#wanda maximoff x f!reader angst

[moniquesha]

sharing is NOT caring

prologue

Pair: College!Bucky x reader

Summary: You and your twin were nothing alike, except when it came to men. That one shared taste might be what tears you both apart.

Warnings: there are both of you here, violence, angst, fluff, filthy smut, cheating, pick me behaviour, crazy twists, had a hard time writing this.

Masterlist

a/n: my brain is dead for exfil, i need new things to write about. i hope u all enjoy this because this is so crazy when i was writing it <3

Your mother once dreamed of having a child, just one. Someone to love with all the vastness of her heart. But the universe had grander plans and blessed her with twins. Two heartbeats instead of one. Two souls so closely intertwined, even the stars paused to marvel.

From the very beginning, everything was shared. If your twin had something, you had it too–just in a different color. Matching dresses, different shades. One pink, one blue. Two bikes, one red, one green. There was never a favorite, never an ounce of favoritism. Your mom made sure of that. Her only rule? Share. Or, if that wasn’t possible, make sure you both have what you both want. Fairness wasn’t just a principle in your house, it was the foundation.

Your sister understood that. So did you. At least, at first.

But growing up meant growing into yourselves. Clothes? You liked comfort, she liked style. Food? You went for savory, she had a sweet tooth. Hobbies, sports–your paths started to diverge in subtle but definite ways.

You were different, and that was okay.

Until you realized there was one thing you both still shared, something that never stopped aligning, your taste in men.

And for some time, you wondered, what happens when fairness isn’t so easy anymore?

It’s summer break. Every person you know from college is either posting stories from a beach halfway across the world or floating through hazy, half-lit parties, chasing highs before fall drags them back to textbooks and lecture halls.

Meanwhile, you're here. At home. Sunk into the deep cushions of the living room sofa, a slight breeze drifting in through the open window. You have plans but vague, tentative ones, and the thought of just doing absolutely nothing today feels like a gift.

“The other set of twins are coming, by the way!” your sister yells from the kitchen, the clatter of dishes echoing her voice.

“The Maximoffs?” you call back, lazily scrolling through your phone before setting it down on your chest.

“Yup! And I heard Pietro has a new rideee.” Her voice lilts, trying to fish a reaction out of you.

You let a soft smile tug at the corner of your lips. “Well, if I'm in the mood,” you murmur, stretching like a cat, “then let's bless that ride.”

She flops onto the sofa beside you, both of you quiet for a moment, the hum of summer laziness settling in again.

Then you glance down. “Hey, where’s your bracelet?”

She pauses, surprised, instinctively brushing her wrist as if expecting it to be there. It’s not.

The gold bracelets, identical, save for the names engraved on them: Chloe and Y/N. It had been with you since you were seven. A joke turned tradition after the world kept confusing you two. Only your mother could tell you apart on sight, so she gave you those tiny golden markers, glimmering proof that you were each your own person, even if the world didn’t always see it.

“I must’ve left it upstairs,” Chloe says quickly, but there’s something clipped about her tone. Dismissive.

You study her for a moment. “You never take it off.”

She shrugs. “Maybe I’m changing.”

Maybe. But something about her answer doesn’t sit right.

Before you can press further, a pair of familiar voices rings from outside, followed by the unmistakable purr of a souped-up engine pulling into the driveway.

The Maximoff twins have arrived.

And suddenly, doing nothing all day doesn’t feel like the plan anymore.

Wanda's face suddenly appears in the window, hands cupped around her eyes like binoculars. “What’s up, whore!” she calls out with zero shame, grinning at Chloe like it’s a warm-up for whatever unhinged things she’s about to say next.

Chloe grins back. “You’re late.”

Wanda shrugs, unbothered. “Fashionably. I brought snacks.”

Then her eyes flick to you, catching your slower movement on the couch. Her tone softens. “Hi, pretty Y/N. Coming to join us?”

You sit up slightly, hair tousled from the couch cushion, blinking against the sunlight that follows her voice into the room. “Might. If you’ve got actual snacks and not just a bag of Flamin’ Hot air.”

Wanda gasps like you’ve just insulted her ancestors. “Excuse you, Hot Cheetos are the fuel of summer legends.”

You smirk, but it fades quickly as you stand up and glance back at Chloe, who’s busy smoothing her hair in the hallway mirror, already in host mode.

You’ve always appreciated Wanda and Pietro. They were the first ones to welcome you and Chloe into the social ecosystem back at the dorms. Two wild cards instantly curious about the “new twins on the block.” But even then, the connection tilted. They clicked with Chloe faster. Louder laughs. Inside jokes. That natural twin-speak flow you never quite found with them.

Not that they don’t love you. They do. Just maybe not in the same way.

But you try.

You throw on a hoodie and follow the sound of Wanda’s laugh toward the front door, just in time to see Pietro leaning against his new car–sleek, shiny, and way too expensive for a college student unless he sold something illegal or charmed someone rich.

He spots you and smiles, something lazy and sunlit in his expression.

“Well, well,” he says. “The elusive twin emerges.”

You roll your eyes, tugging your hoodie sleeves over your hands. “It’s summer break, not a red carpet.”

He shrugs. “Could’ve fooled me.”

Chloe laughs from behind you, slipping past to greet him like it’s her cue.

And just like that, you’re back to walking three steps behind a trio you kind of belong to.

Chloe practically launches herself at Pietro, arms thrown around his neck like this is the reunion of the century. He catches her with practiced ease, laughing, the kind that makes people watching think oh, they're close.

And they are. No denying that.

But then Pietro shifts his arm, glancing at you over Chloe’s shoulder. “Come here, you too,” he says, and it’s not just polite–it’s easy. Like he means it.

You hesitate, just for a second. But you step in, your face pressed against Pietro’s shoulder for the briefest moment as his arm pulls you into the hug too. It’s warm. Secure. Nice.

Chloe’s eyes flick to the side. You feel it more than see it. Just.. that little tick in her expression. The way her jaw shifts. Like she didn’t expect to share that moment.

“Well, Wanda,” she chirps, voice bright with a little too much sugar, “I call shotgun!”

Before Wanda can even breathe a protest–technically, it’s her car too. Chloe’s already in the passenger seat, flipping the visor down like she owns it. You blink, lips twitching into a soft, almost apologetic smile as you turn to Wanda. “Sorry you have to sit with the boring one.”

Wanda snorts, instantly looping her arm through yours like the two of you are conspirators in some harmless crime. “You’re not boring, Y/N. You’re just a calm soul.”

She leans in, nudging your shoulder with hers. “More calm than your sister, for sure. Like, a dangerous amount more. I respect that.”

You chuckle under your breath, but you don’t miss the way Chloe’s looking back from the front seat. Not glaring. Not angry. Just watching.

You climb into the back with Wanda, who’s already kicking her shoes off like it’s her personal limo, and Pietro starts the engine. The music's loud, the windows are down, and the sun is baking into the seats. Everything about this should feel light.

But there's a little knot twisting in your stomach. Because even if the day is perfect, you know one thing for sure:

Chloe definitely didn’t like that hug.

You know your sister better than anyone else in the world.

You know the voice she uses when she wants something. The way she curls her hair when she’s feeling insecure. The difference between her real laugh and the one she saves for people she wants to impress. You’ve lived her whole life right next to her–of course you know her.

And you also know that the rule your mother instilled, fairness above all, only really applies when your mom’s around.

When she’s not? Chloe changes. Not in big, monstrous ways. Nothing you could point to and say, “That. That’s the line.” It’s smaller. Sharper.

Like how your clothes start disappearing from your side of the closet, showing up on her Instagram stories. Or how she “borrows” your bracelet without asking your bracelet, the one with your name engraved on it, and then acts like you’re being dramatic for noticing.

She wears your favorite earrings on the night you were finally going to debut them.

She gets closer to your friends than you ever manage to. Laughs louder, pulls them in faster, and suddenly you’re on the outside of your own circle. But it’s Chloe. So you say nothing.

Because you love her. With your whole life. There’s no question about that.

At first, you told yourself it was just typical sibling stuff. Just the cost of being twins. She steals your clothes, you roll your eyes, and that’s the end of it. But it started to twist. To hurt.

Because when you try to wear her stuff? She reacts like you’ve crossed some sacred boundary. Gets defensive. Emotional. Sometimes even begs for it back, like you’re taking something essential from her.

Or when you get too friendly with her friends, the mood shifts. A quiet tension laces her tone. Subtle jabs disguised as jokes. A reminder that you’re trespassing, even when you didn’t mean to.

You gaslight yourself. Tell yourself she doesn’t mean it like that. That this is just how she shows love. That maybe you’re too sensitive.

Because Chloe would never hurt you. Not on purpose.

And you'd never hurt her either.

So you push the thoughts down. Smile. Nod. Let her keep the bracelet. Let her take the seat up front. Laugh when she calls shotgun like she always does.

But deep down, you wonder if it’s always going to be like this, loving someone who doesn’t always know how to love you back without taking a little bit of you in the process.

The car ride is filled with music and laughter, Pietro and Chloe singing their hearts out in the front while Wanda joins in, dramatically belting out lyrics like she's on stage. The energy is electric, but you? You just watch the sun dip behind the trees, painting the sky in soft pinks and deep oranges.

You smile to yourself. This is what you love about summer, not the wild parties or the buzzing chaos, but the break. The feeling of not being buried under textbooks, not having to measure your worth in grades and stress. Just existing, warm and weightless.

Then suddenly the car jerks to a stop.

Pietro twists in his seat, grabbing a pair of sunglasses from the glove box. “Welcome to the Carters,” he announces, sliding them on with a grin. “They throw the wildest parties ever. If I were you ladies, stay close to me or you’ll get lost.”

You glance outside. The house in front of you is massive like old money big. The kind of big that doesn't just say wealth but legacy. Windows spill colorful lights onto the well-manicured lawn, flashing with the beat of the music thumping from inside.

“Well, c’mon, guys! Move your asses,” Wanda urges, already stepping out.

Chloe wastes no time hooking her arm around Pietro’s, her smile bright, her grip possessive. She’s done it a million times before, but now you can’t help but notice the way she subtly presses closer to him.

You go to follow, but Wanda tugs you back, her hand firm on your wrist. Her voice is low but teasing as she leans in, eyes flicking over your hoodie.

“Okay, baby,” she murmurs, “You are not wearing a sweater inside.”

You blink at her, glancing down at yourself. “What? It’s comfortable.”

She scoffs, already peeling it off you before you can protest. “Exactly. And this is not a comfortable night! This is a ‘you look so good people regret their life choices’ night.”

The hoodie is gone before you can fight for it. You stand there, slightly chilled in the warm night air, and Wanda just grins, pleased. “Much better,” she says, looping her arm through yours like you’re her personal VIP guest.

Inside the house, the music gets louder, and the night ahead stretches long and uncertain.

The second the door swings open, it’s like stepping into another world.

Warm air, thick with the scent of sweat, cologne, and whatever someone's smoking in the next room. Music pulses through the floorboards, deep bass that vibrates in your chest, the kind that makes it hard to tell if it's the song or your heartbeat reacting.

The Carter house is packed. Bodies move in rhythm or stumble through rooms in search of their next drink or next mistake. There’s laughter, shouting, clinking glasses and flashes of neon lights that paint everyone in sharp reds, greens, and blues.

Wanda pulls you through the chaos, grinning like the chaos is home.

Chloe and Pietro disappear fast, blended into the crowd like they were meant to be the center of it. Chloe’s laugh rings louder than the music for a second, and you see Pietro throw his arm over her shoulder like he’s telling her something private. Something meant just for her.

You try not to read into it.

“Alright, drink first, survive later,” Wanda says, already handing you a red cup like she summoned it from thin air. You take it, hesitating just a little before sipping. It burns, in that warm, we’re-gonna-regret-this kind of way.

You wander a bit, sticking close to Wanda until someone pulls her into a dance circle. She gives you a “you good?” glance and you nod, slipping toward the edge of the crowd. You’re not ready to jump into the middle of it, not yet.

So you explore.

The house is insane. Tall ceilings, gold-rimmed mirrors, art on the walls that’s probably worth more than your entire tuition. You move through rooms where strangers are making out on couches, playing beer pong with champagne, or dancing like it’s the last night on Earth.

Then you hear your name.

“Y/N!”

You turn, and there’s Pietro. Holding two cups, messy hair, flushed cheeks, and that smile.

“I was gonna find you,” he says, handing you one of the drinks. “Didn’t want you getting lost.”

“Would’ve been tragic,” you tease, accepting the cup.

“You’d be surprised how many people get lost at Carter parties,” he says, his grin widening. “I’ve had to drag Wanda out of a closet once. She claimed it was Narnia.”

You laugh, more genuinely than you expected. The drink helps. Or maybe it’s the way Pietro’s looking at you. Really looking.

“Where’s Chloe?” you ask, careful to sound casual.

Pietro shrugs, sipping his drink. “She ran into someone she knew. Went off dancing. You know her, she’ll reappear dramatically.”

You nod, but there’s something in your chest that tightens. Just a little.

“Come on,” he says suddenly, tugging your hand, “let me show you the balcony view. Best part of this house.” You hesitate but your feet follow. 

The crowd swallows you both for a moment until the hallway clears and the air opens up. He pushes open a pair of glass doors and you're outside, finally able to breathe. The backyard glows with string lights. The sky is almost purple now, the stars peeking through the haze of summer.

“It’s nice, right?” he asks.

You nod, leaning against the railing. “I didn’t think you noticed I wasn’t around.”

Pietro laughs, nudging your shoulder with his. “I notice you more than you think.”

And there’s silence. Not awkward. Not loud.

Just still.

Inside the party roars on, but out here... something else is beginning.

“You know,” Pietro says, voice a little lower now, a little more honest, “I know you and Chloe look alike… but there’s this different glow about you.”

You laugh softly, your shoulder brushing his. “What, you a twin expert now?”

He grins, boyish and smug. “I am a twin, remember? I always tell Wanda I know more than her. I was born twelve minutes earlier, that gives me seniority.”

“Oh, of course,” you play along, eyes rolling. “The wisdom of twelve whole minutes.”

But then he quiets for a moment, gaze softening as he really looks at you.

“Can I?” he asks.

You blink. “Hm?”

He reaches for your hair, his fingers brushing your neck as he gently pulls the tie loose. The ponytail falls apart, your hair sliding over your shoulders like a slow-motion scene in a movie.

“There,” he says, smiling with something that doesn’t feel like flirting. “You’re beautiful that way.”

Your breath hitches just a little, not from shock, but from how gentle it feels. How safe. How unexpected.

The balcony air is warm, but the moment is warmer. And when you look at him, really look at him, you realize there’s nothing performative in his expression. It’s not a line. He’s not looking for a reaction.

He means it.

Inside, the music pulses louder, and you hear laughter echoing down the hallway, maybe Chloe’s, maybe not. But you don’t turn to check.

Because right now, Pietro is standing in front of you like he’s seeing you for the first time. And part of you wonders if this is what it feels like to finally stop standing in someone else’s shadow.

“There you guys are!” Chloe's voice cuts through the balcony air like a spark, all bright and sugary.

You and Pietro jolt ever so slightly, instinctively stepping a bit apart. Not guiltily, but not innocently, either.

She strolls up, practically glowing under the string lights, her energy big and breezy like nothing in the world has ever gone wrong. Her arms find Pietro’s waist like it's second nature, her chin hooking on his shoulder with that practiced kind of closeness that looks effortless but feels.. pointed.

“I can’t believe you left me, Pete!” she pouts, voice dipped in faux betrayal.

Pietro’s smile falters for a split second. “Sorry,” he says, casting a brief glance your way. “I came to look for Y/N too, you know.” His tone is light, but there's something underneath it. A reminder. Maybe even a nudge that She’s your sister, why weren’t you?

Chloe follows his eyes and lands on you. There’s a pause, like she's scanning for something she doesn't quite understand yet.

Then, she smiles. “Like the get-up, sis! You should really keep your hair down more.”

You offer a soft smile back. It’s meant to be kind. It is kind. But there’s this weird echo in it, like the words could mean “you look beautiful” or “who told you you could?”

Before you can figure it out, Chloe claps her hands together. “Well, they're doing shots! Let’s?”

She turns to Pietro, eyes wide and playful, clearly expecting him to come with her. He nods slowly, too slowly. Like his body says yes, but his mind is still back on the balcony with you. Like he doesn’t want to go. But he’s Pietro, and Chloe is Chloe, and saying no has never been the dynamic.

You watch as she tugs him gently toward the door, her hand still looped around him. Just before he disappears inside, he glances back at you. Not long. Not dramatic. But enough. He noticed the moment too. And now it’s floating in the space between the three of you, unseen but undeniably there.

You lean against the railing, cup in hand, and stare down at the glowing yard below, buzzing with students from colleges you’ve never heard of. You sip your drink slowly, letting the sharp taste settle on your tongue like it’s supposed to distract you. It doesn’t.

You’ve been drunk before. You know the haze, the heat, the sudden urge to sing and cry and confess your whole soul to a stranger in a bathroom. But tonight? You’re just floating in it. Present, but not in it.

There’s a hollowness that clings to your ribs. Not from the alcohol. Not from the party. From the fact that Pietro’s laugh still echoes faintly down the hall. From the way Chloe looked at you like she was complimenting you but also claiming her territory.

You’re not mad. Not even jealous, maybe. Just.. lonely.

“You lost?” a voice asks, light and girlish and unfamiliar.

You turn, slightly startled, and find a girl standing in the doorway. She’s blonde, with sleek straight hair tucked behind her ears and a surprisingly genuine smile on her face. She looks like she belongs here in a way you don’t, like this is her natural habitat.

“Oh uh no,” you answer quickly. “I’m not. I just like it here.”

She tilts her head, then walks out to stand beside you at the railing. “Yeah? You don’t think it looks too cliché?”

You glance around. The warm lights, the perfectly curated mess of a rich kid party, the air that smells like jasmine and cheap tequila. You think for a moment.

“I mean, I’m not exactly the ‘eat the rich’ type,” you say honestly, “But no. I don’t think it’s cliché. It’s really beautiful. Whoever owns this place must be kind. Letting people enjoy it like this, sharing the space. That says something, I think.”

The girl blinks, like she didn’t expect that kind of insight from you. Not here. Not at this kind of party.

“What’s your name?” she asks, a new kind of curiosity lighting her features.

“Y/N,” you reply. “You?”

She smiles, slow and a little amused. “I’m Sharon,” she says, reaching for your cup to clink it with hers. “Sharon Carter.”

You pause. And you blink. “You’re the Carter?”

She just grins and leans her elbow on the railing. “Guilty. Though technically this is my aunt’s house. She’s... well, she’s very generous when she’s overseas.”

You stare for a second, surprised but not intimidated. Sharon doesn’t carry herself like someone who wants to be worshipped, just noticed.

“Well, your balcony is stunning,” you tease gently.

“And your energy is refreshing,” she replies, tilting her head. “Let me guess, you’re not a party girl, but someone dragged you here?”

“Something like that,” you say with a small shrug.

Sharon nods knowingly, eyes flicking over your expression, reading it far too well for someone you just met.

“Well, stick with me,” she says, nudging you lightly with her shoulder. “You can ghost the party later, but for now.. I promise not all rich kids are terrible. Some of us even have snacks.”

Sharon leads the way, gliding down the grand staircase like she’s done it a thousand times. The sound of her heels clicking against the marble floors echoes in the large, open space, making everything feel important.

You follow behind her, trying to blend in with the crowd, but there's a noticeable shift. People don’t just glance at Sharon, they notice her. Eyes flick to her as she moves, some nodding in respect, others leaning in to say something. She’s a presence, and you’re suddenly acutely aware of how little you belong in this world of polished socialites and golden smiles.

You catch a few glances thrown your way, and it’s almost like you’re the shadow following someone’s spotlight. You want to shrink away, to become invisible, but you can’t. You won’t, not when Sharon is beside you, calm and sure of herself.

She doesn’t even break a stride. It’s like she’s used to this.

As you walk through the crowd, her head turns just slightly to check on you.

“There’s an after-party after this,” she says casually, like it’s no big deal. “You wanna come?”

You hesitate, unsure of how to answer. You’re not sure where this is going, if Sharon is offering out of politeness or actual interest in hanging out. Either way, you don’t want to feel like you're just tagging along.

“Really? I’m with my sister and two other friends,” you explain, scratching the back of your neck awkwardly. “I don’t wanna leave them, really.”

Sharon’s eyes flicker with a touch of understanding, but her grin remains unaffected, like she didn’t even think twice about it.

“Well, that’s fine,” she says with a shrug. “Bring them along! The more, the merrier, right?”

Well, why not? Right?

a/n: no bucky yet, wait 4 him pls!

[randomshyperson]

darling, can I be your favorite? - wanda maximoff x reader

summary: A game night at Agatha’s takes a chaotic turn when an old truth surfaces - one that Wanda didn’t expect, and one you thought had been buried by time. Sometimes, even the deepest love begs to be reassured.

warnings: jealousy; mentions of past sexual relationships; possessive behavior; magic-fueled argument; emotionally charged sex; explicit smut; fingering; oral sex (f receiving); praise kink; possessive!Wanda; soft aftermath; emotional vulnerability; affectionate teasing; pillow talk; mild angst with comfort; canon divergence. | words: 4.730k

a/n-> I wrote this as a draft, a couple of weeks ago, when I was going through a very intense Agatha's obsession period, and I totally forgot about it. I was not sure I would use it in a bigger fic because I do want to write immortal, vampire, etc y/n's, but since I didn't, you guys can read it while I work on the upcoming series.

General Masterlist | AO3 |

-&-

"Have you ever slept with my wife?"

The question fell like a thunderclap in the middle of a warm evening.

Silence followed it - dense, choking. Even the soft creak of the porch swing seemed to hold its breath.

You froze, arm still slung casually behind Wanda’s chair, the other hand mid-motion with the wine bottle tilted at a precarious angle. Agatha, across from you, mirrored your stillness, eyes wide, glass of red paused just shy of her lips.

Oh, you should’ve known. This was a terrible idea.

Go out with the witches, they said. Catch up. Share a drink. Invite the literal embodiment of Death, what could possibly go wrong?

It was supposed to be a pleasant night. Drinks on the porch, old stories, the comfort of familiar magic humming softly in the twilight air. But among the four of you, it was always hard to tell who had the sharpest claws - or the most fragile ego.

Your gaze flicked briefly to Wanda, who hadn’t moved. Her hand rested lightly on her thigh, but the tension in her knuckles betrayed her. Her eyes were locked onto Agatha with a heat that could’ve ignited the vineyard around you.

Of course, Agatha was the first to recover. That self-satisfied chuckle of hers was the sound of a match striking.

“What?” she said, tossing her curls over one shoulder like this was just another girls’ night and not a potential crime scene in the making. “Sweetheart, what kind of question is that?”

But Wanda didn’t blink. Her tone was even, and that was far more dangerous.

“A simple one, Aggie.” She leaned back, lacing her fingers on her stomach with rehearsed calm. “Did you two ever sleep together?”

You sucked in a slow breath and, with a tight-lipped smile, retracted your arm from behind Wanda’s chair. The bottle met the table with a soft clink as you moved the wine glass slightly out of reach. Your laugh - dry and brittle - escaped before you could stop it.

“Maybe we’ve had enough to drink for tonight. We should probably - ”

“We’re not leaving,” Wanda interrupted sharply, still staring at Agatha, “until she answers.”

You shifted in your seat, mouth already forming another protest when Rio spoke. Her voice was deceptively calm, but the gleam in her eyes was anything but.

“She?” she asked slowly, arms folding on the table, one brow arching. “What, Y/N can’t answer for herself? Or are you implying Agatha would… what? Force something? Be the only one to blame?”

“I didn’t say that,” Wanda replied coldly.

The atmosphere cracked - subtle, like a shift in the wind before a storm. You could feel it, static in your blood.

And then, Wanda turned her head toward you.

"So?" she asked, voice softer now, velvet over steel. “Tell us, darling - did you and Agatha ever sleep together?”

You opened your mouth. Closed it. Looked, maybe a little desperately, at Agatha, who, naturally, had decided to abandon ship entirely. That traitorous witch was lounging back, a slow grin tugging at her lips. She didn’t even bother to hide it. Especially not when Rio’s left hand slid beneath the table and gave her thigh a slow, possessive squeeze.

You watched it happen. You felt it happen. And still, you were the one on the spot.

“Go on,” Rio said, her voice like dark honey. “Tell us if you fucked my wife.”

Your chair scraped loudly against the wood as you stood up, hands raised, gesturing wildly.

“Okay, no - this is a goddamn trap. I’m not stupid. I’m not answering that.”

“Oh, why so jumpy?” Wanda asked, a chuckle breaking through - but it didn’t reach her eyes. “It’s just a silly little question. We’re all friends here.”

“Debatable,” Agatha muttered under her breath. No one acknowledged it.

You laughed again. Hollow. “Nice try.”

“Darling,” Wanda said again, the smile falling away now. Her voice was raw silk. Dangerous. “Answer. My. Question.”

You sighed deeply, raking your hands through your hair. “I’m three hundred years old, Wanda.”

She arched an unimpressed brow. “That’s not what I asked.”

You groaned. Crossed your arms.

“You know I’ve been with other people before I met you.”

Her voice dropped. “Yes. Other people. But that’s not what I asked, either.”

You turned your eyes to Rio, who hadn’t blinked once since the start of this witch trial. She looked positively serene in her menace.

“I…” your throat tightened. “I want to go home.”

Wanda sighed, low and tight. “Darling, I swear - ”

“Oh, for Christ’s sake!” Agatha snapped, standing abruptly, chair legs screeching against the wood. “Yes, Maximoff! Yes, we slept together. A hundred times. For fun. Out of boredom. Just because we could.”

The air trembled as her voice rose, the kind of voice that could split spells in two.

“You have no idea what eternity feels like, alright? We were friends and - what's the word the young ones use now… fuckbuddies, yes? That. We were that. Long before she decided to cross the ocean and play superhero. Then she met you. It's all good. It never meant anything like what I have with Rio. Or what she has with you. So, really, what are you even doing?”

The explosion was literal.

It happened fast. Magic burst like shrapnel. Spells lit the porch in violent flickers. Furniture launched into the air - an end table shattered against the railing, and you ducked just in time to avoid a cursed candlestick flying past your head.

You weren’t even sure who was fighting whom. At one point, you’re almost certain Wanda and Rio turned on each other, until Agatha yanked her wife out of the chaos with a flash of smoke and a hissed incantation. In the confusion, Rio still managed to catch your arm with a glancing slice - a clean little souvenir.

You didn’t even get to say goodbye properly. Just a muttered curse, a strained wave, and the metallic scent of blood on your sleeve as you guided your very pissed-off wife back to the car.

Wanda didn’t speak the whole drive home. Arms folded tight across her chest, lips pressed in a silent pout, gaze locked out the window. You just shook your head the whole way, fingers drumming against the steering wheel, trying to remind yourself that this was fine. That this wasn’t the first magical brawl you’d had to walk away from, and probably wouldn’t be the last.

The boys texted, cheerful and blissfully unaware. Billy, ever the optimist, had been the one to suggest the “moms’ night out.” A bonding experience. Something soft. Easy. He hadn’t accounted for jealousy spells and poorly buried history.

You replied simply:

“All good at Agatha’s. Hope your night was fun too. Love you.”

The house welcomed you with silence. The kind that echoes in corners and stretches across old wooden floors. You locked the door behind you, Wanda already halfway up the stairs without so much as a glance back. Her coat slipped off her shoulders and vanished midair with a lazy flick of magic.

You sighed.

Dropped your keys in the bowl by the door. Followed.

Neither of you spoke as you peeled off your clothes - the remnants of what was supposed to be a cute little night: soft slacks, silky blouses, the faint smell of wine and sandalwood still clinging to the fabric.

It was only once you were both half-undressed in the bedroom, the moonlight casting gentle patterns across the bedspread, that you couldn’t take her silence anymore.

“Wanda,” you said, voice low but sharp. “Can we talk about tonight?”

She stood with her back to you, fingers slowly working the buttons of her blouse. Her voice came clipped. “There’s nothing to say.”

You huffed a dry laugh, arms crossed loosely as you leaned against the edge of the dresser. “For you, maybe. You’ve been ignoring me since we left.”

“I wasn’t ignoring you,” she replied flatly. But she avoided your eyes.

You shot her a look that said really? And she sighed again, softer this time.

“I was thinking.”

You shifted your weight, still watching her. “I don’t like the silent treatment.”

She chuckled bitterly. “And I don’t like that you slept with our friend. But, you know, that’s life.”

“Oh my god.” You groaned, tugging your shirt off in one fluid motion and starting to work on your zipper. “This is absurd. You know that, right?”

“I quite agree,” she said dryly, snapping her gaze away from your exposed skin the second your shirt hit the floor. She turned, flustered, fingers unhooking her bra with brisk determination.

“I’m talking about you, Wanda,” you muttered, voice rising a little. “Getting worked up over something that happened a century ago.”

She barked out a sharp laugh and opened the closet, pulling a nightgown with far more force than necessary. “Worse,” you added, “over something that meant nothing.”

“Yeah, right,” she scoffed, eyes narrowed. “It meant nothing. Yet you did it. Hundreds of times, apparently. Just for fun. Like she said.”

“I didn’t even know you back then!” you snapped, incredulous.

The room pulsed with heat - part frustration, part something else, quieter and more tender. You hadn’t wanted to yell. But there was something under her sarcasm that stung. A crack in the armor.

She didn’t answer right away. Her jaw tightened, and she turned slightly, clutching the fabric of her gown as if it might shield her from this conversation entirely.

But she just gives a short, breathy laugh - a sound too bitter to be real - and shakes her head as she steps out of her pants.

For a fleeting second, the weight of the fight evaporates. There she is. Your wife. Bare but for her dark panties, her body bathed in the soft light coming through the curtains.

And you forget how to be mad. You forget the argument.

Until she turns back toward you, and her eyes, glassy and red at the edges, stop you cold.

The frustration in your chest vanishes instantly. You straighten, step forward, and your voice softens like instinct.

“Darling,” you say, barely above a whisper, your hands cradling her cheeks, “why are you crying?”

She sniffs, lashes fluttering as she tries to blink the tears away. Her gaze avoids yours, but she leans into your touch like her skin remembers you better than her pride does.

“If you don’t talk to me,” you murmur, brushing your thumbs along her cheekbones, “how am I supposed to make it better?”

Her hands rise to your forearms, light and hesitant, like she’s not sure if she’s allowed this comfort. Her cheeks are flushed, and for a long moment, all she does is breathe unevenly.

Then, finally, her voice cracks through the quiet.

“Three centuries is a long time, Y/N,” she begins, barely audible. “I’ve only known you for seven years.”

You don’t interrupt. You just listen.

“I know it’s silly, I know,” she continues, voice wavering, “but… you and Agatha have this thing. This rhythm. This history. She’s always throwing it in my face - how well she knows you, how she can predict you, finish your thoughts. And she’s so - so aggravating about it.”

She laughs weakly, then sniffles again, eyes still not quite meeting yours. “And I just… I’m afraid I’m never going to get there. That I’ll always be this late chapter in your life. That I’ll never matter as much.”

Your heart aches at her honesty.

“Oh, Wanda,” you breathe, pressing your forehead to hers. “That’s not true. That’s not true at all.”

She closes her eyes when you kiss her temple - soft, slow, reverent. Then you pull her close, wrapping your arms around her, grounding her in your warmth.

“I love you so much,” you whisper against her hair. “You know that, don’t you?”

She shakes her head, just barely, and your hands gently guide her face back to yours.

“I do, Wanda. I love you a terrifying amount. And yes, Agatha and I have history. But she’s not more important than you. Just like I’m not more important than Rio.”

Your fingers trace calming circles along her waist as her breathing begins to even out.

“We do love each other - Agatha and I - but it’s a different love. Yes, we had sex. But we never made love. We never broke the laws of nature and brought life into the world like she did with Rio. And I’ve never loved someone like I love you.”

Her eyes search yours now, uncertain and wet. You hold her face again, more firmly this time.

“I’ve lived for centuries, Wanda. But it’s only with you that I’ve felt truly alive. Happy. Like I belong somewhere.”

You kiss the corner of her lips, soft and slow.

“I don’t know where these insecurities came from,” you murmur, brushing her tears away with your thumbs, “but I’ll spend every day proving you wrong. Every single day, I’ll remind you how loved you are. What do you say to that?”

Your attempt at lightness breaks the tension just enough. She lets out a teary little laugh and bumps her forehead gently against yours.

“I say…” she whispers, voice trembling, “you better start now.”

She leans in first, lips brushing yours without urgency, just breath and warmth and something far too tender to rush. You both stay like that for a while - nose to nose, hands resting lightly on bare skin, letting the quiet carry all the weight words couldn’t.

When your hands begin to move, it’s with a slowness that almost feels sacred. You know exactly where to touch - where her skin burns hotter, where she arches, where she melts. Your fingers trail down her back, pausing just long enough to tease, before pressing into her hips and lifting her effortlessly into your lap.

She doesn’t stop kissing you - deep and unhurried, her tongue moving against yours with the kind of longing that makes your bones ache. She moans softly when you break the kiss just long enough to ask:

“Shower or bed?”

But the way she clutches your jaw and kisses you harder is answer enough. You're lucky you made it as far as the bed.

She falls back against the mattress with a gasp, her hair fanned out like a halo in disarray. You move to follow, but she tugs you down with her, mouth never leaving yours, legs wrapping tightly around your waist.

The friction when your bodies align makes both of you shudder. Clothes half-on, half-off, hearts racing, and breath hitching.

You look down at her - cheeks flushed, pupils blown, lips kiss-bruised - and think this is what eternity was always meant to feel like.

Your lips trail down Wanda’s throat, lingering at the base where her pulse jumps under your mouth. Her fingers tangle in your hair, her legs tightening around you with a quiet urgency she hasn’t put into words yet.

She’s warm, flushed, her skin humming under your palms. Every breath she takes is just a little shakier, a little more desperate - and it draws something low and primal from inside you.

You kiss along her collarbone, slow and reverent, until her breath hitches and she arches up to meet you.

“You’re so beautiful,” you whisper against her skin, your voice already rough with want. “So, so beautiful, Wanda…”

She exhales shakily, but instead of softening, something sharper slips into her expression. Her hand cradles your cheek for just a second, thumb brushing the corner of your mouth, and then she says - quiet but certain - “I want you to forget her.”

You blink, breath catching.

She leans up to kiss you - not gently, this time, but deep, wet, almost possessive. Her fingers clutch at your sides, pulling you tighter against her until there’s no air left between your bodies.

“I want to be the only one you remember,” she whispers into your mouth. “The only one who ever made you feel like this.”

Her hips roll up against yours, grinding with slow, aching precision, and the friction makes you gasp.

You answer with your hands, gripping her thighs, pushing them apart just a little further. Her panties are soaked, clinging to her, and the heat of her against you makes your whole body throb.

“You are,” you breathe, your voice uneven. “You already are, Wanda - fuck - there’s never been anyone like you.”

But it’s not enough. Not for her.

“Then prove it,” she says.

Her fingers curl into the waistband of your underwear and tug - insistent, wordless. She strips you down without hesitation and pushes her own panties off in a single, impatient motion. The moment you’re bare, she pulls you into her again, gasping at the skin-to-skin contact, her legs locking around you like she needs to keep you there, tethered, owned.

“Say it again,” she whispers, her mouth at your ear now, her nails dragging lightly down your back. “Say you love me.”

“I love you,” you murmur into her hair. “God, I love you.”

Your hand slips between you, fingers finding her soaked and aching. She shudders as you circle her clit, your strokes slow and deliberate. Her hips stutter, trying to chase more, but you keep the rhythm steady.

She whines in frustration and grabs your wrist.

“Inside,” she pants. “Now. I want you inside me.”

You oblige - because how could you not? You push in slowly, letting her stretch around you, savoring the way her breath trembles and her eyes flutter closed.

She gasps when you're fully inside her, her arms wrapping around your shoulders as if anchoring herself to this moment, this feeling.

“You feel so good,” she moans, her voice breaking into a breathless laugh. “So good - better than anyone else, right?”

You thrust slowly, deliberately deep. “Wanda…”

“Say it,” she demands again, her voice strained. “I want to hear you say I’m better than her.”

Your breath catches as you rock your hips into her again, and she tightens around you at the praise in your voice.

“You are,” you groan. “You’re better. The best. No one’s ever made me feel like this.”

She moans, high and desperate, nails digging into your back now, and you love the way she falls apart when she feels worshipped.

You keep the pace slow but deep, driving into her with just enough power to make her eyes roll back. She keeps clinging, gasping, her legs wrapped tight and her lips seeking yours over and over like she’s scared you’ll disappear.

“You're mine,” she says through gritted teeth, her voice raw. “Say it.”

“I’m yours,” you gasp, thrusting harder now. “Only yours, Wanda. Always.”

Something breaks in her then. She pulls you down into a messy, desperate kiss, hips jerking against your hand in time with your rhythm. You can feel her building - her walls fluttering, breath hitching, thighs trembling.

“Don’t stop,” she cries. “Don’t stop, don’t stop - ”

You don’t. You couldn’t if you tried.

Her release crashes over her like a wave - her whole body arching, a broken moan leaving her throat as she clings to you like she’ll drown without your touch.

You groan against her neck, the world blurring around you both.

After, when you’re breathless and tangled and coated in sweat, she still refuses to let you go. Her fingers rest lightly on your spine, her cheek pressed to your shoulder, and her voice - softer now - fills the silence.

“I meant it,” she murmurs. “I want to be your best. Your only.”

You press a kiss to her temple, still catching your breath, and answer simply:

“You are.”

Wanda doesn’t wait this time.

The moment you’re fingers move out, she shifts you both on the bed, her thighs straddle your hips, and her fingers grip your wrists, pushing them into the mattress above your head. Her eyes - glassy, burning - search yours with something between a challenge and a plea.

“Let me,” she says, barely above a whisper. “Let me use you. I need to feel it.”

Your heart stutters. You nod. You’d give her anything.

Wanda kisses you - fierce, almost bruising - and she grinds down against your stomach, soaking and needy, desperate for friction. Her breath hitches, and she breaks the kiss just long enough to sit up on your lap. The sight is devastating - her flushed chest rising and falling, her thighs tight around you, her fingers trembling as she reaches between her legs to line herself up with your thigh.

She doesn’t ride your fingers. She doesn’t ask for your mouth.

She rides your body.

The slick heat of her folds drags along your skin as she rocks forward, her hands planted firmly on your chest. She sets the rhythm, grinding her clit against your hip bone like she’s chasing something she’s been denied for years.

You moan under her, completely helpless to do anything but watch her fall apart.

“I want to hear you,” she breathes, her voice already breaking. “I want to hear you say it.”

“Say what?” you manage to ask, breathless, utterly entranced by the way she moves - by the way her wetness smears across your skin, by the needy roll of her hips.

“That I’m better,” she pants, leaning down again, her mouth hovering over yours. “That I’m better than her. That you’ve never felt this way with anyone else.”

You blink up at her, stunned by the sharp ache in her voice.

Then you speak - raw and reverent.

“You’re the best I’ve ever had, Wanda. No one’s even close. No one’s ever touched me like this, made me feel like this. It’s you. Only you.”

A sound leaves her throat - half gasp, half sob - and her pace falters for just a moment before picking up again, faster now. She leans into your shoulder, moaning as she grinds against you, desperate, frantic, like she’s trying to brand the memory into both your skins.

Her walls flutter around nothing, her clit dragging over the line of your hip, and you can feel how close she is - how badly she wants to come from this alone.

You free your hands from hers gently and cup her face, guiding her to look at you again. “Let me touch you,” you whisper.

She nods, dazed, panting. “Yes - God, yes - please - ”

You flip her with ease - just enough to roll her under you - and immediately settle between her thighs. She moans at the shift, at the sudden emptiness, but then you’re there - mouth warm, hands steady, tongue pressed flat and slow against her soaked folds.

Wanda cries out, her back arching off the bed.

You hold her hips still as you suck her clit into your mouth, slow and deep, and you swear she’s trembling already.

“You taste like fucking heaven,” you murmur, lips brushing her as you speak. “This is mine, Wanda. No one else’s. I’ll spend the rest of my life proving that to you if I have to.”

She’s already shaking her head, eyes squeezed shut, too overwhelmed to answer - but you don’t stop.

You fuck her with your mouth until she’s begging. Until her fingers clutch at the sheets, then at your hair, and her thighs start to close around your head.

“I’m gonna - oh God, Y/N - fuck, I’m - ”

She comes with a choked moan, clit pulsing against your tongue. But you don’t stop.

You moan softly as you keep licking her through it - slower, deeper, dragging it out until her legs tremble violently under your grip.

“Too much - ” she whines, trying to squirm away, but you pin her hips down, unrelenting, drunk on the taste of her.

“You said you wanted me to never forget,” you murmur, tongue still working her oversensitive flesh. “I’m making sure of it.”

Her next orgasm builds too fast. It rips through her with a sob, her fingers tangled in your hair like she’s holding on for dear life. Her voice breaks open as she moans your name, high and hoarse and wrecked.

When you finally pull away, her chest is heaving, her thighs soaked and twitching, her body flushed all over like she’s burning from the inside.

You crawl back up to her, kiss her slowly, and wipe her tears with your thumbs again.

And when her trembling fingers cup your cheek, she whispers, raw and hoarse:

“Mine.”

You kiss the corner of her lips. “Yours,” you promise. “Always yours.”

The air is thick with heat and the scent of sex, but it’s the quiet that lingers most.

Wanda lies boneless against you, one leg thrown over your hip, her cheek pressed to your shoulder, lips parted against your skin as she catches her breath. You hold her close, tracing lazy shapes along her spine, the softness of her skin still slightly damp beneath your fingertips.

Neither of you rushes to speak. It’s a sacred kind of silence. The kind that feels earned.

Eventually, you feel Wanda shift - just enough to rest her chin on your chest and glance up at you with glassy, blissed-out eyes. She’s flushed and glowing, her hair a wild mess over her face, and you grin as you tuck a strand behind her ear.

“You okay?” you murmur, voice husky but gentle.

She nods slowly. “Better than okay.” Her smile is sleepy, but a little shy, too. “Did I… go too far?”

You blink, then laugh softly, lifting your hand to cup her cheek. “Wanda. That was hot as fuck. If that’s what jealous and possessive feels like, I might have to make Agatha say something smug more often.”

Wanda gasps and hides her face in your chest, groaning. “Y/N!”

You laugh louder this time, wrapping your arms around her and pulling her close. “I’m kidding. Mostly.”

She mumbles something against your skin, clearly flustered, and you kiss the top of her head.

“But seriously,” you say, quieter now, “we didn’t cross any lines. You didn’t hurt me. I didn’t push too much?”

Wanda shakes her head, nuzzling against you with a soft sigh. “You were perfect. You always are.”

“Debatable,” you whisper with a crooked grin, earning a small swat to your side.

You let the moment settle again before you shift just slightly, enough to look into her eyes.

“I get it, you know,” you murmur. “I really do.”

Wanda frowns softly. “Get what?”

“The feeling,” you admit, your voice dipping into something more vulnerable. “Of wondering if someone else meant more. If you’ll ever measure up to something you weren’t part of.”

You pause. Breathe. Let the words come slowly.

“Sometimes I think about Vision. The Mind Stone. That… connection you two had. And the twins - before they were mine, before I got to call them ours. I wonder if I’ll ever compare to what you had with him. If you’ll ever look at me the way you looked at him.”

Her breath hitches, and you almost regret saying it. Almost.

But then she cups your face and kisses you - slow, deep, and full of something so real it nearly brings tears to your eyes.

When she pulls back, she presses her forehead to yours and whispers, “I’ve never looked at anyone the way I look at you. Never loved anyone the way I love you.”

You blink hard. Your throat tightens.

“He wasn’t my soulmate, Y/N,” she says. “He was comfort. He was safety. He gave me something when I was lost. But you… you found me. You brought me back to life. You’re the one who made me feel again.”

You don’t say anything at first. You just wrap your arms around her, tighter than before, and bury your face in her hair.

“I don’t care what fate or magic or some glowing rock decided,” she murmurs. “I choose you. Every time.”

Your voice is a little wrecked when you speak. “God, I love you.”

She smiles against your cheek. “I know.”

You pull back just enough to look at her again. “And just so we’re clear,” you add, grinning as you lean in close, your voice dipping with playful warmth, “you’re also definitely the best I’ve ever had.”

Wanda rolls her eyes, blushing to her ears. “Stop.”

“Never.”

You both dissolve into quiet giggles, tangled up in each other like vines, warm and safe and endlessly close. And even with everything unsaid still lingering in the shadows, what remains between you feels stronger than ever.

There’s no need to rush. Tonight, you’ve got time.

And tomorrow, too.

