Her silence was all the confirmation he needed.

Slowly, Pietro stepped forward. She instinctively moved back, but he caught her wrist before she could escape.

“Let me go,” she whispered, pulse hammering.

“Let you go?” His grip tightened slightly—not painful, but unyielding. “You’re carrying my child, and you want me to just walk away?”

She flinched. Hearing it out loud made it feel more real.

“I didn’t plan this,” she breathed, voice shaking. “I don’t want this.”

His jaw clenched. “Doesn’t matter.”

“It does to me!” she snapped, trying to yank her wrist free. “I don’t want you involved, Pietro. You—” She exhaled sharply, trying to stay calm. “You’re dangerous. I can’t—”

His fingers caught her chin, forcing her to look at him. His blue eyes burned into hers, something dark and unreadable swirling behind them. “You think you have a choice, printsessa?” His voice was almost gentle, which somehow made it worse.

She swallowed hard. “Pietro—”

“No.”* His voice was sharper this time. “You don’t get to shut me out. You don’t get to disappear and pretend like this isn’t happening.”

She shook her head. “I don’t need you.”

His grip on her chin tightened just enough to make her heart pound faster. “That’s where you’re wrong, dorogaya.”

He leaned in, his breath ghosting over her ear. “You need me more than you realize.”*

A chill ran down her spine.

She had been so desperate to avoid him. To pretend that one night hadn’t meant anything.

But now?

Now he wasn’t going anywhere.

And neither was she.

Pietro exhaled sharply, rubbing a hand over his face before looking at her again. His expression had softened, the tension in his shoulders easing.

“Listen to me, printsessa,” he said, voice quieter now. “I know this isn’t what you wanted. I know you’re scared. But I’m not going to run from this.”

She swallowed hard, arms crossed tightly over her chest.

“I want to be involved.”* His blue eyes searched hers, sincere, unwavering. “I want to help. Whatever you need—money, emotional support, anything. I’ll be there.”*

Her stomach twisted.

Pietro Maximoff—ex-convict, dangerous, unpredictable—was offering to support her. To stand by her through this.

But how could she trust him?

“I—” she hesitated, licking her lips. “Pietro, I don’t know.”*

He nodded slowly, like he expected that response. “I get it.”* He sighed, running a hand through his silver hair. “I can’t force you to accept my help. But I want you to think about it.”*

She bit the inside of her cheek.

“I’ll give you time,” he said. “I’ll come back in a few days. You don’t have to decide anything now.”*

Her fingers twitched against her arms. “You’re really going to just leave?”

A small smirk tugged at his lips. “For now.”*

Then, without another word, he turned and walked out, closing the door behind him.

She stood there for a long moment, staring at the spot where he had been.

Then, her body moved on autopilot.

She rushed to her laptop, flipping it open with shaking hands.

Her fingers hovered over the keys for only a second before she started typing.

Pietro Maximoff criminal record.

Her heart pounded as she scrolled through the search results. Articles, court records, headlines—there was so much.

And then she found it.

Her breath caught.

Convicted of first-degree murder.

Her pulse roared in her ears.

The name of the victim stared back at her in bold letters.

His ex-girlfriend.

The woman he had allegedly killed after finding out she was cheating on him with a rival.

Her stomach twisted violently.

He had gotten out early because years later, evidence proved he wasn’t guilty. But the doubt lingered. People still questioned it.

She pressed a hand over her mouth, nausea churning inside her.

What have I gotten myself into?

The days passed in a blur.

She barely slept. Barely ate.

Her mind kept circling back to the articles, the court records, the headlines screaming murderer before whispering wrongfully convicted.

But the world still thought he did it. And maybe—just maybe—so did she.

She had been avoiding mirrors, afraid of seeing her own fear reflected back at her. Afraid of what it meant that, despite everything, a small part of her wanted to believe him. That same part that remembered the warmth of his hands on her skin, the way his voice softened when he spoke to her.

He was so sweet when he left. He gave me time.

But wasn’t that how these stories always started?

A knock at the door sent a shockwave through her body. She knew who it was before she even looked.

Pietro.

She exhaled shakily, forcing herself to move.

Her fingers trembled as she unlocked the door and pulled it open.

He stood there, just as he had promised.

But this time, he was holding a bag in one hand. And in the other— A bouquet of roses.

Soft pink, delicate, freshly bloomed.

Her breath hitched.

“Printsessa,” he greeted, that familiar smirk tugging at his lips. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

She swallowed hard, eyes darting to the flowers. “What is this?”

“A peace offering.” He lifted the bag. “And dinner with a little surprise. I figured you weren’t eating well.”

She stared at him, her nails digging into the doorframe.

Pietro sighed, stepping forward slightly—not inside, just closer. “Did you think about what I said?”

Her throat was dry. “I did.”

“And?” His blue eyes searched hers, patient, but there was something else there too—something expectant.

Her mind was screaming at her. Telling her to slam the door. To run.

But instead— She stepped aside.

An invitation. A test. Pietro’s smirk widened, slow and knowing, as he stepped inside.

The scent of warm food filled the air, but it couldn’t fully mask the tension hanging between them.

Pietro set the bag down carefully on the table and pulled out the items one by one. First, a takeout container of Chinese food—her favorite. Then, a medium-sized box.

Her brow furrowed when he placed it gently in front of her.

“What’s this?” she asked, voice barely above a whisper.

“A gift,” he replied, his voice surprisingly soft.

He opened the box, revealing tiny baby clothes, a plush teddy bear, and a baby pacifier. The soft colors of the clothes—a pale blue, gentle green—were undeniably adorable. The teddy bear had a little blue bow around its neck, looking almost too perfect for a newborn.

Her breath caught.

“I thought…,” Pietro started, pausing as he watched her reaction carefully. “I thought I’d start with something small. Something to show you I’m serious about being there for you.”

Her chest tightened as she looked at the items. The teddy bear seemed to stare back at her with its innocent, wide eyes.

She swallowed, trying to steady her nerves. “You didn’t have to do this, Pietro.”

He didn’t respond right away. He just sat across from her, his eyes never leaving hers as he began to unpack the food. They ate in silence, the clink of utensils against plates the only sound between them. The food was comforting, familiar, but it did little to ease the storm raging inside her. The tension in the room thickened as the minutes dragged on.

Then, Pietro broke the silence.

“I know you’re scared,” he said quietly, setting his fork down. “But you have to understand—I’m not like I was back then.”

She looked up, her heart racing. “What do you mean by that?”

He hesitated, as if choosing his words carefully. “I’ve done bad things in my past, I’m not proud of it. But I’ve changed. I’m not the man I was when they locked me up.”

Her stomach twisted. “How can you expect me to believe that?”

His gaze softened, his tone gentle. “I know it’s hard. But I’m trying. I want to be there for you and our child. I don’t want to be some figure from the past you’re afraid of.”

She pressed her lips together, fingers tightening around her fork. “And what if the past catches up with you?”

Pietro didn’t flinch. “I’ll handle it.”

“You can’t just bury it,” she whispered, her voice breaking. “You killed someone.”

The words hung heavy in the air, thick with accusation and fear. Pietro exhaled slowly, his eyes briefly flicking to the baby clothes before he met her gaze again. “I didn’t kill her. I was framed.”

“How do you expect me to trust that?” she asked, a tremor in her voice. “How do you expect me to just ignore everything I’ve read, everything that’s happened?”

He leaned forward, his eyes searching hers, almost pleading. “I know. I know it’s hard. But I’ve spent years rebuilding, fighting to prove I didn’t do it.” His voice dropped lower, rawer. “And now, I’m trying to rebuild what matters. Starting with you and this baby.”

Her heart beat faster, her emotions a whirlwind. She had seen the stories, read the court records. The name of his ex-girlfriend—the woman he was accused of killing—haunted her thoughts.

But as she looked into his eyes, she couldn’t deny the sincerity there. She wanted to believe him.

“I don’t know if I can do this,” she whispered, looking down at the food in front of her, suddenly feeling overwhelmed by it all. “I don’t know if I can trust you with this.”

Pietro’s hand reached out slowly, his fingers brushing hers lightly. “I’m not asking you to trust me all at once,” he said, his voice low, soft. “Just take it one step at a time. Let me show you.”

She bit her lip, torn.

But in that moment, something in her cracked.

Maybe it was the baby clothes. Maybe it was the teddy bear. Maybe it was the way he was looking at her—like he was trying so hard to prove he could be the man she needed.

Maybe it was just the desperation to believe in something, anything, that wasn’t fear.

“I don’t know if I’m ready,” she admitted, her voice barely audible.

“You don’t have to be,” Pietro reassured her, giving her hand a gentle squeeze. “I’ll wait as long as it takes.”

Pietro’s persistence was undeniable, and over the weeks, it slowly wore down the walls she had built around herself. He didn’t push her, didn’t demand answers or promises. He simply showed up.

He brought her flowers—small bouquets of roses, peonies, and lilies, all different colors—sometimes leaving them at her doorstep if she wasn’t home. He took her out to dinners at quiet little cafés, treating her with a gentleness that was so different from the man she had read about. He paid for everything without her protest, despite her insistence that she could manage on her own.

And when she finally told him about the leaking sink that had been driving her mad, he fixed it before she even had the chance to call a plumber. He showed up one morning, toolbox in hand, a quiet smirk on his face as he worked efficiently, making her wonder how many times he had done something like this for someone else.

“There,” he said, standing up from under the sink and wiping his hands on a rag. “All fixed.”

She had stood there, eyes wide with surprise. “You… you just fixed that?”

He grinned, giving her a wink. “A man’s gotta know a thing or two about plumbing if he’s going to keep a place like this running smoothly.”

She had to admit it was the little things that made her start seeing him differently—those quiet acts of kindness that spoke louder than any words he could have said.

But there was still a part of her that held back. The part of her that remembered the past—the one that feared trusting him too fully, too quickly.

Still, she couldn’t deny the pull she felt toward him. Slowly, her walls began to crumble, the icy guard around her heart slipping little by little.

It was a week before her first ultrasound when she realized she couldn’t keep him at arm’s length any longer.

She had been to the doctor alone—sitting in the sterile waiting room, heart pounding, unsure of what to expect. But as the technician applied the cold gel to her stomach and the sound of the baby’s heartbeat filled the room, something shifted inside her.

She wasn’t alone in this.

And for the first time, she wanted to share this moment with him.