[sacredsorceress]

in this home / logan howlett

PAIRING: logan howlett x f!witch!reader

SUMMARY: after the avengers disbanded, you were left with no direction. what happens when you save a certain mutant from the brink of death and invite him and his daughter into your home? (or rather, co-parenting and falling in love with Logan to give him and Laura the life they never had)

WC: 9.1 k

WARNINGS: SLOWWWWW burn, use of y/n, witchcraft (mcu style. i started this during agatha), hopelessness, mentions of death, injuries, nightmares, reader nearly getting killed, guns, a wannabe murderer, violence, blood, angst but also fluff!!

logan masterlist | inbox | masterlist

☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆

What most stories fail to discuss is what happens after the day is saved. They complete with a delicate happily ever after, wrapped in a bow and shipped off to the Void where the characters, presumably, live in domestic bliss for the remainder of their days.

You wish that were the case.

What they don't discuss is the mourning once the adrenaline has worn off- a gnawing grief that brings you to the knees in the middle of cooking dinner and a pain in your chest that renders you dizzy. They don't discuss they days you feel numb, sitting in the driver's seat of the car with nowhere to go.

You had spent years devoted to the Avengers. In a way, all you knew was saving people. But with Thanos defeated, fifty percent of the population returned to their loved ones, and the team disbanded, you were left with nowhere to go.

Some say if people no longer talk about a thing, it ceases to exist. With your name out of papers and no longer slipped into children's nighttime prayers, you wondered if maybe that were true.

Certain people, however, kept you from fading into the abyss as you knew it.

It was a Sunday morning and the cafe you sat in was packed. Between Sam Wilson being late and the awkward shuffle to steal a table the moment another couple sat up, you had almost gone home.

The conversation had been pleasant but you drifted in and out of focus, not being able to forget what this same conversation would have been like before.

Glancing out the window, you felt as if you were trapped within an aquarium.

The sharp, fluorescent lighting above had given you a migraine and the sounds of innocent forks scraping cake off their plates sounded like nails on a chalkboard in your ears. The passerbys laughing with their friends on the sidewalk shook you as if you were in a snow globe- as though everyone was living, moving... going someplace-while you were bound.

Sam's hand waved in front of you, breaking you from your thoughts.

"You could work for the government?" Sam suggested. He leaned back in his seat and pointed two thumbs at himself. "You've got an in."

You snorted. For several reasons, you'd have to decline but you imagine that sharing the same skillset as Wanda Maximoff would not go over well with the government.

Bringing a piping hot cup of coffee to your lips, you shook your head.

"No thanks."

Sam waved his hands in the air as if to brush off the suggestion entirely.

"Alright," Sam said, tapping his finger against his chin as if to think. "What about dating? My sister met her boyfriend on Tinder. Have you tried that?"

You raised your eyebrow at him as if to ask, "really?"

"I'm serious!" Sam defended. "Some lovin' could be good for you."

Besides the fact that that sentence alone made you throw up a little in your mouth, you couldn't think of anything less appealing.

Not to be a snob, but you weren't sure if the bright-eyed men holding fish in their photos and promising to let you steal their sweatshirt were right for a woman like you. In the past few years you had become a reclusive storm with trauma a mile long. Sprinkle in the fact that you were a former Avenger who dealt with the threat of danger and uncertainty daily, that was a recipe for disaster.

Who could deal with a life like that?

You shuffled in your seat.

"Can we change the subject?" You asked, clearing your throat.

Sam looked at you for a moment before leaning in. His arms laid crossed on the table as his voice lowered.

"Listen, I get. I do." He said, glancing at the passerbys. "But when Tony left you that land, he didn't want you to sit around and be alone forever, okay? You're alive and you've got some pretty cool wizard-"

"Witch-"

"Whatever, powers." Sam finished. "You think Nat or Steve would want you to sit around and mourn them?"

Despite how you failed to meet his eyes, instead opting to look at the dregs of your coffee at the bottom of its glass, his words hit you deep.

He was right.

"No," You said. "but I don't know what to do, Sam. What's next for me?"

Sam leaned back in his seat and shrugged.

"The whole damn multiverse is open." He sighed, lifting his own mug up to his lips. "You'll find something."

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A divination witch set you on your path.

Since breakfast, you hadn't been able to shake off your conversation with Sam. After your fellow Avengers' deaths, it had almost felt wrong to do something for yourself. Why did you get to live while the others perished?

But now you wondered how upset they would be to find out you had become a living ghost. You couldn't bear their disappointment.

It took you three fake fortune tellers before you found a proper witch in a hole in the wall shopfront. The pleasantries were short before her power overcame her.

Her eyes rolled back as the candles scattered about flickered. The light above you flashed as the bulb exploded, raining glass over your head. With a pen in hand, she scribbled on the paper in front of her. You listened to the etching of lead against paper while shielding yourself from the falling pieces of glass.

In an instant, as if you had imagined it, the lights fell back to their usual dim appearance, the rumbling stopped and she cleared her throat, suddenly composed.

She handed you that same piece of paper and sent you on your way.

Now, as the sun set beyond the horizon you skimmed the paper once more. Your candles had been lit and the aroma of the potion that had used up most of your stores wafted throughout the space, gurgling in its cauldron. Your symbols had been etched on the floor, written with your fingers dripped into the prior substance.

Now all that was left was the setting sun.

Check.

It was now or never.

With a deep breath you sat on the floor. The wood creaked beneath you as you did, as if your home could feel the weight of the spell you were about to cast- the future you were about to create. You crossed your legs into an all too familiar position and laid your hands palm-up on your knees.

The beat of your heart quickened in your chest, uncertainty threatening to take hold. You took a shaky break and cleared your throat. The silence of the room made it echo in your ears.

You closed your eyes.

"Oh maiden, mother, crone,

Show my path

written in thy stone."

The floor rumbled beneath you. A breeze filtered in through the opened window and brushed against you, raising your skin. You heard the sound of wood creaking, churning as if the house were renovating itself- expanding and rearranging the makeup of your walls. Finally, and most odd of all, you heard a lock click.

You turned around.

A door had appeared in your once solid wall.

☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆

So this is what it feels like.

When Logan opened his eyes, he was greeted by a warm, inviting light. The evening sun had begun to peak through the windows of the bedroom, leaving shadows on his arm from where the blinds stood, weakly shielding him from its rays. A jazz song hummed from the distance, luring Logan with its melodic keys.

The first thing he noticed was the lack of pain. The last Logan remembered, he was impaled by a branch- body beaten beyond return. Laura was holding him, the children were safe, and for the first time, he learned what it was like to die.

After all the stories that he had heard, Logan thought that this was it. What comes next. Peace.

It took a bit of effort for him to get his eyes open- something he had experienced more than a handful of times after a particularly strong night drinking. At first, all he saw was light. Blinking a few more times a familiar figure came into clarity:

"Laura?"

His voice was raspy and he felt his vocal chords scrape against one another, dry. Just as he had made out Laura’s figure, she ran from the room.

Logan rubbed at his eyes with his left hand as he gripped the sheets with his right.

"Laura?" He called again. "Kid?"

Finally gaining clarity, Logan discovered that he was in a bedroom. The rocking chair that Laura had been in moments before sat facing him and continued to creek forwards and back after she had left. Throughout the room, various books and bottles littered every surface.

Before he had time to process, you came bolting into the room with Laura at your heel. The mutant rubbed at his eyes, as the image of the two of you wobbled in his vision. Logan, upon your entrance, attempted to lift himself up with a groan.

"Hey... hey." You cooed, gently easing Logan back into bed. "Easy tiger. Relax."

Laura took her place at his side as your soft hands laid against his bare chest.

"Relax?" Logan asked, a dry laugh escaping his throat. "Listen lady, I thought I was fucking dead. Where the hell am I?"

If there was one thing that Logan was terrible at- it was relaxing. And also probably mathematics if he really thought about it, but after nearly dying and being tasked with saving a dozen kids, relaxing was about the last thing on his mind.

He was tempted to fight back. Afterall, you were a stranger and it was rare that one of those had the best intentions with him. That was until he saw Laura- safe and clean and, most importantly, calm- looking up at him with her doe eyes.

The last time he saw her this calm was with Charles. He felt a pang in his chest.

"She fixed you." Laura said as she glanced between Logan and yourself. "She's magic."

Logan furrowed his eyebrows, pulling his eyes away from Laura to look at you.

One of your hands remained on Logan's chest while the other flipped through a spell book on the bedside table. Your hand was gentle against his skin, encouraging him to relax without forcing him into the pillow. Your face was scrunched, focused on the passage below and yet, you seemed perfectly calm. It was odd almost. Logan couldn't remember the last time a person, especially a mutant, had been relaxed in his presence.

A part of him, albeit a one that often failed in the fight for dominance, was relieved to relinquish himself to you. He had fought, and fought, and fought, and fought. And, god, it didn't matter how many times Logan's body healed himself- he was tired. Exhausted.

If it weren't for Laura, after two hundred years, he was ready to die in the middle of that forest.

"Where am I?"

Shifting your attention back to logan, you placed your hands on your hips- leaving the spot on his chest where your hand had once been cold.

You and Laura exchanged looks and the girl giggled quietly.

"Well, the short answer is upstate New York." You responded with a flair, watching as his eyebrow arched. "More specifically? You're in a different universe."

Huh?

Logan glanced between you and Laura. A silence hung in the air as you both looked at him with playful grins on your faces.

Logan had been unconscious for about a week while his body healed. In that time, you had watched over Laura- explaining the different universes, your magic, and the way those with abilities were perceived in your world. By now, this had become home. Logan, however, would need a bit more convincing.

When he realised the both of you were being serious, a congested laugh left his throat.

"Oh c'mon." Logan chuckled in his gravely voice. "I must've hit my head real fucking hard-"

"-She's not lying!" Laura interrupted, squeezing Logan's arm enough to draw blood. "It's safe. Look."

Laura picked up his hand and held it in front of his face.

His wrinkles had vanished, elasticity restored in his skin. His scars had faded into nonexistence. The spot where Laura had just drew blood healed quickly, erasing any trace of injury. He watched the edges of his skin lace together again, born anew.

“How…” Logan began, noting how the callouses on his hands had seemingly disappeared. “How in the hell did you do that?”

You smiled.

“A magician never reveals her secrets.”

Logan continued to stare at you incredulously, his mind racing, trying to make sense of the matter at hand. Despite you never having done something this drastic before, you had seen this look your fair share of times and understood it well.

As the sun continued setting in the distance, the light peeking in had become more faded by the minute. With a wave of your hand, you shut the blinds, and the candles littering the space had alit at once with a resounding "whoosh".

Logan, more confused than ever, tugged at the bedsheet that had laid over him, kicking his feet over the side of the bed with a humph.

Laura had told you that he would be difficult... stubborn even. The life that he had lived, albeit longer, was not unfamiliar to yours. It was hard to trust and more difficult to accept comfortability. Even after being comatose for a week, in autopilot fashion he was onto his next mission. Despite you not affording the same grace to yourself, you weren't going to let that happen to him.

“Laura, honey,” You said. “Why don’t you let your dad and I talk a bit, okay?”

The child glanced between you and her father before nodding and making her way from the room. The door shut behind her with a click.

The air in the room felt thick. You could feel Logan's eyes burning a hole right through you.

You cleared your throat.

"Look, I'm sure you've got a lot of questions-"

The man ran one of his hands through his tussled hair while the other scratched his overgrown beard. As messy as he was in this state, a deeper part of you couldn't help but think of him as the definition of rugged.

"You think?" Logan quipped sarcastically. "Where's the rest of 'em?"

The other mutant children.

"They're here too." You said, crossing the room to your rocking chair. "I'm part of this sort of ... uh... organization.. for people like us. With special abilities. When I ended up in your universe and came back here, I contacted some people I knew and they've adopted them. We're starting a school for them too, but otherwise they're going to grow up like any other kid. Not soldiers." You crossed your legs, allowing the old wooden chair to creek back and forth. "They deserve it."

Logan couldn't help a scoff that escaped him. A light, tired smile fell to his lips as he thought of a new school for mutant kids. The old Logan would have laughed, but with the death of the professor remaining a fresh wound, it felt like a relief.

You did what he couldn't.

"A school, huh?" He asked.

You smiled.

"A school."

For a moment, silence hung in the air. The only sound was the persistent creak of wood emanating from your rocking chair.

"Logan, I-" You pierced the silence.

"I'll take the kid and get out of your hair in the morning."

And there it was.

What you had been fearing the past week.

"Logan," You treaded carefully, fearful that one wrong movement would send him out the door. "Don't. I'm serious when I say that I want you here. I... it's been nice."

He looked at you quizzically. As if a cartoon lightbulb had flashed with an animated ding! above him, the answer came.

"That uh... what did you call it? Organization?" He pondered, looking at you solemly. "Let me take a guess- it's not around anymore?"

A silence hung in the air once more.

"Let me take a guess," You said just above a whisper. "Yours isn't either?"

His unresponsiveness answered your question.

"Right, well," you said, ceasing your rocking. "If you want to go, I won't keep you here. I'll help you out in whatever way you need to get your life started. But between us... I like the company."

You pushed yourself to your feet.

"I'm going to go start dinner." You announced, slipping towards the door. "Think it over and let me know."

☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆

Laura was perched in front of the television while you sat planted behind her, braiding her damp hair. The blue light of the television reflected off of her face as she absentmindedly shoved popcorn into her mouth— focused solely on the screen.

Above the crunching of popcorn kernels you heard Logan's sock padded feet make their way into the room.

His hair was still wet and you could tell that he had tried to tame it by brushing his fingers through either side, sticking it up.

Logan smiled when he was greeted by you and Laura dressed in pajamas watching some princess movie on the television. Although he would never be caught dead in pants with ice-skating penguins on them, instead adorned in the matching gray sweatpants and t-shirt you laid out on the bed for him, he found it.. comforting. One would even say "cozy" and "domestic" if they had it in their vocabularies, to which Logan did not.

All he knew was this was a far cry from what he had been experiencing the week prior.

"Hey," You smiled up at him, nudging your head to the next room. "Dinner's in the dining room. I'll be there in a minute once I finish up her hair."

He wanted to argue about how you didn't need to make dinner for him or, better yet, spend the effort to come keep him company, but Logan knew better.

And, to be completely transparent, he didn't want to say no.

Logan instead nodded and pushed himself off the wall he had been leaning against. He moved towards the dining room, grabbing a handful popcorn from Laura's bowl as he went past.

"Hmph!" She snarled, snatching it back.

Logan shrugged and shoved a few kernels into his mouth, "Taxes."

You giggled as you watched the two of them interact, tying off Laura's hair.

"All good to go, missy." You announced.

In the dining room, the candle that you had left burning on the table illuminated Logan's face. The warm tones of the flame highlighted the curve of his nose and the reddened blush on his cheeks from the warmth of the space. An old jazz song played on the record player as Logan leaned back in his seat, taking a sip from the glass of whiskey you had left for him on the table.

When he heard your footsteps, Logan looked up and tipped the glass towards you.

"How'd you know?"

You shrugged, pulling out the chair beside him.

"Lucky guess."

Leaning forward in his seat, Logan placed the glass back down on the table. The silence between you was comfortable- your feet resting on the rungs of his chair as the melody from the record filled the room.

Logan leaned forward and took a bite from the plate you had laid out, humming as he did.

"You made this?" He asked, mouth full.

You leaned forward, inspecting his plate.

"Well yeah," You responded warily. "Is it okay? I've just been cooking for myself the past few years so it might not-"

"You kidding?" He responded with a chuckle that came from deep within his chest. "I can't remember the last time I had a home cooked meal."

You smiled.

"Well I don't remember the last time I had someone to share it with."

The comment came out before you had the time to quite think about it. You had only really met this man hours ago and here you were, feeding, clothing him, and having an air of intimacy surrounding you both that was owed to a pair who had known each other far longer.

To your relief, a crooked smile rose to Logan's face as he shook his head.

The two of you sat in silence, Logan eating his meal as you relaxed into your seat, letting the music soothe you. The noise from the television playing in the other room periodically carried into the one you sat in but you, and unbeknownst to you, Logan, found solace in it. The company, the warmth of sitting close to someone, and the mashup of various sounds were a comforting reminder that you weren't alone.

After a moment, Logan cleared his throat.

"I'll go find some work tomorrow."

"Logan, you really don't have to-"

He shot you a look- eyebrows raised and lips drawn in a thin line- that told you that he was firm in this.

"Listen," He said. "I appreciate all this, but if the kid n' I are gonna stay, I need to do something, alright? Let me help."

You nodded, biting back your smile at his decision to remain.

"There's a lumberyard up the road if that's your thing." You said bringing a glass to your lips. "The owner's always complaining he can't find new guys out here."

Logan scooped up another bite with his fork.

"That'll work."

"Good." You said with a smile. "Then it's settled. Your new life starts tomorrow."

Or was it today?

☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆

At the end of the first week, Laura's nightmares began.

Her screams- not of her usual rage, but of sadness... fear- would pull you and Logan from your slumber. You'd rush from your bedrooms on opposite ends of the hall towards Laura. His hands would reach for the knob first, but you'd be at her bedside in an instant, brushing past him.

He'd flick on the light as you brushed her hair from her forehead, cooing her awake.

"Laura, honey, it's a dream." You said, shading her from the light as she opened her eyes. "We're right here."

We.

It was the first time that you referred to you and Logan as a pair. A team. The other half that made you whole.

It became the same pattern every night. You'd wake up to her cries, rush to her aid, then read with her until she fell asleep. With you both within reach, she'd fall peacefully back to sleep- staying that way until the morning.

This night, when you went to tuck Laura in, however, you never made it back to your beds. With either of her hands, she held onto one of your wrists, urging you to stay with her as she fell asleep. The look on her face could melt even the Wolverine's heart, how did you stand a chance?

You and Logan made room for each other at the edge of the bed, sitting side by side with your backs against the baseboard. There were whispered sorrys and mumbles of discomfort as elbows collided with ribs and knees with shins.

"Kid did this on purpose." Logan grumbled.

Before you could ask why, his arm wrapped around your shoulder, alleviating the discomfort as you melted into his side.

"There."

At first you stiffened, in unfamiliar territory with the man you had only just met a week ago, but as you heard Laura's breathing turn to snores, you relaxed into his chest.

You could hear how his breath rattled in his chest, your head rising and falling with each inhale. You couldn't help but smile at the fact that Logan smelt like the body wash and shampoo you had left in the bathroom specifically for him. But not the conditioner. You should have guessed.

The nightlight in the corner spun, casting silhouettes of horses around the room. It looked as if they were running, chasing after one another but never able to reach the finish line.

The light ran over Logan's face, highlighting the scruff he had missed from that morning. His head had tilted back against the board, his eyes closed shut. You thought that if he had been normal, you would have noted razor burn on his neck.

With Laura's snores and Logan's eased breathing, you felt your eyes begin to lull, luring you into the sleep you so desperately craved. Laying your head on Logan's chest completely, you surrendered yourself to the wave of exhaustion.

Logan felt your head fall lower on his chest and your body go limp in his arms. As your breathing slowed, your hands fell into his lap and your leg draped over his.

He wanted to laugh. Really, he did, but the idea of waking either of his girls up stopped the laugh in its track, it falling to a scoff that just barely escaped his lips.

If only the man he was two weeks ago could see him now- tucking his daughter into bed and falling asleep with a woman in his arms all without a single worry in the world. Maybe he was dead and somehow made it to heaven.

But then he remembered his imagination couldn't make up a woman like you. One who took him in without a second thought, who worried about if he ate enough, who bought him new clothes because "they reminded me of you". Logan hadn't been able of conceiving normalcy. That, he left to you.

But he was still learning you then.

It was in that moment that his heart skipped a beat for the first time as your face nuzzled into his neck, hair brushing against his cheek. It was such a shocking feeling- one he hadn't known in decades- that his hand flew to his chest.

Then he realized- it was you. You did that to him.

Fuck.

☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆

After a month, Logan got his own vehicle: a truck with a front bench seat. Although it was old and a bit beat up, he took pride in it. And besides, you would’ve been lying if you said your ears didn’t perk up every time you heard that rusty door slam signaling his return from work.

Without thinking, all three of you had fallen into a routine. Laura, who had been playing in the front yard after school, would run up to her father, roping him into whatever she had been getting up to that afternoon. You, hearing the truck's engine turn off and the playful giggles of Laura, would find yourself on the porch watching the two of them- shawl wrapped cozily around your shoulders as you brought a hot drink to your lips.

And whether it was while he was drawing the most awful scribble you've ever seen in chalk, or roughhousing on the front lawn, you'd manage to catch Logan's eye.

What you didn't know, was that Logan had his own routine. He'd join Laura in whatever she doing, but when he heard that squeak of the hurricane door opening, signalling your arrival to the scene? He was like a dog. Logan would pause whatever he was doing, looking up to meet your eyes.

Only when you gave him the same, warm smile that he thought about morning, noon, and night, did he find the permission to continue what he had been doing prior.

He'd go back to passing the ball to Laura, giving her pointers on her throw, or pushing her on the tire swing he'd set up a week earlier; but now he had an added pep in his step knowing your watchful gaze was on him. It wasn't daunting, but peaceful, warm, and comfortable. It made him want to be better... do better.

It was always in him, but your faith in Logan is what brought out his potential.

Jean always said he had a soft spot for women. The same bitter resolve Logan reserved for the rest of the population would dissipate in the presence of the opposite sex- a remanent of a bygone era maybe. Maybe.

When the sun began to set- "God damn daylight savings," Logan would grumble- all three of you would begin to head inside, the warm glow of the house inviting the three of you in. Sometimes Logan would hold the door open for you, insisting he be the last to go in and lock up.

You figured it was chivalry. He knew it was the care and concern that had grown for not only Laura, but you.

Alternatively, you'd sometimes catch him before he crossed the threshold. You'd watch Laura skip out of earshot, and gently grab Logan's arm.

The feeling of your touch against his skin was foreign yet familiar, but most certainly welcomed. The absentminded rub of your thumb against the fabric of his shirt was enough to make his heart sink in his chest. Then, you'd look up at him with thankful eyes, peeking beneath your eyelashes and he'd wonder whether he'd physically be able to restrain himself much longer.

You'd comment on something you watched him do and remind him how good he was. But once, in a moment Logan would never forget, as the two of you watched your girl run inside, you snaked your arm around his back.

"We're lucky to have you, you know?"

Logan, stunned, wasn't sure what to respond, but luckily you didn't give him the space to.

"Now, what are we thinking for dinner? I'm starving."

Still, he waited for your foot to cross the threshold before he allowed himself to enter.

That night when Logan went to sleep, the interaction played over and over in his mind. He could feel the ghost of your touch against his skin as he fell asleep to the lullaby of your soft voice reminding him that you were his.

☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆

After how many years does a person stop remembering their own birthday?

For Logan, it was complicated but he stopped considering the day very early on. When there was no one there to celebrate with and you had the "gift" of never ending regeneration, was it worth commemorating another year in a seemingly endless life? Especially with one such as his, he wondered...no. was sure.... that there wasn't anything worth celebrating.

It was like any other day: Logan woke up, ate breakfast, went to work... but unlike the rest of them, when he slammed his truck door shut after a long day on the job, Laura wasn't playing outside despite the sun's rays still peeking through the trees. Shrugging it off, he grabbed his bag from the bed and made his way inside.

On most occasions, Logan would have stopped.

Logan would have heard the hushed whispers between you and Laura, her giggles spurning you on to do the same. He would've noted the click of the lighter on the other side of the door, but in the complete opposite of Wolverine fashion, he had gotten comfortable.

"Just like we practiced-" Your hushed voice whispered from the other side of the thick wood.

Raising his eyebrow, Logan opened the door.

On the other side, you and Laura stood with a homemade cake in your hands. The candle on top- a "1"- flickered brightly as your voices rang out singing happy birthday.

"Happy birthday to you. Happy Birthday to you.."

Logan could count on one hand the number of times he had cried in his very long life, but seeing the two of you standing in front of him, he felt pressure grow behind his dark eyes. Your smile, bright as ever, welcomed him in and he couldn't help but admire the way that the flame made your eyes sparkle.

You had the option of anybody- anyone in the multiverse- and you chose him to share this family and home with. Although Laura may have encouraged you, Logan knew that this was your idea. The cake, the song, the candles, the banner hanging above the door- it had your scheming written all over it. You were warm and kind and, Logan would admit, so beautiful that in that moment, he got choked up. Never had he been shown care like this.

"Happy birthday dear Logan-"

"-Daddy..."

"Happy birthday to you!"

In one hand you brought the cake close to the burly man. With the other, you brushed a stray tear from his cheek.

"Make a wish!" Laura shouted, tugging on his arm.

Pulling himself back into the moment, Logan ruffled his daughter's hair.

"Well I don't know, kid." He said. "Doesn't seem like there's much to wish for."

"Oh c'mon, Lo." You said, brushing his hair from his face absentmindedly. "There's gotta be something."

And something there was. Rather, someone.

The Logan that had existed three months ago was a changed man. To be clear, he was just as stubborn and hotheaded as always, but the unshakable doom, gloom and overall nihilistic manner about him had shifted.

Once, Charles had told Laura that Logan was ready to die... wanted to die. Now, he would never let anything happen to him, not for his own sake but for yours and the mutant girl the two of you shared.

He wanted to wake up in the morning and smell the bitter coffee you brewed for him in the kitchen before work. He wanted to go to work and have the men tease him about his "missus" they knew nothing about. He wanted to come home at the end of the day to hear your laughs and jokes at his expense. Most importantly, he wanted to fall asleep at night knowing it would be the same tomorrow.

Logan, the lone wolf, the Wolverine, in his vulnerability had found a safe haven in Laura and you.

You, who gave yourself freely and optimistically. It almost felt wrong how he wanted more from you, but how could he help it? You gave him a taste and he wanted more.

Taking a deep breath- and rolling his eyes for show- Logan blew the candle out with a wish in mind.

"What's your wish?" Laura asked, bouncing on her toes as the smoke flitted through the air.

Logan, a bit embarrassed but not wanting to admit it, was preparing to mess with Laura about wishing for something completely asinine, but to his relief, you stepped in.

"He can't tell you, silly." You said, placing your hand on Laura's back to guide her towards the kitchen. "If he tells you, then it won't come true."

Glancing over your shoulder, you shot Logan a wink.

God, he was fucked.

Logan and you followed Laura into the kitchen, dragging a few feet behind.

"Didn't wanna know what I wished for?" Logan asked.

The Logan of long ago- the one who had the time and heart to devote to a woman- had slowly appeared the more time he spent with you. It's as if in the warmth of your love, the harsh exterior had melted away.

Sometimes Logan wondered if you were right that first day when you told him the old him was dead. Then, a moment like this would happen and he would be reminded that it was always in him, waiting for the right condition, or person, to bring it forth.

"I don't know what you're talking about," You said, smiling. "I meant what I said. I don't wanna know. I want your wish to come true... don't you?"

Logan in that moment wondered whether you had peeked into his mind. Had you fished out his deepest desires and decided to dangle them in front of his face?

You hadn't given him time to ask. Instead, you left him standing in confusion in the foyer as you rushed into the kitchen.

"Laura!" You shouted, "Do not stick your hand into that cake! Laura-"

Shaking his head in disbelief at what his life had become, a dry chuckled escape Logan's throat.

"Jesus."

☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆

Considering the portion of her life that she had spent locked up in comparison to being free, you were proud of the progress that Laura had made. She picked up incredibly quick on the way things worked. She knew not to steal, how to use a fork and knife, to wait until the little green man appeared to cross the street- she was quick, intelligent, and incredibly perceptive.

One part she still struggled with, however, was managing her anger: a trait she had inherited from her father.

It was a minor concern. The life that you and Logan had created for her was one that made the likelihood of outbursts scarce- only a heated argument with Logan over something as silly as a game would be able to bring her claws out... metaphorically of course.

"Logan, she doesn't know what property tax is." You'd say after she stormed off with a stomp and growl. "Give her a break."

"That's not how the game goes." Logan would argue. "If the kid wants to survive out there, she's gotta know how the world works."

"It's Monopoly, Logan!"

However, as with any child, you couldn't always control when those outbursts occurred.

The three of you had had a nightmare of a weekend. A short trip that had otherwise gone smoothly, went up in flames last minute when all flights were canceled due to an impending blizzard. Rather than stick it out, with Logan needing to get back to work, the two of you decided it would be best to road trip back home.

For the most part it was fine. Intermittently Logan would scold Laura for kicking his seat absentmindedly and you'd all argue over whether to use air conditioning or windows, but besides that it was perfectly fine. Normal even. Which was rare for two immortals from a different universe and a witch.

When Laura begged to pull over for a snack, how were you supposed to know that it could go so wrong?

As you browsed the aisles, occasionally picking up a snack, skimming the back and placing it back where it came from., Laura had drifted from your side. A beverage in the back had caught her eye without you realising and by the time you noticed her departure, it was too late.

When you heard her sweet voice turn to cursed growls that resembled her fathers, you were across the store in an instant.

An old man stood before her with a hand wrapped around one of her wrists.

"Woah!" You shouted, standing between the man and Laura. "What's going on here?"

"Your brat kid stomped on my foot, that's what!" The man growled. "You oughta teach that girl a lesson!"

Although you had created a gap between her and the man, that comment had you throwing Laura behind you entirely. A part of you that had been buried for years- an aggression you barely recognized- came to the surface.

"Don't talk to my daughter like that!" You shouted, shoving your finger in his face. "You have some fucking nerve-"

All of the commotion piqued Logan's ears from across the shop. The unfamiliar pitch of your voice had Logan tossing his keys on the counter and quickening his pace to you.

"Oh good," The guy said. "Maybe you can tell your bitch of a wife to-"

In the past few months, Logan had become a man that the old Logan- figuratively and literally- would have never recognized. He was cool, calm, and collected. His outbursts were few and far between and never, ever violent.

But, hearing that bite in your voice? Seeing the fire in your eyes? And, worst of all, some man call you that? No Logan would have let that slide.

A part of him- a primal one that called to action when needed- came out then.

Before he had even had time to process the implication of what the asshole said, Logan had grabbed the collar of his shirt with a growl and slammed him against the freezer. Bottles rattled on their shelves as the collective hiss of a spare few crashing on the floor echoed throughout the convenience store.

"We got a problem here, bub?” Logan hissed.

The confidence of the man whose feet were now dangling in the air had deteriorated. The fear in his eyes was palpable as he gasped for air.

“No!” He gasped. “Everything’s fine!”

“Yeah?” Logan asked, shoving the man up higher, eliciting a whelp. “Why don’t you apologize to the lady then.”

“I’m- ah!” He hissed. “I’m sorry!”

Logan's face burned red as he held him high. A visible vein protruded from his neck.

"Logan." You called. "He's not worth it. Let him go."

The man's shoes scraped against the glass doors he was pressed against.

"Let's just go home."

Logan glanced to where you stood with Laura shielded in your arms. On any given day of his other life he would have beat that man to a pulp for insulting the only two people breathing who mattered to him. He would of let his conscience take a back seat while his fists led, the only consequence being a stinging in his knuckles for a brief moment.

But now, there was stuff- or rather, people... his girls- at stake. Any confrontation with the law could put the dynamic you had in jeopardy. His ego wasn't worth the price.

Logan dropped the man to the floor and wiped his hands against his jacket. Before he could allow himself to turn back and get himself into trouble, he placed his hand on your shoulder and gently guided you towards the door.

"C'mon, let's go."

Later, as the sun set beyond the horizon, Laura laid asleep with her head in your lap. Had she been anyone besides the daughter of the Wolverine, you would have argued for seatbelt safety. However, seeing her content face nuzzled in a sweatshirt on your lap- her feet kicked up onto her father's- how could you say no?

Logan lazily hummed along to an old tune playing on the radio, one arm leaning out the window.

He cleared his throat.

"Daughter, huh?"

His eyes were trained on the road but you saw a hint of a smile at the edge of his lips.

"Am I your wife?"

If he had been the old Logan- before the endless pain, before the wars, before the deaths of his loved ones- he would have told you he loved you right there.

I wish you were.

But he wasn't. Despite his appearance he was an old, disgruntled, traumatized, burdened man. Logan didn't have the same confidence he did decades ago where he could say it, mean it and not worry about the consequences.

And your love, romantic or not, was not something he was willing to gamble.

But God he wanted you.

"If you were my wife, I'd treat you helluva lot better." He said. The smile had disappeared, replaced by a stoic, knitted line.

The fingers of yours that had been running through Laura's hair stopped. Your breath caught in your throat as you glanced out the window, watching the trees on the side of the highway blur past you.

"You treat me pretty damn well, Logan." You said, trying to sound humorous but ultimately falling flat. "I envy the woman who gets you."

This should have been the moment that it changed.

This should have been the moment that Logan pulled the car over to the side of the road and told you that he didn't want to pretend to be a family anymore- three people who were falling into the roles assigned to them- he wanted you to be a family because you were one. It wasn't pretend. It wasn't a facade. You were a family in every sense of the word.

Because he was yours, you were his and Laura belonged to you as much as Logan.

When the guys at work asked about his missus, he wanted to say your name. The lines had been blurred, but he wanted to straighten them out beyond where they had begin- where they were meant to be. You with him, him with you, you all together.

How could he think about another woman when his world revolved around you?

But then Laura stirred in your lap and his built-up confidence crumbled.

She yawned, curling herself into your lap.

"Are we home yet?"

Pulling your eyes from the road, you smiled and resumed brushing your fingers through her hair.

"Almost, honey."

☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆

"Logan!"

Your sharp cry woke Logan from his slumber with a start. Before he had entirely processed that it was your voice calling for help, he had flung the sheets from his body and threw himself out of bed.

"Y/n?" Logan shouted, his sock covered feet hitting the floor.

Below, he heard a shatter. He could make out the sound of distinct pieces of glass sliding across the floor as you screamed his name.

"Get off of-" He heard your muffled voice grunt from the floor below. "Logan, help!"

Hearing your pleas, Logan threw open the bedroom door and ran down the stairs- skipping three steps at a time. He felt his heart pounding against his chest so aggressively that he was sure he would be able to see the imprint of it on his skin had he looked in a mirror.

Despite his descending the staircase at a rapid pace, your voice became more distant the closer he got.

Then, he heard the back door swing open.

Logan dodged his way through the threshold of the living room, running over the shattered vase that littered the floor. Drops of blood stained the rug. The television that had been on when you fell asleep on the couch hours earlier was still playing reruns of your favorite show.

Logan quickened his pace. He felt the chilled breeze hit his skin coming from the backdoor left ajar. When he crossed from the kitchen onto the porch, he froze.

He could hear the rhythmic buzz of the electric collar around your neck- suppressing your powers- from where he stood. Your socks were wet from the freshly melted snow that stained where you stood on the grass. A deep red gash drew blood from your forehead, dripping down your face and over your cheeks.

Behind you, a man stood with a gun to your back.

"Who the fuck are you?" The stranger called, shaking you 'til you lost your balance.

You fell to your knees in front of him with a cry.

"I'm gonna be the guy who kills you if you don't let her go." Logan growled, fists balled up at his sides.

His voice echoed amongst the trees and as sturdy as it sounded, the feeling of his fingernails digging into his palms was the only thing that kept Logan from shaking.

You- precious, kind, loving- you were on your knees powerless, preparing yourself for your own demise. Tears pooled at the corner of your eyes as you heaved, no doubt from the fight you had just lost in the living room. Logan realized that for the first time in the months he had known you, you were scared.

You were like a fortress in a storm- sturdy, powerful, confident- but now it was as though a battering ram had been taken to your resolve, leaving you destroyed. There was something about that knowledge that terrified him even more- if you were scared, he had every reason to be terrified.

"Oh I'm not letting her go," The guy laughed. "The Avengers ruined my life. This used to be the Avengers Compound base and she's going to die here like the rest of them. You can kill me all you want, but she," He pulled your hair, "is going out with me."

As he tugged your hair, your face raised to meet Logan's. By now, tears stained your cheeks, running down your neck and into the hem of your shirt.

Finally, when life was going the way you wanted- in the way you felt you deserved- it was coming to an end.

The only comfort brought was that Logan was here with you.

"Logan-" You cried, a sob lodged in your throat.

Logan could feel his heart shatter into a thousand pieces at your soft, yet broken voice.

Holding back his own emotions for your sake, he breathed shakily.

"Sweetheart... I'm gonna fix this. Just-"

"I love you." You sobbed, hands tied behind your back. Your chest rose and fell with a wheeze as another cry escaped you. "God, I loved you so much it hurt. I wanted us to-"

Past tense.

Just like that, the dam broke.

Tears that had been burning behind Logan's eyes fled the corners, blurring his vision. His fists loosened their grip as one moved to balance himself on the railing. All the while, his chest burned with the fire of a thousand suns.

"Don't talk like that." Logan huffed, blinking back tears.

Then, Logan heard the click of the bullet falling into place.

"Show's over." The stranger announced. "Say hi to your friends for me."

People often wonder what thoughts go through your head the moment before you die. Some say their life flashes before them, others disappear without even knowing. You?

Oddly enough you wanted to remind Logan to clean up the glass in the living room before Laura could step on it. That you had bread rising in the kitchen that he should bake, or remember to throw out before it got moldy. That the deed to your land was in the safe in your office. The combination was your birthday.

But all you could manage was an-

"I love you."

You think that covered it.

You could hear his index finger fiddling with the trigger behind you. You swore later that you could even make out the sound of his knuckles popping as they bent into position.

Both were interrupted by a whiny slishhh as two shimmering claws shot from his torso.

Laura.

Like a gun going off at the races, Logan broke into a run across the yard. When you were feet away, he slid onto his knees in the wet grass and pulled you into him.

If his brain hadn't been so fogged, Logan would have worried that he hurt you from how tight he squeezed you. His calloused fingertips tangled themselves in your hair as your forehead found its home against his own. His other hand gripped your shirt for dear life, feeling the chill of your skin through the cloth.

His warm breath enveloped your face as he held you tighter- fearing what would happen if you escaped his reach.

Soft cries escaped your lips as he peppered your forehead in kisses.

"You're safe now, I got you." He said, more for himself than you. "I love you too, darlin', I'm right here."

Logan heard the earth crunch beside him as Laura wordlessly kneeled beside you both and slipped into your embrace.

.:*

After the first responders had come and gone, it was 3am.

You and Logan put Laura to bed together. When you leaned over to tuck her in, her arms wrapped around you, pulling you into her. Her fingers dug into the fabric of your shirt as her face hid in your shoulder.

For the second time that evening, tears burned in your eyes. This time, not out of fear of the unknown but peace at the future revealed.

You brushed her hair back and kissed her forhead.

"I love you." You said, quelling the shake in your voice. "I'm not going anywhere."

She pulled away and allowed you to tuck the blanket up to her chin.

"Sweet dreams."

As you handed her the stuffed animal you had gifted her the first day, her voice spoke out barely above a whisper.

"I love you too, Mommy."

And the dam broke. As if sensing your composure, Logan reached out and laid a hand on your shoulder.

"Night kiddo."

Logan ushered you from the room, carefully closing the door as you exited. He took your hand in his and led you to your room.

His hands were just as you imagined them- callous and rough. But they didn't scare or deter you. No, they were a physical manifestation of his perseverance. The hands he would use to love, provide and protect you. They had to be strong, they carried the weight of the world in his hands. It was a comfort and privilege to be loved by them.

In your room, Logan turned the lamp on and guided you under the covers. He pulled the covers over your form and as he did, you snatched his wrist in your hand.

"Stay."

It wasn't question, an order, or a command.

It was a plead. A begging on your knees.

"I'm not goin' anywhere."

His voice was dry, tired.

Moving to the other side of the bed, he carefully slid into the space beside you.

"C'mere."

He stretched his arm over your back and eased you into his side. Like a woman stranded in the ocean and he your life raft, you slipped your arms around him and held him as if your life depended on it. You nuzzled your face in the crook of his neck and breathed in his scent for the first time.

Although it was new, the intimacy felt familiar. Whether because of your dreams made real or that you both had fallen into the place destined for you, you weren't sure. But the ease lulled you to surrender to your exhaustion.

"I love you." You mumbled into his neck, your vision fleeing from focus as your eyes drooped.

Logan breathed in deeply, stroking his face with your knuckles as your breathing slowed.

"I love you too, darlin.'"

☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆

This has been in the drafts for months and i'm SO excited to finally put it out into the world. replies and reblogs are greatly appreciated. I would love to know what you all think <3 laura's perception of reader and logan are very much based on the end of logan where she calls logan daddy (i wanna SOB) and i did edit a few chunks out to limit the word count aflkdjal, anyway thank you for reading!! -cass

[ginnsbaker]

All Of Your Pieces (25 - Anger and Bargaining)

Chapter Summary: Wanda’s absence used up all the hurt you could feel, until you were just a husk, observing and unfeeling.

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Female Reader Chapter word count: 4.4k+ | Chapter Tags: angst, violence, and more angst Warning: thoughts of self-harm and suicide

A/N: There will be a few chapters without Wanda, but I promise you will get your answers about Y/N // More author's notes here.

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist

Forty days had passed since you last felt her heartbeat next to yours.

Time moved differently after that loss.

Forty days had passed, and you still woke up expecting to find Wanda tangled in the sheets beside you, hair splayed on the pillow, her sleepy smile lighting up your whole goddamn universe. And every morning, without fail, you reached over to cold, empty sheets. It was as though some tiny part of you still believed in a world where the Snap was temporary. Where you’d press a kiss to Wanda’s forehead and feel her warm breath against your neck.

Steve Rogers didn’t quit. Not right away. The moment you all returned, he and Carol pored over galactic maps, trying every back-channel cosmic contact she had. If there was a whisper of a rumor that might undo the Snap without the Stones, they chased it. But every lead fizzled eventually.

After some time, Carol got called away to help other worlds pick up the pieces Thanos left behind. Some had missing leaders, others had entire fleets wiped out. She promised to keep looking, but the fact was, the universe still needed her out there. You knew she carried an unspoken guilt—like she was leaving you all short-handed—and maybe she was. But you couldn’t hold it against her.

Tony, on the other hand, took an entirely different route. You remembered the day he stood in front of the compound’s main table, staring at the empty chairs around it, then just... shook his head. He’d gone off to direct a wide-scale humanitarian effort—food drops, medical camps, building shelters for those left behind. 

That left Steve and Natasha, holding down the fort in the old Avengers compound. They answered crisis calls, put out smaller fires. You sometimes forced yourself to be there, but the truth was, you mostly holed up in your room. On a good day, you managed a half-hearted pitch of ideas or opinion. But eventually, the good days ran out. Your absences grew more frequent, until the four walls of your room became your entire world.

Natasha, for her part, never complained. She’d set food in front of you—a sandwich, a salad, sometimes just a handful of nuts—because that was all you could stomach before your throat closed up. She’d give you space when you needed it, which was often. It wasn’t fair, but you couldn’t stop. If the world was going to keep spinning without Wanda, then everyone else might as well feel miserable, too. 

Steve didn’t know how to fix you, either. You caught him trying to say something uplifting once or twice, always cutting off at the last second, like he realized it was useless. And maybe he was right. The bright-eyed captain who believed wholeheartedly in second chances looked haunted now, and it was supposed to hurt you too, seeing him this way, but Wanda’s absence used up all the hurt you could feel, until you were just a husk, observing and unfeeling.

In the end, it all boiled over. It was a Thursday (or was it Wednesday? You couldn’t tell anymore and you didn’t care) and you were in your usual state, laying on your side, eyes drifting unfocused over the rumpled sheets and the plain wall beyond them. You barely registered the footsteps in the hallway anymore, the way people whispered outside your door.

You heard the door open and didn’t bother turning to see who it was. You knew it had to be Natasha. She came by at least twice a day to see if you’d eaten or taken a breath that wasn’t soaked in sorrow. You waited for the usual quiet routine: maybe she’d try to hand you a plate, maybe she’d hover for a few seconds before closing the door again. But this time, she stayed put.

“Get up,” she said, voice hard.

You didn’t bother looking. “Not hungry,” you muttered.

Natasha snorted. “I wasn’t asking if you were.”

Something stirred in your chest, but you pushed it down. “I’ll get off this bed when we have a plan to bring them back,” you mumbled.

“Right, because you’re the only one in the entire goddamn universe who’s lost something,” she snapped.  

You clenched your jaw but refused to take the bait. Instead, you stayed wrapped in the thick blanket that was starting to smell faintly, a reminder that it had been too long since you last showered.

Natasha walked further into the room until she was standing by the foot of the bed. “So, what? You’re just gonna lay here while everyone else does the heavy lifting? Maybe we’ll draw straws on who gets to babysit you tomorrow.”

You felt a flash of heat behind your eyes, a protest waiting on your tongue. She didn’t give you the chance.

“You’re pathetic,” she says, her voice cold. “Sulking, while the rest of us try to pick up the pieces.”

You stayed silent, fists clenched, but Natasha wasn’t done.

“You know what I see when I look at you?” she continued, her tone colder than you’d ever heard it. “I see someone who had the nerve to get married in the middle of a war and is now lying down like it’s over. Someone who had Wanda—Wanda, of all people—and still can’t get out of bed to fight for her memory.”

“Natasha, that’s enough,” you growled, jaw aching from how hard you were clenching it.

“She promised you she’d come back, didn’t she? And you’re what she’s supposed to come back to? This?” Natasha gestured toward you, surrounded by the remnants of uneaten meals and discarded clothes. Filth.

Your pulse hammered in your ears, and for a moment you couldn’t believe what you’d just heard come out of Natasha’s mouth. You shoved off the bed and glared at her, the anger spiking hard and fast.

That final jab ignited you. You tossed the blankets aside and stood, eyes burning with a fury that wanted a target, any target. “What the hell do you want?” you snarled. “You come in here, wave her name around—”

She didn’t blink. “I want you to remember we’re a family,” she said, voice dropping a notch,  like that single word ought to mend every wound. “And don’t give me that crap about how Wanda was your only family. I get that she meant everything to you. But that doesn’t mean you get to shut down and isolate yourself while the rest of us are trying to—”

Before she could finish, you turned on your heel and yanked open the closet door. You started rifling through the small stash of clean clothes you hadn’t touched in days. Jeans, sweatshirts—whatever you could grab first, you shoved into a battered backpack without bothering to fold.

Natasha’s stance went rigid. “What are you doing?”

“Leaving,” you spat, wrestling the zipper. “I need space, and I can’t get it here. I’m done being your charity case. Hell, I’m done being mine.”

“So, you’re just gonna run?” she said, voice dripping with disdain. “You think that fixes anything?”

“I’m not running,” you countered, but it rang hollow even to your own ears. “I’m just… I’m tired. Of disappointing you, of pretending to believe that one day, it’ll get better. Whoever you think we’re still searching for—whoever you want me to be right now—is gone.”

“That’s not true,” she tried, but it came out weak. You slung the backpack over your shoulder and glared at her.

“Sorry,” you said, though you didn’t sound it.

You had no idea that would be the last time you’d speak to her for half a decade.

—

You weren’t sure what you were looking for. Perhaps a distraction? Or maybe confirmation that you’d burned all your bridges or that there was nothing left to lose? Whatever the reason, you found yourself on the road, drifting from state to state in a sedan with a busted radio, living off gas station coffee. The entire country looked exactly how you’d imagine the aftermath of an apocalypse. Everyone was still lost in their own heads, grappling with a new reality that marched on regardless. When night fell, you’d grab a cheap motel or doze off behind the wheel in a rest stop parking lot. 

Eventually, your thoughts circled back to the single question that always seemed to latch on whenever you’re on your own: What happened to her? The woman who gave birth to you, then chose everything else over you. The mother who hated you for a crime you never intended—for being the twin who survived when your brother didn’t. She’d never let you forget it, either, though it was your father who raised you until the day he died. She’d gone on to build a new life with a new family. You’d never bothered to find out how that turned out.

Against your better judgement, you decided to see for yourself.

You tracked down her address, almost expecting to feel a thrill of righteous anger or maybe a sense of closure. But when you parked outside a modest home in a suburban corner of Indiana, the only thing you felt was numb. A battered pickup sat in the driveway. A neat row of hedges trimmed the walkway. There was a “Welcome” sign on the porch that felt like a mockery of everything your relationship wasn’t.

You rang the bell, heart thudding like a judge’s gavel in your ears. When the door opened, you found yourself looking at a teenage boy—gangly, messy hair, a fading bruise on his chin. His eyes flicked over you, wary.

“Uh, hi,” he said, voice cracking a bit.

You didn’t know how to start, so you just said the first thing that came to mind. “I’m looking for—” You almost choked on her name. The woman who’d turned her back on you for most of your life.

His face went still. “She’s gone,” he muttered, stepping back a fraction, hand still on the doorknob.

You stood there dumbly, trying to make sense of why you came here in the first place. You’d come all this way, expecting maybe you’d find some closure or a reason to hate her more. Instead, the universe had already taken her, the same way it had taken Wanda.

Your mother was gone, and so was the chance for any resolution. A pit settled in your stomach, but it wasn’t grief. More like resignation.

“You’re her son, then?” you asked, not sure if you were talking to him or to yourself. 

He nodded, shrinking into the doorway. You blinked, realizing with a jolt that this boy—your half-brother—had lost a mother, and now he was dealing with a stranger on his doorstep.

Some half-formed apology stumbled out of your mouth. “I—I’m sorry. I didn’t know. I was just—”

“Who are you?”

You stood there dumbly, trying to make sense of why you came here in the first place. You’d kept tabs on her off and on for years—checking the local high school’s teacher listings, scanning social media posts from former students who mentioned her name. Even if your mother had cut you loose all those years ago, you couldn’t shake the need to make sure she was okay. It was a habit. Or maybe a compulsion. You never confronted her, never tried to mend the rift, but you watched from the wings, hoping she’d change her mind about you one day.

“I— I was one of her students,” you lied, the words scraping out as though they barely belonged to you.

Your half-brother frowned. “Her student?”

You nodded.

“She taught high school English. You look… older than most students.”

You forced a small, self-conscious shrug. “Yeah. I—graduated some years ago,” you improvised. “But, uh, she really helped me. You know, with…” You let the sentence hang, hoping he’d fill in the blanks.

His brow smoothed a little. “So you came all this way just to—what, see her?”

You nodded, trying to act more confident than you felt. “Yeah, I guess. I’d been out of state. I heard about everything that happened…the—I didn’t know if she was—” You paused, swallowing against the tightness in your throat. “I hoped she made it.”

Tears threatened to spill from your eyes as the realization hit—you truly meant it. You were genuinely hoping your mother survived. 

He pressed his lips together, the corners turning down. “She didn’t,” he said. “I’m sorry.”

You blinked. You’d imagined confronting her, maybe not violently, but definitely letting some of your pent-up rage loose. But Thanos had gotten to her first, just like Wanda.

“So… that’s it,” you murmured, bitterness coating every word. “She’s gone.”

He nodded, looking as uncomfortable as you felt. 

You glanced past him into the living room—torn blankets, battered furniture, the marks of a family living with one less body than before. It made you think of the compound, of Natasha and Steve and the vacant seats around the briefing table. Anger surged again, but this time, it sputtered out almost instantly. You were just too tired.

Your half-brother stared, waiting for you to leave. Eventually, you offered some hollow farewell and dragged yourself back to your car. 

You sat in the driver’s seat for a long time before turning the key. You tried to drum up some of that anger—something to keep you standing. But all that remained was the same lonely ache you’d fled the compound to escape.

That truth was, you hoped your mother would learn to forgive you. That if she didn’t see you long enough, she’d start hating you less, and maybe hating less would make room for love that you craved from her. But she never reached out once, all these years. 

And that piece of fact kept something in you alive.

If your mother could hate you so passionately, refusing to forget, maybe that meant you could hold on to Wanda just as fiercely. Because if forgetting your mother’s cruelty was impossible, then letting go of Wanda’s love was unthinkable.

With a shaky breath, you pulled away from the curb. 

—

The next few months passed in a dull, furious blur. You ended up in a one-room apartment on the edges of Manhattan, taking advantage of the fact that rent had plummeted with half the city’s tenants gone. It was cheap—no argument there—but also claustrophobic: four walls, a tiny bed, and a single lamp that flickered off and on if you leaned on the wall too hard. You told yourself it was temporary, but you’d stopped believing your own excuses weeks ago.

Half the world was locked in grief, and it showed. You couldn’t walk down a block without seeing signs offering counseling or “miracle cures” for heartbreak—some free, some borderline scams. You ignored them all. Some days, you’d get cornered by self-proclaimed grief coaches, waving pamphlets in your face, promising that acceptance started with a single step. It took everything in you not to bark out a bitter laugh. 

Your reflection in the bathroom mirror told a brutal story. You’d lost weight, enough that your cheeks looked sunken, and your hair was a matted disaster. It clung together in greasy clumps that made brushing an impossible task. More than once, you’d tried to work a comb through it, only to end up yanking out knotted clumps. But it was easier to do that than bother with shampoo or conditioner. Sometimes you felt you deserved the pain, just for having the audacity to survive.

You didn’t socialize, rarely ate, spent most of your time in stale sweatpants staring at the peeling wallpaper. At night, you’d lie on the squeaking bed, that infuriating half-broken coil stabbing your back, and think about how easy it would be to check out—just drift off into oblivion. You’d picture Wanda’s face, and for half a second, you could almost convince yourself you’d see her again if you just let go.

But something always pulled you back. 

Wanda’s memory, stronger than the morbid allure of death. She’d never want you to hurt yourself, and you couldn’t betray her like that. You’d close your eyes, mouth twisted with grief, and whisper, “I’m sorry,” to the empty room. Sorry you couldn’t be better at coping, sorry you had no way to bring her back. 

Sometimes you caught yourself imagining the impossible. A miracle. And if, by some freak occurrence, you cut your life short before that miracle arrived? The idea of Wanda coming back and finding you gone—it made your chest tighten so hard you could barely breathe.

No, dying wouldn’t do. You told yourself that every time the thought crept in. You had to be here—just in case. And until that day came, or never came at all, you’d sit in that lonely apartment, hair tangled, knuckles white, battered by regret. And if death knocked on the door one evening… you weren’t sure you’d say no, but you’d at least wait to see if Wanda could somehow be on the other side instead.

—

For the next several months, you drifted in that numbing routine: sleeping too little, eating too little, and caring about even less. You spent your days in your crumbling Manhattan apartment, flipping through channels that couldn’t decide whether to focus on the lost or the survivors. After finding nothing to hold your interest, you muted the TV entirely and let the images pass by like a grim slideshow.

Then you caught a name—Ronin—and froze.

There’d been sightings of a masked vigilante cutting down criminals with lethal precision, first in Indianapolis, then Houston, and now, apparently, San Antonio. The camera panned to shaky phone footage—a black-clad figure, swords flashing, leaving a trail of bodies. Your pulse picked up speed. You recognized the stance, the lethal economy of movement. 

Clint Barton.

No one else came to mind. The man who’d trained you in close-quarters combat, who’d taught you how to hit your targets with almost the same precision. All this time, this is what he’d been up to, dispensing justice on a scale that made you question if you really knew the man.

Suddenly, you weren’t so detached anymore. Ronin might be consumed by vengeance, but a part of you envied what he was getting out of it.

Retribution. 

If the Avengers’ moral code had died with half of the universe—maybe you could join him on that side of the line. Or stop him before he burned out. You didn’t know which impulse guided you harder.

—

The drive to San Antonio took exactly two days and five hours. You had tried to make it faster, but the monotony of the journey wore on you, making the road feel endless. Fatigue set in quicker than usual, a combination of restlessness and the fact that you’d been surviving mostly on energy bars, neglecting to properly fuel your body. It was no surprise your efficiency as a driver had taken a hit.

Clint’s pattern wasn’t hard to figure out, once you knew what to look for: big fish, small pond. You staked out the grimiest part of town, where word on the street said Ronin was likely to strike next. 

But you found the target first.

He was holed up in a dingy suite on the third floor of an abandoned hotel. You broke in through a cracked balcony window. Almost too easy, you thought, adrenaline rushing through you like a drug.

Inside, you found him alone—his guards apparently out—and when he swung around at the sound of your footsteps, his face went pale at the sight of your drawn sidearm.

“Who the—” He didn’t finish. You cracked him across the jaw with a single punch, sending him stumbling back. In your old life, you might have hesitated, let him speak, read him his rights or something. But that compassion was gone.

The old you was gone. It figured.

You bound his wrists with cable ties and dragged him out to the balcony, your heart pounding. You’d never felt so in control. So… alive. Not since—

Something in the air suddenly moved. 

Clint, perched on a ledge a few floors down. You recognized his silhouette, the lean set of his shoulders. His hood concealed half his face, but not the unmistakable shape of his jaw. He sprang up with grace you’d seen a thousand times on the battlefield, landing silently on your balcony.

The moment he recognized you, he pulled back his hood, grimacing but otherwise composed. If you hadn’t known him for so long, you might have thought he wasn’t surprised at all. He started to say something, his mouth opening slightly, but you cut him off, your voice icier than you’d ever heard it.

“What the hell are you doing, Clint?”

His jaw tightened, and he pulled his sword free, pointing it at your captive. “He’s mine,” he growled.

“You’re welcome,” you said, voice dripping with sarcasm. “I saved you the trouble.”

You yanked your captive to his feet. He started babbling—pleading with you, with Clint, it didn’t matter. You didn’t really hear him, though, not in any language your mind was willing to process. Without hesitation, you shoved the muzzle of your gun against the side of his skull and—

Wanda, lying in bed one lazy morning. She’d been propped up on her elbows, her hair a mess, the covers bunched around her waist. You had just cracked one of those stupid jokes she always pretended not to understand. The punchline hovered for a few seconds before slowly, like the sun peeking over the horizon—it dawned on her. 

Her entire face had lit up, a blush creeping into her cheeks, her laughter bright yet still sleepy-soft. The joy washed across her expression in deliberate waves, and it was like watching daylight burst through the clouds. You swore you could feel the warmth against your skin, bathing you in light, making you remember for the thousandth time just how deeply you loved her.

—pulled the trigger.

The body crumpled in front of you, a burst of red spraying the concrete, some landing on your neck and cheek. You lowered the gun, arms shaking with the aftermath. 

Clint said nothing at first. He just stared, his sword lowered. He looked like he was ready for you to attack him next, or maybe for him to do the same. 

You didn’t return your pistol back to its holster right away, just in case. You stared right back, tears sliding free and rolling down your cheeks. No shame in it. Your lips curved into a small, defiant smile, one that felt alien but unstoppable. You didn’t bother wiping your tears or the blood. You just smiled.

“You’ve gone nuts,” Clint muttered tightly.

“Take me with you,” you said. “Bring me along, Clint. Whatever you do next… I can help. We can… we can double the body count of all the scum that crawled out of hiding after the—”

He narrowed his eyes. For a moment, you thought he might strike you down right there, disown you for crossing that invisible line. But he only stood in rigid silence, shoulders coiled like a trapped animal. 

“I work alone,” he said at last.

You nodded, tears still falling, but the corner of your mouth twitched upward in a sort of quiet resolve. “Nothing has to change. You keep doing your thing. Just… point me in the right direction. You and me, Clint—we can watch each other’s backs.”

He stared at you like he was seeing a stranger, not the person he once trained. The lines around his eyes deepened. “Does Nat know you’re here?”

The slight narrowing of your eyes was all he needed as an answer. After a beat, he turned away, dismissing you completely. Something in your gut lurched.

You didn’t really think it through—maybe you wanted to scare him, maybe you wanted to force him to acknowledge you. But Clint heard the click, spun around, and dropped low before you could squeeze off a shot.

He spun, dropped low, and let an arrow fly in one smooth motion. It sliced past your temple, drew a thin line of blood on your forehead, then lodged itself in the wall behind you. 

The cut stung, but you were used to much worse pain.

“You’re slipping,” you said coolly, ignoring the warm trickle down your face.

He huffed, a sound with no humor. “I’d say I hit my mark.” He notched another arrow but never loosed it. Instead, he took a step to the balcony’s edge, glanced over his shoulder with a look you couldn’t quite read, then vaulted off.

You rushed to see where he landed, but all you saw was neon glow and dark emptiness. He was gone, swallowed by the city.

—

A week later, you found him again—this time in a dusty backwater city, two states over. Rumors flew about a masked swordsman butchering gangs before they knew what hit them. You traced the stories, interrogated survivors, and stumbled across Clint on a rooftop under a weak moon. He wasted no time trying to lose you, weaving in and out of abandoned warehouses and barely-lit alleys until it felt like a game of cat and mouse. You knew it was a test, maybe even a taunt.

At last, in a crumbling storage building where mold clung to the walls, Clint stopped running. You stepped inside, gun in hand just to show you could. He was leaning against a fractured window, mask tugged above his jaw. He watched you for a beat, then pulled a folded sheet of paper from his belt and tossed it at your feet.

A map—circles, scribbled names, locations. You could almost taste the violence in every ink stroke: gang leaders, arms traffickers, crooked syndicates. You ran a finger over one of the circles, a knot of tension forming in your stomach.

“Deal with them,” Clint said, voice low but clear in the still air. “If you can. Otherwise, stay out of my way.”

He didn’t wait for a reply. Pushing off the window frame, he adjusted his hood and left by a half-collapsed doorway before you could ask if he’d changed his mind about teaming up.

Your fingers tightened on the map. A surge of grim satisfaction ran through your veins. This was what you’d wanted, wasn’t it? A chance to channel your anger into action? Your grip shook a little, thinking of Wanda, how far you’d drifted from the person she’d known. But you slid the map into your jacket all the same.

[agoodfictitle-shadowban]

Sweet Summer | Pt. 1

Wanda Maximoff x f!Reader

Summary: The Xavier Institude is being renovated for the summer. With nowhere else to go, your best friends Billy and Tommy offer you to stay with them and their mom. But what happens when feelings start to spark between the two of you?

Word Count: 5.5k

Warnings: Trauma, Eventual Smut (in 2nd part), Age Gap (20yo reader, 37yo Wanda)

Tags: mutant!Reader (shadow manipulation), different timeline, everyone is alive (except Pietro, sorry Pietro), no Sokovia Accords, no Thanos, Wanda was young when she joined the Avengers, retired Natasha, top!Reader, bottom!Wanda, but they switch a bit, Vision is a bit of an asshole, divorced!Wanda, mainly cutesy, bit of angst tho

"Are you sure it's okay?" You asked both of your friends as you stood in the doorway of their bedroom. Summer was here, and with it, Professor X decided to do some renovations to the Institute.

For most of the mutants, it changed nothing since they would go home for the summer, but for you, it meant two months in the streets - well not really since Xavier offered all students who couldn't go home to stay at a hotel with the resident teachers, an uncomfortable solution in your opinion that left you with a bad taste in your mouth, like you needed the charity (which you did) before going off to University. Lucky for you, your two best friends had offered you to stay with them. It took a bit of convincing, a lot of reassuring that it wouldn't bother their mother, but in the end Billy and Tommy managed to have you agree to come with them for the holidays.

"We're absolutely certain, stop worrying that much," Tommy said, speeding around to finish preparing his suitcase at the last minute. He disappeared from the room and Billy softly smiled at you.

"He's right. And mom already agreed. She always wants to meet our friends, so I'm sure she'd be disappointed if you changed your mind."

You wanted to ask him if he was telling you all that just to make you feel better, but you fought it off. It was a nasty habit you had to always feel like you were a burden and a bother. The twins always found a way to reassure you, so you knew better than to question them some more. You gave Billy a nod, and watched as Tommy disappeared from the room and came back a second later with more things to stuff in his suitcase. He threw everything in and closed it after fighting it for a few minutes.

"I'm ready!" He declared proudly in a hero pose. You rolled your eyes and looked at the time on your phone.

"Only ten minutes late, a new record," you teased him. The speedster was somehow always late with everything, which in turn made you and Billy late. It would drive the teachers crazy, since the three of you were a package deal. You had been since you were young mutants just joining the Institute, despite being older than them by two years - you were still in the same level classes as them. This proximity never translated during holidays when they were away, beyond staying in contact with your phones. It took you being forced out to finally agree to go to their place.

"We should go now," the more responsible Billy declared as he started to drag his suitcase after him with his powers. "Mom has been waiting for us."

Anxiousness filled you for a second, but you took a deep breath and you followed the twins. You adjusted your bag on your shoulder as you walked down the stairs, saying goodbye to the other people who were getting ready to leave. There were a few fist bumps and brief hugs as your classmates and teachers warmly returned the goodbyes. It was the last time you were going to see some of them as you were leaving for university at the end of the summer holidays. This left you feeling sad and nostalgic, but also happy that you were progressing in life despite everything that happened to you. Those feelings washed over you as you walked through the doors of the Institute into the sun. A bunch of parents were waiting there to take their kids home. You never got to join them until now, but you watched from afar plenty of time, never daring to step closer and meet your friends' parents.

Today, Ms. Maximoff was alone. A few years ago she divorced her husband and father of her children. It had been hard on Billy and Tommy, but eventually, and with some help from therapy, they got over it. They still saw him regularly, and you were going to meet him when they were going to spend a month at his place, taking you with them. Because there was no way you would spend a month alone with their mother.

The twins spotted her first and waved at her from afar. You turned your head to have a good look at her and almost stopped on the spot when you did. She was gorgeous. Her wavy light brown hair, piercing green eyes, small nose, and lips were working all together to give her this unique charming look. But most of all, her smile was radiant. As you kept looking at her, you missed a step in the stairs and almost fell. Luckily, Tommy got you and straightened you up. You could feel all eyes on you for a brief instant, making you blush profusely but briefly as you kept walking, looking where you were going this time. Only when the twins stopped did you stop too and looked up. And there she was, right in front of you, in a white with sunflowers sundress and an open red hoodie. You couldn't help but gawk again while Billy gave her a hug. Tommy noticed and smiled proudly.

"Never seen an Avenger up close before?" He asked, so sure that it was the reason why, and you weren't about to contradict him.

"No, never." Especially not one so utterly beautiful. You shook your head and got a hold of yourself while Ms. Maximoff was hugging Tommy and finally stepped closer to her to extend your hand. "I'm glad to finally meet you Ms. Maximoff."

You barely had time to get those words out before she took your hand and pulled you in a strong hug. You were immediately overwhelmed by her scent and her warmth. You were paralyzed.

"Thank you for looking over Tommy and Billy. And please, call me Wanda."

"Oh, huh, sure, I can do that," you answered before she let you go, her hands still on your shoulders.

For a moment, your eyes met and you swallowed hard, feeling your cheeks burn up before she let go for good. It was like there was a current going through the air and into your body, something you both shared. Your heart skipped a beat. You took a deep breath.

"Let's get going, put your packs in the trunk of the car."

And just like that, it was as if nothing had happened. To be fair, you probably just imagined the connection going on between you and Wanda, so you tried to ignore the way you felt and simply put your bag in the trunk of the car. It gave you enough time to recover before you slid in the back of the car with Billy, after the twins fought for the place at the front.

There was a lively conversation between the twins and their mom, and music, and as you watched the scenery go by the window you found yourself smiling. That was until you arrived in front of a colonial revival style house in the suburbs. It was painted white, with two stories, and a large balcony on the right. A tree in the front yard hid most of the left side of the house, and the lawn was well kept. You followed everyone inside and a smile graced your lips when you saw how homey the place was. It would have completely relaxed you if not for that gnarly feeling of intruding on the family. It was like vines growing alongside your heart, preparing to crush it at any sign that this was true. That thought was interrupted when Wanda addressed you.

"Y/n? Come, I'll show you to your room." She spoke softly and grabbed you by the wrist to direct you towards the stairs. Her hand was soft and warm, and the simple contact elicited a tingling sensation up your arm. "This is Tommy's room, and here is Billy's. This is the bathroom. Here is my room, and here is yours."

She opened the door to the guest bedroom. It was simple, impersonal, with a king sized bed, a dresser, and a full length mirror. Close to the bed there was a door leading to the big balcony, and you guessed by the way things were in the house that Wanda had that same access. She entered the room and went to the door to the balcony to open it.

"I aired the room a few times in preparation of you coming but it still feels a bit stuffy," she pointed out as she looked outside. You shook your head and put down your bag on the bed, offering your host a smile.

"It's no worries, that room is great!"

"I'm glad you think so." She turned around and looked at you, examining your features for an instant. You tried not to squirm under her gaze, before her next words shocked you to your core. "Are you going out with Tommy?"

Your eyes went big like saucers, you opened your mouth once or twice before finally your shock settled and a laugh came out of you. It quickly grew bigger and bigger until you had tears in your eyes. Wanda frowned in confusion until you calmed down enough to answer her.

"No, we're not… I'm not interested in him like that. Actually I'm not interested in men like that," you confessed. You knew Billy was gay and came out years ago to his parents, so Wanda shouldn't have any trouble with this. There was still some brief silence before she smiled at you.

"Good." Her smile got more mysterious and you tilted your head, unsure of what it meant. You took it as a good sign, that she simply was glad that she didn't have to worry about Tommy dating you. "Okay, I'm going to let you organize your stuff. I have some work this afternoon, so have fun with the boys."

"Thank you. And thank you again for letting me stay."

"They talk so much about you, it's my pleasure to finally get to meet you."

You nodded, and Wanda left the room. You followed her movements with your eyes, looking her up and down before catching yourself.

"She's your best friends' mom, come on," you muttered to yourself before starting to take care of your bag.

*

It had been a week since you arrived at the Maximoff's household, and you had been having fun so far. You enjoyed the pool the most, having fun with Tommy and Billy while Wanda was away most of the time on Avenger business. There had been a few touches between the both of you, a hand on your shoulder while she was passing you, lingering close to you when bringing food on the table. You were sure that you were reading too much into it, but at the same time your heart would skip a beat every time it happened, your skin lighting on fire just by her simple presence. You tried your best to ignore it, of course, and so far it was working. With any chance it was going to pass soon enough and you wouldn't make a fool of yourself in the process.

"Hey, Y/n. I just received a message from a childhood friend, he's having a party, you wanna go?"

"Thanks for asking Tommy," Billy said with a roll of his eyes, sitting in an inflatable donut in the pool.

"I already know you'll go, dummy. So, Y/n?"

You laughed at the twins' antiques and approached the edge of the pool. A party would be nice, and it would take you out of the house. Maybe even make you think of something else than Wanda and her mesmerizing green eyes. There were no reasons for you not to go.

"Yeah, that sounds great."

"Great! It's in a week so we should go buy some clothes for it!" Tommy exclaimed before he answered the text from his friend.

"I already have clothes," You groaned before pulling yourself out of the water. It's not that you didn't like getting new clothes, if you were honest, it was that you didn't have the money for it. Something that you had no intention to reveal to your friends.

"Come on, it'll be fun!"

You rolled your eyes, but you knew there was no way out of this. You put your hands up in surrender.

"Alright, alright, we can go all together, you big baby," you smirked as Tommy frowned and put down his phone. He sped at you and pushed you in the water in retaliation, before he jumped in turn to start attacking you. You fought back, ending up climbing on his back like a spider, when Wanda approached the pool with a raised eyebrow. She was wearing a smart casual business outfit. You didn't notice her immediately, not before Billy got to explain what was happening.

"Why don't I come with you? I have an outing soon," Wanda offered as she looked at you and Tommy with an amused grin, now that you noticed her, stopping your playfight. Her eyes were boring into you, waiting for you to answer the question more than anyone else.

"Sure. Yeah, that would be nice." You scratched the back of your neck, a smile on your face as you looked back at her.

The moment was interrupted when Billy's inflatable bumped into you. You all discussed the details and decided to go tomorrow morning, when there would be less people than usual. It meant waking up early, but it wouldn't be a problem for you; you usually slept very little.

*

When morning came, you prepared yourself and went downstairs to surprise everyone with breakfast. You started with eggs and bacon, then pancakes. You were preparing coffee when footsteps came from the stairs.

"It smells delicious," Wanda said before you could even see her. When she finally turned the corner to the kitchen, you smiled at her. She was wearing her hair up in a loose bun, a large gray sweater, and some black sweatpants. Even just in her relaxed state she was gorgeous, and you almost burned a pancake looking at her.

"Thank you. Why don't you sit down and I'll bring you your breakfast." She nodded and went to sit down at the table in the sunroom under the balcony, crossing her arms on it. You prepared a plate and brought it to her.

"What's the occasion?" She asked when you were putting down the plate.

"No occasion, I just want to pull my weight around here." You cleaned the traces of fingers on the plate with a dishcloth while turning the plate properly. "I hope you enjoy it."

"I feel like I'm at one of Tony's fancy brunch."

"Never been to one of those, but it sure sounds like the food would be good."

"It was." For a fraction of a second, her smile turned sad. "It was one of the first things I experienced after coming to the States. I couldn't enjoy the food properly, but having everyone with me… it was special. Especially after…" she cut herself, her eyes lost somewhere away. She came back quickly and turned to you.

"Thank you so much." She put her hand on yours briefly as she thanked you, and your heart skipped a beat. You grinned proudly.

"Of course."

With that you went back to the kitchen, feeling rejuvenated by the simple contact and closer to Wanda after the short conversation, despite being worried about what she decided to hide. You knew you could probably just do some research on her history and come to your own conclusions based on context, but it felt intrusive, so you decided against it. Once you were back behind the stove, Billy then Tommy appeared one after the other, in different states of awakening. With them finally present, you also sat down to enjoy breakfast, then everyone left to go get ready for the day. 

You were quick to arrive at the clothing store and grab whatever caught your fancy. You knew you weren't going to buy anything but it didn't mean you couldn't enjoy trying on nice clothes. There was a leather jacket that caught your attention and you put it on your arm to try it later as you kept going around the store. You looked at some things with Wanda while the boys were in the other section of the store.

"What do you think of this dress?" Wanda asked you as she held a nice black and white garment with a bit of a vintage style in front of herself. You tried to imagine her in it, and if you were honest to yourself you thought she'd probably even look good in a potato bag.

"I think it'd look great!" The woman smiled at you and added it to the small pile of clothes she had collected so far. Now you knew where Tommy's sense of style came from at least.

With that in mind, you joined back with the boys to try on what you had found in the store. Like you, Billy only had a few items, so you went first to try the clothes, putting on a mini show. You really liked the leather jacket, the twins and Wanda complimenting you on it, and you thought for a second that maybe you should buy it. But upon seeing the price again you grimaced and decided to put it with the rest of the clothes you couldn't buy anyway.

After you, Wanda and Tommy started their own mini show of trying their clothes. It was the occasion for you to admire the woman some more without feeling like a creep. You were right in your earlier assessment; Wanda could wear anything and look gorgeous. As both Tommy and Wanda went back into the fitting room, Billy decided to wander back into the store, leaving you alone on the bench where you waited for the rest of the show.

"Billy? Can you come help me with the zipper of my dress?" Wanda called, and you looked around. With your friend gone, you hesitantly approached the fitting room curtain.

"He went back into the store," you simply said to her. A few floating seconds passed.

"Can you help me then?"

You hesitated. On one hand, being in such a small space with her not technically fully dressed seemed like a bad idea for the blooming crush you had on her, and on the other hand, it's not like she was naked or like it was anything more than innocent. In the end, you got a hold of yourself.

"Yes. Yes I can." You entered the fitting room quickly so as to not expose her. There she was, her back turned on you, her back in full view while she was holding the dress up to cover the rest of her body. Your mouth felt dry when you came closer to her.

"I can't catch the zipper, so if you could just…" she trailed off but you understood clearly what she needed.

"Okay, let me just…"

You chased a few strands of hair away from her back to go with the rest, the soft texture burning on your fingers. You noticed a few goosebumps on her skin at this point, and you wanted nothing more than to trace along them on her back. It was easy to imagine the silky skin under your fingertips, the warmth of it against your lips, and the taste between your teeth. There was a dull ache inside of you, like a deep resonance that called to you. But you controlled yourself. With as much delicacy as you could manage, you took the zipper between your fingers and brought it up carefully until it hit the top of the dress.

"There you go," you almost whispered before looking up. Your eyes met in the mirror and you could swear you saw the same hunger as yours deep inside her green irises.

"Thank you," she told you, and you saw her neck bobbed slightly as she swallowed hard. Electricity ran through you and your hand raised, ready to meet hers so you could turn her around and get more than you did the past week.

"Where is everyone?" You heard Tommy ask. You stopped in your tracks, back to reality. After blinking a few times, you took a step back and came out of the fitting room trying to look casual.

"Sorry, I was helping Wanda with something."

She actually came out in turn and showed the dress to Tommy. She looked like nothing had happened - and technically nothing had - but you could still feel the blood filling your ears like the single most important decision of your life had been taken away from you. You contained a sigh and went back to sit while the rest of the time spent in the store flew by.

*

A few days went by, during which you tried to control your growing feelings. You quickly realized it was a futile endeavor the one day Wanda joined you to swim in the morning. Seeing her in her swimming suit, you couldn't help but appreciate the display of skin and how utterly beautiful she looked - leftover traces of pregnancy and all. She caught you looking at her a few times, and without ever missing a beat she smiled at you. It was a simple moment that cemented your attraction to her and whatever else you weren't ready to admit you were feeling. But despite that simple interaction, the peace that came with her small reciprocation didn't last.

You were playing on the PS5 with Billy, while Tommy was outside working on his tan. This day had been slow, until now when Wanda started getting ready for her outing.

"I'm almost ready to leave," Wanda said as she adjusted her long hair over her shoulder, then her carmine dress. She put on her heels and looked herself over in the mirror. "I left you with enough money for whatever you want to order, don't break the house, I'll be back late so be in bed before I come back."

"You hear that Tommy?" Billy relayed.

"No, sorry, the sun is blocking my ears!"

You paused the game and stood up with Billy to see her out when you noticed the luxurious car waiting in front of the house. A man stood up next to it, dressed in a relaxed suit. You frowned slightly as you looked back at Wanda, and it hit you. This 'outing' was definitely a date. Your heart sank to the bottom of your stomach.

"Have fun, mom," Billy said as he gave his mother a hug. Meanwhile you stayed standing in the hallway, frozen as every little sign you thought you saw her give to you came to your mind. Had you been imagining it? Your focus came back on Wanda when you felt her gaze on you, very briefly. You took a deep breath to ground yourself.

"I'll see you all tomorrow," she said before she disappeared through the door. Without another word, Billy taped you in the shoulder on his way to the console. It was enough to get you to automatically join him, your mind lost in speculations.

You spent the rest of the evening coming in and out of your thoughts, unable to share them with anyone, even when the conversation veered towards Wanda's date as you were eating your pizza.

"So, what did the guy look like?" Tommy asked his brother, who shrugged.

"He was a bit far so I didn't get to see well enough but he looked okay."

"What about you, Y/n, saw anything?"

You went back to the moment you saw the man in your head, only the feeling of hating the man for no reason. "There was nothing special besides his cool car."

Tommy groaned at your answer, looking at his pizza with distaste.

"You guys suck at gossiping, I swear."

You laughed lightly, and Billy pushed the last slice of pizza towards you as he spoke very wisely.

"Mom doesn't want us to meet the guy, we shouldn't force it. It's only their second date, there is really no reason to push."

You took the pizza slice, listening intently as you ate.

"I just wish she'd date someone fun or something," Tommy pouted.

"You can't think only of yourself." Billy had a point there, and his brother knew it, but it also hit you. You had to consider them in the equation of whatever you were feeling, whether Wanda liked you back or not. You couldn't just keep thirsting over their mom like that. With that new revelation in mind, you all watched a movie and went to bed. 

The shadows around you were your only company, until you heard someone open the door downstairs. By the sounds she made, it had to be Wanda who was trying to be discreet as she was coming up the stairs. You followed her tracks around the house with your hearing, until she was finally in her bedroom. You closed your eyes, thinking she was going to go to bed but instead she opened the door to the balcony and took one of the chairs to sit on it. You frowned slightly, trying to visualize what she was doing but there was no point, you couldn't hear a thing anymore. You stayed in bed some more time until the curiosity was killing you, then you stood up and joined Wanda on the balcony. She was leaning against the railing, back in comfortable clothes, and looking at the sky hanging so far away from her. There was a glass and a bottle of wine sitting next to her. It was clear that she was lost in thoughts and didn't notice you.

"How was your date?" You asked rather bluntly, surprising her. She turned around quickly, wisps of red at her fingertips that vanished when she saw it was only you.

"Why aren't you asleep?" She returned on the defensive, her accent coming through for once. You approached and leaned against the railing like she did earlier.

"I just couldn't find sleep. Your turn now."

Wanda let out a sigh and resumed her position, not looking at you as she answered.

"I don't think I'm going to see him again." That answer made you feel conflicted. Your heart was making jumps and bounds at that, but her voice was so dejected that you couldn't help but feel bad for her. She grabbed her glass of wine and drank a sip. "Honestly I don't even know why I accepted a second date to begin with."

"That bad?" You tried in support to allow her to empty her mind.

"He just loved talking about himself, would try to order in my stead, and he had questionable opinions. To the point where I wondered why he would go on a date with me, a lowly woman with powers." You frowned at that last bit. Clearly the man was an idiot with an inflated ego.

"If he was that bad, why did you give him a second chance?" There was no blame in your voice, just pure curiosity. She took some time before she answered you, drinking a few more sips of wine.

"Part of it is loneliness, I suppose. Another part is…" she trailed off, her head briefly turning to look at you. "It doesn't really matter."

You hummed, half catching on to what she wasn't telling you. That you were part of the equation, even if she hadn't known you for long. But you had had your epiphany that night, so knowing that didn't matter anymore, you couldn't betray the twins.

"Loneliness sure sucks," you simply agreed. You took the glass of wine from her hand to take a sip while looking at her. Even in the dark you could see a small blush on her cheeks. "Makes us do dumb stuff."

"Aren't you a little bit young for that?" She arched an eyebrow at you and you smirked in return.

"I mean… yes," you admitted. "But not by much. Plus, it's not the first time I drink."

You winked at her and took one more sip before you put down the glass. She took it in turn and drank some more, then refilled it. There was peaceful, comfortable silence between the both of you as you shared the glass.

"Can I ask you something?" Wanda finally asked you, turning more towards you with a concerned but curious look. You shrugged slightly.

"Go ahead."

"How come… where…" she fiddled with her fingers and changed the leg she was most leaning against. "Where are your parents?"

You looked at her, no surprise on your face that she would ask that. It made sense after all that she would worry about it considering that you were invading her place for most of the summer. You linked your hands in front of you and looked away.

"I don't know, and frankly, I don't care. They're monsters." Memories started to surface as your eyes darkened. Visions of a dark basement and blood, of horrible words and terrible faith. When her hand landed on your shoulder, it took you out of those moments and anchored you to the now.

"I'm sorry," she whispered before her arms linked around you in a tentative hug. Her warmth and smell enveloped you like a reassuring blanket and you found yourself melting against her. Your vision became blurry; a few tears trailed down your cheeks. It took you some time, but eventually you calmed down enough to start enjoying the contact with Wanda.

You took a deep breath as you nudged your face closer to her neck and enjoyed the smell of cinnamon, sandalwood, and wine coming off of her. One of her hands made small circles on your back and you relaxed some more, until you emerged from the embrace and your gazes locked. The iridescent greens of her eyes were dancing under the moonlight like otherworldly flames ready to engulf you in its fire. It would have been so easy in this instant to lean closer and capture her lips, caress her rosy cheeks, and make her yours. And she did lean closer, her eyes fluttering shut, as you yourself started to initiate a kiss. But as you felt her breath on your lips, and could almost taste her supple mouth, a small voice in your head stopped you.

"I… I can't," you said, and she straightened up, looking red in shame.

"Oh. It's… I'm sorry, I shouldn't have…" she hid her face behind her hand and turned around, her back to you. Your lips formed a line and you took a step back.

"No, it's not you. I just… now… it's not a good time."

"No, you're right. We can't."

"I'm sorry," you said last before you fled to your bedroom, leaving Wanda alone on the balcony.

*

The dark basement had been your home for the last two years. At first, it wasn't that bad. You were in chains, but you got three meals a day and your parents would come and see you, trying to understand what happened, and encourage you to lose your powers somehow. And you tried, but you could always feel them in you, lurking in each shadow that you could see.

Then came the torture. New ways to deprive you of your 'gift from Satan'. First the exorcisms, then the cold of winter, then the electroshocks, then, then, then. One day, they simply didn't show up. No food and no water were brought to you. But no torture either. At first it happened maybe one time a week, they would forget you. It quickly became a habit. Two days a week, three days a week, five days a week. They would make sure you stayed alive, but it was like they had forgotten you. You were getting weaker and weaker, until one day you heard it.

Your doom.

A baby crying upstairs.

And at that moment you could feel in your guts what was their next step, what they needed to do to make sure that baby would be blessed by a life in the light of God. You almost accepted it. You felt so weak, ready to depart that torturous world that had been so unfair to you. So when the steps came down, you did nothing. When you saw the hammer, you did nothing. You laid there like a lamb waiting for slaughter.

He sat down next to you on your makeshift bed and caressed your hair with a tenderness you hadn't known the past two years. He told you it was going to be okay, that your suffering was over. You wanted it to be. Until you saw his smile amidst the tears, the happiness of finally getting rid of you overtaking him. It made you sick. He brought his hammer up. And then there was blood. Not yours, but his, as you held up a dagger made out of shadows. You stabbed him a second time. A third time. Almost went for a fourth but you couldn't see anything anymore. Everything was blurred by your tears and his screams.

She must have heard him, because she came downstairs. You threatened her for the key, and once the chains were down, you ran. You were no lamb. You were alive.

[witchslove]

Main Masterlist

Welcome to my writing blog! Here I'll be posting fics and blurbs that I write as well as taking requests/commissions. Please don't repost my work anywhere.

18+ ONLY MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

How To Support Me

Commissions - Send a request off anon and I’ll write it

Cash App/Venmo - Send a tip if you’re feeling generous

One Shots

I Can Do It Better* - Wanda Maximoff x Reader

Summary: When you find out your best friend has never had an orgasm, you help her out.

Do You Believe In Ghosts? - Wanda Maximoff x Reader

Summary: Your love for each other turns out to be even stronger than you'd ever imagined.

Stress Relief* - Stepmom!Wanda Maximoff x Reader

Summary: Whenever you're overwhelmed, your loving stepmom is there to make it better.

Seven Minutes In Heaven* - Wanda Maximoff x Reader

Summary: Your best friend’s sister has hated you since the day you met. What happens when the two of you are forced to spend seven minutes alone together at a party?

Halloween Party* - Wanda Maximoff x Reader

Summary: You and Wanda spent weeks planning your costumes for Halloween this year. At the last minute, she decides to wear something else.

Rivals* - Wanda Maximoff x Reader

Summary: You and Wanda work together but you can’t stand each other, until one day your boss asks the two of you to fake date for a promotion.

Thin Walls* - Milf!Wanda Maximoff x Reader

Summary: You stay over at Wanda’s one night after babysitting the boys, only to find out that the walls of her house are very thin.

Study Sessions* - Wanda Maximoff x Reader

Summary: You and Wanda have been best friends since your first semester of college. When you have to take a physics class, Wanda is more than happy to help you study, but your late night study sessions blur the lines between friendship and romance.

Series

The Camgirl Next Door* - Camgirl!Wanda Maximoff x Reader

Summary: One of your favorite ways to relieve stress is by watching a beautiful camgirl named “Scarlet Witch.” When Wanda Maximoff, Scarlet Witch herself, moves in next door, you fall for her.

Blurbs/Drabbles

All drabbles in response to asks are under #drabble!

Watch Me* - Camgirl!Wanda Maximoff x Reader

Summary: When Wanda gets an interesting request from one of her viewers, she asks you to help her out.

Mother’s Day with Wanda - Milf!Wanda Maximoff x Reader

Summary: How you would spend Mother’s Day with Wanda as your wife.

Desperation* - Wanda Maximoff x Reader

Summary: Wanda loves how desperate you are for her.

Piss Kink with Wanda* - Wanda Maximoff x Reader

Friends with Benefits* - Wanda Maximoff x Reader

Summary: No kissing, no cuddling, no feelings - those are the rules. What happens when your jealousy threatens to break all three?

Wanda punishes you for teasing her.

Rules/Guidelines

I only write f/f and f/gn!reader and top!reader.

CHARACTERS I WRITE FOR: Wanda Maximoff or any Elizabeth Olsen characters

WHAT I WILL WRITE: fluff, angst, smut, legal age gap, mommy kink, dom/sub dynamics, praise kink, lactation kink, piss kink, and many others - just ask!

WHAT I WON'T WRITE: illegal age gap, noncon

[traveler-at-heart]

Come running back to me

Request by @esposadejoyhuerta - babe, I tried, but angst evades me.

Summary: Wanda cheats on you and Natasha is there to help you heal.

Wanda Maximoff x F!R, Natasha Romanoff x F!R

A/N: Reader has Magneto like powers.

There’s something in the air that makes you restless as you walk down the streets. It’s too calm for an autumn afternoon in London.

“Blonde suits you” you say as you stop at a corner. There’s a chuckle behind you.

“Though I’d fool you” Natasha says, coming out of the shadows and standing next to you.

“I’m not easily fooled. It’s nice to see you”

“Likewise” the woman nods.

It’s been almost two years since part of the Avengers have been on the run. Your abilities have made you an especially important target, so you spend most of the time hiding on your own. Divide and conquer.

“And how are things?” you say. It’s been a month since you spoke with Wanda, and you don’t know if Natasha knows.

“Great. They’re about to get even better” she sighs. “If you don’t mind, we need to borrow Wanda. Could use your help as well”

“Wait, what? Wanda is not with me” you look at Natasha, alarmed.

“She left two days ago… the same she always does when she meets you”

“Did she say where…?” Natasha shakes her head no and you feel like throwing up. You can’t lose her, not now.

“Steve” the woman calls through her burner, but is interrupted. “Understood, we’re on our way” Natasha turns to you. “Come on, we have a lead”

—

The joy of reuniting with Steve is short lived, because your mind is reeling with the possibilities of what could have happened to Wanda.

Was she captured by the US? Did HYDRA find her? You’re not sure which one of those is worse.

You also think back to your last conversation. How you offered her to stay together, have your own place away from everything… a future in the middle of uncertainty.

Guilt invaded your mind. What if she was overwhelmed by your proposal and left to think things through?

“We have an alien aircraft and four subjects” Sam informs. The four of you descend from the Quinjet, Natasha holding on to you. You set her down gently, and you both jump right in to fight the aliens.