That evening, after dinner, as they sat together on the couch—him casually scrolling through his phone, her own hands resting on her lap—she hesitated before speaking.

“Pietro?”

He looked up from his phone, his expression soft. “Yeah?”

“I… I have an ultrasound appointment in a few days.” Her voice was quiet, unsure.

His eyes widened slightly, but he didn’t say anything right away. Instead, he leaned forward, placing his phone down on the coffee table. “When?”

“Friday morning.”

“I want to come with you,” he said without hesitation. “If that’s okay with you.”

Her heart fluttered at his words.

“You sure?” she asked, biting her lip. “I don’t want to make you uncomfortable, or… or force you into anything you don’t want to do.”

Pietro’s expression softened, a rare seriousness in his gaze. “I want to be there.” His voice was quiet but firm. “I want to be a part of this, all of this. With you.”

The sincerity in his words made her chest tighten. For the first time, she didn’t feel like he was pushing or trying to win her over. He wasn’t just offering to be a part of her life—he was choosing to be there.

“Okay,” she whispered. “I’d like that.”

The morning of the ultrasound, Pietro was waiting outside her apartment, wearing a simple jacket and a soft, concerned look on his face.

“You ready?” he asked, his voice gentle but full of anticipation.

She nodded, taking a deep breath. “I think so.”

Together, they drove to the clinic. Pietro’s hand hovered near hers as he drove, his fingers brushing against hers briefly before pulling away, giving her the space she hadn’t quite asked for but clearly needed.

At the clinic, they sat together in the waiting room. Pietro’s presence beside her was a calming influence—his quiet, steady energy helping to soothe her nerves as she anxiously tapped her foot against the floor.

“You okay?” he asked, his voice low as he leaned closer.

She looked up at him, her lips curving into a small, uncertain smile. “I’m just nervous. I don’t know what to expect.”

Pietro reached out, gently taking her hand. “It’s okay to be nervous. But I’m right here, and I’m not going anywhere.”

A lump formed in her throat at his words, and she squeezed his hand back, feeling the warmth of his touch grounding her.

When they were called into the ultrasound room, the technician was polite but efficient, instructing her to lie back on the table. Pietro remained by her side, sitting in a chair near her head, watching her with an intensity that was almost protective.

The technician applied the gel to her stomach, and she flinched at the coldness of it.

“It’s okay,” Pietro murmured, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “I’m right here.”

The technician moved the wand across her stomach, and the first image appeared on the screen. The baby was tiny, its heartbeat flickering like a small flame.

Her heart skipped a beat, and she glanced over at Pietro.

His eyes were wide, but there was a softness in his gaze that she hadn’t seen before.

“That’s our baby,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion.

She squeezed his hand again, feeling a surge of warmth, of something real between them. And for the first time, despite all the uncertainty, she couldn’t help but believe—maybe, just maybe, this could work.

Maybe they could make it work.

The afternoon sun filtered through the windows as she and Pietro worked together in the kitchen, the rhythmic sound of items being placed on the countertop and stored away filling the air. She had insisted she could handle the grocery bags herself, but Pietro had already been one step ahead, following her around the store and lifting the heavy bags from her hands the moment she reached for them.

Now, as they stood side by side, putting away the last of the groceries, there was a comfortable quiet between them, something unspoken yet understood. She felt his presence behind her, his movements smooth and effortless as he reached for a jar of pickles, his hand brushing lightly against hers.

She glanced over at him, a small smile tugging at the corner of her lips. His hair was slightly disheveled from their trip, his jacket now discarded on the chair, and the soft expression on his face made her heart flutter.

“You know,” she said, her voice light and teasing, “you really don’t have to carry everything for me, you know? I can manage.”

Pietro chuckled softly, closing the cupboard door with a gentle push. “I know you can,” he replied, his tone still warm but with a hint of mischief, “but I like taking care of you. It feels… right.”

She turned to face him, her hands still on the counter, feeling a rush of warmth flooding her chest. She could tell he was serious, and his words settled deeper than she expected, stirring a fluttering sensation inside her.

“You’ve been doing a lot already,” she murmured, her voice quieter now. “Helping me with… everything. The sink, the baby stuff. You’ve been so patient with me. I… I don’t deserve all of this.”

Pietro’s gaze softened, and he stepped closer, his body almost in perfect sync with hers. “Don’t say that.” His voice was low, gentle, but firm. “You deserve more than you think. More than anyone realizes.”

Her heart beat faster as his words wrapped around her, and before she could stop herself, she moved toward him. The space between them closed as if pulled by some invisible force, her lips pressing softly against his. It was a slow kiss at first, tentative almost, as if testing the waters—but then it deepened, a quiet tension between them, a sweet release.

Her arms slid around his neck as his hands cupped her face, pulling her closer. She felt the warmth of his body against hers, the soft, familiar weight of him that seemed to anchor her. The kiss was gentle, but there was an undercurrent of longing, something more that neither of them could ignore anymore.

When they finally broke apart, her breath was shallow, her cheeks flushed. They both stood there for a moment, their foreheads pressed together, as if savoring the quiet intimacy of the moment.

“I’ve wanted to do that for a while,” she admitted, her voice barely a whisper.

Pietro chuckled softly, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “I thought you’d never make the first move.”

She smirked, her fingers tracing the edge of his jaw. “I don’t usually. But you make it hard to resist.”

His eyes glinted with something she couldn’t quite place—a mixture of amusement, affection, and something deeper that sent a spark of heat through her.

“Then don’t resist,” he murmured, his lips brushing lightly against her temple. “I’ll always be here.”

She melted into his embrace, the weight of the moment pressing in on her, but it felt… right. She could feel the warmth of his promise, the unspoken words hanging in the air, and for the first time in a long while, she allowed herself to believe it.

The week stretched out like an eternity, each day dragging longer than the last. The initial comfort of their connection seemed to fade with each passing moment, leaving a nagging emptiness in her chest.

She had convinced herself that, despite everything, things were different with him—that there was something genuine in the way he looked at her, the way he cared. But as the days turned into a full week with no word from Pietro, doubt began to creep in. She found herself replaying their last moments in the kitchen, trying to decipher if there had been a hint of hesitation in his touch or in his words that she had missed.

Had she misunderstood him? Was it just a fleeting moment, a spark that burned too quickly? Maybe she had been too forward, too trusting. Maybe she had scared him off, and he’d simply decided to disappear without saying a word.

Each time her phone buzzed with a new notification, she couldn’t help but hope it was him, a simple text or call just to check in, but each time, her heart sank when it wasn’t.

She kept herself busy, but the distractions never quite worked. The baby’s movements were becoming more frequent now, a gentle reminder of what she was carrying, what was about to change. Yet, without Pietro by her side, the weight of it all felt so much heavier.

She stood in her apartment late one evening, staring at the phone on the counter, waiting. Hoping. But nothing came.

She thought back to the moments they shared—the way he’d kissed her in the kitchen, the way his words had felt so real, so grounded. But now, standing in the silence of her apartment, the reality settled in. Maybe he’s gone for good.

Her thoughts spiraled, insecurities rising up with every passing hour. What if it was all too much for him? What if, when he realized how real everything was getting, he decided he couldn’t handle it after all?

The self-doubt began to eat at her, the constant questions without answers pushing her to the edge. It wasn’t like him to vanish without explanation. But then again, who was she really to him?

She shook her head, trying to dismiss the feelings as quickly as they came. She had no time for self-pity, no time to dwell on what could be or what might never be.

Yet, in the stillness of the night, the uncertainty clung to her, and the doubt gnawed at her from the inside out.

Days turned into a blur of frustration and restless searching. She’d tried everything—searching his name online, asking around places she knew he frequented, even visiting the few spots he had mentioned during their brief time together. But every lead came up empty. Pietro was nowhere to be found.

She didn’t want to admit it, but the sinking feeling in her chest was growing by the hour. He had simply vanished, like a ghost. And the harder she tried to find him, the more elusive he became.

It wasn’t like him to just disappear. When they were together, there had been something in his eyes, something real. The way he’d looked at her, the way he’d taken care of her—it felt like it wasn’t just for the baby, it was for her too. Or maybe she had just convinced herself of that because she wanted to believe in something good. But now, all that was left was the silence, the growing sense of abandonment that she couldn’t shake off.

Her mind raced, turning over every conversation, every moment they shared. Had she said something? Done something? Was this just his way of letting her down gently? Or had something happened to him?

She couldn’t bear the thought of the latter.

But still, she couldn’t help but wonder if maybe he’d just gotten scared. Maybe he realized he wasn’t ready for any of this. For her. For the baby. It made sense, didn’t it? He was a man with a dark past. He was a convict. She knew it was impossible to ignore, no matter how much he seemed to change around her. The weight of it, the constant reminder that he wasn’t just anyone, hung over her every moment.

She found herself wandering the streets late one night, her mind clouded with confusion and fear. The city felt colder now, quieter in a way that matched the turmoil inside her. She stopped at a bar she hadn’t been to in weeks, hoping—stupidly—that he might show up, that somehow, he’d just walk in and make everything feel okay again.

But he didn’t. And after a few more hours of fruitless searching, she was left with nothing but the harsh echo of her own footsteps in the quiet city streets.

Exhausted and defeated, she returned home, her thoughts more scattered than ever. The empty apartment felt so much lonelier without him. It wasn’t just the physical absence—it was the unanswered questions, the fear of being alone again.

She slumped down onto the couch, burying her face in her hands. Her fingers pressed against her temples, as if she could will the anxiety and frustration away, but nothing changed. She wanted to cry, but no tears came. Only silence.

Her phone sat on the coffee table, taunting her, but no matter how many times she stared at it, it didn’t buzz. It wouldn’t. Not anymore.

Her heart raced as the uncertainty began to settle in for good. She had no answers. No Pietro. Nothing.

With a shaky breath, she stood up, staring out the window, her reflection mingling with the darkened cityscape outside. She didn’t know where he was. She didn’t know if he’d ever come back. And that terrifying thought lingered, gnawing at her resolve.

She couldn’t keep waiting forever.

But what else was there to do?

The sound of crashing glass echoed through the apartment, sharp and unsettling, snapping her out of her sleep. Her heart leaped in her chest as she slowly pulled herself upright, eyes wide with panic. She reached for her phone on the nightstand, but it wasn’t there. The silence that followed was almost suffocating, and then—another noise. It came from the living room.