Wanda looks at you with relief, and then a flash of panic crosses her features.

As you spot a cut in her forehead, your patience runs out, and you use the alien’s own blade to cut its head off. The weapon floats in the air as you manipulate it with your powers, sending it across the train station to knock down another alien that Natasha was fighting.

There’s an exchange between your friends and the creatures, but you’re too busy walking to Wanda.

She’s not alone. Vision is holding on to her hand, looking up at her as if…

No, that can’t be.

“Y/N” Wanda pleads when everything clicks for you.

Wanda and Vision, together. For how long, who knows, but long enough for her to leave you behind without a word. She risked getting caught just to see him, all the while you were the one putting your neck on the line to make sure she was safe.

“Please” she sighs when you step back.

“Don’t” you shake your head, going around the corner to hide yourself from the team. Leaning against a wall, you pinch the bridge of your nose, holding back tears. The feeling of betrayal burns your throat as a sob escapes from your mouth. You try to stiffle it, breathing to calm yourself down.

A hand rests on your shoulder, and you don’t need to open your eyes to know who it is.

“I’m sorry” Natasha says, wiping away another tear that rolls down your face. “I’m really sorry, Y/N”

“I can find my way back from here” you say after a beat of silence. You won’t spend another moment with Wanda.

“Well, that’s not gonna work” Steve says, joining you. There’s compassion in his eyes, but also a sense of urgency. “New York has been targeted as well. Time to assemble”

—

The trip to Wakanda will take at least 6 hours. This aircraft is smaller and slower than the Avengers’ Quinjet. You understand they’ve had to lay low and make the best of the resources they can find.

This also means you’re left with fewer places to hide from Wanda.

You go to the back of the jet, sitting on the floor. It’s cold and uncomfortable, but you don’t care. The silence is defeaning, Steve coordinating with Natasha in a low voice, Wanda reassuring Vision while you refuse to look her way.

“We’re almost there” Natasha says after a few hours.

“I can tell” you nod, stretching.

“How?”

“The vibranium. I feel it. It’s a little overwhelming”

“How so?”

“I’m used to sensing different materials that can be manipulated by my powers. They’re everywhere. But vibranium is so rare so it’s not part of my… filter. I’m just not used to its presence”

“Is it uncomfortable?” Natasha says with a frown and you shake your head. She nods, placing her hand on your shoulder.

As you watch her walk back to the copilot seat, your eyes meet Wanda’s. You look away, swallowing to keep the tears at bay.

Once you arrive, the team meets, reaching out to everyone that can join the impending battle. You barely register the conversation, looking out the window. It’s a nice view.

There’s talk about how to destroy the Mind Stone while keeping Vision alive.

“You should destroy it while we still can” he asks Wanda.

“But you’ll die”

Good.

There’s a gasp and you turn around, looking at Wanda. Natasha stares too, confused, which confirms that You didn’t say it out loud, only thought about it.

“That’s too much, even for you” Wanda says.

“Get the fuck out of my head, then. If you want warm and fuzzy thoughts, maybe don’t cheat on me, Wanda”

The silence hangs in the room, and you leave, knowing your presence is only making it worse for everyone. Steve asked you to come and fight, not put on a show.

You stand at the first line of defense, next to Natasha, Steve and Bucky. As soon as the alien aircrafts show up, you bring them down, or make them crash against each other.

Once Thor joins the fight and takes over, you direct your attention to hand to hand combat. Using their own weapons against them, you keep the aliens at bay, clearing the path for Natasha and Steve.

“I’ve had enough of you” one of the aliens you saw in Edinburgh jumps, and they’re too quick, punching you and throwing you across the field, leaving you out of breath. That and the exhaustion from using your powers for such an intense fight make you dizzy, and you’re not sure you’ll be able to stand up in time.

Red wisps of magic throw the alien against a machine, killing them instantly.

“Are you ok?” Wanda runs to your side. Up until now, she had stayed next to Vision.

“I’m fine” you lie. She’s about to argue with you when everything goes quiet.

Thanos, you hear someone whisper, and you immediately turn around. A chill runs down your spine as a gigantic figure shows up in the middle of the battlefield.

“I’m too tired to fly all the way there. Throw me and then get back to the stone”

“You’re too weak” she protests.

“Just do it”

Wanda listens and you join Thor, Steve close behind. You close your hands in fists, so Thano’s armour closes around his own body, crushing him. As Thor wields his axe, you pull away the gauntlet, throwing it to T’Challa. He carries it, putting distance between it and Thanos.

The creature let’s out a groan, throwing you against a tree while Thor pushes the axe against his neck. His arms shake with the force he is exerting, but it’s not enough.

Reaching forward, you use your powers to push down, moving the weapon further down his neck. You begin to see black spots, exhausted from the physical exhertion.

Thankfully, Steve shows up, delivering a final blow that separates Thanos’ head from his body.

You’re too tense to let go, fearing he’ll be able to grow a second head. It’s only until Natasha runs to your side that you drop the headless body.

Out of breath, you fall to your knees, trying to stop shaking.

“Are you ok?” Natasha asks, inspecting every inch of your body.

“Fine” you mutter. Then, you bend over and throw up blood. “Ok, maybe not”

—

Shuri is next to your bed, checking your vitals. She’s been making her rounds between Vision and you. It seems like she’ll be able to separate the stone from the droid.

“How is she?” Natasha asks, looking at you. It’s been 12 hours since you passed out.

“She’s stable. Her body needs to recover. It was overexhertion from exceptional use of her power, there are no other injuries. But I am told she can heal faster than a regular person, so…”

“Yeah” Natasha nods, sighing. “She’s strong. I’m just worried”

“It will be fine, agent. The price of saving the universe”

You wake up the next night, in a dark room lit only by the monitor that keeps your vitals visible. You feel weak and thirsty, but you also know you have the get out of here.

Leaving the room behind, you walk out of the building when a voice stops you.

“You’re up” Wanda says and goes after you when you keep walking. “Wait, what are you doing? You can’t leave”

“I can’t stay here. I’m an outlaw”

“I’m sure that will change now that you’ve saved the universe. Come on. You need your rest” Wanda takes your arm and you yank it away, as if her touch burns.

“Don’t act like you’re concerned for me. You don’t care about me at all, Wanda”

“That’s not true…”

“How long?” you finally turn to her, and hold her stare as a tear rolls down her cheek.

“Six months”

You nod, feeling like you might throw up again for a very different reason.

“Hope you’re very happy with him. Goodbye”

“No, wait! I didn’t mean for it to happen… I didn’t want to hurt you”

“And yet here we are” you mumble, wiping away the tears that run down your face. “Go be with him. We’re done here”

You use the little strenght you have to turn invisible, hoping that will be enough to stop her from following you.

Still, Wanda stays glued to her spot, sobbing quietly.

“Is Y/N ok?” Natasha rushes to your room. “Where is she?”

“She’s gone”

“Why did you let her leave? She’s too weak to do anything”

“I couldn’t stop her”

“I wonder why that is” Natasha bites back and Wanda glares at her.

“Don’t talk to me like that, Natasha, you have no idea…”

“I do, actually. She risked her life to keep the government away from us. She was alone for two years while we protected you, Wanda. You’re the one that screwed up here and it’s on you if something happens to her” Natasha says in an even tone, as if she’s bored with Wanda’s childish complaints. “Your precious robot is ready. Go be with him. The rest of us will clean after your mess”

It’s been a month.

You’re in Norway, in the middle of nowhere. No internet, radio or phone. You’re clueless about what happened after the Battle of Wakanda and honestly, couldn’t care less. 

All you do is go around the forest, think about Wanda and hate her.

You miss her terribly, but it’s not like the other times, when you were apart, knowing you’d see her again. There’s no reunion or anticipation to hold her in your arms again. To hear her laugh and feel her lips on yours.

That part of your life is done for good. There’s nothing left.

The rain starts in the middle of your run, so you create a force field to shield you from the drops. As you approach the trailer, you notice the door is ajar.

Alerted, you go inside, ready to attack.

Natasha is fast asleep in your bed.

“Hey” you nudge her with your foot and she grumbles.

“You took forever” 

“Well, there’s nothing else to do around here so I’m usually gone for hours” you explain. “Wanna go for a swim?”

“The water is freezing, are you insane? Oh, never mind, you are!” she punches your arm and you laugh.

“What are you on about, Romanoff?”

“You left Wakanda half dead. And for a moment I thought you were, it took me forever to find you” 

“How did you find me?” you wonder, taking off your wet sneakers, leaning against the wall while Natasha sits up, crossing her legs. 

“McDonald’s security camera”

“I do love me some fries” you sigh. “So, what are you doing here?”

“Just checking to see if you’re ok”

“I’m alive” you shrug your shoulders. “That’s about it”

Natasha stares for a little too long, and you fidget under the intensity of her green eyes. You know what she means, but you refuse to mention Wanda or your break up.

“Come home with me” she pleads, her voice soft. You’re surprised at her vulnerability. 

“I can’t stand to watch her with that toaster every single day”

“They’re not in New York” 

“Where are they, then?”

“Does it matter?” she challenges you. Of course, it doesn’t. It’s not your business. Not anymore. You sit next to her, bringing your knees to your chest.

“I was barely an Avenger, and the Compound… I don’t know, Nat. I don’t feel like I belong anywhere anymore. Especially in places where we were together”

“Who said anything about the Compound? I’m in my thirties, I figured having a bunch of roommates was too much. I’m living in my own place now. And looking for someone to split the rent with, since I have very good taste and it’s in an expensive area” 

“I thought roommates were too much for you” you say with a smile.

“Multiple, yes. One, I can handle” 

You sigh, looking around you. You’ve been miserable and bored out of your mind. At some point, you’ll have to live again. And if you’re gonna hate life, might as well do it in a city where you can get decent food.

“Ok” you nod, smiling when she extends her hand to seal the deal.

“You better not leave wet towels in the bathroom floor” she warns you.

—

“You lied to me” you grumble, giving the wall a second coat of paint. Natasha ignores you and you glare. “You just wanted someone who’d help you paint the place for free”

“Absolutely not!” Natasha shakes her head no. 

Except, maybe she left out how the apartment needed some work and there was nothing on it except the walls. You’re being annoying, but you actually don’t mind. This is the first time in your life where you get to decide how to live. It also helps to get your mind of everything that happened in the last month. When you’re assembling furniture and arguing over color palettes, heartbreak is not at the forefront of your mind.

You have not settled on a couch, so you’re still using the one you got from the Compound. Natasha insists that it doesn’t have to be anything too expensive, but you keep saying a good living room is the soul of any great apartment.

“It’s not like we’re having a lot of people coming over, we’re both loners”

“All the more reason to get a nice couch. We watch movies every night in the living room” 

“I’m picking the movie tonight, by the way”

“You already had your chance” you mumble. “Those privileges have been revoked for the rest of the week”

You had to sleep with the lights on after a marathon of all those Insidious movies she likes so much.

But still, you let her choose the movie because it’s nice and there’s no point in fighting with the one person who’s going out of her way to keep you company in your misery. After the movie’s done, she stands up, stretching her arms. 

“I’m calling it a night”

“Ok” you smile, taking over the entire couch and covering yourself with the blanket. Natasha stares. “What?”

“You’ve been sleeping in the living room. Don’t say it’s because of the movie, it’s been happening since you got here, Y/N”

“I… uh” you scratch the back of your neck nervously. “My room feels… lonely. Here I can listen to the sounds of the street. And sometimes when you go to the kitchen I hear your footsteps and feel less… horrible. It’s stupid”

“It’s not” she shakes her head. “We’ll get a new couch tomorrow” 

“Alright”

“Good night, Y/N”

“Night, Nat”

—

People walk past you and you ignore them as you sit, Natasha to your right. 

“Pass the popcorn” you say and she pretends to grab something from the air, handing it over to you. “I’m not feeling it” 

“It’s a nice couch” Natasha protests, trying to be patient. She has a feeling the couch is a metaphor for your love life, but you’re being impossible in your shopping trip.

“It’s not the couch” you insist, pulling her up and walking around the shop. You mumble a number of things as you inspect different furniture. The color isn’t right, it’s itchy, it’s too small.

“We’re getting close, I can feel it” you promise, walking backwards to look at Nat.

“Watch where you’re going…”

Too late, as you trip over and fall on your back. You yelp, landing on a cream colored sofa that feels perfect.

“Are you ok?” Natasha hurries over and you laugh, pulling her towards you by the hand. It’s big enough to fit the both of you when you lie down on your side. “Wow, this is great” 

“Right?” you snuggle next to her, sighing. “We found it, Nat” 

“Yeah, we did” she smiles. “Let’s take it home” 

You celebrate, hugging her until a store clerk comes by and ask if you need help. Natasha blushes as she breaks apart, confirming you’re buying it. Her hand never leaves your back as she speaks to the clerk. 

“We should celebrate” you say as you leave the store, not dwelling too much on why buying furniture makes you so damn happy.

“I’d love to, but I have a mission” Natasha sighs.

“Oh. I understand” 

The universe might have been in danger, but the world -and the bad guys- certainly didn’t stop. The Avengers were still operating, albeit with more freedom than before.

“We’ll do something when I’m back” she promises and you nod. 

You can handle a day alone, right?

The apartment feels empty without her and you can’t help but think about the past few months. You isolated yourself, then Natasha brought you back to the city, where you focused on fixing your apartment. 

Sooner or later, you’d have to face the reality of your situation. 

Wanda wasn’t part of your life or future anymore. Sitting around doing nothing was not an option in the long run.

Which is why you show up at the Compound first thing in the morning, knocking on Steve’s door. 

“Natasha won’t be back until later today” he says as you sit in front of him. 

“I know. I wanted to talk to you about… coming back to the team” 

“We’d love to have you, Y/N. Your skills are incredibly helpful on the field, and we’ve all seen that you’re very loyal. I know how much you risked to protect us as we were on the run” 

“I feel a but coming” you say and Steve laughs.

“I just want to make sure you’re doing it for the right reasons. Because you want to, not because you feel like there’s no other place to go to”

“I think I can be useful, in a way only few people can. I mean, what am I going to do with magnetism manipulation? Work as a barista?”

“Fair enough” he nods, leaning forward. “Welcome back” 

You have the presence of mind to ask him to hold off on telling Natasha, because you want to let her know yourself. It may be silly, but you make dinner and get her favorite wine as you wait for her to be back from the mission.

“What smells so good?” she greets, closing the door behind her. She’s out of her work clothes, wearing jeans, a simple white tee and leather jacket.

“I made chicken alfredo” you say, moving the pasta around as you turn off the stove.

“Smells delicious” she looks over your shoulder, placing her hand on your lower back as she reaches for two plates and wine glasses.

During dinner, you listen to Natasha talk about the mission and how Sam and Bucky can’t get along even after everything they’ve been through. 

“I’m telling Steve to keep his boyfriends under control”

“Speaking of… Steve” you put your fork down, nervous all of the sudden. “I’m rejoining the Avengers”

Natasha chews for a moment, sips from her glass and wipes the corner of her mouth. Once she’s done, she sighs, looking up.

“I’m gonna kill him”

“What? Who?”

“Steve! This is low, even for him. This is why I didn’t want to leave for a mission just yet. I suspected he’d find a way to guilt you into thinking you owe the world something”

“Wait, no. That’s not what happened. Nat, listen to me” you plead, reaching for her hand and forcing her to sit down. “I went to see him this morning. Maybe I’m just… done with moping around and doing nothing. I can’t go like this forever. Plus, we’d get to go on missions together, right? Or maybe not, you’ll get sick of me, we already share an apartment”

Natasha calls for you, the way she says your name full of care and gentleness.

“Is this what you want?”

“Yes” you say, still holding her hand.

“Then I’m happy” she nods, smiling as she raises her glass.

—

Life is gentle, if only because you let yourself be. A routine develops, with training, missions, dinner and movies. Sometimes you go out, sometimes you cook for Natasha. 

The constant is each other’s presence. And whenever she has to be away on a solo mission, you find comfort in the things she leaves behind, like her clothes. She doesn’t question anything the first time she comes back home and finds you napping in the couch, wearing one of her hoodies.

Natasha has also accepted every bouquet, commenting that it will look beautiful in the kitchen table. She’s right, but that’s not why you buy them; it’s because you’re enamored by her smile as she inspects each flower. 

Home takes on a different meaning. It’s not just the apartment you share, it’s the mornings when Natasha comes back from her run with your favorite muffins; the days you find your favorite cookies in a grocery bag and those times when Nat insists on cleaning after eating whatever it is you prepared and she listens to you talk about your day as she washes dishes.

One day, as Natasha comes back from training new recruits, you greet her at the door. Her smile is gentle, but distant. 

“I was wondering if… you’d like to go out tonight?” you ask, sensing this isn’t the best time but you also know you’ll chicken out if you don’t do it now. 

“I’m kinda tired. I’ll probably take a shower and call it a night”

“Oh, yeah” you nod, fidgeting with your hands.

“I’m sorry. It’s been a weird day. My mind’s a mess” Natasha steps forward, reaching for your hand.

“It doesn’t have to be today. What I meant was… would you like to go on a date with me?” you finally look up, trying to decipher her expression.

Natasha smiles and you sigh with relief.

“How about tomorrow?”

“Sounds perfect”

That’s exactly how the evening goes. You’ve shared so many nights together, but there’s something different in the air. It’s electric and it makes your head spin, craving more each time her hand touches yours.

“Next one is on me” she promises when you insist on paying for dinner. You lean against her, until her arm goes around your shoulders.

“So, there’s gonna be a next one?” 

“I’d like that, yes” Natasha nod and you blush, practically hiding in her arms. She laughs, kissing your temple. The walk home is quiet, but not in an uncomfortable way.

Inevitably, your mind goes to your previous relationship. Truth be told, most of the time you spent with Wanda was brief and under difficult circumstances. There were never dates or any semblance of a normal life. There’s no way of knowing if you’d had worked out together. But, for the first time in six months, it doesn’t hurt to think about what you lost.

You can’t imagine your life without Natasha.

“One episode, that’s all” you argue playfully as you go up the stairs, hoping Natasha wants to watch the show you were binging the other day.

“We have an early morning tomorrow” 

“I’ll make it worth your time…” you say, laughing.

“Y/N” a different voice calls from the end of the hallway. You look back, your eyes meeting Wanda’s. Natasha doesn’t seem as surprised.

“Wanda, what are you doing here?”

“I came back a few days ago…” the girl turns to Natasha, upset. “You didn’t tell her I was here”

“I was hoping you’d leave her alone” Natasha admits, avoiding your eyes.

“Is that really the only reason?” Wanda looks intently at the way you’re holding Natasha’s hand.

“What is that supposed to mean?” Natasha steps forward, but you pull her back.

“It’s not worth it, Nat”

“Y/N, I just need five minutes. Alone” Wanda asks, focusing entirely on you. You can tell that Natasha feels defeated as you nod, but still goes inside without another word, the door closing behind her.

“Five minutes” you say, crossing your arms. You miss Natasha’s warmth as soon as she leaves.

“I came back to say I’m sorry. To say that I think I made a mistake”

“You hurt me. I think that was a mistake, yes. Is that all?”

“These past few months I… I have tried to convince myself that what I did was not so bad, or that it was meant to be between Vision and me. But lately, I’ve wondered if it wasn’t only the stone. The connection was so strong between us, but now that the Mind stone is gone…”

“Now you’re bored and coming back to me” 

“It’s not like that” 

“Whatever it is, I’m not interested, Wanda. I’ve moved on, worked on myself. Found someone who makes me happier than I’ve ever been. I’m sorry, truly, that things didn’t turn out the way you wanted. But coming back to me is not an option. That door is closed for good” 

“Of course” she sighs, a tear rolling down her cheek. “I’m sorry for interrupting your date, I’ll leave now”

“Wanda” you call as she walks down the hall. “I really hope you can find happiness again”

With that, you walk into your apartment. 

“Can we talk?” you say, approaching Nat. She smiles sadly.

“Look, I understand. Wanda’s the one. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you she was here… I guess I just wanted to be a little selfish and have one date with you”

You sigh, sitting down next to her.

“She’s gone now. I’m not… whatever it is I felt for her, it’s over now, Nat. I’m sorry if I made you feel insecure” you place your finger under her chin, making her look up. “I like that you sing while you wash the dishes. I know your favorite flowers are tulips. I’d watch twenty horror movies just to see you smile” she chuckles at that, reaching for your hand. “I’d do anything to give you a fraction of the happiness you’ve given me, Natasha”

“It’s hard to believe, that’s all. I’ve never been easy to love” 

“And yet, it’s the only thing that’s kept me going for this long. Your love. Will you let me pay it back?”

“Yes” she nods, her nose rubbing against yours as you lean forward, kissing her gently at first, and then pushing her until she’s laying on the couch. She pulls you closer, eager for more. 

“I did say I’d make it worth your time” 

You laugh against Natasha’s lips, feeling how she’s smiling into the kiss.

“Lucky for us, we have the best couch in all of New York City, and all the time in the world”

“Yes, we do” you confirm, kissing her until you’re both out of breath. “And we have each other”

“That too” Natasha nods, her hand on your cheek.

And you’d have each other, in the home you built.

[wandascrush]

A friend comes calling

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x f!reader, Wanda Maximoff x f!reader, Avenegrrs x f!reader, Hydra x f!reader, new character x f!reader, Sharon Carter x f!reader

Warnings: angst, torture, burning, throw up, blackmail, trigger words, blackmail, noncon because of orders, seduction

Part 10 of the DIWK series

Tag list: @kissesfornat @ayrtonwilbury @womenarehotsstuff @esposadejoyhuerta @casquinhaa @blacatto @caffeine-pup @seventeen-x

Samantha’s voice is honeyed poison. Slick. Slow. Cruel.

“You really think they were looking for you?” she murmurs, dragging a lazy circle around your bruised wrist. “You saw the footage.”

Your head lolls slightly, exhaustion weighing on your every breath, “What footage?”

Samantha tilts her head, smirking.

“Let me show you.”

The screen crackles to life. And then, there they are. The Avengers.

At a press conference.

Tony Stark with a pressed suit and professional expression.

Natasha. Her lips tight.

Steve Rogers. Arms crossed.

And Tony is speaking.

“It is with great distress that we officially announce the disappearance of Agent Y/N L/N…”

Your heart stutters.

“Former highest-ranking SHIELD operative, special intel spy, and beloved member of our Avengers family.”

But something is wrong. Their faces don’t match their words.

They don’t look upset.

They don’t look like they lost you.

They look like they’re covering something up. Because they are.

You blink, throat dry. “That’s not—”

“Oh, it is.” Samantha leans in, her breath hot against your ear. “They were never going to come for you. The Avengers think they can do anything because they’re heroes. I mean, look what they’ve done to you—”

Your breathing turns shallow. The room sways.

“You’ve been abandoned before, haven’t you?” she whispers, feigning sympathy. “Your parents. Your sister. And now, the people you loved most.” Her hands twirl a lock of your hair between her fingers.

You squeeze your eyes shut.

“Face it, sweetheart.” Samantha’s lips curl into a grin.

“The Avengers never wanted you.”

“But we do.”

And that’s when it happens.

The poison that’s been brewing inside of you slowly spills, infecting your veins.

A bitter taste corrupts your mouth.

Something dark clouds your eyes when you look at the Avengers.

—————————————

The branding iron came at the end of the first month.

By then, you had already been conditioned to expect something every day. A new dose. A new test. A new training companion. Another way to strip away the last pieces of your “Avenger” self.

But this?

This was personal.

Two men restrained you against the metal slab, ripping one side of your shirt to expose the back part of your left shoulder. Samantha entered the room, her expression unreadable. A third guard stood beside her, holding a long, thin metal rod—its tip glowing red-hot.

Your breathing slowed. Not out of calm. Out of pure, cold survival instinct.

“Do you know why we do this?” Samantha mused, tilting her head as she studied you.

“Are you asking me why a terrorist organization brands its prisoners? Gee, what a mystery.”

She continued anyway.

“It’s not to torture you. Not really. That’s just a side effect. It’s to remind you of one straightforward fact.”

The guard stepped forward. The heat from the iron was unbearable even before it made contact.

“You’re ours now.”

A sound ripped from your throat, somewhere between a gasp and a strangled groan. The burn was deep, cutting past skin, past flesh, sinking into muscle and bone. It stayed, the agony lingering long after the iron was pulled away. 

The smell of charred flesh filled the air. You threw up on the floor next to you, heaving and fighting for any breath of air. 

The HYDRA skull, ingrained onto the back of your left shoulder forever, burnt to your bone.

Samantha crouched in front of you, leveling her gaze with yours.

“You’ve held out longer than most. Still got that personality—just barely,” she admitted, impressed. “But everyone breaks, my friend. The trick is knowing when to stop fighting it.”

You didn’t speak. You couldn’t.

But you looked at her.

You looked at her like you were memorizing every detail of her face for later.

And for the first time—

She hesitated.

——————————-

It was subtle at first. The way your thoughts shuffled when you tried to think about the past, the Avengers. The way certain memories felt hazy, almost… artificial.

But the real test came when they brought her in.

Wanda.

Not in person. Just a photograph. Just an image of her face, projected onto a screen as the scientist monitored your neural responses.

Your pulse should have spiked.

Your brain activity should have lit up.

Your heart should have warmed.

But instead?

Nothing.

A blank void where she should have been. It felt like looking at a stranger.

“The psychic barrier is holding. No emotional penetration detected.”

Samantha smirked from across the room.

“Good. Let’s keep it that way.”

Next was Natasha.

Same result.

They weren’t just changing you.

They were removing you.

Wiping out the pieces they didn’t want.

Because when they sent you back—

They wanted you to be theirs.

But there was something they missed.

Someone they never accounted for. Because buried deep, hidden even from yourself—

Your oldest friend had never left your mind. 

Her name floated in your mind like smoke, impossible to grab hold of, but there. A lingering presence. A stubborn ember refusing to burn out.

Memories rising here and there. 

Sharon Carter had slipped through the cracks.

Four Months Later 

No more Agent L/N.

No more Y/N.

Just Asset.

The beatings had eased. Not because they grew kinder, but because they had you where they wanted.

Now, the next stage began.

You woke up at 5:00 AM, sharp. By 12:00 AM, you were thrown back into your cell, exhausted, mind foggy, body running on fumes. No breaks. No mercy. Only orders.

You weren’t new to this game. You had been trained by some of the worlds best at SHIELD since you were fifteen—your body was quick, your mind even quicker. HYDRA saw potential in that, and they had always been good at spotting assets. Molding them.

That’s when you knew.

This wasn’t just conditioning. This wasn’t just breaking you down.

This was the final stage. It had been an eternity since you felt like yourself. You forgot what it felt like to be human.

Your training was specific—stealth assassinations, chemical poisoning, psychological warfare, seduction. Your sniper skills were sharpened on ineffective HYDRA operatives. Seduction tactics were tested on whoever they told you to charm, to spend the night with, just to end them. And the poisons? Whoever lost to you in sparring was your next test subject.

Trigger words were drilled into your mind, engrained so deeply they worked flawlessly:

“Orphaned at dawn” – A reminder that you have no family, you are theirs.

“Sister’s keeper” – Ready to kill.

“Mission complete” – Body immediately collapses after hearing these words, “asleep” until the next order.

The name Y/N L/N was fading. And fast. 

Because, in the eyes of HYDRA, you had become something else entirely.

A weapon.

A fantasy.

A killing machine wrapped in beauty and obedience.

————————

Sharon Carter had been looking for you since the moment you disappeared.

She called Fury. Nothing.

She called Hill. Radio silence.

The Avengers?

They had shut her out entirely. Not to mention her previous bad impression of some of the Avengers, making messes and not being able to clean them up. 

But the moment she saw the press conference—the one where they mourned you like a ghost, a kidnapping victim- something in her clicked.

Sharon knew you like the back of her hand. Knew how you fought. How you thought. How you survived.

And there was no way in hell you were dead.

So she did what she did best.

She went rogue.

Tapping into old SHIELD contacts. Bribing, blackmailing, and interrogating her way through the underbelly of international intelligence and crime.

Until finally— A whisper.

A rumor.

A name buried in the classified databases of mercenary networks: 

HYDRA had you. And they were keeping you.

Murals and “We miss you” shirts with your face on them were already being sold around NYC. 

The world had left you for dead. 

But Sharon Carter never would.

———-

The blonde sat on the cold hardwood floor in her apartment, tired after another late night of asking around and using the people who owed her favors. And maybe a bullet or two. 

   A small, dusty memory box sat at her feet, old photos and trinkets nearly overflowing. She picked out a photo: you, blowing out a birthday cupcake with candles on top that read, “25.” Taken in this very apartment. It felt like years since Sharon had seen you, but that photo was only taken months ago. 

Then, her favorite: the both of you sitting with your arms around each other, the view of city lights in the background of the rooftop. You two must’ve been no older than 16 and 18 at the time. Sharon smiled to herself, a small ache in her chest spreading as she looked at your face- the day you got that mission echoed in her mind like a painful bruise: 

Flashback: The Mission Briefing

The SHIELD base smelled like burnt coffee and gun oil—like it always did. You had been around long enough to recognize the Agents who had been in the field too long—hardened, calculated, every step measured. You wondered, sometimes, if you were becoming one of them.

You weren’t sure how you felt about that.

Fury stood at the front of the briefing room, hands clasped behind his back, his singular eye scanning you like a tactician assessing his next move on the board. The dim light reflected off the smooth, dark table between you, the mission file sitting closed on its surface.

“You’ve proven yourself time and time again, L/N,” Fury started, his voice sharp as ever. “You’re one of our best, no doubt. But this is them.”

You exhaled slowly, crossing your arms as you leaned back in the chair. “You mean the Avengers.”

Fury nodded. “We’ve been working a long game on HYDRA. We’ve dismantled a lot, but we need a closer look inside. A deeper play. You’re gonna be that play.”

You didn’t respond right away. Instead, you let the weight of his words settle over you.

A deep cover mission. A long one. Alone.

That didn’t scare you. You had worked solo before. You had taken risks, had been in tight spots, had clawed your way out of them.

But this wasn’t a normal operation. This was the Avengers.

You met Fury’s eye, searching for something in his expression—some tell, some hint at what wasn’t being said. “You really trust me with this?”

Fury didn’t blink. “I trust your skill. I trust your discretion. I trust Coulson, who hasn’t shut up about you for the past damn 10 years. And I trust that you know how to keep yourself alive.”

Before you could agree, a familiar voice cut in from the doorway.

“Y/N.”

Sharon.

She stepped inside, arms crossed, blonde hair pulled into a tight ponytail. There was something in her expression—something just a little too guarded. She had been standing there long enough to hear the tail-end of the conversation, and judging by the look she was giving you, she wasn’t thrilled.

You sighed, turning to face her, “Let me guess. You think this is a bad idea.”

Sharon’s lips pressed into a thin line. “I think working for the Avengers is complicated.”

Fury huffed. “That’s one way of putting it.”

You rolled your eyes. “I’m not working for them. I’m working with them..”

Sharon didn’t look convinced. She walked toward you, voice lower now, more serious. “Y/N… they don’t trust easily. And when they do, they expect things. Loyalty. Transparency.” Her jaw tightened. “And when you can’t give them that…”

She didn’t finish.

She didn’t have to.

You knew what she meant.

Sharon had been there before. She had fought with them, bled with them, even been disillusioned by them. She had seen firsthand what happened when you didn’t fit neatly into their world.

And now, here you were. About to step right into the heart of it.

You swallowed. “I can handle them.”

Fury straightened. “Good.”

Sharon exhaled, watching you carefully. Then, softer: “I know you can. Just be careful with them, okay?”

Something in her voice made you hesitate. Not just worry. Not just concern.

A warning.

You nodded, standing up and grabbing the mission file off the table. “I will.”

Fury straightened. “Then let’s get to work.”

But as you walked out of that room, the mission file tucked under your arm, Sharon’s voice echoed in the back of your mind.

Just be careful with them.

You weren’t sure if she meant the Avengers.

Or yourself.

Now you wish you had listened. 

[wandamaximoffsbadgirl]

hey ley… 35 year old university professor (mommy) wanda goes to a strip club for her friends hen do and sees reader, her 21 year old student working there. wandas friends watch wanda watching reader dance for hours and decide to pay for her lap dance. how does this end up?

sorry if this isn’t explained right english isn’t my native language

Strip That Down

Professor!Wanda Maximoff x Student!Stripper!fem!reader

Word Count: 5.6K

Warnings: 18+, MDNI, Lap dance, strip club, fluff, angst, happy ending

A/N: This took on a life of it's own

Wanda Maximoff, a university professor, found herself reluctantly at a strip club, all thanks to her friend's insistence on celebrating her bachelorette party in the most unconventional way possible. The loud music, flashing lights, and the wild atmosphere were far from her usual quiet and academic environment.

Her friends were having a blast, cheering and laughing, while Wanda sipped her drink, trying to blend into the background. That was until her eyes caught sight of one of the dancers stepping onto the stage. The dancer moved with a grace and confidence that captivated the audience, but what really caught Wanda’s attention was the familiar face.

It was you, her student. The realization hit her like a ton of bricks, and she couldn’t tear her eyes away. You were mesmerizing, your movements fluid and enchanting. Wanda watched in awe, her mind racing with a mix of surprise, curiosity, and something else she couldn’t quite place.

Hours passed, but it felt like minutes. Wanda's friends, noticing her unwavering focus on you, began to whisper among themselves. They exchanged knowing glances and mischievous smiles.

"Hey, Wanda," one of them nudged her playfully, "You seem really interested in that dancer. Why don't we make this night even more unforgettable?"

Before Wanda could protest, they pooled their money and called over one of the staff members. Moments later, you were stepping off the stage and being guided toward a private room, where Wanda was already seated, her heart pounding in her chest.

You entered the room, your eyes widening slightly in recognition. “Professor Maximoff?” you asked, clearly surprised but maintaining your professional composure.

“Please, call me Wanda,” she replied, her voice a bit shaky.

You nodded, stepping closer, your movements still graceful and hypnotic. “Alright, Wanda. Let’s make this an experience you’ll never forget.”

As the music started, you began your dance, your eyes locked onto hers. The air was thick with tension, the boundaries of your usual professor-student relationship blurring with each passing second. Wanda’s friends watched from a distance, giggling and whispering, knowing they had given her a night she would remember for a long time.

As the music ended and the dance came to a close, you lingered for a moment, meeting Wanda's gaze with an intensity that left her breathless. The atmosphere in the private room was charged with an undeniable tension, and Wanda found herself at a loss for words.

"Thank you," she finally managed to say, her voice barely above a whisper. "That was...incredible."

You smiled, a hint of shyness now breaking through your confident demeanor. "I'm glad you enjoyed it, Wanda."

There was an awkward pause, both of you unsure of how to proceed. The professional lines had been blurred, and it was difficult to revert back to your usual roles.

"Do you want to talk for a bit?" you offered, sensing her discomfort but also wanting to prolong this unexpected encounter.

Wanda nodded, grateful for the suggestion. "Yes, that would be nice."

You sat down next to her, the ambiance still buzzing with the aftermath of the dance. Wanda's friends had moved on to other entertainment, giving you both some privacy.

"I had no idea you worked here," Wanda began, trying to navigate the delicate conversation. "I mean, it's not something you'd normally share in class, but..."

You chuckled softly. "Yeah, it's definitely a part of my life I keep separate from my studies. It helps pay for school and other expenses."

Wanda nodded, appreciating your honesty. "I understand. It's just...I never expected to see you here."

"Likewise," you replied, your eyes meeting hers again. "But I have to admit, it's nice to see a familiar face, even in such an unexpected place."

The two of you talked for a while longer, the conversation flowing more easily as you shared stories and learned more about each other outside the confines of the classroom. Wanda was surprised at how comfortable she felt, the initial shock giving way to a genuine connection.

Eventually, you both realized it was getting late. Wanda's friends were starting to gather, signaling that it was time to head home.

"It was really nice talking to you, Wanda," you said, standing up and offering her a warm smile.

"Likewise," she replied, feeling a strange mix of emotions. "I hope to see you in class on Monday."

You nodded. "Definitely. And if you ever want to talk again, you know where to find me."

With that, Wanda rejoined her friends, who were eager to hear about her experience. As they left the club, Wanda couldn't help but reflect on the night's events, her thoughts lingering on you and the unexpected connection you had formed. She knew things might be different in class now, but she also felt a sense of excitement at the prospect of seeing you again, both as her student and as someone who had made a lasting impression on her.

============

The week went by in a blur for Wanda. Lectures, meetings, and grading papers filled her days, but there was a constant undercurrent of distraction whenever she thought of you. In class, the air was thick with an unspoken tension. Every time your eyes met hers, a blush crept up Wanda's face, and she found it hard to concentrate on her usual authoritative demeanor.

By the time Friday arrived, Wanda's curiosity and the inexplicable pull she felt toward you had grown too strong to ignore. That evening, she found herself back at the strip club, her heart pounding with anticipation. She paid for a private dance again, but this time, her intentions were different.

As you stepped into the room and saw her, a warm smile spread across your face. "You want another dance, Professor?" you asked, your tone playful.

Wanda hesitated, then shook her head. "No...well, yes, but not right now. I just wanted to talk for a bit, if that's okay?"

You sat down next to her on the couch, giving her your full attention. "Of course, Wanda. We can talk about anything you want."

The conversation started off tentatively, but as the minutes passed, Wanda found herself opening up more. She talked about her week, the pressures of academia, and even some personal anecdotes she wouldn't normally share with a student. You listened intently, your presence calming and reassuring.

As the night wore on, Wanda felt a sense of contentment she hadn't experienced in a long time. Before she left, you reached into your bra, pulling out a sharpie. You always kept one on you. You took her arm, holding it against your chest as you wrote down your number on her hand.

"I don't want you to have to pay if you just want to talk, Professor. You can call me up and maybe we can talk over coffee and when I'm in normal clothes, okay?" you said, you looked up at her.

Wanda stared at her hand, her heart racing. "Y-yeah, we can do that...um, I know you're working late tonight, so maybe tomorrow afternoon?"

You smiled, nodding. "Tomorrow afternoon sounds perfect. I'll look forward to it."

Wanda left the club that night with a flutter in her chest, clutching the piece of paper with your number like a lifeline. The boundaries she was crossing were clear, but the need to know more about you and the connection she felt was undeniable.

=================

Wanda arrived at the café a bit early, her nerves on edge. She chose a cozy corner table, away from the hustle and bustle, and ordered a cappuccino, hoping the warm drink would calm her jitters. The café had a quaint charm, with its mismatched furniture, local artwork on the walls, and the rich aroma of freshly brewed coffee filling the air. She glanced at the door every few minutes, her anticipation growing with each passing second.

Finally, you walked in, immediately spotting her in the corner. You looked different from the night before, dressed casually in jeans and a soft, navy-blue sweater, your hair down and free. Wanda felt a wave of relief and excitement wash over her as you approached.

"Hey, Wanda," you greeted her with a warm smile.

"Hi," she replied, feeling her cheeks flush slightly. "Please, have a seat."

You sat down across from her, and for a moment, there was a comfortable silence as you both took in the shift from your last meeting's setting.

"Can I get you something to drink?" Wanda asked, trying to ease the initial awkwardness.

"Sure, I'll have a latte," you replied, and she flagged down a barista to place the order.

"So," you started, leaning forward slightly, "how was the rest of your night after the club?"

Wanda chuckled softly, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "It was uneventful compared to the start. I went home, did some reading, and tried to process everything."

"Understandable," you said with a nod. "I can imagine it was a lot to take in."

The barista brought over your latte, and you both took a moment to sip your drinks, the initial awkwardness beginning to fade.

"What about you?" Wanda asked, genuinely curious. "How was the rest of your night?"

"Pretty typical," you said with a shrug. "Worked until closing, then headed home. Nothing as interesting as our encounter, though."

Wanda smiled, feeling more at ease. "It's still a bit surreal, seeing you here, outside of the club and the classroom."

"Yeah, it is," you agreed, your eyes meeting hers. "But I like it. It's nice to talk to you in a different setting."

The conversation began to flow more naturally. You talked about your studies, your interests, and the challenges of balancing work and school. Wanda found herself opening up more about her life as well, sharing stories from her university days and her experiences as a professor.

"So, what made you decide to become a professor?" you asked, genuinely interested.

Wanda smiled thoughtfully. "I've always loved literature and teaching. There's something incredibly rewarding about helping students discover their own passion for it. Plus, it keeps me constantly learning and growing."

"That's really inspiring," you said, your admiration evident. "I can see why you're such a great professor."

Wanda blushed at the compliment, feeling a warmth spread through her. "Thank you. That means a lot coming from you."

The conversation took on a lighter tone as you both shared more personal anecdotes. Wanda found herself laughing more than she had in a long time, the tension and formality melting away.

"Do you have any hobbies outside of work and school?" Wanda asked, genuinely curious about your life beyond what she already knew.

"Well, I love dancing, obviously," you said with a grin. "But I also enjoy painting. It's a great way to relax and express myself."

"Really? I'd love to see some of your work sometime," Wanda said, intrigued.

"I'd like that," you replied, your smile widening. "What about you? Any hobbies?"

"I enjoy reading, of course, and gardening. There's something very therapeutic about taking care of plants," Wanda shared.

"I can see that," you said thoughtfully. "It sounds peaceful."

The afternoon flew by as you continued to talk, the initial nervousness long gone. There was a genuine connection between you, a chemistry that neither of you could deny.

As the sun began to set, casting a warm glow through the café windows, you realized how late it had gotten.

"I should probably get going," you said reluctantly. "I have a shift tonight."

Wanda nodded, feeling a pang of disappointment. "Of course. Thank you for meeting me. This was... really nice."

"It was," you agreed, standing up and gathering your things. "Let's do it again sometime."

"Absolutely," Wanda said, standing up as well. "I'll call you soon."

You exchanged one last smile before parting ways, both of you feeling a mix of excitement and anticipation for what lay ahead. The boundaries had been crossed, but what you had found was something real and promising, a connection that neither of you could ignore.

==========================

The weeks following your coffee shop date with Wanda were filled with subtle yet palpable tension. Each class was an exercise in restraint as you both tried to maintain a professional demeanor. Yet, every glance, every accidental touch, and every shared smile hinted at the underlying attraction that was growing stronger by the day.

One late afternoon, after most of the students had left, you found yourself lingering in the classroom, gathering your things. You needed to ask Wanda about an upcoming assignment, but the real reason you stayed behind was the undeniable urge to be close to her, even if just for a moment.

Wanda was at her desk, engrossed in grading papers. Her glasses perched on her nose, and a strand of hair fell across her face, which she absentmindedly pushed back. You approached her desk, your heart pounding.

"Professor Maximoff, could I ask you something about the assignment?" you asked, your voice steady despite the fluttering in your chest.

Wanda looked up, a warm smile spreading across her face when she saw you. "Of course, what do you need help with?"

You leaned over her desk, pointing to your notes, but as you explained your question, Wanda's focus began to drift. Her eyes traced the curve of your jaw, the way your hair framed your face, and the subtle scent of your perfume. She found herself entranced, her mind clouded with thoughts she struggled to keep at bay.

You noticed her distraction and paused, your eyes meeting hers. "Professor?"

Wanda blinked, snapping back to reality. "Sorry, I... I got distracted."

Before you could respond, she reached out and took your hand, her grip firm but gentle. The electricity between you was undeniable, and as if drawn by an invisible force, Wanda leaned forward, closing the distance between you.

In a heartbeat, her lips were on yours, soft and insistent. The kiss was filled with a mixture of longing and relief, as if you both had been holding back for far too long. You responded eagerly, your free hand cupping her cheek as the kiss deepened.

When you finally broke apart, both of you were breathless. Wanda's eyes were filled with a mix of fear and desire. "I know I'm your professor, but I can't stop thinking about you," she confessed, her voice trembling.

You searched her eyes, finding the same vulnerability mirrored in your own. "I can't either," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.

Wanda took a deep breath, her hand still holding yours. "This is complicated. We both know that. But... I don't want to fight it anymore."

You nodded, feeling a weight lift off your shoulders. "Neither do I."

The air between you was thick with unspoken promises and a shared understanding of the risks involved. But in that moment, none of it seemed to matter. What mattered was the connection you had, the feelings you shared, and the undeniable chemistry that had brought you to this point.

======================

A few weeks had passed since that night at Wanda's apartment. The warmth and comfort of those moments now seemed like a distant memory. The reality of your relationship's complications began to weigh heavily on both of you, and the excitement of secrecy was gradually replaced by the fear of discovery.

It all came to a head one Thursday afternoon. You had stayed after class to ask Wanda about an upcoming project, but the atmosphere was different. There was a tension in the air, an unspoken strain that neither of you could ignore.

Wanda looked up from her desk as you approached, her eyes tired and filled with something you couldn't quite place. "What do you need help with?" she asked, her voice lacking its usual warmth.

You hesitated, feeling a knot tighten in your stomach. "I wanted to discuss the project, but... is everything okay, Wanda?"

She sighed, removing her glasses and rubbing her temples. "Honestly? No, it's not. This... whatever this is between us, it's becoming too much. The hiding, the secrecy... I can't keep doing this."

Your heart sank. You had known this conversation was coming, but it didn't make it any easier. "I know it's hard, but we can figure it out. We just need to be careful."

"It's not just about being careful," Wanda said, her frustration evident. "I'm your professor. There's a power imbalance here, and if anyone finds out, it could ruin both our careers. I can't risk that. And I can't ask you to risk that either."

"But I don't care about the risks," you insisted, your voice breaking. "I care about you."

Wanda stood up, her expression conflicted. "I care about you too. More than I should. But that's exactly why we have to stop this. It's not fair to either of us."

You felt tears welling up in your eyes. "So, what are you saying? Are you ending this?"

"I don't want to," Wanda said, her voice softening. "But I think we have to. At least until the semester is over. Then maybe we can figure out where to go from there."

The room was silent except for the ticking of the clock. You could see the pain in Wanda's eyes, mirroring your own. "I understand," you said quietly, fighting back tears. "But it doesn't make it any less painful."

Wanda reached out, taking your hand in hers. "I'm sorry. This isn't what I wanted. But I think it's what's best for both of us right now."

You nodded, squeezing her hand one last time before letting go. "I should go," you said, your voice trembling. "I'll see you in class."

As you walked out of her office, the weight of the situation settled heavily on your shoulders. The once-bright future you had imagined with Wanda now seemed uncertain and distant. The days that followed were filled with a hollow ache, each class a reminder of what you had lost.

Wanda, too, felt the strain. Her lectures were more subdued, her smiles less frequent. The connection that had once brought you both so much joy now felt like a source of pain and regret.

Yet, amid the heartbreak, there was a glimmer of hope. The semester would eventually end, and with it, the constraints of your current roles. Until then, you both would have to navigate the difficult path ahead, holding onto the promise that perhaps, one day, things could be different.

====================

The days after Wanda broke things off were a blur of emptiness and despair. You found it increasingly difficult to muster the energy to attend classes, let alone participate. When you did manage to show up, your mind wandered, unable to focus on the lectures or assignments. Wanda's presence at the front of the classroom was a constant reminder of what you had lost, and it was unbearable.

Your grades began to slip, and the once-promising future you had envisioned seemed to crumble before your eyes. Your friends noticed the change in you, their concerned inquiries met with forced smiles and half-hearted reassurances. But the truth was, you were struggling to find a reason to keep going.

Your job at the club, once a place where you could escape and express yourself, became another source of frustration. Your boss, a stern but fair man named Tony, had been patient at first, giving you the benefit of the doubt. But as weeks passed and your performances grew lackluster, his patience wore thin.

One night, after another uninspired shift, Tony called you into his office. The room was dimly lit, the walls adorned with framed photos of past performances and performers. He sat behind his desk, his expression a mix of concern and frustration.

"Close the door," he said, his voice firm. You did as he asked, taking a seat across from him.

Tony leaned forward, resting his elbows on the desk. "What's going on with you? You've been off your game for weeks now. Customers are noticing, and it's starting to affect business."

You looked down at your hands, unable to meet his gaze. "I'm sorry, Tony. I've just been dealing with some personal stuff."

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Look, I get it. Everyone goes through tough times. But you need to snap out of it. You're a great dancer, and I've seen what you can do when you're at your best. But right now, you're not even close."

Tears welled up in your eyes, and you blinked them away, trying to maintain some semblance of composure. "I just... I don't see the point anymore."

Tony's expression softened, and he leaned back in his chair. "Life's going to throw a lot of crap your way, kid. But you can't let it break you. You have to find something to hold onto, something that makes it worth pushing through."

His words hit home, and you realized that you had been letting your grief consume you. You nodded slowly, taking a deep breath. "I'll try, Tony. I promise."

"That's all I'm asking," he said, offering a small, encouraging smile. "Take the weekend to clear your head. Come back Monday ready to give it your all."

You left his office feeling a mix of guilt and determination. The walk home was filled with a thousand thoughts racing through your mind, but one stood out above the rest: you needed to find a way to move forward.

Over the weekend, you forced yourself to confront your feelings head-on. You spent hours journaling, trying to make sense of the tangled emotions inside you. You reached out to friends, admitting that you were struggling and accepting their offers of support. Slowly, the fog of despair began to lift, and a sense of clarity emerged.

When Monday came, you walked into the club with a renewed sense of purpose. Tony gave you an approving nod as you prepared for your shift, and you felt a spark of hope ignite within you. The night went better than it had in weeks, and while it wasn't perfect, it was a step in the right direction.

In class, you made a conscious effort to engage, to focus on the material despite the pain of seeing Wanda. It wasn't easy, and there were moments when the hurt threatened to overwhelm you, but you pushed through, determined to reclaim some semblance of normalcy.

Wanda noticed the change in you, her eyes filled with a mixture of sadness and pride. She knew how difficult it was for you, and she respected the strength it took to keep going.

==========================

The semester was drawing to a close, but the weight of everything felt heavier than ever. You had done your best to keep pushing forward, but the cumulative stress and heartbreak had finally reached a breaking point. That night, after another rough shift at the club, you found yourself standing outside Wanda's apartment, drenched from the pouring rain. Without thinking, you pounded on her door, the desperate need for comfort overriding any lingering hesitation.

When Wanda opened the door, her eyes widened in shock at the sight of you. Your makeup was smeared from tears and rain, your hair plastered to your face, and your stage outfit clung to your soaked skin. Without a word, she pulled you inside, the warmth of her apartment a stark contrast to the cold outside.

"Come here," she said gently, guiding you towards the bathroom. Her voice was soft, filled with concern, as she grabbed a towel and began to dry you off. "Let's get you out of these clothes."

You didn't resist as she helped you out of your wet stage outfit, her touch tender and careful. Wanda filled the tub with hot water, and you sank into it, drawing your knees to your chest. The heat enveloped you, but it did little to ease the turmoil inside.

Wanda rolled up her sleeves and took a cloth, dipping it in the water before gently washing your back. "What happened, sweetie?" she asked softly, her voice filled with a mix of worry and tenderness.

Tears welled up again, and you struggled to find the words. "I just... I couldn't take it anymore. Everything feels so overwhelming. I feel like I'm drowning."

Wanda continued to wash your back, her movements slow and soothing. "It's okay," she murmured. "You're safe here. Take your time."

You took a shaky breath, the warmth of the bath and Wanda's presence slowly starting to calm you. "I miss you," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. "I've tried to move on, to focus on my classes and my job, but it's been so hard without you."

Wanda's hand paused for a moment before resuming its gentle strokes. "I miss you too," she confessed, her voice breaking slightly. "Every day has been a struggle, knowing that I hurt you and that we're both suffering because of this."

You turned your head to look at her, the vulnerability in her eyes mirroring your own. "I don't know what to do, Wanda. I feel so lost."

She put the cloth aside and leaned in, wrapping her arms around you from behind, her cheek resting against your wet hair. "We'll figure it out together," she said softly. "I don't have all the answers, but I know we can't keep going like this. Maybe we need to find a way to make this work, despite everything."

You closed your eyes, leaning into her embrace, the warmth of her body providing a comfort you had been desperately missing. "But how? The risks... they're still there."

"I know," Wanda replied, her voice steady but filled with emotion. "But maybe we can find a way to manage them. We don't have to have all the answers right now. We just need to take it one step at a time."

You nodded, feeling a glimmer of hope for the first time in weeks. "I want that. I want to be with you, no matter what it takes."

Wanda tightened her embrace, her lips brushing against your temple. "Then we'll find a way," she whispered. "We'll take it slow, be careful, and support each other. We don't have to face this alone."

The two of you stayed like that for a long time, the warmth of the bath and Wanda's comforting presence easing the pain that had been weighing on your heart.

After the bath, Wanda helped you into one of her shirts and a pair of soft shorts. The fabric was warm and comforting, carrying her familiar scent that enveloped you like a gentle hug. As you stood there, feeling the weight of the evening slowly lifting, Wanda led you to the living room.

She sat you down on the couch, then disappeared briefly into the kitchen, returning with two mugs of hot tea. Handing one to you, she settled beside you, her presence a reassuring anchor.

"Thank you," you murmured, wrapping your hands around the warm mug. The steam rising from the tea provided a soothing balm for your frazzled nerves.

Wanda smiled softly, brushing a strand of hair from your face. "You don't have to thank me. I care about you, and I hate seeing you like this."

You took a sip of the tea, letting its warmth seep into you. "It's just been so hard. Everything feels like it's falling apart."

Wanda reached out, taking your hand in hers. "I know. I’m sorry that it had to be like this. It truly was the last thing I wanted."

Her words brought a lump to your throat. "It just feels like…I don’t even know…I’ve never felt like this before."

Wanda squeezed your hand gently. "Then we take it one day at a time. We support each other, and we figure it out as we go. It's not going to be easy, but I believe we can make it work."

You looked into her eyes, finding a strength there that you desperately needed. "I want to believe that too," you whispered. "I want to be with you, no matter what."

Wanda leaned in, her forehead resting against yours. "We'll get through this. I know we will darling."

The two of you sat there in silence for a while, the steady rhythm of your breaths synchronizing. The pain and uncertainty were still there, but they felt more manageable with Wanda by your side. 

You checked your phone looking at the time it was already three in the morning.

Eventually, she pulled away slightly, her eyes searching yours. "Why don't we watch something? Distract ourselves for a bit."

You nodded, grateful for the distraction. "Okay. What do you have in mind?"

Wanda smiled, reaching for the remote. "How about we start with an episode of Bob's Burgers? I did promise, after all."

You couldn't help but laugh, a genuine smile breaking through the lingering sadness. "I'd like that."

She turned on the TV, and as the familiar opening theme of Bob's Burgers filled the room, you shifted with her until you were laying on top of her, feeling a sense of peace you hadn't felt in weeks. She pulled a blanket over the two of you.

As the episode played, you found yourself laughing along with the antics of the Belcher family. Wanda's arm around you and the warmth of her presence made everything feel a little bit better. The future was still uncertain, but in that moment, you knew you had someone who cared about you deeply, someone who was willing to face the challenges with you.

And for the first time in a long while, you felt a glimmer of hope that things could get better. One step at a time, with Wanda by your side.

========================

One year later, your life looked completely different. The hardships and uncertainties of the past had given way to a future filled with promise and happiness. You and Wanda had navigated through the complexities of your relationship, emerging stronger and more connected than ever.

The apartment you shared was a cozy, vibrant space that reflected both of your personalities. The walls were adorned with a mix of Wanda's favorite vintage posters and your collection of quirky art. Plants thrived in every corner, adding a touch of nature to your urban sanctuary. The smell of fresh coffee and Wanda's homemade pastries often filled the air, creating an atmosphere of warmth and comfort.

It was a Saturday morning, and the sun streamed through the windows, casting a golden glow over the living room. You were curled up on the couch, a stack of textbooks and notes spread out before you as you prepared for your final exams. Wanda was in the kitchen, humming softly as she prepared breakfast.

"How's the studying going?" Wanda called out, her voice cheerful and light.

You looked up from your notes, smiling. "It's going well. Just a few more chapters to review, and I think I'll be ready."

Wanda appeared in the doorway, a plate of pancakes in one hand and a cup of coffee in the other. She set them down on the coffee table in front of you, leaning in to kiss your forehead. "I know you'll do great. You've worked so hard."

"Thanks," you said, feeling a warmth spread through you at her words. "I couldn't have done it without you."

She sat down beside you, her hand finding yours. "We've come a long way, haven't we?"

You nodded, squeezing her hand. "We really have. It's hard to believe how different things are now."

Wanda smiled, her eyes filled with love and pride. "I'm so proud of you. You're about to graduate, and you've accomplished so much. And I'm so happy we took a chance on us."

Your heart swelled with emotion as you looked at her. "Me too. I can't imagine my life without you."

=================

The months leading up to your graduation were a whirlwind of activity and excitement. Wanda was there every step of the way, supporting you through the stress of final exams and celebrating each milestone with you. You both balanced your lives between work, study, and nurturing your relationship, finding joy in the little moments you shared.

Graduation day arrived, and the sense of accomplishment and joy was overwhelming. Dressed in your cap and gown, you stood in the crowd of graduates, scanning the audience for Wanda. When your name was called, and you walked across the stage to receive your diploma, the cheers and applause seemed to fade into the background as you locked eyes with her, her smile brighter than ever.

After the ceremony, you found her waiting for you, a bouquet of flowers in her hands. "Congratulations, graduate," she said, her voice choked with emotion.

You took the flowers, pulling her into a tight embrace. "We did it," you whispered, feeling tears of happiness welling up.

Wanda pulled back slightly, her hands cupping your face. "You did it. And I'm so incredibly proud of you."

The celebration continued into the evening, with friends and family joining you both for a party at your apartment. Laughter and music filled the air, and as the night wore on, you found yourself standing on the balcony with Wanda, the city lights twinkling below.

"It's been quite a journey," you said, leaning against the railing, Wanda's arms wrapped around you from behind.

"It has," she agreed, resting her chin on your shoulder. "And it's just the beginning. We have so much ahead of us."

You turned to face her, your eyes filled with love and gratitude. "I can't wait to see what the future holds, as long as I'm with you."

Wanda smiled, her eyes shining with the same love and commitment. "Me too. Here's to our future, together."

[anki-of-beleriand]

A heart Made of Glass ch.12

Summary: Ten years ago you left Wanda and the Avengers to heal your broken heart. You never stopped being a hero, just as you never stopped being in love with her. But life had to go on.

Now, after all that time, she is back and with her is a young woman needing help and an enemy that may not be as afraid as Wanda to lay a claim on you.

Pairings: Wanda Maximoff x Powered!F!Reader - Scarlet Witch x PoweredF!Reader - Past Wanda Maximoff x Vision

Warnings: Angst, drama, mentions of cheating, fluff, violence, smut, Switch!Reader, internalize homophobia, hurt, comfort, Wanda being a complete mess, anger management issues, jealousy, Requited/Unrequited love, idiots in love, swearing, mentions of alcohol. More tags as the story progess.

Author's Note: This story is a continuation of Dirty Little Secret I was really surprised at the response I got for the story, I did all the tags you guys ask for but if I forgot someone please do not hesitate to tell me. Thank you for the support.

Okay, this chapter had some tricks in it that are surronding Reader and Wanda, this is their story and this time around Reader would need to make the right decision if she wants to get what she wants and what she needs.

Please, do remember English is no my mother tongue so forgive my grammar, spelling and funny mistakes.

Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3 - Chapter 4 - Chapter 5 - Chapter 6 - Chapter 7 - Chapter 8 - Chapter 9 - Chapter 10 - Chapter 11 Chapter 12 - Chapter 13 - Chapter 14 - Chapter 15 - Chapter 16 - Chapter 17 - Epilogue

Chapter 12

In a different world

The universe started with a spark of bright golden light.

Loki Odinson had seen it several times, he had witnessed the birth and death of multiple universes and timelines that were destined to perish in a myriad of colours that would soon be forgotten. He had sat on the throne, and while he was not a King himself, he could recall the faces of all of those poor souls that disappeared into the nothingness, just as he could remember the beauty behind the first spark of life.

However, what he was experimenting right now was nothing like it.

Whatever, or whoever had decided to intervene had messed up with his own spell and everything had exploded into nothingness. A single spark of red, green and golden then, nothingness. Black spaces that disappeared without any traces left behind.

Loki started at the empty space that was Wanda and Y/N’s basement before he sighed. He sat down shaking his head, a headache approaching just as he thought on the oncoming conversation he would need to sustain with the Avengers.

“Fuck.” The word rolled out of his lips in such a natural way, he could do nothing but leaned back against the wall.

What the hell just happened?

What did he do?

What did Wanda and Y/N do to get this reaction?

The silence soon became deafening, Loki located the book Strange had died trying to recover. He frowned while leaning over to pick it up, the spell was done correctly with all the right wording as well as the right drawings on the ground. So, why did it go wrong? His eyes scanned the pages, re-reading the passages over and over until his heart dropped at one particular line, something he had overlooked the very first time he read that passage.

“…this, however, may be counterproductive if there is a magical or multiversal energy interference, the amount of energy converging at one point may created an unexpected result and…”

Loki knew the rest by heart, he knew there could be troubles but…well, how many energies were involved in the spell? He had counted on those signatures coming from Wanda and Y/N, he had even counted on his but…was there anybody else out there? Was there anybody else at the other side of the multiverse?

“Shit.” Loki stood up fixing up his clothes before flickering his hand to open a portal. He needed to face the consequences of his acts, and the first stop would be the Avengers Tower and Steve Roger’s office.

The former Captain America was going to enjoy telling Loki ‘I told you so’, just before hitting him in the face.

With one last glance to the basement, Loki turned around and left the place.

He never worried to test the energy fields around, or to tap into the timelines flickering in front of his eyes. It never occurred to him that, as soon as the explosion happened, a new singular timeline appeared right before his eyes just to blend itself with the other timelines flickering in front of Loki.

No one but the Watcher could see it, The Watcher stood in the sidelines furrowing his brows and waiting.

The world would either collapse in itself, or it would fix the anomalies by itself.

Either way, he was watching history, and the future of Earth’s Mightiest Heroes.

_________________________________________

Darkness had always been your friend.

You were born in it, and it had been your weapon and your refugee in the hardest of times. That was the main reason you didn’t panic at first, everything around you was filled with the purest form of darkness with a single touch of coldness that sneaked inside your clothes. The hairs on your arms stood up, a shiver went right through your muscles making you groan as you finally experience the pain in your body.

Your mouth opened inhaling deeply filling your lungs with gusts of cold air, your chest contracting itself just before you started coughing. It was then you opened your eyes, and the darkness that you had experienced moments ago was nothing but you woke up from unconsciousness.

The first thing you noticed were different white dots in the sky winking back at you. You tried to grasp a single thought, seeking around your mind for a coherent idea but it was almost impossible to do so when the rest of your body was finally receiving different stimulus in the way of pain and coldness.

“Y/N!” A familiar voice called to your left, you tried to sit up but a single hand placed itself on your shoulder pressing you to the ground.

“Ease there, pal, you were really hurt back there.”

Even if you didn’t get a chance to sit up, your world started spinning around. The voice was so familiar, yet so different to what you were used to; with some reluctance you turned your face to the right and soon you found yourself looking at yourself.

The other woman offered a tentative smile, though the way she was squinting her eyes and the pursed of her lips told you she was just as confused as you were at the moment. Soft footsteps approached you, America Chavez was wearing a single cut on her cheek and a bruised eye, this time around you didn’t let you counterpart to stop you, you sat up to check over the teen kneeling beside you.

“America, are you alright?” Your eyes rolled back for a moment, your knees fell harshly on the ground while you held yourself with a single hand placed on your leg.

“Y/N, please…” America winced lightly glancing at you then at your counterpart. “I think you were the one that suffered the most…”

“It was my fault, actually. So, sorry?”

You blinked a couple of times, shaking your head made the headache worse and the dizziness settled on your lower abdomen. You lifted your face blinking a couple of times before checking America over, the young woman softened her features with her cheeks colouring pink while her lips tried to offer a single smile. You tried to ignore the other Y/N for as long as you could before turning around to settle your eyes on her.

Just like America, she was wearing a single cut on her forehead with her clothes dishevelled but otherwise nothing else. With some reluctance you lifted your eyes looking deep into those eyes that you knew so well.

“This is the weirdest shit I have ever had to live to date.” You finally said shaking your head, “I hope it is the last weird shit ever.”

“Agreed.” Y/N tilted her head furrowing her brows while giving you a quick glance. “Before this happened, I’m afraid I was in your body fighting with someone that got lucky…so…”

“So, that’s why I feel like this?” You cracked smile, your counterpart nodded mirroring the smile on your face. “Okay, got it, so…what the hell is going on?”

America and Y/N glanced at one another then at you, it wasn’t until then that you decided to take a good look at the surrounding area. The place in itself was nothing strange, yet you got a feeling that this was not your universe or even that of your counterpart.

The sky was completely dark filled stars but as you got to observe them above your head you realized there were not your stars. The constellations you had come to know thanks to Natasha and Carol had been changed and were replaced by different forms you did not recognize. With a single frown you lowered your eyes to find yourself in a plain of land filled with dried grass that extended beyond what the eyes could see. It was an empty land, with nothing beyond the darkness of the night without any moon it was hard to actually see something that could give you an idea of your location.

The sound of whistling called your attention, and soon you found yourself being wrapped tightly by two pair of arms. Before you could protest or ask what they were doing, you experience the sharp bite of wind, A cold, merciless breeze that soon turned into a whirlwind that left as suddenly as it had come.

“Wh-what the hell?” Your eyes opened wide, your teeth chattering while America and Y/N leaned back wincing.

“We need to move.”

You furrowed your brows shaking your head, “move where? I can barely see you two, how are we going to see the path or…where the hell are we?”

America sighed standing up, she stretched her hand to you offering a tender smile.

“You haven’t figured it out?”

You stood on weakened legs, your mouth opened ready to protest until you finally realised it. While it was true there was nothing much to see beyond the darkness and the starry night, you could see America and your counterpart just fine. It took you but a few minutes until, you lifted your hand and the shadows followed you giving you a good glance of what was around you.

“We can manipulate shadows, the night in itself is darkness and filled with the main source of our power.” Y/N stated matter-of-factly while standing before you, you nodded curtly feeling foolish for not even thinking about it.

“Are you guys going to tell me what’s going on?”

America grabbed your hand, then turning to Y/N she shrugged also grabbing her hand as well.

“We may as well update her while we continue walking.”

“We saw lights coming from what we think was a village a few kilometres away, were trying to get there until these weird whirlwinds came in and we couldn’t carry you anymore.” Y/N explained shrugging. “We’re guessing once we get to some sort of place filled with civilization we will know more…”

“Why didn’t you try to travel through the shadows?” You asked ready to do so when the warning tone from your own voice stopped you.

“I couldn’t do it without leaving America here, and I have a bad feeling as soon as I tried it…so…” Y/N shrugged looking ahead of her, “I always follow my instincts, they have never failed me.”

The comment sent a sharp pain straight to your heart.

Your instincts had never failed you either.

Nothing else was said after this, the three of you were following the direction America had pointed out but you were just lost not really knowing if this was the right path or just a wild guess. The temperature was dropping even more, soon your teeth were chattering alongside those of America and the other you. You felt a sharp pain through your head, whatever had happened before you woke up had left your body quite bruised and right now all you wanted was to find a bed, an analgesic and something to eat. For a brief moment, an intrusive thought came forward in the form of Wanda, panic rose through your chest and filled your mind but before you could ask anything about her your counterpart spoke.

“I still don’t understand how everything came to be,” she spoke with a tone of voice you were familiar with, you let your eyes wandered around the landscape holding onto every word resounding into the darkness of the night.”

“I remembered when Wanda and I saved America the first time, and then trying to safe her from these creatures chasing her down.” Y/N trailed off with her memories making her falter, with a single shake of her head she continued, “I know I was out for a while, so you can guess how surprised I was to wake up in the arms of someone that wasn’t my wife…”

“Not really.” Your reply was filled with coldness, tension building up in your body, “I have always had the luxury of waking up alone in my bed.”

America winced lifting her head to glance at you, her dark eyes begging you to listen before jumping in whatever discussion you wanted to start.

“Agatha Harkness.” The name reached the inside of your mind with the memory of the file you read on her, not only that, but also the different videos you saw surrounding her story inside of Wanda’s world.

“That was the woman you woke up to every day, Y/N.” America chimed in shyly, she lowered her gaze squeezing your hand tenderly. “She had been dragging Scarlet and Wanda around, draining them of their powers and leaving them defenceless for quite some time, and since…well, since Y/N was under her spell…”

You opened your mouth to speak, you wanted to say something but finding your counterpart’s eyes on you whatever argument you had built inside your mind came crumbling down and soon you were given their side of their story.  Little by little the story started making sense, the building of a different world and the intrusive dreams you were having in the last couple of weeks, the purple and red magic surrounding you on that day as well as the mixed-up realities that ended up with you thrown into another’s body. You had always known that Wanda was special, and powerful, you never imagined just how much.

America had been a part of the plan, of course. Her powers would be very beneficial to someone like Agatha, and your powers would make sure no one would ever find her. Everything was about the most basic reason of all: Power. You pursed your lips disgusted; you were dragged into a confrontation with Wanda because there was a woman chasing after power. You had been running from Wanda for more than ten years, and all it took was this woman to ruin everything.

And now, now you were walking down the darkness of the night with a girl that could travel through different universes and your counterpart, a woman that got the life you had dreamt of a long time ago.

“Life is not fair.” Y/N stated glancing at you out of the corner of her eyes, “but it is what we have, and we must…”

“…deal with it, take what it is being offered and try to be happy with it.” You finished shaking your head.

“Ah, so not everything is lost, I see.” Y/N allowed a single smile to break on her face, you pursed your lips snorting.

“You don’t know the story.”

“But she does, that’s why she told you those very same words, didn’t she?” Your counterpart stopped all of a sudden, you let out a heavy sigh before turning to face her.

America was standing in between the both of you, her brows knitted together with her gaze travelling around the terrain before settling on the both of you.

“Look, I know that you and Wanda had a different experience than mine, I’m glad you did because…” You trailed off holding onto your emotions, “I don’t wish on you the pain I went through…”

For the very first time ever you saw your own face breaking into a broken-hearted smile, with those eyes losing all light and those lips curving into a crooked smile. It was you looking back, and you understood right there and then that you weren’t the only one.

“You forgive her?” You asked with a hint of hope in your voice, you hated how the question left your lips and how your counterpart understood what you meant.

“How could I not if my heart beats for her?” She replied clenching her eyes closed, her hands rested upon your shoulders before you found yourself looking into your eyes. “There is a difference, though, isn’t it?”

“You guys were not together…” You started but she merely tilted her head.

“You know it wouldn’t matter if we were a couple or not, she chose someone else when we have always chosen her.” Y/N squeezed your shoulders lightly. “The difference is that I gave her a chance because I want to do so, you didn’t because…”

“I don’t believe in second chances! If I have done so she would have broken my heart all over again when she went into her imaginary world with Vision!” You exclaimed enraged, surprising Y/N and America.

The other woman furrowed her brows, she was ready to argue back with you and asked questions about the imaginary world. It was quite evident a lot of things had happened in this strange world and Y/N could only imagine the pain and rage engulfing your heart at the moment.

America could see darkness surrounding the three of you her eyes opening wide almost losing into the shadows until her eyes caught glimpses of red and purple right ahead.

“Guys?” America stuttered lifting her hand and pointing to the distance.

You two stopped your discussion turning around to see the same sparkles of red and purple. It was a formation of dusty colouring breaking into the darkness of the night sky, you turned to the left to see Y/N frowning with determination and America shifting nervously from one foot to the other.

“It’s not that far away, I mean it could be at least one kilometre?” Y/N faced you holding onto the previous tension of your conversation with her, you clenched your fist shrugging.

“Looks that way.”

“Are we…” America started but you lifted a hand to silence her.

“Before we jump in to do something I think we need more information, we don’t even know what we are going to find over there.” You looked out of the corner of your eyes; the lights were still gleaming pretty much intensely but you could tell your two companions didn’t want to stay still and do any planning.

“What do you propose?” Y/N asked lifting her chin, “you know pretty well those sparks of crimson are Wanda’s, and we know this woman, this Agatha has been using purple magic. Are you really suggesting we stand here or keep walking in circles?”

“No! All I am asking is to first think about what we are going to do! We’re not even sure where we are much less what we are going to find there.” You asked back lifting your hands in the air and stepping back, the pain you had forgotten in favour of the discussion came back making you winced.

“Look I know you guys think the world of Wanda, and that’s cool, I guess your Wanda,” this time around you pointed to your counterpart trying to remain calm, “she is all love and kindness and that’s fine. The Wanda in world had a total breakdown that enslaved a bunch of people in a reality she created for herself and that microwave she called husband, so forgive me if I’m not going to jump in without any additional information.”

Your tirade echoed through the night, your voice carried by the wind with a dropped in the temperature. The moon that had been travelling with the three of you flickered all of a sudden, and the darkness grew around the three of you. America didn’t miss the flickering lights of crimson and purple, but she couldn’t stop herself from grabbing your hand in hers, the warm she shared with you made you shivered and with some reluctance you lower you stare to her. Even in such a darkness you could see her brown eyes gleaming with emotions.

“You still love her.” America mumbled squeezing your hand tenderly.

You clenched your jaw tilting your head to the side, America bit her lower lip glancing from you to Y/N.

“I don’t know why this has to be so complicated, but she needs you.” America took a deep breath stepping closer to you. “Wanda is sad, and I know she messed up and that forgiveness should not be given just because you feel that way. But she really needs you, she and Scarlet.”

“Look, I don’t know what happened between the both of you.” Y/N stepped in making sure you could not look away from your own eyes. “But the woman I love is out there, being it in this dimension or another Wanda Maximoff would always be MY Wanda and I won’t leave her out there to get hurt. If not for you, then at least do it for me.”

It was in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by darkness and coldness that your heart finally gave in. With a nod, your dropped your shoulders in defeat missing the smile coming from America but never missing the satisfied glance coming from your counterpart. The three of you finally turned to the source of the magic, and without a simple plan you three started making your way to the source.

You were not prepared for what was waiting for you over there.

Agatha Harkness smirked at the woman kneeling before her.

In less than a year she had made it possible to crumble away the legend of the Scarlet Witch while placing herself as the most powerful witch in the multiverse. Her smile never faltered, not even when the world spined around changing into a familiar setting; a place and time Agatha had suffered before but that now she could alter with a single flicker of her hand.

The place was filled with passersby ignoring the presence of the two women; nobody seemed to care that one of them was on her knees with a single neck shackle made of light red and blue tied to a crimson necklace Agatha wore on her chest.

“What do you think about this arrangement, dear?” The dark-haired woman asked, her eyes dropping to the kneeling Wanda who was shooting her a stare filled with anger. “Personally, I think this could be more lively, but don't worry soon enough we will have a show to die for.”

Her laughter was accompanied by a flash of violet, and soon the scene changed and they were transferred to a great marketplace located at the centre of the village. Everyone had reunited around four pillared pyres that were guarded by at least ten knights all dressed in black.

Wanda lifted her face, her ears twitched hearing the sound of angry screams cursing someone she couldn't make out yet. Agatha stirred in excitement; her smile grew until it was a crooked grin with just a hint of madness behind it.

“Here they come…”

The crowd spread around just as four figures came in walking on naked feet wearing red robes and bruised faces. The hatred and fear coming from the crowd was quite evident as the torches and the pitchforks drew wild patterns above the townspeople’s heads. The light of the torches ignited the night, Wanda tensed under the grip of the woman standing beside her, the hairs on her arms raising up while her eyes narrowed to follow the events unfolding in front of her.

The four women were pushed forward, each one of them had a single knight standing behind them with heavy hands they were dragged to the four pillars tied to them facing the crowd. It didn’t take her too long to guess what was about to happen, and what exactly were those pillars; the pyres had been set up to ensure everyone could see the women died. The crowd cheered cruelly, laughing and cursing while the four women glared at the people with more bravery than they actually felt. 

“This was my coven.” Agatha spat out, her hands sparkling with a mixture of red and purple, “they saw my power, they read my intentions and instead of supporting me they dared to try and stop me…”

“I wonder why.” Wanda couldn’t hold the sarcasm behind her voice, Agatha pulled harshly on the ropes holding her neck making Wanda fall on her back.

“You really are more daring than your counterparts, dear. I would be careful, if I were to be honest I don’t need you alive.” 

Agatha caressed the necklace smirking at Wanda, the woman couldn’t hide her anger and the magic that was pulsating inside her was not enough to protect her from Agatha’s anger. Soon Wanda let out a scream of pain, her body twitching painfully until he couldn’t keep her eyes open and all she could think about was the searing pain on her limbs.

“It has been so long since I was just a lowly witch like them, afraid of fire and the angry crowd. I grew to be magnificent, to have power beyond anyone’s imagination…” Agatha continued with his rambling observing with gleaming eyes as the Major of the town stood forward proclaiming the sins of the four women.

“I just had to find you, Wanda, you and that so-called Scarlet Witch.” Wanda took a deep breath, half hearing the woman while watching with horror as the night above her head flickered from one setting to another.

“It was not easy, you know?”

Agatha flickered her hand to the right and soon Wanda was on her knees watching as the world around her changed. It was like watching a movie in a dome. The world changed to day and night flickering images of Agatha dragging her burnt body through the ground whispering spells that only she could hear. The image soon changed showing the passing of time, Agatha looking around the world and stealing the magic of others while seeking something out of desperation.

She finally found it after more than a century.

Wanda opened her eyes at the familiar setting, Kamar Taj stood under stormy winds and heavy snow. Agatha sneaked around, distracting the inhabitants of the temple by provoking landslides that would certainly have killed innocent people if it hadn’t been by the protectors of the temple. She had enough time to steal a single book.

“Y-you…you stole the..th-e…the Drakhold.” Wanda leaned forward resting her hands on the ground, she was shocked to find the snow under her hands was real and that everything she was seeing was not an illusion but a real event.

Her mind was trying to comprehend what was really happening. Her knowledge of the Darkhold had not been as broad as it had been for Strange and even Loki. But she did know one thing or two about the origins of her powers, Chaos Magic had been called and it gave her the power to bend reality and life in ways not many could access to. The darkness inside her had been contained by her family and her loved ones, but the same could not be said by others, apparently.

“I did.” Agatha finally answered tilting her head, soon the scene changed and they were taken to a place Wanda was familiar with.

Westview.

“Yet, I was still not strong enough, or the only one with powers beyond our imaginations.” Agatha made a face, stepping forward strolling down the streets with Wanda following her. “When the Avengers showed up it was quite evident that people with powers could no longer be hidden. It was my time to shine until you, my dear Wanda, showed up.”

Wanda saw herself in a building in Sokovia, it was a place she was familiar with yet the story that was unfolding in front of her had nothing to do with what she had lived once. Her other self struggled to control her powers, to live her life, to be who she was supposed to be but failed every single time. Agatha had never been too far from those events, and whenever Wanda failed, Agatha would clutch the young woman closer to her. The red and purple magic intertwined without anyone noticing.

“What did you do?” Wanda asked, finding herself in the middle of the square in Westview. It was a beautiful day, with the sun shining right above their heads and not a single cloud in sight. 

Agatha smirked, her eyes changing colours to one of deep crimson, “I finally became who I am supposed to be, and soon my dear I will have all the power to bend the universes at my will. And now, I will finish what I started all those months ago with your pathetic counterpart and you will help me out with this.”

The world suddenly exploded around them, Wanda clenched her jaw closed, lifting her eyes to the sky to see the runes above her head.

“You…” She gritted her teeth, her eyes closing right away trying to gather her thoughts and power to stop the woman standing beside her.

Agatha chuckled darkly, her gripped on Wanda tightened allowing the influx of memories to invade the mind of the redhead. It was a life she was no familiar with, a suffering she had not experiment in the same way but that generate in her an understanding of the mess this world was in. She could see the moment Agatha entered the story, the failures and the almost victories until finally she got what she wanted.

A weakened Wanda Maximoff without anyone in the world to stand by her side.

Power.

And a way to get away with her plan.

“You…you won’t win.” Wanda finally got out; her eyes gleaming dangerously at the other woman who made a face rolling her eyes.

“I already did, dear. You just haven’t realized it yet.” Agatha let go of Wanda stepping away.

The brunette straightened up lifting her arms in front of her, her hands creating a purple mist while the necklace she wore zealously around her neck gleamed with intensity. Those eyes that moment’s ago had been brown, were now a deep black and the world around Wanda trembled under the electric shift of power the witch was gathering around her.

“Now, I have all the pieces in place, in my world…under my rules.” Agatha stated tilting her head to the side, “I will bend everyone to my will…and you, Wanda, will be nothing but a bad memory.”

The sky above their heads changed into darkness, the temperature dropped and Wanda felt the heavy weight of the atmosphere overwhelming her. She could sense her counterpart weakening inside the prison Agatha had chosen for her, her thoughts were still a mixture of memories she couldn’t quite place while the heavy emotions running through her soul threaten to overwhelm. Wanda could read the intentions behind the woman standing before her, she could read the hatred and violence behind those dark eyes. Lifting her chin to the sky, and her eyes showing off her own magic she decided if this was going to be her end, she would face it with defiance.

The ball of energy flickered in Agatha’s hand, the world stood still and the with smirked ready to give the final blow.

Agatha was so concentrated in her final goal, she never noticed she was no longer alone and what she though was illusions of her own invention were actually three people she didn’t think would be a problem until one of them stood right in front of her shielding Wanda from an imminent dead.

You had crossed the protective barrier around the strange town with a single thought in mind. Your intention was to get this over with and go back to your life on Norway, your heart beating fast while your mind protest for the easiness in which you were trying to go back to a life in which you were ignoring the woman that had never left your heart. It looked easy, just do your thing and then fixed whatever mess you were in and then…go back.

But the universe and the Powers That Be decided that it wouldn’t be just as easy as a flickered of your hand.

As soon as the three of you crossed the barrier you were face to face with flashes of memories that presented you with a film of the lives of Wanda and Agatha. The stories of the coven and the search for power, as well as the fall of Sokovia and Wanda’s struggles with her powers and her life.

“This is so wrong.” Y/N stated clenching her fist while stepping forward until she was finally standing beside you, the both of you stood on an empty street hearing the sounds of muffled conversation.

“Any plan?” You finally stated ignoring the piercing pain in your heart, your counterpart shrugged nodding to the darkened street that was flashing a mixture of red and purple.

“I think the best approach is a straightforward one.”

“Humph, so go there and just start fighting?” You replied with your lips breaking into a single smirk.

“Yep, pretty much.”

“That doesn’t sound like a solid plan.” America mumbled unsure, she furrowed her brows turning to you and then to your counterpart.

You turned to America placing a hand on her shoulder, “but it is what we have. You are going to stay here and wait.”

“But…I can fight! I can help!” America stepped back frowning, “I won’t be left behind…”

“I know you can fight, kiddo.” You replied tilting your head, “and that’s why you are staying behind.”

America opened her mouth to protest but Y/N came forth shaking her head.

“You are our backup, America. If anything were to happen to us and Wanda…” Y/N stated dropping her gaze for a moment, she turned to you until finally she locked eyes with America. “You need to do anything you can to ensure Agatha won’t scape, you understand?”

America pursed her lips, a part of her understood the mission but another part wanted to go straight ahead and face the woman that had been chasing her through the multiverse. America clenched her fists before nodding curtly and stepping back. You offered a single smile, your hand squeezing comfortingly the shoulder of the teen.

“There would be time, America, for now just watch our backs.”

“I will.”

“Good then, let’s go.”

You nodded curtly allowing your powers to spread in front of you, there was resistance when trying to reach the shadows and for the very first time you understood what your counterpart meant about your instinct. Everything in your body was screaming danger as soon as you came into contact with the shadows, your body shivered under the piercing weight of a million needles. You clenched your jaw closed stepping into the shadows with a single thought in mind.

Wanda.

Without any hesitation and moving through the invisible obstacles in that universe you appeared right before Wanda and Agatha just in time. Your eyes went black with your right arm lifting in front of you and creating a protective barrier just as Agatha’s hand came into contact with your shadows.

There was a flickering of power, the older woman snarled a curse lifting her left arm in the same fashion and launching a second attack. Your eyes opened slightly only for your shadows to slithered away grabbing the woman’s midsection to pull her away.

The world crumbled for an instant; Agatha was completely shocked to see not only you but your counterpart standing right in front of her. The woman straightened up, sweat rolling down her forehead while her right hand closed around her necklace and her other hand summoned the Darkhold.

“You really are a pain in my behind, but at least I won’t have to go around looking for you.” Agatha stated tilting her head to the side, her annoyance giving way to a confident smile. “Now, how about the two of you are good girls and give up, I would hate to spend my time submitting you to get what I want.”

You spread your feet positioning yourself in a fighting pose, your eyes narrowing slightly while the woman in front of you got her magic ready. But before Agatha could do anything at all, another set of shadows grabbed her arms putting them back making her woman lose her grip on the necklace and the Darkhold, your body tensed when Wanda stood up behind you, her voice quivering slightly as she pronounced your name with reverence and love.

“Hey, I hope you didn’t forget about me, Agatha dear.” Your counterpart said winking at Wanda while flickering her hands away, Agatha grunted freeing herself with a blast of energy and stepping a few feet away.

“Hn, I didn’t expect this.” She stated summoning the Darkhold, the world around the four of you changed, shaping itself in a familiar setting you had come to hate in your mind.

Westview.

Agatha never wavered in her confidence, if anything it seemed to grow the same way her magic was doing at the moment. You took a fighting stance, your shadows flickering around waiting for your command. You glanced out of the corner of your eye, Wanda had been trying to stand up but her knees and feet seemed uncooperative. Before you could offer any help, your counterpart came in wrapping her arms around Wanda while placing her forehead against Wanda’s one.

“Hey, love.”

“Hi.” Wanda replied with easiness, Y/N sighed in relief before placing a single kiss on her wife’s cheek.

“I miss you.” Y/N said softly, your heart shrank with emotion when your mind caught up with what was really happening.

You furrowed your brows, sweeping around the place until your darkened eyes fell on Agatha who was smiling playfully at you, her right hand playing absentmindedly with the necklace.

“Where is…Wanda?” The question left your lips before you could stop it, Wanda and Y/N both glanced at one another before they set their eyes on you.

A sinking feeling settled on your lower stomach, you were afraid of the answer when you realized this Wanda was trying to look everywhere but you. Tilting your head, you finally got a good look at your surroundings where the suburban houses filled out the imaginary world; the Wanda you had come to know from another universe held onto your counterpart tightly though right now her green eyes had been focusing straight ahead of you.

“Where is she? Wanda?” You asked again, this time around there was a demanding undertone that the other woman couldn’t ignore.

“Agatha has them under her control, she is using a powerful and dangerous book, Y/N.” Wanda could tell her answer was not of your liking, she stepped forward ready to join you and her wife in the fight glancing at you out of the corner of her eyes.

“You don’t know where she has Wanda?” You asked again never taking your eyes off of the older woman standing before you.

“I have my suspicions but I’m not sure how to interfere with that.” Wanda winced trying to ease out the pain on her neck, you frowned pursing your lips while taking a closer look at Agatha before your eyes found the same house you had come to know as Wanda’s place.

“Well, then let’s get this over with and get Wanda back.” Your arms stretched to the sides, the silent command spurred into action the shadows around you flying straight ahead to try and get Agatha.

Before your counterpart and the other Wanda could help you out, the creatures summoned by Agatha launched their first attack. A great explosion was heard while you evaded the flashing balls of power sent over by the witch.

The fight soon broke over, you didn’t notice it but the dome surrounding this part of the universe tremble sending waves of energy all through the world until they came into contact with the timeline and America. The young woman lifted her head, her eyes gleaming brightly as she tapped into her powers; bouncing on the balls of her feet she waited. America could hear the sound of explosions and the muffled sound of conversations and screams, she glanced at her hands thinking about the lessons she had been learning in the last couple of months. She closed her fists, opening them again before lifting her face. This people had been putting their lives on the line for her, they had been trying to protect her without expecting anything in exchanged. It was about time she helped them.

With a glance to the sky, America took a deep breath closing her eyes for a brief moment. As soon as she opened them, her lips curled into a single smile.

Time for payback.

The street had been completely destroyed during the fight.

There were no more homes standing up, or nice cosy gardens decorating the suburban setting. The world soon became a mixture of nothingness with the flickering holograms of reality that you could not touch. Agatha had learnt a thing or two since fighting with Wanda, you could see her ability to hold onto her powers while also making use of those she had stolen from your Wanda.

You shook your head hating the thoughts running around in your head, the overwhelming emotions that seemed to try and govern your decisions. You tried to focus your energy on what was right in front of you, the problem you were facing went beyond your own emotions. There would be a time for you to deal with them.

Agatha lifted her left hand above her head before letting it fall fast to her side, the sharp pain of your skin being pierce made you grunted. You could feel the wounds on your arms, your eyes igniting in a deep black that soon went right ahead to engulf the witch in front of you.

At some point, Agatha had become faster than your attacks, she stepped aside flickering her hands and soon two more creatures appeared out of nowhere.

“Is that all you got?” You asked almost losing your concentration when you heard the voice of your counterpart in the back.

“Get away from my wife!”

Agatha smirked grabbing her necklace, tilting her head she settled her eyes on you.

“Oh, dear, you would be surprised with the number of tricks I can bring on you.” Agatha stepped forward, her feet never touching the ground. “I could make your dreams come true; I can be what Wanda never was for you.”

You pressed your lips together taking into a fighting stance.

“You know nothing about my dreams, and I am certainly not looking for a replacement.”

Agatha snorted her hand gripping tightly on the necklace, soon a red mist grew from the space between her neck and chest and the world around her turned crimson. Agatha stretched out her arms and the whole world vibrate around you changing in the blink of an eye.

“Are you sure? I can tell by the pathetic way you are always looking at her, but the way you talk about her that there is nothing else you want more than her…” Agatha’s voice rose above the new scene, your eyes flickered around while your stomach dropped when you realized where she had taken you to.