She hesitated for only a moment before her feet hit the cold floor, and she moved toward the sound, every step tentative, a cold sweat breaking out along her skin. Her hand trembled as she reached for the doorknob, her mind racing through a dozen possibilities. Had someone broken in? Was it another break-in like the one a few months ago?

As she stepped into the living room, her breath caught in her throat at the sight of a figure slumped on her couch. The room was dimly lit, and it took a moment for her eyes to adjust to the darkness. But when they did, her stomach dropped.

There, hunched over and barely conscious, was Pietro.

His once neatly combed hair was messy and matted with blood, his face pale under the soft glow of the lamp. His hand was pressed to his side, but his body trembled with every shallow breath. She froze for a second, caught between disbelief and concern, before the urgency of the situation hit her.

“Pietro?” Her voice was barely above a whisper, her words hesitant but full of desperate hope.

He looked up slowly, his gaze flickering with recognition before his eyes fluttered shut again. She moved closer, hands shaking, before flicking on the light above the kitchen counter.

He hissed sharply, the sudden brightness making him wince, but it was enough to show her the full extent of the damage. Blood was pooling in his side, the dark stain of it soaking through his shirt, and his face was streaked with dirt and something darker—evidence of the violent struggle he’d endured. She gasped in shock, her hands instinctively reaching out to him, but she stopped herself before she could touch him.

“What happened to you?” she asked, panic rising in her chest.

His lips curled into something that might have been a smile if not for the blood trickling from his mouth. “Remember when you said my past would catch up to me?” he murmured, his voice raspy, hoarse. “You were right.”

Her heart dropped into her stomach. She knew then—he hadn’t disappeared on his own. Someone had come for him, someone from his past. She stepped closer, her legs shaking, unsure what to do. She knew she should call for help, but the way he looked at her stopped her.

“Pietro…” She crouched next to him, her eyes scanning his face. “Who did this to you?”

He coughed, a sharp, painful sound that made her heart skip. “It doesn’t matter,” he said quietly, though his eyes were beginning to glaze over. “I’m… I’m just trying to make sure you’re safe.”

She swallowed, her thoughts racing as she tried to hold herself together. Safe? How could she be safe now, with him here, bloodied and broken? She didn’t know who had hurt him, but she had an overwhelming sense that whoever they were, they weren’t done with him—or her.

“Don’t leave me, Pietro,” she whispered, her voice cracking with emotion. “Please.”

His eyes found hers, dark and haunted, as if he were fighting to stay awake, his expression weary, yet there was still that fire in him, the part of him that she’d come to trust, even if it was complicated. He reached out weakly, his hand brushing her cheek in a gesture that was almost tender. “I’ll be here…”

Her heart ached at the sincerity in his voice, even as her mind screamed that she should do something, anything, to get him help.

She stood abruptly, grabbing her phone off the table and quickly dialing for an ambulance. “Please, please hang on, Pietro,” she muttered, her voice shaking as she gave the operator the information. But all she could focus on was him—his condition, his blood staining her carpet, the way his body seemed to sag further with each breath.

When she hung up, she turned back to him, but he had already slumped over, the tension leaving his body as if he couldn’t fight it anymore.

“Please don’t pass out on me,” she whispered desperately, crouching beside him once again, placing a hand gently on his shoulder. “Pietro, stay with me.”

But as she watched him fight to keep his eyes open, her own heart began to break, knowing the danger he was still in—and the danger that was closing in on both of them.

He gave her a faint, strained smile, but it wasn’t enough to reassure her. “I told you I wouldn’t leave,” he rasped, but she could hear the weariness in his voice, the exhaustion that made it sound like his words were hanging by a thread.

The sirens wailed in the distance, but even as they grew closer, she felt an overwhelming fear settle into her bones. This wasn’t just about him anymore. Whoever had done this to him—they were coming. And she had no idea if she would be able to protect them both.

The sirens grew louder, their wail cutting through the heavy silence that had settled in the apartment. Her heart pounded in her chest, but it wasn’t the relief she had expected from the approaching help. It was a sharp, visceral panic—like the calm before a storm. She looked down at Pietro, his body barely propped up against the couch, his once-vibrant eyes now clouded with pain and exhaustion.

His breathing was shallow, labored, and his grip on her hand was barely there, but she could feel the faint pulse of his fingers. “Stay with me, Pietro…” she whispered, more to herself than to him, her voice thick with desperation. “Please, don’t do this. Don’t leave me.”

His lips parted in a half-smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “I’m not… leaving you,” he managed to croak, but even as he spoke, his words sounded distant, as though he were slipping away.

She could feel her stomach tighten with fear, but she couldn’t break down. Not yet. Not while he was still breathing. The ambulance would be there soon, but it felt like an eternity. She fought to hold it together, her breath coming in jagged gasps as she knelt beside him, the weight of everything crashing down. The truth of their situation. Of his situation.

This wasn’t just some fleeting moment of chaos. This was real. His past had come for him. For both of them.

Her eyes flicked to the door, her mind racing. Whoever had done this to him was out there—somewhere. She didn’t know who they were or how close they were, but there was a gnawing feeling in the pit of her stomach. The world was closing in on them. And when Pietro had said it didn’t matter, when he’d tried to downplay the danger… part of her had wanted to believe him. But now, it was clear he was just trying to protect her from the weight of his reality.

She looked at him again, trying to find something to hold onto. Some hope. His eyes fluttered open for a moment, and she could see a flicker of something behind the pain, a vulnerability that was almost too much to bear. His hand weakly lifted, brushing against her cheek as if to reassure her that he was still there, still with her.

“I never wanted this for you,” he whispered, his voice barely a rasp. “I thought… I thought I could protect you from my mess.”

Tears welled up in her eyes, but she swallowed them down, refusing to let him see her break. “You didn’t ask for this, either,” she murmured, her fingers trembling as she cupped his face. “But I’m here, Pietro. I’m not going anywhere. We’ll get through this.”

She could feel the tremor in his hand as it slid from her face, and she knew she had to act fast. She needed him to hold on, needed him to stay awake long enough to get medical attention. The idea of losing him, of him slipping away in front of her, was something she couldn’t even bear to entertain.

Suddenly, she heard a knock at the door. Her heart leaped in her chest, but she didn’t hesitate. She rushed to answer, throwing the door open to reveal two paramedics standing in the hallway.

“We got a call about an emergency,” one of them said, looking past her into the apartment. “Where’s the patient?”

“He’s on the couch,” she said quickly, stepping aside so they could move past her. “He’s been shot. Please, please help him.”

They rushed to Pietro’s side, the urgency in their movements sending a wave of relief through her. She couldn’t breathe until they started working on him, checking his vitals, prepping him for transport.

As one of the medics applied pressure to his wound, she could hear the sound of sirens growing louder. They had arrived, and Pietro was going to be okay. At least for now.

But even as they loaded him into the ambulance, her thoughts raced ahead. What had happened to him? Who had done this to him? And how much of his past was coming for him now? The danger wasn’t over. It was just beginning. And if they wanted to get out of this, she knew she couldn’t hide from it any longer.

Once they arrived at the hospital, she sat in the waiting room, her hands clutched tightly together, her thoughts swirling. She tried to keep her mind from spiraling, tried to hold onto the shred of hope that Pietro would be okay. But as the hours ticked by, the uncertainty grew, gnawing at her insides.

And then, just when she thought she couldn’t bear it anymore, a nurse came out from the back.

“He’s stable,” the nurse said, her voice calm. “He lost a lot of blood, but we’ve got him patched up. He’s in recovery now. You can see him in a bit.”

The wave of relief was almost too much to handle. She let out a shaky breath, a tear slipping down her cheek as she finally allowed herself to relax, just for a moment.

But the question lingered in her mind: What would happen when Pietro woke up?

And what would they both have to face next?

The harsh fluorescent lights above flickered softly, casting an eerie glow over the sterile hospital room. Pietro lay in the bed, his face pale, but his eyes wide open now, the pain of his injuries dulled by the heavy medication. His hand trembled slightly as he reached for the water cup beside him, taking a sip, and then he met her gaze.

She had been sitting in the corner, her arms crossed tightly over her chest, her mind racing. She had been waiting for this moment—waiting for him to wake up, for him to tell her the truth. But hearing it now, seeing it in his eyes as he finally spoke, felt like it was too much to bear.

“I never wanted this for you,” he began, his voice hoarse but steady, the words coming out as if they had been buried deep inside him. “I thought I could keep you safe from it.”

Her heart sank as she leaned forward, watching him with a mixture of anger and sadness. “What happened, Pietro? Why were you in prison?”

His eyes flickered away from hers for a moment, a shadow of pain crossing his face. He took a breath and let it out slowly, as though trying to find the right words to explain the nightmare he had been living.

“It was her… my ex,” he muttered, his eyes hardening. “She was cheating on me with a man I thought was an ally. A man I trusted. And when I found out… when I confronted her… she tried to leave me for him. I couldn’t stop her, couldn’t fix what we had.” His voice dropped lower, and his gaze became distant. “But within the hour, she was dead. He killed her—my so-called friend—and framed me for it. I went to him to make him pay for it… and I ended up in prison instead.”

His hands gripped the sheets tightly, his knuckles white. “It was the perfect setup. Everyone believed the lie. I was convicted of murder… for something I didn’t do.”

Her breath caught in her throat as she tried to process what he was saying. The man she had been growing to trust, the man she had started to care for, had been dragged into a nightmare beyond her comprehension. She could see it in his eyes—the weight of everything he had been through.

“And now… now they’re after me. They want me dead,” Pietro continued, his voice filled with quiet rage. “They know I’m out, and they know about you… and the baby. They won’t stop until they’ve destroyed everything I care about. Including you.”

The words hit her like a blow to the chest. Her heart raced, her pulse quickening at the thought of the danger that was closing in on them. She could feel the blood drain from her face, her mind spiraling into panic. She had never wanted any of this. She had wanted a normal life—a life with him, with the baby, away from the chaos. But the reality of his past, of the enemies who wouldn’t stop until they had their revenge, had shattered her peace.

“That’s why I disappeared,” Pietro said, his voice soft but insistent. “I thought if I stayed away, if I kept them focused on me, they wouldn’t go after you. I was trying to protect you, trying to lead them away from you.”

Her eyes burned with unshed tears, and she bit her lip, fighting to stay composed. “You could have told me, Pietro. You didn’t have to disappear.”

He shook his head, his gaze filled with regret. “I couldn’t. You don’t deserve this… you don’t deserve to be caught in my mess. You’re better than this. Better than me.”