For a brief moment you could make out the screams and grunts of the fight going on right outside this small world. You took a deep breath trying to get a hold of your powers ignoring the runes glowed above your head a clear sign that this was still being controlled by Agatha. You creased your brows knowing that your options were limited if the other woman decided to use her magic at its full potential. She was playing with you, leading you on and one until it was quite clear she was mocking you by placing you right in front of a memory that had broken your heart at some point.

It was playing in slow motion, the video and the room with everyone just as shocked as you were to see Wanda in the arm’s of another. The passing of time, every single moment that you had suffered the betrayal while facing your sadness alone in a world of pure darkness. Your fit closed, the shadows on your feet stirred violently sensing your anger when you heard Agatha laughing. Mocking you.

“How did it make you feel knowing she was happier with a man?” Agatha purred making sure to be as far away from you as she could. “How did it feel knowing you were never going to be chosen in this world? In this universe? I bet it pierce your soul knowing you were the one destined to be alone.”

“Shut up.”

“I can make it go away, I can help you out…say the words, and I will make sure you get what you want.”

Your knees gave under your weight, furrowing your brows you tried to close yourself to the mocking film playing around you trying to focus on the fight. Agatha chuckled tilting her head, this time around the runes above her head pulsated and the two creatures grew before your eyes attacking viciously at your counterpart and Wanda making sure that your conversation and fight with Agatha wouldn’t be interrupted. Agatha centred her eyes on you, her hand grabbing the necklace while the same video seemed to be on replay.

“She won’t be a problem for you anymore, and after I’m done with you…you won’t have to worry about the pain of your broken heart, dear.” The laughter sent shivers down your back, but it was everything you were waiting for.

Your lips curled into a smile, your right hand twirled clockwise and the shadows broke into waves catching up with the witch. Just as you had located her, ready to give her a lesson, the woman was ready to use the magic Wanda and Scarlet were giving to her to make sure the next stage of her plan could be completed.

It never happened, though.

Your attack never stopped reaching out to your objective, while Agatha tried to return the hit she was surprised by a sudden punch to her face. The punch glow white, and her body bounced back and forth until she lost the hold on the necklace, America Chavez didn’t stop there and your shadows went straight to hold onto the witch to bring her down.

Everything happened so fast, your eyes went from America to Agatha and finally to the object on the ground. The necklace bounced on the ground, and without thinking too much you went right ahead to grab it. The object was warm to the touch, you could tell by the vibrations that magic had been contained between the object and this magic could only belong to one person. You closed your hand around it, you could sense Scarlet deep inside your mind. It didn’t take you too long to recognize the woman that had been haunting your dreams as of late, right with her you could also sense Wanda trying to hide, trying to survive.

“NO!”

The scream coming from Agatha was everything you needed to drop the necklace and stomp on the piece of jewellery creating an explosion that blew you and everyone around you away.

“Humph…” Your mouth opened letting out a shaky breath, your body hurt all over while your eyes got use to the sparkling lights that appeared before them when your head hit the ground.

“Y/N!!” You tried to sit up, a pair of arms held onto you for a brief moment until you were capable of making out the figure sitting beside you.

America had her brows creased; her eyes shone with worry while she tried to hold you up. The fighting was still ringing inside your ears, your counterpart was finishing the last of the dimensional creatures while you could spot her Wanda holding back against Agatha. For a brief moment, panic rose inside you the sudden need to throw up became almost to much just as you leaned forward trying to stand up your eyes looking frantically for the women that had been haunting your dreams and reality as of late.

“They are unconscious…” America started but she could not finish her sentence as you stood up without any warning.

“Wanda…” Her name escaped your lips without meaning to, at that moment with your body exhausted and your mind already carrying the weight of so many memories and thoughts all you could do was staggered forward until you reached both women.

You stood on shaky legs glancing from Wanda to Scarlet, both of them unconscious wearing the same bags under their eyes and the bruises all over their faces and arms. You hesitated not really knowing where you should focus your attention until, as an afterthought you went to Wanda. Turning her to the side you ensure she was comfortable, her lip had a deep cut and her forehead had traces of a scratch that left her with blood and dirt. She looked thinner than you remember, with her face wearing still the same defeated expression she wore to your home all those months ago.

“Wanda.” You said her name again, this time around firmer and demanding, your hand trying to help her out until you heard her exclamation of pain. “Wanda, are you alright?”

The young woman stirred in your arms, her eyes flickering slightly until she opened her lips and let out an exclamation of pain. You put her back on the ground, turning around you could see Scarlet was stirring awake as well while the fight seemed to have no end.

“Y/N…” You turned to see Wanda’s eyes fluttering open, her green orbs looking back at you with sadness and tenderness that had your heart beating a tad bit faster.

“Hey, are you alright?” You leaned in but Wanda looked away helping herself up, you tired to assist her but your body froze for a moment unsure on how to proceed with the woman sitting before you.

“I…I am a little sore.” She replied, her eyes never leaving the form of Scarlet, Wanda furrowed her brows glancing at her hands then back at the other woman. “She…she is…Scarlet Witch.”

Her words trembled as she pronounced them, her face lowered thinking to herself knowing full well your attention was on her. She remembered the moment she had separated herself from the legend, the words of Agatha had haunted her at that moment when she realized there was something inside her giving her powers a deeper meaning. She had hated that idea, and the world that had been created out of it.

When Wanda finally dared to look up she found herself looking into your eyes. Her heart stirred with emotion, the words that wanted to pour out of her mouth entangled around her throat for she knew it was not the time for a heart-to-heart conversation. She wished everything had turned out different, but after her confrontation with Agatha and everything she had discovered whiled trapped in that reality she knew what she needed to do.

“Can you…help me up?” She asked shyly, you nodded curtly stretching your hands for her to take them.

She was cold under your touch, and a little sweaty.

Her cheeks coloured pink, and her eyes glanced everywhere but at you. You felt a piercing pain going through your chest, but you ignored it while helping the other woman up. For a brief moment, you thought she could walk on her on until Wanda’s legs trembled and almost gave up on her. You caught her just on time, her body pressing against yours making your traitorous heart stopped for a brief moment.

“How convenient, Wanda.” Scarlet was on her knees; she had sweat falling down her face breathing hard and glaring at the two of you though her eyes were completely focused on Wanda. “You…you don’t do nothing, yet you get to be with her.”

Wanda tensed in your arms, she took a deep breath while pushing you away taking one step at a time until she was standing before Scarlet. You lifted your eyes to see America just as focused on the two women as you were, the sound of the fighting was till rumbling in your ears but it was almost impossible to pay attention to something else that wasn’t the scene playing out in front of you.

Wanda held herself up, conscious of the hatred inside the eyes of Scarlet.

Inside her own eyes.

“We don’t get to be with her.” Wanda mumbled dropping her shoulders, tears gathering in her eyes as she spoke. “I’ve been trying to make amends but I just…”

“You always failed, and you make it worse.” Scarlet spat out lifting her chin in defiance, her position on the ground was not an inconvenience. If anything, it gave her the power that Wanda couldn’t show at the moment.

“I tried to reach out to her, to make her world and mine…to…”

“I know.” Wanda offered a weakened smile, looking out of the corner of her eyes she could see you had your attention on the both of them. “I tried to do the same. I just…I can’t do it alone, and I’m tired of failing every time. I don’t…”

Wanda swallowed down her tears, she leaned in lifting her left hand until she was cupping Scarlet’s cheek. Red mist appeared in Wanda’s hand, and soon her eyes as much as those of Scarlet were shining brightly.

“It hurts so much.” Scarlet said letting the tears rolled down her cheeks. “I just…

“I don’t want to be alone, and I don’t want to be without her.” Wanda finally said her own tears falling down her face.

You clenched your jaw, looking away for a moment while your chest felt a myriad of butterflies fluttering inside.

“But I can’t keep fighting alone, or divided.” Wanda stated, she wiped away Scarlet’s tears before adding. “I think we need to be one, you saw just how powerful we are together and…”

“You need to fix this, or we would never…”

“I know, but this may not end the way you want it.”

Scarlet drifted her attention to you, her eyes found those of yours and in there you could read everything you had been so afraid to interpret the first time. There was pain and sadness, emotions that broke into her heart in ways you could only imagine, and then there was love. You looked away stepping back under the intensity of such a stare, you missed the broken smile on Scarlet’s face and the defeat she wore while facing Wanda again.

“I know, I think we will cope when the time for that comes.” Wanda nodded in understanding; her hands gleamed brighter than ever while Scarlet placed her hand on top of hers.

“I promised you I won’t give up.”

“Good, then let’s do this.”

The crimson mist grew around them glowing with a bright, red light making you trembled under the intensity of the magic. You could see America kneeling down, her eyes going wide open as they stare the scene unfolding before her eyes.

Wanda and Scarlet were no longer two different entities.

Standing before you was a single woman, her head was adorned with a red crown that made match with the bodice and the black leggings. Wanda stood there with magic coming from her hands, her eyes a deep shade of red that gathered the power you had always known she had in her. The woman stood still for a moment, she glanced at her body and her hands before her face lifted to stare at you.

You tried to hide your expression, your lips parting to speak but not words came out. Wanda hesitated before nodding her feet moving slowly until she turned around making her way to the fight.

“Is she gonna be okay?” America stood right beside you, squirting at the woman now using her magic to help her counterpart in the fight against Agatha.

“I think so…” You trailed off finally realizing that even though the both of them had finally become one, Wanda was still wearing the bruises and the exhaustion on her face.

“Are you okay?” America asked quite concern, you turned to her offering a half smile.

“I will be.” You sighed scratching the back of your neck. “Stay here and be careful.”

“What are you gonna do?” The teen asked slightly scare, you offered her a half smile turning towards the fight that was a tied between the Wandas and Agatha.

“What we came to do, just stay out of trouble and be ready to help us go back home, okay kiddo?”

America doubt there was anything she could do, but she didn’t contradict you. With a single nodded of her head she watched as you ran towards the fight, your shadows already creating a protective barrier around you and Wanda. Something, America though, you probably were not aware of.

_____________________________________________________________

Loki rolled his eyes once more, he was tired of hearing the fight going on in the meeting room while he stood by the window waiting for the right moment to intervene.

The world outside was highly active, Monday had always been one of the busiest days in the calendar and that day was not the exception. The young god leaned forward, his fingertips touching the window while his eyes observed the golden and green lights of the timelines. His eyes soon fell upon the one he did not recognise, a red line that he could not tamper with but that he was certain contained the answers to the questions everyone in the room were posing.

Loki turned around his eyes finding those of Billy who had not leave his side ever since Pietro brought him into the Avenger’s Tower. The young boy had his eyes narrowed, his hands playing with invisible threats only he could see.

For a brief moment, Loki stood there observing the child with growing curiosity. Billy was tapping the air with his fingertips, concentrated in something only visible to him. Loki frowned with his mind already forming an idea of what exactly was happening.

“Billy, what are you doing?” The question was low enough for the child to hear it but not for the rest of the room to notice it.

Billy lifted his face this time around his eyes went wide opened showing off the innocence of his age, but also the brightness he had inherited from both his mothers.

“Mommy always says to follow my instincts.” There was conviction in his tone, his hands tapping still as if waiting for something.

“And, what are they telling you?” Loki knelt to be on the same height of the child, Billy tilted his head creasing his brows before answering.

“Uncle Loki, momma and mommy need my help…look!”

Loki looked in the direction Billy was pointing to, he gasped with his eyes wide open and a smile forming on his lips.

“Billy you are a genius.” Billy offered a timid smile glancing at Loki shyly.

“Really?”

“Yes, and I think thanks to you we are going to be able to help Wanda and Y/N.” Loki could see the excitement in the little boy, he couldn’t help but smile back.

Without giving to much attention to the room, Loki sat right beside Billy closing his eyes before letting his magic to spread around. Billy was slightly confused at first, he had continued working on invisible threads trying to get into contact with them. Now there was something different, with his uncle sitting beside him Billy could sense the magic. He pressed his lips together before sitting down and, imitating Loki, he closed his eyes and just went with his instincts.

_____________________________________________________________

Whatever power she had tried to drain from Wanda and even Scarlet was no longer active to give her the stamina or even the strength to keep up with the fight. She was not even up to sustain the world she had created by tampering on the Chaos magic she could barely tolerate.

Wanda Maximoff gathered her power while circling the woman in front of her, she could feel the hurt she had created for her counterpart had reached out beyond the boundaries of the multiverse and it was something she would not tolerate. Beside her she could sense Y/N, a close shadow that was ready to jump in when necessary to offer protection and support; Wanda couldn’t help but smile.

“You won’t win.” Agatha tried to put up with a fight, she tried to hold onto the last threads of power inside her to get into the fight but she could no longer hold onto her powers for far too long.

You came from behind her your hands wrapping around her wrists while your shadows covered her feet spreading through her legs and body. Agatha was struggling, her eyes going wide open just as she started chanting in a language you did not recognize. Wanda opened her eyes wide, she stepped closer spreading her arms and chanting just the same, the runes trembling right above your head just before a myriad of images surrounded you breaking the darkness before going completely white.

“NO!” Agatha let out a guttural exclamation, her elbow hitting you square in the face but whatever strength she had in her to fight was haltered by your counterpart finishing what you started.

Wanda knew at that moment why she had been feared by Agatha, the power that was held inside her sent electric waves through her body. The power concentrated on her hand, and soon a single jewel showed on her palm while her counterpart continued with the ritual. The runes appeared right above her head, and without any indications, she started chanting as well.

You stepped back falling on your ass, blood rolling down your nose just as you saw the black figured being swallowed by the jewel. There was a moment of flickering lights and then, it stopped. Both Wanda’s stood right in front of the other, the jewel resting comfortably on the hand of Y/N’s wife.

The jewel took into a purplish colour, falling to the ground with a single thump.

The world went silent.

The darkness around you grew, with the stars twinkling right above your head.

Everything was still, with only your hard breathing breaking the tension around your ears. Your body was aching, your mind filled with memories of the past and the present all of them pilling up to overwhelmed you line of thoughts. You closed your eyes trying to forget and wait for everything to be back the way it was in the last year.

But you knew it was just an illusion.

Your world had been shaken up the moment Wanda and America showed up at your doorstep. The fight with Agatha brought back the memories you had tried to forget, it brought with it the truths you were not ready to face. You had always thought that you could outrun your motions, but the world has always taught you this was not possible. Not for someone like you, and certainly not for someone like Wanda.

When you opened your eyes you saw Wanda, your Wanda staring at you, but before anything could be done or said her eyes rolled back passing out of exhaustion. You caught up to her on time, her body falling on yours your face a mask of pure concern just as you ensure she rested comfortably on the ground.

You knew everyone was looking at you, but you decided to ignore them while checking Wanda over to make sure nothing else happened to her.

“Are you alright?” The other Wanda came to you, her voice sent shivers down your back, you didn’t dare to lift your eyes for fear of revealing far too much.

Instead, you nodded taking deep breaths while feeling the ground under your knees, without thinking too much about it, your hand brushed Wanda’s hair tenderly. The attention you were giving to her was something you never thought you would do again. The woman standing beside you shifted her weight and soon she was sitting right beside you; this time around you did turn around only to see her staring at you with big, curious eyes.

“She is still unconscious, but I believe she is no longer two halves of the same person.” Wanda lifted her face to the sky, her lips parting slightly. “Her magic is still erratic, but I believe she would be okay.”

“What about Agatha?” Your question entangled in your throat, scrunching up your nose you decided to conceal your emotions not ready to face the conversation or to address the white elephant hanging around you two.

“She will be trapped in this jewel until you and her decided what should be done with her.” Wanda handed over the jewel, you pursed your lips in disgust before grabbing the artifact.

“The book she had with her, it is the Darkhold, isn’t it?”

“It is.” You nodded this time around locking your eyes with hers.

“Are you taking it with you?”

Wanda broke into an easy smile shaking her head, “it’s not mine but yours. It would be better off in your world, where it belongs.”

“It should be destroyed.” You leaned back resting your hands on the ground.

“It should, but that would be your prerogative not ours.”

Your eyes drifted around the place before they settled on America and Y/N, both of them were engaged in a heavy discussion and you could teel this was the moment America had been waiting for a very long time. The feelings of guiltiness and sadness had been quite evident in her when you two met, right now this was the chance the young woman was waiting for to make amends. To reach for forgiveness.

“So, any idea how we are going to leave this place?”

Wanda nodded leaning back until she pointed to America and your counterpart.

“She is ready to use her powers, I believe she is the only one that can help us right now.”

Not sooner had Wanda said this the world started to tremble, the light of the stars flickered until they disappeared one by one. You straightened up with Wanda standing up as soon as she noticed this.

“I guess…we should try it right now.” You stood up turning to glance at the darkened world, everything was coming in and out of reality with the ground shaking for small periods of time.

“It was a matter of time.” Wanda placed a hand on your forearm, you couldn’t help the tension on your muscles the other woman softened her features stepping closer. “You will be back, and she will need help to recover from this.”

“I know.”

“Are you ready for that?” The question caught you off guard, you knew what was expected of you and what you could do with the woman that had broken your heart at some point.

You could hide behind that excuse until the end of time, but it would run out of any validity at some point. Sooner or later, you knew you would have to face Wanda and decisions must be made. The Wanda standing before you softened her features, her words would made your mind pound with the imminent decisions you would need to make.

“How deep is your anger, and how deep goes your love for you to not face what your heart already knows?” Wanda leaned in and you found yourself in a embrace you didn’t know you miss. Her voice was just a whisper, but it was everything you needed at the moment. “I won’t tell you what to do, but I will tell you my love to follow your instincts. They had never failed you.”

America glanced around the group with a nervous smile.

She glanced at her hands then back at you and Y/N, the words of encouragement were ringing inside her head while she tried to gather the courage to move onto the next step.

“Just think about it, kiddo.” Y/N stated grabbing the hand of her wife, America almost winced at those words because her mind had been a myriad of thoughts since they delegate the task of going back home on her.

You fixed the unconscious woman in your arms, putting her closer to you while looking over at America. The young woman closed her eyes, ready to open the portal when Wanda stopped her.

“Wait, America.” The redhead stepped closer placing her hand on America’s shoulder. “Remember, it is more than opening a portal, is about opening the right one.”

“I know, I know…it’s just…easier said than done.” America pursed her lips, she took a deep breath closing her eyes.

“Then, let yourself be guided by your emotions and what you remember of the place you want to go to.” Wanda squeezed the shoulder of the teen tenderly, and for that brief moment America felt it.

It was vague but it was there.

The same kind of energy she had felt on Wanda and Y/N, it was familiar yet different. She had felt it when she first fell upon that universe, the twins had carried with them a strange kind of energy that seemed to engulf the best of Wanda and Y/N.

America closed her eyes and, without thinking to much, she followed the familiarity of that energy. Her mind bringing over the memories of her time in that land, finally easing out her fears and trusting in the women she had surrounding her.

The young woman clenched her fist, and with a single punch she opened the star-shaped portal.

All of them were ready to go home.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

[wwandaslover]

DONT LET ME BE MISUNDERSTOOD

Pairings: Wanda Maximoff x F! Reader, PAST R x Natasha Romanoff (mentioned), WandaNat (mentioned)

Warnings: R is a little bit of a drug addict, rivals to lovers, angst, cheating, R is a home wrecker, swearing, very little fluff, top!wanda, smut, oral sex (r!receiving), fingering (r!receiving), little mention of masturbation?

(Minors and men DNI please!!)

☆-☆-☆-☆-☆-☆-☆-☆-☆-☆-☆-☆-☆-☆-☆-☆

You never randomly decide to fall in love with the person you so desperately try to hate. Especially when that person happens to be entirely unattainable and dating one of your best friends.

Wanda and Natasha started dating a few months ago and of course you and Wanda immediately didn’t get along. Natasha and you had dated for over a year before those two began dating, and that apparently drove Wanda mad.

Wanda hated how you and Natasha were so close, as if your relationship never happened and the two of you never had sex or wanted to marry one another. You on the other hand were unfazed by the “serious” relationship your ex was in.

You were high as shit more than half the time you were around them so you didn’t care even half as much as you would’ve while sober. You mostly just ignored Wanda or made dry remarks on how much of a bitch she was being when in reality she was trying to be nice, you were just pissed she was messing up your high.

Wanda quickly picked up on your drug addiction but she didn’t utter a word about it, she always tried to be polite with you for Natasha. In your mind, she was a snarky little witch who was quiet in a bothersome way. You would never acknowledge the fact she was a nice person and you were the problem.

You would never dare to admit that a simple glance from her light green eyes made you blush profusely, or that her soft voice comforted you like no other voice could, and you would most definitely never ever admit that you snuck small glances at her ass now and then.

Wanda was perfect and it deeply angered you because she was seeing one of your closest friends. You wanted to be with her but you didn’t realize it, you thought that it simply was just you getting annoyed at yet another person.

Wanda was deeply addictive, she was a drug you wanted over and over again. Despite constantly making your “hatred” for her more obvious, you still ended up going everywhere Wanda went when you, her, and Nat hung out.

Today was different though, because Natasha said she wouldn’t be tagging along. You and Wanda were alone in her room, you sat at her bay window, smoking a joint as Wanda put on music. You stayed there simply because Natasha asked you to try and get along for once, or at least that’s what you told yourself.

Wanda suddenly got off her bed and took the joint away from you, flicking it out her window and you immediately stood up and pushed her away. “What the fuck is wrong with you?!” You furrowed your eyebrows out of frustration.

Wanda scoffed, “You need to stop smoking that shit, you’re gonna destroy your lungs.” You didn’t respond, you simply glared at her and sat back down with your arms crossed while still glaring at her as if she was in the wrong but you knew you were.

Wanda continued, “Sorry, I forgot you don’t care about your health.” She walked away while shaking her head. She was a lot more pissed at you than usual which was probably because Natasha wasn’t there to be a buffer. You finally decided to speak up, “what’s your deal today? You’re being a dick.”

Wanda raised her eyebrows, feigning surprise that you actually spoke to her. “Natasha never says anything because she doesn’t want to upset you, but you’re getting out of control. How many days has it been since you didn’t take something?” Wanda’s tone was more concerned than anything at the end and you felt a pang of guilt for worrying her.

“I dont know, it hasn’t been that long.” You tried to sound convincing but it was clear you knew it had been a while. Wanda frowned slightly and sat next to you, curling her knees to her chest. “How long has it been since you were sober?”

You looked away momentarily, her tone saddened you even more. “I.. I think maybe uhm, five months..” Wanda’s expression grew even more worried. You just avoided her gaze and stared out the window at the rain and fog.

“You haven’t been sober since March?” Her voice softened and she gently grabbed your hand, “you need to try to get sober, you can’t keep going like this. If you don’t stop, you’re going to end up overdosing.”

You felt tears threatening to fall simply at how caring and sweet she was being. You wanted to hug her and bury your face in her neck or her chest, you just wanted to feel her embrace even more and yet you knew you couldn’t. You had gone over this a million times before with other people and yet somehow this time you decided to start crying.

You bit your lip nervously as tears ran down your cheeks, and Wanda felt her heart breaking at the sight. She immediately hugged you without thinking of Natasha, or any other reason why she shouldn’t be hugging you. You rested your forehead on her shoulder, allowing her to hold you. “I dont know why I’m crying.” You muttered, sniffling a little.

You pulled away a few moments later, still close to Wanda. She gave you a small yet sweet smile, hoping it would give you a bit of comfort. “It’s alright.” You took her polite smile and sweet words completely wrong, and leaned forward until your lips were pressing against hers. Wanda’s eyes widened and she hesitantly pulled away, staring at you in disbelief.

You looked almost just as shocked at the fact you just did that, and you felt a little sickened by yourself. You kissed one of your best friends girlfriend. You immediately felt terrible, the realization that this was your friend’s girlfriend and you just kissed her definitely didn’t make you seem like a very good friend.

Wanda didn’t know what to say or what to do, or how to feel considering the fact she didn’t dislike the small kiss, and the fact she wanted to kiss you again but less chastely. Wanda’s heart pounded as well, she felt so confused and worried at the same time. She just kissed her girlfriend’s friend. Once she realized you were standing up and about to leave she pulled you back and kissed you once again, sighing softly against your lips.

You froze since you half expected Wanda to slap you or scold you, but you didn’t expect a kiss whatsoever. You cupped Wanda’s cheeks gently even as the kiss ended and just lingered, your lips still centimeters from hers and your soft breathing mixing with hers. You couldn’t even say anything before she pulled you into yet another intoxicating kiss, this one lasting much longer.

The innocent kiss quickly turned into something more as the two of you began kissing deeply, her tongue swiping over your bottom lip and you immediately accepted it. Wanda’s lips were too soft and inviting to not let this happen, she was irresistible and you’d secretly dreamt of this too many times. All of your concerns for kissing Natasha’s girlfriend had fled your mind at this point.

Wanda pulled you onto her lap, pulling away momentarily. “Is— Is this okay?” Wanda was clearly nervous, not quite because she was cheating on her girlfriend but because she wanted you to be comfortable. You nodded a little too eager for your own liking but it made Wanda crack a small smile as she continued kissing you.

You never would’ve imagined being on Wanda’s lap, straddling her and making out with her and enjoying it so much. Her hands felt so good, slipping under your shirt and gliding along the skin of your back then slipping your shirt off. You whined slightly when she pulled away from your lips but quickly gasped as her lips went to your neck.

Wanda sucked dark hickeys on your lower neck as well as your collarbone while she unclasped your bra and tossed it to the ground. You whimpered as Wanda marked your skin, cursing under your breath when she’d occasionally nip and bite at your sensitive skin. Wanda loved how you squirmed underneath her and she abused it as much as she could. When Wanda began to unbutton and unzip your jeans then slide them down your legs, you felt your heart beating faster than before despite the fact that felt almost impossible now.

Once your jeans were on the floor along with your bra and shirt, Wanda marveled at how gorgeous your body was. “Can I take off your panties, baby?” You nearly groaned at the pet name Wanda called you, and nodded but Wanda raised a brow and spoke once again, “Use your words like a smart girl.” Wanda’s tone alone was enough to turn you on.

“Please..” you muttered, you weren’t used to being on the receiving end and it showed in your embarrassed expression. Wanda smirked, deciding that she wouldn’t tease you too much but that was mainly because she was growing impatient and just wanted to fuck you. Wanda pulled your panties down slow enough to make you whine, which Wanda found even more amusing.

Wanda finally got your panties off and couldn’t tear her gaze away from your cunt, you were perfect and so were your imperfections. Wanda put her hair back into a ponytail and lowered herself to the ground on her knees in front of you, not giving you a moment to think before burying her tongue inside of you.

You gasped and it quickly turned into a breathy moan as Wanda continued eating you out with fervor. When Wanda’s tongue was accompanied by two fingers you grasped her hair and tugged it to try and get Wanda’s face even closer to your core. Wanda placed her free hand on your hips to keep you from grinding against her tongue as she continued licking and sucking on your clit while her fingers stretched you out.

You leaned your head back against the cool glass of the bay window, the soft tapping of rain against said glass was drowned out by your moans and the lewd sounds coming from your pussy each time Wanda thrusted her fingers back into you. You were in complete bliss at that point, Wanda’s tongue worked your clit as her fingers hit deep within your cunt. Your moans grew louder and louder as the coil in your stomach was tightening each second, ready to snap at any moment. “Hold it.” Wanda mumbled against your pussy, the small vibrations causing you to whimper. “No.. please..” you could barely even speak. You glanced down at her to see her free hand had moved from your hips to between her own legs. She wanted to cum at the same time.

Your legs trembled, it felt almost impossible but you held back. When Wanda finally muttered “Now” you both came but Wanda didn’t quit. Wanda continued fucking you through your high, and continued even as you began feeling overstimulated. You didn’t stop her though, you would’ve let her stay between your thighs all day if you could’ve.

Wanda eventually stopped after she felt you had enough orgasms. She helped you back into your clothes from before despite her efforts to have you put on some of her clothes instead and she laid in bed with you next to her. The two of you laid there while listening to Wanda’s playlist, but were interrupted when you received a text from Natasha.

You felt guilt rising up in your chest the second Natasha texted. You responded and took a deep breath before turning your phone off, Wanda could tell what was stressing you out so much. “I’ll break up with her soon.” She kissed your temple softly. “You’ll hurt her.” You sighed, knowing how much Natasha liked Wanda. “We’ve only been together a few months, we haven’t even said I love you.” Wanda spoke softly.

You knew Natasha would be alright, but you still felt bad. You decided against focusing on that though, instead you buried your face into Wanda’s chest and relaxed into her embrace. You kept reminding yourself it was gonna be fine as long as Natasha never found out about it.

You spent the rest of the day hanging out at Wanda’s, your location turned off so Natasha wouldn’t suspect anything.

A/N - Sorry this is a little short and the ending sucks, also sorry for disappearing for I don’t even know how many months, I’ve been swamped with work and college, and I also really had no inspiration to write but let’s hope I post again within a month.

[shamelessfaceless]

Love, Pain, Death, Repeat

Navigation | Marvel masterlist | part II

Pairings: Wanda Maximoff x F!reader, Wanda Maximoff x Vision

Summary: Even death won't help you get rid off her and pain she caused.

Warnings: Mentions of death, cheating, angst

Wc: 600

A/n: Just a fast sad blurb, hope you like this <33

Your mouth is dry, completely opposite to your eyes. Pinning Natasha to the ground you let your tears fall. It wasn't supposed to be like that, but after hearing what you needed to do, you were sure it was the time.

"Think about Yelena! Your facking sister! Think what would she say if I told her that you killed yourself!" You yelled at her though she was so close to you she would hear your whispers.

"And you? You have a whole life ahead of you! You're so young! You are doing what you need, you're nice and brave, you put others before you, you are a hero people need!"

"I don’t have anyone! Anyone! I spent last years crying in my room! People don’t remember me! I don’t even remember who I am."

"Y/N" She tried to change positions. You didn't let her. You couldn't let her.

"I am not enough. I never was. Everyone knows Black Widow or Iron Man or Hawkeye! Even she showed me I was never enough!" You were almost sobbing, your tears falling on Natasha’s suit. "She choosed fucking microwave!"

When you saw Wanda for the first time, you fell almost in the same second. Literally fell. You wanted to come closer, but your legs had other plans, and you fell straight into her arms. This made her laugh. That was the first thing that actually made her show positive emotions after her brother died. Most of the night spended in your room only talking changed into spending nights in yours and hers own room. After your old relationships you were negative about love, but you started trusting her, it meant so much for you. She promised you stars. It didn't take long for her to take interest in Vision. You trusted her with your whole heart, and all she did was break it. He was just a robot, you thought you didn't need to care about him. Maybe he was a little bit too nice to Wanda, but she wouldn’t fall for cold metal, right? Oh how wrong you were. After one of the missions, you came back to your room just to see her covered in hickeys that for sure weren’t yours. You just sat on the floor and told her to get out.

"You will meet someone else. Just give yourself a chance. For fucking sake, if you let yourself forget her, you will find true love and maybe have kids or cats." Russian was strong, you started feeling like your arms were going to give up.

"She cheated on me, and soon after she disappeared. Women always choose men." You said disgustedly. Your every relationships ended because they chose to be with men. "Tell everyone I loved them." You stabbed her hand to distract her.

You started running to the end of the cliff. Black Widow’s screams didn’t stop you. Just as you jumped you looked behind to see Natasha, she was so close catching you, just a few seconds and you would be still alive. You smiled to her wondering if she could see it, and closed your eyes. Last thing in your mind was the memory of one specific lazy morning with Maximoff. Morning when she promised you cozy life, no avengers, just you and her in a big house and kids.

…

Opening your eyes you expected to see your dead parents, not two young boys.

"Good morning my love." Your head snapped to the door of the room. Wanda stood there, width smile on her lips, her eyes shining a little bit with red.

[wandabear]

CHEERFUL OBLIVION - WANDA MAXIMOFF X F!READER ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ ㅤ

Summary: Your duty is to watch her 'till Chton comes for her, even if you hate it, but do you really hate it? Especially when you start to get to know Wanda. The bond begins to torment you. But, oh Lord, you've never been so in love. ㅤㅤㅤㅤ

chapter one chapter two chapter three chapter four chapter fivechapter six

masterlist

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ tw: angst, fluff, angst with a happy ending. ㅤ

Jules is portrayed by Adelaide Kane. Here.

Florence + The Machine - Mermaids

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ ㅤchapter one

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ

ㅤㅤ ㅤ Six thousand years ago, after the beginning, there was a malevolent and ancient demon that plagued the face of the earth for a long time.

Chthon, one of the most powerful deities among the demons as he was one of the firsts to exist, managed to maintain control until he was banished. Unwilling to give up power, created a castle on top of Wundagore Mountain, carving his dark magic into the walls with evil spells prophesying the existence of a sorceress. The most powerful being, the Scarlet Witch, who would end up freeing him from his eternal exile.

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ

Chton was gone, but his followers remained over time, as did his sacred book: ‘The Darkhold’.

Demons roamed the earth, but not as everyone thought.

ㅤㅤ ㅤ

1999 NOVI GRAD

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ

The sound of gunshots echoed,  stinging and destructive; soldiers on one side and rebels on the other shooting and falling to the ground. The fire in the streets, terror had an exquisite scent for beings like her.

Civilians hid to avoid being caught in the firefights, trying to live as normal a life as possible in what they believed in was hell.

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ

Suddenly, the gunshots stopped, exposing the sound of those combat boots against the dusty ground.  That woman came out of that dark alley, there was no fear in those deep eyes. Her hair and clothes were immaculate, there were no traces of gunpowder on that leather jacket, nor dust on her perfect hair.

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ

Sighing, Y/N walked towards that street but in matter of seconds she appeared on the terrace of a building. Seemed that they would soon fall apart, the dim lights just showed the power would go out soon.

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ

Oh, she hated those places and at the same time she loved them. Chaos always had an exquisite flavor.

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ

But Y/N just smiled, her eyes changing color to a yellowish tone. Her pupils were vertical, like those of a cat or a snake.Those were her true eyes. She was a demon, of course, and not a very young one.

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ

“What a turmoil, huh?”

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ “The US Air Force will launch the bombing soon…” someone said behind her, watching as the planes hovered over the city.   A sensual and deep female voice. ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ

A red-haired woman stood next to her, watching that beautiful city be devoured by fire and violence. It was scary, but for them, it was perfect. Chaos was something they needed, they fed on it. It was no coincidence that she and a demon like Abaddon were there.

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ Abaddon was a demon of a much higher rank, more dangerous, and much more loyal to Chton, for a reason she was his second.

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ “Why have you summoned me here? Lots of work?” Y/N tilted her head, watching the redhead. She looked like a sharp-tongued woman. “I mean, this place looks really bad and it’s kinda my specialty, but I'm a little busy with a war between-.”

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ “Leviathan.” Abaddon said her name, making Y/N stop. That was her real name, not Y/N. Although Y/N was the one she chose to feel part of the… world.Names had power and Y/N knew that if Abaddon said it, she had power over her.

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ “She’s here.” The voice and the way Abaddon said it made her blood run cold. Y/N frowned at her, that could only mean one thing and it was impossible. Millennia waiting for that moment, so much so that now it seems so distant and impossible.

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ “Who?” She played that game, naivety, and she was so good at it. A nearby explosion caused the ground to shake, but neither of them flinched. ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ “Who Chton has been waiting so long for.” Abaddon smiled proudly, finally happy to say those words.

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ “The Scarlet Witch.” Y/N gasped, couldn't believe that was true. “But…” ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ

Although that was good news for any demon from the depths of hell, Y/N didn't seem to think the same.

That meant the end of a world she became accustomed to, the end of comforts, the end of hedonism. Goodbye New York Pizza, goodbye to the sunsets in the Maldives, goodbye to good movies and good music.

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ

Despite that, Y/N tried to fake her best mischievous smile. “Are you sure?”

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ

“Yes… Thanks to you, we found the place where the Darkhold was buried, and now... You need to take care of it.”  Abaddon pointed towards one of the buildings in front of them, through the window you could see an adorable woman lying on an old sofa, with her two little ones. “That’s her.”

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ

“The woman?” Y/N asked curiously, tilting her head. Her hair was brown, had a charming smile and big eyes although you couldn't distinguish their color. A happy look despite the tragedy surrounding her family.

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ “No.” Abaddon rolled her eyes and pointed at the little girl, cuddling next to her mom. “The girl.”

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ But Y/N took a moment before speaking, her brow furrowed in confusion, she took a better look at the little girl.

Without a doubt, she had an undeniable resemblance to her mother.

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ

“But she’s a kid.” Y/N mumbled, somewhat confused. “They’re children.” ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ

“Yes, and?...” Abaddon raised an eyebrow, already more annoyed than she expected.

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ After a few seconds, Y/N just wrinkled her nose and shook her head.  “Yeah, no, I don’t mess with the tiny ones.” ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ

Surprised by her rejection, the higher demon turned to see Y/N, who was still looking at the little girl curiously. How come something so powerful was so small and insignificant?

Abbadon could tell a hint of pity, perhaps sympathy, something that shouldn't have been there but Y/N had always been a pain in the ass. Y/N had spent more time with humans than she had in hell.

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ

“Your job is to do what Chton ordered you to do.” The redhead growled, showing those terrifying red eyes. Abaddon was superior to Y/N, just because Y/N had screwed up a few times.

The truth is, Y/N didn't want to be a 'demon', like it was a big deal.

She always repeated over and over again that she was only there because of a mistake, Y/N -or Leviathan-  didn't mean to fall, was a high-ranking angel, she just hung around the wrong people... wrong time! ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ Therefore, she has always been a ‘bad’ demon. Cruel sometimes but morally decent. And the children, well, it was something she was never going to be able to understand. She would never attack children. ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ “But they’re kids-”   This time, she seemed more confident in her words. ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ Fed up with her rambling and babbling, Abaddon quickly cut her off. “We don't need you to kill her, just... make sure her destiny continues as it should be. Watch her, do not intervene.”

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ

“And I’m not a fucking guardian angel or something, I fell for something- ”  Y/N growled.

ㅤㅤ “Do as you're told.” Through her teeth, Abaddon grabbed the collar of Y/N’s shirt, showing  why she was superior now. She was much more aggressive and volatile.  “We're not playing… he’s not playing.” ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

After a few tense moments, Abaddon released her and took a few steps back. Annoyed, Y/N simply sighed and shook her head.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

“Take it as a promotion for such good work on your… what do humans call it? Red Room.” Abaddon hissed with an evil smile before completely disappearing from that place.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

Sighing, Y/N stared at that place, knowing that it wouldn't last long if Chton needed that girl to exploit her potential. Three hours later, she witnesses a missile destroying Wanda Maximoff's home, beginning the chaos and pain in the girl’s life.

2014 HYDRA Research Base

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

“Hail Hydra!” One of the soldiers yelled, stepping aside, letting the woman in. ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

The cold, musty dark walls of the place seemed depressing to Y/N, her combat boots echoed down that hallway until she reached that horrible man's office.

She had known this man for fifteen years and there wasn't even a moment where she didn't want to rip his head off. ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

“Hail Hydra.” Baron Von Strucker said quickly, but Y/N didn't return that greeting.

Y/N wasn't interested in having any kind of contact with Hydra, especially with the ‘leftovers’, but right now it was a necessary evil. ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

“We found two volunteers for the tests, as you said… I must say that the results have been extraordinary.” Strucker smiled brightly, more than the demon expected.

Y/N frowned, walking through the office until she reached the window, a beautiful view of the lake and the forests of Sokovia. ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

“I know.” The woman murmured somewhat thoughtfully. “How is she?”  ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ She didn’t expect Wanda and Pietro to seek refuge in Hydra, but the girl's resentment grew more and more. Something Chton and Abaddon believed was essential, Y/N had never taken the time to know or care about Wanda either. Despite knowing the girl for fifteen years, she had always been distant, fearing 'closeness' or as Abaddon would say: 'attachment'. ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

“How do you know it's a 'she'?”  Von Strucker asked, raising an eyebrow, quite confused. No one but him and some soldiers knew that they were twin brothers, a boy and a girl. ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

But Y/N's glare made him reconsider his words. ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

“I know everything, don't forget who has helped you all these years. I am your superior, I am your god.” she said through clenched teeth. Suddenly, those human eyes changed to yellowish serpent eyes. ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

But before Y/N could say anything, a screeching sound and the red lights indicated the alarms were activated, they were being attacked.

The Avengers crossed the walls that surrounded the castle, ready to take back Loki's scepter.  ㅤㅤㅤㅤ

Growling in annoyance, Y/N walked towards the door. ㅤㅤㅤㅤ

“Attack the city, split them up.” Y/N said to Strucker  before disappearing from that place. She needed to look for Wanda, needed to get her out of that place before the avengers found her but an empty room answered everything the demon needed to know.

Screaming in frustration, the demon disappeared from the scene. How could she have lost her?

“How did you lose her?!” Abaddon shouted, violently approaching to Y/N.  Her face was as red as her hair, and her eyes threatened to pop out of their sockets soon. There were very few times that Y/N had seen Abaddon like that. ㅤㅤㅤㅤ

Both were in an office in one of the tallest buildings in New York, close to the Avengers Tower.

It was no surprise that a demon like Abaddon had a firm like ‘Hogarth, Chao & Benowitz’ in her hands. ㅤㅤㅤㅤ

Y/N squeezed her fists preventing herself from exploding. She didn't like being reprimanded by Abaddon at all, much less in front of other demons.

Things in Sokovia had gotten out of control.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ

Wanda and Pietro escaped, first manipulated by Ultron and then by the fucking Avengers. As a result, Pietro died in Sokovia trying to save the world. That would have been great if it served its purpose, but it didn't.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ “She lost her twin brother in that battle, her potential has not been unleashed yet.... but is there, I know is in there.” Y/N was quick to say, then clenched her jaw. Abaddon was about  to lose it until she heard the last thing.  “The Avengers took her, she's with S.H.I.E.L.D. now.”

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ

Those words managed to appease the redhead's anger, who sat back down in her huge chair. Some of the demons around her whispered a few things, good or bad, but good enough for Y/N to stay alive.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ “Go with those 'Avengers' or whatever. Do what you must, don't let her out of your sight.” The fierce-eyed woman said, raising an eyebrow. “Chthon will destroy you if you don't, he needs the girl alive.” ㅤㅤㅤㅤ Clenching her jaw, Y/N just nodded.

She decided to turn on her heels and walk towards the door but the war spirit inside couldn't leave it just like that.

Why? She spent fifteen years making sure that stupid girl was suffering to fulfill her own destiny. Through suffering, Wanda Maximoff would transform into the Scarlet Witch, taking on the mantle that belonged to her.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ

Should she keep doing it now? Even more? ㅤㅤㅤㅤ

“If she's so powerful, why should I take care of her? I’m not a fucking angel anymore.” Y/N complained, looking at Abaddon one last time. ㅤㅤㅤㅤ

The demons around them closed their eyes in suffering, they knew that later they would have to suffer and endure Abaddon's wrath because of Y/N. ㅤㅤㅤㅤ “Just do as I say, Leviathan!” Abaddon hissed through those white teeth and then glanced out of the corner of her eye at one of the demons. It was a woman with black hair and brown eyes like a puppy. She was wearing a white shirt buttoned all the way. Her black hair was tied in a tight ponytail. Looked like a secretary or something like that. “And take this useless spawn with you. I'm sick of her.” ㅤㅤㅤㅤ

Sighing, Y/N just shook her head and left the office, quickly followed by that girl.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ

“Stolas… what did you do now?!” Y/N asked, pressing the elevator button, noticing how the brunette next to her finally untied the collar of that perfectly ironed shirt. Y/N knew that if Abaddon kicked her out was because she was fed up with Stolas, a rather young and troublesome demon. Had some important hierarchical level, but not as high as Abaddon or herself. She this big problem called: being naive.  ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

Stolas was going to speak but Y/N stopped her. “You know what? I don't wanna know.”

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

Once both entered the elevator, they remained silent until Stolas couldn't take it anymore and blurted out everything. “I fucked up in the Red Room, big time.”

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ

“I told you I didn't want to know!” Y/N growled and then shook her head, thinking that maybe now with Stolas it would be a lot harder. After a few seconds, the elevator reached the ground floor but before they got out, the brunette turned to look at her.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

“Lev?” ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

At that 'nickname', Y/N turned to look at her and noticed the concern in those brown eyes.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

“You don't want to disappoint him again.”

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

And those words chilled Y/N’s blood, not just because of the way Stolas said it, with so much fear. But because they both knew that disappointing Chton was a direct ticket to nothing, to the abyss, to be thrown into a black hole never to come out again.  That was much worse than hell.

If that sounded bad, betraying or disappointing him was much worse. Frowning, she just shook her head. “I won’t.”

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

“Thank you for this, Ma'am. You won't regret it.” Y/N said with a kind smile. She was wearing a dark combat suit, typical of a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

After the fiasco in Sokovia, Y/N used her tricks to stay on S.H.I.E.L.D as an agent. She couldn't just walk in and take Wanda away like it was nothing, it would alert the Avengers and the demon didn't have time to unleash chaos like that.

She needed to be sneaky, and passing as an agent and keeping an eye on the Sokovian was the best idea in mind. ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

“After what I've been told about how you've performed in Sokovia, I know you'll do very well here.” Maria Hill smiled and shook her hand.

Maria was an excellent agent, but she could not overcome a demon’s manipulation. 

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

After half an hour talking about the job they would have at the Compound, that of course working with Avengers was much harder. The missions were much more complex, dangerous, many times with risk of losing their lives and it was a responsibility that they had to assume, if they wanted to be there.

She also explained to Y/N and Stolas that their superior, Natasha Romanoff, would look for them later to meet them.

After five more minutes, both left Hill's office walking through the hallways, greeting some agents who passed by them.

ㅤㅤㅤ

“So… What’s your name?” Stolas asked curiously. “Your human name, I mean.” ㅤㅤㅤ

“The same as always, I get confused if I change it too much.” Y/N wrinkled her nose and then held out her ID. ㅤㅤㅤ

“Y/N Y/L/N?” Stolas read slowly and then handed back the ID. “Cool name.”

ㅤㅤㅤ

“I've been using it for so long that I already forgot mine.”  Y/N shrugged as they left the elevator and walked towards the room they would both share.

ㅤㅤㅤ

“It’s Leviathan.” Stolas said quickly and in an overly naïve manner, causing Y/N to let out a confused giggle.

ㅤㅤㅤ

“... It was a joke.”

ㅤㅤㅤ

“Oh.” The brunette nodded slowly, surprised. Of course this was all new to her, she had some 'jobs' on Earth but not much to socialize with humans. After a few seconds she took out her ID and showed it to Y/N proudly. “I’ll be Julia Hale. I’m an agent.”

ㅤㅤㅤ

Y/N watched with curiosity as the girl smiled seeing the ID and then put it in her pocket. “Why are you so excited? We're supposed to hate them, you should hate this like you all demons do.”

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

“Well, I haven't been around here much...” Jules shrugged.  “We're supposed to use them, I'm more excited to experience new things and I like to hurt them sometimes over there, in hell. Working with Abaddon was… awful and boring. Mostly awful, so this is better.”

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

But Y/N just listened to everything carefully, noticing that she was telling the truth. In a way she thought that perhaps Abaddon sent Stolas to spy on her, but Stolas - or 'Jules' now - was telling the truth. Abaddon just wanted to get rid of her. ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

Once they finally arrived at the training area, both walked through the gym, approaching a more private training area where only the Avengers and some agents close to the group trained.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

In the distance, you could see how a brunette and a redhead battled in a ring to maintain control but the widow defeated the sokovian easily.

Y/N tilted her head, noticing that Wanda didn't seem bothered by hitting the mat again and again, but rather tired, staring blankly waiting for it to finish.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

"That's our best weapon?" Jules frowned looking at Wanda.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

“That one is interesting.”  Y/N referred to Natasha.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

The woman was very skilled, fast, and of course even if Wanda tried hard, she would never make the widow fall without powers. ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

“The Black Widow. Dangerous. One of the best weapons in the Red Room for a long time…” ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

“Come on. Jab, Wanda!” Y/N muttered under her breath, trying to encourage her 'protege' but once again, Natasha ended up making Wanda fall. ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

The demon just shook herhead, how was it possible that that girl ended up being the Scarlet Witch? She could barely stand up. ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

“At least she’s pretty.” Jules mumbled, breaking Y/N out of her thoughts.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

“You shouldn't think that.” Y/N frowned.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

But the brunette just shrugged. “Come on… Like you never fucked humans.”

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

“I did, but I don't worship them, I just use them.”  As if she was seriously offended, Y/N just grunted and rolled her eyes.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

“I just said she's pretty... it's not like you thought that too.” Jules rolled her eyes too. She didn't know why there was such a scandal in liking a ‘human’, without a doubt seeing them was better than some infernal beast in the depths of the darkness. “Anyway, that's all we can do, she’s Chton’s pet.”

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

Y/N didn't say anything, just stayed silent as they watched the blonde and brunette fight one more time.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

Wanda just sat far away so she could drink some water, but although the demon thought it must be tiredness, the sokovian seemed down. You could tell in her aura, something wasn't right about her at all and it stirred something in Y/N, something she couldn't identify.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

“Do you already know what will happen to her?”Jules asked curiously, watching Y/N who kept her gaze fixed on the sokovian.  “... that makes her... You know, change?”

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

“No one knows... I thought it would be Pietro's death, but apparently it's something more devastating.” Y/N sighed. “Just that it will be painful enough to break her whole world.”  

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

Although she didn't know it, those words would weigh heavily in the future. As if it were a revelation. Wanda got up again but this time she walked away from the gym.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

“Who’s the golden retriever?” Y/N asked as she watched the brunette fall to the mat once again, the blonde seeming to be winning once again.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

The blonde raised her ice-cold gaze and collided with Y/N's for a moment, like she knew something wasn't right, until returning to Kate it softened.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

“Kate Bishop… and Yelena Belova, she is the widow’s sister.”

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ

“Mh… interesting. Maybe we should start there, Kate looks like a weak point and desperate for a friend.” ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

That day passed slowly, first day at the Compound had been quite tiring. As if interviews with Maria Hill weren't stressful enough, briefings between Avengers were worse. ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

“Do we really have to do this?”

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ “Yes. We have to.” ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

The sun finally hid behind the huge treetops that surrounded the place. 

Y/N and Jules were returning from a long training session, and although they had much higher stamina than a human being or a superhuman, it was quite boring doing things that you could easily overcome as a demon.

Once they reached the rooms, they bumped into a redhead who was waiting outside with crossed arms. ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

“You must be the newbies.” With a smug smile, Natasha greeted them both.  “Shame I wasn't at your training today, but someone told me you both are deadly.” ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

Y/N didn't say anything, she knew that if she drew too much attention it could complicate things. ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

“I spoke with Maria and now you both will work with us-” 

ㅤㅤㅤ Before Y/N could say anything against it, Natasha continued speaking since she was her superior.  “You can dine with us if you want. Meet the team... there are just a few of us now.” ㅤㅤㅤ

Jules's eyes widened excited while Y/N remained the same, of course she didn't feel like socializing with those people but couldn't arouse suspicion either.

Y/N just nodded slowly, giving a fake kind smile.

ㅤㅤㅤ ‘I'm not hungry now, but  thank you. Maybe another time.’ It was something she would have said but ended up saying:  “Sure.”

ㅤㅤㅤ

“Great.” Natasha exclaimed, winking flirtatiously. The three walked together to the kitchen while chatting pleasantly, it was a more private area where the other agents wouldn't be snooping around. ㅤㅤㅤ

At the table were Kate Bishop and Yelena playing some video games, Steve was chatting with Bucky and Bruce, who was cooking. Wanda was on the couch far away, trying to read, and Vision was looking out the window with a thoughtful look.

ㅤㅤㅤ

“Hey.” Natasha caught everyone's attention.  “This is Y/N and Julia, they are new and tonight they are going to have dinner with us.”

ㅤㅤㅤ

Y/N felt everyone's gaze on her and could feel the heat on the back of her neck. She had never felt so exposed, and above all, she had never felt so uncomfortable in centuries. ㅤㅤㅤ

Everyone greeted them kindly, Steve was very kind to come over and shake their hands. Yelena just nodded her head saying 'hey' and Kate looked like an adorable puppy excited to meet the new agents, which made Y/N slowly walk away. Feeling deeply uncomfortable. ㅤㅤㅤ

Bruce was quick to say that dinner was ready, and everyone seemed happy about it, willing to help set the table, but something caught Y/N's attention.

Sighing, Wanda walked to the kitchen to get a glass of water and instead of returning to her seat, she walked away. ㅤㅤㅤ

“Where is she going?” Y/N asked as she watched the sokovian disappear.

ㅤㅤㅤ

“Wanda doesn't like spending a lot of time outside her room. She's having hard times, the girl lost her twin brother recently.” Natasha wrinkled her nose as she helped carry the salad to the table. ㅤㅤㅤ

“In her Emo era, huh?” Jules joked but Y/N nudged her. “Ouch.” ㅤㅤㅤ

“You know, I think… I want to take a shower first, I'm not that hungry anyway but thank you.” Y/N said as she walked out, finding the perfect reason to leave and not have to socialize with them. That job was tedious enough without having to listen to Bruce Banner or Kate's jokes. ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

She decided to go up to their room, taking a nice hot shower and read a nice book until the clock struck midnight.

Jules was snoring on the next bed, really tired. Frowning, Y/N wondered if perhaps it was because that young demon didn't have any experience on Earth. ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

Her belly growled saying that despite being a demon, she had some basic needs like eating. Sighing, Y/N got up from her bed and left the room to attack the kitchen while everyone rested.

And it would have been a magnificent plan, the kitchen was empty which made her smile victoriously as she opened the fridge. ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

Taking some bread, chicken salad and some cold cuts, the demon made herself a huge sandwich to satisfy the hunger.

Of course, she accompanied it with some spicy fries that the package clarified were 'property of Yelena -AND ONLY Yelena Belova-’' ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

Not caring in the least, Y/N was about to take a bite when a soft voice interrupted the moment. She knew how to recognize that Sokovian accent perfectly, even though Wanda tried hard to hide it. ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

“Yelena doesn't like people eating her chips.”  Wanda said from the other side of the kitchen, slowly approaching as if she were a grieving ghost. ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

“I'll deal with her later.” Y/N shrugged. ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ Convinced with that answer, Wanda just ignored her and went to the kitchen so she could make herself some steaming tea. ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

“My name is Y/N.” She looked at Wanda but the brunette didn't even look at her.  “What's yours?” ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

Of course the demon knew everything about Wanda, even the things that not even the Sokoviana knew. ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

“Why are you asking something you already know?”  Finally, she lifted that completely blank green gaze. Y/N could see the deep sadness behind them.

That made Y/N stay quiet and surprised. How was it possible? How did Wanda know that-? ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ Oh. How silly.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ Of course she should know, she’s an avenger, right? EVERYONE knew who Wanda Maximoff was.

Shrugging, Y/N just sat down at the table so she could eat her sandwich. ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

That was strange to the Sokovian, who perhaps was expecting a sarcastic response or something like that. Perhaps a curious mind asking about her powers or about Sokovia like everyone else, but Y/N just kept eating.

Taking the warm cup in her hands, Wanda was about to leave until she stopped in front of the table.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

The silence was so pleasant that she couldn't help but end up sitting too. A bit surprised, Y/N decided to share some sandwiches.ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

“I’m Wanda.” The Sokovian finished by saying, taking a chicken salad sandwich. ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

The demon looked up, colliding with those beautiful, huge green eyes and all she could felt was terror. Not because of the fear of knowing who Wanda was or being recognized, but because there was something about them, something different, perhaps attractive. She really liked those eyes. ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

“I’m Y/N.” ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ “I know, you said it before.”ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ Finally they both smiled.

And maybe the demon let loose a little more. And perhaps the Sokovian smiled a little bit more, almost in an imperceptible way. ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

Silence reigned again and both decided to enjoy it, keep eating without needing a word other than the sound of the clock hands.  Although it seemed like a pleasant coincidence, it became routine.

Every night, Wanda and Y/N decided to have dinner together at midnight, avoiding the 'avengers' reunion. ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

The talks were usually short, they enjoyed the company without needing to go further. Or so they wanted to think. Wanda was not going to admit that Y/N slowly made her forget the pain and that normous invisible wall was beginning to fall, and Y/N was not going to admit that she liked Wanda's presence, but they were always together sharing that sacred moment. Y/N tried to ignore all those thoughts that reminded her that she should NOT maintain any ties with the witch and it wasn't easy at all.

Some nights Wanda would cook something for both of them, other nights Y/N would bring some Chinese food or pizza.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

But one night Y/N just didn't show up. That Friday night, a storm was hitting the Compound so hard that the treetops were moving violently. ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ Wanda excused herself from dinner saying that she wasn't that hungry cause in one of their ‘small talks’ with Y/N, both agreed to make some pasta on friday night. ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

“Does anyone know where Y/N is?” Wanda asked, trying not to look too worried. Of course Natasha noticed the concern in her voice, but she didn't say anything.

Nat was a very good spy and confirmed it when she found both girls having dinner together, but neither of them noticed it. The redhead was happy for both, especially for Wanda who was beginning to open up a little bit. Natasha respected Wanda's silence, although she made her pay for it in training.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ Noticing that the hours were passing and Y/N didn't return from that mission, Wanda walked back and forth with her arms crossed as she watched the furious wind move the treetops through the window.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ Why hasn't Y/N come back yet? ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

The only thing she knew – and thanks to Natasha – was that Y/N was on a mission in Norway. Things had not gone well at all, but they would soon return with the news and information they needed about the last remnants of Hydra.

But that storm was bringing out the worst in the Sokovian, who seemed to relive the worst thoughts over and over again.

Why was she so concerned about Y/N?

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ Well, maybe because together they managed to establish a small friendship or bond without saying much.

After half an hour and a lot of tragic thoughts, the door to the room opened, letting in this woman in a bit of a hurry carrying a package on her hands.

Y/N's hair was wet as was her clothes, but the package seemed intact. ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ “I'm sorry., I'm sorry, I know!” The demon said, approaching Wanda and stopping right in front of her. The drops of water were falling down her face, she didn’t even stop to go up to her room or change clothes. She knew Wanda would be waiting for her, and knew she might be worried. “I really couldn't do anything, the mission got so bad in a blink.”  ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ Lost in those eyes, Wanda's heart skipped a beat. Couldn't even say a single coherent word. ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ “We were trapped, the agents were waiting for us but we managed to overcome them-” Y/N said quickly, babbling as droplets fell from her hair.  And at that very moment, Y/N knew that something wasn't right with her. ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ Frowning, the demon rethought all her actions that day. Why was she explaining herself to Wanda? Why was she so worried about being on time and not standing her up? ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ Because she knew that Wanda created a routine with her, because she knew that Wanda  lost her brother a short time ago, and that she fled any kind of ties with the Avengers but not with her. Not with Y/N. ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ Because she cared, because it mattered. ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

Suddenly, Y/N remembered that she was still holding that package and decided not to let go. Without further ado, Wanda came to hug her tightly. Closing her eyes, the Sokovian let herself get lost in that warm sensation. Oh, she was so happy to see that Y/N was okay. ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

The fear she felt at the thought that she could lose Y/N, even though Wanda barely knew her, was overwhelming. ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ Completely shocked, Y/N didn't know what to do. No one had ever held her before, she had never before allowed anyone to touch her so intimately.  Much less hug her like that. ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

“Are you okay?” Wanda asked quickly, breaking away to look at her. ㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ “I- I'm fine.” Y/N stammered, feeling the heat in her ears. She was definitely blushing and no one, no one had ever managed that. “Some bruises… but we’re okay.” ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ “Is your girlfriend okay too?” Wanda lowered her head, somewhat embarrassed but perhaps also jealous. ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

“Girlfriend?” Y/N frowned quite confused. “Oh… no! Jules is… my friend. Just my friend.” She stammered quickly, nodding. ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

“Oh, great.” And as if her soul returned to her body, Wanda just smiled and nodded too.

Finally, the demon smiled slightly without needing to fake it.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ “What’s that?” The Sokovian looked at that perfectly wrapped package.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ Remembering it, Y/N opened her eyes wide and handed it to her. “I brought pasta from Sicily!”  

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ That took Wanda by surprise, who just let out a small, confused giggle.

Noticing her mistake, Y/N blinked quickly and added babbling: “I mean, not really Sicily but the place called ‘Sicily’ in Little Italy. I know it’s not chicken paprikash but…” ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ Taking a huge breath of air, Y/N seemed about to explode but Wanda simply stopped that bombshell with a small smile and a soft voice.  “Thank you.” ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ And that's all they needed, to share a moment together. After Y/N took a quick shower, both finally sat down to taste that exquisite pasta together. ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

“Why don't you have dinner with them? I'm not saying it bothers me, I’m flattered. I like this.” Y/N said curiously as she devoured that delicious pasta. ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ “It's different… with you.” Wanda whispered, watching her face in detail. Y/N was strangely unique; those lips, her nose, how adorable her slightly blushing cheeks were. Although those eyes... they made her feel different, weird but good at the same time. She knew they were hiding something. How strange. “You are the only one who doesn't torment me with loud thoughts.” ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

Oh, how curious that was. ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

Why couldn't she hear Y/N’s thoughts? That question was haunting the brunette for weeks but then she came to the simple answer: did it matter?

Y/N made her feel comfortable, who cares why she can’t? She had to learn to trust Y/N, it was exciting. ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ “Everyone here does it, and I can't help it. It’s driving me crazy…” Wanda lowered her gaze for a moment, embarrassed.  “...like I don't have enough pain in my heart. I must deal with anxiety and other people's pain too.” ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

Staying silent, Y/N completely understood Wanda's reasons for distancing herself from the others.

Even though she pretended not to care and even though she should NOT care, Y/N  was beginning to make a bond with Wanda and it was inevitable not to feel… empathy.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ It was inevitable not to feel appreciation for those sad eyes, wasn’t that the reason for all this? To create the Scarlet Witch, to forge the most powerful being in existence through pain. ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

“I won't tell you I'm sorry, everyone does it and it doesn't seem to help you at all.” Y/N barely said, she knew some things about torture and pain. Many, but she had never experienced it that way. “I know some stuff about pain… and if you need me, and want to talk about it... I'm here.” ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

Pursing her lips, Y/N just tried hard to smile and shrugged, showing for the first time who she was.

And maybe that was what Wanda valued most, that she didn't need to make her feel better with empty words. ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ The Sokovian nodded. ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ “How is your ravioli?” Y/N finally asked, taking a bite.  

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ “It’s good.” Wanda smiled widely, taking another bite as well.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ “I’m glad.” Y/N smiled tenderly, wiping her lips with a napkin.  “The owner told me it was late but that she only made an exception because I was soaked.”

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ “You did that for me?” Those beautiful green eyes shone with some hope. ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ “Of course not, I did it because I was hungry!” Y/N joked. ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ Stealing a giggle from the Sokovian, they kept enjoying for a while until the clock invited them to retire to their rooms before Natasha found out and kicked their asses.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ “Y/N?”

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ “Yeah?” As she finished putting the dishes in the dryer, the demon looked up to see Wanda in front of her. She was playing with her rings, something she did when the girl was nervous and it looked adorable. ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

“Thanks for coming back safely.” After saying that, Wanda walked away slowly, feeling her heart racing and her cheeks blushing like a teenager in love. ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

And the demon's old heart gave signs of life, jumping when she heard that. Joy could be seen in those 'human' eyes. Oh, what was she doing? ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ “Look, you’re a sea beast! … What’s that? A whale?” Jules asked excitedly as she looked at the screen, searching for information on some random pages about demonology.

Since she arrived on Earth, Stolas was fascinated with all the technological advancement and the knowledge that humans had of them. Some are totally wrong, according to her. ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ “A snake! I'm not a whale, I'm a snake! Just- … Can you stop looking for us on the internet?”  Y/N growled as she changed into her pajamas so she could lie down on her bunk. “If someone see you, they'll say you're crazy and you'll ruin our plans.”ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ “No, I wanna see-” The brunette tried to continue but Y/N took her phone from her hands in annoyance and then threw it away, pointing at Jules. ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ “You're a gay owl with skinny long legs.”  Y/N hissed, arching an eyebrow. “You teach about astronomy and herbs when you are summoned! Happy? HERBS! That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard, a demon teaching about herbs!” ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ “Hey! that’s not me.” Jules stood up to grab her phone to look for the picture, it clearly looked like an owl exactly like Y/N described it. “I don't look like that. I know a lot about astronomy tho.” ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

Rolling her eyes in disdain, Y/N laid down on her bunk so she could rest.

Every night, it took an hour to find sleep. Her body was never so tired as to fall asleep easily, and  thoughts came to her to haunt her one more time.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ Y/N sighed thinking about her once again, but Jules' voice saved one more time, something the demon didn't think could be possible.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ “How is everything going? With Wanda…”   Jules glanced at Y/N, who seemed to focus her gaze on the ceiling. ㅤㅤㅤㅤ “It’s okay.” Y/N shrugged. “Like a hurt beast, but nothing that indicates… you know.” ㅤㅤㅤㅤ The brunette turned to see Y/N with a mischievous smile. “I know you both have dinner together at midnight. I can hear her heart pounding fast in the distance.” ㅤㅤㅤㅤ How dare Stolas offend her like that? Watching her with a murderous look, Y/N growled: “I never said that you should follow me. And you shouldn't get involved in other people's affairs.” ㅤㅤㅤㅤ

“I didn't do it!” Jules quickly defended herself, a bit scared. “I just… noticed it. Abaddon didn't say anything about you having to bond with her.” ㅤㅤㅤㅤ “I like to have things under control.” Sighing, Y/N kept staring at the ceiling. ㅤㅤㅤㅤ “Or you like to spend time with her.” Of course Jules was more astute than she looked, despite being naive she was no fool. Jules was a high-ranking demon, with the brain and body of a woman who had never experienced anything more than torture her entire life.  “Time is something so simple for us, Y/N, we are eternal… We have seen empires rise, we have seen empires fall. We have seen great people and many other people so horrible that hell was not enough for them... all thanks to time. For us, it is nothing more than sand, but for her it is important, and you like her to enjoy it with you.” ㅤㅤㅤㅤ

Y/N turned to look at Jules, who didn't seem to say it in a mean or judging way.

The brunette just blinked slowly, a little thoughtful, maybe even relaxing between those huge pillows.

She wasn't trying to attack her or use it as an advantage, Jules seemed rather curious.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ “And I’m saying: mind your own business.” Y/N narrowed her eyes and grabbed one of the pillows, hitting Jules. “Sleep now, Stolas.” ㅤㅤㅤㅤ “It’s ‘Jules’ here!” Rolling her eyes, Jules settled on her bed and Y/N did the same after turning off the lights. Silence reigned for a moment until the voice of the demon brought Y/N out of her thoughts again. ㅤㅤㅤㅤ “Y/N?” ㅤㅤㅤㅤ Sighing, ready to get up and hit her to shut up, Y/N opened her eyes.  “What?!” ㅤㅤㅤㅤ “If you think the girl needs to clear her head or feel better or... if you want to share your time with her, I think it's the right thing to do… that’s why you’re so much better than Abaddon.” Jules said in a whisper as she rolled over and settled down to sleep. “And you don't hit me all day long, that's good.” ㅤㅤㅤㅤ And perhaps those words finally managed to steal a small smile from Y/N. The urge to hit Stolas or -Jules now- wasn't far, but she understood the demon's relief at being away from someone like Abaddon.

Although demons had an evil nature, they were not all exactly the same. ㅤㅤㅤㅤ Many of them had previously been kind beings who ended up falling. Some with reasons, others not so much. Some were cruel, others were sadistic, and others simply existed. But Abaddon was different, if demons were chaos, Abaddon was cruelty and malice. She was a cruel general, addicted to blood, hungry for violence and that was why Chton had considered her over Y/N.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ There was no room for cruelty in Y/N, except for beings that were truly malicious. Y/N loved giving them what they deserved. ㅤㅤㅤㅤ “Yeah…” Y/N sighed. “That's why I'm not where she is. In control.” ㅤㅤㅤㅤ And although the demon tried to sleep and clear her head, it was difficult not to think about that girl all night. The way Wanda looked at her, or the way she cared for her was so…disgustingly nice.

She had to do something to stop it, and she had to do it soon or everything would become even more complicated.

Well, I hope you like this new story that is running through my head and is saving me from the daily stress in which I begin to die. But a beautiful song made me think about that story, so why not? In my defense, watching 'Good Omens' helped a little. ㅤㅤㅤㅤ I'm sorry for leaving you for so long, my life is getting a bit complex these days… The economy in my country is burning and I try to survive by working hard so writing was difficult for me. ㅤㅤㅤㅤ If you want me to tag you in the next chapters, just comment and I will. Thank you very much for reading me, honeybee! It means a lot! 🐝 ㅤㅤㅤㅤ Do you want to help me? Wow, that's adorable and means a lot. You can buy me a coffee here!

[farfromstrange]

‘I love you in every universe’ | Matt Murdock x F!Mutant!Reader

Main Masterlist | Read Me On AO3

MINI-SERIES.

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Female Mutant Reader (she/her pronouns)

Timeline: Set during Spider-Man: No Way Home

Warnings: ANGST with no happy ending, mentions of Major Character Death, mutant powers (mind-reading/control), grief, anger, canon typical violence, the multiverse

Summary: Spider-Man killed the love of your life. He died in your arms, and that night left you alone, bitter, and seething for revenge. At least, in your universe. By the time you were ready to face Peter Parker again, your world was already on fire; you would have done just about anything to ruin him. Until one wrong step lands you in Manhattan, New York—but it is not your universe. The second you see Matt Murdock standing right in front of you alive and well, the mangled pieces of your broken heart start raining down on you like daggers, and you come to the realization that a very real version of the man you once loved exists somewhere you were never destined to be, and you won’t be able to stay.

A/n: So, I rewatched No Way Home (The Extended Version), and I got this very angst-y idea. I hope this hasn’t been done before. There won’t be a happy ending, but it has been a while since I’ve written pure angst like this, so it feels fitting. Reader—you, in this case—gets the Wanda Maximoff treatment. It’s not a fully-fleshed out series because, for the time frame this is set in, it wouldn’t make any sense. Instead, I will tell this story in 3-4 parts (depending on final word count after editing). See it as a very long One-Shot separated to make it more readable. You’re welcome.

If you want to be tagged for this, don’t hesitate to let me know!

ONE. "I Bet On Losing Dogs"

TWO.

THREE.

[ginnsbaker]

In Silent Screams (1/3)

She clutches the steering wheel, knuckles white, struggling with the realization of what she's done. She's betrayed you. It wasn't just a lapse in judgment, it was a deliberate decision, a yielding to curiosity, to loneliness, to that inexplicable pull towards someone who isn’t you.

Chapter word count: 10.3k+ Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Fem!Reader, Wanda Maximoff x Vision Tags: Mentions of Smut (F/M), Cheating, Angst, Gaslighting

Notes: This will follow the events of IFISS (not strictly) but in Wanda's POV. Check the tags, you've been warned. This is not rated M, but feel free to skip parts you feel uncomfortable with.

Masterlist | Main Masterlist

Part I 

It’s all happening very fast and she’s hardly keeping pace.

You and Wanda have cleared the apartment you've shared for over five years. The boxes are loaded onto the moving truck, while more personal items are safely packed away in the trunk and rear seats. You're in the building's administrative office, addressing the bills and finalizing other necessities before the move, while Wanda waits for you, sitting on the floor in the middle of what used to be the living room.

Sparky darts around the room, the vastness of the deserted space giving him room to play. Every so often, he looks up at Wanda, his tail wagging, perhaps sensing the change that's about to come. Wanda's gaze follows the little dog, a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth, grateful for his company. 

Every corner of this apartment held a memory—from the faded mark on the kitchen wall where Wanda accidentally spilled red wine, to the tiny dent on the living room floor, after Sparky ran into it during a rough playtime with you. Packing up wasn’t just about boxing items; it felt like carefully wrapping up fragments of time, every piece a memory filed away, never to be recovered ever again.

Though the accumulation of belongings over the years had made the space feel a tad cramped, and a move to a larger place seemed the logical next step, Wanda was deeply nostalgic about leaving behind this chapter. It marked the end of an era for you both—the days of being a young, hopeful couple in love. But at the same time, Wanda also held onto the hope that maybe starting anew somewhere would be good, especially since the past few months have been rocky, with her failed attempts to get pregnant and her stagnant career. Maybe a fresh environment would ease some of that pain, she thought.

The trail leading up to this new chapter, however, is characterized by your increasing hours at the office, overshadowing the time spent at the apartment. Yet, it's this very commitment that led to your promotion just two weeks ago, sparking the unexpected decision to move to an unfamiliar town in New Jersey.

As the reality of the situation sinks in, Wanda feels as if life is moving at an almost dizzying pace. Everything is changing so quickly: your recent promotion, the emotional roller-coaster of trying for a baby, and now the looming move. It’s been more than a lot to take in.

Your footsteps, a soft thud against the wooden floor, break the quiet, drawing Wanda from her deep thoughts. 

“Ready to go?”

She turns towards you, her eyes slightly misty, and whispers, “Just one more minute.”

Understanding her need to linger, you cross the room and lower yourself beside her. “Are you okay?” you ask.

Nodding, she takes a deep breath, as if trying to inhale every memory, every scent of the place she's called home for so long. “Yeah. I just need a moment to say goodbye.”

Gently, you squeeze her shoulder, drawing her gaze to meet yours. “You know, it's not really goodbye,” you murmur, trying to reassure her. “Scott promised it’s temporary, so there's a good chance we could be back here in Manhattan.”

Wanda turns to face you, her eyes searching yours for any hint that you're merely telling her what she wants to hear. You consistently strive to make her happy, aiming to shield her from distress. It's a trait she adores about you, though it can slightly irritate her at times. But right now—

“You really think we might come back?” she asks.

You nod firmly. “Absolutely. Manhattan is where we built so many of our memories, and it will always be a part of us. Westview is just a chapter, not the whole story.”

—right now she appreciates your ability to ground her with your words.

She laughs a bit, dabbing at her eyes. “God, I've fallen so hard for this place.”

“Me too,” you say, giving in to the urge to kiss her forehead. After all these years, and despite being married for a while, you still constantly seek reasons to be near her, to touch her. “But wherever we’ll go, we’ll make it our own.”

-

Wanda decides to christen the first day in your new home by making love on the living room floor, and you're as eager to indulge her. It's short and sweet, straightforward in its intensity. You’re both already attuned to each other's bodies, and she knows precisely where to touch, how to curl her fingers to draw out those soft, sultry moans she always finds so enticing.

The shadows created by the fire dance across the walls, mirroring the boxes scattered all around, each labeled and awaiting their turn to be unpacked and settled into this new space. Wanda absentmindedly rakes her fingers through your hair, your head cushioned on her warm, pillowy chest as you sleepily hum a song. Every scratch sends tingles down your spine, adding to the lethargy pulling at your eyelids.

“'Fade Into You' by Mazzy Star,” Wanda says softly, recognizing the tune.

You give a soft, drowsy chuckle. “You always know. Remember that tiny café near your dorm? They played it on a loop. It was drizzling outside, and we had that ridiculously oversized shared umbrella.”

Wanda smiles at the memory. “How could I forget? We sat there for hours, sipping on our lattes and listening to that song. And we weren’t even together then.”

Drawing a deep breath, you let out a contented sigh, murmuring, “Yeah, but I was already so deeply in love with you then.”

Wanda scrunches her nose and smirks, teasingly retorting, “That's really cheesy.”

You grin, nuzzling further into her, feeling her heart's rhythmic beat beneath your ear. “Doesn't make it any less true,” you whisper.

Wanda would later reflect on this memory, wishing she had held onto it more tightly, especially since it marked the true beginning of something withering inside of her.

-

Westview isn't quite the place Wanda envisioned. Instead of offering an escape from the unresolved threads of both your lives, it feels more like trading one cage for another. The town pulses with its own set of peculiarities, a rhythm and routine foreign to her. She's ambivalent about it. Sees it only as a brief interlude, a temporary concession she's making to support your career endeavors.

The demands of your job appear to be greater than either of you anticipated. As she's finishing up the first dish she's prepared for the evening, you call her midday to say you won't be home for dinner. 

It's not the first or even the third instance. She refrains from keeping tally because she doesn't want to be that kind of wife. However, she's certain it's happened more than just a few times. Wanda tries to hide the disappointment from her voice, assuring you it's fine and that she understands. But as she hangs up the phone, a sensation that's become all too familiar washes over her. 

She finds herself drifting towards the window, gazing out at the street below, lost in thought. She's never been one to demand all of your time, but this—it's the first time she's felt so small and insignificant. Aside from that first day when you both made love on every possible surface, there hasn't been a moment recently where you've shown interest in being that adventurous again. You both promised never to become that type of couple. Yet now, she's tormented by the thought: maybe you no longer find her as attractive as you used to, or perhaps you've come to realize some latent disappointment in her.

But everytime you come back in the quiet of the night, pulling her close, kissing her neck, and nestling into her hair, you dispel all her doubts. Wanda's only learning now how exhausting and powerless it could feel to need someone this much.

-

One particular night, mirroring the many late evenings before, you arrive home to find Wanda watching television in the living room. Both of you are thrilled to see each other awake, rather than just you returning to a warm, sleeping body next to your (cold) side of the bed.

Wanda's hair is slightly tousled, eyes glazed from the weariness of the day, but they light up when they meet yours. The corners of her lips curl into a small, sluggish smile. “You're home,” she murmurs, her voice tinged with a mixture of relief and longing.

You shed your coat, moving towards the couch and sitting down beside her. “I missed you,” you admit, running a gentle hand through her hair.

She leans into your touch, her body molding against yours. “I've been trying to stay awake lately, just hoping I might get to see you before drifting off,” Wanda says. “Tell me about your day.”

You take a deep breath, trying to process the day's events. “Same old, same old,” you say, putting your head on her shoulder. “Tight deadlines. And you won't believe this, but Janet, my secretary, she's going on maternal leave sooner than expected. So the office... well, they decided to throw something together last minute.”

She sits up a bit. “So you weren't held up because of work, but because of a party?”

“Uh, yeah. I think I mentioned it in my text?”

“I didn't get any message about…” Wanda trails off, taking a moment to steady herself. You’ve barely seen each other in the past week. The last thing she wants is to lash out on you.

But instead of noticing her distress and apologizing, or recognizing how your consecutive absences have affected her, you're fixated on pulling out your phone, scrolling through your messages, to… what? To prove to her that you mentioned it in your text?

“I sent you a text. I swear, I mentioned it,” you mumble. After a few more seconds, you let out a sigh of exasperation, showing her the screen where the message lays unsent. “The message failed to send... I thought you knew.”

Wanda looks at the screen and then back at you, her gaze softening slightly. “It happens,” she says with a soft smile.

“I'm sorry, Wanda,” you admit, placing the phone down. “Yes, it was a gathering, and I should've double-checked or called.”

She shakes her head, her fingers brushing against your cheek, just happy to be touching you. “I’m not mad. I just miss you, that's all.”

You take her hand in yours, pressing a soft kiss to her knuckles. “I miss you too. So bad.”

Wanda shifts slightly, trying to get more comfortable in the embrace. “Did you have fun, at least?” she asks.

“Yeah,” you reply with an enthusiastic nod. “It was great catching up with everyone, especially Janet. Did you know she only got married a year ago? And they're already expecting. It's amazing how quickly things happen for some people.”

Wanda's expression, which had been soft and open, changes almost imperceptibly. The brightness in her eyes dims a little, and there's a slight tensing of her lips, a subtle sign of the pain you unknowingly inflicted. You love her, yet at times you unintentionally wound her deeply without even realizing it. Wanda doesn't know how that can be, but in this moment, it feels truer than ever.

“She's really excited,” you continue, oblivious to the change in your wife’s demeanor. “They weren't even really trying. It just... happened. I'm happy for her, genuinely.”

Wanda nods, swallowing hard. “That's... that's great for them,” she says, forcing a smile. She withdraws from your hold, rising from the couch. “I’m gonna go to bed.”

This time, you notice the hardened look in her eyes. “What’s wrong?”

“It's nothing,” she replies with a faint, unconvincing smile. “Just tired.”

“Wanda—”

“Good night.”

You hold back, not pushing her for answers. She stops briefly at the base of the stairs, shoulders drooping. Then, with a heavy sigh, she slowly makes her way up, each step looking like it takes more effort than the last. 

-

The computer screen shines a relentless blue glow onto her face. 

As the weeks pass, she sees fewer and fewer unread emails, fewer blinking notifications. The heart of the art world has always thrummed with in-person interactions, art deals solidified by firm handshakes, cocktail parties filled with patrons looking to be swayed by a charismatic gallery curator, and the intimate closeness that comes from viewing a painting together and discussing its merits. Video calls, as efficient as they are, don't capture the nuance of human emotion and instinct in the same way.

Sometimes she dreams of being back in the thick of it all, surrounded by masterpieces and dizzying energy. Westview, however, is quaint, almost eerily so. It has its charms, its local coffee shops and small art scenes, but it's a far cry from the scenes of the big city.

She feels her importance at the gallery dwindling. She can't fault them; many of the responsibilities demand her physical presence. Currently, she can only manage to send crucial emails and direct calls and messages from essential patrons, sponsors, and others integral to the gallery's ecosystem. Her power of persuasion doesn't translate as effectively one email at a time. 

Wanda has always enjoyed playing to her strengths, particularly when meeting artists in person, where she can swiftly adapt her tactics based on the reactions of her audience, all while maintaining her self-assured demeanor, knowing that she carries a natural charm. However, being stuck in this town has taken that from her.

Feeling the stirrings of frustration rise in her gut, Wanda steps away from the table and retrieves her cellphone. She stares at it like it’s her salvation, contemplating whether to make the call. She needs someone to talk to, someone who knows her, someone who won't judge. 

She dials Agatha's number.

The phone rings a few times before a familiar voice, which once irked her but now only deepens her homesickness, answers.

“Wanda, dear! To what do I owe the pleasure?”

Wanda tries to muster her energy to match Agatha's, but a hint of her distress manages to seep through. “Hi, I'm—I'm doing well. How about you?”

“Great,” Agatha replies cheerfully, but then her voice drops, “What's troubling you?”

“Nothing,” Wanda tells her quickly. A soft “hm” emanates from Agatha's end, followed by a silence that feels hefty, but not oppressive. It's the kind of silence that invites confession, though with a gossip-driven curiosity.

“It's this place,” Wanda starts, “It's not what I expected. I thought being here would give me space to breathe, a fresh start, but instead, I feel... trapped. Isn't it ironic? I have all this open space around me, but I feel more confined than ever.”

Agatha sighs, a knowing lilt in her voice. “Look, we've been in this rat race long enough. New city, new job, new whatever—it's all the same cycle, just different packaging. Maybe this detachment you're feeling? It's a cue. A chance to rethink... everything.”

Wanda arches an eyebrow, though Agatha can't see it. “What are you saying?” Sparky trots towards her, mewling. Wanda briefly flashes him a smile before scratching him behind his ears.

Agatha's voice grows sharper, more incisive. “I’m saying that maybe you haven’t really given your new town a chance because you’re holding on tightly on a rope to the past. I'm saying maybe the gallery, as much as it's been your lifeline, is now your anchor. Dragging you down. Ever thought of cutting the cord?”

Wanda's heart races. “You mean quit? Just like that?”

A snort from Agatha. “Why not? What's it giving you right now? A title? Perks? Or just a nostalgia trip and a daily reminder of what used to be?”

Wanda is silent, grappling with the blunt reality Agatha’s laying out. The realization that maybe she's clinging to a past that doesn't fit her present is daunting.

“Look, Wanda,” Agatha continues, softer now, “it's just business. The gallery won't sink without you, and maybe you'll find a version of yourself you didn't know existed without it. Westview’s a new board. Play it.”

-

The house is enormous for two people and a small dog. The vastness of the space should thrill her, yet it amplifies her loneliness. Your early departures and late returns leave her lingering in the expanse, waiting for life to unfold. The sparkling countertops, the polished floors—she's cleaned them over twice this week, a feeble attempt to occupy her time, to feel some semblance of accomplishment. 

But what's the point when, at the end of it all, it feels like nothing? 

Wanda's eyes flutter open as she hears the familiar, albeit late, sound of the front door clicking shut. Recently, her sleep has been light, so even your softest footfalls register in her consciousness. She remains still, her back turned to the bedroom door, her breathing deliberate and even. The sounds of shuffling reach her ears: the rustle of clothes, a muted sigh, the faint creak of a floorboard.

The bed shifts, dips, as you ease yourself beside her. The silence stretches, becoming palpable, thick. And then, a whisper, soft and low, bathed in regret. “Wanda?”

She doesn’t respond, biting back the words she wants to unleash, the lack of purpose and direction she feels these days. The longing in her eyes, if you could see it, would tear right through you. 

It's been five nights in a row. Five nights of cool sheets and colder silences.

Moments later, she feels you trace your fingers over the bare curve of her arm. “I'm sorry,” you whisper, every word dripping with the weariness of corporate warfare and personal neglect. “Missed you. Like you wouldn't believe.”

You press a tender kiss to her hair and Wanda holds her breath. “I promise, I'll make it right,” you say, your voice a mere breath against her ear. “We'll find our way back. I just... I need a bit more time.” Nestled against her, the familiar contours of her body will always be your home, and soon the demands of the past days pull you into a deep slumber.

Yet, for Wanda, sleep remains out of reach. Despite your assurances, a gnawing uncertainty has taken root in her heart. She craves your company, but she also harbors a growing resentment that she’s been trying to deny ever since she set foot in this forsaken town. 

Not for the first time this year, Wanda wonders if you can really love someone deeply and yet blame them for the things in your life that make you unhappy.

-

The rain pelts down on Westview’s streets, the usually quiet lanes now slick with water and glistening under the sporadic streetlights. Wanda’s pace quickens, her umbrella slipping from her loose grip when an unforeseen splash from a passing car leaves her utterly soaked.

“Hey!” she shouts out, more from shock than anger. But the car drives on, indifferent to the trail of mess it's left behind. She's in the process of assessing the damage—wet strands of hair plastering to her face and her shirt now ruined – when he appears. A young man with strikingly bleached hair, seeming unaffected by the god-awful weather.

“You look like you're having a day,” he remarks, his voice carrying an amused lilt. With a confident stride, he approaches her. He’s tall—almost a foot taller than her. “Here, this might help,” he says, already moving to the trunk of his parked car nearby. 

She watches him, curious and a tad skeptical. It's not every day a stranger offers assistance, especially in pouring rain. But this one is already producing a neatly folded tee from the trunk. “I hit the gym quite a bit. Always have a spare,” he explains, flashing a grin.

Wanda hesitates, her gaze shifting from the shirt to him and back. Up close, he appears younger than she initially perceived. “Thanks,” she murmurs, accepting the shirt. There's an odd sincerity in his eyes that makes her trust him, if only for this fleeting moment.

“How about a drink? To warm you up. And perhaps, as a small token of thanks for letting me play the good samaritan today,” he says. She arches an eyebrow, surprised by his boldness. Most people would've stopped at the shirt. Had this conversation taken place in Manhattan, Wanda would have already left with a sharp remark about his bold attempt to engage her in conversation. But here and now, she can't quite pinpoint why she hasn't brushed him off as she usually would have by this point.

Despite her initial reluctance, she finds herself smiling. You're the only person she's spoken to since arriving in Westview. She's so starved for a bit of normalcy that maybe a chat with a stranger might do the trick. After all, he's just a kid. She could regard him as a nephew or something similar.

“Alright,” she concedes, “just one drink.”

-

Within the first minute, Wanda learns his name: Victor Shade. However, he prefers the nickname ‘Vision’, which Wanda finds a tad whimsical. They find a cozy booth in a tucked-away corner, shielding them from potential prying eyes passing by the restaurant. While Wanda didn't plan to keep their meeting a secret, Vision naturally guided her to the more discreet spot.

“So, Wanda,” Vision begins, taking a sip of his drink, “What brought you to town? It doesn't seem like the most obvious choice for someone like you.”

Wanda looks at him, intrigued. “Someone like me? What does that mean?”

He chuckles, “Well, from our short interaction, you seem like someone who's seen bigger cities, more happening places. Westview is... charming, but quiet.”

“Same could be said about you. You don't exactly scream 'small town boy' either,” Wanda says.

Vision's eyebrows rise playfully, feigning offense. “Oh? And why is that?”

“Your confidence,” she retorts with a smirk. “It's loud, almost deafening. It echoes big city vibes.”

He laughs, nodding in concession. “Touche.”

As their conversation progresses, Wanda begins to see him less as a kid and more as a well-read, intriguing individual, particularly when Vision reveals he's an art major, his eyes lighting up as he talks about his passion for Renaissance art and postmodernism.“I graduated with a degree in art,” she shares, her own memories of university flooding back. She recounts stories of late-night classes and the exhilaration of her first gallery show. They bond over favorite artists and art movements, finding shared preferences and amusing disagreements. It's a pleasant surprise for Wanda to discover that, out of all the people in Westview, the first one she genuinely converses with is someone with whom she shares so much in common.

Yet, as she's engaging with Vision, a tiny voice at the back of her mind keeps drawing comparisons between him and you. The way you and Wanda communicate is so fundamentally different. You lean heavily on the left, analytical and logical in your thinking. Your conversations with Wanda often revolve around structured debates, dissecting topics with precision and care, always seeking the root cause or solution. Wanda, on the other hand, leans more to the right, driven by creativity and emotion. She loves diving into abstract concepts, weaving narratives and ideas with passion.

You and Wanda did find common interests and topics that you both enjoy. Over the years, you've had countless meaningful moments where you both found yourselves talking for hours on end. But the rapport she's building with Vision is something she hasn't felt in a long while, or perhaps ever, even with you. It's not necessarily better or worse; it's just different, and it takes her by surprise.

At one point, Vision’s gaze falls upon the glint of Wanda's wedding ring, reflecting the ambient light of the restaurant. “You're married,” he observes, not as a question but a statement.

Wanda hesitates for a moment, then nods. “Yes, I am.”

Vision looks at her, searching for something in her eyes. “Does he know you're out with a stranger?”