But she couldn’t bring herself to hate him. Not now, not after everything he had done for her. He may have been running from his past, but he had been there for her, for the baby, in ways she never expected. She had to believe that the man she was falling for wasn’t the same person he had been all those years ago.

“I can’t just walk away, Pietro,” she said, her voice trembling with emotion. “You’re in this… and so am I. We’re in this together, whether we like it or not. I won’t let you fight this alone.”

He reached out to her, his hand weak but steady, as he took hers in his. His touch was warm, a silent promise. “I don’t want to drag you into it, but I know you won’t listen,” he said with a small smile, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “But I won’t let them hurt you. I won’t let them take you from me.”

A tense silence stretched between them, both of them grappling with the weight of their situation. And then Pietro looked her in the eyes again, his expression darkening with the seriousness of his words.

“They know about the baby, too,” he said quietly. “And they won’t stop until they’ve gotten what they want. So we need to be careful. We need to make a plan.”

She nodded, the fear and anxiety creeping into her chest once more. She didn’t know what their next move would be, but one thing was clear—this was far from over. And now, more than ever, they would need each other to survive.

Pietro was silent during the car ride, his fingers tapping restlessly against his leg as they sped toward a place he never thought he’d return to: the house he and Wanda had once shared. The weight of their strained relationship was thick in the air between them, but he had no choice. He needed her.

She could help.

The journey felt long, each mile adding more tension to the already heavy atmosphere. It wasn’t just the drive that made his stomach churn—it was the realization that he hadn’t spoken to Wanda in years. Not since he’d left her behind when his world had crumbled, when he was locked away behind bars for a crime he didn’t commit. She had no reason to trust him anymore. And he had no reason to expect her forgiveness.

But he had to try. For Y/N. For their unborn child.

When they finally arrived at the old house, the silence inside was suffocating. He had no idea what to expect. The door creaked open, and there she was.

Wanda Maximoff stood at the threshold, her arms crossed over her chest, her gaze unreadable. Her hair, now longer than before, cascaded down her back like a dark waterfall, and her piercing eyes locked onto Pietro’s for the first time in what felt like forever.

“Pietro,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper, as if testing the air between them. “You really thought you could just waltz back into my life after all these years?”

Her words stung more than he expected, but he didn’t flinch. He wasn’t here for an argument. He wasn’t here to dredge up old wounds. He needed her help.

“I don’t expect you to forgive me,” he said quietly, his voice laced with regret. “I don’t expect anything. But I need your help, Wanda. They’re after me—”

Her eyes narrowed slightly, her lips pressed into a tight line. She wasn’t going to make it easy on him, and he didn’t expect her to.

“Who is ‘they’?”

“The people who framed me,” he answered, his voice strained, the anger and fear in his chest bubbling just under the surface. “The same people who want me dead. They’ve found me, and they know about Y/N—about the baby.”

Wanda’s posture softened ever so slightly, but she didn’t immediately respond. Instead, she stepped aside and gestured for them to come in. “You’re lucky I haven’t killed you on sight, Pietro,” she muttered under her breath as she closed the door behind them. “But this… this isn’t about us. This is about the people coming after you.”

Pietro nodded, relieved she hadn’t kicked him out. He had expected no less. Her powers were formidable, and if anyone could offer them a chance at survival, it was her.

“Thank you,” he said, though the words felt small compared to the weight of his request.

Wanda walked into the living room and sat down on the couch, staring at them both, as though calculating how much of a risk helping him would be.

“What do you need from me?” she asked, her voice flat but sharp.

Y/N hesitated, glancing between the two siblings. Her heart raced in her chest. She had heard the rumors about Wanda’s powers, but seeing them together like this, seeing the tension that lingered in the air—it was clear how dangerous the Maximoff twins were.

“We need a safe place,” Y/N spoke up, breaking the silence. “Somewhere to hide, to regroup. They know about me… about the baby. And they’ll stop at nothing to get to us. Pietro’s already been shot. If we don’t get ahead of them, it could be too late.”

Wanda’s eyes flickered to Y/N, her gaze softer now, but still calculating. She nodded, once.

“Alright,” she said, her voice calm and steady. “I’ll help. But I want something in return.”

Pietro’s brow furrowed in confusion. “What do you mean?”

Wanda didn’t look at him, her eyes instead focused on Y/N. “I want you to promise me that when this is over, when everything settles, you’ll both leave. You’ll walk away and never look back.”

The request hung heavy in the air, and Pietro felt his heart drop. He knew his sister was still angry with him, still hurt by the things he had done—but this was different. She wasn’t offering to help just because of the past. This was her way of drawing a line.

“Wanda,” he said softly, his voice laced with desperation, “you know that’s not possible. I can’t walk away from this… from her. From the baby.”

Wanda gave a small, almost imperceptible shrug. “Then you can’t have my help.”

Pietro swallowed hard, his fists clenching at his sides. The stakes were too high for them to be playing games. “Please,” he pleaded, his voice urgent. “I need you. We need you. And I swear, once this is over, we’ll do whatever you want. Just—just help us now. Please.”

The room fell silent again, the air thick with unspoken tension. And then, finally, Wanda sighed, her shoulders slumping in resignation. “Fine,” she said. “But you owe me, Pietro. I don’t forgive easily. And I will not forget this.”

Pietro exhaled a breath he didn’t realize he was holding, relief flooding through him. “Thank you. You don’t know what this means.”

Wanda looked at Y/N for a long moment before finally nodding in her direction, her expression softening. “You’re not alone in this, alright? We’ll figure it out.”

The weight of everything that had been said settled over them. Pietro knew it wasn’t going to be easy, but he also knew he wasn’t alone anymore—not really. They were going to fight. And with Wanda’s help, maybe, just maybe, they could win.

The days in hiding seemed to stretch on forever, each one feeling heavier than the last. Pietro and Y/N spent their time holed up in Wanda’s apartment, waiting for the next move. The silence was suffocating, and though Wanda’s help had given them a momentary sense of security, they both knew it wouldn’t last forever.

Pietro tried to keep his focus, but his thoughts often wandered to the enemies still hunting him. His past was like a shadow that followed him everywhere, always just out of reach, yet ever-present. He wasn’t used to feeling like this—vulnerable. But with Y/N by his side, he at least felt like there was something worth protecting. Y/N, too, felt the weight of their situation. She hated hiding, hated that they were always looking over their shoulders, waiting for the next attack. But every time she looked at Pietro, she remembered why she was doing this. He was here, and she wasn’t ready to lose him. Not now.

“Pietro?” Y/N asked one night as they sat together on the couch. She could sense the tension radiating from him, his muscles tight, his jaw clenched.

“Yeah?” His voice was quieter than usual, though she could tell he was listening.

“Do you ever think about… what happens after this? Once we get through it all?” she asked, her voice a little hesitant. Pietro turned to her, his brow furrowing slightly as he tried to make sense of her words. “What do you mean?”

“Like, after everything is over—will we go back to normal? Will it all just be a bad memory?” she asked, her hands restless as she fiddled with the hem of her shirt.

The question hung in the air, neither of them sure of how to answer it. He didn’t say anything for a moment, his eyes clouded with his own thoughts. “I don’t know. I don’t know what happens next. I’ve been running for so long, Y/N. I didn’t think I’d make it out of the prison alive, and now, even with everything that’s happened… I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to leave my past behind. But I’m trying. I’m trying for you. For us.”

Her heart tightened in her chest at his words, and she leaned closer to him, her hand finding his. “We’ll figure it out. Whatever happens, we’ll figure it out together.”

Pietro’s gaze softened as he looked at her, his thumb gently brushing over her hand. He wanted to believe her, wanted to believe that they could have a future free from the darkness of his past. But the truth was, he was terrified. What if it was too late? What if their lives were always going to be defined by the things they couldn’t control?

That night, after a long silence, Pietro finally spoke again. “I’ll do anything to keep you safe, Y/N. Even if it means leaving everything else behind.”

Her eyes met his, and she knew what he meant. He was willing to sacrifice everything—to give up his past, his enemies, his freedom—just for a chance at a future with her. And she knew she couldn’t ask for more. A week later, Wanda’s plan was set into motion. It wasn’t much—just a way to get them out of the city, to a place where the people chasing them couldn’t find them easily. But as Wanda had warned, it came with a price: once they were safe, they would have to disappear. No more contact. No more looking back.

The morning they were set to leave, Pietro packed up a small bag of clothes and essentials, and Y/N did the same. She couldn’t shake the feeling that this might be their last chance to really live without fear, but the thought of leaving behind everything they had known was overwhelming.

Before they left, Pietro turned to her, his hand on the door. “Are you ready?”

“As I’ll ever be”

[darkdemeter]

・issue #2・ WOLF AT YOUR DOOR II

⚤ Wanda Maximoff x Werewolf! GN/Female/Male Reader fluff — slightly possessive reader — Wanda and reader being a grump x sunshine couple — profanity — mention of protective reader — all about them pups really — small mention of Wanda's backstory — there's SITCOMS HERE — reader acknowledges the cheese of romcoms — marking — confessions and feels — I think that's it? ✎ 2.9k Never did you ever imagine that pups would become your future. No less, to Wanda Maximoff. Despite your odds and differences to begin with, perhaps you're willing to give this thing a shot.

↳ MASTERLIST | ↳ TAGLISTS ────────────────────────

“No.” 

It’s as simple as that as you push the trolley forward. Wanda pouts and as an act of defiance, she throws the colourful, tiny suit into the metal basket on wheels. You aren’t quick enough to repress the almost disgusted sigh. 

“What’s wrong with it?” she asks behind a scowl as you both continue your voyage down the aisle. “Yellow hurts me. Deeply.”

Was that a lie? Maybe. But did you instantly regret your answer when you see the flicker of disappointment in Wanda’s eyes? There’s no doubt about it. She reaches back into the trolley for the tiny suit, amongst the array of others you both had already picked out, most likely to place it back on the rack when you stop her. 

“Leave it.” She looks shocked when you prevent her from fishing it out of the selection. You only roll your eyes, the faintest of smirks on your lips. “I’ll just have to be blindfolded when I hold them.”

Wanda smiles a toothy smile - that perfect smile - in regards to your humour. You’d never been one at the party to crack jokes but sure as hell would win a joke match against Rhodey. Him and his fucking tank story. 

But Wanda is entertained deeply by the mental picture of you with a literal blindfold over your eyes as you cradle little wolf jr. A picture perfect snapshot already archived in the album in her mind. 