“She,” Wanda corrects instinctively, her cheeks warming as she notices his eyes sparkle with heightened interest, then she adds, “She probably wouldn't mind. We trust each other. Besides, it's just a drink with a friend, right?”

He smiles, raising his glass. “To friendship.”

-

For the first time, she arrives home later than you that night. Wanda finds you in the living room, curled up on the couch, a remote in hand, and an empty wine glass on the table beside you.

As the door clicks shut, you turn, and your eyes clouded with surprise as you meet hers. “Hey,” you murmur, the TV's remote paused mid-air, “Wasn't expecting you this late.”

Wanda shrugs, unsure of how to convey the unexpected turn her day had taken. She hangs her coat and moves towards the living room, her shoes making soft tapping noises against the wooden floor. “Ran into someone... from college,” she half-lies, the omission of Vision's identity a deliberate choice. Not out of guilt, but more a protective instinct to keep the evening's serendipitous meeting to herself.

“Oh? How was that?”

“It was... nice. Different,” Wanda replies, picking her words with care. She can sense your gaze on her, trying to piece together the puzzle, and she quickly adds, “We just grabbed a drink, caught up. You know how it is.”

You nod slowly, the lines of your face softening. “Good. You needed that. This move... it's been hard on you.” The acknowledgment feels like a balm, and Wanda gives you a small, appreciative smile. She’s about to head upstairs when your voice stops her in her tracks.

“That's a... unique shirt you've got there,” you comment. She turns around slowly to face you and sees a smirk tugging at the corner of your mouth. 

Wanda glances down at the shirt she's wearing, an admittedly garish tee that's far from her usual style. “Some idiot in a car decided I looked better drenched,” she explains, rolling her eyes. “This was the only option the nearby store had.”

It's her third lie of the evening, and Wanda can't explain why she keeps doing it.

“Well, I've got to say, it's a look. You're absolutely killing it,” you tease, a bit sarcastically.

Wanda snorts, the tightness in her chest loosening a little. “Oh, shut it.” She can't help but smile. “You're one to talk. Remember that hideous Christmas sweater you insisted on wearing last year?”

Ah, a challenge. You rise from your spot on the couch, taking a deliberate step towards her. “That was festive. This is... rebellious?” you guess, tracing a finger in the air around the outlines of her new shirt. “You pulling a midlife crisis on me, Mrs. Maximoff?”

She blushes, but whether from the memory of the car incident or your close proximity, it's hard to tell. “It's just a shirt,” she retorts, but her voice cracks and the light in her eyes betrays her amusement.

Your fingers itch to brush against the fabric of her shirt, to maybe pull her closer. “You know,” you murmur, voice low, “you could make even a potato sack look sexy.”

Wanda bites her lower lip, her breath catching just slightly. She revels in the banter, the space between yourselves shrinking with every heartbeat. She finds herself lost in the pull, but a gnawing unease lingers, making her wary. Just then, Sparky comes out of nowhere, sprinting and eventually running into Wanda’s leg. His tail wags a mile a minute, pleading for Wanda to shower him with affection. Grateful for the interruption, Wanda quickly shifts her attention, bending down to indulge the spirited pup. “Missed me, did you, Sparks?”

You try to mask your disappointment, but the subtle change in your expression isn't lost on her, even as she pointedly looks away.

-

Nights following her meeting with Vision find Wanda restless. It isn’t necessarily Vision himself that haunts her thoughts, but rather their impassioned discussion on art (and just about anything). She realizes, with a sharp pang, how deeply she misses the world that served as her refuge for years when she sought to escape her own reality.

With a renewed sense of purpose, she heads to Westview Institute of Arts and Sciences, seeking a place where her passion and expertise could be valuable.

Hours later, she gets an email inviting her for an interview with the dean. Apparently, the school has been looking for an assistant professor for the past several months now.

-

A week later, they offer her the position, and she talks to you about it shortly after sending them the signed letter of acceptance.

-

Her first day at the school is all kinds of awkward, likely more so than her first day as a student years ago. The university building looks massive for being in such a remote, out-of-the-way town. All around, there's a crowd of young students bustling about, their laughter and conversations filling the crisp, morning air. 

Among them, Wanda stands, momentarily frozen—an outsider looking in. She wears a chic black ensemble: slacks, a blazer, and a turtleneck, hoping to conceal the anxiety that's making it difficult for her to keep her breakfast down. However, as she's introduced to a few of the other professors, her resolve wavers. They're in more casual attire, and she can't help but feel a tad overdressed, sticking out like a meticulously painted stroke on an empty canvas.

She doesn't get to meet her students immediately. Instead, her day is consumed by orientation processes, faculty meetings, and an extensive tour of the sprawling campus. Every time she turns a corner or meets someone new, a mix of excitement and jitters rushes through her. The enormity of the responsibility she's shouldering, coupled with the fact that she's never taught anyone before (not even tutored)—it's both intimidating and thrilling all at once.

It's been a while since she's felt this alive, apart from the rare times when you're home on time, or when she gets to spend an entire day with you. But this? This is the first time in ages that something beyond the comfort of your love has rekindled a spark in her, reminding Wanda of a part of herself she had almost forgotten.

-

At the end of her first day, Wanda does meet one of her students.

Technically, she has met him before, but it was in the context of a friendly stranger who lent her his shirt when she needed it the most. When Vision told her that he was an art student, she didn't actually expect to find him attending the same university. She had assumed he was from the city and just passing through.

(Perhaps it’s her silliest assumption she's made to date but—it is what it is.)

“Aren't you a pleasant surprise,” Vision says, rolling down the window of his Mustang. When his voice reaches her, it's distinctly out of place, an unexpected ripple in her carefully mapped out day. 

She swallows hard, resisting the urge to take a step back, “Vision, I wasn't expecting to see you here.”

He grins, the sunlight catching the edges of his aviator glasses. “It's a small world, or rather, a small university.” He tilts his head playfully, “Wait... are you...?”

Wanda cuts him off, “Let's just say, I'm exploring my options here.”

A pause ensues, both understanding the unsaid implications. 

“You know,” Vision starts, leaning against his car, “I'd heard there was a new, 'exceptionally dressed' professor in town. Just didn't piece it together that it would be you.”

“It's a small world,” she murmurs, her face a shade paler.

He seems to sense her discomfort and remarks, “I suppose this changes everything.”

Wanda sighs, “It's just... I need to maintain a certain decorum here. It would be inappropriate if—”

“—If I turned out to be one of your students,” he finishes for her. His smirk is replaced by a milder expression. “Don't worry. Whatever our relationship outside this campus, I respect boundaries. And I expect you do too.”

She nods, appreciative of his maturity. “Thank you, Vision.”

Before she can fully turn away, Vision snaps his fingers together. “Oh, by the way, you left something with me from last time. Your shirt? The shirt you had to change out of?”

Wanda's face reddens slightly at the memory. “I completely forgot about that. Do you have it?”

Vision points with a thumb over his shoulder towards his car. “Wait a second. It's in the back.” He moves to retrieve the shirt, but after rummaging for a few moments, he frowns. “I could have sworn I left it here…”

He removes his sunglasses, allowing his gaze to lift in thought, revealing the unnaturally vibrant blue of his eyes to Wanda.  “Ah, I remember now. It's in my laundry bag, which I took to my apartment.”

“It's fine. You can give it back another time,” Wanda says.

But Vision, with that same gleam in his eyes, counters, “Why not just come with me and get it now? It's a short drive.”

She bites her lip, thinking. On one hand, she'd rather not prolong their interaction given the new dynamics. On the other, it might be best to just get it over with. “I'm not sure…”

He raises his hands in mock surrender. “I promise it's just a shirt, Professor.”

The inclusion of the title almost brings a smile to her face. “Alright,” Wanda gives in, “But only if it’s quick. And remember, as far as the university is concerned, we’re merely acquaintances.”

“Technically, you haven’t met your class yet. And as of now, I’m not your student,” he points out with an innocent shrug.

The logic is sound, though it does little to quell the anxiety bubbling within Wanda. She nods, exhaling deeply. “Let’s go.”

They drive to Vision’s apartment building, the journey marked by fleeting glances and a silence that's not entirely comfortable. He attempts to dispel the tension, “I've washed and ironed the shirt for you. Hope that's alright.”

She looks over, surprised by the gesture. “Thank you, that's... unexpected.”

As she sits in the passenger seat of Vision’s car, Wanda inadvertently starts picking up on the small details surrounding her. She notices the immaculate interior of the car—not a stray piece of litter, every surface gleaming. There's a fresh, clean scent permeating the space, a subtle hint of citrus perhaps. It's not the typical aroma one would expect from a college student's car. She thinks of the younger people she's known and how their vehicles often doubled as chaotic storage spaces, littered with discarded clothes, takeaway containers, and the musty scent of overdue laundry.

When they arrive at his apartment, it further exemplifies this meticulousness. Sketches, paintings, and art supplies are neatly arranged, yet the area feels lived-in, warm, not sterile. It's easy to forget he's just 21. He exudes an aura of maturity that doesn’t align with his years. If they had met under different circumstances, and if she hadn’t known his age, she would have pegged him for someone much older, someone who's seen more, experienced more.

“Your shirt,” Vision says, pulling it out from a cupboard—neatly folded, rather than from the laundry bag he remembered earlier. “As promised.”

As Wanda accepts it, her fingers brush against a freshly painted canvas. The vibrant colors smear slightly under her touch.

“Oh! I'm so sorry,” she exclaims, pulling her hand back.

Vision waves it off, “No worries. Sometimes accidents lead to the best kind of art.”

He then looks contemplative for a moment before posing a question,  “You know, Picasso once said, 'Every act of creation is first an act of destruction.' What do you think of that?”

The randomness of it throws her off for a second, before she regards him with a thoughtful look. “Well, in a way, creation and destruction aren't opposing forces. One can be a precursor to the other. To create something new, often something old has to give way.”

Vision's eyes light up, clearly pleased by her response. “Exactly! It's like when you're sketching. Sometimes, you have to erase an entire section just to rework it. And often, the second attempt is much better than the first.”

They continue discussing, each statement leading to another topic, and another. After a while, Vision hesitates before making a bold request, “Wanda, would you... would you mind if I sketched you? Just for practice. You have such unique features, and it'd be a challenge for me.”

“Trying to butter up your professor already?” It comes out a bit flirtatious by accident, and Wanda struggles to retract it.

He nods, a little sheepishly. “Only if you're comfortable. It’s just... our discussion has inspired me.”

Wanda laughs lightly, unable to deny that the notion does flatter her.. “Alright, but only for a bit. I'm not exactly dressed for a portrait.”

“You are…” Vision murmurs almost too quietly to hear, his eyes already fixed on his sketchpad. But Wanda still catches it, and a faint blush tints her cheeks. Vision gets to work. In this moment, she's both his muse and his critic, and for a brief while, a hushed silence envelops the room.

However, as the minutes tick by, Wanda begins to feel increasingly restless beneath his studious, penetrating gaze. She tries to keep her posture, attempting to appear at ease, but her muscles gradually tighten in response to his intent focus. There’s a kind of intimacy in being observed so closely that she wasn’t quite prepared for.

“Can you tilt your head just a bit to the left?” he asks, never lifting his gaze from the page. She obliges. Moments later, “A little to the right now, and chin up. Perfect.”

Wanda obeys, adjusting her position to his liking. But it's a stray strand of hair that falls onto her forehead that really tests her composure. Vision notices it immediately. “Could you brush that hair away, please?” he asks.

She reaches up, trying to tuck it behind her ear, but it stubbornly returns to its original position. Frowning in mild irritation, she tries again but with the same result.

Vision chuckles softly. “Stay still,” he murmurs, placing his sketchpad to the side. He carefully rises from his seat and approaches her, eyes never leaving her face. “I'll fix it.”

Heart inexplicably racing, Wanda can't comprehend why she obeys so willingly, remaining motionless as Vision's fingertips ghost near her face. The distance between them becomes almost negligible as his face hovers mere inches from hers. She can feel the warmth of his breath, see the earnest concentration in his eyes. Slowly, ever so gently, his fingers brush the errant strand away from her face, tucking it behind her ear. “There we go,” Vision whispers. 

But instead of retreating, he lingers. She watches as Vision's eyes flutter closed, and he begins to lean in. She's teetering at the precipice of something that can't be taken back, and she’s horrified to discover a part of her that wants to give in.

Shaking herself out of the trance, she manages to whisper with a tremble in her voice, “I... I have to go.” Her words cut through the moment like a knife, yet Vision remains close, eyes searching hers as he softly challenges, “Are you sure?”

That simple question, laden with suggestion, irks Wanda. This was more than just an innocent sketching session. Irritation builds as she understands what he might have been attempting. In her haste to distance herself, she stands abruptly, accidentally brushing his face with her head. She doesn't apologize, too focused on gathering her belongings.

Vision, realizing his mistake, scrambles to his feet, “Wanda, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have—”

But she cuts him off, hand already on the door handle. “I'll see you in class, Mr. Shade.”

-

Wanda doesn't know how you managed to convince her to shower together one morning.

To be fair, you didn't make much of an effort to persuade her, and she was more than willing to participate. Perhaps it's because life has been an unending whirlwind lately, a blur of responsibilities and ever-mounting pressure.  Her fresh endeavor into academia had consumed much of her waking hours, leaving her mentally drained by the end of the day. You, on the other hand, seemed perpetually buried under a mountain of paperwork and late-night calls. 

It's not an excuse, of course, but these realities have inadvertently wedged a distance between the two of you. So, on that fateful morning, when you followed her into the bathroom, you were a woman on a mission. But as you wordlessly entered the shower, a certain determination evident in your stride, Wanda felt the need to object. Her protest, however, was cut short. The feel of your lips on hers, possessive and demanding, effectively silenced her. Her knees threatened to give way, and if not for the firm grip you had on her waist, she might have collapsed. Instead, she melted into your arms, letting you take the lead, and well—

That resulted in her losing nearly half of her students for her first class of the day because they believed she wouldn't show up after being nearly twenty minutes late.

“That can’t happen again,” Wanda told you.

“Whatever you say, babe.”

It occurs a few more times before she intentionally begins waking up before your alarm goes off. Wanda misses her wife, but she misses the life you both left behind even more. And despite finding satisfaction in her new career,  she can’t seem to stop resenting you for that.

-

Her period is a week late, but Wanda isn't worried. You both stopped trying to conceive before coming to New Jersey. However, it does remind her of something else she had to let go of and how it felt like you gave up on her too easily for comfort.

-

The stress from her new job eventually begins to take a toll on her. Stacks of papers sprawl across the table, some marked with red ink, others waiting to be perused. Her hand moves methodically, adjusting her notes, reviewing her questions, ensuring every detail is in place for the impending exam. Her back protests from the hours spent in the same position, her eyes blink away the fatigue, but she's determined to finalize every last bit. It takes a few more moments before she finishes editing her students’ first examination. It's late—far too late for her to still be at the university, but a sense of accomplishment washes over her.

In the middle of soaking up her minor achievement for the day, she suddenly remembers Sparky. He's been left for hours, with just water, and that she's supposed to get groceries for him this afternoon. Shit, Wanda curses breathily, hurrying her movements. 

She's about to shut her laptop when she hears a knock on the door. Thinking it's the security guard, she quickly rehearses her plea for just a few more minutes. However, when she opens the door, she's staring into the all-too-familiar blue eyes of Vision.

Wanda takes an involuntary step back, her pulse quickening. “Mr. Shade,” she greets, an uncharacteristic iciness in her voice.

He looks equally surprised, “Wan—Professor Maximoff,” he responds. “I... I wasn't expecting to see you here.”

“Neither was I. What are you still doing here?”

Vision runs a hand through his hair, looking bashful for a change. “I often come to the art room late at night. It helps me think, especially when I feel creatively stuck. I was on my way home and noticed the lights still on in this office.”

Wanda feels a pang of suspicion, even as she tries to remind herself that the university is as much Vision's space as it is hers. Still, she can't help but feel wary. “Well, I'm just leaving,” she says curtly, shouldering her bag. Before she can take another step, Vision's fingers encircle her arm, the unexpected touch of warm skin on skin causing her to pause. She looks down at where his fingers lightly grip her, and then up into his earnest eyes. She can feel the warmth of his hand, the roughness of his fingertips. 

“Wait,” he murmurs, his blue eyes locking onto hers, an earnest plea evident in their depths. “We need to talk.”

Wanda instinctively tries to pull her arm away, but Vision's grip tightens, not painfully but enough to keep her there. He steps closer, effectively cutting off her escape route. His height becomes even more pronounced as he leans slightly, bringing his face closer to hers. His presence feels overbearing, almost intimidating, as he places himself between her and the exit. He quietly closes the door behind him, the soft click echoing in the silence, and the room feels much, much smaller now.

Wanda's eyes dart around, looking for a way out, her mind racing. “Vision, this isn't appropriate,” she manages to say.

All he says is, “I know. I'm sorry.”

They find themselves engaged in a staring contest, with only the sound of their breathing serving as a reminder of each other's presence. Several tense seconds pass, with neither willing to break the gaze. Then, slowly, Vision eases the grip on her arm, his fingers lingering for a moment before letting go entirely. He steps back deliberately, emphasizing the space between them, a clear invitation for her to leave if she chooses to.

Her heart pounding loudly in her ears, Wanda takes a moment to gather her thoughts. She wants to leave, to create as much distance as possible between them, especially when she knows what's about to happen if she gives in even the slightest bit.

She takes a shaky breath and, for the briefest moment, her gaze drifts to her work laptop. A flash of silver catches her eye. Her USB, containing the work she's been laboring on for hours. “I-I forgot something” she mutters, panic rising in her voice. “I need that before I go,” she says, pointing to the device.

Vision nods, not saying a word. Wanda cautiously begins to move towards the desk, but before she can reach it, Vision's there, his movements swift and silent. He suddenly wraps his arms around her waist, pulling her close. The initial shock has her resisting, pushing against his chest, but it's short-lived. Before she knows it, she's letting out a quiet sigh, her face buried in the crook of his neck. He hoists her up effortlessly, seating her on the edge of the desk.

As she looks up at him, he slides his hands up, disappearing beneath her skirt. The faintest image of your face flickers across Wanda's mind, a ghost of a memory that almost pulls her back to sense and reason. But as Vision's fingers find their wet mark, Wanda's grip tightens on the edge of the desk, her eyes fluttering closed.  She can no longer recall the sequence of events that led her to this very moment, nor the myriad reasons why it shouldn't be happening.

Every bit of rationale, every thought of you, all seem to evaporate, leaving only the need to breathe and to feel. 

To just be.

-

Wanda remains in her car without starting the engine for a good thirty minutes. She left the room as soon as she could pull her panties up past her knees. She can feel the residual heat on her skin, how he felt inside of her. She resists the urge to squeeze her thighs together, attempting to disregard the stickiness and discomfort she feels.

She clutches the steering wheel, knuckles white, struggling with the realization of what she's done. She's betrayed you. It wasn't just a lapse in judgment, it was a deliberate decision, a yielding to curiosity, to loneliness, to that inexplicable pull towards someone who isn’t you. But as much as she’s drowning in guilt, she couldn’t deny how her mind keeps going back to Vision’s touch, the way he'd made her feel so alive, so seen, in a way she hadn’t felt in a while. It's maddening, this push and pull. It's like there are two sides of her fighting it out inside—one, the devoted partner who loves you, and the other, a woman who's awakened, yearning for something she can't quite put into words.

She laughs, the sound teetering on the edge of hysteria. It's an unsettling sound in the quiet of the car, an indication of her fraying sanity. How did she get here? How did she become this person? In what manner did she find herself engaging in infidelity despite your presence in her life?  You've been the guiding light in her life for so long, making her the best version of herself she's ever known. But still, how can she undo this part of herself she never thought existed?

Tears form in her eyes as she closes them, trying to banish the memories, to shut out the storm of emotions threatening to consume her. But they're too powerful, too raw, too fresh. Too real. And she knows she has to face them, to confront the reality of what she's done and decide where to go from here.

It's just past midnight when Wanda's car pulls into the driveway. She emerges from the vehicle in a daze, her steps slow and disconnected, as if each step leads her inexorably towards her reckoning. The door to the house opens before she can even reach for the knob. There you stand, concern evident in your eyes. Wanda hadn't expected to find you awake, especially not at this hour, waiting for her. 

It’s your scent first that reaches her before anything else,  the distinct aroma of fresh pine from the sprawling garden surrounding the house, coupled with the distinct smell of Sparky, suggesting that you've held him close most of the night. The protective, almost desperate way your arms encircle her reveals just how much you've been consumed with worry about her whereabouts and safety. 

Every time you’re near, every time she gets to hold you, it’s instinctual for her to break into a smile. But tonight, it's ephemeral. A tidal wave of guilt and regret crashes over her. She stiffens in your arms, the realization of her actions making her insides churn.

“Where were you?” you exclaim as you pull away and clasp her shoulder blades hard.  “I've been here, pacing, worried out of my mind, and I couldn't reach you.”

It's the questioning, the concern, the love in your voice that breaks something inside her.  “My phone died and I forgot to bring my charger. I was writing the final exam that I have to turn in by tomorrow, and got carried away. I’m so sorry,” she says evenly, almost robotically.

You raise an eyebrow, frustration evident. “You could've borrowed a phone or used the school's landline, right?”

She has to remind herself that your words aren't accusations. You're not out to corner her; you genuinely don't know what she's done. And in that moment, she decides that she'll do everything to ensure you will never know. 

Taking a deep breath, Wanda resorts to tactics she despises in herself. “Like I said, I was working,” she retorts with an exaggerated roll of her eyes, hoping the hint of condescension in her tone might distract you, even as it tears at her own conscience. “It’s Westview. What’s the worst that could happen to me? Please let it go, I’m so fucking exhausted.”

Your reaction to her words is immediate, a palpable retreat, and she's overcome with the urge to spill every secret, every confession, if only she could be certain you wouldn't walk away.

“Fine,” you say tersely, stepping aside to let her pass. “We’ll talk about this in the morning.” You don’t bother to hide the hurt in your eyes and her resolve almost crumbles.

“Sounds good,” she says and turns abruptly, making her way upstairs, her pace quickening with every step. 

In the morning, she offers you kisses as an apology, and you're blissfully unaware of the hundred ways it's steeped in treachery.

-

It keeps happening with Vision and she starts to waste away. On the surface, she seems to be taking better care of herself: shedding some weight, toning in ways that leave you entranced during the few mornings you catch her making breakfast. 

But Wanda is adept at playing it cool, brushing off your hungry gazes as if they're mere figments of her imagination. She longs for you in the same intense way she always has, but she's entangled in this twisted duality now. As she writes names and explanations on the board, she can almost feel the intensity of Vision's stare, a heat on her back that she's come to recognize all too well. Sometimes, during a lecture, she'll turn and catch him staring, and right then, she knows where they'll be once the session ends. She also begins to frequent places she's never been to before, corners of the town she hopes no one will recognize them in. There, they sit side by side, their knees touching underneath the table, talking about everything and nothing. 

And you wouldn't, not for a second, entertain suspicions about her hardly ever being at home. Because your love for her is profound, and your trust, even more so. Because she knows you're buried under the weight of your own challenges at work, and capitalizes on this knowledge for the time being. Because whatever this is, whatever she’s doing with Vision, she knows it’s temporary. She swears she’ll clean up after herself, the moment she can purge this from her system.

Because none of it feels as if they're truly happening,  and Wanda convinces herself it's just a hazy, erotic dream from which she can wake at any moment she chooses.

-

“Do you love me?” 

The question hits Wanda like a freight train. Of course she does. You’re her… of course she does. And she’s never felt the fear of losing you, the true love of her life, more acutely than now.

“Of course I love you,” Wanda says, fighting to keep her voice steady even as her chin quivers. “What a silly question.”

“I guess I’m just feeling silly. We’ve been working hard, and when we’re together,” you pause, your voice quivering, letting out a mirthless laugh, “We’re still working.”

Her guilt amplifies. She's been so engrossed in her own struggles that she failed to see how it's affecting you. The toll it's taken on your relationship. Your insecurities, your need for validation, all because she's been distant and distracting herself from her own demons. She's grateful the shadows conceal her face from you, or else it would be to easy for you to recognize the truth, and—

“I just miss you,” you confess, and it stings.

“Me too,” she whispers, the words filled with layers of meaning she can't articulate. Wanda tries to find more words, something to reassure you further, but she can't quite comfort as effortlessly as you do for her. You've always been more adept at loving her than she's ever been with you.

“Good night,” you say, and Wanda detects no underlying bitterness in your tone. She almost wishes there were. It'd be easier if you didn't love her so unconditionally; then she wouldn't feel so wretched for the secrets she's keeping just beyond this room's walls.

-

She goes as far as asking herself if she simply misses having a cock inside of her, the thought nagging at her especially when Vision stays firmly inside her, holding her in place as he spills into a condom. She flutters around him a few more times before she slackens in his hold. 

Pushing away the guilt that threatens to engulf her every time they are together, Wanda wonders if this reckless escapade with her student is merely an escape from the monotonous predictability of her life or a deeper reflection of some unmet need. Vision’s bedroom becomes a space of both pleasure and torment for her. When she catches her reflection in the mirror he’s installed in front of the bed, she barely recognizes the woman staring back, eyes clouded with both desire and regret. She clings to the belief that once she figures out what she's truly seeking, she can end it all and return to you, wholly and completely. But the more she thinks about it, the more elusive the answer becomes.

Vision’s bony hips gradually come to a stop, and he finally pulls out of her. She feels the evidence of their recent activities on her skin, and is hit with an overwhelming need to wash it all away. 

“I need a shower,” she murmurs, more to herself than to him. He simply nods, watching her intently. There's a question in his eyes, perhaps seeking assurance or simply wondering if she'll return to his bed afterwards. Wanda doesn't give him an answer, nor does she meet his gaze for long. Instead, she wraps herself in whatever piece of clothing she can find and heads towards the bathroom.

When she emerges from the shower, redressed in the clothes she wore earlier, Vision is absent from the bedroom. Instead, the appetizing aroma of food wafts toward her. Following the scent, she discovers him in the kitchen, incongruously clad in a pink apron over his boxers.

As Wanda heads straight for the exit, Vision's voice abruptly stops her.

“Wanda, wait.”

She halts, not turning around, her hand still clutching the handle.

“You act as if I'm luring you back each time, Wanda. Like I'm this puppeteer pulling your strings.” He casually flips whatever he's cooking. “That's not how it is, and you know it.”

Wanda grimaces, his words leaving a bitter taste in her mouth. “Vision, it's not that—”

He interrupts her, his tone dripping with feigned innocence, “Have I ever forced you? Pushed you into anything? Or have you willingly come to me every time? You have, haven’t you?”

She turns to face him. “You know it’s more complicated than that—”

“Yet you keep coming back. And every time you do, I think, 'Maybe she sees in me what I see in her.' But then you run, making me out to be the villain.” He finally looks up, his eyes pleading and calculating at the same time.

Tears well up in her eyes. She tries to speak, but he continues, overriding her. “You're an intellectual, Wanda. A brilliant mind. I've learned more from you this semester than years combined. Isn't it natural to be drawn to such brilliance? To want more than just lectures?”

“I'm married,” Wanda states with conviction, even though just an hour ago, that fact  held no meaning beneath the sheets. “I've made vows. Promises. Every time I’m with you, I question myself, my integrity. I don't know why I keep letting this happen.” Wanda's voice quivers with frustration and desperation. Vision sees it as a minor victory. He knows he's affecting her.

Disregarding the pan and turning off the stove, he approaches her, his gaze never leaving hers, trying to weave his narrative into her consciousness.

“That's just it, isn't it? There's no betrayal. We're not sneaking around, planning secret getaways. We're two souls who've connected on a level that's rare. Deep, profound. We're just... experiencing it.”

She takes a step back, shaking her head furiously. “It's not right.”

He follows, closing the distance between them. When she’s within his reach, he lifts her chin, forcing her to look into his eyes. “Who defines what's right, Wanda? Why is it wrong for two souls with undeniable connection to explore every facet of it? Does it make us bad people to want to feel alive?"

She tries to pull away, her gaze dropping to the floor, but he tightens his grip on her chin. “Look at me,” he says, his voice soft but insistent. “Tell me you don't feel it. This connection.”

She inhales sharply, her resistance waning. “I do... but I can't understand why.”

He releases her, placing a gentle hand on her cheek. “Because it's natural. And maybe… maybe there's nothing malicious in it. Nothing deceitful. We're just... experiencing.”

Wanda closes her eyes, his words washing over her, causing further confusion. “What do you want from me?”

He smiles, his touch growing bolder as he cradles her face. “I want friendship. Inspiration. You've become my muse, Wanda.”

“She loves me,” she murmurs, a last-ditch effort to wriggle free from his hold.

“And you love her, right?” he challenges, slowly starting to unbutton her blouse.

“Yes, but—”

“But love isn't singular,” he interrupts, his fingers moving deftly, revealing more of her skin with every second. “You can love her and still find something unique with me. Your love for her isn’t lessened because of our connection.”

Wanda bites her lip. With every piece of clothing he peels away, it feels like he’s stripping away her defenses, too. “It's not just about love. It's about commitment, trust.”

He slides her jacket off her shoulders, his hands warm against her bare arms. “And haven't you committed to her in every other aspect of your life? You share a life, a home, memories, and love. What we have... it's different. It's intellectual, spiritual,” he argues, his gaze never leaving hers. 

“But there are lines we’ve crossed—”

“Lines society drew for us.”

She swallows hard, tears threatening to spill. “I just don't want to hurt anyone.”

His voice softens, even as his fingers deftly work at the last buttons of her blouse. “Neither do I. But sometimes, in life, we have to listen to our true desires, to understand what our heart and soul really need. It’s not about being selfish; it’s about being true to oneself.”

And is this one of her 'true' desires?

Before she can articulate things further, the last of her defenses and garments are stripped away, and Visions sheds his boxers and draws her near. Their skins meet, a tantalizing sensation of heat and urgency. Wanda's breath catches as Vision's strong arms wrap around her waist, effortlessly lifting her. She instinctively wraps her legs around him, their closeness leaving no room for hesitation or doubt. 

[agoodfictitle-shadowban]

Sweet Summer | Pt. 3 [Ending]

Wanda Maximoff x f!Reader

Summary: The Xavier Institude is being renovated for the summer. With nowhere else to go, your best friends Billy and Tommy offer you to stay with them and their mom. But what happens when feelings start to spark between the two of you?

[Part 1] [Part 2]

Word Count: 3.4k

Warnings: Violence, Panic Attack, Age Gap (20yo reader, 37yo Wanda)

Tags: mutant!Reader (shadow manipulation), different timeline, everyone is alive (except Pietro, sorry Pietro), no Sokovia Accords, no Thanos, Wanda was young when she joined the Avengers, retired Natasha, top!Reader, bottom!Wanda, but they switch a bit, Vision is a bit of an asshole, divorced!Wanda, mainly cutesy, bit of angst tho

A/n: last part for this story! I hope you liked it, it was fun to write but your comments are what brought the most joy so please do comment! See you soon :)

Your way to the airport was filled with music as you sang along to the radio with Wanda, in a more or less serious way depending on the song, laughing with each other when you decided to make silly faces. It was all in good fun, and showed how happy you were together. When you arrived, you disembarked from the car and headed to the lobby. Wanda was wearing a cap and sunglasses trying to hide who she was. It was your first time on the plane, so you were excited, looking around the place with childlike wonder. Until your eyes found someone familiar.

At first you didn't recognize them, but then it hit you like a ton of bricks. It was your dad. Right there, with your mom, and… your younger sibling, you guessed. A boy. Still, he looked so much like you, it was uncanny. They looked so happy as they breezed right past you, so close you could smell them.

As you looked at them, you felt sweat form in the palm of your hands and on your eyebrows. Your heart was racing and your throat started to constrict as your mind was filled with a million thoughts at the same time. Quickly your breathing worsened, and your vision blurred. Were you crying?

"Y/n?" You heard Wanda call from far away.

The world around you started spinning. You tried to grab onto Wanda, but before you could really get any purchase your legs gave way and you were on the ground, having knocked down her sunglasses.

"Y/n!"

Wanda was immediately by your side, her hand on your back trying to support you. In trying to understand what was going on, she allowed herself a peek in your mind. The sheer pain that she felt emanating from you was almost enough to knock her out of your mind before memories and thoughts started to pour in. She put a hand in front of her mouth and a few tears streamed down her cheeks when she saw what happened to you, and finally what had triggered you.

The commotion got the attention of most people around you, including your parents. They stopped to look at what was happening and finally saw you. Your mom took a step back, while your dad stood there with his hands in fists, and your brother was watching with simple curiosity unaware of anything else. There was a clear hesitation on what to do on your father's part, his anger falling into place on his face.

"Get away from her," Wanda growled at them. Only when he saw the red in her eyes did he decide to back off and take his wife and kid with him.

"They're gone, Y/n, they're gone. You're safe," Wanda whispered to you as she took you in her arms, rocking you gently as she rubbed your arm to try and ground you.

Slowly but surely you came back to yourself, and got out of the way to sit against a wall somewhere away from the crowd. You had an icy bottle of water that you applied against the back of your neck as if to cool yourself down. Wanda was sitting next to you, her eyes alert and scanning the crowd like a guard dog.

"I'm sorry," you muttered after a while. You felt guilty about what happened, about the way you just crumbled when you saw them there. You should have been stronger, maybe, sturdier. Wanda simply shook her head at your apology, refusing it.

"Don't, if I saw my parents and brother out of nowhere like that I would freak out."

"It's not the same. I hate them. I wish they were dead," you admitted harshly.

"I don't think it's that different," a very soft Wanda said as she took your hand in hers, playing with your fingers. "They're dead in a way you can't change. In some way, you're also mouning them, mourning what they used to be for you. Your pain is just as real as mine."

You hummed as a form of concession. She put her arm around your shoulder and brought you closer to her, kissing the top of your head. You could feel her heart beat under your head. The reassurance of her presence calmed you for the rest of the trip.

*

Paris was a dream come true. You enjoyed visiting the different places the city had to offer with Wanda, holding hands as you went to the Louvre and the Eiffel Tower during the day, and to restaurants and cabarets at night. But it would be lying to say you didn't stay inside some days to enjoy each other's body and soul. If you stayed in a less well isolated place, you probably would have received a few noise complaints. You had never been this happy in your life, and as for Wanda, her smile was an experience in and of itself with how bright it was when the two of you got to experience life together. It didn't dim even when you were on the plane back to New York.

Back at home, you found a routine between the two of you. You would cook for each other, read together, enjoy the swimming pool, or simply do separate activities in the same room. It was all very domestic and it made you feel like you had found where you were meant to be in the universe. At the same time, you knew this couldn't just keep going like it was perfectly normal. No matter how right it felt to hold her hand, be it innocently or not, this would one day come to an end. You just didn't expect it to happen the way it did. You thought you had more time with Wanda.

*

Vision was in front of Wanda's house's door, having knocked and rang a few times now. He had sent a message an hour ago that he was coming by to get Tommy's guitar, but from the lack of answer to his text and to the door, he guessed that no one was there. With a heavy sigh, he phased through the door. Looked like he was right and no one was there. He went up the stairs and turned left to get to Tommy's room when Wanda appeared from her bedroom, disheveled and in a bathrobe. That made him frown.

"Vision?" She asked, visibly wondering what he was doing there. And he was about to answer when he was able to get a peek in the bedroom and saw your back. His frown deepened.

"Wanda, where is Y/n? I th–" he interrupted himself when he caught a glimpse of you in the window. His eyes widened in shock and at that moment Wanda knew that he knew.

"Don't. Vision!" She exclaimed when he started going down the stairs. She followed him. "You can't tell anyone, Vision."

This felt more like a threat than an amicable request, and the android finally looked back. They were both in the entry now, facing each other.

"I can't tell anyone? Wanda, have you gone mad? This," he pointed towards the bedroom, "is your sons' best friend that you're sleeping with."

"I fail to see how that's any of your business," she answered coldly, crossing her arms.

"For our sons' sake of course it's my business! For Y/n's too for that matter. She's only 20!" Wanda tilted her head at that point.

"A year older than me when we had the twins. She's not a child, Vision."

"Still. Tommy and Billy's best friend."

"That's why you can't tell them," she said more in a whisper than anything. A beat of silence went by before Vision finally said something again.

"Alright. I won't. But you have to do it."

"When the time is right, I promise I will."

Vision nodded at the agreement and finally left the house. Wanda took a few steps back to lean against the wall and close her eyes, taking deep breaths while panic started to settle in. What was she going to do?

You appeared by her side before she could spiral any deeper and you took her hands, looked into her eyes.

"Hey Wans, it's okay, it's gonna be okay," you said in order to reassure her, while you stroke her thumbs. "We're gonna be okay."

She nodded, some tears threatening to spill over. You kissed her cheek and hugged her, bringing her head against your shoulder. You were going to be okay, you tried to convince yourself. Everything was going to be okay.

*

Wanda had been silent most of the rest of the day, her eyes drifting away into nothingness. You left her alone most of the time, only bringing her food and giving her embraces to make her feel better. She would return them but immediately go back to where she was before. It was hard to see her like that. You wished you could take away her doubt and hurt. But you knew it wasn't that easy.

Still, you approached her as she was sitting at the edge of the pool, one leg under her and the other in the water, and sat next to her. Her head fell against your shoulder slowly, her hand found yours, and you intertwined your fingers. The moment felt peaceful despite the turmoil.

"We still have ten days," you whispered to her, swallowing hard at your own words. It was more than you ever hoped to have to begin with.

"I don't think it's enough…" her voice was wavering, and you wished you had a solution for her, something where everyone was happy, but you knew it wasn't possible.

"We could try… I don't know, see how the twins react when we tell them, and go from there." It was a pipe dream that it would go well, but you needed this hope. You needed to think that things could go well and that you'll be happy, because otherwise what was the point?

"Yes, that's all we can do, isn't it?" She nodded and tightened her grip on your hand. That really was all you could do.

With her hand still in yours, you stood up and mustered some courage to offer her a smile.

"Come on, let's get inside and have dinner. I made your favorite."

"Paprikash?" Her eyes lit up and she stood up next to you with your help. You nodded and guided her inside.

Despite everything happening, you managed to have a good time around the table.

*

You were in the living room with Wanda snuggling against you when the door of the house opened and Tommy appeared out of nowhere. You barely had enough time to stand up before you felt his fist come into contact with your face, sending you reeling back against the fireplace. He grabbed you by the collar after that and started yelling right in your face.

"You asshole! How dare you touch my mom?!"

"Tommy!" Wanda exclaimed and grabbed him by the arm, trying to move him away from you without success.

"You come into our home and you take advantage of her like that?!" He brought up his fist to hit you again when a red energy got around him and forced him to walk back away from you.

"Thomas Maximoff! That's enough! I won't tolerate violence under my roof," she ordered, while you were now ready to defend yourself just in case.

"But Mom–"

"I don't want to hear it. If you have something to say, be an adult about it."

"Like you were when you decided to sleep with her?" He pointed out, and you could see the hurt on Wanda's face. If Tommy felt guilty he didn't show any of it. She let him go, and instead of coming after you again, he adjusted his jacket and walked away. "I'm going back to dad's. I'll stay there until she leaves."

He walked by Billy who was waiting in the doorway, looking sorry.

"I'll try to reason with him," he said before he followed after his brother.

Once they both left, you palpated your nose. It was bleeding but it wasn't broken. Wanda grabbed some tissues from the table and tried to stop the bleeding.

"Are you okay Y/n?" She asked rhetorically as the bleeding was coming to a stop. There were no words left in you now, nothing to say to reassure Wanda. Your best friend just clocked you right in the face. The worst had happened, and now you knew exactly the course of action you had to take. You walked back to the sofa and sat down, your hand going through your hair. Your cheek hurt when you finally talked in a broken voice.

"It's over, Wanda," you said flatly. She looked at you from the spot you left her in. She looked away, tears in her eyes.

"I know," she admitted. A few tears fell down her cheek, and finally she joined you on the sofa, sitting close enough for you to brush away the tears. You leaned closer and stole one more kiss from her.

"I love you."

It was the first time you told her, and you knew it was also the last. She embraced you and snuggled her nose against your neck. You could feel the tears slide down against your skin and into your shirt.

"I love you too."

But sometimes love wasn't all that mattered, sometimes you had to protect those you loved. And in order to do that, you had to sacrifice yourself. You closed your eyes. You couldn't allow yourself to cry, or you would never be able to leave. So instead you broke the hug and your heart, and you left the room.

A few hours later, you were out of the house. Out of Tommy and Billy's life. Out of Wanda's life.

It was

The End.

*

It was five years later.

You were sitting at a table in the small coffee shop you always went to between classes, eyes peeled on your laptop's screen. Final week was over and now your real job started as a TA. You had to help grade the exams your students turned in, and you were happy to do so. It was a fulfilling job. You were really focused on it before you noticed someone taking a seat at your table. You frowned, ready to tell that stranger to leave you alone when you recognized him.

"Tommy? What are you doing here?" You asked the young man. He had barely changed since the last time you saw him, he just looked more adult.

"Glad to see you too, Y/n." He picked some of your croissant off your plate and plopped it in his mouth. "To tell you the truth, I just live around here. I didn't think I'd run into you though."

"Why would you, I only go to the University that's around here," you said sarcastically. He somehow laughed at that, before he stole more of your croissant. You swat at his hand so he would stop, you always hated when he did that. "What do you want anyway? Cause I doubt you're here just to steal my food."

"Why not? It sounds like a good plan."

You closed your eyes. Why was he acting like nothing ever happened between the two of you? Like you did nothing wrong? You set your jaw and look at him again. Maybe it was the occasion for you to set things right - or as right as they could be.

"Listen, Tommy… I'm really sorry about the way I betrayed you and Billy. I shouldn't have, it's just…" you took a deep breath. You thought that after five years, you were over whatever happened with the twins, over what happened with Wanda. The truth was… you never got over it. "When I fled from my parents', I was scared, and alone, and… when I met you and Billy, it was like I learned to be brave, but I was never fully a part of you guys. I still felt alone. And then with Wanda…" you remembered the way she used to look at you, like there was nothing else in the room but the both of you, how she would say your name, and hold your hand. You remembered the flecks of gold in the green of her eyes like a forest at sunset. "I didn't feel so alone anymore."

"This is a shitty apology, and a poor excuse," he shook his head. "You don't go out with someone 'cause you feel alone. It's pathetic. You go out with someone because you love them, because it makes you happy. And I know damn well you made my mom happy." That last sentence ended in a guilty whisper. "I guess what I'm asking is: did you love her?"

"I did," there was a pregnant pause, "I do," you admitted, defeated. "But it's too late now."

"Here is the thing… I don't think it's over." You looked at a grinning Tommy, unsure of what he meant by that. He sighed and made it clearer. "You still have a shot is what I mean."

"What about you and Billy?" You asked as your heart was starting to jump in your chest as things got clearer.

"I was the only one with a problem with that. Billy was his usual momma's boy self… which was the right way to react. Which… I'm sorry I hit you."

You massaged your cheeks out of reflex at his apology, then squinted at him. If you understood correctly everything he was saying, that meant… that meant that maybe, just maybe, you still had a shot at happiness five years later.

You stood up and almost toppled your chair. A blush crept up on you when every customer looked at you but you quickly forgot about it.

"I need to go," you told Tommy with determination.

He nodded at you and you left the coffee shop.

*

It was stupid, you thought as you stood outside Wanda's house. During the past five years, the only news you got from Wanda and the twins was when they appeared on the news doing their superhero jobs. Never in a million years you thought you were going to be back in front of the house where everything started - and ended. Nothing had changed. It was the same colonial style house, with the same tree, and the same balcony. You stood there for a good thirty minutes without being bothered by anyone, just observing the house. Reflecting on the past and the present. Until the door opened and Wanda appeared. If the house didn't change, she did; her hair were a fiery red and fell differently around her face now. Seeing her made your hands shake a little. She walked towards you slowly, with her arms crossed around her waist, and stopped right in front of you. Her eyes were greener than you remembered.

"I could feel you from inside," she said without her eyes leaving yours, "I waited for you to approach but you were taking too long."

You looked away, feeling warmth creep on your face as you realized you'd been staring at her. Finally, you managed to find a few words no matter how dry your mouth was.

"Yeah, I wasn't sure… I didn't know if you'd want to see me."

"I don't think I'll ever want not to see you, Y/n," she admitted in a double negative. It was a convoluted way to protect herself, but still, the meaning was there. You smiled slightly and gazed at her again. Your heart was pounding in your chest at this point. You took a piece of paper from your leather jacket pocket. You handed it to her and she took it with a frown, reading what was written on it. "Y/n, what is–"

"It was my turn, wasn't it? To pay for our holidays," you told her so fast you got slightly out of breath.

You awaited her answer.  Wanda swayed left to right, then took a step forward and bit her lip before she finally leaned closer to kiss you. It was short and sweet, and there was still some sadness in it, but it was the promise that she wanted to try and make it all better.

"Let's go on a trip," she said and this time you grabbed her by the waist to kiss her again, and again, and hopefully, a million more times before the end of your holidays.

The End.