Already midway through the second trimester. Time is flying by so quickly. You both still hadn’t sorted out the crib yet and by that, you hadn’t. But all the cribs you and Wanda saw were made for one baby; two at best if you were really set on them sharing. 

But human cribs never accounted for four pups and you weren’t very impressed by the idea of building four separate cribs. Uh uh, that made your wolf brain go crazy. Your pups separated from each other? How would they bond with each other?

That was how you and Wanda got on the topic of a ‘den’ and nesting. Surprisingly she was on board with the idea from the start when you first told her your concerns about the pups being kept away from each other, that their bonding time would be hindered greatly if you both went about it the human way.

She’d agreed wholeheartedly. Not a huge case it took to convince her. 

Wanda and yourself roll into the next aisle and the first few racks were rows upon rows of socks and shoes meant to be fitted to tiny feet. 

Wanda laughs at the expression on your face and you give her a puzzling furrow, head tilting to the side like a confused dog. 

“What?”

“You,” she giggles, “didn’t expect our little rendezvous night to take so well, did you?” You merely shrug with a small noise, quick to cover it up you clear your throat loudly. 

“You brought it out of me. You should have known never to do that to a werewolf.”

Wanda smirks with a slight nod of her head. She’s double sure she doesn’t regret a single thing. There’s nothing she would trade for this feeling of her hand running over the large bump of her stomach that ferociously kicks with your pups. Four, healthy pups. 

There were still remnants of the aftershock back at the compound. The reveal that you and Wanda had slept together was talk of the compound for weeks before Wanda grew sick and with that, the test coming back positive. When you were able, Banner executed some further tests and you almost fainted right there on the spot when he congratulated on the four additions.

And not to mention the overstimulation on your part. Not only was Wanda a walking ball of ever changing hormones but you were in overdrive as well. Anytime someone made Wanda upset in the slightest you were on them in a matter of seconds. Fury had to call an emergency meeting in regards to keeping yourself in line throughout Wanda’s pregnancy. Not that it helped, you only grew to become fiercely protective over Wanda and your unborn pups. 

But for Wanda it was all she could want. Not to lie to yourself - your counsellor advised that lying to yourself is a bad habit - but you were happy as well. This was a secret dream come true. Wanda’s interest is piqued when she spots a set of black footed pyjamas with crescent moons on the pads of the feet and little pawprints scattered across the body. 

“Y/N, look!” she gapes as she holds the suit up for you to look at. Out of some maternal habit, she holds it against her bump and in that moment, it all hits you like a freight train. 

You were going to become a parent. A wolf parent. You wouldn’t be so alone anymore now with Wanda carrying your lineage within her womb. And she’s excited for it. Has been since the very beginning. To have such an opportunity before you now, you realise just how alone you were before. How fine you’d been being so alone before. 

But if you had a chance to go back in time, to stop yourself from entering Wanda’s dormitory that night, you realise now that you wouldn’t. 

Your lips part but no words come to mind. You’re drawn at a blank. All you can do is marvel at the inevitable coming of your pups. “I think we should get them, the pups will look so cute.” She grabs three more and places them in the trolley. 

‘Fucking hell…’

Wanda looks up from the haul and tilts her head curiously at the look you give her. Eyes wide, unblinking and just simply admiring her. Right there in that aisle of baby supplies. Not exactly one of those times in movies where the misunderstood, hardened love interest finally sees the sunshine protagonist in the highlight of their epiphany and has a complete one-eighty on their entire reality; but fuck, it was close enough. 

Seeing Wanda swollen large with your pups. It’s something that cannot - will not - be robbed from you. “You okay?” she asks softly and you nod slowly. 

“Yeah. Really good, actually.”

Ugh, those sitcoms and romcoms she’s made you watch are starting to rub off on you. You sound so fucking cheesy. She smiles wider this time and using a hand to flip some loose hair behind her shoulder, she beckons you to follow her. 

Maybe yellow isn’t such a bad colour. You can make it work.

Dinner time is rolling around and you check the time, just ten minutes past six. Wanda happily prepares dinner for both of you and your invited guests, her eyes occasionally lifting to watch the sitcom she’s adamant on watching.

At first, you didn’t get the fascination with a cast of characters just doing mundane things in one space only to have the laugh track and fade effect transition into the next location. 

However, Wanda was quite open with you about her life before Hydra took her and her brother. That she adored sitcoms from a young age, and one of the last memories she has is sitting down next to Peitro in front of the TV to watch an episode of the Dick Van Dyke show, her parents cuddled together on the couch. 

It was a raw scene to bear witness to. Her eyes flooded with tears. The only thing you could do in that moment was pull her to you in a tight embrace. The rest is history. One of your personal favourites was Bewitched, but you refuse to admit that to anyone. 

“How’s the project coming along?” Wanda asks as she stirs the contents in the pot around, giving it a little taste test. “It’s good,” you answer with a focused grunt, expertly working one of the last screws into place. 

“You’re following the instructions, right?” You don’t need to look at her to know her attention is elsewhere, she’s not even looking over at you. You roll your eyes, gaze momentarily glaring down at the booklet. 

You grumble to yourself under your breath. “Don’t need the instructions, werewolves don’t need fucking instructions.”

Wanda can’t suppress the grin on her lips at your huffing and wolfish grumbling. The pups were in for a treat with you, she can tell already. 

“Do human babies actually like these… knick knacks?” you ask rather unsurely. You stand the changing station up and brush your hand along the mobile. The colourful, plastic bits clink and sway. 

“Yeah!” she answers with enthusiasm. You only raise your brows more with worry. You weren’t set on having those little things dangle in front of your pups, just begging to be grabbed and chewed to bits. But that was a worried conversation for another time, a knock on the door alerts you both of your arrived company. 

You call out for them to enter as you busy yourself with putting aside the table. Natasha all but swaggers on inside, a box in her hands as her eyes glance between you and Wanda. 

“Good evening, how did the shopping go?” 

Wanda giggles at your reaction before she uses her stirring spoon to point at the haul you both had garnered today on your big voyage to the great danger beyond: the public. Sam, Steve and Clint walk in after Natasha, each wearing a smile of their own.

“You ready to have a crack at parenthood, Wolf?” Clint jokes and you shrug. “As ready as I could ever be.” 

Wanda begins serving up dinner when her eyes squint, accusation on the tip of her tongue. “We’re missing one,” she drawls and Steve chuckles lightly under the scrutiny of the witch’s gaze. 

“Bucky had to cancel last minute, small mission briefing.” Steve’s explanation is supposedly good enough for your little witch to accept but you see the judgement in her eyes. You chuckled, the wolf in your eyes spelling mischief as you look at Wanda from across the way.

“So lucky. If only I had a mission briefing too.” 

Wanda flicks her fingers at you, the tips of her fingers glowing with her scarlet magic when a knife flies your way. You catch it with a surprised guffaw. “Sweetheart, I thought we would save the knife play for later.”

Wanda looks at you with a narrowed gaze but her smirk speaks volumes to you. She’s silently challenging you and all you do is raise your brows, your tongue in your cheek. 

Sam is clearing his third plate of the masterpiece dish he insists is of five star quality. You hum teasingly under your breath, “I dunno, I think she tried to poison mine.” 

The others share in the banter with small laughs and their own opinions of their dish, all of which praise Wanda’s skills around the kitchen. 

But what was all your teasing but a mere altered projection of your deep, underlying affection for Wanda? As you talk and catch up with your friends at the dinner table, your hand seeks out Wanda’s under the table. When you find hers, your fingers intertwined together. A simple and small action but for you, it held more affection than many things that could overly express one’s love. 

You weren’t the type to show up at the door with a giant bundle of roses and balloons, with music blasting the greatest love song hits of the century. You always prefer to keep it small. Private. Intimate. 

So after another hour or so, your friends call their leave. “And remember, Tony’s hosting that huge baby shower for you guys next week,” Natasha reminds over her shoulder. A shudder attacks your spine and you inwardly growl. Tony would of course play out the entire thing as an act of being the ‘fun and cool uncle’ but really, it was another dig for getting the car done up good on your mission. 

“He knows I hate his parties,” you mumble to her once you’re both alone. She’s in the kitchen finishing up the washing when you walk up behind her. It’d been a big day for you both. It feels good for it to just be the two of you know. 

Your arms circle around her waist and pull her in close, her back flush against your front you take the opportunity to bury your nose into her neck. She giggles loudly, cringing as she tries to wriggle away from you.

“What’s wrong?” you coo with a playful nip to the shell of her ear. “I’m ticklish there!” she squeals but you continue to feign knowledge.

“Oh? Are you now?”

“Yes!”

You laugh, cool, rich and deep. A husky drawl while you continue to nuzzle into her neck, inhaling her calming scent. Your hands balance on the rise of her swollen stomach, the kicks strong and prominent against the light pressure of your hands. 

“They know it’s you,” she cannot help but say with a smile. Something about your pups being able to recognise your touch makes her heart flutter and it makes something in you inflate. Pride. 

Your pups knew you by touch already. You just knew they were excited by the mere presence of your hands - of you - being so near. You smile. “Because they know I’ll protect them. Protect you.”

“You know… you never did mark me.”

You freeze for a moment, hesitant on how to answer her. What could you say to that? But Wanda turns around to face you and draws you into a deep, passionate kiss. Her lips capture yours and her tongue teases the line of your mouth. 

“I don’t care what reservations you have about this relationship, or that you plan on sleeping with other people. But please, I just want to feel some semblance of love, that I belong to you.”

You frown at this and immediately, your hands find the edges of her jaw to lift your tearful eyes to yours. “Wanda,” you sigh in disbelief, “take a look inside. What do you see?”

She gives you a look of scepticism and you huff deeply through your nose, a wolf behaviour to further urge her to comply. She does so, closing her eyes and taking a moment to read your thoughts. This is the first time you’ve given her permission to take a look inside your mind.

“You see anyone else?” She shakes her head in response. “That’s because there is nobody else. There’s only you.”

You sink to your knees so you’re at eye level with the baby bump. Wanda watches you, eyes wide and jaw slack. Whatever antics you were getting up to, she’s at a loss. When has she ever seen you become a mushy mess for anything? When Wanda looked at you, she never put affection as part of your resume. You and the factor of affection or anything to do with a loving relationship were just two opposite ends of the spectrum.

She didn’t believe you were ever capable of such adoration and devotion. “There’s never been anyone else. It’s always just been me. That’s how it used to be before… this.” Your nose pushes against her bump and you feel the pups kick again. 

You grin this time before your eyes lift up to see Wanda, her button lip jutted out in a pout. Her bright eyes coated with hot tears.

“Little witch, I’m not… I’m still very new to all this. But I’m telling you now that I want to have a go.” You pause and swallow thickly. “I don’t want it to just be me anymore. I want it to be us.”

“Then make it an us. That’s all I want.” 

You hear the plea in her whisper and you rise up to your full height, staring down at her. Your hands cradle her face in your hold, you simply take the moment to admire in her eyes what you once mistook for lust; that you now see as love. 

“It’ll hurt for a second,” you inform her as you slowly tilt her head so her neck is bared for you. “But I promise it’ll be for just a second.”

She nods and you take that as your go ahead. This is where the lone road ends for you. No more being alone. 

She closes her eyes with the growing anticipation and you bare your prolonged fangs, inching them closer to the sensitive skin of her neck, hovering over the spot you’d nuzzled just prior. Right where she was ticklish. 

With a final, deep breath you close the distance and plunge your canines and her body locks up, a yelp on her lips you tug her in closer to you. Your body is a silent assurance that she’s alright. That she and your pups will be alright. 

She feels it in her core, a whirlwind that sweeps her like a heavy storm. Like wind blowing in her face and drawing the air from her lungs. Right beneath the surface of her skin tingles and becomes ignited with that binding fire. When you pull away with a breathless exhale, your dazed eyes glowing, it takes you a moment of swaying to become stable again.

“Fuck,” you both groan softly, noses brushing together as your lips dance over one another, their connection ghostly but the radiance of your new connection a fiery and passionate spark to the touch. 

Wanda smiles and her flushed cheeks indicate her flustered embarrassment. You chuckle deeply and lift her chin up with your fingers so she meets your hungry, wolfish gaze. 

“You’re mine now.” Her hand finds purchase on her stomach, and yours falls over the top of hers. “And they are our pups.”

THANKS FOR READING!

✎ a note from the author, So this took a fucking while because I was very sick and then by the time I could write I had lost the ideas I had and the inspiration to write it. Anyway this is considered as part 2 to Wolf At Your Door but can be read as standalone I suppose. Also there is no smut for this one because I just couldn't see it being in this part.

on this issue's taglist, we've got: @alexawynters

[song-witch]

In The Dark

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Natasha Romanoff

Word Count: 2798

Warnings: Mafia AU. Alcohol. Pregnancy. Alluding to smut.

A/N: I've had this fic on the docket for so long, so here it is. lmk if i missed anything!

Wanda sighed for what felt like the millionth time that night, letting her eyes flutter open. Her hands limply dragged across the duvet, a gesture that had become second nature as her pregnancy progressed, as if it would soothe both hers and the baby’s restlessness. There was no point in trying to sleep if it wouldn’t come. She was unsure if it was due to her own anxiousness or the babies, though it did just about as much good to dwell on it as it did to try and sleep. The sound of the screen door banging shut followed by the heavy front door pulled her out of her reverie, her entire body freezing for a moment.

“Baby?” Wanda called out, reclining her head back so her voice hopefully reached the entryway; thickly swallowing. The house was quiet besides the sound of someone moving around. With a frown, she turned over her left shoulder, her eyebrows furrowing at the bright ‘3:46 am’ from the digital clock glowing back at her in a dreadful shade of neon red. Forgoing both the lamp on the nightstand and her slippers, Wanda made her way to the bedroom door, one hand on the knob and the other against the door as she pressed her ear to the wood. 

Her heart beat faster from the sound of silence, biting her lip. She had options here. She could open the door, confront whoever was in the kitchen, pray to something that it was Natasha or someone she sent, and happily go back to bed. She could go lay back down, ignore whoever was in the house, and stay in a puddle of fear until something happened. Her last option was sliding shoes on, opening the door, and bolting out the back door. That somehow felt like an overreaction – like how whoever was in their home would have heard her and come to collect collateral damage. Given her struggle with sleeping throughout the entire night, the second option would be dumb as well. Instead she was left with the first option, confronting the intruder. 

Despite the Nat in her head telling her to pick the third option, she opened the door, heart simultaneously dropping to a pit in her stomach, somersaulting, and jumping to her throat, before repeating in that order. The brunette carefully listened to the sound of a glass clinking against the kitchen table, followed by a cabinet door closing, its eerie thud echoing into the hall. 

This only served to confuse her further, prompting her to exit the bedroom and slowly walk down the hallway, sticking against the wall. She chose to keep the lights off, knowing that if something went wrong, she knew the layout of her home without the lights on which would give her an upper hand against a potentially dangerous intruder – yet another thing Nat taught her. 

The soft yellow light of the kitchen spilled out into the living room, not entirely unusual as Wanda always left the light above the sink on when Nat was working late. The sound of people talking, presumably two men based on the deep tones, ringing through the space. By the time she made it to the living room, she was beginning to question her choice of approaching whoever was in the kitchen having a drink, glancing around the shadowed part of the living room in something akin to despair. The best she could do was grab a throw pillow, knowing the lamps would cause too much racket and hung photo frames wouldn’t do much. She held the pillow in front of her, as if the steel blue pillow smaller than her pregnant stomach was as intimidating as an actual weapon. 

With a deep breath, the brunette turned the corner, raising the pillow in front of her head, cowering just slightly. She waited, and waited, and waited. Nothing happened. No sound, movement, nothing but stillness. Breath still held in her chest, she slowly lowered her weapon of choice, squinting over the seam of it. 

“Nat?” The brunette dropped the pillow in favor of pursuing the other woman, a shaking breath leaving her chest as tears filled her eyes. She paid no attention to the men sitting at the dining table, time seemingly moving in slow motion as she stepped over the pillow, arms already subconsciously reaching upwards to wrap around the redhead’s neck. Natasha stood silently with a look thrown at the men, her whiskey glass hitting the table with the same resounding ‘clunk’ it had earlier, meeting the younger woman in an embrace, her arms wrapping tightly around her waist.

“Hey, sweetheart.” The redhead mumbled against the brunette’s hair, pressing a kiss where her forehead met her hairline. She resisted the urge to smooth her hair down, more than aware of her men watching them. Wanda’s chin shook against where it was hidden in the junction of the older’s neck, sobs barely contained with deep breaths. 

“Where were you?” She just barely managed to keep her voice even and maybe even a little serious, her emotions running rampant. She wanted to yell at her wife, sob, ravish her, and yell some more. Instead, she pulled back, one hand swiping at her eyes while the other continued to twist the baby hairs at the top of the redhead’s neck between her fingers.

“Did Carol not call you?” Natasha looked down at her with a no-nonsense look, her arms still wrapped, albeit loosely, around her waist.

“N-no,” Wanda shook her head, wiping her sleeve under her nose, “N-no one did. I thought you we-were dead.” The word alone brought unwanted tears to her eyes, gasping in a breath. It was something she hated doing; worrying about Nat returning home any day of the week, especially after an exchange like today. She hated always being on the edge of her seat, waiting for the call that her wife was in critical condition or she was downright gone. And yet, she continued to love and in turn be loved by Nat, willing to live with that fear. Now that they had a baby on the way though, she was beginning to question that decision. 

“I can assure you I’m very much alive, love.” Natasha chuckled, the rasp that had Wanda swooning over her after their first-ever interaction thickly coating her words. Yet, Wanda didn’t laugh like she normally would, frowning even more. 

“It’s n-not funny, Nat!” Wanda watched as Nat winced slightly at the sheer shrillness of her voice, though she couldn’t care less. She crossed her arms on top of her stomach, resisting the urge to poke at Nat’s chest to further her point. 

“I know. I’m sorry, baby.” With a sigh similar to Wanda’s earlier she pulled the woman back into her chest, softly rubbing her back. Natasha fully expected Wanda to pull away, to lecture her on how unfair it was to her, as if she didn’t understand. She did the opposite, though, melting into the embrace with a sob. 

“I d-don’t… I- we can’t lose you, Nat.” Wanda blubbered into her neck, grasping at the fabric of the redhead’s shirt with balled fists. She allowed herself to cry, beyond caring about what the men in the room would think, letting her wife rock them softly. 

At the questioning glances from Steve and Bucky, along with them softly murmuring to each other, Nat nodded. She momentarily stopped rubbing circles into the brunette’s back to raise a finger, circling it twice in the air as a silent command to secure the perimeter before they left before letting it drop to its original position. She let the younger cry, softly shushing her as her sobs grew into a volume that Natasha could only describe as painful. By the time Wanda had calmed down, both men had left, leaving the two alone for the first time in far too many days. “I’ve got you, Wanda. I’m not goin’ anywhere.” The redhead pulled back gently, forcing her wife to look her in the eyes. Wanda hiccuped as she searched Nat’s face, dropping her shirt to cup her cheeks, as if she needed to confirm the redhead was real. 

“I love you so much, Wanda. You of all people should know you won’t get rid of me that easily.” With a softness that was reserved for only Wanda, Nat swiped the woman’s tears away, pressing twin kisses beneath her eyes. 

“I love you too, Nat.” Wanda’s voice shook as she leaned up, softly pressing her lips against the chapped ones of her wife. She didn’t mind though, as it only further confirmed that she was in fact standing there with her, alive and healthy as can be. Natasha kissed back as, if not more, fervently than the brunette, sliding her hands under the fabric of a shirt Wanda must have pulled from somewhere deep in the closet. Even just the slightest touch had her melting and whimpering into her mouth, deepening the kiss with a swipe of her tongue against Nat’s lips. Nat all but easily obliged, trying to pull the brunette impossibly closer against her body. Wanda went easily, humming softly as they explored one another, as if they hadn’t numerous times before. Her hands smoothed everywhere on the redhead’s face, a sense of urgency taking control.

Before they could get any further, though, Wanda pulled away with a slight gasp, taking in deep breaths. “Is everything okay? Is the baby alright?” The redhead’s right hand curved around the woman’s waist to rest on her stomach, concern written across her features. Had she not been through a whirlwind of emotions, Wanda would have smiled at how concerned she was, instead the corners of her lips just barely raised. 

“We’re okay. I think he’s upset that his mama wasn’t going to come home for a bedtime story.” Wanda fixed her wife with a stern look, raising an eyebrow. She didn’t mean for it to be as snarky as it had been, but she felt the older deserved it after not contacting her for days on end. She would’ve been fine if one of the members had so much as texted her, yet nothing. Almost as if the baby was agreeing with her, it kicked where Nat’s hand was resting. If there was one thing that was certain about their child, they wouldn’t be afraid to speak their mind. 

“Yeah, yeah, I get it. She thinks it's bedtime.” Natasha rolled her eyes, though a smirk pulled at her features. She could hardly be upset with the brunette. It had been nearly a whole week since she had been home, let alone been in contact with the woman. Had it been two years ago, she wouldn’t have cared. Would have left the brunette to wallow in her own disdain and anger for far longer without a care in the world. Now though, she couldn’t do that. Couldn’t leave her wife for more than a week, even before she was pregnant. It almost made her emotional to see just how far they had come. Almost. 

“He, Nat. Our baby is a boy.” Wanda shook her head, a fond smile tugging at her lips. She’d be damned if their baby turned out to be a girl. Months of being wrong and the redhead would only become cockier. 

“And how do you know? For all it’s worth, sprout could be an actual sprout.” Nat shot back, raising an eyebrow as she moved away from the brunette. She downed the rest of her drink easily, swiping the back of her hand against her mouth with a satisfying sigh. Knowing how much it irked the younger to leave her dishes out, she deposited in the sink, with a silent promise of washing it the next day, moving towards the cabinet in the back corner to put the Whiskey back in its case. 

“Unless that turkey baster was filled with something else, I highly doubt there’s a plant inside of me.” Wanda crossed her arms over her belly, both eyebrows raised and her lips pushed slightly forward, as if willing the older to test her. Nat chortled at that, stopping in the middle of the kitchen to fully take in the joke. Her hands landed on her hips, smiling at the younger. 

“That was a good one, baby. I wouldn’t be so convinced though, based on how much watermelon I’ve bought in the last two weeks alone.” She fixed the woman with a cocky smile, padding towards her. Despite her joking tone, Wanda looked at her incredulously, nearly scoffing at her. 

“Keep talking, Nat. You won’t be laughing when you’re left high and dry until he’s born.” She merely shrugged, more than willing to stick to her words and deal with the consequences of them if it meant Nat listened. 

“You wouldn’t.” Natasha’s face set, her smile dropping, eyes squinting. Despite the fact that she herself was the one who managed their relationship for a good chunk of it, she knew how stubborn the brunette could be. She just hoped she was joking, for the sake of both of them. She was met with another shrug, neither confirming nor denying her claim. Natasha only sighed in response, dropping their teasing altogether and instead wrapping an arm around the brunette, turning the light off as they began towards their room.

The house was quiet as the two made their way to the bedroom, the darkness of the house still washing out the hallway. It was easy enough to fall in step next to one another, a move written into their muscle memory, if not their biology at that point. Tension pulled between the two of them, apparent as they each approached their own side of the bed. With the grace of something similar to a toddler, Wanda sat on the edge of the king mattress, quietly observing her wife. 

Natasha moved around the room silently, shedding her weapons in various drawers, her path methodical and obviously walked before. She paid no attention to the brunette’s eyes following her around the space, nor did she see how tight-strung she was, her back rigid and eyes glossed over. And yet, she could still feel it. Though she did nothing but carry out the little routine she had, changing into something far more suitable for pajamas than dress pants and a crisp, buttoned shirt, locking herself in the bathroom to finish up.

Wanda pursed her lips at the sound of the en suite locking, dragging her feet up and under the covers. Humming, she reached for the glass of water on her nightstand, sipping the beverage in the dim light of bathroom light spilling out from around the door. She took her time, listening to her spouse rummage around. It was funny just how domestic it all felt, how the boss of a mafia that spent her free time killing people could be so… soft. 

There was a time when she thought she would never leave what she had considered this godforsaken bedroom, tied to a bed that wasn’t hers and stripped of every joy she had ever known. Yet, here she was, free to roam wherever she wanted, with a wife who doted on her like there was no tomorrow, the shimmer of love in her eyes. It made her want to laugh at how ironic the whole thing was. How could she, a small-town girl with a bad attitude, end up with one of the wealthiest people in a whole nother country, pregnant with their child? Arms wrapped around her waist and pulled her back to reality, setting her glass down before looking at the redhead.

“Tell me what’s going on in that pretty head of yours.” Natasha’s raspy voice vibrated against her stomach, head perched on the topmost swell of it. Wanda allowed her hand to drop so she could hold the redhead’s face, tilting her head just slightly. 

“Just… thinking.” She smiled softly, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes. She met the woman’s eyes, holding them even as the urge to look away grew stronger. 

“Talk to me, Wanda.” Nat urged gently, a softness much like the one earlier shining through. Wanda lived for these moments, yearned for them. The moments in between, the ones no one bats an eye at, yet, everyone longs for. 

“You know I love you?” 

It was less of a question and more insecurity, uncertainty momentarily crossing her features. At this, Nat’s expression mirrored her earlier one, confusion on her face cocked to the side. 

“And I love you.” The redhead decided to play along, though she had no idea where the brunette was going. She watched as the younger blinked, her eyes clouded with skepticism and something else. 

“Show me. Show me how much you love me.”

[stephanieromanoff]

Do y’all remember that theory of some Romanogers stans that Nat was pregnant with Steve’s baby in Infinity War so that’s why she put her hand over her belly after the snap?

Now knowing she didn’t even have a uterus for that to be possible, it would be way more likely for Wanda to get her pregnant than Steve lmfao

[untoldreader]

•New Wandanat Story coming soon•

The Miraculous Trio: A Journey of Love, Power, and Parenthood

Wanda Maximoff x Pregnant-Y/N x Natasha Romanoff

[p0orbaby]

One to many request

How about one where Wanda is walking and slips nothing to big/or big idk and reader wasn’t there and Wanda goes to the doctor to make sure everything is okay and when they call reader, reader goes into full panic rushing to drive to the infirmary to see Wanda….oh just ignore this request LMFAO

I Told You So

a/n: and unofficial official part two to this bad boy. P.S to the anon who requested this, sorry for the delay. Hope it’s worth the wait!

warnings: very small visit to the emergency room, brief hospital setting and immaculate medical talk/scenarios, pregnancy, language, I think that’s it

word count: 1.3k

-

Wanda's pregnancy had brought her an overwhelming sense of joy. The idea of becoming a parent was the only thing she was able to think about most days. That and what ways she could wrangle you into acquiring whatever food she was craving at 3am.

But along with joy, a heightened awareness of her every move came just as intensely. Or more accurately, her lack thereof. Bending over to put her shoes on was a struggle. Standing up on her own sometimes caused her strife. You’d told her to not do things of her own accord. If she needed something, ask. No matter how small.

Wanda was sick to death of asking. She felt like a child. She wanted her independence back, despite your willingness to wait on her hand and foot.

It was a rare day when she was left alone. You’d needed to run some errands across town, and deemed the amount of tasks too many for Wanda to accompany you comfortably. So you’d instructed her to stay put. To phone as soon as she needed anything. The kitchen chair incident making you acutely aware of your wife’s inability to follow your simple rules. Leaving her alone was a struggle in its own right.

A walk couldn’t be much harm, she decided. The warm weather making her want to get out of the house. To breathe in some fresh air. One lap around the neighbourhood. Simple in theory. Not so much in practice.

She must’ve not been paying attention. Too lost in her new found sense of freedom that she didn’t see the loose paving stone ahead. Tripping over it suddenly, stumbling a little as the toe of her sneaker caught the corner of upturned slab concrete. She managed to steady herself, reaching her hand out for a tree that had to have only been there serendipitously to save her. She’s never felt so happy to have two feet on solid ground.

Wanda was shaken up. Her heart was racing a mile a minute. And not from embarrassment of being caught, but from guilt and fear of what may have happened if she didn’t catch herself.

It was that guilt that led her home, into her car, and drove her to the hospital. Alone. No outbound call to your cell. No text about what had happened or where she was going.

-

“Everything looks perfectly fine, Mrs Maximoff” the doctor informed her. “Your heart rate has increased a little, naturally, but I can send the full results over to your OBGYN to include in your personal records”

“Are you sure?” She questioned. Not because she didn’t believe the doctor, but she wanted to be doubly certain no harm was caused to her sons.

“Squeaky clean. As I said, your heart rate has spiked. But that’s a natural reaction to stress so there’s nothing too much to worry about” they continued. The plastic of their gloves snapping as they were removed. “I will however suggest not taking walks alone at this stage in your pregnancy. Just to be on the safe side.

Wanda’s body flushed with humiliation. She, a grown woman, was getting ridiculed by a doctor about risks she’d already been warned about.

-

She winced when the door closed a little heavier behind her than she wanted.

She wasn’t hiding from you, per say, but she was avoiding your calls. She was embarrassed. And if she was being honest, a little scared of what your reaction was going to be. So maybe she was hiding from you.

“Are you for real! Seriously, Wanda! Have you lost your damn mind?”

There it was. The reaction she had was trying to avoid.

You’d come storming in from where you were pacing through the house, and stood toe to toe with wanda in the foyer. Tips of your ears red and your nostrils flaring as you looked down on your wife. Who was MIA until moments ago.

“Where the fuck have you been?”

“I went for a walk,” Wanda replied as she tied off her shoes and tried to slip past you. You grabbed her wrist before she got the chance to flee.

“A walk with your car? Do you think I’m stupid?” The tone of your voice was angry, sure. But there was an underlying level of hurt too.

“I’m not lying,” she insisted. “I did go for a walk. Through the neighbourhood. But something happened and so I had to use the car”

Why was this so hard? You’d been together for years. Told each other your deepest darkest secrets. So why was this so much different?

“Wanda, I’m being serious”

You were. Wanda could tell by the way your voice was clipped. Stern. It’s the way you spoke to uncooperative clientele.

Wanda let out a defeated sigh, knowing she wouldn’t be able to keep it up any longer. Guilt would eat away at her if she didn’t come clean.

“I was at the hospital” she treaded carefully. “And before you start, everything is fine! But I did have a little bit of a fall when I was on my walk”

Your eyes bulged. Mouth opening and closing as you tried to make sense of what she had just admitted.

“Well, not a fall really. I tripped on an uneven-“

“Stop talking” you breathe. A hand rubbing at your forehead as the other rested on your waist. “Please, just… don’t say anything else”

Wanda obeyed your wishes and shut up. Mouth forming a thin line as she waited patiently in front of you.

“I thought we talked about this,” you muttered. “You said you’d listen”

“I did,” she argued. “I haven’t climbed on any chairs, or lifted heavy things since. I was just so over feeling useless. But apparently I can’t even go for a walk without almost falling flat on my face”

You cringed at the prospect of that happening. Eyes squeezing shut as if to block out any mental images of what that might entail.

Taking a deep breath, you reached out and gently held Wanda's hands. "I know you're frustrated, and I'm sorry if I came across as harsh. I just worry about your safety. You're not useless, you’re pregnant, there’s a big difference, okay?”

Wanda’s eyes welled up with tears, and she nodded. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to worry you. It’s just… I miss feeling like I can do things on my own”

You squeezed her hands reassuringly. “I know, baby. I truly do. But I need you to understand that your safety and the well-being of our children are my top concerns. We’re in this together, and I want to be there for you every step of the way. Even if it’s as simple as helping you put on your socks”

She let out a soft laugh, wiping away a tear. “I guess I’ll have to get used to it, won’t I?”

“Absolutely,” you said, gently wiping away another stray tear with the pad of your thumb “And I promise to be the best sock assistant you could ever ask for”

Wanda’s smile grew wider, and she leaned in to give you a quick kiss. “Thank you for understanding, and for always being here for me, even when I’m being a stubborn hormonal mess”

“Hey, we’re a team,” you replied with a grin. “Stubborn hormonal messes and all. And remember, I’ll always be just a call away, whether it’s for socks or anything else”

She nodded, a mixture of gratitude and affection in her gaze. “I won’t hesitate to ask for help. And no more solo walks, I promise.”

“Deal,” you said, pulling her into a warm embrace. “And as for those 3am food cravings, well, I’m on standby for those too”

Wanda chuckled, resting her head on your shoulder. “You’re my hero, you know that?”

You chuckled back. “Well, I don’t have a cape, but I’ll take the title”

[fangirlmermaid]

Hey writer! I was wondering if you can make a part two of the “You're it for me” Wanda x Fem!reader story!

Of course!!!!!!

Warning: The Labor might not be accurate (I tried my best), some smut but very brief, Breeding kink (lightly mentioned) lightly proofread, some spelling and punctuation mistakes.

Part one and part three for those who haven't read it!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It’s two weeks before your due date, and you are ready for the boys to get out of you.

You were so uncomfortable. Your belly was so stretched out. Your bones were screaming at you every time you stood up Billy and Tommy are using you as a punching bag through all hours of the night

And your new “favorite” thing Braxton Hicks Contractions.

They’ve been happening more frequently, which, of course, made Wanda nervous.

“Love, are you sure you’ll be okay?” Wanda wondered, pulling her hair into a ponytail as she entered the living room. Her eyes landed on you, who was spread out on the couch with a blanket tucked under your exposed bump, watching (your favorite movie) and eating your (favorite snack).

You waved her concern aside. “You worry too much, baby!” You smiled. Since you took over the pregnancy, Wanda has been glued to the hip. She wasn’t too far behind everywhere you went, except when she had to go into town, then you got peace. You were basically under house arrest.

It was Wanda’s idea to tell your employees that she had already given birth to the twins and that you couldn’t leave them so that Wanda would be in charge. Not that you mind; you get out of breath from getting up from the couch by yourself.

Wanda kneeled before you. “Love, the farmers market is two hours away. I can call Alan and tell him to go without me.” Wanda pouted. You felt the corner of your lips twitch. She’s always taking care of you. You tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. “Baby, I love you, but we’ll be fine. Again, you worry to-” You drew a sharp breath, feeling a tightness in your abdomen. You sat up more, placing your hand under your swollen stomach. Wanda rubbed your back, muttering encouraging words as you practiced your breathing exercises. Just two more weeks of this bullshit you thought.

You release a shaky breath as the pain eases up. You noticed the worried look in Wanda’s eyes, the braxon hicks contractions have been acting up since one in the mornig. You laid back down as Wanda fetched you a glass of water. “You know how I feel leaving you when you're this close to your due date,” Wanda reminded, walking towards you quickly.

You hummed a thanks before bringing the glass to your lips, “I’m calling Alan” Wanda announced, you grabbed her wrist and Wanda kneeled in front of you “Baby, you know Alan sucks at talking to customers.” You told cupping her cheek, Wanda leaned into your hand nodding knowing you were right. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ You gripped onto the kitchen counter “fuck” you hissed rubbing your abdomen hoping it make the tightness go away. Why couldn’t Wanda just use her magic to create the boys? Why did she want to go through the whole pregnancy shit?

Once the tightness passed, you grabbed your phone, You couldn’t wait two more weeks; you wanted them out now.

Love When you come home, I want you to fuck me so hard that my water breaks!

It wasn’t the first time Wanda would get a text like this.

Wands You better be in bed naked by the time I get home. Remember, NO touching yourself. Love.

That text alone could make you cum. You realized your sex drive has been more intense since you got pregnant. Every time Wanda did something, such as using tools to fix something in the barn or yelling a grocery store manager who wanted to fuck the business over.

You grabbed your phone and waddled into your shared bedroom, discarding your clothes as you got closer.

You were on your bed, sitting on your knees. You propped your phone against the lamp on your bedside table. You knew that you had insisted to Wanda that you would be fine, but you changed your mind. You wanted her now. You knew that disobeying her would be the fastest way to get her here, you weren’t kidding when you said you wanted them out today.

You set your phone on a ten-second timer, you spread your thighs apart. Your finger circling your puffy clit and your other fingers pinching your harden nipple. Snap

You gasped when you felt something wet trickle down your leg. “Shit” you huffed. You assumed that you peed yourself, wouldn’t be the first time, but then you looked closer and then you realized. Your water broke.

All those braxton hicks you were feeling was early labor. “Shit! Shit Shit!” you yelled feeling your heart racing.

You grabbed your phone and dialed Wanda. “Pick up, baby! Pick up!” you mumbled.

“Hi, Love”

You groaned in pain, feeling a more intense contraction hit

“W-Wands,” you grunted, gripping the blanket so tight your knuckles turned white.

“What’s wrong?”

“M-My Water broke, Wanda.”

Wanda didn’t say anything, making you think she didn’t have service.

“I’ll be right there, my love. Just stay calm.” “Okay, please hurry.” “I’ll break the sound barrier for you.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It’s been over two hours, and Wanda still wasn’t here.

You sat in the bath, you felt the urge to push, which meant one of the twins was in the birth canal. This was happening, you were in labor, which means in a few hours you would have to push two human beings out of you.

“W-where th-the fuck is she?!” You yelled, feeling another contraction hit.

This sucks!

Then you hear the bathroom door open, you look up to see your wife, sweaty and out of breath.

Wanda was by your side in an instant “Your never leaving me alone with these frigging kids ever agin!” You warned, grasping your wife's hand. Wanda bit back an I told you so. “I promise I won’t,” Wanda promised.

Wanda helped you out of the bath. You groaned in pain as another contraction hit. “You’re doing so good, my love,” Wanda praised, her free hand rubbing your back, your grip on her hand so tight it might break, but Wanda didn’t care.

“I can’t believe you did this to me!” You cried out. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ You bounced on the yoga ball, rubbing your bump. Wanda was right next to you, holding your water bottle and ready to praise you when you needed them. The contractions were getting stronger and regular, which meant your pregnancy journey was coming to an end.

You sighed in relief when another contraction passed, and your eyes glistened. Your heart was racing, you were so scared of having to push them out, you’ve read at home labor horror stories on Reddit. You didn’t want anything to go wrong. You couldn’t lose the boys.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” Wanda wondered, tucking your hair behind your ear. You felt tears run down your cheek when you looked up at your wife. “I’m scared, Wands. I don’t think I can do this. What if something goes wrong?” You’re cracked. It broke Wanda’s heart seeing you like this.

Wanda wiped away your tears. “Listen to me (Y/N). You’re tough; you’ve always been tough. I’ll be here. Do you really think I would let anything happen to you or our boys?” Wanda smiled. You shook your head. There was never any doubt in your relationship that Wanda wouldn’t do everything in her power to protect you. “This is the last milestone before we get to see our boys. Focus on the boys.” Wanda added before pressing a soft kiss on your forehead.

You groaned in pain when another contraction hit. Wanda announced that you were 10 cm dilated. Once the contraction passed, Wanda helped you into bed and helped you deliver your twins.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Wanda was bouncing Tommy in her arms. “Hi, Tommy,” Wanda smiled. Tommy looked up at his mom with wide eyes.

Wanda sat down next to you, who was holding a sleeping Billy. “You are truly sensational, my love,” Wanda praised, placing a kiss into your damp hair. You let out a breathy laugh as your eyes remained on Billy.

It was an intense labour, but it was worth it. You are now entering the next chapter of your life with the woman you love.

Wanda pokes her nose against your temple to get your attention. “Hey, you're a mom,” Wanda whispered with a smile. your heart could explode from the love. “Hey, so are you,” you whsiped back with a matching smile.

Wanda pulled you into a passionate kiss.

You pulled away, “careful, a kiss like that is how we got ended up with the idea of starting a family. And I’m in no condition to carry more kids” you sassed, causing Wanda to laugh; it was like music to your ears.

“It’s okay. With my powers, I can fix you and breed you. With the snap of my fingers, I can make you carry as many of our children as I want” Wanda smirk her eyes darkening.

Before you could ask if she was kidding, she pulled you back into a passionate kiss.

[molotovcat]

Came back to this blog to find old mutuals that I’ve lost connections with, but also now I can share a bunch of pregnancy pictures that I love because I miss my bump 😭 my little lady is 4 months old next week! I only did 2 pregnant cosplays lmao, Wanda was how I announced her originally back in November last year and so took these a week ish before my due date💚 (she was actually 10 days late in the end lmao)

[fandomnerd9602]

Y/N walks around wearing a baby carrier on their chest…

Wanda: (giggles) detka! What are you doing?

Y/N: getting a feel for the carrier

Wanda: we still have awhile to go!

Y/N: I know

Wanda: you’re going to spoil our baby aren’t you?

Y/N: why yes. yes I am.

Wanda giggles happily before kissing Y/N on the cheek…

[marveldcfandom]

Wanda showing Y/N her new haircut.

Wanda: Detka, what do you think?

Y/N: Like a MILF.

Wanda: (giggles) it’s not 9 months yet.

Y/N: I know. I can’t wait to become a father.

Wanda: Your a keeper, Detka.